#when i reminded my boss an annoying client we decided to give one more chance to had called me - to my face - 'just a fucking secretary'
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I'm actually really happy for both My Boss and New Boss. I think this New Adventure is going to be really good for both of them. But I also kinda felt the need to passive-aggressively tell an anecdote to New Boss today about how heavily I've been screwed over by mergers and partnerships gone wrong. (Scuttlebutt from both of them is that they ARE going to form a Partnership, but each will maintain separate S-Corps. Actually, a really Solid Plan.) Which entity I'm going to be working for next year has not yet been decided/considered. This aspect terrifies me only a lot. The Good News (for me) is that they are both Actually Nice People. Luckily, neither wants to get rid me. They've both expressed a worry of overworking me. (Gods forbid I should play dragon-based games on my phone for less than an hour a day while on the clock in the summer!) If all goes well, I'll get out of this with maybe not a raise (I make enough for me; might try to negotiate a salaried position), but a great benefits package - including really good health insurance, a four day work week, extremely flexible hours, highly optional seasonal overtime, loads of paid vacation (off season of course), and the authority to tell clients/anyone else to FUCK OFF.
#i love my job#technically i already have this last power#both my boss and new boss are impressed with my ability to (professionally) give zero fucks WITH A SMILE#it wasn't until a few years ago that i truly realized not every office admin has this power#according to apparently everyone's therapists is because i'm wicked emotionally intelligent#in small doses#i also don't take it personally when stressed out accountants and/or clients swear at me#i log what they say and depending i demand consequences be enforced later#and i may talk to my own therapist about it#being told it's 'safer' for me to use the other printer is flat out funny#having a client question my knowledge of what info/numbers we need and than ask if i'm lying fucked me up for days#okay it fucked me up months#mostly because he cited my nervous giggle as THE reason i was lying#but after a week i told my boss he shouldn't be fired until next year#she was/is willing to let me decide#when i reminded my boss an annoying client we decided to give one more chance to had called me - to my face - 'just a fucking secretary'#she was so ready to fight him - a (mostly) paying client
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UNDER YOUR SKIN || JJK || Ch. 15
Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader
Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.
Summary: You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.
Previous || Next
MASTERLIST
I would lie if I said I didn't spend all evening trying to get ready for tonight, making my biggest effort to leave my anxiety aside and adopt that new personality I've already seen on so many women that have come to the bar these weeks. But the pressure I'm putting on my own shoulders, before I even get to the pub where we were supposed to be meeting, is only causing my level of stress to rise.
I should also avoid drinking, or at least not drink too much. I've never gotten drunk, not even when my bosses decided to treat us to a good dinner once a year, so it's not the best idea to get drunk for the first time, messing it up big time, with people I'm trying to be friends with. Or at least grow closer to.
But all those concerns vanish away the second I see a twisted smile on Tammy's face. And the little I've gotten to know her, I know it means nothing good. So my worries change, to focus solely on her and what she could come up with.
Five minutes later, she shows up with a stray full of little glasses. I start counting those the second she leaves the metallic plate on the small rounded table. Eight shots. Eight shots and it's only four of us.
—Two each —she mentions, as if it were obvious—. There's nothing better to start the night than vodka shots.
—Yeah, that's why you always end up spending more time on the floor than standing up —Melanie jokes.
—That only happened once —Tammy rolls her eyes, bending over to take one of the shots—. C'mon. Cheers, bitches! For a good night ahead.
After we all make our tiny glasses tingle after we toast, Soo makes sure to remind us all she can't drink a lot nor will stay until the end of the night because she has to meet up with a client tomorrow morning. I'm almost going to say we could've left it for a different day, but I hold it in. Instead of trying to comfort her, I'll probably sound annoyed or rude, which isn't the case at all.
Sometimes there are some things to be left unsaid.
—My wrist is driving me crazy —Melanie complains, trying to move her hand in circles.
—Did you make a bad move during training? —I ask, trying to hide as much as possible how the liquid is burning my throat.
—Probably —she pouts—. It's been bothering me since I left the kickboxing session.
—That's why you barely moved your hand when you were driving me back home? —Tammy asks, both eyes wide open—. I have a good ointment for things like that. I'll give it to you next time you come home.
She doesn't miss the chance, and while her hand is still rising because of her gesture, she picks another shot and drinks it all at once. An exaggerated gasp leaves her mouth, and her green eyes look around, like encouraging the rest of us to do the same with the rest.
—Y/n, you should come and join us one day —Soo says out of nowhere—. I kinda think you'd like it.
—Kickboxing? —Soo nods— I'm not sure. Never been good at sports —I laugh—. But I could give it a try one day, why not?
—Yeah. That's my girl —Tammy points at me with a pleased smile.
The night goes on just like that. They talk between them, mostly, although they try to make me join the conversations, I rush to shift back to my little side -and for the most part I look like one of those npc's. It's not like I have much to share or to talk about. I don't add anything to the conversation. They're talking about crushes and past experiences anyway, so yeah... I can't add anything to the conversation.
I could say how I settled a strange deal with Soo's brother, because I'm unable to go further than three words with the opposite sex. But I'm sure no one at this table would like to know about that.
So while I'm sipping on my third Mojito, Tammy gets my attention and almost makes me choke on my drink when she asks:
—You're too quiet —she starts—. And we all know what they say about the quiet ones.
—I don't really have much to share —I shrug.
—Did something happen between you and Seokwoo? You didn't keep me updated on anything —Tammy accuses.
If she only knew...
—No —I shake my head, just daring to look at them for one quick second—. We only saw each other at Mel's party, so.
I didn't even hear of him after the birthday party, and it's not like I've thought about him a lot either. But now that she brings him up... I wish I could've had his number at least. Not like it would've changed a thing, but it would've been nice.
—Hopefully he comes to New York again —Tammy winks at me.
At first I cringe a little by her answer and the tone she uses, but I just giggle and take a big sip from my drink. If she only knew Seokwoo and what I did have been the least of my problems lately. And it's not like I'd be able to do anything either.
✸ ✸ ✸
Some dances and several drinks after, Soo heads out. But she makes sure all of us agree on meeting up soon again, when we all are free and neither of us have to leave earlier because of work. Soon she vanishes and Tammy takes the lead of the night.
Oh no. What a bad idea...
She also disappears in the crowd of people, collapsing against one another on the dance floor. And instead of worrying for her, Melanie and I just vibe to the music, dancing some verses, moving our arms in small waves trying to keep the rhythm of the song. She also keeps mentioning how glad she is Soo reserved this small place for us, instead of having to fight for a stool or a high table near the dance floor. And I agree on that. I haven't really frequented nightclubs -for obvious reasons-, but being pushed to the corner of the counter while I'm trying to get a drink, crashing into sweated bodies every single time I have to go to the bathroom because the dance floor is right in between... For those of us who are sober, being in a club is the most similar thing to a decathlon.
When I'm about to ask about that case she mentioned when we were on that trip, Tammy shows up out of nowhere with three guys. And by the way she's holding the arm of one of them, I know which one will be her night stand tonight. That, and the fact that she totally disappears with that same guy shortly after making sure we're trying to bond with his other two friends. "Trying to bond" as in Melanie and the boy with the nose pierced, if I'm not wrong his name is Evan, are almost canoodling while Drake looks at his drink uncomfortably.
He tries to start a conversation a few times, but I fuck it up every single time by replying with a short answer. So I try to switch it up, and be the one asking the questions. But I think that's even worse.
—Do you come here often?
—No —he simply answers—. What about you?
—No.
And a big gulp follows right after. The rum burns my throat while the bubbles of the coke tickle on it, and the taste of that mix in my mouth makes me unable to hide the disgusted face, for a quick second.
Melanie and Evan are long gone from having just a conversation, and she rushes to ask me if it's okay for her to leave. Considering she told me just half an hour ago how bad she wanted to have some fun, I'm in no place to chain her next to me. And it's obvious she's pleased by my answer when a huge bright smile forms on her face. Similar to the one Drake has right now, only that his lips are more curved on a smirk.
And another big gulp follows as soon as we're both alone. And it isn't the last one I have. The conversation turns into a monologue, as soon as he starts rambling about how he only came here for his friends and they ended up leaving him all by himself. He cries about how they could do this to him, and how it's always the same. Or, at least, that's what I guess while I'm focused on finishing my drink.
I could leave right now, run away like I always do, but for some reason I feel bad leaving him here by himself after his friends left with mine.
His rambling must've changed topic at some point, because while I try to reach Melanie's almost full glass, I hear him saying how he isn't the typical dude to find hook ups in clubs.
—Girls like your friends are never into boys like me.
He drops that "pick me boy" line that makes me instantly cringe. And trying to avoid rolling my eyes in front of him, I end up drinking the full drink in one take. Not only does he uses such a weird technique to get my attention, but also dismisses the fact that I'm the one who's here right now.
Isn't it amazing what alcohol does to the human body though? And I don't mean how relaxed and out of touch I suddenly feel, or how dizzy, but how it starts doing a reaction with the three Mojitos I drank before Tammy came with these three guys, and the pizza I had for dinner.
Just keep it in for a few more minutes.
But I know that will be impossible when I feel my stomach twist, and the liquid, that not long ago rolled down my throat, is going up again. It's not until he gets up totally disgusted that I'm aware of what's just happened.
I swipe the long sleeve of my dress over my mouth, cleaning it up before I try to stand up myself when I realize this is the best time to leave. I'm careless about it right now, it's as if I had just slipped my drink over someone's shoes. But I know I'll be regretting every single second of it as soon as I wake up tomorrow.
As soon as I head outside, and feel relieved from the cold hitting my skin, I grab my phone to call a cab. If I thought night would be so simple after what's just happened, I was totally wrong. Shortly after I say where I am, a voice interrupts me.
—Are you drunk?
—I don't know —I frown—. Am I?
—Fuck, y/n. Where are you?
—I've just told you —I drag my words more than I'd want to—. You... —I stop and try again— you... —I go quiet when I'm unable to think about the right word— Just hurry up.
—I'll pick you up, don't move from there.
And I hear nothing else from the other line, except a continuous ring that warns me the phone call has ended.
I lose every sense of timing, and how long I've been waiting next to the door. I was too distracted vibing with the loud sound coming from it, and dissecting the people that keep coming out or coming in. Too busy checking out how good a pink coloured hairstyle looked on one of the girls leaving to realize there was someone walking next to me.
—Let's go —he moves his head.
—What are you doing here? —I question, squinting my eyes at him.
—You called me.
—You work in the cab station now?
He just rolls his eyes and puts his arm around my waist to guide my steps, towards that familiar truck, while I'm trying my best to walk straight with my ankles feeling like jelly. Jungkook tries to be as careful and delicate with me as I allow him to, moving his arms and hands on me while placing me inside the car.
—Did they all leave? —he asks while he buckles up my seatbelt— How the fuck did they even think of leaving you all by yourself? —he asks annoyed after I just nodded.
—I told them.... —I lift my hand to speak— I told them it was okay... —I squint my eyes again— I'm not five. I'm fine.
—Yet you can't form a sentence.
Touché.
I rest my head against the car window, and it all goes black after that.
#fanfic#ff#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkookxreader#jk#bts#wattpad#kookie#smut#jungkook smut#tattoistjk#tattooau#armpirate
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Sleeping With the Enemy - Chapter 1
Warnings: kicking things off with a bit of smut, gotta set the tone somehow i guess
You had spent your entire life in the state of Georgia. The majority of that time had been spent in a small town, Logansville. It was the kind of place where everybody had known everybody and you’d always sort of hated it. There hadn’t been much of an opportunity for you to really explore who you were and what you wanted to be back home. So, when you’d gotten the chance to go to Atlanta for college, you had stayed there.
In the city, you hadn’t known anybody. Eventually, you stumbled on a familiar face in the form of one of your brother’s friends, Amanda Rollins. She’d come up to try and be a “big city cop” and the two of you grew pretty close in Atlanta. That being said, it was only a matter of time before you followed her up to New York. It definitely took a couple of years for you to get your bearings together before, but eventually you managed to get a job with the same unit at the DA’s office.
“You look so good,” Amanda told you as she hugged you tightly. Even after Amanda had left Atlanta, you’d kept going into the gym without her. A part of you had held out that she’d come back down for a visit, but she never did.
“Couldn’t have you showing up for a surprise visit and kicking my ass, now could I?” Amanda let go of you and the two of you started walking down the street. “Where are you taking me?”
“A bar.” It looked like a sports bar and you frowned. You knew that Amanda had issues with gambling, it had really been her only vice when the two of you had been staying with each other. “Don’t look at me like that. You wanna go to one of those fancy lawyer bars?”
“Well, I am about to be a fancy lawyer Mandy,” you pointed out. Amanda rolled her eyes at you and hailed a cab to take the two of you to a nicer part of the city.
“I am not dressed for this kind of place,” Amanda grumbled. You, on the other hand, definitely were. You’d been pretty high up at the Atlanta DA office and you’d started to venture into private practices before you’d put in for a transfer. There, you had to dress to impress everyday, especially with some of the bigger shot boys who liked using your rural upbringing against you.
“Like you’d let something so trivial get in the way of you livin’ your best life,” you reminded her. Just as you opened your mouth to say something else, her phone started ringing.
“Sorry. Raincheck?” Amanda asked as she answered the call. You nodded and ended up at the bar anyways while Amanda went to meet her partner at a crime scene. There was a pretty good chance that you’d end up taking this case, which excited you. The potential for getting to start your job so quickly after moving was great, you hated sitting around and doing nothing. “Hey, call me when you get home.”
“You too,” you told Amanda as you got out of the cab. With a deep breath, you stepped into the bar. Inside, it reminded you of the places your old boss used to hang around. There was a designated smoking section upstairs, but the smell of cigars was heavy in the common area. Remembering that confidence was key and that any number of these patrons could be potential court rivals, you swaggered up to the bar and sat down.
“What can I get you miss?” the bartender asked you.
“Bourbon on the rocks please, mid shelf,” you told him. He nodded and grabbed a bottle from the fourth shelf and a glass. You passed him a $50 and he told you that you were good for about 5 drinks with it. So, you sat at the bar with your glass of bourbon, watching as other people walked around and spoke with each other.
“Let me guess, low level corporate law?” Rita asked you. Technically, she’d been correct, back in Atlanta, your private practice stuff had pertained mostly to mid-level corporations. You didn’t handle anything like Amazon, but your clients were big enough for your move up to New York to go without a financial hitch.
“You’re pretty good, but that was back home. I’m in a new place now, doing new things.” You tipped your glass back and finished the rest of your drink. "You're a big shot, ain'tcha?"
"Looking to climb some ladders?" Your cheeks heated up at the assumption. It wasn't exactly an accurate one, but it'd make you feel a little guilty for wanting to go home with her. She took notice of your change in demeanor and waved the bartender over. "Can we get a couple more drinks? Oh, and keep hers on my tab."
"I take it that you aren't gonna give me any boosts," you teased a little.
"Something tells me that my word wouldn't mean much to your bosses. I'm Rita." She held a hand out for you to shake.
"Y/n," you introduced yourself as you took her hand. Her hands were soft, but you could tell that they were strong as well. You glanced up at her briefly to see her checking out your hands, something dirty running through her mind.
"What would you say to a couple more drinks with me and then we can see where the night takes us?" Rita asked you. You gave her a small nod in agreement to her suggestion as you downed your drink.
"I can think of a couple places I'd like to spend the night." The two of you shared a look and Rita set her glass down on the bar.
"Come on, there's no use staying here and wasting money on drinks we don't need," Rita told you. You grabbed your jacket and started walking out of the bar. Rita was fairly close behind you. "Car's waiting."
"Nice car," you noted as she got the door for you. You slid over all the way and she sat down next to you. She tapped on the partition and the car began to pull forward.
There wasn't much need for conversation on the drive to Rita's place. Her intentions were clear as day from the look in her eye and the way that her hand rested on your thighs. You let her slowly move her hand up, enjoying the little teasing game the two of you had begun.
"Come here," Rita whispered to you. You turned your head to face her and she placed her hand on your cheek. Slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against yours. You pressed forward and she slid her tongue along your bottom lip. You parted your lips slightly and she slid her tongue inside of her mouth. Her tongue tasted like expensive wine with a hint of something smooth and dark. "You taste sweet, like honey."
Heat rose to your cheeks at Rita’s statement. Inside the car, there was nowhere for you to hide away. So, you decided to do something a little bold. Your hand slid in between the two of you, resting just under the bottom of her skirt. Rita shifted slightly, parting her thighs a bit as she did so. You inched your hand up a bit more and Rita leaned her forehead against yours.
“If you’ve got a move to make, don’t hesitate,” she advised you. You let your hand keep going, but just as you reached the outside of her underwear, the car stopped. She sighed, obviously annoyed with the timing, but slid away from your gracefully and stepped out of the car. You were certain that you did not look nearly as composed as you followed Rita upstairs into her apartment.
The elevator ride was a short one, but your concept of time was shot. All you wanted was to feel the press of Rita’s skin against yours. With every step you took towards Rita’s apartment, the faster your heart began to beat in your chest. Excitement and anticipation coursed through your body.
“I could offer you a drink or we could skip that and go straight to my bedroom,” Rita offered.
“I think we can skip the drinks.” Rita took your hand and led you down a hallway. She pushed open her bedroom door and shrugged off her blazer. You started on unbuttoning your shirt as she turned around and pulled you into another kiss. The bit of space between the door and her bed was now littered with both of your clothes.
Rita laid you back on the bed and straddled your waist. You stared up at her, letting your eyes take in every inch of her offered to you. The two of you shared a couple of kisses, the intensity building with each one. Rita’s tongue explored your mouth with the same eagerness of your hands on her body. Your back arched, pushing your hips into hers.
“I’d tell you to be patient, but that’s not why we’re here, is it?” Rita chuckled at you. It was a husky chuckle, one that sent chills down your spine. Rita trailed her finger down the valley of your breasts, stopping when she reached around where your ribs started. Your heart began to absolutely race as you watched Rita lean down and go over the same path with her tongue. Unlike with her fingers, Rita moved her tongue all the way down to your hips.
She placed her hands on your knees and spread your legs apart. You watched her with baited breath as she leaned down in between your legs. Both of her hands slid down the length of your thighs, blunt nails scratching lightly over your skin. Ever so slowly, Rita leaned forward and dragged her tongue through your folds.
She hummed at the taste of you on her tongue. Below her, you were writhing in pleasure as she sucked your clit into her mouth. Rita quickly moved her mouth down to lap at your entrance, licking up what was beginning to drip down. Rita briefly leaned away from you, but before you could let out a whine, she pushed two fingers inside of you.
“Oh, fuck,” you groaned as she started to slowly fuck you. Rita sat back and watched as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. Rita moved her other hand in between your legs, rubbing your clit. You bit your lip to keep from screaming out, bucking your hips to match the speed of Rita’s fingers inside of you.
“Be a good girl, don’t hold back,” Rita told you. She leaned forward a bit until she was practically hovering over you. Rita’s fingers curled inside of you and your head pushed back against the mattress. Your mouth fell open, moans and swears pouring out from your lips. “You’re so close aren’t you? I can feel you around my fingers.”
You glanced up at Rita, noting the smirk on her face as she curled her fingers against your g-spot once again. Her fingers rolled over your clit and you absolutely lost it. Rita moved her hand away from your clit, but kept her fingers slowly rocking inside of you. She waited until your body relaxed before pulling out of you completely.
“Look at me,” Rita told you as she moved to straddle you again. You forced yourself to keep your eyes open and look at her. A fire was set inside of you as you watched her lick your cum off of her fingers. You grabbed Rita’s hips and flipped the two of you so that you were on top.
Rita’s hands entangled themselves in your hair as she guided your head in between her legs. You could see that she was soaked, and it looked like she’d been touching herself. It was obvious that Rita didn’t need any teasing, not that you believed she’d take it from you anyways. She was a woman who got what she wanted and you were more than prepared to give it away.
“Fuck me,” Rita told you as she stared down at you. You let her pull your head in closer until your mouth was on her clit. Your tongue circled the bundle of nerves several times before you ran the flat part over it. Rita cried out in pleasure as you continued that. Her hips chased friction as you traced your fingertips over her entrance.
You hummed happily as your fingers were enveloped with her warmth and wetness. Above you, Rita commanded more, to which you happily obliged. You kept going faster, keeping a quick pace with three fingers inside of her. You curled them several times, relishing in how she’d shake when you did. When Rita came, she came hard, the evidence of her arousal coating your fingers and dripping down along your hand and wrist.
“Goddamn,” Rita panted. You moved out from between her legs and laid down on the bed. The sheets were soft, something you hadn’t noticed until now. Exhaustion began to settle in, but Rita had yet to tell you that you had to leave. Chances were you could make it away early enough in the morning to avoid anything too awkward. Normally, you’d just bolt as soon as the two of you were finished, but then Rita rolled over a little and you could feel her body pressing against yours. Between Rita and the sheets, there was no way that you were going anywhere that night.
Taglist: @storiesofsvu @xixxiixx @wannabe-fic-reader @gay-ass-bitch @mysticfalls01
#Rita Calhoun#rita calhoun x reader#rita calhoun imagine#rita calhoun imagines#Law & Order: SVU#SVU#svu imagine#svu imagines#svu x reader#Sleeping With the Enemy
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Title: coward :: brat
Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu
Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au]
Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion
Synopsis: you finally see Miya Atsumu after six years, meanwhile, he feels pain when he realizes that you settled down with someone else that wasn’t him.
notes: i um want to thank yall for supporting this story im- crying T-T I’m happy to inform everyone that i’ll be updating this twice a week every monday and saturday! yay!!! i was able to finish editing and im writing the last two chapters now. stay safe and big love to each and everyone of you <3
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“...Uh, Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, I thought you guys weren’t allowed to go.” Sugawara laughed nervously, knowing all too well where this would lead. He’s familiar with over-enthusiastic boys, in fact, one of those over-enthusiastic balls of sunshine was here right now entertaining them.
“K-Kaasan says it’s alright.” Yuuto lies but Sugawara quirked his brow, it was so obvious that he was lying.
“Yep, she did!” Youta grins, trying to help his twin but like him, he’s failing drastically.
“Then you won’t mind if I call your okaasa-”
“No!” Youta and Yuuto yell in unison. This made other people turn their way, Miya Atsumu watched the pair in amusement from afar. He noticed that they were late and that Sugawara had caught on to their scheme of joining in even without the parental consent, “We won’t join!” Youta proclaims, “Right, yu? W-We’ll pick up balls!”
Hinata feels his eyes glimmer at those words and decides to help them convince Sugawara but in the end, the twins were forced to be benched while the grey-haired teacher had to go back to the faculty to call you.
“It’s alright,” Hinata ruffles both their hairs, “We’ll try to come back next time and I’ll be sure to help convince your ‘kaasan.”
“Hey don’t plant false ideas in their head, Shoyou.” Atsumu grins, lazily jogging to their side. He directs his gaze to the twins that seem to oddly remind him of him and ‘samu when they were younger. The boy's gaze lingered a bit too long on him,unlike other kids who stared at him in awe, these ones were seething, “What are ya lookin’ at, kid?”
“Wow,you’re as mean as your brother.” Yuuto notes, eyeing him up and down.
“Yeah.” Youta echoes.
Atsumu quirks a brow, this was quite the new reaction. Never in his life had a kid told him that he was mean as ‘Samu also how did they even know his twin brother?
“Now, now, don’t you think you should cut me some slack?” Atsumu tried to jokebut the twins remained unamused by the blonde’s antics, somehow Atsumu felt a sense of familiarity from their monotonous reactions.
“No thanks.” Yuuto crossed his arms, “The fake Atsumu made ‘kaasan cry and since you look like him, you might make ‘kaasan cry too.”
“What he said!” Youta agreed loudly, copying his older brother’s action.
Atsumu was just plain confused now, he admitted that Osamu had an attitude sometimes when he was annoyed but letting a mom cry in front of her kids? That’s definitely new and not-so ‘samu like (after all, he was apparently the nicer one between them)
“What’s the name of your okaasan-”
“Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, Your mom will be picking you up at the gate! Please go there now.” Sugawara cuts him off, Youta and Yuuto stand up and eye him for a bit.
“We’ll defeat you and your brother! Just wait and see, we’ll be as big as you and that other jiji!” Yuuto exclaims and before Atsumu could retaliate, they’re running off to the opposite direction. Hinata was laughing beside him, clutching his sides because apparently he was too petty while Sugawara looked at him with an apologetic expression.
“I wonder why L/N-san didn’t allow them to go, she’s usually very supportive of their hobbies, especially volleyball.” Sugawara frowns, suddenly voicing out his thoughts. Atsumu felt his shoulders stiffen at the sound of that familiar name.
Osamu revealed he saw you last week then these kids suddenly confessed that his twin made their okaasan cry, he’s never seen you cry throughout your relationship (save for that night when you first me but you guys weren't together yet so that didn’t count). Maybe he was mistaken? it might be your relative or a common name.
After all, you were clear about not wanting a family.
“You know their mom well?” Hinata inquired, Atsumu seems to be listening closely now, wanting to confirm if the person that Sugawara was talking about is you.
“Oh yeah, we're around the same age so I’m much closer to her than the other moms.” Sugawara blinks, “Those boys have to listen to their okaasan more. She’s raising them on her own since their dad died before he even got to know that L/N-san was pregnant. She seemed to be longing for him whenever he’s mentioned.”
A crease appeared on the blonde's forehead as he was suddenly in deep thought. It couldn’t be, right?
“Uh, Sugawara-san, may I know the name of the mom? Her last name sounds kind of familiar.” he questions, pretending to be nonchalant but inside, he feels like he had his heart on his throat.
If it was you, he’d feel those things that he desperately tried to hide behind his confident jokes and laughs.
The pain.
The pain that you chose someone else and was open enough to the idea of starting a family. If that guy probably hadn’t died, you’d be together, happily raising those boys he had just met a while ago. Happily married, something that Atsumu tried to mention one fleeting moment while you were together back in college but you immediately shut the idea down and left him a month later.
The pain that you fell in love in a span of moments unlike Atsumu who relentlessly tried to gain your favour and follow you around like a lost puppy.
“Oh, her name’s Y/N L/N.”
Thankfully nothing unexpected happened after what the twins did, they ended up having to pick if they wanted their video game rights removed for a week or cancel their plans with their favorite ojisan who was coming by a few weeks from now, they chose the first one on that.
They had even mentioned that they met the real Miya Atsumu and although you felt like your heart lurched out of your chest and your shoulders stiffen at the mention of that man --- their father--- they simply had called him a rude jiji like his brother much to your relief.
“L/N-san, we seem to have a problem.” Aiko frowned, handing the papers to you, “The director of the advertisement department wants a bigger budget, do you mind running it through him again? You have to go to the studio though, I heard they’re doing some photo shoot now.”
You nodded in reply, taking the papers from your co-worker. The studio was a bit far so you ended up having to commute to get there, “What a nuisance.” You muttered, you needed to buy a second-hand car soon when you had enough money. It would definitely be easier for both you and the boys, “Uh excuse me? Is Nakamura-san here?” you asked the secretary on the front desk.
“And who are you?” the secretary snapped back, still typing away on her computer.
“Y/N L/N from the finance department, I have to run through the new budget liquidation with him.”
The secretary one-eyes you and the ID on your neck for a split second, “You better be quick, the boss wants only five minutes per guest since he’s personally handling the shoot today.” was all she replied, handing you the pass. You muttered a quick thank you and made your way up to the studio, whoever the model was today, they must’ve been big for Nakamura to handle them personally.
“Oh-ho, is that who I think it is?” a very, very familiar voice calls out.
“Inunaki-san.” You greeted, trying to maintain yourself, were these the big clients that Nakamura was handling? The black jackals? good fucking gracious, god must hate you.
“Wow,” he shakes his head, feigning amusement, “You’re still so calm and cool.”
You narrowed your eyes at the insult but you waved it off, “And you’re playing for a national team, congratulations.” you replied in a blank tone, your senior probably knew what happened between you and his fellow member. You wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he reacted the same way as Osamu did.
“We’re actually doing a shoot now, would you like me to call Atsu-”
“No.” your usual calm tone switched to a colder one, “I’m working now and so is Miya-san, please don’t bother yourself.”
“Gee,” he raised his hands, signalling defeat, “Just say you don’t want to see him. You don’t need to be so cold to me, my dear little kohai.”
“I have to go back to my job, I’m on the clock here.” You ignored his previous statement, “It was nice seeing you again Inunaki-san.”
Before you could give him a chance to reply, you headed towards the studio. You took a deep breath and mentally calculated to three.
one.
It’s been six years, Miya Atsumu would ignore you. He wouldn’t care about the girl who left him out to dry in college. He’s got a girlfriend now, a model who has legs for days and looks ten times better than you and acts more like a girlfriend than you ever did.
two.
Yes, that’s right, he wouldn’t care.
three.
You entered the studio, you could feel the air tighten around you as soon as you heard that laughter. The one you used to hear everyday and never get tired of. For all the laughs you couldn’t do, he’d do it for you and boy, was he patient around you since you didn’t smile a lot back then (who were you kidding? until now you still had the same problem except when the kids were around)
You want to stop and stare, you want to admire him and his glory that you were very much proud of.
Yet your legs continue to carry you to your boss, the laughter seems to have ceased and you could hear someone asking him what was wrong.
“Oh, L/N-san?” Nakamura greeted you, “You’re here for the renewal of the budget?”
You nodded feverishly, your legs seem to be turning into jelly because you want to collapse from the nervousness and thank god that you wore some make-up before arriving here, otherwise, they would’ve noticed how pale you looked, “Everything seems to be in order,” He nods, scanning the sheets and handing them back to you, “Are you busy right now?”
You glanced at the wall clock, checking the time to see if you could extend your stay and Nakamura is quick to pick up on it, “Ah right, you’ve got kids to pick up. It’ll be quick, just help set up the blocks there and you’re free to leave.” he orders.
You nodded obediently and slowly turned to the side only to catch the very familiar chocolate brown eyes of the blonde. You feel your heart hammering in your chest and your feet turn cold, it had been six years since you last saw Miya Atsumu and he was still as winsome and exhilarating as he was back then.
You may have seen him a lot on television but seeing him, right here, a few feet away from you was different. Taking in a big gulp of air, you started working on the set-up as quickly as you could yet you could still feel his burning gaze remaining on you, “Tsum-tsum, lay off her will you.” came Inunaki Shion’s loud voice snaps him out of his daze.
Great, that little twat had to make an appearance.
“Y/N-san you should really say hi,” Inunaki teased as soon as you finish your set-up.
“Oh? You’re Y/N L/N?” the orange one gushed, quickly up on his feet, you recall him as Hinata Shoyou, Youta’s favorite orange-haired ninja, “Sugawara-san’s friend?”
You hesitantly nodded, “Oh, you know her Sho-kun?” Shion asked, seemingly amused by it all.
“What are you all crowding here for, Hinata?” Another asked, peering in them closely. This one must’ve been Bokuto, another favorite of Yuuto.
“Sugawara-san’s friend! she’s the mother of those two boys in the training camp who had to go home early!” he suddenly turns to you and then grins, “Ne, ne, the boys really seem to want to attend one of those. Why don’t you allow them to join us-”
“Forget it, Hinata.” Atsumu suddenly speaks out, that warm voice that you were accustomed to seemed cold and menacing now, “She won’t allow it.”
Shion notices the tension between you two and when he’s about to usher the energetic duo away back to the dressing room along with the other members, you let out a quiet sigh and spoke out, “I was on my way to leave, please don’t bother yourselves.” You simply replied, you didn’t waver and stared at him dead in the eye, this could be the moment to end it all and cut ties with him officially, “I apologize for what I did back then, Miya-san. I should’ve told it to you in person. I offer my sincere congratulations to you for making it this far.”
The blonde clenched his jaw, it seemed like he wanted to say something to you yet when he realizes the usual calm and collected demeanor you're putting up, he decides against it and leaves you alone by storming away first.
Hinata and the guy named Bokuto looked at you --- completely puzzled and lost like a deer in the headlights --- before following the blonde, “You truly are in a whole ‘nuther level, Y/N.” Shion whistles, “Heard you’ve got two boys now though. Congrats, where's the poor bastard?”
You continue to watch the back of Atsumu Miya. Finally, it seemed like he’d left you alone and probably for good this time, “Gone, off to a better place.” was all you replied.
Inunaki notices the longing in your voice, a completely unfamiliar emotion he had never seen back then even when you and Atsumu were together. It seemed like you and Atsumu were both the poor bastards in the end.
Miya Atsumu sleeps alone that night.
He doesn’t call his girlfriend back despite the several missed calls, he doesn’t reply to the unanswered text of his brother and his teammates. All he feels is pain tonight, pain because of your very dry apology, pain because of your bland expression. Pain because you didn’t seem to care like that time six years ago.
He shuts his eyes tight and he feels as if he’s back in college, back to that winter night where he received that dreaded phone call from you after you disappeared from him. He remembered those days clearly, your apartment had been cleaned out and paid for, you weren’t answering him on social media, your phone line was also unresponsive and he couldn’t even call your family since you never mentioned anything about them at all.
You both may have been intimate for the past two years but when you disappeared, he had the frightening realization that he didn’t know you at all.
He didn’t want to push you out of your comfort zone, he wanted you to lead the relationship but right at that moment, he wished he pried just a bit since he was worried about you.
Then in the midst of his anxiety, it came, that phone call.
“Atsumu.” your usual calm voice filled his ears and he suddenly feels the weight of the world is removed from his shoulders, thank god you were okay.
“Y/N? Baby? Where are you?”
“Out.”
“Where outside exactly?” Miya Atsumu dryly asks, “It’s cold, you shouldn’t be out now and wandering about. Would you like me to pick you up-”
“I can’t do this anymore.” you suddenly cut him off and the line goes quiet. The blonde feels the world around him quiet down too when he hears those words that he wished he heard wrong.
“What’s, what’s wrong? Y/N, are you alright?”
“I don’t know,” You mutter, “I’m just tired.”
“Tired of what exactly?”
“Of you, of us…”
“Y/N, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yes.” Your voice remained dead calm as if you just hadn’t broken his heart in a million pieces that moment, “Let’s stop this here now, Atsumu. Let’s break-up.”
“That’s…” He tries to keep the mood light, praying that this is one of your dark jokes, “That’s not funny, Y/N.”
“It’s not supposed to be since it’s not a joke.”
Your response was curt as usual and he doesn’t know whats worse, the fact that you’re breaking up over the phone or the fact that your tone remains stable and the same.
“Y/N, don’t do this...Baby don’t do this over the phone.” His tone seemed desperate at this point, “I’m not stopping this until you tell me what's wrong between us, you have to give me something to work with Y/N. Is it something I did?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean ya don’t know?” Atsumu started to raise his tone when he notices how unaffected you seem at the other line.Frustration slowly started to bubble in him, the accent turning thicker as he got angrier, “Y/N ya can’t just disappear out of the blue and call me one day and tell me you want to break up! Do you think I’m some sort of fling? Some one-night stand or fuck buddies? We’ve been together for two years, Y/N. Two whole fucking years, What’s wrong? Do you not love me anymore?”
“Yes.”
The line went dead silent again and he hates it, he doesn’t know what to say as his face contorts in sadness and confusion.
“I don’t…” He starts to feel a lump grow on his throat when he hears how easy it was for you to say, he knew he was in love with you more than you were with him. Many had pointed out how dangerous and how painful it would be on his side in the end, he couldn’t believe it would hurt him this much, “ I don’t fucking believe you, say it right at my face. Where the hell are ya? Let’s talk this one out in person.”
“Don’t bother, I just don’t want to see you again.”
“Y/N you can’t just-”
“I can and I will.” You cut him off, your voice was growing more and more detached and he feels like he’s back to that moment two years ago where you didn’t spare him a glance and treated him like a scrub, he hears a hefty sigh on your side and the next few words is another bullet to his heart, “I’m sorry it had to end this way, Atsumu.”
“You…” he shakily replied, trying to mask his grief with a painful chuckle. He wants to be mad at you, he wants to yell at you but for some odd reason, he couldn’t bring himself to, “Jesus christ, you really are something, Y/N. You just broke my heart over the the fucking phone and all you could do is say sorry?”
“Sorry.” you say, like a broken-record on repeat and he hates it. He hates how he feels like this was nothing for you.
“Don’t you dare say that again when you don’t mean it-” He spat and before he could finish what he had to say, the phone line went dead. He tried to call again but it seemed like you had used a payphone. Out of complete vexation, he hurls his phone right across the room towards the blue photo frame with the both of you in it.
The sound of broken glass shards and ragged breathing is the only thing heard in the quiet apartment.
It’s not even the peak of winter that night yet he feels so numb and cold.
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#haikyu!! fanfics#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu imagine#atsumu imagines#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu angst#miya atsumu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#coward series
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A Lone Butterfly - Chapter 15
Title of Chapter: Gone
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings/Tags: Mentions of sex trafficking/kidnapping/abuse , Mentions of rape, Mild violence
Pairing: Javier Peña (Narcos) x Isabel Cotrille (OFC)
Summary: Isabel and Javier's time together is cut short when the cartel finds their hiding place.
Notes: This chapter ends kind of abruptly. I will post chapter 16 as soon as possible. :)
Read it on ao3
I wake to a low hum of noise echoing in the distance. Once my eyes are open, though, it's gone. I dismiss it as being in my head and settle back down into the pillow.
Javier's leg is draped over me, and my back is tucked into his chest. I can tell he's in a deep sleep from the sound of his breaths. I slowly pry my way out of his grasp, desperate for water, untangling myself carefully so as not to wake him.
As I lift up off the bed, a slight soreness in the space between my thighs sends vivid images of what took place only a matter of hours ago. Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I ignore it, tiptoeing to my suitcase. I pull on a tank and some sweats before making my way to the kitchen.
The sound comes back then, a low rumbling. Barely there, but there's no mistaking it. I peer out the kitchen window, but can barely make out the line of the trees in the darkness. Standing in the unlit kitchen, I force myself to remain still. The rumbling continues, but I can't hear anything else.
Seconds later, a shattering of glass sounds from the back of the house. I call out for Javier, and he comes running out from the bedroom, barely clothed and with his gun in hand.
"Isabel," he exclaims, panicked.
Before I can warn him, a figure appears directly behind him and knocks him out with the butt of a gun. He's falls to the ground before he has a chance to utter another word. I call out for him, all while knowing there's no way he can hear me.
Stunned, I look up to face the attacker. I can't make out his features in the dark.
"Hey there, chiquita, it's been too long," the figure states, as if we know each other.
I dive for a knife from the counter adjacent to me. Despite my effort at speed, he grabs me before I have a chance to get to it. Without thinking I thrust my knee up between his legs. He doubles over in pain and I take my chance, running to Javier's limp body to pry the gun from his hand. I quickly turn and face the attacker, gun aimed and ready. He slowly places his own gun back into his belt and holds his hands up in surrender. I consider shooting him right then, but something stops me.
"Do you really know how to use that thing? You're nothing more than a girl."
Terrified and angry, I spit the words at him. "Last time I checked, the gun doesn't care who's behind it."
"Alright, alright. But listen to me- I think you'll find what I have to say very interesting."
"Doubtful."
He continues anyway. "I work for the Bogotá cartel. You know the one. You spent some time with us last year."
"What is it you want with me?" I ask, my voice low and trembling.
"Me? I don't want anything with you. I don't know why my boss is so obsessed with getting you back, it's only caused problems for us."
"Then why come here?"
"Dante made a promise to your father right before he killed him. He promised your father that his daughter would make him a lot of money as a sort of... repayment for killing his brother years ago. Dante doesn't like to break a promise."
I stare at him in horror.
"We would've taken you in Oregon, but couldn't risk getting caught with you at the border. So... we killed your friend instead. After that, we made sure Matías was caught. He was the only one you would remember seeing, and we knew you'd be forced to come back here to identify him. He wasn't exactly happy about that, but what choice did he have?"
"I won't let you take me."
"Oh, I think you will."
"Why are you so sure I won't just shoot you right here?" I raise my voice at him.
"You won't do that. Because if you try to, I'll put a bullet in your boyfriend's brain. I'm faster than you, chiquita. Of that you can be sure. Unless you come with me, he's dead."
All my plans of shooting the man in front of me disappear. I can't risk Javier's life. I won't. I could try and outrun him, but even if I could where would I go? We're in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't remember seeing even one house the way up here. There's no option left for me.
Slowly, I put the gun down.
"Smart girl."
The man grabs me, shoving me outside. Once we near the river bank, I realize what the noise I heard earlier was. A small boat sits on the water, waiting for us. There's another man already in the boat, and then another comes from around the side of the house. Once we're inside, one of them ties a blind fold over my eyes.
We travel on the water for forever. Once we stop, I'm guided into a vehicle. No one says anything. I think of Javier back at the cabin. Has he woken up yet? Will he be able to find me? I don't dare let myself hope. I think on the night before, the moments Javier and I shared. It seems like a dream now.
The vehicle comes to an abrupt stop and I'm pushed out. I hear a door open. They don't take the blind fold off of me until I'm inside. The place reminds me of the building with the cement room I was kept in before, but it's clearly more run down than that one was. We walk down a long hallway until we reach a wide set of doors. They open and I'm pushed through.
A huge table is the only thing taking up space in the room. Chairs are placed all around it. At the very end sits an older man, probably ten to fifteen years older than Javier. I know he's in charge from the way the other men are acting around him. This, I assume, is Dante. I push down my fear, trying to keep a brave face.
I'm shoved into a chair while Dante leers at me from across the table.
"Hello, Isabel. Nice to see you once again. Such a lovely face."
The tone of his voice make my skin crawl.
He waits for me to speak, carefully assessing me. I stare him down and give him the dirtiest look I can summon.
"What? You're shy? You were so feisty before, never kept quiet. That's why we kept having to drug you." He tilts his head, trying to figure me out, but I refuse to let him see how his words affect me.
"You won't get away with this," I say through my teeth. "Javier will find me."
Dante laughs, the lines around his eyes creasing. "No. He won't. No one knows where you are. We are very good at keeping our business secretive. Why do think Santiago's little task force still hasn't been able to track us down?"
Doubt starts to trickle in, but I can't lose hope. Even if Javier doesn't find me, I will find a way out. I have to.
Dante senses where my thoughts are headed. "And if you're thinking about escaping, Isabel, I would advise otherwise. You see, if you try anything, it won't be you who suffers. No, instead we will hurt Sasha."
The name conjures up a whisper of a memory from the far reaches of my mind. "Who's Sasha?"
"You don't remember? You two were so close at the beginning. She begged us to stop when we beat you. It got annoying after a while so we separated you from her."
I think of the crying girl I remember hearing all those months ago. Sasha. The name is slightly familiar to me now. If Dante was to be believed, this woman cared for me. I would have to figure out a way to escape without getting her hurt... or worse.
"I had such big plans for you at the beginning, Isabel. You were going to make me a lot of money. You see, in the past I was always a little repulsed at the thought of selling women for money, but that was before I found out just how profitable it could be."
"Why me?"
"There are many reasons you were the perfect target. For one, I knew I wouldn't have to worry about your father, since I had already taken care of him. And what better way to send a message to the DEA than to take the daughter of the man who killed my brother. It wasn't like you were difficult to get to. My men found you within a day and started tracking your movements until the perfect opportunity arose."
"But why continue to come after me? You've got more than enough girls to make you money." I needed an answer to the question. It didn't make sense why they would risk so much for me.
"It's true, we've more than compensated for your loss. But for whatever reason, I just couldn't let you go. You captivated me, and I admit, I became a little obsessed."
"I'm flattered," I say sarcastically.
"If anything you should be grateful. I've decided to keep you for myself. None of the other girls have that privilege,” he state as if I should feel honored. “Which reminds me, I want to apologize for what Matías did to you. I gave him strict orders to save you for the clients, but he couldn’t help himself.”
Suddenly, I feel sick. I was already aware of the fact that I had been raped, but the affirmation stings.
There is no way I'm letting this man get anywhere near me. I need to come up with a plan of some sort.
Just then, I hear the doors open and relief surges through me as I see Sanz walk into the room.
#javier pena#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#javi#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#narcos#narcos fanfiction#a lone butterfly series#javier peña
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|FFN|
I want to thank @captainswanmoviemarathon and Discord. My co-writer @revanmeetra87
I want to also thank @ultraluckycatnd for Beta-ing thiis thing for us.
Thursday
Jefferson's broken leg was on a sling. His arm was in a cast. He wasn't in the best condition but he knew if he didn't get Killian back home he would be worse off. He would disappear. The TV kept reminding him that he needed to get out of the hospital ASAP. There were reports the elevators had either stopped working completely or malfunctioning. He had firsthand experience that is why he is in a hospital bed and not at home preparing his Nobel Prize speech. He had tried to charm the nurse to let him leave the hospital but failed miserably. Nurse Ratched told him he had to be released by Doctor Hyde. Jefferson didn't realize that she had come in to check on him earlier and overheard his entire conversation with Emma. She was concerned that he was crazy and suicidal.
Emma was getting ready for her day at work. The sudden ring of the fire alarm startled her. She could hear her neighbors yelling and Cat's frantic barks. She decided to check it out.
Killian had attempted to make breakfast and chaos had erupted, the fire alarm blared, smoke filled the apartment. Cat's barking got louder. As Emma entered she yelled, "Cat shut up!" She turned off the alarm, and opened the window to air out the apartment.
Killian glared. "That thing is a bloody hazard."
"It's just a toaster!" She glared back at Killian.
"That thing does not produce toast! One insertion only produces warm bread and two insertions produce charcoal!" he yelled.
Emma rolled her eyes, this man was a drama queen. "It's just a toaster." She repeats annoyedly.
Killian was pacing back and forth ranting, "You would think that when the General of Electric built the bloody thing he would test it, for him to take pride in his creations instead of just foisting them on the public without warning!"
"You know what, no one cares if they have to insert the toast twice. You know why? Because we all insert it twice!"
He took a step forward, he looked like a hunter going after its prey. He didn't stop until they were toe to toe. "Not where I come from!"
For a second Emma felt a rush, then she squared her shoulders. "Oh no, of course not because where you come from, toast is the result of reflection and study."
"Aye, you mock me, but perhaps one day, when you're awoken from a pleasurable slumber to the scent of a warm brioche smothered in marmalade and fresh creamery butter you'll understand that life is not solely comprised of tasks, but tastes."
Emma's smile widened. "Say that again."
Killian was baffled at her sudden change in demeanor. "Pardon me?"
"Nevermind, you'll be perfect." She looked him up and down. "Good, you're dressed. Come on, you're coming with me."
Killian followed her without question.
Emma and Killian arrived at her work, but not without some stares directed at Killian's wardrobe.
Emma had called Mary Margaret to meet them at the door. Just as requested, Mary Margaret was waiting for them. She greeted them as soon as they walked inside. "Emma, we've been waiting for you. We had-" She looked at the list, "five read so far-"
Emma shook her head. "Mary Margaret, meet Killian. Please take him to the greenroom; I want him to read." Mary Margaret smiled at Killian and nodded.
"Killian, this is Mary Margaret. Go with her and she will explain everything."
Killian and Mary Margaret disappeared down the hall.
Emma walked to the control room. Her boss was chatting up the client, so she went over to the monitors. There were women smiling and batting their lashes as they gazed into the screen with Killian on it.
The client, Mr. Spencer, was frustrated and finally said, "Walsh, I don't have time for this."
Emma responded, "Mr. Spencer, let's look at this last one."
Walsh Oz shakes his head. "Emma, the client said he wants to stop."
"Walsh, trust me, this is the one," Emma said with confidence.
"What is he wearing?" Walsh scrunched up his nose. "He looks like the Quaker Oats guy."
"Well, it doesn't really matter what you think. What really matters is what the ladies think. They love him. To them he is a dream. He's honest, courteous, handsome; a true gentleman. He stands up when you walk in a room. He brings you brioche in bed. If you eat his margarine, maybe your hips will shrink."
In the greenroom, Killian fidgeted under the scrutiny of the director's eyes.
"Mr. Duke, do you see that mark on the floor?"
Killian nodded.
"You need to stand on that tape line," the director said. "Okay, everyone quiet! And action!"
Killian stayed quiet with the rest of the room.
The director stared at him and rolled his eyes. "Mr. Duke, this is the part when you start talking."
Killian turned his gaze to the monitor and with a raised eyebrow, his blue eyes twinkled under the light. "Fresh creamery butter. Is there anything more comforting? I say there is. You'll agree once you sample fat-free Farmer's Bounty with the genuine essence of creamery butter in every bite. You shall receive butter's splendid flavour in your mouth without adding to the luxury of your waistline."
Mr. Spencer laughed boisterously. "Where do I sign?"
Walsh leaned in to whisper in Emma's ear. "Where did you find him?"
Emma took a step away. "Oh, he lives in my building."
Killian waited patiently by the door while Emma gave Mary Margaret some last minute instructions.
Walsh Oz walked out of the stairwell. He smirked as he noticed Emma was still in the building. "What's the deal with the elevators?" he asked no one in particular. He slowly approached her from behind, and smelled her hair. She stiffened. "Emma, we have so much to discuss over dinner tonight."
Oh yeah, Emma though. I'd forgotten about that. She tried to smile. "Yes, we do. I look forward to it."
Killian's jaw clenched at the display of power abuse and the obvious discomfort it caused Emma. Walsh grinned as Emma walked up to Killian so they could leave. "Nice job, Mr. Margarine," Walsh said as the glass doors closed behind them.
Once they're outside, Emma turned to Killian with a bright smile. She started dancing.
Amused, Killian smiled. "You look pleased."
"Killian, you did an amazing job in there! You are going to be famous!"
Killian simply smiled. "I take it you're dining with that man this evening?"
Emma's smile disappeared. "Yes, he's my boss, Walsh."
"Do you require a chaperone? His intentions are obvious," Killian asked.
"I'm alone with you, do I need a chaperone?" Emma rolled her eyes.
"Emma, we're not courting but if we were, as a man of honor, I would inform you of my intentions in writing."
"I don't need saving. No one saves me but me. Don't worry about it," Emma said, slightly annoyed.
Emma walked in front of him. Killian could tell she was miffed at him, so he kept a small distance from her. A horse carriage caught his eye. He patted the horse and turned to Emma. "How about we take one of these?"
She shook her head no. "Those are for tourists."
Killian smiled at the kind old man. "I'm sorry sir, she's not interested."
The man kindly grinned back. "No worries."
Emma raised her hand, and Killian watched her until one of the powered carriages - cars, he remembered - screeched to a halt at their side. It is bright yellow with some black trim, just like the one they used as transport earlier, but it appeared to have a different coachman.
"All right," Emma said as she opened the car door, "We're probably going to need a bank account number and possibly a birth certificate from you before we start filming. Legality and all. So if you could just drop the 'back in time' act for a few minutes and track them down for m-"
From behind them, a man in a billed cap darted forward and jerked Emma's reticule from her hands, then rushed across the street.
"Hey!" Emma shouted, enraged. "That's my purse!"
Emma took flight after the scumbag thief. "Hey asshole! That's my bag! I'm gonna get you, you ass!" She chased after him while wearing the most uncomfortable shoes. He was fast, but she was not about to give up.
She stopped for a brief second to catch her breath. She doesn't want to lose him and was about to restart her chase once more when she heard galloping hooves which confused her. She then heard her name being called out. That's when she noticed him. It was Killian riding a horse and he was fast approaching her.
"Emma, give me your hand," Killian instructed once he reached her.
She gave him her hand and he easily pulled her on the horse as they broke into full gallop in pursuit of the thief.
Emma held on to Killian tight as he maneuvered the animal. The chase didn't last long. They cornered the lowlife rapidly. "I warn you, scoundrel. You stand no chance. When you run, I shall ride and when you stop, the steel of this strap will be lodged in your brain."
The thief had nowhere to run so he just threw the purse on the ground and took flight. A sudden onslaught of cheering and applause erupted from their previously unknown audience. Killian unmounted to retrieve the purse. Emma simply stared at him as she tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
Soon enough, they find themselves back at the corner where the chase began. Killian hooked the horse back up to the carriage as the older man smiled at Emma. "Your boyfriend is a great rider."
Emma smiled. "Yes, he is."
On the ride home, they sat quietly in the carriage.
"Are you for real?" Emma asked.
"Pardon?" Killian responded with a raised brow.
"You're a Duke?" Emma asked.
"I was born a Duke, but I never felt like one," Killian smiled.
Back at the apartment, Emma was getting ready for her dinner with Walsh. She noticed the interactions between Cat and Killian.
Cat was eagerly waiting for her next command from Killian with a wagging tail.
"Stay...Sit. On your feet… Stay… Stay… Good girl," Killian said with a triumphant smile.
Emma can't help as her eyes drifted to Killian. He was a good looking man after all and she wasn't blind. He was distracting, but she had to focus. Dinner equals promotion.
"What are you guys doing tonight?" Emma asked.
David's attention was glued to the game on TV and he mumbled under his breath, "we might meet up with some of my friends."
"Alright, I'm off to dinner then," Emma said.
"Emma, please reconsider my offer to chaperone," Killian begged.
Emma rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself."
"David, don't you think it's inappropriate-" Killian asked as he helped Emma put on her coat.
"As her brother, I would think my sister would invite me to an audition," David said, outraged.
Emma sighed. "David, you're not exactly margarine material. I'm sorry."
"What!? I can't sell butter? Emma, I'm a great actor. I can sell butter! It's insulting that my own sister has no faith in me."
"Yes, David you are an amazing actor but-"
"Is it the accent? I can do British, Emma. Hell I can be anyone." David continued ranting as Emma turned to Killian. "Good night." She opened the door and lingered for a second before walking away.
Killian gazed after her with a small smile.
Emma and Walsh are seated and he ordered some drinks for them.
After the waiter left, his attention turned to her. "Emma, I have to admit I was nervous for you. When your friend walked in wearing that outfit, saying 'if you eat this margarine your hips will shrink'," Walsh laughed.
Emma smiled. "I was just doing my job."
"He is going to be bigger than Mr. Whipple. You're not sleeping with him are you?" he asked.
"No." She shook her head, yet at the tip of her tongue was a comment about it not being his business. Sometimes she had to remind herself to play nice.
Killian and David decided to go out and meet some friends. "Hey guys, this is Killian," David announced.
Killian smiled as he greeted everyone.
His companions were enthralled by his voice as Killian made a comment about how the best things in life are hidden in the basement of the Louvre.
David excused himself to go to the bar and get drinks where he bumped into a dressed up Mary Margaret out for a girls night out.
Killian noticed the interaction and David's obvious attempt at flirting. so he excused himself to get a closer look. Before he could get closer, though, the connection had been cut short and they returned to their respective parties. Killian stopped Mary Margaret to greet her as David caught their exchange on his way back to the table with the drinks.
Before anyone was aware of it, the evening came to its inevitable end. Killian and David were walking home and David stopped walking. Killian turned to him to see what the problem was as David started talking in a mocking voice...
"Please, allow me to assist you, Abigail."
"Oh, please, allow me to light that for you, Merida."
"What's this? Ah, this is my family crest. It has been in the family for generations."
"What do they have in the basement of the Louvre? The works of Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Chardin, David all surrounded by great coral sponges to absorb the moisture."
Killian was confused by his friend's behavior.
"Not all women are going to swoon over your-" David pointed up and down Killian's form.
Killian studied his friend, trying to understand David's point.
"I was going to get her number but-"
"I believe this is her number," Killian said as he handed his friend the paper. "Mary Margaret has no inkling of your affections. You are a Merry Andrew. Women respond to sincerity. This requires pulling one's tongue from one's cheek. No one wants to be romanced by a baboon. Here's her number and give her a call tomorrow. It's late now and Emma should be home by now."
"Wait, you like her." Realization dawned on David's face. "You really like my sister!"
"David, that's nonsense. You're intoxicated," Killian said as he scratched behind his ear.
"Now who's the Merry-Andrew? You know, Emma is having dinner not long from here. We should go and you can show me the proper way to make a move."
Killian sighed. "Not a move David, an overture. Make your intentions known. Think of pleasing her, not vexing her."
"Fine, no vexing. Come on let's go." David smiled as he pulled Killian in the direction of the restaurant.
Emma cleared her throat. "I have to confess I'm a bit confused. When you mentioned dinner, I was under the impression that we were here to discuss business, a possible promotion even." She sighed. "Dinner is winding down and we have yet to discuss those things. We've talked about your love of La Boheme, and the lovely place you purchased in Sussex."
Walsh gave her his best attempt at a seductive smile. "I don't believe I've ever seen you this flustered Emma, and you haven't even kissed me yet."
Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Right. I like you, Walsh, I do. But I think you would agree that a working relationship- a successful working relationship, requires-"
"Hello, Emma!" David's cheery voice interrupted. "We found you."
Jumping in her seat, Emma turned to see her brother suddenly hovering beside the table. "David?" she asked in disbelief.
"We wanted to say hi," David explained, then proceeded to introduce himself to her boss.
"We?" Emma thought, before realizing Killian was standing at her side.
"Emma," he said in a low, earnest voice as his eyes searched hers. "May I speak to you in private?"
Her mouth fell open. "Seriously? No!"
But Walsh was already inviting the two to pull up seats and join them.
"Where, exactly, did you say it is?" Killian asked Walsh with a cocked eyebrow.
"Sussex, near Ballmour," Walsh said with offhanded superiority.
"Built in the 18th century?" Killian reiterated Walsh's earlier words.
"Early 18th century," Walsh emphasized, with a look at Emma. Killian could almost see the man puffing out his chest with pride. "I have pictures to prove it."
"Well," Killian said, thinking of the empty, rolling green and scattered trees of the area as he knew it. "I do believe you were swindled. I can assure you, as of the late 19th century, there is nothing in the area but farmland."
"You're mistaken," Walsh said immediately. "That's not possible."
Emma quickly jumped in. "He's right; you may be mistaken, Killian!" she hissed. "You don't know-"
Irritation rising due to the fact she was defending the cretin who was so obviously looking to take advantage of her, Killian snapped back. "I was raised there, I do know."
Clearing his throat to break up the discussion, Walsh changed the subject. "Killian, do you enjoy opera?"
Still stinging from Emma's words, Killian plastered a smile on his face. "Oh, indeed. Do you have a favorite?"
Raising his eyes to the ceiling, as if thinking deeply, Walsh finally said, "Boheme. La Boheme. I've seen it 12 times. That's...that is how I learned to speak French."
From the corner of his eye, Killian could see Emma's eyes widen with surprise. Clearly she was impressed, or pretending to be.
Now the irritation grew to ire, and Killian could feel it gnawing at him. He knew he should just let it go, but suddenly he heard himself making a statement in French.
Emma looked to Walsh. "What did he say?"
As Killian had expected, Walsh was sitting there dumbstruck, only managing to croak out a small scoffing noise.
Killian translated the phrase, explaining it was the opening words to Boheme - a duet.
Still slightly stunned, Walsh managed to jump back in and tell the table that Andre sang it to Mimi.
Unable to believe what he was hearing, Killian laughed softly. "Andre?"
Now recovering, Walsh lifted his head. "Yes, I invited Emma to the Met to see it. But she turned me down! Can you believe that, Killian?"
Voice tight, Killian said, "True, it should not be missed by anyone. But perhaps Emma resists on moral grounds."
Emma groaned softly, lowering her head into her hands.
Walsh narrowed his eyes. "How so?"
"Let's get the check!" Emma said hastily, but nobody answered her.
"Well," Killian said, staring at Walsh challengingly, "some feel that to court a woman in one's employ is nothing but a serpentine effort to make a lady fall from grace."
Silence fell over the table, though David was trying to hide his grin.
Finally, Walsh said stiffly, "This guy is charming, Emma. The Duke of Margarine thinks I'm a serpent."
"No, not a serpent," Killian corrected. "Merely a braggart and cad, who knows less French than I, if that is possible." Pushing back his seat, Killian rose and collected his jacket. "And by the way, there is no Andre in Boheme. It's Rodolfo. And though it takes place in France, it is rarely played in French as it is written in Italian. Good night."
Knowing he had made himself a fool, and facing the possibility that Emma would never speak to him again, Killian still turned on his heel and stalked out of the restaurant.
Back at the apartment, Killian and David waited for Emma's return. At the click of the door's lock unlocking, Killian rushed to the door.
Emma opened the door and breezed in, ignoring Killian's plea for a word.
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Text
Retracted Claws | 04
BTS
Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]
Genre: Hybrid/Mafia AU, Violence, Angst, Dark Themes, Fluff - Tae is soft for Y/n
Warnings!: Implications of past abuse (Mental/Physical/Sexual), Implied Sex Service
Words: 6.8k
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It’s almost unnerving at how fast time can tick by after a tragic event. It’s already been 2 months since you were attacked on the streets and it’s also been 2 months since Taehyung snapped at you. True to his apology, he’s done everything in his power to control his temper, especially around you. You understood that he had to be strict and hold a sense of power to keep his men in line and he couldn’t really run his mafia if he was soft on them. You didn’t mind when he yelled and threw shit at someone who didn’t listen, but if you were with him, he would keep it short- promising punishment to them later.
The guilt from that time still ate away at his stomach early morning and he’s woken up enough times panicking when the memory of your blood body haunts his dreams. Taehyung had almost moved into your room by home much he was in there with you, sleeping in your bed at your side and even making sure you don’t slip in your own shower.
While he’s become even more doting, you’ve started becoming more independent; albeit in baby steps. You can wander around the manor on your own, you can stay in your room and shower on your own now without fear of some random man charging at you when your back was turned. For lack of better terms, here in this manor where you had Taehyung and you had Jimin, you felt safe. These walls of this grand manor were ones you could trust.
You’ve also started trying to speak up more. You were almost always limited to speaking to Jimin or to Taehyung. Humans are vile and scary, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say two words if someone paid you (mostly because payment for you never turned out).
Perhaps, that's why Taehyung had been a bit more relaxed when it came to you being indoors. He would always be watching you in the corner of his eye, or he asks Jimin or a trusted member of his men to watch over you, but as opposed to the constant hovering he did before, he had grown less tense about it.
Now, here you stand in the corner of Taehyung's meeting room. Jimin sat at the table and Yoongi speaking over the phone. Taehyung sat at the end of a long table and a stranger sat at the other end. He was apparently a client of Taehyung's that has been shifted in his loyalty as of late. He claims to have some dirt on some rival companies and drug lords, but he's not willing to talk easily. No one was even sure if his claims of information were true, to begin with. It was all one big assumption.
So, here Taehyung sits, annoyed and impatient. His legs were crossed under the table, one hand tapping on the wood and the other curled around his mouth as his eyes were lidded with annoyance. The dark glimmer in them still sent shivers down your spine as your ears would unconsciously fold backward.
Even after all this time beside him and being fully aware since day one, just who Taehyung is and what he does, it doesn't lessen the chill you get from him when he's engulfed in his work.
"As I'm sure you're aware," Taehyung finally spoke. Jimin looked at his friend in a blank expression- he was good at hiding what needed to be hidden in such dire and heavy atmospheres. "I don't have all day and frankly, you're already wasting my time. So, either start talking or get the hell out."
"Taehyung," Jimin warned, trying to reign in his temper before it would spiral out of hand. Ever the professional when it comes to something business related. Jimin had too many sides, more than a die would and you always wondered which was legitimate.
"I want my payment before I tell you what I know," he spoke with an almost too proud smile. Taehyung's eyes narrowed.
"Tell me one good reason why I should reverse the ways of a trade when it comes to you specifically? I see nothing special about you compared to any other barber who comes my way."
"I won't tell you a thing otherwise. Who knows, maybe I have some good intel."
"And perhaps you're a liar who is just trying to pry at what clearly doesn't belong to you by putting on a face of pride." Taehyung dropped his hand from his mouth, joining it with his other than tapped on the table. Now clasped together they sit still. "You could very well have something, sure. However, you would just as easily be completely empty-handed when it comes to anything that could possibly be helpful to me."
It was tense as you stood. Your ears flicked as you scanned the stranger's body. His posture was slack like he didn't care how he presented himself in front of the man who is still technically his boss. He bit back and a cocky smirk that fueled his equally cocky attitude. Sat without a care in the world.
Then, his eyes flicked to you standing beside the door. It wasn't really intended that you be here, but Taehyung hadn't minded you sitting in if you wanted to so he didn't chase you out as he had before. If he were discussing proper mafia etiquette with his men and laying out blueprints of their next heist, then he'd tell you to go preoccupy yourself until he finished.
When he lashed out at you and you ran off, getting injured, he wanted to keep as much cruelty away from you. He didn't want what happened to you that night to happen again. He knew he couldn't always avoid it and he knows that maybe one day it would happen and it wouldn't be his fault, but it still scared him. If you so much as got a tiny papercut he felt like he could cry for hours.
He's grown up like this, but the nightmarish stain of your blood painting his memory like candle wax that won't burn off. Reminding him that this isn't the place you deserve to be, but the place he is selfishly keeping you for his sake. The sake of the small sliver of humanity in him, you kept it grounded. You were the anchor to his sinking ship.
"How about we do a half trade," Jimin spoke up as he flipped open a laptop he had laid out on the table in front of him. Powering it up and gaining the two men's attention, he soon began typing and clicking around on his screen. You watched from the wall and saw him typing up some sort of document, all sorts of paragraphs and bullet points before he swung the laptop around so the screen faced away from him. "If you give up half of your information- that you claim to have- now, we can offer a proper payment and then you would then be obligated to reveal the remaining withheld information."
Taehyung half negotiations. He leaned back in his chair as he crossed his arms. Uncrossing his legs as they sat apart under the table. He bit at the inside of his cheek to keep from grimacing. Half negotiations were always a floozy deal. There are too many ways they could fall through or not work out. Half the time they ended up with Taehyung having to track down the client and killing them for not sticking to contractual obligations.
In short, the odds were never really in Taehyung's favor- and Taehyung hates wasting time, energy and supplies on something that could've been avoided in the first place.
The man across the table seemed to roll the idea in his head, knowing that is Jimin is proposing it, there's a chance Taehyung won't decline it. Jimin worked as Taehyung's eyes and ears, along with upholding his rationality.
"I suppose I'd be willing to work under the terms of a half," he said after some thought- a hard feat for such a dunce Taehyung was sure. Taehyung glared when he caught the man eyeing you up again for the third time since he sat in his stupid chair. He quickly lifted his leg, the toe of his boot harshing connecting to the bottom of the table.
The wood jostled and anything on top of it shook and rattled. The man jumped as Jimin just withheld a sigh. You also jumped from the sudden sound as you soon breathed and eased your shoulders back down. He dropped his leg back onto the carpet when the man's eyes were back on his where they needed to stay.
"If you don't want to lose one of your eyes, you'd do best to keep them off Y/n," you looked at Taehyung as he growled at the man. Jimin looked over his shoulder at you as you slightly shook his head. You saw him look at you before, but you didn't think much of it. You often got odd looks because of you being a hybrid. You've grown used to it. Though, it was true that this man's eyes gave you the worst kind of chills.
The meeting continued and both parties decided on a half trade, much to Taehyung's disinterest. The man gave up information about a small rebellious patch that seemed to be festering in a small portion of Taehyung's men. Many were older gentlemen who were beyond disgusted at his decision to take in and hybrid and give her rank as high as him.
Jimin all the while was typing away every word that came out of the man's mouth. The information was copied into the laptop word for word. You were contemplating leaving, as the meeting seemed it would be easy enough to finish. All that was left was to hear what the man wanted in terms of payment before the rest of the deal would be carried out.
You moved towards Taehyung, walking to his side to tell him that you would be going. Jimin was talking to the man for a moment, so you took the chance to tell him. He looked at you walking up to him and almost released the tension in his shoulders. You look down at him.
"I'm going to go back to my room if that's alright?" You softly spoke. He almost smiled as he nodded.
"It's a decision for you, kitten. If you wish to leave, then you may at any time." You nodded at him as you turned to leave, but the man across the table's eyes stopped you. They caught yours again as you shivered. They were dark and reminded you too much of the past. Taehyung noticed how you stalled and reached to place a hand on your forearm. You flinched, stuck in your head when he touched you. "I'm sorry," he whispered when you calmed.
You shook your head as the man across the table started chuckling. Taehyung moved to hardened his eyes into a glare at the man as he sat confining his chuckled behind his hand.
"You know, with all due respect sir, it may not be the brightest idea to parade off an animal," he chided. Taehyung's grip on your arm almost tightened unconsciously. He watched Jimin look at the man with distaste as you were somehow brought into the conversation. "She's not exactly fitting into the mold you created for everyone else. A rarity is sought after in this line of work."
"I don't remember asking your opinion on who I decided to let in or out of my work," he snarled back. He was annoyed that the man referred to you like some animal, to begin with. Now his accusation seemed to hold a second meaning. Taehyung wasn't stupid.
"The contract states that whatever I request in payment is to be delivered since I held up my first half of the bargain," he grotesque smile formed on his greasy face. Taehyung stood from his chair, knocking it back with the force of his standing. He tugging your arm as you moved behind him as he pulled his gun tucked in its snug holster on his belt and pointed it at the man.
"I'll shoot you right here and now if you so much as open your fucking mouth again." You could feel Taehyung's hand shaking around your arm as he breathed through his nose harshly. He gripped his gu so hard his hand shook as his veins bulged in anger up his neck. His shoulder square and he was absolutely serious when he said he'd shoot him. You had no doubt.
Jimin could already understand where this is going as he stood up. He looked down and across at the man who remained seated, almost unbothered.
"Although a trade like this is usually open game, we aren't into selling people for their bodies for something like this. We have other ways of gathering information. Your request would be denied." Jimin voice was stone, as he was far better at controlling his anger than Taehyung.
Your eyes widened when you realized what the man was going to ask for. Why he'd been staring, why Taehyung was on edge and why he was suddenly now pointing a gun at him. he was going to ask to spend the night with you. You gasped lightly when you feared your old life coming back for you. Clawing at your ankles and ensnaring you like a bear trap. You were truly still chained to your past after all.
You looked at Jimin's calm rage and then looked at the back of Taehyung's head. He was so angry, and he cared about you so the point he's willing to kill clients and terminated contracts if you were so much to be involved. You took a breath, steeling yourself for a decision.
You vowed to get stronger, to grow and help Taehyung. Help him understand and love himself. To pull him out of his self-hate. You vowed to understand and work with him, alongside him as a person, not his hybrid. If you had to be brought in to finalize a deal with someone with possibly valuable information that could be a line between something dangerous aimed at the man you've grown so fond of, so be it.
You pulled your arm from Taehyung's hand as you moved to wrap your arms around his waist from behind him. You pushed your forehead into his back as you turned your head and rested your cheek between his shoulder blades. Resting easy, he leaned back into you slightly.
"Y/n?" He whispered as he moved to look behind him.
"Just, trust me," you told him as you let go of him and walked around to his side and moving to stand slightly in front of him. Facing the man sitting at the table head on. "I'm willing to work with you," you told him as Jimin whipped around from the man to look at you with wide eyes. Taehyung behind you dropped his arm with his gun as he stared at the back of your head.
Your ears were standing on your head, not back in gear or anxiety. Your frame was firm, straight as you stared this man down. The man you were willing to revert to your past to if it would benefit Taehyung even the tiniest bit. Taehyung's gun slipped from his hand as you and the man kept eye contact.
"Is that so? You're willing to conduct yourself to my whim without complaint?" You nodded.
"I'm more than capable of doing so, rest assured."
He laughed. "What a stupidly obedient pet." He waved before digging into his pocket and throwing a key at you which you swiped out of the air. Some might say you had some cat-like reflexes. "So long as you show up, I'll go and tell your little owner whatever he wants to know. Location is on that key, sweetheart." You nodded as you tucked the key away in your pants pocket.
You bowed lowly to the man before you turned and left the room without a word to Jimin or Taehyung. Jimin watched you go with astonishment as Taehyung couldn't move. Even moving his eyes felt taxing.
Too much. This was too much. What just happened? Taehyung shook his head slowly in small swivels before he was marching out of the room, swinging the door open with enough force to rip it clean off the hinges before he was chasing you down.
Rushing into the halls, catching a glimpse of you before you rounded a corner. He sprinted down the hall before catching your arm. “Y/n, wait,” he told you. It was hard to face him, so you didn’t. You never moved to acknowledge him at all. Taehyung’s breath was labored. He looked to his left then right. Just a few doors down was a vacant storage room. Not too much held inside it if memory served. He let go of your arm and moved to grab your hand instead before pulling you in tow to the room. Going inside and locking the door behind both of you.
Flipping on the dim storage light, it shadowed your face to look almost grim.
“What in the hell are you thinking” His voice held a wave of calm anger. He was determined not to raise his voice or chase you away. The memory of him doing so in the past still burned into his head. “Are you crazy? You can’t just butt into deals like that.”
“You were able to follow through with a business partnership though, right?” Your voice was low. Quiet and timid as your head hung low.
“That’s not what’s important. I prioritize you over my work and you should know that.” Taehyung watched as your curled hand shook like a vibrating machine. Hold it, he gently uncurled your fingers to reveal the key that man gave you. Red skin and indentions in your palm from gripping it so tightly. When Taehyung went to grab it, your fist closed around the metal again. “Y/n, let me have it.”
You shook your head. Taehyung moved you to sit on a spare crate. Kneeling in front of you and softly holding your hand that kept the key hostage.
“Y/n, you don’t need to do this. Just hand me the key and I can take care of everything.” He took a breath, calming himself when you shook your head again. “Please, “ he pleaded. “Don’t go through with something that scares you. Let me handle it.”
“I want to be of use to you,” you told him. Taehyung remained silent as he knelt before you, listening. “I know work is important to you and you’ve done so much for me.” You swallowed a lump in your throat as your nose was becoming stuffy. Ears flat against the top of your head. “So, please,” your voice cracked, “please just let me do one thing in return.”
Taehyug’s eyes softened as his thumb ran over the skin of your hands. He sighed.
“There’s nothing at all I can say- or do- to make you back out?”
“No, you answered quietly. Taehyung gently tugged on your hand, ushering you onto the floor with him. He sat himself down as he soon tugged you beside him. Looping his arm around your shoulder, he leaned his head against yours. “Taehyung?”
“Promise me that you’ll come directly to me afterward. Immediately, no matter what.” You nodded as you both sat silently. Taehyung hating the decision of allowing you to do the last thing he was sure you wanted to. His grip on your shoulders tightening.
XXX
That night you were going through your closet looking for something that would reminisce about your past life. Your past jobs that happened when the moon was as high as the men who would coop you in room after room with strangers from men to women. You hated trying to piece together something that the man you would be visiting might find pleasing enough. Your past hasn’t left, and right now at this moment, you doubt it would be going anywhere anytime soon.
Taehyung stood outside your door. Arms crossed, and body rigid. He tapped on his arm with his finger as he stared- rather glared- across the hall at the empty wall. This whole thing has him beyond angry, so much he debated knocking you out and dealing with the scumbag himself. However, he knew this was your decision and even if he hated, he couldn’t take that away from you.
He pushed off the wall the moment he heard your door handle move and soon you were stepping out of your room. Taehyung’s brow twitched. For the first time since he did it, Taehyung almost regrets buying you new clothes. Taehyung’s jaw clenched as his hand twitched to grab his gun and march his ass to shoot the man himself.
You looked at him as you stood in the most revealing outside you could muster. A tube top that had a zipper running down the center of your breasts down to your belly. Shoulders, collarbones, and arms exposed. A pair of garter shorts that clung to your legs and waist at the garters strapped into your thighs. You forewent shoes, not even putting on socks as you walked barefoot. Hair down as it fell in small teases.
Taehyung just stared at you as you crossed your arms over your chest. You never felt subconscious like this before, it was too normal for you. Wearing something like this was everyday attire back then, but standing in front of Taehyung had your stomach churning. This was what you used to be and this is something someone like him could easily toss away like trash. Your face darkened as you began to panic. Would he throw you out if you really did this? Would he push you away again? Would he give you up to a shelter or make Jimin take you someone out of his sight?
You flinched when he took a step towards you, clamping your eyes shut. You didn’t mean to, but you soon relaxed and almost burst into tears when he stood in the hallway outside your room holding you. He held your head in his neck as he rubbed up and down your shoulder, calming you down. He knew you were nervous and didn’t really want to do this, but you were forcing yourself. He didn’t understand why, and frankly, he didn’t think you knew either. It was just something you felt you had to do- and that was that.
“I’ll walk you to your car, okay?” Taehyung whispered to you as you both rocked ever so slightly back and forth. You nodded against him as he soon was pulling away from you and walking down the hall, his hand holding yours. When you came to a stop at the car waiting to take you to the location the man had given to Jimin earlier, you looked up and were shocked to see your driver would be Jimin himself.
He smiled at you gently as he pets your head, scratching behind your ears as you purred the slightest bit. He chuckled as he opened the backdoor of the car. Taehyung pulled your hand to tell you something, whispering in your ear.
“Don’t forget your promise,” he told you. Your face reddened at his breath pushing against your cheek. You nodded. You wouldn’t forget it would be repeating in your mind all nights so that you wouldn’t forget. It would get you through the nightmare you were going to put yourself though. Taehyung would be your blissful dream after all the hell. “Please be safe,” he muttered once more before you were sitting in the backseat, Jimin shutting the door after you.
Jimin went to his friend’s side, patting his shoulder as he saw so much distress on Taehyung’s face.
“Thank you for going with her, Chim.”
Jimin shook his head as he looked over his shoulder at you in the back seat. He could tell you were fiddling with your fingers, picking and pulling at them. A nervous tick you developed that Taehyung is trying to get you to stop. Your claws weren’t something you needed to be picking at, they can bleed too easily.
“I’m glad to go, I’m sure she’ll feel better if she knows I’m just right outside.”
“I wish she wouldn’t go,” Taehyung declared with a soft voice and clenched fists.
“I know.” Soon enough, Taehyung was standing at his front manor door, watching as the car, Jimin and you drive off. Leaving the property and not returning nearly as soon as he wished.
XXX
You sat nervously in the backseat at Jimin drove you to your location, the GPS ticking down the miles left until arrival. He kept glancing back at you through the rearview mirror, each time seeing the grim atmosphere around you thicken and darken in your eyes. Your eyes hadn’t moved from their flat position on your head since you got in.
You would move your attention to the seat in front of you, to your nails again and outside. Watching the city blitz by as Jimin drove and took in the sights, signs, and people when he was stopped at a light. You were glad the windows were tinted because if someone happened to see you- a hybrid- in such a car like this with only Jimin driving. Well, they would surely shoot you the dirtiest of looks and you were certain you’d break down into a fit of sobs if something were to push you any further right now.
Soon, Jimin was tightly gripping his steering wheel as he begrudgingly put the car into park on the side of the road. He parked in front of a love hotel, one made for a couple looking to hook up discreetly or for newlyweds to try out their wedding night games. Or maybe just for a long time pair to spice things up again. Point being, this was no place for you. Jimin didn’t nearly feel as sick to his stomach as he knew Taehyung did, but you were someone precious to him too. Like a younger sibling, he hadn’t met before, and if he did have a younger sister he sure as hell wouldn’t want her here.
Jimin got out of the front seat, yanking his keys out of the ignition with annoyance as he walked around to your door. Opening it he watched you take your seatbelt off slowly as you hesitantly stepped out. Your bare feet hitting the cool concrete of the city and stepping on the property of the sex-site. Jimin had half a mind to give you hit boots or even a jacket, but he knew you’d refuse them.
“Y/n,” he called as you turned to him. “You can still turn back, you don’t have to go in.” You shook your head as you smiled small. Jimin’s face fell, knowing what he said didn’t matter because if Taehyung couldn’t get you to change your mind, he certainly wouldn’t do it either.
“Thank you,” you told him before you walked inside, the plush red carpet meeting your bare toes in a blissful softness. The only thing you can say for sure you would enjoy in this place. Yes, the carpet was nice as you make your way to the room the key had inscribed on it and knocked as you stood before it. Greeted with a sick grin and yanked into a room, locked inside for a night.
5 hours passed by as Jimin sat in his car outside the hotel waiting. Taking near back to back calls every hour from Taehyung as well as receiving copious amounts of texts about you. Jimin knew as much as he did, a whopping plate of nothing.
Jimin was reclined in his seat, listening to some CD a friend had lent hi not too long ago. Jimin wasn’t a smoker like Taehyung was (even if Tae was trying to stop) but this wait almost made him start smoking. The tension was too high and he was too restless. He bounced his leg, tapping, hummed, and even beat on the ceiling of the car a few times to try and release some pent up energy.
He held his phone above his reclined face, one arm behind his head as he read yet another incoming message from his friend. He was tapping another ‘I don’t know’ when he saw the doors to the hotel slide open. You came rushing out. Holding your tube top at your chest. Jimin jumped up and ran to your side after bursting out of the car. He ran to you before he focused on the car to open the door for you to get inside of it. Inside to the safety you had been lacking for hours now.
He held you by the shoulders but retracted his hands almost instantly as you flinched at the contact. “Y/n!” He called your name as you didn’t once look up to meet his eyes. He just shook his head, foregoing any other words he may want to say, and just moved to open the car door and usher you gently inside. You slid into the seat and instantly slumped to lay across it instead. Jimin shut the door as you lay in the back, getting up front and driving off. Back to the manor- breaking a few traffic laws along the way.
XXX
When he got the message that Jimin was on his way back with you, Taehyng flew from his bed. He hadn’t slept, he refused to lay down, he was just pacing back and forth in his room. Taking breaks from his worries to work but soon back on his worry parade. He ran his fingers through his hair, held his face in his hands, kicked his trash bin at his desk and almost ripping a framed photo off his wall in frustration.
He had been or uneasy that he grew too hot to even stay completely dressed. Old, worn sweats hanging off his hips and that was all he could muster. He nearly flung his door across the hall when he busted it open to run down the halls, descended the stairs and skidded to a halt at the front door. He stood outside on the steps of his home waiting for that car to pull in his driveway.
Half an hour later and he hopped up the stair-step he sat on when he heard the revving of the car as it pulled around the gates and stopped at the bottom of his stairs to see Jimin get out of the front. Rounding the car to your side as Taehyung sped down the stairs, skipping steps as he went. Jimin helped your sit up as you slowly raised yourself out.
Tubetop still on, but zipper busted as you held it together at your chest. Shorts on, but wrinkled and hair a tangled, unkempt mess. You wouldn’t raise your head and Taehyung couldn’t see you. You were so dazed that you didn’t even hear, let alone recognized Taehyung’s scent as he came closer. You only looked up when you saw the slippers he wore outside when he didn't want to bother with shoes.
Slowly raise your head up, Taehyung saw the red coating around your eyes like a sickness. The puffy cheeks of yours as the red, button nose that glowed in the dark night around you. You shivered slightly as you took shaking breaths. His angry spiked when he saw something around your neck, a thick line that seemed raw. He pulled his fingers into a fist as his nails dug into his palm enough to cause himself the slightest bit of pain. That bastard put you in a fucking collar. Not to mention, his blood boiled at the mark- the bruise of purple just below the collar mark. He put you in a collar and sucked a mark into your skin.
That man put something, two somethings, on you. You who belonged to Taehyung- with Taehyung. Taehyung kicked off his slippers, making your step into them instead. He moved to grab your hand as he started away.
You followed behind mindlessly as Taehyung took you inside, up the stairs, down the halls you knew so well and into his room. It had been a while since you were truly in here. Taehyung shut the door behind your back, flicking it shut as he moved to hold you.
Tucking you into him as he held you so tight you couldn’t breathe. He hung his head as it rested against the side of yours; his shaking breathing hitting your ears. He tightened his hand that was on your back as he held you in place, not letting you move away from him an inch. You stood against his warmth, relaxing.
His scent was calming and his skin warm. You dropped your hand from holding up your tube top as you wrapped your arms around his naked waist back. Your nose pushing into his neck as you finally wept. He stood holding you- crying and shaking you- as you wailed out your misery. Tears sprung into Taehyung’s eyes as well.
When you calmed down, Taehyung held your cheeks as he looked at your red face. “I am so sorry,” he told you. You sniffed at your eyes twitched. He pushed his forehead against yours as he kissed the tip of your nose. “Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed, okay?” You nodded.
A bath, set of Taehyung’s clothes covering you and being tucked into his bed later, he sat beside your sleeping body, scratching your ears. You purred in your sleep as you watched you. His hair is still damp from his bath with you as it dripped occasionally. His eyes still stung as he pulled the comforter you had pulled up your chin back.
Leaning down, he placed a small, gentle kiss on your neck. Covering that mark that seemed to be fading from the collar and glaring at the bite that man gave you. Putting one more kiss on your neck, he tucks you back in as he left his room.
Taehyung found Jiin in his living room on his laptop, the two made eye contact and seemed to already be on the page thought process of what needs to happen ASAP.
“I’ve already got camera captures of where he went when he left and where he is. Wanna see?” Jimin asked him.
“Just give me a location, I’ll deal with the rest.” Jimin nodded as he pulled a gun from under the coffee table, tossing it to Taehyung.
“It’s not yours, but it can shoot and I took the initiative to load it, full chamber my friend.” Taehyung smiled at the gun, holding it at his hip before his phone went off with a location from Jimin. Taehyung was driving off with two men in 10 minutes before he was on the road.
Driving to a small home just outside the city, Taehyung started laughing at the location. This man had a secluded country home, making his job that much easier. It was laughable as Taehyung flicked the safety off and cocked it back. The car that had to two men up front stopped as the man who was responsible for the other half of the deal was outside smoking. He stood up ready to tell off the car that just parked in his driveway but stopped when he saw Taehyung step out.
Still only in his sweats, he marched up to the man who dropped the cigarette from his mouth from keeping it agape. Taehyung raised his gun, pushing the barrel up against the bottom of the man’s chin, shutting his mouth with a clack of his teeth.
“We don’t want you swallowing a fly, so shut that mouth of yours,” he cooed in fake sincerity. He moved the gun to tap against his cheek, the cool metal of it striking fear with each skin tap. The man’s skin raising in gooseflesh. “Let’s have a discussion of men, yeah?” Then Taehyung was dragging him inside, to men following him as the front door shut.
XXX
Taehyung had dragged the man into his bathroom as he threw him onto the tiled floor. Banging his head off the toilet bowl’s edge. The man squirmed on the floor as Taehyung put his gun on the sink as he knelt and picked the man up by his collar. “Talk, you piece of whoreshit,” Taehyung growled. The look in his eyes made the man below him shiver. He was rendered speechless as Taehyung pushed him back on the floor as he stood up towering over the man. Lifting his barefoot, he began pushing his foot onto the man’s neck cutting off his air.
The man on the floor squirmed as he pulled trying to get Taehyung off him, the mafia leader only stepping down harder. He released a moment later, not wanting the piece of trash to die- not yet. He moved to stomp his heel into the man’s gut.
Moving away, Taehyung opened the bathroom door, left and came back with what looked like fishing line. The man had moved to sit up against the side of the standing metal shower door. Taehyung began unwinding the line. He looked at the man, eyes narrowed and cold. Calling the two of his men inside the bathroom, the two were soon holding the man on his feet, holding his hands above him as Taehyung began winding and winding and winding the fishing line around his wrists and tying them to the metal frame of the shower door.
His hands turned red as the line cut into his skin to make small beads of blood. Taehyung smiled at the blood. “Who knew, even a monster like you has red blood,” he chuckled out. Taehyung told his men to leave, as he remained alone with the man. Tapping his gun against his thigh as he got closer to him. He pushed his gun into the man’s side as he got closer still. “I want every piece of information you have,” he said as he pulled his trigger.
A single bullet grazing his side as the bullet shot and shattered the glass door behind him. Glass falling into the shower and onto the floor, above Taehyung’s bare feet. He couldn’t be bothered as the man hissed and breathed in labored breaths from the bullet graze.
“Another thing,” he told him as his eyes hardened again. “I want you to tell me what the fuck you did to Y/n and for each lie you tell me, I’ll break each one of your fingers until you only have toes left. Then I’ll break those until I get to start to crack your ribs one by one, motherfucker.” The man froze in his tied up imprisonment. Taehyung smiled, holding the information that whatever he did do to you wouldn’t just have his fingers broke, no. Taehyung would be getting the dullest blade from the kitchen and cutting his fingers off completely.
When he was done of the night, he walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as he muffled the cries and whimpers inside. “His screaming is so annoying” he muttered as he wiped his bloody hands. Looking at the bloodstained sweats, he grimaced. “I liked these too,” he sighed. He turned to one of his men outside the door. “Find something to gag him with a sock, a shirt, underwear I don’t care. I’ll send reinforcements in the morning. Don’t let him out of this room,” he chuckled. “Not that he’s going anywhere.”
“Yes, sir!” One man told him as he moved to go search for something to gag the man. Taehyung left the house as he walked the perimeter. He scoffed, a pathetic area, but it doesn’t matter. It’s his now. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his red dried fingers calling Jimin.
“Send me 3 cars, 6 men each. This area is under my jurisdiction now.”
“He’s not dead, is he?” Jimin questioned hoping he didn’t jump the gun and just kill the fucker.
“No, he’s not. Calm down. I just roughed him up a bit, had a little chat,” Taehyung laughed through the line. Jimin didn’t question further. “I’ll need a change of clothes too. I don’t want Y/n seeing me like this right now.”
The line cut after that. Taehyung sat on the hood of his car as he sighed, looking at the night sky that was teasing the light of dawn. Digging inside his car and popping open the glove compartment, he pulled a pack of cigarettes. “Y/n is going to be mad if she finds out I smoked,” he said to himself. “Guess, I’ll just take the bullet,” he chuckled at his own chuckled as he lit it and blew the addicting smoke into the air. “It’s quiet this morning.”
The humming of cars and clacking of guns not too far off in the distance.
-Pt. 5?-
a/n: this is the shortest and possibly worst chapters of this series so far (I’m not v happy with it kinda), but I fiugred since I had it written here you go! Still on hiatus lmao
#bts#bts taehyung#btse kim taehyung#bts v#v#taehyung#kim taehyung#taehyung au#taehyung fic#taehyung fanfic#taehyung fanfiction#mafia au#mafia taehyung#au#mafia#violence#fluff#dark themes#tw#hybrid au#hybrid#hybrid reader#reader insert#reader#taehyung x reader#taehyung x reader au#series#female reader#y/n#v x reader
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Rescue
Warning: Mentions of child abuse
Days.
It’s been pecking days since the kid left.
Normally, Snatcher wouldn’t mind the peace and quiet when the kid wasn’t around bothering him, but this wasn’t Subcon Forest. This was the kid’s spaceship, her literal home away from home. The kid was usually gone for a while before coming back with another Time Piece.
The ship felt oddly… empty without its little captain. And, (notthathewouldadmitittoANYONE), Snatcher found it very unsettling how quiet this place had gotten without the kid running around doing whatever she does. The doors didn’t open and close, there was no annoying voice signaling her return, no small burl running to him and phasing through him because he didn’t want a pecking hug.
No nothing.
Snatcher frowned, dog-earing the current page he was reading and tossed the book away. In a blink he teleported into the main room of the ship, gazing around it once and irritably found no sign of the top hatted kid in any of the usual spots she would usually sleep on if she was too tired to get to her bed. Though Snatcher would have figured she wasn’t in this part of the ship since the TV was off.
It had been off since the kid left.
Huffing, Snatcher stuck his head in the kitchen. The Cooking Cat wasn’t there. Kind of good for him since he didn’t want any company right now. He was already irritated enough with the kid as he was for making him look for her. Still finding no sign of her, he decided to check the attic next, flipping the little robot over along the way.
Snatcher checked nearly every part of the ship, turning things over and poking his head in things that everyone knew normal kids couldn’t get into. But then again the kid wasn’t just a normal kid, so who knew? Apparently he did after confirming that she was not in the roach hole, and there was a slllllliiiight chance that he was going to give the kid a piece of his mind once he found her.
Never mind how long she had been gone! Snatcher was not in a good mood with what the kid was putting him through right now!
Eventually he made it to the lowest area of the ship after throwing a fit in the upper area, and found an interesting new place he hadn’t seen before below the lab (why does a kid have a lab?) that led to some sort of storage area filled with boxes and creates.
And a telescope.
-
Everything.
Hurt.
“Stay. IN THERE!” Hat Kid cried out in pain as she was tossed back in the cage, covered in new scraps and cuts from another failed escape attempt. She weakly sat up as the door slammed shut.
“How many times do you need to be reminded that escaping here is fruitless?” Hat Kid glared at the cat, who she now knew from the whispers of her followers was called Empress. “You’re lucky my client wants you alive.” The Empress hissed before turning to one of the lackeys cowering behind her. “And YOU! This is the tenth time she’s escaped under your watch!”
“W-We’re sorry! W-We tried our bes—GAK!” The lackey that spoke out was swatted away by the Empress, bursting in a cloud instantly.
Hat Kid felt bad for the smaller cats. She had seen how the Empress treated them and couldn’t help but pity them.
“Excuses! That’s all I get from you pitiful furballs!” The Empress growled, taking her anger out on two more lackeys before composing herself. “You better have been worth all the trouble you’ve caused. I don’t know why someone would be interested in you, but you certainly gained someone’s attention.”
Hat Kid stuck out her tongue, blowing a raspberry at the Empress. In a blink, she was pulled towards the bars and given a harsh slap across the face. She fell back, scooting across the floor and held her cheek in pain, feeling a warm liquid run down her face.
“That was only a warning to behave. Next time, I won’t hold anything back.”
With that, Hat Kid was once again left alone in the dark.
Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she kept them in as best she could, wiping her eyes and finding her hand covered in red when she pulled it away from her cheek.
Blood.
The Empress drew blood from her.
She stared at her bloody hand in shock. The sudden weight of the danger she was in that she had tried to deny once she failed to escape the first time came crashing down on her.
This wasn’t like all the other times when she faced a mafia boss, movie directors, or even Snatcher. She wasn’t just in some place that she could explore and have fun and make friends. She was in danger. There was no fun, no new friends, no exploration.
All she ever got in this place was pain and misery.
Tears rolled down her face, but she didn’t try to wipe them away. Instead she let them fall, which turned into full out crying and brawling her eyes out. She curled into a little ball, crying in pain and fear as the situation finally settled in her mind.
“Hey! Shut up in there prisoner!” A cat guard appeared from the darkness, slamming their paw on the bars. “We can hear you in the next room!”
“Yeah! Shut up! No one’s going to hear you!”
Hearing that only made her cry more.
“Come on! Stop crying like a baby!”
“I can’t believe anyone would have interests in you! You’re just a kid!”
“Yeah! A whiney kid crying for her mama!”
“Aw, does the wittle kid want her blankly too?”
Laughter rang out from her captors as they laughed at her. Laughed at her misery and the pain she was in as she cried.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted to be back in her spaceship, her bed, her pillow fort, in front of her TV.
She wanted her Rumbi, Cooking Cat, her dolls, Grooves, Conductor, pecking Conductor, anyone right now.
She wanted to be safe.
She wanted to stop being in pain.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted to go home.
“Hey wittle baby. Are you saaad~?”
“Does wittle baby want an ice cream~?”
“She probably wants a Band-Aid for her owwie~.”
“Aww~ Poor, poor—”
“Kid?”
-
Snatcher couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Not in a million years.
But there was the kid, curled up tight in ball inside a cage surrounded by cats with masks over their mouths.
He didn’t think this would be what he saw when he finally caught a trace of the kid’s soul, following it to a warehouse far, far away from prying eyes. He originally thought she was at some sort of rave thing or a secret party.
But this?
This was not what he thought he would stumble upon.
The kid’s hatless head twitched, looking up at him through the bars with puffy red eyes with tears covering her face. If Snatcher had a heart, it would have twisted on seeing the blood oozing out of the large cuts on her face.
“S-Snatc-cher?”
Her quiet voice sounded nothing like her normally cheery, happy-go-lucky tone, and Snatcher knew this wasn’t some messed up dream he was having.
“I-I-I-Is that a g-g-g-g-” Snatcher turned his eyes back on the cats. That cats that were surrounding the kids cage. The cats who held bats and crowbars. The cats who had been laughing at the kid. The cats who openly mocked and taunted the kid when she was CRYING. THE CATS WHO PLACED HER IN A CAGE AND HURT HER. THE CATS WHO ENJOYED CAUSEING HIS KID IN PAIN WHEN IT WAS HIS JOB! THE CATS WHO KIDNAPPED HER, LOCKED HER IN A CAGE, TORMENTING HER, HURTING HER, MOCKING HER!
Snatcher’s mane flared. His fingers turned into talons and rows of fangs grew on his frowning scarlet mouth.
“GHOST?!” The cats screamed Snatcher lunged at them with a furious roar and extended claws.
By the time the Empress came back, she didn’t find a single trace left of the warehouse where it once stood.
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Starting Up
Part One – Filling the Roster
Summary - Rip is ready to start his new business. All he needs now are a team and some clients.
Author’s Note: Another fic set before Protection but after What We Lost, On A Whim, One Moment and New Direction in my Legends Security Universe
Sara
“What do you think?”
Sara glanced back to where Rip stood leaning against the wall just inside the front door, he was trying to look relaxed, but she could see he was nervous letting her see this.
“Small,” Sara grinned at him.
Rip rolled his eyes, “Well so far my staff includes me, and me. But I’m hoping you too.”
She looked around again in silence.
“You know you want to,” Rip said, “We both know you’ll hate being a cop.”
Sara laughed, “My dad is not happy with you right now. And I quote, ‘Not only have I lost my best detective, but he turns around and steals my newest recruit’.”
“Come on and I’ll show you around,” Rip pushed himself off the wall.
Sara bounced a little as Rip walked her through the small space that was currently the home of Legends Security. It was small but neat and divided into separate but distinct sections. Reaching the smallest room, she stared in amazement at the things sitting around it. When Rip had come to her with the job offer, she’d been stunned because she’d never thought he would ever leave the force. Even after being shot.
“Where did you get all these?” Sara asked, looking at the devices she assumed were for surveillance.
Rip smiled, “I made them.”
“What?”
“Before I joined the force my original focus was computers and technology,” Rip shrugged, “I started tinkering when I began thinking about setting things up, it’s amazing what you can put together when you have nothing much else to do.”
Sara chuckled, “I am impressed.”
“Are you in?” Rip asked.
With a grin Sara nodded before asking, “So, have you talked to anyone else yet?”
“Not yet,” Rip replied with a shrug, “But I have a few people in mind.”
Diggle
Dig walked into Dragon’s Breath not sure why he’d been asked to come by, but he didn’t have anything else to do today and was intrigued by the message, so here he was.
“Hi,” Constantine, the owner greeted him, “Can I get you a drink, mate?”
Confused Dig nodded, “Just a soda. Although you can tell me why I was asked to come to a nightclub at ten in the morning?”
“Rip,” the man called through the door at the back, “Your meeting is here.”
The other man appeared, looking better than he had the last time Dig had seen him, although he was still moving slowly.
“Mr Diggle,” Rip smiled at him, “Thank you for coming.”
“You got me curious,” Dig admitted.
Rip motioned him to a seat at the nearest table, “I am going to get straight to the point why I asked to meet you. I am starting a security company and I want to hire you.”
Dig leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, “Why?”
“I saw the plan you put together for Nyssa’s party,” Rip reminded him, “You know your stuff. From your background you have both military training as well as been a bodyguard on enough occasions to know what is required.” Dig stared at him stunned the man had done a background check on him but before he could ask Rip continued, “Considering the last time we talked, I’m assuming you no longer work for Reverse Star Solutions?”
Dig nodded before shrugging, “As much as I enjoyed the work, and I am good at it, Thawne didn’t listen to anyone which became frustrating.”
“I saw that,” Rip told him, “And I can assure you that I will listen to what you say.”
Dig mused for a moment looking at the man in front of him. He had enjoyed his job, but Thawne had not been the best boss in the world. Considering what he’d seen of Rip Hunter, Dig decided to take a chance.
“Okay,” Dig nodded, “Trial period.”
Rip offered his hand, smiling when Dig shook it, “Agreed. Now, I’m also hoping you may have some ideas on people to build my teams with.”
Dig smiled, “Oh definitely.”
Zari
The café was quiet as Zari sipped her coffee while working on her laptop at the corner table. A shadow covered her, and she frowned at the man standing there.
“I’m doing nothing illegal, Detective,” she stated coldly, “I’m debugging a computer game.”
Rip Hunter smiled at her holding up his own tablet, “I know. This is not a secure place to work so I had a look.”
She frowned at him, “The wi-fi in my crappy apartment sucks.”
He shrugged, “Well on the other hand you could be in jail.”
“What do you want?” Zari demanded.
Rip pulled a chair out and sat, he took a quick breath grimacing suddenly.
“Are you okay?” Zari asked worried at the pain covering his face.
“Possibly overdone things today,” he sighed, taking a breath Rip looked at her, “I’m not here as a cop.”
Zari frowned worriedly, “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.”
“I was shot a few months ago,” Rip explained waving her concern away, “I’m still recovering and as I said overdid it a bit today.”
She stared at him, despite how annoyed she had been when he’d appeared Zari did like the man. She’d been arrested the year before for hacking into the security systems of three jewellery stores. Learning she’d been forced to help the gang robbing because of a threat to her family, Rip and Quentin helped her and her family.
“The reason I’m here is to offer you a job,” Rip told her.
Zari stared at him, “What?”
He smiled, “I’m starting a security company and I need someone with computer skills. And as someone who is almost as good as I am you are my first choice.”
“Really?”
Rip nodded, an amused smile on his lips at her scepticism, “If you’re interested, I can give you some more details.”
Staring at him thoughtfully for several seconds, Zari nodded, “Okay, let’s hear it.”
Less than an hour later he had his recruit. The three main positions were filled by the people he’d wanted and Rip was ready to begin.
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The Google Earth Murders - Chapters 2 & 3
One Week Earlier - Chapter 2 – The Divorce?
Patricia Davenport sobbed as she slammed the door shut and turned back to her two sons, Tyler and Max. Her husband Roger Davenport stood outside the now locked door of his condo at 131 Riverside Drive. He closed fingers around a key in his right hand, and held a large rolling suitcase in his left.
His jaw dropped from clenched teeth, and Roger raised the hand with the keys in it to knock, but he lost his nerve when he heard the voices of his sons, thick with crying, yelling something at their mother. He didn’t understand what they were saying, but it no longer mattered. He wheeled the suitcase down the hall, and pressed the button for the elevator.
On his way out of the building at 131 Riverside, his home for the past 12 years, he said goodbye to Albert, the gaunt and expressionless doorman.
“Good night, Mister Davenport,” said Alfred, not understanding the gesture of Roger’s ‘good-bye.’
“Good-bye, Albert,” said Roger again, accentuating the ‘good-bye.’ “Have a nice weekend.”
“It’s only Sunday night, Mister Davenport,” said Albert. “We’ll be seeing each other during the week . . . before Friday.”
“Doubtful,” said Roger.
Roger walked to the corner of 86thand Broadway; took the 1 Train downtown to Pennsylvania Station; waited for the stationmaster’s call of the NJ Transit line for Roselle Park; and boarded for the 30-minute ride to the suburb of Newark.
On the train, Roger called his longtime friend, and boss at the advertising agency, The Tip of the Spear, Gary Kaplan. He told Gary the day that mightarrive had indeed arrived. Roger would need the apartment in Colfax Manor, one of the company’s corporate housing properties, in North Jersey in the likely event that Patricia asked him to leave, which she had.
“Do you want me to pick you up at the station?” Asked Gary.
“No thanks. I remember the way to the apartment,” replied Roger.
“Okay, call me back if you have any issues getting inside,” continued Gary. “And you can use either bedroom.”
“Thanks, Gary. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”
The conversation paused. Gary cleared his throat.
“You don’t have to come in to work, you know,” said Gary. “I think we can handle the subjective demands of our clients for a day without you. And it’s the week before the Memorial Day Holiday. Won’t be that busy anyhow.”
“Hang on, Gary.”
Roger reached into the side pocket of the rolling suitcase, and pulled out a small bottle of eye-drops. He placed a drop in each eye, both of which were red. He noticed a little girl in the seat across from him. She was staring at Roger, and tugging at her amber curls.
“Allergies,” he explained to her. It satisfied her curiosity, and she returned to staring at her mother, another redhead, her gaze transfixed on the Review section of the Wall Street Journal.
“What allergies?” Said Gary.
“Sorry,” said Roger. “But that comment wasn’t meant for you, and if I don’t come into work tomorrow, I’ll spend the day staring out the window of the apartment and looking at that empty ballfield across the way, and you wouldn’t want that on your mind, would you?”
“Not a chance.” Gary replied. “Come on in, but do NOT mope around the office all day, or I will send you back to New Jersey. Deal?”
“Deal. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Roger hung up his cell phone, and closed his eyes for a moment. He jerked awake when the train hit a rough patch of track. He looked out the window and saw the sign for Westfield. He had fallen asleep and the transit line had now passed four stops beyond Roselle Park.
Just one of those days.
Roger grabbed his suitcase and ran out of the train, just before it pulled out. He need not have rushed. The next northbound one would not arrive for at least an hour, if it arrived on time.
He pulled back his arm to hurl his suitcase across the platform floor, but stopped. He set the luggage down next to a bench in need of a facelift. He dropped onto its uncomfortable surface and waited.
And, of course, the train pulled in 35 minutes behind schedule.
By the time Roger got to the Roselle Park station, the digital clock on his cell phone said 12:03am. The apartment building, fortunately just a ten-minute walk from the train station and through a public baseball field and park, sat on a street named Colfax Manor.
“Manor? That’s rich. Actually, it’s not rich. It’s anything but,” he said as he walked through the park.
Roger, surprised to find the duplex-style apartments of the post-World War II era had been replaced by pine-colored stucco two-story buildings. Their facades greeted him after he breached the baseball field and crossed the street. There were even side alleys between all the units. No shared walls.
He rolled the suitcase up the walkway. Small patches of green were on either side of it, and a healthy looking oak tree grew in what passed for a front yard. He stopped at the front door and found the key to it on his key ring.
“Things could be worse . . . and they will be.”
As a reminder to just that, as he stuck the key in the lock, a fob that also remained on the key ring that read ‘131 Riverside’ flashed in front of his eyes.
He shoved open the door and walked up the steps to the second floor. Roger decided to take the bedroom upstairs. His New York City apartment laid out, as most did, on one single floor. If he had to climb steps upon his arrival at the end of the workday, that is all the better, so as to not remind him of what he had left behind.
He trudged up the steps; found the bedroom; and collapsed on top of the mattress. He fell asleep seconds later.
***
Roger did go into work the next day, Monday. He took the New Jersey Transit Line in and out of Manhattan, and then walked to and from Penn Station to his office and 16th
Street and 9thAvenue. Spring weather had become very pleasant, and the hot summer, while not far off, still remained almost a month away.
That Monday afternoon, just prior to the Memorial Day Holiday, he walked to Gary Kaplan’s office and observed the interior, his boss’ Spartan desk dominated. As per usual, only Gary, the world’s tiniest laptop, and a memo pad the side of a credit card in front of him occupied most of the surface’s workspace. Behind him sat a single bookshelf on a white credenza, which had no function other than to support the empty bookshelf.
Gary, his headset looped over one ear, conversed with someone in German. He noticed Roger leaning up against the doorjamb, which had no door. Gary motioned him in with a single crook of his finger.
Roger sat on the one three-legged stool that Gary would allow in his office. A way of keeping meetings and visits short.
Gary finished his call with a single, ‘Tschus.’
“How goes it, world’s greatest creative director?” Gary asked Roger.
Roger shifted his weight forward, though it had nothing to do with taking a more aggressive posture with his boss. He needed to make sure his legs didn’t fall asleep.
“I’m ready to move back to Manhattan,” he said.
Gary placed both index fingers next to each respective eyebrow.
“I didn’t think Patricia was ready to have you back after less than a few days?” He asked.
She isn’t. The only time I’ve spoken to her is when she needs something for Max and/or Tyler, and it usually involves me schlepping back into the city after I’ve already taken the train out to Roselle Park,” he Answered. “And I won’t keep doing that during the course of our separation, so I have to figure out some way to get an apartment in the city.”
“Alright,” said Gary. “How can I help? I don’t have any available corporate housing in the city right now. I will after the summer, but that’s not doing you any good.”
“But you do have a real estate agent you like?”
“I do. He’s mostly commercial and residential purchase, but I could put the arm on him for a rental. I’d have to call in a chit, but I’d do it for you, world’s greatest creative director.”
Gary reached inside his right pants’ pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He started looking through the contacts. Roger let it go for a moment, but couldn’t contain himself.
“For God’s sake, Gary,” he blurted out. “I’m sitting right across from you. How about you give me his phone number and I call the guy?”
“That’s what I’m doing. I’ll text it to you.”
Roger got off the stool and grabbed the Munchkin-sized memo pad; he took the four-inch pen that was magnetically attached to the pad and shoved it at Gary.
“Either write it down on one of these precious pieces of paper on this pad, or tell me what it is and I’ll write it down.” Laughed Roger. “Gary, you are something. Have you ever used this memo pad for an actual memo, or is it just a prop like everything else in this office?”
“Including me?” Asked Gary.
“Don’t give me a straight line, Kaplan. I haven’t had that many laughs in the past month and I would certainly take the opportunity if presented.”
“Okay. Okay. Here it is.”
Gary scratched out the number along with agent’s name and handed it back to Roger, who tucked it into his pants pocket. He left his boss’ office and walked back to his own.
Chapter 3 – Southern Manhattan
Roger procrastinated calling the real estate agent, but he relented when Patricia phoned him at 6pm that Monday night, just after he’d arrived back at the Roselle Park apartment. She insisted that he attend Tyler’s awards ceremony, this evening at 8pm, for the end of the sports year.
The ceremony, something Roger would have been thrilled to attend, happened to also be an event that Patricia could have let him know about prior to Roger commuting back to Roselle Park that evening. He exhaled after hanging up the phone, and headed out the door to catch one of the last trains to the city.
On the way into Manhattan, Roger pulled the note from his pocket and dialed the number.
An annoyed voice answered the phone. Professional, but annoyed.
“Rick Zeifman.”
“Rick? My name is Roger Davenport. I work for Gary Kaplan at Tip Of The Spear Advertising. He said you might be able to help me find a good temporary rental in Manhattan. At least for the summer.”
“Davenport? I-uh. Oh yes, Gary mentioned something about it to me. You’ve had a little trouble on the home front.”
Roger bit his lower lip and felt a headache coming on. His boss, lovely man, could not keep his mouth shut about anything, especially someone’s personal life. He gripped his cell phone tighter, and pressed it closer to his mouth and ear.
“Yes, leave it to Gary to divulge everything. People could save a lot on email and cell phone services, if they would just tell my boss not to say a word about something. It would immediately go out on the wire services, if there were still wire services.”
“Wire services?”
“How old are you, Mister Zeifman?” Asked Roger.
“Does it matter?” Came a swift reply.
“No, I guess not. Would you like to talk at a more business-like time?”
Silence from the other end of the line and Roger contemplated hanging up when the annoyed voice came back.
“I’ve just sent a few options to your email, which Gary gave to me. Take a look and let me know what you think.”
“Now?” Asked Roger.
Again, silence.
“No, of course not,” said Rick. “Take your time. You know how long decent properties at bargain prices stay on the Manhattan rental market. Oops. There they all go.”
A sharp laugh, like a Chihuahua bark shoved Roger’s ear away from the phone.
“Tomorrow morning at the latest, Roger,” said Rick. “I’m holding onto these as a favor to Gary, but I’m not the only agent with access to these and you are going to have to move fast. The larger of the two is at 90 John Street. If size is a factor, and you’ll have to move in this week.”
“John Street? Isn’t that – “
But Rick Zeifman hung up.
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Being Thankful For All That’s Good And Lucky In This World
Happy Thanksgiving!
Despite giving up all my portfolio gains for the year and then some, I’m thankful for the incredible recovery we’ve had since 2009. Without the bull run, I wouldn’t have been able to stay unemployed since 2012. The value of money comes nowhere near the value of time.
It’s sad the good times are going away. For so long, it’s been so easy to make easy money. Unless you’re Juggernaut, it’s probably not a good idea to step in front of a bus. The stock market is clearly telegraphing a slowdown in corporate earnings, and the economy by extension. The housing sector usually takes several years to work its way through a funk.
The Fed has also made it clear it will continue to raise rates, no matter how much carnage there is in the short term. You would think they’d slow down their pace of rate increases in 2019, but I wouldn’t count on them being rational. With the yield curve resuming its flattening as investors find safety in longer duration treasuries, we need to seriously be careful about how much risk exposure we really want to take. Flat or inverted yield curves have seldom ever signified good news for the economy. Build your CD step stool folks.
Enough of being a measured voice through times of volatility.
During this Thanksgiving holiday, I wanted to share one extremely lucky event that occurred in my life. During times of difficulty, it’s always good to reflect and be grateful for what we have. I hope you will use the holidays to reflect on some of your fortunate events as well and share.
The Secret Phone Call
The year is 2001 and the Nasdaq, down 50%, just celebrated its one year anniversary of hitting its peak. I’m finishing up the second year of my analyst program, paranoid that I won’t be getting the invite back for my third year.
I always knew my chances for getting a third-year analyst role were slim-to-none since only superstars get to continue. But I kept the faith, much like cryptocurrency investors have erroneously kept the faith all year. I was truly a subpar performer who didn’t belong at the best investment bank in the world at the time.
I dressed poorly because I didn’t know better as a public school kid who never had to dress up. Once, my VP barked at me, “Get that dog collar off your neck!” referencing a Hawaiian shell necklace my girlfriend had given me. I guess there is a benefit of going to an expensive prep school after all.
I annoyed people. Another time, as I was humming something indistinguishable while reading some research material, an MD on the Latin America sales desk told me to keep quiet. She was the same MD I had had to get permission from to buy an MCI Worldcom call option, which had quickly gone to zero after purchase. I’m sure she thought I was an idiot.
There was a reason why I had to go through 7 rounds and 55 interviews to get my job. No desk wanted me. I was an outsider who was forced into their vaunted club by an African-American recruiter named Kim Purkiss who never gave up on me. I owe her so much.
As a junior analyst on the sales trading floor, one of my jobs was to pick up and screen phone calls for all our senior colleagues. Our desks were arranged in I-formation, with my boss sitting at one base of the I and me sitting on the side. His face was always obscured by a couple Bloomberg trading monitors. We communicated by shouting.
At 9am, my boss’s phone rang and I hit his button on my large 20 line turret as quick as lightning. The trading floor was buzzing with activity in anticipation of the market open at 9:30am.
“Hello, can I speak to Tom, please? It’s Jim,” said the man on the other end. Jim was calling from Hong Kong, where it was 10pm. Jim was the Head of the Asian Equities business at the time. He was the big, big boss.
“Hi Jim! It’s Sam. Nice to hear from you. It’s late there. Hope all is well. Let me see if Tom is available. One sec.” I blurted out like a middle school boy trying to talk to a girl for the first time.
I zoomed in between Tom’s monitors and saw he was staring at his screen while pounding away at his keyboard.
“Tom! Jim is on line one!” I yelled as the buzz on the 49th floor of 1 New York Plaza started to crescendo.
The confusing phone turret we used
Tom didn’t acknowledge my call, but he picked up the line by saying “hello.” Not wanting to hang up on big bossman Jim in the middle of the night in Hong Kong, I stayed on to ensure they connected. In the past, I had sometimes accidentally hung up on the caller before a teammate hopped on. Our phone turrets were confusing as hell.
Jim immediately blurted out after Tom said hello, “I need to talk to you about Sam. We need to make a decision on whether to keep him or not.”
My ears perked up! Ethically, I should have hung up. But out of sheer curiosity and survival, I pressed mute instead. My future depended on it.
“Jim, it sounds like we have position open in Taiwan? But I don’t think Sam would be a good fit, despite his Mandarin skills. He’s unfocused because he’s always trading stocks while at work.”
Oh crap! I knew all my trading would come back to haunt me. I was already given a talk a couple times before about how I was spending too much time trading stocks, and not enough time focusing on my job. It would have been a dream come true to move to Taiwan to work.
“OK Tom, we’ll look elsewhere to fill these open positions. Guess that’s it for Sam. Goodnight.”
My heart sank. My boss didn’t like me and I knew my days were numbered. It was mid-April, 2001.
The Second Phone Call
Knowing my last day for employment would be sometime in June was depressing, like I was waiting for the electric chair. Plenty of people I knew were getting laid off and I was starting to panic mentally. Tom hadn’t explicitly told me I wouldn’t be asked back, but I wasn’t going to wait to see if he did.
Then another phone call came one early May afternoon. This time, there was no need for me to pick it up because the VP sitting next to me did.
During my job interview process, Elaine had been my harshest interviewer. A graduate of Barnard College and The Wharton School of Business for an MBA, she was a strong, single, 40-year-old woman you did not want to mess with. Just when I thought I had gotten the job, she requested to interview me a second time over coffee and asked more grilling questions.
After about a minute of conversation, Elaine said while on the phone, “I think you might want to speak to my colleague here.” She turned to me, told me to pick up the phone and have a chat.
I was confused, but I did as I was told. On the line was a guy named Michael. He had a nervous stutter.
“Hi there. Your colleague said you might be interested in working for a competitor covering west coast clients in San Francisco. Are you interested?” Michael said.
Are you kidding me? Hell yeah, I’m interested! I thought to myself. But I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I responded calmly, “I’m not sure Michael. I’m in a really good spot here. The offer would have to be extremely compelling for me to leave.”
“Sure, I understand. Let’s talk more in private when you’re off the desk about what it would take to make you move.” Michael responded.
I was thrilled! I turned to Elaine after I had hung up and told her thank you. She was looking out for me because she also knew my days were numbered.
The Offer Package
I took a day off in order to fly out to San Francisco and meet the team on a Friday. They were a great group of fellas and I especially liked the guy I was going to work directly under. He was intelligent, hardworking, and loved to enjoy life. At Berkeley, where he went to undergrad, he was the Bud Light rep on campus. Everybody loved hanging out with him.
One thing led to another and the new firm offered me everything I had asked for:
* An Associate title, reserved for those who had gone to business school or those who continued to be superstars after their third year as an analyst.
* A pay base salary pay raise to $85,000 from $55,000.
* A guaranteed bonus of $50,000 for the year, even though there would be only six months left if I joined.
* Subsidized housing for two months and $6,000 for relocation expenses
I went from being out on the streets in a month to getting a raise and a promotion in a new city with a new firm. This series of events was absolutely one of the luckiest turnarounds of my life.
For the next seven years, my boss and I competed against my old firm and often won. When my boss decided to leave to a large client, I ended up running the business and hiring a couple people to work for me for the next four years. Of course, since we had such a good relationship, I became a top 3 relationship as well.
It was a fantastic ride that culminated with me engineering my layoff at 2012 and preparing my junior colleague to take over. It was his time.
Embrace All That Is Lucky In This World
It’s easy to get down on ourselves. I’m my worst critic by far. But sometimes, we’ve got to look back and appreciate all the good that has happened to us. Let’s not take our good fortune for granted.
Being able to write about my time earning only $40,000 a year in Manhattan as a first-year analyst is a blessing. It reminded me of this lucky memory that had so long been shelved away. I feel lucky to have been able to write this article before this memory permanently faded away. I’m telling you, writing will keep you young.
It’s painful to lose money in the stock market and real estate market. It’s terrible to lose a job you had no intention of leaving. Let us accept that bad things will happen all the time. And when they do, let us not forget all the good luck we received that got us to where we are today.
Related:
The Best Financial Move I Made Is Something Everyone Can Do
Here’s When You’ll Finally Feel So Rich
Perpetual Failure: The Reason Why I Continue To Save So Much
Readers, what are you thankful for this holiday season? Please share a lucky break that you may have forgotten or taken for granted until now.
The post Being Thankful For All That’s Good And Lucky In This World appeared first on Financial Samurai.
from https://www.financialsamurai.com/being-thankful-for-all-thats-good-and-lucky-in-this-world/
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