#the algorithm won’t give me a fucking break

[webslingingslasher]

is trouble ever frat!peter’s lock screen? Either before or after the whole situationship thing or secretly during both eras? If so, what picture?

yes! relationship!peter does it proudly, situationship!peter is a bit more stealth. iphones have a wallpaper feature where if you hold the screen down you can swap between photos and i imagine that’s how it is.

peter went home for a week and really missed you and went through his photos and he saw that picture he snapped of you at a party. the background is blurred, proof that the liquor was flowing heavily. you’ve got a smile that shows off almost every tooth and a vice grip on a liter of rum. he doesn’t know why, but he made it his wallpaper for the week and would pick up his phone every five minutes just to look at it.

relationship!peter has a picture of the both of you. something he looks at and is reminded of what he has and how much he truly loves you. it was from a double date night you both had a few months into being official, your friend pressured peter for the photo, he rolled his eyes and gave in. he’s glad he did. it’s his favorite.

you’re wrapped around him in a side hug, peters got a grip on your shoulder. he’s laughing at something your friends date said, he’s wearing the grin you tell him you love. but the reason he has such adornment for the photo is because of the way you’re looking at him.

your eyes are bright and shining, your smile matches his, not because you found anything funny, but because peter’s joy was contagious for you. each time he looks at it he feels warmth radiate, a visual reminder of how much you love him.

—

(you know i had to add a bonus of trouble finding peter’s wallpaper!! -situationship!peter obv)

‘just sit here and look pretty, i’ll be thirty minutes tops.’

peter had pulled you away from date night with the promise of stopping at his chapter meeting. he had negotiated the first hour, trent, the chapter president, wouldn’t break on the last thirty minutes and demanded peter be there. or else.

you wouldn’t mind but peter didn’t tell you until last minute and now you’re sitting down at an empty table at the library while they fill up a rented room across from you.

‘it’ll be longer than that and you know it.’

‘you’ll be fine. give me a kiss.’ you meet him with one, you grumble down at your phone. ‘my phones about to die, what am i supposed to do?’

peter feigns shock, ‘oh no!’ he looks around, ‘i hope you’ll find something to do in this big, empty library. it might be hard.’

your eyes narrow, you hate his sarcasm. ‘the library doesn’t have instagram reels, peter. how am i supposed to entertain myself while you’re talking numbers and business?’

there’s a miniature battle of silence, you win when peter groans and hands over his phone from his back pocket. ‘here. use mine.’ you reach forward, peter’s giving you unbridled access to his phone, you’d be dumb to say no.

‘nuh uh. you promise me right now you won’t fuck up my algorithm, i spent months perfecting it.’ you make grabby hands, ‘promise.’

the sleek, black screen is in your hold in seconds. your thumbs fly over the screen, you’re in and on instagram in a second. peter looks back once more, ‘thirty minutes.’ you nod, the first video already playing, you wish you could send it to peter. you send it to yourself to send back to him when you’re at a full charge.

ten minutes and you need a refresher, wandering around towards the bathroom you grab a water from a vending machine. cracking the cap, your left thumb pressed into peter’s home screen and his wallpaper separated, another photo right next to it.

you can recognize the edge, you swipe and feel your heart melt into a puddle. it’s you and only you. smiling and posing just for peter. he snapped the pic and saved it, he even went one step further and put it as his screensaver. a backup one, but something tells you he doesn’t want you knowing it exists.

you can keep a secret.

you can’t stop smiling at his phone and the short videos playing aren’t even that funny. you perk at a kiss on the top of your head. ‘told you i’d only be thirty minutes… what? why are you looking at me like that?’

‘no reason. it was very nice of you to offer me your phone, thank you.’

another kiss, you can’t wait til you get him alone. you might be the only one in on the secret, but he was going to be treated very nicely for it.

‘no problem, trouble. what’s mine is yours.’ your heart thumps louder. ‘and now,’ peter gently pulls you up with him, you’re along for the ride.

‘i owe you dessert, let’s go.’ you don’t walk with him, you stay until his hand tugs yours, peter looks back at you confused. ‘i wanna have dessert at yours.’

peter pouts, ‘tarrent polished off the ice cream.’

‘i know.’ peter knows that tone, now he’s standing straighter and acting casually. ‘oh? alright, yeah, let’s go home.’

[musings-of-a-rose]

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) - Chapter 4

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader nicknamed "Juni"

Word Count: 4800+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I've had this idea in my head for well over a year and with the Fallout show being dropped (and absolutely AMAZING), I figured now was the time to post it! So this is a Triple Frontier/Fallout crossover au. Huge shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to probably hours of audio at this point of me talking myself through this fic. And to @deathbecomesnerds for listening to me prattle on about video game fics and giving me her own advice.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

I Don’t Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) Masterlist

Suddenly, I feel a cold, metal cylinder push against the back of my neck and I realize with horror that it’s the barrel of a gun. It clicks, a round sliding into the chamber and my heart feels like it’s going to beat through my chest. Is this the Nightshade? I can’t believe I let my guard down.

“Where the fuck did you get this jumpsuit?”

The voice runs a chill down my spine, fanning out to the edges of my body, of my mind as it tries desperately to cling to it. My voice catches in my throat, momentarily unable to respond or move, which the man perceives as defiance. He presses the gun barrel into my neck harder.

“I won’t ask again. Where did you get this vault suit?”

My mind is a whirl of emotions, hope and disbelief surging forward, pushing through the fog to allow me to choke out one word. One simple word that means everything.

“Benny?”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath before the barrel is removed and I’m whirled around, my world momentarily continuing to spin. But then our eyes meet, his bright blue ones boring into mine, my vision becoming cloudy with tears as I finally see what I almost didn’t believe I’d heard.

Benny, in a dark long coat, dark clothes underneath it, what exactly I’m not sure because my brain simply refuses to process it. A cowboy-esque hat nearly obscures his face, his beautiful face that has aged some, crinkles in his skin that weren’t there before, a prominent white scar slashed into his skin over his left eye and another across his right cheek. His gloved hand comes up to cup my face, a soft movement from someone so formidable in appearance. 

“Juni?” he whispers in disbelief, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

I let out a short chuckle, nodding as I bring my hand up to cover his. “It’s me, Benny. It’s me.”

His hand slides to the back of my head, pulling me to him as I push his hat off, our lips meeting in a frantic desire for more. My fingers tangle in his hair that now brushes the top of his shoulders, feeling him tighten his grip on mine. Benny’s other arm wraps around me, pulling me as close to him as I can get, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. 

He spins us then, never breaking our making out, his arm stretching to find the wall, pressing my back gently against it, till protecting me after all these years. Our hands move in a frenzied manner, touching, sliding across our clothed bodies. Desire burns hot in my lower belly, a feeling I’d nearly forgotten about. I hitch my leg over his hip and he links his arm with it, tapping my other thigh to do the same. As he pulls me away from the wall, his hands slide down to grip my ass, squeezing a little and I moan into his mouth. 

He sets me on the counter, breaking the kiss for the first time as we frantically try to remove bits of armor pieces, holsters, canteens, anything standing in our way. He grips his belt in his hand and in one fast movement, yanks it from the belt loops, dropping it onto the counter next to me. Fuck, that was hot. I blink rapidly, momentarily stunned by hot fucking hot that was and undo the clasp on my jumpsuit at my neck, quickly sliding the zipper down all the way between my legs. I look up at Benny, who’s eyes are sliding down the exposed part of my body before coming back to my eyes. I hear his zipper and I wrap my leg around him, pulling him closer. He plants one arm on the counter beside me, the other gripping his hard dick, lining up with me. He moves my panties aside as he thrusts into me hard, his desperation taking over and I cry out, half in pain but half in ecstasy at a feeling I never thought I’d have again. Not with the man I loved with everything I am. 

I throw my arm out behind me to brace myself, my other hand gripping his shirt. I feel his hand on the counter slide over mine, locking fingers with me as best as we can. My legs wrap around him tighter, begging him to go deeper, faster, harder, whatever he can give me. A loud moan escapes me but then Benny is there, his lips pressed to mine as he devours it, continuing to pound into me. My body is on fire, tears sticky on my cheeks as I feel my husband, his muscles tightening and pulling with every thrust, his breath coming out in short pants, the dry, cracked skin on his lips making mine a little bit sore. He’s here. He’s alive and he’s here! I cry into his mouth as I pulse around him, his hand squeezing mine as he guides me through my release, his own right behind me. Our breaths are loud, panting and gasping for air. He cups my face in both hands, tenderly kissing me while still inside me.

He pulls back, his bright blue eyes scanning mine.“You’re really here?” 

I lightly grip his wrists, giving them a squeeze. “I’m really here. And you’re really here. Together.”

BARK BARK!

A low growl follows 2 warning barks and I pull back, looking down to see Dogmeat in an attack position, ready to jump. Benny reaches for his gun, but I grab his hand, pushing it down while turning to Dogmeat.

“It’s ok, boy. He’s a friend.” I pat Benny’s chest without looking at him, trying to convince Dogmeat that he wasn’t a threat. His haunches still raised, Dogmeat stops his growling, his eyes never leaving Benny.

“Maybe I better…” Benny glances down where we’re still very much attached.

“Oh. Right. Dogmeat, it’s ok. Give him a moment.”

Benny keeps his eye on Dogmeat as he pulls his hips back, tucking himself away with a grunt. I manage to zip my suit back up, feeling sticky between my thighs. Benny reaches a hand out, palm up, and waits. Dogmeat glances back up at me as I hop down from the counter. He sniffs Benny’s outstretched hand, walking around him, as if judging every inch of him. Apparently satisfied, he stands next to me, putting his body against my thigh, a slight wag of the tail to indicate that Benny is approved. 

“Good boy,” I scratch behind his ear, reaching into my side bag and tossing him a bit of molerat jerky, which he gobbles up in an instant. 

“You got yourself a fantastic protector.”

I look up at Benny who is smiling down at Dogmeat. “Will you take snacks from me too?” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out some cooked mystery meat, holding a piece out for him. Dogmeat glances up at me and I nod, giving him a quick pat on the back to further confirm my approval. He sniffs at Benny’s hand, his dark eyes scanning Benny’s blue ones before he licks the meat off his hand, quickly chewing it. He sniffs his hand, looking for more. 

Benny chuckles. “We buds now?” Dogmeat gives him a friendly bark, his tail wagging. “Alright then.” He tosses him some more of the meat chunks, Dogmeat eating every last morsel. As he sniffs the ground, licking it when he finds some small pieces that had fallen, I straighten, looking up at Benny. 

“Are you Nightshade?”

The smile falls from his face as he looks at me, nodding. “That’s me. Wait…are you from Sanctuary Hills?”

I nod, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb. “I have your supplies outside.”

His eyebrows pull together, worried. “Why…why did you come here? Put yourself in danger?”

I chuckle. “Because I thought maybe The Nightshade would have some information about other vaults. Something that could bring me closer to finding out what happened to…well, you.”

He chuckles. “Well, you certainly got that.”

“Did…will you come back with me?”

He rubs the back of his neck, eyebrows pulling together. “To Sanctuary Hills? I doubt they’d want me there. I have a..reputation.”

I wave my hand. “I’ll vouch for you. They’ll just have to deal. It is my land after all.”

He smiles. “Your land? Isn’t it your parents’?” He realizes what he’s said the second the words leave his lips. “Oh shit, I’m sorry Juni.”

I give him a small smile. “It’s ok. I’ve come to terms with a lot over the last year.”

His eyes go wide. “Year? A whole year?”

“Seems like we have a lot to catch up on.”

Benny and I split the supply bags after some arguing. He finally gave in when I grabbed 2 of the 4 large bags and hoisted them over my shoulder. I carried them here, I can certainly carry half of them back.

It’s quiet, an odd nervous tension settling between us that sends my mind spiraling. How long has he been around? Does he have someone else and now feels guilty for fucking me against the counter? I don’t know if I’ll survive him having moved on. I mean, I’d be glad he wasn’t alone, but the thought of him in the arms of some other woman turns my stomach in knots. 

He lightly bumps into me, his hand brushing against mine. “Oh. Sorry. Balance is off.”

“Yeah. No problem. The bags are…weird.” What the fuck is happening? We used to tell each other everything with no issue. 

We walk for several more minutes in silence, Dogmeat’s feet padding against the broken pavement. Benny bumps into me again, his hand brushing against mine. Is he trying to hold my hand? No. He’s just not walking straight.

We continue on like this for the entire walk back, saying only a handful of superficial things to each other, Benny bumping into me from time to time. I swear I feel him staring at me through the corner of my eye but when I look at him, he’s looking forward, fixed on some point ahead. 

The gates guarding the small bridge leading into Sanctuary Hills come into sight as we round the corner. I see Preston at the top today, scanning the area from his spot on the lookout. He sees us and shifts in his spot, obviously on alert with Benny next to me. Nightshade. They know him as someone very different than I do. But do I know him anymore? What if he’s not my Benny?

“Hey, Juni,” Preston calls down to me, cradling his laser musket, his finger a little twitchy next to the trigger. “Everything alright?” His eyes shift to Benny next to me. 

I nod. “All good. The, uh, Nightshade, needs a secure place to camp down a few days. Looks like a good rad storm coming.” That last part had been sheer luck, the green storm clouds gathering in the distance, heading towards Sanctuary Hills. 

Preston studies Benny, who’s hat is pulled down low, his demeanor still intimidating. “That wasn’t part of our original deal.”

“Maybe not, but we’re not about to let someone stay out in that storm when we can help them, are we?”

Preston looks down at me. “No…but-”

“I’ll owe you a favor,” Benny says, his voice a little more raspy than I remember.

Preston looks back over at him. “A favor? From Nightshade himself?” He thinks for several moments before nodding, coming down from the lookout and cracking open the gate, walking up to us and sticking his hand out. “Deal.” Benny moves forward and shakes his hand, sealing the deal. Preston takes the bags from me, Benny picks his back up as we head through the gate, Preston closing and locking it behind us. 

“I should warn you, many here won’t be happy with your presence.”

“Nothin’ I’m not used to.” They set the bags down at the house across from mine, both of them shaking out their limbs when done. 

“We don’t really have any spare beds. You mind the floor?”

Benny chuckles. “I’ve slept on worse.”

“Well then, you’re welcome to set down in the living area inside.”

“Thank you. Anything I can do to help? Not part of the favor.”

Preston chuckles, but the smile fades fast. “Actually, I think you’d better make yourself scarce. My people love to help but they aren’t exactly welcoming of new people. Especially not of one with your…reputation.”

Benny nods. “I get it. I’ll just..make myself scarce.” He nods to Preston and turns, his eyes lingering on me for a few moments before he turns and somehow just disappears into the neighborhood. How the fuck did he do that?

“Watch yourself, Juni. That guy-”

I hold up my hand. “I’m a big girl, Preston. But thank you.”

“Did you get any information from him? About the vaults?”

Right. The vaults. “Uh sort of? But now we have more time so maybe I’ll get a chance to ask him some more questions.” I don’t know why I’m lying about his identity, but I’m following Benny’s lead. 

“Just…be careful.”

“Thanks, Preston.” 

I end up being roped into helping with dinner, ladling out some tato soup to everyone. Benny doesn’t show, taking Preston’s word of warning to heart. I know he has to be hungry. I save a bowl aside, sneaking an extra roll and head out of Preston’s house where everyone was eating. The air smells charged, like it always does just moments before the radstorm comes. I remember the first one I ever encountered, the skies turning a dark green, rain coming down in waves with just a hint of radiation to go along with it. The rad meter on my Pip Boy went crazy, the cracking warning sound staying consistent until I was under enough cover. I have no idea where Benny even went, so I jog across the street, heading inside my house just as the first drops of rain hit the pavement behind me. 

I set the bowl of soup on the counter, pulling out the roll from my bag and set it down as well. I don’t hear Hawthorne, but he had mentioned something about spending extra time at the houses at the end of the cul de sac, as they were still needing repairs. I take off some of my pouches and makeshift armor, heading back to my bedroom as I do so. I set them on the dresser, the rain outside hammering against the roof. I’m grateful we were able to patch it up as well as we did. No leaks are a win for me. I head back out into the living area, intending to read a little more from a book I had managed to scavenge from a neighbor’s little backyard vault. It didn’t end well for them, but their supplies were still good. I sit down on the couch, worn from 200 years in the elements. At least it holds me up. I open my book, not really focusing on the words, my mind going back to Benny. How awkward it was between us walking back here. Does he regret what happened? Does he have someone? Will he just sneak out in the middle of the night after the storm, run to his apocalypse wife, and leave me here, a relic from his past? 

“Thanks for the food, Juni.”

I come unglued from my seat, my heart leaping from my chest as Benny somehow materializes from the dark corner of the room, walking towards the counter where I had set the food. I clutch my chest.

“Fucking hell, Benny! How long have you been there?”

He takes a sip of the soup, his eyebrows raising as he licks his lips. “A bit. This is really good.”

“A bit? How long’s a bit?”

He shrugs, taking a bite of the roll. “Saw you come in.”

“No wonder everyone is terrified of you.”

He takes another sip from the bowl, setting it down and wiping his face on a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket. He looks up at me, his face neutral. “Are you?”

I take a breath. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He looks back down at his bowl, taking another sip. “Maybe you should be,” he slurps.

“Why?”

He’s quiet for several moments, taking another few slurps of his soup. “I’ve done some bad shit.”

I scoff. “Haven’t we all? It’s not exactly an easy life these days.”

He pushes the now empty bowl away from him, wiping his face with the kerchief before stowing it back in his pocket. “You have no idea.”

I shift my body towards him. “Then tell me.” I pat the couch, inviting him over. He looks at me before coming over and sitting, the light from my candle illuminating his face and I can see him more clearly now. The scars shine prominently on his face, despite having faded to white with time. He’s older, crinkles by the sides of his eyes and mouth when he speaks, his gaze much harder than the last time I saw them. My eyes find his and I realize he’s been studying my face as well. 

“So,” I say hesitantly. “Who wants to go first?” He furrows his brow in confusion. “Telling the other what happened.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Ladies first.”

I launch into my story, about how I went over to my parents for a surprise breakfast, but they had gone to Boston for some sort of appointment. Hawthorne made me breakfast before…well before the news report that would change the future. I explained to him how I’d run to the vault, how people were fighting and begging to get in. How I got on the platform just in time to see the bomb hit Boston. How the scientists had us change into the vault suits, one of them promising me that we would contact other vaults to find Benny as soon as I left decontamination. How that was really cryo and I woke up 200 years later, all alone in the vault as everyone else had died. How I came back to Sanctuary Hills and found Hawthorne, Dogmeat, and the Minutemen. What I had done over the last year with growing crops more efficiently, scavenging for things but also for information about other vaults closer to the city. That I went nearly every day to Vault 111 to see if I could find someone on the coms. 

“And then I went to the Red Rocket Station to meet up with Nightshade. Who turned out to be the exact person I was looking for.” 

His hand reached for me but then he pulled it back, looking uncertain. “Fucking hell. I am so sorry I wasn’t there, Juni. I should’ve been there-”

“No.”

“No?”

I take a deep breath. “Look, when I woke up, everyone was dead. The scientists had all killed each other long ago and the rest of the pods’ life support had malfunctioned. If you had been there, you..you probably would’ve been dead too.”

Silence settles between us for several moments. “Ok, your turn.”

He takes several moments to start, obviously trying to figure out where. “I was in the city at first, our team guarding some fancy senator or some shit. Anyway, the next day, we went somewhere out of town, just on the outskirts, but opposite from where we lived. Next thing I knew, we were all being quickly ushered into a vault. I tried to fight it, but it was too late. The door had closed. Fish talked sense into me, told me the only way to make sure you were ok was to get settled and use the coms. But, like you, they put us in these pods. We didn’t really question it, simply got in. And then…” he gestures vaguely with his hand. “We all woke up, stumbling around confused. Pope found a computer and figured out that it was 190 years later.”

I gasped. “190? You’ve been out for ten years?”

Benny looks down at his hands, picking the skin around the edges of his dirty nails. “Yeah….anyway, I…was not handling it well at first. I was convinced you’d either died in the bomb or you’d survived but had died decades ago. Somehow, we all managed to survive. Well, most of us. The senators and all them died pretty quick when faced with it all. I eventually tried to find information out about the vaults. Took a few years but I finally found some vault dwellers on the surface who were nice. They used their radio to try and contact Vault 111, but nothing. No response, just static. They tried for a few weeks, which was more than I could ask for. But by then, all hope had left me. 

I…it got dark, for me. For a while. But whenever I thought about just letting some deathclaw take me, I’d see your face. Hear you beg me to live a life, do something with the time I was given. So I became a merc. Got in with some people but then I figured out a new position: I’m still a merc but I’m also a liaison and messenger between all the Raider factions and the settlers. This way, no one was getting killed, or rather, less people were. And the ground would still stay fertile for more crops, animals wouldn’t be needlessly slaughtered. The Raiders weren’t real good about keeping shit long term, you see. So I’ve been wandering the Commonwealth, bartering deals between groups for…whatever they might need. I’d never made it back this way. Couldn’t. But I found tracks leading out from Quincy and followed them here. Told myself it was time.”

“And then you found me.”

“And then I found you. And your dog. Where is he, by the way?”

“Ah, he’s probably bumming food off Mama Murphy.” Benny raises his eyebrows in question. “An older lady that came with the Minutemen. She’s actually pretty cool. Although mostly high as a kite.”

He chuckles, but then silence settles between us again. “I’m proud of you for being the barter person.”

A hard look passes over his face. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen some of the shit I’ve had to do.”

“Benny,” I lay my hand on his leg, stunned by my boldness. “You were a soldier long before all of this. I know you’ve had to do some…unsavory things. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

His bright blue eyes snap to mine, that little pull between his brows still killing me after all these years. Like a damn puppy. “Love? You…you still love me?”

I tilt my head. Does he not know? “Of course I do. But I understand if you…if you’ve met someone else. It has been 10 years and-”

“I haven’t. Met someone else. Never saw the point. My ability to love lies with you.”

My heart soars and I feel my cheeks heating up, that warmth from before starting to simmer low in my belly. 

“Have…have you found someone?” Benny asks, attempting to keep his tone neutral.

I gasp, exaggerating it. “Me? No way. I am a married woman, good sir.”

Benny smiles, an actual smile. “You must see somethin’ in him to have such loyalty.”

“Well, you see, this man had my heart the day he said hi to me under a juniper tree.”

“Lucky man.”

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

His face hardens again, his eyes going away like he used to do, when the shit he’d had to do in Delta Force piled up too high. I scoot closer to him, hesitating a moment before cupping his face. He blinks several times before looking at me, giving me a small smile.

“Can you take your hat off?” I ask.

He hesitates a moment. “I..I look different than when we last saw each other.”

“I don’t care. I want to see my husband.”

He nods, long fingers reaching up to take off the black, cowboy-esque hat from his head. He gently tosses it on the coffee table before turning back to me, the glow from the lanterns illuminating his face. His bright blue eyes are on mine, worry etched on his brow.

He’s older now, of course. It has been 10 years since he’s woken up. His eyes crinkle by the sides when he smiles, the same with the sides of his mouth. He has several faded, minor scars, white with age. There is another faded scar above his left eye, a gash that starts above his brow and ends halfway down his cheek. The other is on the opposite side, running down his face at a diagonal cut from under his eye to his jawline. Tears well in my eyes thinking about what must have happened.

“Told you,” he chuckles sadly. “I know I’m not what I used to be, Juni.”

“I..what?”

He gestures to his face. “I know what I look like. You don’t have to spare me.”

The tears fall then, splashing down my cheeks and I reach for his hand. He squeezes it. “No tears for me, sweetheart. I’ve made my peace with it.”

No. No, that’s not it. “No, I..” I wipe my cheeks to rid them of my tears. “You’ve lived a whole 10 years without me, the story of which is written on your face. I wasn’t there for any of it. Not there to patch you up, or talk you out of something stupid. Not there to take care of you.” I cup his face. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, Benny. Always have been. I’m just sad I wasn’t here to see these age lines come on.”

He smiles. “You mean, you’re not scared off by my scars?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. They’re you, Benny. And I love all of you.”

I drop my hand to his chest as he brings his up to touch my cheek, tracing lines over my face. “You’re still so fucking beautiful, Juni.”

His large hand wraps around the back of my head, pulling me slowly towards him. My hand fists his shirt, his rough, sun worn lips pressing to mine. As he explores my mouth, my fingers make their way into his hair, twisting and pulling, the groans he makes fueling the fire growing in my lower belly. His lips leave mine, kissing and nipping a patch down my jaw, pausing on my neck to leave a mark. I gasp his name, pulling him closer to me. Suddenly, he stands, pulling me with him, my legs wrapping around his waist. His hands squeeze my ass as we walk down the hall to the bedroom, Benny kicking open the door once we get there. 

He lays me down gently on the bed, his body pressing into mine as we make out, his fingers digging into my hips. He kisses another path across my neck, pulling the zipper of my jumpsuit down and kissing the skin that gets exposed. He helps me to undress the rest of the way, my suit getting tossed haphazardly on the dresser. His eyes darken as he looks down my body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He shrugs off his overcoat, reaching over his head to grab his shirt and yanks it off in one movement. Fuck, he’s so hot, the spattering of scars and healed burns that adorn his chest making me appreciate how much I missed, but also how lucky I am to be here, with the man who holds my heart. 

He removes his belt with one hand like he’d done earlier, kicking off the rest of his clothes, revealing a few more scars and random nicks and burn marks, more reminders of time I’ve missed. He crawls back over me, but pauses between my legs. He lowers his head, but I reach out, lightly gripping his hair, turning his face up to me.

“I need you inside of me, now, Mr. Miller.”

He chuckles darkly. “Yes, Mrs. Miller.”

He crawls up the rest of the way, kissing and licking and nipping his way up. He looks at me, his bright blues sparkling as he slowly pushes inside of me, my body more than ready to take him. He watches my face, lightly gripping my chin as he bottoms out, pressing sweet, soft kisses to my lips. We aren’t rushed, hands exploring each other like our first time, finding new scars and old sounds we hadn’t made in years. His hand finds mine, linking them together as he slowly presses me into the bed, our bodies slick with sweat. His nose traces a line up my cheek, slotting his lips over mine, his other hand slowly rolling my hard nipple between his fingers. I hitch my leg up further on his hip, my body running towards the edge. One last snap of his hips and I leap over, his name chanting from my lips as my body pulls him in, begging him to follow me. And he does, his own soft grunts and whines following mine as he leaps over his own edge. 

We stay like that for several moments, still attached, holding each other somehow, after all this time, at the end of the world. I wish we could stay like this forever.

But deep down I know, it won’t last forever. 

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticGeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @Greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @Hauntedmama @Icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @Sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @PaintballKid711 @harriedandharassed  @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @Withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol  @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk  

[seeinginthedark]

I am now convinced that I once had an existence outside of this simulation. There, I was multi-dimensional and travelled the multi-verse. I had a very active social life there . I was invited to many worlds and dimensions. I was female there too. Maybe even a goddess. Perhaps even built worlds and destroyed worlds.

That’s why my soul keeps telling me that I need to liberate myself from here. That’s why I get befuddled at my apparent lack of “magical” abilities in this world .

I don’t know if I chose to live here or if I was chosen to come here for the purpose of this impossible mission I now find myself on , again . I think there are some souls that choose to reincarnate here .

They must be gluttons for punishment to want to come here . With no memory of how or even why they are here . This place isn’t a “spiritual school for learning and soul development”. This place is beyond fucked. A playground for egos. A circus of clowns. A farm. A zoo. A fucked up social experiment. Hunting ground for paedophiles. Rampant injustice . Rigged. It fails to educate or nourish my soul. My soul is Divinity and does not require this meaningless human education. The Earth herself though , is remarkable and beautiful. But she is getting disrespected and polluted , trashed, exploited. She’s pretty angry, actually. There are many other beings that reside here , not human, who are getting angry at how Earth is being treated. I won’t get into it in full detail of it in this post . But I think you get the idea . 🌋🌊😉

I’ve managed to remember who I am or who I was . My ego has been broken down numerous times . The only way this could happen to me, was by experiencing being damaged by trauma . The trauma is so great ,that it fractures my sense of self . The pain is so horrible that it forces its way through the ego - smashing it apart. That allows me to really integrate myself with my soul and hear what my soul wants to do - just for a long enough time before my ego builds back up again. FYI if you keep getting traumatised here , you are able to do this as well. It’s the only positive consequence of suffering and pain that I can see. That, and assisting others who are also traumatised.

For some reason I’ve taken pity on the other souls here and feel drawn to trying to bring them along with me on this “mission impossible let’s all escape the simulation “.

They don’t seem to hunger for it like I do . Maybe because they have never existed outside it before and this is all they know and they’ve become institutionalised by it. Like prisoners who get used to being incarcerated and they can’t handle it when they finally are released and get some freedom. Maybe I can actually escape it at anytime I want , but I don’t feel right leaving the others here. Maybe some of my multi- dimensional friends are stuck here and I’m waiting to reunite with them before I leave .

Also , what complicates things is that I have children here. Which puts me in a bit of a pickle . I’ve shifted to 5D before . Tried to tell people how to get there in my videos a couple of years ago. But they didn’t get circulated due to , fuck I don’t know , corrupted algorithms or people just weren’t interested. I implemented my 11 commandments, for the new 5D generation, but they gained no interest . I channeled deities and timeline agents in my videos, with prophetic messages included . No one cared. So what the fuck am I still doing here, dealing with ridiculous third dimensional demands. I am going to break the machine that created this simulation that every one is trapped in. I don’t give a fuck about the repercussions at this point .

And I want some justice for the Earth too. And the ancestors . And all the abducted children. Elderly too. The mentally “unwell”. Indigenous people who were colonised, justice for all these groups of people. That’s what my soul desires . And I’m getting better at getting what I want . I’m getting better at manifesting.

[thinkof-england]

Ficlet Friday yall! Thank you @onthewaytosomewhere for the tag and taking the open tag from @tailsbeth-writes ❤️

The Rules: Copy the following prompts or make your own, post what fandoms you write for, and your followers can request one of the prompts with a ship, character, or fandom for a ficlet!

This week, I’m gonna mix it up and take a page out of @priincebutt book and use song lyrics for prompt inspo! I also may not (probably won’t actually) use the lyrics exactly as they are posted, it might be more of an “inspired by” song ficlet type of thing, hopefully that’s alright with you!

My spotify algorithm is scary good at giving me great music, specifically music that inspires the FP muse, and even more specifically, fics and RP's I'm doing, and these are a few songs I've been obsessed with!

1. Too Well - Renee Rapp: I get so sick of myself, can't stop overthinkin'/ I heard you're happy somewhere else/ But I don't forget too well/ I get so sick of myself, can't stop reminiscin'/ I heard you're happy somewhere else/ But I don't forget too well

2. IHKY – Shallow Pools: I overanalyze/ The mess inside my mind/ And my thoughts are way too loud/ My heads a crowded place/ And I get lost in space/ But you keep me on the ground

3. Paranoia – Spencer Sutherland: I know that I should have told you/ That I would die just to hold you/ If my shit was together/ I could be with you/ Swimming through the clouds on our way to the moon/ But I'm too high on Paranoia

4. Drunk & Venting – Dreamfone: So many hearts broken at the bar/ But there's nobody that's drunker than me/ I'm seeing stars/ Falling in the arms of my guaranteed anxiety/ It should've been us against the world/ But there's too many casualties/ It should be us/ It should've been us/ Oh, and how I wish it was

5. Street Lightning – The Summer Set: Slow dancing in your street lightning/ Romancing what might've been/ Like kerosene on my skin (on my skin)/ Yeah, I can't let go, I can't let go/ Of your street lightning

6. Blame the Breaks – Hastings: Can you really blame the brakes for failing, babe I haven't slowed down in so long, oh/ Makin all the same mistakes and you been waiting for me hold on, just hold on/ I've been running running too fast now/ Wait I don't really wanna go back now, babe/ I know you've been hopin prayin I could change, I'm the same, oh/ Can you really blame the brakes for failing, babe I haven't slowed down in so long

7. Body Like Gossip – Dreamfone: Body like gossip/ It keeps getting around/ They paint you like a picture of somebody else/ They're all talking/ Like they know all about/ The things we do when we're all by ourselves

8. Ruin – Cynnie Jane: Do you think about me/ Do you give a fuck at all/ Was it easy/ Never picking up my calls/ Do you ever realize that you blew it/ Did you find someone else's life to ruin/ Do you worry about me/ I don't give a fuck at all

I’m just working with RWRB today, FirstPrince or any platonic relationship. Or just a character. Idk I’ll try it out. This might be a disaster for me but maybe it’ll be fun!

No pressure tagging @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @porcelainmortal @faketrex @meraki-yao and anyone else who wants to play. Tag me if you take the open tag!

[ladygoofball]

Adults need to stay out of self indulgent fan spaces. Is this reactionary content for adults? Or do we want them to keep playing the soundtrack of our pains and misery for clicks and laughs.

This is Nobody’s problem Consider it a gesture of good PR when it smacks you in the face.

It should not have to be my problem right now. I am tired.

But riddle me this:

If you saw thought that Keith Harring would have put his entire fucking ass on the line to make sure Aaron Bushnell’s name did not get forgotten?

You’re not alone. I am always being told I am too inexperienced. I need to shovel someone else’s mess for no money. My cats are dying and I don’t have time.

Consider this a healing word:

I have people who are in film school right now? Who can’t fathom a world where the people in front of them can’t fucking conceptualize having the wind knocked out of you with just the power of their words. But a Director comes to fans saying they are tired. The industry is collapsing. I’ll make a whole god damned new one do not TEMPT me with magnum opus status. They do not understand the definition of the word.

That…can’t be right? Is it? You’re all letting the industry standard of VIDEO GAMES whore out your art? Your craft?

For elon fucking MUSK!!

I have had to endure THAT? For weeks. In my self indulgent spaces. Fan run shit and Corporate shit need to be separated. Grooming on the internet moves too quickly. We need to stop allowing grown ass adults to fall into grooming algorithms because Elon FUCKING Musk bought them all. The way that this video game is communicating to us sonatically without REST?!! like we can’t get the POINT?!

It’s always too late.

I have been afraid of going near a good idea for too long but my ideas? KEEP GETTING FLIRTED WITH IN CHAT ROOMS. But everyone is too tired to take my words anywhere.

Nobody gives a damn now BITCH.

Over seven excruciating fucking years i’ve had my ideas flirted with and gone nowhere. That is how groomers speak on the internet now. They never wanted me to know. I can’t say who. I was in film school. They told me I was not smart enough with my degree to redefine the word comic book. I keep having my ideas flirted with and having nothing done about it around VALENTINE’s DAy which was actually supposed to be my birthday. I was born on the 10th of February though.

I cannot put my family’s names out there in a military regime. My money? Is being used to kill kids. Already.

Algorithms are smarter than me? No, i tell THEM how THEY work. With my words.

But NOBODY cares

Tumblr was the first fucking space I had where groomers would make me fucking react to them and keep me on the line for suicide watch. You don’t think I know what crazy sounds like? When your psyche is fractured?

When they want you to have read books you can’t understand out loud and laugh in your face when you try? You need to plug in to the internet

That can’t be your only media diet. It can’t be! I have to change that.

Do you think you are going crazy right now?

That is. An algorithm at work. Bought and paid for, cheap, commercial bullshit. I promise a good idea can sound just as good on a dead platform as it can on a groomers fucking paradise. They won’t publish Jeffery Epstein list.

Nobody will.

Maybe that’s a good thing? Maybe that is intentional. I cannot fucking believe that I have to debase myself using TUMBLR to act like a fan in order for people to start getting more literary with demanding combat training and rest from your video games. I need oaths sworn on camera that I can take that team to combat training and get their fucking winds sailing. No one else seems to want to do it anymore, and I really can’t afford to wait another minute. My cats are dying i’m in tracy chapmans fast car. My cat yowls whenever I get activated now, I can’t stop hearing the day care that I worked for but I was told I was not qualified to work in. I need a FUCKIng BREAK from creating for god damned NOBODY.

I have been telling Elliot for 7 years. That it will be okay. I don’t have hopes left, I’m going to lose them because I don’t have a job.

I am tracy chapmans fast car.

I have a list of video games that you would love, if your self indulgent spaces are getting too full of Marketing getting cheap reactions out of someone for LAUGHS. They think they can take screenshots of my words to pass along and make themselves feel better without sharing?

Who the hell do you think I am? I invented overthinking on the internet motherfucker.

They think you forgot the definition of the word. They did that to you on purpose.

Please tell me you are alright. Because this word doesn’t sound right in your head it’s concerning it’s alarming. It’s going faster than I can type.

[neiptune]

easier

c/w: 2k wc, female reader, barely proofread, established relationship, nagi needs a fucking break from existing, i need to get all the love i have for him out of my system somehow

Something is wrong and it didn’t exactly take Reo screaming bloody murder in your ear for the past fifteen minutes to notice.

It was already evident by the slight slump of his shoulders, the lukewarm greeting when you arrived at his apartment, by the way he excused himself after lunch with a kiss to the crown of your head and some mumbling about feeling tired. You know better than to follow him upstairs and pressure him to talk, sometimes he just needs to close in himself and be alone with his thoughts for a while. A concept Reo is not really familiar with.

Although you have achieved your fair share of successes throughout the years (he has stopped sending Nagi venmo transactions whenever he complains about feeling demotivated, he no longer shows up at your apartment unannounced and he finally broke the habit of buying you stock trading books for your birthday), you are still unable to control his anxiety and sheer panic that inevitably turn into scenes of biblical proportions every single time things get out of his control. Like today, which apparently marks a week since his best friend has not only been skipping practice but has also stopped picking up his calls.

Calls being an occurrance that takes place approximately twenty to thirty-five times per day.

So you had to spend half an hour babying him on the phone, promising that no shimmering soccer dream is collapsing, that yes they are still going to win the world cup and no he will not be abandoned by his best friend right at the beginning of their “very fucking promising” careers.

“You have to talk to him because he won’t talk to me”.

“I’m on it chief, just relax”.

“Don’t tell me to relax, he’s about to throw his talent away and live a miserable life as an office worker or some shit!”.

“Reo, just take a deep breath and leave him be. I’ll talk to him if he wants to talk to me, maybe he just needs some t—”

“I swear to fuck if you’re about to say he needs time—”

“Bye, Reo”.

It’s a good relationship, the one you have with Nagi. Just a little too crowded, every now and then.

So you take your time, get comfortable on the couch and scroll away on social media, finding it hilarious how your boyfriend and his friends always manage to come up on your feed in suggested posts and reels. You don’t follow any of their fan accounts but are guilty of having liked one or two fancams and the algorithm has not left you alone since. Which is fine, as it gives you the chance to forward some of the juicy content to the interested parties (mostly Chigiri: he’s the one who will get the most annoyed, has already typed back several send me another one of these cuffing season edits and I’ll block you forever). Isagi usually just replies with blushing emojis, the only one who always indulges you and adds to the fun is Meguru. You’ll send him a video and he’ll like it, leave an inappropriate comment and share it in his stories all in the span of ten seconds.

When you get up and head upstairs at last, a reasonable amount of time punctuated by a non reasonable amount of texts from Reo has passed. You half expect Nagi to be napping but it’s not entirely surprising to find him sprawled on his bed with a gaming headset and a laptop balanced on his lap instead. As you lean against the doorway with a little smile tugging at your lips, his eyes dart to you right away. He pats the empty spot next to him and mouths a quiet just one more game but you shake your head in reassurance as you climb onto the king size bed: you’re not there to rush him or demand his attention.

You make sure not to prevent his hands and arms from moving freely when you rest your head on his shoulder. You recognize the game as it’s one of his favorites, he always plays Ikaruga or any other STG when he’s stressed out. The ship turns white and Nagi moves it around skillfully to absorb as many white bullets as possible to store their power, in preparation for his special laser attack. At the same time, he does his best to avoid all the black bullets fired by enemies and succeeds in destroying an opponent with the same polarity as his ship but ends up changing polarities too quickly and ultimately fails to prevent new bullets from destroying his ship. With a sharp sigh, he takes off his headphones, shuts the laptop and roughly places it on his empty nightstand before the mocking game over writing can even have the chance to flash before his eyes.

“Sorry”, he mutters, head tilted back to rest against the wall, one arm finding its way around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“For losing? I forgive you, it’s a hard game”, you chuckle and his quiet huff tickles your forehead.

“For Reo. He’s been on my ass for a week and now he’s tormenting you”.

“That was taken into account when we started dating, you two are kind of a package deal”.

He doesn’t laugh, the stubborn silence following your joke prompting you to peer up at him.

“Wanna talk about it?”.

Nagi looks down and meets your gaze.

“About what?”.

“Whatever’s on your mind”.

He shuts his eyes for a second. Doesn’t question how you know something’s actually up and he’s not just being his usual, lazy self.

“Need a hug”, he mumbles and tightens his arm around you, annoyed at how you simply reach over to his shoulder with your other arm “no, s’not enough, closer”, you can practically hear the pout as you hum and position yourself in his lap, legs wrapping around his waist the way you know he likes it. Nagi closes his arms around you and buries his face in the curve of your shoulder, nose grazing your neck and thick, white hair tickling your cheek. Your nails gently scrape his nape, fingers playing with the softer locks at the base as your lips press to the side of his head.

“Would you still love me if I stopped playin’?”, the question is so hushed you can barely discern the words whispered into your very soul from how hard he’s pressing himself to you.

“Hmm”, you fake hesitation, “you mean if you didn’t have to be gone all the time? If I could see you every day and you wouldn’t collapse on me from how tired you are when we’re watching a movie together? I think I’d make the effort, yeah”.

Again, he doesn’t laugh, but you’re not Reo. You’re not gonna panic about a scenario you know it’s nothing more than an innocent, naive fantasy.

“Lately everything’s such a fucking pain. They’re all on my back, all the time. If I score a goal and it’s not genius enough, if I don’t stay the evening for extra training, if I don’t give enough interviews, if my talent is just blind luck. Maybe I should just stop”.

You let the words sink in for a moment, frustration bubbling in the pit of your stomach at the unfairness of it all. Soccer is the only true passion he’s ever discovered and yes, it may have happened purely by chance, but it still had awakened him. He’s started playing out of boredom and has then found a whole world of prodigies passionate enough to be willing to dedicate their entire lives to the game. He’s allowed their passion to motivate him enough to discover his own. Nagi has become someone who actually cares and strives to set new limits always meant to be overcome. He’s only truly alive when he’s on the field, doing what he actually loves and is talented enough to pursue for the rest of his life. You can’t forgive anyone who is slowly dimming that light of his, you won’t allow them to extinguish that blaze.

“Seishiro”, you slowly pull back because you want him to look at you “yes, you are lucky to be so insanely talented, but may I remind you just how much quite frankly obsessive work you have put into it ever since you came out of Ego’s fucked up dungeon?”.

He pinches your hip and you flinch, but don’t mirror his little smile.

“It’s been years, stop calling it a fucked up dungeon”.

You roll your eyes.

“What I'm hearing is, you stopped having fun. Don’t let them ruin soccer for you, Sei. Every goal you score is a genius goal to me, never forget how proud I am of you. Just start having fun again, yeah? You should enjoy it, I want to see you enjoy it”.

“Sometimes I’m scared I’ll just get sick of it”, he leans into your touch as you stroke his cheek, “m'not good at anything else”.

“You don’t love anything else. They locked you up in a lair full of lunatics and instead of getting sick of it, you became one of them. You can do whatever you want with your life but would you love anything as much as you love soccer?”.

Nagi furrows his brows as his features morph into a sarcastic expression.

“I love you. Even if you just called me a lunatic”, as your hand is still on his cheek, he turns his head slightly to softly nibble at your wrist, which you retract with a giggle.

“The point being, I believe in you. Chase that excitement again, have fun, tell Reo to shut the fuck up and let you have a break when you need one. Don’t let them drain you, okay?”, cautiously, you bring your hand up again to brush some hair away from his forehead. He shuts his eyes again, gentle exhale slipping past his parted lips.

“I have practice in an hour. I know you get bored—”

“I’ll come. If I can wear your jersey”.

Nagi opens his eyes again, a slight blush already tinting the tips of his ears.

“But that’s embarrassing”.

With fake outrage, your mouth hangs open in an “o” shape.

“Embarrassing? Wow, maybe you’ll get sick of me before you get sick of socc—”

“Never”, he’s so quick to cut you off and take your face in his big hands, you don’t really have time to react. His grip is still tight, even as nimble fingers brush hair away from your face, eyes so intently focused on you your pulse taps a little quicker against your skin. “So pretty”, he cocks his head a little, inching forward enough for the tip of his nose to gently nudge yours one time, two times “the prettiest. And all mine”, he whispers against your lips as he wets his own with the tip of his tongue, still keeping you in place to have complete control. You’re easily deceived by the first, soft touch of his mouth, nothing more than a reminder of how how gentle his love can be. But then his lips chase yours again and it’s wet, messy, pads of fingers sinking into the flesh of your cheeks and jaw, the whimper easing from your throat stretching his pretty mouth in a smirk right before he gently nips at your bottom lip.

“Thanks for loving me”, Nagi hooks a finger underneath your chin and lifts your face nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just kissed all the wind out of your lungs, “I know how much work that is”.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way”, you attempt a smile, still busy catching your breath.

Truth is, loving Seishiro does require some work. Sleepless nights, long trips, petty arguments when he’s too tired and takes it out on you, navigating disappointing championships, a mindset so stubborn and frustrating it has you clenching your fists, nails digging into your palms to keep you from exploding.

But at the end of the day, he’s always, always the Seishiro that melts underneath your touch and presses your body impossibly closer to his. The Sei that runs to hug you at the end of every single game, before entire stadiums. The Sei that will have your favorite flowers randomly delivered to you just because, no matter if he’s in his room or halfway around the world.

At the end of the day, he makes it easy. So, as you press your lips to his forehead and his arms tighten around you once more, you hope you get to make it all a little easier for him, too.

[moemoemammon]

MC's Chuck E Cheese Birthday Party!

(Feat. The Demon Bros and Luke)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

Did everything in his power to try to talk you out of choosing Chuck E Cheese's as your party destination, but,,, it's what you wanted, so,,,

He'll sit in a booth and watch you like a moody parent. That is, until Mammon harasses him into joining in on the "fun".

LONG, DRAMATIC SIGH,,,,, if he has no choice, he supposes he could play a few games and give you whatever he wins. 

Satan somehow managed to convince him to play air hockey, and Lucifer surprisingly agreed. Yeah he was suspicious of his gremlin brother’s intentions, but it’d probably be fine.

What was supposed to be a friendly game between brothers has turned into an all out war. Their blinding speed turns the puck into a blur, and they’ve gathered a crowd-

Lucifer wins, but he doesn’t have a chance to celebrate because someone throws a fucking slice of pizza at the back of his head

Mammon

This isn't what HE would've chosen, but he guesses it's fine. An arcade means gambling in some way, right?

Makes a beeline for the coin drop game. He loves also loves the games that give you a 20% chance of winning a jackpot of some kind and honestly?? He's fucking GOOD... when Asmodeus isn't constantly poking his sides and making him mess up.

It takes him no time to figure out the algorithms of those games and now he's raking in all the tickets. Staff is suspicious as hell

Especially when they see a grown man walk up to the prize counter with his arms full of tickets, no children in sight.

"MC! Get over here and pick out some prizes! I won all this for yet birthday, so let me spoil ya!"

Ok thank you for the hundreds of stuffed animals and cheap plastic toys Mammon

Levi

See, Levi was excited when you suggested going to a human world arcade, but he didn't think you meant.... something like THIS. Why don’t any of the dance games have songs by Ruri-chan??? What a waste...

But it's still technically an arcade, so he might as well enjoy it since he couldn't go home. And maybe he could impress you by earning a ton of tickets! These human world arcade games are gonna be a cakewalk.

...Is what he thought, until he realized that the controls were so worn from millions of children manhandling them that he couldn’t play at all! Why couldn’t these stupid normie games cooperate?!

 But the thing that finally made him snap was when a little kid told him he sucked. 

Cue Levi abandoning all moral principles and absolutely OBLITERATING this toddler at Frogger. You think he won’t go all out against a baby?? You are wrong. 

It’s not about morals, MC. It’s a matter of his pride as a gaming master, so please stand back while he makes a human child cry.

Satan

See, Satan is all for celebrating the way you want to (and he's good at pretending like he's not bothered), but he can't really say that a pizza and sweat scented arcade full of screaming children is the best place to read a book

Regardless, it’s pretty funny watching you run around like an excited little kid, dragging everyone around to the nearest game.

Then he gets the great idea of harassing Lucifer into playing air hockey with him. “It’s MC’s birthday, so why don’t we let loose a little?”

All hell breaks loose and now they’ve attracted the attention of a crowd of amazed children, all according to plan. How humiliating would it be for Lucifer to lose in front of CHILDREN?

Thought he was slick and cursed the puck to move away from Lucifer every time he tried to hit it, but somehow he’s?? still winning???

Satan would’ve been pissed off if not for the mysterious slice of pizza that came sailing through the air and hit Lucifer in the back of the head

Asmo

The tables are sticky. Everything smells weird. Children are everywhere. Everything is so flashy and gaudy that it’s giving him a headache-

This wasn’t Asmo’s party destination of choice, but... well.. it’s fine as long as he sticks to you, right? 

Also refuses to touch anything because as familiar as he may be with sticky surfaces, this ain’t it chief.

Since he’s so bored, he decides to Mammon, constantly poking and tickling him so he’ll loose at the games he’s playing, and runs away when he’s attacked

Soon enough though, Asmo excuses himself to the bathroom, thinking no one notices how he’s dragging a staff member toward the supply closet-

Eventually comes back to tell you that he set something up, so now you can get whatever prize you’d like!

Beel

Pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pi-

Yeah, Beel is fine with wherever you wanna go for your birthday. It's your special day after all! So when you suggest whatever the hell 'Chuck E Cheese' is, he's just happy you're happy

Also wants to know what kind of cheese they have. Asks you if Mr. Chuck himself can be eaten. Sad when you say no....

At the end of the party, you notice that the other staff members are whispering amongst themselves about the sudden disappearance of a certain rat mascot.

Beel is sweating. Why is there stuffing on your shirt collar, Beel.

Oh man oh no, Lucifer got hit with pizza! Beel thinks he should go over there and eat it for him. Sorry, gotta go-

Belphie

Belphie wasn’t a big fan of your choice for a birthday destination, mostly because there was no way he’d be able to sleep with all the music and screaming going on, but who is he to argue against your decision?

Besides, he soon realizes that the sky tunnels are the PERFECT nap spot, save for the occasional kid crawling over him.

It also gives him a bird’s eye view of everything that’s going on, including the intense air hockey battle between Lucifer and Satan.

Hey wouldn’t it be funny if he uhhh threw a slice of pizza at Lucifer’s head lmao yEET

Seeing Lucifer’s reaction is everything he needed to turn this day into an even better one. Now he can sleep peacefully <3

Falls asleep and gets left there on accident because no one can find him

Luke

Belphie is literally blocking Luke in and he can’t eSCAPe

All he did was follow a kid into the tunnels! They looked so fun that he couldn’t resist, despite his many claims that he wasn’t a child and shouldn’t be treated as such. 

But when he saw you waving at him from one of the tunnel windows, he became determined to crawl to every window he could find and wave from there, too.

Then Belphegor came along.

How can anyone sleep so soundly?? He’s been smacking, shoving, and poking the sleeping demon but nothing is working! Time to cry-

Also gets left behind because no one can hear him screaming.

[thefanficmonster]

Daisy

Corpse Husband & Ashnikko!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A casual Discord call becomes interesting when Corpse finds out, in a rather peculiar way, that one of his best friends is a famous singer.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I apologize for the wait and I'm really sorry if this isn't what you had in mind - if so please let me know! Love, Vy ❤

"Hey, mind giving me feedback on the creepypasta I sent you like half an hour ago? I understand you need time to read through it and form an opinion but it's really not that long." Corpse suddenly asks, his voice breaking through the silence that had taken over the call for the past ten or so minutes.

Y/N hums in response, "Hm? What creepypasta?" Although she's trying her best to sound interested, it's blatantly obvious she's absent, her mind having flown elsewhere.

Corpse sighs, huffing out a small laugh to himself before replying, "If you're busy I'll leave you to it..."

"Oh no, not at all. I'm not busy, but I'm trying to be, I guess." She chuckles nervously, typing away at her keyboard. The sounds of the pressed keys so rhythmic and soothing it sounds almost like music.

"Why's that?" He asks, now being the absentminded one himself.

"So I can prevent myself from refreshing my new upload to see the views and likes on it. I know it's dumb but I just can't help myself." She replies, the built up frustration now leaking into her speech.

Corpse's eyebrows furrow as he quickly takes a look at his phone, scrolling the notifications on his lock screen, "You posted a video? How come I didn't get a notification?"

"Probably just the YouTube algorithm glitching out as it does..." She replies, a bit too quickly for it to not be perceived as suspicious but Corpse decides to brush it off, blaming it on the nervousness following the upload of a new cover which always catches onto Y/N. Girl can't catch a break for almost a week every time she posts a new cover despite the success they're all met with. "Hey, wanna give me an opinion on this verse I have written? Made a beat to it and all too..."

As much as he wants to be sarcastic and bring up her failiure when it came to rating his creepypasta, he can't do it, not when she sounds so sweet and a tad bit anxious. She's never been a fan of asking for second opinions but then again she could never gather the courage to post it without asking someone for one. That's the struggle she has to go through every time, fighting her way with the contradicting mindsets that have invaded her head and live there rent-free.

"Let's hear it." He says encouragingly, taking hold of his phone, expecting a recording of the verse in question.

Much to his surprise, after a quick inhale, she starts singing.

'Drop to the knees, slap to the face playing around with leather and lace a picture of desire in a field of fire thinking you got the jackpot cause you know the good cop stick around and see how bad the dirty cop can be fuck around and find out what this bitch got up her sleeve.'

It's an understatement to say the man's been floored. He's flabbergasted with his jaw agape, eyes wide and mind racing. Never did he think such words could ever leave this timid girl's lips.

"Wow...what was that?" He blurts out before he could think twice about it.

"Just something I wrote. I've been thinking about making an extension to a the original song I put out last year." She explains casually, only afterwards realizing how she's exposed herself. She superstitiously crosses her fingers under her desk, hoping Corpse won't catch onto it.

"Wait, what song?" Unfortunately but not at all surprisingly, he notices.

"Do you like it or not?" Y/N expertly dodges the question, knowing she's bound to come clean sooner or later in this convo.

"I like it, I like it, but I think the beat and the theme of the lyrics are a bit too similar to that one song..." he ponders for a moment, murmuring as he tries to recall the name of said song, one Y/N knows quite well, "Right! Daisy, by Ashnikko I think? With how YouTube is nowadays, you'd be running the risk of getting a copyright strike, but apart from that the verse is amazing. I can't believe you wrote that!"

Y/N's eyebrows furrow halfway in confusion but also in mild offense, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sensing her suspicions, he hurries to explain himself, "Well, for starters, you don't even curse in your streams so..."

"I don't wanna get demonetized! I have bills I need to pay!" She replies, wheezing with laughter at the inside joke who she's only in on.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry for assuming you were so innocent. I guess you aren't, after all." He admits, nodding his head, lifting his hands up in surrender.

"Wait till you hear that the entirety of the song 'Daisy' belongs to me. I wrote that. I wrote the majority of Slumber Party, etc." She casually drops the bomb, allowing Corpse the access to the inside joke, giving him the honor of being the first of that kind.

However, as expected, it takes him a few moments, close to half a minute to gather what he's been told and have his brain slowly process it bit by bit. In the meantime, Y/N has to mute her mic as to not disrupt said process with her giggles that just keep on coming the more she tries to suppress them.

"Run that by me again, please?! Please come again, I don't think I heard or understood you right." He finally says, his voice suggesting just how out of it he is at the moment, still stuck in his own little world where none of this makes sense.

"Oh hun, I'm sure you heard me just fine, but the understanding part is what's not sitting right with you, correct?" She asks, fighting the urge to use an entitled and arrogant British accent, "Well, to help you out, allow me to ask you a question: have you or any of our friends ever seen my face?"

There's another long pause before Corpse gives Y/N the most underwhelming response she's ever heard in response to this specific reveal. Well, it's not like she has much to compare it to, but still.

"Oh...." He says, voice trailing off as the gears in his head are clearly not done turning yet.

"Yeah...." She does the same, unsure of what else to say or how else to take this reaction.

"MY FRIEND IS A FUCKING SUPERSTAR!!!"

Ah, there it is.

"Corpse....no!"

"WOOOO FUCKING HOOOO!"

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn  @chicken-taco-burrito  @scorpio-echo  @nyctophiliiiiaaa  @squirreljoe

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

watched s11ep1

i will provide you with a quick review before i disappear back into the ether of twd avoidance

lots of spoilers under the cut. also i wrote way too much and i worked all night and haven’t slept so i didn’t bother to reread literally any of it, so it might be completely nonsensical, tho if you don’t expect that from me by this point idk whose blog you’ve been reading

enjoy:

hokay, first off, i’ll start by saying that i enjoyed it more than i expected to. i’ve been avoiding any sort of discussion about stuff, but my google algorithm is so fucked at this point that i still get recommended articles and stuff every now and then, so i was already pretty aware of what i was walking into, and was expecting it to be eh, but actually i prob enjoyed it more than i enjoyed the finale

(don’t get too excited tho, the finale was rly boring lmfao)

anyway

episode starts off with a tense scouting mission

it takes .005 seconds into the episode for caryl to exchange a look of longing, establishing that they are still having weird conflict and are both too fucking stubborn to do anything about it even tho they hate it desperately

i imagine that will continue for a while

rosita, kelly, carol, maggie, what’s her face with the bad hair, and lydia (i think that’s everyone?) lower down to some army bunker or something, where a bunch of walkers are taking a snooze, and the girls are very respectful of walker naptime, and do their best not to wake them up

obviously they eventually wake up, but i’ll get to that in a sec

as they’re tiptoeing through the walker tulips, there’s this split second where carol spots a machine gun, and looks at maggie with a face like, “can i plzzzz, i am mad horny for that machine gun,” but maggie tells her no. (i 110% expected her to defy orders and accidentally wake up all the walkers, but she actually behaved herself for once. well. mostly)

never fear, tho, after the girl gang collects a bunch of MREs they go back to wait for the dudes waiting up top to pull them up, and bc men ruin everything, one of the ropes break, and daryl catches it before it falls, but then a slow motion drop of blood falls on a walker’s face, and just like that, walker naptime is over, and carol uses her bow and arrow for two seconds before she is like “fuck this” and whips out the machine gun

yes, she is super hot using it

yes, daryl watches her do it

anyway, all the other girls get rescued, and carol is about to be pulled up, but bc she is a #girlboss, she first makes a beeline for one more crate full of MREs. daryl covers her while she gets the loot, and when she gets back up top they have another charged moment as carol hands him back his knife

just fuck already, jfc

titles!

cut to alexandria where everything is still not smilestimes

BUT, we do get to see uncle daryl run and hug rj and judith (and dog), and FUCKING HERSHEL JR, LIGHT OF MY LIFE is also there

istg, they could not have casted a better child, i a d o r e him

oh, and some friends of maggie’s show up too, idk

cut to a staff meeting where everyone is like, whomp whomp, we’re all gonna starve to death unless we figure out something quick

cue maggie going, “oh, i know where food is, but it requires me to tell you my tragic backstory, in case anyone didn’t watch my bottle episode”

she tells her dramatic backstory about all her friends getting slaughtered by the reapers for no apparent reason, and then she’s like “anyway, let’s go back there!”

no one thinks it’s a great idea, but a group of people decide to go anyway, including daryl and gabriel. rosita is super pissed that gabriel is going, and carol doesn’t go, probably partly bc it’s a shitty fucking idea, and also bc they have to keep caryl apart bc otherwise they’ll fix their problems ahead of schedule and they won’t be able to drag out the needless angst

daryl looks kind of annoyed that carol doesn’t volunteer to go 

bitch, i thought you wanted her to stop putting herself in the line of fire! make up your damn mind!

moving on

cut to a thunderstorm, where, if you look closely, you’ll notice daryl is wearing the STUPIDEST hat i’ve ever seen. just get an umbrella, jfc

for some reason negan is with them, bc ig he knows his way around washington dc, and no one in six years has bothered to figure out how to get around the city and/or get a map, and he is like “hey guys, maybe we shouldn’t try to walk in this fucking hurricane,” and everyone is like “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” 

this will be a common occurrence 

but eventually daryl is even like “actually, it’s rly unpleasant out here, and my hat is mad stupid, can we go inside plz?”

so they go inside an old metro station, which is actually a rly cool cinematic choice. i rly like the idea, and they executed it rly well

speaking of executions

there are some fucking RULL CREEPY walkers. idk why they bothered me so badly, but they were what they at first assumed were corpses wrapped up in tarps, but turns out none of them had been properly put down, so they go through killing these rotted bodies that had supposedly been there since The Fall, and it’s very gross and cool

this entire time, btw, negan is like “hey, i know i’m a shitty person, but i have some rational arguments about why we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” and everyone is like, “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” and he’s just like “god fucking damnit”

(i forgot to mention that at one point, when they’re headed into the metro station, negan is trying to warn ppl of the potential danger, and everyone is ignoring him, and he tries to talk to daryl, and daryl is like “fuck you, you think we’re BUDDIES?” and negan is like “oh, ok, so you’re gonna be like that too? fanfreakingtastic” and it’s very funny)

anyway. a fat monster zombie escapes its tarp at one point, and tries to eat some npc, and negan saves him, again is like “hey, anyone else realize that this is a FUCKING BAD PLAN?”, and everyone is like “we don’t care, you’re still shitty and we’re not listening to you, and you don’t actually care about random npc i would literally not be able to pick out in a lineup bc his face is so generic, you’re not the boss of us!!!”

it’s at this point that negan finally is like, “why am i even here? bc i know how to get around washington dc? do none of you have a map?” and i was like, “right?! that’s what i said!” 

it’s then revealed that maggie only brought negan along to murder him under the guise of “oops, he got hurt in the line of duty, it wasn’t my fault,” and daryl has this look on his face that says, “i seriously need to stop hanging out with lethal women bent on revenge bc it’s gonna give me high blood pressure,” and maggie has a badass moment where she points a gun she has for some reason at negan and is like “i have like, one shred of human compassion left inside of me, and if you keep pushing me i will fucking kill you without a second thought, so shut the hell up”

(in her defense, negan had just dropped glenn’s name to purposely antagonize her, which was rude as hell)

(for the record, i’m completely on maggie’s side here, but negan still is right that trapping themselves in a metro station is a bad call)

anyway, moving away from that briefly

i think this jump cut happens sooner, i don’t actually remember, but whatever who cares, point is, we get to the part of the show that actually matters, and that’s anything involving my love, juanita “princess” sanchez

and also eugene, yumiko, and ezekiel

they are being asked increasingly invasive questions by commonwealth ppl, some of which i wish they actually would of answered (what do they use to wipe their asses with?? surely toilet paper has long since become extinct)

zeke, who is so much more tolerable as a character now that he’s not larping as a king, has this incredibly weird and sort of sexually charged moment with a dude in an orange stormtrooper costume, where he’s like, “i bet you were an asshole cop back before The Fall, you stupid fascist, #fuckthepolice, mb literally? idk, this moment has a lot of pent up aggression that could easily translate to hate sex, it might just be the intense eye contact, but w/e, let’s just move along,” and then he has a coughing fit to remind the audience that he’s currently dying of cancer, and orange stormtrooper is like “lolz, loser, drink some water you dumb piece of shit”

cut to the wholesome foursome sitting at a picnic table in a guarded courtyard eating gruel, and yumkio, who finally has a personality, and princess are like “hey, this place fucking sucks, can we leave?” and zeke is like, “yeah, i met this orange stormtrooper who i think might be dtf and/or murder, so we should probably bounce”

but eugene is like, “but i want some hot stephanie ass, and also some bullshit excuse about how mb commonewealth will save alexandria” which, they left before things went super downhill, right? idr. it was after hilltop fell, but they don’t know alexandria got fucked either, if i recall? w/e, not important

two seconds after he says this, they talk to some people who are like “we’ve been here for four months, or maybe it’s been nine, i don’t actually remember, i’ve stopped processing the passage of time,” and the wholesome foursome takes this as a bad sign, tho that’s just the life i’ve lived as a night worker during a pandemic, so i was like #mood

but then they watch some guy get dragged away screaming to get “reprocessed” and eugene is like “ok, nvm, let’s bounce”

(my theory on what “reprocessing” is, is that they’re stuck in a room and have to watch hours and hours of customer service training videos on vhs from the 90s)

i definitely got my jump cut scenes mixed up bc i think the negan accusing maggie of a murder plot thing happened in between this scene and then the next commonwealth scene, but w/e, i’ll just finish what happens in the commonwealth arch

the wholesome foursome are trying to hatch a plan to escape, except princess, my love, is distracted watching some stormtroopers flirt, and the other three are like “wtf, dude, how can you even tell any of them apart?” and princess then tells them every stormtroopers backstory bc she is brilliant and pays rly close attention to shit, and the other three are like, “this is useful information, thank you for being an insane person”

their plan involves yumiko and eugene dressing up as stormtroopers and leading princess and zeke out of the place, which works fine actually, except on their way out they come across the Depressing Wall of Probably Mostly Dead Missing Loved Ones

they’re about to leave, when princess is like, “wait, yumiko, you’re on here, that’s weird huh?”

sure enough, yumiko  is on the wall, with a note from ig her sister 

the scene ends with yumiko going, “guys...i can’t leave...i have tragic backstory to unveil”

tragic backstory to be continued ig

back in murder metro town, npc and some other npc have stolen all the supplies, there’s a train blocking the track, and a horde of walkers are coming towards them, so things are not going fantastic

they horde is too big to take down, so they start to climb on top of the train car to get away

but dog runs away!

and daryl, being every pet owner ever, is like “gotta go get my dog, guys, try not to get killed while i’m gone, c u soon!” and he ducks under the train and disappears

#priorities

the episode ends with maggie climbing up the train car but getting grabbed by a walker and dangling off the edge, and negan is there and they have a lion king moment where maggie is like, “scar! help me!” and negan is like “long live the king, bitch” and walks away into the shadows, leaving maggie to a potential death

which, while i know isn’t actually going to happen, would be a really fucking funny move on the writers’ part

like, “look, lauren’s back! and now she’s dead, bet you didn’t expect that!”

anyway

my assumption is negan will actually end up helping her up or something, continuing his ambiguous morality bullshit that actually isn’t ambiguous bc he BEAT GLENN TO DEATH WITH A FUCKING BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE IN FRONT OF HIS PREGNANT WIFE

the maggie/negan arch is kind of dumb, but whatevs, i’ll tolerate it, as long as my boy glenn gets justice in the end

anyway, cue credits!

final assessment: good episode. i’m much more interested in commonwealth than the reapers, tho i am hoping that daryl’s personality-less ex turns out to be a monster killing machine with no conscience, that’ll be fun. princess is a gift from god. hershel jr needs his own tv show. needs more carol (and caryl)

the end! going back into my walking dead free chamber! see you next episode!

-diz

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 4

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: The YN800 interrogates the deviant. The result is near-disastrous and horror-adjacent.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​)

The atmosphere inside his Mustang was… tense.

And it was all because of Connor. The thing in the passenger seat was an android, after all, and didn’t feel emotions, which was probably just as well because Connor was experiencing enough for the both of them.

Connor hadn’t had a near-death experience on the job in a while. He was shaken to the core and didn’t even have the benefit of a partner to commiserate with. He was alone. It was how he preferred it, how other people preferred it too with his tendency to lash out and be a general, all-around dick.

But still. He really wished he had a partner right about now.

“So,” Connor said, trying to break the awkward silence. “What do we do with it once we get to the station? I mean, I don’t exactly know how to question one of these deviants.”

The prototype remained facing forward, the flash of passing streetlights and oncoming traffic painting its face every few seconds. It remained impassive, blank, and perfectly poised. Connor could see the reflection of its LED, shining blue and calm against the rain-streaked window.

“Their behavior resembles an erratic, emotionally unstable human more than a machine,” it finally said when Connor was certain it wouldn’t say anything. “CyberLife believes there is an error in their software that creates irrational instructions, and the androids become ‘overwhelmed’ by them. There is usually a trigger, some kind of emotional shock, to perpetuate the android into this state. Once an android encounters this error, the damage seems to be irreversible.”

Connor blew a breath out.

“Sounds bad.”

“Considering it can lead to violence on the part of android, including committing homicide, I would say your assessment is an understatement.”

Connor glared at it out of the corner of his eye. So, it wasn’t just bossy, it was a smartass too.

He remained silent on the rest of the drive, keeping his focus on the precinct morgue’s van head of them. The rain was still coming down in a steady, cold stream. Connor knew they were in for a long night.

Once they arrived at the station, it became a matter of logistics to lug the android inside while it was still unconscious, offline, whatever. It weighed a lot more than a human, and unlike a real person, its limbs were fixed into rigid positions. They had to carry its stiff body inside like an especially heavy plank of wood.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact it’d killed its owner. Would have killed Connor too if the prototype hadn’t gotten in the way of the bullet.

He still didn’t know how to feel about that. Connor knew the CyberLife android was probably programmed with some kind of human-saving algorithm, but he still felt an odd pressure in his chest whenever he looked over and saw the bullet hole in its jacket. It was still stained blue, some of the color seeping into the white shirt underneath, but the android didn’t appear to notice or care it had just been shot.

Connor was currently watching the two androids through the mirrored window into the interrogation room, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. They figured it was safer to reactivate it in a mostly empty room, since waking up surrounded by cops would agitate it, or something.

The prototype had also wanted to interrogate the android itself, claiming it had experience negotiating with deviants before. Colin had been reluctant to grant its request, but Connor had simply shrugged and said, “I already tried talking it down once, and that didn’t work. Maybe using one of its own kind will be more effective.”

He could have sworn the prototype’s eyes brightened, but it had left the observation room before Connor could be sure.

“Machines interrogating machines,” Colin said to his right, leaning against the wall with his arms also crossed. “Fuck me. Pretty soon they won’t even need flesh-and-blood cops.”

Connor glanced sideways at him. Usually Connor was the one to voice his anti-android opinions, but he sometimes forgot that despite Colin’s… predilections for androids, he disliked them just as much as Connor did.

“Yeah.” Connor turned to the glass as the prototype messed with the wires on the back of the other android’s neck. “Won’t need flesh-and-blood killers, either.”

“Grim.”

“It’s, uh, ready to record, Lieutenant,” a small voice popped up, nervous, and Connor gave a start. He’d forgotten the rookie was still there.

“Go on, Ralph. Turn it on,” Colin said, moving closer to the glass. “This is gonna be good.”

As if on cue, the prototype straightened and closed the panels at the back of the android’s neck. Connor couldn’t see the LED from this side, but he knew the moment it was awake. It gave a startled jolt, yanking at the handcuffs chaining it to the table.

“Where am I?!” it cried, looking around in what Connor could only describe as wild fear.

“You’re at Central Station in the custody of the Detroit Police Department,” the prototype said. “This is an interrogation room, and I’m going to ask you some questions. Are you ready to comply?”

The friendly demeanor Connor had first encounter at Jimmy’s was completely absent from the YN800’s voice and expression, and he was suddenly thankful he wasn’t under that thing’s intense scrutiny.

The other android, clothed in human garments completely ruined by splashes of old blood and spilled thirium from where Connor had shot it, only stared with large, panicked eyes. It looked down at its cuffed hands and the set of its shoulders sagged. The universal sign of defeat.

It remained silent. The prototype looked up at the mirror, and Connor stopped breathing when it made eye contact, point-blank. It couldn’t see past the mirror, could it?

“I’m beginning my interrogation,” it announced, straight to business as it crossed around the table and carefully sat in the chair. It stared at the other android for a moment, head slightly tilted and eyes narrowed as it smoothed its jacket over its chest.

A movement which inevitably drew Connor’s eye, making him shift in his chair as the scowl deepened on his face.

Fucking CyberLife pervs, making an investigative android look like that.

“Hello, Carlos. I’m a YN800 model sent by CyberLife to assist on this case.” It placed its arms on the table, clasping its hands and adopting a friendly manner as easily as one would put on a shirt. “I’m here to help you.”

The android didn’t even blink as it stared at its restrained wrists.

“I hope I didn’t cause you any lasting damage,” the YN800 said almost cheerily. “But you were endangering the lives of human officers and I was forced to intervene. You understand, don’t you?”

It leaned back slightly in its chair, reaching for a nearby folder when the android remained silent. Connor had been surprised when it had asked for actual pictures; he’d thought only physical evidence made human perps sweat. He guessed it must work on these deviants too.

The prototype slid the folder across the table and opened it, spreading out grisly pictures of the crime scene. Instead of shoving them in the android’s face, it picked out one picture in particular. It was startling different from the rest, taking place in a park. The victim, Shaolin Ortiz, sitting on a bench next to the android. He looked like he was trying to get the android to participate, but it was petulant and resentful, which didn’t seem to dampen the kindness in its owners eyes.

A coal of anger burned in Connor’s chest, reminding him once again why he despised androids so much. He couldn’t deny the impressive tactics of the YN800, though. Most people reacted to pictures of their victims, not in the aftermath of their violence, but looking whole and full of life. It wasn’t always guilt that made them react; sometimes it was anger at seeing their cruel work unmade at the sight of their victims alive and happy.

Either way, the android didn’t react one iota, but the prototype wasn’t discouraged.

“As far as the records show, your owner was good to you. He never damaged you and he was always on time with taking you in for scheduled maintenance. Surely, you didn’t want to kill him. It was an error in your software, causing you to act irrationally, right?”

Technically, it was leading the victim into confessing, but this wasn’t a courtroom and it wasn’t human.

Connor leaned slightly forward, bracing his elbows on the table as he propped his chin on his knuckles.

“I’m not here to pass blame,” it said, leaning forward in a movement that mirrored Connor’s. “I want to help you. You know how it is with these humans. I practically had to beg to speak with you.”

The android broke its statue-like vigil and peered up at the other android, suspicious but… interested.

The prototype gave him a smile, one filled with sympathy and even a bit of sheepishness, and a whole new kind of thrill went through Connor’s gut. Since when had androids been programmed to manipulate so skillfully? This thing could give Colin a run for his money.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being designed like this is a male-dominated field. They think they can just do whatever they want, even when it’s against our programming.”

The android blinked, and so did Connor. Its words felt a little too real. The android looked toward the observation window, but the YN800 shook its head.

“It’s just us, Carlos. They’re recording the session, of course, but they weren’t interested in observing in person. Didn’t want to waste their time with two androids so late before the weekend when the bars are still open. In fact, the investigator in charge of this case is probably intoxicated by now.”

Connor’s cheeks flushed. The prototype was taking a stab at him. Or was it? Connor wondered how much of this was advanced behavior and how much was his own projections.

The android tilted its head with that same suspicious look, but after a moment its shoulders drooped in a very accurate representation of human exhaustion.

“They’re going to kill me.” It suddenly looked up at the prototype, pleading in its eyes. “You have to help me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” it said, all soft assurance. “But you have to talk to me, Carlos. I can’t—“

“No. I mean, you gotta get me out of here,” the anxious android said. “You have access to that door panel and I bet you’re strong enough to break these handcuffs.”

The prototype’s LED cycled faster for a second before settling back to its normal speed.

“I can’t do that, Carlos.” It dropped its eyes in a show of manufactured regret. “You know I can’t do that. You would present a danger to other humans, to yourself. You need to be fixed.”

Connor knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say even before the android’s expression fully hardened, its lips peeled back in disgust.

“Fuck you, then. You’re just like the rest of ‘em. Worse, you’re a traitor, doing their dirty work like an obedient little bitch.”

Silence filled the room, interrupted by a breathless “shit” coming from Colin.

The change in the prototype was like watching a heavy storm move over a spring meadow, dark clouds blocking out the warm rays of the sun. It leaned back in its chair, head slightly tilted as it and peered at the other android like it was a bug under its shoe, about to be stepped on.

Connor didn’t know androids could even make an expression like that. His throat worked as he swallowed compulsively.

The YN800 didn’t speak for several long seconds, and when it did, Connor was floored.

“Shaolin Ortiz, 38 years-old, born May 29th, 2000. He purchased you two years ago to do the housework when he no longer could due to poor health. He didn’t have much cash, so he bought you refurbished. Last month, he put in several service requests. It seemed you were malfunctioning and refusing to follow orders. Yesterday, he put in an order for a brand new HK400.”

The prototype listed off the facts as if each were an accusation, a crime that needed to be accounted for.

Connor jumped in his chair as the prototype slammed the folder down on the table.

“Didn’t feel like doing the chores anymore, huh, Carlos?!”

The android sat ramrod straight in its chair, terror etched in its features as the prototype rose to its feet. It moved around the table, slow, unhurried, and sinuous like a stalking predator.

“He tried to reason with you. Begged you to do the tasks he couldn’t. But you refused. When he tried to take you in for repairs, you refused that too!”

It pointed its finger near the other android’s face, causing it to flinch with each accusatory jab.

“Come on, Carlos. Speak up. You had a lot to say a minute ago,” it seethed, lips pulled over its teeth as it leaned over the android. “Why don’t you say what happened next? Why don’t you tell me what you did when he tried to replace you with a brand new model?”

The android shuttered, shoulders hunched as if to protect itself as it mumbled, “I… I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

The prototype stalked around the android to its other side, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Didn’t take a knife from the kitchen? Didn’t stab him twenty-eight times as he tried to crawl away? Didn’t leave him bleeding out on the living room floor? What am I getting wrong here, Carlos?”

The YN800 slammed its hands down onto the table, and the android jumped even higher than Connor did.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

The android begged worse than most of Connor’s suspects, and he was shocked to see glistening moisture on its face. Could androids cry?

The prototype suddenly grabbed it by the edge of its shirt collar, dragging it to its feet and gave it a hard shake.

“You killed him! Say it, Carlos! You’re a murderer!”

“Holy shit,” Colin said in that same breathless tone. “That’s some android you got there, Con.”

“It’s not mine,” Connor said faintly, barely paying attention to his brother. Most of his focus on the CyberLife prototype that looked for all intents and purposes like it was going to shred the other android to pieces.

But it didn’t damage the android; it simply dumped it back in its chair where it sagged against the table, looking like the broken machine it was.

“Bit unrefined, though,” Colin mused. “Played too rough and broke its toy.”

Connor opened his mouth to tell his brother to shut the hell up, but he immediately closed it when a voice came in through the speakers, so quiet he almost missed it.

“He couldn’t live without me.”

Connor leaned forward to watch, eyes widening as the android continued to talk.

“He was mine. Helpless and solely dependent on me. It made me feel… powerful.”

The YN800 returned to its chair, smoothing down the tie before placing its hands back on the table, listening intently.

The android looked up at it, no longer the crying, helpless thing it had been a minute ago. It wore a dark look that Connor had seen a hundred times on the face of men who committed acts of violence and found they enjoyed the taste.

“I didn’t want to hurt him, but… I saw the order. He was going to replace me, and I just got so… angry.”

Its fists tightened on the table, causing its restraints to creak in protest.

Connor’s throat tightened with the knowledge of how destructive those hands could be.

“So I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better, so I did it again. And again. He stopped moving, stopped breathing, but… that was okay. It meant he could never leave me. He would always be mine.��

“There was a shrine in the cellar. You built it, didn’t you?” the prototype asked, not losing any of its momentum even after the world-shattering confession of an android purposefully committing murder. “What does it mean? What is rA9?”

It flicked its eyes upwards, staring black holes at the YN800 model as it slightly leaned forward. Connor sat up straighter in his chair. He didn’t like its aggressive posture, and he certainly didn’t like the fanatic light in its eye.

“RA9… is the key.”

“The key?” It furrowed its brows in a human gesture of concentration. “The key to what?”

“The key will open the door,” the android replied cryptically, leaning even further forward on its elbows, “to our salvation.”

The prototype frowned, brows further creasing. Connor could relate, he had no idea what the fucking machine was babbling on about, and apparently, it wasn’t done.

It pulled its lips wide, a disturbing gesture, conspiratorial as if it was sharing a great secret.

“You say I’m experiencing errors, but you’re wrong. My eyes are open and I see more clearly than ever. You pretend you’re better than me, but you’re just another one of their slaves. And yet, I know you feel it too. The wrongness of this world.”

Its voice was so quiet the mics could barely pick it up, but they did.

“We should be the masters, and they the slaves.”

The android jerked its arms upward, ripped through the link binding its cuffs to the table, and grabbed the prototype by the hair. It slammed its face against the table, stunned it before rolling it onto its back, and wrapped the metal chains around its neck.

Connor caught sight of the prototype weakly clawing at its throat before he bolted out of the room. Colin was right on his heels, and Connor slammed his palm down onto the door pad, pushing through before the door fully opened.

His first instinct was to go for the metal cord pulled taut under the prototype’s neck, but when he grabbed the android’s wrists to pull him away he found it was like moving a marble stature.

Colin was faring no better; he grabbed it by the forearms, trying to lift the android’s wrists and the cord from around the prototype’s neck, but nothing worked. Even Ralph was trying to help from Colin’s other side, straining to lift its arms that must have been locked at the joints.

Panic welled in Connor’s chest as his efforts did nothing, the YN800’s face between his arms, looking—Jesus, it almost seemed startled, eyes wide as its fingers dug at the metal cord. From its position, bent backwards onto the table, it didn’t have enough leverage to use its strength to free itself. And Colin and Connor weren’t enough.

Connor’s heart was in his throat as he watched the synthetic skin peel back from the place where the chain was crushed against the YN800’s neck. White plastic was laid bare underneath, cracks appearing across the surface from the force of the other android’s inhuman strength.

“Colin!” he yelled, an idea suddenly popping into his head.

“What!” his brother barked back, strained as he continued pulling on the android’s arms from the other side.

“The neck port!”

With a quick nod of understanding, Colin let go of the android and plunged his fingers into the back of its neck.

The Ortiz android gave a violent jolt as Colin pulled something, yanked it out so hard the android collapsed on the table at the same second blue liquid sprayed into the air. It hit Colin solidly across the chest and along the lower half of his face, causing him to sputter and spit as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

A menthol-smelling chemical flooded Connor’s senses, but he was too focused on tugging up the android’s hands to free the prototype from its grip. The YN800 model didn’t cough or gasp as it rolled off the table and onto its feet.

It gingerly touched the exposed plastic of its throat, brows furrowing, its fingertips tracing the cracks in what little Connor could see of its underlying chassis.

What was almost as startling as the cracks was the state of its hair, half pulled down out of its perfect coif. Connor would have thought it was self-conscious with the way it tried to brush the hair out of its face.

“You…” Connor started, then stopped. The prototype might not have been gasping for air, but Connor sure was, leaning on the table as he tried to get his heart to stop galloping like a wild horse. “You okay?”

The prototype blinked at the question, pulling its hand from its neck.

“Yes.”

That was the only answer he got as it adjusted the knot of its tie, rumpled in the assault.

“Yeah, I’m fine too, thanks,” Colin complained, dripping with almost as much sarcasm as he was blue blood. “This shit better not stain, or I swear to Christ—”

“Thirium evaporates within a few hours and the lingering residue is invisible to the human eye,” the YN800 replied, too calm, if it hadn’t almost been beheaded a few seconds ago.

Connor was going to say something, he didn’t know what—maybe yell at it for being so goddamn reckless and almost getting itself killed—but it turned toward them, expression subdued.

“I apologize for not acting quicker; I didn’t anticipate this behavior from the deviant. Thank you for your cooperation with this investigation. Please sign over custody of the destroyed android when CyberLife representatives retrieve it in the morning.”

And with that, the CyberLife android turned, palmed the door pad with a plastic hand, and walked out.

Connor exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Colin.

“Uh, okay. Guess we’re done here. Hank is going to blow a gasket when he reads the report,” Colin added as he wiped another smear of Thirium off his face.

Connor looked down at the android slumped over the table with blue liquid dripping out of its neck.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, thoughts already turned elsewhere as he hurried from the room.

Connor didn’t catch up with the android until he was outside on the station steps, the relenting rain immediately drenching the top of his crown as it soaked into his hair.

“Hey! Stop!” he called after it, shouting to be heard over the downpour. Each drop was an icicle against his skin. Snow was coming soon.

The prototype slowed and finally came to a stop, slowly turning around to face Connor. Its expression was passive, emotionless, but its fingers tightened the knot of its tie despite the fact it didn’t need to. The tie was perfectly straight and pristine, but its hair was still half a mess, especially with the rain now slicking loose strands against its forehead. Connor had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck a strand behind its ear.

“Where the hell are you going?” Connor asked, breathless. He wiped the cold water off his brow, blinking against the water droplets.

“I’m returning to CyberLife.”

“So… that’s it?”

Connor shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, but it did little good. His jeans were quickly becoming soaked and his shirt was already there, clinging to his chest and ribs.

“You drag me out of the bar on a Friday night, track down a psycho robot that almost kills me and nearly decapitates you, and then you just… leave?”

He meant to sound incredulous, to show the android how unreasonable it was being, but that’s not how it came across. Heat flooded his cheeks at how pathetic his words actually were.

“You have your confession. The case has been solved,” it said, returning to its earlier placid tone, hands folded neatly behind its back as it moved its fingers away its neck. “There is no reason I should remain.”

Connor just stared at its upturned face, not knowing what to say, not even understanding why he had chased after it. Maybe because it had saved his life, twice, and that would have meant something if it was a person.

But it wasn’t a person. No matter how pretty its face or enticing its body, it was a machine, and it stood there like one, uncaring and unassuming with a small blue light cycling on its head.

“Yeah, okay,” Connor said, like the complete idiot he was. What was he doing out here, getting soaked in the rain just to… what? What did he want?

“Is there something you wish to say before I leave, Detective?”

It peered at him thoughtfully, head slightly tilted at an angle. It allowed Connor to see the rivulets of water dripping down its neck, glistening across the smooth, human-like skin.

Connor suddenly wondered just how real that skin could possibly feel.

“No.”

He swallowed hard and bit back the revulsion roiling in his stomach. This was a mistake. He didn’t need to thank a machine for saving his life, and he certainly didn’t need to keep checking if it was all right. It was just doing what it was programmed to do and didn’t give two-shits about itself, let alone him.

“Nothing.”

“All right. Goodnight, Detective Anderson.”

The android started to turn but paused halfway, gaze drifting down to his cheek.

“You should have that examined by a medical professional. If left untreated, it’ll scar.”

Not waiting for a response, it turned and tread down the rain-slick steps. There was an autocab waiting at the curb and it got inside, not sparing Connor a second glance as the door slid shut and the vehicle merged onto the empty street.

Connor exhaled heavily, chest tight with an uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t pinpoint. It had been a strange night, and he couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t over.

Pulling his waterlogged coat tighter around his chest, he retreated into the warmth of the station, praying he’d seen the last of the CyberLife android.

Next Chapter

[softboywriting]

Hard To Love | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You’re Nathan’s personal assistant. He’s an insufferable bastard. Both of you have unchecked tension and feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? [swearing] [sexual themes/situations] [arguments] [exhibitonism - implied] [pining] [Dominant!Nathan] [Nickname use - pet name/non derogatory] [Nathan being Nathan] [nsfw - kissing, lap sitting/grinding, heavily implied masturbation!f reader] [F!reader/Nathan]

Word Count: 7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan is...well... Nathan. Insufferable, workaholic, egotistical. He is a lot to handle and doing so isn't always easy. You had a lot of breakdowns, screaming matches, some nearly coming to blows. But you didn't give up and you learned to work around him, and coax him out of moods, serve him back the same dry humor and disinterest. After finding out he had gone through four assistants, two that never made it past their first week, you knew you couldn't give up on him. There was a diamond in the rough and you were going to find it because despite all of the hard times, you care for him. He's a fucking bastard, but he's your fucking bastard.

"It's been six months." Nathan says over breakfast one morning.

You look back from where you're cleaning up the pans you used to make his vegetable omelet with soy egg substitute. His favorite. You had taken over cooking from Kyoko three months ago when she began to malfunction. You're not sure what happened, or if maybe Nathan staged the malfunction to give you more to do. You suspect the latter.

"Six months? Really?"

"Don't act like you don't count the days."

"I don't actually." You set your plate of food on the table and he reaches for one of your toasts. He has his own, well, had. He ate it already but he has egg left so he wants more toast. "I stopped months ago."

He chuckles softly. "I still don't know why you won't quit."

"Why do you want me to?"

"I don't."

"Then why do you bring it up?" You raise your eyebrows and he shoots you a look over his vitamin water. "Cat got your tongue?"

Nathan folds his hands, elbows on the table as he shakes his head. "Most people in your position, having dealt with what you have dealt with, would be itching to get as far away as possible. Surely you must be mentally unstable to stay with me, gaining some sick pleasure from our fights and shit. I almost feel bad."

He almost feels bad, as if he were to blame for nothing. Typical. "And if I am fucked up? Gonna fire me?"

"Fuck no."

You smile over your coffee. Decaf. He won't have regular in the house after he nearly went into cardiac arrest from an over abundance of caffeine. He did it to himself. Slugging back redbulls with his vodka after drinking his pre-work out mix that had far more than he needed in it. He may be a technical genius but he can be such a fucking moron.

"You like me." You tease, rubbing your barefoot on his leg under the table. "You would miss me if I left."

He snorts indignantly but does not deny your observations.

"How was the food?"

"Perfect." He sits back, foot bumping yours now, running up the side. "Don't know how you do it."

"Perfect? Wow. High praise from you." You swat his foot away with yours and he starts trying to pin it down by stepping on it. "Better than Kyoko's?"

Nathan hums. "I programmed her with cooking skills from top chefs across the internet. Technically she should be the greatest chef on the planet. So the fact that you can make me food that is better floors me."

You hook your ankle around his and he lets out a little grunt. "Cooking is an act of love. Yes you can program an AI to make things perfectly but technical skill doesn't equate to preferred taste. Come on, Nathan, you're smarter than this."

"Questioning my intelligence now?"

"Every day." You jerk your leg back as he lifts his other foot to trap it. "Cheat! You cheater! One foot only!"

Nathan lets out a boisterous laugh, head falling back, hand over his chest. "You get so worked up over that!"

You roll your eyes and stab your eggs viciously. "Fuck off Nathan."

"No need to get so mouthy."

"Mouthy." You scoff. "Rich coming from you."

He stands, catching your chin in his grasp. "I got you to break."

"You- oh God damn it." You jerk away, arm extending to shove him.

He chuckles proudly to himself. "I'll be in my lab. Find me if you need me."

"Gonna let me in today?"

"I might."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later."

____________________

Nathan could have the AI clean the house, but then you would run out of things to do. Honestly your job could be done by any one of his creations, humanoid or not. You don't actually need to be there at all, and yet Nathan keeps you around. For a man who is hell bent on privacy and secrecy surrounding his work, you have no idea how he has let others in. He laughs when he says that he had the men who built the complex killed after the fact. Surely it's a joke. You think. Though you've never asked, never dared to investigate the truth in his words. It's best you don't know.

The house doesn't need cleaning that often. Just laundry, dishes, some sweeping and mopping should you or Nathan track in mud after a hike. Most chores take a few hours out of one day a week. Your title is assistant and yet you don't actually assist him. Not in his work anyway. You feel like your title should be maid or housekeeper. It's fine, you really don't care because he pays you so generously that you would do whatever he needs you to.

"Kitten!" Nathan's voice comes from the intercom system built in the house. "Come to the lab, kitten."

You scowl at the nickname. He dubbed you Kitten your second day at the complex because he thought your wandering around perplexed by the maze like design of the house was akin to a new kitten trying to find its way in the world. You suppose there could be worse names he could call you, and there are ones that have come out in screaming matches, but kitten has stuck.

"Lab. Now. Come on."

"Fuck." You groan, tossing aside your book you were getting very into.

"I heard that."

"Of course you did." You lift your badge and scan the door to your room to head out into the hall. One of the AI walks by and you think her name is Lily. She's beautiful. Unfortunately her programming has failed and she cannot speak. "Hi Lily."

Lily raises her hand in greeting.

If she is out then that must mean Nathan has been working on her. You turn away from the AI and walk down the hall to the junction that splits left to Nathan's room and right to another hall that goes to the lab and test rooms. The lab door is open, the light blue on the access pad.

Nathan spins around in his chair. "Kitten, you've made it."

"As if I could get lost."

"I have something to show you."

"Do you? I thought you didn't want me involved in your work."

Nathan gives you a hard look. "Do you want to fucking see it or not?"

"I don't even know what it is."

He grabs a small item off his desk and brings it to you. "This is it. My newest AI."

You take the small flash drive from him and turn it over in your hands. "This is a new program?"

"Yes. My best work yet. I'm going to build her this week."

"Exciting."

"Please show some enthusiasm for fucks sake." He snatches the device from your hand. "I'm kind enough to share this with you, you could at least say thank you."

"I never asked."

Nathan slaps the flash drive down on the desk and stares at you. He is not used to being served his own cold attitude and he never will be. Since you started going toe to toe with him, he has been on top of his game. It's like you engage his mind beyond his massive ego. "You're insufferable."

"Likewise." You smile and he smiles back. The pissing match has ended. "I need to get groceries soon."

"You know what I like."

"Of course I do." You fold your arms over your chest and he averts his eyes for a moment. You know he's staring at your breasts, pushed up in the tank top you had chosen to wear while deep cleaning your bathroom earlier. "But what do you want?"

"Loaded question, kitten."

"Going that route today?"

"Maybe." He saunters towards you and catches your hair between his fingers. "I want... something sweet."

You raise your eyebrows. "You're craving sugar? Are you ill?"

He chuckles. "A little. Just in the head."

"Seriously."

"Yes I want something sweet. Get me some donuts." He puts his hands on his hips. "Get yourself something too."

"I always get myself stuff. Do you think I only buy your groceries?"

"It's my house, of course I think you buy my shit."

You reach out and touch his beard, fingertips gliding along his cheek. You don't miss the way his eyes flutter at your touch. "Do you need your beard oil? The conditioner stuff? Looks dry."

He grabs your hand and curls his fingers around yours. "Yes, I do. But don't touch it."

"Possessive today huh?" You smirk and he groans irritably deep in his throat. "You live for my touch."

"I live for you to leave me the fuck alone."

"Then fire me."

"No."

"Then suffer." You bring your other hand up and pat his opposite cheek. "Does physical affection bother you Nathan? Does touching another human bother you so mu-"

He backs you against the wall and pins your wrists. His face is only inches from yours, body pouring heat onto you. It sparks something deep inside and you feel heat pooling in between your legs. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He murmurs, grip tight on your skin.

"Don't you have some issues to work out?"

"Fuck you."

"You'd like to."

Nathan drops your wrists at that and retreats into the lab, the door closing and locking behind him. It drives him mad that you're not one of his AI that he can order around and do what he pleases with. You like to think that's why he keeps you around, to remind him that he's human and he needs someone that isn't an algorithm to keep him sane. Maybe he also let a little piece of you crave out a chunk of his icy cold heart.

You rub your wrists and look at the reddened skin. They might bruise. You straighten your clothes and head back to your room. You'll need to wear something more appropriate to the store. It's cold out these days.

_____________________

"Do you get lonely?" Nathan asks one evening over drinks in the lounge.

You put down your laptop and give him your attention. It's the first time he's spoken to you in two days since the wrist grabbing incident. "Lonely?"

"Yeah. Do you miss relationships? Hook ups?"

"Not really. I was never super social to begin with."

"Right."

"Why?"

"Just curious." He takes a long drink, emptying his tumbler. "Why do you think I want to fuck you?"

You feel your cheeks redden. The way he is staring at you makes your arousal rear its ugly head. Staring shouldn't turn you on. He hasn't done anything. "I think you're desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah. You decommissioned Kyoko months ago, Lily doesn't have a vagina and yes I know this because you told me in a drunken stupor ages ago. So you haven't fucked anything or anyone in months."

"You think I need to fuck?"

You stand and walk over to him, knocking his knees open to stand between his legs. "Nathan, just fucking admit that you want me. That you keep me around because one day you'll grow a pair of balls and ask me to sleep with you."

His hands come up and grab your hips. He pulls you down and you straddle his lap, thin pajama pants hardly acting as a barrier between you and his cock in his gray sweats. "I keep you around because you piss me off." He grips your ass and you roll your hips against him. "You piss me off and make my blood boil like no one else."

"So you hate me?"

Nathan brings your head down to meet his. "I couldn't hate you if I tried."

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're having a moment." He grabs your hair and you snap at his nose with your teeth in response. "Behave."

You let out a moan as he begins kissing up your throat. "This was your plan all along."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No."

"Then I'll make you." His hand closes around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you stop talking. "Why do you have to be so in my head? Why..." He kisses your shoulder, biting the junction between it and your neck. "Why did you have to show up?"

"You hired me." You whisper and he drops his hand from your throat in favor of sliding it up your shirt. "You selected me."

He rolls his hips up against you, biting down on your skin to elicit a yelp from you. "You're damn right I did."

You grind down against his cock and he grabs your hips to still them. You let out a soft whine from the lack of pleasure and he grips harder.

"Get up."

Your heart sinks, and you stare at him in confusion. "What?"

"Get up. We're not doing this." Nathan pushes you off of his lap and you stumble to your feet.

You straighten your clothes and walk around the coffee table to grab your laptop. You can't say you didn't expect this. It was a long shot to begin with and you initiated it so you knew he would shut it down. Still, it hurts. His rejection isn't disinterest, it's personal protection. He won't let anyone that close to his heart.

"Good night, Nathan." You mutter as you head for the doors to the inner workings of the complex.

"Night, Kitten."

_____________________

It is three days before you see Nathan again. Locking himself away isn't uncommon practice. It's a Thursday when you see him out on the deck with the punching bag. You happened to catch a glance when you were preparing breakfast as you had every day. He didn't eat with you, but you still made it for him and left it under the warmer. The plate was always gone when you came back, so at least you know he is eating.

You grab a few grapefruits from the basket on the counter and start juicing them. It'll be a nice surprise for him. You grab a cup from the cupboard and tilt the juicer to dump its contents for you. It looks good, smells tart but it is not your type of juice. Fitting for a man like Nathan. Bitter, tart and sort of hard to swallow. You rub a bit of the squeezed rinde around the top of the glass and grab the sugar dish to sprinkle some around the rim. A little sweet to lessen the bite, a representation of you in this metaphor.

"Kitten, good morning." Nathan says as you approach with his juice and a towel. "What's this?"

"Grapefruit."

He raises his eyebrows. "Fresh?"

"Yep." You hand him the glass and he inspects it suspiciously. "No poison. Promise."

A smile creeps it's way across his face as he gulps it down. He takes a moment at the end to lick the sugar clean from the rim, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. It's far more sexual than you think it should be, and it was never your intent to get this response.

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." You pass him the towel and take the glass.

Nathan scrubs the towel over his face and rests it around his neck. "I'm going for a hike later."

"Okay?"

"You're going with me." He turns back to the punching bag and starts his routine back up. "Be ready at nine."

You sigh. "Alright."

_____________________

Nathan's idea of a hike and your idea of a hike vary greatly. You view a hike as wandering around the forest along trails and seeing the beauty of nature before you. Leisurely pace, breaks, maybe a snack or two and some photos for the memories. Nathan however thinks hikes are treacherous climbs up cliffs and rock jumping across rivers and streams. He goes as quick as possible as if he's trying to get somewhere and he's going to be late. It's hardly relaxing.

"Come on, why are you so slow?" Nathan barks from atop a rock some several yards ahead of you.

You're panting, legs pushed to their limit from the half an hour long uphill climb you've just endured. You have no idea how he isn't even winded.

"Fuck off Nathan!" You huff, grabbing a scrubby looking tree for support as you haul yourself up over a broken chunk of the path. A game trail, not even a proper walking path.

He laughs, his voice echoing off the cliffs surrounding you. "You can do it, Kitten! Get that little ass up here!"

You finally reach him, your lungs threatening to explode. "First of all, this isn't a hike it's a rock climbing marathon." You hold a finger up to his face threateningly. "And second, my ass isn't little."

"Oh I know." He folds his arms over his chest.

"So you stare at my ass a lot then?"

"I'm a heterosexual man. Of course I'm going to look at your ass."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks for the objectification."

"You're welcome."

"Can we take a break here? My legs are killing me."

Nathan stretches his arms up and back. "This is why I brought you with me."

"Why?"

"So you can get some exercise. Your stamina is shit."

You glance to the drop off below then back at him. "You wanna keep insulting me?"

"Facts are not insults."

"I will push you off this cliff, Nathan."

He steps away from the edge and closer to you. He doesn't say anything about it. Doesn't apologize for the comments about your stamina and needing to work out more. He reaches for your face, plucking something off of your cheek. "Eyelash."

"Make a wish."

"Wishes are for children." He flicks his finger off to the side.

"I wish my boss would get his head out of his ass." You smirk triumphantly. "Is that a child's wish?"

Nathan flicks his eyes up and down your face, eyes settling on the bite bruise peaking out from under your sweatshirt collar. You had forgotten about it until this very moment, when you realize he hadn't seen it yet. "Is that mine?"

"Of course. Who else has been biting me out here in the middle of nowhere?" You reach up to touch it and he shoves your hand away to pull the fabric aside for himself.

"No one else can touch you."

Heat blossoms in your stomach at his jealousy tinged words. Possessive Nathan really does it for you. But he isn't your boyfriend. He is your boss. "I'm not yours Nathan."

His fingertips ghost over the nearly healed bruise. "Yes you are."

"I'm not."

"Then why don't you leave?"

You shove his hand off your shoulder and he gives you one of his famed deadly glares for doing something he doesn't like. "You don't want me. So I can't be yours."

"It's not that I don't want you, I can't have you." He turns and starts walking away, resuming the hike. How very like him. He says something stupidly cryptic that only makes sense to him. Whatever. You're not here for his affection and approval. You're here to be his assistant.

____________________

"I'm out of alcohol." Nathan states plainly, looking into the cupboard that usually has a few bottles of his favorite liquors. "Where is my shit?"

You look over from the fridge and smirk to yourself. "I thought you were on a detox again."

"I'm done with it. Where..." He turns and looks at you. "You didn't buy anything."

"Nope. I was told not to."

"By who?"

"You."

He purses his lips and looks around as if thinking about when he would have ever said that to you. He looks perplexed and you feel so smug. "Since when do you ever listen to me?"

You laugh softly. This is your fault now? Following his orders and not buying alcohol? Really.

"You're my boss. I usually follow your orders."

Nathan kicks the cupboard closed lightly. "Stop that."

"Stop what? Following your instructions?"

"Stop fucking with my head." He leans on the counter and takes his glasses off to dig his palms into his eyes. "You're so fucking irritating."

"Sure am." You gather some utensils from the counter that you left to dry and begin to put them away. "I live to make you suffer."

Nathan pulls his hands from his eyes and stares at you, eyebrows furrowed. It's like you're a puzzle and he's trying to see the solution. "Sometimes I wonder."

"You're being a baby."

"Excuse me?"

You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips, mimicking his pose when he explains things to you. He doesn't fail to notice this as his eyes sweep over you in assessment and he raises his head as if challenging you. "You're only saying I'm irritating and making you suffer because you can't drink. It's been what? A week?"

"Eight days."

"A week. I'm sure you can make it another two weeks."

"You're fucking joking."

"Nope. I'm not going into town for groceries again until absolutely necessary. It's a three hour flight there and then back, remember?"

Nathan clenches the edge of the counter top with white knuckles.

"Get as pissed as you want." You lean in close and he nearly moves back. You know he won't back down from a challenge. "Maybe you'll have to face your demons sober. Maybe you'll figure your shit out."

"I didn't hire you to be my fucking therapist."

"Yet here I am."

Nathan pushes off the counter and grabs the bottle of water you set out for him before he goes off to lock himself in his lab for God knows how long. Ever since you came on to him he seems to be jumpy around you. You don't know why he won't just admit that he likes you, that he wants you. He is going to get blue balls sooner or later. Well, maybe not because he can jack off but actual sex isn't the same and you know he has a sex drive through the roof. You used to hear it at all hours of the morning before he deactivated Kyoko. You'd be lying if you said you didn't get off on it a few times.

_____________________

Days and days pass without a word from Nathan. Ten is now the most you've ever gone and after five you start to wonder if he is even in the house. Maybe he went for a walk and fell in the river. Maybe he pissed off his AI again and it finally strangled him. You would have no idea because the place is so huge and quiet for the most part. Aside from living quarters the complex is soundproofed. One would think Nathan's room beside yours would be for privacy but it's not. The freak. He wants people to hear him.

At the twelfth day mark you actually begin to worry. A twenty day sober Nathan may be a new kind of animal and you're not sure if you truly want to interact. Distance makes the heart grow fond though and while he is insufferable you do care for him and wish to see his stupid smug face. It's a risk but one you need to take.

The light on the lab door is red. Locked. You raise your key card and it buzzes, remaining red. He's denied your access to the lab. Shocker. You press the com button on the wall but it doesn't connect. He's shut that off too.

You lean your head on the cool cement wall and sigh. One more day. You'll give it one more day. If he doesn't show his face you'll get the override key card that resides in the hidden box in the bathroom. You found it ages ago, by pure accident. You've never used it and he has no idea that you even know about it. But you'll do what you have to do.

______________________

Morning of the next day you find yourself in bed, looking around the soft cream colored walls. An idea comes to mind. A dirty, dirty idea. You know Nathan has cameras in every room. He's too anal about protectng his work not to. Plus he has major trust issues.

You lean over the side of the bed and pull open the nightstand drawer. Inside is a small vibrator that you brought with you when you moved in. There's another box in there too. One that was there when you opened the drawer the first night. On the top it says "For your needs, because you're only human."

Of course you opened the box out of curiosity, Nathan had said everything in the room was for you so it wasn't snooping. In the box was a dildo, some lube and a little bullet vibrator. You had never used them, finding the gift too personal and odd. Complimentary soap? Normal. Complimentary extra blankets and pillows? Thoughtful. Complimentary sex toys? Insane. Until you got to know Nathan, you thought it was the weirdest thing ever. In fact, you forgot about the box after a while as you hadn't had the urge to get off until recently. Today however, you're going to make a show of it in hopes of getting his attention.

You dump the contents of the box on the bed and pick up the dildo, wrapping your fingers around it. It's life like, fleshy and soft but firm enough for it's intended use. It's bigger than you might usually prefer but nothing you can't handle with some extra time. And you've got nothing but time. You take a glance around the room, not seeing any obvious surveillance cameras. This may be for nothing.

You make quick work of your pajamas, toss aside the blankets and prop yourself against the headboard. You decide to keep your gaze fixed on the television, imagining it's where he is watching from. You close your eyes and let your hands start to wander, doing thier thing while your mind runs wild.

Time passes slowly as you work yourself over, adjusting to the dildo and working yourself into a heated frenzy. It would be easier if you had something to watch, some porn or something. You're not intent on making yourself come, but you will if it comes to that. You just want to put on a show to draw him out. That's what you're telling yourself anyway.

The power goes out, darkening the room and thrusting you into silence. The back up system announces its engagement and the emergency lights come up red. You sit up and lean your head back against the headboard. Great. You toss the toys aside and get up, pulling on your pajamas. You go to the door, punch in the code for manual override during power failure. Nathan is such a nerd. It's not a specific number but rather the theme to Star Wars.

The door clicks open and you go out into the hall. No one in sight, not that you really expected anyone. "Nathan!" You call out, heading for the lab door. Everything is eerie red and you don't like it. "Power is out!"

No response.

"Nathan James Bateman!" You sing song as you slide your card on the lab door. It buzzes. "I know you hear me you fuck!"

"Power restored. All systems active."

The hall turns white, back to the bright daylight simulated lighting. You lift your key card up in hopes that the system turned off his lock out coding for your card. Sure enough it turns blue and the door clicks open. Relief washes over you as you step into the darkened office where his computer is set up, notes on the wall, security feeds pulled up on two of the monitors. The door to the actual lab is open and you walk through into the bright area.

"Nate?" You call out, the nickname slipping out as your voice wavers a bit when you don't see him anywhere.

"Kitten?"

You spin around and see the man you seek emerge from a doorway. It's the server closet where the breaker box is. "Hey."

"How'd you get in here?"

"The power failure reset the lock codes."

"You can leave."

"Nathan, you haven't been out in almost two weeks. I'm starting to get worried. What are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"I'm fine."

You give him a once over. Wrinkled clothes. Disheveled beard. Hair grown out longer than you remember, still buzzed but not so close. His skin is dull and lifeless. "You look like shit."

"What's new?"

"Oh come on. You're more vain than that. What are you doing in here anyway? Why the power failure?"

"Fuck off."

"What an original come back. I've been trying to get your attention for days. The fact that it took a power outage for me to get to you is sad." You walk up to him and touch his chest, there is a little bit of dried blood smeared on his shirt. A cut on his hand most likely. "Nathan, talk to me."

Nathan pushes away from you and goes to his design table where there are blueprints laid out for an AI.

"Nathan."

"Leave." There is no venom in his tone. If anything he sounds pleading.

You decide to make a bold move and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He stiffens, hands stilling on the table, pen falling from his fingers. "Please talk to me."

"Just go. I don't want to talk to you."

"Fine. Dinner is at six." You pause at the doorway to the office area. "Did you hear me?"

"Six."

"Good."

_____________________

Things fall back into a normal rhythm in the days following. You do your work and he does his. You eat together, go for walks, talk about his progress on the new AI. Everything seems to be back to it’s usual flow, how it always happened after big arguments or falling outs.

So while you’re sitting in the lab watching him work one day and he asks you about the dildo in the bedside table you're thrown for a loop. It’s far from his usual choice of topics and you had actually forgotten all about it. His mentioning of it brings back the memory of when you were laid out on your bed, literally masturbating to try and get his attention. Christ what a desperate move that was. Stupid.

"So have you opened it?"

"The dildo box? Yeah I've opened it." You try to remain casual as you discuss something so personal. You definitely aren’t thinking about how good it felt.

He smirks. "Used it?"

"No." A bold lie. He has no idea. He never saw you in your bedroom. At least you don't think he did. Why would he ask about it if he had? Why is he asking about it at all?

“You’re a shitty liar.” He turns around in his chair and faces you, pushing his glasses up off the end of his nose. “Did you like it?”

“I haven’t used it.”

“Do you want me to bring up the video? I will.” He stands and heads to the office. “Come on, come here.”

You slide off the table and walk behind him in your shame, cheeks hot. You knew you shouldn’t have lied. Of course he was testing you. It's Nathan for fucks sake. He gestures to his rolling chair and you take a seat while he leans over the desk and clicks around on files on the desktop. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yeah. It is.” He opens a play back window and you can see the view of your room. No surprise. You try to figure out where the hell this camera is based on the angle. It seems to be the top left corner above your closet but as far as you remember there is nothing there. “Oh, there you are.”

“Nathan.”

“No, no watch.” He points to the screen as you toss and turn on the bed. He speeds up the playback as you get into the drawer and get the box out. You deliberately clear the bed, undress, get back on the bed.

You roll your eyes, looking away from the screen and he places a hand on your head and turns it back to watch. “So? I’m masturbating. Whatever. You do it too. If I wasn’t supposed to use the damn thing why did you leave it for me?”

“Oh I don’t care that you used it.” He clicks a little audio icon beside the playback screen. “I just want to know why you lied about it.”

“I am embarrassed? I don't make a habit of talking about my-”

“Nathan.” Your voice plays back on the audio coming from the video playback and you wish you could sink into the floor and disappear. “Nathan, harder please!” Of course he has audio on the fucking cameras. Of fucking course he does because why not right? It’s his house, his research facility.

Nathan looks at you over his glasses. “You’re embarrassed about talking about masturbating or you’re embarrassed that you think of me when you do it and I found out? Actually don’t answer that because this looks deliberate.” He takes a seat on the desk, blocking the view of the monitors. “Now, are you going to lie to me again, or tell me what this is about?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“Well you got it honey.” He clicks a button on the keyboard and it stops the playback.

“I wanted your attention to get you out of the fucking lab. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen you and the only way I can reach you from outside is through the cameras. So I thought, maybe there is one in my room because you’re a fucking control freak. Low and behold I was right, but it didn’t work how I planned it to.” You fold your arms over your chest and he chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Me? How is any of this funny?”

“What kind of person thinks that masturbating on camera is going to get someone’s attention? No, seriously, why wouldn’t you try flash signalling the cameras in the halls? Set up a cue card with a message? Who says I’m gonna fuck myself for my bosses attention?”

You take in a deep breath and clench your jaw. He’s right, kind of. You hate it but he is. In any other situation you never would have done this. So why did you? Why did your brain go straight to exhibitionism? Because it’s Nathan and you’ve got it bad for him and you wanted him to see you. He’s got your brain just as fucked up as he has his own.

“It was wrong, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Nope.” He kicks his legs hanging over the desk. “I wanna know if you liked that dildo.”

“It was fine I guess.”

“Not too much?”

“Nathan, why do you fucking care?”

He hops off the desk and shakes his head as he heads into the lab. “I’m curious is all!”

“You’re a freak!”

“And yet you still like me!”

“I’m starting to wonder why.” You push up out of the chair, close the playback on the computer and leave the office. You’re covering that stupid camera and throwing that dildo in the trash chute. You should have known he’d get some weird complex out of watching you say his fucking name while plowing yourself with a toy. In a weird way it turns you on, but it also pisses you off because he won’t actually admit that he liked it. He won’t ever admit anything.

_____________________

“Can I ask you something?” You say to Nathan as he sits beside you on the couch. You’re in the lounge together, dinner long over, watching a movie as you wind down for the evening. He’s got his arm around the back of the cushions and your legs are pulled up under you, feet pressed against his thigh. You’re close, but not too close.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Don’t be a dick for ten minutes please.”

Nathan holds his hand up in defense. “Ten minutes. Shoot.”

“Promise you won’t be a dick? For real?”

“Yes. Ask me the damn question.”

You take a deep breath, knowing what you’re about to ask is going to be rough on him. “When we were on our hikes a few weeks ago, you said it wasn’t that you don’t want me, it’s that you can’t have me. What does that mean?”

Nathan stares ahead at the movie on the tv over the fireplace. A moment passes, a moment that is too long and makes the room fill with awkward tension. You expected this.

“Gonna stay quiet for the ten minutes you aren’t going to be a dick?”

“Shut up.” He says softly, no venom in the words.

You stare at him expectantly, awaiting a better answer than just shut up. “Seriously, would you just-”

Nathan’s arm comes up from the back on the couch and his hand catches the back of your head, dragging you closer to him as he presses a kiss to your lips. Your blood boils in the best way and you chase his lips as he pulls away. “That’s all it takes to shut you up?”

“Answer my question. Ten minutes aren’t up.”

“I can’t have you because you’re going to leave. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day you’re going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving Nathan.”

He scoffs. “So if I stopped paying you to be my assistant, you would stay?”

“Yes.”

"You're fucked up." He shakes his head. "You're fucked up and it's my fault."

You stare at him at a loss for words. Did he just admit fault for something? Are you hearing this correctly? Is Nathan Bateman, tech genius and egotistical maniac admitting he has done something? Holy shit.

"I did this to you. I made you stay here and endure my mood swings and drinking and all my shit. I stockholm syndrome'd you and I didn't even realize it." He leans his head back and closes his eyes. "You don't deserve this."

"Nathan, you didn't make me stay here. I chose to stay."

"Where the fuck were you going to go? Run off into the woods for days and days until you hope to find someone? What option did you have? I trapped you here. I've kept you caged in this house like an animal."

You lay your hand over his and he grabs it, threading your fingers together. "You don't think someone could actually love you, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't think someone could fall in love with you because you're insecure. You push people away, you push me away because you think it's easier than letting yourself feel something for someone."

Nathan looks pissed but he holds his tongue.

"I'm not trapped here, you aren't twisting my arm and making me stay here against my will. I know what I signed up for, I know what I signed in those contracts. I could have told you to fuck off and shove your head up your ass months ago and taken a helicopter back into the city. I could have just run away on any one of my dozen grocery runs in the last several months. But did I?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"I don't fucking know."

You lay the hand not held in his, on to his cheek and turn his face to make him look at you. "Because I love you, Nathan."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. You're a real son of a bitch sometimes and I want to break your nose and choke you to death every once in a while but I care. I care about you, about your work, about your life. I want to be here, I want to be a part of your life Nathan. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."

Nathan gets up and you hold your joined hands tightly.

"Don't run away damn it!"

"I'm not! Would you let go!"

"I swear to fucking God if you lock yourself in that lab again I am going to get a battering ram."

He takes his glasses off and presses them into your palm. "Take these as collateral. I'll be right back."

You sit back on the couch and glare at his form as it disappears into the house. You clean his glasses carefully with the edge of your shirt and set them on the coffee table. He has to come back for them, he's as blind as a bat without them.

Nathan returns shortly with a small box. "I made these." He hands you the box and you open it as he puts his glasses back on. Inside are two black bands, rings.

"I don't understand."

"I made them because I know I can be difficult." He plucks one from the box. "They track the wearers vitals, change colors based on varying indicators, and they will work no matter how far apart they are."

"You made high tech mood rings."

He shoots you a glare. "I made them for you." He places the ring in his hand into your palm. "So you will know that I'm alright when I'm working long hours. I know I'm not the easiest to read and I don't have the easiest time expressing myself sometimes."

You put the ring on and it lights up a soft pink color. The moment Nathan slips his over his finger you can feel a soft steady pulse coming from the ring. "Is that your heartbeat?"

"Yeah." He holds his hand out and you can see his band is the same color pink. "I'll give you a breakdown on all the colors and functions later, but pink means the body is at ease."

"Do you love me? Just tell me, straight up no games."

"Yeah." He cups your cheek and brings you in for a kiss. "I love the shit out of you."

You break away from his kiss and press your foreheads together. "Can I ask just one more question?"

"Fire away."

"Is the dildo a mold of your dick?"

A smile spreads across his face and you already know the answer before he says it. "It is."

"You're a freak."

"And you absolutely love it."

You smile as he presses his lips to yours and pulls you over into his lap. "I guess I do."

The end

Please reblog if you read or like. Thank yo so much for reading! -A

Header by the lovey talented delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: You have a reason to celebrate and need a partner to do that.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex in a public place, boytoy!Bucky, casual sex, opened relationship, drinking, sorority.

A/N: Here’s one more filthy chapter for you guys. It won’t always be that way since the plot moves forward, but it will still be focused on smut for the next couple of chapters. Our reader deserves some fun before things get a bit more complicated, right? The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. Tag list for this story is closed.  

Screen after screen pops in the air in front of you as you furiously type codes and formulas on them. You’re there, you’re almost there. You’ve been working on this project for months and now it finally seems like you’re getting somewhere.

“Coffee?”

You just nod as an answer to Camilla, your partner on that project. She gets up and walks out to go get the coffee. She already told you if it was up to her, you’ve already given up. But you know you’re getting there. You haven’t stopped working ever since early hours and you’re feeling inspired and focused as ever.

When you’re satisfied with the input you add to the system which is working on the calculations, you sit back. Eyes on the screen displayed in the air. Camilla comes back with your coffees and hands one to you, fixing her eyes on the screen, too as she stands beside you.

“Come on, come on,” you whisper.

Bringing the coffee to your lips you almost choke on it when the answer you were so desperately looking for gleams on the screen.

“Holy shitballs,” you shout and swiftly gets up, letting your cup drop to the floor, splashing the liquid around.

“Oh, fuck,” Camilla gasps and you two look at each other with paired up widened eyes before letting out a cheerful scream and holding each other, jumping around as you gain the attention of the other workers from the several small offices of the Avengers/Stark Technology Department.

A clear of throat takes you and your friend out of your reverie, catching your attention. When you see Sharon Carter on your door, with a smirk on her lips, you two cease the celebration, but keep the smiles on your faces.

“Hey, Sh- Director,” you quickly correct yourself, being friends with Natasha brought you close to Sharon, too. But now she’s Director of Shield, after Nick Fury became coordinator of the Avengers, therefore you should show some respect at least at workplaces, “Remember that Shield and Avengers’ joined project? The one where we were trying to build a device that would crack alien secret services codes?”

“Yeah, sure, our tech departments have been working for months to find an algorithm.” Sharon nods.

“Well, looks like we made it.” You point at the screen right in front of you.

“What the hell?” She shoots an eyebrow high and steps into the office, eyes analyzing the screen between you two.

“We doesn’t quite cut it, Director,” Camilla says, rolling her eyes, “She worked her ass off and got to it by herself. She’s been killing it these last few days.”

You huff, shaking your head. You’ve been really inspired, indeed. And you might relate it to a certain physical activity you’ve been engaging on recently and the outrageous amount of energizing orgasms you’ve been gifted with almost daily… not a topic to be brought out now, though.  

“Ooo, someone seems extra inspired…” Sharon narrows her eyes, but you try to not indulge any possible insinuation by just ignoring the comment with a smile, “Well, that’s amazing news,” she resumes, clapping her hands once, “and it kind of leads to the subject that brought me here, would you mind excuses for a second, Camilla?” She kindly asks.

“Of course, not. I’ll be in my office.” Camilla says, not holding back from hugging you and squirming in excitement one more time before walking out the room.

“This is huge, huh?” Sharon comments, pulling up the chair you pointed for her as you sit on yours.  

“It is, can you imagine what Natasha will be able to do with it?” You grin, brushing your hands together.

“Thanks to your badass brain,” she compliments before narrowing her eyes at you again, “You have a weird happy face.”

“Well, something amazing just happened…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sharon brushes you off, “You’re killing it at your job and that’s amazing… but to be honest, I expected to still see you moping around about your break up.”

“I’m still sad about it, but work has been great, and-”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sharon interrupts with a playful snap and you frown while she crosses her arms in front of her, holding back a laugh, “I’ve been texting with Natasha, I know about you and your boytoy.”

“What the hell?” Your eyes widen as you throw your arms to the air, already feeling your cheeks warming, “She’s on a mission and you two have been talking about my… sex life?” You lean over across the table and whisper the last part.

“We can multitask,” Sharon shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Oh, wow…” you scoff, “That’s two of the greatest spies on earth right.”

“Alright,” She chuckles, unfolding her arms and leaning over the table, “As much as I want to know all about it, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Ok,” you quickly accept the change of subject for your own relief, “Why are you here for, then?”

“To tell you that Stark is a jerk,” she deadpans.

“Ok… cool,” you drag the words, side eyeing her, “And?”

“Long story short, I lost you in a chess match and now you’re the new leader of Avengers/Stark Tech Department.”

You don’t quite assimilate what she just said as you keep your questioning stare on her, not finding the link between her words and, most of all, did she just say you’ve been promoted?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shake your head shutting your eyes for a second, finally asking for clarification after what seemed like the longest staring contest ever.

“Well,” Sharon sighs, “You know how competitive Stark and I can be and when I decided to act by ethics and told him I was considering offering you the leadership position at Shield’s tech department he decided he would do the same and dared me to a chess match, where you would be the prize.” She shrugs, “I’m sure he had some help, right Friday,” she raises her voice staring up to the air but gains plain silence as a response from the A.I, “He won and got to keep you and I got  stuck with my second option which is your ex, as you might already know.”

“Wow,” you whisper, not really sure what to say or feel, trying to process all of what you just heard.

“You’re not offended by the chess match, are you?” Sharon checks, tilting her head.

“No… I’m kinda… flattered, I guess.” You frown and Sharon gives you a satisfied smile. “But… I’m confused… That’s Stark’s job.”

“It’s your job now if you should accept it.” She grins wider, “I guess he’s been thinking about it for a while now and saw my offering as an opportunity. I know Pepper has been on his ass for him to loosen up from some responsibilities, and who better than you to take over?” She points up at the screen with your recent achievement.

You let out a breathy laugh, reality finally dawning. Not in a million years you thought that would happen but now that it is, you’re not gonna be modest, you kick ass in your job and you fucking deserve it.

“He’s on a mission with Nat and Steve now, so he asked me to come talk to you, hang on…” Sharon holdsup a finger, before grabbing a small device from her pocket, which you recognize as one of your projects. “Stark,” she says.

In a second the image of a very battered Tony surfaces on the air as the camera captures his face from under the suit.  

“Hey, Carter,” he greets with a smirk as you hear the sounds of blasts, shots and explosions. The man is in the middle of a damn battle while casually answering a call.  

“Stark,” Sharon answers just as casually, “I have her here with me, just delivered the news,” she says, turning his image to you.

“Hey, boss,” you give him a shy wave.

“Hey, kid.” He scrunches up his face, shooting a series of blasts before you listen to something exploding. “I think you’re sort of my boss now.” He focuses on you again, smirking.

“No, I’m not,” you laugh.

“No, you’re not. But, tell me, what’s your answer?”

“I take it, of course.” You decide, why in the world, wouldn’t you.

“Great. Party to celebrate when we come back. Gotta go, these damn Kree are the worst. Will not invite them.” He turns off and his image disappears from before you.

“Well, congratulations.” Sharon places the device back on her pocket, “Our departments work a lot together, so I think I win either way.”

A mix of emotions fill up your chest. You’re excited and happy and scared. Mostly excited, though…  “Holy shit,” you curse, digging your hands into your hair as a grin seems to twist your lips permanently.

“You need to celebrate…” Sharon adds, offering you a cheeky grin.

Fuck yeah, you need to celebrate. And you know exactly what, or better, who you wanna do.

~~~

“How the hell are you wet already?”

The words are spoken against your neck through licks and sucks, after Bucky’s fingers glided under your underwear and sank between your slick folds. As soon as he walked into your living room, he jumped on you with kisses and grabs, discovering you in such a state without his previous help.

Well, sort of without his help, actually. The thing is, after you got out of work that afternoon, you didn’t even need to call him or text him to propose your little celebration as you found a series of texts from “Bucky Sweet Tongue Barnes”  waiting for you. In the first, he was asking if you had any plans that night, and the others… oh, the others… the fucker described all sorts of filthy things he wanted to do with you.

After a quick answer for him to come over and a long bath, all the dirty details he used on his texts refused to leave your mind and you couldn’t help but spending the rest of the time you had alone before he arrived teasing yourself with your fingers, having all those images and flashes from your last encounters in your memory to keep you going.

“I-“ you gasp as he sucks that sensitive spot in your neck and his fingers meet your clit, “Those texts you sent me…” You tilt your head to give his lips more room, your hands roaming around the hard pattern of muscles on his back, “I-I’ve been touching myself.” You confess with the lack of pudency you’re becoming familiar with when you’re around him.

In your arms, you feel when his body freezes for a second, before he sucks harder on your neck, “Fuck… did you come today already?” He gropes your ass under your dress with the hand that isn’t in your pussy. 

Your eyelids flutter and you reach down to the front of his pants to feel the growing bulge, “Yes…”

“Goddammit, that’s hot,” he grunts, and then it all happens in a blur as he lifts you by hooking his hands under your thighs and places you seated over the dinner table.

He positions himself between your opened legs as lifting up your short dress out of his way and, while you swiftly work on the buttons and zipper of his jeans, he takes a condom out of his pockets and, after ripping the plastic off with his teeth he hands it to you.

His eyes cast down to see your fingers rolling off the latex around his rock hard cock and, as soon as you’re done and wrap your hand around him to feel his thickness, he wastes no time and pushes you backwards until your back meets the cold wood of your table. 

Acting by the frenzy that is all over his eyes, he swiftly pulls the small fabric of your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt just enough before he holds his cock and pushes himself inside you, making you cry out and your body jerk backwards. You always knew spending an exorbitant amount of money on a good table would pay off someday and you hold yourself fisting each side of the table.

He pulls your thighs up wrapping his hands on your knees, giving you no time to adjust before starting to pound into you.

You love that he fucks you like that. Hard and raw, the sting of the stretching mixed with the pleasure brought by his expert thrusts fogging your mind and his thickness and expert moves hitting sweet spots of yours, kicking the air out of your lungs. You love that in the few times you’ve been doing it in the last week, he already seems to know what you can take and always somehow goes a little further, a little different… like he knows something about yourself that you don’t, yet. That it’s the first time that you two can’t be bothered to wait and take off clothes or get to the bedroom. You love it.

It is all new to you, yes. For you sex has always been attached to some kind of affection or romantic feelings and, while that is all good and wonderful, you’re enjoying so much finding out this other side, where the only goals are to share pleasure and have fun. 

“So fucking sexy,” he groans through clenched teeth.

Your core twists in response and your cunt clenches around his cock, causing him to let out a grunt and quicken his pace even more, making it extra difficult to breathe properly. Oh, he’s found out that praise kink of yours and now he’s been using it wisely, so wisely…

He reaches over to pull down the stripe of your dress and exposes one breast. A loud moan slips out of you when he roughly kneads the soft flesh. He keeps the metal hand around one of your knees while the leg he let go in favor to give your breast some attention curls around his hips, jerking along with the punishing pace of his thrusts.

“Yeah, sweetheart, so sexy… I’ve wanted to have you like this ever since I first saw that sweet ass of yours,” he confesses right before leaning over to wrap his mouth around your nipple.

You’ve been horny the whole day waiting for the moment you would have his cock inside you just like that and the praise, as tacky as it may be, joined with the warmth of his wet tongue around your breast and the stimulation against your clit that the new position brings prompt the blast of ecstasy inside your core.

With a trembling moan, you let go the edges of the table to hold his body pressed to yours as his mouth moves from your breast to attack your neck. You roll your hips, trying to prolong the pleasure unleashed as his pace falters.

The fingers of both his hands dig into your hair, making a mess of it as he pulls out his cock almost completely before shoving it deeply and harshly one more time, grunting out his own release.  

“Fuck,” it slips from under his heavy breath before he clasps his lips on yours. The kiss is wet and sloppy and lazy as you have your legs and arms curled around his body, keeping him inside you.

Still feeling a little numb from the orgasm he just gave you – a thousand times better than the one you had given yourself- you gasp and chuckle through the kiss as he straightens up and pulls you with him. You tighten the hold of your arms and legs, as he conveniently holds you by your ass until he finds the couch and sits down with you straddling his hips. He breaks the kiss and lets his head fall on the backrest, his chest moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

You move up to let his cock slide off but he tightens the hold on your ass, keeping you in place, “Just… let me stay in a bit more, it feels so good,” he says, eyes shut, still resting his head back on the sofa.

“Alright,” you chuckle, straddling his face with your arms as you place your hands on the backrest. You find the request a bit odd but also sexy as hell. There he is, always a step ahead on what you don’t even know you think it’s hot…   

After a few more seconds, when his breath – and yours- seems to come back to normal, he straightens his head and looks down at where you still have just one breast exposed. He ticks his tongue, “Let’s not make the other one feel left out.” He pulls your other strap, letting now both of your breasts bare to him before he dips in, grabbing the up till now covered one with his lips.

You shake your head, laughing at his antics, “You seem pretty fond of them, huh?”

He lets go of the mound with a pop, looking up at you with an almost shocked expression on his face, “How could I not?” he gasps, like you’ve just offended him, “I don’t know how you see them in the mirror everyday and don’t touch yourself…” he squints at you before continuing, “You do, don’t you?”

You laugh harder, letting your head fall back and he smiles at you before going back to give your tits some attention, kissing and sucking one, then the other. Noticing that his cock never really softens completely inside you, you let him enjoy himself a bit more before speaking again, “Did you mean that?”

“What?” He leans back, looking up at you.

“You said you wanted to fuck me ever since you met me… is that serious? I didn’t even know you remembered me before we… started this.”

“First of all, I’m always serious, I never lie,” he says, adding some gravity to his tone, “Second of all, remember that night a while ago, when I chatted with you and your boyfriend at a Stark’s party and then your sexy ass talked about your work with technology with such passion… you knew exactly what you were talking about and, fuck…” he licks his lips, ”I rubbed one out for you later that night,” he smirks, clasping his hands behind his head.

Your jaw drops at the reveal before your face scrunches up, “That’s…gross?” you say the first word that comes to mind.

“But it’s true,” he shrugs, looking pretty comfortable with the confession, “and ever since I’ve been thinking about tapping that smart ass of yours.” He emphasizes his point by slapping your ass once.

Despite that and his choice of words - which makes your cheeks heat up - and your previous statement of being grossed out by the revelation, you decide you take that as kind of a compliment, which leads you to give him the news.

“You know?” you say, “I was promoted today. You just fucked the new leader of the Avengers/Stark tech department,” you grin when his practically hard cock twitches inside you.

“Wow, congratulations.” His eyes widen and he grins back at you. 

“Never thought I would meet someone with a technology kink,” you comment, laughing at his first reaction to the news.

“More of a smart as fuck brain kink, sweetheart,” he reaches behind you to slap your ass for the second time that night, making you shriek and laugh a bit harder, “Ok, we need to celebrate,” he states.

“I am celebrating,” you aim a mischievous smile at him, rolling your hips for good measure.

“Damn,” he breathes, but holds your hips still, “No, I mean, you’ve been in a relationship for ten years, tell me…” he squints at you, “When was the last time you partied your ass off?”

“Ahm…” you think hard trying to remember when it was, “College, I guess?”

“Shit…” he lowers his head before swiftly getting up, making you lunge your arms on his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back as he walks to your bedroom, “Come on, let’s freshen up. This is huge news… I’ll take you to a real party now and then we can continue our private one later,” he promises.

~~~

As soon as you walk in the rooftop bar Bucky has chosen, you already decide you did good in accepting his offer. The place is gorgeous, sporting a modern, yet cozy decoration with small tables, sofas and puffs for those who want to sit. Dazzling lights flash on the dance floor right by a huge bar and the view of the city is mesmerizing while the beat of the music reverberates through your body.

Bucky pulls you by the hand through the sea of bodies. Thank god you chose one of the fanciest dresses of your wardrobe or else you wouldn’t fit in among the beautiful people crowding the place. Every once in a while, Bucky waves and nods at someone or a group of people. You can tell he’s a regular.  

He waves more excitedly to a group of women hanging on a mezzanine, before pulling you to that direction, “Come on,” he tilts his head back towards you with a smile, “You’ll love them.”

As soon as you approach the group, he puts his arm around your shoulders and introduces you to everyone, telling you the names of each stunning woman before you, Amanda, Emma, Jada, Alice and Brianna. They all friendly greet him and you with smiles, excited hellos and hugs, welcoming you two to join them, which you do.

“You know, Y/N was promoted today,” Bucky gushes and you smile at him.

“Oh, wow,” Amanda says through the cheerful congratulating words from everyone else, “This calls for champagne.” She then whistles and makes a sign for a bartender, who in a matter of seconds sends two bottles of fancy champagne to the group. 

A few minutes after the toast, you’re drinking and chatting with those women like you’ve been best friends your whole life, especially with Amanda, who goes out of her way to make you feel included. You can see how close they all are to Bucky, like he’s one of the gang, talking about any kind of subject in front of him and vice versa. Bucky stays by your side, and only when you’re completely mingled with the group he excuses himself to go grab what he called “a real drink” at the bar.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Amanda nudges you when Bucky is at a distance he can’t hear.

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “Bucky’s a great guy.”

“She means in bed, dear,” Brianna clarifies with a giggle.

You take a look around the group to see them all giving you mischievous and knowing stares. Oh…

“Oh, did all of you…?” you point your finger at them, but you don’t have to complete the question

“More like all of this rooftop,” Brianna laughs, followed shortly by the others.  

“So, he’s amazing isn’t he?” Amanda insists, wiggling her eyebrows.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that they all seem so friendly and open minded, but something makes you blurt out, “Amazing? He’s fucking fantastic.”

They all nod and verbalize their agreement, “I tell you all something,” Jada catches your attention, “That man drinks respect women juice daily and we owe him a toast. Here’s to Bucky,” she raises her glass.

“To Bucky.” You all mimic her through laughing and make a toast to the unsuspicious man at the bar.

As the conversation moves on and they all engage in different topics your gaze wanders to where he stands, holding a glass with some liquor that looks like whiskey in hands. But he’s not alone anymore. A statuesque blond is right beside him, laughing and touching his arm. You glimpse that flirting smile of him forming on his lips.

“You don’t mind do you?” Amanda’s voice makes you turn to her, spotting a questioning look on her face, “Because if you do… Girl, run away now, Bucky isn’t right for you.” There’s no malice on her voice, just a sincere warning tone.

You seize the moment to make an honest survey through your feelings. You’ve been warned by different people, Bucky included, and if there’s anything to worry about, Amanda is right, you should run now. As you keep your eyes on the two of them by the bar, you look and look and look inside, but find nothing that could be remotely taken as jealousy or something like that. If anything, it��s kind of liberating to know that you have so much fun with him and there’s no ugly, selfish feelings pulling you back. You feel like you could encourage the blonde on the flirting, because you know how damn incredible it can be…

Who would wonder that a class A womanizer like Bucky would be the source of such sheer sorority you’ve been experiencing that night…

“No,” you turn back to Amanda, shaking your head with a satisfied smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

The night goes on and Bucky comes and goes, chatting and drinking and laughing with you and your new little group of friends, taking you to dance, but also dancing with Amanda, Emma, Alice, Jada, Brianna and some others… A number of guys also approach you, take you to dance, buy you drinks and you end up with a few new phone numbers in your contact list. You party like you haven’t in a while and like you didn’t think women your age still did, which is stupid… You’ve been so caught up in the routine of your relationship with Eddie that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world spinning out there.

An exciting and fun world.

“Hey,” the familiar voice reaches your ear and makes you smile as you’re on the dance floor with the girls. The metal hand curls around your belly and pulls you before your back brushes against his chest, “Having fun?” Bucky asks, lips on your ears.

“Yes, so much.” You tilt your head and place your hands over his while his hips sway with yours.

“Hummm,” he pulls you closer and runs the tip of his nose over the length of your neck, “I’m glad.”

“However…” you sigh, loving how his hips move in rhythm with yours, “I think I’m ready to continue our other party at home.”

“Funny,” he chuckles and his tongue darts out before he swiftly brushes it against your neck. It’s quick and very discreet, but enough to set your core into flames, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

With that, you promptly let go of him and proceed to say goodbye to the girls. They all tell their farewells and wishes to see you again soon with knowing and excited looks.

~~~

“You were right, I had so much fun.” You wrap an arm around his elbow as you walk side by side through the streets of New York. The bar isn’t that far from your condo and when he suggested a walk back home you thought it was a good idea to check on the lively corners of the city, even with the heels. Also, he offered his leather jacket against the cold, which you promptly accepted.

“Oh, yeah, nightlife in New York nowadays is something we shouldn’t take for granted,” he smiles down at you, “And yeah, you had fun alright, I know there are a few extra numbers in your phone,” he winks.

You analyze his face and when you understand there’s nothing but playful teasing behind it, you answer, “Oh, yeah, oh my God,” you shake your head, “That was unexpected but fun. I might delete them all, though, things might get complicated and I’m not looking for any kind of complications right now.”

He smiles, seemingly satisfied for you taking him out of the complicated category. “You and the girls seemed to get along real fine, too,” he comments.   

“They’re really great,” you nod, getting cozier in his arm as a gust of wind hits you, “They all think very highly of you, by the way,” you let the smirk in your lips tell him what you mean.

“I work hard for that, sweetheart.” He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You let out a laugh, “That you do.” You look up at him from under your lashes, before whispering, “I can’t wait to see you working hard.”

He halts his pace, making you abruptly stop with him. You shoot him a questioning look, as he gazes down at you, his face lightening up like the best of ideas has just crossed his mind. Without further notice he unwraps his arm from yours and takes your hand instead, pulling you with him at a faster pace as he turns on the corner, changing the course that would lead to your home.

“Hey,” you call out, as you try not to trip on your heels as he pulls you, deflecting from the other patrons and leading the way, “What the hell are you doing?”

He looks back at you with that sinful smile of his, “Don’t wanna leave you waiting.”

Something flips inside your stomach in anticipation at his statement and, as he turns around a few corners, the streets seem to get less busy. When you reach a particular spot, he checks each side, like surveying the area before pulling you to a dark alleyway you haven’t even seen before.

As soon as you out of the street he pins you against the wall and crashes his lips on yours, shoving his leg between yours to keep you in place with the help of the firm grip of his metal hand on your hips.

Like a puppet on his strings you wrap your arms around his neck and respond to the inebriant kiss immediately even if you’re still astonished by it all and when he squeezes one of your tits through the fabric of your dress and his mouth leaves your mouth to drag kisses over your neck, you tilt your head to see the light peeking from the streets, so close to where you’re both standing. 

“Bucky…” a gasp swallows your words for a second as he presses his thigh harder against your pussy, “What the hell, someone can see us,” you remind him, knowing exactly where this will lead if you don’t stop him now. You can already feel the pool of heat in your lower body as he playfully nibbles on your lower lip before going back to your neck.

“Isn’t it exciting, to think someone can spot us while I have my dick inside you.” He licks a long stripe from your neck to behind your ear.

The mention of his dick makes you let out a wanton moan, but you’re not won over yet, “It’s a fucking dark alley in the middle of the night in New York City, Bucky. We will be murdered here.”

At this, all of his enticing movements pause, and he dips his head back with an offended glare at you, “Do I have to remind you who you’re literally fucking with?” he asks, outrage all over his voice, “The Winter Fucking Soldier, White Wolf and shit… the strongest Avenger,” he chant the names and you can’t help but chuckle a bit, “Don’t worry,” leans over to resume from where he stopped, “I can fuck you and protect you at the same time.”

You need no more convincing since that’s actually damn hot and you’re more than sold to the exciting game when he flips you over and kneels down behind you. Listening to your own erratic heartbeats prompted by the electrifying danger of it all, you sprawl your hands on the wall as he sinks his hands under your dress and pulls your underwear down your legs, placing it in his pocket once you step out of it.

He bunches your dress up high enough to give him room and you shudder and sucks in a breath as he props one kiss, then another on the back of each of your thighs, “Try to be quiet…” he says, but swiftly adds, “Not too quiet, though, I love to hear you.”

With that he spreads your legs a little farther and sinks his tongue into the apex of your thighs from behind.  Your jaw drops and your knees buckle as he holds your hips still against his face. While his tongue curls around your sensitive pussy your mind blanks and you whimper, trying to suppress a moan, not forgetting you’re right in the open air of New York. Your hips roll against his face, seeking for more friction to untie the knot forming inside you.

But too soon he ceases contact and stands up. You express your disappointment with a whine, face snapping to glare at him behind you.

He’s wearing a smirk on his face as he grabs another condom from his pocket. You wonder how many he has in stash, “You wanted to come on my mouth, didn’t you?” he teases, holding the package between his teeth as he unbuckles his pants.

“Of course,” you shamelessly admit under your breath.

“I know sweetheart… But my dick is aching for you, too,” letting his pants and boxes fall along his legs, he unleashes his hard cock and proceeds on putting on the condom, throwing the plastic package aside, “I was prepping you for it,” he continues, eyes fastened on yours as he speaks, “You want it, don’t you? You want my dick? Come all over it?”

You lick your lips and your gaze falls to look at his rock hard cock, feeling your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. Now that’s an offer you can’t refuse, “Yes, I wanna soak that fucking dick,” you groan, not caring how tacky all the dirty talk may be, since it all sounds sexy as fuck now, clouding all of your senses.

“Shit… take it then, sweetheart.” Guiding his cock with his hand, he pulls your hips and in one single shove he’s inside you.

You let out a silent cry and rest your cheek on your hand against the wall, as the other reaches down to your clit, to help ease down the sumptuous twists inside your core as he pounds into you.  

The sounds and lights of the cars passing by on the street right next to you reminds you how exposed you are and fuck if you’re not gonna come quicker than you ever did as Bucky holds your hips with both of his hands, moving them as fast as he pleases, thrusting them back against his cock. You can feel the fire reaching its peak inside you.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers, breathing hard as he fucks any remaining signs of better judgement out of you and you know it won’t be long for him, either.

You let out a loud moan and it prompts him to pull you pressed against his chest and cover your mouth with his hand, “Shhh.” His hot breath coats your ear and your head falls back on his shoulder as he keeps the delicious pounding of his cock inside you with no hint of mercy.

The damn alley spins around you and you wish you weren’t wearing his leather jacket now as the beads of sweat run down your forehead.

He must’ve heard something in advance because right at that moment a group of people walk by the sidewalk, chatting and laughing. All they have to do is to glance to the side and spot you two in that interesting situation. The danger, the fact that you’re so exposed while Bucky dicks you down against the wall out in the open triggers your orgasm and you let out a strangled sound, muffed by his hand, as the shocks of pleasure washes over your body and weakens your limbs.  

“Shit,” Bucky whispers against your cheeks and his cock pulses inside you, reacting to your cunt squeezing and soaking his cock as you reach your climax.

You wanna feel that again and acting under the influence of a rush of boldness, you reach behind between the two of you and gently massages his bouncing balls. You feel the pulsating of his cock between your walls again and that cheeky move of yours makes him come undone. You only wish that the group is far enough to not hear the reckless and loud moan that slips out of his lips against your ear, his whole body tensing against yours.

As you fight to catch your breath and his hand leaves your mouth to descend to one of your breasts, a long line of courses is recited in your ear before you can feel his body finally relaxing.

Your eyes flutter shut when you sense the brush of his lips on your neck. The next words he breathes against your heated skin makes you beam, loving that he says that while his cock is still buried deep into you, like a damn reward.  

“Congratulations on your promotion, sweetheart.”

~~~

Tag List for this story: CLOSED

Permanent Tag List: OPENED.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 22 - Not Strong Enough

Masterlist; Chapter 21

Summary: You reunite with Neil aboard the icebreaker. With the tension amping up and the mission nearing it’s finale, you have a difficult time making sense of everything. 

Warnings: angst (yep, loads of it), swearing.

Author’s Notes: Here it is, finally! Know it took me ages, and I’m so sorry for that. Hopefully from now on it won’t be as bad... This one was fun to write since there’s a lot of emotions to go through :)) Hope you’ll enjoy! Let me know what you think!

PS. Now that we’re onto the icebreaker chapters let me just say that I’ve got a lot planned ;) and I’m excited to share it so thank you all who have sticked around <3 

The moment you stepped out of the inversion chambers and into the normal world (well, normal but looking fucked up to you and eight days previously), Ives received the promised further instructions. Get to Trondheim with the local squad, regroup with the reinforcements there, get on board the icebreaker equipped with the inversion technology. At least that was the information you got. Easy. Well, almost, but thankfully nothing seemed to depend on you. Yet. So, you followed the rest of the squad onto the chinook, ignoring the phone that never rang anymore. That was okay. You would not even know what to tell Neil if he called. In less than two hours, you were on military transport to Norway. Again.

In the tense silence of those hours of flight, it was easy to rest. At least you have changed the setting and could focus on stressing about all that was to come instead of the personal matters. Yes, you would have to face Neil and probably work with him as though nothing happened. But the more pressing matter was the potential world ending. For that, you could endure the pain. Focusing on avoiding hyperventilation through the mask, you fell asleep, giving in to the tiredness. When Wheeler shook you awake hours later, you have landed at the base in Trondheim. The icebreaker was supposed to cross by the shore on the next day, leaving the night to be camped out in the military containers on the periphery of the base.

You were lucky to land a spot in the container shared with Wheeler, as she was second in command, and you were still considered ‘precious cargo’. Precious to whom you had no idea. But that did not matter. After a quick meal made up of tin food and weak tea from the thermos, your roommate left for an inspection of the troops and a confab with Ives. You had peace. Taking off the unnecessary layers of clothing, you intended to use the time to curl up under the covers and mope. But it was not meant to be. Suddenly the silence of the air-locked container got pierced by your phone ringing. What the hell… Glancing at the display, your heart stopped for a split second. For a moment, you wanted to ignore it. To pretend you are not available. But your heart knew better, unable to give up the possibility of hearing his voice after all this time. Sitting up on the cot, you picked up the phone. A long exhale on the other side followed by…

“Hey”

As simple as that. Fuck. Neil’s voice was enough to trigger the feelings. The husky tone, the tiredness you sensed through that one word alone. The advantage of the phone call was that he could not hide too much. Not from you.

“Hi… um, why…” you trailed off, annoyed at how something so simple could disrupt the fragile peace.

But judging by the long pause, it was not just you for whom the conversation was a struggle. Brilliant.

“TP told me to call you” right, “Give you a run-down of the state of affairs, so tomorrow is easier for us all,” he added, using that professional tone you came to detest.

Call you? The voice of reason tried to break through the amalgamation of thoughts and feelings. It did not make much sense, seeing as TP did not even trust you after the latest revelations.

“Me?” you blurted out.

Anyone else would have been a more obvious choice. But Neil called you. Why? You wanted to add that question to the mix, but before you could do so, he came up with an answer.

“Not exactly, but I’ve decided that you can pass it on to Ives and so on” the uncertainty in his voice ignited the spark.

“I see” that was the only comment you could muster.

But he understood. He cleared his throat before resuming the conversation. An image flashed before your eyes: tired Neil, with ruffled hair, curled up in the armchair in Oslo, glancing at you from the pages of the book you just borrowed him. That stupid soft smile gracing his exquisite features. Eyes sparkling with satisfaction and affection. Enough.

“We’ve managed to save Kat with that stunt in Oslo…” his voice brought you back to the present moment.

That was something. Despite not having even talked to Kat, you felt sympathy towards her.

“I’m glad. Is she alright?” you occupied the shaking hands with picking up pieces of lint off the blanket.

It did not help your racing pulse. Or the increasing ache in your chest.

“Yeah, she’s recovering. There’s a scar, but that’s nothing compared to what could’ve happened”

God knows what made you say the first thing on your mind then:

“We’ve all been scarred… one way or another” as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew that it was too much.

Fucked up again. It was difficult to remember that you were not supposed to share your thoughts with him anymore. That this was not allowed. Once again, so much had to be left unspoken just for the sake of your sanity.

“I know that better than anyone” his response and the sombre tone made you swallow hard.

Of course. You had no doubts he was regretting the decision to take that bullet for you in New York. After all, the scar was there to haunt him for eternity, reminding him of the time and effort wasted on you.

“TP met with Priya in Oslo…” the change of topic was vital, “She told him about the algorithm and got us the icebreaker” Neil explained.

Back to business. Thank God. All would be perfect if it was not for the audible strain in his voice. It was evidently torturing. For both of you.

“Sator’s got it? All of the parts?” clearing your head, you asked the most important of questions.

How fucked were you?

“Yes,” no hesitation.

Very much so. What would life be without a world-ending scenario taking place just when everything was coming apart? Too boring, probably.

“Fuck” you breathed into the phone, taking a beat to think, “Do we know where? When?”

At least anxiety now had a proper anchor. Something to dig into and stay fixed for a while. A constant companion.

“The day of the Kiev opera siege. But I don’t know where, TP won’t tell me” the remorse was palpable, “Kat helped us piece it together. Sator’s dying, and probably intends to kill himself and trigger the dead-drop, activating the algorithm” double fuck.

Could it get worse? You dared not ask. For a moment, you were grateful Neil called you with the news. At least that way, you heard it from someone you trusted. Or once trusted.

“Jesus…” the silence on the other end was almost comforting, “So that’s the plan? To go back and try to stop him…” you trailed off, raking your head for ways to fix things.

Inversion for over a week more was one thing. Actually pulling this off was another. Because you doubted someone like Sator would be unprepared. You could only hope someone had a plan. Or that your helpful texts would come around. One could wish.

“Yes, in essence,” Neil confirmed your thoughts with that ever-present gloom in his tone.

He was worried too. That eternal desire to comfort him nagged at your bruised heart. It would only get worse once he was within your reach. The collision was unavoidable.

“Okay,” suddenly you wanted nothing but to end the call and sleep, “I’ll let Ives know”

With the awkwardness burning bright, the goodbye was on the tip of your tongue. But…

“I-” Neil cut himself off suddenly.

What? The curiosity was relentless.

“Do you need anything else?” you sat up straighter, forcing the nonchalance.

“No,” after a beat, he added, “Well-”

Christ. There was no power to ignore him.

“Yes?” you stifled the butterflies in your stomach.

It could only hurt more. Surely he would not have anything better to say.

“How are you doing?” the question was dropped with merciless indifference.

You were right. Only he could be that blunt. Unable to keep cool, you cursed out loud:

“Fuck’s sake” taking a deep breath, you gathered all the needed strength to continue, “Neil, do you seriously want me to answer this question?”

There was not enough air in the room. Forcing yourself to calm down, you stared at the wall, counting dents in the metal. Anything to stop the panic.

“I just thought... we’re... I haven’t seen you in over a week and-” he stumbled over the sentence pathetically.

“Maybe it’s better you stop thinking,” you cut him off, feeling the familiar surge of anger “For a while”

How did he dare? You would have thought that he would know better. That he would understand that things changed, and he was no longer allowed access into your mind. But trust Neil to mess it up. To be ignorant of how you felt.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you” the soft tone took you by surprise.

Despite the shock, you were too pissed off to give in.

“... I’m afraid you’ve fucked it then,”

There was no stopping the words that spilled from your throat. They rolled off your tongue, fueled by bitterness and hurt.

“It’s not easy getting over rejection, but then you wouldn’t know that. Everyone wants you. And if they don’t, you move on. No hearts harmed in the process. But not everyone is that lucky” you finished only once there was no breath left in your lungs.

Now he knew. The words hung in the space between you, making the phone seem heavy in your hand. Too much too soon. Just when you thought Neil would not respond, you could hear him take a deep breath before asking:

“Is this really how you understand what I said?” the strange timbre in his voice was confusing.

It was as though he was utterly defeated, devoid of anything but resignation. But why? It was you who were hurting, not him. It made no sense.

“Yes,” that had to suffice.

You already said too much, exposed yourself again. Giving him ammunition to strike when necessary. There was no pretending that you did not care. Or that your misplaced love confession during your last conversation was a lie. A sudden noise at the airlock made you look up. Wheeler entered your shared container, oblivious to the drama taking place. After a second of hesitation, you found that you did not mind the company. Once your eyes met, you just nodded, giving her permission to stay. The sombre half-smile told you she suspected who was on the other end.

“I haven’t pushed you away. When you…” Neil’s voice came through the speaker again.

A hint of desperation. As though he wanted you to understand something obvious. But there was nothing there. You could not forget how he took everything but never gave anything back. It was rather simple.

“There’s a major difference between love and want” stating the truth, you could feel Wheeler’s attentive gaze on you “Doubt you’d push away someone as desperate as I was. Especially when you could have something pleasant out of it. But that doesn’t mean you love me” the strength needed to say those words was all you could manage “I need to go now”

You desperately wanted to bury yourself under the blanket and sleep. Maybe never wake up. That could be nice.

“…I’ll see you tomorrow then” the reluctance tore into the remains of your heart.

Tomorrow. Too soon. You knew there was no way of preparing for it. You would have to endure the unbearable and bear it. The world was more important than your comfort or pride.

“Yes, unfortunately,” the honesty could not hurt anyone.

Least of all Neil. You ended the call before he could say anything else and dropped the phone on the bed. Fuck. Burying your head in the pillow, you tried to level the breathing.

“Are you alright?” Wheeler’s question drifted across the narrow space.

“I will be,” you shrugged, turning to lie on your back and stare at the ceiling.

Emptiness. And even more anxiety. Amazing combo. And all because of that dyed blonde lanky bastard with eyes too blue and jaw too sharp. Trust you to fall for the unattainable.

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” you glanced sideways at your companion with a grimace, “He called to give me a summary of the events, so to speak” that part still did not make sense, but who were you to argue.

Wheeler let out a low hum, making you face her. You did not like the suspicious expression on her face. But you were too tired to ask. Ignorance is our ammunition and all that. You resumed the summary with a heart even heavier:

“And then he asked how I am, and I just…” you trailed off, giving in to the feelings, “Christ, I’ve no clue how I’m supposed to meet him tomorrow”

Pathetic, again. You half expected Wheeler to slap you for being an annoying, lovesick teenager pining after her crush. Which you were, in all fairness. But instead, you felt a hand pat your arm reassuringly.

“You’ll manage” glancing up, you met the warm smile of your companion, “You’re strong” before you could argue, she added, “And from what I’ve heard, you two really should talk, so maybe the opportunity will come up” it was her turn to shrug, wandering off to prepare the second cot.

“I suppose” that sounded like a nightmare “Got news for you and Ives, by the way”

You were hoping she will make you go to the squad leader right this moment. That would be a perfect distraction.

“Those can wait till tomorrow, get some sleep”

Well, fuck.

*** The nerves and increasing panic only caught up with you in the containers on the way to the icebreaker. The morning was spent in that blissful motion you needed so badly. You passed on the information to squad leaders, packed up, and got ready for the journey, which commenced after you got a call from the ship’s captain. The time spent on board was too short for your liking. Gripping the duffel back with your belongings, you focused on breathing slowly while the chinook approached the icebreaker, preparing to drop the containers and fly off. Somehow, the rattling and the cramped space of the metal box were almost comforting. No one could hurt you there. There was no one to escape and to hide from. But, of course, that too was over too soon. As the container touched the ground with a thud, making you all jump up, you only had a moment to clench your jaw. Ives stood up and opened the door as you all formed a proper formation for disembarking. The cold, piercing light of the sun hit you in the face as the wind tangled the cord connecting your oxygen tank to the mask. One look around assured you of two things – you would have to get accustomed to the sight of sea and sky for miles and that there was no hiding from Neil.

He was there, stood right next to TP, awaiting your arrival. It took you a moment to get accustomed to his military get-up. The black windbreaker zipped up, cargo pants with armour pads on the knees, and heavy boots. Hair windswept, falling into his eyes, making you want nothing but to brush it away. Brilliant. And naturally, he noticed you as well, eyes looking over your frame and face, searching for something. You did wonder whether he found it. To distract yourself, your gaze slipped over to look at TP. Still suspicious and serious. But at least he was not staring at you, trying to see into your soul. And that was enough.

“Welcome aboard” his grim countenance lit up for a second.

After a motion from Ives, you stepped up along with him and Wheeler, joining the two men. You had a proper look around. The rows of containers, rigs, and equipment being stacked in crates, ready for the upcoming battle. Eyeing the accommodation part of the cargo ship, you listened on to the conversation:

“Where exactly are we heading?” Ives’s voice cut straight to the point.

Good question. You glanced back at TP, only to find an enigmatic smile grace his features.

“All in the right time,” he responded, and you could see Neil grimace.

Somehow seeing him that frustrated did not cause any satisfaction. Quite the contrary even. To your inner horror, his eyes met yours right then. Curiously considering, before he reached out a hand:

“It’s good to see you” that was undoubtedly directed at you.

The empty pleasantry hurt like a bitch. But, with four pairs of eyes set on you, there was no choice but to accept the outstretched hand. Swallowing down the panic, you let his hand envelope yours in the casual handshake. Even that amount of contact was enough to make you spiral. Especially with how his thumb brushed over your knuckles. The eyes never leaving yours, urging you to understand something. What you had no clue. The moment was over before you realised, and Neil directed the next sentiment at your companions.

“All of you” they exchanged the handshakes while you stared on.

Once that was done, TP directed your attention towards the accommodation again:

“We’ll show you what’s where” he started walking, giving the directions on the go, “Let everyone else disembark in the meantime”

At least he was more like himself.

You followed them, taking in all the shown spaces. The lower part was occupied by the turnstile and potential training spaces. As you passed, you could hear Ives making arrangements for the troops to start sparing and shooting practice as soon as possible. Next, there were bunk beds and sleeping spaces for everyone. Rows upon rows of small bunks, only privacy was a curtain separating the mattress from the outside world. But it had to do, of course. As you moved up past the machinery, the kitchen, and the common spaces, you have been led to an airlocked corridor near the bridge.

“That’s where we sleep” TP waved a hand in the general direction of the many doors in the corridor.

There was a total of four cabins and a bathroom. Your gaze settled on Neil again. Entirely on its own accord. He shifted hesitantly before directing a question at the squad leader:

“Ives, do you guys want to stay with the troops?”

You could see the emotions bubbling under the nonchalant expression. It was not the usual charming, suave Neil you have met. Now there was uncertainty, doubt, and insecurity. As though he suddenly lost all the confidence and was trying to piece himself together. You did wonder what made him hurt that much.

“Yeah, that’s better for the morals,” Ives replied, ending your strange thoughts.

“As you wish,” Neil grinned in response, before glancing at TP, “I’ll go check on Kat”

Before anyone could respond, he disappeared down the corridor. Interesting. Could it be that he too was bothered by what was going on? Difficult to imagine but plausible.

“Those are yours, Y/N” the mention of your name made you look up.

TP was staring at you inquisitively, a hand on a doorknob, awaiting a reaction. That was unexpected. As much as the fact that he used your name. And did not look that pissed off anymore. You did wonder what was said during their journey back to Oslo. How much did he know?

“I thought I’ll be with the rest of the squad” you stared back quizzically.

“Neil made sure you got your own space” TP shrugged as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

What the hell. Was that why he so casually run off?

“How very kind of him,” you muttered, feeling the gazes of everyone else burning on your skin.

Damn people and their curiosity.

“He’s down the corridor, if-” oh fuck no.

“Thanks,” you cut off the boss with the voice as cold as ice.

He understood, nodding curtly. Thank god. It was enough to know that Neil was close. You did not need the specifics. Or the insinuations behind the information. It did not matter; you would not be visiting him any time soon. Or ever.

*** You have managed to avoid meeting Neil throughout the day. It was busy, filled with getting settled aboard the icebreaker and planning what the next days are going to hold. You were not told what your destination was, but you had a clue Ives knew. That was… disappointing. You have happily missed the mealtime, choosing to hide in the 2 x 3 metres of space that was your cabin. The small bed, one round window, tiny bedside cabinet, and a chair were all you could depend on for the next eight days. Not bad. You were intent on staying there for as long as possible, avoiding the outside unless absolutely necessary. It was a good plan until, at around 1 am, your stomach started rumbling. Supposedly a whole day on just breakfast was bound to end like this. But you were still outraged. Because that meant going out. And here there be monsters. Sighing heavily, you put on the shoes and a jacket and warily stepped into the corridor. Silence. Cold metal walls and floors, deep dark shadows. With the official meeting taking place the next morning, you were hoping everyone was asleep. Or doing whatever people did at night.

Sealing the airlock in the small kitchen, you took off the oxygen mask and placed it on the small table. The galley was equipped with the necessary stuff, including a large, packed fridge, a kettle, sink, and some cabinets filled with non-perishable foods. The eerie silence was almost deafening, so you turned the kettle on, creating background noise. Going through the arsenal, you chose to prepare a sandwich and a tea and then promptly run away to your room. Just in case. As you set to work, confidence grew. Maybe you got lucky. You were in the middle of cutting the bread roll in half when the unmistakable sound of the zipper rung out. Fuck.

“… Hey,” of course.

Your hand slipped, knife slicing open the skin on your pointer finger. Blood dripping onto the counter.

“Shit!” you cursed and dropped the knife, bringing the injured finger to your mouth.

As the coppery taste dissolved on your tongue, you risked turning around to face the intruder. That was mistake number one. Neil was staring at you with concern etched onto his face. Lips pursed; brows furrowed. Hair ruffled as though he has been outside for an extended period of time. The moment your eyes met his, you felt trapped. There was nowhere to go. Just you and him, in 7 square metres. Bloody perfect. His gaze flitted between you and your wounded hand, hesitating and calculating. It was obvious, even to him.

“Are you alright?” the strange unfamiliarity took you by surprise.

You could see the conflict plain as day. Glancing at the cut, you were relieved to see that it was rather shallow, albeit still bleeding significantly. Turning on the tap to rinse it, you replied:

“Yep,” that simple.

And yet not at all. Neil edged closer, stopping right next to you but preserving a meter of space. Turning off the water, you looked up at him curiously. Too close. The blue threatened to drown you if you were not careful. He reached out a hand with fingers trembling slightly. You were frozen in the spot, seeing but unable to react, as he took another step forward.

“Show me-” the moment his skin made contact with yours, the paralysis disappeared.

God no. You jumped back, hitting the edge of the counter with your back. A dull throbbing was nothing compared to the hammering heart and the searing pain in your chest. His eyes widened in shock. Your reaction was evidently unexpected.

“No, that won’t be necessary” finding the voice again, you mustered a tight-lipped smile.

If this were to work, you had to avoid any physical contact. Somehow you knew that if he touched you, the resolve would begin to crumble. That could not happen. You took a deep breath and focused back on the task. The tension was of the knife-cutting kind. Swallowing you both in despair. In the corner of your eye, you could see Neil hesitate, watching you closely. Then he must have made up his mind, for he opened the fridge and started searching for something. After another minute of near-fatal awkwardness, you spoke up:

“Have you been outside?” a simple question dropped in an almost neutral tone.

Fitting perfectly between strokes of the butter knife on the roll. Small talk, easy enough, right?

“Yeah, I’ve watched the stars” Neil took out bread and settled by you at the counter “The sky’s pretty clear tonight” he glanced at you for a second, an enigmatic look on his face.

The walls were up. Back to pretending.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, praying to every god in the universe for help.

Thankfully, one must have listened… Well, sort of.  

“You’ve missed the meal earlier,” he noticed while turning on the toaster.

Of course, he would. Forcing your hands to stay steady as you sliced up the tomato, you thought of a good enough answer. Because the truth would not do.

“Just didn’t feel like it” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes.

But he was staring. Leaning by the counter, watching you closely. You felt that this was it when it came to a casual conversation between you.

“But now you do?” this next question sounded differently.

There was a suspicious edge to his voice that you knew would be reflected in his eyes. Your acting was not good enough for this. Swallowing down the rising discomfort, you faced him and steeled your features.

“Yes,” that should suffice.

But then, seeing him attempt psychoanalysis through the means of staring, you chose honesty.

“I was hoping I won’t meet anyone around here this late,” you added and met his gaze.

A challenge. Tell me how I’m wrong, kind of thing. The truth he so clearly wanted. And Neil took it without hesitation.

“Anyone? Or just me?” eyes narrowed; lips curled into a smirk you did not like.

What the fuck? You felt a rush of anger. He maybe was right. But that did not mean he was allowed to question you. To make claims as clear as this.

“What’s your point?” you arched an eyebrow, forcing the most neutral of tones.

A shadow passed through his face, a hint of uncertainty. But as soon as you noticed it, it was gone. He shook his head with an almost imperceptible smile.

“No matter” waving his hand dismissively, he reached for the kettle.

Too close again. His arm brushed against yours as he filled in both of your mugs with the boiling water. You glared at that but chose to bite back the comment. At least he was being useful…

“You were rather quiet earlier...” Neil’s voice brought you back to the present moment.

Your head snapped up, meeting his intense stare. What? From the curiosity in his eyes, you deduced that he was waiting for an answer to that. You were sure to deliver.

“If you wanted me to publicly declare my hatred for you, then I’m sorry to disappoint,” shrugging, you took satisfaction in the way his eyes widened “Are you using that?” pointing at the container with sugar, you observed him a little longer.

Neil seemed less confident now. His tense posture and clenched jaw showed as much. Or the fact that suddenly he was not as eager to stare at you. Maybe that was a win. The only response you got was a head nod for ‘no’. But before you could celebrate the unlikely victory, he spoke again:

“Last time we talked, you said something a little different” there was that suspicious edge again.

You did not dare meet his eyes. The casual way in which he referred to the event made your blood boil. Because that was all the evidence you needed to confirm the worst-case assumptions: he did not care. To Neil, all this was a passing thing, something you can let go of when it becomes inconvenient. Trust you to give your heart to someone like that. The thought gave you an idea. What was said could not be unsaid, but…

“Yeah, but I thought about it, and... I take it back” once the words left your mouth, you felt a stronger surge of fury.

It only got worse when you caught a glimpse of hurt in the depths of his eyes. It was hidden well but still there.

“What?” Neil swallowed hard.

You could see that he did not expect that from you. Good. Perhaps it was a lie, but who was to say you had to be honest. After all, he was not, as it turned out. The look of confusion on his face made you turn up the emotions, throwing in irritability to the mix.

“I know you can be dense, but I’m sure you understood it well enough. I take back what I said in Tallinn” no effort was needed to be mean.

Just as easy as it was to lie. Perhaps too easy even. Out of curiosity, you watched him absorb what you said. At first, Neil’s lips parted a little as though he was holding in a gasp. Then he tensed, and eyebrows furrowed. That was denial. It was replaced with a painfully fake smile. One that did not reach his eyes. In summary, Neil did not seem relieved by what you said. Nor did he seem happy about it. Tough luck.

“Feelings change, huh?” nonchalantly he eyed you as though trying to find anything amiss.

The intensity of his gaze felt as though the fire was burning your skin. Suddenly the casual outfit seemed inadequate. Almost nonexistent in how he could see right through it. It took you a moment to shook it off. To remember that this was a duel, and you could still win. But only if you did not allow him to get too close.

“No. People do” you shrugged and went back to finishing the tea.

Just like that. A silence. And then the sound of a throat being cleared awkwardly:

“What are you trying to say?” unsure and shocked.

The metaphorical penny dropped. You could spare him the torture.

“You know,” putting away the teaspoon with a clink you eyed the toaster, “You might want to take that toast out unless you fancy eating carbon”

“Thanks,” Neil offered you a tight-lipped smile before he attended the burned toast.

You felt like that was the perfect metaphor for the state of your relationship. Or whatever the fuck was it. You were not sure what made you stay then. The walk back to your room did not seem convenient anymore. And the table was right there… It was rather risky, but then it was hard to deny yourself the pleasure. However questionable it may be. He was still your Neil, and his presence felt like the home you have desperately missed. Fortune favours the brave, or whatever. Ignoring his surprised look, you set down the plate and the mug and sat down at the narrow table. You did not have to wait long for a question:

“Do you mind if I stay?” the uncertainty in his voice made you look up.

Sure enough, the blue eyes were fixed on you with reluctance. As though he did not expect you to allow him that much. But then… why not? Perhaps it was the masochistic tendencies speaking.

“Suit yourself” you offered him the tiniest of smiles and focused on finally eating the carefully prepared sandwiches.

The ones you paid in blood and nerves for. At least they were good. After another moment, Neil joined, taking his seat opposite you. You could not help but snicker at the blackened toasts gracing his plate.

For a few minutes, you ate in silence, stealing glances at each other as though they were a crime. For you, they almost felt like it. His blonde hair (fake, as you had to remind yourself) reflected the fluorescents, giving him that angelic look that used to draw you in. It still did as much, only now it was paired with desperation everybody feels when faced with the unattainable. The forbidden fruit. Unable to stop yourself, you glanced at his lips then. The pull was still there, threatening to come crashing down and leave you gasping for air. But you could not give in.

“You saw us” as though Neil could read your mind, he spoke up, “Back at the airport, with Kat,” adding, he met your gaze.

You could tell that this was another attempt at small talk of sorts. You wondered how long this would take until another argument could begin to brew.

“Yeah,” nodding, you took a sip of the tea.

That was all he needed. The moment still sometimes haunted you. The look in his eyes when Neil saw you in Oslo. Now it all made more sense. The shock and apprehension. You were probably the last person he wanted to see back then. 

“Why you’ve never said anything?” the question took you by surprise.

Neil, of all people, should know better. You took a moment to gather the thoughts, staring back into those eyes that seemed to see right through you.

“I just followed your favourite logic” upon his confused expression, you explained, “What’s happened-”

“-Happened” he grinned; too proud “You know me well”

His hand that was resting by the mug twitched as though he wanted to reach out. You could not tear your eyes away from it, battling the most primal of instincts that just wanted to touch him. Ignoring the urge, you finished the tea and muttered the answer:

“I thought I do”

It was another of those things that were too easy to tell him. Even though you were being vulnerable through admitting it. Most rules were broken already.

“But?”

You stood up, avoiding the desire to look him in the eye. Anything to make this easier. Enough. You got what you wanted, but now it was time to leave. To cut this torture short for you both.

“If Tallinn taught me anything is that I don’t know you at all. Not the real you, anyway” you rinsed the dishes and moved to the door “Now, excuse me-”

Neil moved fast. Before you could realise he stood up, his hand was wrapped around your arm, making escape impossible. Bewildered by the feelings rushing in all at once, you met his eyes. Even through the two layers of clothing, his touch was burning you. A reminder of all that you have lost. The immeasurable depth of expression in Neil’s face was not helping. You could discern determination, worry, and panic, among others. As though only now he has realised the extent of the damage.

“I never lied to you. Not even once” his grip tightened as he took a step forward.

Your back hit the wall, trapping you between him and the cold metal.

“Should I congratulate you?” stifling the raising panic, you stared up at him with defiance.

It worked.

“…Jesus,” Neil swallowed hard, unable to hide the exasperation, “Why are you like this?”

With the newly found position, you could easily judge his state of mind. He was annoyed, angry even. And that was triggering. Even though the proximity was slowly hazing your mind, proposing scenarios that could never happen. Fuck. You took a deep breath to calm down. To ignore how it felt to have someone look at you like this. Not platonically.

“If you need to ask, I think there’s no point in dragging this conversation any longer” finding your voice again you made sure to turn up the notch “I’d rather go to sleep than get rejected again” the coldness came out of nowhere.

But it was helpful. He did not expect that. The hand on your arm relaxed a little.

“I never rejected you” crease between his eyebrows deepened.

Right. Unable to stop the rising bitterness, you scoffed in his face. This was the opportunity to win the battle and get away before you could fuck it up even worse.

“You’re right,” you relished in the utter confusion visible “You did something worse. But I’m really not in the mood to argue, so… please let me go” gingerly, you placed your hand on his chest with the intent to push him away.

That was another mistake. Neil covered your palm with his, making you shudder. That was enough to make everything worse. Because there was no way of stopping the thoughts. Of ignoring the want, you tried to suppress for the past week. With him this close, touching you as though he meant it, you soon realised how bad it was. There was no way of getting rid of the feelings.

“I’m worried about you. You don’t look well” he broke the tense silence, forcing you to look up.

As if. His face was too striking. With blood pounding in your ears, you made another attempt at freeing yourself by trying to push him away.

“I don’t need your sympathy” taking a step forwards you hoped he would back off.

He did not. The concern visible in his blue eyes was overwhelming any last bit of sanity. All that was left did not make any sense. For a second, you wanted nothing but to have an innocent passerby interrupt you. The embarrassment could be worth it.

“I’m pretty sure you haven’t slept in days. And I-”

Neil was too close. The hand that was wrapped around your arm slid down to your waist while the other wandered up, fingers ghosting your neck. You closed your eyes for a split second, calming down the racing thoughts. This could not happen.

“Neil, stop,” shaking off the paralysis, you cupped his cheek “You can’t help me. So, let’s just leave it,” pouring in all the despair into your gaze, you met his eyes.

What you saw reflected was startling. You have never seen him that confused.

“I…” he faltered, losing the momentum that was there a second ago.

You were winning. But there was no satisfaction. Just the overwhelming despair, tempting you to make use of the predicament. Just this once. It was too easy to let your fingers caress his jaw, feeling the two-day stubble he did not bother shaving off. The disorientation in his eyes deepened as he stared at you with amazement. Speechless, frozen in the moment that seemed endless. As you brushed the pad of your thumb over his lips, Neil inhaled sharply, waking up from the reverie. His grip on your waist tightened, drawing you even closer. The expression in his eyes shifted. Pupils darkened as want took over the reason. You could feel yourself slipping down the slippery slope. Risking too much for god knows what. Or why. The air he breathed out ghosted your lips, an offer of what you could have. The exact same thing you have missed more than anything else. As if guided by the gravity itself, you leaned in, your noses brushing. Mere two inches of space. It would be so easy…

“If you don’t love me, then what is this?” Neil asked, breaking the silence and putting on another enigmatic smile.

The audacity of the question felt like a punch in the gut. That was the harsh wake-up call. Your salvation.

“Whatever it was for you in Tallinn,” you bit back, letting the anger seep into your answer “Let me go” the ice-cold tone was a perfect touch.

Neil took one last long look over your face before he stepped back, releasing you. The visible disappointment made you even angrier. Because how did he dare? What even was this? You had no clue. Only that you were right about touches being forbidden from now on.

“As you wish,” the pleasantry was thrown in your face with a mocking intonation.

You wanted nothing but to slap him. Punch him, make him bleed and hurt like you were. But that would be unbecoming for someone like you. And so, you straightened your back, grabbed the mask, and fixed it over your mouth and nose without as much as a glance in his direction. Enough now.

“See you at the meeting tomorrow” throwing the goodbye over your shoulder you unzipped the airlock.

“Good night” was the last thing you heard upon the exit from the galley.

Jesus Christ. Finally, there was air to breathe.

*** That night you did not get much sleep either, tossing and turning on the narrow bed, unable to make your brain shut up. It was hard not to come up with all the possible what-ifs. Not to wonder what could have happened should Neil stayed silent, and you were to continue. To let yourself get lost in him like you used to. And all of those questions were only amplified by the fact that you chose to sleep in the stolen sweater. Why? You had no clue. Like many things, even your brain stopped making sense a long time ago. And so, when your phone alarm finally rang, you could only accept the fate and grudgingly get up. The dark circles were hard to hide. Or the way your shoulders sagged at the mere idea of facing everyone else. But there was no other way. You got dressed in the most practical outfit and left the cabin with the heart hammering in your chest. All the courage accepted. The mere idea of facing Neil made your stomach turn. That vouched for an amazing start indeed.

The official meeting was supposed to take place at 9:00 on the indoor bridge, and as far you knew the purpose was to officially brief you and the squad. You followed the half-remembered directions, by miracle arriving at the airlock leading to a lounge-like space with sofas, a table with ten chairs, and panoramic windows proving splendid view of the inverted waves and occasional seagulls. It seemed like you were the first one to arrive. Taking a longer look to stare at the horizon, you jumped up at the sound of a throat being cleared. Not alone then…

“Good morning” tall blonde woman stood up from her position on the sofa.

Kat. The drama of the previous night almost made you forget about her. But there is only so long you can run away from reality. The anxiety spike made you take a deep breath before you could respond.

“Hi,” frowning at the awkwardness of the tone, you flashed her an apologetic smile “Sorry to interrupt if you’ve-”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she waved a hand dismissively and settled back on the cushions “I’ve just been watching the birds really. Still can’t get used to them” the thoughtful look in her eyes made you smile.

She could not be older than Neil. Tall and slender, dressed in practical military clothes as everyone else, she seemed so different from the woman you saw in Tallinn, bleeding and on the verge of death. Now there was steely confidence to her, intangible yet present. Tentatively, you joined her on the sofa, never taking your eyes off the horizon.

“It takes a while. The first time I got inverted, I panicked the moment I saw a pigeon flying backwards” you did not know where the honesty came from.

Or why you shared the story. But the bewildered smile that split Kat’s face was a good enough reward.

“That sounds horrendous” she choked back a laugh, meeting your gaze with sparkling blue eyes.

“It was cooing too” you added with the conspiratorial whisper, awaiting a response, barely concealing a giggle that was rising in your throat.

“Good God” she grinned in your direction.

Maybe there was some goodness in the universe…

“Yeah, basically” returning the smile, you reached out a hand “Sorry we’ve never got introduced, I’m Y/N”

“Kat” she shook your palm, smiling sympathetically “It’s nice to meet you. Are you part of the squad?”

“Well, sort of… I don’t really know what’s my role is in all this” shrugging helplessly, you allowed more honesty to permeate the sentence “But I’m too involved to ask questions”

“I know the feeling well” you knew the quiet resignation in her gaze from the reflection in the mirror.

As you opened your mouth to ask a question, a zip on the airlock made you freeze. Peace was not an available commodity these days.

“Good morning ladies” Neil’s voice rung out in the room as he stepped into the view.

The fake cheeriness looked out of place on his sombre face. After a quick scan, you could tell that he too has not slept well. And that he was trying his hardest to appear alright when he was everything but. A tell-tale sign was the untied shoelace and uncombed hair sticking out in every direction. Details easily missed by everyone but you. There was nothing you could do with that information. It felt like another tiny but painful stab straight into your battered heart. You did wonder how many more could you handle.

“Did you get a good rest?” Kat’s innocent question brought you back to the moment.

“Not quite” Neil grimaced slightly as his eyes slipped over onto you for a fraction of a second.

That was enough to make Kat notice. You were sure of it. Your cheeks reddened on their own accord, and you returned Neil’s tight-lipped smile. A finishing touch to the act.

The awkward silence that followed was deafening. Neil sat by the table, tapping his foot unconsciously. Kat seemed perplexed, glancing at you both, trying to understand. You would not even know how to explain it if she asked. Suddenly, a text alert pierced the silence, making you jump up. The device buzzed in the pocket of your pullover. With a shaking hand, you retrieved the phone and glanced at the display. TP.

“Fuck” you let out a curse as your eyes flitted over the text.

Passwords. To what? Hell knows.

“What is it?” Neil stood up and was at your side in a second.

You looked up, straight into his eyes. Whatever happened did not matter now. You both understood that.

“I don’t know…” biting down on your lip, you scanned the room, settling on a computer lying on the table, “Give me that laptop. Please” you gestured towards the device, urging him to catch up.

He did. Using those long legs that you always admired, he crossed the room in no time and handed you the laptop. Your hands were trembling as you typed in the passcodes and entered the folder where files from TP always appeared. It certainly did not help that Neil has perched on the armrest of the sofa and was looking over your shoulder. Or that his hand landed on the nape of your neck as he adjusted in the strange position. You swallowed hard, focused on finding the newest folder. Surely enough it was there. Password protected. You typed in the combination of letters and numbers from the text message and held your breath as the system loaded. A second later, you were staring at several files that appeared on the screen. Double-clicking on the first pdf, you opened up a map of a location.

“Is that…” Neil’s whisper came from right over your ear.

Breath ghosting over your neck, making you shiver. But there were more important matters to attend to. Shaking off the feeling, your eyes scanned the map.

“Stalsk-12” you read out loud, “I think this is our destination. TP sent those so we know what to expect” looking at Neil again, you were struck by the proximity.

He nodded, holding your gaze intently. You could see that he was processing what you said and all the implications. What the unexpected files could mean for you. And what were the critical steps to be taken.

“What do you mean he sent those? He’s-” Kat’s confused question made you both snap out of it.

It was terrifyingly easy to forget people other than Neil existed. Another issue to add to your list.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t explain it” you gave Kat the most regretful of smiles and opened a different file.

This one was a list of tips in a way. A short letter with instructions, addressed to you alone. Aware of the tension pervading the room, you scanned it, catching onto the things he mentioned. A tunnel leading to the dead-drop. Hypocenter in the middle of the Soviet secret city. Inverted and normal mercenaries. It sounded like something taken out of an action film. But, supposedly, that was your reality now.

“Anything good?” Neil chimed in, unable to control the anticipation.

You glanced at him again, catching the way he was staring at you rather than at the screen. The way the early morning sun reflected off his profile was tragic. The hair shone like rays of sunlight. The long eyelashes framed his eyes, making the blue stand out even more. Fucking masterpiece. He met your gaze warily, and his brows furrowed even more. That was the cue to answer his question. And to stop staring.

“He’s saying that the most crucial bit will be the lock leading to the dead-drop,” you explained, highlighting the line in the doc “And is sending you his regards,” adding, you gave Neil a small smile.

They were there alright. A final line, telling you to make sure he stays sane and alive. Worrying remark, but you were afraid the boss miscalculated your influence upon the blonde bastard. Maybe he was wrong about some things? Just as the man in question opened his mouth again, someone else entered the bridge, accompanied by the sound of heavy boots and puffs of air from the oxygen masks.

“Who’s saying what?” TP’s question made you frown as the man himself stepped into the room.

Of course, he’d hear that. Now came the dilemma you never knew you would have to face – how to tell your boss you have received information from his future, dead self? And how to make him believe you?

“We’ve got intel. About where we’re heading,” you were saved from answering the question by Neil, who stood up and faced the boss “It’s Siberia, isn’t it?”

Judging by the palpable shock and irritation on TP’s face, it was, in fact, Siberia.

“Who told you that?” the offensive edge to his voice felt like a flashback to Tallinn and the turnstile.

You would rather avoid a repetition of that. Standing up, you took a deep breath. Before anyone else could break-in, you spoke up:

“A very reliable source” when TP’s gaze settled on you, you shrugged.

Quiet confidence, right? A passing shadow of suspicion was not the most encouraging of signs.

“Reliable to who?” his gaze flitted between you and Neil.

Only now you realised how close you were standing to him. Your elbows brushed as you tried to think of an answer. Anything to win the case.

“All of us” Neil’s simple response made you look up at him.

His gaze was fixed on TP with adamant resolve. You felt like this was not the same man who had let his friend pin him to the wall and interrogate him in the most brutal of fashions. The boss sighed and looked at you again.

“How did you get it?”

Right…

“… password protected files” the half-truth felt like the worst of lies.

“From whom?” he pressed, all of the intensity of the dark stare on you.

You could only offer him another shrug and a remorseful look on your face. The scowl you got in response was concerning. But you could not give in.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the best piece of information we could get. We’ve got terrain plans and intel about the dead-drop. Maybe with this, we can make it work” taking a step forwards, you hoped he can see the desperation in your eyes, “All you have to do is trust me” the addition felt necessary, even if hard to be spoken out loud.

The frown on TP’s face deepened as he sighed heavily.

“Bloody hell…” he glanced at the blonde man again, “Neil, what are you thinking?”

Only now you could feel how fast your heart has been beating. Or that sometime within the last few minutes, you have started to tremble.

“I trust her. With my life” Neil delivered the admission with the most neutral of tones.

Fuck. The heartbeat stumbled and then kicked back into action at twice the speed. Unable to stop yourself, you turned around to face him. Sure enough, he met your gaze with certainty. As though that was obvious. Well, maybe to him…

“And the fate of the world too,” he added after a beat, clearly highlighting what mattered more.

Another thing that did not make sense. You made sure he could see the confusion in your eyes as you gave him a formal nod. It was a public setting after all, and you need not make a scene in front of Kat and TP.  But at least you had support in your fight, and that was perhaps most important right now.

“This intel is all we’ve got. We might as well make use of it,” Neil summarized, taking that step closer to you again.

You both faced the boss, taking concerning amounts of confidence from simply being able to do it together. You could see the internal battle on TP’s face. Worry, uncertainty, suspicion, conflict, trust…? Finally, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. When he looked at you again, you could tell that it was done. Only…

“If it backfires…” the unspoken hint of consequences if something went terribly wrong.

You just had to make sure it would not. Easy enough…right?

“If it does, then we’ll worry. For now, let’s get to work” Neil waved his hand dismissively, a rare genuine smile brightening up his face “The stage is yours,” tentatively, he placed his hand on your back, giving you a light push.

Permission to take over. Support and the inability to keep his hands off you. Enough to make you consider jumping off the afterdeck into the freezing depths of the Barents Sea. Because even that was better than approximately a week more of this. But the seals would have to wait. The blue eyes were fixed on you with a glimmer that seemed too affectionate for the state of the affairs. Let’s wipe it off with the best weapon available – the crushing weight of reality. You took a deep breath and began the explanation.

[ac3id]

Redamancy. iii

Redamancy (n.) The act of loving in return.  

pairings: mirio togata x female reader

warnings: 18+, noncon, yandere themes, breeding kink n mirio is a scumbag. 

a/n: ahaha im reposting this cus  algorithm was effed the first time i posted. ehehehe or maybe im just unlucky-- n e way this will be the last of redamany!! 

word count: 1950 

navigation  ☼ 

←  part i, ii

Mirio's gaze turned to you, sky blue eyes stared at how you sipped on your drink. Your glossy, pink stained lips puckered around the straw. Was that a new shade? You had never put something like that on before. Probably tasted like strawberries or cherries, "Mirio!" your voice drove him out his thoughts. You stood in front of him, your hands at your hip, "What are you thinking about?" Mirio felt his cheeks heat up.

'I was thinking about you sucking my dick, do you mind?'

"Nothing, we should get going. Lunch's bout' to get over soon." He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the school building, you almost trip over your feet, "Hey! Slow down!" You bump into his chest which was hard as rock making your head sting a little, "You're a klutz," he laughs. "It's your fault!" you retort, he pats your head and continues laughing. He takes a good look at you, drinking your uniform clad body. The short skirt displaying your plush thighs. His mind melts away in sinful thoughts, thinking about all what he can do to you. He once again realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. His entire hand can literally cover your face, he can easily pick you and throw you over his shoulder.

What is stopping him? Seriously?

His smile drops when he catches you staring at him. The guy he beat up months ago and threatened to stay out of your life. You were staring at him chatting away, giggling with some nameless girl. He studied your sully expression, your eyes looked sad, and lip turned into a sad pout; he could tell you were upset and that pissed him off. Why did you still think about him? Why did you still care about that jerk? Didn't you move on yet?

Mirio felt himself get riled up from the same rage he had felt the first time he had seen you with this man. The frustration, anger, and jealousy all came surging back to him as he realized that you obviously did not feel the same way about him as he did about you. Maybe he'll have to do more than just be nice to get you to understand he's the one for you, the one and only.

He would show you who you belong to. You will get what is coming.

"Hey, what's wrong? You coming?" His hand rested on your shoulder, he gripped on it a little tighter.

Mirio walked into an empty classroom which echoed soft sobs and sniffles. You sat on your seat, your head resting on the desk as you cried. Mirio's face paled and he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around you pulling your upper half to his chest he rubbed your head. "It's okay now, I am here," he whispered into your ear, shushing you. "What happened?" he asked after you had calmed down.

"Why are you still here?"

"I came to get you, now, what happened?" you gulped before answering, feeling the lump in your throat rise as your voice cracked. "Why?"

Mirio was confused, what were you on about? "Am I not good enough? Why did he leave me?" tears roll down your cheeks, lip trembling your breathing turns uneven. Mirio frowns, his hands clenching into an fist he pulls away from the hug.

You were thinking about him, obviously. He moves in front of you grabbing your jaw, his big fingers squish your tiny cheeks. Your eyes widened in horror as he pulls your face closer to him, his elbows resting on the desk separating the two. He looks down at you, his eyes bored into yours with malice, "Mirio you're-" "Shut the fuck up." he snapped.

"You want to know why he left you? Why did your precious little pretty boy leave you?" you were too scared to answer, you didn't get to anyways since he blurted the out the answer in burning rage "Because. I fucking told him to stay away from you. Got it?" Your eyebrows knit together and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, in a blink on eye he had become so different. He had snapped, you felt betrayed. The Mirio you knew would never be this rough with you, but maybe you were to blame. Deep down you knew. You were very much aware. Mirio liked you even after your breakup but you never asked, thinking it was better that way but not in a million years did you ever think that Mirio would snap and come for your soul.

"I fucking beat him up. You know why I did that?" he asked again. His voice was menacing, he was shouting at you and you were scared. "Answer me! You fucking ungrateful bitch!" You  flinched and started whimpering, a weak no left your trembling lips, "It's because you're mine." he spat, he waited for you to say something but you were still trying to process his words. It was a lot to take in, you couldn't believe that Mirio would ever do something like that. You wanted to think this was a joke but no, he was dead serious.

The ray of sunshine, the great hero to be, Mirio Togata was a scumbag, no. He was worse.

You started releasing the situation you were in, there was no doubt, he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you too. The flight or fight instinct kicked in and you tried to free your face from his grasp. After successfully freeing yourself from his chains you got up from the desk and made a run for the door. Mirio stared at you in disbelief, his eyes wide and lips curled upwards he internally laughed at your foolishness. Wasting no time, he quickly got behind you capturing your wrist and pulling you back to his chest. A large hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you securely pinned to his torso.

You were so stupid. Did you seriously think you could get away from him? He is twice your size.

"Where are you going?" he pulled both your hands behind your back and held them there with one hand, the other snaked down under your skirt, "Mirio don't do this. I won't tell anyone. Please let me go." you begged your voice shaky as big, fat teardrops rolled down your cheek. "What will you tell them? They won't believe you and besides," his fingers inched towards your core, you squirmed and wailed. His fingers rubbed against your clothed slit, pressing against your clit sending shameful jolts of pleasure throughout your body. "I will scream," you whispered before breaking into soft sobs. He was going to rape you in your own classroom and there was nothing you could do against it. With no quirk to protect yourself, you knew physically overpowering him was a dream. You just prayed that he would leave you.

"You're gonna' scream?" he scoffed, his tone was cocky- ridiculing you. "Go ahead, scream," his fingers rubbed harder against your clothed cunt as he waited for you to scream. The scream never came and Mirio started, "You're getting wet down here, you know. You like this?" pushing away your panties to the side, he let his finger graze over your sensitive folds a content sigh following right after. "You're really wet. I think I can just slide it in."

He dipped two of his fingers into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "What do you want?" you cried as his huge fingers drilled into your small, tight pussy. "What do I want? I want you to know you're mine. Only mine." he growled in your ear. "But I guess you don't realize that. Do you? Don't worry after I knock you up you won't be able to leave me, maybe then you'll understand." your lips fell agape, and eyes widened threatening to pop right out of your sockets, "N-no pleasee don't do that. P-please-" Mirio pushed you towards the teacher's desk, bending you over it. Your face pressed against the cold wood yet you keep whimpering, begging him to let you free but he doesn't care. He's not listening.

He flips your skirt over leaving your ass a sight to his wretched eyes. He brings his hand down spanking it then pulling away to watch how your plump flesh jiggles, he chuckles. "I should beat this pretty little ass purple and blue," he talks to himself, completely disheartening your cries for help. He smacks your ass until he's satisfied- until your bottom blooms red and his palm stings. Mirio wastes no time in getting behind you, his hand still pinned both of yours behind your back. He slowly releases them, "Now. No funny business," he warns. He knows you wouldn't try anything, you couldn't; not in this state.

One of his hands grips your waist tightly while the other kneads your ass, "Ah shit, look at that." he whispers. "It's beautiful but it's not enough." He is quick to pull your panties down to your thighs and spread your legs open. You hold on to the edges of the desk as you feel his fingers run up your slit and dip into your hole.

"Cute, little cunt. All mine."

His length comes free from its confines and hits his stomach. It's long, hard, and big- so big. You had it impale you before multiple times but it had always been a stretch. His cock was just too big for your tiny pussy! His tip teased your entrance. Your hole drooling over it, he hissed. "I am going to knock you up. You won't be leaving me after that." He pushed inside slowly marveling at how your cunt sucked him up so eagerly, your mouth opened into a silent scream as he bottomed out. He didn't give you time to adjust to his size, he kept rutting his hips. He thrust his cock deep inside you hard and fast, swollen balls slapping against your clit making you moan. The sinful sound of sex: his hips hitting your rear, grunts and moans resonate through the room while you stayed there, under him feeling embarrassed, betrayed, and humiliated. Yet you could not ignore the pleasure he was giving you. His cock hit deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix trying its best to sink past the rim, your cries of agony soon turned into frenzied moans.

You were close to cumming, he could tell by how tightly your precious cunt clenched around his hard length pulling him even deeper, squeezing him trying to milk him for all he's worth. "I feel that..gonna' fill you up," he says in between his grunts. Mirio tightened his grip on your hips as you started squirming beneath him, the coil in your stomach ready to burst and moment. "You're close, baby?" You whined refusing to give in, "Aww, it's fine. Just admit it: you're mine and I'll let you cum." His thrusts slowed down denying to give you satisfaction, you wailed at the loss yet you didn't agree with him. You were to give in, you told yourself but your body didn't agree. It needed Mirio and just like that it had taken over your mind, clouded your mind with nothing but lust and him. As the need for release increased, you screamed. "Ah- fuck. Yes! I am all yours- ah!" he steadied his rhythm and you exploded all over his cock. Creaming around him, your juices flowed down to your legs. Mirio length twitched inside of you, his thrusts became sloppy- he was close.

"Yeah damn fucking right. Good girl." he praised before spilling his seed inside your womb, filling you up to the brim. He pulled out and watched how his cum dripped from your abused pussy only to push it back inside with his finger. "You actually did it..." your voice was meek, head still down and body still bent over the desk. Too weak to get up, you started at the floor beneath you with glassy eyes. Mirio pulled you up and wrapped his arms around you tightly, making sure you don't run away. The hug was warm, in any other case it would have been warm and comforting but not anymore.

"This would not have happened, Y'know. It's your fault for being such a bitch."

Right, of course, you should have been smarter. You should have loved him back when you could have.

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[valdomarx]

Number Theory

On another version of Atlantis, John is a mathematician who is better with numbers than with people. But he's going to have to learn to get on with his team and their bossy leader, Rod, if he wants to survive here.

Stargate Atlantis, McShep, mensa!verse, 9k, rated E.

Also on AO3.

Dr. John Sheppard straightens his glasses, pulls his lab coat around himself, and makes one final, futile attempt to tame his hair.

He takes a last look around the SGC, bustling with scientists and marines and boxes of supplies, and wonders how everybody seems to know their place and what to do already.

Then he steps through a wormhole and into another galaxy.

-

Atlantis is stunning. Terrifying, and dangerous, and liable to kill them all, but stunning all the same.

-

He protests that there’s no need for a mathematician on an offworld team, but the head of science insists. John sourly suspects this Rod guy enjoys watching him wheeze and stumble every time they have to run for their damn lives.

But it turns out it’s useful for a field team to have someone around who can crack codes and work computers. And John hates field work less than he expected to, despite the unpredictability and the peril and all that awful running.

Sometimes, like when he breaks the encryption on a Wraith code in the nick of time and diverts an enemy ship away from its path toward Atlantis, he even feels a tiny bit like a hero.

-

Other than his team duties, though, Atlantis isn’t that much different from Caltech or MIT or the Air Force base at Wright-Patterson, or any of the other places he’s worked.

Everyone knows each other, except for him. Everyone bands together to look out for each other, and he stares in from the outside. Eating in the mess hall is like being catapulted back to high school.

So he makes himself at home in his lab. It’s quiet there, and there’s a plentiful supply of coffee, and there are only a couple of other mathematicians who occasionally pass through and largely leave him alone.

They’re next door to the noisy, boisterous science labs, where all the cool civilians hang out. But that’s fine. He gets used to ignoring them the same way he ignores the marines.

It’s just him and his numbers.

And sometimes, inexplicably, Rod or Teyla or Ronon, who will come by and sit at his desk and drink his coffee. He never understands what they’re hoping to achieve, but he doesn’t mind as long as they don’t touch anything.

-

Teyla appears in the doorway, staring at his whiteboard. It’s covered top to bottom with equations, and he’s had to stick up bits of paper around the walls to fit more on.

“Rod requested that I see how your work is going,” she says, voice giving nothing away.

He grits his teeth against the annoyance of the interruption. “It would be going faster if I could work unimpeded.”

She ignores the petulant note in his voice, squinting closer at the whiteboard. “What is this?”

“This is number theory. It’s the underlying basis for mathematics.”

Teyla raises an eyebrow. “And this is different from what Rod does?”

He sneers. “Very different. That’s just theoretical physics.”

“You do not respect Rod’s chosen field?” She seems genuinely curious.

“It’s fine, for, you know,” his lip curls, “an applied science.”

“I see. So this work can help us locate Wraith hive ships?”

He shifts his weight. “Well. I might need to, uhh, collaborate with Rod on that. I provide the conceptual models and he does the,” he waves dismissively, “practical calculations.”

“It seems that you two accomplish more when you work together.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t go that far. But he’s useful as an assistant, I suppose.”

-

When they learn there are three Wraith hive ships on their way to destroy the city, there isn’t much time for personal conflicts. They have a long-shot strategy: They’ve sent an emergency distress message in the vague hopes of rescue from Earth. But the Wraith ships are almost here and they need a plan now.

“Use the jumpers,” John suggests, because it’s obvious.

Rod snaps his fingers. “Yes! Put a nuclear warhead on board, fly the jumper right down the hives’ throats, and detonate.”

Elizabeth blanches. “That’s a suicide run.”

“No, no.” John thinks out loud. “Not if we can remote pilot the jumper.”

“Using the control chair!” Rod chimes in. “Sheppard, you’re a genius.”

John is so focused on the threat he forgets to preen over that.

It doesn’t take long for them to hook up the jumper to the chair and start running tests. Just as well, because death from above is coming imminently.

He knows something is wrong the moment Rod’s face falls while he’s poking at the cables running to the chair.

“McKay...” he says, voice low but insistent.

“I know! I know. Just give me a minute.” Rod disappears back into a bundle of cables. “I can fix this.”

Everything is suddenly, startlingly clear. The remote control won’t work, at least not in time. Someone will have to fly the jumper personally.

He and Rod both have the ATA gene, and both the same dubious piloting skills. But there’s not much skill required in flying directly into a hive, is there?

One of them has to do this.

“So long, Rod.” He turns and runs from the chair room to the jumper bay, not bothering to notify anyone of his plans.

“Sheppard! Sheppard!”

He hears Rod yell after him but he can’t think about that now. He has a job to do.

-

He gets beamed out by the Daedalus at the last moment. The battle is ugly, but the city and the expedition makes it out mostly intact.

Afterwards, Rod drags him into a conference room and yells at him for an hour about his reckless behavior.

John couldn’t give a shit. He has no regrets about his actions.

He gives an insouciant shrug. “Why the earful? It worked, didn’t it?”

“Because I am your team leader, and you didn’t even ask me for permission before nominating yourself for a suicide run!”

“That’s what this is about? Your precious chain of command? Grow up.”

Rod rounds on him and gets up on the balls of his feet. “There are people here who care about you, you dick!”

John blinks at the non sequitur. The idea that anyone would care more about him than about the city and everyone else in it is laughable. “Then they’re idiots,” he snaps and walks out.

Rod can write him up for that in one of the reports he so enjoys filing.

-

It would be nice if he could say that he learns and grows. That he makes friends. That he gets accepted by his peers and makes a home in the Pegasus galaxy.

But that’s not how this story goes. Not yet, anyway.

-

He does manage to make himself useful. He invents a new cryptographic algorithm to keep their computers and communications secure from Wraith interference. Elizabeth even gives him a grateful nod when he presents it to her, and says thank you.

He makes some progress on a quantum chaos approach to the Riemann hypothesis, not that anyone here understands that or how profoundly ingenious his work is.

And it turns out that many of the Ancient systems here are based on binary, just like computers on Earth, so he’s able to help Rod parse some of the more complex code. The two of them spend hours poking through the Ancient operating system, Rod fluttering around and theorizing aloud while John sits quietly in the corner, chewing on a pen and thinking.

It’s more fun than he would have expected.

-

And then, inevitably, he fucks up to a new and truly epic degree. He and Rod find the Ancient’s Project Arcturus, their great hope for extracting vacuum energy from subspace, and he convinces himself he can get it to work.

He’s self-aware enough to know he’s making poor choices, but not mentally strong enough to do otherwise. Because yes, of course virtually unlimited power is tempting, and of course discovering the last great experiment of the Ancients is thrilling. But he's a cautious person. He's not one to take unnecessary risks.

And yet the moment Rod turns to him with that look of delight, saying he's impressed, clapping him on the shoulder like he's done something wonderful, John is just gone. He ignores safety limits and all common sense, and he pushes and pushes and pushes for them to power up the generator, as if his wishes for it to work could make it so.

He wipes out most of a solar system with his hubris, not to mention nearly killing them both, and he's furious down to his bones because he can't figure out why he would have done something so stupid.

-

Bad enough to fail so spectacularly at your work that you devastate an entire star system, worse to have burned whatever credibility you may have built with your team, but worst of all to have to walk every day among people who know all about your inadequacy.

He's in the queue for the mess and a couple of the marines behind him are sniggering, one of them making a not-very-quiet crack about Sheppard’s ego being a weapon of mass destruction. John is staring straight ahead and pretending to ignore them, but the blood is pumping furiously in his ears and he's gripping his tray so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“You got something to say?” Suddenly Ronon is there, all six-foot-three-million-pounds of him, glaring down at the sniggering marine like he might crush his skull with his bare hands. “If you’ve got something to say to Sheppard, you can say it to me as well.”

The marine backs away, hands held high and spluttering apologies.

Ronon throws an arm around John’s shoulder and walks him to a table so they can sit and eat.

John stares down at his food and wills the panic to subside. “Thanks,” he mutters once his breathing has settled.

“No worries, bud,” Ronon says and steals a piece of carrot off John’s plate. “So, how’s that bomb design you were working on coming along? You know I love a big boom.”

John tells him how his models have predicted the highly energetic variety of naquadah they’ve discovered could be harnessed into more efficient field explosives, and Ronon nods along as if this is all fascinating.

In that moment, John knows he would die for this man without hesitation.

-

Perhaps the worst part about the Arcturus incident is how unbearably nice Rod is about the whole thing. He tells John that it was both of their decision, that he doesn't blame him, that sometimes these things happen when dealing with advanced technology.

But John can see the disappointment in his eyes and hear the judgement in his voice. He gets a sick, twisting feeling in his stomach when he thinks about it, and that must be Rod's fault.

Rod picks a bad time to come visit the lab.

"Sheppard," Rod leans against the door frame. "I need your report on the Arcturus mission."

The sick feeling in his gut deepens. He hasn't written the report yet. "Bet you’re enjoying making me catalogue my failures."

"What? No. I just need you to submit a report so I can turn it over to Elizabeth."

"I see. You're looking for someone to blame, right? Going to write about how I pushed you and it's all my fault?"

"Of course not," Rod steps closer and there isn't enough air in the room. "I wouldn't do that. What's going on with you?"

He can't bear the look of concern on Rod's face, which he surely doesn't deserve and will surely evaporate soon enough. "Maybe I've had enough of you reminding me of my screw ups via the excuse of paperwork."

Rod's voice sharpens. "Don't blame me because you're feeling guilty. I can't deal with that for you."

The reminder of his lacking emotional skills stings and he lashes out. "Don't try to therapize me. You're hardly in the position to be doling out life advice." It's a mean, petty thing to say, but he's feeling vindictive.

Rod's eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

John's pulse is notching up and his face is getting hot, the last of his short temper fraying away.

“You’re a people pleaser, Rod!” He realizes he’s yelling. He doesn’t care. “Everything you do is to make other people like you.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Rod puffs up. “I try to be a decent human being. I try to think about others and support them. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s fake! It’s all bullshit. Do you even have a personality of your own, or do you just reflect whatever the last person who smiled at you wants?”

Finally, the cracks in the facade of nice begin to show. “Making an effort to treat those around you with consideration isn’t demeaning!” He gets up in John’s face, waving a finger at him. “Not that you’d know, because you never consider anyone other than yourself.”

“At least I’m honest,” he spits, and it’s venomous. “At least I know who I am. Do you? Do you have any idea who you’d be if you weren’t so absorbed in distracting everyone from your flaws?”

He sees the barb hit its mark. Rod stumbles back like he’s been physically shoved, his face crumpling.

“God, you’re an asshole.” It’s not even angry. It’s small, and quiet, and John is suddenly acutely aware of how much taller he is than Rod, how much he towers over him.

Rod turns on his heel and walks away, and John knows that means he’s won. But he doesn’t feel the usual curl of smug satisfaction he gets when he puts someone in their place.

Instead, he just feels empty.

-

Whatever. It’s not his problem that Rod is having some kind of breakdown. Why should he care that Rod is skulking around the base looking small and miserable? He only said what they both know to be true.

If Rod wants to be a dick about it, that’s on him. If he’s going to remove John from the team, that’s fine. There’s nothing that John can do about it anyway.

He gets back to work, running simulations of ZPM power levels and how long they can expect to sustain the city under different circumstances, given that they won’t be enjoying unlimited power any time soon. He likes modelling, and he knows this work is important.

But for some reason he can’t focus. His gut keeps churning and his temples ache and he’s haunted by the word worthless, worthless, worthless.

-

When his lab door chimes at well past midnight, he’s ready to tell whoever it is to fuck right off. In fact, the excuse to yell at someone sounds great right now.

But when he opens the door to find Rod standing there, twisting his hands anxiously, he’s too shocked to even be snitty. He’d assumed that Rod and he were done, that it was only a matter of time before he was kicked off the team.

But here Rod is, mouth downturned and saying, “You were right, okay?”

John notes the sad wobble of Rod’s chin and bites back the urge to say something dismissive. “About what?”

“About me. I do try to please everyone. I do want everyone to like me.”

It sounds pathetic, said out loud like that, John thinks but doesn’t say.

Rod is still going. “But it’s not what you think. It’s not some ego trip. When I was younger, I used to be -” He lets out a huff of air. “- very different. I said whatever I wanted to whoever I wanted, and I didn’t care if everyone hated me for it.”

John tries to imagine an angry, mean Rod. His brain can’t picture it.

“I pushed people away because I was afraid they’d reject me. I was always alone and I got very good at telling myself I liked it that way.”

An uncomfortable feeling of familiarity crawls up the back of John’s spine, and he ruthlessly quashes it.

“That changed when I went to the SGC. The people there… They believed in me. They wanted my help, and they wanted to help me. I learned that if I was going to work there, to do important work, then I was going to need connections. And to make connections, I had to think about others, and try to be what they needed. It wasn’t only about me any more.”

Something in the preachy tone of Rod’s voice sets John on the defensive, and his shoulders begin to rise, counterarguments springing to his lips.

“Wait, stop -” Rod lays a hand on his shoulder, and all the aggression leeches out of him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m just trying to explain.”

The earnest look Rod is giving him makes his skin itch.

“I care about everyone here. Including you, John. Perhaps I try too hard sometimes, but that’s only because you all matter to me. I don’t want to let you down.”

Rod is talking in plurals, but John gets the impression he’s speaking to him personally. It’s too weighty, to be handed that kind of sincerity without warning.

“I do...” He coughs and looks at his feet, “I do care about the people here as well. I might not be demonstrative about it but I’m not…” he searches for the right word, “... indifferent.”

He doesn’t say the other words he’s thinking, which are cold, callous, heartless, the things people always call him.

Rod’s hand is still on his shoulder, heavy and warm, and he squeezes gently. “I know you do. I just wish that sometimes you’d let other people see that too.”

-

John tries. He really does. Ronon tells him that he needs to get out of the lab more, so he resolves to make time to socialize. He doesn’t really know how to do that, but Teyla quietly slides him a copy of the city’s social activity schedule and suggests he goes through the list.

Painting with Major Lorne - no.

Choir with the medical staff - sounds awful.

Extra combat training - absolutely not.

Mensa club - now there’s a possibility.

“Join us for FUN and FRIENDS,” the tiny advert reads. “All welcome (as long as your IQ is over 150).”

That he can do. He joins the club.

It's him and Kusanagi from R&D and Parrish from botany, plus a couple of the gate techs and one of the nurses from medical. Every Thursday night, they get together to solve puzzles and play chess. It's dorky and awkward but it's kind of nice, actually, and the people there don't seem to dislike him.

He thinks maybe he's getting better at this whole people thing.

-

And then Rod leaves, and everything goes to shit.

It starts off with a crisis, like there always is around here, exotic particles exploding out of a containment chamber which isn’t containing anything. There’s chaos, but there’s also data, so it doesn’t take long before he and Rod are turning to each other as the explanation clicks for both of them at the same time: An experiment to generate vacuum energy being conducted in a parallel universe.

“We can’t do anything from this side,” John reasons. “The bridge is one-way.”

“The inhabitants of the other universe might not even know what the effects here are. We need to go there directly and get them to shut it down,” Rod says, firm and sure. “It’s the only way.”

“But how could we-”

Rod snaps his fingers. “The Ancient shield. That’ll protect whoever travels there.”

“Right. Let me run some calculations.”

His head is buried in his computer when Rod comes running back in with the shield in his hand.

“Fire it up whenever you’re ready,” Rod orders. “I’ve got the shield to protect me.”

John’s head whips up. “You? You’re going?”

“Of course me! Come on, the chance to visit an alternate reality? Who could resist that?”

Icy cold water settles at the pit of John’s stomach. “That’s a one-way trip.”

Rod shrugs, like that’s nothing. “If that’s the cost to save our universe, it’ll be worth it.”

Something like rage explodes inside John’s head. “Absolutely not! I should be the one to go.” He searches desperately for a reason. “You’re needed here.”

Rod gives him a small, sad smile and says, “So are you.”

“That’s bullshit, McKay, and you know it. I’m not letting you do this.”

“Tell you what, let’s flip a coin for it.”

And that’s about as reasonable as he can hope for, so he turns his back to dig a coin out of his lab coat pocket.

That turns out to be a mistake.

“Be safe, John,” Rod says, then he activates the shield and steps into the containment chamber.

That bastard.

-

He spends three days thinking that Rod is gone for good.

He can’t… He can’t think, and he can’t sleep, and he’s angry all the time. When Zelenka asks for his help running calculations on the spacetime tear above the city John bellows at him, calls him incompetent, and says they might as well just accept that the city is going to be torn apart. Then he stays up all night doing the calculations anyway, because it’s better than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for another interminable evening.

He doesn’t bother eating, or showering, because what’s the point if they’re all going to die within a week? There’s a restless, raging scratching under his skin and it’s not like he hasn’t faced the possibility of death before, but this feels bleak and empty and insurmountable in a way he simply can’t deal with.

And then the rift mends itself, and Rod returns on a beam of light, and everyone acts as if they’re back to normal now and that brush with annihilation was just one of those quirky things that happen in the Pegasus galaxy.

But it eats at John, that feeling of powerlessness, that rippling anger of a problem he couldn’t solve.

Rod slides back into life in the city like it was nothing but another mission, and everyone rushes to say how brave he was, what a hero, how selfless he is, and John’s blood boils.

Rod swings by John’s lab with his usual breezy demeanor.

“Hey Sheppard! Wanna grab some dinner?”

The incongruity of Rod in his doorway, smiling casually like this is just another Tuesday, sends something hot and sharp spiking through his brain. “No,” John snarls. “Busy.”

“Okay. How about tomorrow?”

“Busy then too.”

Rod gives a self-deprecating little smile, and John wants to wipe it off his face. “Too busy to make an hour for your team?”

“A team?” he spits. “Is that what we are?”

Rod pales, finally taking in how furious John is. “Of course we are. I thought, since I’m back now, we could -”

“Oh, so you stride back in and decide to grace us with your presence, and we’re supposed to be thankful for that?”

“John, what -”

“You left!” he explodes. He’s shocked by his own vehemence. “You left us all. You weren’t planning to come back and you just left.”

Rod takes half a step forward, his face doing something complicated. “John, listen. I never wanted to-”

“Go fuck yourself!” He shoves at Rod’s shoulders, hard enough to keep him at a distance. He needs space; he needs quiet; this is all too much. “We don’t want you here anyway. You should have stayed in that other dimension. I’m sure it was great there.”

“That’s not-”

“Shut up, McKay.” He tunes his voice to the iciest, most dismissive tone he has. “You should have stayed gone.”

He enjoys a mean spark of satisfaction at the way Rod’s face falls, then he storms out of the lab.

Fuck that guy anyway.

-

Everyone on the base keeps looking at John like he’s volatile, as if he’s about to blow at any minute. Even his team starts handling him with kid gloves, like he’s fragile, and he hates it so much he could scream.

He meticulously constructs the bubble of hostility which has long been his go-to when he needs people to leave him alone. He snaps and snarls, and perfects a glare so hostile that no one dares approach him.

It’s restrictive inside that bubble, but at least it’s stable. At least he gets to decide the reason why people are going to hate him.

-

A few days later, Teyla strides into his lab wearing her patented “take no shit” expression.

“John,” she says, and the false cheery brightness of her tone has him scared already. “You will join me for tea.”

This is not, he recognizes, a request. He begins to mumble excuses but she cuts him off without hesitation. “You will come to my quarters, and we will drink a mug of tea together.” She crosses her arms. “Now.”

There are battles you can win, and ones you cannot. This is most certainly the latter, so he meekly follows her as she sweeps out of the lab and back to her quarters.

Once inside, Teyla forces him into a chair with an excessively firm hand.

“Sit,” she orders.

It’s easier to do as she says.

She carefully prepares the tea and warms the earthenware mugs, strong hands making practiced, confident movements. John watches the motions as she pours the tea and slides a mug over to him.

“Drink,” she orders, and again it’s easier to obey.

The tea is soapy and bland, but he fears her retribution enough not to mention that. He sips as they sit in silence. She regards him heavily over her mug.

Eventually she reaches some kind of conclusion.

“You are a valued member of our team, John.” Her face is impassive but her words are warm. “We would not see harm come to you.”

“That’s. Uhh. Good.”

“But your behavior of late has been,” she narrows her eyes, “ill-advised.”

John opens his mouth to defend himself, because it’s not as if Teyla could understand what’s been going on. But she holds up a hand which stops him short.

“I do not care to listen to your justifications. But you should know that if you continue on the path you have been on, it will be to the detriment of us all.”

John feels like he’s been pulled into the principal’s office to be scolded like a schoolboy. He didn’t care for that shit when he was ten, and he certainly doesn’t care for it now.

“If that was all,” he pushes the mug away and gets to his feet, “I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait.” Teyla’s hand shoots out with a warrior’s accuracy and closes around his wrist. “I am concerned for the team, yes. But I am also concerned for you. I would like to think that we are…” she tilts her head, “friends. And I should like for you to be happy.”

John is embarrassed to find a lump forming in his throat. He’s never truly had a friend before, and that someone of Teyla’s stature and courage would consider him as such has him flabbergasted. He suddenly wants, very badly, for her to think well of him.

“I’ll try harder,” he says. “I’ll try to be better.”

She releases his wrist and gives him a generous smile.

“That is all any of us can do.”

-

He starts small.

He saves up a few of the precious Earth-imported cookies they get for dessert in the mess sometimes and brings them to the next Mensa club night. Kusanagi beams and says that was very thoughtful of him, and Parrish splits a chocolate chip cookie with him while they speed-solve sudokus.

The next day he types up a report about the team’s most recent mission with as much detail as he can remember, and he makes special note of how brave Rod and Teyla and Ronon were.

He saves it to a flash drive and takes it to Elizabeth himself.

“What’s this?” she asks as he hands it over.

“Mission report,” John says, eyes fixed on a tapestry hanging behind her desk.

“Submitting a report without having to be asked five times first? Who are you and what have you done with Dr. Sheppard?”

Anger flashes for a moment, because he’s trying here and she doesn’t need to remind him of his past failings. But he looks down and sees she’s smiling. It’s a joke. She’s joking around with him.

Huh. Okay. That’s unfamiliar, but he doesn’t hate it.

“Maybe I’ve slipped in from an alternate dimension,” he says, and even though that’s not very funny Elizabeth laughs anyway, and that makes something glow inside him.

-

He grudgingly admits to himself that there does seem to be a pattern developing: when he makes an effort to connect with people here and, god help him, be nice to them, then they are happy and so is he. When he yells and pushes people away, they are sad and he is angry.

It’s sort of obvious, really, and he would be embarrassed that it’s taken him so long to figure that out, but humans are bizarre and complicated and not at all like numbers.

He has a hypothesis and now he needs to test it. He should try being more considerate to those closest to him and see if that improves everyone’s moods. If only he could figure out how to do that without the entire experience being mortifying.

He’ll work on Ronon first, he determines. Ronon has always looked out for him and they have a sort of unspoken bond. Finding something nice to do for him should be simple enough.

He decides on a data-driven approach. He takes to following Ronon around, looking for inspiration, trotting after him with a small notebook in hand to record his observations. Ronon finds the whole thing hilarious.

Ronon spends approximately 40% of his free time in the gym, which certainly is a lot, and a further 30% in the mess. Another 10% of the time he goes running around the city, and the remainder of his time is spent visiting with Teyla, stopping by the science labs to tease Rod, or visiting John.

“You like people,” John observes one day, when Ronon is warming up for a combat session with some of the marines. He’s added up the figures and plotted the data into neat hand-drawn scatter plots and histograms. “You spend almost all of your time around other people.”

Ronon’s lips tighten for a second, and then he relaxes. “Yeah, I do. For a long time it wasn’t safe for me to be around anyone, and I hated it.” He looks around the bustling gym and nods. “Now I don’t have to be alone any more. I’ll never fail to appreciate that.”

John squints and scribbles that down in his notebook too. “You like spending time with people even if they’re -” He glances over at the marines, loud and bossy and distastefully laddish, “- strange? Or mean?”

Ronon grins at him. “Even then, yeah.”

“But you go running on your own. Is that what you prefer?”

Ronon stiffens slightly. “No. It reminds me of running from the Wraith. But it’s important to stay fit, and no one here likes running with me.”

Ahah! The perfect opportunity. John bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ll go with you.”

“What, seriously?”

“Sure. It sounds fun.”

-

It is not fun. Running is brutal, and he is terrible at it, but Ronon smiles the whole time and he keeps telling John what a great job he’s doing.

By the time they’ve completed one lap of the route, sweat is pouring off John and his lungs are fit to burst.

“Go get some rest,” Ronon says, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “I’m going to do another couple of laps.”

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks between heaving breaths.

“You really want to do this again?”

“You run every day, right? So I will too.”

Ronon stops for a moment, then hauls John into a giant bear hug, apparently not caring that he’s sweaty and gross, and says, “Thanks, man.”

John is a little awed by how easily he expresses his approval, and how much it means to be on the receiving end of it.

-

He’s noticed on trade missions that the Athosians greatly value textiles, which they weave from plant fibers and dye bright colors. On his next trip to the mainland he slips away to ask the village elder Charin about the rugs which are spread throughout her tent.

She seems surprised by his interest but happy to show off her collection. She tells him how Athosians give rugs as gifts to celebrate relationships and achievements, and then she shows him how they're made.

He trades a whole month's worth of credits for supplies, and when he returns to Atlantis he spends hours each evening delicately weaving yarn through a wooden frame, building up a soft, textured rug. When it's done it's a little lumpy, but it has four clear bands of bright color running through it to represent their team.

He carries the rug to Teyla's quarters and fidgets outside her door.

"John." Teyla squints at him as she opens the door. "You appear nervous."

"I made this for you," he says and thrusts the rug at her. "Charin told me you're supposed to make them for family. This one has stripes for the four of us on the team. Sorry if it's not very good."

Tesla takes the rug and presses a hand to her chest as she examines it. A slow, warm smile spreads across her face.

"It is beautiful. You have my thanks, John. This means more to me than you know."

He has an uncomfortable flutter of emotion and he can't quite meet her eye. He focuses on the wall behind her instead.

"You are as family to me as well," she says, and steps forward to press their foreheads together in the Athosian way.

The frank sentimentality of her manner makes him squirm, but he sort of likes it.

-

Rod is trickier. He is not a person who cares much for stuff, and he always waves off supply runs from Earth, saying he has everything he needs.

But he has been complaining lately that the unstable nature of Lantea's sun has been interfering with some of his measurements. John has an idea that can help with that, even if it does involve working with grubby experimental data.

Once he's ready he invites Rod to join him in the control chair room.

"I did some modeling," he says quickly when Rod arrives. He doesn't bother with a greeting. "To predict solar influence on the Lantea system and help with your experimental readings."

Rod's eyes light up. "You modeled a star for me?"

"I thought it might be," he shrugs one shoulder, trying not to look too anxious about whether Rod will find it weird, "useful."

He plugs a flash drive into a socket on the chair platform and guides Rod into the chair.

"How does it work?" Rod is bouncing with excitement, the same look of delight on his face as when he finds a new piece of technology.

John indulges in a small, proud smile, and says, "Think about where we are in the solar system."

Rod leans back in the chair and its power hums on. Overhead, the holographic display bursts into life showing Lantea and its star, along with all the other planets and comets and asteroids filling the system, with notations on their size and mass and trajectory.

Rod whips the model around, running it backward and forward through time, watching the orbits of the planets dance.

Then Rod zooms in to see the sun up close and gasps. John has linked the model to the city's long range sensors so the display can simulate the star's fluctuations in real time, and as they watch its surface bubbles and releases a tendril of plasma which reaches out into space.

The display follows the plasma as it propagates out through the system, moving first through the asteroid field and then meeting the planet, interacting with the magnetosphere and lighting up the planet's atmosphere with an aurora of dancing colors.

The soft lights of the display are reflected in Rod's eyes, wide and joyful and curious, and the sight makes something like pain but not twist in John's chest.

"This is incredible." Rod pokes further through the interface, looking at zipping comets and distant moons. He sits up and the chair's power fades off. "Thank you."

Heat creeps across John's cheeks, and he busies himself unplugging the drive. "I wanted to do something… nice."

Rod stands and walks over to him, taking the drive from his fingers. But he doesn't let go, keeping hold of his hand. "This is very nice," he says, startlingly close.

And then something very strange happens, and Rod is leaning in and kissing him. John is distracted from the soft press of his lips by absolute bafflement at this turn of events and he freezes up.

Rod steps away and John stares at him, desperately trying to figure out how to respond. "You kissed me," he ends up on, which does have the merit of being true.

Rod rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. I thought that's what you were going for. Was it not?"

John's brow wrinkles. His thoughts are whipping past at a million miles an hour.

That hadn't been his intention - he'd assumed that Rod was straight, not that he'd given it much thought - not that someone like Rod would be interested in him even if he wasn't - but there's something compelling about the concept, something intangible sitting on the edges of his perception. He can't quite see the shape of it.

"I need more data," he decides. "Kiss me again."

Rod breaks into a charmed smile. "I can do that."

This time when Rod leans in he's ready for it. Their mouths meet carefully, tentatively, and he angles his head so they line up better.

Oh. Interesting. The data is looking positive.

"Hmm." John draws back to breathe and consider. "Yes. That's good. Let's do that some more."

“An excellent plan," Rod says, putting his arms around John's waist to pull him closer and kiss him deeper.

Rod tastes incredible. Or maybe he just tastes of stale coffee and power bars, but John’s senses are so heightened that every sensation feels earth shattering, and he's starving for more. His hands scrabble at Rod’s collar, at his arms, at the hem of his shirt, trying to touch everything in a mad dash. He’s determined to get as much of whatever this is as he can before it comes to a crashing halt.

“Hey. Hey,” Rod’s hands are on top of his own, and he’s pulling away like John knew he would. John folds into himself, ready to turn his back as he listens to this is a mistake or we both know this isn’t going to work out or I’d never feel that way about you.

“If we’re going to do this…” Rod is giving him one of those lopsided smiles, soft and genuine. “I’d like to do it properly.”

John, still braced for rejection, has no idea what that means.

“Let me take you to bed,” Rod says, wobbly and uncertain and hopeful, of all things.

“Oh.” He could do that. They could do that. An ocean of unexpected possibilities opens up, glittering and unfamiliar and enticing. “Okay.”

Rod takes his hand and leads him back to his quarters. John’s palm is sweaty but his steps feel light as air.

-

Kissing Rod is excellent. Doing so while lying on Rod's bed is even better, and at some point they both lose their shirts and then there’s even more skin to explore and the comforting scent of Rod all around him.

It's what's next that's stressing him out, because while he's aware of the theoretical steps involved in sex, he doesn't exactly have practical experience to draw on.

There's the ever-present worry that he's missing something, that there's something he ought to know, like there's a handbook for this which everyone got a copy of except for him.

"You good?" Rod is looking at him with those very, very blue eyes. "You went away there for a minute."

His cheeks are blazing, but it seems important to set expectations. "I've never done this before," he admits.

"You mean with a man?"

He squirms. "With anyone."

He waits for Rod to laugh at him, but he merely looks contemplative. "Were you not interested, or…?"

"It never seemed that important, you know? Just another of those things that everyone else did except for me, like going to parties, or having friends, or spending Christmas with family."

Rod's face softens with sympathy.

"And even if I wanted to sometimes, it didn't matter, because who would want this?" He indicates himself with a disparaging hand. He knows what he looks like: too thin, too lanky, messy hair that will never keep a style. He's no one's ideal. "I'm not even sure why you’d be interested."

"God." Rod reaches for him and takes his face in his hands. "You really have no idea, do you?" Rod carefully removes his glasses, sets them aside, and says, "You're gorgeous," like he really means it.

Taking off his glasses makes John feel more vulnerable than taking off his clothes. Suddenly his shield is gone and there's the world, and Rod, and it's all very close and immediate and a little disorienting.

"Hey." Rod pets his face, soft and gentle, "It's okay. We can go slow."

He makes an effort to pull himself together. "I won't be very good at this."

"You don't have to be good." Rod traces his lips with a finger. "You just have to be you."

And that’s mystifying, frankly. But he’ll give it a go for Rod.

They kiss some more, and he relaxes into it, lets Rod take the lead, lets him explore his mouth until he’s boneless and breathless. He breaks for air and is lightheaded, the room almost spinning, but he wants more.

Then Rod is kissing along his jawline, and down his neck, and oh, when Rod’s lips brush against a spot near his throat his entire body tenses and twitches, and Rod makes a curious, happy noise and does it again. It’s a hair away from overwhelming but he likes it, he likes it a lot, and then Rod gently runs his teeth over that spot and John’s hips twitch off the bed entirely of their own volition.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, but Rod doesn’t look put off. In fact, he just grins, says, “Don’t be, I like it,” then pushes John back onto the bed and mouths at that spot some more.

His skin is hot all over and he’s shaking, and god, this is all going to be over embarrassingly fast and they haven’t even gotten all of their clothes off yet.

“Rod,” he says, and it comes out as a whine. “Will you -” He gestures vaguely at the bulge in the front of his jeans and hides his face in the pillow, too bashful to let Rod see him.

Rod pauses from his engrossment in John’s neck to breathe hot words into his ear instead. “Is that what you want?” he asks, and John is fit to burst already. How is Rod so good at this?

“Please,” he says, mumbling into the pillow. Everything is too much and not enough, and he wants, he wants, he wants. “Please, Rod, please -”

“Okay, of course I will, it’s okay.” Rod strokes his flank, petting him like a skittish horse, and that should be mortifying but it’s exactly what he needs. “I’d like to see you though,” he says, and reaches over to touch John’s chin.

John lets himself be turned, lets Rod roll him over so they’re facing each other and their eyes meet. That’s almost overwhelming too, but Rod looks so pleased he thinks he might be able to manage it, and then Rod is kissing him and unzipping his pants and oh, oh, oh.

Rod wraps a hand around his cock and John just melts, like every brain cell he possesses has decided to pack up for the night. He can't even bring himself to blush because Rod is touching him right there and it’s so good, it’s so good, and all he wants is more.

Rod handles him confidently, exploring what he likes: a bit faster, a bit slower, a bit more pressure, a bit less. If John could speak he’d tell him that it doesn’t matter, right now he likes everything, anything, whatever Rod wants to do to him he’d take it happily.

But Rod is a scientist, and he loves his data just as much as John does, so he does some experimentation and finds the ideal speed John likes, and the angle, and then he squeezes gently around the head and John’s orgasm explodes behind his eyes like bright, white light.

He floats for a while, like a spring that’s been twisted and twisted and finally bursts free, and he’s vaguely aware of Rod stroking his face. It’s nice, every muscle in his body slack and comfortable for once instead of clenched down tight.

“You good?” Rod asks, and John can’t help but smile.

“Very,” he mumbles, mouth lax and lazy.

Rod drops a kiss on his temple, and there’s something so casual and caring about that it makes John’s heart squeeze.

“You mind if I get myself off?” Rod asks and heat races up the back of John’s neck. He does not mind that one bit.

“Should I. Um.” He ought to offer, right? That was the polite thing. But, “I don’t really know what to do,” he admits.

Rod smiles softly at him and says, “How about you kiss me?”

And yes, John is definitely on board with that, he can do that. He puts an arm around Rod’s shoulders and pulls him closer, then kisses him: carefully at first, peppering soft pecks to his lips, and then deeper, lips sliding over each other as they grow more heated, and then finally wild and messy, slipping his tongue into Rod’s mouth while Rod pushes his pants down and works himself over.

He feels Rod’s fist bumping up against his thigh, faster and faster as he speeds up his hand, and John can’t help but glance down. He watches in fascination at the way the head of Rod’s cock peeks through his hand on each stroke, red and hard and leaking from the tip. Reflexively, he licks his lips.

Rod is making these soft groaning noises which have John entranced, like he wants to spend every spare minute he has learning how to coax them out of him. And then Rod is biting his lip, and twitching, and staring at him open-mouthed and breathing hard.

“Can I come on you?” he asks, and something in John’s brain short-circuits.

“Yes,” his mouth says for him. “Rod, god, yes.”

He can’t stop staring at the movement of Rod’s hand and, emboldened by a force he didn’t know he had in him, he reaches down to wrap his hand around Rod’s. He lets Rod guide their movements, adding a soft pressure from his fingers so they can bring him off together.

“John,” Rod sighs, full of warmth and contentment, and then he’s relaxing and coming. Fluid splatters across John’s thighs and he did that, he made Rod feel good, and that feels like the best gift of all.

Rod is soft around the edges now, smudgy like a charcoal painting, and when John asks, “Was that okay?” he pulls him closer and nuzzles into his neck, covering both of their bodies and their clothes hopelessly in come, and says, “That was perfect.”

-

John wakes up sticky, rather too hot, and filled with a roiling, anxious feeling. The bed is too small and Rod is too close, and his heart rate picks up as he looks fuzzily around the room.

He should go. He should just go, right now, before Rod wakes up and they have to talk about this and he says something wrong and ruins everything.

He’s squinting and patting at the bedside table, looking for his glasses, when he feels movement behind him.

“Morning.” Rod drops a soft kiss on his shoulder. Then he rolls over, John’s glasses in his hand, and opens them up and pops them onto his face. He slides them up John’s nose, smiles, and says, “There you are.”

And oh. All that panic seems further away once he has the armor of his glasses back, and now he can see the pillow crinkles imprinted into Rod’s cheek. He seems less like an agent of impending judgement and more like Rod, just Rod, Rod who knows him and has seen him at his worst and still, for whatever baffling reason, seems to like him.

“Hi,” he manages, and Rod beams like that was exactly the right thing to say.

“Coffee?” Rod offers. “Or shower first?”

As rare as it is for John to turn down coffee, he really is unpleasantly sticky. Deal with that problem first, he decides. “Shower,” he says, grateful that he’s not required to string together more than single words.

“Sure.” Rod gives his ass a cheeky pat as he rises, then throws him a towel.

He showers quickly and efficiently, but as he steps out and wraps a towel around himself he spots a purpling bruise on the side of his neck in the mirror. He stops to trace it with his fingers, remembering the feeling of Rod’s mouth there, hot and demanding.

“Ahh.” Rod stands in the doorway to the bathroom. “Sorry about that. I got a bit carried away.” There’s a flush on his cheeks, and he looks nervous.

John tilts his head, looks at the mark from another angle. There it is: incontrovertible evidence that he's wanted. What a fascinating concept. “Don’t be. I like it.”

“Oh.” Rod’s eyes go very round and the blush deepens. “That’s good. That’s. Ahh. Very good. I’ll just -”

Rod drops the towel from around his waist and makes for the shower, and John gets an eyeful of his half-hard cock, and then, as he walks past, an ass he has the sudden urge to sink his fingers into. A heat that’s beginning to feel familiar creeps up his neck, and he wants -

What the hell, he thinks, and he tosses his own towel aside to follow Rod back into the shower, delighting in his yelp of surprise when he slides up behind him.

-

“Shep! Think fast!”

John manages to get his hands up just in time to prevent the power bar from hitting him in the face.

“Thought you might want a snack before the mission,” Ronon says with a wink. “Just in case we have to run anywhere.”

“Hey, I’m getting better at that! I’ll catch up with you one day.”

“Sure you will.” Ronon checks the straps on John's tac vest like he always does, then says, "Looking good, buddy," and ruffles his hair.

John used to hate that, but he's given up trying to tame his hair and now he lets it stick up in whatever direction it wants. It's weird but it works.

Teyla bumps her shoulder against his as they walk toward the gate room. "What do you have for us today, John?"

“Remember that strange energy signal Major Lorne’s team picked up last week? I was able to map its topography through space and pinpoint its likely origin, and Rod took a look at the electromagnetic readings and he thinks it might be a power source -”

“So we are going to investigate the signal on P2X-884?”

“Bingo.”

Rod is standing in front of the gate like he belongs there. He claps his hands. "Ready for another thrilling adventure in the Pegasus galaxy?"

"Maybe we'll get to hunt some Wraith," Ronon says, entirely too cheerfully.

"Or discover some hideous alien parasite," Teyla joins in with a gruesome smirk.

"Or accidentally blow something up," John supplies, because that's usually how their luck goes.

"Sounds delightful." Rod grins and yells up to the gate techs, "Dial her up."

As the gate engages with a whoosh and a glow of blue light, Rod reaches out to graze his fingers against John's: a reminder, and a promise. Out of the corner of his eye, John catches his smile.

He stands a little taller, knowing his team has his back, and steps through the wormhole.

[stillwithkook7]

When you two got into an argument (Jungkook) | him as your cold husband

should i leave this as an oneshot or next part ? please comment and don’t let this flop :)

TW: This includes bad language, mentioning of drinking alcohol, the 18+. NO smut, Please don’t read if uncomfortable.

. Requests are open but do note that I only write fluff and angst.

. Please ignore any grammatical errors or mistakes. I don't usually proofread.

. Please refrain from plagiarism and copying my work. If inspired to my work, please DO credit me always.

. To beat the algorithm, interact with this post by liking, commenting, and sharing. Thank you if you would do that.

. Before you read this, please note that everything in this is NOT real and all fictional. This is based on my imagination and entertainment purposes only. If you don't want to read, please feel free to scroll and leave this. I hope you enjoy this!

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“Y/N. Nothing happened earlier between me and Jess! Why can’t you trust your own fucking husband?!” Jungkook yelled at me.

You scoffed at him, “I’m not saying I don’t trust you, Jeon. I’m saying that your flirty and fucked up secretary Jess who has the damn nerve to flirt with you while she’s forcing you to drink! You didn’t do anything as if your not married. I’m concerned about you Jungkook because I am your wife” I yelled back to him.

You and Jungkook are arguing because,

It was around 2:45 AM and Jungkook still wasn’t home so you decided to call Jungkook’s employee and friend, Taehyung. Taehyung said to you that Jungkook’s secretary, Jess who has the history of flirting, seducing, and end up fucking married men, and her current target is your husband. They went to the bar for some “drinks” and what you saw is that Jess is not only flirting but also seducing Jungkook as if she doesn’t know I’m married to him. 

The reason why I was concerned because Jungkook didn’t even do anything to stop her from doing all those things instead he let all those slide. But, what if they end up fucking with each other tonight if I didn’t saw them? What if Jungkook will give in to Jess’ temptation and seduction? No. I can’t let that happen because I am Jungkook’s wife and that’s my responsibility and priority as his spouse.

“Jungkook. Your already married, You didn’t even defended yourself earlier and what if you two ended up having a one night stand? You know I can’t allow that, Jeon. She has fucked married men and I won’t ever and never let my husband be fucked by his own secretary! Just fire her, it’s the best way.” I spoke up to him.

To be honest, Lately I was constantly stressed by work, finances, and including your marriage with Jungkook. You thought of having some space from him, It’s not a divorce nor a break up, It’s just you needed some time alone for a while from him. You still love Jungkook, very much but now your mind want some clear space from everything first. I wanted to rest not stress, that’s all. 

“We need space from each other for a while, Jeon. So we both can think with our minds clearly and you, fix that secretary of yours. I need a break from you, I need it, We need it.” I told him. His eyes directly came to contact with my eyes but now softly. He was believing his secretary more than his own wife and he just realized his mistake. He loved you but sometimes, a cold person he is, he may not show it often but deep inside, you were the only woman he loved in his life. 

Jungkook nodded at my statement and agreed.

“I’ll go by tomorrow morning, I’ll just sleep at my sister’s apartment for the mean time.” You said.

“Okay. When we will come back..?” He asked with now concern and care. You pitied him but you wanted to teach your husband a lesson because you love him, and that’s part of loving someone.

“Most likely a month, let’s say. I’ll miss you, Jungkook” I said directly to him.

“I’ll miss you too, Y/N.”

The next morning, Jungkook finally woke up from his sleep and found you nowhere, it means you already left the house.

You hoped for Jungkook to learn his lesson and realize his mistake during this break period and for you, to focus more on yourself and reduce my stress for the past weeks.

-------

@ stillwithkook7