#it was a nice excuse to gaze respectfully but Directly at her

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 1 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer meets a girl he can't get enough of at the nightclub, then quickly realizes she is not supposed to be there. 

A/N: This work deals with a lot of dark themes. There will be imperfect characters, and they will make mistakes. If you are sensitive, please read each chapter's content warnings carefully and alert me if I am missing any.

This work is undergoing heavy edits. Thank you for your patience!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: NSFW, 18+ Series Content Warnings: Adults w/ Age Difference (10yr), heavy petting, drinking Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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There are many reasons to come to a nightclub. For some, it's an excuse to find someone to kill their loneliness. For others, it's a chance to escape themselves. I wasn't sure which I was more of that night. All I knew was that I was ready for something, anything to break the monotony.

The pulsing bass reverberated through the floor, and I let it take me somewhere else for a while. I let myself get lost in the crowd of other regrettable people, and I allowed my body to move on instinct, to move to the music without much thought.

It was my birthday, as evidenced by the giant sash my friends insisted on me wearing. If anyone were to ask, I had just turned 21. But, truthfully, I still had another year to go before then.

The strangest part about it was that I wasn't usually the kind of person to make a habit out of breaking the rules. At least, not anymore. But something about the last year had made me stir crazy in a way I couldn't explain.

I could've thought harder about it; I could've found a reason. But I didn't want to.

So, I said, fuck it! Everything happens for a reason, right?

The thought perfectly coincided with a pair of pensive eyes that caught my attention through the sea of people I was surrounded by. A man somehow unlike the others was leaning against the bar, seemingly alone. I thought that it was strange, considering how out of place he seemed. Surely, I thought, he must have come with someone else.

But the way he was looking at me told me that, in the very least, he probably wasn't there with a  woman. At least, I'd hoped not.

I almost went to him, but I was stopped by a familiar tapping on my shoulder. My friend was calling my attention to the suddenly relatively empty stage, and not before long she was begging me to join her on it.

I'd never been the best dancer, but I figured it was as good a way as any other to try to get a cute guy's attention. After all, that's what you do in a club, right? As I climbed up with her, I tried to spot him once more. Unfortunately, by the time I gracelessly clambered onto the stage, he'd  already moved from his previous position.

'Oh well,' I thought, 'Maybe he hadn't really been looking at me after all.'

Rather than sulking over the loss, I focused on the music again. I swayed my hips to the beat and closed my eyes. I let my hands run up and down my body the way I wished someone else's would. Not just anyone, though. Someone... different. Someone who might almost make me feel like they'd earned it.

I wondered if that strange man could still see me. I wondered if he was still looking.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when I glanced back to the bar for the fifth time in a relatively short period of time, I finally spotted him again. Once he noticed me noticing him, he quickly turned around, and I knew it was my chance.

I scrambled down off the stage, leaving my friends to enjoy themselves among the writhing bodies and blistering heat. I wanted to enjoy a different primal experience.

Strutting right up to the bar next to him, I leaned over the counter and gave a brief, respectful wave to the bartender. Despite not breaking my gaze, I felt the hairs rose on the back of my neck.

I'd caught someone's attention. I didn't look, though. Not yet.

"Gin and tonic, please," I called when the bartender finally made his way over to me. Once he turned back around to make the drink, I knew it was a good time to look over at the stranger beside me.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately pretended he wasn't looking at me.

"Are you checking me out?" I asked just loudly enough that he would undoubtedly be able to hear me over the music.

His embarrassed reaction answered the question in the affirmative, although he unconvincingly insisted, "U-uh, no. No, I'm not."

"Oh," I responded, moving closer to him to prevent someone from separating us. "That's too bad."

He furrowed his eyebrows, and a small smile broke across his face as he asked, "Is it?"

"Well... Yeah," I laughed.

The way we locked eyes was a challenge, and one he seemed to only half accept. When he looked away from my eyes, it felt less like admitting defeat and more like taking me up on the offer to check me out.

He glanced down at my chest, and I moved from my position leaning against the counter to open my chest up for a better view.

"Can you see it well enough?" I teased with a slow gesture down the sash. I couldn't tell if his face was as red as it looked or if it was just the flashing lights playing tricks on me.

The bartender returned before he answered, and I handed him my change as a tip before holding the drink with my hand over the top. I might have been young, but I wasn't trying to get drugged in a club. I tried not to read into him noticing that habit.

"Happy birthday."

His offering seemed genuine, and this time, it was my face that turned burned. I hoped he didn't notice how flustered such an innocent thing made me, but I had a feeling he did.

"How old are you now?" he followed up, and I realized that I didn't really want him to know. Not the truth, anyway. Still, something about the way his eyes scanned every motion I made just made me feel like he could tell if I was lying.

"A year older than the last."

It wasn't a lie, after all, and he seemed to think it was funny. Behind me, a person was struggling to fit into the crowd at the bar. The somewhat unwelcome result was pushing me closer to the stranger I was quickly becoming acquainted with. But thankfully, when he reached out, he did so respectfully. His grip on my arm was gentle, but enough to stabilize my obviously struggling self.

"Thanks," I said with a bit of a laugh, trying not to seem dramatically inexperienced at this scene. "I'm not used to wearing heels."

He seemed so comfortable despite the chaos. So paradoxically confident yet timid.

"What's your name?" I asked, and he was more than happy to respond.

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

Something was so charming about the way he kept his honorific, which would usually have been irritating. He didn't seem to want to brag about it. He'd just announced it like it was a deeply ingrained aspect of his identity.

"Doctor? You seem pretty young for that," I playfully noted. Not that I was bothered by the prospect of an older man. I sipped on my drink as I waited for a bit of clarification, and his eyes continued to flit back to my lips every couple of syllables.

"Well, if you're talking about a Doctor of Medicine, I'm 30, which is actually the average age a person would be when they complete their residency. But most people with MDs will call themselves doctors after they graduate, so really, I wouldn't be too young at all."

I nodded along as he spoke, wondering if this kind of information dump was common for him. It was... kind of endearing.

Before I could get a word in edgewise, he continued to clarify, "But I'm not that kind of doctor. I have three PhDs; mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have a BA in psychology as well as sociology."

I waited another second to make sure he was finished, and also because I was suddenly feeling quite intimidated. His strange socialization method made sense with his PhD subjects, and the bachelor's explained why he was so observant.

Something told me he didn't need to be told he was impressive.

"What about you? What's your name?" he finally asked, and I realized I never told him my name.

"(Y/n). No honorifics, unfortunately. Not yet."

"(Y/n)," he smiled, repeating it back to me and adding, "It's a nice name."

Uncomfortable talking about myself in light of the foregoing, I opted for a different topic.

"You don't seem like this is your first time in a club."

"Yeah, it's not. I have to go to them occasionally for work. I also grew up in Vegas, so they were kind of... everywhere," he chuckled.

When he raised his glass to his lips, I noticed that the distinct lack of color to his. I didn't mention it. There were so many reasons someone would prefer water, assuming that's what it was, including the basic desire to not be hung over the next day.

"What kind of work regularly takes you to a nightclub?"

I was genuinely curious, but I wouldn't get the answer. At the same time I asked the question, I felt a very strong pressure digging into my arm and yanking me away from the bar.

"Hey there beautiful, why'd you leave the dance floor?"

I didn't even recognize the very drunk man slurring the question to me. He looked like every other generic, idiotic brute that I had encountered through the night.

"Because I don't want to fucking dance with you," I answered as matter-of-factly as I could while seeing nothing but white-hot rage. 

I could see Spencer's demeanor change, like he was about to do something. I shot him a warning glance that this was not his fight, and was pleasantly surprised that he'd respected it. I had gotten quite comfortable with this part of being out on the town.

"Come on, don't be like that," the man barked.

I pulled my arm away. Half of my drink sloshed onto the sticky floor below, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to be drinking it now, anyway.

"I said no," I said in a much louder voice, lifting my foot high enough for it to hurt when I drove the pointed heel directly into his foot. "And don't fucking touch me!"

Before I could throw what was left of my drink onto the asshole, I felt Spencer's much gentler touch. His arm wrapped around my waist as he stepped between me and the man and hurriedly guided me away from the guy and to a nearby table. As soon as I could reach it, I climbed onto a chair at the high top, rubbing my arm where it had begun to raise in welts from his nails.

"What a fucking dick!" I yelled, still fuming from the unwelcome contact.

In stark contrast, Spencer's very warm hand cupped my face, tilting it to look up at him.

"Are you alright?"

It felt like time stopped when he looked at me. Like the earth had halted in its tracks. My perception of the otherwise energetic music seemed to slow down, and the sounds of the crowd drowned away. I wasn't able to focus on anything other than the pounding of my heart and that tried to break through bone cages to find him.

'God, I must be drunk.'

"Hey, are you okay?" he repeated, and I finally snapped back to reality.

With a simple nod, I was suddenly no longer angry at the asshole who had caused the moment to happen.

"Yeah," I mumbled, "Thanks."

"Does that happen to you often?" he asked with a strange mixture of concerned and angry that honestly looked pretty damn attractive on him.

"Unfortunately. Most guys don't like being told they aren't your type. Especially if they aren't used to it."

"I wouldn't know," Spencer shrugged with a gentle laugh, "I'm pretty used to it."

A welcome bit of self-deprecating humor. He moved his hand, and I hated to admit that I'd already missed the warmth of it.

"Well, I don't know why you're used to it. I think you're pretty cute."

The statement was fueled by the alcohol, but it was still true. He wasn't joking about being used to a lack of desire. Seconds after I'd complimented him, he shifted uncomfortably. I tried not to read too far into it. I hoped it was how he would've responded to anyone. 

"Thanks..." he started, shoving his hands in his pockets as he struggled to find something to do with them now that they weren't touching me. "But I feel like an asshole now."

I raised my eyebrows and chuckled at the strange response to a compliment.

"Why?"

"I uh, I lied to you earlier."

My attention piqued, I turned my body towards him and leaned forward to hear him better.

"Oh? To which question?"

He released a hand from his pocket, running it through his hair as he worked up the courage to look at me while he spoke.

"The... first one you asked."

I couldn't help but laugh. All of the air in my lungs was quickly drained by his absolutely endearing honesty. The way he just had to admit that he had been checking me out, as if I didn't already know.

"You are absolutely adorable, Spencer Reid."

He reacted much better to that compliment, although he seemed confused when I held my hand out for his.

"Come here," I instructed.

When he didn't listen, I reached my fingers out to grab his forearm and proceeded to tug him towards me. He took the few steps forward, and I took a moment to appreciate that his height granted me perfect access to his face from the high top.

I bit down on my lip as I glanced between beautiful eyes and his lips that parted softly. I heard his breath come faster the closer I came.

Without moving away, he asked, "What are you doing?"

While wondering if it was possible for him to do anything without being charming, I tightened my grip on his arm and looked up at him with the most lustful look I could muster.

"Well, I guess I'm going to kiss you. I hope that's alright."

"Why?" he asked.

An equally charming and maddening response, to which I just gave a small shrug. His eyes glanced back and forth, clearing trying to read between the lines of my own gaze. I let him. He didn't seem to have any follow up questions or reservations, so I used my free hand to pull his face to mine.

When our lips met, I was transported back to the dance floor in my mind. I could feel the vibrations shaking every inch of the club, but it was nothing compared to the butterflies erupting in my stomach. His hands returned to my face shortly after, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth it was the only confirmation that I got that he had also been drinking.

The taste of vodka and gin mixed, creating a cocktail of alcohol and hormones between us. A small moan escaped my lips at the thought, and part of me hoped he could feel it distinct from the bass. I wanted him to know the effect he had on me. Because, as it turned out, he wasn't just cute and smart, he was an incredibly talented kisser.

Not wanting to stop yet, I hooked a leg around the back of his knee and increased my hold on him. He lowered a hand to grab onto my thigh, and I gasped at the contact. I wondered if this was his first time making out in a club, because it was certainly mine.

Selfishly, I hoped I could be a first of something for him. Realistically, I knew it was unlikely. He was just too damn good at this.

Spencer began to retreat from the kiss, and before he could leave entirely, I bit down on his lower lip. The last, lingering contact seemed to have its desired effect, as he looked down at me like there was nothing else that he wanted more in this world than to keep kissing me.

"Was that a good enough reason?" I asked.

Instead of using words, he just kissed me again in response, with more pressure and less reserved. It was an answer I was more than happy to accept. His grip on my leg tightened, and it was nothing like the way other men grabbed me. When we broke apart this time, I knew it was time. I had to make my move.

"Come outside with me," I begged. 

He seemed not to have expected any invitation, especially such a vague one. Nonetheless, he nodded and stepped back enough to let me hop out of the chair. His hand in mine, I led him through the crowd. He never let go. Not even when we got outside.

The air felt cool and crisp in comparison to the stuffy club. My ears were still ringing, and I wondered if we would sound the same to each other now that we weren't practically screaming. I let out a laugh from pure nerves, excited to be alone with him, but also not really ready to have this conversation.

Of course, he thought I was cute, but I was still a stranger. What if he wasn't actually all that interested and decided to ditch me? That would be embarrassing.

"Heeeeyyy! (Y/n)! How's it going?!" A familiar voice sounded from over by the smokers.

It wasn't one of my friends, per se. More like a friend of a friend. A very drunk and very excited acquaintance. I finally let go of Spencer's hand but glanced back to let him know to follow me over.

I stayed at a  modest distance as I called back, "Hey, how's it going, John?"

"Goin' pretty fucking great," he slurred, and I laughed at how hammered he had managed to get in a couple of hours.

"Sounds like it."

"So, how's 20 treating you so far?"

Now, this is the point where I have to admit to myself and everyone else, that I am not the cleverest person. Because the question seemed so normal, and I was expecting it so much, that I seemed to have forgotten that I was not, in fact, old enough to be at this club.

So, without thinking, I responded, "Pretty fucking great."

To Spencer's credit, he didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull. It took me another second to realize what I had just admitted.

Fuck.

I was too scared to turn around. He seemed to know that I wasn't going to address it, and he wasn't the kind of person to make a scene. So when his hand grabbed mine again, and I felt the insistence in his grasp, I knew that I was utterly and completely fucked.

I grimaced to John, who just burst out laughing before yelling, "Oooh, jailbait got busted!"

My head fell backwards as I groaned, letting Spencer begin to drag me away from the crowd as I shouted back, "I'm not jailbait, you dick!"

Following the boy I actually wanted to be with, I tried not to give up hope yet. In a twisted sort of way, I was actually somehow looking forward to the lecture I was definitely about to receive. Seconds after we'd turned the corner into the small alley, he had me backed against a wall.

"What the fuck was that?!" his voice was hushed, although he was clearly still yelling.

I bit down on my lip to stop myself from laughing at his attempts to be scary when his voice was still cracking. I raised my shoulders to shrug, but he continued his ranting.

"You're only twenty?! You can't be here!"

"Well, actually, we're in an alley, which I'm totally allowed to be in."

He did not appreciate my humor.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're not old enough to be at a club, and especially not drinking! What were you thinking?"

He looked so delectable when he was angry, I wasn't sure how he'd expected me to take him seriously. Resting my head against the brick wall behind me, I looked up at him with a bored expression.

"What are you, a cop?"

I honestly wasn't anticipating a genuine response, so when he responded, "An FBI special agent, actually," all I could think was, "Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, really, (y/n)!" he yelled back, taking a step back when my arms immediately fell from their defensive position.

"That's so cool!" I answered with equal enthusiasm, which he still, clearly, did not like.

"What are you saying? That is not cool! None of this is cool!"

"I mean, I think it's pretty cool."

"I could have you arrested! I should have you arrested!"

The way I raised my eyebrows and smiled was clearly not the reaction he wanted, but I could tell he was intrigued by it. He paused, and I licked my lips with a wicked grin.

"You gonna cuff me, Special Agent?"

I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and he continued to distance himself from me. I took a step forward to maintain the gap.

"Wait, is it Special Agent or Doctor? I need to know now."

Before I could get too close to him, he had pressed his hand against my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall. 

"Cut it out! Stop trying to distract me," his voice was stern, but his breath was ragged. One of my hands devilishly snuck up, wrapping around his arm that was holding me against the wall. "It's not going to work," he warned.

I didn't believe him. I could also tell that, despite the words, he did not want me to stop.

"How am I distracting you, Special Agent Dr. Reid?"

He could tell what I was doing, but he couldn't stop himself from falling for it.

"Is my proximity distracting you?"

I was pushing his buttons, very purposefully and with a very specific goal. I wanted to see what happened when he broke.

"N-No, that's not—"

I cut him off once more, leaning forward against his hand, dragging my nails against the skin of his arm.

"Do you want to kiss me again?" I asked.

He had to think about the answer, and that angry, tempted face left me burning. I rubbed my legs together in anticipation, and he seemed to notice the subtle movement. With the strength I could muster, I inched his hand against my shoulder lower, letting him feel my heart racing above my breast.

"You do," I responded to my own question, recognizing his silence as assent.

I met his eyes in another challenge, knowing this time would be much easier than the last. He was already hooked.

"Well then, Dr. Reid. You have at least two options. You can either dig out your work issued handcuffs, haul me downtown and explain what exactly happened between you and a drunk twenty year old girl at the club..." the pressure on my chest lessened as he obviously considered what it would require of him. "You can help them with all of the paperwork, prematurely ending the night, leaving me in a jail, and go home alone... "

The compassion in his eyes was clear, and I knew it was a bit unfair of me to go for such low hanging fruit. He was a good man. He was just trying to follow the rules. He didn't want to hurt me. Unless I asked for it, perhaps.

"Or you can get into an Uber with me to go somewhere else, and I'll let you do whatever you want with mine. Or yours. I'm fine with either."

"My pair, or my place?" he asked, much to my surprise and excitement. I could feel the rush of blood in my ears, but I begged it to be quiet. I hadn't closed the deal yet.

"So you're considering it?"

He finally released his hold on me, but he didn't move away. In fact, he moved closer. Close enough to me that I could almost feel the body warmth radiating from him. I couldn't look down yet, but I was pretty sure what I'd find bulging between his legs.

"I-I... I don't know."

An honest answer, albeit disappointing. My puppy eyes demanded a clearer one. He obeyed their call.

"I'm a law enforcement agent that just caught you in a crime, since I'm assuming you got into that club with a relatively convincing fake ID that I'm certain you still have on you."

I nodded, still unsure where he was going with this monologue.

"I should be arresting you, or at least taking you somewhere safe, not... coming back with you for..."

He trailed off, and I smirked a bit at his inability to finish that thought.

"And yeah, I figured you were young but... I'm ten years older than you."

"And?" I finally asked, wanting him to get to the point that I had figured out, just so I could turn it down.

Spencer took a deep breath before admitting, "I don't want to take advantage of you. I get that there is no sudden change in your brain when you turn twenty one, but the younger you are, the less developed your prefrontal cortex is. Your judgment, your impulse control, the ability to truly anticipate the consequences of your actions, that won't be fully developed for at least another five years!"

He would have kept going, but I had already planned for this response. My hand on his arm jerked him forward, pulling his crotch directly into my other waiting hand. Completely on brand for him, a small yelp sounded as I gently palmed his erection.

With an innocent smile, I whispered, "Dr. Reid, I don't think you're the one taking advantage here."

His features were contorted into an infuriated, yet pleased mess. After another very brief moment of contemplation, he gave into the temptation I was dangling in front of him, laying a deep, frustrated kiss on my waiting mouth.

When we separated, he practically panted into my mouth, "Do you have a hotel room?"

Giggling, I nodded.

"I guess I'll call that Uber now."

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| Part 2 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #request #smut

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Pretty Girl | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader (she/her)

✦ word count — 3.9k

✦ request — I was wondering a Older Damien Wayne x plus size shy reader, where they were friends since young and were each other’s first and broken up. Now older they meet up at their high school reunion and maybe Damien still loves her and her being a shy, jealous person when meeting his date. And idk if you do this but if so maybe smut after the end

✦ warnings — angst, a little bit of jealousy, nsfw, smut, it’s talked about beforehand but still: unprotected sex (please don’t do this), vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), fluff.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You were regretting having let Jon convince you to attend a high school reunion. There wasn’t a single person you wanted to see that you hadn’t met up with prior to the event.

Jon said it would be a good opportunity to relive fun experiences. He promised he’d be with you the entire time. And he kept his promise — until Damian arrived.

Your anxiety spiked up, Jon could hear it clearly. He could also hear Damian’s heartbeat when he saw you. Swallowing harshly upon realizing the youngest member of the Wayne family had brought a date, you excused yourself.

Both Jon and Damian followed you with their eyes. Jon shook his head, aware of what was going on. He of course couldn’t burst into the bathroom and console you, Jon had done it a few times throughout high school when Damian wasn’t around for whatever reason and your nerves got the best of you but this time it would look like something else since you guys had arrived together.

Ever the shy sweet girl, you had often told him he shouldn’t worry. But Jon cared, and he could see how the predicament of physically following you was tearing Damian apart too.

Jon greeted Damian and his date curtly, only with a nod. Glaring at his best friend, he motioned for him to follow him to a more private area.

Faking a smile, Damian asked his date to wait for him.

“What do you think you are doing?!”

“Attending the reunion you told me I couldn’t skip. I assumed you would be happy.”

“You’re so full of crap.” Jon shook his head, crossing his arms against his chest. He had always been able to read Damian like a book, the same way Clark did with Bruce — his powers helped, but he didn’t need them, not when Damian was more expressive than he presumed.

Damian gave it all away by staring at the hallway, fixing his eyes on the door he had hidden behind with you multiple times.

“Aaaaand you’re a moron,” Jon added.

He would never say it out loud, but Damian knew Jon was right. Walking past his best friend, whom he genuinely adored and appreciated, Damian went back to his date. She was chatting up with people like she had known them for years.

They quieted down when he arrived, solemnly nodding their heads in attempts of greeting him respectfully. He searched the room for your best friend, forgetting that she had moved out for college and never returned to Gotham.

He acknowledged his date by name, “Would you do me a favor?”

Nodding, she listened carefully as he guided her away from the curious people.

You wondered if there was something wrong with you. Not with the way you looked or anything like that, just… just with you. Shyness had never gone away like your parents hoped when you were a child, and it had never bothered you until now.

Your chest tightened more and more at a fast pace. It felt different from anything you had experienced before. Huffing out, you leaned on your forearms against the skin and looked at your reflection in the mirror.

A blurry face was the only thing you found. Blinking rapidly, your reflection only turned blurrier. The bathroom felt hot, you would have broken into a sweat if you hadn’t been wearing a dress.

The bathroom door creaked open, startling you. You had expected to see a former classmate, giving you a tight smile and a pitiful look. You would’ve preferred that.

Damian’s date closed the door behind her. “Are you alright?” her voice was gruff, but you could tell the question had been genuine.

You nodded, avoiding her eyes. “The second stall is the best,” you murmured.

She ignored your comment and went straight to the point. “Could you please come out?”

How dare Jon send her to convince you? Hadn’t he realized the reason you couldn’t stay there was because you were miserably jealous?

The door opened again, that time you saw the ex-cheerleader captain enter. As you had predicted, she smiled at you and gave you a pitiful look — her eyes focused on the woman accompanying you for a fleeting moment, in how different the two of you were.

Feeling your throat lock up, you nodded again at Damian’s date. She opened the door for you, letting you out first.

Damian was outside the bathroom, with his hands behind his back and his attention solely on the door. His date walked past him without sparing him a glance, but you couldn’t.

You had never been able to ignore him and his magnetic aura, the hope of that changing vanished the second you saw him enter the gymnasium.

Unconsciously, you looked for Jon. It was unusual for him not to be around Damian. Feeling the familiar weight of Damian’s gaze on your face, you stood beside him.

“She’s pretty,” you told him honestly in a rasp, avoiding his eyes.

She was, everyone thought so. He felt shitty for bringing her there, not because he had lied to her or anything but because he had been right and you would react harshly. It was all he wanted, a reaction from you, a sign no matter how small that you were still interested.

“Jon’s not ugly,” he countered, fully aware that you weren’t dating his best friend.

Shrugging, you put more distance between the two of you. “Have a nice evening,” you wished him before walking away.

You couldn’t do it. Being around him hurt more than it should have. Relationships ended all the time, yours had expired because that was how life worked. There hadn’t been bad blood between you, but now you wished it had.

When you entered the bathroom to stay away from the gorgeous couple you partially had done so to make up an excuse to leave. Jon wouldn’t believe it, but he could never stay mad at you so it didn’t matter.

Still having feelings for a high school sweetheart was something out of romantic comedies. Everything about your relationship with Damian had been, to be completely honest. Childhood friends, the popular guy and the shy chubby girl, a sad break up that she didn’t get over of when he had moved on.

You had dated people after him, but every relationship had fizzled out for a reason. And the reason was green eyes and cocky smiles. You had lied to yourself and blamed it on your social skills, you weren’t outgoing enough and it was a turn-off for some — but the truth, the truth was worse, it had never been a turn-off nor a problem for anyone because you knew how to choose your partners. They simply weren’t Damian Wayne.

Waving goodbye at Jon from afar, you failed to notice you were being followed until you reached the parking lot.

“(Y/N), come on.”

You had missed the tone he used when saying your name. It hadn’t changed since you last heard it.

“I have things to—“

“You can't lie to me,” Damian cut you off.

“Uhmmm, could you just… leave me alone?”

He knew you didn’t mean it. “No.” Damian grabbed you from the wrist upon seeing the hesitance on your face. “Can we talk?”

“Not a good idea.”

He hated your short answers and the fact that you didn’t seem to trust him anymore. Fuck, he should’ve listened to Jon. To Jon from all people in his life!

“Please? There’s a new coffee shop nearby, it won’t take long.”

“I don’t want your girlfriend to think anything bad.”

Damian sighed deeply. He would sound pathetic. Fuck it. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Oh. So he had fully moved on, then.

He saw heartbreak in your shifty eyes and couldn’t stop regret from overwhelming him. You weren’t able to speak, too surprised by the revelation to try and hide it anymore. She was everything you envisioned him with, pretty and mysterious with smooth skin and cold eyes.

God, maybe you had never been enough for his standards and now it was catching up on you. Or maybe his taste had changed. Either way, you couldn’t do anything about it.

Snatching your hand off his grip, you continued your path toward the street. Your legs felt heavy as you crossed the parking lot, like they used to after having to do a presentation in front of the entire class when you were a teenager.

The difference was that Damian had been there to steady you. He’d always tell you how well everything had gone and how proud he was — no one believed he could be that tender or attentive but you had seen it with your own eyes and felt it at every level of the word.

He hadn’t tried to run after you this time. A part of you had wished for it to happen, it would have been nice to not feel like you were drowning in your one-sided very much alive romantic feelings. Who even loves someone for that long?! You had never thought it would be possible, how could it when Damian and you had fallen out of love? Turns out only he had.

You reached your apartment complex in one piece, walking slower than you had intended and forcing yourself not to cry. The empty elevator, usually comforting, felt way too big.

As the doors slid open, you stepped outside with the intention of calling your best friend. Telling her she had been right would be everything but fun, and telling her it would have been easier if she was there would hurt.

Turning the lights on, you kicked your shoes off and walked directly to the kitchen. You needed a glass of wine — or the entire bottle, yes, that.

“Did you really forget to doublecheck for intruders like I taught you?”

You jumped, dropping the glass in your grasp. Damian was behind you in a second, apologizing for startling you.

“What are you doing here?”

Glass shards crushed under his shoes as he shifted. “I need to talk to you.”

You stood on your toes, trying not to hurt yourself as you stared down at the shattered cup to assess how to get away from the shards without touching Damian.

“Could you uh… move?”

“Will you leave me here standing like an idiot?”

It took you a moment to shake your head.

As you cleaned, he snooped around. He had never been inside your apartment. Damian had been about to drop by once, but he decided it would be for the best if he stayed away. He had only lied to himself with good intentions that hurt him more in the long term.

He still kept tabs on you. His siblings laughed, saying he was whipped after all those years. Only his father understood the way he felt, perhaps because Bruce himself had gone through that with Selina or because he was glad his son was finally comfortable with being human and the vulnerability it came with. The truth was more simple: he cared about you and there was nothing he could do to stop that.

Every time he had heard you were dating someone else it broke his heart. He had dated around too, but much less than you had — he didn’t have time for non-committing relationships, and he didn’t want a committed relationship with anyone but you.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked when you joined him in the living room.

“No,” you mumbled.

That should have been the moment where you offered him something to drink, but you were hoping the visit wouldn’t extend for more than five minutes.

Damian wasn’t sure how to touch upon the subject. Small talk wasn’t his thing and you had always felt uncomfortable with it so that wasn’t an option. Why couldn’t he just say it bluntly? That was his specialty, you had always giggled at how unsubtle he was.

“I still love you.”

“Is that why you’re getting married?”

“What?” Fuck, he had been such an idiot for not explaining himself with the proper words. “I am not.”

“Oh.” You made a pause, staring down at your lap where you let your hands drop. “Well, you took her as your date to something important and you said she wasn’t your girlfriend so…”

He didn’t consider a high school reunion as important, but he easily kept that to himself. “I thought you would take someone else when Jon told me you would be there,” he explained, “I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of everybody, that’s it.”

Well, he made you look like one instead.

Damian rounded the coffee table in the middle of the living room to sit down next to you.

“Look at me?” You denied him. “(Y/N).” Still no reaction. “Beloved, please?”

Your breath hitched. His heart almost melted right there. Carefully, Damian placed his knuckles under your chin and pushed it upward. He then softly cupped your cheek, feeling the acceleration of your heart rate as your jugular jumped under the tip of his middle finger.

You finally stared into his eyes. Hundreds of times you had gotten lost in them — before your first kiss, throughout the first time he made love to you, the first time you were introduced as his girlfriend… his eyes had always grounded you while letting you drown in them.

“Tell me you still love me,” he pleaded.

“I don’t think I have to say it,” you admitted. It was painfully obvious he still knew you perfectly.

“I need to hear it.”

Not strong enough to deny him, you whispered, “I still love you.”

His mouth was on yours immediately. He kissed you fervently as his free hand rested on your thigh while one of your own flew to the back of his neck. Damian was elated with the effusiveness you were kissing him back, holding his head in place and taking control of the kiss completely.

It had been so long since he had you for the last time that he had forgotten what arousal really felt like. His senses were too alive as your tongue explored his mouth, dizzying him with every sigh that escaped you.

Your fingers trailed down his torso, slowly yet firm. He caressed your thigh, so soft and tempting. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth on them again. In consequence, the bruising kiss came to an end — you bit down his bottom lip, pulling on it as you stared into his eyes.

Damian grunted, withdrawing his hand from your face to grip your waist. Your hands slid down in reaction, the one on his nape to his back and the one on his stomach to his crotch. His bulge twitched under the weight of your warm palm.

He sighed your name, aching for your touch. It was borderline pathetic how easily you got him going. You leaned in to kiss his jaw, not taking your hand off his crotch but not applying more pressure either — Damian moved his head so he could kiss you on the mouth, impatient to get more of you.

“You don’t know how much I want you,” he interrupted the kiss to say, wet mouth on top of yours as he spoke.

You giggled, cupping his bulge. “I think I do.”

His grunt sent chills down your spine. Damian’s grip on your waist tightened as he pushed you to lay down on the couch. His lips were immediately on yours again, sloppily kissing you while his palms dragged up your thighs. Reaching the rim of your skirt, he stopped to ask for permission to lift it.

You granted it to him, nodding as your nose brushed his. He slipped his hands under the material first, taking his time to trace your thighs.

“I missed you so much,” he said against your jaw before dragging his lips down your neck.

You angled your neck, giving him as much access as he needed. Feeling his smile on your skin, you started to unbutton his shirt, struggling to get past the middle. Damian’s fingers brushed your clothed core, making you whine loudly.

Bunching your skirt up, he pressed his knuckles against your core, using his other hand to hold the skirt so it wouldn’t fall. You pushed him off you, sitting up and eventually standing off the couch.

Assessing you would take the dress off, Damian finished the job you had started with his shirt, with urgency, throwing it to the side. He was about to start undoing his pants when he caught the sight in front of him.

There had always been something stupidly hot about seeing you in mismatched underwear. You looked down at your body, just to check what it was he was staring at. You hadn’t really paid attention to what you were wearing when you left the apartment, too unmotivated to attend the reunion to really care. It had ended up playing in your favor. Good one, (Y/N).

The sound of his pants being unzipped ignited something in the pit of your stomach. Out of reflex, you rubbed your legs against each other.

You assumed he would stand up when he kicked his shoes off and discarded his pants, but Damian instead got into his knees, placing his hands on your back. Trailing open-mouthed kisses over your thigh, from the outside to the inside, he pulled your panties down, giving you mere seconds to kick them to the side. He used to finger you first, but this time around he skipped it — probably because you were too aroused already. Pulling you toward his face as he grabbed you by the ass, his mouth latched onto your clit.

Gasping in pleasure at the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe from your clit to your entrance, you gripped his hair. Damian buried his face between your thighs, letting you pull him as closely as you needed. His nose bumped against your clit, tongue dipping into your entrance.

You moaned his name, tugging on his hair. He swiped his tongue upward, shifting his face to now suck on your clit. Your hand slid down to the base of his neck to which you held onto, closing your eyes tightly when his finger brushed your entrance from behind.

“Okay,” you breathlessly said, pulling his face from between your thighs. “I need you.”

Teasing you was far from his head. Damian jumped to his feet, meeting your mouth in a needy kiss as he guided you back to the couch. You tasted yourself in his hot tongue, parting from him only to find you weren’t satisfied and kissing him again.

Damian almost ripped his underwear off, too eager to really care. Kneeling between your thighs, he stared down at you as he asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you assured him, a little abashed. “Unless you’re not—“

“I’m clean.”

“Cool.”

He snorted, brushing his tip up and down your slit as he held his shaft on his hand. “Ready?”

You nodded, bucking your hips up and pursing your lips in excitement. Damian entered you slowly, leaning over at the same pace. With his face in your cleavage, he waited for you to get used to him again.

“Fuck,” he cursed through a groan. You were warm around him, walls clenching up in reflex as your chest heaved over his face.

Placing your hands on his biceps, you whispered for him to move. He complied, huffing in pleasure on your skin. Sucking on the uncovered parts of your chest, Damian let his hands trace your sides for a moment.

It wasn’t enough for either of you. He shifted, leaving a kiss on your lips as he pulled away from your torso. Still connected with you, Damian gripped your hips and started a quicker pace.

Grabbing your thighs, he pulled you closer to have you rest your calves on his shoulders. The new angle made you squeal. He would draw blood from his bottom lip if he continued biting, but he couldn’t stop himself. His initial plan had been to take his time but it was getting harder to follow said plan.

Gripping the edge of the back of the couch, you gazed up at him. “It’s okay,” you breathed out, “go faster.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, Damian pulled his hips back only to slam into you. You had really missed the burn only he could give you, rocking into you faster the more you tightened around him.

He ghosted your clit with his thumb, circling it lightly as he found a rhythm with his hips. Cursing as you arched your back, you bucked against his thumb and cock.

His moans were like music to your ears, eyes clenched shut and Adam’s Apple bobbing as his thrusts grew sloppy. Your head fell back with a particularly deep thrust, the strangled moan coming out of your mouth only prompting him to move his thumb faster.

He had you leaving out a string of whimpers rather quickly. Your reaction went straight to his cock, ragging his breathing as your walls clenched at every stroke of his cock against them.

Opening his eyes as he felt sweat drip down the side of his face, Damian hovered over your equally sweaty body, kissing you through your orgasm. Your hands flew to his shoulders where you sunk your nails in attempts of keeping him close, repeating his name between short kisses as he relentlessly fucked you.

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he moaned as your walls squeezed his cock.

Your mouth hung open after a long whimper, you just couldn’t take it anymore. He watched as your pretty face contorted in pleasure under him, hands sliding down his biceps as you came undone around his throbbing cock.

He called your name through a cry, resting his forehead on yours. “You wanna cum?” you whispered a question, feeling him twitch inside you.

“Shit,” he groaned, nose bumping yours, “yes.”

Cupping his face, you hummed. Damian’s muscles tightened under your touch and over your soft body as he finished inside you, warm cum coating your walls.

He stayed there for a few moments, catching his breath. Eventually, he slipped out of you slowly. You whimpered, feeling cum drip down your folds. Damian smirked in satisfaction upon noticing the semen flowing down your thigh.

“White door to your right,” you instructed him. “There are clean towels under the sink.”

Handing you a damp towel, he waited for you to take it to then withdraw his cellphone.

“Gotta go?”

He shook his head. “Letting Dick know I’m fine.”

You reached for your panties, standing up in order to slip them on. Damian pouted, dropping the mobile device onto the couch as his hands were placed on your waist.

“I love you,” he said.

You said it back, having missed telling him just because you could. “I love you more.”

He could have fought you on it, but he preferred kissing you softly, breaking into a smile in the middle of the kiss when you wrapped your arms around him. You dropped your head onto his chest as the kiss ended, leaving a peck on his sternum.

Sliding his hands toward your lower back, tracing it up, he stopped at the clasp of your bra. Damian whined, “We didn’t even take this off!”

Giggling on his skin, you slightly parted from him to gaze up. He lifted both eyebrows suggestively, making you roll your eyes. Placing your hands on the sides of his torso to put more distance between his body and yours, you told him, “I need a nap first.”

He took a hand off your back to motion for you to lead the way to your bedroom, never not in the mood for cuddling you.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne smut #plus size smut #plus size fanfiction #robin x reader #robin x plus size reader #robin smut #damian wayne #robin #dc x reader #dc x plus size reader #dc smut #batfam x reader #batfam x plus size reader #batfam smut

[honeypwark]

[ Conference Room A ]

↳ Pre-Debut era

↳ Yeosu runs into someone on her way to a meeting. She's suddenly given an offer that's impossible to refuse. She refuses.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Conference room A... Conference room A... Conference room- oh, sorry!"

Yeosu rounds the corner after passing conference rooms B and C and runs directly into someone. The person she'd run into steadies her with a hand on her arm then steps back.

"No, it's my fault."

"No, definitely not. I wasn't looking where I was going, it's entirely my fault... wait, you're Rap Monster!"

The boy blinks at her, "You know who I am?"

"I mean, I'm a trainee here, too. You're, like, the best rapper here."

"That's, um... I-," the boy laughs bashfully, "You can call me Namjoon."

"Nice to meet you, Namjoon, I'm Bae Yeosu."

"Yeosu... I know that name. Hobi was talking about you. He says you're the best dancer he's ever seen."

Yeosu beams, "He said that about me? Wait, who's Hobi?"

"Hoseok. Jung Hoseok."

"Oh! The street dancer. He's incredible! That's really high praise coming from him."

"That's why I remembered your name."

Yeosu laughs then suddenly stops, "It's really great to meet you, but I've got to find conference room A."

Namjoon's face drops, "Conference room A?"

"Yeah...," Yeosu says cautiously. "Is that bad? Do they bring trainees in there to kill them or something?"

Namjoon doesn't laugh or even smile at her joke. Her smile fades as he sighs unhappily and looks away from her.

"I'm headed there, too."

"Oh! Then we can go together."

Namjoon steps around her and walks away briskly. Yeosu tries not to let Namjoon's sudden mood change get her down and follows after him as quickly as she can.

Yeosu realizes conference room A was opposite conference room B and she forgot to check both sides of the hallway. Namjoon pulls the door open and steps through promptly, not trying at all to hold it open for her. Yeosu catches the handle and steps into the room as well.

Inside, Namjoon takes his place among six other boys, Bang PD sat at the head of the table farthest from the door.

"Yeosu, hello."

"Hello, sir," Yeosu greets him respectfully with a bow then takes the empty chair at the other end of the table.

"So, this meeting is for introductions and to discuss positions within Bulletproof Boy Scouts without any legal formalities. Your leader-"

"Excuse me, sir?"

Bang PD looks at Yeosu, "Yes?"

"Did you say bulletproof boy scouts?"

"Yes, Bangtan Sonyeondan. Or BTS for ease's sake."

"Why am I here for a discussion on the positions in a group of boy scouts?"

One of the boys badly covers a snort with a cough.

Bang PD peers down the table at Yeosu, "You're joining BTS for their debut... you were briefed on this, weren't you? I was told you'd received the packet of information and decided to join."

"I-," Yeosu's mouth hangs open as she grasps for words, "No."

"No?"

"I-I got a packet. But I misplaced it before I could read it."

"You never read it?"

Yeosu feels her face heat up in embarrassment, "I set it on my bunk when I got back from practice then went out to eat with some other trainees. When I got back I couldn't find it anywhere."

"You didn't tell anyone you needed another packet?"

"I... I forgot."

"You forgot?"

Yeosu hangs her head in shame and whispers an apology.

It's silent for several long moments.

Then Bang PD laughs.

Yeosu looks up in surprise.

"It's alright. From what I hear, you're a fairly responsible girl, so I'll give you a pass. I'll just tell you our idea."

BigHit wants to include a female trainee in their pre-debut group to appeal more to the male fans. Someone with strong stage presence and vocals so she won't be overshadowed. And a talented dancer because she'll have to learn to dance more masculine to fit into the group choreographies.

Almost everyone recommended Yeosu when this idea was being passed around.

"I'm, uh, honored, sir, really. But doesn't BTS only debut in two months?"

"You know when we debut but not our group name?" a boy speaks up.

With no real excuse, Yeosu instead says, "My mom says I have selective hearing."

The same boy from earlier actually laughs at this. When the boy beside him looks at him he falls quiet.

"BTS is debuting in a little over two months, but I've heard firsthand accounts of your skills. You'll surely be able to learn everything in time."

Yeosu laughs softly, a little overwhelmed by everything that's suddenly happening. She can't help but smile because she'll actually be debuting.

Then she sees the boys that sit three and four on either side of the table. They all look stoic or displeased or a little angry. She manages to catch Namjoon's gaze and he rolls his eyes to look away.

They don't want her to debut with them.

"I... I would love to debut with BTS," she says.

Bang PD smiles are her, "Wonderful. So, positions-"

"But I think it may be wise to wait to debut any female trainees in another girl group. I can understand your thinking that a female member would attract more male fans, but I'm worried people may get the wrong idea about a single girl in a group of seven boys. And co-ed groups have a history of not being very successful. I'd hate to stump the popularity of BTS."

Bang PD looks at Yeosu, "That's very well said. However, as we're such a small company, we need something that will attract attention."

"I fully understand how you came to this decision but I'll have to politely disagree, sir," Yeosu says.

"You do realize it may be years before we debut another group. It may not even be a girl group."

Yeosu takes a breath, "I understand that, sir, and I apologize but... I think I'll deny your offer of debuting with these boys. I'm sure they'll do wonderfully on their own."

Bang PD takes a breath, "You're sure?"

Yeosu gives a quick glance at the seven boys. They all have looks of relief mixed with something else on their faces now. One of them is even fighting a smile.

She gives a small nod, "Yes, sir."

Bang PD sighs, "Alright. You're dismissed, then."

Yeosu stands, bows, and thanks him. She pushes her chair back in and leaves the room.

She stands in the hallway for a moment then bends over and rests her hands on her knees. That was absolutely nerve racking. She takes a decent breath for the first time in several minutes.

She didn't actually believe anything she said to defend her refusal of the offer of debut but for the sake of the seven boys who have been preparing for debut for several months, she made and defended her case even if she didn't agree with a word of it.

She shakes her hair out of her face as she straightens up, "I should be a lawyer."

She walks down the hallway and heads to vocal class, fairly disheartened for the remainder of the day. She was so close. But she shouldn't take away seven boys' chance at a wonderful debut just so she can debut. She lets that thought brighten her mood just a bit.

#bts #8th member of bts #bts 8th member #eighth member of bts #bts eighth member #eighth member #8th member #bts au #kpop #kpop au #kpop female member #kim namjoon #rm #namjoon #bang pd #kim namjoon fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Mercenary Chapter 7

Maul x reader

Word Count: 1849

Summary: So Qi’ra exists, and you’re not happy about it.

“Dryden Vos is coming tomorrow to introduce us to his new pet,” Maul informed you as soon as he came storming out of the room that housed his holocom.

Earlier that morning, it had been the incessant ringing of that exact holocom that woke the two of you from a peaceful slumber. It was housed in the room immediately next to your bedroom so no one would be able to eavesdrop without having to go through your private quarters. And no one would live through trying to do that. So already, neither of you was in a good mood.

“Why is his pet our problem?” you complained from your place still lounging on the (admittedly luxurious) bed. Making the bedroom as nice as possible was your top priority after security after returning to the fortress on Dathomir. You were not blind enough to miss the way Maul’s eyes trailed up your form, clearly liking the sight of you lying partially exposed on the blood red, satin sheets.

“Apparently, he sees a future for her. He’s been training her in combat, and she’s proven to be quite bloodthirsty.”

“She’s using him,” you deadpanned. “I know her type. She’ll use him for power until she gets the chance to get rid of him; then she’ll kill him.”

“Which is precisely what I said, but he argued that I haven’t met her so I couldn’t know that. According to him, she is a ‘dancer’ while fighting.”

You giggled a little at the way he rolled his eyes while quoting Dryden. “That doesn’t mean she’s not going to kill him one day.”

“If Dryden is that fooled by her, he deserves his fate. We do not have room in this organization for such idiotic behavior.”

“He wouldn’t be the first to have his brain sucked out through his dick by a woman.”

The zabrak raised a brow. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Yes, I’ve been fucking you for years just to take your place at the head of an organization that I helped you build.”

“Except you fell for my sparkling personality in the process, and hoped that I’d never find out about your original plan, right?”

“Oh, exactly,” you grinned. “Come here,” you demanded, reaching a hand out towards him.

Entertaining you, he offered one of his hands to you as he stepped forward. “Yes?”

“Tell me, did he realize that you were wearing a bathrobe?”

Maul snorted. “No, he believes that I wear dramatic cloaks like he does.”

“If I recall correctly, you used to wear things like that,” you teased.

“That was a long time ago.”

“So was the last time you laid with me.”

“Now, that is a lie considering that I left you less than twenty minutes ago.”

“See? Forever.”

~

The next day saw you and Maul in the central area of the fortress, dressed to impress while waiting for Dryden’s ridiculous ship to arrive. Maul was wearing his usual attire: black clothes fit for combat at any moment, lightsaber hanging from his belt. You were in full armor for the first time since you reclaimed the fortress two months prior. Beskar pieces decorated your right shoulder and left thigh--raided from a Mandalorian settlement long ago--while strong, flexible leathers guarded everywhere else. You prioritized mobility with your armor given your fighting style, so full metal like the Mandalorians wouldn’t do. A staff was strapped across your back along with a sniper rifle, a knife at your calf, and a blaster at your hip. This was to be a show of power to an extent; the object of the presentation showing Qi’ra who was truly in charge.

Every other guard was in standard armor derived from a mixture of old Nightbrother and Mandalorian in looks. The people that worked directly under Maul in the fortress were the most trusted in the entirety of Crimson Dawn, and they were sworn to secrecy about the nature of your relationship with him. Neither Dryden or Qi’ra would be seeing any sort of attachment that could be seen as a weakness today.

“Relax,” Maul muttered under his breath after you shifted for the too-many-ith time. “You’re a professional.”

“Yes, but she isn’t. I don’t like the idea of someone like her claiming the same position I hold; makes it seem less . . .” You couldn’t come up with the word.

“She is the bed-warmer and bodyguard to a figurehead. I would hardly call that the same as your position.”

“There are those that would disagree,” you grumbled.

Finally, the door opened, revealing Dryden Vos and an admittedly beautiful woman you assumed to be Qi’ra. She was dressed to impress, that was sure, in a simple yet stunning dark blue dress that looked completely impractical for any sort of combat. Apparently, she assumed that since they were going to visit Dryden’s boss, protection would be insured. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed how her dark eyes trailed over your lover’s frame.

Foolish. Never trust people you haven’t met, and then still don’t trust them.

“Dryden,” Maul greeted cooly, “and Qi’ra, I assume?”

“That she is, a true marvel wouldn’t you say?” Dryden grinned, clearly proud of his second-in-command.

“Beautiful, I’ll give her that,” you decided. You didn’t miss the way Dryden’s facial markings flushed with his anger, but even he wasn’t bold enough to speak out against you. “Matches the rest of your collection.”

“Excuse me, who are you?” You had to respect the level of control she displayed over her facial expressions. “I’m afraid I’ve heard nothing about either of you.”

“Such caution is the reason any of us are alive,” Maul spoke up, glancing at you over his shoulder. The warning in his gaze was clear: ‘calm down.’

“Darling, this is Lord Maul, the true head of Crimson Dawn. I run the face and keep everything clear with the other Syndicates; he provides the backing we need.” You gritted your teeth at Dryden’s overinflation of his job. “This is his bodyguard, Y/N. She’s been in the position for at least as long as I’ve known him. You’ll probably never see him without her.”

“That’s how bodyguards work,” you muttered.

“And she’s worked for me since the Clone Wars,” Maul informed both of the guests. “You’d do well to respect her, and better to get her to train you. Dryden has mentioned that you’ve been training with him.”

“That would be lovely,” Qi’ra said respectfully. “Perhaps while we are here?”

“That is unlikely,” Maul replied. “Your visit was so short-notice that we couldn’t adjust our schedule accordingly. We are leaving in the morning on a business venture.”

You resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. We don’t have any such plans . . .

“You will stay for dinner, rest here for the night, and be on your way shortly before us.”

“We would love to,” Dryden lied.

Truth be told he and Maul rarely saw eye-to-eye, and it showed at that dinner. While Maul enjoyed decadence in certain areas, Dryden was far too greedy to get along with the zabrak. Dinner was a far more simple affair than any of the parties you had seen on the First Light, you never attended, but you saw the footage for various reasons. The silence was tense. The long table was covered in just enough food for all four of you. You were at Maul’s left hand like always while he was at the head of the table; Dryden was on the end opposite with Qi’ra on his right side.

Telling, was all you could think. If he’s already that comfortable with her, he might be worse off than I thought . . .

Conversation was stilted, but you were hardly surprised. Maul was rarely conversational with other people, so Dryden and Qi’ra entertained themselves by flirting among themselves. As soon as the dinner was over, you and Maul retired to the training room for your nightly sparring session. Feeling particularly malicious, you invited them to watch. The better to show them proof of your prowess.

Once the fight started all thoughts of the onlookers went out the window. The fights were always all-out; neither of you pulled punches, never had. The only thing you were cognizant of was keeping the usual level of flirting through the floor. And based off the split-second glance of Qi’ra’s face you managed to catch while falling, she clearly didn’t expect the zabrak to pull such a cheap move as headbutting you with one of his horns. Dryden apparently wasn’t going full-tilt with her training . . .

By the time you ended the fight (you lost) and called it a night, you were both sporting bloody injuries in various places on top of new bruises. You and Maul escorted the other two to their separate rooms and left them for the night.

“I don’t trust her,” you muttered as you two walked to your rooms.

“You said as much to the idea of her, my dear,” he replied simply. “I didn’t expect you to change your opinion.”

“She’s a presumptuous little snake, and don’t think I missed the way she eyed you up the second she saw you.”

“She would not be stupid enough to try it yet.”

“Yet being the operative word.” You reached the bedroom door. “Goodnight, sir,” you said formally. 

Maul’s brows furrowed, but fortunately he was smart enough to catch on quickly. There’s someone watching, he realized. He now sensed Qi’ra’s presence in the Force far too closely to be her in her room. He was mildly impressed that you noticed when he did not; granted it wasn’t that surprising since he was generally distracted when you were around. “Goodnight. Be ready in the morning.”

Qi’ra frowned. She snuck out of her room as soon as your voices sounded like they’d rounded a corner, hoping to gain more information on the pair of you. Unfortunately, all she learned was your distaste for her was genuine and accurate. She lingered long enough to see if you would do anything after he retired, but you simply crossed your arms and waited. A hard life if she remains here all night. Her exhaustion may be my advantage, was what she thought as she slunk back to her room.

As soon as you heard her door shut in the quiet of the hallway, you snapped your fingers. Instantly, another guard took your place. “Keep an eye out for uninvited eyes,” you ordered quietly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then you could finally retire.

Upon entering the bedroom, you were greeted by the sight of your lover lying nude among the freshly changed, black silk sheets. Already, he was dozing, giving you ample time to enjoy the site of him relaxed and beautiful in a way he rarely was. As quietly as you could, you stripped down yourself and crawled onto the bed with him. He roused enough to share a sleepy kiss when you pulled the sheet over both of your bodies, but otherwise remained asleep. While you were not content with the whole guests situation, you were more than content with your position and quickly drifted off yourself.

#maul x reader #maul imagine #darth maul x reader #darth maul imagine #star wars imagine #reader insert

[lantern-inthenight]

Playing the Vocals (series)

Chapter Three: Power and Control

Pairing: Josh x fem!Reader Word Count: 1430 Warnings: Language, pettiness A/N: Alright y’all, it’s here already!! I’m on a roll with this one, so hopefully I’ll have Chapter 4 up soon (cause that’s where things get turned up to 11 hehe) Also, get ready to stan Miss motherfucking Michaels. Eternal thanks to @sparrowof-thedawn for proofreading this for me <3

Summary: Josh and Reader are competing vocalists at a music college. They are each trying to win a competition as soloists, but their advisor tells them they can only win as a duo. They begrudgingly become partners, but find that they may have bitten off more than they can chew.

You actually looked forward to practice that Friday. Your short conversation with Josh had given you hope that you might actually be able to get along. You almost felt a kinship with him, even if that kinship was founded only on your shared tastes in music. But still, talking to him had been kind of pleasant.

It was nice while it lasted.

“See, this-- this right here is why I can’t stand you!”

Your shout echoed through the music room, and was bounced back to you with an equally-scathing insult from Josh.

“Well, at least I’m not a control freak!”

Miss Michaels sat at the piano looking tired. You and Josh were in the ninth or tenth round of a shouting match that started five minutes ago. You stood several feet apart, your shared copy of the day’s song (“Almost Paradise” by Mike Reno and Ann Wilson) laying abandoned by the wayside.

“Are you sure about that, asshole?” You shot back, prompting a white-hot glare from Josh. Miss Michaels stood up, exasperated.

“Alright, you two, stop it now.”

But you and Josh were oblivious to her interruption. You got right up in his face, which was slowly turning red to match your own.

“You’re the one that just had to sing louder even though the harmony is supposed to be obvious in that part of the song! But no! You just couldn’t let me have it!”

“Why the hell would I? The harmony should never be louder than the melody!”

“Well, that one is!”

Josh opened his mouth with an angry reply, but your argument was stopped dead in its tracks by a sharp, ear-splitting whistle. You both turned to find your instructor standing next to the piano with a small, metal whistle perched between her lips.

“Jesus,” Josh hissed, as you each placed hands over your ears. Michaels lowered the whistle and clasped her hands in front of her, looking unimpressed.

“When I ask you to be silent, you will listen respectfully. Is that clear?”

You and Josh glared at one another before nodding with matching frowns.

“Aren’t those made for dogs?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Miss Michaels replied matter-of-factly. “But I find they work rather well for students, too.”

You and Josh could do nothing but stand there, looking indignant.

“Quarreling like children is not going to win you this grant,” Miss Michaels chastised.. You looked at the floor guiltily, unwilling to look at Josh. The heat radiating off him spoke for itself.

“We’ve already determined your voices are more than compatible. But the two of you need to learn to complement each other and recognize each other’s strengths,” Michaels continued, walking up to you. “...instead of constantly competing. Because that will get you nowhere. Is that clear?”

You and Josh made similar disgruntled noises of admission. Miss Michaels reached for the whistle in her pocket, pulling enthusiastic “Yes ma’am”s from both of you.

“We’ll meet again Monday,” she declared, turning back to the piano. “Take this weekend to... gather yourselves,” she instructed, frowning at you both over her glasses.

“And next week, you will both receive lessons on power balance and control issues.”

With that, she was off. You stood there, mouth open. Josh folded his arms and sighed. When you looked up at him, he looked like he wanted to say something. But you didn’t give him the chance. You turned on your heel and left, fighting tears of frustration.

This was a massive mistake.

…

Upon leaving the rehearsal, you had called Emily to vent. She listened patiently as you ranted about the day’s events. When you were done yelling into the receiver at no one in particular, she gave you a half-hearted encouragement. But the best thing she could offer was to get you drunk, which you readily accepted.

So the following evening, you put on your tightest skirt, paired with a flowy blouse that you left unbuttoned a little further than it should have been. Emily and your other friends whistled at you when you got in their car, which made you blush. But you were secretly proud of yourself.

It was a glee that left you the moment you walked into the house party to see Josh laughing with a bunch of his friends in the living room.

Emily noticed you glaring, and followed your gaze to the opponent on the couch.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, dude, I didn’t know Matt invited him.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, shrugging. “Let’s just drink, okay?”

“Fine by me.” Emily grinned. She led you to the kitchen, where a makeshift bar had been set up. Every surface was covered in plastic cups, mixers, and various bottles of alcohol. You elected to mix some Fresca with the first kind of vodka you could find, handing a cup to Emily before making one for yourself.

You managed to dance for about an hour without event, effectively ignoring the presence of Josh and his brothers. But after several drinks, Emily’s wild side had come out to play. She ended up wrapped around one of Matt’s friends on the armchair, leaving you to your own devices.

...

You were sitting on the landing of the staircase, looking out over the party and mourning the emptiness of your cup. You were zoned out enough to not realize that Josh was approaching until he was right in front of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, looking a bit nervous. You felt a small sting of sympathy, which wrestled with the pang of annoyance that came at the sight of his face.

“Hi.”

“My brothers are completely wasted, whereas I am only a little wasted,” he explained. “Do you mind if I join you?”

You answered with a nod, and fidgeted with the hem of your skirt as he sat down next to you. It was a narrow staircase, and the sides of your knees brushed. You ignored it, and chose to continue people watching.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he began. You looked at him sideways, a little surprised. Was he actually trying to be nice? What happened to the asshole you were used to dealing with?

“I just figured I’d take the lead since you missed your cue,” he added, causing you to roll your eyes.

There he is.

“I wouldn’t have missed my cue if I didn’t have to be staring at your stupid face,” you snapped. Josh gave you a smirk, that goddamned smirk.

“Staring at my face a lot, mama?”

Previously, you would have been flustered at the unwanted pet name. But the vodka in your bloodstream willed you to face him directly with eyebrows raised.

“No. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Josh scoffed, shaking his head.

“Please,” you continued, feeling braver. “As if I didn’t notice you staring my ass during my solo. Is that why you forgot the lyrics in that line?”

Josh was silent, and you felt a wave of triumph. You had gotten him.

“That’s what I thought.”

You moved to stand up, but Josh spoke up.

“You watch me, too.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen you staring at me, too,” Josh reiterated, looking at you with his chin lifted. You shrunk into yourself a little, turning red in the face.

“Well, yeah, you… have a… commanding presence,” you offered, struggling to find words that you wouldn’t regret.

“Oh, yeah?” He looked smug, and you wanted to punch him. So you stood your ground.

“Yeah.”

“Is it really so hard for you to admit you’re into me?”

The fucking nerve of him. You were speechless. When you scoffed and rolled your eyes, he spoke again.

“Fine, I’ll go first. I think you’re an incredible singer, and you’re insanely attractive.”

Wait, what?

You had to look at him, unsure if he was playing a cruel prank. But there was no lie behind the brown of his eyes. The tiniest bit of heat rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or something else.

“You’re attractive, too,” you admitted. Josh almost smiled. You should have left it there, but the vodka wasn’t done with you yet. The words were out of your mouth before your brain had vetted them.

“If you weren’t such an asshole.”

Josh’s almost-smile fell into a frown. His annoyance, you could handle. What was worse...he looked hurt. And it was your fault.

“Thanks,” he replied darkly, before getting up and walking downstairs. Leaving you alone on the landing to contemplate your mistake. You couldn’t help but be a little angry at yourself.

Monday rehearsal was going to suck.

End note: AHHH What did y’all think?? Please reblog with your opinions or comment below! What do you think will happen in Chapter 4?

Taglist: @kissthesun-fightthefire, @lover--leaver, @myownparadise96, @satans-helper, @songbirdkisses, @bluewillowmom, @sweetkiszkadreams,  @mountainofthesunn, @turntonightfirelight

#playing the vocals #gvf #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #writing

[the-original-b]

Archangel--Chapter 2: the Everett Escalation

Format: Prose / Ficton, multi-entry

Part in Series: 3 of 9 (Previous chapter)

Word Count: c. 8,700

Summary: Specialist Krueger’s path leads him to shops and back alleys in Queens, where previously unknown players make their presence felt.

Trigger Warning(s): blood, violence

[A/N: this work of fiction is neither sponsored nor endorsed by Heckler & Koch GmbH.]

Krueger checked his overcoat and scarf at the desk just beyond the restaurant entrance. He wore a black crew neck t-shirt tucked into the slacks of a black suit with muted pinstripes and matching oxfords—certain he satisfied the dress code for such an establishment.

The Brooklynite: this elite restaurant in Williamsburg is where she told him to meet her and discuss the next steps after returning from his trip to Miami a week ago. It wasn’t particularly busy on a Wednesday night, so he didn’t have to worry too much about prying eyes and ears. He went up to the host to inform him of his arrival.

“Welcome, sir,” the host greeted him—a young man barely an adult dressed in a black collared shirt and matching slacks. He checked the reservations book in front of him. “How many are dining with you tonight?”

“I’m meeting someone,” Krueger said. “7:30 reservation.” A quick glance at his watch informed him it was 7:29.

“Ah, yes,” the host said. “I see it here, table for two. We’ll be ready for you in a moment. I suggest a visit to the bar while you wait, that’s where she’ll be.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you.”

Krueger nodded respectfully at the kid and made his way past him toward the bar area. He spotted her immediately—she wore black peep-toe stilettos and a matching deep v-neck off-the-shoulder sheath dress that came past her knees but fell naturally over the curves of her slim, feminine frame. She traded her usual glasses for contact lenses, and let her hair fall freely over her shoulders. The jewel of her necklace rested just above her cleavage.

She turned her head to look at him, a slow smile parting her deep-red-colored lips. “You clean up nicely,” Khai said, catching him admiring her.

“And you,” he returned, looking into her big, brown eyes. “You look as though you were born to wear that dress..!”

She did a quick spin, modeling for him and for everybody else in the room looking at her. “I don’t get to dress up very often, I have to make it count every chance I get.”

“It sounds like we both need a reason to get out and dress up more,” he said, smirking.

Their server approached them, a woman in a white blouse and black slacks with her dirty-blonde hair tied in a ponytail. “Excuse me sir, ma’am. Your table is ready.”

“Perfect timing,” Khai said to her. “Thank you.” Smiling, she turned to Krueger and offered her hand, her nails done the same shade as her lips. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” he said, giving her his elbow. She took it with both hands and they followed the server to their table.

 ~~~~

Their server had delivered a bottle of sparkling water and two wine glasses into which she poured a merlot, and returned some time later to take their dinner order, leaving a menu behind in case they wanted dessert.

“I never know if I ordered the right thing when I’m here,” Khai said, holding up the single-page menu one handed and examining it. There were only six selections for dinner.

“In my experience,” Krueger said, looking at her, “it’s easier to make a choice when there are fewer options. It prevents, decision fatigue.”

She peeled her eyes away from the menu to look at him and grin. “On that we agree.” She looked back at the menu. “But it’s all so good, I’m afraid of missing out on something.”

“That makes one of us; my ex-wife and I could never get a table here, so this is all new to me.”

This got Khai’s attention. She put the menu down and turned in her chair to face him, raising both eyebrows. “You never told me you were married..! The stone-cold Specialist is human after all!” She leaned forward and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers. “Tell me about the Ex-Mrs. Krueger, what was she like?”

“Which Ex-Mrs. Krueger?” he said.

A new, raspy voice in their conversation made it easier for Krueger to avoid the subject. “Is that my Lizzy?” the newcomer said. “You look beautiful as ever..!”

Khai looked to her left at the newcomer, a tall well-dressed broad-shouldered fair-skinned man with silver hair and inviting smile. His mass had accumulated where it naturally does with age. “Uncle Henry!” she said with an equally warm smile. She stood up to kiss the man on the cheek. “You’ve lost weight..!”

“You know what the stress does to me,” Henry said with a laugh.

“The good kind?” Khai said patting the man’s stomach. She turned to introduce Krueger. “Henry, this is—”

“Sebastian,” Krueger said as he stood up. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” He held his hand out.

Henry shook it. “I love your suit, Sebastian. Tell me, what do you do?”

“I’m a consultant for business enterprises. I suppose you’d call somebody like me a problem solver.”

“A problem-solver? Fascinating. Is that how you met Liz?”

“Why, yes,” Krueger said. “Her employers are running maintenance on their cybersecurity suites. She called me in to have a look.”

“And you two fell for each other on the spot!” Henry laughed. “I love it.” He shook Krueger’s hand again, placing the other on his shoulder. “Any friend of Liz Khai is a friend of mine.” he said. “I won’t take any more of your time, but please enjoy the rest of your evening.” He returned to give Khai a quick hug and cheek kiss goodbye before heading back to the front desk to get his coat.

Khai watched him leave as she sat back down. “That,” she said, “is Henry Adrian Everett: the proprietor of this establishment and others. He’s been a valued member of the organization for thirty years, working with the Branch since even before Simon’s late father William was running it.”

“He’s the next suspect on Wells’ list,” Krueger concluded. He sat down as well.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Khai took up her wine glass, swishing it around a little as she mused. “I hate to think he could have betrayed us, but we can’t rule out the possibility.” She took a sip.

“Just tell me what I have to do.”

Khai set the glass down. “Everett owns numerous properties here in the Five Boroughs and beyond, but the one he’s most involved with is the Pharaohs Lounge in Bayside. It’s his most closely guarded enterprise; after the Silvio mess we can’t risk another operation in neutral territory.”

“Rules of engagement?”

“Observation and conversation. Defend yourself if you have to, but it’s best to avoid confrontation entirely if possible.”

Krueger reached for his water, taking a drink and placing the glass back down on the table. “I’ll need a list of his businesses here in New Work, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll get you what you need by tomorrow morning.”

The server arrived with their dinner. A pair of busboys assisted her. “Here we go,” she said as the three of them laid their selections out on the table. “Medium-rare porterhouse for two, share-size fresh broccoli and baked potato. Mr. Everett says it’s on the house.”

“This is perfect,” Krueger said. “Thank you.” He turned back to Khai after the staff left, giving her a knowing look.

“What?” she asked with a not-so-innocent giggle.

“You knew he would comp your dinner, didn’t you?”

“It was fifty-fifty,” she said. “I think he was comping you.”

Krueger chuckled at the thought. “Any friend of yours is a friend of his,” he echoed. He raised his wine glass to her. “To having friends in high places.”

Khai brought her glass to his. “Hear, hear.”

 ~~~~

Krueger and Khai split a generous tip for the server. Then he walked with her to the front to reclaim their outerwear and made it outside. Khai felt around inside her coat pocket for her key fob and hit the button, a late-model luxury coupe responded with a chirp and a flash of its lights.

“May I walk you to your car?” he offered.

Khai looked over at him and smiled. “That’s very sweet of you,” she said, “but I can take it from here, Sebastian.”

Krueger knew she would understand why he used the false name. “Of course. That would have made this more than a professional gathering.” They embraced, mostly for the spectacle.

“Well, next time,” she said, looking up at him while still in his arms, “you can absolutely walk me to the car.” Her eyes moved down to his lips before darting back up to meet his again. Then they released their hold on each other, and Khai held his gaze for a little as she started for her car. Eventually she turned to look directly ahead and went for her coupe.

Krueger watched her enter the car’s driver-side door. Its LED headlamps came on as the engine roared to life and hummed for a little before she pulled out onto Broadway and drove away.

Krueger replayed the night over in his head as he walked toward his own car, parked a block and a half down around the corner on Driggs Avenue. He had his next assignment but unlike the last two, hadn’t yet received a complete list of parameters for it. He hated acting on a lead before all the parts came together but disliked the inaction of having to wait even more. He found the Pharaohs Lounge after a quick internet search on his smartphone and plugged the address into his GPS as soon as he entered his car, a subtle but classy sports sedan. He started the engine and headed south toward Division Avenue and eventually the I-278 expressway.

He made a point to park around the far corner on 40th Avenue when he finally arrived and started west, crossing Bell Boulevard to get a look at the establishment from a distance as he headed south to walk past it. It was nothing flashy—one of several units belonging to the same building, tucked between a sandwich shop and jewelry store. He noticed the office space in the upper floor that connected the three storefronts, deducing that was where he needed to go when the time to act was right.

He continued, crossing 41st Avenue diagonally to stay as far as possible from the building. Heading east a few hundred feet he noticed an alley behind an open gate that fed into an empty lot behind the building that no doubt provided rear access to it. He made a note to come back to that place, and followed the road as it turned north into 24th place. He found his way back to 40th Avenue, where he returned to his parked sedan and sat behind the wheel for a little. He replayed the evening a second time in his head, paying special attention to the way Khai looked at him before starting the engine and heading back to his home in Rego Park.

 ~~~~

Krueger ran four and a half miles in forty minutes Thursday morning, and checked his laptop for correspondence from Khai regarding points of interest for the task at hand upon returning. As promised, she delivered a detailed list of Everett’s businesses in the Five Boroughs, annotated to reflect the importance of each venue to Everett himself as well as the Branch. Khai’s message included times and days that Everett was most likely to be at his places of business, as a bonus.

“Hervorragend,” Krueger whispered with a nod of approval. As he already narrowed down his list to three of the fifteen entries listed, he mapped the most efficient route connecting them, and planned to surveil each of them during their busiest hours, making sure to avoid Everett for now. He went off to his shower to start his day properly.

Krueger’s breakfast consisted of oats with fruit and egg whites, followed by espresso. He took a drive out east to head to a shooting range with his personal sidearm—a .40 caliber Heckler & Koch P30L—to keep his skills sharp and marksmanship in top form. He went through two forty-round boxes and two target silhouettes before he was satisfied, and after re-packaging his weapon he washed the residue off his hands and stepped back into his car.

He spent an hour and a half at his gym alternating isolation- and compound-exercises. And after a quick shower on site he went to one of Everett’s diners alone to eat a lean grilled chicken wrap for lunch. He scanned the dining room between bites for any characters who stuck out to him; there was the man at the front behind the cash register who he thought might know a thing or two, the manager—a middle-aged woman—behind the bar who probably knew more, and the various servers who likely didn’t know anything useful. He kept a mental note of how often they left their posts to move out of his sight.

He paid for his lunch at the front and took a walk around the block, paying attention to the building itself and looking for alternate entrances or windows indicative of a back office. There were none he could see from this distance, so he circled back around the block to his car and made his way to the next point of interest, a boutique shop next door to Amelia’s, a standalone furniture store.

As before he parked around the corner and took a walk to the door, monitoring the ebb and flow of the people around him, making sure none of them were following him. The boutique shop, he found, hadn’t yet opened for business, so he wouldn’t be able to see it in broad daylight. Still he had to see if he could find another way in.

He settled for the furniture store next door, and was greeted by an attractive woman about Khai’s age with curly strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes as soon as he walked in.  She wore a comfortable button-up shirt and dark jeans with sneakers under her apron. “Hello, there,” she said. “I’m Amelia. Welcome to my shop!”

“Your shop?” Krueger echoed.

“Yes, sir,” Amelia acknowledged with an energetic smile. “Mom always said you have to do what you love, so I decided to make money doing it!” She shrugged nonchalantly. “It helps that I’m good at it,” she added.

Krueger followed a different version of that philosophy—making money doing what he was good at and finding pleasure in it. “I’m always impressed to see young business owners doing well for themselves,” he said as he looked around the showroom, taking note of the other half-dozen people in the room with them. “Well done.”

“Thanks. We had a rough first couple of years, but we pulled through..!” She straightened her apron a little. “So,” she began, “are you looking for anything in particular, or just browsing?”

“I’m considering doing some redecoration, but I have no idea what I’m looking for,” Krueger confessed. “I was hoping to get some ideas here.”

“Why don’t I show you a few things in the showroom?” she offered.

“That would be perfect,” Krueger said with a smile. “Lead the way.”

 ~~~~

Amelia led Krueger on a tour of the showroom, citing her personal favorite pieces and noting the ones Krueger said he liked. While on the tour Krueger paid special attention to the wall Amelia’s shop shared with the one next door, looking for employee-only entrances or shared office space but finding none. They finished back at the center of the showroom, where she leaned against a countertop to talk to Krueger some more.

“And that’s pretty much it,” she said. “Like I said, we source as much as we can domestically, but the more exotic pieces come from all over the world.”

“It’s all beautiful, Amelia.” Krueger noted. “I’ll have to take some more measurements back home before I commit to anything, but I’ll let you know as soon as I get some definite figures.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she laughed. She jotted her cell phone number on the back of a business card and handed it to him. “Where did you say you lived again?”

“Right here in Queens,” he replied, taking the card and putting it in his inside coat pocket.

“Nice..! How long have you been here?”

“About fifteen years on and off. I traveled a great deal before that.” He wasn’t lying to her.

“That’s the dream right there, see the world while you’re young! I wish I could have done more of that before starting up here again, you know?”

“There’s still time,” Krueger said. “I believe we’re only as old as we feel.”

Amelia smirked. “I like the way you think. Sebastian, you said?”

“That’s right.” That time he was lying.

“Well, Sebastian, thank you for coming in this afternoon.” She held her hand out and Krueger shook it. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

“You will,” Krueger said with a smile. He turned to exit the shop.

Amelia watched him walk away before taking a few steps after him toward the front of the shop. “You know,” she added, “you should come back in a few days and check out the boutique shop next door.”

Krueger stopped and turned to face her. “Is that what’s going there?” Again he lied to her—Khai had informed him exactly what was next door.

“Yep. I can’t wait to see what’s there, and I’m excited to collaborate with them in the future.”

“Small business owners have to stick together these days,” he concurred. “I’ll be back to see what they offer.” At least he could be honest with her that time. Krueger waved Amelia goodbye and turned back toward the exit.

 ~~~~

After Krueger’s four mile run the following morning, he returned home to shower before heading to the third of Everett’s businesses—a coffee shop in Valley Stream—for breakfast. He considered it his first of three allotted cheat meals for the week: an egg and turkey sausage sandwich on a biscuit. With it he ordered his usual black espresso and took a seat opposite from the countertop where the patrons placed their orders. He was free to scan the whole room from there.

He noted the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop to his left, the counter directly in front of him, about eight other tables in the dining area to his right, the art on the walls around him that were more likely prints of old paintings than genuine replicas, and a door at the far back of the establishment beyond the dining area with a sign reading employees only beyond this point. He couldn’t identify any among the staff who would know anything useful about Everett—they were all around his daughter’s age. Still, he knew where he would have to go and with whom he’d have to inquire to find what he needed.

He opened up his laptop and logged into the Wi-Fi on site as a guest. He fired up an instant messenger and opened a new window.

The boutique shop was a dead end, he wrote her, but the diner and coffee shop seem promising. He took a sip from his espresso.

Khai took a while to respond. I’ll get you keys to the buildings, she replied, but I can’t help you get into the offices. You’re on your own there.

That won’t be a problem, he wrote back. Getting the documents might be a challenge.

He looked up from his monitor to accept his egg sandwich from the young man who brought it to him. He thanked the boy and took a bite, finding it to be a good amount saltier than expected but enjoying the flavor overall. He looked back at his monitor to read what Khai had sent him.

Most of it is written, she wrote. He doesn’t trust technology to keep secrets.

Everett, he found, was a wise man. Meet at noon for selection? Usual place.

I’ll be there. Khai signed off shortly after her message was delivered.

Krueger shut his laptop and leaned back in his chair, continuing his breakfast and looking out the window at the passers-by, keeping a mental tally of how many of them looked into the shop at him. He counted seven.

 ~~~~

Krueger stepped out of the coffee shop and turned to his left to start down the sidewalk before a woman’s voice stole his attention.

“Milo..?” she said.

Krueger froze. There were only two women in the country who knew him by his actual name, and one of them was miles away in an office on Sixth Avenue. What were the odds the only other woman in this hemisphere who knew the real him would be walking into the same coffee shop on the same day at the same time he was walking out of it?

He turned to find her standing behind him, a stunningly beautiful woman with deep brown eyes, caramel-colored skin, and delicate features. Her black hair was different now—a pixie cut with some lighter highlights that still framed her face perfectly.

“Emma..!” He was ready for anything but to see her again. He studied her, looking up and down all five feet and five inches of her and finding no flaws. “You look, well..!” In the eighteen years since they first met on the boardwalk that evening, she hadn’t seemed to age a day.

“You too.” Emma stood there with her hands in her coat pockets, studying the subtle wrinkles on his face that came with age, and noting a tiny U-shaped scar under his left cheekbone that she hadn’t seen before. “The beard suits you,” she finally said with an honest smile.

He reached up to run his hand over the mostly gray ten-day-old stubble. “Thought I’d finally try it,” he said, matching her expression with an almost nervous laugh.

A third voice entered their exchange. This one was a man’s. “Em?” The man approached them from behind her. “Em, is everything okay?”

Emma held her eyes shut for a second before turning to acknowledge the newcomer. “Everything’s fine Tim.”

Krueger arched an eyebrow and flattened it as soon as he made eye contact with him. Tim was a tall, classically handsome fellow with dark hair slicked back.

“Tim,” Emma introduced them. “This is Milo, my… ex-husband.”

“Milo,” Tim echoed. “Nice to finally meet the legend, I’ve heard all about you.” He reached out for Krueger’s hand.

“I certainly hope not.” Krueger shook Tim’s hand firmly.

“That’s funny,” Tim snorted. “What do you do, buddy?”

“I’m in private security,” Krueger said evenly. After all he wasn’t lying. “I dabble in consultative work as well.”

“Cool.” Tim took his hand back. “Do you have a card or something?”

“I work on a referrals-only basis.”

“Ah. Best of the best huh?”

“I’ve been told.”

Tim laughed a little to himself. “Well, he’s definitely not a boaster, I’ll give him that…” He turned to Emma. “I’ll be inside. You want your usual?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she acknowledged him. “Go ahead I’ll be right in.”

“You got it, babe.” Tim kissed her on the cheek before trotting into the coffee shop.

Krueger blinked. “He’s—”

“An acquired taste,” Emma confirmed. “But his ten-year old son gets along with Vicki so… bonus points.” She shifted a little. “And you? Vicki said one of her friends spotted you with a well-dressed woman at the Brooklynite the other day.”

The host, Krueger surmised.

Emma must have seen it on his face. “No,” she chided, crossing her arms. “Don’t have him followed.”

“If I were really worried about that do you think he would ever get close to our daughter?”

She chuckled. “Fair point.” Emma uncrossed her arms and put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing here, Milo? Really.” Her tone was appealing, like she was asking for a reason not regret asking him.

Krueger averted her eyes for the briefest moment before reclaiming them. “I’m working,” he said.

Emma shifted, disheartened.

“I’m not following you,” he added. “Or Tim.”

“But you are following someone.”

Krueger put his hands in his coat pockets. “Yeah.”

Emma shut her eyes and sighed. “Don’t forget where your boundaries are, Milo.” She opened her eyes again. “I mean that. If not for me, then do it for our daughter.” She turned to head back toward the coffee shop.

Krueger watched her walk away from him. He thought it would hurt less after all these years but he was wrong. “How is Victoria?” he finally asked.

Emma stopped, halfway through the entrance, to turn and look him in the eye. “She asks about you almost every day,” she said. “She misses you.”

 ~~~~

Krueger met Khai in the armory that afternoon, as agreed upon earlier that day. She sensed whatever happened to him this morning shook him in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

“Are you okay?” Her concern was genuine.

He gave her a hollow nod while he inspected the selections absentmindedly. “Ich traf einen geist,” he noted, sotto voce. He looked down the tritium sights of a Glock 21, dry-firing to get a sense of the trigger weight and freeing the slide to return it to the closed position. The sights were obscured by the suppressor, but that would hardly matter at the range of a few yards at most. “.45 ACP?”

She made a mental note to not pull that thread until he was ready to talk about it. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Same model suppressor as before too.”

Krueger knew how effective that suppressor was. “Gut,” he nodded, placing the gun aside. He perused over what she had picked out for hand-to-hand combat, passing over the karambit for a 16-inch collapsible baton with a flashlight built into its handle. “Building keys?”

Khai shot him an inquisitive look from behind her glasses.

“When we spoke this morning, you said you’d get keys to the buildings.”

“Right, right.” Khai went back to an old desk in the room and scanned it for the keys she was able to clone from the master copies kept in the archives. She moved aside a stack of order forms and found the 3 x 41/2 manila envelope that contained them.

Krueger followed her to the workstation, and paused when he recognized the crimson logo on the form he spotted at the top of the stack. “Ah,” he extolled with an earnest half-smile. “Deutches waffen..!”

“Pardon?” She followed his gaze to the invoice from Heckler & Koch, GmbH. “Oh, those..!” She turned to face him, leaning against the desk. “I had hoped to surprise you with something you’d like for the next phase of this operation.”

Krueger examined the invoice, recognizing each of the five items listed. He’d gotten very familiar with them during his time with Special Forces. “Diese sind perfekt, Fräulein Khai. Danke schön.”

She didn’t speak a lot of German, but she understood enough of what he said. She smiled warmly at him. “You’re very welcome, Herr Krüger.” Khai held the manila envelope up by her face. “The keys are labelled,” she said, handing it to him. “Burner phone’s in there as well. You have a way into the offices?”

“I do,” he confirmed, accepting the envelope. The first two buttons of her blouse were undone, and Krueger didn’t stop himself from glancing at the exposed skin. “I’ll contact you with developments.”

 ~~~~

Krueger waited in his car around the corner from the coffee shop for another hour and forty five minutes after it closed for business. He turned his wrist upward to glance at his watch before stepping out and quickly checked himself to ensure his .45 was in his underarm holster and spare magazines were within reach. He took to the street clad in a black turtle neck sweater and gloves, dark tactical pants and mid boots under a charcoal coat—a look he considered practical and wouldn’t rouse too many suspicions on a night like this.

He unlocked the outer door and stepped inside to unlock the inner one. Once he crossed the threshold he moved to disarm the security system he spotted on the wall that morning using a sequence of digits Khai wrote on a note she attached to the front door key. Then he went to work, heading straight through the dimly lit dining area to the employees-only door which he pushed open with ease. To his right was a storage closet, to his left a janitorial one. Further down the industrial-gray painted hall to his left was the office he was looking for.

He undid the belt of his coat to access his right inside pocket. From it he retrieved a lock pick—a souvenir from an investigation job he did for an ex-government agent some years ago—and knelt down to undo the doorknob lock. It took him all of four seconds to bypass it.

Once inside he quickly scanned the dark room, noting an old couch, a floor lamp, and a table with an old desktop computer. Behind the desk was a large safe with a rotary dial combination lock.

He could be there all night trying to brute-force that thing open, and he couldn’t afford to spend that much time on a lead he didn’t even know would pay off. He fished around in his coat pocket for the burner phone and flipped it open to dial the number stored therein.

She answered after three rings. “This is Khai,” she said.

“I’m at the coffee shop,” he replied. “There’s a safe with a rotary dial lock in the office here, any chance Everett would leave the combination somewhere?”

“Not likely,” she began. “He’s too seasoned and clever to make such a rookie mistake.” Khai thought for a little. “The partners keep a database of PINs and passwords belonging to high-ranking members as a backup plan in case they have a need to hand one or more operations off to new people. If you give me a minute to log into the servers, I can get it for you.”

Krueger could hear some light shuffling on the other end of the line. “You’re not at the office now?” he inquired, half-joking.

“It’s Friday night, and I’m just getting off a double date with Netflix and wine.” In his mind’s eye he could see her lips curl upward into a grin. “I’m in,” she continued. “Give me a moment… here we are: Everett, Henry Adrian.” Her volume dropped as she read the entries aloud, more to herself than to him. “Date of birth, blood type, height, weight, eye color, hair color… aha! Enterprises.” She scrolled down the list of businesses he oversaw, both legitimate and otherwise. Her volume returned to normal. “There’s an adorable coffee shop in Valley Stream, is that where you are?”

“That’s right.” Krueger retrieved the baton from his pocket, turning the flashlight on and scanning the desk for anything of importance. He held the phone against his ear with his shoulder to free his hand and pick up a framed photo of a much younger-looking Everett and… it must have been Khai. They held a tight embrace looking into the camera with beaming smiles, he was in a dark suit and tie and she wore a navy blue graduation gown with silver and gold regalia.

“Here’s something,” her voice crackled in his ear, bringing him back to the present. “Make and model for the safe, manufacture date and warranty… as for the combination, it just says ‘graduation date.’”

Krueger did the math. “When did you graduate college?” He held the flashlight between his teeth to carefully remove the photo from the frame with both hands. Handwritten on the reverse of the photo was a note to Everett dated May 24th.

“2006,” she said.

“Uh-huh.” He laid the photo face-down onto the glass of the open frame and reclaimed the flashlight to free his mouth again. “Stand by.”

He knelt in front of the safe and turned the dial a few times to the right with his free hand, ensuring he passed zero twice and stopping at the number five. He turned it to the left, passing five and stopping at twenty-four. Then he turned the dial to the right once, stopping at six. Then he pulled a latch downward and disengaged the lock, swinging the heavy door open. “Got it.”

“How—?”

“Oh-five, twenty-four, oh-six. Your graduation date.” He took a stack of documents from off the top shelf of the open safe. “He keeps a picture of you at his desk here.”

It was quiet on the other end of the line for a few seconds while Krueger examined the documents he pulled. Then Khai said, “I think I know the one you’re talking about..!” He could envision the smile on her face as she said it. “He shared his secrets with the Partners while keeping them to himself, leaving just enough in the open that somebody close to him can figure it out.”

“Admirable…” Krueger noted. His inspection of the documents stopped when he noted a printed email chain between Everett and five other members. “Was ist das..?” He scrutinized the dialogue further.

“Did you find something?”

“Maybe…” He read the chain some more. “A printed group discussion over an email chain, talking about the bug I found in Wells’ phone. Interesting they don’t mention me.”

“Wells thought it best we didn’t make your presence known to the branch until after this whole mess was resolved,” she disclosed.

“Smart of him…” Krueger read the discussion some more. “Apparently Everett knows who placed the bug in the first place. In a separate chain he reaches out to somebody named Caruso to discuss what he found.”

“Does he say who it was?”

“Not in this chain,” Krueger said. He opened the desk drawer to retrieve a manila folder and placed the printed email chain inside, then returned the rest of the documents to the safe and shut it. “I’ll ask him at Pharaohs.” He shut the phone to end the call and placed the phone back inside his coat pocket. He placed the photo of Khai and Everett back into its frame and on top of the desk before walking out the office door, locking it behind him, and shutting off the flashlight in his baton. He headed for the front door of the coffee shop, arming the security system again, and locking the door on his way out.

 ~~~~

Everett walked into his office on the second floor of the building that held the Pharaohs Lounge, the bass tones of the music in the space below him quietly reverberating through the walls. He spotted the cracked-open window, then scanned the still-dark space before hitting the light switch on the wall to his left. A floor lamp illuminated most of the room, enough that he could plainly see the desk on the opposite end of the office directly ahead of him, the storage closets on the left wall, and the open window on the right.

Everett hung his overcoat and brimmed hat on the coat rack beside the door, shut it behind him, and headed for the window to close it. He felt the metal pressed against the back of his head as soon as the window latched shut.

“Don’t turn around,” the intruder ordered.

Everett nodded, recognizing the intruder’s dulcet tones; he understood now. He raised his hands slowly up beside his head and looked straight ahead out the window. “You’re Liz’s friend,” he correctly surmised. “The problem-solver. What did you say your name was?”

“Names are for friends.”

Everett’s shoulders heaved with a quiet chuckle. “I like that,” he said. “Am I the problem?”

“That remains to be seen. Now,” he said, pulling the gun away, “slowly take a seat behind your desk, and place your palms on the table top.”

“I understand,” Everett complied. He turned to his desk and sat in the swiveling chair, placing his palms down on top while Krueger walked around the other side. He kept his handgun trained on Everett as he moved.

“May I sit as well?” he entreated.

“Please, do.”

Krueger took a seat, resting the bottom of the pistol’s grip on his right knee. “As you correctly stated,” he began, “I’ve been hired to patch some holes in Simon Wells’ organization.”

“Then you’ll have work for years,” Everett added. “There are cracks in the Branch’s foundation. The Partners even spoke about gutting it—tearing it all down and rebuilding from scratch.”

“Then I hope I can fill the cracks before that happens.” Krueger slid a manila envelope across the desk toward Everett. “I pulled those from your safe at the coffee shop. I have some questions to ask you about them.”

“It would help if I could see what you want me to read.” He gestured his inside pocket with a head tilt. “My glasses.”

“Go ahead.”

Slowly, deliberately, Everett opened up the medium gray jacket of his suit with his left hand, and reached into the chest pocket of his stark white shirt to pull out a pair of reading glasses. He slipped them on over his eyes and placed his palms back on the desktop.

Krueger reached over, keeping the Glock pointed at Everett, and turned the folder open. “Recognize that email chain?”

Everett leaned forward and looked at the documents. “I do. I was building a case to take to Simon. I knew there were only three of us who could have put the bug in his office phone. Naturally, the others maintain their innocence, but I have my suspicions about them.”

“I’ve been given a similar report,” Krueger concurred. “The list was narrowed down to the three people Simon trusted the most with his conference room.”

“Charlie Silvio, Danny Caruso, and myself.” Everett laughed to himself. “It’s funny he didn’t put Liz on that list.”

“I thought that a bit odd as well.”

“It isn’t her. She practically rebuilt the Branch with William Wells; she’s had plenty of opportunities to turn it inside out sooner than now. She doesn’t have enough to gain and too much to lose in sabotage.”

“Silvio’s clean as well. He may be an arrogant imbecile with too much money and free time, but I’ve checked him. He’s no traitor.” Krueger leaned back in his chair a little, adjusting the pitch and angle of the gun in his hand. “How do I know it isn’t you?”

“Because it would crush Liz and her parents if I did anything to betray the Partners. Besides,” Everett added with a little honest levity, “I think a man with your experience would know if I had something to hide from you.”

He wasn’t wrong. Krueger had questioned dozens of men and women before, and Everett was giving him none of the telltale signs. It didn’t matter how tough or seasoned somebody was, body language betrayed the guilty. He re-engaged the safety on the Glock and returned it to the holster under his left arm. “Valid point.” He stood up, looking down at Everett. “My apologies for breaking in.”

“Don’t be sorry for doing your job well,” Everett advised. He removed his glasses and folded them back into his inside pocket, bringing his hands together over the printed documents afterward. “Let her know it was Caruso.”

“I’ll do that.” Krueger took a few steps toward the office door before turning back to address something he said earlier. “My name isn’t Sebastian, as I said before. It’s Milo.”

“Milo,” he echoed. “Liz is herself around you,” he began. “As somebody who watched her grow up I can say that’s a rare thing.” He reached into his desk drawer for a half-empty bottle of bourbon and two tumblers. He gestured Krueger to come back and have a seat again.

“Is that so?” Krueger walked back over but didn’t sit. “I was wondering how it was you two were so close.”

Everett poured a finger’s depth into each glass and handed one to Krueger. He took a sip from his own. “Her father and I are like brothers. I never had siblings or children of my own, so she’s about the closest thing I’ll have to a niece or daughter.”

Krueger sampled the contents of his glass, making a note to pick up a bottle of whatever this was he was drinking.

“When she relocated here from California,” Everett continued, “I had almost hoped she and I would do business together. I guess you can’t force children into the roles you set aside for them.”

“As a father of two, trust me when I say that has to come from within them.”

“Two kids?” Everett inquired with a smirk.

“I have a daughter here in the States and a son in Düsseldorf. Besides, it seems to me that, in a way, you and Elizabeth ended up working together after all.”

“I suppose you’re right about that, Milo.” Everett finished his drink. “Do you keep in touch with your son?”

“Less than I should.” Krueger finished his drink as well.

Everett acknowledged him with an understanding sigh. “I meant what I said to you at the restaurant, you know.” He stood up to shake Krueger’s hand. “You’ve got a friend in me, Milo. Anything you need, just let me know.”

“I appreciate that, Henry.”

 ~~~~

Krueger exited the Pharaohs Lounge out the front door and turned at the corner of 41st avenue. He wasn’t even halfway up the block when he spotted them, two men and a woman walking toward him with their hands in the pockets of their long coats and locking eyes with him. Casually, nonchalantly, he turned into the alley behind the Lounge and disappeared from their line of sight.

They followed into the alley shortly after, but had lost sight of him. They were joined by another man and woman and began to signal and whisper among themselves as they drew suppressed handguns from their coats.

They dropped to the ground one after the other before they could even react to the incoming bullets from Krueger’s Glock. He squeezed the trigger six times putting rounds into the five of them, and emerged from behind a stack of trash bags piled up at the back door of the Pharaohs Lounge. From where he stood, he could identify one survivor who wasn’t long from this world, and recognized their faces as he had seen them in various locations over the last few days.

He lowered the gun and let it hang at his side in his hand as he made his way toward the surviving hitman. Peripherally to his right, he spotted movement from another one of them; he hardly broke step to shoot her again and put her down for good as he continued toward his target.

Once there he slid the gun away from the dying hitman and turned him onto his back with the same foot. He placed it on the man’s neck, applying pressure but keeping most of his weight on the other foot.

“The Partners didn’t send you,” Krueger said to the man beneath him, “and neither did the Company. So are you going to tell me who did? Or am I going to have to crush your windpipe and find out on my own?”

The hitman’s cell phone in his inside coat pocket made the decision for both of them before the struggling hitman could say anything. Krueger bent over to rifle through the man’s pockets, still keeping the boot on his throat, and found the candy bar phone. He answered the call and held it to his left ear.

The voice on the other line was distorted behind one or more filters. It spoke with an accent Krueger could tell was not local. “Status report,” the voice said. “Four of the others went dark just now, what happened?”

Krueger had a solid guess who called the man dying under his foot in a Bayside back alley. The same one who sent them here and tried to persuade C.J. Silvio to betray Simon Wells. “Heimdallr?”

The voice ended the call, confirming his suspicions.

Krueger looked at the phone’s monochromatic display. He could have a trace run on the number that called the device, but it probably wouldn’t matter—if Heimdallr was half as good as Krueger suspected, the source number was hidden behind on or more spoofs.

Krueger looked ahead, pressing all his weight down on the man’s neck until he heard a crunch and the man stopped struggling. He made a point to step over the growing puddle of blood beneath him as he cut through the alley toward his car.  

He was about halfway there when he felt another man’s arm begin to wrap around his neck.

Immediately, he shot his hands up by his face to grab the man’s arm and stop him from locking in the chokehold. He sunk his weight down and turned his head and body into the assailant, freeing one hand to throw an elbow backward into the other man’s upper belly to stun him. He stepped back and threw the man’s arm past his head to free himself and grabbed hold of the attacker’s head, pivoting at the waist and throwing him into the wall beside them; the man left a blood spatter on the brick façade as he fell to one knee, struggling to catch his breath after Krueger’s elbow.

Then Krueger retrieved his baton and cracked it open, coming down onto the attacker’s jaw with a diagonal forehand strike that took him to the floor. He pounced onto his downed victim, sinking his weight down onto the man’s back and snaking the baton under his chin. He took hold of its other end to lock the man’s neck in a triangle formed by the baton and his crossed forearms, and twisted at the waist to break his neck and kill him.

It was all over in about five seconds. Krueger took a breath to level himself again and scanned the alley for other threats before closing the baton and standing back up.

Heimdallr was getting bold, sending assassins to take him out in the literal shadow of established Partners territory; that meant he was panicking. He had Heimdallr in a corner and was closing in.

He looked back down at the man he just killed, shaking his head in disapproval. “This is what they sent me?” he said to himself. He surveyed the alley once more for additional threats, finding none before turning on his heel to head back to his car.

 ~~~~

He waited at the Coney Island boardwalk the following afternoon, leaning against the handrail and looking out past the bay from behind a pair of dark aviator sunglasses wearing jeans and a collared shirt under his coat with classy casual shoes. It was a Saturday, and while it was getting colder the area was still packed full of tourists taking photos and couples holding hands. It was as public a place as he could think of.

She arrived not long after him, but looked on from a distance for a few minutes before she was certain it was him. She re-tied her hair in a ponytail before disposing of her coffee cup in a nearby trash bin as she strode up to him, her un-gloved hands in the pockets of her thigh-length pea coat, wearing pale jeans and a sweater underneath it.

He turned his head to face her when he heard the tock-tock of her boot heels on the planks, and turned back to face the water again when she took a spot on the handrail immediately to his left. She didn’t say anything at first, she just leaned against the banister and looked out to the sea from behind her own wide-rimmed sunglasses with him.

“In a way,” Khai said, “this beats the Hell out of a Michelin Star restaurant in Williamsburg.”

Krueger nodded. “I met her here,” he said.

Khai turned to face him, arching her brow inquisitively.

“You asked about my ex-wife,” he explained. “Emma. I met here right here, maybe this exact spot. I had just left Kommando Spezialkräfte, and made it here to the States to meet with my first private contractor. She and I got together, we had fun, and I spent the night with her before shipping out to my destination. I traveled the world for a year after that, taking any dirty job from anybody willing to hire an independent mercenary.” He interlaced his fingers. “Then she finds me again, sends me a picture of a baby with a note. ‘This is our daughter,’ it said. That’s when I came back to her. Even after we married I couldn’t tell her everything, not until I came home from a job once with a bullet lodged in my shoulder blade.”

“Then what happened?”

“She got it out, stitched me up. And I told her the truth. Who I was, the true nature of my work, everything.”

“What did she do..?”

Krueger looked up, recalling the events of that day. “After finishing my shoulder,” he said, looking forward again, “she took me by the chin, looked me in the eye and said, ‘don’t ever lie to me again.’ And I didn’t.” Krueger shrugged. “But after years of wondering if her husband will ever come back home alive from a job in some corner of the world, she couldn’t take it anymore. She left. I can’t say I blame her—she loved her family, and acted to protect our daughter from the life I was leading.”

Khai blinked behind her sunglasses. “She sounds wonderful,” she finally said, seeing the man before her as a vulnerable human being for the first time since meeting him.

Krueger allowed himself a melancholy half-smile. “Ja,” he admitted softly. “Ist sie.” He straightened his posture before continuing. “Everett didn’t plant the bug. He pointed to Danny Caruso.”

She shuddered at the mention of his name. “That makes sense, Caruso would do anything to get ahead. We may all be criminals but his lowlifedness is unique among our ranks.”

“Sounds like he’s next on the list then.”

“Right as always, Krueger. I’ll compile a dossier and forward it to you when I’m back in front of a computer screen.”

“There’s one more thing,” Krueger said. He fished around in his coat pocket for an old candy bar cell phone. “I was attacked behind Pharaohs.” He held the phone up to hand it to her. “Six of them. One of them got a call on this.”

She took her sunglasses off and placed them on her forehead, holding his gaze before taking the phone to inspect it. “Let me guess,” she sighed.

“The voice was filtered, and I couldn’t place the accent, but it was him. Our Watchman is getting bolder.”

“Or desperate.”

“Do you think you can reverse-lookup a phone number? Maybe get a lead from whatever line he spoofed to call this one?”

“Me?” she said putting the phone into her pocket and putting her sunglasses back on. “That’s outside my skill set, but I have an associate in Marine Park who specializes in that kind of thing. I’ll drop the phone off to him and see what he can pull, and get back to you in a few days’ time.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Krueger watched her take a few steps back in the direction from which she came. “Would you like to get lunch afterward?”

Khai paused, turned and looked over her shoulder at him, her lip curling into a grin. “Another professional gathering?”

He trotted to catch up to her. “We’ve already done that,” he said. “I would rather have a social one this time.”

Khai giggled, holding her smile for a little longer. “Milo Krueger, I would love to share a social gathering with you this afternoon.” She walked with him off the boardwalk, in the direction of their parked cars.

(Next chapter | Masterlist)

#fiction #original work #original content #original fiction #prose #creative writing #drama #crime fiction

[r-ahh-mi]

Empty Cups

Requested: you should do a rami smut based off the song ‘empty cups’ by charlie puth it is NEEDED pls listen to the song and you’ll unDERSTAND

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Warnings: Sexual Content, Alcohol Usage, Cheating, & Swearing.

Word Count: 5.1k

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A/N: I made this Josh...hope that’s okay! Also, thank you so much for requesting this because it got me sooo inspired that i think i’ll make this a multi chapter, maybe??? and collab with another writer????? Lemme know what you guys think xx

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It was so cold outside -- the dress that I chose was less then enough fabric to cover up my legs which were beginning to feel numb, but it was worth it; so damn worth it.

I was doing something that most would see as terrible and the saddest, most sadistic part was that I didn’t care. It wasn’t often that I was selfish in life; I would say i’m quite the giver and usually retire to worrying about others more than myself, but tonight was about me.

Dressing up to impress a man who wasn’t my beloved boyfriend was something I’d never thought to be doing, and yet here I am in the frigid winter cold, risking my relationship for what? Even I wasn’t completely sure. All I knew is that my mind was made up and I was going to seek out a resolution to these feelings I had been having, regardless of who was hurt and who was pleased.

Some would say that i’m a terrible person and ‘blah blah blah’, i realize this, but this man was something I couldn’t get my thoughts away from. Every time my boyfriend slid his arm across my shoulder, I pictured it was Josh. Every time my boyfriend and I engaged in any type of sexual behavior, I pictured it was Josh and as much as I didn’t want these feelings i would miss them terribly should they leave.

To make things every bit worse, my boyfriend was nothing but a saint to me. He treated me good and i couldn’t think of a single thing to complain about when it came to him, except for the fact that he wasn’t him. He wasn’t the Josh that I’d met a year ago through our mutual friend, Sam, and the Josh who stole my heart from the minute I laid eyes on his tousled hair and smug attitude. He already had me in the palm of his hand and yet he had zero idea of it. The only person who knows how I feel is Sam. Of course, Sam is an angel and told me to just stop thinking about him--if she only knew. Should it had been that easy, I wouldn’t be in this situation because, of course, I don’t want these thoughts. Me and my boyfriend have been together for 3 years and what we have is good, but Josh; Josh had something and I couldn’t quite comprehend what it was exactly that drew me to him so much, but it was something I wasn’t quickly able to rid myself of or even remotely start to forget about...which brings me to my current situation.

Josh was having a party and I couldn’t resist the chance at finally doing what I've fantasized about for the past year. His lips on my skin, his hands gripping my thighs, his body slick and hot, and his breath even hotter. No matter how much this could screw everything up and no matter if I would regret it the instant it happened, this was something that I needed to do. Maybe if I just do this it’ll get out of my system or it’ll be less than what my expectations were and then I can move on. That’s it -- this is for the purpose of moving on.

My first clanged against the front wooden door as I winced at the cold air hitting all of my exposed skin. To my dismay, it wasn’t Josh who had opened the door, but his sister, Hannah, as she greeted me with a smile and one armed hug, her other hand being occupied with a red plastic cup.

“Is Josh around?”, I asked as I rid my body of the heavy wool coat that was previously shielding me from frigid temperatures and hung it onto a nearby rack.

“‘Course!”, Hannah slurred, “I think he’s in the living room.”

I patted her shoulder, giggling as she quickly got distracted as she tip toed over to the kitchen, letting out various sounds of excitement as she slid into a group of people I assumed were her friends.

The bass was heavy as it thumped from speakers set in the living room as various people were littered around them. Groups and pairs of people were chatting, drinking, making out, or a good mixture of both as I took in my surroundings, attempting to find the one person I had come to see.

“Addie!” Suddenly, tiny arms were hugging me around my middle while I smiled, immediately knowing that all too familiar voice.

“Hi Sam”, I laughed, spinning myself around to get a good look at the blonde who still kept her arms around my waist.

Her eyes were glazed over as the affects from the nearly empty cup, in her hand, started to change her physical appearance, but that didn’t change the welcoming smile she always seemed to wear.

“Now Sam, how drunk are we right now?”

“We are not drunk, but I am drunk enough”, she giggled, taking the last sip from her cup and setting it on a nearby table.

“You look fancy.” Sam grabbed my hand, forcing my body to move as I twirled in circle.

“What’s all this for?”

Of course I wasn’t going to tell her it was for Josh. She would immediately pass judgement onto me and force me to go home or be tethered to her for the rest of the evening, so I settled for a little white lie.

“Just felt like looking nice is all”, Sam gave an approving nod as she reached in the nearby tub of ice and pulled out a shiny new beer can.

“No Adam tonight?”

Oh, Adam. I had nearly forgotten that Josh had also invited my boyfriend to this party, but the secret was that I hadn’t even bothered to tell Adam about the party at all. Instead, I settled to tell him I was hanging out with Sam tonight, which wasn’t entirely a lie, I was, indeed, with Sam right at this very moment.  Of course, I knew that wasn’t a good excuse, but it still cleared a portion of my conscious that was scolding me for wanting something so wrong.

“Nope”, I answered with a pop of my lips as a familiar laugh rang from a distance.

Josh was intermingling with a mixed group of guys and girls. He spoke so confidently and poised as he listened and chimed into the conversation whenever necessary, that is until he caught my eyes staring at him. Quickly, I darted my gaze away, dramatically turning my head to focus back on Sam.

“Addison...” Sams tone was both disapproving and a bit concerned as she kept switching her gaze from me to somewhere behind me or rather someone.

“Hmm?”

“Please stop.”

“Stop what?” Of course, I knew what she was referring to, but playing dumb seemed like a safe way to keep my little plan for the evening under wraps. 

Sam sighed as she took a long swig from her beer and turned around, giving me a clear view of Josh and the group he was with. Immediately, our eyes found each other as Josh sent a smile towards me.

“Adam is a nice guy..”

“I know Sam, I know, but i’m not doing anything wrong.”

She took a deep breath before taking a long swig out of her beer as we just stared at one another. Her trying to figure out my motivations, i’m sure, and me trying to figure out if she was buying the bullshit I was feeding her.

“I just don’t want things to get messed up for you is all; i do it because I care.”

I smiled, placing my hand affectionately on her shoulder and fully preparing to lie through my teeth. “I know you do Sam, but honestly. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Sam nodded as Mike came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her as she pressed her back into his chest. 

I watched as they both flirted with one another and began subconsciously moving to the pop music that was blaring through out the lodge. Their puppy love was something amazing to see; they were a fresh couple and still getting to know one another and that stage in a relationship is something to be truly treasured because it doesn’t last nearly as long as it needs to..or maybe with me and Adam it just didn’t... i’m not sure. Adam was my first and only relationship so I was by no means an expert, but it just seemed like our little ‘hopelessly in love’ phase came and went within a month or two and things just started to go a tad bland. 

“We’re gonna go upstairs. Are you okay to be alone?”

I nodded, smiling and shooing Sam and Mike away as I watched them waltz up the staircase, sparing each other little kisses and movements of affection until they were out of my view.

“Hey Ad.”

My body couldn’t have twisted around fast enough as I turned to face the deep, familiar tone as he stood directly in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps even more pronounced then they usually were.

“Hi Josh.”

Though he tried to hide it with a quick flick beneath his eyelashes, I saw the way he eyed me up; gazing up and down my tightly fit dress and then respectfully back up to my face. 

“What’s the occasion for this type of outfit?”

My answer was similar to the one I gave Sam -- a shrug and humble, “Just wanted to dress up.”

Josh nodded, taking a sip of his beer as he brushed his eyes down my body again, but on this instance he took his time. One could argue that he had possibly had a lot to drink already which is why he had become so shameless and bold, but i didn’t care. As long as he was noticing me the way I wanted him to, then it was alright with me.

His lips were puckered ever so slightly, his eyes glossed, and his pointer finger was gently thumping against the plastic cup in his hand, making a dull ‘ping’ sound and I wanted nothing more than to grab the back of his neck and kiss him as if it was my last day on earth.

Alas, I did not. I had self control, at least for now I did and the self control was larger due to me being scared to initiate anything. This was something i’d dreamt of and pictured for the past year and I wasn’t about to waste the night so quickly when I could be patient and take the time to enjoy his company and, of course, I hoped that he would accept the kind of company I wanted to give him.

“You wanna dance?” Through my long and terribly false lashes, I glanced back up to Josh’s face, taking note of the hand that was now placed at his side and slightly out stretched, ready to embrace me if I were to accept his invitation.

“Sure”, I nodded with an all too cool tone, even though my mind was internally screaming everything in a voice so opposite; one could even compare it to a high pitched squeal.

Our fingers latched together as Josh smoothly glided the both of us through the crowd of dancing and intertwined bodies until he found a big enough free space for the both of us. Instantly, our bodies meshed perfectly together as we both started off by simply swaying our hips, but still keeping a safe distance of a couple inches from each other. However, this distance didn’t last long as Josh slowly slithered his hand around my waist, pulling my front closer to his  until we both looked as if we were connected to one another by our hips.

The second I felt our bodies brush against one another I knew this was going to be it. It was for sure going to happen tonight and suddenly I grew needy and impatient, much opposed to my feelings earlier, but I knew I was ready for it. I’d been thinking of this exact scenario for the past year after all.

Swiftly, I turned my body around, letting Josh adjust his hand until his palm lay flat on the fabric covering my stomach as I pressed my back against his chest while we continued swaying and grinding to the upbeat music. 

Josh’s other hand rid itself of its beer and came to lay against the top of my thigh, making me shiver as he gently pressed my body further against his, making my ass grind against his groin. Although the music was loud, I could still hear the sharp intake of breath he took as his reaction to this new found body contact we were both attempting to familiarize the other with. However, it didn’t take long for us  both to naturally get comfortable with the other -- we were always quick to adapt when it came to each others company. 

One song, two songs..who knows what number deep worth of songs we got until I decided that enough was enough, but i’m just happy that I had mustered up enough confidence to do so as I slid my arm up Josh’s body til it laid on the back of his neck as I gently nudged him to lean down towards me.

“Wanna go upstairs?”, I whispered into his ear as his grip around my waist slightly loosened, making me fear that I was taking this too far.

Josh knew that I had a boyfriend, maybe that was what was causing this sudden hesitation, but that also didn’t stop him from asking me to dance. Not to mention, the dancing was definitely not PG 13. Maybe he just thought I was a tease and, so far, had we really done anything wrong yet? I was merely just dancing with my friend, wasn’t I?

I felt a hand intertwine with mine as they led me out of the sweaty, dancing crowd and it wasn’t until we began to head for the bottom of the stairs that I saw it was Josh leading the way as he briefly looked back at me, eyes seeming to ask if I was sure, but I already knew that answer all too well. 

A small smile from me reassured him as he kept our hands laced together while we both climbed the stairs. Various others couples were littered in the upper hallway -- kissing, groping, and some even doing more than that all lingered about as Josh reached for the handle on his bedroom door.

Twisting the knob, gasps from two scarcely clothed people twitched from their previously kissing positions on Josh’s bed as he gave them an angered glare. The pair both nodded and scrambled to grab their clothes as they made their way up and out of Josh’s room, leaving us both in nullified silence, except for the familiar bass thump that had now become normal to be flowing throughout the lodge.

At first, it was incredibly awkward...and i’m willing to blame my lack of any alcohol in my system for this feeling, but I knew it wasn’t totally to blame. Josh was thinking, just as I too was thinking as we stood in his room in silence. Thinking about how much I wanted him and how much he wanted me, thinking about the fact that my boyfriend was sat at home, oblivious to my affair I was trying to indulge in. Lastly, thinking about how this would change things, if it even would change anything, but I think, deep down, we both knew that it was bound to make things different. It’s rare that you have sex with anyone and not feel different around them, right? Was it possible to be that intimate with someone, regardless of the strings or lack there of attached during the heat of the moment, and bounce right back to your places in the world?

I jumped slightly as I heard my phone chime from my back pocket. Josh had seemed startled by the breaking of the silence as well as he watched me with wide owl eyes as I plucked my phone from my back pocket. That’s when I started to feel incredibly guilty about this entire thing, in fact, I nearly ran straight out of that room as soon as I saw my boyfriends name flash across my phones screen.

I continued to stare at the home screen for far too long as I felt a pair of hands snake around my waist from behind. Plump lips began to leave kisses on the back of my neck and whatever guilt I was feeling before hand quickly disappeared as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to rest on Josh’s shoulder as he moved his lips to the side of my neck. His kisses were soft to start, then began to get much more rough as his teeth grazed against the taut skin as he started to suck on my neck, making me whine out his name as my other arm snaked up and around the back of his neck.

Just as Josh’s hands began to wander upward, my phone went off again, making me quickly pull my phone back out from my pocket with a frustrated groan.

“Turn it off”, Josh muffled against my skin, as his hands smoothed the curvature of my waist, nearly touching my bust.

“I can’t just turn it off, he’ll start to worry Josh..” My finger hovered over the ‘answer’ button, fully prepared to pick up the phone call even if it was just to put Adam’s mind at ease that I was not in harms way..unless you considered Josh’s lips nibbling on my skin a type of harm.

“If you turn it off, then he’ll just think your phone died or something.”

I pondered on Josh’s words, still not completely convinced that I should listen to him, until he moved his hand up to my left breast, giving it a slight squeeze as his teeth nibbled on my ear lobe. His hot breath fanned against my ear making me instantly hold the right side button to turn off my phone as I slipped the device back into my back pocket and spun my body around.

This was the first time we had really made eye contact since being alone in his room and it was a heated stare to say the very least. Josh’s eyes were narrowed on me as his hands returned to my waist, pulling my body flush against his as he rested our foreheads together.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Was that even a question? Of course I wanted it, but I guess me turning my phone off, not to mention requesting that we go upstairs together, wasn’t enough for Josh to see that this is all I had thought about and I couldn’t want anything more right at this very moment.

I nodded, looking him dead in the eye as my hands came up to cup the sides of his face, to which he responded my leaning his head towards my palm and resting his cheek there.

“I just don’t want you to regret it, you know what I mean? I hope you don’t think i’m pressuring you or trying to seduce you or..fuck maybe I am but-”

I shushed him by bringing my pointer finger up to his lips, shaking my head as I smiled at his hesitance which really only made me admire him more because he was nervous. I too was nervous, I couldn’t lie about that, but I also knew for certain that I wanted him, but the fuzziest part of it all was that I wasn’t sure if it was sexually or emotionally...but I chose to give in to the sexual craving for now. Worrying about any other kinds of feelings I may have would just cause tonight and everything that would ensue in the next several minutes (or hours) to be filled with anxiety and second guessing and I wasn’t having any of it. 

I had waited much too long to be with him; I wasn’t about to waste this special time together on tentative actions and questioning of every move, so i’m stopping, right here, right now and i’m merely just going to be his in this very moment. My mind is free and i’m just going with the first thought and feeling and reaction I felt.

“Kiss me Josh.”

It was as if we had both just been waiting for the other to verbally announce that what we were doing, or rather, thinking about doing was okay, as our mouths lurched towards one another, lips smacking together as our open mouths ate each other up in a desperate fashion. Josh’s hands reached down to the back of my thighs, effortlessly lifting my body up as I wrapped my legs around his waist for support.

Our lips remained attached as the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed, making him sloppily fall onto the mattress, taking me down with him as I straddled his sitting form. For a moment, he just studied me as his fingers combed through my tangled hair, thanks to the wet snow that ruined the perfect curls I had attempted to make prior to the party.

“What?” I questioned.

He shook his head as he smiled at him, taking his thumb and rubbing it against my cheek as he slowly drew his lips nearer to mine until a delicate kiss was left to fill in the distance. Our mouths were so slow this time, happily taking their time to get acquainted with the others as our heads tilted and turned and pressed harder into each other as Josh’s hands slipped under the fabric of my dress that had now been piled up by my waist. I shivered as his cold hands touched my bare skin and it felt even better than anything I could have imagined over the past year.

I remembered one night, gliding my own hands up and over the curve of my hips to my waist and up to breasts, to my lower back, imaging it was Josh’s tanned fingers climbing all over my skin, but my imagination was severely losing compared to the real feel of his hands on me as his fingers gripped the fabric of my dress and began slowly pulling it up and over my upper half until our lips disconnected so I could allow Josh to slip my top up and over my head.

“Your turn.” I quirked, tugging lightly on his t shirt as I too let my hands slip underneath the fabric, allowing my finger tips to graze the muscles of his abdomen all the way up to his broad chest until I had a good grip on his t shirt and was able to lift it and discard it onto the floor.

“I’ve wanted this for so long”, I mumbled against his lips.

However, I was taken aback as Josh lightly pushed his face away from me. “You’ve thought about this before?”

Suddenly, I was very self conscious of the little secret I decided to spill as I nervously diverted my eyes to anywhere but his face.

“Hey, I've thought about this too, I just didn’t know you had been thinking about it as well”, Josh brushed his hands up and down my bare back and even the faintest touch of his fingers grazing the back of my bra was making me shiver.

“Addie.” Slowly, I turned my eyes to him as he had a smile that showed pure enjoyment as he pressed a kiss to my lips.

“Do I have permission to take off your clothes and fuck you senseless now?”

Although Josh’s whispered words made me hold my breath for a second, I couldn’t move fast enough as I leaned forward with enough force to knock Josh on his back, having me straddling his waist as his hands moved to my ass, giving it a good squeeze.

His hands found the back of my bra, unclasping it within the first or second try, as his hands moved to my breasts in an instant. Needing them and pinching the small pink nubs, making me winch and grind my hips against the very present bulge that was pressing into my lightly clothed center.

“Less clothing please”, I requested as I got up from my straddling position and began unbuttoning my jeans.

Josh watched on, body weight leaning back onto his elbows, as I stripped down to my simple, yet complimenting, panties. “Should I take these off myself or would you like to do the honors?”

“Oh please”, Josh outstretched his arms so his hands rested on my hips, “Allow me.”

Within minutes, we were both completely naked with one another as I climbed back onto the bed. This time, Josh climbed between my spread legs as we both continued to sloppily and aggressively kiss, until Josh’s lips began to travel down my body, from my lips to my neck, down to my breast until he was kissing my lower stomach, mere inches from where I wanted him the most.

Josh hummed a ‘mmm’ as he gave a lick to my lower lips, admiring the way they tasted while he spread my legs wide open with his hands as he indulged in eating me out. His tongue danced between my clit and my entrance as he took long licks up and down until he settled on moving his tongue in circles against the sensitive nub. My hands immediately went to my inner thighs, squeezing and pinching them as I relished in this feeling that Josh was making me feel so good and the best part was, I had no guilt, no remorse, and zero regrets about any of this, at least for now I didn’t. I was merely just enjoying how well he was taking care of me.

However, as much as I would’ve love to cum from his mouth alone, I wanted to feel him deep inside me when I finally hit my climax, so I tugged a bit on his hair, making him come up for air as he looked at me.

“I don’t want to cum yet”, Josh was all but a cocky smirk as he moved back up the bed to again rest between my legs, the tip of his cock pressing teasingly against my wet lips.

“Before I forget...”, Josh fumbled to quickly reach for his side table, moving his hand around until he found the foil packet he had been in search of.

“Thank god someone remembered”, I laughed, pushing the hair away from my sweaty forehead as I watched on with lust as he moved the material over his sizable and erect length.

“Now, where were we.” Josh hitched one of my legs over his shoulder, resting his palm on my opened thigh as he took a hold of his dick and slowly pressed his tip into my entrance. 

This contact alone was a billion times better then what my fingers could do while I was imagining this very thing with Josh and I couldn’t hold back my moan as he filled me up completely with one swift thrust.

“Fuck”, Josh winced as he started slowly moving his hips, pushing himself in and out of me as my leg still rested on his shoulder.

“You feel so fucking good.”

“Better than you imagined?”

“Fuck yes.”

Eventually we switched up positions, me on all fours and Josh lining himself up at my entrance from behind just before giving one of my ass cheeks a slight smack, making me moan and playfully wiggle my ass as if it were a tempting treat, which to him, i knew it was.

Due to the wetness between my legs, he slipped into me with ease and just started pounding roughly as his hands gripped my hips harshly. Thank god for the heavy music, the movie Josh had flicked on beforehand, and the other copious amounts of people who were doing the same thing we were doing because my moans were loud and unable to be held back as our skin smacked against each other with a loud sound.

“Mmm, i’m close” Josh groaned as he moved his hand around my body so he could move his fingers in a circular motion on my clit.

I bent upward from his touch on the sensitive area as I immediately climaxed around him as Josh continued fucking me roughly through the intense orgasm. I hadn’t felt an orgasm like that..ever I don’t believe. No way could Adam make me feel like this, no possible way.

Just as my body began to calm down, Josh pulled out of me, stretching out his legs so they stood flat against the floor. I turned around to see him pumping his now bare cock in his hand at a fast pace as he watched me while I scooted towards the end of the bed.

“Allow me”, I replicated his words from earlier as he smiled down at me before pressing the tip of his cock against my lips. I gave him a good lick before completely taking his tip into my mouth and once I got a good hold on him, he removed his hand completely and let me just make him feel good as my tongue worked its skills on him, bathing him with my mouth as I licked every vein and ridge of him until I was feeling him in the back of my throat.

A couple movements from his hips and he was shooting his load down my mouth as he steadied his hands on my shoulders, keeping himself afloat and standing until he was satisfied and completely spent from his orgasm.

I watched as he opened his eyes for the first time post orgasm and, I admit, I was a little scared for his reaction because this was, after all, the afterword of what we had done. Would he immediately regret it? Would he tell me to leave now that he had gotten what he wanted from me?

“Want to watch a movie?” 

That was hardly the response I had expected, but nevertheless I was extremely happy with it as we both snuggled up our nude forms together under his covers and watched the television that he had turned on prior to the loud and intense sex we had just had.

I thought for sure guilt would flood me as soon as we were spent, but it hadn’t. The name Adam or any thought pertaining to my boyfriend hadn’t even crossed my mind, all I was thinking about was Josh’s arm around my shoulder, our fingers intertwined, and the fact that we were seeking out a little sanctuary in his bedroom, while all the other people my age were out there getting fucked and shit faced. I liked this little sanctuary. I could get used to this.

-

Tag: @frami-mercury-malek

#rami malek #rami malek fic #until dawn #until dawn fic #until dawn smut #josh washington #josh washington fic #josh washington smut #rami malek smut #rami malek one shot #rami malek imagine #rami malek oc #smut #ramimalek #rami malek reader

[dontreadthistrashgarbage]

G O T 7 PT.6

A couple days passed and Guerin met JB for the open mic night. She was a good ten minutes early but he was already at the quaint coffee shop, seated in a hidden corner booth. As soon as he saw her, he beckoned her over, gesturing at the drinks he had already ordered.

"You didn't have to get me something." She said, wandering over to him.

He shrugged, and patted the seat next to him for her to slide in. She hesitated for a moment. "It's so we can both see the stage." He explained.

"We'll look like a couple..." Guerin said, uncharacteristically shy, but she still slid into the booth next to him.

He shrugged again, "So?"

She puffed her cheeks out slightly, feeling awkward before covering it up with a sip from the iced americano he had bought for her, "Thank you for the drink." She said, setting it down. She couldn't help but be hyper aware of him while he was so close to her, but it helped she didn't have to look directly at him. JB was easily one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen and today was like putting a magnifying glass on that fact. He was wearing a black dress shirt, more buttons than necessary undone under a stylishly patterned blazer. His hair looked freshly cut and styled. She felt even more strange appreciating this side of him after Jackson's confession and her promise to consider it.

"You look nice." He said after a few more moments of awkward silence and Guerin realized she had been looking at him despite being relieved she didn't need to. She started and looked straight ahead as though it would undo her being caught. "I like the orange lipstick." JB's voice gave away his smile of amusement.

Guerin chided herself for being so weird. There was no reason for her to feel conflicted. They were friends and had spent a lot of time together already. Why would this now feel like such a date? She inhaled and fell back on old habits.

"Thanks." She puckered her lips and poked her cheek with a wink. "It's one of my favorites, and it matches my sassy shirt and neon shoes." Guerin showed off her favorite shoes.

JB gave a close lipped smile at the dorky response, trying not to laugh outloud, "How old are you again?"

"Old enough that you better respect me." She bumped him with her shoulder making him laugh, "and here I was going to say how nice you looked too." Her sass turned to a small sulk.

"I'm sorry." He said respectfully and bowed as much as he could in the small space.

"Oh god no stop that." She laughed and pushed him again, wondering in the back of why she felt so aware of each time she made physical contact with him.

JB looked up at her with a smirk and amusement in his eyes before straightening up and dropping the gag.

"What are you singing tonight?" Guerin changed the subject, focusing her gaze back on her coffee as she took another sip from it.

"A couple new songs. Each performer can sing up to three. I actually just finished one today. It's called Rainy." He answered.

"Appropriate." She nodded, referencing the weather outside. Since her walk with Jackson it had been raining on and off for days now. JB nodded along with her. The two sank into a comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts. The booths at this particular shop were somewhat oversized and cushy, an oddity for Korea. It enabled Guerin to relax and cross her legs under her as she took in the decorations. JB was sitting in his signature slouch, one leg crossed over the other as he toyed with the straw in his drink.

The performances started, JB was much more critical and sparing of his responses but Guerin openly enjoyed most of the songs each artist played. She found something positive about each song, sharing with JB at the end and asking for his input. He couldn't help but appreciate her enthusiasm.

"I don't have any creative talent or skill of my own, but I am an avid consumer of art." Guerin explained between sets when he voiced his opinion on her perspective, "Each one of these people is working hard and improving. It does so much more to bolster creativity and exploration if they're encouraged rather than constantly corrected or told they're failing."

JB cocked his head, "Most successful artists I know where trained very harshly."

"Sure, there's people who survive the process but think of all the talented people who gave up because their learning style wasn't catered to. Just like the animal training we've talked about, you get more successes with patience and kindness than you do with punishment. The people who are successful are that way in spite of the harsh teaching methods, rather than because of them. In the meantime we lose out on so much potential art. So I just... do what I can to encourage it." She trailed off with a shrug realizing she was lecturing. JB was looking at her with a thoughtful tilt to his head.

"Sorry, I'm rambling." Guerin let out an embarrassed laugh and looked away self consciously. If JB was planning on saying anything he was unable to as the next artist started up. Finally JB was up as the last performer of the evening. Guerin let him out of the booth and he grabbed his keyboard case from the bench across the booth from them. As he set up Guerin checked her phone, responded to a couple texts from Charlie and Jackson. She felt a pang of guilt again thinking of Jackson but buried it quickly. -I have nothing to feel guilty about- she reminded herself as she put her phone away.

JB's two song set left her breathless. As he performed he rarely made eye contact with anyone, even closing his eyes for a good portion of the time. When he did look up it tended to be in her direction and those moments stopped her heart. Guerin had to physically stop herself from clutching the front of her shirt defensively. His first song was Be With You. Its sweet lyrics and melody made her smile without realizing. It was a direct contradiction to his second song, Rainy. The song was close to perfection and his performance clinched it. Guerin was fighting off tears, cursing her eye makeup silently as she dabbed at her eyes with a spare napkin.

"Why are you crying?" Asked a surprised JB. He had seen her and moved quickly to her side, squatting next to her at the end of the table.

Another embarrassed laugh escaped her, sounding a bit water logged this time, "I'm sorry, this is nothing. That was just a really good song." She took a shaky breath and straightened up, smiling through watery eyes, "They were both excellent, but Rainy got me good." She laughed again.

"Noona, don't cry." JB said serious but tinged with his natural cuteness as he appealed to her. He used the extra long sleeves of his shirt to dab at the neglected tears that threatened to spill.

She laughed again, shaking her head, "No it's a good thing. I really liked it." JB dropped his hand from her face as the tears slowed, still looking somewhat concerned as he stared at her. "You're drawing attention to me." Guerin scolded, covering half her face with the hand holding the napkin, "Go pack your stuff up and greet your fans." She insisted, pushing his shoulder lightly. He hesitated so she gestured again, "I'm fine I promise, hurry hurry."

JB did as she said, glancing over at her as he packed, catching her using her phone to check her appearance. He didn't realize she would cry and he felt bad. Guerin certainly emoted her way through life and he couldn't help but find it fascinating and endearing. He finished putting away his keyboard and stared down at it for a moment wondering what to do now. He needed the evening to continue.

The cafe staff was announcing closing and putting away the equipment around him. A few patrons and fellow performers, both familiar and new, came up to chat with him. He stayed as long as was polite before excusing himself back to the patiently waiting Guerin.

"I thought you'd still be crying." He teased.

"I'm soft and weak. I cry all the time. I exist in a perpetual state of holding back." She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed.

"Let's go for a walk, since the rain stopped." JB suggested suddenly.

"Sure." Guerin agreed with minimal thought.

"I just need to drop this at my studio." JB hefted the keyboard case and Guerin nodded as the two headed out, thanking the staff as they left. JB was a regular, and even chose his personal studio location because it was just around the corner. Once empty handed, the two wandered aimlessly. They stopped at a convenience store and picked out a few beers to share.

"The lyrics you sing in english for Rainy I find incredible." Guerin gushed. The topic had turned back to his performance, "When you say 'I love you alone' it's such an interesting way to express one sided love, or a doomed love?" She mused, looking at him, expecting an answer.

"Thank you." JB responded simply instead, flattered with her praise but unfocused. Guerin pressed her lips together thoughtfully, watching him before her gaze caught something behind him.

"Oh, JB!" She was so excited she grabbed his long sleeve peaking out from under his blazer.

"What?" He asked, startled, eyes wide as he looked at her and looked around.

"Swings! Let's go!" She cut past him, still holding his sleeve and forcing him along with her.

"Seriously? How old are you?" He asked again, rolling his eyes.

"Depends on the situation." She quipped, not bothering with sass this time. "Right now I'm whatever age it is appropriate to be happy about swings."

"You startled me. I thought something bad happened." JB chastised her but still didn't pull out of her grasp.

"Aww, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She looked back at him with an exaggerated apologetic expression. He sucked air through his teeth and cocked his head, making her giggle with his feigned disapproval, "I'll buy you a drink to make up for it." She promised as they reached the swings, only then releasing his sleeve as she sat on one of the two swings.

JB set their bag next to him, pulled out two beers and sank down on the second swing, handing one of the beers to Guerin who was already starting to swing gently.

"I wrote that lyric thinking I had to give up on a love." JB answered suddenly, cracking his beer open and taking a sip.

Guerin paused, taking a moment to piece together the sudden change in topic before figuring it out, "You mean from Rainy?"

JB nodded.

Guerin looked thoughtful, swinging gently again, this time from side to side, "Did you pair it with Be With You because you were telling a story?"

JB nodded again.

"Did someone hurt you? Do I need to fight someone?" She shook her fist and JB laughed at the unexpected mood shift.

"No, I wouldn't say someone hurt me. I think I did most of the hurting." His smile faded and became more forced.

Guerin let him have his thoughts for a few moments, drinking more of her beer before speaking again, "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

JB hesitated then nodded a third time. She waited and the two continued drinking in silence.

"There's someone I like a lot. I wrote Be With You inspired by our time together. Then someone close and precious to me said that they liked her too." He started. Guerin nodded as he spoke, offering quiet sympathetic sounds as he continued, "I thought it would be best for everyone if I just let it go. No one knew my feelings except me." He sighed and stopped again, pressing his lips together and casting his gaze to the treetops.

"I thought I needed to withdraw and instead it made me seem distant which was hurtful, then it made me angry and I lashed out which was even worse."

Guerin had gone completely quiet and still as he told the story, convincing herself that this story was becoming more familiar by coincidence.

"I told my friend the truth. I told him I couldn't give up without trying, that I had to tell the truth. Even though I accidentally already did." JB looked sheepish, "I remember going to your house Guerin. I remember what I said. It was vague enough to play off. I let you believe I didn't remember. I'm sorry I deceived you. But I wanted to do this right." JB was looking at Guerin. Her gaze met his, still in disbelief as she switched her gaze between his eyes. Her face felt tingly and her chest tight, like she couldn't catch her breath.

"Do what?" She asked tightly.

"Those songs were inspired by you. By us. I like being with you, I want more. Rainy was me trying to deny my feelings and I don't want that song to be true."

JB stared into Guerin's eyes for a beat. His expression was genuine and serious. The only hint of nerves was the swallow he gave before licking his lips and saying the words he had been saving.

"Go Guerin, I like you."

Her mouth opened and closed as she blinked, eyes flicking around while she tried to process this unexpected turn of events. She managed a strangled laugh, "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you. It's just. I'm so surprised. And the timing?" She laughed the strange laugh again.

"Timing?" JB asked, curiously.

"Uh, is Jackson the friend you were talking about?" Guerin asked and JB nodded, "He also confessed before he left for China."

JB looked surprised, "I thought he would have said something if you two were dating."

"He probably would have. If we were dating." Guerin said somewhat guiltily.

"Did you reject him?" JB still sounded surprised but a little hope peeked through.

"No... he told me to think about it... he said I should answer him when he gets back." She exhaled, still feeling guilty.

"Good." JB said, Guerin glanced at him questioningly, "I mean... do you have an answer for me?" He asked.

Guerin felt bad, he must have been anxious that whole tangent but she still was processing the information, "I... I... JB..." Making words was suddenly the most difficult challenge to overcome. Of course she liked JB. He matched her introverted qualities, he was talented, funny, cute and sexy in the worst way. She also liked Jackson, despite her reservations, and it's not like she didn't have reservations for JB too. He was working on his anger and while he seemed to be doing well according to those who had known him a while, what would happen if they spent more time together?

Guerin must have been quiet longer than she intended because JB spoke up again, "You don't have to answer now. Take your time to think about it." JB shrugged, probably intending to seem nonchalant but looking stiff.

"Thank you." She said quietly. "I'm sorry to make you wait." She apologized as JB finished his drink and he shook his head.

"I got to take my time to figure out this. You should take your time to respond." He reassured her, "I'd be lying if I said I'm not disappointed it isn't an immediate yes." He shot her a wry smile.

Guerin stood, walking over and picking up their bag taking his empty can along with hers and switching them for full ones. "Come on, let's go get a late night snack." She handed him the new drink. He stood and walked along with her. Despite the silence neither of them felt awkward. The mood was pensive but a bit relieved. As they headed toward the busier city area JB took the bag Guerin was carrying between them. He bit his lip, looking straight ahead and trying to stay cool before clearing his throat and speaking.

"Would it be okay if I held your hand?"

Guerin fought back her grin at his adorable and respectful request that he very clearly was trying to maintain a chic demeanor for. Instead of answering verbally, she stepped in closer to him and took his hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. Both of them smiled without looking at each other.

"What do you want to eat?" JB asked after a few paces.

"Tteokbokki." Guerin answered decisively with a single big nod.

JB swung her hand back and forth with his gently, "Okay. I know a place nearby. My treat."

"No, you already got coffee." Guerin protested.

He shrugged and kept walking until she tugged his hand for attention and stopped in her tracks. JB faced her as she pouted at him and he laughed, "Fine, you can get drinks." He walked backwards, leading her along again.

"Deal." She tapped her beer against his, held in the same hand as their bag and took a deep pull, "But don't get drunk and confess again. Twice is enough for me to get the point." She avoided eye contact with him to prevent herself from bursting out into laughter.

"Ya..." He said in disbelief, now it was her turn to pull him along as he stopped and stared after her. Guerin's lack of poker face won out and she let out her typical loud laugh.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm sorry. Come on let's go." She said between chuckles.

He feigned being hurt but fell into step beside her as the two continued their trek, still hand in hand.

Mark didn't look up from the computer screen when the seat next to him was pulled out and someone settled into it. He knew Jinyoung would be coming since they had texted earlier. Jinyoung wanted wanted to meet up and said he would go to Mark. He stayed focused on the game since, well, he WAS a gamer, but also partially because a part of him wanted to avoid the conversation. Too soon the round ended with him losing. He exhaled and leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes for a few moments before reaching up to remove his headphones and turning to Jinyoung patiently waiting next to him.

"Hi, Hyung." Jinyoung greeted the older man.

"Hi Jinyoung-ah." Mark greeted in return, "You distracted me so I lost."

Jinyoung looked amused, "You didn't look distracted. You didn't even seem to notice me arriving."

Mark shrugged, not really feeling the small talk. Jinyoung waited a few beats before changing the subject. "I'll get to the point. Charlie-ssi and I are dating now."

Mark glanced at his dongsaeng from the corner of his eye before looking straight ahead and nodded slowly a couple times. "Okay."

"I wanted to tell you in person." Jinyoung said seriously.

"Okay." Mark said again. His expression was masked but Jinyoung knew him well enough that he recognized the clear displeasure.

"I... suspected that you also had feelings for Charlie. That's why I wanted to tell you." He added.

"You know..." Mark started and tilted his head in annoyance, "You are making this gesture of kindness after you already disrespected me. I find it almost more annoying."

"You mean when I insisted on walking Charlie home." Jinyoung said. It wasn't a question.

Mark nodded.

"I'm sorry hyung." Jinyoung said genuinely.

"Bullshit." Mark verbally sniped the apology, "You admit you knew how I felt, you pushed me out and now you're here telling me that it all paid off and expect me to believe you're sorry?"

Jinyoung went quiet for a moment before speaking again, "I can see why it might be hard to believe... hyung please believe me, my intention wasn't to upset you. I insisted on walking her home because that had been my plan all along. I had made the decision to confess and I didn't want to have to stress over it again. I should have taken your feelings into consideration and I didn't. My thoughtlessness hurt you, but that wasn't what I wanted. I'm sorry."

Mark clicked through a few screens after Jinyoung finished talked, hitting the mouse and keyboard buttons a bit harder than necessary before sighing again and leaning back. "What's done is done." Mark said frankly, "I'll accept it. But for now I need to be mad. So go away or it'll just get worse."

Jinyoung hesitated, wanting more but knowing Mark well enough to not push him when he was so close to the brink of anger already. With a sigh he stood, adjusting his long tan coat back into place and turning to go.

"Jinyoungie." Mark said suddenly, "Don't give her a reason to leave, cause if she needs one I'll be there. You owe me that."

Jinyoung looked down at Mark, "If I give her a reason to leave I'd prefer that option over any other." He chafed at the idea of losing Charlie, but in that undesirable scenario at least Mark would be happy. Mark started to put his headphones back on but Jinyoung quickly spoke up again, "Hyung, will we be okay?"

Mark looked annoyed, glancing up at Jinyoung, "Of course."

Having turned back to the computer screen he missed Jinyoungs visible relief. For now, he would give Mark the space he requested, hopefully soon they could repair the damage he had carelessly caused in their friendship. He was grateful to learn that it wasn't the end of such a bond. On his way out he ordered some snacks to be delivered to Mark and paid before leaving to meet his new girlfriend for a date.

[tatttletale]

Love on the Planet Earth

"Oh, Pink, this is so exciting! My own world!"

        The Pearl giggled in response. "What will you call it, my Diamond?"

        "Earth." She smiled. "I've been saving that name for so long . . . it feels so good to finally say it!"

        "I've already set into place schedules for the Lapis Lazulis, my Diamond," Pearl broke in respectfully. "The terraforming should only take a few weeks."

        "Oh, this is amazing!" The Diamond spun herself around and laughed. "Soon, we'll be making Gems! We'll be making life!"

        "Isn't it wonderful?" Pink agreed, and spun to Pearl, gazing at her hopefully.

        She gave a small smile in return and nodded.

        Without warning, the youngest Diamond jumped between them and took Pink's hands in hers, spinning them around. Pearl stood by and watched, bemused, until she noticed they were spinning dangerously close to the mirror.

        "Ah—! My Diamond!" she cried. "Watch out—"

        But the two had already toppled into it, sending the panes crashing to the floor. Delicate cracks ran through the glass, marring the smooth surface.

        Pearl hurried over.

        "My Diamond! Are you alright?"

        The latter only sat up, laughing, and when the smaller Gem on the floor sat up, she received a playful push, and the Diamond burst into another fit of giggles. From her position beside the larger Gem, Pink looked up, and shot Pearl a teasing smile. "I'm okay, too, thank you."

        Pearl flushed cyan. "Oh, I— I'm sorry—"

        "Pink! Look, look at these shards!"

        The Diamond was now on her knees, prying splinters of broken glass from the frame. Pearl almost squealed in dismay.

        "I wonder what we could make with these," the Diamond mused, oblivious to the former's tense reaction. "What if we crushed them up and— no, that wouldn't work. Maybe if we ground the pebbles into dust and mixed the glass fragments in . . . oh, but the pebbles wouldn't be . . . pebbles, anymore. Just think, if we made a sparkling Pebble!"

        She raised her eyes to Pink and beamed. Then, noticing Pearl out of the corner of her eye, she turned and gave her a soft smile. "What do you think, Pearl?"

        There was a moment of surprised silence as she mulled it over. "Well . . . theoretically you could mix the fragments with the dust. We— You would just have to be careful so as to not grind the rocks too small. Bismuths are strong and heat-resistant. Perhaps you could call one to help you re-set the rocks with the glass inside them?"

        Another silence.

        "But . . . wouldn't the glass melt?" Pink ventured meekly.

        Pearl sighed. "Oh yes, that's right. Maybe . . . I think chipping divets in the pebbles and setting glass inside those would be a more efficient use of your time. But you'll need sand."

        The Diamond blinked. "Sand. . .?"

        Pearl nodded. "Glass is made from superheated liquid sand. Heating individual pockets of sand to 3090 degrees without harming the surrounding rock could pose a problem, though."

        The former sighed. "Where would we get sand? The nearest colony that hasn't been completed is at least seventy light-years away."

        "I've heard Earth has sand, my Diamond," Pearl said brightly.

        The two pink Gems gazed at her in astonishment. "Really?" the Diamond breathed.

        Pearl nodded.

        Pink spun to their superior. "Oh, my Diamond, this would be the perfect opportunity to explore your colony before colonisation! Right now, we have it all to ourselves!"

        The Diamond glanced at Pearl for confirmation. "Is that right?"

        "Yes. The Lapis Lazuli fleet isn't expected to begin work for a couple of days."

        The Diamond beamed. "Wonderful! I'll go ask Blue and Yellow!" She sprang up, stepping on the broken glass and crunching it underfoot. "Oh, and, Pink. . ."

        "Yes, my Diamond?"

        "Can you please clean this up before I get back?"

        "Of course, my Diamond." The Pearl's gem glowed in preparation.

        "Thank you! I'll go see Blue first—if you need me, I'll be at her pool. I'll see you two soon!"

○○○

It had taken longer than expected, but Blue had agreed to postpone the terraforming so that the youngest Diamond could explore her colony—with supervision, of course. The colony's moon base had yet to be built, so the three were warped directly to the location of the Prime Kindergarten. Luckily, some experienced Bismuths had already paid a visit in order to construct warp pads in strategic areas for easy access.

        As soon as the three materialised on Earth, the Diamond was rushing off to drop into the grass, to smell the flowers, to gaze at the sky. Pink readily joined in the frolicking, tearing up handfuls of grass and throwing them into the air where they fell as green rain.

        Pearl, however, stayed put. She told herself she was content in watching her companion and their Diamond play.

        But that didn't stop the old empty feeling from blooming in her chest.

        Soon the Diamond was jumping up and running off again toward something that had caught her eye. Pink stood and looked fit to follow when she stopped and turned, locking eyes with Pearl.

        Pearl straightened and made an effort to look disinterested.

        "Why don't you come with us?"

        The voice tugged at her gaze and she found herself making eye contact yet again. With an effort, she dragged her focus away to settle on something else.

        "Someone has to keep watch. You two look like you're having fun."

        "It would be even more fun if you joined."

        Another quick glance at Pink's hopeful smile.

        "I . . . don't think I'm allowed."

        "Of course you are," the other said, and stepped closer. "We're Pink Diamond's Pearls, not anyone else's. We can do what she likes—what we like."

        Something hopeful flared in her chest, but she hurriedly squashed it with doubt, averting her eyes. "I wasn't made to play."

        "Well, you can still learn."

        Out of the corner of her eye, Pearl could see the other extending her hand. After a few moments of tense silence, she relented and took it.

        Over the next few hours they all three frolicked together, climbing trees, rolling down hills, dipping in streams, and exploring the forests. Needless to say, Pearl preferred to remain clean and dry, and so watched much of the games from her chosen post.

        Glancing up at the sky, Pearl was faintly surprised to notice that it had darkened considerably. The crescent moon hung low overhead.

        "Excuse me, my Diamond," she called respectfully, "The sun has set. We should be getting back."

        The Diamond abruptly stopped laughing and frowned. "Oh, Pearl! Back home? Homeworld's galaxies away."

        Pearl remained steadfast. "Blue Diamond's orders were to return at the end of the day."

        The Diamond pouted, and then smiled mischievously. "She didn't say what day. We could spend the night here!"

        Pink beamed. "Oh, yes, please, my Diamond! We can have another full day of exploring tomorrow!"

        The Diamond turned to Pearl. "Would you like to stay with us, Pearl?"

        Something in her chest twinged. Yes, she wanted to say. "It is my moral obligation to do so, my Diamond," she said instead.

        "She means yes," Pink chimed to the taller Gem.

        "Well, let's find someplace to rest," the Diamond returned, and scanned the trees.

        "We passed by a cave not too long ago," Pearl offered. "I can take you there, if you want."

○○○

They decided to pass up on the cave and chose to rest under a blossoming tree instead. As Pearl stood sentry, the Diamond sat and laid back against the trunk, and Pink curled up next to her, head in her lap. Something like envy flared in Pearl's chest.

        The Diamond opened her eyes and turned to Pearl, shooting her a tired smile. "Join us."

        Pearl's legs began mechanically forward, and the Diamond's eyes widened. "Oh, no! No, I'm sorry. That wasn't a command. I just . . . If you wanted to, you could join us."

        Pearl stopped and gazed at her. That sounded . . . nice.

        From the Diamond's lap, Pink opened her eyes and fixed her own gaze on Pearl. She sat up and nuzzled into their Diamond's side, making space.

        Warily, Pearl sat down beside them, on the Diamond's left. Almost immediately, a gloved arm curled its way around her shoulders and pulled her against the warm-bodied Gem.

        She flushed a little, sneaking a glance up her. The Diamond's eyes were closed, a soft smile on her lips, and soon she and Pink were lying still, unresponsive.

        It still scared Pearl a little, that the Gems were acting this way—like organic life forms. But she had been with them for a while now, and knew that they would open their eyes again when they felt rested.

        Knowing neither were paying attention to her any longer, she allowed herself to relax, to slump against her Diamond. The arm around her shifted a little, and Pearl cautiously laid her head in her lap, the way Pink had done.

        . . . This felt nice.

        As the two slept on, she stayed like that, nuzzled against their Diamond, eyes on the horizon.

○○○

The following day progressed much the same as the first—frolicking amongst the trees, following the paths of sparkling streams, sitting amongst the flowers. At one point the Diamond leant down and pressed her lips to Pink's forehead, which had Pearl frowning. When Pink wandered off, Pearl troubled herself with picking colourful and unique flowers and presenting them to their Diamond.

        "Oh, Pearl, these are lovely!" she gasped, and dipped her head to savour the sweet-smelling blooms.

        Out of the corner of her eye, Pearl caught Pink watching. No more than a few minutes later, the other was poring over their Diamond, threading flowers into her tousled hair.

        And so began a juvenile competition between the Pearls, with Pink seamlessly topping the other's every move, and with Pearl becoming increasingly flustered as a result.

        Finally, defeated, Pearl marched off to sit by the edge of a stream. Cautious footsteps made her look up.

        "What's wrong?" Pink asked.

        Pearl turned away. "Nothing."

        "Pearl, I know something's wrong. You're not usually . . . like this."

        "And can you always make her happy so seamlessly?" she replied, voice soft.

        There was a pause, and then Pearl felt the grass displace as the other settled beside her.

        "Pearl, can you look at me?"

        "Why?"

        "Please."

        With effort, she met the pink Gem's eyes, and found them brimming with emotion. "What's the matter?"

        Pearl's shoulders slumped. "My purpose is to take care of our Diamond and make her happy. But I'm failing. I'm— I'm supposed to be better than you, but I'm not. You successfully implement both your job and mine." Pearl returned her gaze to the stream, reaching forward to trail fingers in the cool water. "I'm not needed."

        "This is about your job?" Pink asked, incredulous. "Our Diamond doesn't care that we're Pearls. She sees us as friends."

        "Not me," Pearl said bitterly.

        "What makes you think that?"

        "She always consults you first. You have the most fun together. And you were fine before I came. I just . . . want to be something more than a Pearl. Does she see that. . .?"

        There was a shift, and then two slender arms wrapped around her. Pink rested her head on her covered shoulder. "I think you're special."

        Pearl stiffened, unable to take her eyes from the babbling water. Everything seemed to stop—the trees were frozen, the organics held their breath, and the sun hung stationary in the sky. Then Pink spoke again.

        "And I'm sure she does too."

        Pearl felt her eyes sting and gave a small sniff. Pink sat up and took her hands into her own.

        They sat there for a while, in natural silence, gazing into the crystalline water, until their Diamond's voice broke the quiet.

        "Pink! Pearl? Where are you?"

        Gingerly Pink let go of Pearl and stood, brushing herself down. The former remained in the grass, gazing up at her, as if in a dream.

        "Come on," Pink offered, and held out her hand. With hesitation and a cautious smile, Pearl took it.

PROMPTS: "Could you write about their first reactions to getting the colony?" — for quillofthoth on FanFiction!        "How about when both pearls had feelings for their diamond and tried to compete with another before making up?" — for mwaheed2001 on FanFiction!

       Hope you enjoyed! :)

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[lucienlowell]

Working on Iria’s story!

I wanted to wait till I had all five of his base route stories translated, but I’m so punchy from all the caffeine I’ve sucked down today that I can’t stop laughing at the end of chapter 3, so I’m just. Posting what I have for now.

(Seriously, though. Why is it so funny? I think it’s the “Yeah you’re right but oh shit that wasn’t a nice thing for me to say” feeling of it all...)

Chapter 1 - The Letter With The Blue Flower

When I opened the pretty envelope, I held the letter inside up to the blue sky.

(What perfect handwriting...)

Reading the letter that had been addressed to me, I felt my jaw drop. "A great feast is to be held. If this letter reaches you, your presence there would certainly be appreciated."

(Such polite wording. That's very like Iria-san.)

A pressed flower fell into my hands from within the letter. A beautiful, pale blue flower, it reminded me of Iria-san's clear blue eyes.

(It'd be fun to see him again.)

... ......

Arriving at the castle where Iria-san lives, I stepped from the carriage, the beautiful sound of an orchestra playing surrounding me.

Steward "Welcome. Iria-sama is waiting for you inside."

Sophie "Thank you very much."

Though the grand reception made me rather nervous, I stepped into the castle. As I did, I could see a figure approaching, accompanied by many servants.

Sophie "Iria-san!"

I waved wildly, and when Iria-san saw me, a smile came to his face.

Iria "It's very good to see you."

Iria-san bowed to me respectfully, and I returned the gesture.

Sophie "I'm glad to see you. Thank you very much for inviting me."

He gazed directly at me from behind his silver-framed glasses. As if some sort of spell had been cast on me, I thought I'd like to look into his eyes forever...

***

Chapter 2 - Someone To Rely On

Iria-san guided me through the castle to a room in the center. Inside that room, the queen was waiting to see me.

Iria "Mother, this is Princess Sophie, who awakened me from that sleep."

Queen "I am very grateful to you for assisting Iria."

The queen respectfully bowed her head to me.

Sophie "It was no trouble."

Queen "Iria is next in line to become the ruler of this kingdom. When he was gone, it was as if all light had disappeared."

Iria "Mother, you're exaggerating."

Giving a troubled smile, Iria-san softly winked at me.

Iria "Please don't mind her, Sophie-sama. She's always worried excessively about me."

He gazed fondly at her as he said the words. Then...

Steward "No! It's certainly no exaggeration."

At the steward's words, everyone nearby nodded their heads vigorously.

Iria "If you say so..."

Looking around at everyone, Iria-san scratched his head, looking embarrassed.

(It seems like everyone's relied on Iria-san for a long time.)

As I looked up at Iria-san's attractive profile...

Minister 1 "Iria-sama, please excuse the interruption. I must discuss something with you immediately..."

Entering the room in a haste, a single man came running up.

Iria "The minister of foreign affairs. Pardon me a moment. What's happened?"

Minister 1 "All of a sudden, there's been an argument over that treaty from before..."

Iria "Yes, I'd guessed that might happen. If all preparations have been made, then I'll arrange for an emissary."

Minister 1 "My sincerest apologies for all the trouble."

Another man approached us now, this time from behind the queen, speaking in a shy and reserved voice.

Minister 2 "Excuse me, Iria-sama. About the welcoming party..."

Iria "If it's regarding that, then you need to speak to the king for permission. Please, go right ahead."

Minister 2 "Thank you very much!"

Iria-san smiled as he accepted the thanks.

(Everyone really does rely on him a lot.)

Observing his gentle manner and his sure replies, I let out a sigh without realising.

Iria "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting..."

Sophie "No, please don't worry about me. But you really are amazing."

At my honest words, Iria-san's cheeks got a little red.

Iria "...You really think so?"

Iria-san's blue eyes seemed to sparkle.

(He's so humble.)

I smiled in agreement, and Iria-san's face went a little bit redder.

Iria "T, thank you very much..."

Iria-san quickly covered his reddened face with a hand as if to hide it. He looked so different from the composed appearance he'd put forth before, I found my face relaxing a little.

(Somehow, he's cute like this.)

Iria "Right, I need to see about the emissary..."

His face still red, he set about giving a steward some instructions. His straight posture made him look quite reliable. And the more time I spent with him, the more I felt like my heart might beat right out of my chest...

***

Chapter 3 - A Gentle Lullaby

The next day, a chill but pleasant wind was blowing... I was invited to Iria-san's room.

Iria "Sophie-sama."

A book opened before him, Iria-san beckoned me inside.

Sophie "I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your work?"

Iria "Not at all. I recently obtained this book, and I just can't stop reading it."

Sophie "What sort of book?"

Iria "It's about the Garom theory."

(Garom?)

Having never heard of it before, I tilted my head.

Iria "You haven't heard of it?"

Sophie "I'm afraid I haven't..."

I felt ashamed of my own ignorance, but Iria-san just blinked and smiled kindly at me.

Iria "I'm not surprised...it's something unique to this country. The Garom theory pertains to how magic can be used here."

Sophie "Magic! Iria-san, can you use magic?"

Iria "Yes. Only about half the residents of this country are able to use it. People born into the royal family with the ability to use magic are taught about the Garom theory from a young age. For example..."

Iria-san looked like he was really enjoying himself as he explained.

(But it's so complicated, I don't understand it too well...)

Iria "I study so hard because I want to be of more help to my country."

(Iria-san...)

I gazed at the radiant feelings I could see in his bright eyes. As if he'd suddenly realised, he closed the book.

Iria "I'm sorry...I got so absorbed in it..."

Sophie "It's all right."

I smiled, watching a faint redness colour his cheeks.

Iria "What sort of books do you like best, Sophie-sama?"

(Books...)

Sophie "I like stories best."

Iria "Stories..."

Looking as though he was in deep thought, Iria-san raised his hand to his chin.

Iria "I'm sorry. I can't say I've read many of those... Would you care to tell me about some you've found interesting?"

Sophie "Umm...ones where the protagonist's friends are always cheering them on. I also like it when there's a happy ending, because it makes me want to do my best too."

As I faced Iria-san, he gazed at me with happy eyes.

Sophie "I, I'm sorry...really."

(I suddenly went off on a tangent...how embarrassing.)

Iria-san peered at me in puzzlement.

Iria "Why are you apologising? You explained it well, and you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

(Thank goodness...he's not mad.)

Iria "Until now, I haven't read much of anything not pertaining to my studies. So I didn't really understand what might be entertaining about stories."

Sophie "I see."

Iria "But listening to you talk about them, I think I might like to read some. This is the first time I've really thought books like that could be fun."

Iria-san gently took hold of my hand, still looking straight into my eyes.

Iria "Thank you."

Unable to look away from his bright eyes, I felt my face growing quickly red.

Iria "I know. If you don't mind, shall we read outside?"

Sophie "Y, yes...!"

My heart was pounding so hard I felt like I could hardly speak.

Iria "Well then, shall we go?"

The afternoon sun shone down brightly, casting shadows through the leaves of the trees. Beneath one of those trees, Iria-san and I opened a book. As we leisurely relaxed there, my eyelids began to grow heavy.

(Oh...this is so nice I'm falling asleep...)

... ......

(...Someone's singing?)

As I dozed, I could hear a soft, gentle lullaby.

(I'm sure I've heard this song before...but...)

The pitch and tempo were a bit off, and it wasn't very skillful, but... Somehow, that gentle voice was pleasant to my ears.

Sophie "Iria-san...?"

(When did I fall asleep...?)

My cheek was warm as I lifted my head, and I realised I'd fallen asleep on Iria-san's shoulder. Abruptly, he stopped singing as I looked up.

Iria "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Iria-san gazed down at me, his voice incredibly apologetic.

Iria "I know I'm not very good at singing, but..."

When he said that...

Sophie "...That's true."

Iria "Isn't it? I don't sing in front of other people for that reason."

Iria-san's eyes closed in embarrassment behind the frame of his glasses.

Sophie "But... Your lullaby was so kind...it warmed my heart to hear it."

Iria "Sophie-sama..."

He smiled, looking happy, but embarrassed at the same time. And I fell back into a gentle doze...

#yume oukoku to nemureru 100 nin no oujisama #yume100 #iria #夢王国と眠れる100人の王子様 #夢100 #イリア #translatin

[readbookywooks]

'What had you in mind?' 'You're now a priest. Name your own god.' Cutwell curtsied, and took the crown from Ysabell. 'You're all making fun of me!' snapped Keli. 'Sorry,' said Mort, wearily. 'It's been rather a long day.' 'I hope I can do this right,' said Cutwell solemnly. 'I've never crowned anyone before.' 'I've never been crowned before!' 'Good,' said Cutwell soothingly. 'We can learn together.' He started to mutter some impressive words in a strange tongue. It was in fact a simple spell for ridding the clothing of fleas, but he thought, what the hell. And then he thought, gosh, in this reality I'm the most powerful wizard there ever was, that'd be something to tell my grandch . . . He gritted his teeth. There'd be some rules changed in this reality, that was for sure. Ysabell sat down beside Mort and slipped her hand in his. 'Well?' she said quietly. This is the time. Has anything suggested itself?' 'No.' The interface was more than halfway down the hall, slowing slightly as it relentlessly ground down the pressure of the intruding reality. Something wet and warm blew in Mort's ear. He reached up and touched Binky's muzzle. 'Dear old horse,' he said. 'And I'm right out of sugar lumps. You'll have to find your way home by yourself —' His hand stopped in mid-pat. 'We can all go home,' he said. 'I don't think father would like that very much,' said Ysabell, but Mort ignored her. 'Cutwell!' 'Yes?' 'We're leaving. Are you coming? You'll still exist when the interface closes.' 'Part of me will,' said the wizard. 'That's what I meant,' said Mort, swinging himself up on to Binky's back. 'But speaking as the part that won't, I'd like to join you,' said Cutwell quickly. 'I intend to stay here to die in my own kingdom,' said Keli. 'What you intend doesn't signify,' said Mort. 'I've come all the way across the Disc to rescue you, d'you see, and you're going to be rescued.' 'But I'm the queen!' said Keli. Uncertainty welled up in her eyes, and she spun round to Cutwell, who lowered his candle-stick guiltily. 'I heard you say the words! I am queen, aren't I?' 'Oh, yes,' said Cutwell instantly; and then, because a wizard's word is supposed to be harder than cast iron, added virtuously, 'And totally free from infestation, too.' 'Cutwell!' snapped Mort. The wizard nodded, caught Keli around the waist and bodily hoisted her on to Binky's back. Hoisting his skirts around his waist he clambered up behind Mort and reached down and swung Ysabell up behind him. The horse jigged across the floor, complaining about the overloading, but Mort turned him towards the broken doorway and urged him forward. The interface followed them as they clattered down the hall and into the courtyard, rising slowly. Its pearly fog was only yards away, tightening by inches. 'Excuse me,' said Cutwell to Ysabell, raising his hat. 'Igneous Cutwell, Wizard Ist Grade (UU), former Royal Recogniser and soon to be beheaded probably. Would you happen to know where we are going?' To my father's country,' shouted Ysabell, above the wind of their passage. 'Have I ever met him?' 'I don't think so. You'd have remembered.' The top of the palace wall scraped Binky's hooves as, muscles straining, he sought for more height. Cutwell leaned backward again, holding on to his hat. 'Who is this gentleman of which we speak?' he yelled. 'Death,' said Ysabell. 'Not —' 'Yes.' 'Oh.' Cutwell peered down at the distant rooftops, and gave her a lopsided smile. 'Would it save time if I just jumped off now?' 'He's quite nice if you get to know him,' said Ysabell defensively. 'Is he? Do you think we'll get the chance?' 'Hold on!' said Mort. 'We should be going across just about —' A hole full of blackness rushed out of the sky and caught them. The interface bobbed uncertainly, empty as a pauper's pocket, and carried on shrinking. The front door opened. Ysabell poked her head out. 'There's no-one at home,' she said. 'You'd better come in.' The other three filed into the hallway. Cutwell conscientiously wiped his feet. 'It's a bit small,' said Keli, critically. 'It's a lot bigger inside,' said Mort, and turned to Ysabell. 'Have you looked everywhere?' 'I can't even find Albert,' she said. 'I can't remember him ever not being here.' She coughed, remembering her duties as hostess. 'Would anyone like a drink?' she said. Keli ignored her. 'I was expecting a castle at least,' she said. 'Big and black, with great dark towers. Not an umbrella stand.' 'It has got a scythe in it,' Cutwell pointed out. 'Let's all go into the study and sit down and I'm sure we'll all feel better,' said Ysabell hurriedly, and pushed open the black baize door. Cutwell and Keli stepped through, bickering. Ysabell took Mort's arm. 'What are we going to do now?' she said. 'Father will be very angry if he finds them here.' 'I'll think of something,' said Mort. 'I'll rewrite the autobiographies or something.' He smiled weakly. 'Don't worry. I'll think of something.' The door slammed behind him. Mort turned to look into Albert's grinning face. The big leather armchair behind the desk revolved slowly. Death looked at Mort over steepled fingers. When he was quite certain he had their full, horrified attention, he said: YOU HAD BETTER START NOW. He stood up, appearing to grow larger as the room darkened. DON'T BOTHER TO APOLOGISE, he added. Keli buried her head in Cutwell's ample chest. I AM BACK. AND I AM ANGRY. 'Master, I —' Mort began. SHUT UP, said Death. He beckoned Keli with a calcareous forefinger. She turned to look at him, her body not daring to disobey. Death reached out and touched her chin. Mort's hand went to his sword. IS THIS THE FACE THAT LAUNCHED A THOUSAND SHIPS, AND BURNED THE TOPLESS TOWERS OF PSEUDO— POLIS? wondered Death. Keli stared hypnotised at the red pinpoints miles deep in those dark sockets. 'Er, excuse me,' said Cutwell, holding his hat respectfully, Mexican fashion. WELL? said Death, distracted. 'It isn't, sir. You must be thinking about another face.' WHAT is YOUR NAME? 'Cutwell, sir. I'm a wizard, sir.' I'M A WIZARD, SIR, Death sneered. BE SILENT, WIZARD. 'Sir.' Cutwell stepped back. Death turned to Ysabell. DAUGHTER, EXPLAIN YOURSELF. WHY DID YOU AID THIS FOOL? Ysabell curtsied nervously. 'I – love him, father. I think.' 'You do?' said Mort, astonished. 'You never said!' There didn't seem to be time,' said Ysabell. 'Father, he didn't mean —' BE SILENT. Ysabell dropped her gaze. 'Yes, father.' Death stalked around the desk until he was standing directly in front of Mort. He stared at him for a long time. Then in one blurred movement his hand struck Mort across the face, knocking him off his feet. I INVITE YOU INTO MY HOME, he said, I TRAIN YOU, I FEED YOU, I CLOTHE YOU, I GIVE YOU OPPORTUNITIES YOU COULD NOT DREAM OF, AND THUS YOU REPAY ME. YOU SEDUCE MY DAUGHTER FROM ME, YOU NEGLECT THE DUTY, YOU MAKE RIPPLES IN REALITY THAT WILL TAKE A CENTURY TO HEAL. YOUR ILL-TIMED ACTIONS HAVE DOOMED YOUR COMRADES TO OBLIVION. THE GODS WILL DEMAND NOTHING LESS. ALL IN ALL, BOY, NOT A GOOD START TO YOUR FIRST JOB. Mort struggled into a sitting position, holding his cheek. It burned coldly, like comet ice. 'Mort,' he said. IT SPEAKS! WHAT DOES IT SAY? 'You could let them go,' said Mort. They just got involved. It wasn't their fault. You could rearrange this so —' WHY SHOULD I DO THAT? THEY BELONG TO ME NOW. 'I'll fight you for them,' said Mort. VERY NOBLE. MORTALS FIGHT ME ALL THE TIME. YOU ARE DISMISSED. Mort got to his feet. He remembered what being Death had been like. He caught hold of the feeling, let it surface. . . . NO, he said. AH. YOU CHALLENGE ME AS BETWEEN EQUALS, THEN? Mort swallowed. But at least the way was clear now. When you step off a cliff, your life takes a very definite direction. 'If necessary,' he said. 'And if I win —' IF YOU WIN, YOU WILL BE IN A POSITION TO DO WHATEVER YOU PLEASE, said Death. FOLLOW ME. He stalked past Mort and out into the hall. The other four looked at Mort. 'Are you sure you know what you're doing?' said Cutwell. 'No.' 'You can't beat the master,' said Albert. He sighed. Take it from me.' 'What will happen if you lose?' said Keli. 'I won't lose,' said Mort. That's the trouble.' 'Father wants him to win,' said Ysabell bitterly. 'You mean he'll let Mort win?' said Cutwell. 'Oh, no, he won't let him win. He just wants him to win.' Mort nodded. As they followed Death's dark shape he reflected on an endless future, serving whatever mysterious purpose the Creator had in mind, living outside Time. He couldn't blame Death for wanting to quit the job. Death had said the bones were not compulsory, but perhaps that wouldn't matter. Would eternity feel like a long time, or were all lives – from a personal viewpoint – entirely the same length? Hi, said a voice in his head. Remember me? I'm you. I got you into this. 'Thanks,' he said bitterly. The others glanced at him. You could come through this, the voice said. You've got a big advantage. You've been him, and he's never been you. Death swept through the hall and into the Long Room, the candles obediently flicking into flame as he entered. ALBERT. 'Master?' FETCH THE GLASSES. 'Master.' Cutwell grabbed the old man's arm. 'You're a wizard,' he hissed. 'You don't have to do what he says!' 'How old are you, lad?' said Albert, kindly. 'Twenty.' 'When you're my age you'll see your choices differently.' He turned to Mort. 'Sorry.' Mort drew his sword, its blade almost invisible in the light from the candles. Death turned and stood facing him, a thin silhouette against a towering rack of hourglasses. He held out his arms. The scythe appeared in them with a tiny thunderclap. Albert came back down one of the glass-lined alleys with two hourglasses, and set them down wordlessly on a ledge on one of the pillars. One was several times the size of the ordinary glasses – black, thin and decorated with a complicated skull-and-bones motif. That wasn't the most unpleasant thing about it. Mort groaned inwardly. He couldn't see any sand in there. The smaller glass beside it was quite plain and unadorned. Mort reached for it. 'May I?' he said. BE MY GUEST. The name Mort was engraved on the top bulb. He held it up to the light, noting without any real surprise that there was hardly any sand left. When he held it to his ear he thought he could hear, even above the ever-present roar of the millions of lifetimers around him, the sound of his own life pouring away. He put it down very carefully. Death turned to Cutwell. MR WIZARD, SIR, YOU WILL BE GOOD ENOUGH TO GIVE US A COUNT OF THREE. Cutwell nodded glumly. 'Are you sure this couldn't all be sorted out by getting around a table —' he began. NO. 'No.' Mort and Death circled one another warily, their reflections flickering across the banks of hourglasses. 'One,'said Cutwell. Death spun his scythe menacingly. 'Two.' The blades met in mid-air with a noise like a cat sliding down a pane of glass. 'They both cheated!' said Keli. Ysabell nodded. 'Of course,' she said. Mort jumped back, bringing the sword round in a too-slow arc that Death easily deflected, turning the parry into a wicked low sweep that Mort avoided only by a clumsy standing jump.

#Mort