#Keypad Lock Change

[cognitohazard]

if there's one thing i've learned as a dog walker its that you could break in to roughly 20% of houses with a keypad lock in any given area with the code 6656

[lockprolocksmith1]

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[mydearzero]

Unstoppable Force | Omegaverse Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader

Summary: He hadn't had his rut in YEARS. You took suppressants. Some manipulation from Val made sure both those things would change.

Contents: SMUT, mild dubcon, Omegaverse, fem!reader, Alpha!Bob, Omega!Reader, No Y/N, thunderbolts!reader, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding, designations aren't obvious until rut/heat, creampie, light possessiveness, if I missed any tags let me know!

WC: 4.6K

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Masterlist

A/N: I still have Bob brainrot and was thinking about a A/B/O fic and couldn't find any so I wrote it. I've never written A/B/O before so yeah do with that what you will. had to hold myself back from using the phrase 'lost in the sauce' so be glad that's not in the middle of the smut y'all

“I’m not sure I understand,” you let Valentina know. “How is this going to improve my fighting?” She took back the folder she’d slid to you across the table. 

“It’s just some testing, nothing more. Now if you’ll just come with me, I’ll go get us some more drinks. We’ll discuss the details later.” Val said as she picked up the cup she’d handed you earlier. Whatever it had been, it had been sweeter than you preferred. 

“I’m good, thanks. Where are we going?” You politely declined another drink. You walked through a hallway with no windows, no doors, except for the one all the way at the end. Val entered a code into the keypad and held the door open. 

“Just wait in here, I’ll be right back.” 

Your eyebrows raised when you walked into the room. It looked nothing like a meeting room, or a laboratory, for that matter. A large mirror was hung on the back wall. The door closed behind you suddenly. The echo startled you out of your focused assessment of the room. A door on the other side opened, and the hairs on the back of your neck immediately stood up. 

Alpha. 

The smell was blinding, almost making you want to hunch in on yourself. It was natural for it to overtake all of your thoughts, yet it surprised you how much it made you pause in your tracks. Whoever it was smelled phenomenal. You slowly backed away, making sure that whatever you did, you didn’t run. Your back met with the door and you grasped for the handle blindly, twisting it, only to find it locked. You cannot be serious. 

“Val?!” You questioned loudly, sure by now the room was being surveilled. She’d tricked you. To do what, you weren’t sure yet. You shouldn’t have trusted her. Shouldn’t have let your guard down, even for a second. 

Your eyes finally caught what your nose had already told you, hunched in the doorway. Bob? He wasn’t an Alpha, right? He was a Beta, Yelena had told you herself. Was there someone else behind him? There must be. You tried to look around him, but suddenly his frame looked broader than you’d ever recalled it being. 

“Bob? What’s going on?” You questioned. His eyes snapped to yours. He looked just as alarmed to see you as you felt. 

“You can’t be serious!” Bob yelled out to nobody in particular, banging on the door that had closed behind him, presumably also locked. “You can’t do this to her!” 

His breathing was irregular as he spoke your name. “You need to stay back. Just– Just stay there, on that side of the room. I’ll stay here and we’ll wait it out.” He hunched in on himself and crouched into the corner furthest from you, behind a lavish bed. 

This wasn’t research. You still didn’t understand what Val was up to, but this couldn’t be good. 

“Bob, please tell me what we’re doing in here,” you pleaded softly, though you did as he said and followed his example, hunching in the opposite corner. 

“They can’t do this to you,” he mumbled. “It’s not fair.” 

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered. He scoffed a laugh. 

“Good. You should be,” he refused to look at you, turning his face into the wall. All this time, the looming scent of Alpha hadn’t left the room. It was messing with your ability to think. 

“You’re a Beta, right?” You searched for any change in his body language for an answer. His spine stiffened. 

“... Right?” You begged. You already knew the answer. All these months in the tower, it had somehow slipped past all of you that Bob was, in fact, an Alpha. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This– It wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t know you’d be here!” 

“What is this place?” You looked around the room, trying to spot a way out. It was hard to think critically when every nerve in your body was starting to scream at you to go over to Bob.

“It’s… hard to explain. Just… Stop talking, please,” he cupped his hands over his ears. 

“I’ll stop talking when I understand what the hell is going on!” You were getting frustrated with him. You were scared. Your stomach turned as your fingers began to tingle. You brought your hands up to your lips, remembering the drink Valentina had given you. She hadn’t drank any herself. Fuck, how could you be that stupid? 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he repeated. 

“What wasn’t supposed to happen, Bob?” He gasped softly at the mention of his name. 

“Don’t– Don’t say that. Don’t say my name.” He demanded. You raised your hands in mock defense. 

“You have to understand,” he started. “They said they were going to help me. They promised.” He averted his attention from the wall to the ceiling. 

“This is cruel!” He yelled at the ceiling. “You don’t know what’s gonna happen! What I– What he might do to her!” Did he? Did he know what was going to happen? He obviously knew something, knew more than you.

You saw him slump against the wall, roughly hitting his head against it. He turned, finally making eye contact. You drew in a sharp breath. His eyes were flickering gold, the way they only did when he was using his powers. This wasn’t right. He had been working on controlling it for months now. 

“It’s been years. They– They said they’d help me,” he ran a shaky hand over his face, laughing at his own past stupidity. “I should’ve known they’d pull something like this.” 

“You have to tell me what’s happening. Fucking spit it out already,” you demanded. 

“I haven’t had a rut in over 15 years,” Bob informed you. “But I’m having my first one right now.” 

Fuck. 

No no no no no no no no no NO– 

“You– Right now?” 

“Right now.” Bob nodded. 

You had to get out of here. It’s not that you didn’t want Bob. Quite the opposite, actually. But he wasn’t going to be in his right mind. God, you should’ve known the second you smelled an Alpha that you were in trouble. Actually smelling someone’s designation could only mean two things; either they were experiencing very extreme emotions, or they were nearing a rut/heat. You couldn’t think about the smell. Couldn’t let it get to you, or it would trigger your heat. 

“I’m assuming you’re an Omega?” Bob distracted you from your thoughts. 

“Yeah… I didn’t think it mattered!” You cried. “I’ve been on suppressants for forever. I haven’t had my heat in like… God, 5 years? Maybe 6? Val said they were just going to do some testing with my new suit… I should never have trusted her.” 

“I think I’m going insane,” Bob laughed maniacally. “It’s like I can smell you. But that’s impossible if you’re taking suppressants.” 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, actually,” you winced. “She gave me a drink. Didn’t think anything of it because apparently I’m an idiot.” 

“She spiked it with something?” His breathing was getting more and more laboured. He was realizing by now that you had been set up, too. This was all an elaborate scheme. 

You shrugged. “I guess we’ll be finding out real soon if she did, and with what.” 

Bob turned his back to you, back facing the wall. You could tell from the heaving of his shoulders that he was breathing heavily. He was trying his best to stay in control. 

You, too, felt like you were slowly but surely losing your mind. Whatever Val had given you was working fast. You could feel sweat build up on the back of your neck. You were tempted to take off your clothes, but were sure that wouldn’t exactly make the situation any easier for Bob. You could deal with the temperature, as long as he stayed away and didn’t trigger your heat. 

It had been so long you’d had one, and even when you did, you’d never spent it with an Alpha. A rutting Alpha? Even better. No. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about his rut. Don’t think about what he could be thinking about. Don’t think about what he could do to you. Don’t think about his knot. 

Shit. 

You were definitely thinking about his knot, now. 

So what if you’d been harbouring a secret crush on him for months? It had been harmless, up until now. He was relying on you to control yourself, and you were messing that part up real fast. 

The temperature was rising quickly. The room was too small for an Alpha experiencing his rut, especially with an unmated Omega so nearby. You untied your shoes, trying to find the best way to cool down without setting him off. You put your socks in your shoes. It helped for about 0.3 seconds. 

A familiar feeling was starting to build in your stomach. It wasn’t discomfort, exactly. Dissatisfaction. An itch. A need. 

You tried to hold it in. You really did. His scent was so overwhelming. That combined with the fact that your system had been flushed clear of all suppressants for the first time in years? You were fucked. 

A soft whisper of your name rang from the other side of the room. It sent a shiver up your spine. You understood, now, why he’d begged you not to say his name. It was like he was speaking directly to the part of you that was holding up your reserve, and crumbling it. 

“Hmm?” You acknowledged painfully. 

“How… How are you feeling?” Bob asked quietly. He’d likely smelled it already. The desperation. His rut had triggered your heat. Neither of you were going to be able to hold back. 

“Like I’m slowly burning from the inside, but other than that, peachy,” you replied sarcastically, bringing your hand to your forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat. 

“I don’t know– I don’t know how much longer I can control this. It’s been so long…” He didn’t dare turn around. Maybe you should turn your back to him, too. Maybe then it was easier to keep your mind off him. You decided to give it a try. The second you tore your eyes off him, you felt a dire need to put them back on him. You resisted, for now. 

You heard the ruffling of fabric. You were so tempted to turn around. The heat was getting to him. He’d taken off his sweater and let out a small sigh of relief. It sounded downright pornographic, though you were sure any sound he made at this point would sound like that to your ears. 

You decided that, since neither of you were looking, it couldn’t hurt to take your shirt off as well. You grabbed it by the hem and lifted it over your head, leaving you in your bra and pants. The air was a lot colder, bringing goosebumps and relief to your skin. You discarded the shirt somewhere behind you. 

The smallest of whimpers escaped your lips. It was really starting now. A trickle of slick escaped your core, and you knew he could smell it. Your senses were overwhelming you, telling you to rip all your (and his) clothes off and just get it over with. You couldn’t give in. Not with whatever Val had been planning to happen. 

“Bob?” He moaned obscenely at the mention of his name. He acknowledged your questioning tone with a small groan. 

“I– I just think I should tell you something, before…” you didn’t have to finish the sentence. 

“What is it?” He grunted. The sound of a zipper opening made you freeze in your tracks. Was he…? 

“I– these last few months… I just– I’m not sure how to say this,” you started. You just wanted to reassure him it was okay if he broke. You wanted him, regardless. It was okay to lose control. You knew he’d already smelled your pussy from across the room, yet still felt like a schoolgirl about to admit her crush. 

“It’s okay… If you, y’know. I– I like you, Bob,” more rustling from the other side of the room. You were fighting with every fibre in your body not to turn around. 

“You’re just saying that,” he gasped out. “Because of the– the heat.” You could hear him moving. The sound was slick, though ever so silently. He was touching himself. 

“I’m not! I like you. I do,” you were squirming, trying to find a position that would alleviate the building pressure in your abdomen. You rolled your shoulders, the tension in your neck was killing you. All you wanted to do is throw your head back and expose your neck for him. 

The slick movement was increasing in speed. He sounded delicious, even though he was obviously trying to contain all the small moans and whimpers. Whether it was to spare you the need or himself the embarrassment, you were unsure. 

“Are you,” you bit your lip. “Are you touching yourself?” 

“Yeah,” he groaned out. “‘M sorry… I can’t– It’s, fuck, just– Stop talking.” 

“It’s okay,” you were surprised by the sensual tone of your voice, barely above a whisper. 

“Stop. Talking,” you could tell he was close. His laboured breath was something you wished to feel against your skin. You slowly snuck a hand into your waistband, no longer able to control yourself. You gasped when your finger made contact with your clit. 

“Fuck, no, are you? Oh fuck,” Bob immediately groaned loudly, immediately coming at the thought of you touching yourself to the sound of him doing the same. He held the base of his cock tightly, refusing to pop a knot right then and there. Coming inside of his boxers was bad enough. 

You took your pants off, no longer content with it limiting your range of movement. Had all your previous heats felt like this? You couldn’t remember ever feeling this out of control, this insane. Fucking hell, you could smell his cum. He really wasn’t helping the situation right now. 

“Do you feel better?” You asked. An orgasm usually helped keep the hormones at bay, even if it was only for a few minutes. 

“No, I hoped I would but I–” He clenched his teeth tightly. You circled your clit with two fingers, willing your hips to keep still as to not obscenely go and fuck your own hand. 

You knew you made a mistake the second your resolve broke and you sent a glance over your shoulder to look at him. He’d been able to control his need to turn around, still facing the wall. It didn’t matter. His sweaty, naked form, heaving from his orgasm, was enough to enthrall you. He instantly noticed you’d gone silent. Worried for your wellbeing, he slowly turned around, meeting your hungry gaze. 

Something snapped. He flung his head against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. The force had cracked the concrete on impact. He groaned loudly, every muscle straining, fighting to keep his hands off you. Your parted lips, wide eyes, undressed form, it was his undoing. 

The sight of him losing control was enough to send you over the edge. A high pitched whine escaped your lips, your toes curling. His eyes snapped open, lips parting at the display. He was on your body before either of you could blink. His powers were taking over. He pinned your arms above your head, to the floor. While you were only in your underwear, his pants had yet to leave his body. 

“I’m sorry it has to be like this,” he spoke, scanning your face. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him again, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “I want you. Wanted you long before today.” 

He released your wrists and brought a hand to your cheek, softly caressing it and taking you in for a moment. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe you wanted him. 

“I’m not gonna be able to stop,” Bob confessed. You flung your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You leaned into his ear to speak, feeling his hot breath on your neck. 

“Then don’t.” 

It was enough. He kissed you hungrily, bringing your body as close to his as it could go. He tasted every bit as good as he smelled. His hands made quick work of your bra and underwear. Your head whirled as your back suddenly met the soft mattress. His powers. He was so fast. So strong. The bed swallowed you. 

He was biting at your lips, nipping at the skin of your jaw. The only way you could explain it was feral. You put your hands on the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down. The zipper was still open from his previous endeavours.  “Off,” you demanded between kisses. He shimmied them off while maintaining contact with his mouth to your skin at all times. 

“Never would’ve guessed,” you breathed as he worked his mouth down your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly. “–that you were an Alpha.” 

“What, I’m not imposing enough?” He laughed, making eye contact and switching to the other nipple. There was a big, noticeable wet patch in his underwear from where he’d come in them before. He quickly shimmied out of those, too. His cock slammed up against his abdomen, already hard again and ready to go. God, he was big. 

“Hmmm, you’re too sweet,” you told him. It was true. He always made an extra cup of tea so you could have one. Did the laundry for the others. Made sure everybody’s favourite snacks were at the tower at all times. He was just so thoughtful. 

“Wanna take care of you,” he came back up, having spent enough attention on your breasts, for now. “Is that not an Alpha thing?” 

“Now that you mention it…” He did have a point. An Alpha took care of their people. All the things he did so the team was at their best was exactly that. You tugged him back down to smash your lips against his again. You could spend eternity like this. You were going to get addicted to kissing him. 

You trailed your hands down his chest, over his tight abdomen. “Can’t even begin to tell you how hot I think you are,” you informed him. His eyebrows shot up. 

“Really?” He started kissing dangerously close to your mating glands. The feeling of anticipation was killing you. You craned your neck to the side instinctively, giving him more access. The feeling burned, in a good way. 

A new wave of desperation washed over you. It was starting to hurt, your eyes blurring with tears as you tried to work through the burn. Bob noticed something was off, pulling away for a second to check on you. While noble, it only made the feeling worse. 

“You okay?” He asked, eyes scanning your face for any discomfort. Like a good Alpha. 

“It– It hurts, Bob,” you whined. “Please, make it stop.” 

“I’ll make it stop. I’ll help you, baby,” he whispered, bending back down to suck a hickey over your mating gland. A promise. He ground his hips down, sliding his cock between your wet folds. The contact made both of you moan. Bob’s jaw fell slack as he closed his eyes, throwing his head back. 

“Fuck me, Bob,” you put your hands on his shoulders. “Need you inside of me.” 

“Look so good like this,” Bob mumbled as he took his length in his hand, lining himself up with your entrance. You prepared yourself mentally for the stretch. He shuddered as he slowly pushed his tip inside, spreading you open. It notched inside and he paused for a second, checking to see if you were okay. 

You were more than okay, lost in your heat, desperate to get him deeper. You gave him a small nod, signalling for him to please continue pushing inside. The stretch felt amazing. If you had ever doubted his Alpha status, the feeling of his girth inside you would’ve changed your mind. You were so full. He still wasn’t all the way inside, going torturously slow. 

When he finally bottomed out, you stopped breathing. Bob’s eyes snapped closed, mouth agape as the pleasure of feeling you around him overtook his senses. A sense of satisfaction settled in your body. The fact you were finally giving in, finally letting yourself be filled by an Alpha during your heat, was a taste of something you wouldn’t ever get enough of. You almost felt complete. There were only 2 things missing;

A knot, and his teeth biting your neck. 

“M-move, now,” you demanded. He obliged, dragging his hips back gently. When he snapped them forward again, you couldn’t hold back a moan. 

“That’s it,” Bob nuzzled your neck, pulling his cock out and snapping forward faster this time. Your exorbitant amount of slick made the slide much easier. If this would become a recurring thing, you weren’t sure you’d even be able to take him outside of your heat. 

“Gonna make you mine,” he groaned. “Nobody else can have you.” Another gleam of gold flashed through his eyes. God, you sure hoped Val was prepared for Sentry to make an appearance, because it was looking like that might be the case by the end of this.

“Already yours,” you sighed. “Always have been.” 

“Say it again,” he pleaded. “Say you’re mine.” 

He probably hadn’t intended for it to be an Alpha command. It had just slipped out. 

“I’m yours– All yours. Only you,” you whimpered out, unable to resist the command even if you’d wanted to. It had sent a new rush of heat spreading through your body. A newfound sense of need settled in your very being. You needed him closer, deeper, anything. You’d crawl into his skin if it were possible. 

You knew he felt it too, what the Alpha command had done to you. You’d tightened around him, clenching his cock tightly. A mischievous expression took over his face. His balls slapped against your cunt as he finally started fucking you the way you needed. Hard. Frantic. Feral. 

“Fuck, Bob!” You keened. He’d found that spot. You dug your nails into his back, desperate to keep him going exactly like that. “Don’t stop.” 

“So good for me,” Bob moaned. The way he chanted your name like a prayer was obscene. “All mine.” 

He dropped his head to your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and tonguing around it. He kneaded your other boob with his hand, rough enough to sting, but so, so good. 

“So pretty,” he babbled. He was losing his sanity to his rut. “You smell so good.” He was nuzzling your neck again, inhaling your scent deeply, committing it to his permanent memory. 

“It’s like you were made for me. So tight. Perfect fit,” Bob mused. You could feel it, too. The way he filled you exactly to the brim. Stretched you out just enough for you to feel so, so full. 

He pounded into you, but it wasn’t enough. “More, Alpha. Please,” you begged. Bob lost all sense of control at the title. 

“Such a good Omega for me,” he grazed his teeth over your mating gland. It sent your head reeling, dizzy with pleasure. 

“Please.” What you were begging for, you didn’t know. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Bob whispered with haggard breaths. He brushed your hair out of your face, cradling it in his hands as he continued his brutal pace, chasing both of your highs. 

You knew you were getting close, the knot in your stomach tightening. Bob grabbed your hips tight, snapping his hips forward. You were sure there’d be finger shaped bruises all over your body by morning, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. 

One of his hands worked itself between your bodies, seeking contact with your clit. Your head slammed back against the pillow, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Holy shit. 

“Ah, Bob- fuck, oh-” you sought anything to hold onto, settling on the sheets underneath your body. Your knuckles turned white as you held on tightly. Your jaw fell slack at the sensation. He was trying to make you come, and he was succeeding. 

“Come for me, O-Omega,” he moaned loudly. “Ah- Come on my cock.” His voice was faltering with the sheer effort he was putting into fucking you right. He was mesmerised at the sight of your tits bouncing wildly with the rhythm and force of his hips pounding into yours.

“Knot me,” you begged. You needed it. Needed it right now.

“‘F course I’ll knot you,” Bob reassured you. “Gonna fuck my cum inside you. Fill you up real good.” 

“Fuck, please.” The thought of him filling you up to the brim drove you insane with lust. “Alpha, please, knot me, knot me.” 

“So good for me, baby. Come for me,” his fingers sped up, circling your clit in tandem with his thrust. His hips were starting to falter, he was getting close. A tear rolled down the side of your face at the intensity. 

He bent down and bit down on your neck, exactly where you needed him to. You were screaming out his name, gripping his shoulders tight as you came on his cock. You shuddered, body tightening with your orgasm. Your vision went white as the bond settled in and connected your very being to him. Mates. 

Bob groaned loudly as his hips stuttered, filling you up with his cum. You could feel the base of his cock swell, stretching your entrance and locking you together. He ground his hips, now unable to pull out, but desperate to keep fucking more cum inside of you. 

He finally slumped over you, exhausted from the strain it had taken. He rolled over and pulled you on top of him. He placed a few soft kisses on your new mating mark. For a second, you rested just like that, still connected, chests heaving with deep breaths. Your mind was clearing of the fog brought on by the heat. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob whispered, stroking your hair softly as you laid your head on his chest. 

“Don’t be,” you picked your head up, looking him in the eyes. “I loved every second of it.” 

“I did too,” Bob smiled, but then it faltered. “I’m just… Valentina…” Right. That was the whole reason you’d ended up in this situation. 

“She’s probably looking for a way to replicate whatever they’ve done to you. Maybe she wants super babies,” you sighed. It was the only explanation you could think of. You felt his cock twitch inside you, making you gasp as another light spurt of cum came out of it. 

“Don’t– Don’t talk about us having babies while I’m still inside of you.” You laughed and clenched around him intentionally, making him hiss and throw his head back. 

The doors audibly unlocked, then. Bob quickly threw a blanket over your connected bodies. 

“Well, are you going to thank me, or what?” It was Val. Of course it was. 

“You better get the fuck out and leave us alone if you know what’s good for you,” Bob threatened. 

“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you,” she grumbled, walking back out and closing the door behind her. 

“I’m gonna kill her,” you grumbled, laying your head back on his chest and drawing tracing shapes on his chest. 

“I’ll help you,” Bob agreed. You hated her, but at least you’d gotten a mate out of it. 

[atomicqueer]

very lukewarm take but i hate how many cars just have key fobs and no actual key to even unlock the doors because like its only all fine and dandy now cause they're new cars but 10 years from now when they're getting old ur gonna be pissed that u cant even get ur shit out of ur car cause the battery is dead or there's a lil computer error. i think all cars should have a manual lock and an actual key. and even if the car is fully functional what if ur key fob battery dies while you're out in the middle of nowhere or are just nowhere near a store that carries that type of battery??? if u had a spare battery is ur key fob even serviceable enough for you to intuitively change the battery without tools?? probably not

[logansdoll]

thinking about logan x reader who’s literally the most introverted but bluntest person he’s ever met. that meet-cute (if it could be called that…?) would be entertaining as hell

cottontail

wolverines are known to prey on rabbits... which would explain why Logan was looking at you like that.

CW: fluffy fluff, heavily suggestive, profanity, i kinda changed it up a bit, takes place after X-Men (2000), reader is a bit of a personality, reader also has a bunny mutation, again kinda iffy on how this turned out, etc. (@OstarwomenO for the inspiration)

"And, finally, the gym," Ororo finished, motioning toward the door. "Much like the Danger Room, we use it to train or spar, but strictly without powers."

Logan cocked a brow, ears perking at the faint sound of music coming from the other side of the door, along with the rhythmic thuds of limbs slamming against a mat.

'Huh...'

Ororo insisted on giving him the official tour of the mansion now that he was back from his trip to Alkali, seeing as she never got the chance to when he first arrived.

And, of course—Logan being Logan—he waved her off, insisting he'd be able to figure it out.

But the woman did not take no for an answer.

"Someone in there?" he asked, shifting his cigar to the side of his mouth as his thumb jutted toward the door.

"Just (y/n)," she shrugged, an amused smile rising her to lips. "It's actually kinda ironic, she rolled in about an hour before you did yesterday."

That was the new smell he picked up on.

It was the same one the hallway was currently drowning in—not that he was complaining.

It was sweet and musky, with faint, floral notes and a smidgen bit of earth—like taking a breath of fresh air in the middle of a meadow.

"And I didn't run into her?" Logan raised a brow, feigning indifference.

Ororo let out a dry chuckle, as if she was in on a joke he wasn't, "(y/n)'s a... character. She kinda does her own thing around here."

Character?

Forget indifference, the man was intrigued.

"I can introduce you if you'd like," she nodded, her eyes widening slightly, remembering something. "Fair warning, she says whatever she wants. So just... don't be shocked when she says something appalling. She's a sweetheart once you get to know her."

'Jesus...'

She made it sound like he was about to meet some sort of feral grizzly bear.

Logan shrugged, and she let out a sigh, pressing the keypad and opening up the door to reveal you.

Grizzly?

No.

Feral?

Entirely possible.

With a wide grin, you weaved around, dodging jabs from the automated dummy before back-flipping onto the wall and pushing off like a spring.

Tackling the robot, you slammed its head into the ground, winding for a second blow when it suddenly bucked you off.

You recovered quickly, shifting in mid-air so you landed on your feet, before launching another attack.

Jumping high, you landed right on the dummy's shoulders, locking your thighs around its neck before effortlessly throwing around your body weight, sending it crashing to the ground

But that wasn't it.

With a soft grunt, and a small twist of your legs, you popped its head right off in a flourish of sparks and circuits—the action sending a warm tingle through Logan's stomach.

'Damn...'

You pulled yourself up off the ground with a laugh, grabbing the robot's body and tossing it in a pile in the corner—which consisted of at least twenty others.

"Finally," you sighed, jokingly, as the two entered further.

You sauntered over to your boombox and cut the music, dusting off your hands.

"This is a disgrace. How the hell are the kids supposed to learn from these things, 'Roro? They barely last two minutes."

She playfully rolled her eyes, fighting off her smile as she pulled you into a hug, "I hope you know you're paying for those."

You chuckled, giving her a loving pat on the back, "Put 'em on my tab."

Logan was still transfixed.

In all his years, he had never seen a mutant like you before.

(h/l), (h/c) hair, plump lips, heavenly curves, made evident by your workout clothes, or slight lack thereof, stark white bunny ears, equally white tail, paired with alluring (e/c) eyes.

You were dripping in beauty and confidence.

Logan, so mesmerized, didn't even realize that you'd already cruised your way over, and were now standing directly in front him.

"I take it you're Logan," you smiled, shamelessly staring at him. "If I knew you were this handsome, I woulda introduced myself sooner."

"(n/n)," Ororo scolded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

'Here we go...'

"Is that so?" Logan smirked, amused by your blunt start to the conversation.

"Hell yeah," you nodded, shifting you weight on your hips

You weren't stupid.

You saw the way he was staring at you, and you heard the way his heart frenzied when you walked over.

So what's to say you couldn't have a little fun?

After all, it wasn't every day you'd meet someone as sexy as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding.

"Of course, I could always do that over a few rounds."

His brow quirked with interest, eyes slowly flitting over your body at the proposition.

"On the mat, that is..." you chuckled, reading him loud and clear as you turned to walk toward the sparring area, stretching out your arms.

"That works, too," he grinned, tugging off his leather jacket.

"You two are doing this? Really?" Ororo groaned, resting a hand on her hip.

"Yup."

"She asked for it."

Ororo sighed, deciding to check herself out for the day and head for the door.

"Y'know what? Knock yourselves out. I'm gonna take a nap," she waved, turning the corner. "Don't break anything."

Logan scoffed, cracking his neck as he stepped onto his side of the circle, "No promises..."

You grinned, pleasantly surprised by his seriousness.

Many assume that because of your mutation, you're just some helpless little rabbit—as kids, you and Scott got into a huge argument when you caught him pulling his punches.

But Logan seemed ready to throw down, a fact that not only excited you, but made the man move up a great many rungs in your respect ladder.

"You sure you want this?" you smirked, lowering yourself into a split, stretching your legs. "I don't go easy."

'Goddamn, how flexible is she—'

"Neither do I," he snapped himself back, playing it off with a chuckle. "Let's see how long you last."

You scoffed, tongue in cheek as you stood up, shifting into a defensive stance.

'I'm gonna kick your ass, mutton chops."

"I'd like to see ya try, cottontail."

[wolfbluebird]

The Cost of Letting Go

Avenger!Natasha x Villain!Reader

(Part 2- Version 2)

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: Natasha sets out to find you, does she get you in time?

TW: Mention of injury, near death experience. Angst with a happy ending.

(Men and Minors dni)

The intel was thin—grainy satellite footage, a half-deciphered manifest, a whisper from a former asset too afraid to name names. But Natasha followed it anyway. She didn’t let herself hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope made you hesitate. Hope was what got people killed. And she’d already let you go once. So when the coordinates led her to a crumbling compound deep in the Carpathian forest—half-buried in snow and rot—she didn’t stop to think. She went in quiet. Quick. Knife and Glock. No backup. No mercy. She moved like a shadow. Unseen. Unheard. Efficient. There were six guards on rotation. She killed them all. One by one. Fast. Clean. No room for second chances. No time for hesitation.

The lower levels stank of mildew and old blood. The air was wrong—too still, too heavy, like sound itself was afraid to exist here. Her boots echoed louder than they should’ve, each step sharp against the silence. She kept her left hand on the wall, her right gripping the pistol tight enough to bruise. She counted doors. Empty rooms. More cells. And then she saw it—a reinforced door rusted at the hinges, keypad sparking like someone had tried to shut this place down and failed halfway through. Her fingers trembled as they brushed the lock. The door hissed open, and she felt the cold hit her in the chest before she even saw you.

The sight of you hit harder than any bullet ever could. You were curled on your side on the floor, unmoving. Not asleep. Not unconscious. Just broken. Skin grey with bruises, lips cracked, arms wrapped tight around yourself like you could hold in the pieces if you didn’t breathe too hard. There was dried blood on your mouth. Your wrists were torn up, your breath shallow. For a moment, she thought she was too late. Too goddamn late. “No—” she choked out, dropping to her knees beside you, her gun forgotten. “No, no, no…” She touched your face. Cold. Damp. Lifeless. But then—a breath. Shaky. Barely there. But there. “Jesus,” she whispered. “What did they do to you…” She stripped off her jacket and wrapped it around you, one arm under your back, one beneath your knees. You were light. Too light. Like they’d hollowed you out. She didn’t look back. She just ran.

You didn’t wake on the flight. She checked your pulse every ten minutes. Two fingers against your neck. Palm pressed to your ribs. Waiting. Every time you breathed, she did too. She whispered your name once, but it felt like a prayer, and she didn’t believe in those. Not anymore. Not since she’d started digging through Hydra’s graves to find your ghost.

The safehouse outside Oslo was clean, quiet, cold. Remote. She laid you on the bed, hands moving fast and precise, stripping off your shirt. Her stomach turned when she saw the stitches—messy, uneven, black thread pulled too tight. Not medical. Not meant to heal. Punishment. She peeled back the gauze and nearly vomited. Infection was already setting in. Your body twitched. “Stay with me,” she murmured, voice cracking. She boiled water. Disinfected what she could. Flushed the wound, wrapped it again, tighter, cleaner. She did everything she could remember from battlefield training. Then she sat beside you and waited.

You didn’t wake that night. Or the next. She stayed beside you. Changed your dressings. Checked your temperature. Held your hand even when it was cold and unmoving in hers. When you started seizing from the fever, she held you down, sobbing. Whispered things she hadn’t even admitted to herself. “I should’ve come sooner.” “I never stopped looking.” “I love you, idiot. You weren’t supposed to do this for me.” On the fourth night, your breathing stopped. Just for a second. Just long enough to send her straight into panic. She hit your chest. Tilted your head. Breathed into your mouth like it would matter. Like you’d listen. Your lungs caught. Barely. She collapsed beside you after that, shaking. Crying. Begging whatever gods were left to give her more time.

You came back slow. Piece by piece. Sound first—the shuffle of paper, the creak of a chair. Then touch. A cloth against your forehead. Fingers on your knuckles. Then smell. Soap. Coffee. Her. You didn’t open your eyes right away. You didn’t want to. If it wasn’t real, you’d rather stay dreaming. But then you heard her voice. Low. Unsteady. “…and I say your name like a vow, every time I dream of snow and sirens…” She laughed, almost embarrassed. “God, this poetry’s awful. Why’d you even keep this book?” Something cracked in your chest. You made a sound. Barely more than a breath. But she heard it. Everything stopped. Then she was there. Above you. Eyes wide and red. “Hey,” she breathed. You blinked. “You… came back.” She touched your cheek. “Of course I did.” You tried to smile. It hurt. “Didn’t think you’d make it in time.” “I almost didn’t,” she said. “You scared the hell out of me.” “You always were easy to scare.” “You almost died. Shut up.” You let your eyes close again. “Just tired.” “You can sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll be here.” And when she pressed her hand into yours, you felt the weight of it. Real. Solid. Like an anchor. For the first time in weeks, you let go. Because she was finally holding you.

It was raining the day you stood without help. Your steps were slow, shaky, but yours. The pain still lived in your bones, stitched into your side like Hydra’s last insult. But it didn’t own you anymore. The house smelled like bread and something herbal. You followed the sound of soft humming—off-key but familiar. She always hummed when she cooked, like she didn’t trust silence. You leaned on the wall as you walked. She didn’t see you until you were already standing there in the doorway. “You shouldn’t be up yet,” she said, alarm in her voice. You shrugged. “Felt like walking.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “You’re stubborn.” “You love that about me.” She didn’t smile. Just moved closer. Careful. Measured. Until you were eye to eye. “You scared the hell out of me,” she said. You nodded. “I know.” “You stopped breathing.” “I know.” “I thought I’d lost you.” Her voice broke. You stepped forward, arms wrapping around her. She froze for a moment, then pulled you in like she needed to feel every inch of you to believe you were there. “I’m here,” you whispered. “I came back.” Her grip tightened. Her face was buried in your shoulder. “I love you,” she said. Raw. Real.

You froze. Not from shock—but because you knew what it cost her to say it. You pulled back, just enough to look her in the eye. Her face was tired. Brave. Beautiful. “I know,” you said, smiling. “I love you too.” And when she kissed you, it wasn’t like the last time—desperate and aching. This one was steady. Warm. Like a promise she meant to keep.

[Masterlist]

[feveredvisions]

Kiss Me Thru The Phone

(Harry Da Souza x you!!)

Here's the Epilogue btw and my Masterlist if you want some more filth or some fluff xx

Synopsis: Harry Da Souza flakes on yet another date with his girlfriend. Tonight, she reaches her breaking point when she waited at Charlie's for nothing. Taking offence at the pity look the hostess gave her at the lounge. Even more of a loser when she lied about being "Missus Da Souza" just to lock in their reservation as they prioritise married couples than fickle boyfriends and girlfriends. Harry twists her searing hot anger into something even hotter and wetter. Keeping his double-life as a fixer for a ruthless crime family and as a boyfriend who's an on-call clinician for the elite, he races back home to fix the only real thing that matters most to him.

Author's note: So after I finished watching the first episode of MobLand, "Kiss Me Thru The Phone" by Soulja Boy kept playing in my mind. I hope this does not spoil too much. To those who have seen it, I got inspired by the part where Harry promises to try one therapy session with his wife, Jan, and leaving the scheduling to her as he guarantees her that he'll be there. Swear. And just like Jan, I am quite skepctical but yeah, sure, Harry. So that's how this story was conceived. Originally, this was dramatic and painful as shit, but then the wind changed. I made it smutty as shit because it works just like their dynamic as a dysfunct couple. Tysm @cafekitsune for the cute dividers!!

Roses are red. I'm a twat. A hundred ain't shit 'cause you're worth more than that. Wish I was there to kiss you proper, But I'm stuck playing hero... Call you later, my love P.s. Don't burn the flowers and the note yeah? They're extremely flammable - H. XXX

"A fucking joke." You bitterly spat out as you crumpled the note and threw it in the fireplace to burn into ashy oblivion like how Harry had been to you.

Tonight was supposed to be your dinner date with him at Charlie's restaurant in Mayfair that you booked two months prior. It was a serious warzone to even secure a reservation there as there were other richer posher cunts who were adamant to buy out a spot, but surprisingly all it took was lying to the reservationist that you were a Missus Da Souza instead of your maiden name to lock in a table. You scoffed at the memory of it. Of course, married couples would be prioritised. Less drama and they're more stable. Unlike you and Harry... That was probably the closest you'll ever get to ever being truly his.

Tonight, you showed up at Charlie’s in your long off-shoulder red silk dress and a pashmina shawl to match. You had your tell-tale signs that Harry was not at all going to make it tonight. He’s always fashionably on time but never late. But you waited for him at the waiting lounge and only ended up being a fool. He was too much of a hero to his VIP patients and to the world to spare a minute being your lover. You had nothing against his job as an on-call clinician for high-profile posh families but it was getting ridiculous lately how often he was always out. How often were these people terribly ill? You never questioned it nor nagged him about it as you respected his profession and the secrecy it demanded, but tonight, it just about killed you.

Defeated, you took a cab home and when you reached home, the florist truck was unloading a delivery of ten dozens of red roses. All pathetic sorry red roses and no sign of Harry. It was stupid, really. Another empty gesture. A currency of materialistic emotional bribe. It really pissed you off. Burnt off whatever patience and grace you've got left. 

The safe phone which was a wee keypad phone that Harry provided you was pressed against your ear. It was an emergency phone in case he needs to be contacted directly for whatever reason. Another bullshit. He doesn't always answer unless he's the one calling it. Your emotions were in an uncontainable chaotic storm. The stench of the subtle sweet fragrance of the roses in the living room were starting to make your head throb. Heady. Borderline nauseous if you think more of it.

Harry called you after he just finished a bloody clean-up for the Harrigans family. Burning off all the evidences, scrubbing off and rinsing any DNA off the earth after dumping the body in the river Thames in the dead of night. Something you'll never know. Adrenaline rushed through his body as he got inside the driver’s seat of his car, the engine on. His heart pounding. For a moment, he closed his eyes. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears too followed by a brief sharp ringing. The vein in his neck throbbing.

His life and everything in it always held at a gunpoint no matter how much he tries to keep certain things away from his fixer business. Now that the family mess had been dealt with for the night, this was a bigger one with his girl he had to fix. The blood splatters on his jacket he can explain. A bloody emergency surgery he had to assist to. More like a hands-on surgery to keep a war from erupting.

You were walking around the house, pushing all the windows open to let fresh air in whilst the cellphone was pressed on your ear. "Honestly, Harry. What were you thinking sending me all these roses? You want me to make a salad out of the petals? Have a mouthful of your sorry flowers?"

"Babe, no, don't even—"

"I don't even have the vase to fit all of them in…” You murmur, trying to distract yourself from lashing out at him through the phone by focusing on the mundane. But then you reached your breaking point and unable to stop your tears when you caught a reflection of yourself in the mirror by the staircase. Your mouth quivering into a pout, stifling a whimper as your throat tightened up from the tears. You looked absolutely ravishing in your dress. Spent hours getting ready for tonight's special dinner, only for all of it to go down the drain. It was beyond frustrating.

“And I’m wearing this really gorgeous red Isabel Marant dress that I look really good in and you’re not even here to see it. Didn’t even get to wear it for a happy occasion.” You spoke through your tears.

“Babe, listen—” Harry's voice cracked through the burner phone. In the background, you could hear the hum of his BMW engine along with the occasional horn blaring.

“No, you listen.” You snapped, swiping at your wet cheeks with the back of your hand. Kicking your high heels off and storming back to the living room where the stupid boxes of the the red roses were. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it was? Sitting in the lobby like some loser, watching every other couple get seated while the host kept giving me that pity look? And then…and then I come home to this!” you kicked at one of the bouquet boxes. Some loose petals fell down the floor. “You think flowers fix anything?” you kicked another box of roses harder.

“Oi!” His voice sharp and dangerous. “The fuck you kickin’ my gift for, huh?”

“So now you care about them getting wrecked?!” you hissed.

He just chuckled darkly. Sadistic fucker. 

And pretty sure it was the unmistakeable sound of the metallic clang of the undoing of his belt buckle and him unzipping his jeans. You frown as you tried to make sense of what you were hearing through the phone. Surely, he wouldn't do what you initially thought he's doing right? 

Then—ptui— spitting on his palm followed by…a slick, creamy sound of a flesh, followed by a sigh of relief. It automatically made your thighs press together that you had to sit on the couch, kicking off and stepping on some of the stupid roses in the process. Breathing hitched in your throat.

“... Harry?”

“You wanna act like a brat?” The sound of his fist dragging over his angrily throbbing weeping erect cock obscenely loud in your ear. “Then listen to what you're missin’, babe.”

You bit your lip and swallowed a moan. The rhythmic wet stroking of his cock sent a bolt of heat directly to your cunt. “You fucking dick—”

“Mmm yeah. Thick too. Just how you like it.” He taunted with a groan. Then his voice shifted to menacing. “Bet your pretty pussy’s drippin’ right now, pissed off as you are.” 

“Fuck you.” Your lips turned into a helpless pout as you lightly bit the tip of your pointer finger like a guilty nun quietly indulging in the Song of Solomons. Rucking your dress up to your hips as you leaned back and propped your legs up, spreading your thighs open. Biting your lip as you took your panties off and flung it on the floor, landing amongst the roses.

“Nah, fuck you, darlin’. Got me hard as shit hearing you get mad at me. And even lyin’ to that posh twat at Charlie's. Bloody Mrs. Da Souza. Cheeky thing.” another schlick, louder this time.

You arched your back as your fingers circled on your hard sensitive clit. “Had to. They only prioritise wives.” A moan slipped out. “Not that you'd know. Too busy playing doctor for every rich slag in London.”

“Tell you what,” he sped up. Breath hitching. “I’ll put a proper ring on it. Marry me. I'll spike your anti baby pills, knock you up so deep, you'll waddle down the aisle.”

You whimpered as you slipped two fingers inside you, walls hungrily squeezing around it, whining for his actual cock. Hitting the spot that immediately brought in the impending sensation of your orgasm. “Romantic. You'd ruin marriage.”

“Hell yeah, we would.” A groan. “Fuck tradition. I'd bend you over the altar, eat your cunt in front of the priest—”

“Ah! Harry!” You cried out as you came. Hips bucking. Your orgasm coming in a flashflood of squirt. Showering the roses as your body convulsed, followed by a loud shameless bubbly wet queef.

Harry growled. “Christ. That mouthy cunt talkin’ back to me now?” he mocked. His voice thick and angry. For a moment, his car swerves as he punches the gas to hell.

You weakly laughed as you fell limp into the couch, still having slight twitching. Your fingers still fucking your turned on and ravenous pussy. “Says you're shit at apologies.”

“Mmmm I'll eat that fucking cunt.” A slorch of a wet, open-mouthed kiss came out the receiver. Your clit hardening and your pussy walls growing slicker and warmer like molten honey again. “She’s creaming again ain't she?”

You breathe quietly as your fingers scissor and fuck your slobbery pussy. Filling the room with the obscene sounds of your wet and creamy queefs. Each puff like a taunt like it was sassing him, to which harry growls at.

“That’s right. Argue with me you filthy cunt,” he snarls. “Best fuckin’ pussy  I've ever had. Queefin’, creamin’, squirtin’ all over my bastard roses.”

Your whimper turned into a cry as you reached another squirting peak, which lingered so you kept fucking yourself wetly with your fingers. The pleasure of your second orgasm spasming through your walls and your womb. Your body twitching and trembling. 

Harry hissed over the phone, keeping himself from busting out his load. His fist still working his hard cock in brutal slick strokes as his pre-cum dripped down from the tip of his slit down to his shaft. Punishing himself as much as he's punished you.

“Fuckin’ hell, babe. Listen to that. Greedy little slag creamin’ for me, yeah?”

Another wet pfft came outta your pussy walls clenched around nothing. Pissed off and empty. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“Tease?” he darkly chuckles. The car engine letting out a mean snarl as he shifts his gear, tires screeching. “You're the one spread out on our couch, ruining my roses with your creamy squirt, babe. Bet they smell like you now—fuck.” He hissed as he achingly forces his sensitive hard cock back in his pants with one hand and zipping his jeans back up. “Wish I could bottle that scent. Wear it like cologne. Let every bastard in London know of the lady who owns me.”

“Harry—” You whine as your thighs begin to tremble. Eyes tearing up from frustration as your pleasure won't die down. 

“Nah, nah, keep goin’,” he orders. “Make her squirt again, babe. I wanna hear it.”

You obey, curling your fingers whilst you grind your clit on the heel of your palm. Eyeballs rolling back as another wave of pleasure coils tightly in your belly. Helpless whimpers escaping your mouth.

“That's it, love,” he snarls. “Come all over yourself. Make a proper mess. When I get home, I'm lickin' every drop off ya. Then fuckin’ you so deep, I'll get your pretty cunny queefin' ‘round me cock, yeah?”

A high pitched scream tears from your throat as your third orgasm hits you like a freight train. The roses spread in front of the couch were thoroughly soaked. The petals and stems glistening from your depravity. Your own personal crime scene.

Harry's breathing was ragged through the phone. His voice is as rough as sandpaper as he murmurs to himself. “Fuckin’ hell.”

A debauched mess in your red Isabel Marant dress that's still tucked up to your waist and partly drenched in your own fluids too. The air reeked of the evening breeze, the woody aroma from the fireplace, and the stench of sex mixed with a heady rosy scent.

A wanton thing you were as you sank down the couch. Post-coital electric humming in your warm damp skin. “Fuck you, Da Souza.”

“Promise, I will.” He was sincere this time. The engine of his BMW roars as he accelerates. “Soon as I walk through the door.”

You scoff. “You're barely even here yet.”

“But I am.” he taunts. “Already got my hands on you, didn't I? Made you cum ‘n squirt three times without even touchin’ you.”

“Cheater.”

“Nah, just good at my job.” He pauses. His voice soft when he speaks again. “Actually, quick change of plans. Get dressed, babe. We're goin’ out.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Charlie's. That table’s still ours.”

“Harry, it's past midnight.”

“Not for us. Let me fix this.”

For a moment, your heart stutters. Letting him put in the effort this time.

“Want that dress back on. Leave the knickers off. I wanna feel how fuckin’ wet you are under the table.”

You sat up, the post-coital rush of headache almost knocking you back down. “You're insane…”

“Insanely, madly in love with you, darling.” He shifts gears. “Twenty minutes, babe. Be ready.”

Epilogue at Charlie's maybe?

Thanks so much for reading, your comments, and your likes and reblogs!! MWAH xx

[bonelyheartsclub]

♡ Sans - Valentine's One-Shot ♡

Written by @/Lost-Immortality

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If given the choice to go back in time to this morning and change the decisions that brought you here, you were sure you would have done so in a heartbeat. Your first bad decision this morning had been responding to a cryptic text message from Sans, confirming that you were not, in fact, busy. 

The second was when you checked the date and realized what day it was. February 14th. Of course, it had been silly of you to assume that Sans was planning something normal, like a nice lunch or a walk in the park. 

Oh, no. Normal had left your vocabulary entirely after meeting your neighbors. 

So, instead of flowers and chocolate or dinner and a movie, you had found yourself staring at Sans incredulously as the escape room worker handcuffed his wrist to the radiator that sat in the corner. The room had been decorated to look like a hotel suite, with the addition of notes and books scattered around on the walls and tables. 

You felt like you were in a true crime documentary. How romantic. 

Sans planted himself on the ground in front of the decoration he was attached to as the employee went over the rules and the story that went with the room. Apparently, you were an agent that needed to ‘rescue’ Sans and get the both of you out in an hour. 

You wouldn't be surprised if Sans took the opportunity to nap while you solved puzzles. 

You and Sans were left alone in the room, and the glowing red timer above the door began ticking down. Even if you knew it was fake, it almost felt a bit ominous. 

You shifted your weight between your feet as you looked around, not entirely sure where to start. 

“...This feels very one-sided,” you mused. 

Sans hummed, “Moral support is a very important job. All of this ‘believing in you’ is tiring me out.” 

You sighed and accepted your fate, making your way over to leaf through the papers scattered on a desk. “Yeah, yeah. I hardly even know where to start. Have you done one of these before?” 

He nodded, “A few times. A lotta the folks in my household like to solve stuff. Puzzles were a big part of our culture, so Papyrus got pretty excited when he heard humans did things like this.” 

You softened just a bit at that, chuckling softly as you tried to make sense of the clutter. “It seems like something he'd enjoy.” 

“He does, even if it gets a bit chaotic when everyone goes. Most of the time, nothing even ends up getting solved, but that's okay. They have fun with it.” 

You glanced back over at him. “Do you?” 

“Well, yeah. Why would I have let you drag me out to do something I didn't want to do?” He smiled, squinting in the way you knew indicated he was teasing, but you knew what he meant. If Sans truly didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t.

“Ah, yes. I dragged you kicking and screaming. Of course, that's exactly how I remember it.” 

Sans chuckled when you played along before he shook his head. “Don't worry about the clutter. It's probably there to distract you more than anything. Look for anything that's circled, highlighted, or dated. Not every paper or book is going to be a clue.” 

You looked back at him curiously, “Okay, Mr. Mystery Expert. Any other sage advice for me?” 

“Well, since you're asking…” he trailed off, and the lights in his eyes darted around the room, carefully taking everything in. “You're looking for a four digit code and a small key.” 

How… oddly specific. “I believe you and all, but how do you figure?” 

“The nightstand drawer is locked. And there's a safe in the wall under the desk.” 

You ducked down to check under the desk, noting the panel with a digital keypad on it. Of course, Sans had already been sitting on the floor. It would have been easy for him to spot. How did he end up with the easy job again? 

You pivoted to look under the rest of the furniture while you were at it, blinking in surprise when you caught sight of a small box shoved under the armchair. It slid out easily when you pulled on it, and the lid came off just as easily. 

Sans whistled a little four note tune, like you'd just opened a treasure chest in a video game. You couldn't help but chuckle softly. 

“Nerd.” 

He shot you a wink, not bothering to confirm or deny your claim against him. He didn't need to. “Is it the boomerang or the hookshot?” 

“Neither. It's one of those flashlight pens.” you clicked the button on the side of it, though the light was a pretty purple-blue color. “Ah. Scratch that. It's one of those blacklight pens.” 

He hummed and leaned back a bit. “Ah. A fitting tool for the light of my life.” 

“Sans.” 

“Hm?” 

“I will hit the emergency exit button and leave you stuck to a radiator.” 

His grin widened, “It's kinda nice right here, actually. You're so considerate of my comfort.” 

You rolled your eyes, though even you couldn't help the smile on your face. “I don't know how you could possibly be comfortable like that, but suit yourself.” 

“...I don't think I have any of those on me.” 

You paused what you were doing and slowly looked back at him, your expression scrunching in confusion, “Huh?” 

“Suits. I don't have any right now. Can't exactly fit a tux in my pocket. And I definitely can't fit the armor kind of suit in my pockets.” 

You just stared quietly at him for a few moments before you turned away without a word, shining the blacklight on the notes scattered about on the walls. When you scanned it over a news article, the light revealed a circled date. Four digits. 

You moved back to the safe and quickly punched in the date. You couldn't help the little cheer you made when it beeped and swung open for you, only to reveal a puzzle box. You turned the little box over in your hands for a moment before gently tossing it to Sans, who let it bounce off of his chest and into his lap. 

“Since you’re stuck there, might as well give you something to do, right?”

“Really making me do all the heavy lifting here, huh?”  he agreed easily enough, examining the box for a few moments before he got to work.

“How dare I give you a task to do?” You joked back with him as you continued looking through the room for any sort of clues or keys.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever cope,” he lamented, though his delivery was entirely dry.

You chuckled and shook your head, wandering over to each set piece and inspecting it. You heard a few rapid clicks from across the room as Sans worked at solving the puzzle box. You kneeled down to look over the nightstand just as a dull thunk came from the box. 

You didn’t bother looking back at Sans, too distracted by glaring at the lock on the drawer like you could intimidate it into opening. You couldn’t. 

Sans tapped your shoulder before reaching over you to dangle a little key in your vision. “Here you go. I finished my task.” 

You opened your hand for him to drop the key into, which he promptly did. “Oh, thanks. That’s actually exactly what I…”

You trailed off, your expression scrunching before you looked back at Sans over your shoulder. He smiled nonchalantly back at you before he casually sauntered back over to the radiator. He plopped himself back in front of it and slid his hand into the cuff again. 

“….You could have done that… the whole time?” 

His grin widened, “Done what?”

You just quietly stared at him as the red numbers above the door quietly ticked down. His grin twitched like he was fighting back laughter. 

“You gonna unlock the drawer, or…?”

Your gaze narrowed at him before you slowly turned to unlock the nightstand. You pulled it open before huffing a sigh. 

“Oh, look. A handcuff key that I definitely, for sure, needed to find in order to free the absolute goober of a skeleton that brought me here.” Even though he could apparently get out by himself, you handed the key off to him and watched as he needlessly unlocked it. 

“Phew. What a relief. I thought I was going to be stuck there forever.” 

“I’m sure the employee would have let you out eventually.” 

Sans stood up and needlessly dusted himself off before he began to wander around the room to help you out with more than just little comments. 

“Maybe. But luckily for me, I already have you.” He smiled over at you, something a bit more genuine than the usual teasing grin he wore. 

You blinked a few times before looking away. “I think you might be the furthest thing from a damsel in distress, but I’m happy to help. I guess.” 

With the two of you working together, you practically breezed through the rest of the room, unlocking the door with time to spare. The employee at the front counter congratulated the both of you with cheesy stickers before you left. 

As you walked out the door, you peeled your sticker off just to press it to the front on Sans’ jacket, the holographic lock and key catching the sunlight like a badge of honor. 

“Oh, are we trading stickers? Nice.” He took your hand and pressed the one he’d gotten onto the back of it. ‘I Survived’ in a mismatch of letters like it was a ransom note. 

“Ominous. I like it.” You chuckled softly and held up your hand to admire the silly little sticker. 

Sans chuckled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked. After a moment, he glanced back over at you. “…Hey.”

You quirked a brow, “Hi, Sans.”

He shook his head, “Thanks for going with me. It was nice.”

What a silly thing to thank you for. You grinned and lightly bumped into his side, “Thank you for inviting me. I had fun, even if I was stuck doing most of the heavy lifting.”

The lights in his eyes got just a bit brighter, “I’m glad.”

“You should invite me to go places with you more often.”

“I’m sure I could pencil that into my very busy schedule. Maybe somewhere between ‘second breakfast’ and ‘nap again’.” You doubted there was actually a schedule at all. 

You hummed thoughtfully, “Yeah, but if you did it then, you’d have to reschedule ‘be a general nuisance’.”

“That’s alright. I think I could put that off for you.” He winked over at you. 

You linked arms with him, smiling softly at the idea. “Well, in that case… It sounds like a plan. I look forward to it.”

He smiled back over at you, the lights in his eyes bright and almost fuzzy. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you were more than content to let a comfortable silence fall as Sans took you back home, content with the little outing for the day. Your gaze flickered down to the sticker on the back of your hand, a warmth settling in your chest at the idea of ‘next time’, and every time after that.

[cheegu3]

Ｄｏｏｒ Ｌｏｃｋ

pairing; f.m reader x jungkook (ft. ryujin from itzy) genre; yandere, thriller, guessing game summary; ever since you had an encounter with a creepy man at your job, you started waking up feeling like things were off, after some time you start suspecting that you're not alone at night in your apartment, but the man from your job isn't the only one with questionable motives, can you guess who your stalker is? warnings; yandere themes, stalking, obsessive / unhealthy love, drugging, swearing, drinking, paranoia

wc; 6k note; based on the movie Door Lock (although not all events are exactly the same) - I wanted to try writing smth a little different than usual

'' Do you want me to walk you home? ''

'' Oh, come on! '' you sighed and rolled your eyes. '' I'm not a kid, my apartment's just around the corner. ''

Your friend, Ryujin, didn't look very happy with your answer. Her lips pursed, causing a dissatisfied look to form on her face. She crossed her arms and shook her head.

'' You're always so stubborn. ''

Ryujin only received a shrug in response as you had already started turning away from her, making up your mind a long time ago. She'd always say these things after the two of you had a late night out drinking.

And she'd always get turned down by her friend who thought she worried too much. Every time, you would arrive safely at your apartment, without anyone even following you or giving you a glance.

'' It went fine last week, Ryujin. Nothing will happen to me, it never does. ''

She scoffed dryly, '' I swear one day you're going to regret saying that, y/n. ''

'' Maybe, but not today! '' you cheerfully shouted to her when you had created some distance.

'' Text me when you get home at least! ''

You waved her off. The walk home was short because Ryujin always chose restaurants or bars near your apartment. It was around the corner and up the long stairs.

You always complained loudly about the stairs. Arriving home drenched in sweat and panting wasn't exactly ideal. But it was by far the least horrid thing about the route to your apartment.

The reason your friend was worried every time you walked home alone was mainly because the hill had no lights; it was pitch black, except for small splotches of light that came from the hill houses' outdoor lights.

It also had no CCTV so if anyone were to try something in the dark, no one would likely notice.

However, you had long accepted it. It was almost a given when the rent was so cheap, and you couldn't complain about the view. Since it was at the top of the hill, it faced downtown and often had beautiful sunsets.

On this night there wasn't a sunset in sight because it had long passed. The city was asleep, with only cicadas echoing up the hill.

About halfway up, you stopped to squint. Was that someone standing at the top? No - you must've imagined it.

You kept walking but occasionally glanced at the top from time to time. What you thought you saw had disappeared and when you finally reached the spot it was in, you were fully convinced your mind had played tricks on you.

The security guard greeted you when he saw you entering the building. You gave him a curt nod and hurried on, desperate to sleep in the comfort of your bed.

At your door, something felt off. Your eyebrows knit together as you crouched to look at the keypad. Had you really forgotten to close it this morning? You could've sworn you did.

You pressed the code and then wiped the screen with the sleeve of your shirt. It soon became forgotten when you stepped inside your apartment. The alcohol seemed to have clouded your mind on top of your senses.

With a yawn, you flopped down on the bed and fell fast asleep without changing, brushing your teeth, or getting under the covers.

You woke up with a terrible headache pounding your head. A groan slipped past your dry lips as you forced yourself to get up. Your whole world started spinning and you had to sit down to ground yourself.

Bile rose in your throat. You ran to the bathroom and managed to open the seat just in time for last night's pleasures to come out.

You felt confused again. Was it age that was starting to creep up on you? You didn't get hangovers very often, no matter how much you drank.

Resting against the tile wall behind, you let the cold cool your scorching skin. You knew you still had to go to work since you couldn't risk getting fired.

Slowly you peeled yourself off from the wall and started heading out after getting dressed. It was still relatively dark out, the winter sun rising on the horizon, but it was nowhere near as terrifying as when going home in the complete dark at night. That was a different type of darkness, a lonely one, which seemed to bring out the worst kinds of people lurking in the dark.

At work, your nice colleague greeted you with her usual cheery smile. She whispered that she had covered for you being late so no one had noticed.

With a grateful smile, you sat down in your spot and got ready to meet customers. Lately, you had noticed that your colleagues who were extra nice; smiling and almost touching the customers, would have more people go to their booths; so today, you were determined to put on your best fake polite smile and maybe you could get a permanent contract.

'' Number 29, please come to booth 4. ''

You saw a man stir in the crowd, hesitating, which made you internally sigh. You hadn't been very lucky with your booth number, that was yet another reason your performance always got criticized by your boss.

Sternly you leaned over the mic again, '' Number 29, please come forward. ''

The man finally gave up and walked over. When he sat down he looked both nervous and slightly uncomfortable. However, your warm smile made him loosen up.

'' Welcome. How can I help you today? ''

'' I would like to create an account. ''

You nodded and typed in the information. While working, you noticed his eyes on you, so you decided to strike up some small talk.

'' You live in Seongnam too? ''

The man's eyes widened, '' Yes...Do you live there? ''

'' I do, '' you chuckled, looking him right in the eyes now.

The intimate eye contact, coupled with your smile made him blush visibly. He looked away. Silence filled the space as you finished the last few things and showed him the screen. You gave him some necessary information, before handing him back his ID.

'' Maybe we can go out for coffee sometime? '' he mumbled after you were done talking and were ready to call the next customer.

He was handsome, there was no denying that, and he was definitely your type, with a bad boy appearance. He reminded you of your manager that you'd been crushing on and the cute new security guard at your apartment.

But it was unprofessional and you felt rather creeped out to be asked on a date at your job, especially in such an upfront way after you talked about where you lived.

'' Sorry, I can't do that. I'm working right now. ''

The man's smile faded, his eyes darkened and narrowed as he tilted his head, like he was unsure if he'd heard you correctly. '' I can take you out after. ''

Staring at him speechless, you wondered if the shy act he'd put on earlier was just that - an act. The man in front of you now didn't show any signs of being shy, quiet, nervous, or polite. He screamed of danger.

'' I- ''

'' You fucking whore! '' he cut you off screaming and catching the attention of everyone in the bank.

'' You flirted with me first, '' he started to his feet and began banging on the protective shield.

You jumped back, heart in your throat as you stammered. You couldn't get out a single word.

He tried reaching his arm in through the small gap and managed to pull you towards the shield. A scream ripped from your throat.

'' Security! '' you heard your manager shout.

You felt your arm be released just a few seconds later and you pulled away, breathing heavily. Even as he was being escorted away he kept screaming the same things, and creepily never taking his eyes off of you.

Red marks had formed where you were grabbed and you groaned when rubbing them. In the corner of your eye, you saw your manager approach so you quickly tried putting your arm under the table.

He saw it and grabbed it before you could do so. With a disappointed tick of his tongue, he inspected it and then freed you.

'' What a crazy asshole. ''

The shock had slowly started dissipating, '' Thank you. ''

'' No need to thank me, just call on me whenever you need. ''

You smiled awkwardly and bowed. Your manager left and the rest of the day went smooth sailing. Midday, you went for lunch with your coworker and Ryujin but you had a strange feeling in your stomach, like you were being watched.

It gnawed inside you, making it impossible to eat again. You put down your chopsticks and went back to work. Thankfully, after that, the thought was forced to the back of your mind due to how busy it was. You were pretty successful during the afternoon; making many customers satisfied as well as your boss, so you walked out at the end of the day with a small smile playing on your lips, despite the incident during the early hours.

'' Hey. ''

You froze in your steps. That voice, it sounded a lot like the man from before. You turned around very slowly, praying that you'd been mistaken.

The color drained off of your face when you faced him, it had been like you thought. The man from earlier was standing there, leaning back against the bus stop with a shit-eating grin on his face.

'' You have no idea how long I've waited for you. ''

Words got stuck in your dry throat. Your eyes started searching for help, but no one was around. Meanwhile, you could see how the man had started stalking towards you.

'' Why aren't you responding? You rude bit- ''

His hand caught your wrist in that painfully strong grip again and you yelped, flinging your arms around to escape him which had no effect at all; he just pulled you towards him, whipped you around, and hugged you from behind.

Suddenly, the grip loosened and you were pushed out of the way, almost knocking you over. You raised your head slowly.

The man was caught in a chokehold by your manager and couldn't get a word out, despite trying very hard to when he saw you move in the background.

You stared back at him, but after a few seconds, your eyes started flicking towards your manager's back instead. The man seemed to be losing consciousness and you started to feel anxious; this much violence wasn't necessary at all.

Without a word, you pulled your manager's hands away from the man who fell to the ground clutching his throat and coughing weakly.

'' I'm okay, '' you blurted out when he turned to you with a puzzled, almost angry look.

His frown disappeared and he seemingly accepted your answer. You let yourself be led towards his car and got in as you felt like your manager was someone you could trust. He had saved you twice now after all.

The whole ride, he talked about self-defense techniques; urging you to go to classes in the city and telling you about different weapons you could use. He also told you firmly that he'd file a police report for harassment and stalking since it was his job as a manager to keep his employees safe.

You only half-heartedly listened, feeling more zoned out the closer you got to the apartment building. The long day had made you incredibly tired, causing you to look forward to just going to sleep.

'' Take this, '' he concluded the rant right when the car pulled into the parking lot.

'' What is it? ''

'' It's a small pocket knife. ''

You frowned, '' That's illegal. ''

'' So? You'll be sorry if you get attacked and don't have it. ''

You hesitated for another moment. He grabbed your wrist and put it into your hand, closing it as if to say there'd be no further protest about the matter.

With a sigh, you gave up. Your manager parked the car and stepped out at the same time you did. He watched you as you went towards the entrance with one hand propped up on the roof of the car.

'' Do you need a ride tomorrow? ''

'' I'll be fine. Thank you, again, for- everything. ''

'' No problem, always glad to help. ''

And with that, he got back in the car and started it just as you opened the entrance door. You basked in the warmth that embraced you as soon as you entered the lobby.

The security guard who usually sat at the desk was nowhere to be seen. A smile shot to your lips. He was probably carrying up packages for the residents again, even though he wasn't allowed up there.

You glanced at his desk and something caught your attention. A very large package sat right on the edge of it, looking homemade with its messy taping and rough surface.

It intrigued you so you got closer. Your hand brushed along the material, eyes following it up all the way to the top where a small, white, paper square had been taped on.

' For: y/n '

You let out a small gasp. There was nothing else on the note, no other name or even address. Whoever sent it must've gone straight here instead of sending it through the mail.

With shaky hands, you used a cardboard knife cutter that was on the desk to cut the package open. Inside you saw a lone, small teddy bear. It was new, untouched, and had perfectly spot-free white fur.

You noticed it was holding a broken heart and it had a gloomy, melancholy expression on its face. While shoving your hand in to try and find if there was anything under the styrofoam, a sudden sound behind you made you jump.

'' Hey. ''

Recognizing the voice and placing it as belonging to the security guard, you visibly relaxed and turned around to face him.

'' You scared me. ''

'' Sorry about that. Ah, '' his eyes shifted to the package. '' you've opened it already. What was in it? ''

You waved the teddy bear in the air. '' Not much. Did you see who dropped it off? ''

'' It was just a regular delivery driver. He told me he'd been given it by some man the day before. ''

'' That's weird, '' you trailed off, mind already trying to come up with possible suspects.

For some reason, the dark staircase intruded your thoughts and in an instant, your focus shifted. Slowly your feet moved on their own until you were outside the building again.

The wind kissed your cheek and went past you, swirling down the steps. Your head turned with it. Just like the day before, it was dark, with only the scarce, dimly lit lamps illuminating spots here and there.

You weren't sure why you came out here. Had you expected to somehow spot the perpetrator in the dark, lurking while waiting for your reaction to opening the package?

One thing was for sure though, the gut feeling from before returned once again when you were at the staircase. That ominous, unexplainable feeling, of being watched.

The chill in the wind made you get back in as goosebumps littered your skin.

'' Did you see someone? ''

'' No, it's just...nothing. ''

You didn't feel like you were in the mood to explain and the security guard was thankfully exceptionally good at reading people, so he only smiled and bid goodnight.

In the dark of your own apartment, you lay for only a few minutes, aimlessly staring into the ceiling before it was interrupted by a rapt knock on your door. The sleepiness from before had disappeared since the new mystery had almost put you in a vigilant and paranoid state so you sprung up on your feet and opened it without any hesitation.

'' Sorry. You forgot this, '' it was your manager again, waving your wallet in the air.

'' Oh my god, I'm sorry. I feel like a burden now. ''

He laughed, '' It's fine. I noticed it almost right away. ''

You still felt bad even though he shook it off. Maybe you could invite him inside and offer tea or coffee for politeness; it was something you'd always seen your mom do when work on the house took a lot longer and the servicemen looked tired.

'' Would you like to come inside for a moment? I have coffee and tea. ''

'' I think I can spare a few minutes tea would be nice, '' he said, flashing a charming smile.

You returned it and then stepped aside so he could come in. He took a seat at your table next while you put the kettle on. An attempt at small talk was then made after silence briefly filled the space.

'' That guy will be banned from the bank, I'll see to it myself. You'll never have to worry about him again. ''

You sighed, '' Thank you, I don't know how I could ever pay you back, sir. ''

His eyes twinkled. Standing up he approached the door to the bathroom and pointed to it.

'' Can I use your bathroom? ''

'' Of course. ''

You went over to the kettle to see if it was almost ready. The sound of its hissing filled your ears. He took a long time in there and gave you room for your mind to wander off again.

He had found you quite quickly after you dropped your wallet and left the car. You stared at the door. Just as the door lock to the bathroom clicked, another thought struck you, this one much worse - How did he know where you lived?

Click

The door pushed open dramatically slow. Your manager stepped out and immediately locked eyes with you, he must've sensed something was wrong because he frowned.

His lips separated, but no words came out. He was left standing there, baffled, when you sprinted out of the apartment. You didn't stop until you reached the front desk.

'' Please call the police! ''

The security guard was startled by your entrance and jumped on his feet. '' What! Why? ''

'' My stalker is here, '' you waved your hands around, '' The one who gave me that package. ''

Things seemed to click in his head. He didn't question you further, instead calling the police and pulling you towards him protectively while you waited.

They arrived a lot quicker than you'd anticipated, which meant that only a few minutes had passed when your manager made his way downstairs after the shock had settled.

'' Why did you run? '' he questioned you.

You didn't answer and turned your head as if he was invisible. The security guard placed himself between you and your manager while the police led him out. He hadn't even been surprised they got called, it was like he was expecting them. You watched as they drove away with him in the back and sighed in relief.

'' Finally '' you mumbled to yourself, '' It's over. ''

The security guard smiled warmly at you which reminded you that you needed to thank him for his kindness.

'' I don't know how I could ever repay you for everything you've done for me. ''

He laughed, '' Don't worry about it. It's my job, and I'm just happy that you're safe. ''

'' Still, if it weren't for you I- '' you stopped, feeling yourself choking on tears as your mind imagined all possible endings.

He gave your shoulder a squeeze and looked at you sympathetically. Sensing that you needed some time to yourself, he then left to go talk to one of the remaining officers.

Long after they had all left and the commotion from the clamoring, nosey neighbors had settled, the feeling remained. It was hard going to sleep that night with your mind racing so much.

Despite that, you got ready and forced yourself to sleep, knowing that after some time you'd fall asleep naturally. You closed your eyes and daydreamed, occasionally taking a sip of the bottle of water next to your bed until falling into a deep slumber.

The next morning, you awoke with a pounding head yet again. Sitting up slowly you groaned and clutched it while your eyes looked around your apartment.

Something felt off.

You blamed the headache on stress and it causing you to not drink enough water, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the paranoia arose in you, the suspicion that someone had been inside your apartment.

'' That's nonsense, '' you sleepily mumbled to yourself.

One more yawn later and you managed to stand up, although with some difficulty. Inside the bathroom, you began to start your usual morning routine when your suspicions got closer to being confirmed.

On top of the toilet stood the roll of toilet paper. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary at first, it was in the same space it always was. However, on further inspection, the material was wet with a slight imprint of fingers.

You couldn't shake this off as a mere coincidence. All logical explanations were immediately ruled out - you hadn't showered before going to bed and the mark was so new, it wouldn't even have been left if you did go to the bathroom during the night. That was the thing, you didn't.

Freaked out of your mind, you did the first thing you could think of - leave the apartment.

With trembling hands, you managed to get your phone out while stumbling down the stairs. You called Ryujin who picked up almost immediately.

'' Y/n, you're late again! The boss is freaking out. ''

'' Sorry, I- '' you shook your pulsating head.

It was making you feel disoriented so words were formed a lot slower as your mind worked twice as slow.

'' Can you cover for me? I don't think I can come to work today actually. ''

'' What why? '' when she heard the uneasy tone in your voice, she paused. '' Did something happen? ''

'' I'll tell you later. ''

'' Okay, '' she worriedly agreed.

You had originally planned on going to work, but the events from the day before; as well as you convincing yourself that your stalker was waiting for you outside, made you reconsider.

On the short walk back to your apartment after you went to buy some food, you bumped into the security guard again.

'' Are you okay? ''

You turned around, quickly fixing your expression when you realized you must've looked erratic. '' Huh? ''

'' Did...something happen? ''

'' No. I'm okay. ''

You hurried to move on and get to your apartment. The silence inside when the door locked was deafening. A few seconds passed, then you turned all the lights on.

A kitchen knife was the weapon of choice as you navigated yourself through the apartment, checking every crook in it. You opened the door to your bedroom and bathroom with some hesitancy, only to find it completely empty, and just as you'd left them.

No one was hiding in your closet either, or under your couch, so you relaxed as you fell back on your bed again, exhausted from the stress and paranoia that was eating you up inside.

It must have been midday when you woke up again. It felt like it had been a long time since you left the building and actually went further than the corner shop.

Aimlessly you walked with a slight hurry to your steps, down the steep staircase, and into the center of the square where you hailed a cab.

Since the day before, you felt like you wanted to visit the police station. You needed to make sure the stalker had been caught and that it was just your mind playing tricks on you because you'd been so shaken up.

Thankfully it wasn't busy so you managed to get a hold of an officer at the desk right away.

'' Hey. How can I help you? ''

'' I'm wondering about someone you have in custody. I'm looking for someone and I want to see them. ''

'' Are you a family member? ''

'' No, is that okay? ''

'' State your relation to the person and who you want to see. ''

You filled in a form and then followed the lady at the reception as she led you through the maze that was the police station. The manager's eyes widened when he spotted you, and despite being warned by the guard not to, he started on his feet and grabbed the bars.

'' Y/n! Please tell them it was a misunderstanding. ''

Your lips thinned. '' I can't, because I'm not so sure it is. ''

He stared at you bewilderedly while incoherent words left his mouth until he finally turned his attention to the guard as an idea popped into his disoriented head.

'' Are you allowed to show her that I filed a report? ''

'' No sir. I can only confirm. ''

'' So you confirm that I filed a police report last night against the actual stalker and harasser of this lady? ''

'' I confirm you filed a report, '' the officer grumbled.

'' Why? ''

Your manager sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

'' Because I'm not the man who has been stalking you! ''

'' How can I trust you? ''

For whatever reason, he hesitated which made alarm bells ring in your ears. You weren't sure you'd believe anything he'd say from then on, it all seemed very planned and rehearsed.

'' Look. I got your room number from the security guard, I asked him where you lived since I needed to give you the wallet back. ''

You shook your head and backed away from the bars. '' No, I don't believe you. Ever since I joined the company you've always been there, ready to protect me, coming out of nowhere to pretend to be my hero. But you're the one pulling the strings behind the scenes! You are my stalker. ''

You directed your attention to the officer again. '' Have you got enough evidence to keep him longer? ''

The ticking of the large clock right above your head made you aware of the fact that they'd have to release him out of custody unless they had compelling evidence.

'' No ma'am. The DNA test results will arrive in a week. ''

You released a shaky breath and raised both your hands as if trying to grasp something invisible to ground yourself.

'' Okay, okay, '' you mumbled under your breath.

'' The other possible suspect will be arrested tonight. If you'd like, we can escort you back home safely. ''

'' Yes please, I'd appreciate that. ''

If you stayed inside for a week, which was slightly inconvenient but manageable nonetheless, then maybe they'd have newer evidence as well as the DNA results from the gift box you gave them.

The kind officers escorted you home as promised and for the first time in a long time, you didn't feel paranoid and scared while waving goodbye to them. You went upstairs and checked every room again before falling asleep.

As you awoke the next day, the sun had risen a long time ago. Your work was the last thing on your mind. Instead of calling in sick again, despite the risk of being fired, you called your friend Ryujin.

There was a chance that your manager had been released so you didn't want to be alone.

She picked up after only a few rings, sounding out of breath and worried. '' Y/n? Where the fuck have you been? ''

You jumped back and winched at her loud voice. She was shouting so much that you could hear her perfectly fine even while holding the phone an arm's length away from your ear.

'' I was so worried! I thought something bad happened to you after that pervert at work caused a scene, and then you call me once to tell me to cover for you at work! ''

She did have a point. You didn't give her an explanation after basically going completely silent. No one at work must've had any clue what was going on in your private life and why you weren't there. But if anyone deserved to know it was Ryujin.

'' I'm sorry, '' you began, sighing heavily. '' I've been dealing with a lot of shit lately. ''

'' Like what? '' she spat back, although less angry and loud this time.

'' It's hard to explain. Ever since that day I've been feeling like someone's been watching me. ''

'' A stalker? ''

'' Yeah, something like that. ''

'' Why didn't you tell me sooner? ''

'' It was a lot I had to process and figure out on my own first. I think this...stalker has been breaking into my apartment. ''

'' What? ''

'' I don't have a lot of proof of it. Mostly, it's just a feeling. ''

She went quiet for a moment, then when she spoke again, her voice sounded thick with sympathy. '' I believe you. ''

'' Thank you, '' you smiled wholeheartedly even though she couldn't see you.

You didn't know how much you'd missed her until you heard her voice again.

'' Do you wanna come over? ''

'' Of course. I think you need someone right now, '' she half-joked. '' I have enough vacation days, so that won't be a problem. I'll be over in twenty! ''

'' Okay, bye see you! ''

'' Bye! ''

You spent the next twenty minutes pacing back and forth in your apartment, not daring to go check if the toilet roll had been used again. When the bell rang, you felt so relieved, you didn't even check who it was.

Thankfully, that time it was actually Ryujin and not someone else. You flung yourself into her arms and hugged her tightly.

'' Oh wow, someone's missed me. ''

'' Shut up, '' you gave her a grin despite your words, which she returned as she sat down.

'' So. Tell me everything. ''

*******

After hearing the whole story, your friend was more worried than ever. Her reaction was a lot stronger than the other people who knew about it and you felt relieved she shared your paranoia.

The two of you drove down to the station so you could see if they had released him yet. Luck seemed to finally be on your side as they told you they had extended the time and were questioning both of the suspects since the creep from your job had been brought in too.

The weight on your shoulders had lifted completely now. Unless they broke out or were freed not long after, you'd at least have a night of serene rest, finally worry-free.

'' We will contact you when we have more information, '' the kind lady at the desk told you while you were leaving again.

'' Maybe I can go back to work tomorrow. ''

Ryujin turned her head so fast she almost crashed the car.

'' Are you sure? Do you not feel scared anymore? ''

'' No, why would I? I think it'll be okay. Soon they will get the results and they can finally be charged and put away forever. ''

She hummed in response, deep in thought, but agreed in the end that it would be good for you to go back to routine. You would put the whole thing behind you.

'' Thank you for dropping me off, and for coming over today. ''

'' No need to thank me, I was going crazy thinking about all the things that could've happened to you. Promise me you'll never leave me in the dark like that again! '' she frowned.

You laughed loudly, '' Promise. ''

As she drove off you waved enthusiastically so she'd see you were fine, because she kept asking if you were sure you didn't want her to stay the night.

On the way up, you saw the security guard again. He noticed your bright smile and lit up when he saw you.

'' You seem to be in a good mood today. ''

'' Yes! I am. ''

He stepped into the elevator with you and raised a small package in his hand to show you he was doing a delivery.

'' Is there any reason in particular? ''

'' The whole thing has been solved...well, pretty much anyway. The two suspects were arrested so I will be sleeping well tonight. ''

'' That's great! ''

You nodded, '' What floor are you going to? ''

'' Same as you, the eight, '' he gestured to the buttons and you pressed it for him.

'' You're too nice, I keep saying it. Shouldn't people come get their own packages in the lobby? ''

'' They should, but they don't. I guess the positive thing is that it leads to better reviews, so higher prices, and then I get a higher salary, '' he winked.

'' Smart, playing the long game. ''

You stepped out of the elevator and started walking towards your apartment. Even from afar, you noticed something was wrong with the lock. It kept beeping and flashing an error message.

It was quite easily fixed so you tried to contain your irritation on the inside.

'' Are you okay over there? '' the security guard shouted from the other side of the hallway.

He had dropped off his package and came over, having heard the noises.

'' Damn it. That fucker must've been inside this morning. ''

'' I thought he was arrested. ''

You nodded and swallowed bitterly, a look of disdain struck across your features. '' He was, I guess he just had to do it one last time. ''

'' Will you be okay? '' his soft voice sounded even more gentle as it was laced with genuine concern, '' do you want me to check? ''

'' No. The danger's gone, he can't hurt me anymore. ''

You didn't know if it was him you were trying to convince or yourself.

'' You can sleep with me, '' he timidly added.

'' What? '' you whipped your head around, having been lost in your thoughts for a moment.

'' I meant sleep by me, '' he blushed, '' in the lobby, if you feel scared. ''

You knew he probably meant well, but it was hard to hide the expression your face changed into since you felt a little weirded out. To sleep near someone is to trust them completely.

'' Thank you. I'll remember that in case I change my mind. ''

It was said in a stern tone, finalizing the conversation. The security guard was observant and picked up on it, nodding curtly before leaving. You gave the lock one final irritated look, then closed the door behind you and hurried to turn the lights on.

One tour later where you found no one and you were yet again left to make the hours go by until it was time to fall asleep again. You were thankful for the water bottle that always stood on your nightstand then as you downed it thirstily.

It washed over you like a wave, the sleepiness, and like it was knocking you over, you found yourself falling back against the soft mattress and blinking hazily at the ceiling.

Mere minutes after, you couldn't fight against it any longer so you became engulfed in what had become a familiar darkness. The sun outside slowly started fading, there was no way to tell how long it had been since you laid down; its last golden-red beams illuminated against your window.

Your room which was now one with the darkness suddenly lit up briefly. The screen of a phone on the table lighting up as a message popped up.

It went unnoticed and so the room turned black again. But then more messages came in, just when it was about to go dark - another lit up the room.

00:13

Ryujin: y/n?

Ryujin: can you answer me? this is important

00:14

Ryujin: are you okay?

00:15

Missed call from Ryujin

00:15

Ryujin: if you don't pick up the phone I'm coming over, if you see this, make sure you lock your door and the windows, also make sure you check everywhere!

Ryujin: the DNA results came in

The sound of a door unlocking echoed in the apartment. A hooded man stalked towards your sleeping form and the bed dipped as he sat down on it to pet your head.

00:15

Ryujin: it's not them, it's someone else

You stirred in your sleep, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked just above you.

'' Sorry about the drugs, sweetheart. It's the only way I could visit you at night. But now, we will be together forever, '' the man said, and as he carried you out, the reflection in the mirror showed your stalker - the security guard.

*******

(explanation; although I think most people will guess it right I'll explain why it was him. The reason all she did was sleep was because of the drugs, he put them in the water bottle and then snuck in after she fell asleep during his nightshift, he laid next to her & even used her things (such as the paper) because he played '' house '' or pretended he was her boyfriend; since he was the security guard he had the easiest access to her as they often have keys to every apartment & it's also why he said he didn't see anyone delivering the package to y/n, I guess your enemies are a lot closer than you'd think c: !! if u have any more questions feel free to send them <3

[hisvelvetfur]

🌎 𝐼 ’ 𝐷 𝑅 𝐴 𝑇 𝐻 𝐸 𝑅 𝐵 𝐸 𝑊 𝐼 𝑇 𝐻 𝑌 𝑂 𝑈 𝑇 𝐻 𝐴 𝑁 𝐴 𝑁 𝑌 𝐻 𝑈 𝑀 𝐴 𝑁 𝑂 𝑁 𝐸 𝐴 𝑅 𝑇 𝐻 🌎

PAIRING — shadow x human!reader

PROMPT — you express your forbidden relationship with shadow in your diary after seeing him

WORD COUNT — 2.1k

WARNINGS — angst

THE AUTHOR’S NOTE — Originally written in February and has gone through a lot of edits and changes. This was loosely inspired by the very first fic I read of shadow. It’s probably the most intimate one I have written.

TAGS — @xobunni0

ᴛɪᴍᴇ // 1:57 ᴀᴍ ᴇɴᴛʀʏ // 34

It was another night in the cold lab. When I entered the room, he was there, staring at the moon from the glass. His eyes crossed mine as I laid my hand against his tube. He then laid his on top of mine. This was our new normal. In this chilling laboratory, it was only us that kept the warmth.

“I’m scared.” I said as I pretended to caress his hand with the tips of my fingers.

“We’ve done this so many times in the last few months. But every time I let you out, I feel on edge.”

Shadow, didn’t say a word. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on me.

With a deep breath, I took a step towards the keypad of the incubator. Laying my hand gently on the buttons. My fingertips, feeling the brail lettering as it triggered my nerves.

Then, I pressed in the password.

10 digits. That unlocked him, from his prison.

As the glass shield lifted up, Shadow began walking towards the window. I followed him. My hands were shaking.

“Why is he silent?” I thought.

Did I say something wrong to him? Is he okay?

I laid my hand on his shoulder for reassurance. The tender fur brushed on my fingertips. Shadow’s eyes were fixated on the moon, until, they shifted to the ground.

His voice, finally, spoke,

“If only they knew. What’s happening between us. The things that we have done here. The things that, only people of your kind can do with one another. But between us, it’s…” Shadow sighed.

His eyes then closed as he took a breath in. His fingers, beginning to fidget with the red cuffs of his gloves.

My heart sank. I knew what he meant. We both knew that the feelings between each other were wrong. Something in this world, in this lifetime, that is looked down upon. Two species that were different. That wanted each other.

That were truly, in love with each other.

Behind a glass tube, that stood over 12 foot 2, was where he was kept. My colleagues, warning me, that he was a threat. That he could possibly destroy the earth. That he was so powerful. And so dangerous.

A black hedgehog. Mixed with alien DNA. With red oval eyes, streaks, and quills that were tilted upwards.

A peculiar thing he was when I first saw him. With those wires, stuck to his bloodstream. I felt sorry for him.

“Shadow… is that your name?”

I asked him the first time we spoke. Unenthusiastically, he replied,

“….what do you expect my name to be?”

He was…

very distant.

But then, weeks later, our connection grew. And that distance between us, started to dissipate. We spoke night after night, with the glass separating us. Things that were only secret to us.

“You know, you’re the only human here that I find… tolerable.”

“Really?”

“…..yes.”

I’ll never forget the night I opened up his glass case. I was able to remember the password to the incubator by my colleague during one of his health checks. A 10 digit code that I wrote in the palm of my hand.

And that same night, I released him from the case.

Feeling his fur for the first time, was like touching an angel.

“Your fur. It feels like velvet.”

Feeling each other, it was so… foreign.

“I never realized how small your hands are.”

Shadow holding my hand for the very first time was like touching something so ethereal. So otherworldly. So godly. And he was exactly that.

When we finally embraced each other, there was so much darkness. A kind of pain that I couldn’t understand.

“I haven’t been…… touched like this, in a very…. very long time.” Shadow confessed.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” I asked.

He closed his eyes.

“……..decades ago.”

Shadow then took my hand, and raised it to his cheek.

“…….hug me again.”

And then, that same night, our lips finally touched.

“….soft.” Shadow whispered as he parted his lips against mine. His fingers, gently caressing the side of my waist.

Looking deep into those crimson eyes, I never knew what falling in love felt like. Until, when my eyes met his.

“….promise me….” Shadow’s lips were against mine.

“….to not tell….. anyone.”

“….our secret….” I mouthed.

“….our freedom….” His lips, melted into mine.

Shadow and I became something more than anything we could ever imagine. It was a bond. A bond stronger than any vein in the body. And no person, no amount of hate, could amputate us apart.

Humanity. Keeping me away from someone so pure. So different. And so beautiful. He was like an apple in the Garden of Eden. But instead, he was kept in a glass case.

It was in that moment, I couldn’t lay my eyes on another human being the same way ever again.

Shadow ruined me. Not just for other men, but for love. He became the only person, the only being, the only entity I wanted to be with. And it was then I truly could not let him stay behind the glass any longer.

Our bodies, both different, but craved the same desire. To merge.

It happened nearly every night. I risked my safety and my reputation to see him. We were each other’s secret. My heart belonged to a being that wasn’t human. But he felt like one. He was an alien. An alien that felt more human, than any human on earth.

If only they knew. How many nights we dreamt of being in each other’s arms. Embracing each other, feeling the differences of our bodies against each other. If only they knew, what we did in that lab nearly every night while they were asleep.

He got to feel how my skin felt against his warm fur. The way how large his hands were on my waist. Our arms locked around each other. And the feeling of our mouths savoring every second, with the fear, of someone finding us.

“I’d rather be with you than any human on this planet.”

I remember whispering to him. He let out a deep exhale and took in those words as a promise, as a devotion.

And it was the truth.

He kept a long distaste for humanity. And I understood why. But for me, he saw something that was rare. But also familiar. While distant to many, his loyalty to me was sacred. And he never dared to break it.

“Long ago, my will to live was stolen from me. But you, you made me feel….. alive again.”

I wanted the touch of his fur more than any human skin. I wanted the softness of his kiss more than any human’s lips. I wanted the sharpness of his quills more than any human hair.

“I don’t want anybody’s hands but yours.”

His hands were warmer than any touch. Warmer than any heat that my body has ever experienced. The way his hands were over 3 times the size of mine. The texture of his white leather gloves, as I caressed every grain. And contrasting the coolness of his inhibitor rings.

He was more beautiful, than any human I have ever laid my eyes on.

It was so forbidden. So wrong to love him.

“It feels so wrong to love you….”

“……but I just…..”

Shadow pulled me into his arms.

“…….I know…”

But in those crimson eyes… it was all I ever wanted.

It was so wrong.

But it felt so right.

“Shadow…” His name escaping my lips.

Even his name, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Yes?” He looked at me with those eyes. Half opened. Taking my hand in his and reaching for my waist. Towering me. My hand then touched his chest as I massaged my fingers into his white fur.

“What would you do… if they found out. If they tried to harm me?”

The question sank into his chest. The thought triggered him for a brief moment. The feeling of him losing me. There was nothing more haunting, than reliving the loss of someone he loved, trusted, and cared for once again.

He cupped my face into his palm and moved even closer to me. His mouth reached to my ear and whispered, “You know I would protect you.”

My Shadow. Kept me safe in my darkest of moments. He was always there to hold me, to bandage me, to make sure I was safe. And no human on this earth ever did.

A danger to the earth.

Never. He could never.

A princess, I felt in those hands.

And he was my prince.

My protector.

My forbidden lover.

“You’re so beautiful. The earth doesn’t deserve someone as beautiful as you.” Shadow cupped my face as I leaned into his touch.

Every flaw that every human man saw in me on this planet, he loved. I was a masterpiece in his eyes. An exotic flower waiting to be picked from a garden. A star shining brighter than any light in the sky.

And he was always beside me. Like a shadow.

The coldness of earth. The cruelty. He understood more than I ever could. Even when he appeared distant, unemotional, and completely detached, there was warmth. In those oval crimson eyes, I felt it. That tenderness. I only saw it, when we were alone.

“Shadow, why are you like this only with me?”

“It’s because I trust you. And I rarely trust anyone.”

He never dared to raise his voice at me. Or judge me. He accepted my flaws, as much as I accepted his.

“You’re like me. In a lot of ways…”

As he laid a kiss on me one last time. His eyes sank in with an inch of fear.

“Before they find us, lock me back in.” Shadow whispered. I then held on to his hand tightly. Massaging the leather of his white glove. To remember, what he felt like, before leaving.

I was unable to let him go.

“Shadow, I-I can’t.” I whispered. Cupping my face, he leaned in closer, our mouths, inches apart once again.

“You have to… I don’t want to lose you.

Like I lost-”

There was a moment of silence.

“….”

“…..”

“….…..Ma-.”

His face sank into my shoulder. Kneeling to the ground, his nose rubbed against me. With his arms, wrapped around my waist.

My voice cracked suddenly as I whispered to him,

“I would die for you. In this moment. In any moment, I would die for you. I would die for our love. As long as I have your hand in mine, my lips against yours, I would take a bullet… to be with you.”

Shadow, lifting himself from my shoulder, feeling his weight raise from me, his eyes, for the very first time, watered.

The first tear fell from his muzzle. I then took my finger and tried to wipe it away, until, he stopped me.

He took my hand.

“I-“ Shadow paused.

I didn’t respond. My eyes, lingering to his.

He leaned in closer to me. His lips brushing mine.

“………”

“…….”

“….”

Never, could I even imagine, the vulnerability of Shadow’s own words could pierce through me, when he finally said:

“I…….. I love you.”

The vibration of his voice, his words, of complete devotion. I felt it. On my lips. Every frequency, every momentum, every beat of emotion that he had in his heart.

He loved me.

He truly loved me.

Shadow’s lips, then fell into mine.

And we stayed there. Like if we weren’t on earth, imagining like it was far behind us, in the distance of space, and we, were on another planet, on another wavelength, as we expressed the love, that no human, could ever, understand.

Once I closed the lab door, I touched my lips. Feeling the last few seconds of his mouth against mine before drifting away.

And he did the same.

My heart sank, whispering to myself, with tears in my eyes,

“…… Sha…”

Weeping.

“…dow…”

His name, cracking through my vocal cords. His name breaking apart, in the same way, how deeply I wanted to break the glass case.

As I rushed to the next door, with my footsteps clashing against the metal floors, I collapsed. My hand, so weak and damp from my tears as I held on to the wall.

Oh I loved him.

I loved him.

I loved him.

Staring into the moon, Shadow became detached once again. Missing my presence, my touch, my voice, everything.

We were both separated by the glass. The walls. The norms that we couldn’t control.

But I loved him.

And he loved me.

Like forbidden fruit, he tasted like freedom.

But most of all, love.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Of Cupcakes and Skulls | Part 6

(A/N) This is a bit on the shorter side, but I honestly struggled with the description of the bakery. I hope that it's good enough that ya'll can paint a picture in your mind.

Pairing: single dad! Mafia! Simon x baker! Reader

Warning: kissies, fluff, angst, comfort, Simon is fucking smitten

Synopsis: Based on this post by @lunamoonbby

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Simon chuckled quietly as he watched you stare at your shop. Your eyes were wide and your jaw hung open as he gently maneuvered you so he could get out of the car and pull you along with him. And once you were outside, you could see the entire storefront.

You didn’t know what detail to focus on first as you took in the changes that happened overnight. Until now, it had been a generic and rather boring exterior, something you always wanted, but never had the money to change. But now…it was beautiful.

The storefront was freshly painted in a dark green color, with metal accents decorating the usual plaster wall and a canopy overhead. The windows were sparkling in the sun, offering an easy view into the warm interior of the bakery, brimming with new furniture and counters. There were flowers everywhere, outside and inside, decorating and offering a sweet scent as you stepped closer. Additionally to the tables and chairs inside, there were a few scattered outside, in an area that was fenced off by wooden planters, and filled with tiny trees. Heaters hanging on the wall overhead, for the colder months.

You glanced back at Simon, who just smiled and gestured for you to walk inside. So you did.

As soon as you opened the door, a pleasant jingle rang through the air and the smell of the wood furniture filled your nose. You took a few more steps, hearing Simon following you inside, as you looked around. It felt warm and cozy, everything you ever hoped your bakery would feel like.

There were multiple showcases for your bread and pastries, as well as a whole nook for coffee and tea making, with brand-new machinery and cups. Just looking at everything, you knew it must’ve cost thousands of pounds. When you turned to look at Simon again, he was leaning against the wall next to the doorway that led to the kitchen. With a nod of his head, you walked through the revolving doors and entered…heaven.

You had already been happy with the equipment you had before, but now the room was filled with state-of-the-art machinery. Whether the giant mixer or the dishwasher, everything was brand new and extremely expensive. You knew that because you regularly gazed at them on the website, dreaming of the day you could afford them. And now you had them.

Suddenly, two strong, warm arms wrapped around you, pulling you against a hard chest. You relaxed against it, your eyes still flickering from one corner to the other, taking everything in.

“The windows are bulletproof, with multiple layers so they should be able to resist almost anything. And the door is a security door, it will lock automatically at a time you set and can only be opened by a combination of a key and code you have to enter into a keypad that’s beside the doorframe. I also went ahead and had the best alarm system installed, as well as cameras in the shop that are wired to the security firm, as well as to my people. If we see anything suspicious, we’ll be here within minutes.”

You turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his waist, resting your chin on his chest as you peered up at him. He smiled down at you, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of the nose, before he straightened back up and spun you around, slowly walking you to the walk-in fridge. His grip on you tightened as he felt you tense up at the sight.

“We installed a new one.”

He was whispering in your ear, hot breath faning over your cheek.

“It almost functions more like a panic room than like a fridge. It can only be locked from the inside. The controls are also inside, so if something like last night ever happens again, they can’t play around with those. Also…”

He stopped in front of the door and opened it, gently leading you inside, where he pointed to a corner that was void of any shelves.

“This is a latch that leads into an actual panic room. Once inside, it locks down, and nothing except for maybe a nuclear bomb will be able to get in there. It’s outfitted with screens that show what’s going on up here, a landline, and a burner phone, as well as a bed and enough food and water to last three people two weeks. It has everything you could need in case anything happens. And as soon as it locks down, there will be an alert sent to my phone, as well to the phones of all of my employees.”

He spun you around again, gently cradling your face in his hands.

“Like I said, I won’t let anything happen to you. No matter where you are.”

You nodded, a soft smile on your face as he carefully wiped away the few tears that were running down your face. It had been so long since you felt so loved. Still, smiling, you watched as Simon slowly leaned down, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Boss?”

Thanks to your proximity, you heard and felt him sigh, clearly annoyed, as he slowly pulled back, before he glanced toward the entrance to the kitchen. There was a tall, blonde man, clad in a dark suit. He glanced at you, before focusing on Simon.

“What is it, Graves?”

Simon’s arms remained around you as he glares at the man who just interrupted you two. The blonde man obviously felt uncomfortable as he kept glancing between the two of you before he finally spoke up.

“A call for you. It’s urgent.”

Simon nodded, pecking your lips before he pulled away and walked to the man, whispering a quick ‘I’m sorry’ as he was leaving. You just smiled as you watched him go, taking the opportunity to look around by yourself. You peeked into all the cabinets and every corner, finding new, amazing, and really expensive utensils. Even the cutlery was new, replaced by a set that had been designed by one of your favorite chefs.

The more you looked around, the more your fingers started to itch, wanting to try everything out. You walked to the wall, where you had installed a hook to hold your apron, and were pleasantly surprised when you saw that it was more or less the only thing that remained of your old bakery. As you were about to pull it on, Simon interrupted, clearing his throat as he leaned against the wall next to the swinging door that led into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at you, amusement swimming in his eyes. But you just shrugged.

“Bake something. I really want to try everything out.”

With a chuckle, he crossed the distance between you two, wrapping you up in his arms again.

“May I ask…with what ingredients?”

That’s when you finally realized that he was right. There was nothing here you could use to make something. Not even flour.

As you stood there, surprised and still, Simon squeezed you tightly, before taking your apron and hanging it on the hook.

“Come, that’s our next stop.”

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

Tags: @lunamoonbby @distinguishedprincesstrash @xanvasy @reader-1290 (thought you might like to be tagged, if not just let me know!)

Like what you're reading? Buy me a coffee!

[sofiafantasies]

“Tirame las aguas.”

You say, turning your head behind your shoulder before looking back at your hands. Your fingers working their magic on the keypad. You never really understood why Bruce locks his cookies like this. It's not like you guys were gonna steal it.

Damian nodded and turned around, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. Jason turned around just to snap his head back at you. “What?” He asked, shaking his head like you just gave him an insult.

“If you can't understand simple instructions on a cookie heist—”

“I understood!” Jason whispered back from the crouched position he was in. You rolled your eyes and looked over your shoulder. “It just doesn't make sense.”

You raised your bottom lip and looked him up and down. You gave him clear instructions, and he made a big deal of them. “Work faster, would ya?” Tim rushed into your ear, the headpiece he had left for you beeping as it activated.

You hissed, rubbing your ear on your shoulder. “Can it, Tim!” You whispered harshly after you lifted your head up. You brought your hand up to your ear and tried to lower the volume. “What doesn't make sense about—?”

“Pennyworth's coming,” Damian informed you in a rush, pushing himself off of the wall. He narrowed his wide eyes at the butler before turning his head to you.

You shifted in the crouched position you were in, a hand to the floor to keep yourself steady. “Distráelo,” you whispered, nodding up at him. “ya casi termino.” He nodded before walking off.

“Jason, tirame las aguas,” you said to him, lifting your head up to look at him. He furrowed his brows at you, you thought it was because you said his name in a Spanish accent. You rolled your eyes, turning to the keypad and typing in other codes that Bruce would use.

“I don't-I don't know what that means.�� He stuttered, leaning forward.

“Really, dude?” The voice of Tim came through the comms. You slapped your palm on your ear and took the piece out with a hiss. A chill running down your spine. He must have added volume right after you turned it down. He was a menace.

“Not gonna lie—same!” He chuckled. Jason groaned, reaching out to the headpiece. You sat on your bum and rubbed your ear, groaning. This better be where Bruce keeps his cookies.

“Same what?” Jason questioned, lowering the volume on the earpiece.

“That you don't know what it means.” Tim said with a mouthful. It gave you an idea he was finished patrol and stopped by for a snack.

“Jason, tirame las aguas!” You rushed him. You knew Damian could not keep Alfred away forever. And Bruce could come any minute from patrol.

“I don't know what that means!” He yelled.

You tsked and pulled at the lock. “Tim, si no te apuras te voy a matar!” You whispered harshly. You grunted, hitting the lock with your palm. You wanted those cookies, you were getting those cookies!

“But, Alfred!”

You inhaled, a sharp gasp as you turned your head behind yourself. “Jason!” You whispered, narrowing your eyes. “Tirame. Las. Aguas!” You said, emphasizing your words by widening and narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don't know what the fuck that means!” He whispered, glaring at you. “Do you really want me to throw you the waters? The waters! With an 's'?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows before grunting as you sucked in your bottom lip. You turned back to the keypad, why did Bruce decide to change the location to the floor at the pantry? You didn't think anyone but Jason was allowed in the kitchen.

“Jason, presta atención a la puerta.” You said, trying to clarify.

“They do look sick! I think it's a virus. We must give them medical attention at once.”

Jason peered over his shoulder before he turned back to you. “Why?”

“Code Black!” Tim's frantic voice came through the headpiece.

“What?” You said, turning your head to look behind you.

“Bats on the way home!” He informed, and you could tell he was running.

“Do you want them to die!?”

“Did he catch you?” Jason asked, raising a brow at the headpiece.

Tim scoffed, “Of course not. He got an alarm.”

“Who has an alarm on their cookie jar?”

“Bruce, apa—aparentemente,” you said, pulling at the lock. "y nos va a matar." You say in a whine before snapping your head behind you. “Después de que te mate yo!” You whispered at Jason.

“I am going to die!”

“I don't understand what that means.” He said once again with narrowed eyes.

“Mira, mocoso, hijo del Diablo,” you start, turning to him and abandoning the lock. "como que no sabes? Si te hablo en español todos los días."

“That specific phrase has never been muttered—” he pointed a finger at you making you gasp.

“Como te atreves!” You lean forward just to smack his hand away. “Tu me respetas—me importa un pepino si sos más grande que yo, jueputa!”

“Guys!” Damian said, peering over the door. “Alfred's on his way.”

You groaned and slapped the back of Jason's head which was open to the hit once he turned his head to the little demon brat. “Ow!”

“Que te dije que me tiren las aguas!”

“Why would I throw waters at you?” He yelled, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to look at you. “Waters!”

Damian sighed, shaking his head. “Being around you has made me lose brain cells and unable to make up a great excuse. But then again all your yelling didn't help.” He looked back at the two of you, narrowing his eyes—he hadn't realized until now the two of you were working in the dark and his older brother's eyes were glowing.

He paid no mind to that; the two of you were weird anyway. "I will be heading to the Batcave. I must check on Batcow and Alfred the Cat and make sure they have not caught a sickness. I will accept any punishment from Father once he finds out about this, but I will not leave their side until further notice. Good night, and I love you—not you, Todd.”

“Adiós! Descansa! Dile a los bebés qué los quiero, te amo!” He took a step back and rushed out of the kitchen, evading Alfred. He huffed and made his way to the kitchen pantry. “'Perate!” You yelled, realizing what that meant.

You quickly grabbed the doorknob and closed the door. “Esto es tu culpa!” You say, turning your head to Jason.

“My fault?” He yelled, a hand to his chest. “This is your fault!” He pointed his finger at you because he found that you took it as an insult.

You gasped and stretched your foot out to hit him. He fell back and glared at you. Your foot only missed again. You decide to stand up and kick him, but he just grabbed your ankle and tossed it aside. “Ey!”

You fall to your knee and glare at him. A knock at the pantry door makes you two freeze. You pull at the doorknob, putting all your weight into holding the door closed. “Mrs.—”

“It's okay, Alfred, I'm just very hungry.” You say before he could say anything. “You know, you buy the best snacks—healthy yet yummy!” You chuckle, tilting your head to your shoulder.

“We've been caught, kiddo.” Jason whispers next to you. He narrowed his eyes at you as you didn't reply.

“If you are as hungry as you say why don't I make you and master Jason something.” Alfred offered, his hands behind his back.

“You can take him,” you said loudly, turning your head to him, narrowing your eyes. “all yours.”

“What?” His eyes widened.

“You can call me when dinner is ready.” You nodded your head at the door, hoping—praying he would get it.

He rolled his eyes and stood up. You let go of the doorknob quietly and pushed yourself to the wall, tucking your knees close to you. He opened the door, his eyes stopped glowing. “Hey, Alfred.”

You tapped his shin, trying to get him to keep moving—the light was killing you. He rolled his eyes and stepped out, closing the door behind him. “Are they okay?” Alfred raised a brow.

“Eh, sort of.” He shrugged. You crawled to the door and pulled down on the doorknob. Jason crossed his arms with a bored expression—he really wanted those cookies. “S'just back to her old habits.”

Alfred narrowed his eyes. There was nothing to go back to if it was always there.

“He's here, he's—” Tim froze as he saw Alfred. “—Alfred. Hey! Hi, Alfred. Hi, Alfred. Hi, Alfred.” His hands flew behind his back, smiling awkwardly at him.

Jason raised a brow, coughing in his fist. “Uh, right, where's—” a loud alarm rang through the house.

“I got it!” You yelled, kicking the pantry door. Jason yelped and jumped out of the way as Alfred simply took a few steps back. “Te dije qué podría hacerlo, hijos de—” seeing Alfred you settled with a nicer insult. “de vuestro padre hermoso.”

You cleared your throat, hugging the jar of cookies close to your chest. Your irises flickered from Alfred to Jason to Tim as you side-stepped. “Haha!” You exclaimed before running past Tim, holding the jar above your head.

“Hey!” The two guys yelled before running after you. “We were supposed to share those!” Tim yelled after you.

“You were never gonna share those, were you?” Jason yelled.

You ran as fast as you could, not letting yourself get caught. You and your little gremlin laugh were caught off by dark green eyes glaring at you. You yelped before slowing your run. “Beloved, you will share those, won't you?”

“Nope!” You say, running around him. Damian scoffed, turning around to look behind his shoulder. “Ni lo pienses, amor mío!” You laugh before screaming as Batcow mooed at you. “Tramposo!” You yelled as you fell on your bum.

Damian walked to you, Alfred the cat in arms. “You will share.” He said firmly.

“'Ta bien!” You huffed, still holding the jar in your arms. “Pero vámonos qué ya viene el suegro.” You stood up, glaring at him. “Y tu sabes cómo se pone el viejo ese. Baba-in-law nos va a matar pero yo esperó qué te mate primero mientras yo me cómo las demás galletas.”

“Put those back.” The menacing voice of Bruce said behind the two. He ignored the cow inside the manor plus the insult and focused his eyes on the cookie jar.

“Give those back you—” Tim cut himself off and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Bruce dressed in his suit standing menacingly behind the two of you.

“Move it, Replece—what the fuck?” Jason cut himself off as well. He did not flinch at the fact that his father was there. Mostly that Batcow was in the manor. He will fight his father if he has to and you know this.

You know this.

“Aguas!” You yelled, turning to face your brothers-in-law before throwing the jar of cookies. Jason was the first to respond to the call since he still wonders why the hell you are yelling out waters!

Bruce wasted no time in attacking. And Jason wasted no time in attacking back. Tim yelped, getting knocked down. He huffed, the air leaving his lungs. “Corre, hijo de puta!” You yelled before turning to run yourself.

All you knew was that it was chaos. You hid behind a wall, Alfred the cat joining you after getting knocked out of Damian's arms by Jason on accident—the man swears!—making the boy join the fight.

Tim was the only one who was not in the battle. You knew this, of course. He's tactical. Strategetic. And definitely won't share with his dear sibling-in-law. You grabbed Alfred the cat and made your way past their little cartoonish dust battle, passing Alfred who didn't look too happy about the fight.

You rounded the corner and started running, holding poor Alfred the cat in your arms like a little baby. You slowed down once you saw Tim holding the cookie jar. He was about to open it when Duke appeared from behind him with Steph. “Heeeyyy! Whatcha got there?”

You narrowed your eyes and placed little Alfred the cat down and dashed forward. “Uh, nothing?” Tim shrugged a shoulder as he closed the lid with an awkward smile. He gasped once the jar was snatched from his hands.

“Son mías!” You laughed, a little evil Stich laugh.

“Hey!”

You rounded the corner and pressed your palm to the wall. The wall parted and you dashed forward, bricks closing in and paint sealing the entrance. Tim grunted as he followed after you. “Oooh, a race?” Steph giggled and stretched her hand to her side, slapping Duke in the stomach, “Whoever finds the cookie jar first gets to eat it all!” She yelled before rushing after Tim.

Duke grunted, holding his middle. “I think the cookies will be long gone by then.”

The walls opened and you settled into the bed. The walls closed in, the paint re-sealing the secret passage. You laughed as you opened the cookie jar. You took one out and was about to take a bite when a little moo and meow was heard. You turned your head and smiled, lowering the cookie.

Still stuck in adrenaline you said, “Hola, bebés.”

“Share.” You gasped, clutching the cookie jar, wrapping your legs around it, and bringing your knees close. Damian stood at the other side of the bed. He either found a secret passage or he was that damn sneaky. You'll take the second one.

“Pero—”

“Hubi,” you pressed your lips into a thin line. You sighed and relaxed your legs and arms. You placed the cookie jar next to you as he climbed on. You turned to the two animals and gestured them over. They slowly made their way to you as you took a bite of the cookie.

“We should do this more often.” You say, petting Batcow as Alfred the cat jumps on Damian's bed.

“Agreed, habibti.” He smirked, he had definitely struck a few blows on his family. You shrugged, looking at the half biten cookie in your hands.

“I wonder if he has a tracker inside the cookies.”

“That's too extreme even for him.” He says, petting Alfred the cat who snuggled on his lap. He looks at you and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Eh, las cosas qué uno hace por la comida.” You said before biting the rest of your cookie. Damian smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist, caressing the extra fat there.

He lifted his head and you turned to look at him, grabbing another cookie from the jar. “True, you did marry me back at Nanda Parbat after my mother held a dinner for us.”

You scoffed, turning your head the other way. “That is absurd. Yo nunca me casé contigo solo por la comida.”

“Then why are you speaking Spanish, amada?” He teased, leaning in and kissing your cheek with a cheeky smile. You turned your head to him, licking your lips.

You pouted, “Porque yo puedo?”

“That sounded like a question.” He chuckled, kissing just beneath your eye. You smiled, scrunching your nose. “Go on, let's finish these before they come banging on our door.” He lightly squeezed the fat on your side and leaned to kiss the corner of your lips.

“They wouldn't dare.” You say, nuzzling your head against his. He chuckled, leaning against you.

You gasped as you felt the cookie in your hand disappear. “Batcow!” You snap your head to your right and gape at the cow eating your cookie. “No, eso puede ser malo para a tí, corazón!”

Damian panicked as well, getting out of the bed. “Drop it!" He told his pet, his eyes narrowing as he held the cow's muzzle.

“Give us the cookies!” Steph yelled as she slammed the door open.

“Not now!” Damian yelled back.

“Call Alfred, our babies are dying!” You yelled as you held Alfred the cat from biting the cookies that slipped out of the knocked-over cookie jar.

Damian groaned, glaring at you. Steph stepped back and dashed off, “Alfred!”

“You jinxed it, Damian!” You yell, kicking the jar off of the bed as you held Alfred the cat high above your head.

———————————————————————

Incorrect quotes aftermath.

Translations;

"Tirame las aguas." - "Throw me the waters." - Old Mexican slang for watching/looking out.

"Distráelo," - "Distract him,"

"ya casi termino." - "I'm almost done."

"Jason, tirame las aguas," - "Jason, throw me the waters." - Basically saying for him to keep an eye out.

"...si no te apuras te voy a matar!" - "..if you don't hurry I will kill you!"

"Tirame. Las. Aguas!" - "Throw me. The. Waters!"

"...presta atención a la puerta." - '...pay attention to the door."

"...apa—aparentemente," - "...ap-apparently,"

"y nos va a matar." - "and he's going to kill us."

"Después de que te mate yo!" - "After I kill you!"

"Mira, mocoso, hijo del Diablo," - "Look, you brat, son of the Devil," - It sounds better in Spanish, trust.

"como que no sabes? Si te hablo en español todos los días." - "What do you mean you don't know? If I speak to you in Spanish every day."

"Como te atreves!" - "How dare you!" - Pointing at someone is considered rude in some places.

"Tu me respetas—me importa un pepino si sos más grande que yo, jueputa!" - "You respect me—I don't give a damn if you're bigger than me, motherfucker! - Fits Jason, I guess.

"Que te dije que me tiren las aguas!" - "I told you to throw waters at me!" - "I told you to keep an eye out for me!"

"Adiós! Descansa! Dile a los bebés qué los quiero, te amo!" - "Goodbye! Rest! Tell the babies that I love them, I love you!"

"'Perate!" - "Stop!" - Full word for stop is "Esperate"

"Esto es tu culpa!" - "This is your fault!"

"Te dije qué podría hacerlo, hijos de—" - "I told you I could do it, sons of—"

"de vuestro padre hermoso." - "of your beautiful father."

"Ni lo pienses, amor mío!" - "Don't even think about it, my love!"

"Tramposo!" - "Cheater!"

"'Ta bien!" - "Fine!"/"Okay!"

"Pero vámonos qué ya viene el suegro." - "But let's go, that father-in-law is coming."

"Y tu sabes cómo se pone el viejo ese. Baba-in-law nos va a matar pero yo esperó qué te mate primero mientras yo me cómo las demás galletas." - "And you know how that old man gets. Baba-in-law is going to kill us but I'm hoping that he kills you first while I eat the rest of the cookies." - "Baba" = "Father" in Arabic.

"Aguas!" - "Waters!" - "Watch out!"

"Corre, hijo de puta!" - "Run, son of a bitch!"

"Son mías!" - "They're mine!"

"Hola, bebés." - "Hi, babies."

"Pero—" - "But—"

"Hubi," - "My love," in Arabic gender-neutral version, I think.

"...habibti," - "My love," Female version in Arabic, 100% know. Gotta add the 't'!

"Eh, las cosas qué uno hace por la comida." - "Eh, the things one does for food."

"Yo nunca me casé contigo solo por la comida." - "I never married you just for the food."

"...amada." - "Beloved." - Female version - "Amado" for male

"Porque yo puedo?" - "Because I can?"

"No, eso puede ser malo para a tí, corazón!" - "No, that can be bad for you, sweetheart!"

Tell me if I missed any.

[casstheasswrites]

NO SAINTS, NO SAVIOURS (9)

pairing: frank castle x reader (female)

summary: wrong place, wrong time. he saved her life, she patched him up. that should’ve been the end of it. some nights, you survive. others, you change.

trigger warnings: canon typical violence including blood and death. ptsd, trauma, eventual smut. at times, you get soft!frank. at others, he takes no prisoners. we love the duality of man <3

chapter length: 7.6k

authors note: PREPARE FOR ANGST AND HELLA YEARNING. in case you want more of this story faster, i've got ELEVEN chapters posted on my AO3 (linked below). just going to start double posting here on tumblr too :) i hope you enjoy and pls pls send me a message with your feedback or thoughts, if you have any! thanks a million.

archive of our own / feedback appreciated!

Frank guided you down a flight of rusted metal stairs behind a maintenance gate you never would’ve noticed on your own— half-shielded by ivy and shadows, as if the city itself had tried to forget it existed. You ducked your head as he pulled open a reinforced metal door, the hinges shrieking their protest. He then led you down a series of long, concrete hallways, until finally his footsteps slowed. The floor inclined, just slightly, like you’d moved just barely underground. He led you to an old and rusted green door, with the words MGRS OFFICE affixed to the front in worn letters. There was a keypad lock keeping the door sealed shut, and he made quick work of twisting the numbers into combination and then pushed his way inside. You followed just a step behind.

Inside was nothing but darkness, the air thick and damp like an old tomb.

The moment you crossed the threshold, the scent of old concrete and machine oil wrapped around you like a worn blanket. Cold, metallic, just sharp enough to sting your nose. You winced, unable to stop yourself. It was the kind of smell that would linger on your clothes and in your hair. That told you this was not a place for comfort— this was a place for survival. As if Frank himself hadn’t already warned you.

A soft click sounded, and overhead, a string of bare bulbs buzzed to life. The light was dim and flickering, strung up across the ceiling by stripped copper wire. They cast long, uneven shadows against the concrete of the walls, of the floor, revealing just enough of the room to let your imagination fill in the rest.

It was… small. Not cramped, but close. Like the space itself had been carved out in secret and never meant to be found again.

You turned slowly in place, taking it all in. Utility shelves were piled with supplies, dozens of canned goods and other non-perishables. Upon closer inspection, you noticed several boxes of MREs— your brow furrowed at the sight, your heart clenching within your chest. If this had been how Frank had been living, it was no wonder he’d seemed to savour every bite of the breakfast you’d made that morning.

As you looked around, you somehow managed to keep your expression guarded, neutral. You could feel the weight of Frank’s eyes on you— just for a beat, just long enough for him to step around you, immediately crossing the room. Getting to work. Not a second to waste.

Two small windows sat high on the far wall— thin slits of glass fogged by time and purpose. The panes were clouded, blurred with privacy film or something like it, designed to let light in but keep the world out. You couldn’t see through them— just barely-there hints of shifting shapes, the vague suggestion of movement. Like shadows behind a curtain. If it weren’t night, you figured that sunlight would filter in soft and dull, casting a muted gray glow that would do little to brighten the space. The bunker— that’s what you likened it to— was just a floor below ground level.

Water stains crept like spiderwebs across the ceiling. A military cot sat pushed into one wall, a single gray blanket folded at the edge. There was a sad excuse for a pillow at one end, flat enough that it likely didn’t do much. Two battered metal desks were pushed together near the center of the room, their surfaces buried beneath weapons, maps, and stray boxes of ammunition— some open, others sealed tight. The far corner of the room, across from the door, held a folding chair draped with a flannel shirt, sleeves frayed at the edges, elbows worn straight through. Near it, a mini fridge kicked on with a groan, like even it was reluctant to keep going.

There were no photos. No books. No softness.

You could feel Frank in every inch of it. This was who he was, when you weren’t around.

You stepped closer to the desks, further into the room, careful not to make too much noise. The back wall of the room was completely covered in notes, maps, blurry black-and-white photographs with red circles drawn around faces. Some had Xs through them, others didn’t. You knew what that meant.

Most of the faces in the photos were strangers. A few… weren’t. The men from the subway that first night, weeks ago, were there. Already marked as dead. And the men from the hospital, too. Red marker connected both sets of men— and in the middle— a photo of you. It was a candid shot, taken from distance, just outside your apartment building. It was from before the hospital— so he’d been watching you before that, too. Around your photo there was no red circle, no messy printing with details or crimes, just your first name scrawled beneath. The ink ran a bit around the last letter of your name; like his hand had paused there for a beat too long.

Everyone else on the board had more information affixed to the space around their photo; news articles, print-offs from the web, crimes they’d been accused of. But not you. There was no deep dive, no history searched and shared. Just your name, handwritten in that sharp, slanted scrawl you were starting to recognize. It made something stir in your chest— something you didn’t have the name for. He hadn’t needed more information. He’d already made up his mind about you.

You swallowed the knot in your throat and stepped back again, gaze flicking to the ceiling.

You could hear the city moving just overhead— traffic rumbling, pipes groaning, someone’s muffled footsteps echoing through old infrastructure. On the way over, Frank had told you this place used to be a building manager’s office— tucked in the basement of some forgotten apartment complex on the far edge of Hell’s Kitchen. While people still lived in the many floors above, the basement hadn’t been used in decades and he’d been here for months. Knew every bolt, every blind corner. Every way in… and out. He told you that tomorrow, he would run you through each of them, just in case.

Just as you turned towards him, Frank shifted in your direction, one of his hands lifting towards your back. You paused, waiting to see what he was doing, before you realized— his hand slid over your shoulder and wrapped around the strap of your backpack, giving it a gentle tug until it began to slide backwards. He removed your bag and carried it towards the cot— the one cot— before he set it down at the edge.  

Then he turned to you, expression clear in the half-light, waiting. He looked exhausted— not just from the day, but from the weight he always seemed to carry. You knew it well. Still, there was something in the way he watched you. Like he was waiting for you to flinch, or settle, or leave. But you didn’t do any of those things.

“I’ve had worse,” you said, voice a little quieter than you meant it to be.

One corner of his mouth curved, but it wasn’t quite a smile. Just that unreadable expression he always wore when he didn’t want you to see how he really felt.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to see, anyway.

The bunker was cold. That much was obvious, but you imagined it was intentional, too. Frank couldn’t afford warmth. Not in his body, not in his bones, and definitely not in the places he chose to rest his head. Comfort made you soft, slow. And he didn’t survive by being either of those things.

You were grateful for the jacket you’d grabbed before you left. Grateful for the extra layers beneath it, even though the fabric was already starting to cling in the wrong places— damp from exertion, heavy with the day. Still, the chill found its way in. It crept under the hem of your sweater, licked at the delicate skin between your knuckles. Settled at the base of your neck and stayed there. A hint of what was to come.

Without realizing it, your feet had carried you toward the desks in the middle of the room. His base of operations.

You paused a few inches away from the edge of the nearest desk, your eyes drifting across the objects arranged there. Not messy, not cluttered— just deliberate in a language you didn’t speak. Clips. Ammunition. An oversized, cracked radio with the casing half-screwed off. The thing had dial upon dial on it, and you wondered if it might have been older than you were. You’d never seen anything like it before. Next to it, there was a notepad filled with numbers, scratched out and rewritten again. Frequencies, maybe. Paths he’d tried to explore and deemed unworthy.

You didn’t touch anything. You just looked, scanning over his world without stepping into it.

Frank wasn’t far. He’d dropped into the nearby folding chair, a half-turn away from you. One of his pistols lay disassembled in front of him on the other side of the desk, pieces laid out like organs on a metal table. He moved with that same precision of motion he always did— like he was saving every ounce of energy he had for something that might need killing later.

He reached for a small black bottle with no label and uncapped it. The sharp, chemical scent of it hit the air instantly, and your nose scrunched before you could help yourself. It was acrid and bitter, something that didn’t belong in lungs. But Frank didn’t flinch. Instead, he poured a bit onto an old rag, the cloth already dark from past use, and started to press it delicately against specific spots along the exposed barrel. He moved with surgical precision; a man who’d done this a time or two before.

It was like watching a ritual. Not worship, not quite. But familiar. His shoulders stayed low, steady, the way they always did when his mind was a thousand miles away but his hands remembered the route. Autopilot.

You leaned your hip against the edge of the desk, arms crossed loosely over your chest, and watched him for a while.

He looked up once, just for a split second. His gaze met yours, weighted and familiar, but he said nothing.

He just kept going.

When the weapon was finished— clean, reassembled, gleaming beneath the low light— he cleared his throat. He didn’t look at you this time, just tilted his head slightly toward your bag at the foot of the cot.

“Hand yours over,” he said, voice low, steady. “Gotta keep a weapon like that clean. Can’t afford to let it jam.”

You hadn’t even considered it, the idea of cleaning your gun. The idea that you’d need it more than once. But of course he had— of course Frank had already thought through every variable. His back-up plans had back-up plans.

You moved back toward your bag and unzipped the front pocket, fingers closing around the familiar shape of your weapon. When you returned, you didn’t set it down in front of him. You just stood there, waiting. Waiting for him to look up.

And when he did, you held his gaze, a sharp set to your jaw.

“Show me how,” you said. Quiet, but firm. Your voice was steady, even if your insides weren’t. They trembled beneath the weight of what you were asking for— the burden you were willingly taking on. You knew that if Frank taught you, he’d expect you to keep up with it. It would be a job that would be all yours. “I need to learn, don’t I?”

Frank’s eyes held yours for a long moment. He didn’t blink. You could see something working behind those coffee-coloured irises, the amber in them flickering in and out of sight. It was like he was trying to read you, figure out what it meant that you were asking this, and what it might cost. You or him, you weren’t entirely sure.

Finally, he exhaled.

“S’not a bad idea,” he muttered, dragging his hand across his jaw. “Just surprised, is all.”

You won’t always be around, you wanted to say. But you knew if you did, the words would come out laced with hostility— like you were bitter. And that wasn’t how you meant it; not really. It was more like you had grown… resigned… to that fact. That as much as the two of you had begun to accept this new dynamic, as partners, there was an inevitable expiration date. And each day brought you closer to it.

You knew that no matter when that time came, it would be too soon. Because now that you’d begun to know him, how could you go back to being only strangers?

You swallowed the emotion clawing at the back of your throat, doing what you could to push it down, shove the thoughts away. You could wallow in it all later; for now, you needed to focus.

The bunker around you was quiet, still. The air in here didn’t seem to move much, growing stagnant around you, pinning you down with the weight of it. One of the bulbs overhead flickered, just once, and your gaze briefly darted up towards it. It didn’t flicker again; you wondered, for a beat, if your mind was playing tricks on you. If it was an external representation of the turmoil happening inside.

You set the gun down on the desk before him, next to his own. Frank looked at it for a second, then shook his head. He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he nudged it gently back toward you with one finger, eyes dipping between your face and the weapon.

“Nah,” he said. “Keep your hands on it. This is yours now.”

He reached across the desk, clearing space, shifting aside a rag and an open bottle of that same, bitter solvent. Then he leaned back, and nodded to the gun in front of you.

“Alright. Clip comes out first.”

Your fingers wrapped around the grip and you did as you were told. You heard the clip click free, felt the subtle shift in weight as the metal slipped from the grip. It startled you, for a beat, how easily handling the weapon had become. Your hands were steady, no hint of shakiness.

“Now pull back on the slide, there— yeah, like that. What do you see?”

You squinted, turning it onto its side, peering inside the open chamber. “Nothing… it’s empty.”

“Good. You gotta check that every time. Don’t skip it.”

You nodded, jaw set tight, even as your heartbeat pounded at the base of your throat.

“Now you need to pull the trigger.”

You hesitated, eyes flaring wide. You gaze jolted to Frank’s. “What?”

“There’s no round, no clip, no danger. It’ll click. You gotta hear that. Then rack it again.”

You obeyed, the sharp metallic click breaking the silence between you.

He walked you through the next steps— each motion careful, efficient. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t over-explain. Just simple, spare instructions, delivered in that gravel-worn tone of his. You were clumsy at first— your fingers slipped, fumbled, and you cursed once under your breath when the recoil spring jumped sideways.

Frank stood and leaned into your side, the warmth of his chest brushing across your back, your shoulder. His hand closed gently over yours atop the weapon— not stopping you, just redirecting. He adjusted the pressure you used on the weapon, loosening your grip with a nudge of his fingers over yours.

“Here,” he murmured, voice low enough that you felt it more than heard it. “You’re pressin’ too hard. Let it slide into place. Don’t force it.”

You didn’t dare move. Couldn’t. The heat from his palm bled into your skin, and suddenly everything else in the room blurred into background noise. The hum of the lightbulb above you. The low buzz of the fridge. All of it, gone.

All that remained was the way his fingers wrapped around yours, the steady rhythm of his breath against your temple. His scent settled around you, hints of salt and something warm, like a late-night campfire on the beach, waves rolling against the shore. For another moment he didn’t move, just stood there, hand on yours, like he wasn’t sure whether to pull away or press in closer.

When he finally pulled away, it wasn’t abrupt. More like the kind of retreat that takes effort— like the parting of hands that almost forget they don’t belong there. You watched him as he went, unable to tear your gaze away. His eyes lingered a second too long on your fingers before he reclaimed his seat, jaw tight like he’d given away more than intended.

“You’re getting it,” he said, voice rough again, but not unkind. He watched each of your movements carefully, like a teacher who knew you could do it on your own— but wanted to stay within arms reach, just in case. “Keep goin’.”

You did. You finished the disassembly, with his instructions, and lined up the pieces of the weapon in the same way he had. Next, he handed you the rag he’d used on his own weapon, and you turned your gaze to his, your eyes hesitant, questioning.

“How much do I use?” you asked, teeth digging into your bottom lip. He chuckled and nodded, unscrewing the cap from the solvent for you. Not overstepping, but helping.

“It’s not like WD-40,” he said. “It’s just for slippin’ between the parts. Keepin’ it smooth. A few drops is all you need.”

And so you did as he told you; you dabbed a few drops of the oil in the areas he pointed to with one of those long, thick fingers of his. It took you a beat too long to draw your eyes away from it. He then walked you through how to reassemble the weapon, only stepping in with instruction when you paused, eyes wandering to his, lost. You managed to work your way through a few of the steps on your own, and your eyes flickered to Frank’s when you finished— the warmth in his gaze made your heart soar within your chest.

You handed it back to him for a once-over and he didn’t hesitate. The way the weapon moved in his hands was much different to how it had in yours— to you, it was unfamiliar, a new object you weren’t sure you wanted to learn. But to Frank, it was like an extension of himself, something he knew like the back of his hand.

He checked it through once. Twice.

You waited with bated breath, nerves frayed, eyes locked on his face. And finally, his gaze lifted to yours, and his lips curved just slightly in one corner. You were startled by how much amber had leaked into his eyes— more than you’d ever seen before. The shade of his eyes nearly glowed in the dim light coming from above.

“Atta girl,” he said, the words coated in nothing but warmth. Pride. “Good work. Real good.”

The praise landed like a match to dry grass, a sudden flame that caught too fast. It travelled across your entire body, your cheeks flushing, crimson springing to your pale skin. Then it traced a trail down the center of your body, pooling at your core, burning you from the inside out. Your lips parted, breath catching on nothing, and for a moment, you couldn’t even remember how your hands worked. You were still. There was nothing within your mind, just the echo of those words— “Atta girl”— circling around and around, like a carousel you couldn’t climb off of.

You weren’t used to hearing praise like that. Not from someone like him. Not from anyone. It lodged somewhere deep, unfamiliar— dangerous, maybe, given how much you wanted to hear it again. Like there was a tank that needed to be filled, and he’d just given you the first few drops. You were an addict and he’d slipped you your first taste.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed— how long you’d allowed the room to lapse into silence. When your heart had finally stopped pounding against your ribs, your eyes refocused, and you found that he was still watching you. There was a hint of something on his face, like he was weighing his options again… trying to decide whether or go left or right. Just as your lips parted, about to ask him what he was thinking, he stood from the chair and began to nod his head. He’d made up his mind. Chosen his path.

“Now what do you say I teach you how to use this thing properly, yeah?”

You went still all over again; the gun in your grasp suddenly gaining weight. It shouldn’t have— you’d already fired it once, been prepared to use it a second time, if it hadn’t been Frank who’d appeared in your apartment the day before. But he was right. You didn’t have the first clue what you were doing when that cool metal was pressed into your palm. And if you wanted to keep going on this path, walking alongside him, you’d need to learn.

Who better to teach you than him?

Slowly, you began to nod, a nonverbal confirmation. You were buying in; whatever he wanted you to know, you’d do your best. He was the expert… and you hoped you could be a fast learner. You hoped he might give away some more of those warm words, the one that had you shift your weight again, your insides still overheated.

You wanted to believe that what you lacked in strength, you could make up for with speed and agility. Before the last few weeks, you had regularly been going to the gym, always focused on endurance training and gradually increasing your strength in the areas you needed it. But you’d been losing weight, too, and you had a feeling that a lot of what you’d lost had been muscle. It would take time to build that up again.

“Alright,” Frank said, pulling you from your thoughts. With a jerk of his head, he directed you to back up a few steps, spread further into the room where there were less obstacles. His gaze never left you, even as you moved. It was hard not to shrink beneath the weight of his eyes, because this time, he was looking for something in particular— he was critiquing. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Back foot slightly behind. Put your weight on the balls of your feet— knees soft, not locked.” He paused, waiting for you to do as he’d said.

You adjusted, shifting until you found something that felt like balance. It wasn’t comfortable, not even remotely, and didn’t feel natural. But it felt like you could move in any direction, quickly, if you needed to. That was probably the point.

He approached you, then, and began to move around you in a slow semi-circle. He was quiet, just watching. There was something about the way he moved— measured, assessing. Like he was watching not just your stance, but the way you held your fear. Like he was deciding what kind of fighter you might become.

“Now your grip,” he said and you lifted the gun in your hands, eyes following the movement as you stared at the way you held it in your grasp. “Two hands, dominant one high and tight on the backstrap. Other hand wraps the fingers— thumbs pointing forward, not crossed.” When your hands finally settled as he’d instructed, he hummed, the sound reverberating through his chest. He was somewhere behind you, peering over your shoulder.

He stepped in behind you to guide your hands, then, his palms brushing over the backs of yours. His fingers adjusted the placement of your thumbs, just slightly, his knuckle grazing the inside of your wrist. You committed the placement to memory, flexing the joints of your fingers, getting a sense for how it felt, too.

“You don’t wanna be fighting the recoil,” he murmured, close enough for the sound to settle behind your ear. His smell began to wrap around you again and you held your breath, trying to keep a hold of your composure. Your knees wobbled at his proximity and your eyes pressed shut for a beat, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Let the gun do what it’s built to do, but keep control of it.”

“Arms out, extend,” he said. “Straight, but not rigid. Shoulders down and elbows unlocked. Your grip’s where the strength comes from, not your arms.”

You extended and he watched. Not just the posture— you. Though you still couldn’t see him, not even from your periphery, you felt the weight of his gaze on every inch of you. Trailing over every area he commented on, ensuring you had it right.

He stepped forward again, fingertips brushing your upper arm. “Relax here. You're gonna tire yourself out faster if you stay tense.”

You tried. Loosened your shoulders. Let the weight of the weapon settle in your hands instead of your muscles.

“Now look down the sights,” he said, voice a little softer now. “Front post sharp. Rear blurred. Focus here—” his finger tapped the top of the slide, just above the front sight, “—and breathe.”

You lined it up as best you could, eyes narrowing, tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth in concentration. When you’d fired at the man in the hospital, you hadn’t even looked— your eyes had been pinched shut, too afraid to watch whatever you had been about to do. You could still feel the pull of that trigger, the slam of the gun in your hand, how your shoulders immediately burned with the effort. You could still hear the echo of it, too, the ringing in your ears. That blind panic, the wet slap of blood against tile. You hadn’t aimed. You hadn’t known how. And it was only luck— Frank— that kept you breathing.

“You want the shot to break at the bottom of an exhale,” he continued, low and steady. “Squeeze. Don’t jerk. Don’t anticipate. Just... let it happen.”

Your breath came out slow. You clicked the trigger. Even with no bullet, the release of tension jolted through your wrist.

Frank gave a low hum of approval, his exhale blowing against the side of your head, jostling a few strands of your dark hair. As if he, too, had noticed it, he reached up with a hand and brushed them away, tucking them back behind your ear. You were frozen solid at his gesture— the tension you’d just managed to release returning ten-fold.

That wasn’t instruction. That wasn’t survival. It was something else entirely, something heavier, something deeper and unspoken. It was something you didn’t know what to do with. Didn’t know if he did, either.

He moved around your side, appearing in your periphery before he was in front of you, just slightly to your left. You relaxed your hold on the weapon, dropped your arms a bit.

Then, without warning, he reached for the gun. “Now let’s see what happens when someone tries to take it.”

Your stomach turned and you flinched back a step, eyes flaring wide. “Wait—”

“You need to know this,” he said, already moving towards you again. “Don’t matter if it’s loaded or not. If you hesitate, you lose.”

He grabbed the barrel, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. Your fingers froze around the grip. You didn’t move, didn’t react. Just let him grab it.

“You don’t fight the pull,” he said, stepping in close, his hand still wrapped around the front of the weapon. “You turn with it. Pivot your body, break the angle. If you don’t, you’ll end up with this in their hand. Pointed at you.”

He showed you— gentle, controlled— how your grip could be turned against you. How easily he could grab the weapon, pull you in, disarm you. Never once did his fingers grace the trigger— they always remained pointed straight, resting along the side of the barrel. He showed you again, slower. Letting you feel where to move, how to drop your weight, how to own the fight. He gave pointers, telling you where to focus your hits, giving you ideas of how to rattle your attacker. You were fast, you needed to use it— a foot behind an ankle, a hard kick against the back of a knee.

“Try it,” he said, goading you, leaning forward on the balls of his feet.

You hesitated again, not sure how you were supposed to take it all so seriously when it was him coming towards you. The last person you’d ever want to point a weapon at.

He didn’t hesitate this time, or take it slow.

His hand came down again, faster this time, and instinct took over. You twisted your wrist inward, ducked under his arm, pulled your shoulder across the centerline the way he’d shown. You slammed your back into his chest— rougher than you meant to— and he released you just as you moved. You staggered, half from force, half from the sheer charge of it. Then you twisted out of his reach and jolted forward, giving yourself more distance, though you weren’t exactly moving on solid feet.

Once you’d regained your footing, you looked up.

Frank was watching you with something unreadable behind his eyes. Not pride. Not quite. Something with a bit more of an edge— something a bit wearier.

“Again.”

Before you could so much as nod, he came for the gun.

You pivoted but this time, he blocked. You tried again. He caught your wrist and spun you with him, showing you how easily control could slip through your fingers. Your stomach dipped at the sudden exchange of power, your pulse racing against your throat.

You fought it. Let the weapon drop to your off hand like he’d told you to. You sent your elbow back towards him, perhaps a bit more force than you’d intended, but his freehand caught your forearm mid-swing.

“Not bad,” he muttered. Impressed.

You didn’t answer— couldn’t, not with the way he moved you. He ripped the pistol from your grasp, tossed it across the room, the sudden sound of metal against concrete making you flinch.

He pivoted behind you, one arm slipping across your chest to trap your movement, the other snaking low around your waist. He kept you there for a beat, anchored tight against him.

You stilled, holding your breath. Your lungs burned in protest. 

Every inch of him pressed into you— his chest flush against your spine, his thigh braced between your legs, the heat of his breath grazing the shell of your ear. One of his hands had splayed across your sternum, palm flat, fingers curled ever so slightly where your heart beat wild beneath them. The other rested just above your hip, low and heavy, keeping you grounded or caged— you weren’t sure which.

Finally you had to breathe— a sharp, shallow gasp, your entire chest trembling against his touch with the effort.

“Here,” Frank murmured, voice low and rough, the vibration of it pulsing through your back. “You feel that?” His hand shifted against your chest, not pressing, just… present. “That’s control. You’ve got the power but only if you don’t panic. Move fast. Use their momentum. Stop second guessing yourself.”

You barely heard the words. Not with the blood rushing in your ears. Not with the way every nerve ending had started to scream beneath your skin. Your fingers were wrapped around each of his wrists, tight, beginning to go numb from the pressure. You could feel the outline of his thighs pressing against yours, the steady drumbeat of his pulse against your shoulder blade.

His chin dipped slightly, breath exhaling slow against your neck, and you swore— swore— he lingered. Until slowly, he let go.

Not all at once. Not clean. His hand dropped from your chest first, fingers dragging lightly across the fabric of your shirt as they slipped away. Then the weight at your waist vanished, leaving behind only warmth and pressure and something you couldn’t name.

When you turned to face him, his expression was a wall of stone— completely, utterly unreadable. There was only darkness in his eyes, no hint of the amber you often searched for. His chest heaved with a long, extended breath of air, and then he nodded.

You bent at the waist and retrieved your weapon, rolling out your shoulders before you resumed your stance. It felt more comfortable now, more familiar.

Then it was you who said, “Again.”

Frank didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge what you said. He just moved. Fast. No longer taking it easy on you.

He reached for the barrel with that same deliberate confidence, trying to test you again. His other hand went for your other wrist. But this time, you didn’t hesitate. You pivoted into him, not away, using the motion of his own hand to bring your body closer before swinging beneath his reach.

Your foot slid, caught behind his ankle. You twisted with the full weight of your hips, dropped your shoulder, and used the angle to pull him off balance. The gun was already halfway behind your back, safe in your other hand.

His grip faltered. Just for a second. But it was enough. You didn’t have the time to peek at his face— knew it would just push you off center. Instead, you shoved forward, into him— not brutal, just enough to unseat him— and he stumbled. Not far. Not hard. But he let it happen. That much you could tell.

And still, somehow, you ended up in his space again— chests nearly brushing, your hand against his wrist, your body angled into his like instinct had made the decision for you.

For a beat, you both just stood there.

The air between you went thick. He stared down at you, lips parted just slightly, breath caught somewhere between restraint and something else. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your sleeves, the flex of his arm beneath your palm.

“Boom,” you murmured, the word barely audible as it brushed past your lips. You wiggled the pistol in your other hand, alerting him to the fact that you had it pointed straight at his stomach. “Your dead.”

His mouth twitched. Barely. Just the ghost of a smirk.

“Good,” he said, voice low, almost gruff. He was nodding as he stepped back, his eyes on the floor beneath your feet. “Real good.”

You stepped back, too, brushing your wrist with your fingers, half expecting to feel a bruise. You didn’t. Just the ghost of his grip, like a mark no one else would see.

“You alright?” he asked.

You nodded, breath catching. “Yeah.”

He glanced at your feet. “Good. Practice makes perfect.”

Your fingers flexed around the grip of the gun; not quite steady, not quite certain. But not as afraid, either.

* * * * *

Time passed, taking you further into the night. The quiet hum of the bunker was your steady companion in the silence. You could count on the dim buzzing of the lights overhead, of the groan the mini fridge let out every few minutes. The rattle against the windows as cars drove past, ignoring speed limits, was just about your only reminder that the outside world continued to exist.

Frank had you run through the drills a few more times, testing you, building up your endurance. He commented and corrected you as he needed to, and gradually, he stopped making it so easy for you to come away victorious. By the time he finally declared you’d done enough for one night, you were nearly panting, your hair clinging to the back of your neck with sweat. Your fingers ached from the unyielding grip you’d held on the gun. And he remained unshaken, not a hair out of place. You were nothing of a formidable opponent for him.

It didn’t give you much hope for how you’d do against anyone else his size. But at least you’d do better than before.

Frank showed you to the bathroom— if you could even call it that— and you got ready for bed slowly, taking your time. You showered, though there wasn’t much in the way of hot water— hell, it hadn’t even reached warm. You were frozen to the bone as soon as you stepped out. You rushed to dress, pulling on wool socks, heavy sweatpants, and a long-sleeved shirt beneath your sweatshirt. Still, your body trembled, seeking warmth that wouldn’t come.

The mirror above the free-standing sink was cracked, the jagged edges of broken glass spreading out across your face, distorting your view of yourself. It was probably for the best, anyways. There was no room for vanity here. You made quick work of brushing your teeth and braiding your damp hair back, away from your face. Then you traced your way back to the bunker, following the hallway Frank had led you down a while earlier.

As you pushed open the door to the bunker, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater low over your hands, clinging to them with your nearly numb fingers. Frank looked up when you stepped inside, but only briefly. He was on the other end of the room, now, crouched to unroll a sleeping bag across the concrete, moving slow and quiet like he’d done this a hundred times before. He’d already told you— in no uncertain terms— that you’d be taking the cot.

Even still, as you approached it, you hesitated. “You sure you don’t want it?” you asked, voice low.

He didn’t look at you this time, just shook his head once. “Nah. It’s yours.”

You opened your mouth to argue. Closed it again. You knew better.

“Alright,” you said, softer now. “Thanks.”

He hummed in response— a vague sound of acknowledgement, maybe approval. You couldn’t tell.

You put away your bathroom items and dirty clothes, shoving them into the backpack that had come to house all of your remaining belongings. All of the things that hadn’t been left behind, locked within the walls of your apartment. A place you weren’t sure you’d be returning to anytime soon.

You climbed into the cot and lay on your side, facing the wall, your back to Frank and the rest of the bunker. The blanket was thin, scratchy. You curled beneath it anyway, tucking your hands beneath your chin. Frank moved behind you somewhere, the sounds distant but distinct: the creak of leather as he kicked off his boots, the muted thud of something set down, the low exhale of breath that carried more fatigue than he’d admit.

Then silence.

For a moment, you thought that might be it. No goodnight, no reminder that he was here.

Then his throat cleared. And into the cool air that enveloped you both, he said, “Get some rest.”

You turned your head, just slightly, until you could see the outline of him in the dark. He’d settled on the floor a few feet away, facing you with his back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. His arms were crossed over his chest.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “You too.”

Sleep came, but only in brief, sporadic bursts. The cold held you hostage, jostling you awake just when you’d thought you’d escaped it. It had seeped in past skin and muscle, lodged itself somewhere deep. The dampness in your hair didn’t help— you wouldn’t shower at night again. Not for a long time.

You shifted, subtly, trying to be quiet. You suspected Frank was the type to wake easily— especially here, especially now. You repositioned your body, curled in on yourself as tightly as you could, tugging your knees into your chest.

It didn’t help.

The shivering started in your fingers, traveled up your forearms. A low, bone-deep tremble that wouldn’t ease. You pressed your palms between your thighs, searching for any ounce of warmth you could find. You tried to breathe through it— mind over matter, right?— but even biting down on your tongue so hard you began to taste blood didn’t help.

Then came the teeth. You tried to hold your jaw still, you really did— but the chatter set in anyway, harsh and helpless and loud in the relative silence around you. Every so often you would press your palm over your mouth and hold your breath, listening for the sound of Frank’s breathing behind you— it remained slow, rhythmic. But you weren’t sure how long that would last.

A beat later, as if you’d asked for it, you heard him shift. You went still, palm still pressed over your mouth, though your teeth continued to grind against themselves involuntarily. His breathing hadn’t changed. Your mind flooded— then emptied. Had he ever been asleep at all?

His sleeping bag rustled and a soft creak sounded, his body rising from the floor. Your eyes pinched shut, your stomach twisting with shame. Your hand slowly lowered from your mouth, instead wrapping around the hem of the blanket, tugging it higher over you.

You tried to stay perfectly still, then, tried to pretend you were asleep. But it was no use.

Muffled, quiet footsteps sounded, him crossing the room towards you. You felt the weight of his gaze on your shadowed figure, but you didn’t turn towards him. Your eyes opened, stayed locked on the concrete wall in front of you.

The cot dipped behind you, the frame groaning under the sudden shift in weight. It startled you— not because you hadn’t expected it, but because you had. You’d felt it coming like a change in weather, like the static in the air before a storm. Your breath caught in your throat, sharp and immediate, your whole body stiffening with the tension of anticipation.

Frank didn’t speak. Not when he climbed in. Not when he tugged the blanket up higher, slow and careful, tucking it around you both like he’d done it before. Like this level of intimacy wasn’t brand new and terrifying for you both.

Then came his arm— slow at first, hesitant. It slid around your waist, that familiar weight settling low, the curve of his forearm bracing itself across your stomach, palm splayed wide just above your navel. As he moved, the hem of your sweatshirt rose, his fingertips brushing the exposed skin beneath. His hand was rough, calloused. Warm. You felt every ridge of it as it curved against you, fingers pressing lightly into the dip where your ribs met softness.

“Jesus,” he commented, voice low, the exhaled air warm against your neck. “You’re freezing.”

“Didn’t want to ask,” you whispered in a rush, the shame crawling up your throat. “Didn’t want to make it weird.”

Frank let out another slow, stifled breath. “Ain’t weird,” he said. “You’re cold. That’s all.”

But you didn’t believe him.

Not entirely.

His chest aligned with your back a moment later, and the contact there was overwhelming— startlingly solid. Like being braced against a wall. His body heat poured into yours at once, devastating in its relief. The contrast stole your breath. Warmth poured through you so fast it felt like pain— sharp and electric. A tremor rolled through your chest, this time from something deeper than cold. Your hips shifted, pressing back into him. Into his— was he—

Oh. He was.

Frank stilled behind you.

“Careful,” he warned, the hand against your stomach moving to your hip, pressing it forward an inch. You weren’t sure if he was trying to protect you, in the moment, or himself.

Your cheeks flamed and your eyes pinched shut. Horror washed over you like a tidal wave and you wished for a sudden, swift death.

“Sorry.”

You felt the slight lift of his chest as he inhaled, then the slow exhale that ghosted against the back of your neck again. Like he was trying to calm his own racing pulse. His hand returned to your stomach, then, fingertips flexing once against your abdomen. Not possessive. Not testing. Just a simple shift, like he was grounding you. Or maybe grounding himself.

Your own hand moved— slow, uncertain— until it hovered over his. You didn’t press down. Just let your fingers hover, shaking faintly from cold and tension and something else. A second passed. Then two.

Then you touched him.

Your fingers found the edge of his pinky first. Brushed the back of his hand. His thumb twitched in response, barely a movement, but it felt like a jolt straight to your sternum. You closed your hand over his gently, not intertwining, just holding. Just acknowledging. A silent thank you.

The cot was too small for both of you. His knees bumped the back of yours, the heat of his thighs bracketing yours completely. His other hand— where was it? Beneath the pillow? Tucked near his chest? You didn’t know. You couldn’t move enough to find out, terrified of pressing into that same, dangerous space you’d already discovered. The space between your shoulder blades and his collarbone shrank with every breath.

His nose brushed your hairline once. Not a kiss, not even intentional. Just the result of motion. But it burned like one.

You closed your eyes, willing your heart to calm down. Willed your breath to stay quiet. Willed your mind to stop cataloguing every inch of him— how warm his bicep was against your ribs, how his breath slowed against your skin, how the weight of his hand made you feel safe and exposed all at once.

You’d been freezing moments ago.

Now, you were burning alive.

But you didn’t move.

And neither did he.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Run, pretty girl, run Chapter 2

Summary:  Even with the safeguards put in place after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., the remaining Avengers find themselves on the run after the American government falls into disarray.  The code word is sent, and they’re officially fugitives.  Bucky makes a run for the safe house set up for emergencies like this where the Avengers are told to meet up, but on the way saves the pregnant agent turned payroll specialist that he was partnered with.  Will they make it before she goes into labor?  Or at all?

Warnings: violence, pregnancy, childbirth, death of minor character, language, eventual smut

“Бегать”: run “Подтвердить” : confirmed “Enkosi”: thank you “Дома”: home “Добро пожаловать”: welcome

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They drove for hours until it was nearly nightfall.  Bucky pulled off the highway and started taking a complicated route of back roads until they came to a stop in front of what looked like an abandoned house.  He reached back and grabbed their bags as Y/N got out of the car.  She stretched, grunting at the heaviness she carried as she walked up to the house, Bucky not far behind her.  He looked around carefully before pushing the doorbell with his flesh thumb.  A small keypad appeared on the side of the doorbell and he punched in a four digit code.  A whirring could be heard as locks moved and the house seemed to wake up.  The door unlocked and he quickly opened it, ushering Y/N inside and shutting it behind them soundly, punching in the code again.

The inside didn’t match the outside, a fully furnished front room that was clean and tidy being lit up as Bucky switched the light on.  He dropped their bags on the couch and headed towards the kitchen to see what food was available.  “I’m sorry we drove so long,” he called out, opening the fridge to a fully stocked spread of food, pulling out ingredients to make something for them both.  “I promised you dinner, so give me a bit and I’ll make something.”

“Okay,” Y/N said quietly.  “I’ll pick a room.”

“Sounds good,” Bucky replied, quickly putting things together.

He heard Y/N rummaging around in the room just down the hall as he made some simple sandwiches, making sure hers was made the way she liked, but with no deli meat.  Bucky had been surprised that that was one of the things pregnant people couldn’t have, and instead made her a play on a grilled cheese.  As he finished the food he put it on the dining room table and got them some drinks.  “It’s ready Y/N!”

Her footsteps scuffled through the hallway and she appeared in the kitchen, already changed into a long sleep shirt.  “Grilled cheese…you know me so well,” she smirked at him, gripping his arm and squeezing it appreciatively.  Bucky smiled as he helped her sit and then sat himself next to her.  They ate in silence, Y/N looking around the kitchen and into the front room absentmindedly.  When she finished she drank a lot of water then sat back tiredly.  “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“More driving.  We’ll probably reach the coast by tomorrow night, then we’ll have to figure out the next best thing.  Flying isn’t really an option with it being so close to your due date,” he said, eyeing her belly.  “So we’ll need to see what kind of boat options are available to us.  Or see if we can get a hold of somebody else who got out who might have more access to resources than us.”

“Like who?” she asked, rubbing her belly worriedly.

“Well, I’m assuming Yelena will be reaching out soon for an update.  Or maybe Shuri.  She’d be the most secure option,” he rattled off, finishing his food and wiping his mouth.  Y/N nodded, her brow furrowed as she contemplated what he was saying.  He licked his lips and reached a hand out again, covering the one on her belly.  “It’s gonna be okay, pretty girl.  We’ll get there before he comes.”

Y/N nodded again, but she didn’t look convinced.  She sighed and looked up at him with a tight smile.  “Yeah, we’ll make it.”

They cleaned up and went to their rooms that were right across the hall from each other.  Y/N turned in her doorway to face him.  “When do you wanna head out?”

“0800 hours?” Bucky asked, yawning and stretching as he leaned against his doorway.

“Sure,” she agreed.  “Well, goodnight Buck.”

“Goodnight, Mamas,” he smiled tiredly at her.  “Sleep well.”  He leaned down to her belly and poked it lightly with his metal finger, making her giggle.  “And you better let her sleep or so help me God–”

“Oh so now you’re threatening my unborn child?” Y/N laughed.

“Damn right I am,” he scoffed, glancing up at her.  He leaned a little closer to her belly, “Watch it,” he grumbled before standing up straight.  

“You’re so dumb,” she giggled again, rubbing her eyes.

“But you love me,” Bucky smirked.

“Yeah yeah,” Y/N rolled her eyes and walked backwards into the room, grabbing the side of the door.  “Sleep well, hot stuff.”

Bucky slightly blushed at the pet name and rolled his eyes back at her.  They both closed their doors and went to bed.

It was a fitful night’s sleep, Bucky feeling constantly on high alert.  Any small noise made him jump, his hand reaching for the one of the three weapons he had placed around him.  At four in the morning he heard something that made him jump out of bed.  It was like a scraping noise coming from outside, and he silently stalked to the window.  He subtly pulled back a part of the blinds and peeked out.  The super soldier serum made it so he could see well in the dark, and outside was a team of agents, fully equipped and dressed for a stealth mission, sneaking around the side of the house.  Bucky gritted his teeth and stopped himself from swearing out loud, slowly moving away from the window, gathering his things and slipping on his shoes before opening his door as quietly as possible.  He snuck into Y/N’s room, gathering her things into her bag before going to her bed.

“Y/N,” he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.  Y/N jolted, turning to look at him with wide eyes.  She had obviously had a fitful sleep like he did.  She inhaled and opened her mouth to speak but he covered it with his hand.  “There’s a team outside.  I counted at least 7 on the side of the house.  We need to go.  Now.”

Y/N nodded against his hand, her breathing becoming shaky.  He helped her get up slowly and quietly, slipping her shoes on before guiding her down the hallway to a set of stairs that were hidden in a wall.  They went down the stairs, locking the door in the wall behind them with another keypad.  Under the house was a basement that doubled as an underground garage.  The lights turned on automatically as they walked on down the steps, displaying three vehicle options.  Bucky chose the high speed suburban nearest the exiting door.  This safe house had a mile long getaway underground track that would eventually spit them back out on the highway.  Y/N got in and strapped herself in as Bucky put their bags in the back again.  He started the car, opening the garage door with a button inside the car and driving down the tunnel track.

They went at a normal speed at first so as not to attract attention with a rumble under the dirt.  As they got further away Bucky sped up until they started to see the beginnings of sunrise shining down into where the tunnel started to slope up towards the road.  When they finally drove out of the tunnel they were able to merge onto the empty highway, and Bucky took off like a shot down south.  Y/N looked behind them, making sure no one was in sight.

“I don’t see anything,” she said, turning back around.  “God, how did they find us?”

“My guess, they had some information on Stark’s old safe houses somehow,” Bucky mused, his brow furrowed low with anger.  “We need to call Shuri.”  He fished his burner phone out of his pocket and gave it to Y/N.  “Dial 7 three times.”

Y/N nodded and did as he said, putting the phone on speaker.  After four rings the phone was answered.  “Sergeant Barnes, Бегать,” Shuri’s voice filled the car.  

Both Y/N and Bucky sighed at the sound of her voice.  “Подтвердить,” he replied.

“We’re on a secure line.  Where are you?” she continued.

“Leaving the safe house in Virginia,” Bucky replied.  “They made us.  We’re driving down south as fast as possible.”

“Us?” Shuri asked.

“Hey sweetie,” Y/N spoke up, a small smile on her face.

“Y/N?!” Shuri shrieked.  “Bast, aren’t you due any day now?”

“In 6 days,” Y/N informed her, her voice tense.

“Shit,” Shuri whispered.  “I would send one of our ships to pick you up but we’re being watched by the Americans,” she said quickly.  “Can you make it to the port in Miami by tonight?”

“It’s a bit of a long drive, but yeah, I think we can make it,” Bucky said.  He felt something was off and looked in the rearview mirror, seeing a row of black cars coming from the horizon.  “Fuck!” he yelled, pressing down on the accelerator.

“What?” Shuri asked, Y/N looking back at the road, gasping at the sight of the cars following them.

“We’re being followed,” Bucky growled.  “We’re not gonna make it.”

“Just keep going.  I’ll get the Talon sent now, damn the Americans,” she said, the sound of beeping screens on her end.  “I’m tracking you.  We’ll be there as fast as possible, but it will still take just under an hour.”

Bucky swore again as he tried to think quickly.  They were sitting ducks out here on this long open road.  He pushed even harder down on the gas, the car slightly rattling at how far he was pushing it.  The cars behind them were still a ways off, so if he could just outrun them for a little longer, they’d be able to evade long enough for the Talon to reach them.  “Okay, just get here,” he said, trying to keep breathing evenly.  Panic would only make it worse.  Shuri agreed and ended the call.  

Y/N was starting to hyperventilate, her hands shaking as one held the phone and the other protectively covered her belly, rubbing it up and down.  Bucky glanced at her.  “Hey pretty girl,” he called out to her.  She looked at him frantically.  “We can’t panic, okay?  The Talon will be here soon.  We just gotta keep driving.”  Y/N nodded, breathing deeply through her nose and exhaling heavily through her mouth.  He reached under the seat and grabbed the gun hidden underneath.  He handed it to her and she automatically checked to see if it was fully loaded and fire-ready.  He smiled at how strange the sight was of a heavily pregnant ex-agent holding a cocked gun.  “But just in case…you got this Mamas.”

The gun in her hand seemed to somehow calm her, her hands stilling as she focused on the task at hand, her training coming back like second nature.  The cars the agents were driving must have been made for high pursuit, because within twenty minutes he could see them start to close in on them.  Y/N saw them approaching in the side mirror and suddenly unbuckled herself, slipping into the back seat with surprising agility with such a large belly.  She dug into her and Bucky’s bags, pulling out the guns they had and making sure they were all fully loaded.  The first car was coming up on their rear.  Y/N could see one of them roll down their window and point a gun at the car.

“Duck,” she said loudly.

Bucky ducked down just as the first shot rang out, ricocheting off the back window, barely leaving a scratch.  “Gotta love bullet proof glass,” he murmured.

“Roll down the window,” she instructed him.  

Bucky did as she asked and she leaned into the door, slowly holding the gun outside the car window.  She aimed carefully, letting the agents waist their bullets before taking her first shot.  Bucky could see the agent leaning out of the passenger window in the car behind them get hit right between the eyes, his body falling limply out of the window and onto the road, making the first car swerve and the second car try to move and lose control, flying off the highway and into the ditch along the side, rolling a few times.

“Good girl,” Bucky smirked.

Y/N hummed and moved to the other side of the car.  He rolled down that window as well and she aimed at the next agent that was more careful this time in not completely hanging his body out the window.  She was one of the few sharp shooters he’d come across that rivaled Bucky’s prowess as a sniper.  She took a moment to get the perfect shot and the next agent’s head hung limply out of the window.  Y/N took down each shooter one by one, then shot out the engines of two of the cars that tried to come too close with the high power guns hidden inside the car.

The last two cars suddenly accelerated and got on either side of their car.  Bucky rolled up the windows and Y/N sat back far into the seat, keeping herself low.  He tried to speed up but the car was no longer able to go any faster.  The two cars alongside them tried to box them in to slow them down, but Bucky veered into the one on the right, sending them off the road and into the ditch, causing it to roll.  Y/N was bracing herself in the back, twisting to face the other car and keeping the gun steady in her hand.  She saw a panel open on the car on its side, and a thick pole starting to come out of the opening.

“Battering ram!” she screamed, moving to the opposite side of the car as fast as she could.

Bucky looked and saw the pole rear back.  He stepped on the brake to make it so the battering ram would only fit the front of the car, launching himself into the backseat just as it made contact with them.  He tried to wrap himself around Y/N but the car jolted to the right, making it skid at high speed before rolling on the cement then off the road.  The crashing, scraping and glass breaking was deafening.  Bucky felt himself bouncing around the cabin of the car, trying to protect his head then feeling himself fall from the car out the broken front window.  He rolled in the dirt and grass until he finally came to a stop, trying to catch his breath.  He did a quick inventory of himself, moving his fingers, toes, rolling his ankles, wrists, making sure everything could move.  His head was pounding, most likely a concussion, but other than bumps, bruises and scars he was miraculously okay.

He looked around and saw the car a good thirty feet away, upside down and smoking.  He got up and ran over to the car, dropping to his knees and trying to look inside.  “Y/N!  Y/N?” he called out, trying to move debris out of the way to see.  He heard a moan and used his vibranium arm to start ripping at pieces of the car.  After a few minutes he was able to move enough out of the way that he could see Y/N.  She was wedged between the roof of the car and the backseat that had warped in the crash, pushing against her belly dangerously.  Bucky gasped and crawled into the car.  “Hey pretty girl,” he greeted her, trying to keep his voice calm.  “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he said, reaching out and touching her face.  “Can you hear me?”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, looking around in shock.  “Yeah,” she said simply.

“Okay, do an inventory,” he instructed her.  “Where’s the pain?”

Y/N subtly moved her fingers, wrists, toes and ankles like he had done, slightly rolling her neck.  “Just…sore, but my stomach hurts real bad,” she said, looking down.  She gasped when she saw the seat pressed hard against her pregnant belly.  “Buck!  Get it off!”

“I’m trying, Mamas, just give me a second,” he said, then felt someone pulling at his feet.  “Fuck!  NO!” he screamed as multiple hands started pulling at his feet and legs, pulling him away from Y/N.  She reached out for him but he was too far.  He was hoisted out of the car, surrounded by multiple men.  He swung, taking out two with his vibranium arm before kicking the two behind him.  He fought hard, but they were nearly meeting him in strength, taking him by surprise.  The fighting was making his head pound harder at the exertion.  One particularly hard punch to one of the agents’ faces produced a dark green blood to spurt from his lip.  Bucky looked at him in shock.

“Enough Sergeant Barnes!” one of them yelled out.

He turned and saw one of the agents knelt down by the car, pointing his gun at Y/N, who was struggling to push off the seat on her.  “Don’t,” he stepped forward.

The agent pushed his hand into the car through the broken window, pushing the gun against her head, making her freeze.  “Come with us, and she gets to live,” he sneered.

Bucky glared at him, assessing the situation.  He was starting to feel queasy at the pressure in his head, and he blinked rapidly, panting breaths as he looked around at all of them.  Then he heard it…a sound above them that the others hadn’t heard or recognized.  He smirked.  “No, we’re leaving,” he said.

The agent looked at him puzzledly before he suddenly stiffened, an electric shock going through him, falling with a thud to the dirt.  The other agents looked around in panic, shouting at each other as each of them were shocked and fell.  The air vibrated above Bucky as he looked up and the cloaking on the Talon cleared away to reveal itself.  He heaved a sigh of relief and ran back to the car.  He lifted it enough to help free Y/N from being pinned against the seat, her body falling to the roof of the car.  She slowly crawled her way out and he dropped the car before picking her up and running toward the Talon as it opened the stairway.  He helped get her seated before turning to the motherboard.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Shuri’s voice echoed through the cabin.  “Are you both alright?”

“Alive,” Bucky replied.  “Just set course for Sibiu, Romania.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come here?” she asked.

“I’d love to, but the checkpoint is Sibiu,” he said quickly, rubbing his temple.  

A chittering sound was heard and then a scan of both of them appeared momentarily.  “Barnes, you’re going to want to come here first.”

“It’s just a concussion, I’ll heal,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“Not for you,” Shuri replied quietly.

Bucky froze and then looked behind him at Y/N.  She wasn’t moving, one hand settled on her heart and the other on her belly, her brow furrowed and her mouth slightly agape.  “O-okay,” he agreed, and the Talon moved.  He walked over to her and kneeled down in front of her.  “What’s wrong, Mamas?” he asked cautiously.

Y/N blinked.  “He’s not moving.”

Bucky swallowed harshly.  “I’m sure he’s just resting after all we just went through.”

Y/N shook her head.  “Scan fetus,” she called out loudly to the Talon.

The system on board chittered again before speaking in a clear Xhosa accent.  “Scan complete.  Fetus has suffered from a placenta abruption and fetal trauma.  Fetus is, unfortunately, deceased.”

Y/N’s eyes shut tight, a shaky huff falling from her lips.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  Her hands fell away from her belly and her chest, hanging limply at her sides as her head leaned back against the wall behind her.  Bucky blinked rapidly, staring at her still very pregnant belly.  Dead?  The baby was just…gone?  All those doctors appointments, the long nights crying over her boyfriend up and leaving her, how she and Bucky had gushed over how cute the baby clothes and accessories were, getting the nursery ready that she would now never use, all of it just…done.  Y/N looked like she physically deflated at the news, but there were no tears.  Bucky watched her carefully as he reached up and took one of her hands.  

“Pretty girl,” he said, rubbing her knuckles.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

She didn’t react, her eyes still closed as she breathed evenly.  “It’s okay,” she murmured.  “Would have slowed us down, anyway.”

Bucky blinked at her in surprise, but he knew that this was her way of coping at the moment.  If there was anything they had learned about each other while being mission partners was being able to read one another, knowing each other’s tells, ticks, what buttons not to push, and in moments of severe trauma or pressure how they coped.  She wasn’t feeling safe enough to grieve just yet, so he didn’t push it.  He just leaned forward and laid his head on her knee, his other hand gripping her ankle.  She inhaled deeply at that, and her free hand reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp like she would during his worst nightmares.  They sat like that the whole way back to Wakanda.

@vioplay19 @mrsnikstan @scott-loki-barnes @tufflepuff23

[staylovesmiley]

Youtiful: Another Collision Story - Chapter 1

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Stray Kids x afab!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; It’s been a wonderful tour so far, spending time visiting different countries with the loves of your life. But will a sudden change ruin everything? A continuation to Collision

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; implied afab reader (only they/them pronouns used for reader), angst, some sexual themes at points, fluff, this is still mainly a slice of life story though there will be some drama in this sequel, more tags to come most likely as the story progresses

It was late, the winter air chilling you to the bone even through the thick puffer coat and the sweater you had on underneath. Your gloved hand came out to wrap around the handle to the small convenience store, pulling it open and sighing with relief as the warmth hit your already ruddy cheeks.

Like a man on a mission you made your way through each isle carefully in search of something you weren’t particularly keen on asking for assistance in finding even though you could hardly read the writing on anything there. Armed with the google translate app pulled open to the picture translation feature you just needed to find something that looked like what it was you were needing so that you could use the app to confirm or deny it was what you were looking for.

After few trial and errors you finally found it, grabbing multiple boxes before making your way to the counter and unceremoniously sliding them towards the cashier. Using the app once more you typed out a message to say that was all you needed before bouncing on the balls of your feet impatiently while the worker rang up the items and placed them in a small plastic bag, handing it over to you once you swiped your card and entered your pin on the small keypad. You muttered a quick goodbye before making your way back to the hotel you had been staying at while on tour.

Everything was going smoothly, entering the elevator without issue you pressed the button for the eleventh floor before backing up to rest against the cool metal interior. Your mind was like a storm cloud, heavy with rain that threatened to pour at any moment as it sat stagnant letting the build up begin as your emotions formed like water droplets behind your eyes. With a deep and shaky breath you steeled yourself and made a quick exit from the elevator once it arrived at your floor.

Making your way down the hall you prayed none of your boyfriends would appear and potentially question you about what you had gone out for or what was in the shopping bag you held tightly by the thin plastic straps. They were all supposed to be in Chan’s room for an impromptu live stream as this leg of the tour was ending and the next day you would be headed back home to Korea to rest up before taking off for North America. Counting your blessings you successfully made it to your shared room with Felix, slipping off your shoes and coat by the door before making your way to the small refrigerator in the room to grab two bottles of water.

You had never done this before but knew that urinating was kind of a necessity in the process so you quickly downed one bottle before tossing it in the trash and bringing the second with you and the bag from the convenience store into the bathroom. As you opened the packaging carefully, scanning the instructions with your translation app you chugged about half of the second bottle of water before you finally felt the urge to pee.

“Well- here goes nothing…” you mumbled to yourself, locking the door so if by chance Felix returned before you were finished he wouldn’t be able to walk in and take you by surprise.

Waiting was agony, teeth worrying at your bottom lip anxiously as you sat criss cross on the floor with the three tests laid in front of you in a row. Your eyes flickered between them and the timer you had set on your phone as it ticked down both too fast and too slow to your liking.

Just as the alarm began to sound you heard the familiar sound of the hotel door clicking open, causing you to jump slightly and rush to silence the loud jingle coming from your phone. “Star? Baby, are you here? The guys were wanting to call in for takeout since we have to fly out tomorrow and don’t wanna be out super late for dinner-“ His deep voice was normally soothing to hear but now it only seemed to set you on edge further as you starred with a blank expression at the faint, barely there second line that seemed to be slightly darker on each test.

“Starlight are you-“ the doorknob began to jiggle as your boyfriend tried to enter the bathroom only to find it locked. You tried desperately to find anything to say, to let him know you heard him and would be there in a second, but the words wouldn’t come out. “Star you’re scaring me. Please answer is everything okay?”

Panic soon took over and out your body on autopilot as you scooped up the tests and shoved them back into the shopping bag before pushing them far back under the small gap between the floor and the bottom of the vanity in hopes Felix wouldn’t find them before you had the chance to come up with the best way to tell him. “Sorry, bub I was zoned out a bit I think I’m just tired from working all day and then watching the show and-“ You turned the lock and pulled the door open to see Felix looking on the verge of tears as his hand was raised in a small fist to knock once more at the door before you had opened it. “Oh- sorry I just…I was worried when you didn’t say anything right away. My bad-“ You offered him a smile you hoped looked genuinely happy as the storm cloud that was your mind began crackling with thunder and lightning as if warning to the impending downpour of emotions that desperately needed to be released. It seemed to be enough for the dancer as he pulled you in for a quick kiss before taking hold of your hand. “Come on, I told them to wait for us before ordering anything so I don’t wanna be too long.”

In Chan’s room you all sat around the tv while some late night gameshow was playing, eating in mostly silence as everyone was exhausted from the days work. You were mostly silent for fear of letting your secret slip too early, eyes going in and out of focus as you began to dissociate while trying to think of what to say, how to say it, and when- it was all too much. You felt like your brain was working itself to the point of overheating like Chan’s laptop when he worked for long periods of time without a break in between. Your silence wasn’t unheard of but the far away look in your eyes caused some of your lovers to grow concerned and begin whispering amongst each other as you mindlessly shoveled whatever you had ordered into your mouth with your eyes seemingly glued to the wall.

While you were still zoned out, stuck in your head trying to think of what you were going to do you didn’t notice Felix, Hyunjin, and Seungmin slipping out of the room and into the hall. “It was so strange- when I went to get them they didn’t say a word for a good maybe five minutes? I thought maybe they were in the shower and just didn’t hear me so I went to check the bathroom but the door was locked and couldn’t hear a sound coming from inside at all- I was so scared.” His voice shook slightly as the fear her had felt in that moment still lingered, allowing Hyunjin to pull him into his chest and rub gently at his back.

“It’s okay, jagi we get it. They are acting kinda strange tonight do you know what could be bothering them?” The aussie shook his head, his longs blonde hair tickling lightly at the other dancer’s neck where he still held his boyfriend close to comfort him. Seungmin crossed his arms over his chest, thinking for a moment if he remembered anything from when their lover had been rooming with him at the last hotel they stayed in. “Ya know- I think they might just be uh….on that time of the month?” He remembered you mentioning needing to buy supplies as it was due at any moment, and if you were in fact on your period the pain and change in hormones would explain your behavior.

Felix calmed down, feel his nerves even out as he pulled back from the tall man’s embrace. “Yeah- that could explain why they’ve been feeling off and why they were in the bathroom for so long.” A small smile found their sunshine’s face and Hyunjin gave him a quick peck to his lips. “See? Nothing to worry about. Maybe we should get them some painkillers before we get on the plane tomorrow so they aren’t hurting during the flight.” The trio talking briefly about what they could do to make you feel more comfortable before returning to the rest of the group inside to help clean up before retiring to their own rooms for the evening.

The next morning as they all waiting in the terminal for their flight, Felix sat down next to you and placed a small grocery bag into your lap. “What’s this?” You said, turning to give him a smile though your eyes were filled with curiosity. “Okay this is gonna sound weird and I hope we weren’t over stepping but me and the others noticed you were acting a bit strange last night-“ At this admission your eyes widened, panic once again setting in as you had yet to figure out the best way to tell them of your current state. You were sure you hadn’t seemed too suspicious but apparently you were not as good at masking your feelings as you assumed.

Felix continued, not catching on to the anxiety coursing through your entire being like a live wire. “-And Seungmin mentioned you might be on your period so I got you some treats and also some pain killers for the flight.” His thoughtfulness touched you though if he were right you would t be feeling like you were. A wave of nausea washed over you and you couldn’t tell if it was from the nerves or your body working to grow an entire person inside of you. “Thanks, Lixie. That’s so sweet of you~” You cooed to him, not wanting him to think he had crossed a boundary or upset you somehow you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. You wished you could do more, but even that action was risky as fans could be anywhere at any time while they were out in public.

The thought just made everything worse. How could this be happening right then? Your boyfriend’s were at the peak of their career, global level superstars with thousands of adoring fans and a scandal like this could ruin them, ruin everything. Not to mention you were all still so young. The fear that this was all happening too soon caused you to feel light headed as you heard someone calling for you to rise and make your way to your plane.

You had only been worrying about how to simply inform them of your unplanned pregnancy, having given no thought to what would happen if they reacted negatively. On top of everything you hadn’t even stopped to think if this was something you wanted. You loved your boys dearly, planning to stay with them for the rest of your life if fate allowed, but was a child something you wanted? Was it something you could handle? Mentally and physically it would be a lot to take on, and the thought made the nausea that much worse.

Once boarded you began looking through the things Felix had bought and cringed slightly at the bottle of advil with the warning to not ingest if pregnant. There were different candies as well, things he knew you favored and it caused tears to well up in your eyes at how thoughtful he was. “Baby is everything okay?” Han said from his spot next to you on the flight, leaning over to gently wipe away a stray tear that had escaped to roll down your cheek. “Y-Yeah I’m fine just a little emotional going back home I guess-“ The rapper smiled in understanding and gave a quick kiss to your temple. “I know, darling. We’ll be back soon, then we can rest before we get back to work.”

The rest of the flight went off normally, you even managed to get in a little sleep before you landed. The stress of your impending conversion with your boyfriends was temporarily forgotten as the stress of making your way through the airport replaced it. Camera flashes blinded you all as you made your way to the cars taking you back to your apartments.

As far as stay knew, you were a good friend of Felix’ who often went live with him and sometimes the other members as well. A few fans had spotted you in the crowd at multiple locations, and after a selfie one of the members had taken in their hotel room for bubble showed you cuddled up in the background with the freckled embodiment of sunshine they concluded that you had joined them on tour because you and he were something more than just friends, fueling the dating rumors and fan theories that much further as you decided to simply ignore them and not confirm or deny anything just yet.

Once back at yours, Felix’, and Seungmin’s apartment you let yourself fall to the couch with a groan. “It feels so good to be back!!” You whined, hugging a throw pillow to your chest as Seungmin sat down and pulled you into his lap. “Me too, means I can do this.” With that he began placing kisses all over your face, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles before finally cupping the younger’s face in your hands and giving him a soft kiss to the lips. “So silly, puppy.” You teased once you pulled back, curling into his chest with your head resting on his shoulder.

Felix joined the two of you, snuggling up to Seungmin’s side as his arms wrapped around the two of you in a warm embrace. “I missed this- I know we could be ourselves in the hotel rooms but something about being home makes it feel more special.” You nodded, placing a quick kiss to Seungmin’s neck before leaning forward to give your aussie boyfriend a peck to his lips. “I agree. I love our little home so much.”

As the three of you sat like that, body’s curled together, your mind began to wander again to the situation you had fallen into. Should you say something now? What if it ruined a sweet moment? Was saying something after they just got back only going to cause them more stress? When would the best time be if not before the next leg of the tour? Waiting until after would be too long, and by the time the tour was over you would no doubt be showing. That was, if you even decided to keep it. The thought kept crossing your mind, though it made your nausea return tenfold and your chest to feel tight as if you couldn’t breathe.

What were you going to do?

author’s note: their baaaaack~~~ I told you I wasn’t done with them just yet! I wasn’t planning to bring them back so soon but inspiration has hit so the Hyunjin series I had started to plan will have to wait- oops? Anyways hope you all enjoy this even though it’s kinda on the shorter side? I also have the next chapter of Connected ready to post soon so please look out for that! ᕱᕱ₊˚⊹♡

taglist; (pink users I wasn’t able to tag) @softkisshyunjin @coastinglove @palindrome969 @amara-mars @whiteghostt @ihrtlix @queen-in-the-shadows @soaplickerrr @skzswife @reallysparklychaos @sebastianswhore13 @velvetmoonlght @katsukis1wife

[ronearoundblindly]

For your Valentine's ask game: #7 Jake Jensen x reader, idk why but it seems fitting 😂

Shut Up, Jensen, one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024!

Oh, this poor, poor, awkward perv. He's pervy until there's a naked lady around and then 😳 "...when I was four, I shoved pennies up my nose..." Seriously, boi, shut up!

Warnings for spice, i.e. a setup to smutty times, but mostly suggestive. MINORS DNI, just to be safe. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 1042

You’ve always had a soft spot for nerds, and now, that’s translating to a damp spot on your fanciest panties you wore for this date.

Jake Jensen goofy-grinned his way through the entire evening, making you almost snort a tequila sunrise through your nose, and he never let up. The humor made you comfortable. It’s endearing to see his nervousness right on his graphic-T sleeve as opposed to being ‘manly’ and aloof.

It’s so, so refreshing to hear someone say, “I’m having a great time,” “I don’t want the night to end,” and know deep down in your bones that they mean “spending this time with you has made me happy” instead of “I’ve done enough to get laid now, right?”

Unsurprisingly, it does mean Jake’s done enough to get laid.

You give him your address so he could park his Jeep outside your building. There are parking meters, but tomorrow is Sunday when they’re free. No big deal. You left the bar (which was after the restaurant, which was after the coffee shop) a minute or two before in order to meet him at one of the open spots and walk him in. He can’t meet you at your door because there is a locked gate to your courtyard, and then a keypad for your building, and then about three corridors to navigate. It’s just easier to show him the way.

You can hear that fucking car coming a mile away.

Jake smiles and waves as he parallel parks—with extreme precision, you note—then hops out, gesturing to the meter questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrug, jumping to the edge of the curb before he steps up so you can use the height for a kiss on his cheek.

It’s adorable how flustered he gets at just that tiny bit of affection. Though it’s dark, it’s obvious he blushes ferociously, rubbing at the back of his cropped, short hair, racing to gather his thoughts.

“Did you know there are almost three hundred ways to make change for a dollar? Two hundred ninety-three to be ex—woah—“

You grab his hand to lead him inside.

At the gate, you have to pause for the magnetic lock.

“I’m surprised those things even take change anymore,” Jake muses quietly, courteous for the neighbors’ sake, “because physical money only makes up 8% today’s currency…in the whole world.” He slides past the thick steel grating. “Thank you, digital banking.”

He follows behind you in the maze of concrete paths to the next entry.

“People leave like half a million dollars worth of loose change at airport security. That’s a little shocking,” he whispers when you motion for him to take a left, “think you’d splurge for some decent toilet paper with that kind of dough, or maybe some more cup holders in those row-seats? They could, I don’t know, offset the cost of making pennies. Shit cost two cents. Is worth one. Wild…

“Meanwhile, a dime has 118 ridges on the rim of the smallest circumference.”

Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying, the more his plump pink lips move, the more insanely turned on you get. You have to crowd him through your own doorway before you start stripping in the middle of the hall.

You peel your blouse off the instant your keys clatter onto the dinette table. You spin around to grab him by the screen-printed emblem of his t-shirt.

“There are 1.4 billion $2 bills in circulation.”

He gives a little oof sound when his back hits one of your bedroom walls, and there’s a barely audible whimper as your hands snake up under soft, well-worn fabric.

Holy shit, is this boy cut!

Your thumbs actually catch on the deep ridge of his Adonis belt. Dimes got nothing on you, Jake Jensen…

His breathing has changed significantly. “Did you know they—“ he gasps and swallows “—still make those?”

Ok, why is it hotter when he’s not even trying?

“Fun fact: if you went to Zimbabwe, guess which currency you’d…use?” The neckline of his shirt has to pop over his glasses before he fixes them. “The U.S. Dollar. Seriously! Same damn mon—EH.”

His belt buckle is tricky to navigate from this angle and in the very low light of your bedside lamp. You give up on his pants to unzip your skirt at the hip and let it fall.

Jake stands perfectly still with his hands half-raised.

“You’re…really fucking pretty—sorry—really pret—sexy, not that I—but beautiful. You’re really—”

He sucks in a breath as you step within inches of him again, reaching up to carefully pull his glasses over his ears and place them by the lamp.

“Fuck…”

Your index finger tucks into the elastic of his boxers where they peek out above the belt.

“Yeah, so I’ve been—I’m—I don’t have a—what I’m trying to say is—“ he squeezes his eyes shut and wiggles his fingers higher in the air, searching for the right thought “—the most commonly printed bill is actually the one-hundr—“

“Jake,” you interrupt, gently smoothing your hands over his thick shoulders. He is so ripped, what the hell? You guess there are nerds and then there are nerds, wow…

“Do you want to continue?”

He nods super fast, eyes growing wide in panic.

“Good.”

You smash your lips to his, hauling him down and you up by the sturdy tower of muscle he is.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you mutter between breaths.

He lets out a high, choked whine before clamping his huge, warm hands to your waist, melting into you and your touch.

You coax the both of you toward the bed, swatting at his belt as a signal for him to help, and he does, though he’s not the greatest multitasker. He huffs and smirks, breaking the kiss so he can unlatch, unbutton, and unzip.

Then he looks up at you. 

“So you like movies…?”

You cup his jaw in your hand and pinch, a gentle peck on his lips as encouragement to focus. “Less talking, more fucking, Jensen.”

He opens his mouth, clearly running through a series of replies, but thinks better of it and  pushes down his pants and boxers all at once.

Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity ⬅️ ➡️ Steve Rogers and a kiss on a scar

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren Y'all getting sick of me yet???