![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
servena posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
120_minutenTitel: Setup
Team: Machine
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität - Gefühlsachterbahn (Für's Team)
Fandom: Power
Charactere: Alicia Jimenez, Diego Jimenez
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: 750
Widmung: Für Aku, die das hier morgen beim Frühstück lesen muss
Kommentar: Heute in „Für wie viele neue Fandoms kann ich schreiben, nur weil ich obsessed mit einem Schauspieler bin“: Hier, habt ein niedliches Geschwisterpaar, das ein Drogenkartell leitet.
For once, she doesn’t hear him coming.
“Did you set me up?”
Setup
For once, she doesn’t hear him coming. No slamming doors or loud voices in the hallway. He appears in the door as silent as a panther, and she only notices him when he speaks. “Did you set me up?”
She glances up from the notebook on her lap, startled. “What?”
He stalks into the room towards her, stopping in front of the coffee table. The look on his face is hard and unreadable. “Did you set me up?”, he repeats.
She can feel something cold settle in the pit of her stomach. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He reaches behind himself into the waistband of his trousers and her heart skips a beat, but he just slams the gun so hard onto the coffee table that the glass vibrates.
It’s the golden one, his favourite. The one that should still be in evidence lockup. She has no idea how he managed to get it back.
“I’m talking about”, he says, and the edge of his voice is razor sharp, “how my gun ended up in the stash house that got raided.”
She rolls her eyes, and pushes her hands underneath her notebook to hide their trembling. “You lost it, estúpido. You told me you didn’t know where.”
“I didn’t lose it.”
“You were high.”
“I didn’t lose it.” His hands are trembling, too, but not from fear.
She’s never seen him like this before. Usually his anger boils hot, but cools quickly, often in the aftermath of violence. Self-control isn’t anything Diego usually concerns himself with. This quiet rage is something new.
She’s never been afraid of him before.
He rounds the coffee table with three quick steps and plucks the notebook out of her hands, just to throw it casually onto a free armchair. Now she feels naked, with nowhere to hide. She sees his eyes flash, and thinks: This is the last thing some people see.
A rustle of clothes behind her alerts her to the presence of her bodyguard. She’s gotten so used to him that most times she forgets he’s even there. She forces herself to take a deep breath. This man works for both of them, but she has no doubt where his loyalty lies if this escalates. Her brother is not an easy man to work with.
But this wasn't how this was supposed to go.
“Diego”, she starts to say, but he crouches down before her and puts a finger to her lips.
“Shh”, he makes. And then: “I know it was you.”
Her mouth opens despite herself, then closes. She nods.
He’s so close that she can hear him take a shaky breath, feel it fan over her cheeks as he breathes out. His dark eyes betray nothing. Her gaze flickers over to the table where the golden gun is still in his reach, heavy, loaded.
She can hear the bodyguard behind her shift his weight, and thinks: This isn't what I wanted.
And then Diego looks at her, really looks at her for the first time since he entered the room, and asks: “Why?” And the amount of emotion in that single word takes her breath away.
“I…”, she stammers, desperately trying to get a handle on her thoughts. “You’re too volatile. You’re risking the business.” When he doesn’t say anything, she continues: “Diego, all the parties, the girls, the drugs...you’re high all the time, you’re racking up debts with our distributors -”
“I thought you needed me.”
The look on his face makes her heart clench. She reaches out on impulse to thread a hand into his dark hair. Then she says softly: “Not like this.”
She almost startles when he leans forward into the touch and puts his head onto her shoulder. She can feel the weight of his body sag against her. “I’ll do better, Liss”, he mumbles against her blouse. She can’t remember the last time he called her that.
“No more parties. No more drugs.” She tightens the grip in his hair momentarily. “I mean it.”
“Te prometo.” Then he glances up at her quickly. “No more girls?”
She rolls her eyes. “You can keep the girls.” And at his grin, she adds quickly: “But no more fucking the wives of business partners, hermanito.”
“Entiendo.”
She doesn’t know how long they stay like this. She keeps running her fingers through his hair, while he buries his face into her clothing like a child. The man whose job it is to protect them is still as a statue behind her. He’ll never breathe a word of this to anyone, of that she’s certain.
The gun on the coffee table is forgotten.
Team: Machine
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität - Gefühlsachterbahn (Für's Team)
Fandom: Power
Charactere: Alicia Jimenez, Diego Jimenez
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: 750
Widmung: Für Aku, die das hier morgen beim Frühstück lesen muss
Kommentar: Heute in „Für wie viele neue Fandoms kann ich schreiben, nur weil ich obsessed mit einem Schauspieler bin“: Hier, habt ein niedliches Geschwisterpaar, das ein Drogenkartell leitet.
For once, she doesn’t hear him coming.
“Did you set me up?”
Setup
For once, she doesn’t hear him coming. No slamming doors or loud voices in the hallway. He appears in the door as silent as a panther, and she only notices him when he speaks. “Did you set me up?”
She glances up from the notebook on her lap, startled. “What?”
He stalks into the room towards her, stopping in front of the coffee table. The look on his face is hard and unreadable. “Did you set me up?”, he repeats.
She can feel something cold settle in the pit of her stomach. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He reaches behind himself into the waistband of his trousers and her heart skips a beat, but he just slams the gun so hard onto the coffee table that the glass vibrates.
It’s the golden one, his favourite. The one that should still be in evidence lockup. She has no idea how he managed to get it back.
“I’m talking about”, he says, and the edge of his voice is razor sharp, “how my gun ended up in the stash house that got raided.”
She rolls her eyes, and pushes her hands underneath her notebook to hide their trembling. “You lost it, estúpido. You told me you didn’t know where.”
“I didn’t lose it.”
“You were high.”
“I didn’t lose it.” His hands are trembling, too, but not from fear.
She’s never seen him like this before. Usually his anger boils hot, but cools quickly, often in the aftermath of violence. Self-control isn’t anything Diego usually concerns himself with. This quiet rage is something new.
She’s never been afraid of him before.
He rounds the coffee table with three quick steps and plucks the notebook out of her hands, just to throw it casually onto a free armchair. Now she feels naked, with nowhere to hide. She sees his eyes flash, and thinks: This is the last thing some people see.
A rustle of clothes behind her alerts her to the presence of her bodyguard. She’s gotten so used to him that most times she forgets he’s even there. She forces herself to take a deep breath. This man works for both of them, but she has no doubt where his loyalty lies if this escalates. Her brother is not an easy man to work with.
But this wasn't how this was supposed to go.
“Diego”, she starts to say, but he crouches down before her and puts a finger to her lips.
“Shh”, he makes. And then: “I know it was you.”
Her mouth opens despite herself, then closes. She nods.
He’s so close that she can hear him take a shaky breath, feel it fan over her cheeks as he breathes out. His dark eyes betray nothing. Her gaze flickers over to the table where the golden gun is still in his reach, heavy, loaded.
She can hear the bodyguard behind her shift his weight, and thinks: This isn't what I wanted.
And then Diego looks at her, really looks at her for the first time since he entered the room, and asks: “Why?” And the amount of emotion in that single word takes her breath away.
“I…”, she stammers, desperately trying to get a handle on her thoughts. “You’re too volatile. You’re risking the business.” When he doesn’t say anything, she continues: “Diego, all the parties, the girls, the drugs...you’re high all the time, you’re racking up debts with our distributors -”
“I thought you needed me.”
The look on his face makes her heart clench. She reaches out on impulse to thread a hand into his dark hair. Then she says softly: “Not like this.”
She almost startles when he leans forward into the touch and puts his head onto her shoulder. She can feel the weight of his body sag against her. “I’ll do better, Liss”, he mumbles against her blouse. She can’t remember the last time he called her that.
“No more parties. No more drugs.” She tightens the grip in his hair momentarily. “I mean it.”
“Te prometo.” Then he glances up at her quickly. “No more girls?”
She rolls her eyes. “You can keep the girls.” And at his grin, she adds quickly: “But no more fucking the wives of business partners, hermanito.”
“Entiendo.”
She doesn’t know how long they stay like this. She keeps running her fingers through his hair, while he buries his face into her clothing like a child. The man whose job it is to protect them is still as a statue behind her. He’ll never breathe a word of this to anyone, of that she’s certain.
The gun on the coffee table is forgotten.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-23 06:57 am (UTC)I love this. I live everything about this. Die kontrollierte Wut, die kontrollierte Angst, der Bodyguard, der da ist aber nichts ändert, das Nicken. ♥