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dreamcatcherrs · 4 years

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3 types of kisses - technoblade

FOREHEAD KISS

so wholesome, I had to put it in here. forehead kisses signal the love he feels for you, which is perfect for him because sometimes he has difficulties talking about his love for you and would MUCH RATHER want to show you love through affection and actions instead of words.

nothing was going right for you.

the entire day had been a disaster from the moment you stepped out of your bed, and up until now, the moment you stepped into your boyfriends apartment.

number one, you had to wake up at 6.30 am for an early meeting at work, only to find that your coffee machine was freaking broken, which meant you’d be absolutely drained during the meeting. and as if that wasn't enough, your train decided to run 20 minutes late, so you didn't even have an option to buy a coffee before work.

number two, your boss had given you the most work a person could handle on possibly the busiest day ever, which meant that you had to stay at work for at least 2 hours longer to catch up on the work you had left.

number three, your boss had yelled at you for not being able to complete the work he’d given you, and even when you tried explaining by saying it was too much work at once for one person, and that no one could possibly finish it in time, he just yelled at you some more.

number four, once you finally got your hands on a cup of coffee, you spilled it all over yourself.

number five, you had to text your boyfriend that you had to cancel your date for tonight, since you had to stay overtime. he had been kind about the situation, as always, but you still felt guilty about having to cancel your plans with him on such short notice.

number six, the moment you stepped out of your work place to head home, it was pouring down with rain, and you had to run to the train station to prevent getting yourself completely soaked. it didn't work that well.

your feet squeaked as you stepped into the apartment, your nostrils taking in the pleasant smell of.. was that lasagna? the air felt warm and nice against your cheeks, like a newly lit fireplace would. you peeled your wet jacket off of your body and kicked off your shoes, staring into the dimly lit dining room.

you moved into the room, eyes landing on the dining table that was lit up with candles, making the room smell like cinnamon. the smell of food intensified and you could now hear the low sound of music playing from a speaker nearby.

with your brows furrowed in confusion, you were about to call out the name of your boyfriend, when he suddenly appeared from the darkness of the living room. once he saw you a smile spread widely across his face.

“oh, you're home baby,” he smiled, opening his arms up to a hug. your heart dropped to your stomach the moment you saw him, finally having something good about today. you felt like crying and yelling and thanking him all at the same time, but instead you dived right into his arms, wrapping yours around his waist.

he was taken aback at first at the powerful grip you had on him, but then pressed your head further into his hoodie-clad chest to bring you some sort of comfort. knowing you, you’d be feeling some sort of guilt from having to cancel the date, but usually you knew it wasn't a big deal to him. he knew you were a hardworking person, which was something he adored and looked up to.

you felt him place a warm hand on the back of your head, making you sigh into his chest, finally able to feel some type of relief from your stressful day.

“hard day?” he asked, and you just nodded, not wanting to talk about it just yet, but just enjoy the much needed silence. he sighed at that, but didn't further the conversation without you wanting to. instead he pressed your body as close to his as possible, rubbing your back up and down.

you stood there for a while, just breathing each other in and hugging it out, before he started pulling away. he looked into your eyes for a moment, seeing the frustration and exhaustion laying behind their glimmer, and then moved the hair away from your forehead to press a gentle kiss onto the soft skin there. you closed your eyes, a small smile stretching onto one side of your face as his lips lingered for a while.

when he pulled away, he grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, before leading you into the living room and over to the couch. “come on, I made lasagna - your favourite.”

I knew it, you thought.

on the coffee table, two plates of nicely cut out and steaming lasagna were placed in the middle of it, surround by a couple of lit candles and two cups of what looked like freshly made hot chocolate. and of course he hadn't forgotten to hang up the fairy lights you got him a while ago. “wow, this is- this is amazing, baby. thank you so much.” you tilted your head up to kiss his cheek, whereas he let you linger for a moment before leaning in for a kiss on the lips.

you smiled lightly once pulling away, mirroring him, and then crashed onto the couch to finally rest your aching body somewhere. he followed after you, sitting down beside you and resting his arm over your shoulders.

“so, what do you wanna watch on Disney plus?”

HAND KISS

again, very wholesome. everything about him is just so wholesome🥺 prove me wrong. anyways, he would definitely use a hand kiss often as well, but in situations where he felt like leaving a more romantic and heartwarming touch. would def be the type to make sure you weren't uncomfortable or unsure of something before you did it, and would use the hand kiss as a way of telling you he’d be right by your side. sorry, I’m getting too carried away now;

tonight was a very special night.

you had been invited to a large dinner party by one of your friends, who was allowed to bring a plus one. it was a gathering with a lot of known youtubers from the gaming community, and your friend just so happened to be close with one of them.

well, in a way you were also familiar with them. you had met Technoblade a couple of months ago, not knowing anything about his popularity on the internet until you got to know him better. he revealed what he really did for a living, and you couldn't help but to be surprised. overtime you had grown very fond of him, and deep down you knew that your feelings for him was more than just a friendship. but your denial got the best of you and now you're running around your bedroom, panicking over what to wear since you knew he was gonna be there tonight.

of course he was, how could you forget? he’s one of the bigger youtubers who’s friends with even bigger youtubers! and who are you? just some stupid no-one in his life who happens to appear at the same party this night, who doesn't even know anyone!

maybe I shouldn't go, you thought. maybe this is the worst idea and is gonna end up being the worst night of my life.

you picked up your phone, about to text your friend that you had other plans tonight so you couldn't go, but the sound of the doorbell ringing stopped you in your tracks. “oh shit.”

you went downstars, deciding that you couldn't just ignore your friend because they always found a way to get you out of the house anyway. you opened up the door, only to be met with a glamorous looking person, also known as your best friend, dressed in the finest clothes you’d seen them in.

the smile on their face disappeared the moment they saw you. “why aren't you dressed yet?”

you scratched the back of your head, grimacing and not meeting their eyes. “well, you see…”

“ugh, we’re gonna be late! come on, I’ll help you get into something.” they grabbed your hand, charging up the stairs again before you had the chance to protest, and was at your closet in no time.

there had to be a way to get out of this

• • •

there was no way you were getting out of this.

there you were, sitting in one of the lounging chairs all by yourself, sipping on your champagne in boredom. your friend had left for the dance floor with one of her fellow youtube friends, who you know they’d been crushing on for a while, which left you all by yourself in the corner of the room.

so far you had only seen a couple of recognisable faces, yet not the one specific face you were looking for. your friend had ended up picking out a deep red silky look for tonight, shade so dark that it matched the colour of your blood.

you spun your glass around in circles in your hand, bored from this party already since the only person you knew wasn't even there for you to talk with. but suddenly, your train of thought was interrupted once noticing a darkness stretching over your form, the change of lighting confusing you. you looked up to see what happened, only to be faced with the one and only person you’d secretly tried to avoid seeing the whole night.

“why is a person this lovely-looking sitting here all by themselves?” Technoblade’s eyes took in your figure with a light glimmer to them, a lopsided smirk etched onto his face as he spoke. you stared at him with big doe eyes, swallowing a lump that you weren’t aware had formed in your throat. you stared at him in awe, not able to believe that the handsome tux-clad man in front of you was the very same person you’d spoken too not that long ago, who you'd only ever seen in hoodies and t-shirts.

he chuckled at your lack of words, and instead chose to speak up. “I usually never end up in these kind of situations, so I’m not really that good at this… but do you think there's a chance- I mean if you want to- what I’m trying to say is; do you want to dance with me?”

it came as a shock to you - the whole situation was really just unexpected if you were being honest. you couldn't help but to let out a giggle nonetheless at his sudden shyness and stumbling of words, easing up the built-up tension between the two of you. you wondered if he also felt that tension of untold feelings, or if it was all just something you’d made up in your head.

anyway, you nodded at him, smile stretching out on your face, glad to have someone like him to ask for a dance instead of some weird creep like you'd feared. “I’d love to dance with you.”

the two of you moved towards the dance floor, blending in with the crowd of other people, who were too busy admiring one another's presence to notice the arrival of you and him. you looked at the way the other people changed pace in their steps as the song switched to a more slower-paced song, before turning around to see the very handsome man in front of you.

his hand was extended out to you, waiting for you to put yours in the rightful place of his palm. you did so, but not without a warmth weighing down on your cheeks. and just when you thought you couldn't get more flustered, he lifted your hand up to his face, gazing into your eyes as he placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles.

“I’m happy to see you here tonight,” he stated, lacing his fingers with yours to position himself in a suitable way for dancing, other hand resting on your waist as he slowly took control and started moving your bodies in slow motions. “I didn't think you'd be here, but I was pleasantly surprised to say the least.”

his hand on your waist was burning through the silky material of your clothes and onto your skin - well just about everything was burning at this point - and you could still feel the soft plushness of his lips tingling the skin on your hand. you felt like a million fireworks were going off inside your chest, your heart not catching a break from beating so fast. you didn't know what to do with yourself, but managed to let out a small; “I’m glad.”

he showed off his pearly white teeth at your response, nervous yet excited to spend a moment like this with you - and he wished for many more moments like these in the future. if only he knew you felt exactly the same way. though he didn't have to wait for long, for there was a whole night in front of you.

NECK KISS

this man looooooves just cuddling up with you in his arms, leaving small love pecks on your neck when you're just chilling together. most of the time he just kisses your neck out of boredom - or when he isn't fiddling with anything, he’ll just start leaving pecks all over your neck. would be very subtle about it, though and probably isn't the type to kiss you in public. such a cutie though (I’m not simping, you are).

“I’m done!” a tired-looking Techno entered the living room to your pleasure, hair messy and wearing his usual hoodie he wore when recording videos. that one or the grey one that you may or may not be wearing at this very moment.

a smile spread onto your face at his presence. “perfect timing! I was just about to watch harry potter,” you said as he moved to crash onto the bed beside you. he left an long peck on your lips, craving the touch after the last time you’d left him to record alone. “you want to watch that?” you asked him once pulling away from the sweetness of his kisses.

“yes~. I haven't watched that movie since I was, like, sixteen,” he yawned, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull your back to his chest.

“you say that like you're old,” you laughed, resting a hand onto one of his by your chest, and with the other one you started the movie.

“I am old,” he responded, fiddling with one of your fingers, taking in the difference in size.

“shut up.”

as the movie progressed, he found it harder and harder not to do something else than just sit and watch. so what better way to distract his mind than to start showing you just how much he enjoyed spending time with you.

a warm smile reached your cheeks when you felt your boyfriend starting his routine of leaving loving pecks across the skin of your neck, making sure to push any hair out of his way to leave space for even more kisses. his hand resting on your chest slid further down, landing on the softness of your belly and rubbing the flesh gently.

you sighed in satisfaction, closing your eyes for a moment. you needed this - silence yet the three important words hanging in the air like silent screams of pure affection. you wished for nothing else in that moment.

kiss after kiss and a few belly rubs later, the two of you fell asleep silently with harry potter playing in the background. the perfect way to finish the night.

* *

hope you enjoyed! who do you want a 3 types of kisses for next? requests are always open, so don't be afraid to request anything! thank you for reading :)

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geesaotblog · 3 years

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R E D

Levi Ackerman x Reader x Eren Jaeger (Implied) Levi Ackerman x Reader

Tags: Fingering, Back seat fraternization. CEO Levi Ackerman COO Eren Jaeger. Personal Assistant Reader. 18+.

“Oh, now that’s not fair.” Eren’s own dark voice practically rang through your ear while Levi’s hands trailed up your thighs, fingertips slipping past your dress. “Levi, do enough for the both of us.”

“I do what I want,” Levi answered back haughtily, pupils blown out as he watched your lips part with heavy breaths.

You couldn’t really blame Floch for his current actions. After all, this was a rather huge company party, and the opportunities that came with such an event were overflowing. First of all, the networking possibilities were endless. The big named corporate goons were flooding the large Victorian banquet hall that had been rented out and hosted by Ackerman Co., the second largest technological corporation in the states. Everyone who was anyone had attended, ready to mooch off of the billionaires that walked through those lavish ornate doors.

Second of all, employees of Ackerman Co. were all invited, as per request from their generous CEO, Levi Ackerman. You hid a scoff behind the pristine wine glass that touched your painted red lips. Levi Ackerman. The man was anything but generous. He was short, rude, and irrationally anal about the most particular things. You should know—after all, you are his personal assistant.

More like glorified cleaning monkey but you digress.

Then there was Eren Jaeger, Levi’s own little pet project. Eren was a few years younger than Levi but was already being groomed to succeed the company. The two were around each other, practically feeding each other’s egos like the little power hungry mongrels they were.

Well, Eren was feeding Levi’s ego. Levi’s only words of praise being thrown towards anyone were ‘Nice job, not fucking up the data transfer you complete walking pile of shit stains.’

Isn’t he absolutely charming?

The two were also unfairly gorgeous; Levi’s sharp chiseled face and built frame making up for the slight height imparity as well as Eren’s other worldly iridescent viridian eyes and long brunette locks that looked soft to the touch.

God, what those eyes did to you.

Being Levi’s personal assistant basically meant being Eren’s as well. Regardless of just how handsome those two were, it wouldn’t make up for the absolute hell they rained down on you with the way they overloaded you with work.

Maybe you can blame Floch for trying to kiss up to Levi right now. It was pathetic, really. The bumbling idiot’s rambles were only irritating Levi and pissing Eren off which meant four glasses of wine for you to be able to deal with their moods.

Then Eren’s eyes locked onto your frame from across the floor. You wanted to narrow your eyes in distaste, to scoff and turn away, to pretend you didn’t see him—but it was hard to when his towering frame looked so unfairly good in that black tux. That was another thing that wasn’t fair when it came to the way Levi and Eren treated you; the sharp gazes that promised unbearable pleasure every time they laid their eyes upon you were inappropriate. You should be more upset, angrier at the way they looked at you with such possessive fervent hunger within their eyes. But in the end, it only served to burn embers deep within the core of your stomach.

You’ve spent countless nights alone in your bed getting off at the memory of those looks, off at the memory of Levi and Eren. It just wasn’t fair.

If there was a better time to say eat the rich, it would be now.

Before you could comprehend the slight gasps of the awestruck women beside you, Levi and Eren had walked across the floor standing right in front of you, ready to give you a migraine that would last a century.

“, Well don’t you look pleasant, this evening.” Levi snarked, your last name pouring out of his mouth like sweet, warmed honey, dripping down the octave of his voice that continued to lower as he spoke to you. “Usually you look like you’re contemplating murdering us, brat.”

Bristling immediately, you pursed your lips in a tight smile and tried to calm down. He always just got under your skin so quickly.

“Mr. Ackerman, I’d rather not discuss such grim topics in the middle of a party.” You brought the glass up to your lips again, not once breaking eye contact with that gun-metal gaze and took a sip. “Let’s keep that within work hours.”

Eren’s sudden airy laugh broke your staring contest with Levi, garnering attention from both you and the ebony haired man in front of you.

“Now that’s the bite we remember,” Eren murmured, smile softening and eyes glazing over with something more primal. “I was almost worried the atmosphere was affecting your mood.”

“You’re rather confident if you think that the atmosphere you two provide with your money has any effect on what my mood is.” You quipped back, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the tone.

“Oh, we’re positive that we can provide an entertaining atmosphere, definitely something that’ll keep you…coming back for more,” Levi said, tone husky and guttural feeding the warmth in your stomach a little more. You swallowed thickly, ignoring their desire filled expressions and reached down to tug at the bottom of your dress, hoping to cover a little more of your thighs and hide the any evidence of the arousal that came when you were in contact with the two.

Eren’s hair, though pulled back into a slightly messy bun, still had a few strands peak out of the tie, framing his already symmetrical face and bringing out his prominent features. He ran a hand through those locks, pushing them back as he looked down at you like some sort of animal ready to strike down on its prey.

Levi was no different, more reserved than Eren, but his eyes held a deep promise of toe-curling ecstasy.

You hated those two.

Finishing your glass of wine as quickly as you could, you placed the empty cup on a passing waiter’s tray, fumbling with a hasty response and trying your damned best to get the fuck out of there. “Well, this was a lovely conversation, but I really should head back home for the night. I wouldn’t want to be late to work because of—”

“Because of us.” Levi cut off. You pursed your lips at the implication behind his words and slowly nodded, unable to deny them.

“Yes, because of you two.” You cleared your throat and tightened your grip on your clutch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Let us drop you off.” Eren offered, smiling almost childishly, throwing you off completely from the tension that had been building up between you three. “It wouldn’t be right to just let you take a cab on your own. And it seems like you had a little too much to drink so driving is out of the question.”

Alone. Inside of a car. With Eren and Levi. You were slightly tipsy, but you also weren’t stupid.

“No, I couldn’t impose—”

“You’re not imposing, brat.” Levi tutted out, digging through his jacket pocket for his keys before tossing them at Eren who caught them easily. “Come on. We’re driving you home.”

Eren sent another smile your way before gently laying a hand on the small of your back, the large encompassing palm warming the bare skin there but not at all inching any lower as to respect your boundaries. Him and Levi led you out before you could utter another word of protest and your mind was reeling with so many possibilities of just where this drive could end up.

No, you stated sternly in your mind, chastising yourself for your indecent thoughts. You are not sleeping with the boss and the boss’s protégé. Or one. Or the other. Or—why has god forsaken me.

You wanted to throw a tantrum at the fact that two delectable pieces of meat were hanging right there, right in front of you, but morally you understood that wouldn’t be right at all.

Accepting your fate, you decided to just be pressed against the side door in the back seat of the car for the entire ride, hoping to avoid any inappropriate interaction with the two. As you walked between them outside into the slightly chilly night air, you saw Floch standing by the drink table, looking absolutely furious as if he was trying to bore holes into your very innocent skull.

Hiding a smirk, you straightened your back and walked towards the black lavish vehicle, feeling much better from seeing Floch’s annoying little gerbil face scrunch up in envy.

Oh yeah, that was nice.

Rather chivalrously, Eren opened the back door for you, sending you another cute smile—damn him—before shutting it and stepping to the driver’s seat. You let out a small breath of relief. Good, this way Levi and Eren can sit in the front and you would be content, unbothered and definitely not sexually frustrated in the back.

But then the sound of the door on your other side closing was heard and you turned to see Levi right next to you instead of in the passenger’s side like he should have been.

“Um, sir.” You inhaled shakily. “I’ll be alright in the back alone, you don’t need to sit beside me—”

“Oh, I don’t ever remembering doing something I didn’t want to.” Levi hummed back sarcastically, raising an arched brow at you cockily. If you hadn’t found the look to be so attractive, you would have shoved his face in the car seat in front of you.

Saying nothing back, you sat still, hand curled in your lap and knees tucked together as you watched Eren start the car and begin driving to your destination.

It was almost too quiet, only Eren’s off tune humming filling the tense heavy air while you tried to ignore Levi’s body heat radiating off to your side. Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him—you continued to chant that mantra in your head, thinking of anything but the fact that Levi’s hands were laying so close to your bare thighs. The scent of heady, almost sweet black tea touched the tips of your taste buds, the aroma of Levi’s cologne so strong it was enveloping more than one of your senses and it was addicting.

No, you scolded yourself immediately, biting hard on your bottom lip as you clutched the ends of your dress unforgivingly. Do not go there.

Unfortunately, because you were chewing so harshly onto the abused appendage, the sudden pothole that Eren ran through caused you to jump and bite down on your lip harder than before making you gasp in pain. You let the plush, swollen skin fall out from between your teeth, touching it tenderly and wincing in pain.

“You fucking idiot.” Levi hissed towards Eren, grabbing your waist seeing as you had also unintentionally leaned onto him at the same time. “Watch where you’re fucking driving!”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me! Get mad at city funding!”

You giggled at Eren’s indignant remark, not minding the soothing rubs of Levi’s surprisingly large hands that grazed your back. “I’m okay.” You sighed out. “Definitely city funding’s fault.”

Eren shot you an apologetic smile through the rear view mirror before looking back at the road and driving much slower than before.

“Here let me see,” Levi murmured your name softly, uncharacteristically gentler than you thought was possible, and pinched your chin between his thumb and index finger. He turned your face towards him, nose only inches away from your own but not at all seeming to mind it as he ran his calloused thumb across the bruised skin of your bottom lip.

“You shouldn’t be biting on it.” Levi mumbled, voice low and filled with something you couldn’t describe. His eyes trailed back up to lock with your own and you held your breath, those silver irises always muddling your brain and turning your head into mush. “Look how red it is.”

“I-It’s fine—” You gasped as Levi practically yanked you onto his lap, your knees resting on either side of his waist. “Mr. Ackerman!” You yelled affronted, blush painting your skin as his breath fanned the sides of your neck making you tremble in unprecedented delight.

“I do what I want,” Levi answered back haughtily, pupils blown out as he watched your lips part with heavy breaths. You squirmed on his lap, trying to simultaneously get away from his ministrations as well as provide friction to your slick cunt.

“Mr. Ackerman we can’t.” You whined out, rather embarrassingly loud as Levi began to lay wet open mouthed, strategic, kisses onto the supple skin of your exposed neck.

“I don’t tend to take orders really well,” He sneered huskily, your last name added with the formal ‘Ms.’ prefix making your already racing heartbeat against your chest. He pushed the edges of your dress past your hips, exposing your black lace panties that were damp with arousal.

The alcohol must be getting to you because this can’t be okay.

His thumbs traced the edges of you’re the lace frills that your panties had adorned on them—they were cheap and cute from Burlington. You had no idea that anyone, let alone your boss would be seeing you in them. But here you are. You were really thanking your past self for thinking of you now.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” Levi asked, teasing the edges of your inner thighs but never reaching that one place, making your pussy throb in need. “Answer me,”

“Yes,” You choked out desperately, moving your hips in slow deliberate circles, grinding your wet heat onto his slacks, dampening them with your slick. You were so shameless, but it didn’t seem like Levi minded. In fact, judging by the cruel smirk on his face, he was having the time of his life.

“Beg.”

You stopped immediately, eyes widened as you looked down at Levi to see if there were any signs of him joking anywhere. But he only stared back at you, stern and unmoving, hands slowly inching away from where you needed him most. You could feel your eyes dampen in embarrassment and desperation, a tiny mewl escaping your lips as you tried to grab his hands and bring them back. But his strength was unmatched, arms unmoving even with your insistent budging.

“You heard him, baby,” Eren’s heavy voice sending shivers down your spine. “Beg.” The command wasn’t any less powerful even though you couldn’t see him, and you let out a whimper, grinding your hips in slow circles, hoping to entice Levi into taking action.

“P-Please,” You gasped out, face heating up at the admission. All this time you had sworn you would never bow down to money or reputation, but this kind of power was something that Levi and Eren were born with—you were sure of it. “Please, touch me.”

“Touch you where?” Levi’s hands moved back to cup your aching folds, making you gasp and thrust your hips into the touch. “Tell me.”

“Fuck—Levi, please just—make me cum with your fingers, touch my cunt please.” You sobbed, pressing your lips together at the humiliation and arousal that came with submitting to such a man.

“Good girl.” Levi husked out appraisingly, finally, finally, pulling the fabric of your panties aside and pushing his thumb to rub up against your folds towards your clit, rubbing the throbbing area with slow deliberate pressure. You moaned, the sounds coming out of you so wanton and erotic, you almost couldn’t believe that they came out of you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the pleasure of Levi’s skilled fingers, pressing in and out of you, rubbing your damp walls and eliciting more of your slick out of you, dampening your inner thighs with the obscene liquid.

Each heavy thrust, each beckoning motion that he did inside of you, only served to abuse that one spot, making you see stars behind your eyelids.

“Yeah,” You moaned out, leaning your forehead against his as he continued to play with your soaked pussy. “That’s so…ah…good—!” You cut yourself off, a sudden shriek spilling from your lips as Levi curled his fingers, pressing hard against your bundle of nerves while pressing his wet thumb against your abused clit. It was electrifying, the heat boiling from your legs, up to your stomach and straight to your head making you unable to think properly let alone comprehend the salacious praises that you cried out towards Levi.

You wanted to rip away from that feeling. It was so terrifying the way that sharp coil tightened your insides and tore you apart with each push and pull of Levi’s skilled hands. It wasn’t fair. You had never reached the brink so quickly with someone before but within seconds you were putty in Levi’s hands.

“Look at me,” Levi ordered, sharply using your name in his command and using his free hand to pull your face towards him. “Look at me when you cum.”

You must have made such a sight. Debauched and ruined at the hands of your boss. But you couldn’t say you minded as one final purposeful shove of his fingers going knuckle deep inside of you sent you over the edge and into euphoria.

Your thighs quacked in overstimulation as you tried to muffle a scream by crashing your lips against Levi’s who met your desperation with his own starved mouth. The messy kiss helped ease your orgasm and ride the pleasurable waves down to a dwindling content buzz.

Pulling out his fingers with an almost sickening squelch, Levi eyed them with disgust mixed with a bit of arousal, before moving them towards your lips. He pried your lips open with his slick covered fingers, making you taste your own essence, shoving them inside your mouth unforgivingly. You shuddered at the strong taste but made no effort to disobey his unspoken orders, licking each appendage clean with your tongue.

“If you think we’re done with you, you got another thing coming.” Levi growled darkly, groping and massaging your thigh while trailing his fingers out of your mouth down your chin, creating a thin line of saliva mixed with come down your jaw.

“By the way,” Eren turned in his seat, facing both you and Levi with a sharp, toothy smirk. “We’re here. It’s my turn.”

Judging by the look on Eren’s face, the night was far from over.

#smut #reader #levi x reader #Levi Ackerman x reader #Levi x You #Levi Ackerman x You #eren jaeger #eren x you #eren jaeger x reader #Attack on Titan #Eren x Reader x Levi #Business Au #fanfic #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfic #eren fanfiction #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction

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yandere-society · 4 years

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Roses | M

Sypnosis: You grew up dirt poor in the shadows of society, barely managing to survive without parents or family and very little money. Somehow through multiple part-times and endless overtimes, you land a job at the most profitable company in your country: the Jeon estate. Now you work for the young head of the estate, Asia’s most powerful man, Jeon Jungkook, as an assistant. One day, as you are preparing for the Grand Valentine ball which Jungkook has formally set up for his and his fiance’s anniversary, you realize two things; Jeon Jungkook and the rich like him will always live above people like you and two, Jungkook really loves his fiance. Or…is it really her he loves?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,350

Admin: @roses-ruby

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Warnings: yandere themes, blood, death, murder, mentions of smut, mentions of sexual harassment, evil plans, letter openers; those knife looking kinds

You had always been jealous.

“I’ve been thinking about her a lot these days…”

The morning air wraps around your frame with frigid clarity. You had to breathe once, then twice to be able to concentrate on the intense eyes before you.

“Your fiancé, sir?”

With a sober gaze, you focus on the handsome yet stoic man sitting in front of you. His stare was vacant but captured your whole torso in a viper like grip.

“About what to get her.” He speaks in the same dull tone as before.

“…Maybe roses?”

Women like roses, right?

He tilts his head at you, as if he was signaling you about how thoroughly he was contemplating your answer. The action raised goosebumps along your upper arm until they met with the cold polyester sleeves of your dress shirt. There was such beauty even in his most simple movements, but truthfully there was nothing quite simple about the raven-haired man that eyed you with such an unreadable expression. Even though you reacted in such a way, you refused to let him see you fazed. To invite him to sink his teeth below the upper casing like he so desperately wanted.

Not yet.

With a sigh that yelled defeat, he leaned back in his chair. Mumbling to himself.

“Roses it is.”

And just like that, he dismissed you. Looking off into the distance on the left, where a large window displaying the huge metropolis laid bare. You wonder how it must feel – the raw power of staring out that window, knowing that every inch of the land could be yours within seconds. All he had to do was say the word. How would it ever be like to wake up every day wearing uncountable riches and diamonds and dynasties upon your thick skin? Either to mold or to destroy.

How does it feel to hold the fragile earth within your fist?

Perhaps you were curious because you’ve never had that luxury. Left behind to rot by that very earth itself, you’ve never had any luxuries. For you were just a simple, everyday peasant unlike the heir to the Jeon throne himself. The differences between you both were similar to that of the sun and moon. He sat on a throne you could only watch upon, forced to stand up on your impoverished legs for the rest of your life until they were to cave when you were to finally die.

Only the red are privileged to sit.

Your pace is nimble, but you manage to make it back to your desk outside his office. With a sigh, you plop down onto your rolly chair. The cushions mold into your stiffened back and your muscles relax against the plush. In the back of your mind, behind your closed eyes, you picture someone pressuring each side of your heart. Being the cause of the faint ache you felt inside your chest.

But you don’t get to rest for long, as a loud bang enters your office hallway. Startled, you sit up – and as soon as you do, the chalky screeching surrounds your ears.

“My God, some people are insufferable! I mean how hard is it to clean a dress? A monkey with a sponge could do it! Accident they say, those lazy rats. Really – and today of all days as well. This is sabotage! I will have them regret the day they tried to cross me-”

You watch with wide eyes as the lady in red hair clacks around in her maroon heels. She was seething with anger, cheeks rosy and steam coming out of her ears. But even through her fury she remained the epitome of beauty, her doll like features heightened by her puerile attitude. All you could do was gape at her as the pounding in your brain grew from her each word. With one final stomp, she stops, right in front of your desk. Her body was facing your boss’ door as she glared into the distance quietly before whirling her head at you. Eyes squinted with menace making you jump in your seat.

If looks could kill.

“What are you looking at, pig?” She snarls

Before you could answer her, the door opens. He comes out with his hands in his pocket, heartless as usual. But his eyebrows were furrowed, and you could sense the annoyance in his stance.

“What’s with all the commotion?”

“DARLING!” It was as if all her animosity had vanished in that instant. She leaped over at Jungkook, arms flailing and eyes sparkling. Your lips twitched subtly at her shrill scream.

Wrapping her long arms around him, she practically moans into his neck. Her red lip gloss smearing over his soft skin. He places his hands on her hips to hold her – and himself – steady. They look so perfect together – a sight to behold. Yet something threatens to crawl out your throat the more you watch them.

“Darling, it was awful! The Chang’s, darling – they ruined my expensive, custom made ruby iridescent Prada evening gown! They ruined it, darling!” She loudly wails into his shoulder.

Jungkook listens to her cry, before sighing. You couldn’t read him completely, it felt like he was looking at a young child throwing a tantrum. A precious child. “Why would you even use an industrial dry cleaner when you have professionals at home babe? What did they do to it?”

She backs away from him, looking into his eyes like a hurt puppy.

“T…They tore a piece from the bottom…from the wash they say… Miuccia designed it for me herself Kookie…y-you can’t let them get away with this.”

Jungkook stares into her glossy orbs for a bit, before he glances at you. His gaze makes you jerk, facing elsewhere in a heartbeat. It felt like you were interrupting them, your cheeks burn with shame. Your heart even more until you heard him huff.

“Alright, I’ll contact Min. He’ll be able to handle it.”

“Oh darling, I love you so much.” She screeches, hugging him once again.

Min. That was the family lawyer. A cut-throat man who managed to make powerful billionaires beg for their livelihood on Jungkook’s feet. One small-time laundro mat was a speck of dust compared to them. Your chest ache grew as you clenched your fists beneath the desk. The poor Chang’s had just managed to put their oldest into college, they had no savings left. They were barely handling 3 more kids and multiple elders to nurture, 9 people in total in one small apartment. Something like a lawsuit was bound to put them out on the streets. But now that they had crossed paths with Jeon’s beloved fiancé, how horrible their fate was bound to be.

There were thorns in your throat.

“Darling, I just wish tomorrow will be perfect.”

Her tone always contained a particular weight that captures your attention back to her. Jungkook was still looking at you, his stare heavy, holding down your shoulders. You felt the red explode inside your pupils as she wrapped herself around him before kissing him.

“Don’t worry, it will be. I promise.”

They start to make out, unabashed. But what shame would a rich person ever have? The cold morning air surrounds you again, as you steady your breaths, and try to get back to work. Manage to yet again contain your jealousy.

Sadly, you end up missing the intense eyes that were still on your figure, gripping tightly and never moving off once.

Valentine’s day. A time of small importance to you.

Is what you say as you eye the crimson curtains and scarlet carpet. The chandelier had a red tinge in its shards, lighting up the vast room in an almost bizarre way. A ballroom fit for the never early King and Queen. You stare at the monotone waitpersons cavorting about, carrying colored shots and expensive sweets in their trays. Your eyebrow perks up as your gaze lands on one of them being subtly touched by an older gentleman. His aged wrinkles in his drunk, lustful gaze versus her frightened young orbs and doe posture. It reminds you of your past. In all those cheap diners and broken eateries, being groped and disregarded all at the same time. In those days as well, Valentine’s day meant nothing to you.

Turning back to the long table before you, you pop another chocolate covered strawberry into your mouth. At that moment you hear soft laughter, making you look toward the left end of the table. There stood your coworker, Jimin, in his pink tux and blonde hair. He was talking to another coworker. You turn your eyes away once he catches your gaze.

And coincidentally, they end up meeting with the man you’ve been avoiding all night. On the other side of the table, stood Jungkook. Your breath gets caught in your throat. Jungkook in his infrared suit. A blend of garnet and carmine and sanguine. Gelled hair, bright skin, dark glare. Such marbled precision. He was staring at you then too, when Jimin came to flirt with you a while ago. As well as when Taehyung tried his luck.

And oh, if looks could kill.

Your little moment is interrupted when another man in red walks up to him, starting a conversation. His red wasn’t as strong as Jungkook’s, you noticed. Actually, you’re sure Jungkook probably held the strongest red in the world, just like her. They were born with it after all. You, on the other hand, worked your whole life through the mud pit to be able to bear pink upon your frame. A few of your coworkers wore pink too, some of their attires barely blushing, while the ones worth more wore fuscia. The waitpersons wore white and that forced you back in time the most… the time you could only wear white like it was a scar engraved into your skin.

Maybe you should make peace with the fact that a day like today wasn’t something for people like you to enjoy. That even if some people still view you as nothing but a body to fulfill their desires, you now have a face to go along with it unlike the servants around you. Maybe you should be thankful you are more blessed than the help. And the helpless. Even if you desired a lot more. It’s always been like that hasn’t it. A few speeches of wisdom draped upon the less fortunate public.

“Be grateful for what you have.”

Startled by the voice, your head whips back, where the lady in glimmering red stood. It was her, the one who had arrived with him, hand in hand, half an hour late. Yet she had instantly been the main attraction at the ball, people swarming towards her like hungry bees. Her gown was the color of a rose’s center – the strapless dress, lingering the ground like a mermaid’s legs, hugging her slender figure so delicately – it was the epitome of perfection. Your pink sun dress fell short in comparison. The impenetrable beauty was addicting, attracting even the shyest of insects into her clutches. For a second you got high on her scent alone, before the malicious tone of her words settled into your brain.

Why was she here? A minute ago, she was stuck to Jungkook’s side like she was glued together with his larger frame. Perhaps she gave him some space to breathe for once, but that still doesn’t explain why she came up to you out of all the bugs about. Seething in her perfect set of teeth, she glares a hole through you, making you unnerved. Even with ill intentions written in her eyes, she presented a beautiful, kind smile on her cherry lips.

“You’re probably happy knowing that you’re the only secretary Jungkook hasn’t fired within a week. You’re probably thrilled to have someone like Jungkook promote someone like you to the department head. You probably get off every time he calls your filthy name.” She breathes into your face; her breath was cold and pupils sharp. “You might think you have him wrapped around your finger and I’m not sure you know who you are, but since your poor education has failed you so greatly, I’m here to remind you.”

She steps closer into your space, as a way to intimidate you. “You’re a mutt he’s taking pity on and nothing more, you understand me? A pig shouldn’t get so happy being fed the scraps of a stallion. You mean nothing to him and as soon as he’s fucked you senseless, he’ll forget about you like every other girl that has tried to take my place.”

Her smile never faltered. If anyone was watching this interaction, they’d think she was having a pleasant discussion with you. That the reason you were shying away from her was because you could not handle her radiant glow and pouring compassion. And in the same second the gears in your mind started turning, searching for a possible response, she took a step back.

“Don’t try to get too close to him. Don’t smile so much when he looks your way. Don’t let your pathetic feelings cross the line. Stay in your lane and be grateful for what you have. Because trust me, I can make everything disappear.” With a nod, she brushes past you.

Gone, just like that.

The spot that once held her being is forgotten, your head turning to watch her leave. A few butterflies fly up to her, each one wearing a thousand more on their figures and necks, but nothing that could be compared to her red.

It felt as if she never threatened you. As if she wasn’t the villain you just witnessed but a sweet cerise princess. You watch the girls gush about her life; about how luxurious her dress, her hair, her nails, her jewels, and the Grande Valentine ball was. About how blessed she is to have loving wealthy fiancé like Jungkook. She laughs agreeing with them while exhaling the same breath she took pretending to be humble.

Soon you were blending into the background. As usual.

Finally able to pry your eyes away, you stare at the ground, feeling the ache in your chest slowly cover your vision. It felt like the green, bitter thorns from a Rose’s stem, pressing against your heart with brutal force. You already felt like an outsider as soon as you stepped in here, but this was the final straw. The thorns grew amongst your chest, you spent hours finalizing every single thing about tonight on Jungkook’s command. All for his precious fiancé, choosing the colors out of your personal reach and decorations and the drinks and the food. And yet you feel like you just showed up uninvited to a stranger’s house. Knowing nothing here was meant for you.

Parting your lips, you begin walking towards the exit, ready to crawl back into your mouse cave where the lights weren’t so exposing.

You trudged along the exit hall, feeling the cheap heels of your shoes leaves sores against your soles. The ball was only an hour in, and you were fleeing way before midnight. It shouldn’t matter however; it was best to remember that Valentine’s day and its activities hold no meaning to you. Foggy thoughts run throughout your head as you watch the gleaming floor.

When you were almost at the door, a shadow overcasting the tiles and resembling a person makes you halt. Your head tilts up to catch the man in the elegantly fitted red suit, staring back at you with those familiar eyes.

“Leaving already?”

You aren’t sure how you ended up here.

All you remember was him telling you to follow along and you obeying his command silently. He led you out of the banquet hall, into his rumbling sports car and then straight inside his mansion. Jungkook never uttered a word, but his essence – his aura…it spoke for him. You walked behind him placidly, like the prey of a snake slowing moving inside the predator’s seams. When he walks into a room, the walls light up immediately at his presence. They glow of a lavish chamber leaves you jolting in place as he carelessly strides to his open bar.

How was this any different from where you just came from? If they wanted, they could have just held the ball here.

You watch as he grabs a bottle from the shelf, turning around and placing it on the counter as he picks up a glass.

“Would you like a drink?”

You immediately shake your head in decline. He shrugs, pouring himself a good amount of dark liquor. As you stand still, watching him take a sip, confusion finally settles in from the whole ordeal. Why would he bring you here? Your ignorance made you feel like scum on the back of his expensive shoes.

She probably always felt at home here.

Jealousy was a suffocating feeling and to deal with the pressure, you look away. Try to think about something else other than his ethereal face. On a small, decorative table to the left of you was a stubby golden vase, filled to the brim with roses. The vibrant flowers capture your orbs closely, like you were being lulled in by their appearance alone. You take small steps up to the table, your heart beating in your ears. When you were close enough you could see the thorns decorating the stems.

The thorns that hindered the beauty of the red.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you pick up a knife – possibly a letter opener from underneath the vase. You carefully take a stem into your hand, pinching it beneath your fingers. With a quick breath, you slice away a thorn, then two. Ridding the plants of its spikes and ugliness in animosity. Making it perfect with each removal.

Your haste movements froze when a hand grabbed yours. You look up to see Jungkook, holding onto you while staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“What are you doing? I thought you liked roses?”

That’s what you wanted to ask him, what was he doing? Why did he bring you here? But it’s not like the rich were born to be questioned. As you hold his gaze with anger, but bite your tongue from speaking, he sighs. Taking the knife out of your hands and placing it back on the table. He replaces the object with his fingers and your whole body heats up from the rush of your hands.

His scent was heavenly. Like a thousand roses laid amongst a field.

“You…at the ball…you seemed off.” He says, capturing your attention with the same incomprehensible face he always has on. “There were so many bugs flying around you there…I needed to take my chance.”

“…What?”

You watch closely as Jungkook tongues his cheek.

“You’re always so…closed off. Like there’s nothing on your mind…like you couldn’t care less about anything. I always…notice.” He huffs, looking at the floor in concentration. “I remember, it was your third day. I was passing by on my way for an early brunch with a buddy. And I saw the support manager fall onto a wet floor. The way she screamed…I and everyone around us rushed to her. Through the commotion and her cries and everyone making sure she was okay…I spotted you sitting at a desk 10 feet away. I saw you…and you didn’t do anything, even though she was in obvious pain… you just gave her a glance and then went back to work. She ended up breaking her arm and suing the company, so I got rid of her but none of that mattered.”

He looks back up at you. “What mattered was you…you caught my eye. Your lack of interest in everyone, your empty eyes. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

It goes quiet for a moment and you now know how haunting the silence is in a big space like this. That and Jungkook’s presence made the atmosphere surreal.

“Would it have made a difference?” You question. His eyebrows raise at your response. “I mean…if I had cared…would her pain have disappeared?”

Jungkook gazes deeply into your eyes, like he was trying to read you. The hand that held you shifted slightly and you tried to not let the movements affect you. It was then that he broke out into a smirk, he seemed intrigued.

“I guess not.”

“No, it wouldn’t have. The one place there is no worth – no red – is in compassion.”

He chuckles. “I suppose with my status and what my family’s taught me…I’m inclined to disagree. But I can’t help…like this…like you.”

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows as he looks away, turning crimson. “I can’t explain why…so don’t ask me. I’ve been involved with plenty of other women…but it was always carnal pleasure. My fiancé always made sure they didn’t last long anyway but it doesn’t matter…they bore me. Yet…I don’t know what it is about you that calls to me. To keep you close to me.” He turns back to you with a determined face. “I want you and I want to get rid of anything in my way that keeps me from you.”

It felt like time stopped. The lull reverberated off the walls with intensity. There was a strange new sensation in your chest the more you stared at his sharp features. He was born with the beauty of red. When you finally felt like you could breathe again, you took your hand out of his. For a split second, you felt his whole physique embody a pout before you lightly placed your finger on his shoulder.

He froze under your touch. You continued to lightly rub at the fabric of his red coat, before placing your other hand on his other shoulder. Jungkook couldn’t look away. Especially not when you moved closer to him, not when he could feel your soft breath hit his face.

“Is this…close enough?” You whisper, watching the way his bright eyes turned dark. Within moments you felt a sudden source of heat around your waist, before you were pushed into his sturdy chest. His heartbeat matched your rhythm and your lips hovered one another as your orbs fought for balance. There was a cocoon of warmth around you, traveling up your spine as his thumb brushed your waist.

“It’s perfect.” He says before you feel his naturally red lips touch your coral ones.

It had been a while since your last kiss. That would explain why your tongue felt so sensitive and weak against his. Your hands hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady and at that moment, you recall how this very scene happened before you just yesterday, with his hand on her hips. You recall the jealousy. Bitter thoughts don’t ever completely vanish, do they?

As he bites your bottom lip, you fail to conceal a moan. He smiles into your kiss, before breaking away. Your lips were raw, and although you couldn’t see yourself, you knew they were swollen red. So you begin to smile as well.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says before kissing your cheek, down your jaw and into your neck. “All mine.”

You hold onto the back of his head as he nips at your neck. Gazing at the roses behind him.

“And you, mine.”

You woke up to the dark.

It didn’t take you long to figure out you weren’t in your house. The smell…the atmosphere…the scenery…it was all different. Not the familiar color you were used to. Your ear catches the sound of soft snoring, so you turn to see Jungkook sleeping peacefully by your side. His dark bangs covered most of his eyes and you slowly raised your fingers to move his hair out of his face. He seemed so different when he was asleep compared to his cold office demeanor. So calm and innocent – almost like a child.

In that second, your throat feels dry, so you try to sit up. Maybe you’ll have that drink he spoke of now. But a heavy arm thrown across your body stops you. You peek underneath the blanket to find Jungkook’s biceps holding onto you tightly. He was definitely the possessive type. With a quick inhale, you subtly try to remove his big arm off of you. Freezing whenever he faintly stirred. When you’ve managed to become free, you get out of bed, wincing as soon as you get up.

Even without the light, you could tell how damaged you were as you limp towards the door. He didn’t hold back in bed, wanting you to show him every expression of pleasure – of pain you were capable of. Him and only him, he said. There were bite marks on your neck and ass…he loved using his mouth. And then there was his endless fucking stamina. But truthfully you didn’t mind it one bit, it felt like he was pouring his deep rich wine upon you. You felt yourself inflaming up from the inside out, it was a feeling like no other – addicting.

Actually, you’ve always known about his interest in you. He had managed to make his face unreadable because of the position and line of work he’s in. But he’s still always slipped around you. You saw the subtle yearning and longing way before you came up with this plan. A plan that was necessary, you had never been this lucky before after all. And you wonder if she saw it too. If she knew you weren’t like Jungkook’s others. Perhaps that’s why she came up to you tonight. To try and stop you.

But mere warnings don’t work on the desperate.

As soon as you’re in the other room, the living room lights flash on. Prompting you to squint, while trying to adjust to the brightness. Once again, your attention is immediately captured by the vivid red roses in the golden vase on the small table across the room. You begin walking towards the vase mindlessly but once you were a couple feet in, you notice another shade of red to your left.

A glittering red.

You turn to face her, the princess of the kingdom, in her soon to be king’s castle. Naked and sullied in retrospect to her lavishly covered frame. But strangely, compared to you in this moment she was weak.

It was her face. Her face as she glares at you, eyes squinted, and lips pulled back. Mascara and tears ran down all over her cheeks and her eyes were puffy swollen. She stood there, shaking in her heels as her hands clenched into fists. How could she look so pathetic dressed in red of all things? There was something funny about the sight…it almost made you burst into laughter. Instead you pursed you lips and raised a brow.

Right then she launched herself at you.

“You BITCH!” She screamed at the top of her lungs before you felt her sharp nails collide with your cheek. Your ears rung as you try to regain your balance. You didn’t have time to react as she pulled your face up using your hair and smacked you twice before pushing you down. Already frail torso crashing upon the tiles a bit too easily.

Really, you felt like laughing as you laid there while she screamed and pounded her weak fists onto you. You couldn’t feel the pain, nothing at all, not even when she banged your head against the tile. Not when she kicked you in the gut. So you laughed, and you felt her go quiet for a second. Small giggles turning into something insane. Your laugh got louder and louder as your cheek connected with the cold floor. The ringing surrounded your ears, but you still heard her curse underneath her breath, calling you crazy. You’ve always hated her voice.

“DIIIIEEEEE! DIE YOU CRAZY BITCH! HE’S MINE!” You could hear her tight dress starting to rip with every sudden jerk and twist. It was ironic. Your head felt light and your vision started to blur as she pulled at your stands frantically. Suddenly, you were being pulled up onto your legs with the world spinning around you and thrown right into the small table you couldn’t stop being called towards.

On impact, one of the legs gave out, causing you and the vase to slip onto the ground. You were completely out of it for a few seconds. After a blurry moment, you could finally feel the wet water and the broken wood and the shattered glass and the cold metal scraping against your skin as you struggled to get up. That…and the green thorns stuck inside your chest, bleeding raw.

Once you were up, you struggle to maintain your steadiness. As your slippery feet came to a halt, you stare down at your wounded chest. At the thorns in your heart, before you hear her shrill voice coming towards you again. So, you timed it in your head. Waited for the bottom ruffles of her beautiful dress to slide along the tiles and signal you. Let her red give her away.

And once she was close enough, you spun around. Extended your hand until you could tell the blade collided through something hard yet pudgy. Everything comes to a standstill. You hear her inhale loudly before her face actually appears before you. Eyes wide and mouth parted. Her hands were still in midair, they were coming for your neck. Her shaky pupils gape at you, before looking down below where the knife met her.

When she’s distracted, you take out the letter opener from her stomach before slamming it back into her once again, a little left. It made a soft, stubby sound and she gasped faintly. Your hands shook dimly with the blade still inside her, blood staining your fingers. The ringing had vanished now, and you were facing the silence of the mansion. Now that you had gotten the gist of it, as quick as you could, you stabbed her a third time. It was your final attack because as soon as you took the edge out, she fell backwards with a loud thud. You didn’t have time to process everything, just cringed at the way her head collided with the floor.

For a while, you just stood there. Weapon in hand, watching the way the blood slowly oozed out of her sides. Her eyes were wide open in shock, lips parted, and jaw unhinged. Bringing the blade up to your face, you closely examine the loose blood along the edges as the knife gleamed underneath the lights. Red was truly a magnificent color. If you were to split her open, would she bleed it all out before you? Let you have all her secrets and riches? You take the blade and carefully wipe both sides of the blood onto your chest, over your heart. Making a perfect x and letting yourself become red.

Like you’ve always wanted.

Once you were done with that, you look back at her. At her lifeless face and sunken eyes.

“What are you looking at, pig?”

Just then a hand grabs yours from behind. You dropped the letter opener in surprise, and it crashes onto the floor with everything else. The object is replaced by long fingers. Your head whips back to meet a bare Jungkook standing right behind you, as handsome as ever, staring at you with a smile. There was a little insanity in his eyes, the same one you saw every morning in the mirror.

“I was wondering how to get rid of her myself.” He says, before wrapping his arms around your shivering torso and placing his mouth on your neck.

It had only been a few hours after Valentine’s day, and here you stood. Being gently rocked by your boss, with his beautiful fiancé bleeding out on the floor in front of him. Even in death…she was the epitome of beauty. And you had always been jealous.

Not of who she was to Jungkook.

But because of the vibrant, glowing, bleeding red rose she always resembled.

What you were jealous of was the rose she embodied.

The rose you wanted to be.

#yandere society #bts #jungkook #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader

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youshouldhavepaidattentiondad · 4 years

Text

Gary Goldstein can't complain about much. He's a successful lawyer, he may or may not have a illegitimate child with Linda Monroe, and he has a wonderful, somewhat chaotic, boyfriend. He has a good life, all things considered. The only thing he wouldn't consider good is his workplace nemesis.

It may be childish, but to be fair, Jeremiah P. Princeton started it. When Linda Monroe first came to the firm looking for an attorney, it was between him and Princeton. When Linda inevitably chose him, because he's the better fucking attorney, Princeton made it his mission to try to one-up everything Gary did.

Gary brings in donuts for everyone one morning? The next morning, Princeton brings in donuts and coffee for everyone. Gary takes a long weekend to go visit his parents in the next state over? Princeton takes an impromptu vacation to Hawaii. Gary brings homemade Italian food for lunch? Princeton orders himself lunch from Uncle Vinny's Italian restaurant. The list just goes on.

Those are small things though. Gary can handle the small, yet annoying, petty things. However, it didn't stay small and petty.

"We won't stay long," Gary promises as they walk into the museum for a local artist's showcase. He just needs to make an appearance, rub shoulders, make connections. All typically schmoozy lawyer things.

Miah huffs out a small laugh. "Do what you need to, babe. I know these things are important for you." He still tugs at the collar of his tux, uncomfortable in the stiff material.

Gary kisses his cheek. "I'm going to mingle. Try not to get drunk on free champagne."

"You're not the boss of me."

They both laugh before Gary disappears into the fray. Miah takes the opportunity to swipe a flute of champagne off a nearby table.

"Hello, beautiful." A tall man with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw says as he approaches Miah. "Who might you be?"

Miah practically downs the champagne like a shot. He's going to need it to deal with these entitled snooty upper crust assholes. "Jeremiah Brightly. I go by Miah, but most people in town know me as a man in a hurry."

That gets an amused chuckle from the man. "What a coincidence. My name is Jeremiah as well. Jeremiah Princeton, attorney at law at your service."

Setting his empty champagne flute, Miah picks up another as he studies this other Jeremiah. This must be the bastard Gary is always complaining about. "Do you actually go by Jeremiah or what?" He asks.

Blue eyes seem to twinkle at him. Gary's are prettier. "Most people call me Prince." He runs a hand back through his wavy dark hair and it takes everything in Miah not to snort at the action.

"Right. Well, it's been fun, but my boyfriend told me not to overdo it on the champagne and it's not a night out if I don't disappoint him in some way."

Prince doesn't take the hint. "Oh, who's your boyfriend?"

It takes everything not to scream. "Gary Goldstein," Miah answers politely.

Almost immediately, there's a shift in Prince's gaze. "Really?" He asks in disbelief. He pulls out his wallet and extracts a business card he hands off to Miah. "In case you ever decide you want to upgrade, sweetheart."

The second flute of champagne also goes down like a shot. Miah doesn't bother responding, just snatching up another flute and going in search of his boyfriend. On his way through the exhibit, he "loses" the business card.

He finds Gary schmoozing with Gerald Monroe. There's a well dressed blond boy standing nearby with familiar blue eyes. Miah tries not to think too hard about that. That's Gary's past.

"Hey!" Gary breaks into a grin when he sees Miah approaching. He excuses himself from Dr. Monroe before meeting Miah halfway. "What number is that?" He asks teasingly, pointing to the champagne flute.

"Three," Miah says flatly, "But it's justified. I met your favorite coworker."

Gary frowns in confusion, but before he can ask, Prince somehow magically materializes next to them.

"Hey, Goldstein," he greets enthusiastically even as his eyes stray to Miah.

Everything clicks for Gary. He wraps an arm around Miah's waist. "Hello, Princeton," he greets cordially.

"I had the honor of meeting your gorgeous partner," Prince says, winking at Miah. "Careful you don't let that one get away. He's a real catch."

Gary and Miah both force laughs, saying goodbye to Prince before pretending to see someone and walking away.

Gary thought that was the end of it.

The next week, he stops by to see Miah at his job while he's on break. What he finds is Miah examining a card in his hand, an elaborate and elegant arrangement of roses in a crystal vase sitting on his desk.

"Who sent you that?" Gary asks. Maybe it's from Jess for siblings day or something.

Wordlessly, Miah slides him the card. Gary barely has to glance at it to see the sweeping signature of Jeremiah P. Princeton.

"Bastard," Gary mutters before looking at the expression on Miah's face. "You okay?"

"I knew you said he had some weird thing about trying to be better than you, but I didn't think it was this bad," Miah admits with a shudder.

Gary didn't either. "I'll talk with him," he assures Miah.

He walks back into the firm building, carrying the vase of flowers. He goes straight to Princeton's office and sets the vase on the wooden desk. The sound of the crystal hitting the desk top makes Prince look up. "What do you think you're playing at, Princeton?" Gary demands.

"I'm just being polite," Prince says, but the way his eyes glint gives away the lie. Gary doesn't know how he survives as a lawyer with such an obvious tell. "There's nothing wrong with giving someone a gift, Goldstein."

"There is when you're sending gifts to someone else's boyfriend," Gary huffs. "Back off."

Prince smirks. "Scared Miah is going to realize he can do better?" He tauts.

Gritting his teeth, Gary doesn't bother dignifying it with a response. Instead, he turns and walks out of the office and to his own.

#long post #posting from mobile #sorry about the format #Jeremiah Princeton is my OC #so is Jess #gary goldstein #miah #man in a hurry #jeremiah brightly #fic #attorney in a hurry #Gary's rival #might write another installment of this depending on the feedback

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whattodowithace · 3 years

Text

Bank Heist Part 1 (San)

Title: Bank Heist

Pairing: San x Reader

Genre: Spice; Action

Word Count: 4.9K Words (Both Parts)

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

A/N: Part 1 of 2 of Bank Heist. This is a long one shot I wrote awhile ago and it’s honestly one of my Favorite ateez works. I hope you enjoy it! 💕

“Welcome,” You greet warmly. The cool air twirling around you whenever the door opens, making goosebumps flutter across your skin.

You plaster on your most winning smile as you say cheerfully, “Enjoy the Bank's two year anniversary party. Please, make yourself comfortable and help yourself to some drinks.”

Wild Card Bank, or WCB, was one of the most popular and most richest banks in Chicago. It wasn’t your small town bank. Because WCB was a casino. Only the richest with money to burn came to play or bank with Wild Card. Tonight was the bank's second time holding an anniversary party for its success. The guests were adorned in jewels and luxury, a glass of champagne in hands and a set of poker chips. The guests receive a red carpet entry with photographers and reporters lurking at the doors waiting. Once they walk in, they are taken aback by the scene.

You stand a little straighter as another row of guests enters the building. A smirk tugging at your lips. Too bad everyone in this room will be stripped of their money before the night is even out. A long black dress clings to the curves of your body. A slit that goes up to your thigh making the dress part teasingly as you walk. And a large red belt hugs your waist and keeps the strapless dress in place. You have worked at Wild Card for a year now. You had gained the bosses trust, an older man in his 60s, and he had promoted you to secretary of the bank. You look down at your checklist in hand, almost everyone was in attendance. Just a few more people needed to show.

“Looking for something?” A flirtatious voice whispers in your ear.

You gasp and jump back before feeling a blush creep across your face. A pair of dark eyes meets yours, a devilish smile crosses his lips.

He’s taller than you and has a strong build. He wears a black tux with a white button down dress shirt and black tie. His hair is black but one thick strip of hair falls across his eyes in a shade of pale gray. The blush that was on your face vanishes and you feel a surge of frustration and anger surge threw you;

“San!” You hiss, looking around to make sure no one heard you. “What are you doing here?”

Choi San stands a little straighter, not trying to hide the smirk on his face. “I have my reasons.” He says in a sly tone. Leaning down to you until his face was an inch from yours he adds on, “And I feel you're here for the same reasons...partner.”

You glare at him before pushing him away from you and straightening your dress out again. The last thing you needed was having San draw attention to you both.

“San, I’m busy. So don’t get in my way tonight, okay?” You say curtly as you try to sidestep him and go attend to something else.

He wraps an arm around your waist, stopping you. The warmth of his hand seeps through your dress to your skin.

“I think there’s no point in denying we’re both here for the same thing tonight.” San says into your ear, keeping his voice low so passers by can’t hear. “Our past aside, it's just going to be a matter of who walks out of here with the prize first.”

You stand there, motionless. Your lips sealed together, afraid you would let something slip. You see Sans eyes linger across your body before saying, “Nice dress by the way. You look very beautiful.”

That did it. You tore Sans hand away from your waist and started walking quickly toward somewhere, anywhere away from him. Slowly, you came back to your senses and forced yourself to steady your shaking hands.

You force yourself through the next hour greeting people and avoiding Sans gaze every time you see him across the room. He would occasionally lift his drink to you with a smirk on his face and wink at you. Finally, the time came for your boss to say his greetings and thanks to the guests. You stood beside him on the stage smiling and laughing on cue. But you felt uneasy when you noticed San was no longer in the crowd. Gritting your teeth you waited until your boss was done giving his speech and had walked off the stage to greet his guests before you also walked off the stage and headed for the back.

You let yourself into your small office, leaving the lights off and feeling your way to the desk. You find the gym bag that had been hiding under your desk and rip it open. Quickly taking off your heels and dress you change into a pair of black cargo pants, black lace up boots and a black button down shirt. The same uniforms the guards were wearing.

You take your hair down and let it spill over your shoulders before quickly tying it into a braid behind your back and slipping on a black baseball cap that covers your eyes. You slip an ID card around your neck then another ID card into your pocket. You had created it a week before this night. It was a copy of your boss's ID card he kept in his office.

Throwing your dress into the gym bag you stuff it carefully behind your bookshelf in your office where you had cut a small hiding place into the wallpaper. There you had hidden a small black suitcase a few weeks ago, you take it out and stuff the gym bag inside the hole in its place. Then quickly slid the bookshelf back into its original place.

Walking out of the office you make your way to the safe. A middle aged woman behind the desk taps on her keyboard and motions silently for you to walk through the metal detector. You set the suitcase down on a counter where another guard exams the contents. You take a deep breath and walk through. The metal detector remains silent.

You have to conceal your smirk as the woman comes around the desk to scan your ID card. It reads off as a new member of your bosses rarely trusted officers to go inside the safe to check on the cameras and anything else. But you were counting on this security officer to not look closely at your face.

She scanned the ID card, punched in a code on a control panel on the large steel door before it opened. The guard that examined your suitcase hands it back to you without a word, to them it was only filled with tools to check the cameras and to make sure the control panels worked.

You walk down the hall as the door behind you shuts. That’s the first door to the safe. You have to get through the rows of security cameras first to get to the door. Plus the three armed guards standing at the door.

You keep your head down so the camera can’t pick up your face before opening up a panel in the wall and act as if you're checking it. The guards watch you for a moment and then seem to lose interest. You watch out of the corner of your eye on one camera next to you. You slip another wire out carefully and pull it out from where it’s connected into the wall. It will make all the cameras go black.

“Hey!” One of the armed guards barks, “What do you think you're doing?”

You pull your hat down further over your eyes and smirk, starting a count backward in your head from 60.

You reach down and act like you're going to take something from your suitcase. Waiting for the guard to come closer. The first two do. Quickly, you stand up and slam your elbow into the first guards face. He stumbles back, blood running down his nose and mouth.

The second guard advances and pulls out his taser, you quickly grab his wrist free of the taser and spin his wrist behind his back and your body until you're behind him too. The man fires his taser and it hits the guard that you had hit in the face moments ago. He stumbles back in pain and falls to the ground, his body twisting and convulsing in pain before he goes limp.

Before you can turn your attention to the guard you have pinned and the last one, a hard object hits the guard you have a hold of on the head. His body sags and his full weight comes on you before you let him fall. You spin around and a pair of dark eyes you recognize meet your eyes.

“Hi sweetie,” San says, his eyes peeking out from his hat identical to yours.

Your body reacts before you can think, you land a fist into Sans cheek, hard. He stumbles back against the wall, shocked but at the same time a smirk crosses his lips.

You go back to your case, bend down and take several small round screens from your suitcase and quickly walk to each individual camera and slip the screen on over the camera’s eyes. You're at 9 now. Quickly taking a small remote from your suitcase you push a blue button in the center of the remote, You had 3 seconds left before security would have called for backup. The camera will show the halls to be empty, with the same three guards standing watch. Like nothing happened.

“We should really work on your bedside manner, baby.” San remarks as he wipes off a streak of blood running down his chin.

You whirl around, “I told you not to get in my way tonight!” You snap at him, shoving a finger into his chest.

San chuckles and wipes the blood off on his pants before answering. “Just like old times. How have things been with you anyway?”

You scoff and start walking down the hallway before he calls after you, “Oh common! I haven’t seen you in over two years and you're not going to even give me a hello kiss?”

You stop, a laugh escapes your lips that’s somewhere between genuine and just annoyed. You walk back towards him and let your face get an inch from his;

“Let’s get something straight.” You say firmly, “I am not here to rekindle old flames. You are a thief. I was living a normal life. But somehow you talked me into joining your little gain. All because you and I went to the same school to become cops. But you dropped out. I ran with you for three years and then,”

San opens his mouth to interrupt but you clamp a hand on his mouth, “And then,” you continue, “You left me. With not even so much as a goodbye.”

San takes your wrist and gently takes it away from his mouth before placing his hands on your hips and asking in a mischievous tone, “Is that why your robbing a bank?”

Your eyes narrow and you pull away from him before going to the Safes door and swiping your bosses identical ID card and entering a pin code on the door panel.

“You know the code?” San whispers in your ear.

The doors swish open in answer and you remain silent as you stomp into the safe. Neatly organized rows of cash line the safe. You smile to yourself, feeling the two years of hard work pay off. Before you can even touch the first wad of cash, you're pushed back against the wall. San lowers his face down until the bridge of his nose brushes yours. Goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. He rests his hands on either side of your face before continuing, “You never went back to a normal life after everything we went through together. You want to know why I think that is?”

San lets his mouth flutter across yours as he says, “Because you miss it. And you’ve missed me.”

There was a long silence that stretched between you two, and you felt yourself lean into him slightly before the sound of an alarm echoed down the halls. San pulled away from you and you realize one of the guards woke up enough to drag himself over to where the Emergency button was.

San shuts the door to the safe and pulls a gun out from behind his back and fires a few rounds into the control panel.

“That should keep them busy.” He says as he puts the gun back and picks up the backpack he had brought in.

“When did you get a gun?” You ask. Surprised.

San only winks at you as he picks up the backpack and starts shoving money into the bag. As he shovels money in he says, “You know, you’ve lost your edge.”

You pick up a handful of bills and put them in the bag before asking, “How so?”

San stands up straight, “This is a casino, darling. Back in our day we would have robbed them blind.”

You shove more money into the bag, sweat starts to run down your back. The clock is ticking. But you stop and meet Sans eyes, “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I’ve been planning this for two years.”

San stares blankly and then a smirk tugs at his lips. “You gave them the Winners Curse.”

You can’t help but smile. The Winners Curse is a move San came up with. The dice, all the machines, the cards, everything in the casino, is riged. Every time someone wins a round of cards and gets more poker chips, it’s robbing the bank of money every round people play and win. The machines are set. All 500 plus guests will walk out with money tonight.

You're the secretary. You handle everything. You're a false identity, a false name. You slipped your boss a drug in his drink as he was giving his thanks to the guests. By now he’s out cold somewhere and you’ll be long gone.

As you finish putting money into the backpack, you hear loud voices echo through the halls of the Safe. Times up.

“San, we need to go.” You say.

San finishes putting the last of the money into the pack and zips it up. He slings it over his shoulder and waves his hand in front of him, “Lead the way.”

Crawling through the air duct was not your biggest idea. But with police banging on the Safes door you didn’t see a choice.

“Here,” San says bending down to his knees, “I’ll give you a boost.”

You examine him suspiciously, “You have the money. I’m not leaving without it.”

San rolls his eyes and throws the backpack off his shoulder and hands it to you. You smirk at him and put your boot on his knee and haul yourself up the small space. Once up you feel your breath hitch slightly at how dark and cramped it is.

Forcing yourself to focus, you let your hand down and help San up. He just pulls his feet up and closes the air ducts door when the door to the safe flies open and a SWAT team rushes into the room.

You both sit there a minute and watch as the SWAT team surveys the room before lowering their weapons. San nudges your leg and you take it as a signal to start moving. Getting onto your knees, you start crawling, San at your heels.

You crawl for some time, hot air swooshes through the vent, making sweat run down your back and make your hair cling to your neck. The backpack strapped to your back isn’t helping you squeeze through the tight spaces. You try to stay calm but mentally visualizing the twists and turns of the air duct that you had spent a whole year memorizing.

Suddenly you stop, but it’s a forced stop. You can’t move. You pull but the bag on your back seems to be stuck and won’t budge.

“San.” You hiss behind you, “I can’t move.”

“You can’t move?” San repeats behind you. “What do you mean?”

“The stupid backpack is stuck. If I try to move it sounds like it’s tearing.” You whisper, feeling panic rise in your chest.

“Okay, okay.” San whispers as he gives off a sigh. The air duct is pitch black and neither one of you is brave enough to turn on a light with a SWAT team still around the Bank. Suddenly, Sans hand is on your ankle and he pulls himself up beside you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, your voice having more of a high pitched panic than you would like.

“Getting you unstuck.” He says blunty. He pulls himself up far enough to where you can feel his breath against your ear and run down your neck. You’re thankful it’s dark in the vent, it conceals your deep red blush creeping across your face. You can feel him running his fingers over the pack, trying to feel where it got stuck.

“I can feel where it’s hung up,” San says after what feels like forever. “It’s caught on a sharp edge on the roof on the vent. A piece of metal must be stuck out and caught in the fabric.”

“Great.” You mumble.

Suddenly San slips himself underneath you and brings his lips up against your ear. You feel your body run hot but try to tell yourself he’s only trying to get you unstuck and is using both his hands to get the fabric loose. That thought doesn’t soothe you though.

Finally, you feel the pack get unstuck and it sags against your damp back. But when it comes down San doesn’t take his hands off you. Instead he rests his hands on your hips and rests his head against the cool metal beneath him.

Even though you can’t see his face you know he’s smirking, “You can’t resist being close to me, can you?”

You try to make your voice sound even and firm as you retort, “Take your hands off me.”

San wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you over until your back is on the ground and he’s on top of you. You let out a gasp as San brings his lips down to your ear before growling, “Make me.”

He kisses his way up until his lips meet yours. A burst of butterflies explode in your chest and you feel your hands run through his soft hair. Realizing you missed the feeling of his touch.

His lips are soft and gentle at first but soon he deepens the kiss and lets out a soft moan against your lips when you bite his bottom lip. His tongue slides across your bottom lip as his hand finds a spot where the back of your shirt has come up just a bit and his thumb traces a line on your lower back.

Suddenly, a low sounding hiss grabs your attention. You pull your lips away from San and start to feel what seems like tongues of fire race across your skin. Tear Gas.

A second later San recognizes it and wordlessly slides off you, helping you come back up to your knees. By now the gas is stronger. Your eyes burn and you want to hold your breath because taking one hurts too much.

San pushes you forward and you force your brain to work. You're almost to an exit. The gas is stronger now and you hear San cough behind you and your muscles contract and tighten at the horrible feeling gripping you.

Your eyes water and blurr and it takes everything you have to not swipe at your eyes. Finally, you see the exit you had planned to get out. Technically the air duct was your back up plan but you were glad you took time to memorize the air ducts systems.

You push the door open without thinking if there’s cops there and slide out. The cool air feels heavenly on your face and tears slide down your burning cheeks. San slides out next to you and sits down on the pavement. You both catch your breath a moment. You hear the distant cry of a cop siren and pull yourself together.

You stand up shakely, bracing yourself against the wall behind you. “San,” you say breathlessly, “We need to go.”

He sits there swiping at his eyes and taking deep breaths. He doesn’t answer. You walk over and kneel next to him, his eyes are red and his face streaked with tears, making his skin look agitated. You cup his face in your hands and whisper, “I need you to stand up.”

He stares at you for a moment, the cop siren drawing closer. Making your heart skip. Finally, San moves and gets on his feet. He sways slightly and you wrap an arm around his waist. You're in an alley, like you had planned it. One side is a dead end the other takes you out into the street. In the street is a yellow Taxi cab.

“That’s our ride.” You tell San as he shifts his weight and stands up straighter.

MASTERLIST

#kpop #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imgaines #ateez san #ateez imagines #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #kpop x reader #kpop edits #kpop au #ateez choi san #spicy edits #action fiction #kpopmadness writings

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 5 years

Text

Chase Collins - Pacify Her (Part 1)

Characters: Chase Collins x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your co-workers especially the president of the company you are working at has this grudge towards you because you couldn't reciprocate the infatuation he had for you and so you came marching towards your office with a hot head. Shocking you once you saw a very familiar person sitting on your throne.

Warning: Kinda have sugar mommy content? If you squint at it closely. Oral. (Male receiving!) So MUCH suggestive content but it does not get to where we all want. HEEHEE. NOT YET. (THIS IS STILL LEMON)

Words: 2,500+

A/N: PARENTAL GUIDANCE MUST BE ADVICED. THIS IS NOT SUITABLE FOR VERY YOUNG AUDIENCES. LOOK AWAY, PURE TATER TOT. LOOK AWAY. (UNEDITED. RAW. PROBABLY HAS LOTS OF TYPOS AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS)

Chase was contemplating whether or not to visit you in your office. You were sure enough you've told him to inform you if he would want to visit you in your own office. Being a sneaky, mischievous human he was, decided it was better to surprise you. Besides, were you hiding something from him so that was why you didn't want him to surprise you a visit? He'd told you everything that you needed to know, even his deepest, malignant secrets weren't left untold.

He was overthinking again. Oh dear.

The elevator pried open, alerting him with a loud ding. He lifted himself off from leaning on the handles, mindlessly raking a hand up to fix his styled brunette hair.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a shadow standing in front of him. There was no doubt, just feeling her aura made him instantly knew who was standing before him. A tall, blonde woman with thick rimmed eye-glasses whom he was kind of familiar with.

Oh. Beverly. The loyal, kind-hearted assistant who unluckily saw you and him having lazy, hot, missionary sex on your beloved couch. She happened to plan and give you some important files that you needed to sign, yet her timing was the best. Insert the sarcasm there.

Beverly's pretty blue eyes were tempted to pop out of her eyesockets once she saw your lover appeared inside the elevator looking scrumptious with his suit. Obscene flashbacks came running in her mind, leaving her face all steaming with embarrassment once their eyes connected.

She could remember how she tried to get off over Chase's lewd moans that made her orgasm for the second time on her bed, all by herself. Beverly isn't exactly innocent as we think she is, yes? Chase could feel her embarassment, and he can see the uncomfortable longing she had hidden beneath those blue eyes of hers.

He could sense some attraction growing inside of her, an attraction that was meant for him. Though, even if he could sense every bit of her emotion, he tried to smile it off to not make it seem awkward since they already started off a little embarassing by how you've seen him naked, on top of her kind boss.

If only he could sense your emotions just like how he does with everybody else then everything would be perfect.

"Beverly, right?" Chase hesitantly spoke, grinning at her that made the woman shift her eyes away from him. "I know we started off...well," He continued, trying to word out their past encounter a little less shameful.

He chuckled, an awkward one with a smile that made her spine shiver. "Is Y/N working?" Chase shifted the subject, licking his lips as he stared into her wavering eyes. "R-right.." Beverly muttered more to herself, biting the insides of her cheeks as she remembered he was her boss's boy friend who happened to look dangerously too sexy, hot and breathtaking for his own good.

Well, she definitely didn't know what lies behind that gorgeous face.

"Miss Y/N is on a meeting right now, but you can wait for her in her office," She paused, faking a cough. "I guess?"

Chase could only smile, one that held innocence behind his sinister grin aching to show. He knew what was making her feel uncomfortable, and what a naughty assistant does Y/N have. He thought at the back of his pretty, dark mind. "Thanks," He responded, winking at her that made her insides go wild.

Well, it was time to tell Y/N about her night adventures. Preferably about the subject where she gets off by the thought of Y/N and him having sex plus his moans that could have her panting in her own bed.

°°°°°

Chase was slouched from his seat in the middle of your big office table. He was currently scrollling through his phone with a smirk on his face as he could sense your heavy footsteps coming to march in. He saw a news article talking about a barn that have been caught up in a fire three months ago. Chase's lips formed into a harsh, thin line, the images of him and Caleb Denvers fighting came flooding inside his pretty, mischievous head.

They wouldn't get to find him, not anymore.

"Fuckin' Stewart dismissed me in the meeting just because of his pathetic feelings over me!" You came crashing through your own office. Roughly closing the door with a loud bang. Chase's presence was still unrecognized as you didn't see him proudly sitting on your office chair. He uncrossed his legs, spreading them wide as he sat back, a hot, lopsided smile lifting his cherry, red lips. His baby blue eyes standing out with his tuxedo. Chase knew you too well, and he knew how your maddened state would end up at the moment.

You took your black vest off, hastily throwing it on the leather, black couch sitting close to the wall. A loud groan came out of you, "Told him I didn't like him a single bit the other night! But, the dick didn't took his rejection too well and came to work with his petty attitude!"

You bit your lip hard, your hands on either side of your hips as you stared at your name plate sitting on your office table that read 'Y/N Y/L/N - Vice President' "He's such an asshole!"

Chase was certainly entertained by how you were acting right now. His eyes exploring your curves hidden behind your white, longsleeved polo shirt. Travelling towards your delicious legs, your black pencil skirt hid the part where he wanted to see the most. Chase's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, taking a very deep breath before his hands went towards his black belt.

He knew how to calm you down, he knew how to shut those pretty lips of yours.

Chase decided to make his presence known. His naughty eyes was heavily trained on you as he took his time to unfasten his belt, the metal clung echoing around the office. "Do you need something to calm you down?" He uttered, voice deep and low as he fumbled with his slacks.

You jumped from where you stood, eyes landing on a very exquisite looking Chase Collins who was dressed in a tux, his hands fondling with the buttons of his slacks. The glint in his eyes shifted into something more innocent, something more pure that would ignite something inside you.

He was your sweet, mischievous boy and the innocent look in his eyes was making you damn wet.

You shifted from one foot to another, staring at Chase who began unzipping his slacks, his focus premarily on his fingers. What was he doing? Your eyebrows were cinched together in confusion, "You're pretty much tense and furious," He added, sounding sympathetic but with a hint of naughtiness.

Chase licked his plump, red lips while he took his semi-hard dick out. His lip slipping in between his teeth as he gripped himself by the base, head falling on the chair behind him as he wrapped his hand around the base of his dick a little more tightly.

"Oh, God..Yes," Everything happening right below Chase's torso was hidden from your view because of your large, black office table. Without any thought of Chase's lewd actions, you marched your way towards him, your heels clucked step by step on the marbled floor. Stopping once you've reach behind your table and saw how Chase began moving his hand up and down his shaft, pleasuring himself. A sigh left his lips when his own thumb flicked his bulbous head. His cock growing harder and larger in his hand as he continued jerking off in front of you.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing??" His hand pumped up and down in a fast pace. The promiscious sounds distracting your maddened self, suddenly forgetting why you were even mad in the first place.

Your eyes was intently focused on his moving hands, seeing how hard he was becoming from his own ministrations. You felt your words get eaten, as you couldn't form any coherrent words from seeing his fat cock sprung out in such a place like your office. He muttered a moan that made you lick you lips, your eyes trained on Chase's delighted face, his eyes fluttering closed for a second and eyebrows furrowed with his mouth ajar. "Ugh," He freed his eyes open, an intense stare peering up at you, threatening to go black but he tried his hardest not to, his hand going faster, never forgetting to give a little twist of his wrist. "P-preparing your fucking pacifier,"

The delicious, obscene sounds was making you entirely damp down there and the way his face contorts in pleasure didn't help a lot in making you sane. Why was he doing this? "Are you doing this so you could get an extra gift? Do you need something?" You muttered, eyes soley with how he was pumping himself up and down.

Chase's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, appearing to choke in his own pleasure. He licked his lips, his hazy, beautiful Steele blue eyes peering up at you with need. "I'd rather think of this as helping you shut that pretty mouth of yours to calm yourself down because your co-workers certainly don't want you lashing out on everyone, Oh god..Mmmmh," You were dumbfounded on the spot, completely enthralled by your baby boy pleasuring himself in front of you. Automatically, you crossed your legs to lessen the itch forming in your core. An itch that you so wanted Chase to aid upon to.

Chase seemed to look impatient as his hand movements were slowed down, his cock turning redder as time passes by, wanting to have its release. He smirked right up at you, his other hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you down, kneeling before him while the other was continuously on his dick, pumping his shaft with a tight grip. "Ugh--Will you please just suck my cock? I really don't mind you using my balls as a stress reliever or something," He paused, his eyes fluttering closed for a second. Trying to control his emotions before all hell breaks loose. "Appreciate my help, Y/N." He whispered, desperately. Glancing down at you as you fixed your position. Crawling beneath your own office table and propelling in between his thick legs. Oh, God was it hot. You thought silently, feeling all hot and bothered.

You cleared your throat, acting like you weren't excited to see what happens after. "You just wanna experience having a blowjob while you're in my office, Collins." You mindlessly uttered, making Chase stop his movements, casually gripping his hard dick by the base as he lurked above you, cocking his head to the side, shrugging his shoulders. "That could suffice, but seriously." He paused, "You need to shut up before your co-workers hear you talking about that dick Stewart liking you," Chase reached for your face, his thumb caressing your matte, rosy red lips. Completely indulged by the softness and look of it. Imagining how it would feel around his cock. Naughty, Chase is. "We don't want the president of the company knowing he has a petty little crush on the vice president now, don't we?"

You appeared to look unmoved. A nonchalant expression on show, and the warlock couldn't help but grin. You were certainly ruining the mood.

"You just want your cock sucked,"

Chase licked his lips, his beautiful, satisfying blue eyes serious and desperate for some action. "Fuck, fine." He huffed to himself.

"Please," He exaggerated, grabbing the back of your head, pushing it towards his impatient, swollen dick. "Please, suck my cock. It's one of my fucking fantasies to--" His breath hitched as he felt your hot, saturated mouth moving down on him. The pleasuring feeling of your mouth around his dick made him bite his lower lip to refrain from moaning out loud. God, what a wonderful life he has. "--Ahh, fuck. Yes.."

Chase panted, his chest heaving up and down as he watched your lips surrounding his swollen, veiny cock. Your pink lipstick leaving a mark as you bobbed your head up and down like a chicken having his or her feed, a hungry chicken indeed. You pulled your head up, leaving his cock with a pop that made him hiss from the unsatisfying warmth that left him. Peering down, he saw that playful glint in your eyes. Seeing your fingers pop the buttons of your white long sleeved polo off in a slow, aggravating way.

"You fucking me on my office table after this?" You asked nicely, teasing him in the process as you gathered his balls in one hand, slightly giving a squeeze before moving to the next one. "I need to fuck, please tell me you're fucking me on my desk,"

He tried hard not to roll his eyes at you, but he couldn't help it. You were this close to getting fucked in the mouth by him if you confinue to sexually frustrate him more. "Really?" Chase appeared unamused, cocking his head to the side with an irked expression.

His cock twitched in anticipation.

"Alright, alright!" He breathed out of his nose in vain. Washing his face with his hands frustratingly. "I'm fucking you where ever you want after you give me a blow job," Chase sighed, face turning redder from his pent up aggression. "Now, will you please?"

You grinned, zipping down your skirt and shimmying out of your clothes. Leaving your black underwear and bra on. "You gonna hit it from the back?"

Chase Collins rolled his eyes, acting like a pent up bitch that you oh-so-love.

"You're one word away from having your anal fantasy over, Y/N."

AS I PROMISED! HERE IT IS! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME AND TO @anxiousamandapanda ! 😊

SO, WHO WANTS A PART 2?!?! FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! SCREAM WIATCH! 😈

Taglist: @msruchita @albinotigerpython @silverkitten547 @evanstanwrites @bella-barnes(couldn't find your blog, bud. :( ) @suiseb (Even you too. :( ) @captainjoanbarnes123 @so-many-fandoms-for-me @softromanianplum @buckmesideways22 @iamcumberlover @buckyssxxhair @anxiousamandapanda

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awhitehead17 · 4 years

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Meddling Kids

Dick & Jason, Dick & Tim, Secret Agents AU, Humour, Assassins, Fights, Oblivious Dick, Jason loves bread, Sassy Tim.

Summary: With little information to go on, Dick and Jason are sent on a mission to grab some files before they fall into the wrong hands. It doesn't help that the mysterious persona 'Red Robin', is rumoured to be after the same files. What is clear is that they need to grab those files first.

A/N: This is done for ‘AU: Secret Agents’ on my Batfam Bingo 2019 Card.

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

“I hate these things.”

“You hate a lot of things.”

“Well... yeah, but these monkey suits are definitely near the top of that list. They’re fucking awful.”

Dick sends Jason a glance as he puts his jacket on. He didn’t mind them as much, yeah they weren’t the comfiest things in the world but they make him look great so he’ll take that as a win. He watches as his brother puts his own jacket on and straightens it out. Dick smirks, “Well you do brush up nicely Jace, doesn’t that matter?”

Jason responds with a glare, “Oh go suck a dick.”

The two of them go about finishing to get ready for the night ahead of them in their shared apartment. Once they were both done and everything was sorted they exit their home and make their way down to the shiny sleek black limousine waiting for them outside.

They climb in and settle at the back of the car, allowing the trusty driver to take them where they need to be without worry of interruptions.

“So what’s the plan again? And why the hell is the old man making us do this when he could easily do it himself?” Jason questions with annoyance.

Dick sighs before telling him, “To most, we’re going to the charity gala to make up for our adoptive father’s absence as he’s busy in Japan doing business. Then to the odd few, we’re actually going under cover because there are rumours of files being passed around at this very gala. Our mission is to try and infiltrate these files to stop them getting in the wrong hands.”

“Right,” Jason drawls out. “And we don’t know what’s in these files as well as not knowing whom is after them?”

Dick’s reluctant to answer because he’s knows what’s coming, knows what Jason’s reaction is going to be. “No…”

“Fucking unbelievable! This is why I question working with him, he doesn’t even trust us with the information we need to complete the mission! How the fuck are we supposed to do it huh? We don’t know what the files are, who even has the files to start with and who wants the goddamn files!”

Rubbing a hand across his head Dick sighs, “I know Jason, I know, but it is what it is. It’s a do as your told and don’t ask questions situation.”

Jason glares at him, “It’s stupid.”

Dick doesn’t comment again, knowing that his brother is right. Working as secret agents for their adoptive father is a challenge in itself, especially when they all butt heads and have different opinions on the matter. It’s especially challenging when Bruce doesn’t give them any information regarding the mission he’s sent them on, Dick can see why Jason is annoyed, however there isn’t anything he can do about it.

That’s when he remembers something else to do with this mission. “Oh also I heard that there are rumours about Red Robin being at this gala as well, even potentially after the same files we are.”

Jason’s glare turns into a surprised expression. “Oh? That’s great and all but we don’t know who Red Robin is! All we know about Red Robin is that they’ve been bugging both Bruce and Barbara for over two years, Bruce because he can’t work out who it is and Barbara because they constantly hack her network and pass all of her firewalls.”

Dick couldn’t help but snicker because he’s not wrong. This mysterious ‘Red Robin’ character appeared two years ago, at first they were completely paranoid of whoever this is because they appear to have extreme knowledge of technology, they appeared to be a brilliant detective and tactician.

Over time, while they never fully trusted Red Robin, they’ve come to accept them. It seems like they never mean any harm as they never do any damage to their systems or never seem to get up to anything along the lines of evil.

What makes the situation difficult is that they don’t know who ‘Red Robin’ is. Of course they’ve tried to work it out, tried to find out who this detective that can hack into one of the most secured systems on the planet is. That’s where he annoys Bruce, the top agent, Dick’s and Jason’s boss slash adoptive father, because Bruce couldn’t work it out. The man grows more and more frustrated each month and it was hilarious to see.

Red Robin bugs Barbara, who was their top systems and comms person, because she too couldn’t work it out and because Red keeps on getting into her systems and despite everything she tries she can’t seem to get back into theirs.

The fact that Red Robin may be at the gala, in person, was a big matter. The annoying thing was that they just didn’t know who that was so being able to identify them would be tricky.

“Who knows,” Dick starts adjusting his sleeve, “When we get the files we may find out who Red Robin is after all, wouldn’t that be a treat?”

Jason shoots him a look, “Yeah, whoopee-doo. I just want to get this mission out of the way.”

They both fall silent and don’t talk for the rest of the drive. When they finally pull up outside of the charity gala, they’re let out of the limo and put on their best smiles for the reporters surrounding the, being Bruce Wayne's sons certainly gets them a lot of coverage no matter where they are. What the press don’t know, nor will they find out, is that Bruce Wayne is the boss of the biggest secret service in the world.

Dick and Jason make their way up to the building and get into the gala with no issues. Once inside they each grab a glass of champagne that was being passed around and stand together to get an over view of the gala.

Jason leans over closely, whispering into his ear, “So how do you want to play this? Walk around until we find something or someone fishy?”

Dick scans the crowd around them, lots of people varying in ages surround them, all dressed to the nines chatting away with one another like they were having a good time. As his brother pointed out earlier in the car, they have no idea on who was involved with these files that Bruce wants them to obtain. It was going to be a hit or miss kind of situation which sucked but what could they do?

He leans towards Jason, “That’s probably best yeah, scope around see what you can find out and get talking to people. You know what to do.” Jason looks at him and nods once in confirmation. “We’ve got our comms in if anything happens, Babs is on standby if we need her.”

They start to split up then but before his brother could get too far away Dick turns back around, “And Jason, don’t eat all the bread.”

Jason narrows his eyes at him and sticks a middle finger up in response, Dick snickers and spins around to get started on his mission.

Going around and talking to people is easy for Dick, he’s been doing for many years and by now it comes all naturally. Being Bruce Wayne’s son since he was 9 years old has given him plenty of time to practice being nice and friendly to rich snobs and then there’s the added bonus of being involved in the Secret Service since he was 11. He’s had a lot of practice in his life, this part was easy.

He wonders about the gala for an hour talking to a variety of people trying to get a feel of the situation at hand. It wasn’t easy to work out who was going to be involved in the exchange of files that night as they had next to no information on the individuals, but he’s keeping an eye and an ear out for anything.

He was sipping his champagne (which was still the glass he collected when he first came in) when he was suddenly bumped from behind. Tensing up and getting ready to spring into action he spins around and is surprised to see a familiar teenager who looks guilty. Upon recognising him Dick grins, “Timmy! How’s it going buddy?”

“Oh hey Dick, sorry I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

Dick wraps an arm around the teenager’s shoulders and pulls him into a side hug. Dick’s known Tim since he was a kid, he was their neighbour and Dick often babysat him when the kid’s parents went away (which was a lot) so he’s become like a second younger brother. They all adore him, he’s pretty sure that if Tim didn’t have parents Bruce would adopt him with no hesitation.

He looks at the teenager, seeing him dressed in a navy tux that makes him look like a baby CEO and was holding a glass of what looked like soda. “What you doing here then? Are your parents back from their latest trip?”

Tim shrugs and glances around the room before looking up at him, “No they’re not back, but they requested that I make an appearance for their name sake. They would be annoyed if they find out I didn’t show up.”

Dick frowns at that, it sounds so sad that Tim has to do things like this just to try and please his parents to get their approval. He knows Tim’s had a hard upbringing and it makes him go soft for the kid. He gives him a squeeze, “Well give it another hour then make disappear.”

He feels Tim tense against him, clearly not liking the idea of leaving early. “I guess I could.” He says tightly. Dick doesn’t comment on it, choosing to let it go because it’s clear Tim doesn’t want to talk about it. He lets his arm drop from around him, “Did you know Jason’s here too. Have you seen him?”

Tim nods, smiling slightly, “Yeah I’ve seen him. He was at the food table eating bread rolls when I went over to grab a snack.”

“Of course he was,” Dick sighs. He hears Tim laugh at that, the kid knowing exactly what the other man was like. Jason and Tim have an odd relationship, at first Jason couldn’t stand him, absolutely hating his guts but then over time he seemed to have gotten used to the kid and even became protective of him. It was oddly sweet.

The only problem with having Tim around however was that Tim didn’t know about the Secret Service. They all would love to have him on board, he was crazy smart, talented, really deductive but the underlying problem was his parents. They didn’t fully know what Tim’s relationship with his parents were like, they know only what Tim wants them to know. Of course they have their suspicions but that can only take them so far.

As Dick opens his mouth to say something else to Tim, Jason’s voice buzzes in his ear. “Bingo, I found the first of our unknown associates. Just walked in through the door and of fucking course, we really should have guessed who it was.”

Dick doesn’t respond despite how much he wanted to. It’s great that Jason’s found the first one but what did he mean by they should have known? Who was it? He clears his thoughts and look down at Tim who was glancing around the gala, he feels bad but he does have a job to do at the end of the day.

He pokes the kid’s shoulder lightly to get his attention, two blue eyes stare up at him and Dick gives him an easy smile, “I gotta go as there’s someone I need to talk to because Bruce asked me to, how about we meet up some time soon, just you, me and Jay? We could go to the skate park or something?”

Tim stiffly nods, frowning slightly as he does so, “Uh sure. Sounds great.”

Dick reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, “Great, I’ll message you soon okay.”

He leaves Tim standing there as he starts making his way through the crows towards the door where Jason had said he saw the first unknown associate. Dick gets near the entrance and looks around, after turning in full circles like four times he frowns and finally responds back to Jason, “Do you still have eyes on them? I can’t see them.”

It takes a few moments but soon enough his brother’s voice was in his ear, though sounding a bit muffled like he was eating. “Yeah I can see them, they’re at your six talking to Miss Anderson, the lady in the horrid green dress.”

Dick turns around and freezes when he sees who Jason had been on about. There he was, talking to the elderly lady with a fake smile plastered on his, was none other than Lex Luthor. Dick sighs, “You’re kidding me? What is he up too now?”

“Beats me. Though I certainly wouldn’t mind throwing a punch or two at the guy after last time.”

Pinching his nose, Dick lets out a long breath, Jason wasn’t helping matters here. While he can agree with his brother’s desire to punch the man he knows it doesn’t work like that. “Right,” he says trying to get them back on track, “Just because he’s here doesn’t mean he’s involved, while it’s very likely that he is, we can’t be certain. Keep an eye out for the potential second.”

He moves away before he gets caught staring, as he moves swiftly through the crowd occasionally chatting to rich folk, he keeps an eye on Luthor at all times.

“Where are you?” Dick asks after a long period of time, despite going around the floor three times he hadn’t bumped into Jason once. It made him wonder where his brother was and what he was up to. It didn’t help that he’s also been very quiet.

“Up above. Figured it was an easy vantage point, plus I’m not surrounded by a load of rich snobs who are stuck way too far up their own asses.”

Dick glances up, looking for him, after a couple seconds he finds Jason leaning over the railing with a glass of champagne in his hand. Jason sees him looking and offers a little wave. Dick rolls his eyes and goes back to what he was doing.

It was another 15 minutes until the second person they were looking for comes into the room at long last. Dick curses under his breath once he sees him. “Found associate number two, or at least who is a suspect.”

Who Dick was watching comes strolling into the room looking like he owns the world. In his long green and gold robes that trail behind him, his head and chin turned up at everyone as he wonders into the room with no cares of the world. It was none other than Ra’s Al Ghul.

“What a fucking coincidence.” Jason’s comment obviously means he’s seeing Ra’s too.

Dick turns away before the man could see him, moving through the crowd to get out of eye sight. “What’s the chances? Two huge names coming to a puny charity gala. Something’s up.”

“Who do you think has the file? Luthor giving it Al Ghul or the other way around?”

“I have no idea. For now just keep an eye on them, I’ll watch Ra’s while you watch Luthor, if one makes a move instantly report.”

“Gotcha.”

Dick keeps an eye out for anyone else who could be a suspect but he never lets Al Ghul out of his sight. The man walks around and talk with people like he belongs there, but Dick knows better, knows that he really doesn’t belong there. To majority of the world Al Ghul was a kind man who often gives to charity and helps those in need. To Dick and a few others he was a criminal master mind, the head of an entire empire full of assassins ready to kill.

The fact he and Luthor were here at the same time was no coincidence. Both were bad men, both were always up to no good, both only doing things for their own benefits and no one else’s.

About half an hour later, Dick spies on Ra’s as he excuses himself from a conversation with a small group of elite Gothamites. The man heads out of the room heading in the direction where the toilets were. A good cover really but Dick knows better. After radioing Jason a quick message, he follows the man several feet behind, making sure to keep him insight.

As expected Ra’s goes straight past the toilets and down the corridor before turning around the corner. Dick continues to pursue him, following the man as he travels up some steps to the next level and as he travels down another corridor. Not once does he stop moving and not once does he look over his shoulder. Dick probably could guess that Ra’s knew he was being followed and was allowing it to happen, which meant nothing good for Dick but he continues forward because he needs to.

As he follows behind him, he gets a message from Jason saying how Luthor was now on the move. After that it becomes much clearer that it was these two they were after.

Ra’s keeps going until he gets to the end of the corridor and stops in front of a door. With precise movements he opens it up and steps inside the room. Dick waits a few moments before creeping forward, he plasters himself against the wall and peers into the room to find Ra’s standing there in the middle of it with his back against the door.

The room was an old fashioned study. A wooden desk with elegant patterns engraved in it was one side of the room which was placed in front of a wooden door, large open windows were opposite it, two single velvet love seats sit in the other corner of the room.

Dick sneaks inside the room as quickly and as quietly as he can and slips behind the desk and the chair parked at it. He stays in a crouch and listens intently as he watches Ra’s stand there in the middle of the room.

“I know you’re here agent. You may as well come out. It can’t do you any good being crouched like that for a long time.”

Dick curses and debates what to do. When he glances up he sees Ra’s looking in his direction despite the chair and desk hiding him. Knowing that he’s lost he stands up, squaring his shoulders and gets ready for anything. A man like Ra’s doesn’t travel alone.

“Ra’s.” Dick says coldly. This isn’t his first interaction with the man, he’s far from wanting to be polite with manners.

“I give you credit agent, for following me as you did, for waiting as long as you did but unfortunately it wasn’t enough.” He mocks Dick with an almost sneer.

“If anyone was to know what patience is all about, it would be me.” Dick comments. “Why are you here Ra’s? What’s your goal?”

The man doesn’t seem surprised at the change in subject. He stares at Dick with a cold calculating look. “You should leave the interrogation to your father Grayson. He’s much better at it than you.”

Dick scowls at the jab but doesn’t comment.

“You say you have patience, why don’t you wait and find out what I’m here for. You’ll be lovely company.”

As the words leave his mouth the door behind the desk bursts open. The action startles him and he gets into a defensive position as four assassins pour into the door. The first one launches himself at Dick and he finds himself dodging and throwing punches. The second joins in and Dick fights him off as well.

It becomes a battle of four against one and he holds his ground well. He gets the first one on the floor who doesn’t get back up. The second one gets knocks down but slowly rises back up. Unfortunately that’s where his luck ends. A well-aimed punch to the stomach winds him and he instinctively hunches over, allowing an opening for a kick to the head which knocks him down to the floor. Before he could get his bearings they were on his back and tying his hands together, he’s thoroughly tied and pinned down by the time he gets his head together.

He grunts and squirms trying to get free but his efforts are futile and he quickly gives up. He cranes his neck up and glares at Ra’s, who was watching him with a sinister smile, having clearly enjoyed their scuffle. The bastard.

Nothing was said between them and it stays silent for several minutes until commotion outside the room could be heard. Dick twists around in his binds to glance at the door. His eyes widen as he sees Jason being pushed through. His brother stumbles in before he’s forced down to his knees next to Dick by another assassin.

They share a look surprise and anger when they make eye contact. Not only had Dick been caught but Jason too. Great. This mission is going so well. When they get out of this Bruce is going to give them such a lashing for this mess, it’s not going to be pretty.

After Jason’s down on his knees another figure walks in. Crisp in an expensive, tailored suit was Lex Luthor. He casts them a disgusted look before turning his attention on Ra’s.

“Nothing was ever mentioned about the extra company Al Ghul.” He scowls. “I don’t appreciate being watched and then stalked.”

“Them being here was not my doing. I had no control over it, however as you can see, I planned ahead and figured something like this would happen. It’s been sorted.”

“You call this sorted?” Luthor walks around them, looking down scornfully, “Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, the Wayne brats. I do have to admit, what an unwelcomed surprise.”

“As if this is what I want to be doing on my Friday evening.” Jason snorts glaring at the men above them. “You’re not that special Luthor.”

Luthor stops in his tracks and looks at Jason pointedly, “And yet here we are.” He turns back to ra’s. “Enough games, I want what we discussed and then I can be gone. There’s only so much pretending I can do a night.”

As Ra’s gestures to one of his assassins still in the room, Dick squirms around on the floor until he’s sat up next to Jason. The two of them share a look, trying to work out how to get out of this mess. They can’t let Luthor leave with those files, who knows what kind of damage the man could do with them.

Jason sends him a look which Dick can interpret, it’s his brother’s look of, ‘I have a plan’. While Dick adores his brother, and he really does, Jason’s plans aren’t always the best so seeing that look does nothing to help ease his mind of their current situation.

Above them, Ra’s passes over an A4 envelope to Luthor who instantly snatches it from the man’s hand and holds it tightly. They watch as he opens it up, scans the contents on the inside before nodding approvingly. “Good. That means our business here is done.”

“A pleasure as always Luthor.”

“Hardly. Now I must be going.”

Luthor turns and starts heading towards the door but not before scowling down at the agents on the floor, “What ever you do, make sure you dispose of these thoroughly, wouldn’t want them meddling once again.” Then like that he walks out of the room.

As the man disappears from view, Dick shoots Jason an alarmed look but his brother wasn’t paying him any attention. His gaze was on the man still in front of them.

“So many ways I want to get rid of you. Both talented in your own ways but stubborn and too drastic for my liking. A shame really, I could do with people of your abilities.”

“How about I narrow down your options?” Jason comments glaring at him.

Dick raises an eyebrow in question just as Ra’s eyes him up. “Oh, what’s that then?”

A snapping sound could be heard and then Jason was suddenly springing up and launches himself against Ra’s, “This.”

Dick didn’t get the chance to be surprised by Jason’s actions or as he takes on the assassins in the room by himself because he notices a knife lying where Jason had been. Using the opportunity while everyone else was busy with Jason, Dick awkwardly shuffles along to grab the knife to cut himself free as quickly as he can.

To Jason’s credit he holds them off for a long time. Once free Dick joins in on the action, making the playing field more even. While they were both excellent fighters individually, together they become almost unstoppable. Jason’s surprise attack of course giving them the advantage they needed at the beginning.

They take out all of the ninjas and once it was just them and Ra’s left standing.

“Go find and track down Luthor.” Jason tells him getting into a defensive position against Ra’s. “I can handle him.”

When Dick doesn’t move, his brother shoots him a sharp look, “Go. I can handle it. We can’t let Luthor get away with those files.”

Dick looks between them before nodding. He was reluctant to leave Jason alone but he knew that he was right. Those files were important somehow and he couldn’t let them get away.

He runs out of the room and head back the way he came. Dick has no idea how far Luthor would have gotten by now but hopefully it wasn’t too far or else he’s going to need a way to track him. A back up would be to contact Babs, who was tech savvy and could track the man for him if it came down to it.

Dick runs down the corridor and turns the corner before continuing to run. It was as he was getting to the end that he hears familiar voices talking from around the bend. He slows down to a stop and takes a moment to listen in.

“Move out the way boy.”

“No can do Mister Luthor.”

“I am not someone you want to get on your bad side.”

“That's questionable, but I wasn’t planning on it. The only thing I want is those files.”

“I have no idea what you’re on about. You may have mistaken me for someone else.”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”

“Move out of my way.”

“Afraid I can’t do that. I can’t let you go, not until I have those files.”

There’s a moment of silence between them and Dick works on not letting out any sounds at his surprise. One of the voices is Luthor’s, that’s just clear and obvious at this point. Thankfully he hadn’t gotten very far.

However that second voice Dick knew without looking. It was Tim. That was Tim’s voice and he was standing up against Luthor asking for the very files he needs to get. But how did Timmy know about the files? Why would he want the files in the first place?

“Mister Luthor, I’m giving you two options here, either you give me those files by choice and we can part ways like nothing ever happened. Or, I forcefully remove them from you and without your body guard here to help protect you, well odds aren’t exactly in your favour.”

There’s another pause and Dick finally peers around the corner to find Luthor and Tim at odds with one another. Luthor’s back was to him and he could just make out Tim’s frame beyond the man. The scene was almost comical, Tim’s tiny size compared to Luthor’s tall frame was such a contradiction, it would make anyone wonder what damage Tim could do to someone.

Dick was so confused to why Tim was standing against Luthor in the first place. What was that kid even thinking? He could get hurt!

“Oh?” Luthor’s tone was mocking, “And what is a kid like you going to do to a full grown man like me?”

“I know I may not look like much but trust me I can cause havoc when I need too. It also doesn’t help that you don’t recognise me when I’m not in front of the computer screen.”

A few beats go by as Tim’s words hang in the air. Dick could pick up the double meaning in his words but he couldn’t work out exactly what the teenager was on about. Apparently Luthor had a bit of trouble working it out also but he still got it before Dick did, “Red Robin. You’re the Red Robin.”

“The one and only.”

And wasn’t that a punch to the gut. Dick felt almost breathless. Timmy, Tiny Tim, his little brother, their next door neighbour, was the one thing that none of them could work out. Timmy was the one causing mayhem in their lives. How? How was that possible. Why?

Dick shook his head trying to get back on the scene at hand, trying to get over the fact that Tim was Red Robin and how he didn’t know about it.

“Enough games.” Luthor growls. He reaches behind him and Dick watches wide eyed as he brings out a gun and points it at Tim. “I don’t know what kind of kid you are, but I have no qualms about killing kids, especially those who are too nosey for their own good.”

He may not have a problem with it but Dick certainly does. That action alone was enough to get him to finally engage with the fight. He creeps out from around the corner and sneaks up on Luthor. Before the man could even blink Dick disarms him, without the gun going off, and subdues him so he’s on the ground in hand cuffs.

With a jab to the neck Dick knocks him unconscious before patting him down searching for the files. He finds the envelope tucked away in a secret jacket pocket. He grins happily, finally having them in his hand.

Now that was done, there was something else he needed to address. He turns around expectantly and blinks in surprise when he finds the area empty. He frowns as he looks around, looking for the kid that was there moments ago. He lets out an annoyed sigh, giving into the fact that Tim had pulled a disappearing act on him, which, fair enough but at the same time was rude.

There were so many questions Dick had for him. He wants to know how Tim became Red Robin, why he became that persona, does he know who they all are, what were the reasons behind his actions, why hasn’t he said anything before.

So many questions and so many explanations.

Dick doesn’t get the chance to think about it any further because he could hear footsteps coming from behind him. He tenses up, getting ready for a fight before he realises who it is as they turn the corner. It’s only Jason.

He holds the file up with a triumphant smile, “Got the files. Ra’s dealt with?”

His brother has a black eye forming, a nasty gash on his forehead and parts of his suit were ripped, but apart from that he looked relatively okay.

“He got away, called a retreat and I was over powered. But that’s not particularly important. You got the file that’s what matters. B will be happy at least.”

Dick hums and looks down at Luthor’s unconscious form. “I’ll let the police handle this, for now lets get heading back, B will want these files.”

After making an anonymous call to the PD, the two of them start heading towards the back exit of the gala. The last thing they need is someone questioning Jason’s new appearance.

“Did you ever see Red Robin, he was supposed to show right? I didn’t notice anyone who could be him at all.”

Dick goes stiff at the mention of the persona. He hadn’t wanted to talk about that just yet, not until he got the answers he needed. To his annoyance, his stiffness doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason. His brother reaches out and grabs his arm to stop him from walking. “Dick. You saw him, didn’t you? You know who it is?”

Dick swallows and looks away. Should he give Tim up? What if he was wrong about this and it was all a big understanding?

Jason’s grip on his arm tightens. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You don’t have to tell B but you need to at least tell me.”

Dick takes a deep breath and lets it out, he looks at Jason. “It’s Tim. Tim is Red Robin.”

Several moments go by and all Jason was doing was blinking at him. He then lets out an obnoxious laugh like Dick had just told the world’s best joke. “Yeah okay Dickie bird, good one. Tim, Tiny Tim, the little baby bird, as Red Robin. That’s gold.”

Dick wasn’t laughing. He glares at his brother until he sobers up. “I’m not joking. I saw and heard him talking to Luthor, he revealed himself and claimed to wanting these files. Luthor then drew a gun on him and of course I wasn’t about to let that happen so I got involved but by the time I went to talk to him he was gone.”

His brother blinks at him again, “You’re not joking. You seriously think Tim is Red Robin, the exact thing causing both B and Babs ulcers because they can’t work out who it is.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Dicks says softening his expression. “I honestly don’t believe it myself but I want to get answers before taking this any more forward. I said to him that we’ll meet up soon, I plan on interrogating him then about it.”

“So we’re keeping this just between us.”

“For now yes.”

“Bruce will be pissed at us for keeping that information from him.”

“I don’t care. I want to get the facts correct before proceeding this further. Anyway, these mysterious files should keep him busy long enough for us to work it out before he catches on.”

“Alright, if this all goes down hill and then I’m blaming you.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it Dickhead, I ain’t taking the blame for your crappy decisions.”

“Whatever Jason.”

“So now what?”

Dick grins at him, “Now we have a little birdie to catch.”

#dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #lex luthor #Ras Al Ghul #Secret Agents AU #batfam bingo 2019 #fanfiction #humour #assassins #fights #sassy tim #oblivious dick #Jason loves bread

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backtothestart02 · 5 years

Text

Mixed Drink - 6/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: For @travelattwilight once again. Thank you, dear, for giving me your money. lol. I hope it’s to your satisfaction!!

(Feedback is so welcome! :D)

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 6 -

At dawn, Barry found his way down a back alley leading to his hotel. Dirt and sweat and a little blood mingled on his skin. He was tired, and he needed a shower. Kevin had been right, as usual. The completion of his assignment had taken all night, if you included the interrogating and dealing with loose ends in a way that wouldn’t affect anyone outside the building. None of the general public knew what was going on, and they wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be telling Iris, and everyone else knew better.

He winced as the pain in his jaw revived itself. Stopping by a dumpster, he rid himself of his tux jacket that that had been ripped in a couple places and put his shirt on inside out in order to hide some of the darker blood spots that luckily he hadn’t been the cause or the victim of but had still been splattered in the process.

Winding his fingers in his hair so it didn’t look quite so out of place, Barry came in the back end of the building and stepped inside the elevator. The decent-sized cube wall all mirrors on every side, which made his appearance seem ten times worse. He could also see a bruise along his jaw where he’d taken a hit and knew it would be much darker and larger in a few hours. His mind raced with just how many lies he’d have to tell Iris that she would believe.

Would he be better off not going to the room? Should he leave her now, start from scratch, and focus entirely on Bethany? Put Iris out of his head, as if the last day and a half hadn’t happened?

Without considering such an alternative, he stepped out of the elevator, made his way down the hall, and opened the hotel room with a key card that thankfully only ignited a little green light instead of making a soft beep noise.

Looking across the room, he found Iris still in bed, lying the way he had left her with her face to the window. When he got closer, he saw there were beads of sweat on her arms and forehead. Sliding out of his shoes, he went and turned on the air conditioning and saw it immediately relaxed her, even as she slept.

He smiled slightly until he saw two bottles of pills on the tabletop beside her.

“Shit.”

One was Advil, probably that she’d brought herself or that she’d gotten from the front desk that she needed when the hangover hit, likely in the middle of the night when she had to vomit – which he should’ve taken into account too.

But the other bottle of pills was his bottle. Quickly, he sank his hands into his pockets, hoping it was just a duplicate. But then he recalled taking them out and setting them on the counter in the bathroom the moment he’d decided he wasn’t going to give them to her. It was another reckless decision on his part. He could’ve taken them with him and shoved them back into his boss’s hand. He could’ve dropped them in the trash. He could’ve put them in his suitcase to save for a later date, perhaps for himself when an adrenaline-driven night left him wired instead of on the brink of exhaustion.

But the deed had been done, and it was clear in her sleep Iris had mistakenly swallowed a few of the heavy-duty sleeping pills instead of the often-advised hangover drugs. Maybe she was alert enough to recognize them for what they were, but he doubted it.

Well, you wanted to get some shut eye, didn’t you? Now here’s your chance.

Quietly, he unzipped his suitcase and pulled out a large t-shirt and some boxers, as well as his trusty comb. Then he headed for the bathroom, shut the door behind him, and lost himself in a gloriously hot, steamy shower.

…

Iris woke up what felt like an eternity later. She didn’t remember much from the night before, besides dancing with Barry, which felt like a dream in and of itself. In the end, she decided it didn’t matter. Her hangover hadn’t quite hit her yet, and she didn’t feel the urge to vomit like she had in the middle of the night. To top it all off, a familiar arm was wrapped around her waist and the face that belonged to the body the arm was attached to was buried in her hair.

And yeah, she decided, it was way better than hooking up in a unisex public bathroom.

“Your heart’s racing,” tumbled past the lips brushing her neck. They turned into a smirk when shivers shot down her arms and legs.

“It’s not often I wake up this way,” she said, heat flooding her cheeks.

Barry propped himself up so he could glory at how flustered he’d gotten her.

“What, in a hotel room?” he asked innocently.

She rolled her eyes and turned over to face him, struck once again by how attractive he was and how attracted to her he seemed to be.

“That’s supposed to make my heart race?”

He raised his eyebrows, saying nothing, so she punched his shoulder and he chuckled, wincing a little.

“Big baby.”

She was about to tease him further, but something about his smile didn’t seem quite natural. It seemed a little forced. Like that wince she’d just drawn out of him was a little more serious than he was letting on.

“What?” he asked, frowning with confusion, but the tone of his voice told her she was on to something.

She lifted her fingers to his chin and started to tilt his head to the side.

“Iris, wha-”

She released his face instantly.

“Oh, my God. Barry.” Her hand covered the gasp emerging past her lips.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, Iris, really.”

She bit her bottom lip and daintily pressed her fingertips to the large bruise on his jaw line.

He hissed in pain.

She gave him a look.

“Okay, so it hurts. What do you want from me?” He tried for light, but she wasn’t having it.

“What happened?” she demanded.

He sighed.

“I…may have gone out for an evening stroll last night and wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You were mugged?” Her jaw dropped as her eyes went wide.

His lips twisted ruefully, sending a small sharp pain back to his jaw and making him regret it.

“Not mugged. Just punched.”

“Oh, God, Barry,” she cooed, lovingly touching the side of his face.

“I’m okay, Iris. Really.”

She paused and lifted her eyes to his, scrutinizing him intently.

“Have you iced it?”

“Iris.”

“Have you?”

The silent tension built till finally he caved. “No.”

“You have to ice it, Barry!” she proclaimed, jumping out of bed and rushing into the bathroom bare-naked to wrap a complimentary bathrobe around her frame, before snatching up the ice bucket on top of the dresser and heading towards the door with purpose.

“Iris! Iris!” He scrambled out of bed, unwilling to have her covered in just a short robe as she made her way down a long hall to get ice for his injured face.

“No.” Her tone stopped him solid. “Go lie down. I’ll be right back.”

Unsurprisingly, as he would learn from future encounters, he did exactly as he was told and waited for her return.

…

An hour later, Barry and Iris were once again lying in bed. Now watching TV as Iris held the ice stuffed in a towel against his jaw with one hand and weaved her fingers through his hair with the other.

There were worse things he’d had to endure, Barry admitted to himself. In fact, it was kind of nice to have someone fussing over him the way Iris was currently doing. He couldn’t even remember the last time it had happened. Probably the time he was shot and tried to go back into action before the wound was fully healed. Kevin was not happy about that.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Allen?”

“I’m going back into-”

“The hell you are. Sit your ass back down on that creaky hospital bed and take a rest. We need you fully functioning not just being held together with stitches.”

“It’s just a little scrape.”

“A bullet wound is not ‘just a little scrape’.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.” Barry rolled his eyes.

“Son, I am your superior.”

He looked up at him, seeming to take that in for the first time.

“I don’t care what life was like before I found you. Things are different now. You follow my rules. You do as your told. And you don’t go back out into the field unless your ‘little scrape’ is just that, a little scrape. It doesn’t hurt, it’s not bleeding, and it doesn’t need stitches to heal. Do you understand?”

“It doesn’t-”

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Barry stifled a small sigh in response. “Yes, Kevin,” he drawled out.

“I’m Mr. Draeger to you,” he said and then walked out, locking the hospital room behind him as his newest recruit brooded.

Thinking back on the memory made Barry smile – which he could do with his jaw totally numb from the combination of ice and pain meds. He’d never quite gotten around to calling his boss by his formal name. Eventually, Kevin just gave up. In exchange, Barry took his orders more seriously.

Most of the time, at least.

He thought back to last night and the danger he’d put Iris in simply because he hadn’t been thinking clearly. Obviously, it wasn’t a good idea to take her to the gala. It wasn’t a good idea to involve her at all.

He’d just known he had to have her. And Kevin informing him she wasn’t the intended target only made his desire for her even stronger. He could easily track her down, but he was glad he didn’t have to due to his clever inserting of his number and ‘name’ in her phone before she decided she hated him. And now? Well, now she didn’t hate him at all. He’d been a complete romantic, and sexy as hell if her reaction was any indication.

He wished it could always be like this. They could just spend their days sightseeing from rooftops, getting massages, making love all day long and calling for room service when they were too drained to take two steps out of bed.

But he knew it couldn’t be. In just a few days, he’d be leaving her. While it was true he’d be returning next month – presuming Bethany also stayed in or near the city – a month was a long time to wait. And for all he knew, Iris would have long forgotten about him by then.

“How are you feeling?” Iris asked, when a boring commercial interrupted the very long romance film she’d insisted they watch.

He smiled a little. “Better.”

“I already know you better than you know yourself, Barry,” she said.

He frowned, confused. He wasn’t hiding anything this time.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” he said instantly.

“You were deep in thought.”

“Can’t I be deep in thought and not be bothered?”

“Tell me,” she implored, running her fingers down the side of his face, and God, he wanted to tell her everything when she touched him like that.

“I’m just thinking about the end of the week,” he admitted, figuring this was okay to be truthful about.

Now she looked confused.

“I leave at the end of the week.”

“I know,” she said, tensing some.

“What if, when I come back next month, you’ve moved on?”

Shockingly, she burst out laughing, making him feel like a fool.

“I didn’t know it was that funny.”

“It’s not. It’s not.” She wiped happy tears from her eyes. “I’m not laughing at you.” He gave her a suspect glare. “I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m laughing at us.”

His brows furrowed.

She cradled his face in her hands and let the makeshift ice pack fall between them as she gazed lovingly into his eyes.

“I was worrying about the same thing.”

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #mixed drink #barry x iris #barry allen #iris west #au #for travelattwighlight

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 18

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

The limo ride back to the townhouse was quiet; with Clara and Danny going home directly from the event it was just the two of them. It was only a twenty-minute ride, but Rose still kicked off her heels to give her feet a break before Malcolm was even fully in the car, so that by the time he was settled she could scoot right into his side and relax.

“Hello,” he murmured, hesitating before putting his arm around her.

“Hi,” she sighed in return, resting her head on his shoulder. After a minute, she laid her arm along the length of his thigh, ostensibly as the only comfortable place for it, squished between them.

He didn’t object.

Watching out the window as London passed by, Rose tried to control her nerves and mentally rehearse how this would go. Ideally he’d try something himself and save her the trouble, but somehow, she didn’t think so. That wouldn’t be like him, to take charge – not with her. It would be much more his style to let her come to him, and she was praying that was the case here.

She didn’t know what she would do if he turned her down. I don’t want to go back and live with my parents. Maybe Clara will let me stay with them – it is my flat. Either way, it would be humiliating.

A tentative brush against her knee made her look down to find Malcolm’s hand awkwardly hovering over it, as if debating whether or not to set it down. Checking his expression, she found he was firmly staring out the window, a bit too intensely to be natural. Licking her lips, hope flickering inside her, she used her free hand to gently press his down onto her knee before removing her own quickly. His remained still for long moments, before the thumb began to gently rub back and forth, much as it had moments before she’d announced their ‘engagement’. Was that already a month ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

Taking a deep breath, she moved the hand on his knee until it bumped his on hers, slowly encouraging it to flip. Once it did, she laced their fingers together, but loosely, so he could pull away if he so wanted; instead, he squeezed her hand.

This might actually happen, she realized with a jolt, equal parts panic and anticipation racing through her. It would be the culmination of five years’ worth of fantasies and daydreams, of hoping, wishing, wanting, and now that it was here (maybe), standing on the precipice, she saw that if she dared, if she jumped, it would be an awfully long way to fall if he didn’t catch her.

No, she told herself firmly, as her thoughts started to spiral. This is no time to chicken out. You have to see this through.

“Rose?”

“Yes!” She startled, gaze snapping up to meet his amused and somewhat curious look. “Sorry, what?”

“We’re here- home.”

Home. “Right.”

She put her shoes back on while he got out, before sliding over to the door and making sure she had everything. He held out a hand to help her out, and she took it, breathing deeply.

Showtime.

Anticipation tingled on Malcolm’s skin like electricity, building up to a steady hum. Change was in the air, and if he was reading the signs right, his wildest fantasy might soon be coming true.

While he had been firm in his resolve of not allowing anything to happen between them, in the end that had only lasted a handful of hours, right up until he had woken up in the middle of the night on the sofa, spooning Rose. She’d been pressed tight against him, and there had been no way to hide his physical reaction to her closeness. His heart had almost stopped when she’d awoken, and he’d barely been able to maintain a convincing level of unconsciousness as she’d rolled her hips back into him once, twice, three times. And he knew for sure that she was awake, was conscious of her actions and his reaction, because she’d whispered his name.

The fact that she hadn’t frozen, or tried to get away, or for that matter run screaming, had instead chosen to press closer, gave him hope.

He was tired of denying himself happiness, tired of punishing himself for a failed marriage the one who ruined it felt no guilt over. If Rose wanted him, well…

Almost on autopilot he led her into the house, suddenly nervous about what would happen next. Would she make a move? Did she expect him to?

“Nightcap?” he offered, once the door was locked behind them. “Or do you want to go to bed? I mean- are you tired?”

“I could go for a drink,” she agreed, lips twitching upwards. “Sure.”

Moving his hand from it’s relatively-safe place on her fabric-clad hip he took a chance, finding the smooth, warm skin of her bare back and guiding her that way into the library. Leaving her to settle where she wanted, Malcolm headed for the drinks cart, pouring them each two fingers of scotch. Over the past week it had become their routine to end the evening with a glass in here.

He didn’t want the evening to end here.

Turning, a glass in each hand, he found her sitting just right of center on the sofa, looking perfectly elegant and relaxed, as if she spent every night in an evening gown. “My lady,” he offered her one, which she accepted with a grin as he sank down next to her, side by side, flush against each other from knee to hip.

“Why thank you, my lord,” she countered, in what had become a running joke between them. “Too kind.”

They clinked glasses, taking a small sip.

“Tonight was perfect,” he told her seriously. “You make pulling this together look effortless, but I know how hard you work on it all year round. Brava.” He lifted his glass slightly in a little toast. Grinning, cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink, Rose ducked her head.

“Thank you. It did go well, didn’t it? And we raised a fuck-ton of money, too. But this wouldn’t happen without you, and Wallace, and the Estate, so… here’s to you too,” she toasted back, pausing before letting their glasses touch. “Hang on, but the reason there will continue to be this Gala is because of me,” she teased, tongue peeking out the side of her mouth from between her teeth and making his trousers tighten. “So, yes, another toast to me, I think.”

“I’ll most certainly drink to that,” he murmured, voice somewhat lower than he’d strictly intended, but not sorry as she gave a little shiver in response, leaning into him. “And especially to you in that dress.”

“Mum called me a tart,” she snickered. “She said that dressed like this, I might as well hang a sign around my neck and say I’m open for business.”

He barely managed to stop himself from asking any sort of follow up question, taking a long pull off his whisky instead, almost choking on it when Rose’s palm settled on his upper thigh, fingers spread across the width of it, the very tips of them dangerously close to a specific area. Be cool, be cool. You’re not fifteen. Don’t embarrass yourself.

“Well, thanks for the drink, but I think it’s time for bed,” Rose sighed, rubbing gently at his leg. “Walk me up?”

“Of course.” Taking the empty glasses back to the cart for the cleaner to deal with tomorrow, he used the momentary privacy of his back to her to adjust himself. “Ready?”

They took their time climbing the stairs, his hand once again in the small of her back, fingers unable to stop themselves from rubbing circles on her skin.

He wondered if she would object if he moved his hand down to her bum.

Something told him she wouldn’t, but he didn’t try. Maybe next time. Let’s see how tonight goes.

All too soon they reached her bedroom, pausing there. Rose leaned back against the door, and he tried not to look at how it accentuated her curves.

This was it, the moment, his one chance, and he couldn’t make himself do anything. Say something, kiss her, what are you waiting for? Look at her! She’s practically begging for it. That was true; she was oozing sex appeal, and he wanted to take her then and there.

Instead, he said, “This is you.”

She knows that, moron, it’s her room. That the best you’ve got?

“It is,” she replied, breathless, reaching out to toy with the buttons on his shirt; he instinctively moved closer, which was apparently what she wanted by her little smirk. “So…”

“So?”

Her chest heaved, and he couldn’t imagine how she could possibly be breathing in a tension-filled moment such as this. “Here’s the thing… I could use a hand.”

“Oh? How so?” All of his blood was rushing south, leaving his brain all but empty, which actually made it easier – raising one forearm, he braced himself on the door, bracketing her against it, not close enough that they were touching, but certainly invading her personal space.

“I need help undoing the dress. The back, I mean. It’s too intricate to do by myself.”

Malcolm blinked; he’d spent most of the night studying the back (and front, and sides) of the dress, and as far as he could tell, the only zipper was at the small of her back going down, and the top could practically be peeled off. (He’d done it a dozen times in his mind, several of them notable for the use of his teeth.) “You do?”

Cheeks pink and eyes hooded, Rose nodded slowly, fingers now trailing up and down the row of buttons on his dress shirt. “I do. And, obviously, in return, I’d be happy to help you out of your tux. Fair is fair, after all.”

Holy fuck, she is coming onto me. Say yes, say yes, say yes.

“I live to serve,” he managed, lowering his head towards her. “Anything you want. Need. Desire.”

“I might have quite a long list,” she whispered, hands moving to his hips and pulling him closer. “Is that okay?”

Dipping his head further he nuzzled his nose against her temple, unable to believe this was happening, happiness and shock running rampant through him. “More than, I insist. In fact, you should check it again, make sure it’s comprehensive. I want to thoroughly satisfy it.”

Rose whimpered, and his lips kissed their way down to the corner of her mouth, waiting there, resting there, for her permission.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered against her skin. “Am I understanding properly?” He kept his tone serious and quiet, wanting to make sure she knew this wasn’t part of whatever game they’d stumbled into. “Rose, tell me to go away and I will.”

She turned her head slightly, soft lips grazing against his own.

“Malcolm,” she sighed, “take me inside.”

“Are you sure?”

Her right hand slid around to his belt buckle and down, her words as clear as her actions. “Yes. I’m sure.”

She opened the door, and they went inside.

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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paulsbettanys · 2 years

Photo

Paul Bettany for PEOPLE’s Sexiest Man Alive 2021 Issue Photography by Peggy Sirota

#Paul Bettany #marvelcastedit #dailymarvelkings #dailymenedit #glamoroussource #flawlessgentlemen #paulbettanyedit #pbettanyedit #photoshoot #oh the boss tux is back in action #he deserves everything and more #my edits

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pcychedelic · 5 years

Text

Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

Written for baeconandeggs’ #BAE2019.

Relationship(s): Park Chanyeol/Byun Baekhyun

Tags: Spies & Secret Agents AU, Espionage, Action, Politics; Angst, Smut

Rating: Mature (mature themes, strong language, violence, and sex)

Content Warning(s): Gunshots, blood

Words: 23.7k

Summary: Chanyeol has always tried his best to keep his job and his personal life miles away from each other. But when a mission goes awfully wrong and Baekhyun is put in harm's way, Chanyeol does everything he can to protect him.

Chanyeol’s bowtie is suffocating him. It’s been a while since he wore a tux. More specifically, it’s been a while since he wore a tux for a mission, the last time being two years ago when he had work in Vienna that had something to do with an opera.

He’s never taken a liking to fancy things. Luxuries are for people that have money to spend, and Chanyeol wasn’t fortunate enough to grow up like that. Chanyeol’s living a comfortable life now, thanks to his well-paying job, but it’s his choice not to indulge in opulence. Perhaps it’s because old habits die hard, even if those habits were forced upon him. From his pay, he deposits only what he needs into his local account, and the rest he entrusts to the Swiss—he thinks of it as somewhat like a contingency plan.

“Nice tux, Agent Lux,” his partner says through the earpiece. “Oh, shit. Wait. That rhymed.”

Chanyeol tries his best not to roll his eyes, as he isn’t sure if anyone’s watching him right now. “Congratulations,” he replies sarcastically. “Maybe you should change your codename from Ventus to Shakespeare. Why don’t you take it up with the boss? Maybe he’ll listen.”

“Ha ha,” Sehun says, and Chanyeol doesn’t need to see him to know that he’s scowling. He’s been with Sehun for far too long for him not to memorize his partner’s grumpy tendencies.

Chanyeol has scanned the entire party on the first floor but failed to locate his target, so he climbs up the grand staircase to try his luck on the second floor. The whole villa is flooded with a sea of guests donned in gowns and suits and servers flying around while carrying trays of champagne and finger food and whatnot. It baffles Chanyeol how a woman’s twenty-first birthday party is comparable to a state dinner.

“Do you have access to the mansion’s security cameras?” he asks Sehun when he has made it up the stairs.

“Of course.”

“Can you locate her?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last fifteen minutes?” Sehun questions, and that’s that. His partner still seems pretty offended about the Shakespeare jab, so Chanyeol doesn’t say anything else.

Chanyeol weaves himself into the crowd to obscure his search from possible watchful eyes. If a party is this formal, he can only assume that the guestlist is filled with affluent names, which means security must be crawling everywhere.

“I see her,” Sehun says abruptly.

Chanyeol stops in his tracks and looks around. “Where?”

“At the bar opposite the staircase,” his partner replies. “She’s wearing a white halter gown with a gold belt. She has her hair down.”

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m looking at her photo in the file given to us. Park Jihyo. Twenty years old… well, twenty-one now. Daughter of Park Eunhye, who’s being investigated by the NIS and us. Do you want me to go on or do you need a refresher on the assignment?” Sehun asks mockingly.

Chanyeol’s eyes immediately fly to the bar that Sehun mentioned, and they land on a certain birthday girl. Bingo. He has finally zeroed in on his target.

“I have eyes on the package,” Chanyeol reports. “I’m going in.”

Chanyeol fixes his suit as he prowls toward his prey for the night. She’s beautiful, he must admit. It’s a shame that she’s the target of this mission. But then again, Chanyeol has never been fond of women.

“She has company,” Sehun says, pertaining to the other woman seated beside Jihyo. “They’re laughing, so I’m assuming she’s a non-hostile. A friend, perhaps.”

Chanyeol already knows that, but says nothing. Of course she’s a non-hostile. The daughter of a billionaire wouldn’t chat with any of her security detail over margaritas at her own party.

“Wanna go through the plan one more time?” his partner asks.

“Locate target, catch her attention, get myself alone with her, locate her phone, install the software,” Chanyeol recites without a sweat. “Easy.”

Luckily, the other seat beside Jihyo is empty. Chanyeol claims that spot and clears his throat, making sure that his entrance is announced and hoping that his target takes the bait.

For good measure, Chanyeol asks the bartender, “A glass of brandy. Neat, please.”

“Would Beauté du Siècle suffice, sir?” the bartender asks with a smile, pronouncing the French perfectly.

“That’s exactly what I’m looking for, actually,” Chanyeol answers. From his peripheral vision, he sees that Jihyo has turned to look at him, seemingly impressed by his taste in spirits. Chanyeol’s lips slightly curl into a smirk, just enough so that his target wouldn’t know that the smug smile is directed at her.

I’ve got her now, Chanyeol says to himself.

The bartender smiles even wider. “Excellent choice, sir. I’ll be right back.” And then he’s off to fetch Chanyeol’s drink at the far end of the bar.

Chanyeol drums his fingers on the polished wooden table and pretends to look around the party while waiting for his brandy—he knows Jihyo is looking at him right now, which is why he’s turning his head around so that she can see his face in full. Chanyeol’s humble in most aspects, but he knows for a fact that his looks can be valued at a million bucks. He has his parents’ genes to thank for that.

“You have expensive taste,” Jihyo remarks. Chanyeol finally lets his eyes fall unto her and notices that she has made her friend leave.

“Target has engaged,” Chanyeol hears his partner say into his earpiece. Indeed, he wants to reply, but he’s a bit preoccupied at the moment.

Chanyeol smirks further. “Well, I want nothing but the best,” he says to his target. He hates how snobbish he sounds right now, but he doesn’t really have a choice. If he gets assigned to a mission, he has to do it, no matter what. Being selective isn’t an option in his line of work.

Jihyo cocks an eyebrow at him and smiles back, finishing the last of her margarita.

The bartender returns with Chanyeol’s drink. “Here you go, sir. A glass of Hennessy Beauté du Siècle, neat, just like you asked,” he says. Chanyeol thanks him and the bartender smiles one last time before he sets off to attend to the other people at the bar, leaving him and his target alone once again.

Chanyeol downs the shot in one swift, clean swig. The alcohol burns in his throat, but he welcomes the fire. College teaches you a thing or two about taking your liquor.

“Impressive,” Sehun compliments him through their line. “And I think I’m not the only one who found that impressive.”

True enough, Jihyo’s eyes are glued to him as he sets down the glass on the table, traveling from his lips down to his throat. Her big round eyes are gleaming with something Chanyeol has yet to figure out—lust, he hopes. He throws her another smile.

“You know how to drink,” she says.

“My family has an interest in fine spirits. Connoisseurs, you might say. I guess it runs in the blood.”

Jihyo flips her hair over her shoulder and sits a bit more straight. She’s devoured the bait now. “I’m sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself,” she giggles, extending her hand for Chanyeol to shake. “I’m Park—”

“Jihyo,” Chanyeol finishes her sentence for her as he accepts her handshake. “Oh, I know all about you, Ms. Park. You’re the star of the night, after all. Happy birthday.”

“Please. Ms. Park’s my mother. Let’s just stick to first-name basis. Unless, of course, you’re younger than I am.”

“I’m older, actually. Just by a year, don’t worry.”

“In that case… should I roll out the honorifics?” she asks, tilting her head curiously. Suggestively. Chanyeol knows an enticed prey when he sees one.

“Your flirting skills are commendable, Agent Lux, but we’re in a bit of a time crunch here. We don’t have all night,” his partner reminds him through his earpiece, and Chanyeol thinks so too. “Wrap it up.”

Chanyeol sits up straight and clears his throat. “Choi Changmin,” he introduces his cover. “Seunghoon’s my uncle.”

A spark of recognition ignites in Jihyo’s eyes. She just keeps eating all the shit I’m feeding her, Chanyeol thinks. “Ah, the Choi whiskey distillers. I was wondering why I haven’t seen Mr. Choi all night.”

But Chanyeol knows that it’s because Choi Seunghoon never got his invitation. The agency intercepted it so that they could use it as a ticket for one of their agents, in this case, him. It was way too easy, really. The wealthy aren’t as slick as they think they are.

“The clock is ticking, Agent Lux,” Sehun reminds him again.

Chanyeol smiles at his target—it’s his most powerful weapon for the night. “Jihyo, is there some place where we can be alone?” he asks, his tone dripping with undertones.

“As a matter of fact, we do,” she says. Her eyes grow even bigger, and Chanyeol confirms that it was lust swirling in them, after all. Jihyo stands up from her seat, and the second she does, men dressed like normal guests immediately make their way toward her.

Huh. So that’s where her babysitters are, Chanyeol says to himself.

She waves them off, “It’s fine. We’re just going up to my room.”

The bodyguards look at each other. The oldest-looking one, probably the head of her security detail, Chanyeol presumes, says, “We have to check if he’s clean, Ms. Park.” When Jihyo sends him a glare, he adds, “Your mother’s orders. I’m sorry, but we have to insist.”

“Fine,” she concedes, rolling her eyes. “But do it at my door. I don’t want the other guests seeing my guards groping another guest to search for hidden weapons.”

The guard who spoke up nods and then leads the way to Jihyo’s room. Chanyeol is flanked by the other guards, maybe five or six of them, maybe more from behind where he can’t see. He can easily take them on, but he knows that won’t be necessary. There won’t be a fight tonight—not a physical one, at least.

Through his earpiece, Chanyeol can hear his partner clapping and rejoicing. “Good work,” Sehun commends him. “Don’t worry about the earpiece being seen. It’s way too small to be noticed. They’re probably going to search your torso and limbs, anyway.”

Again, Chanyeol’s already aware of that. His partner’s been treating him like a novice all night, he’s noticed. Sehun’s going to get an earful from him when they get back to HQ.

When the check’s over and done with and Chanyeol is finally truly alone with his target, he assesses the room the second he steps inside. The room is as big as a hotel suite, maybe even bigger, but that’s something that Chanyeol already expected.

Just as his eyes begin to take every inch of the bedroom to search for what he’s after, a ringtone cuts through the silence.

Jihyo walks over to the table at the far side of the bed littered with various picture frames, other trinkets, and, more importantly, her phone. Chanyeol doesn’t know who’s on the other line right now, but that’s a trivial matter. What concerns him is how he’s going to snatch the device away from his target.

When the call ends and she finally puts the phone down, Chanyeol immediately makes his way toward her. He then slowly snakes his arms around her waist.

Jihyo gives in. Chanyeol notices this and gradually spins both of them around so that now his back is facing the table. He lifts his right hand off Jihyo’s waist, quickly reaches out behind him to grab the device, and slides it into his back pocket all the while his left hand draws lazy circles on her hip.

Jihyo keens into Chanyeol’s touch and just as she tilts her neck to the side to invite him in, Chanyeol retreats.

“I have to use the bathroom for a second,” he smiles sweetly, mostly for his small accomplishment in redirecting Jihyo’s attention to grab what he came for. But of course, his oblivious target doesn’t know that.

“Okay. It’s just behind the divider,” Jihyo says. She walks toward the bed and sits slowly, crossing her legs. “I’ll be here waiting.”

Chanyeol takes his time, walking as he normally does so that Jihyo doesn’t notice anything amiss. He locks the bathroom door shut once he’s inside. He takes a deep breath and then begins tinkering on his target’s phone.

He opens the browser, switches it to private mode, and then enters an unlisted website whose address is more of a code than a link. Once he’s in, he downloads the software designed to rummage through everything on the phone: text messages, phone calls, e-mails, the works, even those that are encrypted. In this case, specifically any kind of communication between Jihyo and her mother, who’s hot on NIS’ list—hot enough for the operation to be handed over to Chanyeol’s agency. The software is military grade and cannot be detected or removed by anyone other than the person at the other end of Chanyeol’s earpiece.

Sehun may be a handful, but he’s valuable. That, Chanyeol acknowledges.

“Nice work there, Agent Lux. Where’d you learn that from? David Blaine?”

“How did you see that?” Chanyeol asks. The download is at twenty-eight percent. “There aren’t any security cameras in the room. I checked the ceilings first.”

Sehun laughs, the annoying kind that he does when he feels like he has outsmarted Chanyeol. “It’s not on the ceiling. Ah, don’t worry ‘bout it. Let’s just say I managed to sneak in something in that room and that I have eyes on Jihyo right now. And that I’m the best agent ever.”

Chanyeol ignores that last part. The download is at fifty-two percent. Sixty-four. Seventy-one.

“Um, Lux…” Sehun begins to say.

“What?”

“The talking strawberry’s calling.”

“Talking strawberry?” Chanyeol asks, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who—”

Oh.

That talking strawberry.

Chanyeol sighs and internally scolds himself for not understanding what his partner meant. Ever since Baekhyun dyed his hair pink, Sehun’s been comparing him to the only pink fruit he can think of. And strawberries aren’t even really pink.

Chanyeol pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels like he’s going to have a migraine in the middle of an operation.

He looks at the phone. The download is at eighty-seven percent.

“Don’t answer it,” he orders his partner. “We’re working.”

“You sure about that? ‘Cause the last time we ignored his call, he almost followed you to HQ and I don’t think…”

Fuck. Sehun has a point.

“Okay,” Chanyeol cuts him off. The download is at ninety-five percent. “Put him through the line.”

Suddenly, it’s not Sehun at the other end of the line, but his roommate, who always has impeccable timing.

“Are you forgetting something?” is the first thing that Baekhyun says. No hello, no greetings, no anything. Typical Byun Baekhyun.

“Uh…” Chanyeol replies intelligently.

Baekhyun’s sigh can be heard through the line, and Chanyeol knows that it’s not a good sign if his roommate is sighing that loudly. “It’s Friday,” Baekhyun says.

Fucking Friday. “Ah, movie night,” Chanyeol finally remembers. “Sorry, I… I, uh, got caught in some work. I’ll finish up real quick and head home.”

“Where are you?”

“Um, Itaewon-dong,” he replies. That’s the truth.

“What are you doing there?” Baekhyun demands. Damn, this talking strawberry has a lot of questions.

Chanyeol lets out a soundless curse before replying. “Just some work for the internship,” he says. “You know, for the MOFA.” That’s partly true. “You know, I’ll finish up work faster if we hang up right now.”

The download is complete. Chanyeol knows he’s been in the bathroom for too long and that any moment now, Jihyo’s going to think that something’s wrong and knock on him. Or worse, she might call her guards in.

“You’re right,” Baekhyun finally retreats. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, bye, see you later,” Chanyeol says as cheerfully as he can. The line beeps once and his partner is back on board.

Sehun clears his throat. “So… movie night, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you really sure the two of you are just friends because—”

“If you don’t shut up right now I’m going to personally rearrange your limbs after this mission is over,” Chanyeol says. Silence resonates on the other line as Sehun finally drops the topic. Chanyeol slides Jihyo’s phone under his sleeve, ready to place it back on the table like nothing happened. “Give me a visual on the target.”

“Right, right,” his partner scrambles. “Uh, she’s… Oh. Holy shit. She’s, um, ready.”

“Radio silence in fifteen seconds,” Chanyeol orders.

“Roger that.”

“Turn off the camera in the room.”

“Miles ahead of you, Agent Lux,” Sehun replies. “I hope we get off work early tonight.”

Chanyeol takes off his earpiece and his bowtie, and then leaves the bathroom.

—

Chanyeol returns home just before midnight. He runs into Mrs. Kwon on the ground floor, who reminds him kindly about the rent. Chanyeol promises to take care of it tomorrow and Mrs. Kwon says okay with a good-natured smile as she always does.

Baekhyun was supposed to pay rent today after he got home from class, but Baekhyun forgets a lot of things that he’s supposed to do.

Chanyeol sighs as he inserts the key to their apartment. “Byun Baekhyun,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

He opens the door with much difficulty because of the rust eating the hinges, and he makes a mental note to call maintenance to have it fixed as it seems like his roommate has no plans of doing so even after Chanyeol has reminded him of it dozens of times.

The TV is on when Chanyeol enters, blaring Dead Poets Society in its “O Captain! My Captain!” scene. Baekhyun is sleeping on the couch with a blanket draped over him, his hands tucked under his cheek like a kid. He has his annoying moments, but he sure looks cute when he’s asleep, Chanyeol must admit.

Chanyeol walks silently into the kitchen so as not to wake his roommate up. He sees that the dish rack is empty and the rice dispenser is untouched, which means Baekhyun hasn’t eaten. Was he waiting for Chanyeol to get home so they could eat together?

Something pokes at Chanyeol’s heart. Guilt, most likely.

And so Chanyeol orders chicken delivery and begins measuring rice to make up for the dinner and movie night he missed. As he’s washing the grains, his roommate stirs from his sleep.

Baekhyun yawns rather loudly as he stretches, blinking away the remnants of sleep in his eyes. He zones out for a few more minutes, as he always does when he has just woken up, before walking into the kitchen to see what Chanyeol is doing.

“When did you get home?” Baekhyun asks in his rough, just-woke-up voice. His eyes still look clouded with sleep, heavy and jaded, and his pink hair is flying in all directions. It’s Chanyeol’s favorite look on him.

“Just a few minutes ago. I was gonna wake you up when the delivery arrives.”

Baekhyun drags his feet out of the kitchen and slumps into their small dining table. He yawns again and closes his eyes. Half-asleep, he asks, “What did you order?”

When the water finally clears, Chanyeol puts the bowl into the cooker and turns it on. “Honey chicken,” he replies, drying his hands on the towel hanging from the fridge door handle.

“I don’t like that. Why’d you order that?”

“It’s your favorite,” Chanyeol deadpans. He takes a seat across Baekhyun while waiting for the rice to cook and the delivery to arrive.

“Yeah, but I’m trying to lose weight and I can’t control myself around those things,” his roommate argues sleepily, pouting as he speaks. Chanyeol can see why Sehun calls him a talking strawberry. “Why did you order delivery, anyway? It’s twelve o’clock.”

“You didn’t eat dinner. Sorry for missing the movie, by the way. How was it?”

Baekhyun sprawls his right arm on the dining table and rests his head on it. “Dunno,” he mumbles. “I don’t remembering anything after the first ten minutes.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile. Baekhyun looks cute when he’s asleep, but he’s even cuter he’s just woken up, trying to fight off the drowsiness that’s trying to pull him under once again.

Baekhyun has been Chanyeol’s roommate since freshman year, and Chanyeol isn’t sure when he started paying attention to even the smallest details about his roommate, like how childlike he gets when he’s roused from sleep.

It just happened, even though it shouldn’t have because Chanyeol has no time to look at someone like that. His line of work demands too much from him—time, energy, secrecy, among other things—so he knows for a fact that a relationship couldn’t possibly fit in there somewhere.

Still, the heart wants what it wants. Now that they’re just one semester away from graduating, Chanyeol is seriously considering doing something stupid, like confessing his feelings. But he has long accepted that he can never have normal relationships, at least while he’s still an agent. The dangers are very real in his job, and he doesn’t want to put Baekhyun through all of that.

“Do you still want to watch the movie?” Chanyeol asks.

“Sure, but… aren’t you tired? You just got back from your internship.”

As a matter of fact, Chanyeol is tired. He’s always tired when he comes back from an assignment—or his ‘internship’, as his roommate calls it. But Baekhyun hasn’t eaten dinner and Chanyeol feels bad for missing movie night and watching a movie at home with one of his favorite people in the world doesn’t sound like a bad thing to do after a tiring night.

“I’m okay,” Chanyeol smiles. “Watching a Robin Williams film is always a good idea.”

After the chicken arrived and the rice is cooked, Chanyeol and Baekhyun eat on the couch with their feet propped up on their small coffee table while Dead Poets Society plays again on the TV, and somewhere in the middle of the film, when their bowls are empty and their stomachs full, Baekhyun begins to play footsie with Chanyeol under their shared blanket.

—

The moment his professor asks the class to pass their papers, Chanyeol’s chest feels significantly lighter. Finals are at long last over and done with; finally one more thing off of Chanyeol’s mind.

Chanyeol wants to savor every moment of his shoulders not having to carry any weight—all four hours of it—because by eight this evening, he’ll be burdened with something again, another mission in just a span of a few weeks.

Baekhyun’s last exam doesn’t end until five o’clock. This gives Chanyeol enough time to walk from his department to their favorite spot on campus without rushing himself.

Neutinamu has numerous locations on Seouldae, but Chanyeol’s favorite is the one near the College of Music. For starters, their drinks are decent, but it’s also because it’s where Baekhyun and Chanyeol often hung out after class since freshman year. The café holds many memories, and in six months’ time, there may be no more opportunities to make new ones.

Graduation. That’s another thing that Chanyeol wants to get off of his mind.

On the one hand, graduating means that he’ll have the chance to work without worrying about anything else. Chanyeol isn’t particularly fond of school—who is?—not with the hectic deadlines and critical analysis papers and case studies that come with being a political science major. It’s all just a big distraction to him. On the other hand, graduating also means that he’ll have to move out of Haengun-dong as their lease expires by the end of February. They’ll have to move out of their apartment and Chanyeol doesn’t know what Baekhyun’s plans are after college and he hasn’t asked, mostly because he’s afraid that he’s not going to be a part of it.

Chanyeol’s not worried about finding a new place. Seoul never has a shortage of those, and even in the unlikely event that it does, he can always move to Gyeonggi-do where he can be near his sister.

He’s more worried about Baekhyun. More specifically, not being with Baekhyun. When you’ve lived with someone for four years, it’s inevitable that they will grow on you, and it’s certainly not impossible with a person like Byun Baekhyun.

Sure, he can be an occasional pain in the ass, but Chanyeol couldn’t have wished for a better roommate. Chanyeol takes care of most things at home, and Baekhyun manages to return that care in his own special way—like how Baekhyun immediately knows Chanyeol isn’t in the best of moods just by hearing the way he breathes and immediately makes an effort to make him laugh, or how he remembers that Chanyeol doesn’t like bell peppers in his fried rice when it’s Baekhyun’s turn to cook dinner despite being forgetful of other stuff.

“Chanyeol,” an all too familiar voice says.

Baekhyun’s rectangular smile is the first thing that Chanyeol sees when he looks up and Chanyeol’s heart does this thing that it always does when Baekhyun is in close proximity.

“Hi. How was your exam?” he asks as Baekhyun settles on the seat across from him.

Baekhyun’s features contort into a scowl at Chanyeol's mention of something he’d rather forget. “I hope that old sot dies soon.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help but laugh; he knows that Baekhyun’s pertaining to his Literary Translation professor, Mr. Yoo, and he also knows that Baekhyun doesn’t mean it. He’s used to his roommate’s interesting choice of words when he’s in a bad mood.

Baekhyun casually reaches for Chanyeol’s iced peach tea and takes a generous sip as if he was the one who had bought it. Chanyeol doesn’t mind—he and Baekhyun are way past the stage of asking permission before sharing things.

“Why’d you wait for me here?” Baekhyun asks, nearly finishing the drink that was supposed to be Chanyeol’s.

It takes a while for Chanyeol to say something because he really doesn’t have an answer to that. They weren’t supposed to meet today, but his fingers were texting Baekhyun before he could even stop them.

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol decides to settle on the truth. “I just wanted to see you somewhere that’s not at home, I guess.”

Ever since the semester began to near its end, work just began piling up—both school and espionage related—and the only chance that Chanyeol gets to see Baekhyun is back at their godforsaken apartment.

Baekhyun’s face lights up at what Chanyeol just said, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “In other words, you missed me.”

Well, yeah, that’s another way to put it, Chanyeol wants to say, but of course, he can’t. So instead, he simply rolls his eyes at his roommate, keeping his true feelings to himself—like what he’s been doing for the past four years.

Baekhyun suddenly stands up and extends his arm to Chanyeol, urging him to get up as well.

“Where are we going?” Chanyeol asks as he rises from his seat skeptically.

“Well, you said you missed me, so let’s eat someplace nice.”

“I never said I missed you.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, dismissively waving his hand in front of him. “Same difference,” he insists, and Chanyeol knows he’ll never win when his roommate has made up his mind.

“Fine,” Chanyeol finally agrees. “But I have to clock in at MOFA by eight.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Now it’s Baekhyun’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’m starting to get suspicious of that internship. Well, I’m suspicious of the government in general, anyway.”

Chanyeol just offers a small smile. Oh, you have no idea, he replies in his mind.

—

Chanyeol has roughly thirty minutes to spare before his scheduled briefing with his case officer, so he heads to the agent lounge to spend his last moments of peace and quiet with a steaming cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, Luhan has other plans.

“So when did movie night become a thing?” Luhan asks as soon as he sits beside Chanyeol on the couch. So much for peace and quiet.

“It’s been a thing of mankind for quite some time now,” Chanyeol deadpans, taking another sip of his Americano without paying so much as a glance at the annoying newcomer. “For someone who works in intelligence, you don’t seem to exhibit intelligence.”

Luhan ignores the jab and simply laughs. “I meant with Baekhyun,” he says as he leans closer to Chanyeol, adamant to get an answer. Luhan seems to be in a good mood, and when that happens, things don’t usually end nicely for Chanyeol.

While Chanyeol was debating whether or not he should indulge Luhan’s borderline invasive questioning, Sehun enters the lounge, stopping Chanyeol from arriving at a conclusion to his dilemma and—thankfully—distracting Luhan.

Sehun plops down beside Luhan with a sigh. He’s always this lethargic before briefings, which Chanyeol understands. Being an agent isn’t as glamorous as James Bond and Ethan Hunt make it to be. There are no deus ex machina moments in a real operation; the margin of error is paper-thin and even the smallest of fuck-ups can be catastrophic.

“Ah, don’t be sad,” Luhan says in an attempt—a pathetic one at that, in Chanyeol’s opinion—to comfort Sehun. “Look on the bright side: this is our first mission together since our initiation assignment.”

Chanyeol nearly spits out his coffee.

“Well, you do have a po—”

“Wait,” Chanyeol interrupts Sehun. “You’re on the assignment too?”

Luhan’s lips form into a smile. So that’s why he’s in too good of a mood. “Jongdae called me just yesterday, something about a briefing tonight. So I called Sehun to tell him because I was so excited, but it turns out, it’s the same assignment,” he explains, his smile growing wider and wider. “Just like the old days.”

Great, Chanyeol says to himself. Now I have two divas to deal with.

Sehun’s already hard to deal with, and adding Luhan into the equation spells out nothing but a headache for Chanyeol. Maybe that’s why the two of them go so well together.

Defeated, Chanyeol just sighs and finishes his Americano. “Why don’t good things happen to me?” he mumbles under his breath.

Just then, Jongdae bursts into the room, frantic and out of breath, as if he had climbed a dozen flights of stairs. When his eyes fall on the trio, he immediately walks toward them.

Chanyeol has never seen Jongdae like this: hair disheveled, tie loosened, eyes panicked. Whatever’s wrong, Chanyeol’s sure that it’s going to be his problem too.

“The briefing’s at eight o’clock, right?” Sehun asks, glancing at his wrist watch to check if he had lost track of the time.

Jongdae takes a moment to catch his breath before replying. “Director Kim is here.”

Something is definitely wrong.

“Isn’t he supposed to be in Moscow to meet the director of the FSB?” Luhan asks. His smile has disappeared, his brows knitted.

It’s because the director isn’t usually present in case briefings. As a matter of fact, he’s rarely in the office—he’s always flying off to some country to meet other important people in the intelligence industry. When he’s in the country, it’s almost always because something’s awfully wrong, and Jongdae’s expression confirms just that.

“Minister Choi is also here. They’re waiting for you downstairs,” Jongdae adds. That finally gets the trio on their feet. “The mission is more complicated than we thought.”

—

Chanyeol has never liked the fourth floor of the MOFA Building in Jongno-gu.

For starters, it’s not four stories above ground. Hidden underneath the edifice that the public sees is the headquarters of the Elite Radical Intelligence Service, or ERIS, a buried intelligence agency of the South Korean government in all sense of the word. Chanyeol basically grew up in this place, and if that’s testament to anything, it’s that he’s been in the industry far too long for someone as young as he is.

The fourth level of the basement, or B4, as they fondly call it, is the most important level of their headquarters. It’s the floor where most of the agency’s important offices are in: the briefing rooms, the director’s office, and Ignis’ office.

Every time Chanyeol goes down to B4 for a briefing, he always passes by the elusive spymaster’s office. Ignis. Even his name is bewildering, like some mystery that no one has even come close to solving. Chanyeol has never seen their spymaster in all his years, and he definitely has a lot of those. Rumors say that no one has really seen Ignis too, with the exception of Director Kim.

But Ignis is the least of Chanyeol’s problems as of the moment.

Minster Choi is the first person Chanyeol sees when he enters the briefing room. The minister’s hands are clasped together on the table, his back straight and stiff against the chair. Gone is the usual smile on his face. Worry lines are prominent on his forehead.

As they file into the room, they are offered a small smile from Director Kim. He looks tired, like he just got off a nine-hour flight, which he probably did.

“Let’s begin,” the minister says when the three agents are seated.

Jongdae hands out case files to Chanyeol and his partners. With a few taps on his tablet, the room’s lights go dim and the screen behind Jongdae lights up, the logo of the agency rotating on the center.

Jongdae clears his throat before he speaks. “As you all know, The Blue House will be hosting a banquet tomorrow at 20:00 to welcome the arrival of Ambassador Zhang from Beijing.” A photo of the ambassador appears on screen. “We’ve received intelligence that there is a plan to assassinate him during the banquet.”

Silence fills the room at Jongdae’s words.

Director Kim stands up from his seat. “At first, we were just asked by the NIS to send our best men to be the ambassador’s special security detail. But after the intelligence report we received this morning, I’m afraid that this assignment is much more than that.”

Chanyeol swallows thickly as he tries his best to hide the trembling of his hands. This is the biggest mission that has been assigned to him so far.

“Does the MSS know?” Luhan asks.

Jongdae and Director Kim exchange a quick glance.

“They haven’t reached out to us,” Jongdae finally answers. “Although I’m pretty sure they were the first to receive the report before anyone else.”

Sehun closes his file case and raises his eyebrows at his case officer. “Then why don’t we reach out to them? Their ambassador’s life is in danger. We can’t just sit here and plan the assignment without their knowledge of the assassination plot.”

“It’s not that simple,” Director Kim begins to say, until his words are cut off when Minister Choi wordlessly stands up and walks toward the front of the room.

Sehun straightens up, and Chanyeol sees him fumbling with his nails underneath the table, a habit he does when he’s embarrassed. Chanyeol knows he means well and that he didn’t mean to question their superiors, but still, Chanyeol thinks Sehun should know better than to say something, especially with the minister in the room.

Minister Choi buttons his suit and runs his palms down through the hem, tidying up nonexistent wrinkles in the fabric. “To refresh everyone’s minds, our relations with Beijing are a bit questionable as of the moment,” he starts, making sure to look at Sehun. Sehun sinks further down his seat, which is a feat for someone with his height. “We can’t just simply share intelligence with them, especially one as sensitive as this. I think everyone in this room would agree that the MSS is one of the world’s most powerful intelligence agencies. Besides, if they want us to know, they would’ve already told us the moment they received the report. There’s no reason for them not to tell us, because, as Agent Oh has pointed out, their ambassador’s life is at stake. That being said, there are many things that can go wrong if we don’t thoroughly think of our actions.”

“They’re watching us,” Director Kim puts it simply. “They’re watching us very closely. If anything goes wrong, they will pin the blame on us, which can catapult Chinese and South Korean relations back as it were in the fifties.”

Minister Choi takes a seat once again, nodding at Jongdae to continue the briefing.

“They can also accuse the Americans of the assassination if it ever succeeds—which we will make sure it doesn’t—since they’re already suspicious of Washington anyway because of the THAAD deployment. The assassination will simply justify them burning Washington to the ground if they choose to do so,” Jongdae explains.

Jongdae taps on his tablet again. The screen switches to various photos of people, some of which Chanyeol recognizes from the summer he worked at Langley, with their names and covers indicted underneath.

“American spies,” Luhan points out. “What do they have to do with all of this?”

“We can’t trust anyone but ourselves in this mission,” Jongdae answers. “We don’t know who’s planning the assassination, but we have ample reason to suspect the Americans as well. If the plan succeeds and the Chinese retaliate—and they will—Washington can use that to legitimize their military presence here, and of course, our… friends at the North will react negatively to that.”

Luhan props his arm on the table and rests his chin on his palm. “So these American agents… we have to keep an eye out for them? In case they’re the assassins?”

“Precisely,” Jongdae confirms.

Chanyeol clears his throat. It’s his first word of the meeting. “If we do anything wrong, it will be like the Korean War all over again.” The room goes incredibly still, as if everyone has stopped breathing. “The Americans will back us, the Chinese have the North’s support. That’s it, right?”

Director Kim looks at Minister Choi and the minister grimly nods.

That’s the only answer Chanyeol needs. “Fantastic,” he says sardonically. “What are our designations?”

—

“Looking good, Lux,” Sehun says through the earpiece.

Chanyeol looks at the nearest security camera and gives it the middle finger. “Shut up. I can’t believe I’m on sniper duty tonight.”

“Well, someone has to be.”

The wind whips at Chanyeol’s face. He crosses his arms in front of him in a useless attempt to shield himself from the cold and he couldn’t help but envy his partners who are probably warm indoors.

But it’s not the cold that’s really bothering Chanyeol. Even if he was inside, he’d still be probably shaking from anxiety because of the gravity of this mission. The three of them—him, Luhan, and Sehun—could be the difference between instigating another war.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath. He has already proven himself to the ERIS countless times, and yet he feels like he has to do it again, that this mission is the one that counts the most among all his other assignments.

“The roof is clear,” Chanyeol says to his partners. “For now, at least. How’s the party, M?”

“Clear. I have eyes on Zulu,” Luhan replies.

“And I have eyes on… well, everyone,” Sehun says. Chanyeol throws another crude gesture at the security camera near him. “I saw that!”

Chanyeol laughs. “I know.”

“Can the two of you please be serious?” Luhan scolds them through the line. “This is not the time to be dicking around.”

“Loosen up, ba—” Sehun stops abruptly. Chanyeol pretends that he didn’t hear Sehun almost call Luhan ‘babe’ over the radio during an assignment. “Loosen up, M. We’re not dicking around, we’re just trying to have a little bit of fun. We’re already nervous as it is.”

Chanyeol hears someone heave a deep breath through the line—Luhan, most likely. Chanyeol can’t really blame him for being too uptight. In a way, he’s right that this isn’t the time to be joking and throwing indiscreet middle fingers at security cameras. Should anything fall out of plan, their careers as agents are on the line, or worse, their lives. God knows that it’s certain there’s going to be at least one body count if the mission fails, and it’s going to be the ambassador.

Chanyeol looks up at the full moon hanging low in the night sky. He’s given up on believing in any higher being up there in the heavens a long time ago, but he feels like the occasion calls for a simple prayer.

Please, he begs at the cold air around him. He doesn’t even know what to say after that, and he hopes that whoever was up there would understand what he’s asking for even with just a single word from him.

“What’s the status now inside?” Chanyeol asks his partners.

“Dinner’s starting,” Luhan replies almost instantly. “He’s seated according to the plan sent to us by HQ.”

The sound of keys clacking follows Luhan’s response, and Chanyeol knows that Sehun’s going to town back at the station. “The interior looks clean,” Sehun announces after some time.

That’s when Chanyeol saw it—a shadow lurking in the dark, blending almost seamlessly into the night. Almost. Then Chanyeol saw the unmistakable silhouette of a sniper, easily twenty-four inches long. Chanyeol whips out his own pistol and shoots at the figure, and by the time he hears his bullet pierce through someone’s flesh, he feels something hot and wet dribbling down his left arm. A bullet had grazed his skin.

Chanyeol barely has time to relay information to his partners and he’s sure that Sehun saw it all anyway, so he leaves his post on the roof and jumps down to the ground to track down the shooter. He hasn’t gone far; Chanyeol made sure that he hit something.

Chanyeol’s lungs are burning despite the cold wind thrashing against his body as he speeds through the woods behind The Blue House. He manages to make out the words his partners are frantically transmitting over the radio: Zulu is safe, Lux is in pursuit, he’s hounding naked, we need to deploy backup immediately.

But Chanyeol couldn’t care less if he’s running further and further away without cover. All that’s in his mind right now is that he’s managed to wound the shooter and that he’s slowed him down.

The forest grows thicker and thicker at Chanyeol’s every step. His vision can only register flashes of moonlight as he zips through the trees, stray branches indiscriminately hitting him, but he hardly feels their thwacks against his skin.

Chanyeol finally slows down when his eyes can no longer make out anything but pitch-black darkness in the middle of the forest. Even though he just ran hundreds and hundreds of yards, he controls the sound of his breathing to nonexistence in order to hear the leaves and twigs crunching under the shooter’s feet.

He runs immediately to his right when he hears an indisputable snap coming from that direction, only to be met with a discarded black bulletproof vest lying on the dirt. A pin on the vest catches what little moonlight it could reflect and gets Chanyeol’s attention. The small metal badge stands out on the black garment with its red-hot color, the emblem shaped like a triangle.

Chanyeol slips the pin in one of his pockets.

“I lost the shooter,” Chanyeol says to his earpiece. “He left a trail for me in the woods north of the complex.”

He kneels on the ground as he waits for help to arrive.

—

Chanyeol goes through the same thing after every assignment—receive medical attention if he has acquired wounds, check; get debriefed with his partners by their handler, check; and head to whatever place they call home as if nothing happened, check. The written report was always something for the following day.

When he arrives at their apartment, Baekhyun is boiling ramen in the kitchen. Of course, he immediately notices Chanyeol’s heavily-bandaged left arm and goes through his usual rapid-fire questioning that makes Chanyeol want to drape a pillow over his head.

“It’s just a minor wound,” Chanyeol insists at Baekhyun’s fifth question of what’s underneath the gauze. “I just hit myself… somewhere.”

Baekhyun glares at him as he angrily slurps his noodles. “You say that every time you get yourself wrapped up. You know, I’m starting to get suspicious.”

On any other day, Baekhyun’s statement might have scared Chanyeol. But Chanyeol couldn’t seem to get his mind off the shooter and the breadcrumb he left behind for Chanyeol to find.

Chanyeol takes the pin out of his pocket and twirls it between his fingers, wondering why the shooter bothered to take off his vest and leave the badge on it. Chanyeol’s not stupid; he knows for a fact that the shooter wanted him to find the vest, but the question that’s been giving Chanyeol a migraine is the question why.

“What’s that?” Baekhyun asks as he passes by Chanyeol on the couch. “A souvenir from the MOFA?”

Chanyeol wishes he could say yes. “Just something a friend left behind for me,” he lies. “I’m not sure why it’s in the shape of a triangle, though.”

Baekhyun throws himself on the couch, nearly hitting Chanyeol’s bullet wound as he bounces off the springs. “Maybe your friend… just really likes triangles?”

The ringing of Chanyeol’s phone beats whatever reaction he was about to give his roommate.

Chanyeol’s heartbeat is drumming in his ears as he slowly reaches out for his phone on the coffee table. No one really calls him after an assignment; it’s an unspoken agreement within them at the agency—let agents have their time to themselves after a mission.

And just as he predicted, it’s an unlisted number.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Baekhyun asks him, and Chanyeol realizes that he’s been letting his phone ring for far too long.

He finally presses answer.

At first, nothing can be heard at the other end of the line but heavy breathing from the caller. The stirring in Chanyeol’s gut grows wilder in every drag of air he hears through the receiver, and just as he was about to end the call and dismiss the caller as a prankster, they finally speak.

“Nice work at The Blue House tonight, Agent Lux,” the unidentified voice says. Chanyeol’s entire body freezes in fear. No one outside of the agency knows his codename.

“Who is this?” Chanyeol asks, straining to keep his voice straight.

“That doesn’t matter,” the man replies, and for some reason, Chanyeol’s a hundred percent sure that the person he’s talking to right now is the same person he was trying to hunt down the woods earlier this evening. “My identity is not important. The only thing that matters right now is that I know who you are, I know who you work for, and I know how to hurt you.”

Chanyeol feels like his blood has turned to ice.

“Take a good look at your roommate, Agent Lux. His face will be the last you see before the two of you die.”

The line goes dead, Chanyeol finally hears the ticking, he grabs Baekhyun by the arm, and they both jump out of the window before everything behind them explodes.

Read the rest of the chapters here.

Listen to this fic’s playlist here.

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metamorphicrocky · 5 years

Note

prompt: why proms take gary to a dark place

oh you really had to give me a good one, didn’t you?

Gary can't remember how they met. Was it at the park? The mall? Oh, wait, he passed her by while riding his new hovercycle. He had just stolen it, and she said he looked cool. So, obviously Gary had to give the first girl to talk to him in years a ride. It made perfect sense, and now he has a girlfriend. It all worked out nicely. He still has the bike, too. Cops never caught him, which was an amazing stroke of luck.

Now, Gary is sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, kicking his feet idly as he waits for her to come back with popcorn. They've been together for a couple of weeks, and it has been amazing. It's been so long since Gary last spent time with someone his own age and enjoyed it.

"I got the goods!" Sam screams as she kicks the door open, her curly hair flying everywhere. Her arms are stuffed to the brim with snacks, and without warning, she tosses it all at Gary.

The force of the snacks pushes Gary down onto the mattress with a small, "Oof!"

Sam snorts. "For a self-proclaimed badass, you don't really act like one."

Gary shoves the snacks off of him and sits up, an offended look on his face. "Oh, I am such a badass. Look at this jacket. My bike? Badass. Therefore, I am badass."

"I don't think badasses use the word therefore," she says, sitting down next to him. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, and Gary feels his face heat up intensely. Sam laughs, a light sound that makes his heart flutter. "Or blush when they get a kiss."

"Well–I, uh," Gary stammers, "I was, um, caught off guard by, uh, that.

Sam rolls her eyes and hums. "You're losing your status as my kickass boyfriend with that. Wanna try to reclaim the kickass part?"

"Your deep, burning desire for me was felt physically, was all." Gary places one of his hands on her cheek, bringing her in for a quick yet passionate kiss. When they pull away, Sam is blushing.

Nailed it! Gary smirks. "Who isn't a badass? Hmm? Because sweet heavenly fire, I think I just kissed the hell out of you."

"Okay, you win this one. Now, let's watch the hell out of this movie!"

Sam rips open the bag of popcorn and digs in while Gary takes the remote and plays the new action movie they wanted to watch. Throughout the movie, they lean into each other and make ridiculous comments about whatever is going on. By all standards, it's the most cliche movie they've ever seen, but Gary hasn't had fun like this in years.

It's nice, to have someone who only wants him because she likes him, not because he's better at fitting into smaller spaces. He hopes this warm feeling in his chest never goes away.

During the last fight scene, Sam slips her hand into his. "Hey, you wanna come to my prom?"

"Prom?" Gary's eyes flit to Sam, her eyes still glued to the screen. "Heck yeah I would. When is it?"

"Next Saturday at eight."

Gary feels a pit form in the bottom of his stomach. Everything was going so well, but now it could all fall apart.

"I have a family thing then," Gary says, his voice clearly displaying his disappointment.

"Boo!" Sam moans. "Your family is always keeping you busy, can't you get out of it?"

"I don't know...," he trails off.

But then he notices Sam's pleading eyes. He can't break her heart like this. She makes him happy, and he wants to be happy more than anything. Scratch that, he needs to be happy.

"You know what? It doesn't matter what my parents say. I'll be there."

Sam's smile as he squeezes her hand makes whatever consequence of this worth it already.

----

Gary walks into the dimly lit garage, tossing his helmet onto an empty bench. A car is propped up in the center of the room, old and rusted, but still useful as a source of parts.

"Kid, grab me another beer and a torque wrench. The big one," a gruff voice demands from underneath the car.

Gary rolls his eyes and does as asked, swiping a beer and a soda from the fridge before grabbing the wrench. He tosses the wrench carelessly towards the waiting hand and plops down on the dirty cement floor next to the car.

He hears a mumbled noise of thanks among the odd noises of car parts shifting around. Gary takes a sip of his soda and tries to ignore how the ground is freezing despite it being the middle of May.

"There it is."

Tom pulls something out from underneath the car and slides out, sitting up and sipping his beer. Gary has no clue what it is, but Tom looks even grosser than usual. His salt and pepper hair is greasy, sweat slicking it back in a messy way. The scratchy beard he has is coated in oil. His white shirt is covered in stains of all sorts, and Gary has to restrain himself from cringing.

"If you're sitting there, it means you want something. Spit it out," Tom orders.

"You know that job we're doing? Next week? On Saturday? The one with the–." A growl cuts off Gary's rambling. The blond clears his throat nervously. "Right, well, you don't absolutely need me for that, yeah? I mean, anyone could sneak into the vents and be a lookout, right?"

Tom stands, so Gary does the same. The man towers over him, a brute of a man, but Gary tries really hard not to let that intimidate him...even though he can snap Gary in half if he really wants to.

"If you don't come, you won't get paid."

Gary swallows a lump in his throat. "Fine."

"And you're out."

Gary's eyes blow wide, his heart stuttering in his chest. He has to be joking, he has to be.

"What?" Gary splutters, his arms gesturing frantically. "We had a deal! You can't do that!"

Tom laughs, loud and booming in the empty garage. There's an icy glint in his black eyes that sends chills down Gary's spine. He advances towards Gary, causing the teen to back up until he hits the wall. Tom painfully shoves a hairy finger into Gary's chest, leaning in close to his face. Gary can strongly smell the acrid stench of motor oil and alcohol that clings to Tom all the time.

"I'm the boss. I make the rules, boy. Don't you forget that," the man sneers, growling in anger. "Get the job done and you can do whatever the fuck pleases you, but I won't be this kind if you ever try to cross me again."

Before Tom walks away, he slaps Gary, leaving a stinging red mark across the left side of his face.

He waits, shaking against the wall, until he hears the slam of Tom's bedroom door to go to his dingy room. The blond collapses onto his bed, not even bothering to change his clothes. Gary hugs his pillow to his chest and wishes for life to go back to the way it was before...everything.

----

The day of the job rolls around. Gary has let Sam know that he's going to her prom, but he'll most likely be late. He has a stolen tux that matches her dress prepped and ready for the moment the job finishes. He'll make it, no matter what.

Gary is currently sitting in the back of a van, surrounded by men who are significantly bigger than him. It isn't crowded at all, nope. And Gary definitely doesn't feel more and more nervous as the drive continues, that would be ridiculous.

His knee is bouncing, and he knows that it's pissing off the guy next to him. To avoid thinking about it, Gary looks through his jacket's pockets for the fiftieth time to check and make sure that he has all of his tools. Of course they're all there. The gun resting awkwardly on his hip doesn't ease his anxiousness in the slightest. Gary is used to simple thieving, not high stakes robberies.

Damn it, he just wants to go to prom with his girlfriend. Does everything have to be so complicated in his life?

All of a sudden, Gary is roughly shoved by the guy he was annoying. Oh, so the car stopped. Great. It's showtime.

Gary hops out and walks to the dumpster next to the bank, jumping on top of it to reach the grate that leads to the ventilation system.

"Don't fuck this up, boy," Tom snarls.

"What a nice vote of confidence," Gary mumbles under his breath. "Okay, no buffer or warm up. You've got this, Gary."

He quickly makes work of the vent, unscrewing it and sliding in. Gary begins crawling through the vents, following the set of instructions he memorized to get him to the room he wants.

Within a couple of minutes, Gary kicks open a grate and drops down into the security room. He only has a few minutes until the guard comes back from his break, so the teen quickly disables the security systems in the safe room and sneaks back into the vents, putting the grate back in its place.

"All set to go in," Gary says into his earpiece as he makes his way to their target.

He's thankfully small enough to move fast in these things, so he reaches the safe room with time to spare. He glances at his watch to see the time, and everything is going according to schedule. If this goes well, he can be at Sam's prom at nine.

Gary lays in the vents and watches the moment the guys burst into the safe room, attacking all of the guards and knocking them out quickly. Once everyone is down, Gary hops out of the vent. Tom gives him a hard pat on the back, and that's as close to a "good job" as the teen will ever get.

Gary takes out his never-before-used-by-him gun and holds it awkwardly as the men work on breaking into the safe and stealing everything they want.

He's the lookout. Easy job. Just standing there. And looking. Easy peasy.

Until it isn't.

The men are finishing up and stealing the last of the money and valuable items rich people keep in here when Gary sees him; one guard is waking up.

"Um, hey, one of them is waking up. Do something!" Gary whisper-yells at the group.

Tom turns around to see and just shrugs his shoulders. "Shoot him."

"What?"

"If you want to live, just kill him. Now, shoot, you fuckin' dumbass!" Tom yells.

That really wakes the guy up, and the guard snaps to attention and sees Gary, shaking with a gun in his grip directly next to him. The guard snatches Gary's ankle, dragging him down to the ground. He moves to get on top of Gary and subdue him, probably attempting to rip the gun away from him and shoot the group, but the moment he starts wrestling with Gary, the trigger is pulled.

Gary cries out as the body falls on top of him, blood splattering all over the teen's body. He scrambles to get out from underneath the corpse, smearing his hands in the blood in the process.

The guys are finished, and Gary stares at them blankly as their mouths move, clearly giving him orders to get moving. But he can't hear them. He keeps moving anyways, running after them and trying to keep his breathing steady.

He doesn't know what's going on beyond that he's moving and there's blood on his hands and oh god he killed someone holy shit someone is dead because of him—

All of a sudden Gary realizes that they're back in the garage already as Tom slaps him on the back.

"Haha! Your first kill! Wasn't it fantastic?" Tom is cheering along with the other men, beers in their hands and bags of riches surrounding them. They all look happy, celebrating a successful job. Gary stands there in shock, his bloody hands shaking violently.

He runs to the bathroom and rips off his blood stained clothing, tossing them as far away from him as possible. He turns on the sink and scrubs viciously at his hands because there's so much blood and god he did this, it's his fault that a man is dead and no one except him is upset about it—

Gary can barely see anything through the tears except red, red, red, yet he distantly wonders how his dad would feel if he could know that his son just killed a man.

----

"Gary? Where's your tux?" Sam questions as she raises an eyebrow at Gary's navy Infinity Guard hoodie and jeans. She seems mad, and Gary can barely even process it at the moment.

He knows that everyone from her school—the school he would have gone to if his life hadn't gone to shit—is staring, but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters to him anymore, except her, but he can't even keep that one thing.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. I wish I could stay, Sam."

Sam cups his face and wipes away tears he didn't know were there. "Gary, what's wrong? You can tell me."

She looks so beautiful in her black dress, pink flowers adorning the bottom of it. Her hair is in a neat bun, some curls framing her face and the freckles dotting her dark skin. He wishes he could have enjoyed tonight, but the universe just won't let him be happy.

He doesn't dare touch her, fearing his previously stained hands would ruin her beauty.

Gary kisses her, forcing himself to remember this moment and what love feels like before he has to leave her and never come back. He must have always been destined to live a life of loneliness.

Sam pulls away first, tears ruining her perfect make up. "Bye, Sam," he whispers.

And then he runs, slipping between the crowd and launching himself at his bike. He puts his helmet on and slips his backpack on, and then leaves it all behind.

Gary is sixteen when he kills his first man and leaves his hometown. And he doesn't look back once.

#this was FUN to write #coming up with all of this was great #final space #final space season 2 #final space spoilers #fs spoilers #gary goodspeed #john goodspeed #fs fics

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 5 years

Text

Devil’s Temptation pt7

Warnings: Mob Styling Warlords, Strong Language

Masterlist

---

Chapter 7 – What you see

Esshu Industries Main Building

White cotton gloves brushed over the documents in front of him. He had been at the office since late last night, meticulously arranging and rearranging things after he was contacted to say an agreement had been reached. He was in the middle of his ritual of cleaning when a cup from a coffee shop was placed on the desk by him with a paper bag.

“I didn’t realise you’d pull an all-nighter.” The voice behind him was accompanied with a quiet slurp sound as they drank from a similar cup.

“There were too many loose ends and things to ignore, so I had to get it finished.” Tanaka informed his boss barely hiding the shiver he felt creep over him as he watched the other man drink happily from the plastic lid of the paper cup.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, after all, you have always been the same, Shin.” Takahiro smirked, a playful edge to his voice emerged as he continued to speak. “I also won’t deny that your affliction to seek perfection and make sure everything is done a set way has resulted in completely satisfying results.”

“Are you talking professionally?” Shin hid his fluster masterfully. All too aware of how Takahiro liked to play games.

“I always talk professionally in the office.” Takahiro straightened in a slightly defiant stance. “A certain someone gives me a lecture if I don’t.”

“Uhuh… well, I wish you wouldn’t drink out of that.” Shin retrieved a set of china coffee mugs from a small cupboard in his office placing them one by one on the desk after giving them a thorough wipe with a clean cloth.

“It is a paper cup… a new one.” Takahiro all but laughed as he watched the ash blonde man in front of him decant the coffee from their café cup into the mug.

“How new? You are aware that they store those things before use.” Shin gave a small pleading look to Takahiro as he reached for their cup.

“Yeah, and they are clean. If they weren’t the inspectors would shut down the places.” An idea partly formed in Takahiro’s mind to play keep away with the coffee but he knew it would only result in Shin being annoyed. Sometimes it was so annoying to have such a diligent man working for him.

“Not the point.” Grasping the cup firmly Shin poured the second café cup into a mug and handed it back to his boss.

“Oh fine. You worked hard it’s not like I have it in me to argue with you right now.”

“What is this?” Shin peered into his mug after finally looking at the drink for the first time. He never really went for fancy coffee and drinks from cafes. It wasn’t regulated enough for him.

Takahiro had often called him a germophobic hermit crab, but it was habit now. All those years spent in “dispatch” you learnt to watch your back and the easiest way to hurt someone was to spike the drink and food. It was a low move but effective. Couple that with the desire to leave no evidence or trace you were even there and you had Shin Tanaka.

“Spiced latte I thought you’d like it.” Takahiro shrugged before returning to work mode “Well I have to get back to work. Meeting with the board still at three?”

“Yes, and you have some urgent emails that need immediate attention and someone from a holdings company called saying, “it’s done”. I assume that makes sense to you?” Shin looked at the dark-haired man trying to get a read on him. After what he was told last night that meant he had to pull an all-nighter. He was a little worried Takahiro might be feeling a little pressured.

“Yes perfectly. Thanks, see you later.” The response came fast and gave the appearance of someone fleeing. “Oh, I completely forgot.” Takahiro nudged the paper bag closer to Shin. “For you.” He left the office with his coffee mug in hand without looking back. Curiosity got the better of him and Shin peered in at the contents of the bag. A large iced cookie with bright red icing on it glared back at him “I Love you” written on it in a fancy font.

“That man…” Shin muttered in exasperation. Takahiro always found a loophole in a rule of no flirting at work. But contrary to his apparent mood, a smile swept over Shin’s face at the sweet gesture.

---

The room was buzzing and alive with the chatter of countless businessmen and women. A few minor celebrities and some notable figures of industry were also there partly to add to the grandeur in the press coverage and also draw attention to the event in general. When was the last time he had attended one of these god-forsaken things?

It wasn’t so much an issue with the event itself but the volume of people in attendance. On one hand it was good because it was easier to hide in a large crowd as opposed to a small one but on the other hand, it was also dangerous for exactly that reason. Mitsuhide had thought it before and been proved right. If you want to hide something you do it in plain sight.

His mind wandered back to that event with her. How she looked so shocked and yet how strong she was in her refusal to crumble at that moment. She was scared, he could practically smell it on her but she held her ground and that was intriguing.

Raising his hand absentmindedly to brush the hidden pocket to his tux jacket, the concealed weapon giving a reassuring resistance against the fabric confirming its presence. I can’t be thinking about her now. I have to concentrate. I can’t think about that look in her beautiful blue eyes… how they swam with fear and unshed tears jewel-like before mine… Get a grip Mitsuhide! She is gone. And yet even knowing that, he found his mind wanting to wander that path. Temptation lay in his memories calling out like a siren, a promise of doom but also blissful happiness. It was a balancing act on a knife edge and he would have willingly walked it if only things were different.

“You seem distracted.”

“Mm?” Mitsuhide turned to the man next to him. Nobu had a drink in hand eyes reading the room as if it was some interesting novel. Mitsuhide knew that look. It was one that saw more than you thought and gave away nothing of exactly how much of it was relevant. “I was just considering options.”

“Liar.” A single word and yet the weight of it struck him like a freight train.

“Come again?” Mitsuhide smiled in an attempt to mask his own reaction. Are you for real right now? Have I really become so predictable?

“I called you a liar. You think I cannot see what you have tried to hide from the moment you stepped foot in the venue? I am not blind Mitsuhide nor do I take you to be foolish enough to think me otherwise.” Nobu turned to face him. Meeting smile for smile as he allowed his ruby red gaze to drift over Mitsuhide’s face.

“And if I was distracted?” A small challenging tone entering his voice as Mitsuhide lightly pushed back verbally.

“Then I would hope you realise it and continue to carry out your duty without it causing interference.” The veiled threat in that sentence was not lost on Mitsuhide. “Don’t make me regret calling you back.” Nobu took an elegant sip from his champagne casting his eyes around the room once more.

“Why did you call me back exactly? It's not like this is something outside of your ability to fix.” Mitsuhide knew it wasn’t. After all, Nobu had been the one to construct elegant plans and executed them without the help of anyone. Well, without the “knowing” aid of anyone.

“That may be so but sometimes it takes a specialist to catch a specialist.” Nobu commented with a devilish smirk.

“And you think there is a need for this?” Mitsuhide asked a question that had been on his mind now for a while. Does he know more than he is telling again or are we really fumbling in the dark searching for that stray match that can light our way?

“I am not sure. I cannot deny that the “return” of a trusted employee did not alert me to the level of expertise we might be facing from the other side. As far as how talented or gifted they are I could not say, but...” Nobu turned back towards Mitsuhide a different expression forming on his face from before. “You are my best man. You always did have a flare in this field.” For all his faults Nobu was not such a proud man as to ignore the qualities of another. He still respects me and what I do? I should feel something, but … trust. Trust is not something easily reformed once broken.

“You flatter me.” Mitsuhide scoffed as he too took a glass from the tray a passing waiter. Taking a sip of bubbly alcohol. The sensation of it on his tongue felt bitter even if it was beyond his ability to taste it.

“I don’t. There is no point in such hollow meaningless actions.” The intense gaze of Nobu settled on a pair of new arrivals. Mitsuhide did not miss the almost imperceptible shift in his boss. He’s on guard. No, more than that. He looks like he is relishing some form of calming bliss.

“It appears the other players have entered the arena.” Mitsuhide muttered as he too took in the sight.

The two gentlemen were smartly dressed. The one with dark hair Mitsuhide recognised as the CEO from all the press coverage, Takahiro Yasui. So that would make the pale blonde man standing next to him the right-hand man, Shin Tanaka. It was so nice to finally have faces to put with names.

Smirking to himself he took a swig of his drink, his eyes drawn to Tanaka. Those movements the way he looked around the room, he was not all he seemed. Filing that piece of information away for later exploration Mitsuhide placed his now empty glass on a table. I will uncover your secrets in time.

The right-hand man was dutifully following his boss along the buffet table. Producing a cloth from nowhere like a magician, wiping items of cutlery and tableware before handing them to his boss and requesting some fresh platters of food be brought out from the back. He placed selections of small savouries and sweets on the clean plate meticulously. A set of empty glasses arrived from the back with a new bottle of champagne that was opened by Tanaka himself before pouring the drinks. It was amusing to witness. There is something here that is not like all the others, and you Mr Tanaka are very interesting.

“I have no idea how he can put up with someone acting like that. The pandering and constant…” Nobu began talking but suddenly the words he had died and a flash of realisation played behind his eyes. Oh? I wonder…

“Constant?” Mitsuhide nudged his boss a little to see if he could tease a continuation to that train of thought.

“Never mind. Shall we?” Nobu moved without checking to see if Mitsuhide was following. It seems Dad has worked out a similarity to Mum in the men before them. Maybe not in such extremes.

“After you.” Mitsuhide chuckled as he trailed along behind.

---

The swirling mass of bodies parted like the red sea as Nobu cut his path towards them. Shin noticed the movement first, Takahiro paid little attention to it. It was difficult to tell if he was just being arrogant now or plain reckless. Shin resisted the urge to roll his eyes instead he gave a small surreptitious nudge to his boss in order to draw attention.

“What is it?” Takahiro mumbled as he decided which bitesize morsel on his plate he was going to eat next.

“I believe the Devil is coming to pay you a visit.” Shin responded in a voice barely loud enough to be called a whisper. His words only falling on the man beside him.

“Is he now? Good.” Takahiro drew himself up to full height. The sleek cut of his formal wear fell into line with his figure like finely crafted armour.

“Yasui.”

“Oda.” Takahiro met the level tone of Nobu perfectly. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. I had no idea that that was your preference.” He jested, flashing a disarming smile over Nobunaga’s shoulder towards Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide simply returned the gesture unperturbed.

“It isn’t. Not that that matters in the slightest to anyone. And even if it was, it would be none of your business either way.” Nobu didn’t flinch at the provocative jab. Instead, he smiled pleasantly and introduced the other guest. “This is Mitsuhide Akechi he is one of my trusted advisors.”

“Is he now?” Takahiro raked his eyes over Mitsuhide in such a way you might have thought he was assessing a good meal. Shin tensed slightly at the motion but it was not an action observed by any of those present. “This is Shin Tanaka he is Head of PR.”

“Charmed.” Nobu gave a small nod towards the ash blonde man. The freezer burn he would have suffered from those blue eyes might have affected him had he been the type of man to allow such things. “There is a matter I’d like to discuss with you. In private.”

“Alright.”

The four men left the main hall and the buzzing chatter behind in search of somewhere more private.

---

The small side room they found on the third floor was currently being used as storage for all the items cleared from the main hall for tonight’s festivities. Stacks of chairs and tables not required lined the walls.

“So… shall we cut the crap?” The door had only just closed when Takahiro spun around asking his question. Dropping all the pleasantries and formality he had shown to this point.

“Mr Yasui.” Tanaka attempted to form a reprimand unsuccessfully. Mitsuhide watched the interaction from by Nobu. Something about you is different Mr Tanaka. Something… familiar.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. We all know why we are here it is a waste of time to pretend otherwise.” Takahiro set his jaw in line with his shoulders as he faced Mitsuhide and Nobunaga.

“How very forward of you. I can’t say I dislike an intelligent fast thinker.” Mitsuhide calmly spoke. His yellow eyes dancing with mirth as he observed the complete switch of the person before him. I guess Tanaka is the only one that might be more guarded. His boss is certainly entertaining, a little rough but still…

“Indeed. As you say we shall “cut the crap” and get to the point.” Nobu appeared unmoved by the sudden shift in persona. “I would like to propose…”

“Now who is being forward?” Takahiro snorted. You are nothing but a child in adult form, really aren’t you?

“… Propose a merger.” Nobu finished his rudely interrupted sentence flatly.

“You want Esshu Industries to take over Azuchi Corp?” Takahiro let out a hollow laugh.

“No, I want you to join us and put an end to the frivolous open market war.” Nobu to his credit was doing a fine job at hiding his rising frustration and anger.

“Yeah… erm… Nah, not happening.” Takahiro seemed to have reverted into a teenage brat. Leaning forward in his position to be even more aggravatingly arrogant. “Now you look here, Grandpa. I will never sell out and join you. Do you know why? Because you are a washed up has been and this city needs a breath of fresh air to clear out all your stuffy old ideas.” A challenging smirk played on the young man’s face. He looked almost like a wild animal at that moment. It is probably not a good idea to play games with the veteran hunter in the room, my boy.

“For a breath of fresh air, you seem to be spinning a lot of empty words whilst practically declaring your desire to die a painful death.” Nobu was on the edge. His choice of words was the only indication of exactly how close he was to lamping the guy in front of him.

“Think what you will. I have recently acquired something that will ensure I can not only maintain my hold but strengthen it.” Takahiro belayed the threat. Either unaffected by it or unaware of the monster he was playing with.

“That will only happen if you somehow managed to acquire a miracle.” Nobu laughed a joyless mocking laugh.

“Perhaps I did. I have a nice little announcement lined up.” Takahiro appeared to return to business mode. Straightening his cuffs on his shirt as he stood straight again.

“And what is that?” Nobu was still annoyed. The anger in his blood was almost hot enough that Mitsuhide could practically feel it himself. Interesting. It isn’t every day you see Nobu lose his cool.

“Oda you are not the only one that understands timing.” Takahiro gave one last smile before glancing behind himself. “Tanaka? We’re done here.” The two men left the room behind without a single glance back. Timing huh?

---

The morning papers arrived at the reception desk of Azuchi Corp with a thud. There was a copy of every press release in the city for various research reasons. Mitsuhide collected his as he returned from the parking lot after a night drive, he took to clear his head. Sipping on a canned coffee he had grabbed from a vending machine he nearly choked as his eyes fell on the front-page story.

“Rising Star CEO Engagement. – Who is the mystery girl?”

The photo was the typical press released image, but even with the poor grade printing quality, he would have noticed the girl anywhere. He felt a chill freezing him in his core as he looked at it.

“It’s her.”

---

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gingerstorm101 · 5 years

Text

A Little Too Late Chapter 3

Summary: Years after the death of Ziva, a case comes up where Tony finds out that she’s keeping a secret from him.

FF.net

AOL

Enjoy!

He looks down at the envelope in his hand, his name is written in red marker on the front. He knew who did it, who else could it have been? Tali. He doesn't know any other child who could have broken into his apartment, except maybe the kid down the hall. But he doubts the kid is skilled enough to get in here.

Tony looks around the room, noticing the picture he left on his end table had been moved, the one he holds dear to his heart. Pulling out his phone, he calls his senior agent.

“McGee.” His voice was groggy over the phone, probably only had an hours’ sleep before he had called him.

Turning on the spot, back to the envelope on the floor behind his door. “McGee, wake everyone up. My apartment was broken into.”

It took a few seconds before the younger man answers him. “At midnight? Tony, did you just get home?”

“Just get over here McGoo, if we want any sleep tonight, get a McMove-On.”

With a yawn, the agent responds, “On it boss” before hanging up. Tony, knowing it would take them a few minutes before his team got to his apartment, walks out. He only has one destination. The coffee shop.

***

Sobering up, Tony walks down the hall to his apartment with O’Riley on his tail. The young man was yawning loudly as they made their way to the door. As he opens the door, he hears Sandra and McGee coming off the elevator.

“Was it really her?” She asks.

“We won’t know until we get fingerprint evidence.”

Inside, everything was the same with how he left it, the envelope still on the floor, and little fingerprints all over his apartment. The team shuffles in, looking at the clean room around them. McGee is the only one who isn't surprised by the layout of the apartment, on the other hand, O'Riley looks like he's about to piss himself. Tony expects that he's worried about breaking something in his boss' place.

“Let’s make this quick so we can all get back to our beds.” He says before taking a sip of his second coffee of the night.

"If we even make it there," O'Riley mutters under his breath.

Tony doesn’t have the energy to glare at the young probie, but he knew he was right. But he didn’t want to keep the agents up all night, there was no time sensitivity on the case, and they all work better after a rest.

He hopes Josh isn’t right.

McGee is the first one to get into action, grabbing his camera and taking pictures, along with O’Riley, beside them Sandra pulls out the equipment to dust for prints. Tony took this time to search the apartment, trying to find any hints that his daughter, god, his daughter, left anything else behind or stole anything from him.

It didn’t take long for Johnson to call him back to the living room; McGee and O’Riley using their own dusters in the same room. “Boss, so far we’ve only found one set of prints, a child’s prints.”

“What’s the chance it’s Tali’s?”

"How could a child, a 10-year-old no less, unlock the front door of a secured apartment building?" Sandra looks him in the eye, mixed emotions in her gaze, but he could pick out the sadness in them. What could she possibly be sad about? It was his life, his family he lost, not hers. It was his family that was killed before he had the chance to make Ziva his legal family. The woman pushing him away before he could propose.

But no. He lost his family, kidnapped before he could meet his daughter. These people, the ones who kidnapped Tali, just who are they? Why are they teaching her how to break into homes? Why? Why everything?

Tony turns to head to the kitchen with his own duster when McGee calls him over. “Tony,” The Senior Field Agent starts, holding the gray picture frame in his hand. “It looks like she spent most of her stay with this in her hand.” Tony lifts they frame from his agent’s hands, noting the dusted prints all over the edge. “If she really is your daughter, I’m not surprised she spent her stay with this picture.”

Gazing down at the woman in the frame, Tony smiles. It was taken so long ago, he hardly even recognized himself, a lot less gray hair back then. He remembers that day, Thanksgiving of 2012, McGee took the picture of him and Ziva, Ziva wrapped around his shoulders, her cheek pressed against his own, smiling. Happier times. He’d gotten a picture frame the same day he got the photo.

“I hope that she got good emotions from that photo as I do every time I look at it.”

Two hours pass before they are done collecting evidence from the crime scene; take it back to the evidence lock-up. Tony sends his team home to bed to get a couple of hours of sleep before their day starts again.

In the meantime, Tony checks into a hotel. There was only one thing left to do.

Call his father.

He takes a couple of deep breaths to get his mind in order before he pulls out his phone and dials the number. It rings five times before Senior finally picks up.

“Junior! What can I do for you at this time of night?” As frail as the man is getting, Senior still surprise him.

Tony paces in his spot, too wired to sit. “What are you doing awake?”

He could hear the smile and the fancy-dressed tux from over the phone. "I was just in a business meeting. If you want to make some money, you gotta be up and attem before your business partners do, that what I say."

He signed and paces some more. “Dad, ther- there is something I need to tell you.” Pausing, he wills himself to say more, but nothing comes. After a minute of silence, Senior speaks up.

“Yes, Junior? What is it?”

Finally, Tony sits on the edge of the hotel bed. “Ziva has a daughter.” He didn’t have to say it.

“I knew there was something there, Junior.”

“Now is not the time Dad.” He brought his hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes.

“Just answer me one question: Why did you walk away?” His heart lurched.

He looks away, knowing that his father couldn’t see him. “It’s what she wanted.” And he’s regretted it every day since.

“Bullshit.” Shutting his eyes, he inhaled. “Women don’t know what they want. No wonder you never got married.”

“Dad, please.”

"No, listen to what I have to tell you." His father's voice all but boomed in his commanding voice. "When your mother was upset with what I'd done, I would never just leave her alone. I would go out and grab her some of her favorite things. I made sure our marriage worked; she would rather have me there with her, showing her that I loved her. Not getting on a plane and doing business in another country. She would still be here if you did not make that mistake Junior."

He was right, but that didn't stop Tony from snapping. "Do you have any idea how much I regret walking away? No matter what you tell me, it will not change the fact that my soul mate is dead." Tony says with a sigh. "But Tali…" He trails off, unable to come to terms with what had happened. "One crime scene, she leaves a single, deliberate fingerprint. And then in the next, she leaves them all over my apartment. I feel like she's gloating."

“That sounds like you.” Senior smirks over the phone.

“Dad, I’m too tired for this shit tonight.”

"You're the one who called at 4 am."

Flopping back on the bed, Tony sighs again. “I… I had to tell you. You had to hear it from me before she even thought of telling you. If she’s anything like Ziva, she already knows about you, and I’d rather have you hear it from me first.”

Senior stays silent for a moment before he says one last thing before hanging up. “I had a feeling you know? But I pushed it away when you said she was killed.”

***

When the sun shines through the hotel window, Tony groans and buries his face in the pillow. He’s not ready for the day to start; he hardly slept as it was as his mind kept going over the case in his head. He could always stay in his bed until his alarm went off. Maybe even close his eyes until then. Slowly, he closes his eyes.

What must've felt like seconds, his alarm went off on the bedside table. All but growling, he gets ready for the day.

An hour later, he walks into the bullpen to find Sandra and O'Riley hard at work. "Where's McGee?" He asks setting two coffees down on his desk, each filled with sugar.

"Right here, boss. I was checking in with Abby, updating her on the evidence we found last night." Glancing over at Tony's desk, he comments. "Didn't sleep, Tony?" Without answering verbally, the man glares at him, the bags under his eyes prominent on his face. "Did you hook up with a girl while you were in that hotel room?"

Gritting his teeth, Tony slaps the back of his senior field agent’s head. A good old fashion Gibbs Slap. “No! I was not with a woman Mc-Gee!” The younger man throws his hands up, holding them in front of him in defense.

“Whoa whoa, sorry. You look like a train wreck.”

"Well, wouldn't you if you found out about a child who was at two crime scenes?"

Around them, O'Riley and Sandra stay in their desks, not wanting to disturb their boss. He was already upset as it is. "Look, I get it, all right. You weren't expecting this, but you don't need to be taking it out on us."

“I won’t be taking it out on you if you didn’t keep your trap shut McNosey.” The two glare at each other, not taking their eyes away for a moment when Tony’s phone rings. “DiNozzo.”

“I got something.”

Without a blink, he replies. “Be right there, Abs.” Stepping away from McGee, he speaks to Sandra. “Find me a suspect. Today.”

***

The music is blaring in the lab, and he's not sure if it's just him getting old or if it is from the lack of sleep, but for once, it was giving him a headache. "Abby!" The woman kept staring. "Abs! Abs!" Wide-eyed, the Goth turns around. "The music! Turn it down!"

Abby says a silent ‘oh’ before she picks up the remote and turns down the techno music.

“How are you not deaf yet?” She shrugs, a smile plastered on her face. He strolls up to her, still wearing the same outfit as she always had. Life has been good for her. Her and her short skirts. “What’d got Abs?”

“Conformation.” Turning back to her computer screen, the women types quickly, pulling up the fingerprints that they had gathered in the middle of the night. “Your suspicions were correct. Tali David broke into your apartment last night.”

“And you couldn’t just tell me that with a phone call? I went all out and everything!” He says, holding up the Caf-Pow in his hand.

She reaches for it, pulling it close to her. “Aww, you shouldn’t have.” Taking some sips before slamming the cup down. “Now. You, sir, need to talk to someone about this.”

Rubbing his eyes, Tony lets out a sign. “I already have Abby.”

Crossing her arms, she leans on one foot. “Why don’t I believe you?”

"I swear it! I talked to my Dad and Gibbs last night. I had to tell them before she does." All these emotions he was letting out was tough on him, he couldn't keep doing this. And yet, he does. "I don't know how much Tali knows. I don't know if she knows about Gibbs and McGee, even you and me. I have to protect you."

Abby frowns. “Aww, Tony,” She wraps her arms around the man, her warm body pressed against his chest. “I love you too, but Tali is just a child, she’s not going to hurt us.”

The corner of his mouth lifts a touch, he was about to respond when his phone rings. “DiNozzo. Yeah? Yeah. Well, go get him!” Abby looks at him expectantly. “The team has a lead.”

***

“David David, 27 years old, Navy brat but never continued the family tradition of joining the core. The type of gun Abby matched to the murder weapon is the same make and model as to what David has registered to him.” Sandra tells him from observation, looking into the interrogation room where David and McGee sit talking.

On the other side of the glass, David shifts in his seat. McGee clears his throat, placing the folder down in front of him, he gets started. “Do you know why we called you here today, David?”

The man’s eyes shift from the mirror behind the agent to his eye. “They said Stephen is dead, and they wanted to talk to me about it.”

Opening the file, McGee pulls out a photo of the two men, Stephen and David. “Our sources tell us you and Stephen are close, best friends even.”

“We’re not friends anymore.”

The room goes quiet for a moment before McGee replies, “Why do you say that?”

David lurches forward, his hands slamming against the table. “Because! He’s sleeping with my little sister!” He snarls at him. “He betrayed my trust! I can never forgive him for that!”

“Well,” McGee looks down at the picture of Stephen and a young woman. “He’s no longer sleeping with your sister.”

David looks away, his face stoned. Quietly, he says, “And how would you know that?”

“Because he’s dead.” The hard face the man was holding was gone, the next sentence made the man’s jaw drop. “And we believe you did it.”

#that show i shall not name #tony dinozzo #tali dinozzo #tim mcgee #original characters #leroy jethro gibbs #anthony dinozzo senior #tiva #ish #fanfiction #fanfic #i still don't know how to tag this thing #cause it's a tiva fic #but not a tiva fic #get it?

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