#(this is before i listened through all of and then became semi obsessed with x&y) and i correctly guessed that it was the 2nd to last track

[snowshinobi]

if u were a song where in the album would u be

[bibbykins]

Heliophilic Rain and His Pluviophile (M)

Yikes, it’s been a hot minute. That’s my bad. I have been having it a little rough with my job and so I’m in the process of finding another one and that among a billion other things is slowing me down. Which makes me wonder if I were to open commissions if anyone would be interested? I also would like to add there is a scene that could be triggering so proceed with caution, please. Either way, thank you for your patience as always, and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: (Soft) Yandere! Yoongi x Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: possessiveness, yandere tendencies, anxiety, unspoken threat of sexual assault, slight violence, oral, penetrative sex, cock warming, toxic relationship (he's yandere ya kno)

Summary: He was the rain just as you were the sun, both too transfixed with watching each other to get any closer. Few things feel more refreshing than drops of fresh rain on heated skin or the warmth of the sun on a gloomy day. It would be a shame to not indulge in the natural wonders of the world before you.

“Her voice was like the wind. I could listen until it was all that filled me. I could listen until she swept me away into the vast ocean of her presence. I would drown if it meant I would drift back to her. Her voice was like the wind. No matter how much I tried to catch it, I would get carried away. Suddenly, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Suddenly, home was wherever she said it was, so long as she did so with that voice of hers.”

“His voice was like the tap of rain against a window. He was asking me to go out to see him, but there was something beautiful about the way I knew he wasn’t referring to me specifically. I was a mere onlooker to his presence. Even so, I would catch a cold if it meant I could reach him, even for a moment. I thought this, knowing I would never have the guts to go outside. I made peace with this until the taps on my window turned into knocks on my door.”

——-

The office had an industrial-chic style about it, filled with neutral tones and the clanging of chains for no other purpose except fashion donned upon its employees. The color palette was gloomy and soothing, just how Yoongi liked it, an aesthetic that his employees gleefully shared with him as well. Each morning, Yoongi would look out his office and admire his growing business, eyes never lingering on one place too long, he loved all of the office equally. This much rang true until he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your form.

“She’s like a breath of fresh air, isn’t she?” Hoseok placed his hand on Yoongi’s soldier as he watched you through the glass doors of the conference room you were currently introducing yourself in, “Don’t be too hard on her, she’s competent and hardworking, okay?” 

Yoongi could barely hear his friend as he lost himself in the way your eyes crinkled from a genuine smile adorning your face. You were his new host to one of the podcasts his company picked up. From the merger with Hoseok’s company full of his college friends, Yoongi went from popular podcast host and semi-popular producer to a CEO of Min Productions, famous music artists in production and performance,  who oversaw the production of music and several podcasts on several topics, and you were what he had initially dreaded.

From the merger, came money, but what also came with it was Namjoon, the PR head of the company Hoseok was a part of, being able to choose one of every five talents for Yoongi to build up, hopefully into fame. Yoongi had just reached his fifth host, the podcasts he chose mostly consisting of music commentary or general life talks from people with aesthetics aligned with his own. However, from the sea of neutral colors and low voices partaking in casual conversation came you.

You were a perky college senior with some light in your eyes still. You were a rare find and had no set style ranging anywhere from pastels to the grunge he was used to seeing, but what never changed was your smile. Your teeth made an appearance at least 10 times a day, judging by the third smile you had just flashed the crew in a two-minute time frame.

Your podcast, however, oddly betrayed your attitude. You ran a sex and lifestyle podcast where you asked questions most people were too shy to throw out into the world pertaining to the unspoken social rules of casual dating and sex. It was interesting, yes, but it didn’t align with the brand Yoongi had been building judging by the synopsis. 

The fuss he made to Namjoon ended as soon as he sat down and listened to a podcast of yours. 

—–

“I have a formal complaint I would like to file!” You proclaimed as Yoongi found himself listening to your most recent podcast, “Why the fuck can’t I get a sugar daddy my age? It’s almost like… like my age demographic consists mostly of broke-ass college kids living with their parents, in a dorm, or like ya girl, an overpriced apartment and not rich as fuck for no reason. Fucking whack, I’ll say it.” He unwittingly cracked a smile at your charm and sarcasm, “I spent one day on sugarbaby.com and had to watch vanilla straight porn at the number of wrinkly dicks I saw instead of profile pictures. That’s like the most boring porn. So here comes a Patreon plug for the brainwashing I will conduct on myself in case I saw anyone’s grandfather’s penis.” You had an unabashed charm about you that urged him to listen more, maybe just one more episode.

Yoongi found himself listening to your entire discography, even the less promoted music you released once every blue moon, which wasn’t half-bad. However, he couldn’t find a picture of you, most likely because you posted under the alias Sugar Sun. The only pictures of yourself being from behind.

“On this episode of men are trash: men are fucking trash. Hello all, Sugar Sun here, and let’s talk about my day,” Yoongi could feel his intrigue grow, as you kept releasing, your delivery became less forced and more natural, “I don’t talk much in class, believe it or not. I’m a stuttering mess and like two people know my name at my big ass university, so when I do talk and my shit hole of a lab partner yells at me in the middle of a presentation to speak up, I cry, in front of the class. But do I stop the presentation? No, I’m fucking frozen with fear, so I just continue with my tears and the presentation. Bitch, what the fuck I looked like a middle school drama kid doing a monologue in front of her math class for no fucking reason.” You took a deep breath, “In conclusion, I’m sensitive and men are trash. Now, to the podcast.”

You had gained more traction with your commentary on romantic life and general comedy, catching Namjoon’s attention, “Hello again, double S here, with a special announcement. I got like, an actual company to sign me! Wild, I know! I’ll get paid and have meet-ups and stuff, which means you lovely listeners will get to soak in my face and talk to me in person and really experience why the only orgasms I’ve had are self-made!”

—–

“Yoongi!” Hoseok tapped his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance you put him in.

“Sorry, she’s just-”

“Be nice,” Hoseok warned.

“Like sunshine.” Yoongi could feel the air enter his lungs as you sat down with a smile, “Like, what the fuck, Hobi?” 

His friend blinked, “Woah, shit, what?” He stifled a laugh, “You know, there isn’t a no-dating policy, right?”

“I’m well aware.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “But there will be if anyone tries anything.” He spoke nonchalantly and Hoseok choked on air at his friend’s obliviousness while the glass doors of the conference rooms were opened, you pouring out from it, waltzing to Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Hello, Mr. Min and Ho-Mr. Jung, I’m Y/n, or Sugar Sun, thank you for this amazing opportunity.” You bowed as Hoseok shook off his bewilderment for just a moment to give you a small bow with Yoongi.

“I look forward to spending more time with you.” Yoongi spoke in his regular gruff voice, the same one that proclaimed to have your hand in marriage just moments before, “I find you’ll be a breath of fresh air to the company.”

“I also look forward to seeing how your podcasts go, you have a photoshoot in a couple weeks, right?” Hoseok smiled warmly at you as you beamed back to him. Yoongi swore the whole exchange was blinding.

“I do! I’m a little nervous, since it’ll be my big face reveal, and I don’t know how well I model.” You giggled and Yoongi found his new favorite song the moment you did.

Yoongi had a tendency to do this, whether or not he wanted to. He was a passionate man. He craved love and could see it coming from a mile away. Despite being one of the seven main heartthrobs of his college campus, he almost exclusively stuck to serious relationships, and he meant it when he said serious. Yoongi was a little, to put it lightly, obsessive. He was a jealous boyfriend, but he did his best to try not to be too overbearing. He was also excessively protective, and the women he dated were grungy free spirits who enjoyed the chase when all Yoongi wanted was to catch them then hold them for the rest of his life. Despite being blinded by his own passion, he could still see when it wasn’t going to last, having accepted to never find a girl to accommodate and sedate him when needed. However, when you looked his way, or he heard your voice, it was something more than a need being filled.

You felt your heart leap out of his chest, trying not to fall into Yoongi’s hands when you first saw him, and here he was, nonchalantly giving you an inkling of a smile. Maybe it was the lack of a solid fuck or a relationship, but you were definitely breaking some HR rules in your mind.

Suddenly, you became aware of the content you dished out. You talked about your sex life often, and he knows you’re inexperienced and terribly horny. You internally punched yourself in the face. He probably thinks you’re so weird. Yet, here you were, a huge fan of Agust D and now Min Yoongi was staring at you.

Yoongi smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ve had my experience with a face reveal or two.”

You returned his smile, remembering the day Agust D revealed his face. The whole world stopped, and you only fell deeper when you looked at his eyes, “I-I remember, I’m a fan.” You looked down shyly before facing him again.

“Funny, I am a fan of yours.” He spoke lowly as Hoseok had long walked away unnoticed.

You giggled stupidly, “A fan?” Your sunny smile beamed at him. He had always preferred rainy days, but if this was what the sun looked like, he could get used to being a little warm here and there, “I can hardly believe it.”

“I’m gone a lot and yet, your voice has a certain factor to it that draws people in. ” He mused as his eyes trapped you, “I wonder where you’ve been all my life.”

Just like that, the bubble popped. The chimes came to a screeching halt. The rose-tinted glasses were abruptly ripped off of your face. The magic cleared, and you were left with the realization that while you had damn near counted every interaction, no matter how minuscule, and he hadn’t cared to remember you until now.

“Here’s my personal cell,” He hands you a pristine card with silver numbers, “Call me if you need anything, and I mean it.” You take the card with a quaint smile that deflates

He’s never noticed you until now, of course. The answer to his thoughts was that you’ve been right here.

Before Yoongi could register the chill in the air without your smile, Hoseok came back, “Hey Yoongs, let’s go, we got a flight in a few hours.“ 

“Right.” Yoongi breaks eye contact with you.

“Have a good flight!” You smile, not as wide as before, and Yoongi sees it.

“See you Tuesday, y/n!” Hoseok waves.

“Don’t be late!” You giggle and as soon as they both are out of earshot, Yoongi grills him.

“You know her?!” Yoongi snaps as he enters the town car.

Hoseok blinks at him, confused, “Duh? I thought that was a given.” Upon seeing his friend’s puzzled face remain, Hoseok’s eyes went wide, “Holy shit, you don’t remember her?!”

The older male blinked in confusion, “I’ve never met her before?”

The younger businessman threw his head back as he placed his hands over his face in frustration, “She was in our forensics class and our history class last year’s fall semester and the year before!” He was exasperated, “Remember the super genius sophomore?”

Yoongi racked his brain. Last year? He had been dating some angsty theology major. How could he have let himself be blinded by a temporary fling when the love of his life was right there? He could kick himself at this moment. No wonder your smile faltered, you had remembered him, “Liar, you can’t be serious.”

“Dude, she tutors me to this day in history.” Hoseok deadpanned, “All she requires is I buy her meals that day.”

“How often do you guys have study dates?” Yoongi grits out as his friend snorts at the notion of it being a date.

“Your possessive is showing,” He snickered, “My girl is all I can see these days, no matter how cute y/n is.”

“I will end you if you touch her,” Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, “Especially with the way you treat girls,” His face scrunches in disgust before he grumbled, “But how often?”

“Every other Tuesday.” Hoseok smirked, “And you mean used to treat girls.” 

Yoongi huffed in agreeance.

—-

“Hello, party people.” Your voice entered Yoongi’s headphones as he leaned back on his hotel bed, “Sugar Sun here, in my bedroom. We’re calm, we’re casual, it is a Friday night and this one goes out to my fellow homebodies.” You switched off to play a song. Part of the contract you signed was that you are allowed to go live whenever you liked to encourage and tend to fans. You explained it was almost a tradition for you to set aside a Friday night in once a month for your fans and Yoongi found in comforting as he lay alone. 

Your taste in music was so unbelievably cute, he couldn’t help but smile at the lo-fi song, “And we’re back, hello all here and all who are joining as I speak. Today I took a tour of the studio my actual podcasts will be recorded in and holy shit, they seem to actually take me seriously as a personality and even artist, so expect some tunes soon.” Yoongi smiled at this, you don’t even know your potential, “I’m looking at the chat now to see if there are any questions, and- oh, yes, I did meet my boss. Yes, the iconic Min Yoongi. He is as dreamy as they say, but I have actually met him before.” Yoongi sunk a little further in shame, “Did he remember me?” You read from the chat, “No, of course not. I’m a voice, but no one will know me if I don’t use it.” You sighed out and he felt his heart clench. He was such a fucking idiot. “Which I don’t much beyond this mic. Am I scared to say this now that he’s my boss?” He held his breath a bit, “No, I doubt he’s listening. He said he was my fan, but he could just have said that to be a nice guy.” You laughed, a hint of sadness evident, “What a fucking disaster I must seem like if he were to, huh?” The sadness in your voice more prominent, “If he is, hi Mr. Min, please erase this from your memory, as well as my sophomore haircut.” 

The live went on as normal and Yoongi drifted to sleep to the melodious sound of your voice for the remainder of the flight. However, even in his dreams, you were just out of reach, and he couldn’t begin to put into words how much it killed him.

—-

You don’t know how you got here. You looked around at the shabby setup. This "photography studio” looked a lot, and you mean a lot, like it was a half-assed school set not long ago. You scoffed, throwing your hands up incredulously when you caught sight of a black couch. You really hated your manager.

The jackass was assigned to you and you were too scared to say how uncomfortable he made you. He treated you like a child, but the way he looked at you was too adult for your taste. He was constantly texting you and asking for photos of your face, which you were constantly rejecting. To top it all off, he wants you to call him Big Brother, not Oppa, Big Brother. You opted for Big Bro instead, since he won’t give you his name. No, to top it all off, he booked your photo shoot with a “friend” of his to “save the company money”. He asked you to show up in a dress no longer than your knees and you felt dumber and dumber as time went on for doing so. 

You stood in the middle of this studio-warehouse apartment waiting for this great photographer to show up. As you stood here, your initial thought was “how fucking ridiculous is that” but the longer you were there and the more you studied the ropes that were no longer as well hid, something in your stomach began to turn.

You were in actual fucking danger. This situation could not be a funny story if you didn’t live to tell it. Your eyes darted from different red flags in the room. A spot of dried blood scratches on the cheap wallpaper, bare plaster marks against the beige wall, a poorly-concealed camera you hadn’t noticed until now. Your chest squeezed when your phone vibrated. 

You could get out of here! All you had to do was send an SOS.

Hoseok: Good luck in the photoshoot from my other half and I! 

You smiled lovingly at the snapchat from the male, the more permanent girl in his life with a smile on her face and an encouraging thumbs-up. They were evidently on a date, finally, so there was no way you could call them to come get you. You would hate to bother them.

Mr. Min: Let me know how the shoot goes. 

You faltered over the message. He was professional as ever. Would he think less of you if you abandoned a shoot like this?

Yoongi agonized over the three dots that stared him down. He had to remind himself to blink as he watched the minutes tick by that felt like hours. What the hell were you typing?

It had been about a couple of weeks since you’ve been under Yoongi’s company and all had been normal. Your routine was the same, and so was his. Except for this time, you two would exchange polite texts on what the other would do.

Sugar Sun: Great song as always!

You would always send exclamation points or some sparkle emojis, even a sun here and there. Yoongi found himself unable to shield his cheesy grin at the texts you sent him. You were always the first person to praise his new work. He found himself craving your praise more and more, but he forced himself to remain professional.

Mr. Min: Loved your live.

He always used punctuation despite using fragments which somehow added an aura of professionalism that he effortlessly radiated in person. Nevertheless, you would always send back a sparkly thank you which made Yoongi melt. He prided himself on not overstepping boundaries by attempting to control your professional life. His self-restraint proved quite strong as he held himself back from taking you out to lunch or giving you special treatment. This restraint was put to the ultimate test when he found out you were assigned Hyungin as your manager. He was an unfortunate employee with constant reports that would ultimately be rescinded by the female employees.

He was a disgusting piece of shit, Yoongi deduced. Hyungin was the brother of the management agency contracted by his company, per Namjoon’s damn insistence,  and he was itching for that contract to end, and soon. Yoongi had to physically hold himself back when he found this information out, trying to respect you by not meddling or keeping tabs on you.

His resolve was a very thin string that was tugged and tugged as the days went on with Hyungin having total control over your schedule and an excuse to contact you 24/7. You were a strong girl and had not made a report. He had to respect that. 

Your lip began to twitch, a movement you quickly halted as you shook the fear off. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were being stuck up. You weren’t like Yoongi, maybe you had to photoshoot in shabby places.

You: I’m kind of scared…

You shook your head, erasing the message and locking your phone. You huffed, it was 30 minutes past the scheduled time. Surely you had the right to leave? You heard the back door open and could feel the bile lurch in your throat.

Something was very wrong. You were not overreacting. There were several heavy footsteps and as they thudded through the warehouse, nearing your reaching form, you could not deny the quaking fear that traveled through your veins like electricity.

One? Two? No, four sets of steps. The uneven rhythm proved as much, too many for a measly photoshoot. Too many for you to take on all at once. The correct amount to hold you down. The correct amount to-

“Little sis, are you here?” A sickening voice called out and you realized the steps stopped with only his continuing. 

He was trying to surprise you. 

“Come on, dear, let’s get to know each other.” You could hear the predatory smirk on his face and you choked on a horrified breath as the fear pricked your skin and pierced your lungs.

You were choking on your own horror.

“Come out, come out,” He called and you were frozen, absolutely fucking frozen. 

Run.

You stood up, breaking into a sprint that was a hair too slow. You felt a calloused, obscenely rough handgrip your forearm with a vigorous force and you screamed. He was squeezing, and at this rate, your bones would surely snap, “Not so fast, little girl.” He stood next to you, breath pungent with halitosis. From peripheral vision, you could see his five o'clock shadow and you realized the size difference and the lack of camera. You couldn’t stop screaming, mimicking every cell in your body that seemed to yell,

RUN.

Just like lightning, you struck him with your head, harder than you knew you could stand. His nose gave you an all too satisfying crack and his grip loosened enough for you sprint again, this time more than quick enough to keep going. You heard the clamoring of footsteps and eventually, all you could hear was the sound of the wind as you turned corners you had no familiarity with, running until your legs could no longer carry you. 

Your legs finally shook you down to your knees in a part of town you barely recognized. You had passed through here once before as a freshman in college sight-seeing. It was a tourist spot and you exhaled on the sidewall as people stepped around you.

You heaved a breath that you swore you had been holding for hours with a small victorious smile. Your eyes scanned the area of regular people and your hands shaking brought attention to the purse you thankfully still had.

Without thought, you ripped it open, using your phone to call the first person you could.

“Y/n?” His voice was gruff, as if he was whispering whilst trying to talk normally, “Is everything okay?” He seemed confused, you had never called him before.

“Can you… uh…” You faltered after realizing the strangled sound you made, voice raw from the screams you let out, “…please come get me.” You nearly whispered.

“Send me your location, I’m on my way.” Yoongi didn’t miss a beat before adding, “Stay where you are, don’t go near anyone.” He ended the phone call and you followed his directions, dropping your pin. You sighed in relief as you took refuge on the sidewalk, draping the cardigan in your bag over your shoulder, securing it around yourself.

Yoongi shot up from his office chair, looking at his employees mid-powerpoint. His marketing team turned into ice at his gaze. His eyes were much darker than a moment ago, and his jaw was like stone, “I have an emergency to attend to, we will proceed at a later date.” The room nodded stiffly as their boss walked out, all of them unaware why, having been too scared to even try to listen to his phone call.

Never in Yoongi’s life had he sped so recklessly. You were 10 minutes away and something was wrong. Your voice had never sounded so vulnerable. He had never heard it that quiet before. You were in a plaza of popular building, and if you had a photo shoot today, this would not be near any studio at all. His blood boiled at the thought of anyone taking away your light.

He slammed on the brakes when he caught sight of your shrunken form on the sidewalk, your head jerked up at the sound as your entire body jumped. Why were you so scared? Your face had a small streak of makeup on the side of your face and his skin only flared as you scurried into the car and Yoongi began driving to a more familiar side of town.

“Please don’t take me home.” You pleaded, unable to face him due to the shame.

Yoongi chose not to prod, for the time being, only nodding in response as he drove. He could see you stare out the window at the passing building and he watched your shaking for curl into the car seat. He settled on this resolve of leaving you alone all the way up to the inside of his apartment until your lip quivered as you plopped down on the couch, eyes unwavering from its spot at your feet. Then, you began to cry. No, not cry, sob, sob your hardest and just like that, a single tear snapped the ever-thinning string of restraint he had left.

You were pulled into Yoongi’s chest as sobs racked through your body, you clutched his shirt as you soaked it with tears of fear, relief, joy, and you couldn’t stop. Hell, you could barely breathe. Even so, Yoongi held you as his expensive dress shirt crumbled under your grip and stained with your mascara and eyeliner proving not to be as water-resistant as you hoped. His grip was unwavering and when a hand went to stroke your hair, you could feel oxygen reach your lungs again. 

“It’s okay.” He breathed, “You’re safe now.” He fought the urge to clench his jaw again as you gripped his shirt harder.

Your breathing began to even as he whispered soft words into your ear until your eyes couldn’t cry anymore. The both of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, clinging onto one another as he felt the softness of your cardigan against his hands. You eventually broke the silence with a meek, “I’m so sorry." 

"Why is that?” He spoke softly, his last intent was to scare you.

“I ran away from the shoot, and I know it’s not professional but…” You shivered, “ He didn’t have a camera.” Yoongi could kill somebody, “He had three other guys with him.” Someone, no, all of them are going to have to pay, he concluded. Nobody involved would leave the ordeal with their lives intact. They would lose everything for trying to take his sunshine away, for making your light falter, for even a moment.

He ripped himself from you, to sternly meet your eyes, “Do not apologize for the swine you encountered.” Your eyes only reflected sorrow, “You’re alive, and that is what matters most, okay?” You nodded.

“You’re not mad at me?” Your voice cracked against your will as you looked up at Yoongi, eyes glassy and begging for reassurance.

He visibly softened, “No, Sunshine, I could never be mad at you.” You nodded in understanding, “But will you let me fix this for you?”

Maybe you should have known from the beginning. You looked at Yoongi, so eager to be your saving grace, eyes intense with intent, and yet his touch was so soft. A man in love was a dangerous man, you once read in a book. Yet, never in your life have you craved such a man before, and if Yoongi’s rage mixed with infatuation could measure close to love, you would take it. He was powerful, he was kind, and he was pleasing to the eye. He was offering you the world in that one question.

“Please.” You cast your pride aside, “They don’t deserve mercy.” An angry tear went down your cheek, “I’m so tired of trying to brave it, doubting myself, denying myself any chance of help.” You could feel the tear trickle with hot fury, “I’m so fucking sick of relying on myself.”

Yoongi was quick to catch the tear with the softest hand you’ve ever felt, “I’m here now.” He spoke with the utmost confidence.

Your relationship with Yoongi from that point for the next couple of months was interesting, to say the least. You had somehow moved in upon his request, him rationalizing it by saying they knew where you lived. Granted, he wasn’t wrong. Hyungin knew where you lived, but within two weeks he and the monsters you encountered were promptly locked in a very dangerous maximum-security prison. You decided not to dwell on how they took such a shitty deal with a well-deserved long sentence. 

Some things were above your pay grade, and you made peace with it.

Even so, he didn’t stop there. He could no longer stand on the sidelines anymore. That line blurred beyond recognition the moment he held you in his arms. He was essentially your new manager, stating he owed you at least that much after letting you fall into the hands of such a monster. Thankfully, the releasing of official statements and press conferences were received well. The victim-blaming for the nature of your podcast kept to an obsolete minimum. Your face still had not been released upon your request and you were able to move on, the media no longer covering the story as the sentencing was sealed.

The months passed in a flurry of Yoongi being awfully vague each time you asked about his personal life. He was constantly home outside of work, which you didn’t mind, but you didn’t want him to put his social life on your accord. You also had much less confidence in his infatuation for you then you did a couple months ago. Every time you tried to make a move, which meant a small brush of physical contact, he was not responding. The last time he gave you affection was the hug during your breakdown. The most you got out of him were a couple of head pats.

Like that did anything for you.

For crying out loud, you ran a sex and lifestyle podcast with no sex from the hot man you lived in the same home as.

Hell, the most emotion you see from him is the purest politeness you have ever encountered.

“Hello my listeners, welcome to the obligatory virginity talk.” Your voice was crisp in the mic as Yoongi laid in his bed, headphones in, listening to the newly released podcast. He was still a loyal listener, despite you living in his guest bedroom. He still could not get enough of your voice. If anything, he craved you more and desperately held himself back. He loved having you with him, but never did he think he would have to turn to rubbing one out during your more racy episodes or when he heard you pleasuring yourself in the dead of night. 

Not even his thoughts could satiate him with you right there, and yet, out of reach.

“It has come to my attention that many of you think I’m a virgin, not that it’s an insult..” He could hear the smile in your voice, “Alas, I am not, but that doesn’t change my hand being the most impressive thing my pussy has seen, I’ll tell you what.” You giggled at this, “No, I take that back, my magic wand is my BFF.” Yoongi shifted, wondering if you had your toys in your room. He had sent for all of your things after all. God, he could already feel his dick hardening. How pathetic you make him at the very thought of you fucking yourself silly, eyes rolled back, vibrator against your clit. He huffed, shaking away the thoughts, “ Anyhow, let’s talk trends I am late to, rare, I know, but what’s this whole spelling coconut with your hips riding someone business?” You pondered, “I haven’t ridden someone in a good while, and my dildo can’t tell me if it feels good, so I’m at a loss here.” You sighed almost longingly, “God, I miss getting fucked, but also romanced,” You groaned, “It’s been a rough as fuck dry couple of months, which didn’t bother me for a while considering… you know, but the world keeps turning and I stay alone but moving on…” You droned and Yoongi went into overdrive.

Did you seriously want to fuck someone? Like someone else? You were living with him now, why would you feel the need to have relations with anyone else? His fists clenched at the very concept. You couldn’t be talking for show, you were say too genuine. Before he could even stop himself, he marched over to his bedroom door, ripping it open.

Only when he did had did he realize that you were in front of him, hand raised to knock on the door, “Oh, hey.” You gave him a smile as you slowly retreated your raised arm, “I was just gonna see if you wanted to watch a movie with me?” Every so often you both would have a movie night in which you would try to understand his feelings with small touches and ultimately fail. Nevertheless, you enjoyed his company. Today, you were buying into an article’s advice and watching a scary one. Not that you were terrified, but you were a jumpy person. 

At this rate, you couldn’t tell if you were horny or just wanted affection.

Both, probably.

Your crush on Yoongi had only worsened throughout this whole experience to top it off. He was hot and kind who could blame you? And yet, he never made a single move as if he had no interest. God, what if he didn’t have any interest?

Your heart sank for a moment, “If not, I think I was gonna try to go out-”

“No!” Your eyes widened at Yoongi’s panicked tone when he cleared his throat, “I mean, I want to watch a movie, so you don’t have to go out.” He muttered and you nodded slowly. He could not have you going out, not after what he heard. You were craving other people. He couldn’t bear the thought.

“O…kay…” You smiled a bit, “Well, I picked a scary one if you think you can hang.” You gave him a sly smile before going to make popcorn. 

He smiled as he watched you prance to the kitchen. You were so beautiful and fun and everything he’s ever needed. All that was left was for you to be his, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He had to be a gentleman. He had to wait for the right time. That’s what Jin, Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung said. The only issue was that he had no idea what the hell that meant.

“You know, Mr. Min-”

“Yoongi.” He was quick as ever to correct you, “Please.” He sounded more desperate than usual and you nodded.

“Right, well I was just going to say that you have absurd taste in snacks.” You said with a chuckle, “All I ever see in you cupboards are coffee.” You wistfully sigh, “I need to go grocery shopping.”

The sound of you being so domestic-made Yoongi break into an ill-concealed smile as he settled onto the sofa, setting the oddly scary movie you chose up, “I can take you on Saturday.” You nodded when you finally found a bag of chips and sat next to the man of your affection with a cushion between the two of you.

You really couldn’t say what the movie was about, you had only seen it between the gaps in your fingers all while Yoongi watched it with a straight face. When it ended he said a short goodnight as always, except something in you, lurched out. 

“Actually, I think I may go out after all.” You swore you followed your mouth’s lead as opposed to the opposite. You just said shit and had to go along with it. Fuck, you didn’t want to go out. You wanted to stay home and be scared that there was a ghost in the closet, but now you had to get ready and shit.

“Why?” Yoongi stopped, hand gripping his door handle much harder than usual. 

You were taken aback by the question. It was valid, you supposed. But was it? How do you even answer that question? “Well, it’s been a while since I've… ya know…” You clicked your tongue, suddenly too shy to say,

“Had sex?” It was so blunt, and his eyes pierced through you and yet, you could feel your core tingle.

You were nothing but a sputtering mess, “W-W, I-I, Mr. Min-”

“Yoongi, y/n.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he stalked over to you. Despite the unconscious steps back you were taking, the couch brought you to an abrupt stop.

“R-Right, anyways, I-” You shut your mouth when Yoongi hovered over you with his presence alone.

“Say it,” He glared daggers into your form, “Say my name.” Before you could even open your mouth Yoongi groaned, slamming his hands on the couch on either side of you in frustration, “God, why do you want other people when I’m right fucking here?” Your mouth was agape at this, “I’m so sick of holding myself back.” He cursed, body pressing against yours.

“What do you mean? Other people?” You mustered and Yoongi let out a chuckle void of humor.

“I listened to your podcast about wanting to be with someone and getting romance and…” Yoongi seriously thought you had been referring to anyone but him? Him? Seriously? The hot man in the place you live? You couldn’t stifle your laugh which caused his rant to falter, “How is this a laughing matter I am-”

“So fucking dense.” You giggled, “I’ve wanted you to at least look my way for the past three years, and you seriously think I want to be with other people?!” You sighed, “I live with you for fuck’s sake, and you won’t touch me!” Now, you were letting your frustrations out, “I brush your hand, I touch thighs with you, I-I  scare the shit out of myself hoping you’ll at least hold me!” You heaved a breath, “And all you do is stay still!” You let out a frustrated yell, “The most attention I got from you was when I was almost attacked, is that what I need to do to draw sap from a fucking rock?!”

Yoongi flared at this, “Don’t ever think about putting yourself in danger.” He pointed at you, “I couldn’t take it, and I can’t take you not being honest with me, I thought you never noticed-” He was being a hypocrite, but he didn’t care.

“How could you say I don’t notice you when you straight up forgot I existed until this year?!” Yoongi was the one dumbfounded this time, and you took your chance to push past him, “I will go out tonight because I deserve-”

You couldn’t even breathe the next syllable before your back hit Yoongi’s bedroom door, his hands pinning your wrists above your own, the man breathing heavy. The air was thick with frustration as he gave you a stern look, “You deserve the world, I know,” The anger in you began to dissipate at his sincerity in his words, “And I am so in love with you, that I don’t think I’m worthy of giving it to you,” Your breath hitched at this, “But I don’t care anymore, because I would sooner kill someone before they put their hands on you, I’m sure you know I mean business, Sunshine?” You nodded, every cell in your body springing to life as Yoongi drew his lips closer to you, “So?”

You blew out a shaky breath with an equally shaky smile, “L-Love me? I-" 

"Say you love me, and I’ll do it.” He was more rushed this time, urgent almost, “I’ll stop holding back, and I will give you all that you deserve and so, so much more.” He was almost pleading.

What the fuck do you know about love? What does it look like? Sound like? Is it the way Yoongi smiles at your dumb jokes in the morning? Is it the way his voice sounds through the walls as he practices newly-written lyrics? He was a good man to you. He was an attractive man. He could give you the world, and all he wanted in return was your love. Could all of this be love? Could it be the way he’s made you feel the past couple of years, especially the last couple of months? 

Well, why the hell wouldn’t it be?

“I love you, Yoongi.” You breathed against his lips and he didn’t miss a beat in closing the gap so not even air could come between the two of you.

Electrifying all over again, but so, so different. This wasn’t fear. This was lust lighting a fire within you that Yoongi only stoked further as his silky tongue tangled with yours in a flurry of repressed emotions and endless unspoken confessions. His mouth attached to your neck and you let out a moan, quickly going to cover your mouth. 

He ripped your hand away almost instantly, “You’re rarely this shy when you’re in your room, why deny me your sounds now?” He growled against your ear and the pure sex in his voice only made you moan louder. He was the rain you had admired from afar, but now he was pressed against you, and holy shit, were you getting wet.

“Yoongi, I don’t know if I can wait, I want to cum so fucking ba-ah!” You yelped when his hand went to cup your sex under the long shirt you always wore. You were on your tippy-toes, too sensitive to press your full weight onto him.

“Such an innocent-looking girl with such a nasty mouth.” He squeezed you in his hand and watched in glory as your eyes rolled back, “Since you’re a fan, I’ll be nice.” He teased as he got onto his knees, dragging your panties down with him to the floor.

“Oh shit.” You let out a breath that was quickly stolen when his tongue pressed against your entry. He lifted your leg, placing it over his shoulder as his mouth lapped at your clit and you lost yourself in the feeling, moaning mindlessly.

“You taste like deliverance.” He mumbled against your pussy and this only made your eyes roll back at the eroticism in his words. You couldn’t even keep track of what he was doing anymore.

All you could do was feel. His tongue fucked you into oblivion as he held your hips still, determined to make you come with his mouth, and his mouth alone. He let out a lewd suck and you quivered at the sensation and action. He knew how to play you and please you that you did. His tongue entered you again and he let out a delicious moan which vibrated against your folds, “Fuck, you sound and feel so fucking good!” You cried out as his tongue made thick strokes against you that only sped up expertly as he moaned into you, “Can I cum, Yoongi?” You asked, a smart girl, he concluded. He smirked against you, full intention to deny your request until, “Please, my love, I want to cum in your mouth like a good girl.” You begged pathetically and he couldn’t refuse you. You had him wrapped around your finger and hardly knew it. He got to work quickly, tongue entering you again only to flick upwards and you groaned at this. Groans were quickly replaced by increased screaming as he stiffened his tongue and licked all around your sex. You began to scream his name like a mantra as you tighten around the muscle and came the hardest you ever had.

You slumped against the door, chest heaving, “You okay, baby?” The nickname from him elicited a tired smile. You looked down at the man, lips glossy as he licked them. He sat back on his calves and you wasted no time in diving at him on the floor.

Before he could react, you gripped him through his sweatpants and smiled when you realized he was rock hard, “Can I please ride you?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes and he knew he couldn’t possibly say no.

“Your wish is my command, sunshine.” He growled when you straddle him as he sat, legs spread and back against the back of the couch now. You gave a less than innocent smile as you reached for his member, delicate hands wrapping around him, only to pull it free and closer to your entrance, “Condom?” He questioned.

“Pill, I need to feel you, fuck.” You panted, against logical judgment, but it was lost when you pressed the head against your own entrance, “Shit.” You ground against Yoongi as his head lolled back.

He could hardly handle it as your hips twirled, the tip just outside your entrance. Finally, he had enough, and with strong hands pulled your hips to fill you to the hilt. Your mouth popped open in shock and pure masochistic delight as the pain only added to the high of lust Yoongi gave you, “Sorry, baby girl, I knew you would feel so fucking good.” He emphasized this with a thrust up, “Plus, I could hardly resist being deep inside you immediately.” He growled in sadistic pride as your face twisted in pain and pleasure.

“Hurts so good.” Your hips moved spastically, chasing another high with Yoongi deep inside you. Not once did you lift your hips. You wanted to stay full, and Yoongi was more than happy to oblige, “So good, I wanna stay like this.” You moaned out as he sucked on your neck, hands going under your shirt to grip your breasts with a fevor you craved.

“You feel like heaven.” He grunted against your neck as he littered it with hickey after hickey. You were his and the way you squeezed around him and clawed at his shoulder only spurred him further. 

Yoongi could feel himself twitching inside you and this only made you gasp as you gleefully squeezed around him, “Yes, yes,” You sounded like a prayer to him, “Cum inside me, I need it.” You were nearly screaming as he began to thrust into you at a rapid pace.

“Yeah? You want me to paint those pretty walls white, hm?” He teased you despite the strain in his voice, “Fuck it right into that pretty pussy of yours, no mine.” He grabbed your hips, working your body for his own high, “This is my pussy, isn’t it?" 

"Yes, it’s all yours, Yoongi!” You yelled and with that, he groaned as he came, ropes of cum that you could feel as his hips made good of his promise to fuck it into you. You milked him as you squeezed tighter before coming undone as you came with a scream that sounded like the next symphonic masterpiece to the fucked out man inside you.

You huffed a small chuckle against his neck as your curled your form around his, “So needy.” He teased as he went to remove himself inside of you only to be met with a squeeze from you that made him curse, “You’re gonna kill me, I swear.”

You giggled, “I like how you feel inside of me.” You shrugged before shivering at the empty feeling only to gasp when three fingers were shoved into you. You wiggled in glee, “Fuck.” Your breath hot against his neck.

 "You just like to be full, huh baby?“ You nodded shyly, "You’re perfect.” He chuckled as he used his other hand to stroke your back.

—-

“Announcement time, my dear listeners” You spoke in the studio, trying not to sound like it was through gritted teeth. You counted your blessings that you were alone, “As you know, your dear old Sugar Sun has promised a face reveal and I-Min Yoongi!” Well, mostly alone. You heaved a breath as you came against his mouth for the third time.

The man between your legs looked up at you, eyes way too innocent, “What? I’m waiting for my part.” He spoke nonchalantly despite the wetness on his lips.

“I’ll never get there if you keep making me cum and start over.” You glared and the man shrugged, “I got far enough, right, babe?” You pouted and watched his resolve crack, “Honeypie?” You pleaded and he faltered, “Love of my life?” He grumbled as he sat up next to you in front of the mic.

“Fine, go ahead.” He licked his lips.

“…and I decided to go a step further.” You smiled as the man next to you held your hand, “I will be doing a photoshoot to reveal my face and my collab partner to an upcoming song and my boyfriend…”

You looked to him, eyes twinkling, “That would be my cue.” He placed a quiet kiss on your head, “My name is Min Yoongi or Agust D as some of you may know, and I look forward to my career and life with this little piece of sunshine.” You giggled at this.

“So cheesy.” You gave him a bright smile nonetheless, “Crazy news, I know, but I secured the fucking bag, my dear listeners, he’s never getting rid of me." 

You were joking for the most part, but you didn’t know how right you were. You would not be away from him any longer. You were his sunshine, his little songbird, and his world all at the same time. He needed you like he needed to breathe. Now, you were his. You were his sunshine despite the rain he embodied. The rainbow between the two of you was too intoxicating to even bear the idea of giving it up. Even for a fraction of second. You were his. Every moment, minute, second, everything would be together. He was yours now and forever just as you were his. Blissfully and eternally in love.

"I’m too crazy to let go now.” You laughed as he kissed your temple affectionately.

So was he.

Buy me a ko-fi (it would make my day) 

Masterlist

[blissfullylostinarabbithole]

Outsider Pt. 20

Pairing: Step Dad!Tony Stark x Teen!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Everything’s going to be alright now that Reader’s free, right?

Warnings: Implied mild torture (?)

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Bucky had been sitting in one of the chairs, and shot to his feet when you stepped out of the bathroom. 

“Hey. Your ma and Tony are talking to the doctor right now. Want me to call ‘em?”

You wanted to say yes. You should’ve said yes. But you shook your head, and slowly walked over to the bed. He had offered to help, but you were determined to make it on your own. 

He watched you settle into the freshly made bed, and found himself at a loss when you turned to him expectantly. He cleared his throat, and placed the chair he’d been sitting in next to your bed.

“Before anything else, I promised Pete I’d ask you if it was ok for him to come see you.”

You thought about it for a moment, and while you didn’t want Peter to feel sorry for you once he saw you, you wanted something to feel normal. Peter could talk for hours and not tire, and you decided it would be a welcome distraction. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Silence filled the room again, but unlike before, it was awkward and full of tension. Bucky saw the fresh bandages on the table, and gestured to them. You nodded, and he carefully started to redress your wrists.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally said. “It’s my fault.”

You were glad he was the one to start talking, but you were confused by what he’d said. “What? How?”

“I knew somethin’ was goin’ on.” He took a shaky breath as he wrapped the bandage, unable to look you in the eye. “I shoulda told someone, but I didn’t.”

As Bucky explained, his strange behavior and his hostility toward Dean began to make sense. As it turned out, Dean also had his suspicions about Bucky.

If it hadn’t led to what it did, you might have found it funny.

Whatever good the shower had done you was ruined when he told you about the bombing. Sam could have died. Many others did. 

“I know I can’t even begin to make it up to you, but I-”

“Promise me.”

Bucky finally looked up, brow furrowed as your own determined eyes bore into his. “Huh?”

“No more secrets, Bucky. From now on, if something’s happening, you tell me. Promise me.”

A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed it down and nodded. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” You bit your lip, knowing your next question wasn’t going to go over well. “What happened with Kasady?”

Bucky shut his eyes and sighed. “Don’t, please.”

“I need to know.” Your voice cracked, but you continued on. “Mom won’t tell me and I’m sick of being kept in the dark.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”

“He said he’d come back for me, no matter what,” you quavered. 

“He won’t.”

“He will!” you slammed your fist on the bed, angry that no one was listening. “If he got away, he could still be nearby! If he got caught, he’ll escape! He’s done it before, he told me so!”

“Y/N…”

“But if he’s held somewhere far, I’ll have time before he makes it to New York!”

“He’s not gonna hurt you again.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know what he’s done, what he’s capable of! He said I was his, and that-”

“Stop!” Bucky hissed, quieting you. “I promise you, he’s not going to bother you ever again.”

 “But…” you paused, his expression willing you to understand; something he wasn’t saying. “Oh… oh my god.”

This time, it was you who couldn’t couldn’t look him in the eye. After everything he’d done to separate himself from the killer he used to be, and all the crimes he’d atoned for, he’d become what he wanted to leave behind again. Kasady was a civilian; a terrible one, but a civilian nonetheless. 

You hadn’t seen him reach for you, so when he tried to comfort you, you jerked away from his touch. He pulled his hand back and stiffened.

“Sorry.”

“Bucky, I… I don’t even…”

“It’s fine,” he said through a strained smile as he stood from the chair. “I get it. I’ll send the kid in.”

Deep down you knew it wasn’t your fault Cletus became obsessed with you, but you still felt responsible for the setback in Bucky’s progress. You wanted to apologize, but everything you could think to say paled in comparison to the deed he’d done. 

Instead, you watched quietly as he walked out of the room.

You’d been lost in thought, tracing the scar on your chest as you wondered if your friendship with Bucky would ever recover, and didn’t notice Peter standing by the door, or the stuffed bear in his arms.

He didn’t know many details of what had happened to you, the others had been careful not to speak about it when he was around, but he still picked up on a few things here and there. His throat tightened when your hand pulled the front of your gown down enough to reveal part of the ‘K’, and he hoped that what he’d heard about you having his whole name on you wasn’t true.

“Y/N?”

Your hand dropped onto your lap, and despite how awful you were feeling, you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Hey, Peter.”

“How are you?”

You looked down at your hands and shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

Peter approached slowly, looking for any sign of disapproval to his taking the seat beside you. When you didn’t object, he handed the bear over. You thanked him, and held it awkwardly in your arms. You still felt dirty, and you didn’t want the smell you thought lingered on your skin to transfer to the bear, but you didn’t want to voice those thoughts in order to spare Peter’s feelings if you set it aside. So you held it.

“Ned’s on his way,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. “I was going to get you flowers, too, but then I realized that probably wouldn’t be a good idea.” 

“Good thinking,” you grimaced. “Hey Pete, do you know where I was?”

“No, they wouldn’t tell me much of anything. Don’t you know?”

“No, there weren’t any windows or anything.”

Peter frowned, recalling something he’d heard the Winchester brothers talking about. “Wait, but you sent a letter, didn’t you? How’d you know you were still in the area?”

You reached to scratch your cheek, careful not to press against the bruises. “He let slip he’d been to Brooklyn. Figured we couldn’t be too far off. So, you don’t know where I was found?”

“No. When Thor said he knew where you were, he wouldn’t let me come.”

“Thor?” Your hand dropped, eyes widening in horror. “How did he know?”

“He said Heimdall saw you,” he answered, unsure as to what was wrong. “While he came to get Cap and Sergeant Barnes, his brother went to where you were, but they told me to let the others know they were going to get you. Are you ok? You look like you’re going to throw up.”

When Bucky left, you didn’t think you could feel worse. Now you not only felt guilty, but humiliated as well. You knew someone had to have found you, but didn’t want to think about who that could’ve been. Your body felt as if it were on fire, and if you had been attached to the heart monitor, you were sure it’d be going crazy. It would’ve been alright if it had been some police officers or paramedics that came to your rescue, but to have people you would have to face on a semi-regular basis see you in such a state was too much to handle.

Concerned, Peter reached for your hand, but you snatched it away and lifted the bear to cover your face.

“Y/N? Do you want me to call someone?”

“No,” you whimpered. “Can I have some water, please?”

Peter scrambled from the chair, grabbing the small plastic pitcher from the table and ran out to fill it. While he was gone, you forced back the tears that wanted to escape, swallowing the sobs that tried to crawl up your throat.

You didn’t know how’d you’d ever be able to look them in the eye again, when just thinking about it filled you with shame. Avoiding them was out of the question so long as you lived under the same roof. Relief flooded over you when an idea struck: maybe you could ask to go home. 

Peter returned, pitcher full and looking pleased that you seemed to be feeling better. Ned followed in, struggling with the biggest bunch of balloons you’d ever seen. Peter poured you a cup while Ned tied your balloons to a table where they wouldn’t be in the way and pulled up a chair.

“You look great!” he began, looking away in embarrassment as he realized what he said. “I mean, I thought you were gonna be worse.”

“Ned! God, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well, I did!” he defended. “Hey, do you feel any stronger than before?”

“Ned…”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, Captain America donated the blood for your transfusion. Does that mean you’re all super-y now?”

You couldn’t stop the laughter that followed, no matter how much strain it put on your body. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“It might. I mean, Peter only got bit by a spider.”

“It wasn’t just a spider!” Peter scoffed. “It was radioactive!”

Ned rolled his eyes. “And she wasn’t given normal blood. She has Captain America’s blood. It could give her powers, too.”

You watched the two bicker, the smile slowly falling from your face as you realized how much you would miss them if you left.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Peter and Ned left when your mom returned, and you decided against having any more visitors. Actually, Steve had asked to see you, but even though his blood pumped through your body, you couldn’t face him. Instead, you said you didn’t want to see anyone. It would make things easier in the long run if you were going to leave, anyway.

Tony noticed you’d barely touched the snacks he brought, and frowned when you declined his offer to bring you something else. He’d also noticed how tired you looked, yet when the nurse asked if you wanted something to help you sleep, you declined that, too. When your mother tried to protest, he reassured her it would be fine, and offered to stay up with you if she wanted to doze off. 

“You’ll heal a little faster if you sleep, you know,” Tony offered once your mom fell asleep. You only shrugged, keeping your attention on the old sitcom playing on the tv. “Your body needs rest.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” you snapped, “I want to watch tv.”

Though Tony was a genius, it didn’t take one to figure out why you didn’t want to sleep. It was the first time you’d woken without screaming, after all. 

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t hound you about sleeping, but in return, you have to eat something.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Cletus,” you whined, squeezing your thighs as tightly as you could. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” he mocked. “You know the rules, sweets. You don’t get the bucket until I can see again.”  He grinned at you, knowing what was coming. He was livid when you’d run your ceramic blade across his eye, but was alright. He only needed one good one to watch you cave in on yourself. “Trickle trickle tickle goes the stream!” 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you begged. 

He only laughed, egging you on. You couldn’t hold it any longer, and you felt the ground beneath you grow warm and wet. He howled with laughter as you started to cry, embarrassed that you’d soiled yourself yet again.

“You’re disgusting,” he said. Though the laughter was gone, he was still grinning. “If only your friends could see you now. I bet they’d throw up as soon as they stepped foot in here.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

You woke up with a gasp. It had felt so real, you were still feeling it.

“Y/N?” Tony whispered from beside you. “Are you alright?”

“Oh god!” you grit your teeth. “No no no!”

“You’re safe.” He tried to calm you quietly, not wanting to wake your mother unless he had to. You looked over at him with wide, panicked eyes, which quickly filled with tears. He wasn’t sure what to do when you buried your face in your hands and your body started to shake, until he noticed the wet spot spreading on the thin hospital blanket. “Woah, hey, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you muttered. 

Tony called your name, but you didn’t seem to hear him. “Pumpkin,” he implored. He could see the shame in your eyes as you slowly met his gaze. “This, it’s nothing, alright? Just go and clean up, and I go and get you some clean stuff. See? No big deal.” 

You swallowed thickly, hands shaking as you pulled the blanket back. Staring at the floor, you climbed off the bed and practically ran into the bathroom. You turned the water on, and quickly discarded your clothes before stepping into the shower, not caring the water wasn’t hot yet. 

Again, you washed your hair, convinced you haven’t completely cleansed yourself of the foulness of your captivity. You knew Tony wouldn’t rush you, so you scrubbed and scrubbed until the soap wore down to nothing.

You hadn’t heard anything outside of running water, so you were slightly surprised to find clean garments on the counter and your dirty ones gone. You were careful around your stitches and scabs, but some of them had begun to bleed regardless. Your skin also stung in places where you ran your towel over yourself. Yet somehow, you still didn’t feel clean.

Your mom was still asleep when you stepped out of the bathroom, and a chemically smell assaulted your nostrils. Underneath that, though, you could smell the urine.

“They didn’t clean it,” you said to no one in particular.

“They did,” Tony said as he approached. “I was here the whole time.”

“I can still smell it. I can still smell me.” You covered your nose with your hand, turning away from the bed to the window. “It fucking stinks.”

“Y/N, I swear, they cleaned it.”

‘You’re disgusting’

“God, this is disgusting,” you muttered to yourself. “I need a shower.”

“You just took one,” Tony soothed. “Sweetheart, you just took one.”

“No, everything reeks.”

‘Filthy, nasty little thing’

“Y/N, stop!” Your attention snapped to Tony’s grip on your arm. You winced at the contact, and while he loosened his hold, he didn’t let go. “There’s no smell. At all.”

Your short breaths began to steady, and as you breathed deeper, slower, it faded. Now all you could smell was the faintest hint of disinfectant and the antibacterial soap from your shower. You turned away, embarrassed over the whole thing again, and nodded in submission.

Tony didn’t speak as he gently led you back to your bed, lifting the blanket for you to crawl in. He frowned when you turned your back to him, despite that side of your body having the worst injuries. Knowing you had to have been in pain, he wanted to say something comforting, but nothing came to mind.

“Tony?” your mom yawned from her chair. “How is she?”

He noticed the way you curled in on yourself, and his hand brushed over your head softly.

“Fine, Honey. Sleeping,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Your mom hummed tiredly, taking no time to drift off again. When her breathing slowed, you relaxed, eyes welling with tears of gratitude.

“Thank you.”

He moved his hand to your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night. The old sitcoms played in the background, occasionally making Tony chuckle as he continued to stroke the top of your head. You lay quietly, slowly finding comfort in the contact, if for no other reason than it was keeping you from falling asleep again.

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[whitewolfbumble]

Needed Touch (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: They needed you, and he needed you most of all. You became his addiction until it was taken away, and then you were something else to him entirely.

Anon Request: Can you do a platonic!avengers x wolf!reader, maybe a specific ship like bucky x reader would be fine as well! Since the reader can turn into a big wolf, she often cuddles with the avengers to help them relieve stress, and they all really like her, and once they sent her onto a mission something really bad happens and really angsty stuff?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Wolf!Reader

Warnings: Angst and fluff!, things get intimate for a hot minute

Word Count: About 6k

A/N: Thanks for the request darling! One of my favourite Bucky lines I’ve written is in here, and it makes me weak my dudes. Still a lil wrecked from surgery/pain meds so sorry for any typos, I’ll come back a fix this sometime

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Tony had an anxiety disorder. Bruce had, let’s say, explosive anger issues. Steve struggled, however valiantly, with depression. Natasha was obsessively striving to undo a past that couldn’t be undone, losing her identity and life in the process. Thor- when he was here- was in denial of the brutal grief he had suffered. Sam had a crippling case of survivor’s guilt that would strike hard without warning and stop him dead in his tracks. That was just scratching the surface of your team members, and there were more damaged people where that came from.

And then they added Bucky. You couldn’t even begin to get into the near century of trauma there.

But at least they all had you.

However much love and loyalty there was among you, you were what was holding this team together. Mentally and emotionally they needed you as much as they needed oxygen, being the balm and breath of air to them, outweighing their combined trauma.

You were human and wolf in one, each side of you forming one whole. A mutation, curse, and gift wrapped together, much like the various parts of the others on the team. And quickly from week one you had found you belonged among them.

Maybe it was the protective wolf in you. Or the feeling of companionship you exuded with every encouraging word or soft smile. Or the loving brightly, happy feeling those around you felt when you laughed and played, young and free like those cute little puppies in those cute little videos. Or maybe it was the ferocity and barred teeth you showed on the battlefield, unwavering in your aggressive defense of your team. Or maybe it was your other ability that did it.

Whatever the combination, it had made you a perfect- and necessary- fit to this team.

Tucking back your hair, you absently brushed fingers passed your subtly pointed ears. Settling into to a grey afternoon and a cushy couch had been easy enough, with a half decent book in one hand and the other placed on Clint’s head.

He was lying down on the couch, head on a thin pillow in your lap, feeling the calm of your other distinct ability seeping into him like custard into bread pudding.

Your legs crossed, Tony pressed a pleasant pressure against your knees, his anxiety held at bay by both you and the focused energy of tinkering with a delicate piece of paper-thin metal and razor-thin wires in his hands.

The people changed, the positions changed, but the constant presence of your team- your pack- around you was constant and most welcome.

As the slow afternoon silence stretched, you flipped to the next page in your book but didn’t continue reading. Head shifting slightly you paused, brow raising up ever so little before settling back into place as you understood what your senses had zeroed in on.

“Wonder when they’ll be back,” Clint said lazily, eyes closed and breath easy in his chest.

“They just pulled up,” you said absently back, eyes back on the text in front of you.

“Hmm,” he replied. “Hope it went okay.”

“Yeah, seems like it went just fine,” you said, shrugging a little. “No blood anyway.”

But in the back of your mind and in your ears you felt a nagging. Something off. Something not exactly quite right.

The wolf in you wasn’t separate like Bruce was to the Hulk. Your appearance may shift as you directed it to something akin to a large and black apex predator, a wolf in body and eyes and fangs. But that didn’t mean you were any less you in that state. Even now, human form with only little touches of something slightly “other” marking you like your ears, you still heard and smelt and saw with the enhanced senses of the shadowy beast you formed into. Not exactly as enhanced as in your other form, but still there nonetheless.

And sitting on the couch, listening intently to the sounds of Steve and Bucky return from their mission while your eyes were down in your book, you thought you could hear someone... limping maybe? The metallic, distinct smell of blood was absent though at least. Or maybe there were just too far away for you to smell it yet.

“And how would you know that?” Clint said, stretching and leaning up a bit to lock those hazel eyes to yours.

You wiggled your nose at him from behind your novel in teasing exaggeration.

“I can smell them,” you said, though Clint well knew that by now, though he loved to hear it. He was endlessly fascinated by who you were. That or he had taken a knock to the head too many times and really was that forgetful. “Sweat and quinjet exhaust, but nothing else really.”

Sitting in wait while Clint moved off you, you heard one set of footfalls approach nearer.

Now, however terrible it sounded, you hoped it was Steve that broke his leg and had sent Bucky to find you to help him. That would make this easier.

So, so much easier.

But when the blonde walked in your lips ticked down with a bit of a frown for a split second. Steve sat down beside you, limpless stride firm and precise though clearly a bit exhausted. He grabbed your hand as he sat and the both of you broke out into a smile.

“How’s our resident second super soldier?” you asked, subtly squeezing and moving your hand in his, caressing his palms and fingers. Comfort visibly eased into the lines of his friendly face and liquid light blue eyes.

“Hurt, but not much help there,” he admitted. “Unless you want to try again…?”

“Try again” made it sound like you had only attempted to corral Bucky once to indulge in that other specific ability you had. The man was unwavering like a marble statue, though you’d find a way to whittle him down. Or maybe he would do that himself.

“You know I will, Steve,” you said, standing up with a last pat to his hand and pat to Tony’s head as you shimmied passed him. “He’s one of us, even if he doesn’t yet think it.”

Because Bucky wasn’t the only one who could be considered unwavering and stubborn.

______

The door was open slightly like he was expecting you. He always expected you because let’s face it, he was smart enough to know persistence when he saw it. They others saw it as caring, but you didn’t think Bucky was quite ready to use that word just yet.

His room was somewhat clean, low lamps on instead of the main overhead lights, exuding a softer glow and casting darker shadows. It was small and comfy and how Bucky liked it, despite those descriptors being the opposite of the man himself.

He was peeling off his thick leather coat, arriving just before you did for one glaringly obvious reason. He had been slowed down to a snail’s pace by the broken leg that had somehow managed to make his whole body scrunch up tight and coiled. It was supporting no weight as he stood, held at just slightly an odd angle. Not to mention what you knew to be a pale and pain-hardened face if he were to turn around.

You leaned against the door frame, arms crossed with a bit of a huff you weren’t sure was from sympathy or exasperation.

“I could help with that, you know,” you commented, nodding to his limp as he glanced behind his shoulder to you, though his eyes remained low and didn’t yet meet yours.

You were tired of playing this game with him, but you knew by the weary lines and stiff way Bucky held himself that he was always far more weary of it. He had the ability to end that weariness and strain, if only he would reach out and simply touch you.

“I’ll heal,” he said, short and gruff.

Not because he was mad which you knew, though a flash of something- maybe guilt- sprung up through the pained look, and he took the time and effort to swivel on his good leg to face you more.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he said, trying again and sounding a little more like himself. Seemed to take effort though. “You don’t need to keep checking on me.”

“I’ll stop checking on you,” you said. “When you stop leaving the door open for me.”

You stepped in silently under his watchful eyes, moving and sitting on the bed, back resting against the backboard. You didn’t snuggle down or sprawl out, wanting to be just a little respectful of his space you were invading, but clasped your hands in your lap and crossed your ankles neatly.

Bucky waited for a time before, with a bit of pain crumpled look on his face, turned to the bathroom and closed the door. You closed your eyes as you heard the shower, tried not to listen to him struggle and groan under his breath. When the streaming sound of the water stopped, you flicked the switch beside you and the lights went off, leaving you in semi-darkness with blinds closed tight.

The tiny amounts of grey light that came in was like that of the moon, beaming in cool and gentle. That was his kind of comfort. Bucky still enjoyed the darkness, able to move and stay shielded by the black murky shadows. To hide away from enemies and people and pain.

When he emerged from the bathroom, the light from it shone bright before he clicked it off, his frame clad in a black shirt and grey sweats turning shadowy. Though it was the afternoon, the room itself looked like it was the dead of night, with just those soft beams pooling on the ground at his feet.

“Are you going to wolf out on me?” he muttered through the space between you, though it was good-natured in tone. As much for him as for you.

You snorted quietly under your breath, a smirk on your lips.

“I’m not the Hulk, I have some control over myself.”

There was some hesitation after that from him, wavering there with weight on the one leg. It heavied the air that had been briefly lightened with jokes and teasing a second before.

You didn’t push or pry more than you already had by simply being here, but just waited. After another few moments the pain of standing seemed to outweigh the emotions keeping him from you.

Very slowly, he walked to the bed as you moved up your feet, giving him space to sit awkwardly but firmly on the edge.

He faced out for a few moments before placing his hand in the small space on the sheets between you, eyes refusing to turn to your own. Gently you placed your hand on top of his, ever so carefully entwining your fingers in with his. A minute passed before your other hand moved slowly and measuredly to the middle of his thigh and was held still.

He tensed as you did, but for much different reasons. He flinched at the contact of your fingers brushing his thigh. You at the familiar feeling of this process as it hit you, stark and bare and shook a little bit of your soul as your ability begin to work within him.

“Why do you do it?” he said quietly, face hidden in the darkness. “Why care?”

Everyone here knew what your ability was, even Bucky, though he refused to speak it.

It wasn’t healing, exactly. It was just taking the pain, giving them time to rest for their muscles to ease, for their teeth to stop grinding as they gritted through the pain. They could rest and their bodies would better heal themselves.

They sensed it when they were close to you. Felt it when they touched you. Relief and comfort and freedom from torment.

But the pain had to go somewhere. It couldn’t just evaporate and you couldn’t push it out, you could only pull it into your own body. So you took on their stabs and wounds, feeling the invisible injuries on your skin and in your muscles. At least with you, the second the connection was broken, it was gone. So you just breathed and you bore it.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Bucky,” you started softly, taking a moment as you felt like your femur was snapped in half inside your leg. “It’s not “why care”, but because I care. I know that’s foreign to you. Uncomfortable. And that’s okay for now.”

Your words were met with silence as there was no real answer for it, and none needed. It was truth and that caring he would call persistence. Because you weren’t going to let him live a pained life. Not when you could take it away from him and even if at a cost.

But for now, this was was okay. You could go one step at a time and nudge him along with you.

You stayed long beyond that, until the troubled man unclenched his muscles and his eyes drooped where he sat. Until his breathing became slow and deep and his head lulled. Until you gently laid him down when deep sleep took him over, painless and free.

_______

From there on, things started to change. Bucky had a hard time with your ability at first, clearly. He wasn’t particularly touchy or trusting to begin with, however cordial, which was pretty essential for your ability to work.

The next time it was a broken arm. How a super soldier could keep breaking bones like this, you didn’t know.

You went to his room and waited in the doorway just like before but you didn’t fully enter, leaving him alone instead. He was probably confused as he clutched his lifeless looking flesh arm, probably wondering and hoping you’d be your usual persistence self and silently insist again. But you hadn’t been.

You had gotten through a little to Bucky, even if only once. He had felt it and accepted it. Felt and accepted you, in that moment, finally. It was his turn now, to make the next step and you weren’t sure he would do it. But later that next night you heard a knock at your door.

“Can you help me?” he had asked, quietly, still holding his arm which close up looked almost shattered.

After the next mission and the next injury, he asked when you came to his room as you always did, almost steely look like he was fighting himself on saying something so vulnerable again. But the second he spoke that melted from his face, as though the words would have killed him to say but he survived, relief flooding him once uttered.

“I’m in pain, Y/N,” he had said, gruff and almost desperate. As though through all the years of pain he had reached his limit now that he knew what real comfort felt like. “Can you take it away?”

Soon enough as the weeks rolled by, he was coming to you for everything.

You expected this really, it had happened to everyone for a time.

Everyone hit a point where they clung to you at first, however subtly or not, until they realized both consciously and subconsciously that you weren’t going anywhere. That you were here to stay and this feeling was too. That you could be a reprieve to their pain and demons.

Bucky was different though. He had had no comfort, innumerable demons, and exclusively pain for much of the life he could remember. Now to be able to have physical hurts relieved and not inflicted, and with a simple touch feel comfort in his soul not anguish? It was massive for him.

He was addicted to you now. You were like the sweetest of drugs without overdose or side effects. Though you were beginning to wonder about withdrawal...

“This is really why you need me right now?” you said, in his bright bathroom on one late evening, months after that broken leg.

Bucky found quiet, intimate moments alone with you when he needed you close, always away from the eyes of the team. Pain he could admit to you now, but not them just yet, if ever.

But now whenever you walked into a room you saw the way he twitched, as though his automatic physical reaction was to reach out for you and it took his conscious mind a moment to stop himself.

But in moments alone with you he didn’t hesitate anymore. He let himself touch you and be touched, like a craving filled and peaceful contentment enjoyed.

“Yes,” he said simply, pleasant sigh on his lips as he sat on the bathtub ledge, head leaned up to you, standing in front of him. His eyes were still waters, glassy and serene, framed by those long lashes that matched his deep chestnut hair.

Your hand was placed on his neck, thumb moving across the line of his jaw. Just above your stroking was a small cut from shaving of all things, almost unnoticeable. You were surprised he had even felt himself do it.

This was a man who had been tortured. Shot. Stabbed. Forced to fight. Forced to kill. You would think one little nick would hardly be enough to call on you so late at night.

But a smug unheard purr settled somewhere in your soul, finally and truly having him trust you. The others could sit down beside you and hold your hand or give you warm smiles as your presence eased their soul. But from Bucky you had needed more. You had needed this.

And obtaining it was that same kind of hit Bucky got off of you.

“I think I’m just spoiling you now,” you smirked, his slow blink matching pace with your slow, caressing fingers.

“Then please keep spoiling me,” he whispered, leaning into you.

He rested his head on your stomach, nose and breath and lips pushing gently into the thin fabric draping your soft skin.

Steve had always ran hot, made into a super soldier in the warm New York summer heat. Bucky you thought was always deliciously cool, like the chill of Russian snow where he was made, clinging to him still. It reminded you of clean ice, fragrant pines, and a cloudless moon.

You could feel it all on his breath now, the cool air he sighed into your stomach making your skin tingle underneath. Without thinking your hands found their way into his hair, moving through the thick chestnut strands. Absently his hands moved up your calves to behind your thighs, hooking you lightly into him.

A slow sigh released from him into you, and you slipped one hand under shirt collar at the base of his neck, hand and nails lightly trailing down his spine. He clung to you all the more, a groan caught in his throat as you felt the delicate quiver of his skin under your fingertips. An arm wrapped around the small of your back, the other at the top of your thigh, constricting and binding you in.

You and he practically hummed in sheer contentment at this connection, a shivering pleasure between you both. Countless minutes rolled by, and also no time at all it seemed.

It was only when you pulled away that you saw his blissed and beautiful face, his hand moving up and bunching his shirt above his heart as he stared back at you. Those serene eyes were bright now, with a bright and beautiful smile to match.

“G’night Buck,” you murmured as you stepped back, voice with a bit of a wobble.

You turned, a little off kilter and touched down on the bathroom counter to steady yourself. As you walked out you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror above the sink, eyes half-lidded, a lopsided smile on your face. And it wasn’t from sleep-drunkenness.

It was from comfort.

It was from him.

“Then please keep spoiling me.”

The words ran in your mind like cool water lapping at a shore or warm fingertips trancing delicate lines on soft skin. That was what you dream of that night. It was only when you woke up, room filled with darkness and that comforting feeling gone did you respond to them.

Okay, you thought in silent response, I’ll keep spoiling you.

_______

“Good, we’re just about to start the new mission briefing,” Clint said to you as you walked into the small group by the couches.

When you entered the lounge the next day, several of the team had already gathered.

You expected that telltale flinch from Bucky where he said, wanting but stopping himself from reaching out to you. You had wondered after the closeness of last night if it would be worse. If your junkie would be craving you all the more now.

But he didn’t. He saw you, blue eyes behind brown hair sitting to himself on the side. But didn’t acknowledge you beyond those glassy ocean eyes connecting to yours. Not a flinch. Not a hello. Not a nod.

A frown fell on your face as your heart fell in your chest, and head filled with confusion.

Had last night gone too far? Should you have stopped it?

Well the answer to both of those was probably yes, but he had wanted it and you had wanted to give it, so why would have have been bad?

“We’re moving in on the Serpent Society tonight,” Steve said, looking out to everyone.

You achingly turned from Bucky, a shame and heat on your face now, looking instead to Rogers. Your eyes were intense and trying to hide it, focused on the blonde before you, but you weren’t seeing him.

You weren’t hearing the shuffles or sways of the team as they listened into the briefing. Didn’t smell the gunpowder coming off of Natasha, the steaming coffee in Tony’s novelty mug, or the clean crisp lemon of the freshly scrubbed floor. You didn’t notice anything outside of your focus: Bucky Barnes.

Steve talked on, background noise to you as you focused your senses to a sharp, steel point. Your body altered in response, the wolf in you showing in slight form little by little as you balanced walking the lines to stay on the right side of human-looking so as not to give yourself away.

A golden hue to your eyes began to shine, that liquid gold bright and deep. Nails grew and pointed, turning ever so like claws. You could hear and feel your body change just enough for your sense to enhance enough to zero in on the man you held last night. The one who had held you.

Then you heard it, a deep bass sound vibrating in your ear. A beating, low and rhythmic and pulsing.

A heartbeat, sped up and beating loud. In that moment you heard nothing else.

But you couldn’t feel eyes on you so you cleared your throat, and Bucky flinched, eyes snapping to you as you kept yours dead ahead on Steve, looking down and slightly away to hide the telltale glimmers of the something “other” always under your skin that was starting to show.

The moment his eyes were on you, the sound of his blood pumping and heart beating became thunderous, like the pounding beat of the drum. You heard him swallow, could almost hear his skin tighten, and lungs expand and deflate at a rapid speed.

All because he was looking at you.

You could feel his eyes detached from you, reluctant and pained like dropping a weapon in a fight. His breathing rightened, muscles unclenched just a touch in his shoulders, That modicum of calm was shot to hell when Steve spoke.

“Y/N,” he said, the shift in Bucky palpable to you, practically make you clenched your own muscles. “You’ll be on the west side with Bucky and Clint. They’ll sharp shoot if needed, you’ll watch their backs.”

At your name Bucky’s eyes were transfixed again, thunderclap heart beats almost filling the room and drowning out the sound of the others. You felt him swallow again, heard the creak of his chair as his hands gripped it tighter, felt the heat radiating off him like a heavy summer sun.

All because he heard your name.

You turned and left immediately once the briefing was over, under the excuse of prepping for tonight, but once out in the hall you rested against the cool wall. Again you eyes glinted gold, sense focused on the man inside that room.

He had walked closer to the door- perhaps following after you?- but had stopped. You heard a sigh, the wisps of fingers through chestnut hair as he stood on the spot, stopped by some thought or feeling.

You could hear the downturn to his voice as he answered a question, hear the shuffle of his feet where he stood. You could almost see his expression now, a miserable look, one trying to hide under a blank stare.

You walked down the hall, for the first time not knowing exactly what to do with feelings someone had about you.

This wasn’t about seeking your touch for ease. This wasn’t about comfort or calm. It wasn’t about a physical reaction to you at all, this was about you.

You could sense it, feel it, hear it, see it.

Bucky had feelings for you.

_______

“Are you going to stay like that the whole night?” Bucky said, peering to his side.

The woods were quiet, and most likely through decades of practice, Bucky’s voice lowered and morphed into a tone and volume that matched his surroundings. The forest was old and dark, with near-black greens from the tree mixing with near-black ground and sky.

In this space both you and he found the familiar darkness reassuring, both battle tested and trained to the bone on nights just like these ones.

Right now this wasn’t training, but a mission. You were a sentry and guard for Bucky and Clint, either positioned a distance apart with a gun or arrow pointed towards their targets base.

Bucky had found a bit of a cliff to set up on, body on the ground with sniper rifle pointed diligently and ready.

“Not that I don’t like it,” he continued quietly. “But I did want to talk with you.”

You made no movement or even acknowledgement that you heard him, though there was no way you wouldn’t have.

Tonight you were the wolf in full form, changing into a black beast of the night as soon as was possible. The rest of the Team had barely stepped off the quinjet when you were feet into the woods, shifting with ease like the shedding of clothes.

Black fur, long and silken, lined your frame and blended like a shadow into the half mooned night. Only golden, glowing eyes could be seen now, some feet away from Bucky, half watching his back and half watching for an enemy to emerge.

“I had the distinct impression…” he started after a minute of silence followed, pausing briefly before continuing, turning from his position to look behind himself at you. “That you ran from me this morning, and have been avoiding me since.”

The shift was silent, the darkness still hiding you. A human form, still hidden, save those golden eyes, was your form to answer him. Claws were still out and extended, ears at a point, senses picking up everything.

“What makes you think that?” you said, low and quieter than the wind.

Bucky’s jerked back to you in surprise, trying to find your golden eyes in the black.

“Well, usually you at least acknowledge me.” At that your eyes narrowed a little, and he caught their gleam.

Was he upset like you had been that he didn’t even say a simple hello or give a nod to you this morning? Not communicating had not been you forte, as guards tended to come down around you, making speaking and opening up easier. So this may was just a small thing, but it didn’t feel like it. And that explanation didn’t seem like it was the whole picture…

Bucky’s finger went to his ear piece as he stood, eyes locked on yours. “Clint, I’m moving positions. I won’t have eyes on this for minute. Will confirm when I’m back in ready position.”

“I’m not… I know when…” Your sigh came out almost as a hiss, struggling with the words. You focused back up at him, his shadowy frame in the darkness just an arm’s length away. “I’m not exactly clueless about what… feelings and attraction are. I can sense when someone has them for someone else.”

“And?” Bucky said. You went sure if he said that cluelessly or brazenly.

“And,” you said, quiet and firm. “You have feelings for me. I felt it this morning- I feel it now as you look at me- your heart catching and beating like thunder in your chest when you hear me or sense me. Your breath quickens, your skin flushes, you can’t stop blinking, you can’t help but move to get closer to me… I can practically smell the rush or hormones and chemicals racing through you when I’m close. It’s- it’s overwhelming.”

“You can sense all of that?” he said, before stepping closer. “What about now?”

You swallowed, brows pulling together, confused. “I… well, yes.”

“And now?” he asked softly, taking another step. This time it set his body right against you, his framed pressed to yours.

You had touched him before. Held him. Felt his skin to yours in quiet moments together. But this was much different.

You didn’t respond, just watched with throat tight and eyes wide as Bucky gazed down, nose brushing ever so lightly against yours. You felt his hand move up, slowly and deliberately up your arm, across your shoulder until it rest on the pulse point just under your jaw.

“Your heart’s racing too,” he whispered, fingertips pressing into your skin.

Silently he dragged them down, slow and smooth, stopping in the middle of you chest.

“And so is your breath,” he whispered.

You almost had a mind to huff and roll your eyes at him, your once distant Bucky long gone. But that reaction was quite lost to the one that was overwhelming you. It burned and tingled you skin and in your soul, it poured out of you in hot breaths and every pounding heartbeat, it rattled your soul as much as his touch did to you now.

Moving back up, his hand held your face, feeling the heat there that was threatening to boil you over now. 

“Your skin is flushed too,” he said, voice smooth and soft compared to the intensity of those blue eyes he had.

“You can stop there,” you managed to say, not exceptionally wanting him to go through the rest of the checklist.

A small smile escaped from him then, forehead leaning down to yours. You closed your eyes as he did, soaking in the feeling of him and the smell of him which somehow seemed more intoxicating than you remembered.

“So what if I have feelings for you,” he said eventually, so whisper quiet you could have dreamt it. “You have feelings for me too, Y/N.”

You could have said this wasn’t real, that this was Bucky just being addicted to a comfort he was deprived of. But someone like Bucky wouldn’t admit to feelings unless they were real.

You could have said you were just reacting to someone being this close or happy with how much he was opening to you, and accidently maybe took things too far. But that also wasn’t true.

All you could do was nod your head up in agreement, your lips brushing delicately against his as you did so. You heard almost a sighing growl as you did, and before you could decide if it was coming for you or him, his lips connect with yours.

In that dark woods you were sure the spark that erupted inside you at his kiss could have been seen for miles. It was like a slow burning fire, bright and intense and eternally warm. The pressure and feel of him against you, his lips moving and sealing against yours heating your soul enough for this lifetime and the next. It was a bliss and comfort you had not yet known in another person and it made you see stars that his connection to you conjured up.

“I’m spotting movement, north west of my position.” The voice over your comm came, breaking the two of you part if only your lips. “Y/N, is that you?”

“No,” you said, sounding as breathless as you felt and hoped Clint would chalk it up to trying to be quiet. Your eyes remained on Bucky though, seeing the same burning fire and pleasant heat in his blue eyes that you felt. “But I’ll check it out.”

Wordlessly you broke away, the cold air seeping across your body where Bucky had just been. But the cold couldn’t penetrate into your soul. That remained a cozy, toasty wash of heat. Taking several steps back, you kept your eyes on him until it was time to go. He gave you a nod by way of goodbye, unable to keep the lightest of smiles on his lips. You reciprocated it quickly before you were off.

You vanished into the dark in a shadowy blur, the change from human to wolf happening in less than it took to take a step. A moment after, you were running.

The pines and trunks of tree whooshed passed you, your paws hitting ground for only the briefest of touches before bounding for the next step. You wove and maneuvered through the forest as though you had made this trek a thousand times, your senses focused and guiding you to where you needed to go.

But a gun shot in the dark, far away from where Bucky was or where Clint should be stopped you mid-sprint. Claws dug into the ground, trying desperately to slow yourself down, until slamming side first into a tree did the job, bruising ribs and jostling your head as pine needles fell down around you.

Ignoring the shots of pain and careening to your right, you took off again, paws stumbling to get traction for several paces until you were back up to speed.

Voices rang out in the comms, all teams checking it. They came concerned, questioning, all converging on the various shots they heard around their respective positions.

You heard it first. It was a snap and then scream that turned to a thunderous roar.

You could feel it in the ground, feel the vibrations in the air. Bruce was gone, and the Hulk had come out. In the distance that roar sounded again, furious and unhinged.

“Pull back!” Steve said in the comm. “No one move towards the gunfire!”

But it was too late.

You didn’t have time to slow down before you heard that snap again, this time at your own feet.

It was like a crack of metallic lightning, and you felt the exploding of your eardrums before you felt the exploding of anguish. The sudden assault stopped you dead again, sending your body rolling and tumbling out of control through the woods then down a short hill.

You slid to a stop on your side, unable to speak or move or scream. Wrapped from your stomach up to your back was a metal set of jaws, like a lethal bear trap with jagged, biting teeth as wide as you palm and as sharp as you teeth. The death trap practically encircled around your whole body.

The pain doubled, then doubled again, poisoned tips of the metal releasing into your bloodstream. That was when you shrieked louder and more torment-laced than you had ever heard. Unable with this trap around you to change back into your human form, the shriek came out as a howl, reverberating through the air loud, unbridled, and broken beyond what you thought you could stand.

The pieces stabbing into you made you howl til you felt you felt you could no longer survive it, the poison made you convulse until you thought every venom-burned piece of you would melt away, the anguish of it was beyond your capacity to understand or function.

But then you felt steps moving closer to you. You heard voices. And why set a trap if you weren’t going to come back for your prey?

Your eyes glowed bright, edged on by the pain and fighting instinct. Your jaw snapped and growled mingled into your whimpers and howls, a pitiful warning at best.

You heard voices you thought you knew, but you couldn’t make them out enough above your own pain. It overtook everything. You thought you saw through the blinding haze of torment a hand reach towards you in the darkness, a slow and soft thing, trying to reach out to you and connect. Maybe to help and comfort, or maybe to hurt you all the more.

Instantly a feral part of you lashed out in ferocity, trying with mad snaps of your brutally strong jaw and sharpened fangs to cut off the hand offering you the unknown. The basic, primal part of you needed to keep hands and touches away from you, terrified and railing against any more danger.

There would be no comfort from someone else, even through your pain you wouldn’t allow it.

But at some point sharp stabs took your breath away yet again before you felt a telltale sign of release. Someway and somehow once you were released, you were like a bat out of hell, running under some hell-driven necessity to try and out run this all-encompassing anguish.

It clung to you as you went. The faster your tormented steps went, the even worse it became. Eventually you were breathless, whimpering and howling all over again, collapsing onto the ground in a blacken, blood-matted mess on the ground.

Digging claws into the ground you tried to move forward, tried to get more distance between you and pain, but you just couldn’t. You whimpered and begged for the pain to end, but it didn’t. Relief didn’t come until the pain overwhelmed every single ounce of your body and soul, and unconsciousness overtook you.

_______

That primal part of you, that frantic and brutal part of your mind that refused to let in any possibility of danger, clung to you like a vice. It gripped you as fast and unrelenting as the pain that would not leave your body.

“Y/N, please,” Tony pleaded, coming up from behind Bruce, one of several in audience on the other side of the glass from you. “Let us help you.”

But you could still feel it. Even curled up on the floor in a small med bay room, you couldn’t escape it.

The feel of metal locking you in, poisoning your body and mind, stabbing so deep into you that it felt like it split you apart. It left you open and exposed and vulnerable, the jaws of the trap sinking down into intimate places that should never have been touched.

You had the feeling of waking up on the quinjet, restrained and furious and unable to fight it. You were locked down and unable to move or run. You were powerless to know what was happening, too out of your mind to put anything together. All you felt was pain and voices and hands touching you, digging into the intimate places all over again.

You felt it when they tried to get you to shift back to human form at the med bay, hands and metal holding you down while you struggled. You felt pressure on your open, bleeding body, hurting you all over again in attempts to heal you. But you didn’t know healing or rational thought, the poison and your instincts taking over and blaring a red alarm of warning and danger and the need to get away.

You felt trapped. You felt locked in. You felt any touch, any subtle brush of feel against your skin would snap and instead you would feel the cutting, stabbing pain all over again.

Your breath came short and hard and shallow, trying desperately to get in enough oxygen to push out the pain, but it never did. You heart still raced, your blood still boiled under your skin, sweat dripping down it. Your claws, fully extended in your human form, matched your sharp teeth, with golden eyes swirled with blood red now.

Those eyes saw through the glass, protecting the others from you and you from escaping. You saw the massive needle with unknown liquid in Bruce’s hand, the braces and shackles in Steve’s hand, Tony suited up in his Iron Man suit. The pleading in their eyes you didn’t see. The pain in their eyes you couldn’t acknowledge.

You used to notice it before. You used to hold their hand when they looked like that. You used to comfort them.

When the door open your body shook with the simultaneous need to break free from this room and them, and recoiling back at the presence of someone approaching.

It was Bucky, hands up, feigning calm and submission, edging closer. He squatted down a few feet from the door while you growled and strained, claws shrieking out a high pitched sound as they scratched along the tile.

“You’re in pain, Y/N,” he whispered to you. “Let me help you… Please.”

There was second of giving in. A second where you would have agreed. But the pain inside you reared its head again, sending out shooting pains that spanned your whole body. Your eyes went red and deadly, snarling at the man.

“No,” you snarled, this time finding your voice, low and venomous, before the pain threatening to pull you into unconsciousness again. “I’m the family pet… and you should... you should just put me down like one.”

You felt the tears falling and the shaking sprouting out from somewhere deep, taking over you. You breathed faster as snarls turned to sobs, feeling him move closer. The darkness creeping on the edge of your vision kept you from moving or fighting him back.

You could feel him beside you, body so close he was almost pressed up against you. But before unconsciousness took you, all he did was place one hand over yours, and the other on your knee.

When you woke, it was more of the same torment.

And again, after that.

Soon you were functioning, but only just. The pain wouldn’t release you, not fully and perhaps not ever. You cringed when people came close. You yelled and snapped at them, you screamed for death sometimes and space from all of them other times.

The whole team was at a loss without you really, giving you the space you snarled and demanded out of pain.

Tony had more panic attacks. Bruce had a harder time reigning in the Hulk. Steve smiled less and frowned more. Natasha threw herself into more missions. Thor plastered on a fake smile and talked as though everything was fine. Sam was more withdrawn.

But Bucky stayed with you.

Once you were on the bathroom floor, claws scratching the side of the bathtub and teeth sunk into your lip to keep from screaming in pain. Bucky found you though, arms wrapping around you as you were hunched and crumpled. You fought him for a moment, struggling and twisting with your tears splashing over the bathroom floor and walls at the effort. But soon enough you gave into him and his gentle touch. In that moment he held you together while you broke apart.

Sometimes he couldn’t though. Sometimes you pushed him away, yelling at him and shutting him out, pain lashing bitingly and bitterly against every cell in you.

But you always left your door open. And he always came back.

To place a hand on yours. To whisper something soft and gentle in your ear. To gather you up off the ground and hold you close. To ease your trauma bit by bit in hopes it would eventually dissipate, just as you had once eased his.

_______

A/N: So if that ended too angsty for you, just reread the “Then keep spoiling me” part up until they kiss then just stop there lol. Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know??

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[poony-madfoot]

Artsy- Part 1

Pairing: Young!Remus x reader

A/n:. The reader is an artist and she loves to sketch, and sometimes, write. The reader starts drawing Remus on her sketchpad a lot when she develops a liking towards him and somehow loses it, only for Sirius and Remus to find it. I wanted to write a big one, so decided to make it into 2 parts. Hope you like it, thanks :)

The History of Magic class was so boring, that despite you sketching without listening to a word of it, you started feeling sleepy. You tried to draw a semi- transparent figure and some ordinary classroom objects behind it , inspired from your scene at the moment, but your eyes became hazy and you were clearly making too many blunders on your sketchpad. Losing the interest, you put down your muggle mechanical pencil you bought in the summer and the put your sketchpad aside.

Remus Lupin was the only one listening to the class. The rest of the Marauders were asleep in different ways- Sirius on his shoulder, James with his head on the desk, occasionally starting up with “What? Evans?” And falling on to the desk again, and Peter was asleep sitting up, muttering something to himself. You looked over to the guys, whom everyone knew- they were so popular, but you never really talked to any of them. As though he knew you were looking, Remus looked back at you. You flushed and looked down in 0.468 seconds, trying to cover your cheeks. You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you woke up again when you heard collective stomps of students leaving the class. You picked your bag up hurriedly, remembering you had transfiguration next, and scurried to class. On the desk where you stupid up from, lay your most priced possession- your sketchbook, your pencil just beside it.

Before class, when you fished through your bag for your transfiguration textbook, you realised your sketchbook was missing. Your eyes widened and you let out an internal scream. It meant everything to you. You got up to get back to Mr. Binns’ class again, when McGonagall came scooting in with a sharp face. Seeing you on your feet, about to leave, she said, “Yes, Y/L/N?”, to which you promptly sat back down. I hope no no one else finds it in that classroom, you thought. I hope no one looks into it, you prayed.

After class, you ran like your life depended on it. The corridors were crowded with students leaving their classrooms for lunch but you didn’t care, you wanted to get to the class. You were trying to catch air as you were breathing heavily, you were tired and hungry, and that sketchbook had so many secrets- BANG!

You crashed into a tall, lean but strong figure because you felt a leap of pain in your right shoulder where you hit the person. “Hey! So sorry!”, someone said as they took your hand and tried to pull you up. You recognised the voice as soon as your thoughts reverted back from the mini blackout you had coz of the sudden crash.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Remus. Thanks!”

“You alright? You seem like you’re in an awful lot of hurry”, he said, smirking a little.

You bet I’m alright, you thought, searching for words. The boy you’ve had a crush on for two years was finally talking to you. “Yeah I’m fine, really! I just was rushing to check-”

And you suddenly remembered why you were running in the first place. You desperately wished you started there in that moment longer, but you had to rush.

“Sorry, I gotta rush. Thank again, see you!”

You ran off before he could call you out or say something. You flew over to the empty class where History of Magic was held two hours ago, and skied to the place where you sat. Nothing. Your lips formed a pout as you hovered all over the desk, looked under, looked at other tables, and even on the floor. Soon you’ve searched every dusty little corner of the classroom but couldn’t find it. You were devastated. With your head flopped down and arms in the pockets of your robe, you walked towards your house common room. You had some real good sketches and poetry in there that you dare didn’t share with anyone. But what mattered to you most was how you had innumerable poetry and sketches about the boy you completely adored. You knew it was creepy, but you didn’t really draw him. You drew animated sketches with his features, and those qualities of his that made him, him. You would be proud of them and you were satisfied with just drawing him whenever you thought of him. You never had to fuss about it, it just naturally came to you. Whatever you drew, you pictured beforehand and when you sat down to draw a person, all you could think of these days was Remus so you just went ahead and sketched what came into mind and it always magically turned out to be a caricatured resemblance of Remus Lupin.

You tickled the pear and tapped the Barrell to the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff when you heard hushed voices towards the end of the corridor. It was very quite so you could hear them faintly, but could make out what they were saying.

“I’m telling you Moony, this looks awful lot like you-”

“It can’t be me, Pads, now can we just give it back to Y/N?”

“No but look! This one has hair just like yours and green eyes and he’s sitting on the desk, taking down notes, listening to class- you always listen in class, Rem-”

“I’m pretty sure many others listen to class and take down notes, Sirius, that’s what we’re supposed to be doing, you know”

“Yeah but we don’t, usually. Anyway, look- there’s like fifty thousand..bloody good ones, Merlin…they all look like they’re of the same person and DUDE he has got SCARS TOO!”

“Wait, really?”

“YES looks like Y/N is obsessed with you too, Moony, look they’re poems here too!”

“Wow, that’s really-”

You heard a chuckle and you were flushed red in your cheeks already. You sprinted over to the edge of the corridor and turned to two slouched boys looking over something that looked like an A3 sized spiral sketchbook-

“Hey! Give me back my sketchbook!”

You ran to where they stood and grabbed the book from Sirius’ hands.

“We’re so sorry, Y/N, I told Sirius we mustn’t look into others’ property but he wouldn’t listen”, explained Remus with an apologetic face and really cute puppy eyes.

“You were looking in there too, Remus!”, you pointed out to which he opened his mouth to say something and looked at Sirius, then down. “Besides”, you added before either of them could speak, “Isn’t it mean to pick up stuff that doesn’t belong to you?”, you asked politely but with added seriousness to it.

“Oh yeah? Then isn’t it mean of you to draw a book full of sketches of my friend here without him knowing?”, asked Sirius, with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised in question. He had a playful smile on, too, which indicated he was not offended by it, he just wanted to hear what you had to say about it.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t draw Remus, I was just-”

Sirius cut you off with, “Green eyes, scars, gryffindor tie, long face and hair nearly as splendid as mine- Y/N, please! Whom do you want to fool here?”

You wanted to die. There was no way out of this situation. Sirius knows it is Remus that you’ve been drawing. Remus knows it’s Remus you’ve been drawing. You hated yourself. Why did you have to behave like a complete creep, drawing pictures, writing poetry and stuff? You were thinking fast to come up with something to say, figure out a way to explain how you were not being a stalker or something, how you almost thought of telling him about your crush on him. You looked at Remus with a start, expecting him to be creeped out by you and say something, but instead, he just stood there with a small smile and eyes that did not indicate anger at all. Infact, his cheeks were a little pink and his eyes, as though waiting for you to stare into them. Then you remembered what you overheard Sirius say earlier- “looks like Y/N is obsessed with you too, Moony-”

You realised you were looking at Remus for too long and broke the stare, to face Sirius and say something, only to find out- he wasn’t there.

It was just you and Remus in a deserted corridor, and he just found out you might have a huge crush on him.

[crowkingwrites]

Bang Bang! (Ch.8)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader

Summary:  The Red Wedding happened a week ago. Your boss, Petyr, insists on celebrating the men who “won” this victory, the Red Kings, an assassination group run by the sour-looking Roose Bolton. You, one of Petyr’s favorites, is tasked to find out more about these Red Kings. Who are they? Who are their clients? Who is next?You’re very good at what you do until you meet him. What do you do? Girls like you can’t fall in love. Does the Pretty Bird fly away with him? Or does she ruin the Bloody Bastard and everything he has?

Words: 2649

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108982/chapters/25885230

Last night. Your stomach in knots. His lips against yours. How quiet everything became. How loud your heat was. Why did he have this effect on you?

“Y/N?” Petyr called out to you.

“Sorry, I’m here,” you said pushing back your hair. “Last night was productive.”

“Tell me about it,” Petyr leaned against his desk. He donned a collared shirt and dress pants which was casual for him. He scratched his almost clean shaven face. Daylight broke through the windows.

“He told me that he has no control or knowledge on the list,” you explained. You leaned back in the chair. Your pajama shorts were comfortable. “Domeric Bolton has exclusive control over the list. Ramsay has his own list.”

“Really? Why?”

“Ramsay explained it like this: whenever you want someone dead, you go to Domeric. Whenever you want someone to suffer, to be tortured, and beg for death, you go to Ramsay.” You watched Petyr twitch slightly.

“So, Ramsay his own list. That included that Lannister spy from the other night. Someone wanted him to be tortured to death. Did he give you any idea who?” You shook your head at him.

“No, he didn’t. He did tell me how he killed him. He poisoned him. It was a quick, painful poison. He wasn’t proud of it, but he was under a time crunch. He needed it done quickly.”

“Poison? A quick acting one. Hm, okay,” Petyr reacted. “What else happened?”

“He told me he didn’t trust me first because I work for you. Both of them do not trust you even in the slightest,” you said. Petyr chuckled. “Roose Bolton is an intelligent man. He is right to not trust me. Ramsay told you a lot considering he said he didn’t trust you.”

“I gained his trust,” you said. “I told him how you found me.”

“In Las Vegas?”

“Yes,” you looked down. The memory was still painful.

“That young man you were with didn’t know who he was dealing with,” Petyr frowned. “You could’ve been hurt. I’m surprised that nothing happened to you before.”

“I told you. Gang members protect their friends. I happened to be friends with a lot of them,” you sighed. “It’s all over now though.”

“It still affects you,” Petyr kneeled down to you, trying to get a good look at you. “You know I care about my birds. You are one of my favorites.”

“What’s your point?” you didn’t want to be rude, but it was already out there.

“I have been putting you through a lot and for good reason. I have an opportunity this afternoon. I don’t want to spoil anything just yet, but it could mean a lot for all of us. You have worked very hard, and I haven’t been too kind about it. I have been ignoring your needs. My point is, do you want to go to therapy again?”

The thought of therapy felt bizarre. You remembered the one on one talking with the doctor. She didn’t judge you or question your decisions. Her advice and exercises helped, but it was the drugs. Like a lot of people, anti-depressants were touch and go with you. They helped you sleep at night and feel somewhat normal some days. Other days you felt numb again.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“Are you depressed? Have I been putting too much on you?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m okay,” you said to him. “Who do I have today?”

“Mr. Kress,” Petyr didn’t even look at his schedule. “He wasn’t happy when I moved his regular appointment, but then I reminded him that you are not his girlfriend and that he pays me for you. Remind him of that fact if he does anything or that sort tonight.”

Mr. Kress was the same. He was always the same. He came. He complained about his wife. He drank too much of the wine, and he complained again. You pondered if any of his money made him truly happy. He made a lot of it, but it seemed he wasn’t happy with anything but you. Did he complain about you to other people? Did other people know of his affair with you?

You felt your phone vibrate. Ramsay: [Is he with you now?]

You: [Yes, he’s doing the same thing again.]

Ramsay: [The same thing?]

You: [He’s complaining on and on and on. I’m so over it. He should divorce his wife already. Date a playboy bunny. Or something.]

Ramsay: [How long has been your client?]

You: [A little over a year. Most clients of mine don’t last this long. They move on to different girls.]

Ramsay: [Any idea why he’s obsessed with you?]

You: [No, I wish he wasn’t.]

“Y/N?” Mr. Kress said, catching your attention. You quickly put your phone back in your lap.

“Yes?”

“Who are you texting?”

“What? I’m not texting anyone, Mr. Kress. It’s only you and me,” you smiled, showing your teeth.

“What was the last thing I said?” He questioned.

“You were saying that your wife’s book club is becoming a nuisance. That her friends and their Oprah-approved books are putting ideas in her head,” you learned long ago how to listen to men and let your mind wander. Mr. Kress sat there with his mouth open. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, I just didn’t think you were-, sorry,” Mr. Kress apologized. He continued on.

Ramsay: [Does he fuck you?]

You: [That’s a rude question. But yes he does.]

Ramsay: [How is he?]

You: [Bad. He only focuses on his own pleasure. I don’t care though.]

Ramsay: [That’s sad. Sex should make people happy.]

You: [Sex is a paycheck to me. I don’t need to be happy.] You lifted your head and nodded at Mr. Kress’ new topic of conversation, his co-workers, he hated that some Hector Lannister got a promotion before him. You wanted to explain to him how things really worked with any Lannister, but it would be fruitless. Your phone vibrated again.

Ramsay: [I could make you happy.]

You felt your heart skip a beat. Your face went red and you quickly covered your face.

“Y/N?” Mr. Kress chuckled. “It’s not that awful. I will get a promotion. They need me there. No need to feel embarrassed for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I still find it awful that higher ranked Lannisters don’t recognize your obvious talent and intelligence.” Your phone vibrated again.

Ramsay: [Can you sneak out tonight? After you’re done with him?]

You: [Good timing  We’ll be done soon. We’re about to go the bed.]

Ramsay: [I’m leaving now. See you soon, babygirl.]

The bed rocked back and forth. You heard it creak under the combined weight of you and Mr. Kress. The rhythm was off. The room was quiet except for your breathing. But it didn’t matter. No matter how awkward it felt, it did not matter.

He was on his way. He was coming to you. You could see him again. Talk to him. Kiss him again. No, you shouldn’t kiss him. He wasn’t a client. Yes, yes he was. He paid for you. Why it did matter? His lips felt so warm. In those moments, everything felt so right. It felt so good.

He killed people for a living. He likes it. He knows how to kiss you. He called you babygirl.

He was complicated.

You watched Mr. Kress leave in his car. His obnoxiously Dodge Challenger drove out of the gates of the Bird Cage. You flew from the window and back to your closet. You slipped on a tiny red dress. A red dress so small that your mother wouldn’t let you out of the house in it. It made you feel dangerously attractive.

Slipping out of your room was easy. The hallway was carpeted. No one would hear your footsteps. At one end of the hallway was Vanessa’s room. She’s never there during nights. Her clients like to take her places and buy her things. At the opposite end was another stairway. You took that stairway down to bar area.

When there wasn’t any parties, Petyr used the bar area to let birds meet new clients and get acquainted. Next to the bar was the hallway to get to the back door. All you had to do is get through the bar without notice.

You snuck behind the bar, ducking under so no one could see you. You semi-crawled through and you saw Killian the bartender give you a weird look.

“Hiding from a client,” you explained. He nodded and went on his way. You continued on. You ducked again under the counter and escaped into the hallway. You cleared the bar area, but then you heard Petyr’s voice. You looked to your left. A closet. Perfect. You hid inside the closet and waited.

“And here, my lady is our kitchen area,” Petyr guided an unfamiliar woman through the hallway. She looked as old as Petyr. Her eyes had the beginnings of wrinkles on them. Her hair was red and in one single braid down her back. She wore a simple dress with a scarf around her neck. Her purse was attached to her side.

“This is a chef’s kitchen. You have a kitchen staff here?” she said, walking into the kitchen. You were about to go, but then you saw someone else follow them. A younger man. He had on a collared shirt with jeans. He paid no attention to anything, but the game console in his hands. You heard various sounds and beeps. He followed them into the kitchen as well.

You quietly walked out and shut the closet door behind you. You could still hear their voices in the kitchen.

“This is very nice. I’m impressed, Petyr,” she said, linking her arm with his. “I imagine you have magnificent feasts made here.”

“I do. They don’t say I throw amazing parties for nothing,” Petyr laughed. “So you like it?”

“I do! Well, I like this part of the house,” she went on. “I don’t like the rest.” Her face turned into a scowl. As if she saw a beetle on the ground, crawling towards her.

“Lysa, you must understand. This is my business. These girls mean a lot to me,” Petyr said. Lysa? Why did that name sound so familiar?

“These girls are also immoral, unreligious, and spoiled,” you took offense to her words. You wanted to give her a piece of your mind, but you held yourself back.

“You don’t know them, Lysa. I promise you, some of these girls are the sweetest things you will ever meet, especially Vanessa. I think you’ll find her taste is very similar to yours,” Petyr explained. He always defended you to anyone who spoke ill of you. Petyr never let someone else call his birds sluts and get away with it. You watched Lysa touch Petyr again. Her hands were all over him.

“Alright, if you say so,” she gave him a peck on the cheek and you swore you saw Petyr twitch. You snuck past them and went through the back door.

The summer winds kicked up and you felt the cold breeze go through your dress. You crossed your arms to bring yourself some kind of warmth. You walked along the property and turned the corner.

There, at the side of the building, was Ramsay’s black lamborghini. You walked towards it. He must have seen you because the next thing you knew he got out of his car and ran to you. His hands grabbed you at your sides. His lips crashed against yours again. He put so much force into the kiss that you both backed up to the side of the building. His hands gripped your hips.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt. You kissed him back with as much force as you could muster. He separated from you and chuckled.

“Hello Y/N,” he darkly chuckled.

“Hello Ramsay,” you greeted. You felt the tension build up again, and you kissed him first. Your tongue begged for entrance into his mouth. He let you in and let you control the kiss—for a couple of seconds. He forced you back into the wall. His tongue went into your mouth without any warning. He explored in your mouth and in your hair. His hands gripped and pulled at your hair. It hurt, but it felt good. Everything felt so good. It was a hot rhythm.

You separated from him this time. His face still close to yours. Your fingers played with his, but you didn’t hold his hands.

“How are you? Was the drive easy?” you said first, breaking the silence. Ramsay nodded.

“Yeah, everything was fine. I had a day off today,” he commented.

“Oh? And what does a hired assassin do on his day off?” you teased.

“I text the prettiest girl I know,” he smiled at you and you felt your face heat up. “I also did a lot of thinking today. About you. About this.”

“What about it?”

“I’m not like this. Not with anyone else. I mean, I’ve had girlfriends. I’ve had lovers, but no one like you,” Ramsay explained. His fingers continuing to play with yours. “After I left here last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to do it again so bad.”

“Me too,” you confessed. You watched Ramsay smile and then bite his lip. He shook his head and his face became serious.

“I know what you are. I know what you do, so be honest with me. I don’t like liars.”

“I know.” Ramsay took a breath.

“If I told you how I felt about you, do you think you would feel the same?” he asked. The words slowly sinked in.

“Ramsay, you do realize—

“I know you’re not allowed to have a boyfriend,” he interrupted you. “I know you are not allowed to date anyone outside of your clients. But, there’s nothing in your job contract that says you can’t have feelings for anyone.”

“How do you know what my job contract is?” you asked, eyes brows raised.

“You don’t want to know,” he said. “It’s not important. What’s important is that I can’t ignore what’s been happening. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. Are you doing this on purpose?” You felt your heart sink.

“You think I’m trying to trick you into having feelings for me?” Ramsay stood silently.

“Seeing what you do I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. All I know is that I wanted to kiss you so badly all day today and I didn’t know if you wanted the same thing,” Ramsay put his hand against the wall and let it rest there, almost trapping you between the wall and him.

“Ramsay, I can’t be your girlfriend,” you said.

“I’m not asking that,” he responded. “I’m asking if you want the same things as I do. I’m asking Y/N if she wants me, not the pretty bird that flies in her cage day after day.” It was hard. You couldn’t admit it to him, but you missed him when he didn’t text you. You waited all day for him to kiss you like that again.

But, the fact remains. You were Petyr’s bird. You couldn’t belong to anyone. It wasn’t up to you, you had a contract to follow.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t be—

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want me?”

“Yes,” you finally said it aloud. “I want you. I wanted to kiss me like that all day long.” It felt good telling him the truth. Ramsay smiled and leaned forward. He kissed you gently this time.

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “Consider me your new regular client then.”