#back pain and the director made her feel bad for sitting out practice and i got SO pissed bc it literally could’ve been a SPINE ISSUE and he | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudteawrites · 3 years

Text

chapter: seven ( 12.3k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The sound of your phone ringing rips you from sleep. You sit bolt upright, confusion and panic dousing you like twin buckets of ice water. You’d been having a nightmare about something, but you can’t remember what. The tattered ends of it are already slipping away, just out of reach. You don’t chase after them.

You fumble for your phone in the dark, fingers groping uselessly at your blankets until they close around it. The bright white light from your screen blinds you as you flip it over and you blink blearily, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and trying to answer with the other.

“Hello?” you rasp, mashing the speaker button. “Who is this?”

“Apologies for disturbing your sleep, ma’am.” A woman’s voice crackles over the other end of the line. You can hear exhaustion dripping off every word. “This is Officer Kwon from the Namhyeon-dong precinct of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Force.”

You squint into the dark expanse of your bedroom, a little frown on your face as you struggle to process what she’s saying. “....okay?”

“I’m calling because we’ve got two of your hybrids in custody.”

You blink slowly. “Hmmmm, I don’t think so...” you mumble through a yawn. “They’re all in bed.”

“We ran their numbers through the registry and you were pinged as the owner of both.” You hear papers shuffling and her voice get distant as she transfers the receiver to her shoulder to free up a hand. “We’ve got a rabbit calling himself Jeongguk and a Seokjin who the rabbit says is a deer-” She sighs. “Listen, I’m at the end of my rope here. They won’t tell me where they came from and the phone number of the business they were registered to before you is out of service. They’re hurt pretty bad, worse than what we can take care of here at the station. We can’t get them any sort of medical care without their guardian’s permission, so-”

Your eyes glaze over as you groggily connect the dots.

A deer and a rabbit.

Not canine, not feline.

Other.

You shove the covers down your legs and kick them over the side of the bed. “I’m on the way,” you tell her, already adding up the distance between your building and Namhyeon-dong. It’d take an hour to get all the bus transfers you needed- your eyes narrow as you squint at the time on your phone. 3:27 AM. You’d have to get a cab. Your stomach twists at the thought of the fare, but you shove the feeling down. This was no time to be thrifty. “Do whatever you need to.”

The officer exhales in relief. You can practically hear the tension leave her shoulders. “There’s a little hybrid clinic in the neighborhood. I’ll see if I can get the vet up and convince them to go.”

“Thank you,” you breathe. She gives you the address and you type it into your notes app, reading it back to her twice to make sure you got it right. She hangs up with a promise to see you soon and your phone locks, leaving you alone in the blue-black gloom of an early morning.

This wasn’t great. This wasn’t great any way you sliced it. You’d thought you’d have an extra two weeks to get the canines settled and all five hybrids to at least not want to kill each other. That’d been the plan, at least, when you’d sequestered yourself in your bedroom without telling Jimin and Taehyung goodnight or doing any introductions. Now the others were coming and you were on borrowed time. You drag your hands down over your face. “What are we gonna do?” Nothing but silence answers you.

When you were a kid and you’d had anything big before you- a massive school project you’d waited til the last moment to start, having to walk yourself to the market because your mom was too sick to go, a hard conversation with a friend- your mom had always told you to break it down into smaller pieces. Make the big thing small; do what you can for now. So, that’s what you do.

You shove your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, tug your backpack out from under your bed and grab a pair of socks. You slide them on as quickly as you can and head for the door. You tug it open and try to rush through, already on the way to your next small thing- but you stumble over a shoulder and go down.

You let out a yelp of surprise that quickly morphs into one of pain as your forehead knocks against the other person’s. Your hands slam down on either side of their head and their own fly up to your waist to steady you. You blink down at them, willing your eyes to adjust to the dark.

Hoseok is beneath you. He’s squinting up at you, his hair in disarray and his cheeks puffy with sleep. “Ow,” he croaks.

You wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing the spot on his forehead your own knocked against on autopilot. He seems to wake up a little at that, eyebrows inching up his forehead. You snatch your hand back. “Ah, sorry. I was worried I hurt you-”

“I’m okay,” he rasps, his voice still thick with sleep. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Okay.” You disentangle yourself from him and rise back to your feet. He struggles to get up too, mirroring you. The blankets pooled around his hips fall to his feet. You frown at the picture he makes, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and indents on his cheek from the hardwood. “Did you...did you sleep out here?”

His ears fall and he lowers his head a bit between his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did…”

You wrote off a lot of the behavior the boys exhibited that you didn’t understand as just a part of them being hybrids. When Taehyung affectionately headbutted you, or Jimin always hopped up on counters or Yoongi lapped from glasses instead of sipping, you just accepted it and stashed it away to google later- but this was a little more concerning. Did he not feel safe in his room? You’d tried to put him and Namjoon as far away from the felines as you could, but you also knew the cats weren’t thrilled about sharing their space. You hoped they hadn’t made him feel too unwelcome after you’d collapsed into bed.

“Is everything okay?” His ears twitch as the smell of your worry fills his nose. He leans forward and for a moment you think he’s gonna close the distance between you- but he pulls back.

“No,” he answers. You feel your heart sink. “I just...your room is closest to the front door.” You blink at him slowly, not following. You don’t know how his sight is in the dark, but he must see the confusion furrowing your brow,because he continues. “Your room is the only one on the first floor and it’s close to the living room and front door. We all sleep upstairs. If someone broke in, they’d get you first.” He tosses a finger down at the blankets. “I was sleeping here so that wouldn’t happen.”

“Nobody’s gonna get me, Hoseok,” You soothe, trying to assuage his fears. “I’m nobody-”

“You don’t know that,” he argues back. “And you’re not ‘nobody’ to me. I waited my whole life for you. I’ve gotta keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to make of that. You’d known Hoseok had been trained specifically to protect the person he’d eventually be sent to, but you hadn’t expected him to be so adamant about it. After all Namjoon grew up in the same place- No. Your expression sours as the thought stops you. No he didn’t. The wolfdog hybrid had been locked away for most of his life and interaction with others had come only in the form of meal delivery. He wouldn’t have had the director’s lessons drilled into his head everyday in the same way Hope had.

Still, no one has expressed this level of care for you since your mom died. You’re not entirely sure you deserve it.

“I was gonna wake up before you did and go back to my room,” he mumbles, kicking gently at the blanket and not meeting your eyes. “I promise, I was. I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his ears drooping more and more the longer you look at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Hoseok,” You tell him and his ears perk up a little. It was true, he hadn’t. His actions were sweet, if a bit misguided but you were more worried about him than anything. “I don’t know what the director told you or what you’ve heard, but I promise there’s no one after me.” He frowns at that, lips twisting into a little pout. He goes to interject, but you speak again before he can. “If you’re worried about anything, just tell me okay? If there’s anything you need to do to make yourself feel more at ease here, just tell me.” You implore him softly.

Hoseok nods slowly and you see his tail give one small wag. You nod back, and turn to go, but his voice stops you. “I think it would help a lot if I could sleep down here.” Your brow furrows at that.

“This is the only bedroom on this floor, though?”

He whines and looks like he’s about to explain- but a soft voice purring in your ear cuts him off. “He could sleep on the couch,” Jimin supplies, his arms entwining around your middle as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s quite comfortable...Y/N-ah, do you mind dogs on the furniture?” His tone is light, free of the haze of sleep and a little teasing. From the way Hoseok’s ears droop and the way his shoulders curve in, you could tell Jimin hadn’t crept down here for a bit of good-natured ribbing. Your scent sours as your expression does, irritation with the leopard hybrid pricking at you. He lets out a little disgruntled murr in protest as he noses at your neck, trying to get you to soften for him. You tilt your head away from him and disentangle yourself from his arms. It’s three in the morning, you have to cross the city to deal with the fallout from God only knows what, and your neck still aches from the bruise Yoongi had left on it. You have too much on your plate to deal with Jimin needling his new housemate.

“Leave him alone, Jimin,” You exhale, side-stepping the leopard hybrid and heading down the corridor for the door. “Hoseok, you can sleep where you want. I’ve gotta go.”

The doberman takes a step forward. “I’ll come with you-” the icy look Jimin shoots him has him slowing but it’s not until the leopard hybrid bares his teeth at him that he stalls entirely. The sound of his whimper has you whirling around, but when you do, you find Jimin looking at you, blasé and Hoseok eyeing him with uncertainty

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” you toss back over your shoulder as you slide your feet into a pair of shoes. “Please, just...if you can’t be friendly, just do your own thing ‘til I get back.” You lace up your sneakers as quickly as you can and duck out the door. “Text me if you need anything; I’ll call on the way back.” And you’re gone, leaving the leopard and the doberman in the dark.

You are not at all confident in their ability to maintain a truce while you’re gone. You’re almost certain that if you hadn’t shoved your way between Namjoon and Yoongi last night, they’d have come to blows right there in the lobby last night. You punch the button for the ground floor and slump back against the railing of the elevator, exhaustion settling heavy on you now that you were alone again. You’d known Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung weren’t thrilled about sharing their space, but you hadn’t expected this kind of fallout from bringing new hybrids home. You don’t know if there’s anything you can do to make things a little easier, but you want to. Sighing, you resign yourself to more research. You pull out your phone and start typing.

why are my hybrids freaking the fuck out

You backspace. Venting at google wasn’t going to help you figure out what the sharp looks Jimin kept throwing Hoseok while he thought your back was turned meant or why Yoongi had been so furious the other hybrids’ scent was on you.

why don’t my hybrids like each other

Just like all your other searches, this one turns up millions of results. You thumb over the links but none of them are helpful. They’re dealing with puppy hybrids bickering and cat hybrids hissing at each other. None of them cover cross-species beef. None of them deal with exotics. You sigh, lock your phone and tilt your head back to stare at the soft yellow lights in the elevator’s ceiling. You were out of your depth. You’d known that from the moment Mr. Seo turned you into an heiress with a wave of his fountain pen. You get the urge to run, that old niggling feeling that settled like a stone in your mind and made your palms itch.

It’s been years since you last felt the need to pull a disappearing act. You don’t think you’ve done it since the one year anniversary of your mom’s death. The foster home you’d been sent to was a shit show. You found out the woman in charge had been pocketing the money you gave her every month for your mother’s columbarium fees and her urn was in danger of being thrown out. You’d shoved everything you owned into your school bag and walked across the city to get her. When the police found you, you were striding down the side of the highway, her urn clutched to your chest, determined to go anywhere but there.

You hadn’t known where you were going then; you still didn’t now. All you’d had was the urge to flee and fire under your feet. All you’d had was a singular focus on the road ahead.

The elevator reaches the ground floor with a soft ding, the automated voice letting you know you’ve reached the lobby. You step out and shuffle across it with your head down, careful to avoid eye contact with the receptionist watching you warily from behind her desk.

It’s a cold night. A blast of frigid air hits your face the second you’re out the door. You curse under your and fold your arms around yourself in a futile effort to keep warm. You should go back upstairs and get the coat Yoongi made you buy. You shift from one foot to the other, weighing your options- and decide against it. If the conversation you’d had with Hoseok was enough to wake Jimin and send him slinking toward you, you running in and out of the penthouse would almost certainly wake Yoongi up. Memories flash in your mind: his hands gripping your hips tight, his rough tongue laving over your neck, that self-satisfied smirk he’d let spread over his mouth. You pinch yourself, trying to stem the heat you can feel crawling out the neck of your sweatshirt. It had upset you, there was no denying that. The warm feeling that’d bubbled up in your stomach at being touched didn’t wash away the fact that him marking you had nothing to do with your friendship and everything to do with warding off the canine hybrids.

Yeah, you decide, quickening your pace down the ice-slicked sidewalk. You’d much rather face the cold than him.

You make quick work of the walk from Haneul Tower to the streets of the club district. It’s only two blocks up and one over, but by the time you get there, you feel like a giant icicle. You’re out of place in a sweatshirt and scuffed up sneakers among the glitz and glamor of the club-goers, but you don’t have time to deal with your imposter syndrome. You duck into the first taxi you find, pass the old man the address Officer Kwon had given you and settle back.

He complains nearly the entire time about how far out of the way you’re making him go. You apologize as much as you’re able and promise him return fair back to Gangnam if he waits for you. He huffs and puffs, but he still takes you. Forty minutes later, you’re standing on the sidewalk outside of Happy Tails Hybrid Clinic, rapping urgently at the glass. After two minutes that feel like twenty, someone finally answers you.

You think she’s in her late twenties but the dark circles under her eyes she keeps rubbing at make her look older. She’s dressed in the typical winter police uniform, minus her jacket. The pale blue sleeves of her dress shirt are rolled up above her elbows and are blotchy with pale red marks she’d tried to scrub out. Blood. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

She unlocks the door and pokes her headout. “Y/N L/N?” She asks, eyes narrowed against the glare of the street lamps.

“Yeah,” you answer, giving one short nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Officer Kwon; we spoke on the phone.” She opens the door for you fully, stepping back and ushering you in urgently. “I’ll be honest,” she says once you’re safely inside and the door is locked back tight again. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”

You frown at that. “Why wouldn’t I have shown?”

“Most of the time when hybrids run, it’s an abuse case.” She drops into one of the plastic chairs lining the waiting room. Her head falls back with a thunk against the yellow plaster. If it hurts, she shows no signs of it, just stares up at the fluorescent lights. You settle on the lip of the chair next to her, feeling awkward and anxious. “The rabbit broke into an Olive Young to steal antiseptic and bandages,” she supplies without you having to ask. “He said he did it for the deer. When he showed me he was…” Officer Kwon exhales sharply and tips forward to rest her head in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood.”

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” you insist softly. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” she answers, voice muffled against her palms. “I pulled your name and ID picture from the national database and the rabbit didn’t recognize you. Even if you didn’t do it, I didn’t think you’d wanna deal with it.”

Your anxiety spikes at her words. What had happened to the hybrids before she found them? Who’d want to hurt them that badly? Your mouth feels dry, but you force it to move. “Do you know who they were running from?”

Officer Kwon shakes her head and drags her hands down her face. She lets her arms fall to her knees as she hunches over in her chair, back bowed with exhaustion. “Whatever the rabbit knows, he’s not sharing,” she exhales. “-And the deer’s in no position to speak up. He’s been unconscious since I found him.” As if sensing you tense, she adds, “He’s on the table now. I think Dr. Cheon put him under sedation.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure if there’s anything you even can. You have a million questions buzzing around in your mind, but so heavy is the weight of them on your tongue that you can’t find the strength to ask a single one. You’re saved by the doctor coming out from the back.

The door right next to the counter that reads STAFF + PATIENTS ONLY swings open and a middle aged woman in cat print scrubs comes out, shoulders hunched in like she’s got the weight of the world on her back. You can’t blame her; she looks every bit as tired as you feel. She stops just short of you and Officer Kwon, peels off a pair of blue medical gloves, dyed sticky red, and tosses them into the garbage can behind the reception desk. “Well,” she huffs, dragging her fingers through the greying wisps of hair that’d escaped from her braid. “It’s done.”

“How is he?” The police officer asks before you can. Dr. Cheon grimaces and leans against the counter.

“If you hadn’t found him in time, it could’ve been much worse.” You think she’s trying to put you at ease, but you don’t want compromising optimism. You want the truth. “An hour or two later and we’d be dealing with a very different situation, medically.”

You swallow and force yourself to speak. “Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

Dr. Cheon turns her attention to you and blinks slowly, like she’d just noticed you were there. “...this is the guardian?” The police officer nods. The doctor takes you in, eyes roving from the mess of your hair twisted into a bun atop your head, to the scuffed rubber toes of your sneakers. She’s judging you, you know, trying to find something that’d mark you as the reason for the pain and suffering of the hybrids she’d helped. She finds none. “It didn’t happen to them,” she sighs. “Someone did this to them on purpose, likely over the course of several hours.” She tugs the office chair out from behind the desk and sinks into it, her limbs going to jelly the second she’s seated.

“Jeongguk won’t tell me what happened, but I know the signs. Puncture wounds around the entirety of Seokjin’s ankle, remnants of both sedatives and epinephrine in both of their blood, what looks like a bullet graze wound on Jeongguk’s side and he’s got a broken arm,” she rattles off symptom after symptom, each of them making the knot in your belly wind tighter and tighter. “The worst of it is Seokjin’s head. Hairline fractures all along the top of his skull and lacerations on his pedicles. They took his antlers from him.”

You feel sick to your stomach. You knew there were people who hurt hybrids, just like there were people that hurt animals and other people. You just hadn’t expected to ever have to deal with the fallout of one such incident. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Cheon allows. “But he’ll need to be monitored closely during these next few weeks. They were hunted. If they decide to come with you instead of going to the shelter with Officer Kwon, you’ll need to be cognisant of the fact that the trauma from that could manifest in unexpected ways.”

Hunted. They’d been hunted.

You knew hunting was illegal in South Korea, you had that little tidbit tucked away in the recesses of your grade school memory along with the list of provinces and their capitals and the names of all the sailor scouts. It’d been outlawed in the fifties with the rash of hybrid centered legislation after a hunter up in Chungcheongbuk-do had shot a black bear hybrid he’d mistaken for a real bear. It was determined that since humans couldn’t distinguish between regular animals and hybrids shifted down into animal form, hunting had to be outlawed to prevent any accidental killings.

“Were they shifted down?” You ask. “Did someone not realize-”

“No.” Dr. Cheon’s answer is swift and final. “They knew. This was a choice.” The disgust in her voice is palpable.

“There are places that...Some centers cater to people that want to hunt.” Officer Kwon cuts in. “They have hybrids as employees and they let people rent airsoft or paintball guns to come hunt them. It’s supposed to be more ethical than actual hunting. No matter how distasteful I might personally find it, if they have a permit, there’s not really much the police can do unless a law has been broken. ”

“And without any information on where they came from, we can’t prove that one has,” Dr. Cheon finishes. “The most I can do as a vet is submit a report to the police about a possible abuse case and hope it makes its way to the hybrid crimes unit.” You hear the words she doesn’t speak, the meaning behind them. There’s nothing more we can do. They’ll get away with it. This is the end of the line.

Dr. Cheon drops her palms against her knees and forces herself to stand “Jeongguk’s injuries should heal just fine outside of the clinic,” She sighs. “But Seokjin-” she clicks her tongue against her teeth and gives a single shake of her head. “Cervine hybrids don’t shed their antlers like real deer do. There’s no telling if his will grow back or what they’ll look like when they do. All we can do is keep the wounds clean and pray.”

You nod numbly. She gestures for you to follow her and you do, making your way around the reception desk and through the staff door with her.

It’s dim in the back. The overhead lights are off and your path ahead is illuminated only by what light spills over from the reception room and an exam room up ahead. There’s only four of them, but the door to this one is slightly ajar. “Wait here for a second,” Dr. Cheon instructs, slipping through the door and leaving you alone in the corridor. You can hear her speaking softly to someone inside and them answering in even quieter tones. You have to strain to pick up the edge of their voice and even then, you can’t understand what they’re saying. “Would you like her to come in here, or would you like her to stay outside?” You hear her ask. The response is too soft for you to catch but a second later the door swings open.

Dr. Cheon steps out and gestures for the shadowy figure behind her to follow. “It’s alright,” she assures them. “No one here is going to hurt you.” Slowly, they shuffle out from the back.

It’s Jeongguk. There’s no denying what he is, not with the black velvet ears you see poking up out of his mop of wavy, dark hair. They’re alert; they prick toward you when your breath hitches. His eyes are dark and wide and the tip of his nose twitches when he looks at you. You muster up a smile you hope is reassuring and this right foot taps once against the linoleum. Yes, he’s a rabbit- but he’s also fucking huge.

What little research you’d managed to do in between apologizing to your taxi driver and keeping an eye on the fare had been straightforward: rabbit hybrids were naturally timid, needed a lot of attention and were small. Most sources you’d checked seemed to concur that they very rarely cleared 5’5. Jeongguk is pushing 6 feet and he’s built like a professional athlete. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent your whole life running for it.

He’s wearing a teeshirt that’s too tight on his chest, the logo of the Seoul police force stretched thin, and a pair of grey sweatpants that are too short for him, both obviously on loan from Officer Kwon. His feet are bare, but there are bandages wrapped around both of them. True to what Dr. Cheon told you, his arms in a cast and wrapped in a sling. There’s scrapes on his knuckles and bruises blooming on the right side of his face. He looks like he’s been through the wringer. Still, he doesn’t slouch or shrink before you.

“Jeongguk, this is the woman we talked about,” Dr. Cheon tells him. He nods, but doesn’t move his gaze from your face once. “You’ll be going home with her-”

“Only if he wants,” You interject and she nods in agreement, quickly adding that caveat in.

“-only if you want.” He nods again and swallows, his bare foot giving another little tap against the floor.

“What about Seokjin?” He asks you.

“If he wants to come too, he’s welcome to, but neither of you have to if you don’t want to.” There’s a little frown on his face as you answer and he finally looks away. You can’t help but think that’s a bad sign, that he thinks he and his friend would be safer in a shelter that they ever could be with you- but then he asks another question.

“Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?” You frown at that. Why was it that every hybrid in the city was suddenly so concerned with your marital status? Hoseok had asked you in the car last night and now Jeongguk seemed worried about it as well. Sensing your confusion, he clarifies. “Do you live with any men?”

You wince. “Oh! Yeah, I live with five.” You see his expression darken as his ears sag. “They’re mostly predator-”

“If they’re hybrids, it’s fine.” He interjects, a little tension leaving his shoulders. “I can live with them.”

You relax too. From what you’d seen, most shelters weren’t nice places. They were overcrowded and underfunded. If the news was any indication, some of the worse ones got treated like grab bags by fighting rings, who’d shell out a couple thousand won for a canine hybrid and turn him into a prize fighter. You didn’t want that for them, not if you could provide an alternative.

But was it one though? He said he could live with them, but could they live with him? You think back to Yoongi and Namjoon snarling at each other last night, about Jimin’s little jabs at Hoseok. Yeah, you’d need to have another house meeting when you got home if this was ever going to work. Jeongguk had just been through hell and back; the last thing he needed was a territorial bobcat trying him.

“You can change your mind any time,” You tell him softly. “If you get there and feel like it’s not a good fit for you and Seokjin, you can go, okay?”

He dips his head. “Okay.”

“I think Seokjin can decide for himself.”

Your eyes rocket just over Jeongguk’s shoulder. There’s a man leaning heavily against the doorframe of the room the rabbit hybrid had come out of. He’s in a blue exam gown, his feet bare except for a plain white cast on his left leg. Every part of his head from his eyebrows up is bandaged, but you see soft tufts of red-brown hair poking out from between the layers. He looks human. You’d almost think he was if it weren’t for the oblong pupils in his hazel eyes and supple ears you see twitching as he observes you.

“What are you doing up?!” The alarm in Dr. Cheon’s voice is palpable. “Those sedatives should’ve kept you out ‘til morning.” She takes a step like she’s going to rush to his side- but stops short when he tenses and tilts his chin to his chest. Just for a second, it looked like he was preparing himself to square off against her- like he was brandishing something that wasn’t really there. His antlers, you think. He was trying to protect himself with his antlers.

Seokjin forces himself upright, his knees wobbling as he tries to stand on his own. He looks off-balance, and it’s not just because of the cast. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how to stand now that a piece of him is missing. His legs are trembling. “What can I say?” He huffs, sounding like he just ran a marathon. “I like to surprise people.” And then his legs buckle underneath him.

He hits the floor with a heavy thud. Jeongguk and Dr. Cheon rush to his side but he waves them off, eyes closed and brow knit in frustration. “I’m fine,” he insists, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to struggle back to his feet. “I’m fine, I just…I just need a moment-”

“You need bed rest.” Dr. Cheon goes to latch on to his arm to help him stand but Jeongguk catches her wrist, gives a single shake of his head and she drops it back to her side.

Seokjin manages to get himself back standing, but he sways precariously. “If this were a hunt, I’d already be dead.” He swallows and inhales shakily through his nose, doing his best not to gulp down air. “You should have left me, Jeongguk. You know the rules. One falls, but the herd rises-”

“The herd is gone, Seokjin.” The bitterness in the younger hybrid’s voice takes you aback. It’s a black wave, threatening to drown all four of you right there in the corridor. Seokjin stares at him, his jaw slack and pretty brown eyes wide.

“What do you-”

“They’re gone.” The rabbit hybrid’s bruised fingers clench into a fist and he fixes his glare on the tile. “All of them.”

Silence rings in the corridor. Dr. Cheon’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t press for details and neither do you. She’d been right. They’d been hunted. The thought of it turns your stomach. Seokjin closes his eyes, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks as a muscle tenses in his jaw. He’s thinking. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is settled on you. Your heart jumps as your nerves get the better of you, and one of his ears flicks back.

“You’re taking us?” He asks. You swallow.

“Only if you want me to.” An unreadable look passes between him and Jeongguk, the younger’s nose twitching.

“Speaking strictly as your doctor,” Dr. Cheon speaks up, interrupting the hybrids’ telepathy. “You need time to rest and recuperate-”

“Is there any special reason I have to rest and recuperate here?” He asks. You can’t help but notice the slight challenge in his voice. The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitches.

“No, I suppose not,” she acquiesces. She doesn’t look particularly pleased about the prospect of letting her patient go when he was still in the danger zone, but if the look of determination in Seokjin’s eyes is any indication, she doesn’t have much choice.

“Then, we’ll go.” The tone of his voice is final, letting everyone present know that he’s done talking about it.

That's the last that’s said to you or anyone else about it. Jeongguk falls in line with his orders easily and so doesDr. Cheon after she manages to get him to accept a pair of crutches she’d foisted upon him and passes off a prescription for pain meds and both of their check up schedules to you.

“It’s important that they don’t miss these dates,” she tells you at the reception counter, tapping the sheath of papers with one clean, blunted nail. “A single one of them. And make sure they don’t shift ‘til I’ve given them the all clear. Hybrid injuries are tricky, but they’re aggravated by the shift.” You nod, hanging onto every word she says, forcing your tired brain to take mental notes. “And-” she cuts her eyes at Jeongguk and Jin, both of whom are lingering in various extremes in the room, the deer hybrid sitting ramrod straight in a chair in the far right corner and the rabbit pretending to browse informational pamphlets. Once Dr. Cheon’s deemed it safe, she leans closer to you across the counter and gestures for you to come closer as well. You blink in confusion but acquiesce. “It’s important that your current hybrids be made to feel secure with the new additions coming.” She tells you, voice gravely serious. “Do you know about scenting order?”

After a beat, you nod. “Yeah. I mean, I read about it online but-”

Dr. Cheon tuts her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Online sources are shaky at best, wildly inaccurate at worst- particularly forums.” Your stomach flips. Had all your research been for nothing? “What did they tell you?”

“Um…” your brain boots up slowly as you try to recall the hours of research you’d done. “Uh, dominant hybrid first, then in age order?”

The corner of Dr. Cheon’s mouth quirks in an odd way. “That’s certainly a simplified way of looking at it.”

You wince.

“Hybrid group dynamics can be…” She searches for the right word. “Messy to start out with, especially with hybrids who don’t know each other who find themselves with an inexperienced handler. They’re all going to be trying to figure out where they fit in the pecking order as well as how their relationship with you works. There’s likely to be a lot of posturing, not just in order to impress you, but to solidify their place as well.” Dr. Cheon drags a hand down over her face. “Seven male hybrids under one roof...It’d be a miracle if no one’s missing fingers by the time the week’s out.”

“Is there any way I can stop them from being mean to each other?”

“I’m not a behaviorist,” The doctor sighs. “But I’d suggest you start with a conversation.”

You slide into the back of the taxi a little after 5:30 AM and pull out your phone. You’d promised to call on the way back and you don’t want a repeat of what’d happened the last time you’d forgotten. You scroll down your contacts, thumb hovering over Yoongi’s name and you hesitate. You remember warm lips, a rough tongue. You remember hands gripping your hips tight and a possessive growl in your ear. You press Taehyung’s name instead.

The tiger hybrid picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” His voice is slow and scratchy, still thick with sleep.

“Hey, it’s Y/N-” Almost immediately a happy rumbling starts from his end of the line. You can hear the sleepy joy in it and it makes your face warm.”A-and I just wanted to let you guys know I’m on the way home.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgement, a low, musical sound. “Where’d you go?”

You bite your lip as nerves spark up in you. Well, all things considered, it was probably better for him to find out now rather than later. “The last two hybrids my uncle got…they were hurt and I had to come get them.”

The line is quiet for a moment and you gnaw at the bottom of your lip. Finally, Taehyung speaks. “Ah.” That’s all he says. Somehow, that’s worse than whatever Yoongi growling at the new hybrids or Jimin icing them out.

“I’ll be home in about another forty-five minutes, okay? Could you have everyone get together in the living room for me? We need to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, I can.”

You wince. There’s an almost imperceptible change in his voice. You swallow. “Taehyung, are you upset?”

He hums again like he’s considering it. “No,” he answers after a moment. “I don’t think i am. At least, not with you.”

That does little to allay your fears, but you force yourself to sound upbeat when you tell him, “I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The line clicks off and you drop your head against the headrest. A conversation. It should be a simple thing, but you spend the entirety of your taxi ride back to Gangnam with your stomach in knots. If the thought of introducing your two (very injured, very vulnerable) new hybrids to a house full of predators wasn’t enough, you have to try to allay Jeongguk’s inexplicable fear of the taxi driver. The middle aged man isn’t thrilled about ferrying hybrids across the city anyway, but between Seokjin swooning and Jeongguk thumping his foot so hard the whole car rattles whenever the man so much as looks in his rearview mirror, he’s almost ready to put all three of you out on the side of the highway. You have to promise him a 50,000 won tip just to get him to relent. He rolls up the partition, but even that doesn’t put Jeongguk at ease.

The rabbit hybrid is curled up in the corner of the backseat, his back against the door, his injured arm cradled close and his knees pulled up to his chin. His ears are on high alert, twitching at every passing car or stray siren. His whole body is tensed up like there’s a current running through it, like if he lets himself relax for a second, he’ll disperse into nothing. He’s glaring daggers at the partition, but you know he can’t see the driver. The car rolls over a speed bump a bit too fast and he flinches, hand shooting out for the door handle.

You watch him, concern coloring your scent. It’s not your place to ask, you know, and you feel almost stupid doing it, but the words slip out of their own accord. “Are you okay?” It’s a ridiculous question. You can still see the bruises blooming on his cheekbone, see the angry red of his split lip in the stray light of street lamps. His dark eyes flick toward you, round nose twitching.

“How do you know he’s taking us somewhere safe?” His gaze shifts from you, to the partition, to Seokjin, dozing fitfully on your otherside. The deer hybrid had finally surrendered to his pain meds not a second after you’d helped buckle him in. He’d been out cold before the driver had pulled away from the curb.

“Because that’s what I paid him to do,” you tell him, truthfully. You’d never given much thought to how much trust you placed in taxi and bus drivers to not kidnap you before. You certainly had to now, especially when Jeongguk seemed hyperaware of the fact that you’d entrusted all of your lives to a stranger. The rabbit hybrid swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his throat. He gives a little shake of his head.

“He could take your money and still take us somewhere bad. He could take us up into the mountains and Seokjin and I wouldn’t be able to do anything because we’re hurt and-”

“That’s not going to happen, Jeongguk,” you say in as soothing a voice as you can manage to muster up. “It’s really unlikely that that’ll happen, but even if it did, I’d do my best to protect you.”

He snorts, ears tilting back. They brush the roof of the car as they do and he shrinks himself, shoulders hunching forward. “What can you do?” His tone is derisive. “You’re only human. You’re not as fast as us or as strong-”

“I’d try,” you insist, some strong, unnameable emotion tightening your chest at the thought of them in danger. “If if came down to it, I’d still try to protect the pair of you-”

“You don’t even know me.” Jeongguk’s voice is edging somewhere between disgust and disbelief. You look away from him then and at your hands, gripping your knees.

“I don’t,” you agree easily. “But I’d like to. Even if I don’t- even if I didn’t, people should still help each other when they can. We owe each other that much.” The taxi is quiet for a moment, only the sound of tires rushing over the slick pavement and other cars zooming by filling the empty air between the two of you. Finally, the rabbit hybrid exhales shakily.

“I’m not a person.” He sounds resigned to that fact, like he’s accepted a burden far too heavy for him. “I’m not even an animal. I’m a-”

“Just because you aren’t human…” you start off hesitantly, very much aware that you might be crossing several invisible lines. “...doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You have your own thoughts and feelings and emotions. You deserve to have them heard. I know I’m not as fast as you or as strong, but the least I can do is listen to you, right?” The car is silent again. You’re too nervous to look at Jeongguk, worried that you’d gone too far- but then there’s a warm weight against your side. It starts slow at first, just your shoulders brushing against each other, but before you know it, Jeongguk’s leaning his whole body against yours. He’s slumped over with his head tucked beneath your chin like he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Jeongguk-”

“I’m afraid.” He admits in a whisper, like it’s the worst thing in the world. “Everything in me tells me to run all the time, but I can’t anymore.” His ears droop and his pretty dark eyes slip shut. This close, you can hear his heart beating at breakneck speed in his chest, feel how he shudders with every shaky inhale. “I’m so tired of running.” He’s terrified. You wouldn’t have guessed from his posture. Maybe the reason he held himself so tight was to stop himself from shaking apart.

You watch in surprise as the rabbit hybrid links his fingers with yours and drops your hand on top of his head, right between his velvety ears. “Help me like this.” You’re frozen, unsure what to do with a six foot tall man practically crawling into your sweatshirt with you. Was this really okay? He’d just been through something traumatic, the details of which you know nothing about. You hadn’t thought he’d want anyone to touch him, much less you, a virtual stranger. You don’t know what to do. The car jerks to a quick stop and the taxi driver leans on his horn, curses jaywalkers. Jeongguk’s grip on you tightens and he flinches so hard you’re surprised he didn’t knock his head into your teeth. He exhales shakily, tilts his head up and brushes his nose along the underside of your jaw. “Please,” he asks in a voice so small you know it’s killing him. “Just ‘til we get there, please just let me be weak.”

That breaks something inside you. Despite how awkward you might feel, he’s sure to be feeling worse. You wrap your arms fully around him, hesitant until you feel him go lax in your arms. You slowly stroke the back of his head and he buries his face in your clavicle, his eyes squeezed shut. “We’re almost there,” you assure him gently as he fists his good hand in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “You’re almost home.”

By the time the three of you arrive back at Haneul tower, the sky is lightening in the east and the first wave of office workers are making their way from your building into the streets of Gangnam. It’s not even 6 AM yet, but the city is stirring.

It takes you a good ten minutes to rouse both the boys and get them out of the taxi. After you’d let Jeongguk cling to you, the rabbit hybrid had fallen asleep quickly, the exhaustion from his turbulent day finally catching up to him. Even in sleep he was latched on to you, a small crease between his brows and his nose wrinkled up. Seokjin hadn’t fared much better. The cocktail of meds Dr. Cheon had given him had rendered him dead to the world for the entirety of the drive back. Even now you were having trouble rousing him.

“Seokjin…” You shake the sleeping stag’s shoulders but the only response you get is a slight hitch in his snoring. “Seokjin, please wake up, we have to go…” You can practically feel the glare the taxi driver is giving you in his rearview mirror. Yeah, the meter is still running, but you’ve taken up enough of his time as it is. “Seokjin, come on…” Jeongguk is standing behind you, staring bleary-eyed up at the apartment building, his free hand fisted in the fabric of your sweatshirt. If he’s cold in his thin tee-shirt and bare feet, he makes no mention of it.

Without warning, the taxi driver leans on the horn. Seokjin’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, fear making his body tight. Jeongguk jerks so violently you think he’s going to rip a hole in your sweatshirt. You stumble back a few paces, trying to steady the rabbit and stop the pair of you from tumbling into the street. When you manage to right yourself, you slam a palm against the roof of the car and glare in the window at the driver. “Yo, what the fuck?”

The man glares back at you and waves you off. “I don’t have all day!” He shouts. “Get your animal and get out!”

You want to argue with him, you want to make him apologize- but the sight of Seokjin disoriented and afraid stops you. He’s looking at you with hazy eyes, his whole body stiff and his chest heaving. It’s for his sake alone that you hold your tongue. You reach a hand out to him. “Come on, buddy.” You say. “I got you.” He looks from your face to your hand and finally, slowly, places his own in it. His fingers are long and elegant and his hand dwarfs your’s. You tug him from the backseat and he leans heavily on you, hopping awkwardly to avoid walking on his broken foot. You pass him his crutches and he takes them, wobbling awkwardly as he tries to set himself to rights. “Can you stand?” You ask him. He nods and starts limping for the glass doors of Haneul Tower. He’s doing his best to look strong. His back is straight and his head is high, but you don’t miss the tremble in his fingers or the way he winces whenever the wind blows over the top of his head. You shove some bills at the taxi driver with a final, disapproving look, usher Jeongguk up onto the sidewalk and head inside after Seokjin.

The moment the three of you breach the double doors, Jeongguk drops his hand from your sweatshirt. His eyes rove over the glass and granite, round nose twitching at all the scents and his ears standing at attention on top of his head. He pauses, a little furrow between his brows. You’re halfway to the elevators, hovering a foot behind Seokjin in case he falls, before you notice the rabbit hybrid isn’t following you.

You cast a look back over his shoulder and find him gawking up at the hanging lights, mouth slightly ajar and starry-eyed. The corner of your mouth twitches. He’s cute, you decide. The thought leaves you almost instantly when you see Mr. Park powerwalking over to him, a sunny smile on his face. Jeongguk takes notice of him only a split second after you do and his eyes wide. You see him tense up, watch the fingers on his uninjured hand curl into a ball.

“You need to get him,” Seokjin says, sounding like he’s out of breath. You turn your attention back to the deer hybrid. He’s leaning heavily on his crutches and his face is pale. “You need to get him,” he repeats, nodding at Jeongguk. “That man gets any closer and Jeongguk will kick him.”

You whip back around. Mr. Park is closing the distance between them, seemingly unconcerned by the look of distress on the rabbit hybrids face or how his foot seems to be tapping a mile a minute.

“Excuse me!” The older man says, reaching out to put a hand on the rabbit hybrid’s shoulder. “Where’s your-”

“Mr. Park!” You practically sprint over as fast as you can, sliding between the receptionist and the hybrid just as he’d started winding his leg back. Mr. Park blinks, surprised to find you so suddenly in front of him. You offer him a tight smile. “He’s with me.”

“Oh! Ms. L/N, I apologize. He didn’t have a collar, so I assumed he was a stray.” The statement pricks at you, but you know he means nothing by it, so you try to stamp down your irritation. “It’s rare but we do occasionally have them come in in the hope someone will take them in.” He clucks his tongue against his teeth. “Such a shame really.”

You feel Jeongguk’s hand fist in the fabric of your sweatshirt. He wants to go. You nod emphatically at what Mr. Park says, already heading back to the elevators. “Yeah, totally,” you agree, shuffling the rabbit hybrid in front of you and putting some distance between him and the elderly man. “Well, have a good morning! I’ll see you later!”

“Ms. L/N, I actually need to speak with you-”

You wave him off and duck into the elevator Seokjin had called in your brief absence. “We’ll talk later!” You tell him, pressing the close door buttons as quickly as you can and willing them to shut before he can catch up.

“But it’s about your-!”

The doors click shut and you’re blessed with silence. You exhale in a short puff, press the button for the penthouse and slump against the cool metal wall, finally letting yourself relax for a moment. The elevator starts rolling and Jeongguk flinches beside you. He duck his head like he’s going to crouch down- but he stops himself, grips the railing instead.

“It’s okay,” You soothe. “It’s just-”

“I’m fine,” he insists, forcing himself to stand up straight and release the death grip he has on your sweatshirt. “I’m fine; my time’s up.”

It’s just like he’d said in the car. Just ‘til we get there, let me be weak.

The rest of the elevator ride passes in silence outside of the automated bell dinging as you pass each new floor and Seokjin panting quietly. He’s in a bad way. He’ll need another dose of pain meds soon. You arrive on the top floor, punching in the key code and pull the door open. “Let me get Seokjin settled, Jeongguk and I-” You run directly into someone.

Their arms wrap around you, covered in a brown cable knit sweater. It’s soft and they smell of vanilla. They press their cheek against the top of your head and exhale, a little rumble kicking up in their chest. “You’re back.” Taehyung.

“Hey, buddy.” You pat him on the back gently and peer around him. Yoongi and Jimin are both sprawled on the couch, legs kicked out so there isn’t room for anyone else to join them. Namjoon is sitting on the stairs shooting daggers at the back of Yoongi’s head and his arms crossed over his chest.Hoseok is lingering in the no man’s land between the living room and kitchen looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else. The atmosphere is tense to say the least.

Taehyung dips his head down. “I got them, like you said,” he whispers, lips brushing against the tip of your ear and his breath warm. You have fight off a little shiver, but if he notices it, he doesn’t react. “I don’t think Hyung and Jiminie like the others very much.”

You give a little nod of acknowledgement. “That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all just need to get to know each other a little better.”

Seokjin hobbles through the door, past the tiger hybrid and drops himself onto a stool on the kitchen with a heavy exhale. “Well, I’ve got maybe fifteen minutes at most before these meds catch a second wind, so let’s get this over with.” He’s doing his best to sound cavalier but he’s pallid. You don’t miss the thin sheen of cold sweat on his face and neck. “Seokjin. Twenty-eight. Red stag.”

All the other hybrids are staring at him in a mix of confusion, irritation and, in some cases, open dislike. It seems like they don’t know what to make of him. It’s Yoongi who speaks first. “If you’re a stag,” he drawls and you already feel dread welling up in you at what you know is going to follow. “Where are your antlers?”

Seokjin fixes him with a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I only put them on for special occasions.”

“Okay!” You clap your hands together trying to diffuse the tension you can feel building. “New house rule: let’s not ask each other about injuries past or present unless we’re asking how to help.” Yoongi looks miffed, but he settles. It’s weird. Normally, you’d have expected him to say something snarky back to you. He’s trying not to push his luck after last night, you think. “Yoongi, why don’t you go next?”

His ears flick in annoyance, but he does as you ask. “I’m Yoongi, I’m twenty-seven and I’m a bobcat-”

“I’m Jimin,” his junior pipes up before he’s hardly had time to finish. “I’m an amur leopard and I came here with Yoongi-hyung and Tae. We’ve been with Y/N the longest.” He says it like it’s an important piece of information for everyone to know.

Beside you, Taehyung lifts one hand, palm up. “Hi,” he says calmly. “I’m Taehyung. I like the color purple.” Everyone watches him to see what else he’s going to say, but the tiger hybrid is finished. You give him a little nudge with your shoulder.

“Tell them how old you are and what your hybrid is,” you suggest.

“Oh,” he lifts his eyebrows like the thought genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m twenty-four and I’m a tiger.” Suddenly remembering something, he tilts his head forward in a little bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.” A sour look takes over Yoongi’s face and Jimin rolls his eyes, gestures for the youngest of their group to come sit beside him.

Hoseok is the next one to pipe up. “I’m Hoseok!” He seems to perk up a little when you turn your eyes to him, his docked tail giving as much of a wag as it’s able. “I’m a Doberman, I’m twenty-six and Joonie and I came from the same pla-”

“My name is Namjoon.” The wolfdog cuts off the other canine with a growl. All the wind goes out of Hoseok’s sails and you don’t miss the way Seokjin freezes up at the dark sound, suddenly alert. You weren’t sure if prey hybrids still avoided predator hybrids like their animal counterparts did, but you’d need to learn and fast. Namjoon leans back on the stairs, his jaw clenched. “I’m the same age as him-” he jerks his head at the Doberman hybrid. “-so I guess I’m twenty-six too.” He makes no mention of his hybrid and you don’t press. You don’t know how sensitive a subject it is for him yet, but you don’t want to find out the hard way.

Hoseok looks back at you and cocks his head to the side, his gaze fixed on a spot just over your shoulder. “Who’s he?”

Five pairs of eyes follow his. You turn around. Outside the apartment, still in the corridor, is Jeongguk, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes wide as he surveys the mixed bag of hybrids spread out in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Do you wanna come in?”

His gaze flicks from you, to the cats, then to Hoseok and finally to Namjoon. It’s only when he sees the wolfdog hybrid that he moves from the wall. He takes halting, jittery steps one after the other until he’s planted by your side, his eyes on his bare feet. Every move he makes makes it look like he’s fighting against his own body, forcing himself to tamp down his instinct and move.

“Can you introduce yourself?” You ask him softly. “Or do you want me to?”

His good hand clenches into a fist and forces himself to look up. He meets each of the other hybrid’s eyes evenly. “My name is Jeongguk.” When he speaks, there’s no shake in his voice. “I’m twenty-three years old. I came from the same place as Seokjin but we don’t know each other that well. I’m a Flemish Giant Rabbit.” So that was why he was so big. You’d never seen a Flemish Giant in real life, but you’d happened across the odd youtube video of them once or twice in your suggestions. They were huge.

With introductions out of the way, you feel a little tension melt out of your shoulders. That was the biggest hurdle. Maybe now that they all at least knew each other, they’d be a little more open to being around each other. You let out a little exhale. “And I’m Y/N. I’m also twenty-three and this is my uncle’s apartment. He’s the only that bought all of you but I only found out you were coming a little over a week ago, so please forgive me for being unprepared.” You rub your palms against your eyes, trying to combat the exhaustion you can feel crawling over you. “I don’t know that much about hybrids, but I’m trying to learn. A lot of things you’re gonna have to help me with. I’m not expecting you guys to be pets or best friends or anything, but if we could all try to get along I’d appreciate it.” You offer all seven them a weary smile. “Thanks for getting up early to do this, guys, I appreciate it. If there’s anything you need, literally anything, please don’t be scared to ask-”

“Um, Y/N?” Hoseok is looking at you like he’s been dying to say something for the past five minutes. You turn your attention to him and squint as you try to focus on what he’s saying. “I did a sweep of the apartment earlier-” That was concerning. You make a mental note to tell him he doesn’t have to do security sweeps anymore. “-and there’s only four bedrooms.”

You blink at him in confusion.

“There’s eight of us.”

Oh. Oh. You drag your hands down over your face. You hadn’t accounted for lack of space being an issue. When you first moved in, Oliver’s penthouse seemed like it went on forever. “Okay,” you start, crunching some quick numbers. “Some of us are gonna have to double up.” There’s a disgruntled mrow from the couch and without looking, you know it’s Jimin. “Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung are already sharing so they’re exempt, but Seokjin needs his own room- at least until he recovers.”

“That’s fine by me,” the stag chimes in. “But that leaves Jeongguk without a-”

“Hyung, can I stay with you?” The room goes quiet.

“Seokjin really needs his own room-” You pull your face out of your hands to address the rabbit hybrid, but he isn’t looking at the stag. His eyes are fixed on Namjoon who’s looking at him in a mix of confusion and alarm. The wolfdog looks from the rabbit to you.

“I saw a camp bed out in the greenhouse while you were showing us around last night.” He says, standing to go. “I’ll sleep out there.”

“Namjoon, you don’t have to sleep outside-”

“I like it out there.” He calls back over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. “I can see the sky.” Then he’s gone and the six of you are left.

“Well,” Jimin purrs, rising and crossing the living room to you. “Best of luck.” He rubs his cheek against yours, folding you into a loose hug. You think he’s about to pull away, but he whispers in your ear, “If you want to share with us, you know where we sleep.” And then he’s gone, sauntering up the stairs with Taehyung and Yoongi in tow. The bobcat tosses a look at you, but you look away quickly, missing the way his ears sage when you do.

Now, the only ones left are you, Jeongguk, Hoseok and Seokjin who’s rapidly fading. “I’ll take the couch,” you volunteer. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world, but right now, the stark white cushions look like heaven to your sleep-deprived mind. “Seokjin can have my room-”

“He can have mine,” Hoseok interjects. “And, if it’s okay, could I stay with you?” There’s a light whine on the end of his words and you don’t miss the way his ears prick up in anticipation of your answer. “It’s what I wanted to ask you earlier.”

Oh. When Jimin interrupted him, that’s what he’d been trying to say: he wanted to sleep in your room to be closer to you. To protect you.

“Yeah,” you agree easily. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Sharing beds wasn’t a big deal for you. You’d grown up in a flat with your mom and had shared a bed with her til she’d been taken from you. Then in foster homes with too many kids and not enough resources, you’d had to double- and sometimes even triple- up. It was a matter of convenience and space.

Hoseok’s tail gives a little wag and he nods, happy with your decision.

“Great!” Seokjin cheers weakly. “Now can someone please help me lie down.”

It’s Hoseok that helps the stag hybrid up the stairs and into bed. He’s stronger than you and taller, so it only makes sense. You show Jeongguk to his new room and stay with him for a few minutes while he feels it out, making sure it’s safe. It’s only once he’s sequestered himself under the covers and dismissed you that you leave, closing the door quietly behind you as the rabbit hybrid settles down for some much needed sleep. You turn to head back for the stairs- but you find Yoongi at the other end of the corridor, staring you down. You stare back. He swallows.

“Can we talk?” He asks, his voice quieter than you ever remember hearing it.

You give a little nod. “Yeah,” you assent. “We need to.”

He meets you halfway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers and his gaze anywhere but on your face. The seconds stretch out and you exhale, closing your eyes. “Yoongi, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” he interjects. “About what happened in the elevator. It was disrespectful and immature. I won’t do it again.”

You balk at him. You’d honestly expected him to tell you you were being childish for reacting so strongly to it when you’d told him he could mark you whenever he was ready. But he hadn’t. He shuffles back a few steps, his head still low.

“Well, that was all I wanted to say to you, so-”

“Do you understand?” You ask him. He stops short. “Do you understand why I was upset?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you see a little furrow between his gray eyebrows. “Because I marked you.”

“No,” you insist, emphatically. “I was upset because it didn’t feel like you were doing it for me.” He does look up at you then, yellow eyes unreadable. “It didn’t feel like you were marking me because we’re friends or you wanted me to be a part of your group. It felt like you were doing it to show off in front of Namjoon and Hoseok.” You swallow. “And that hurt my feelings.” It feels good to say. It feels good to talk about.

He lets out a little chirp of distress. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps. “I just-” He rakes a hand back through his hair and shakes his head. “Fuck, I just felt like if I didn’t do something right then you’d get bored of me and send me away. I thought you’d replace me with them.”

Your heart twists. You know the feeling more intimately than you’d like to admit. You reach out, hesitantly and squeeze Yoongi’s arm. “Yoongi, I’m not gonna send you away. Ever. It’s important to me that you know that. Unless you wanna go, you can stay. There’s room enough for all of you.”

“No there’s not, that’s why we’re sharing rooms,” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and let out a little chuckle. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The corner of his mouth curls up at the playful insult. After a moment, he speaks. “I don’t, for the record,” he says. “Wanna go, I mean.” He stares down into your face, yellow eyes intense. The seconds drag on and something between the two of you grows tight. He leans down, face nuzzling the soft spot between your ear and your jaw. He huffs. “Bunny scented you,” he mutters, tail flicking in annoyance, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re relieved.

“He was afraid in the car,” you answer softly. “I think it helped.” Your hands slip from his arms around his back and he purrs. It’s the first time you’ve heard him make that sound. It sends warm vibrations through your whole body and you giggle. Yoongi smiles against your skin and your heart leaps. He’s never smiled around you before. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. You know it’s there. “Do you want to try again?”

Yoongi exhales, his breath warm on your neck. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, tilting your head to the side for him. “You can.”

This time is different, you can feel that from the onset. His fingers wrap gently around your hips and he nuzzles into your skin. He nips lightly at the skin below your ear, the corner of your jaw, all down the column of your neck until he reaches the spot where it joins your shoulder. He hums, wraps his arms around you fully and pulls you flush against the hard line of his body. Your breath hatches and you can practically hear your heart thudding traitorously in your chest.

It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself as he laves his rough tongue against your feverish skin. It’s not a big deal; marking isn’t sexual. This isn’t a big deal, there’s no need to be nervous or get- the points of his teeth scrape over the mark before he laps at again and you have to bite back a whimper. Your knees feel a little weak- that is, until Yoongi slots his thigh between them, keeping you up while he finishes his work. Your hands ball up into fists in the fabric of his t shirt and you grit your teeth together with the effort of keeping quiet. He pulls off your neck with a wet pop and you swear you’re imagining it when he presses a final kiss to his mark. He noses your ear, still purring and you think he’s gonna mark you more- but then his warmth is gone and his standing before you, eyes a little hazier but no worse for wear.

He reaches up and flicks you in the forehead. You grumble at him, covering the spot up with your hands before he can do it again. A lazy smirk spreads out on his face. “Welcome to the family,” he drawls. Then he’s turning on his heel and heading back to his shared bedroom. “Don’t wipe this one off this time, okay?”

You nod mutely after him as he disappears, your hand cupping your mark. “What was that?” You wonder. You descend the stairs in a daze, your mind whirling. None of your research had told you creating a mark would be like that. You’d thought it was a quick thing and Yoongi had just been showboating for the canines. Even in the videos you watched, the hybrid had leaned in close to the human, given then a few quick swipes with their tongue and moved on. Then again, those hybrids had all been domesticated dog or cat breeds. “Are exotics different?” You muse, turning the handle to your bedroom- and promptly tripping over someone.

This time, you don’t go all the way down. You make it halfway before Hoseok catches you. “Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N!” The dog hybrid whines, fussing over you as he sets you back to rights. “I’ll do better about staying out of your way, I promise-”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, trying to stop him from fretting. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” You survey the floor of your bedroom. It seemed like in his security sweep earlier, Hoseok had found the linen cabinet and made use of the spare blankets. His pillow and a comforter are set up in a little pallet on the floor in front of your door. It seems he’d been putting the final touches on it when you’d stumbled over him. “Hoseok…” you start slowly. The Doberman looks at you, ears pricked up. “Hoseok, I wasn’t expecting you to sleep on the floor.”

He cocks his head to the side, doglike even in his confusion. “Then where…?”

“The bed is big enough,” you say, gesturing to the queen sized bed dominating the center of the room. “I don’t mind sharing if you’re comfortable with it.”

His adam’s apple bob’s in his throat as he swallows, suddenly serious. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, I’m comfortable with it.”

You nod and pat him on the shoulder, passing him as you head to bed. “Come on, then.” You collapse onto your bed face-first and slip back under the covers with a groan. “I’m just gonna take a quick nap before I’ve gotta get up and deal with stuff…”

The room is quiet, but somewhere in it, you can hear Hoseok shuffling around. “Maybe I should check to make sure everything is safe one more time?”

You exhale, your eyes slipping shut. “Hoseok…”

“Did you lock the front door after you came in? I think the rabbit...Jeongguk was the last one in? I don’t remember him locking-”

“Hope, bed. Now.” He doesn’t say anything else, but a few seconds later, you feel the far side of the bed dip with his weight. You sigh as he shifts to get under the blankets and you snuggle down further into your pillow. “Sleep well, Hobi.”

He mumbles something under his breath about security being a serious issue, but you don’t catch it. You’re already halfway to dreamland.

#thebtswritersclub #hybridbtsnetwork #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader

2K notes · View notes

blindingdutchy · 3 years

Text

share | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

summary: you don't like to share, but Tom's going to show you what happens to stingy girls on the playground.

word count: 10,663

warnings: i consider this a part two to switch. smut, little bit of angst, fluffy ending. language. explicit warnings under divide.

18+!!! minors stay away!

warnings: mean dom!tom, slight dom!fem oc, voyeurism, mff threesome, degradation, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), orgasm denial, touch denial, slight bondage (hands tied only), jealous reader + arrogant tom, some daddy + sir kink

divider

There was a familiar ache in your core as you made your way into work that day. It was a sensation that shouldn't have embarrassed you anymore considering it was in your line of work to take a beating of the sexual sort, but your blood bubbled with fluttery shame anyways because you knew it was definitely not from any job you'd done. The handprints that lingered on your skin were Tom's, as was the throbbing between your legs.

Your coworkers had grown accustomed to the funny way you'd been walking; after all, it had been months of you turning up to the studio just like this. Aching all over, exhausted, and all flustered smiles as every little jolt of pain in your body reminded you of him. Tom really knew how to keep a woman coming back for more, to say the least.

Despite the tender way you were forced to move around, you were excited to get into work that day. You'd been working on a new project behind the scenes for almost a month already, and today you were finally meeting with your favorite director and photographer to start the ball rolling. This was what you'd been fantasizing about doing ever since you'd been brought into the agency--straying away from your dominatrix persona and onto a more personal, enjoyable path.

Priscilla was already waiting for you in the conference room, bursting with energy as she always was and chatting the ears off of Archie. The two of them were sliding a few of your scribbled mock-ups around, along with more than a few stills of your naked body, and nestled so deeply into a conversation that they didn't notice the click of the door as it shut behind you. Even clearing your throat couldn't break their concentration.

"Starting without me?" you questioned, loudly, and finally caught the glimmering eyes of Priscilla.

Priscilla was practically buzzing with excitement as she grinned at you, clapping her hands once before waving you over, "(Y/N), perfect timing! So, Archie and I were thinking about your ideas for doing a cam-girl style video--"

She chattered on and on, only pausing every so often to take a heaving breathe before continuing. The more she said, the more you realized just how much work the two of them had done without you--Priscilla was already pitching set designs and potential scenarios for each video, and Archie was doing his best to help you visualize the filmography he had in mind. It was pretty hard to keep up, but you had to admit seeing their passion for the project only spurred your own to burn a little brighter.

The project was something you'd been dreaming of for awhile. A solo series of videos in the iconic style of a cam-girl; just you, your camera, and whatever you felt like putting out there for the world to see. For so long you'd been afraid to even pitch the idea out of fear of being denied funding, and rightfully so.

You'd had to fight tooth and nail to gain the backing of the agency. It had been a month of pitching idea after idea, crunching numbers and screening all the statistics of solo work so that you could propose a target profit for the company. In the end, you'd gotten the green light--but there was a lot riding on this first video.

If you failed to meet the target you'd set for yourself, the agency would pull the plug on the project and you'd be right back to the leather outfits and whining men. The thought of it urged you to outperform all the standards you'd set for yourself. You were peddle to the metal, full throttle ahead, and Priscilla and Archie's sounding board of ideas were exactly the encouragement you needed.

Archie fiddled with some settings on his camera, instructing you on a few head shots until he was satisfied. "That's it!" he cheered, "You like it? Obviously we'll work on better lighting for the videos, and there'll be editing--but I think this suits you."

Peering over his shoulder, your heart soared at the work of your favorite camera man. "Oh, Archie! That's perfect... If you'd just shown me that I'd definitely think it was the real deal." you gasped, and he grinned at you cheerfully. "How about a lunch break before we get back to work?"

The two of them muttered some hushed agreements, nodding absentmindedly as Priscilla looked over the photos and they returned to the scatter of papers and film on the table. "Yeah, yeah, you go ahead, honey." Priscilla cooed, waving a hand over her shoulder carelessly before tilting her head and squinting her eyes at one of your drawings. "Oh, what do you think about--no, that won't do... but maybe?"

With a hushed chuckle, you shook your head at the two of them and backed out of the room quietly. It almost seemed as if they were more excited than you were, but your stomach was rumbling and you needed something to eat before you started chewing on paper like a goat. Only, along the way toward the exit you paused outside one of the studios at the sound of Tom's voice.

Peeking inside, you smiled at the sight of his mop of curls bobbing--the smile faded to a grimace as you realized he was in no position to talk at the moment. You trailed a little further into the room and shot a tentative smile to one of the crew members who nodded to you, no longer surprised by your presence. Many times before you'd sat in on Tom's filming days, as he had done yours, but never before had you seen him at work with his most frequent costar.

Her name was Melaina, a startlingly attractive woman with what you were fairly certain was the world's most perfect face, and she was the star of most of Tom's work. You had nothing against her, having run into her quite a few times at work and never being anything short of pleased with her sweet and charismatic aura, but man was it hard not to feel inferior as you watched the two of them in action. It was as if they knew what the other would do before they even moved, connected on some spiritual level that boosted their chemistry to an astronomical level.

Tom's body was glistening with sweat and oil, his eyes dark and hooded with lust as he towered over her. The muscles in his back, chest, and arms all rippled with every move he made and caught the light just right, and you found yourself shifting on your feet subconsciously as you watched. Your hands twitched with the desire to push that one stubborn curl out of his face as it slid across his forehead, heavy and sodden with sweat.

Melaina gave a breathy moan that had you swallowing down a lump in your throat, her hands raking down Tom's chest only for him to swat them away and pin them to the bed above her head, "No touching!" he snapped, voice booming through the cavernous room, and you nearly groaned in sync with his counterpart. Too many times he'd growled those words to you, just like that, and the heat between your legs throbbed at the memory.

"Please, daddy," Melaina wailed, "I wanna cum!"

For a moment you rolled the name around your tongue, pursing your lips as you pondered what it would feel like to call Tom such a thing. It didn't feel right though; a sour taste compared to the deliciously sweet way sir rolled from your lips. His low, devilish chuckle brought you back to the present as you focused on the scene before you.

With a long, drawn out roll of his hips, Tom leaned down to Melaina's ear and spoke, "Bad girls don't get to come, darling."

Oh, fuck.

Hearing that name, that one little word, spill forth from his lips in reference to someone other than yourself ignited a certain flame within you that you hadn't felt in quite some time. It was green; everything tinged green in your vision like the sickening tone of the clouds before a treacherous storm. Jealousy wasn't something you wore often, but hearing that was enough to sit the crown of envy heavily upon your head.

Almost as if he could sense it, sense your turmoil, Tom's head tilted back until he looked you heavily in the eye. Your jaw tensed as he continued to push his hips harder through Melaina's cries and pleas, fingers clenching into fists as you tried to get yourself under control. It didn't mean anything.

You and Tom were nothing but friends with benefits, heavy on the benefits and light on the friendship, and this was his job. Hell, it was your job too! It didn't mean a damn thing.

His eyes never strayed from yours as that familiar pinch formed between his brows, his entire body growing rigid. He was brutal with the force of his hips, his hands groping roughly at Melaina's perfect ass and his lips parting in a silent 'o' that grew wider and wider until--there it was. His eyes locked on yours, Tom thrust twice more as a gritted laugh burst from his chest and he stilled completely. She mewled beneath him like a vixen, arching off the bed and crying, "Yes, daddy! Cum for me!"

He knew. His haughty smirk, ticked jaw, and glinting eyes told you well enough that he knew exactly what you were feeling, all the bitter and envious thoughts swirling through your mind. He knew, and he was thoroughly enjoying the way you were rooted in place under the weight of all your jealousy, your eyes locked with his and unable to break free.

"Cut!"

The sound of the clapper snapping and the director's loud shout startled you out of the strange limbo of envy and hunger you'd been trapped in. Tom muttered something to Melaina with a flirtatious grin that made your gut twist, and she laughed loudly whilst slapping a hand across his chest playfully. Suddenly, you weren't so hungry anymore, nor were you entirely interested in speaking to Tom.

You were out of focus for the rest of your day at work, earning disgruntled and concerned stares from your two colleagues who were working tirelessly to perfect all of your plans before the test shoot the following day. All of your thoughts were consumed with Tom, though, and it left you feeling nauseous. Never before had you cared much at all that he was with other women, knowing it was just a day's work for him, but seeing him with Melaina had truly rubbed you raw in the worst way.

The ache between your legs didn't make your heart flutter for the moment. Instead, each time you moved wrong and felt that persistent twinge, it made bile creep up your throat and your face burn with a mixture of bitter emotions. It wasn't that you were suddenly craving more from Tom--because you weren't, and as much as you enjoyed his company you weren't interested in a relationship.

Inferiority was a hell of a bitter pill. That was the root of the green eyed monster that was steadily taking control of you; Melaina made you feel inferior, and you hated it more than anything. Clearly he found her to be a better costar than you, considering he'd not once requested you even after starring in your own special. That was the first strike.

But, was she a better lay than you? Did she feel better, make him feel better than you? Did she talk dirtier, obey faster, and mold herself into whatever he wanted better than you? What if you weren't the only one he invited into his own bed at night?

By the time you left work the sun was setting, hours had passed, and you were exhausted from your racing mind. Usually Tom would have come to find you after he finished filming, but he hadn't and that bothered you. You knew it was probably all a game to him, a way for him to get you all riled up and tease you for it, but you weren't playing. You didn't want to play his games today, and when he finally texted you that night you left all of his messages on read with an acrid taste in your mouth.

"Ready for the big day?"

A peculiar sense of deja vu washed over you as you opened your dressing room door to reveal Tom perched on the other vanity seat, a tiny smile twitching at his lips and a twinkle in his eye. You really should have expected him to be there considering he'd been eagerly talking about watching you film for days, but after ignoring him you were more than surprised to see him waiting patiently for you to arrive. The door shut with a dull click, and Tom watched you closely.

Whatever he was playing at, you weren't going to bite--today was a big day for you, and nothing was going to distract you from your work. "What are you doing here?" you asked, huffing as your voice cracked and robbed you of your attempt to play it cool.

He just chuckled, a hoarse and airy sound, and licked his lips, "You think I'd miss the chance to see my girl touch herself for hours?"

His girl?

The words swirled around your brain the entire time you got ready, Marlena eyeing you curiously as you twiddled your thumbs quietly and payed no mind to either of the two people in your presence. What the hell did he mean by that? Why did your heart go on the fritz at those two silly words?

"Are you mad at me, lovie?" Eyes flickering over to Tom, you grew hot under his speculative gaze. Head tilted to one side, brown eyes narrowed slightly, and lips puckered in a tiny pout that made you swoon, he asked, "Have I done something to upset you?"

In the mirror you could see Marlena fighting back a smile, looking between the two of you with quivering lips as she held herself back from interrupting the moment. "No," you muttered, dropping your eyes back to your fiddling fingers, "I'm just nervous."

You didn't have to look to know that Tom was smirking, the sound of his soft laughter cluing you into the fact well enough. There was that deja vu again, your mind traveling back to that first time he'd sat in your dressing room and asked if he made you nervous. Teasingly, he asked, "Am I making you nervous, darling?"

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, "No."

Tom's eyes were all over you the moment you stepped onto the set and dropped your robe into an assistant's waiting arms. Clad in a skimpy lace negligee with nothing underneath, it was understandable that he'd be quite enraptured--never before had you worn something so dainty for your work, nor had you ever worn anything quite like the transparent scrap during any of your visits to his apartment. Even you yourself were quite enthralled by the look of it, having admired your reflection in the mirror for ages before finally joining the crew to start working.

As you soaked up the warm, tingling sensation of his ravenous eyes trailing over every inch of your body, you slowly relaxed into his presence. All the thoughts of Melaina drifted away, and you were biting back pleased smiles each and every time you acknowledged his gaze. It felt nice; it felt like it had every time he'd watched you film before, only better because now you were finally fully enjoying your project.

He hung back beside Priscilla in front of the big screen which displayed all the different camera angles whilst you ambled your way around the set. It wasn't complete, but it was enough for you all to get an idea of what the final design should be. A queen sized bed with dark, silk sheets in the center of a warmly lit stage, piled high with pillows of all sizes--already you were imagining towering bed posts with chiffon curtains framing the beautiful space.

There was one camera posted at the foot of the bed which was to be the main view point for the video. Climbing aboard you shifted until your bottom was posted over the scribbled X and leaned back onto your elbows, your knees propped up and spread wide. "How's this look?" you called out, craning your neck to see Priscilla, Archie, and Tom.

"Slide up a bit," Archie bellowed back, "a bit more--that's it! Oh, fuck, that looks amazing."

Having slid up the mattress half a foot, your head fell onto the bed of pillows that were finally within reach. From your new vantage point you could admire Tom, and the sight of him was enough to already have your thighs dampening. It seemed as if he were unsure as to where to look, his eyes flickering back and forth from the blown up, pixelated version of you to the real deal hastily.

The angle was awkward, and no matter how hard you stared he never made eye contact. It was then that you realized he couldn't see your face, at least not the real one, and a certain thrill sparked within you. Trailing your fingers over your stomach slowly, you reached for the frilled edge of the fabric and bit back a giggle as he tensed all over.

Licking your lips in time with Tom, you shouted, "Should we get started, then?"

Within seconds the clapper was dropped, and Priscilla boomed, "Test one, rolling!"

It was strange having to force yourself to look into the camera, rather than avoiding it so as not to ruin the flow of a scene. But, after a few moments of running your hands over your body and trying to get into the right mindset, your mind drifted away from the crowded room and into your own personal bubble. In there, that secret place you escaped to, it was just yourself and Tom.

Your body heated as you pictured him in place of the camera. In your vision he was bare and glistening, just for you; sitting on his heels with his knees spread apart and his hands ghosting over his length languidly. So many nights you'd laid before him like this, aching and begging for his hands to take the place of your own.

"Show me what those fingers can do, darling." he cooed, voice silky and sweeter than honey. It was a stark contrast to the dark, all-consuming pull of his brown eyes that lusted for you greedily.

Breathing a little harder, you tugged the stretchy lace further down your chest until your breasts were exposed to the chilled air. Tom's eyes glimmered, his tongue swiping over his lower lip, and you desperately wished it were his lips wrapping around one of your pebbled buds instead of your clammy fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second as you imagined it; reminiscing on the sensation of his hot, silky tongue swirling around your nipples and tugging them delightfully into his mouth.

It was incredibly hard not to cry out for him as you descended further into the scenario you'd created for yourself. Nevertheless, you swallowed down all the whimpers of his name that bubbled to your lips eagerly, instead whining soft noises that even turned yourself on. "Love those pretty sounds, (Y/N)." he always hummed down your ear, scorching breathe fanning all across your neck.

The facade didn't fade as you opened your eyes again with heavy lids that begged to fall shut again. You tugged hard at one of your rosebuds in sync with Tom's harsh pull over his cock, and your back arched as you gave a loud cry. He moved his hand faster and clenched his eyes shut for a second as he groaned, "Enough teasing, lovie, show me that perfect pussy. Wanna see you cum all over your fingers f'me."

You couldn't have agreed more. Your heat was hot and dripping, your thighs slipping across the sheets a little more easily as you pooled your juices onto the mattress longingly. Tracing your fingers over the swell of your chest and down your stomach, you peeled your flimsy gown back until it was all bunched up beneath your breasts.

Tom watched with baited breathe, held perfectly in sync with your own burning chest, as you teased your fingers all around where you ached to be touched the most. Just as you finally dipped the tip of your middle finger into the slick, a shuffle and quiet laugh shattered the vision of Tom. You huffed in frustration the buzzing in your veins dulled and your hand fell limp over your bare middle.

"Cut!" Priscilla shouted, and even she sounded frustrated as you sat up and ripped your negligee back down, "That was really good, (Y/N)! Wanna have a look?"

You did, but you could barely hear the words coming from Priscilla's mouth as you took in the scene before you. There was Tom, hands cupped over his crotch like they always were when he watched you film, but this time he wasn't watching you. Instead, he was entirely focused on Melaina who stood beside him with one dainty hand stroking his arm, the other twirling the skirt of her sundress lazily.

Your blood boiled to life once more, but no longer was it out of desire for Tom. Pursing your lips, you called back to Priscilla, "No, let's just keep going." He was still engrossed in his hushed conversation with her, and you added pettily, "Might I remind some of you to be quiet on set!"

Melaina's stifled giggle turned the green hue in your eyes red, but you took a deep breathe and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything. The mantra echoed through your head as you did your best to keep your ridiculous envy at bay; Tom wasn't yours, nor were you his, and you had nothing to be jealous of.

You did, however, roll your eyes at the sight of Tom's devious smirk. It only widened at the action, and in spite of your wish to pretend he didn't affect you, your thigh clenched subconsciously. "Sorry, darling, we'll be quiet." he hummed, greedily soaking up the distasteful purse of your lips with his eyes.

It was harder to get back into the groove once the cameras started rolling again. Tom's image wavered in place of the camera, your mind clouded with all the conflicting emotions you were feeling, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't get back into that bubble. You pushed through, though, and picked up where you'd left off.

"Look at you," Tom simpered as your fingers dipped into your slick once again, your jaw slackening as you toyed one finger through your entrance, "absolutely dripping for me. Does it get you off to see me with another woman?"

What the hell was that? His words were like a record scratch in your mind, your fingers recoiling from your throbbing core in shock. Trying again, you changed your direction and drifted your fingers to your clit with a soft sigh. Closing your eyes to shut out his smirking face again, you rolled the soft pads over your bud and felt your lips part in a hushed moan.

How easy it would have been to keep them closed and push yourself over that edge with nothing but the sensation to edge you forward, but you knew that wouldn't make for a satisfying watch. So, begrudgingly, you opened your eyes again to the scene you'd created for yourself. Tom was sitting on the bed now, his legs spread wide before him to leave space for you between, and his length was laid against his thigh lazily. The tip was weeping and blazing red, a thick drop of pearly precum making your lips tingle with desire.

His hands wrapped around the footboard of the bed, gripping the solid wood so tightly his knuckles turned white and his arms rippled with unbridled strength. All that muscle, the sinewy, languid curl of hard muscle beneath soft flesh pulled taught in restraint; it was enough to have you drooling. Your fingers slipped easily from your swollen clit to your slit, and you dipped the tip of your middle finger inside with a choked cry.

Tom moaned back at you, his cock twitching as he flexed his stomach, eyes glued to the tight clench of your cunt around your fingers. "Fuck, lovie, do your fingers feel as good as mine?" he asked, "Does that pussy feel as good as hers?"

What the fuck?

Melaina's giggle echoed through the set, piercing the thickened air and startling you nearly as much as the wild turn your imagination had taken. Growling angrily, you slapped your hands onto the mattress beside you and pouted, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Melaina squeaked, sounding so genuinely apologetic it only irritated you further, "Stop it, Tom, you made me laugh."

Sitting up once more, propped up on your hands, you scowled fiercely at the sight of Tom's arm draped over her shoulders and his head dipped low to whisper in her ear. His eyes were trained on you, though, and you knew damn well that coy smirk that teased at his lips was meant for you alone. Melaina gripped the hand over her shoulder tightly as she stifled another laugh, eyes twinkling to match the beaming smile on her face.

Backing his lips away from Melaina's hair, Tom faced you dead on as his head cocked to the side playfully. Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed as he winked at you. That bastard! You flopped back onto the bed with a growl, wanting nothing more than to kick him off the set, but you refrained. You knew it would only cement what he'd already figured out within his head; it would prove that you were without a doubt, one hundred and ten percent jealous.

"How about we take five, everyone!"

You practically threw yourself off of the bed, snatching your robe from the timid assistant with a huff before stomping off the set entirely. What was he playing at? It was one thing for Tom to toy with you, but to purposefully throw you off when you were working? That was low.

Alone in the small room, you dropped your head onto your vanity with a loud groan of annoyance. So many new emotions were swirling around you, plaguing your mind and twisting your gut up into knots so tight you actually felt ill. You couldn't even begin to unravel the twisted mess to pick apart all the different things you were feeling.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and you didn't have to look to know who it was. "G'way!" you grumbled, hissing angrily when the door opened anyways, "I said--"

Tom crashed his lips to yours, choking your words and the muffled squeal of surprise that escaped you. Pushing his weight onto you and pinning you to the chair, he bit down on your lower lip until you whined pitifully, pulling away to look you heavily in the eye, "You ignored me last night."

"So? I wasn't feeling it." you retorted, the almost lie making your stomach flutter. "Is that why you're trying to ruin my test shoot? Another bullshit punishment?"

He gaped at you for a moment, his lips parting in surprise as he blinked down at you wordlessly. But, just as you were settling into the triumph of finally rendering him speechless, he sputtered a sinister chuckle and smirked. Clicking his tongue reproachfully, he tutted, "Are you jealous, darling? Is that what this little tantrum is about? Are you jealous of Melaina?"

The words of your imaginary Tom echoed in your ears, the thin flesh and cartilage heating up in embarrassment as you scoffed, "No, why the hell would you think that?"

Smirk widening, he leaned close to nuzzle his face into your ear as he hummed, "Mm, I think you're lying, lovie. I think you were jealous watching me fuck her yesterday, and today you're so bothered you can't even perform. Envy is a hell of a thing, wouldn't you say?"

His lips sucked on the tender skin of your earlobe, drawing the faintest of whimpers from your lips, and he released it with a dramatic suckle of a wet, sloppy kiss. He whispered tauntingly, "Did it make you jealous to see me cum for somebody else? To see me fuck Melaina instead of you?"

"N-no-- oh, fuck."

Tom's fingers dragged heavily through your folds, a gush of your juices immediately flooding into his open palm in response. His thumb rolled over your clit faintly, teasing the rapidly swelling bundle as he chuckled right into your ear, "Don't lie to me, darling."

That stupid name that he'd called her made you steel your resolve, stubbornly repeating, "'M not jealous, Tom. You can fuck whoever you want."

His fingers plunged into you to the knuckle, earning a loud gasp as your hands flew to his arms and clutched him tightly. "Yeah? 'S that so?" he asked, nipping the hot skin of your neck until you whined desperately, "Think I'd like a taste then, love."

This was certainly turning out far better than you'd expected. With a racing heart and a quivering breathe, you gasped, "Please, Tom." Tom's eyes narrowed at you, his expression hardening as he pinched your hip in warning. "Please, I want you to have a taste, sir."

He grinned, patting your cheek in a playful slap as he cooed, "There's my good girl. Spread your legs, darling."

Obediently, you eagerly spread your legs until your thighs were digging into the sides of your chair and shaking as you fought to keep them splayed so wide. The lace of your negligee was pulled taught and curled up over your hips at the movement, exposing all of you to Tom's greedy eyes. He licked his lips as he gazed down at his fingers still buried inside you as deep as they would go, flexing the two digits and closing his eyes as you cursed and clenched around them.

You crooned as he pulled them out and thrust them back in slowly, curling until the tips dragged over your spot lazily. "Please, sir, want your tongue, too." you pleaded, digging your thighs further into the seat as you rutted down onto his once again motionless fingers.

His eyes snapped open and he quirked his one ruffled brow playfully, "Yeah? You want my fingers and my tongue?" Tom dug the pad of his thumb into your clit deeply, pressing your button down and making your entire body spasm from the harsh stimulation, "I don't know if you deserve both, lovie. You're lucky you're even getting my fingers."

Whining, you threw your head back childishly and ground your hips into his fingers indignantly. He kept them steady, only slightly brushing your g-spot through your forced motion, and his free hand clamped down on your thigh in a bruising grip. "Please!" you begged, "Please, sir, I'll be so good!"

Your pleas molded into a shout as his lips closed suddenly around your clit, his thumb sliding aside to spread your folds open for him as he sucked at your sensitive nub harshly. Tom's fingers pulled out slowly before slamming back into you, his fist effectively punching your core and making you ache, but you moaned and begged for more. Each forceful blow pushed his fingers right into your spot, the tips curling to drag against your upper wall with every motion.

In mere moments you were seeing stars. Your stomach was tightening beyond measure, that coil winding so tight you feared you might break when it finally snapped, but you met each thrust of his hand with a jerk of your hips eagerly. His tongue flicked against your clit in rapid kitten licks, sparking your body to spasm violently each time. "I'm so close, sir!" you gasped, digging your nails into the armrest of your seat as your back arched in pleasure, "I'm gonna--"

With one last long, hard suck on your bundle, Tom pulled away from you completely. His fingers ripped away from your dripping slit and slid in between his glistening lips, that tongue swirling dramatically around the digits as he sat back on his heels much like he had in your imagination. Gaping, you huffed, "What the hell, Tom?"

He grinned devilishly, "Admit you were jealous, and I'll let you cum."

Sputtering, you spat out, "I told you I wasn't jealous."

"Mm, but I know you're lying, darling," he teased, eyes glinting playfully, "and I want to hear you admit it. You wanna cum all over my fingers and my tongue?"

You nodded hesitantly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you whispered, "Yes, sir."

He leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours and his lips ghosting over your own as he whispered, "Admit you were jealous."

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breathe. You felt hot all over with embarrassment, your skin burning and your blood boiling beneath, but fuck, you really wanted that sweet release that only he could give you. So, with trembling lips, you whispered, "I was jealous."

Eyes still closed, you jumped as his fingers brushed over your clit in a feather light touch. He pressed a slow, soft kiss to your lips that had you chasing him for more when he backed away and asked, "Are you still jealous?" One finger toyed with your slit, drawing a harsh line up and down your entrance as you resisted the urge to push further into his hand.

"Y-yes."

He chuckled, and your eyes snapped open as he backed away from you, his hand disappearing from your core. His eyes were dark in a ruthless stare as he stated, "You need to learn to share, love. Stingy girls don't get to cum." And, just like that, he retreated from the room leaving you staring after him in utter shock.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when you rocked up to Tom's apartment that night following his typical, "You up?" text. What you most certainly had not expected, though, was to find Melaina sprawled out on his sofa in nothing but a sheer negligee--nothing at all underneath. In a strange sense, you figured you should have seen it coming; what better way for Tom to torment you than to make you face the root of your jealousy?

"Mm, on second thought," you hummed, pursing your lips as you took in the woman's sensual form upon his couch, "I think I'll be going."

Turning to leave, you crashed nose first into Tom's hard chest with a muffled grunt of surprise. His hands crept around your waist in a lazy fashion, dragging the fabric of your shirt up until his warm palms found the icy chill of your bare skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, much to your own chagrin.

He pouted, jutting his lower lip out at you tauntingly as he leaned close to brush his nose along the high point of your cheek. "You've only just got here, darling," he mused, "I missed you last night. You left me all alone."

It was really pathetic how easily he broke through your walls. Despite your tireless efforts to re-stack each brick he knocked down, the feeling of his soft lips ghosting along the supple skin of your cheeks had those same cinderblocks crumbling to dust. A gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek, a fleeting peck at the slope of your forehead, one slow trail along the angle of your jaw--you were putty in his hands when his lips finally found your own.

Even as his tongue traced the outline of your lips, you desperately tried to fight his hold on you. Grumbling into his mouth, "I'm sure you could have found company elsewhere--"

Tom bit down on your lower lip, hard, and pulled until it snapped back with a loud pop that made you whimper. Yet, his eyes were tender in a way you'd never seen before as he gazed down at you longingly, whispering, "I wanted you, though."

Yeah, you were fucked.

Breathing a little heavier, you gave into your more animalistic desires in spite of the jealousy and irritation that still boiled deep within your veins. A childish, prideful part of you boasted over his words; he'd wanted you! Not Melaina, not anyone else, just you. It was utterly ridiculous.

Tom's brown eyes were warm, inviting, and curious as he waited for you to make the next move. You could see the questions bouncing around behind them; would you leave? Would you stay? But, there was a familiar glimmer of mischief buried behind the thick honey gaze that had you waiting for the other foot to fall.

Taking your lack of movement as an answer, a desire to stay, Tom pressed another kiss to your lips. Long, slow, and mind-boggling--it felt like your soul left your body with the way he curled his plush lips into yours. Already you were heating up, your body buzzing and growing hotter with desire in each second that passed.

You clawed your fingers into the hem of his shirt, scratching your nails along the flesh of his lower abdomen in a futile attempt to ground yourself. It was a frantic plea to him to hold you there, to keep you from floating away as his kiss took you to higher places. He gave a gentle hiss into your mouth at the sting, but pushed harder into your face as his hands inched higher up your back to toy with the band of your bra.

Fingers gently swept the collar of your shirt down, exposing your neck as fuller, softer lips ghosted along the line of the fabric. Wait--lips? Jumping, you reeled back from Tom's face with widened eyes to find Melaina blinking back at you, eyes blown wide with lust.

"What are you--"

Tom popped the clasp of your bra with ease, looking down at you with darkened irises. "Is this okay?" he asked, glancing at Melaina who was waiting beside your twisted, intertwined bodies for approval.

Her fingers swirled slow, tingling circles on your hip, lip caught between pearly, white teeth as she watched you with enraptured intensity. Two minutes ago, the word no would have spilled from your lips without a moment of hesitation--but now? Now, as your eyes lingered on the swollen, bitten lower lip that called for you to taste it; as you trailed them lower to admire the perfectly soft curve on every inch of her body, it wasn't so clear.

There was a supple rise of her chest with every breathe, hardened nipples poking through the transparent fabric of her dress. Rounded breasts upon a gentle, sloping waist, wide hips that certainly gave way to a perfect handful of ass and thigh, all leading the eye down the length of her sculpted legs. Melaina was like a work of art, and every inch of her that you admired sent tingles through your body.

Glancing back at Tom, you nearly moaned out loud. Her eyes burned the side of your face, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Tom's stare into your very soul. It sucked the breathe out of you and left you feeling dizzy, your vision darkening until all you could see were the artful angles of his face.

You spoke hoarsely, swallowing down the lump that formed in your throat, "Yes."

Tom's mouth parted against yours in an instant, his hot tongue slipping inside and making your eyes roll back as Melaina pressed her body against your side and latched onto your neck. Sucking, biting, rolling the soft muscle of her tongue all along each sharp nibble to soothe the tender flesh--it was an overload of sensation all at once. You didn't know where to put your hands as they both crept theirs all over your body.

It was impossible to decipher where one ended and the other began. Whose hand was that gripping your ass? Whose were peeling your bra straps down our arms under your sleeves? Who was slipping their thumbs along the waistband of your pants, tickling your hot, sensitive skin?

Moaning, you gasped, "Please!"

You weren't even sure what you were asking for, but Melaina quickly stepped aside to let Tom pull your shirt over your head as your bra fell to the floor at your feet. He admired your chest for a long moment, palms cupping the swell of your breasts as his thumbs rolled over the stiffened peaks of your nipples, earning a muffled groan from you. Licking his lips, he stepped back and waved the eagerly waiting woman forward.

As Melaina devoured your chest, you followed him with your gaze through heavy lidded eyes. He watched on with an indecipherable glint in his eyes, lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva and his own. Those long lashes fluttered as he dragged his tongue slowly over the plump of his lower lip, nostrils flaring in a sharp inhale as if he were tasting you all over again.

Her lips were wrapped tightly around your left nipple when he finally disappeared behind you, a shiver wracking your body when his fingers caressed the arch of your spine in a fluttering touch. Chest pressed warmly to your bare back, he dipped low to mix his own marks with the ones she had left behind. You dropped your head back onto his shoulder, lulling to the side to expose the entirety of your throat to him in submission.

When had he removed his shirt? The bare skin of his torso was scorching on your back, matching the heat of his tongue dipping in your collarbone in time with a twirl of hers around your other nipple. Fingers, hands, lips, tongues everywhere; your body was reaching its boiling point.

"Come to bed with us?" Tom's husky whisper directly into the shell of your ear had you whining, arching your back until your behind rolled harshly into his crotch. His length ground into you roughly, a quiet groan escaping his lips at the stimulation, "Fuck, darling, you like this?"

Weakly, barely able to focus through all the pleasurable touches to your body, you whispered, "Yes, yes, sir. Please."

You should have known it wouldn't last. You should have anticipated the shift in Tom's attitude, revealing his true intentions to you as he lead you by the wrist into his bedroom to find a dining chair at the side of his bed. But, you blinked up at him dumbfounded as he held up a silk tie before your face with a devilish grin.

Melaina stretched out on the bed with a hand between her legs, knees propped open wide as she touched herself lazily and watched you closely. Glancing at the tie, then the chair, and then Tom's arrogant smirk, you mumbled, "What is that?"

He just chuckled throatily, grinning as he hummed, "Sit in the chair, darling." You blinked again, frozen in place, "Sit, now, or I promise you'll not like the outcome."

Instinctively, your knees crumbled until you fell into the chair with a frown. He snatched your wrists roughly, twisting them behind the back of the chair until the backs of your hands touched and you whined in protest, "That hurts, Tom."

He pulled further, a sharp ache burning through the muscles of your arms as they dug harshly into the back of the chair. "Watch it, (Y/N)." he growled.

"Sorry, sir." you muttered pitifully, eyes downcast to avoid the amused smile on Melaina's face, "What's going on?"

Tom didn't answer you for a long while, taking his time to tie your wrists with the tie until he was certain you couldn't break free. Testing the restraints, you pouted as the fabric didn't yield in any way to your tugs. He hummed under his breathe in appreciation, though, stroking a finger up the length of your arm as he rounded to face you again.

Melaina sat up and leaned into the arm he reached out toward her, your gut twisting bitterly at the sight of her purring under his touch like a cat. "I told you, darling, that stingy girls don't get to cum." he restated his words from earlier, and your body burned with embarrassment, "So, I'm going to teach you to share. You're gonna sit there and watch me, and you're going to deal with it like a big girl. Understood?"

"But I--"

"Do you understand?" Tom hissed, eyes narrowing in a fierce glare that dared you to challenge him further. You couldn't miss the way his fingers twitched, the familiar sting of his palm on your behind ghosting over the skin in anticipation of impact. He remained rooted in place, though, leaning into Melaina's body that was steadily wrapping further around him.

Her lips were on his chest, leaving a flurry of angry purple marks that made you want to scream like a child. "I understand, sir." you grumbled, slumping into the seat.

He smiled, "Good."

It was as if you disappeared from the room entirely in that instant. He turned to Melaina, completely absorbed in her presence as his hands slid around her waist to grab fistfuls of her ass. Groaning, he squeezed the flesh tighter until she whimpered. Your own body ignited in shame and jealousy, fingers clenching into fists that tugged uselessly against their bonds.

The sound of their lips smacking as they kissed, wet and sloppy sounds that echoed in your ears, made you want to whine. How had it come to this, when only moments ago they were kissing you like that? Was this the only reason you were here?

You watched on with an aching core, racing heart, and sweaty palms as the heat intensified between them. There was that chemistry you'd witnessed on set--their movements so in sync it seemed as if they were connected spiritually, a perfect flow of seamless give and take. It was almost painful to watch.

The jealousy that tore you to shreds was not from a desire to be the only woman in Tom's life, though a selfish part of you did secretly relish in the thought. It was an aching, grotesque and petty desire to know that you were the best. You were jealous of the way he found pleasure in someone else, when all you wanted was to know that you were unmatched. You were jealous to feel his touch on your body, and some part of you was growing desirous of hers as well.

It was a purely physical sort of envy; no feelings attached. Or, at least that's what you told yourself. In some sense there had to be a sort of emotional drive behind it, but it was easier to tell yourself it was stupid pride instead of murky, confusing feelings.

Your eyes clenched shut as you bit back a huff of frustration. Melaina's moans grew louder, until she shrieked, "Please, daddy, wanna feel you!"

There was a smack and a rustle, and when you opened your eyes Tom had shoved Melaina flat onto her stomach. The skin of her still rippling ass was reddened in a blazing hand print, his hand rubbing over the mark soothingly. "You wanna feel daddy's cock, princess?" he growled, "Think (Y/N) deserves to watch?"

"Yes, daddy," Melaina murmured, "want her to watch. Want her to see how good I make you feel."

The green eyed monster in your head was stomping circles through your brain, screeching over the cruelty of the situation. Yet, you kept your lips pursed shut as you glared back at Tom with just as much ferocity. He wasn't going to see you break; you'd come out of this on top, you were sure of it. You weren't going to let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on it's ugly, rearing head with her words.

You scoffed, and he glared at you with a sort of intensity that made your legs quiver, but you faced his scowl head on with a ferocity of your own to match. You wouldn't let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on its ugly, rearing head with those words; if he wanted to play, then you were going to play just as hard.

Or, maybe you were just emboldened by the fact that he hadn't called her darling again. Either way, you stared him in the eye until he looked away from you with a clenched jaw and twitching hand. Your first, and only, victory of the night.

It was torture. He moaned as he pushed into her, eyes clenching shut and hands squeezing at her flesh desperately when he bottomed out with his hips buried into her bottom. Yet, you couldn't decide which method of suffering was worse; to keep your eyes opened or closed.

Open, you had to watch his face contort with pleasure and the way he interacted with her eager, willing body. Closed, you had to listen to the sounds they made and feel the way your body reacted in accordance. You were dripping onto the seat, angry tears pooling in your eyes, and your arms were going numb from their restrained position.

"Eyes open, darling." Tom ordered, and you bit back the curse that bubbled to your lips. He watched you with hooded eyes until you met his gaze, immediately blocking you out again to focus on the messy, fucked out woman on his bed. She was wailing, and you were trying your best not to join in the chorus.

He was going an an unrelenting pace, each brutish thrust of his hips eliciting a strangled cry from Melaina. She was clawing at the sheets, incrementally crawling away from him until he pulled her back with a forceful tug of her hips. "Daddy, 'm gonna cum!" she moaned, breathless.

You squirmed in your seat, bottom sliding slickly over the wooden surface from how much you'd pooled into it. "Come on, princess. Cum f'me." he urged, voice strained as he rocked his hips faster into her. The sound of skin against skin mixed with the damp sounds from his force into her slick echoed loudly through the room, but it was unparalleled to the unrestrained scream the tore from her throat.

Watching with wide eyes and strained, clenched thighs, you gasped as Melaina arched into the bed wildly. Her actions were so over the top you'd have assumed they were theatrics, if it weren't for the way you could see her physically quivering with full body shivers. Fuck, why couldn't that have been you?

Tom pulled out of her roughly, turning on you and clambering off of his bed to lean over you. His hands wrapped around the arms of the chair tightly, the muscle of his arms rippling as he gripped it so tight the wood creaked. "Learned your lesson yet, darling?" he demanded, nose to nose with you.

Nodding desperately, you gasped, "Yes, sir."

He disappeared from view, Melaina still crumpled into the bed and spent as she breathed heavily. When his fingers brushed your wrists, untying them slowly, you nearly wept with relief. Finally, he was going to touch you.

Pulling you up from the chair, Tom gripped your chin firmly as his thumb tugged at your bottom lip. "Want me to touch you, darling?" You nodded, begging him with your eyes and whining when he chuckled, "You have to earn it."

He sat back on the bed, scooting until his back was propped against the headboard with his legs spread wide. Patting the space between them, he beckoned you forward until you were perched between his knees on your own. You yelped as Melaina crept up behind you, hands sneaking up the skin of your back until they rested lightly on your shoulders, but you relaxed into her touch as she pressed a feather light kiss to your neck.

As she nipped at the skin, blossoming a new mark amidst all the ones she'd left before, Tom grinned deviously. "Let's make a deal, darling," he breathed, "if you can stop yourself from cumming all over her tongue, I'll let you come on my cock."

You squeaked as her fingers dipped down the front of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as she drew nearer to where you were aching for any sort of touch. Deep down you knew how hard it would be not to finish at any sort of stimulation due to how worked up and ravenously needy you were, but if there was a chance to get Tom where you wanted him then you were going to take it. So, you nodded, "Please."

Melaina pushed you forward until you were bent over, propped up on your knees and elbows. Tom's length was straining against his thigh, and he flexed as your slightly frantic breathing blew across the sensitive skin. He reached out a hand to caress your cheek before winding it to the back of your head, pulling you closer until you wrapped your lips around the tip.

You groaned in sync with him as you felt her blow a cool breeze on your clit, your legs nearly buckling as she forced them apart with her hands. Stars were bursting behind your eyes the very moment she drew a line through your folds with her tongue, but Tom's shove against your head kept you grounded. Focusing, you pushed forward until your nose was buried in his pelvis and he moaned loudly.

Her taste was still all over him. Pulling back until you only held his tip in your mouth again, you swirled your tongue around the head and parted your lips to let your spit soak down his length entirely. You looked up and blinked at him coyly, flattening your tongue under his tip and sucking hard until he clenched his eyes shut and raked his nails into your scalp roughly.

Going down again, you gagged around him and tears sprung to your eyes when he held you there. He was choking you, but you weren't thinking about air--all you could think about was how hard it was not to reflexively clamp down each time Melaina tweaked your clit just right, sending spasms through your entire body.

You were fighting hard to keep from going overboard, your stomach twisted up in knots so tight you felt compressed. Explosive, even. He was moaning above you, dragging your head up and down his length slowly, and there were shockwaves of vibrations in your core as Melaina hummed along with him.

Finally, as you took all of him again and squeezed his thigh with your nails digging in, Tom hissed and pulled you off of him. "On your back, now." he commanded, and Melaina jumped back just in time for you to hastily slide into position. "Fuck, need you so bad, darling."

His hands were hot as they slid up your thighs, spreading your legs apart until he could slip between them and crawl over your body. "Needed you last night, lovie, but you decided to ignore me like a brat." he growled, and you flinched as he dropped to his elbows over you suddenly, "Don't even deserve to feel me, you know that?"

"Please," you whined, "I'm sorry I ignored you, I'll never do it again."

Tom dragged his tip roughly through your folds, scowling at you when you bucked your hips into him, "Do that again and you'll go back in the chair."

You froze, and he hummed in approval before continuing his teasing. Up and down, up and down, up and down, he dragged himself over your entrance and clit until you were shaking with need. Each slow rock of his length through your folds was adding fuel to the fire raging within you, your eyes threatening to roll back from the surface level stimulation alone.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally eased into you slowly. You moaned breathlessly, clenching around him and fisting the sheets in a plea for him to just fuck you already. "Fucking love your cunt, darling," he groaned, eyes falling shut in bliss, "perfect little pussy, all for me. This all mine, lovie?"

"Yes, sir." you groaned, arching off the bed as he pushed deeper against you, "All yours."

He pulled back, dragging slowly against your walls until he slipped out of you entirely and left you feeling empty. But then he forced his way back in roughly, jolting you backward on the bed under the force of his thrust. Your lips opened in a silent yell, hands flying up to claw at his back desperately.

Tom's face dropped into your shoulder, mouthing open kisses into the skin that burned like fire. He picked up his pace with a steady, deep roll of his hips against yours that made you shiver all over. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, trapping him against you as you gripped his shoulders heavily.

Your eyes were clenched shut in pleasure as you felt him continue to push roughly against that spot deep inside, sending sparks through out your entire body. The coil in your belly had already been strung so tightly you'd feared you'd burst at the first moment of contact, but you were doing your best to fight it off. You wanted this moment, this feeling of him filling you to the brim, to last forever.

But, Tom shuddered above you and moaned into your ear, "Shit, 'm not gonna last, darling."

He pushed deeper into you with his next thrust, grinding your hips into the mattress as he put his weight behind it. You yelped and your hands left his back to find his face, pulling his lips down to yours in a feverish kiss. It was sloppy, all tongue and clashing teeth, but it matched the desperate, animalistic rhythm of his hips perfectly.

That coil inside you was sparking now, fizzling with pent up energy just begging to burst. "Please, please, please, let me cum, Tom." you begged, and he groaned as you said his name, "Please, Tommy!"

With a sharp snap of his hips, Tom pushed off the bed on one elbow and reached his hand down to the apex of your thighs. His fingers met your clit harshly, swirling rapid circles around your swollen bundle as he stared down at you like a starved man. "Say my name again, darling."

"Tom!"

His fingers moved faster, harder, deeper in time with his thrusts that pushed you to heights you'd never felt from him. His eyes were clenched shut and his lips pulled back in a grimace, jaw clenching as his curls slid all over his forehead in a sweaty mess. He looked beautiful like that--all messy and fucked out, desperate to reach that high that you were pushing him toward.

Your legs were shaking wildly, and your stomach was burning as your muscles began to contract. It was the buildup to the explosive release, and you cried out, "Gonna cum, Tommy, yes! You feel so--oh, fuck!"

Wailing, you clamped your legs around his waist and squeezed your eyes shut so tightly it hurt. The coil snapped and you shrieked, his tip ramming into your g-spot over and over as he fucked you through your high. It felt like you couldn't even breathe, couldn't think, couldn't anything anymore. All you could do was feel him inside you, pushing through your pulsing walls as his fingers continued to rub your clit like a madman.

"Fucking--fuck!" he gritted, hips faltering, "Love it when you say my name, (Y/N). Sounds so perfect coming from your pretty lips."

You were desperate to get him there, feeling the way he was shuddering with each thrust as his body protested the exertion. "Tom, please," you begged, feeling the coil in your belly tightening up again, "cum for me. Wanna feel you fill me up, Tommy."

He slammed into you harder than he had all night, making your pelvis ache but you saw white. The world faded away as you burst into the crescendo again, your throat burning as you cried out loudly. Just when you were about to tap out and push him away because it was all too much, he rolled into you deeply and collapsed onto your chest.

So high in your own climax, you barely felt his cock pulsing against your walls as you milked him of every last drop. It was the warmth, though, that brought you back down to earth. The deep, warmth that filled you up had you sighing and sucking in air desperately, blinking up at the ceiling as Tom breathed heavily into your neck.

The two of you laid there like that for awhile, fighting to catch your breathe as your hearts raced against each other's chests. It wasn't until your vision finally cleared and you could breathe a little more freely, though, that a thought popped into your head, "Where did Melaina go?"

Tom laughed, his chest rumbling against yours as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder with a tender kiss to the sweaty skin. "Mm, don't know. She probably left."

"Oh," you muttered, "I didn't notice."

You hoped he didn't notice how you smiled as he hummed back, "Neither did I, darling."

Curled up in Tom's bed, you shivered as his fingers traced lazy shapes into the bare skin of your thigh that was draped over his own. On his night stand sat two abandoned cups of tea, growing colder by the minute, but neither one of you was in any hurry to reach for them. You were content to just lay there in his embrace, soaking up his warmth.

This was what you'd grown to love the most over the past few months of hooking up with Tom. The sex was great, the orgasms mind blowing, but the time spent just enjoying each other's company afterwards was your favorite part. It felt nice to just be close to him, to feel connected to him in a more domestic sense.

"You know there's nothing to be jealous of, yeah?" he asked, suddenly, and you craned your neck back to look at him curiously. His cheeks were reddened slightly as he peered down at you with tender, timid eyes.

Sheepishly, you shrugged, "It's ridiculous, I know."

He frowned slightly, but the crease between his brows melted as you blinked up at him with wide eyes. "Nothing you feel is ridiculous, (Y/N)," he stated, "and it's okay to be jealous. You think I never felt shitty seeing you with any of the other guys you filmed with?"

The flush on his face deepened at his confession, but you grinned. He felt it too? "Really?" you asked, trying your best to keep from giving him total puppy dog eyes.

"Really." he repeated you, snorting when you grinned wider, "And, you don't need to be jealous of anyone. You're the only one who ends up right here in my bed, like this. Only one I want to be here, darling."

You buried your face into his chest with a flustered giggle, and he chuckled as his arms wrapped around you a little tighter. In a desperate need to keep things from getting too serious, still raw over everything you'd felt the past couple of days, you teased, "Mm, I'm only here for the tea--Tom!"

He dug his fingers into your ribs, fighting through your squeals and slaps as you tried to escape him. Easily, though, he got the upper hand and rolled until you were pinned beneath him. With twinkling eyes, a mixture of emotions you couldn't read, he taunted, "Admit it, (Y/N), you're in love with me."

In love with Tom? Your mind went blank as you stared up at him, but he just grinned down at you. There was a little flutter in your belly, and his eyes sparkled a brighter at your shiver. He knew. He knew the truth.

"Nah, it's definitely the tea--"

"Why, I oughta!"

#tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland series #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland au #pornstar!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland

554 notes · View notes

elius-learns-to-write · 3 years

Text

Being an agent in training and Nat being a mother figure

Hey Besties :) this isn’t my best work and I’m kind of disappointed at how the standard of my work keeps slipping but I promise that next week I am going to do a lot better and work a lot harder :) Also this could potentially be triggering to read as there is brief mentions of bad parenting so please take care if you read this. Sorry I’m rambling, Let’s get on with it :)

Your mum had never really been there for you as kid

Whether she was out with her friends, drinking or going out to the middle of butfuck nowhere at 11 o’clock at night, she just wasn’t there

You never really felt like you belonged anywhere

But instead of dwelling on it you pushed yourself into your studies and into the idea of becoming an avenger

“Y/n L/n, My name is Director Fury and I am here to talk to you about our Young Agent Training Program” you looked at the man in shock, sure you had become a fighting machine but you didn’t think you had what it took to actually get onto the program “Uh sure. Uhm come in, sorry for the mess I don’t really have a lot of time to clean up” you stuttered as you tried to kick last night's paper plate under the couch. “So what exactly do you do L/n?”

After a long conversation it was decided that next monday you would start the program and see what you could do under the right training

When you got there you were both ecstatic and completely terrified to be told that The Black Widow would be training you

You stared in awe at the red haired woman in front of you. You had been given the privilege of training with Natasha Romanoff and boy oh boy were you going to take advantage of that “Right let’s get started. Give me 3 laps as a warm up and then we will talk about what your training will include” a chorus of yes ma’ams ran through the group. “What. Should. We do. Once. We. Are done?” you panted obviously out of breath from coming first (not that it was a race) “well done firecracker just sit tight and wait for the others to finish”

Firecracker, that’s what she called you from then on

Not that you minded, in fact it made you feel safe.

Like you had someone in your corner cheering you on

And you did

“COME ON L/N JUST A BIT MORE YOU CAN DO IT!” that was the first time you had heard that in a while so you forced the pain in your arms down and carried on with god knows what exercise she had all of you doing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Good Morning Ma’am” you said with a curt nod as you made your way into the training room for today's knife throwing session “how many times have I told you firecracker? It’s Nat” she chuckled back, patting your back as you passed “right yeah sorry”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Nice shot Firecracker” Natasha smiled as she watched you shoot the center of the target “thanks! I’ve been practicing” you replied putting the guns safety back on and placing it on the metal table for the next person you use. “I can tell” she said walking with you to the water station just across the hall “you keep it up and you’ll be better than me soon!”

That made you smile

Someone actually believed in you and it made you all giddy inside

When you graduated, Nat sat in the front row cheering the loudest as you got handed your new S.H.I.E.L.D ID and official badge

Of course you were asked if you wanted to join the Avengers initiative and of course you said yes

I mean who would pass up the opportunity to do what they had been working towards for the last few years

The one thing that joining the Avengers did was turn Nat into an even bigger mother figure

For example the first few weeks of your time in the tower

You were just sitting in your room scrolling on your phone when there was a knock at your door “Hey y/n have you eaten today? Because if you haven’t do you want to get breakfast with me and Bruce?” you turned your phone off and faced the woman with a smile “sure just let me put my shoes on and then we can go”

This happened a lot, Nat knocking on your door and asking if you wanted to eat with her or asking if you had been taking care of yourself

“Firecracker get dressed and meet us in the car” you quirked your eyebrow at the woman but started to pull your jeans on nonetheless “us?” you said “Yes us me, you and Wanda are going for a day out” you just smiled and carried on slipping your shoes on

You were Nats kid and she was your Mum

No matter it was said out loud or not you both knew that was the agreement

Except for the fact that you did say it once

You smiled sleepy at Nat as she made sure you were tucked in and safe. She did this nearly every night and you couldn’t work out if she was letting you know she was there or reminding herself that you were safe “Goodnight my little Firecracker” Nat said as she planted a soft kiss on your forehead “Goodnight Mum”

That was the moment that she knew she would do anything in the world to protect you and love you forever

Little did she know, you had already promised yourself to do the same

#the avengers #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #nat x teen!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x daughter!reader

419 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Just a Human (S.R.)

Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 8750

Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.

It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?

WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language

A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.

A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.

(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)

A Handful of Spite

“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.

You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.

So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.

It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.

Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.

“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“

You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.

Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.

Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.

“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.

You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.

He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?

It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.

Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.

“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”

The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.

“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.

You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.

“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“

You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.

“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.

And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”

More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.

But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.

Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.

“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.

“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”

“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.

Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”

You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.

Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!

“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.

“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.

You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.

“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”

“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“

You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?

“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”

You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.

You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.

“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”

He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”

Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.

“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.

Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.

You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.

“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.

Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”

You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.

“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.

Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?

Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”

You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.

“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.

You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.

“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”

The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.

Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.

They wished.

Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.

You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.

A Handful of Mistakes

Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.

So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.

You should have known better.

Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.

…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.

In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.

To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.

Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.

You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.

The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.

But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.

“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.

You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.

“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.

“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”

You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.

You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.

“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“

Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.

The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.

Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.

Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.

“Oh, kitty has claws?”

You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.

Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?

“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.

“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.

“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”

Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.

You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.

Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?

Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.

With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.

Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.

“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”

Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.

Oh no, you don’t.

Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.

He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.

You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.

“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?

You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.

A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.

A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.

“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”

A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.

“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.

Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.

There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.

“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.

“I like them feisty-“

“Playing hard to get!”

“Shit, SHIT-“

The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.

“Fuck!”

You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.

Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.

Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.

He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.

Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.

Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.

You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.

“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.

“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.

What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!

You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.

You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.

The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.

“Is it fucking over now?”

“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.

You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”

You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-

-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.

You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’

You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.

“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”

Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.

You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.

“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”

Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.

“Whatever you say.”

His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.

“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”

You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.

You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.

So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.

“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.

You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.

You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.

You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.

After all, you were only human.

A Handful of Truths

You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.

You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.

Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.

He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?

You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.

“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.

“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”

You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.

“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”

His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.

“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”

“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.

Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.

“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?

You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.

“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”

He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.

Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.

You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.

What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.

“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”

“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”

“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.

“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.

Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?

“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”

You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”

You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?

“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.

His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I don’t like bullies either.”

Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?

You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.

Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.

“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”

His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”

“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”

His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.

Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.

“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“

You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.

You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”

Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.

“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.

“Were you making it up?” he questioned.

You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.

“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”

“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.

Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.

“You started with the compliments, Agent.”

And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.

What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?

Were you nuts?!

Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!

The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.

Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.

You should go.

…any moment now.

…just get off your ass for god’s sake-

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.

“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.

He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?

“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.

It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.

“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.

Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.

“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“

It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?

That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.

Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?

“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.

“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.

Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.

Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.

The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.

His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.

Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.

Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?

Oh no, you don’t.

“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.

You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.

Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.

“I like it too.”

At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.

He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.

Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.

“Sorry-“

You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.

“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”

He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”

Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.

His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.

“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.

“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.

Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.

Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.

You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.

“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.

He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.

“Does that count like a yes?”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.

“You tell me.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.

You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?

“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.

You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.

Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.

You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”

His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.

No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.

“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.

You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.

Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.

You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.

“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.

“People still do that?”

You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.

“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.

He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.

“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.

As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.

“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.

Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…

Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.

You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.

The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.

“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.

He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.

“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”

The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.

“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.

His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.

You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.

“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”

S.R. masterlist

Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))

Thank you for reading!

487 notes · View notes

cherryyharryy · 3 years

Text

Harry’s been acting strange lately, so you go to the set of his new movie to find out what’s going on.

From this & this requests.

WC: 1.4

***

You could tell by the last text he sent that things weren’t great, or as Harry so eloquently put it, bloody amazing.

And in the last phone call, he sounded a little too chipper. Voice a bit more fluttery and light than his usual drowsy tone.

He’s lying.

You’ve suspected it for the past few weeks, but didn’t want to push him into talking about something that he was clearly avoiding. But as the days went by, and his texts became more and more optimistic, you knew something was up.

What really tipped you off, was the lack of invite to the set. Harry bent over backwards to get you into every rehearsal and show that you could attend. You were no stranger to the studio, and made yourself at home in more than one producer’s house on a couple of late night sessions. You even sat off to the side during a few radio interviews. It was rare if you weren’t by his side. But his lips have been sealed about his new movie.

It’s possible you’re invading territory you really shouldn’t be stepping foot in, but you called his mom last night and she’s been worried too, having picked up on her son’s unusual flighty voice as of late. She encouraged you to confront him; the soft sugarcoating game the both of you had been trying with Harry only allowed him to think he was getting away with his fibs.

The gravel beneath your car crunched louder than you would have liked. Not that you were planning on sneaking around an entire movie set in search of your boyfriend, but you hadn’t intended on alerting everyone of your arrival either, which is exactly what you’ve done. As you step out, about a dozen pairs of eyes follow the endless walk you make towards the open set. None of them are Harry’s.

Feeling self conscious as no one even asks your name once you reach the bustling center, you gratefully spot the bright pink hair of one of the actresses, Jill. You’ve met before during a group date not too long ago.

“Y/n! Hi! How are you?”

“It’s nice to see you again! I uh, just thought I’d stop by to see Harry. He around?”

“Mhm,” Jill squints and does a full rotation, shrugging when she doesn’t spot him. “Oh, I bet he’s in his trailer.” She points over your shoulder. “His is like the third row, I think.”

“Thanks!”

You feel a little relief to be away from all the unknown faces, and even more so when you catch Harry’s name on the first trailer in the third row.

He swings the door open after just one knock, surprise written all over his face for a bit longer than you would have liked.

“Y/N? Baby, what’re you doing here? Everything alright?”

He widens the door and you step inside, biting your tongue to keep the quip you want to dish out at bay. He’s not happy to see you in the least.

“Just haven’t seen you in a while.”

“We saw each other last week?”

Says the man who clings to me when I’m trying to get out the door for work. “Thought it’d be nice. We can go out for lunch.”

He toes at the ground, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “We usually have somethin’ here.”

“Soo, you’re turning me down?”

“No, no, f’course not.”

“Cause it sounds like you are.”

You sit on a small leather couch, assuming he’ll join you without a gesture, but you have to pat the space beside you before he moves from his spot at the door. You get a good look now; purple bags tucked under his eyes and skin so dry it looks painful. Your irritation crumbles. When you take his hand in yours he squeezes so hard you have to bite down on your cheek.

“Harry,” you reach up with your free hand and thread your fingers through his hair, attempting to gently anchor his head back so he’ll look at you. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing—”

“Don’t give me that.”

He sucks in a shaky breath, looking everywhere but at you, the first sign of tears to come. “I’m shit.”

“What?”

“I suck. I can’t do this. This movie.” He shakes his head, suddenly amped up and frantic. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You don’t know what to say, certainly not expecting that confession. Your jaw lowers, but your brain doesn’t offer anything up.

“It’s too...demanding. Emotionally. I can’t pull it off. I have to do over ten takes for each of my scenes. I’m driving everyone crazy.”

“Harry, if they really had a problem they’d say something. I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“I’ve heard them, y/n.” He snaps at you with this one, the tears spilling right after. “Some of the sound guys are making bets at how many takes I need.”

What can you say? No amount of positive affirmations can fix this. And part of the progression of this downward spiral he’s in, is due to the typical Harry tactic of bottling everything up until he explodes. All his emotions shoot out of the gate, and now you’re desperate to try and stop a race horse.

“Harry,” You’re stern with his name, wiping his tears and grabbing his hands, “You’re in a funk. And you’re gonna stay there as long as you let yourself.”

“I—”

“Uh uh, just listen. You’re not gonna wake up one day and just snap out of this. It’s been building up, little by little, weighing you down. And look, look how it’s seeped into all the other parts of your life. You’re exhausted, you’re too embarrassed to even talk about it. I know you’re not eating, and the only reason you’re even showering is because you have to for the movie.”

He bites his lip, perplexed for only a moment at how you can read him.

“If you’re struggling, you need to tell someone. Ask for advice, ask to watch your scenes back so you can see where to improve, ask for help, Harry.” You sit back a little, grateful the tears have subsided, assessing the new look on his face. “You’re still very new to acting. And I think doing so well and gaining that confidence so rapidly with your other movies kinda screwed up nature’s path.”

He’s soaking up every one of your words, nodding along now.

“You’re supposed to screw up first, and then become a heartthrob.”

He chuckles, and you realize it’s not just the first time since you arrived, but the first time in a while. In weeks.

“I don’t want you to be right,” he straightens up, swiping his tongue over his lips, “but I guess you are, aren’t you?”

You shrug, pleased with the smile teetering on the corner of his mouth. “Won’t argue with you, if that’s what you’re sayin’.”

“Thank you.” He leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Can I have a real one too?”

He rolls his eyes and plants a dramatic and wet kiss to your lips. You feel him relax into you, his mouth switching all gears to on.

“Whoa,” you laugh, pulling away from his lips. “Won’t be doing you any favors if we fuck in your trailer. Don’t wanna think about the kinda bets they’d make about that.”

He hums, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I mean it, thank you.”

“I love you. I want you to be okay.”

“I am.” He sighs, lips twitching. “I’ll talk to the director tomorrow.”

You raise your brows, not satisfied. “Today’s good too.”

“Alright, alright. Today.”

“Good.” You peck his lips. “I’ll let your mom know too.”

“My mum?”

“Oh...yeah. Coming to set was her idea.”

“Oh really?”

“Hey, you put on quite a show for the both of us. It was the last resort.”

Harry grunted, not surprised the two of you connived a plan together. “I’ll let it slide.”

You snicker, “you don’t have a choice.”

He pulls you closer towards him, circling his arms around your back, pressing a kiss to your head so soft it burns. “Thank you for coming.”

“Mmm. I hope you feel better. Soon.”

“I will,” he rests his cheek atop your head, holding you closer so you’re in his lap. “And for the record, I’ve missed you.” He lifts your head up, finger gently pressed under your chin. “Let’s go to lunch.”

#ehhhh not so happy with how this one turned out #i'm sorry for whoever requested these ones #requested #requests #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #cherryyharryy

73 notes · View notes

missmonsters2 · 4 years

Text

Stars Falling

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader/OFC

Prompt: Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.

Note: you fucken RIGHT, she is top quality girlfriend material. Sorry, I know this is from the fluff list but it’s a lil dark LOL big thanks to @lesbian-deadpool and @empyreanwritings for reading this and telling me if it was too fucked up to post or not LMAO

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, wounds, and blood. Abuse may be interpreted in different ways. You might cry cuz it’s soff.

Genre: Soft angst & fluff

Count: 3080

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Sometimes you think how wonderful it might be if you were born a star instead.

To be hung in the dark sky, a sight to be seen.

And when all is said and done, you'll become something else as you fall under the weight of gravity.

But you're not a star.

And you're painfully aware of it every day.

"Don't tell me you're still holding hope."

You feel your jaw get roughly grasped, pulled in the direction to look at the sneering face at you.

"Let me remind you," the director tilts her head, "you'll never make it out of here."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You stayed in the locked room for what feels like hours, but you know only at most it's only been two. You've gotten good at it.

Counting.

There probably used to be a time where you would sing songs to pass the time, but now you've learned how to count the seconds instead.

You hear the door jiggle, and you tense.

But the footsteps are familiar, and you feel the soft touch of concern, and you know who it is.

She does this every time without fail because otherwise, you may be left in this room for days.

"What are you doing?" You rasp. "If she finds out you've stolen the keys, you'll get a lashing again, Nat."

Natasha clenches her jaw as she picks you off the floor, pulling one of your arms around her shoulder as she helps you leave the room.

"I don't care," Natasha grits.

Natasha has plenty of more words to say, but she doesn't think she can't get them out without screaming.

In all honesty, the lashing Natasha would get would be nowhere near as bad as what you've endured. She carries you past the bedroom, and you look in briefly at the rows upon rows of beds, and it's another reminder of where you are.

It isn't until Natasha brings you to the washroom, setting you gently down on the floor that you lean over the edge of the tub with your back facing Natasha.

You hear Natasha's breath hitch, and you're surprised she still makes that noise.

After all, it's not like the sight is unfamiliar to her.

Grabbing a cloth and filling a bucket with water, Natasha sits quietly down behind you. She knows you hate it when she looks sad, so Natasha stills her emotions.

There's blood all over your back. It looks worse when you're wearing a white shirt that's been ripped and pulled at. Natasha grabs the shirt's material, ripping it the rest of the way because there's no way she could pull it off from you without causing more pain.

She sets it aside as your back is bare before her, but she can't appreciate it with the dried blood and lashes.

Natasha breathes slowly as she grabs the cloth, soaking it in the water and ringing it before she puts it against your back as she cleans you slowly.

It's always silent when Natasha takes care of you, even as she disinfects the wounds before bandaging you up.

"Where is Allison?" Your voice is still hoarse.

"Sleeping," Natasha answers quietly.

"Did they like her?"

"Yeah," Natasha breathes out. "They're going to come back tomorrow to finish the adoption papers for her."

You hum.

"They didn't ask for you again," Natasha says after a moment of silence.

"That's good," you say tiredly.

That's how today's beating had started, after all.

You've been here at the orphanage longer than anyone has, practically all your life.

You've grown up here with the director in this sick place, with her sick tendencies.

You were determined to be a wallflower until you could leave.

Until Natasha came here when you were 15.

Then you had someone to protect.

And you decided that it was better to be you than her.

You had grown to accept that you weren't going to be adopted. As you grew older, you knew the chances grew slimmer. But you were okay with that because you would never allow yourself to leave Natasha here alone.

There were even times you made yourself extremely unattractive to prospective parents who seemed interested in you.

But for some reason, the prospective parents that came today seemed a little insistent on you, even if you acted like a problem child.

They were interested in you and Allison, coming back multiple times as if to try to charm you into liking them.

That seemed to set off the director because that woman was set on having you by her side forever. She truly thinks you'll stay here, work here, and grow old until you die with her within this place.

Perhaps you would've resigned to that if Natasha didn't come along.

But now you're just shy of being 18 to be able to leave and take Natasha along with you.

You chant the same words you've been chanting since Natasha's come here.

Turn 18, get a job, get a place, and take Natasha far away from here.

It wouldn't be right away. You'd still have to stay here a little even after turning 18 because you know you can't just take Natasha.

That woman would find you.

She would find you and take Natasha back to destroy you.

You needed to do it the right way so Natasha couldn't be taken from you.

Turn 18, get a job, get a place, and take Natasha far away from here.

"Hey."

You turn your head and blink as Natasha's face comes into view.

You find yourself all cleaned up and bandaged, and Natasha strokes your cheekbone softly.

"Let's go to bed, okay?"

You nod, standing up with her help as she takes off her cardigan to wrap it around you.

The place is dark, not a sound to be heard, not a single light on, but the two of you have memorized this place like the back of your hand.

You enter the bedroom quietly because many children have already fallen far asleep into slumberland, and you don't dare to wake them up.

As you get to the last bed in the back, you get in slowly as Natasha follows next to you.

Everyone gets a small twin-sized bed, but Natasha has long stopped sleeping in hers as she presses her body close to yours.

Natasha pulls the blanket up until it reaches just after your shoulder.

Lying there, face to face, Natasha licks her lips. You blink languidly as you reach your hand up to cup her cheek, watching her eyes flutter closed as she savors your touch.

"She can't keep doing this to you," Natasha shakily whispers.

You merely use your thumb to stroke her cheekbone, dragging your face across the pillow until your lips hit hers.

Dry and chapped, but still soft.

You pull back as you entangle your legs with Natasha, pulling her as close as you can to you.

"I rather her do this to me than to you, do you understand?" You murmur.

And Natasha hates it. She hates it so much. She hates that you shield her from the horrible things that could've been done to her.

But she knows you would protect her no matter the cost.

"I love you," Natasha's words vibrate against your lips as her eyes sting.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha watches from afar as she's holding the broom, idly sweeping the stairs.

It's another one of those days.

"Come to my room," the director gazes upon you as she beckoned you towards her.

Natasha watches you put down your bucket and sponge as you walk towards her with your eyes lowered.

Natasha grips the broom tightly in her hands.

She can hear the worst in the room, but you don't make any noise anymore. You know that it breaks Natasha's heart, so you've learned to grit your teeth or bite your tongue instead.

You're doing this to protect her, but why does Natasha feel like a coward every time?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The wounds have only started to heal, but Natasha picks you up with fresh ones.

Something ugly festers within Natasha as she looks at your back.

It's not fair.

You blink slowly as you lean over the edge of the tub on your arm. You stare at the shampoo in the corner as Natasha cleans your wounds.

The cuts sting, but you don't show it, you don't think you even know how to show it hurts anymore...but Natasha just looks at you, placing her head next to yours as she grasps your fingers gently.

You lift the corners of your mouth slowly.

"If you keep looking like that, I won't let you clean my wounds anymore," you mean it as a joke, mostly because Natasha is the only one who can do it. There's no way you'd subject the other kids to this.

But Natasha only holds your hand tighter.

"Hey," she whispers. "What's the first thing you want to do when we get out of here?"

You hum, your mouth falling into a more relaxed smile as you allow the small luxury of daydreaming.

"I want to sleep under the open sky. Wouldn't it be nice, Nat? To see the millions and millions of stars above us." You close your eyes, missing how Natasha bites her lips.

She helps you back to bed, pulling the covers up as you fall into a peaceful sleep.

But Natasha knows.

She knows you're running thin, and Natasha's not sure how much longer you can take it.

Waiting until one of you turns 18?

Natasha mentally scoffs.

The two of you won't make it.

It was just a fantasy of turning 18 would change anything here, and Natasha's rude awakening came since the day those people came and were interested in you and Allison.

The director would never let you go.

Natasha's sure that she would rather kill you than to see you leave, and it would all too easy to cover up a missing kid from an orphanage.

Natasha gazes at your sleeping face, mouth slightly open as you doze. She delicately brushes her fingers through your hair, soft as you mumble somewhat at the feeling before you shift closer to her.

Natasha can't protect you in here, she's painfully aware.

And if that's the case, then she'll take her chances out there.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's a few weeks that the two of you get some peace within these walls. The director seems to be aware that your wounds need to heal before she can do anything.

And Natasha is waiting for you to heal as well, diligently taking care of you and changing your bandages and applying medication every day.

The two of you seem to be always able to tell when the director will soon call you.

She gets agitated, seeking you out more to do work in front of her. Her eyes trail you like a hawk as she comes out of her office to inspect your cleaning.

Natasha stares through the slits of her eyes in the back unnoticed.

With Natasha's help, you've healed faster, but the director doesn't seem to have noticed, but she's getting impatient.

Even if you are not fully healed, she will most likely call for you again tonight.

But Natasha won't let that happen. Blinking once before she pushes against the wall upright and turns, she slides discreetly into the director's office. She pulls out the three sleeping pills she stole from the volunteer who had come four months ago and stayed most nights with the children.

Placing them on the table, she crushes them into powder with a paperweight quickly before she pours it into the cup of tea the director has out on her desk.

Stirring it with the teabag, Natasha carefully sets everything back the way she found it and slides back out unnoticed.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Baby, wake up."

You groggily open your eyes to see Natasha kneeling beside your bed at your head.

"Why aren't you in bed?" You murmur as Natasha pulls your cover. You had told her to sleep in her own bed tonight because you had a feeling the director would come in and call you to her room.

But you must've fallen asleep waiting for that because you could see it was 1 AM.

"We're leaving," Natasha tells you as she stands up, whispering, so she doesn't wake the other kids.

You sit up with your brows furrowed as you rub your eye.

"What?"

"We're leaving," Natasha repeats, grabbing your hand as she pulls out of bed.

It had taken some time to wait for the cooks and custodians to go to bed, but the house was quiet now.

And it was now or never.

Natasha has a small duffle bag of your things, the two of you not having much despite how long you've been living here.

"What are you talking about?" You feel yourself waking up more now as Natasha quietly drags you through the hallways and down the stairs.

She doesn't answer you as Natasha lifts opens the window on the main floor that she left just slightly open during the day.

The alarms would go off if she tried any of the doors, and this was the one window that seemed to have a glitch in it if left open even if they set the alarms.

Natasha throws the duffle bag out the window.

"Natasha!" You harshly whisper as you grip her wrist to look at you. "This isn't the plan."

"Fuck the plan!" She whispers heatedly at you. "You'll die before the plan even happens!"

You blink at her as Natasha huffs.

"I know," Natasha says quietly. "I know we're only 17, and it'll be so much harder to survive out there if we leave now. But I rather take those chances than to watch slowly die by that woman's hands!"

Natasha shakes her head, running her hands through the sides of her head as she grips her hair, looking at the floor.

"I can't," Natasha breathes, "I can't watch you keep shielding me when I know you're scared too."

"So please," Natasha begs, "please run away with me while we can."

You look at your girlfriend, tired and defeated, but desperate for you. Lifting your hands to hold Natasha's as you nudge her to let go of her hair as you pull her hands towards you.

"Alright," you press a kiss to her knuckles. "Alright."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've been walking for miles.

Holding Natasha's hand as she carries the duffle bag she refuses to let you hold, you've been walking for miles.

It would be foolish to take a cab or try to take one of the cars the workers leave here, so you've been going on foot.

It isn't until you've hit a completely different neighborhood that Natasha begins looks around cars parked outside.

Natasha seems to be looking for something specific as she stumbles onto an old pickup truck. Taking a knife out of the duffle bag Natasha stole from the kitchen, she begins to cut around the gasket around the window. She pulls the window up before she reaches her hand inside to unlock the door.

Throwing her duffle bag in the back, she gestures for you to get into the passenger side.

Natasha then pulls out a screwdriver from the duffle bag, and you watch her get to work, and within minutes, you hear the pickup truck start.

She pulls out of the driveway, taking off quietly down the road.

You had known Natasha had a questionable past before she was dropped off at the orphanage, but watching her do it was completely different.

Still, you had a felt a peace fall over you as you watched the houses get tinier in the side view mirrors.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's another couple of hours before Natasha comes to a stop in the middle of nowhere.

Long having left the city, you were surprised she came to a stop already.

"Are you tired? Do you want to switch?" You ask.

You still see there's half a tank of gas left, but you still wondered how you'll get more gas or if the two of you will have to find a new car to steal instead.

Natasha shakes her head. "Let's both rest for a little bit."

She opens the car door, walking around until she reaches your side and unlocks your door.

You take her hand as you gently get off as she guides you to the truck's back. She puts on foot on the bumper before hauling herself over, holding her hand out to pull you over too.

Once inside, you find a small blanket that Natasha spreads out before lying down.

You tentatively lie next to her.

On your back, you look up at the night sky.

Being in the middle of nowhere with few streetlights, you find you can see the night sky well.

"I want to sleep under the open sky. Wouldn't it be nice, Nat? To see the millions and millions of stars above us."

You look over at Natasha, who is looking up at the sky as well. You swallow, feeling the emotions bubble up inside you, threatening to rage over.

"Nat," you call, voice thick with emotion.

She doesn't turn to look at you, though, continuing to look at the sky.

"I don't really understand your obsession with the stars," Natasha says quietly.

You turn your head to look back up.

"I like that there's so many," you slowly say. "There's an infinite amount of stars. There's a whole galaxy, an entire universe out there. We must look so tiny in comparison to them. Everything seems so big and overwhelming here."

Natasha doesn't say anything. She's not really sure what to say because to her, you're her entire universe.

The only star hung in her galaxy.

"I'm not going to lie, Nat," you say after a long silence. "I don't know what to do from here."

Because in there, you knew very well how to keep Natasha safe. Out here, you had no plan.

Natasha turns over to you on her side, much rather looking at you than the night sky.

You were a falling star back there, but out here, Natasha would do whatever it took to keep you hanging in the sky.

And under the stars, with all the bruises and cuts, and nothing but the clothes on their back, Natasha holds your hand.

"Hold my hand tight, I'll protect you."

#mm: my fics #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov imagine #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers imagine #avengers au #modern avengers au #marvel reader insert #natasha romanoff x y/n #genre: angst #genre: romance #genre: fluff

947 notes · View notes

dismuch47 · 3 years

Text

THE BUFFER

Length: Extra Long Drabble

Timeline: Post Civil War, 5 months in...

Content: Wanda and Vision are finding it rather hard to wait for some quality face-time, especially with back-to-back missions overlapping. And to part when things were just starting to heat up...

Warnings: Spicy fluffy.

A shaky sigh escaped Wanda as her hazel eyes snapped open. How was it possible for her body to be completely sapped of strength, but her mind oppressively restless? She winched as she turned on her aching side, the derelict cot squeaking with the movement of the mattress. It felt good to lay there in the new position…her body heavy like lead... but her unblinking gaze pierced the darkness of the room.

It happened every so often. Not every night… but more than she could count. And it always made her chest constrict and her brow contort with memorized pain. No tears anymore. Just a deep ache, echoing endlessly within herself.

Tonight she had been falling, again. Endlessly. Debris circled around her, as if in a calm, slow motion… though the wind raged in her ears mercilessly. She was reaching out to a hand she knew well. Hazel eyes like her own were wide with desperation. Snowy hair lashed about as he reached back to her. They would never successfully grab hold. And the blood stains on his fitted shirt grew into gory, gaping wounds. Wanda’s heart would thunder as the broken Sokovian soil raced to collide from below. She screamed, voicelessly, as she realized that she would feel his death yet again with the impact.

Wanda finally forced her eyes closed again, breathing in and out and repeat, like Natasha had taught her. The clamminess and racing heart leveled out. She reached under the cot, finding her MP3 player among discarded clothing on the dirty floor. Music had a stimulating effect, which didn’t bother her at this point, as further sleep was now out of the question.

She would not go back to that day. She would not feel Pietro die again. Not if she could help it.

The list of music was uncategorized, so she had to skip over the loud and nonsensical, which had been her twin’s flavor more then hers. She usually found comfort in them, but tonight she needed calm. A rhythm to cling to and ward away the demons within.

It was clear why these nightmares were occurring, and with more frequency. Two whole months without Vision. They had a beautiful and tender farewell, knowing that Wanda’s next mission would take some time and focus. And then his subsequent off-world S.W.O.R.D. assignment would further expanded the impossibility of a feasible rendezvous.

Off world.

Wanda held herself. There were infinite ways Vision could communicate with her when they were apart. The advantages of a being created by and to be one with the technologic rhythms of Earth and beyond. A message on a digital board would flash with sentiments for an instant, enough for her to notice, but for others to briefly shake their heads in passing befuddlement. Vision could keep his eyes on her… though not without challenge, as her team was doing everything in their human capacity to stay OFF camera and grid for safety. If he did find her easily enough… he’d make sure to cover his digital tracks and obscure the path from anyone else. Always watchful.

Which is why the complete silence and blackout of their connection had been so disconcerting. Closer to Earth’s satellites, Vision sent small messages or emojis to an encrypted messenger program he had developed for just the two of them. It made her heart ache, sitting in the computer cafe, looking at the green pixelated hearts. Not being able to feel him.

That was 19 days ago. And his gentle, golden light and warmth was so far away that practically felt nonexistent. Allowing the icy darkness of her past to creep back into her life. It didn’t claw and tear as it once had, but it leered at her from every shadow as she laid sleepless in bed.

She fidgeted on the horrid mattress until she was flat on her back again. Finally the warm night air was getting through the initial cold-sweat that her nightmare had put her through. The music in her ears spoke of nights, love, and intimacies. It made her miss Vision more. Especially since their last parting had changed the dynamics of their unique companionship.

Kisses were innocent enough. Pecks. Affectionate rewards of thoughtful actions and reciprocated sentiments. But with each meet-up, the distance on the hotel suite couches narrowed during evening sitcom watching. Pinkies locked together with a hand graze during sight-seeing, and sharing a single bed had become an innocent, comforting norm. So when laughter had left her breathless and she planted one on the synthezoid while she was practically in his arms… it hadn’t particularly surprised either of them when they let it linger for a few steady heartbeats. And when their lips parted, and silent hesitancy emboldened to yearning…they came back together. More sure of the act. Oh so very much more sure.

There was no sex that followed. It could have. But it didn’t. It was yet another daunting human concept for him… and honestly for her too… to be saddled with right before a long stint away from each other. The kiss… kisses… had been perfect. And wandering hands memorized flesh and vibranium surface and texture. She did remove his shirt. That did happen. And maybe there had been some salacious caressing and tongue tracing of metallic striations.

They should have had sex.

Now Wanda was irritated with herself. She shut off the seductive music and tossed the device back on the messy floor. She closed her eyes and tried to take herself back to one of the numerous hotel rooms she had visited Vision with. Clean linen smells. The food. THE HOT SHOWERS. And Vision. Most of all… Vision. No night with him gave nightmares the foothold they so desired. Not with the gentle whirring of his calculating mind to sooth hers, or the gentle lilts of his humored voice, nor with the gentle stroke of his digits against her hair. This phantom Vision made the ache in her sigh, yet she smiled inwardly. Almost like he was there now. Her essence unfolding itself to his nearness. Warmth in her cheeks and heart. She basked in the feeling, amazed at it’s intoxicating realness...

That’s when she sat straight up in the bed. Blinking at the one window of the room. Wanda tore off the sheets and padded over to it, careful to be soundless in an apartment of light-sleeping soldiers and an ex-assassin. She fumbled with the latch, splotched with corrosion and non-use. The window slid up, with some exertion, and she stuck her head out, auburn hair catching in a soft cool breeze. The building was a dump, but the skies and countryside beyond the town limits was scenic, even in the moonlight. Spring touched it’s fingers upon the vegetation, pale blossoms looking like celestial creatures swaying in the wind.

“Vision.” she whispered.

She paused. Anticipating a response.

“Vision?”

Her hand clutched the bottom of the window for balance, but she squeezed tighter with rising disappointment. She had been so sure. She had wanted him so bad that she had fooled herself. Wanda’s eyes cast downward as she ducked her head back into the room, lowering the window.

“Wanda.”

The woman startled, then smiled ridiculously wide as she quickly lifted the window once more. “Vision!” She kept her voice breathy, for low volume, but it burst with excitement. She reached out to his hovering form as he emerged from the side, pulling his face towards hers for a kiss, nearly toppling out of the window in the process.

Vision chuckled, letting her have his lips, responding in kind, but holding her safely within her perch. “Wanda. I have missed your presence, considerably so-”

“I thought I was going crazy!” She kissed his nose, lips, cheeks… lips again. “I knew you were here but I didn’t see you-“

“My apologies. It appears that-“ Kiss. “… Agent Romanoff has been doing a rather competent job of establishing alarmed snares for both carbon-based intruders, and those of a more mechanized persuasion-“ His lips were stilled by another kiss.

“Sorry about that. She’s a stickler…”

“No, on the contrary, I am appreciably reassured that she goes to such great lengths for the security of her team.” He brushed some wayward hair behind her ear. “I just had to tread cautiously.”

Wanda finally detangled her arms from around his neck and leaned against the sill more comfortably. Vision propped his elbows there as well, lightly entwining his maroon fingers with hers. “When did you get back?”

“I came straight from the stars to you, Wanda.” He grinned, knowing his answer pleased her when she grinned shyly and pressed her cheek to their joined hands. “I know I should have checked-in with Stark and Dr. Cho…but yours was the company I felt I most required.”

Wanda rested her chin on his knuckles. “Two months… is WAY too long, Vis.”

“Far too long.” He echoed her ache. “You look fatigued, Wanda.”

She huffed. “Thanks. I am. Didn’t sleep well.” That’s all she would supply for now. “Did you enjoy your trip off-world?”

Vision crossed a hovering leg over the other, tilting his head thoughtfully. “A vast frontier of terrifyingly beautiful mysteries. And I occupied only a mere point percentage of our known galaxy. I will be processing my findings for days.”

“You loved it.” Wanda grinned.

“Visually it was very stimulating.”

She looked down. “So I guess that means more space assignments.” She felt him tip her face up to his, hands still locked with hers.

“It was a drone mission. Too expensive to send humans, and equipment too expensive to lose.”

“So they sent you.” Wanda said, bitterness edging through.

“I have immense respect for the current Director of S.W.O.R.D., but we both knew it was mostly a publicity stunt. Sending an Avenger to space. A S.W.O.R.D. partner project with Stark Industries. I was the logical, and really only, choice.”

She grumbled “As long as it doesn’t become a habit…”

“I assure you, I am far more inclined to be earth-bound with still so many provocative enigmas of humanity to be uncovered…” Wanda looked up at him, seeing his cerulean eyes roving not too subtly over her night shorts and how they moved across her toned thighs. Within an instant he was back to regarding her face thoughtfully.

Wanda arched a brow. “Provocative enigmas, huh?” She gently reclaimed her fingers, taking a few, slow and salacious steps away from the window. She unzipped the light sweatshirt she had on and let it fall away from her arms. A pink, loose, sleep tank glowed in the moonlight.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Wanda…” Vision’s tone smoothly protested, but his eyes didn’t leave her visage. Their soft bluish glow fluctuated as he skimmed the inside of the room. Considering. “Is that very prudent? With your team so close in proximity-“

“They’re sound asleep.” She assured him, touching each teammate’s mind with her own, making sure that they were truly unconscious. “If you try to slip me out the window, I’m bound to trip off one of the snares too. Nothing comes in… no one goes out… unless you have the unique ability of density fluctuation…” Wanda played with the hem of her pink top. Her whispered tones were now a gentle, more audible alto melody. “And as cute as it is to kiss by the window and moonlight, like two certain star-crossed lovers… I’m thinking we deserve a little more than that. After such a long time apart…”

“5,259,492 exceedingly long seconds.” Vision agreed. He took one last look outside, making sure not a soul was passing by, and then ducked his head in to avoid collision with the window frame. The rest of his form shimmered gold and passed through all matter until he was hovering in her room.

Wanda put her arms up like a ringleader at a circus, acknowledging their surroundings. “Welcome to one of many humble abodes that changes with each mission for team On-The-Run. Sorry for the mess. Wasn’t expecting company.”

The synthezoid’s pleasant expression slightly waned as he examined the room. It was dark, but he could adjust his optic settings to accommodate for the lack of light source. He couldn’t help but notice the warped boards of the floor and some exposed nails protruding up. He analyzed all the weak points where someone of Wanda’s height and build might fall through if enough force applied. The cot looked devoid of any possible comfort required for a human’s successful 7 hours of sleep needed for healthy productivity. The defunct fire alarm didn’t even have a battery in it. The amount of dust and mold alone had to be such devastating havoc on the respiratory system…

Wanda bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. Watching Vision’s expression deepen with concern as his gaze moved from one health code violation to the next was amusing to her. It fell upon the only other piece of furniture in the condemned bedroom: the wardrobe.

“Felons don’t get great incomes.” She supplied, scrunching her noise. Her eyes then narrowed as she thought about it. “In fact… I don’t think we actually get an income at all. It’s mostly favors and connections-“

“Something died in there.” Vision was fixed on that ominous wardrobe.

“Oh yeah. For sure. That smell doesn’t go away. I tried everything.” She looked down and shuffled her things on the floor around with her foot. “That’s why my stuff is everywhere. I’ll take dirt over smell…”

Vision gave her a compassionate look. “I promise to never tease your propensity for 50 minute showers when we meet up in hotels, ever again. Even though the average human only needs 15 to 20.”

“I appreciate that.” Wanda used her index finger to motion him hither. “Now come closer. I think if we play our cards right, we might find one of those ‘provocative enigmas’ you are so fond of…”

Despite the profound concern over his favorite human being confined to the condemned dwelling, the synthezoid gave a grin that made a sincere dimple appear on his chiseled face. He arched a foot and touched down on the hard floor… only for the wooden planks to let out an inane splintered groan that resonated in to room. Vision’s eyes widened with worry, and Wanda’s hand shot up to stop him in his tracks.

She reached out quickly to make sure that the noise hadn’t disturbed anyone. Sam tossed on the couch with a soft snort, but he was pretty much dead to the world. Steve’s brows knitted, but he seemed locked in a conflicting dream that he desired to stay in. Natasha, however, fully open her eyes, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for more noise before she would leap to investigate. Nothing came. And this area had big fat raccoons. Wanda could handle it. Nat’s lids drooped over her blue eyes and she let her head sink back into her stiff pillow.

“Okay… We’re good.” Wanda whispered after a long pause. She waved a hand to hold down the boards with her power while Vision retracted his foot back into the air. She carefully eased up on the wood, commanding its fibers to slide back together, stronger than before, and quiet.

Vision gave a slight grimace. “I do not think the remiss state of this apartment will accommodate for my dense weight. Not enough to be stealthy.” He offered his graceful hand down to her. “But I may have an alternative solution.”

The human smirked up at the synthezoid and gave her hand as she took a few soft steps and leaped. Vision hoisted her up and rested her into a sitting position across his lap, cradling her between firm thigh and compact core. She rested against him, slipping her arms around his waist, while he reclined their angle somewhat, allowing gravity to assist with keeping her in place upon him. They floated wordlessly for a few moments, happily nestled against each other.

Wanda made some soft happy noises, face practically buried in his chest. She turned her head to the side, resting her cheek over his heart. “You smell amazing…. how do you smell so amazing?”

He stroked her soft hair, smiling broadly down at her. “There was an orchard along the way. I stopped, briefly, to admire the blossoms up close. I apologize if it’s overpowering. I should have phased the particulates from myself before-“

“No, I love it.” She inhaled deeply. She nuzzled her way around the gold and metallic maroon of his uniform’s crest, till she found the warmth of his neck. He tilted his head to the side, giving her free-reign over that shapely area. She pressed her lips there tenderly, breathing him in. Night, spring air, and citrus. The hand that had been resting around his waist snaked up to caress his neck, while she slowly ravaged the other side. A hicky and marks would be impossible on his vibranium infused tissue… but the administrations of her tongue and then teeth caused Vision to swallow and exhale deeply. In a way that thrilled Wanda. She planted one more kiss, incredibly pleased with herself, before moving up to his jawline.

Vision lowered his face down to her, his gaze heavy-lidded, intrigued with her sensual strategy. She reached his lips, her hand cupping his jaw, fingers stroking his textured skin. She took his lower lip in hers, consuming, wet…like lapping at a juicy fruit, and nipped as she pulled away. His lips stayed parted, perhaps caught off guard, but the hitch in the synthezoid’s chest conveyed that the assault to his mouth was indeed welcome.

Wanda licked her lips, letting out a wanton sigh. Her hazel eyes finally reopened, regarding Vision.

“Hi.” she said.

Vision was perplexed by the simplicity of her dialogue. Sexual simulation may indeed have a depleting effect on the human cerebrum’s left hemisphere; typically where language was stored. He varied infinite responses that could reciprocate an equally playful sentiment of desire as well…

“Hi.” he settled with. Not original, but it made the woman crack a sultry smile.

Wanda moved to claim his lips once more.

“Wanda” Vision broke the spell before it could swell. “…We never did have a chance to discuss…to discuss…well, what happened in-in the Netherlands.” Wanda suppressed a smile with his stuttering. A tell-tale that he was breaching a topic beyond his full understanding and had copious questions about. “Not before we had to part ways…”

Wanda cocked her head at him. “And what happened in the Netherlands?” she asked coyly.

“W-well…I am only speaking from my perspective,” he began hesitantly, eyes darting to the side. “…but my understanding was that our intimate, yet casual familiarities with one another has evolved into something more…” Vision struggled to find the right word. Not vulgar, but not chaste. “Well, more.”

Wanda caressed her thumb over his lips softly. The moonlight highlighted the pronounced bow and border of his pleasing mouth, a wet sheen over his lower lip marked where she had been.

“Well, we could talk about it…” she offered, continuing her tracing. “…or we could just continue to explore that…’more.’”

Vision’s eyes darted from her enticing gaze, contemplating the choice. A gentle rumble imitated deep in his throat, as he weighed the pros and cons of transparent communication… vs instant and gratifying, sensory study. Wanda made the choice for him, thankfully, parting his lips with her thumb. Vision’s eyes closed heavily, as he tried not to analyze this clear oral fixation, and surrendered his mouth. Her hand slipped down when she replaced it with her full lips upon his, down to rest upon his rising chest. Her other hand massaged circular patterns into the small of his back, beneath his cape.

The synthezoid raised a hand to tenderly cradle the side of her head as their mouths moved against one another. It was a thrilling sensation, whether passionate and out of tandem, or deep and focused synchronization. A maroon hand slid up from her waist, under the jersey material of Wanda’s pink tank, completely unintentional at first, but Vision savored the soft creamy expanse of her back against his digits. She softly moaned against his lips. The sound of her pleasure motivated him to hold her closer to himself. She welcomed the adjustment, slipping both her arms around his neck. Her legs crossed, toes curling, lost in bliss.

Vision’s airy cape brushed against the floor as they slowly whorled in the air, lost in each other. Oblivious that they were edging closer to the cracked and peeling wall. Their kisses became more urgent. Wanda murmured his name, which gave him validation… and an inclination to elicit more audible responses from her. He released his gentle grasp of her chin, seized a hand sliding from his neck, threading their fingers together before bringing her wrist to his lips to kiss. He had accessed data some time ago that confirmed the wrist as an erogenous zone due to the concentrated nerve endings that resided just below the epidermis. He gently rubbed with his thumb, and peppered with sweet brushes of his lips, and featherlight nips.

Wanda’s head lolled back, long auburn hair swaying in the breeze coming from the window. Vision’s splayed hand at her back kept her from losing balance. She arched into his curled arm, trusting, with lazy abandon, eyes gazing dreamily at the moldy ceiling. She felt him kissing his way up the arm he held captive. She had to let out a laugh. A callback to a time that their viewing of the “Addams Family” show had led them into a heated discussion about how impractical Gomez’s passionate displays of affection were in real-world applications. Like kissing his way up Morticia’s arm in almost every episode.

Wanda was wrong. It was nice…

More than nice.

Vision shushed softly against her skin, relishing her inviting giggles, but reminding her of the required low decibel to maintain covertness. He trailed to where her shoulder met with her neck, drawing her back towards himself, taking his time.

“Vis.” Wanda’s voice was husky. Her heart was about to leap out of her chest. She couldn’t hold out anymore. She roughly adjusted her position, allowing him to assist her, until she had him caught between her legs. The muscle and plate-infused surfacing of his lower abdominals had a delicious hardness against her tender apex.

Vision visibly gulped at new position, comprehending it’s possible implication. He didn’t realize how drastically he was backing up, being airborne.

“Wanda…perhaps we shouldn’t-“

The synthezoid’s broad back bumped into the wall of the room. And for whatever reason, that was enough to jostle the usually resistant window to slam down against the sill, the glass shattering. Wanda squeaked loudly at the sudden noise. Vision sharp attention to the noise source distracted him from the reflexive movement of his arm… which went right through the drywall behind him without effort.

Through. Not phased.

“Oh dear…” He grieved, pulling his elbow out of the hole, debris crumbling down in a dust cloud upon the squeaky floor boards.

Wanda could hear the lightening-fast thumping of bare feet and the click of a gun. Wanda’s hands glowed red and she phased through Vision, dropping to the floor with a thud and flicked her wrist over her head, sending him soaring through the air and into the wardrobe wall. He visibly disappeared with a soft and abrupt “ah” before the door to the room flung open. Natasha stalked in, gun aimed, pointing it at every corner as she assessed the threat level. She acknowledged Wanda on the floor, resting the aim of her weapon at the destroyed window. Steven followed behind, fists poised.

“She’s unharmed.” Nat confirmed over her shoulder to Steve.

He went over to her to help the young woman up, cautiously looking around. “Wanda, you okay? What happened?”

Wanda tried to speak.

“The window is broken. Did someone try to force their way in?” Nat demanded, doubtful, as her traps outside were famously intricate. She then noticed the hole in the wall. “Maximoff?”

Wanda’s head reeled. To be pulled from paradise to this purgatory at whip-lash speed. “I… I just. I had the window open. Fell asleep… I guess I had a nightmare. Lost control.” She was breathless between excuses, pulse racing. Nat’s icy blue gaze narrowed at her younger teammate.

Steve regarded Wanda with stoic compassion. He put his hands on her shoulders. “It must have been a bad one. You still looked flushed.” The woman bit her lower lip, unable to meet her leader’s gaze.

Nat finally lowered her gun and backed away from the window. “You haven’t lost control of your powers like this in awhile. Maybe we need to adjust your training focus.” Wanda blanched inwardly. That didn’t sound good. Not coming from Natasha.

“Everything good up there??” Sam’s voice called from the livingroom couch downstairs.

“False alarm, Sam.” Steve yelled back.

“Good. Cause some of us are trying to get some shut eye.”

Steve regarded the mess, speaking more quietly this time. “We’ll patch this up in the morning. Though you’ll be happy to know that we’ll be relocating soon. Got a lead on another job.”

“Oh… yeah. That’s… that’s good.” Wanda offered.

Steve didn’t seem assured by the forced sincerity of her response. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

He gave her a pat to the shoulder and strode out of the room. Natasha stood in her usual power stance, legs shoulder width apart, hands and gun clasped behind her back. The fact she was clad in a sports bra and black high-cuts didn’t make her any less intimidating.

The bottled-blonde wasn’t leaving. Wanda cleared her throat. “I think I’ll be okay. Thank you. You’re right about the… the extra training-“

“The wardrobe has feet.” The ex-assassin stated dryly. She turned her head to the side. “Say good night… Vision.”

Natasha turned to leave, slightly smirking once she was out of the room.

#scarletvision #wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #avengers #fanfic #FOR THE FANDOM #makingout is hot #even hotter when airborn #and even more more with teammates under the same roof

44 notes · View notes

otterskin · 3 years

Text

I didn't like the LOKI show, no matter how hard I try, and it's messing with me.

My mother died at the end of December. A lot of other bad things happened as well, like the severe brain injury of my father.

I didn't cry. There was so much to do. I did it. And even then, when there was nothing left to do, I didn't cry.

I found distractions.

Today I went to see the Green Knight after a tough week at a new job that had me leave my father in another province even though he still needs help. I was trying to get back to the life I'd dropped.

I loved the Green Knight. The Arthurian Legends are as dear to me as Norse Mythology, and my copy of them had the Green Knight on the cover. The film was truly excellent, evoking the feel of the story whole still doing something unique and very A24. I cried at one point, like I did when watching the first THOR, because of how much it meant to see something I'd loved since the very first years of my existence finally make it to the big screen and be...right. It's own thing, it's own artistic product, but right.

Then I opened a tab in a browser and saw I had some messages on a website I comment on. It was just some minor criticism of the LOKI show I'd posted beneath an article and how it handled certain things.

I was downvoted. Berated. Hated. Lumped in the ad hominem twitter users who attacked the director and writer (I'd never, ever!) Told I was biphobic because I wanted to see more of a queer lens (I even addressed how difficult it is for bi people in queer cinema and society in general in my criticisms of the romance, but even that wasn't good enough - just disliking it was 'bad'.) I was told I just wanted my 'fanfic' made (I never made any laundrylist of plot points I demanded). I was accused of being a begrudged shipper (ha! If anything I'm an anti-shipper). I was told that I should love the show, it was awesome, and I was bad for not thinking so.

And I started to cry.

I don't cry. Only at movies. Not at real life. I didn't cry at my grandparents's funerals, I didn't cry when I was left with the body of my mother in the hospital room and my brother cried on my shoulder. I didn't cry when working through my dad's severe new disabilities as I realized how much he had lost. I didn't cry while realizing how messy my parents' finances were. I didn't cry when my mother's friends called me in the middle of the night and cried into the phone. I didn't cry when saying goodbye to my dog and going back to a rundown apartment with a terrible smell so I could go to work in a dark room for hours at a time.

But now I'm crying and writing this.

I've realized why. During everything, I looked forward to the LOKI show. The first THOR is deeply nostalgic to me and I watched it often in my first year of Uni when I was away from home. It tied in thematically to what I was going for. Thor 2 came out before I went on exchange, and while I disliked it overall, talking about it was a welcome distraction from my anxieties. Thor 3 was nerve-wracking, but it also came out during my first major job which I was struggling with, and I saw it so many times in theatres...it was such a huge comfort.

Looking forward to LOKI wasn't just a distraction. It was like a promise. A promise that I'd make it till then and see it and maybe it'd give me some comfort.

That's on me. That's a personal thing. It's an unreasonable expectation.

But I needed it, all the same.

Then it came out.

I tried. I really tried to like it, to forgive it, but the problems are things I've criticized for too long in so many other things. I always try to be respectful about, I never go ad hominem and attack the creators, only critique their work and I always mentioned what I liked but...

I didn't like it.

I have no urge to rewatch it.

And the Green Knight...the Green Knight was everything I wanted and needed it to be. It didn't let me down, though I've been anticipating it about as long as the LOKI show. They're very different, obviously, but in my heart they share the same compartment.

And after a very trying day...I realized how badly I needed to rewatch a Loki show I liked. But I can't even enjoy THOR or Thor:Ragnarok anymore. It's like everything I did like has been poisoned.

This thing that got me through immense pain is causing me pain. I don't want to be toxic. I'm sure it's in me. I try so hard not to wallow in disappointment, but to not even be allowed to talk about my problems without being lumped in with abusive online monsters...

I can't do it. I just can't.

This is supposed to be an escape, not another trial.

I needed the LOKI show to be good, so I could come out of the dark into the light, or at least walk through the night with a lantern ahead of me. And instead it was just more darkness, and it's not even entirely its own fault. It's the online discourse. It's the uncalled for harassment of Herron and Waldron. It's the taunting jabs at people who didn't have a good time as if we're all jerks. It's having people roll their eyes when you point out things that made you uncomfortable in the story, it's feeling slightly gaslit when you find something gross that the story intended to be gross and then being told it's not gross, actually.

I'm sorry. I don't want to cause pain. I just...

I needed it to be good. And unlike Thor 3, which delivered me respite in a dark time...it let me down. Worse, it's hurt me.

I said I don't cry, only at the movies. Something about them lets me cry in a way nothing else does. I can't cry at a funeral, but I can cry in a movie theatre at the drop of a hat. It's a release valve, a way for me to process things.

I think I was waiting for LOKI to give me permission to cry. To give me something that could release this pain in me. And instead, it just gave me more.

I never should have given it that power. I didn't want to. But I had to, to get through this.

I'm putting away the few THOR pieces of tat I have. I feel foolish. I always knew it was a capitalist piece of art, chucked from creator to creator with no creative shepherd, which in itself was stressful.

The fandom is no sanctuary for me either, since I'm primarily interested in the family dynamics and I'm sick of 'Odin is an ABUSIVE MONSTER' stories or even unrelated fics and posts just dropping in hate for him that's not at all canon but seems to be very popular to the point where people think it is. Especially since I often read these stories when I need to think of home and my father. Or, most pleasantly of all, when I get called an abuser or abuser-enabler because I say I like Odin as a character. I also can't really bear to deal with anything to do with Sylvie, whom I had high hopes for as someone who wants more female tricksters, but instead I got this...this Mary Sue that's very hard to criticize without being yelled at. I swear I'm coming at her writing as a feminist and I don't hate anyone, I don't, I just...sigh. She's just personally frustrating to me and not being able to discuss it without being called names sucks.

Not to mention I'm asexual, and I always struggle with romance in media being pushed as the 'ultimate relationship more important than any other'. Part of the reason I liked THOR so much was that romance was not the main feature of THOR and definitely not THOR 3 (while my disliked Dark World was all about it, and so is LOKI). And when I criticize the romance, I get called a prude (guilty, I guess), a troll, or, my favourite, just 'a hater'.

I don't want to hate. Who wants that poison in their veins? I'm here because the Thor series HELPED me because I LOVED it. And now I look at the things I used to love and I...don't, anymore.

So much is asked of me right now. I can't willingly invite this painful thing to sit on my chest as well, especially since the world is already shoving it into my face without my doing anything, in ads, in news, in everything.

I suppose that's why I've leaned even more into Odin lately. He was untouched by the LOKI series (though not the Simpson special, which worries me). He's a trickster, he's queer, he's nuanced, he's 'misunderstood' (that old cliche, but he's misunderstood and misrepresented by the people always yelling about how this or that character is misunderstood, which amuses me, except when it gets to me), and he's in many ways free to make my own.

I still have some stuff I'm going to publish that's practically finished. Finnesang has a lot more written for it but needs some major sit-down time for re-writes and edits. Lokabrenna is practically done, just needs tweaks and Beta. I'll be here a little longer.

But I think I'm going to have to step back for now and put my passions into other things.

I will be back. After all, after Thor 2 came Thor 3. Maybe Love and Thunder will right the ship and Thor can still be awesome, and maybe eventually a creative I love will come to work on the franchise. Really, that's the key for me - I loved Branagh before THOR, and loved Waititi before Thor, and disliked Waldron's work (though I gave him every benefit of the doubt and hoped and prayed to be wrong - sadly, it was what I expected.)

But...if LOKI season 2 is more of this, more romantic tropes I hate and Loki being an afterthought in his own show and his family being devalued for new characters...I can't do it. I can't watch something I used to love just throw that all away for something I dislike.

My tears are finally drying. I wrote a lot of this while the screen was blurry, so I hope there's no grammar or typo too embarrasing. I'm not sure I have the strength to re-read it. Sorry for the rant. It helped me feel better.

Thank you all. I hope I feel differently someday.

#loki show #loki 2021 #meta #loki thoughts #personal #update

17 notes · View notes

omgkalyppso · 3 years

Note

Number 4 for the romance lyric prompt for any variation of the ot4!

4. ‘Cause girls like you run 'round with guys like me 'til sun down.

The lyric is from Girls Like You by Maroon 5 (idk how obvious this is without me saying it), and was added to the playlist specifically for Claude x Hilda though a lot of the lyrics have to be taken at face value because it could be interpret extremely negatively, though not that line, and not my intent. I'll try writing a few words of the stage-production au.

I didn't read over this when I finished.

Here's the first post of the stage-production au: [HERE]

Most of the cast were gone for the day, though the actors who had agreed to go out afterwards had lounged in the audience. Dimitri and Edelgard stood on opposite step ladders, as crewmen held them in place, going over the lines of their final battle with a choreographer and the director.

Dimitri would be atop a large dragon puppet someday, and Edelgard would be in her Hegemon construction, but for now, they were in t-shirts and jeans and trying their best to imagine what the final product might look like.

Hubert and Dedue stood by their sides, and had stopped crouching after the fourth recitation of their lines. By now had been brought chairs to sit upon, from which they each spoke their one line, to be shouted in production, as they supported the song shared by The Rightful King and The Flame Emperor in their epic moment.

From the orchestral pit, the production's vocal coach, Yuri, played an upright piano to guide their tune and tempo.

Hilda sat between Claude and Ferdinand in the audience. Each man whispering along with the song with a bounce of his head while she sunk into her seat, amused, and embarrassed by the prospect of joining them.

It was the most genial cast Hilda had ever worked with, and when Ferdinand, Edelgard, Manuela, Seteth and Lorenz had spoken of not drinking for seven weeks before a show, the bulk of the cast had agreed to go sober for the duration; though when they'd spoken of different dietary restrictions in the week leading up to production, there'd been very little consensus. Regardless, tonight would be the last hurrah for those who drank, as Hilda didn't anyway, and they were waiting to take their friends out for the night.

It was still relatively early as far as nights went, barely seven o'clock, but that was still late enough that people were missing dinner. Hilda could hear the crinkling of a paper bag from behind her, where Mercedes and Dorothea snacked on sweet and sour chicken balls.

After three more runs of the scene, Sweetpea, their stoic mint-haired director, declared, "I think that's it." They did their best to turn to address the rest of their team, in the wings and in the audience. "I'll see most of you in four days when we join Yuri for a, hopefully less chaotic, rendition of The Storm of Myrddin. Great work."

Hilda whistled loudly in support of her castmates, while her friends applauded and hollered. Dimitri bowed to their audience, and Hubert bowed to Edelgard who rolled her eyes and laughed as she exaggerated with one hand thrown skyward as she and Dimitri made their way down their respective stepladders.

"Thank you, Yuri," called Edelgard.

"Yes, thank you, Yuri," Dimitri agreed.

"We'll practice those low notes next time," Yuri answered, before waving up out of the pit to soften his implied criticisms. "You're welcome! We're getting there. There's a lot of range to cover."

Dimitri was still insecure by the time he joined his castmates in the aisles as they marched to the exit, "Did it sound that bad?"

"No," Claude snickered.

"It's Yuri's job to strive for perfection," Dedue observed.

Hilda held her hand in front of her lips for a moment, considering her contribution. Once they were outside, she jut her elbow into Dimitri's stomach so he grunted in surprise, stumbling back into Felix.

"Eugh!"

"Hey, watch it!"

Hilda shrugged. "Just remember that sensation?"

"Don't be mean," Sylvain exaggerated with a whine, giving Dimitri his sweater he'd been holding onto.

"No, I—" Dimitri tried to mimic the same position his mouth had been in, tongue drooping forward in his mouth as he sought the pitch of his exclamation.

"You broke him," Hubert declared, his brow furrowed, at the same time that Claude, Edelgard and Dedue were following Dimitri's example and carrying a deep monotonous tone.

Edelgard even turned it into a line that Yuri had probably been concerned with, that she would sing below The Rightful King's pleas, "So that none will suffer I must forfend—"

Dorothea answered her with The Rightful King's following line, "Living and dead, I will not forget those whom I defend."

"We're not doing that," Felix said, flat.

"Right," Annette agreed, which seemed to surprise him. "Resting voices."

"Resting voices," several people echoed.

They followed Dedue to a Duscur place for dinner, and wolfed down their wraps as they waited in line at a club that might be large enough to accommodate their large group.

"You didn't bring your date?" Lorenz asked Felix.

"We're not dating," Felix said, as if on instinct. He thought a moment. "Wasn't this just for cast?"

Lorenz shared a frown with Hilda before he assured Felix, "I doubt anyone would have complained even if you'd brought someone unrelated to the production. We'd have been happy to—"

"Don't listen to him," Claude said, turning from Leonie so he could wrap an arm around Lorenz. "Or I mean, do, because you could have brought anyone you'd wanted, but also don't because Lorenz just chickened out of asking the other make up artist to join us and hoped they'd have tagged along with Mia."

Felix snorted.

"That's not what happened," Lorenz objected.

"Oh, sweetie," Hilda contributed with a pout. "That's exactly what happened."

"We just got to talking, and I got distracted," Lorenz contributed.

"You forgot?" Felix asked, aghast. Hilda brought her hands to her lips, failing to hide her amusement.

"It didn't come up," Lorenz countered.

"That's not better," Claude said, shaking his head. Lorenz shrugged him off and flicked his chest with all four fingers.

"Fat lot of good friends like you are."

The second floor of the club was open to the elements, archways acting as windows to the brisk wind of evening, and the bright shine of sunset. The breeze and drinks were welcome, Mercedes, Dorothea and Hilda taking turns sitting with their pitchers, yellow with alcohol and pink without, to protect them just in case.

Hilda found herself distracted throughout the night, watching Claude as he dipped Lorenz, and nearly dropped Dimitri, and joined Dorothea in a samba that she and Annette were soundly better at.

They danced together only twice, the first time early in the evening before the dancers and the night had hit their stride, when there was more laughter and embarrassment in their fun than indulgence. The second time had been later in the evening, when he was flush and tipsy, to a ballad that had them swaying slowly with his hand politely between her shoulders. She'd thought about stepping closer into his space, resting her head on his chest, facing the brunt of his sweat and his cologne, but hesitated — partially because of their working relationship, but mostly because Sylvain and Mercedes had whistled about the way Hubert had held the small of Edelgard's back and she'd stretched back in a smooth, flowing dip.

It was maybe an hour later that Claude found Hilda seated at a table by a south-facing archway, the dim red of the western horizon a memory of the now fallen sun, the deep blue to the east twinkling with a few visible stars over a small lake and parkland.

"You having a good time?" Claude seemed more sober now than earlier, unlike some of their friends, and Hilda smiled softly, glad of his attention.

She nodded and ran her fingers under her eyes. "Just tired. Worked early before practice, and will again tomorrow."

"I'm glad you made it," Claude said sweetly, and Hilda rolled her eyes as she sucked on a straw from a cup that was mostly ice.

"No one would have missed me," she contributed, her gaze darting to where most of their colleagues were gathered, some of their friendships spanning years and others only as long as auditions, but generally they seemed to feel closer to each other than she really felt to them. So far, anyway.

She felt slower at forming these deep friendships that others seemed instinctually born with. She wondered if she'd know any of these people long enough for that to matter.

"I just said I would've," Claude insisted, crossing his arms as he leaned into the table. His hair was wilting around his face, framing thick eyebrows and dark lashes that half-hid his green eyes. He needed to curl them, Hilda thought idly.

She blushed and pushed at the ice in her glass with her straw. "You just owed me a few drinks for improvising with you in your audition."

Claude chuckled and hid his smile in his elbow for a moment. "That was kind of you," he allowed. He looked at her directly, and promised, "But it's not just that."

"No?" she peeped, half teasing, waiting on the joke or the reveal.

"No," he said at a whisper. "Would you want to come over to my place on one of our free nights? I could make you dinner? We could just run lines, or...?"

"Or?"

Claude blushed and they both snickered softly. He shifted back and forth against the table, forcing himself to sit up, running a hand over his chin, clean shaven for his part in their production.

"Or whatever you like."

His smile widened as she considered it, and she wondered if it was because he wasn't facing instinctual rejection or because he could tell that she was interested. When she nodded, his shoulders fell, as if suddenly relaxed. A lot of people had rules about not dating people they worked with, the risk of rejection and the pain of a breakup always had a chance of hurting a production, but she could see the value of taking a few moments of flattery too far. Even if Claude tucked his heart away from something more, even if they only ran lines, she was looking forward to it.

#hilclaude #claude von riegan #hilda valentine goneril #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #claude. hilda. mc. lorenz #faedolyn #mia cecile #only my original art was tagged for mia and i need to go through my posts and fix that later #the original intent of this au was for claude to ask fae out after the last showing of their performance but now that's lorenz's job i gues #i'm still ot4 obsessed. they'd all hook up #mia isn't even really in this but asdjfhgasdjm #if YOU (mutual) have an oc you want thrown in this au. let me know. it is a crack au #my writing #long post #i made this #the fanfiction i mean

13 notes · View notes

carnationcreation · 4 years

Note

Can you do a fem reader x carrie where the reader is one of the tech people at a concert 👉👈

TITLE: Help (Carrie Wilson x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Please check bio to see if requests are open before sending any in!

Request: (Tumblr) Can you do a fem reader x carrie where the reader is one of the tech people at a concert 👉👈

(Wattpad @thelizziebooks) Ok so the reader is often abused by her father because her mother left at a young age. Not to mention she’s also bullied by Carrie (sorry Savannah. Love her) notices her wince one day and asks her about it. That’s all I got.

Prompt/summary: Carrie confronts the reader about her dad after the school play.

Word Count: 1,659

Authors Note: I decided to combine these requests! <3 and woahhhh I didn’t intend for it to be this long whoops :)

***Warning*** mentions of abuse and bullying, please read with caution and if you’re experiencing anything like this please reach out for help! Stay safe y’all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Behind the scenes of school plays always got chaotic.

I tried my best to keep everything on track, being stage manager and all. Occasionally something crazy would happen that was just completely out of my control.

Today was one of those crazy days.

"Guys please don't hang off the set pieces! Can y'all move those boards over there? Arnold what have I told you about touching props that aren't yours? Go put it back EXACTLY where it came!"

It was officially opening night, call time was at 5 and most of the cast had shown up on time except for a select few.

"Nick said he was going to be a little late, car troubles."

I huffed and turned to Sophia the lighting director, "Fine. Tell him he better be in his costume as soon as he walks in, no messing around beforehand we're going to be pushing showtime anyways."

I turned back around to the soundboard to finish mic checks with my sound assistant.

It was finally 30 minutes till showtime. Everyone was in the dressing room getting ready or in the hallway behind the auditorium doing last minute rehearsals before the curtain went up.

"Hey girls," I said popping my head in the dressing room, "Places in 15. Wait, where's Carrie?"

The girls looked at each other before shrugging at me.

I let out a frustrated groan, "Someone call her, if she's not here then Savannah you're going on."

Her understudy let out a huff and turned to grab her cellphone to call the missing diva.

As I turned to walk down the hallway a very mad Carrie came storming down.

"Where have you been?"

She turned to me with a death glare and snapped, "Car troubles."

"Ugh why is everyone saying that tonight?" I groaned.

I tried to turn away but just as I did Carrie grabbed my wrist tightly, "I could've just not shown up. You're lucky I even did."

The action made me hide my face out of habit, when I finally grounded myself I ripped my wrist out of her grip before taking off down the hallway trying to rub the pain away and shake off the panicked feeling in my chest.

The show went on without a hitch. Luckily Carrie could get into costume and wig quickly so there wasn't any delay in opening. After curtain call I quickly cleaned up my stuff, saying goodbye to our drama teacher as she left for the night leaving me to check the dressing rooms to make sure no one else was here before I left.

The boys room was a wreck, tomorrow during class I should make them clean it out. Gross.

I check the middle dressing room reserved for anyone who didn't want to be in either girls or boys only dressing room. I turned the lights off before moving on to the last one.

I barely missed her, if she wasn't wearing the bright yellow dress I wouldn't have seen her sitting on the counter.

"Carrie? What are you still doing here?"

She frowned, "I wanted to ask you something."

"What Carrie?" I huffed lightly.

"I'm just trying to be nice," she rolled her eyes.

"You're never nice to me," I said, grabbing my keys off the hook on the wall, "And it's getting late, I wanna get home. What's your question?"

"You winced."

"What?"

"Earlier when I grabbed your wrist, you winced. I didn't mean to hurt you but I didn't grab it hard enough to truly hurt you. What's going on?"

I sighed and went to turn the lights off, "Nothing Carrie. I don't see why you even care."

Carrie hopped off the counter and walked out the door I was holding open, "Can't you just tell me? For once I'm worried about you."

"Yeah, and that one time is completely random."

"(Y/n)," she said, grabbing my wrist. Out of instinct I winced and immediately tried to cover it up by pulling my arm out of her grasp but then she held on a little tighter. It didn't hurt. In fact, it was almost... gentle.

"What Carrie? I wanna go home."

"Not till you tell me what's going on," she said, her eyes seemed to glue to something on my shoulder, her free hand reached forward and pull down the collar of my shirt past my right shoulder revealing a purple bruise I had tried to keep covered for tonight.

"(Y/n)-"

"Carrie it's just from working on the set pieces-"

"Bullshit," she snapped, "It wasn't there yesterday when you were wearing that halter top. Don't lie like this (Y/n)."

I rolled my eyes, "I don't even see why you care."

Her eyes went soft as I finally pulled my arm from her grip.

I turned to walk away.

"I see you walk to the bus everyday."

I stopped and looked back at her, "What?"

"You pass by my house when you're walking to the bus everyday. And walking home. Everyday I see you linger outside like you hate going home. I noticed it a while ago, but tonight just confirmed my suspicions. (Y/n), he hits you doesn't he?"

Tears welled up in my eyes, "Carrie just stay out of this."

"(Y/n)-"

"No Carrie, I don't need pity. Especially from you."

I couldn't describe the look in her eye, "(Y/n) it's not pity it's concern. Please just let me help-"

"I don't need help. Especially after all you've ever done to me. Just leave me alone."

And with that I turned on my heel and rushed outside.

The next day I wore a chunky turtleneck sweater into class. Carrie's eyes immediately flew up when I entered the room, falling directly to the shoulder that was completely covered up. Class seemed to go by like an eternity. The school day was even longer.

Finally it was the break before my last class of the day and I walked out of the bathroom stall, looking myself over in the mirror.

"Green's a pretty color on you," Carrie said, she was standing two sinks down from me. Staring at the spot on my shoulder again.

I sighed, "Thanks."

"(Y/n) please-"

"I told you to stay out of it."

"You need to get help, it's just going to keep getting worse and you know it."

"He's in rehab," I sighed, placing my hands on the sink and leaning forward.

She sighed, taking a pause to stare at me, "(Y/n), if you need a place to stay you can always come to my house."

"I don't need anyone's help."

I flung my bag onto my shoulder before turning and practically running out of the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know why tonight was worse, but it just was. Maybe it was because I knew someone knew what was going on, or maybe it was because he pre-gamed with his friends before going out to the bar.

When he got drunk he got... rowdy. If I was in his way in the kitchen he'd shove me out of his way, sometimes making me hit the counter top. IF I didn't do the chores like I was supposed to he would give me a smack on the face. And in extreme cases he'd push me into the wall before barking at me to go to my room.

I've probably gotten a concussion before.

Tonight was different though.

It felt like he just didn't let up on me. First it was a smack over the dishes, then I didn't get him his drink fast enough resulting in being shoved into the wall. Finally the shove so hard I fell hitting my hand on the table and collapsing onto the floor left the wind knocked out of me. When I finally got my lungs working again I ran out the door. It wasn't until I got a few blocks away from my house that I realized my hand was bleeding badly.

I just walked. I didn't intend to go to her house, but here I was at the gate of the Wilson residence. I pressed the buzzer and waited.

"Who is it?"

"Hi Mr. Wilson, it's (Y/n). One of Carries friends."

Carrie finally came over the intercom, "(Y/n)?"

"Hey, um- sorry this probably isn't a good time. I can leave-"

"(Y/n) just come inside," she said, the gates finally opened and I walked up the driveway and onto the porch.

Carrie opened the door, seeing the bleeding on my right hand immediately.

"Oh my god (Y/n), what-"

The tears in my eyes must've given me away, because she quickly pulled me into a hug.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she whispered.

She lead me inside to the bathroom and sat me on the edge of the bathtub. She grabbed the first aid kit and gently cleaned the cut on my hand and put a giant bandage over it when she was done, "Hopefully you won't need stitches."

"Yeah."

She led me into her room and we both sat on the bed, she just watched me as I looked around the room to avoid her gaze.

"(Y/n), what happened?"

Tears finally started to slip as she pulled me into a hug again.

"It's okay, we don't have to talk about it right now. I'm just worried."

"It was bad Carrie, more bad than normal. I can handle it normally..."

"You shouldn't have to 'handle it'," she said softly.

I couldn't say anything because of the sobs that were racking through my body. She just held me and gently petted my hair until I finally calmed down.

"You can stay here tonight if you want to."

I smiled tightly, "Thank you."

"It's the least I could do," she said, "You really need to tell someone."

"I know... I'm just not ready."

She grabbed my left hand and gently squeezed it, "That's okay. But I'll be here with you when you are."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name please message me!

Taglist:

@thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @nicolewithasoul @homealone200 @hemmingsness @persephonequeenofthedead @bookfrog242 @itz-jas

@peachyxdream @catieiscute2001 @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @ashleyleblancx @alltimekp @wcnderwoo @unipanda1006 @disgustedchild @aberette13 @dpaccione @whyworry27 @number-0-iz @musicconversedance @owlgirl1209 @angelxfics @hamdehlesmis @marinettepotterandplagg @idkanymoremansstuff @spooky-season-bitch @chenellearose @voguesir @thegirlwholikestomanythings @mandiscadelinha @crybabyddl @jasm1nesdragons @daisiesforlacey @khiaraaa-in-spacee @harrys-bitch @bookdealer5 @blue21727 @echocharm17618 @actually-luke-patterson @trxnxtysstuff @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp imagine #carrie wilson #carrie wilson imagine #jatp carrie imagine #jatp #jatp carrie #jatp x reader #carrie wilson x reader

76 notes · View notes

miyaniacs · 4 years

Text

Mafia AU - Bokuto x fem!reader

Chapter 6 - Unexpected Events

Chapter 5 - You are mine. ; Index ; masterlist

warnings: mentions of death and blood

Tuesday, 7pm

Ushijima left about an hour ago, he stayed quite long after last night. Strange enough you had a feeling that he felt bad when he saw all the bruises he left on your body and how you frowned with every movement.

You sigh and fall down on your sofa, pulling your blanket over your legs.

Why have I chose this life again? You sigh and look over at the plush owl.

Yeah why have you? At first you could say it was as if you were forced. Ushijima saved you this one night, that still hunts your dreams. Until that night you’ve always been naive, walking around the city at night, partying until the next morning or waking up in some strangers bed.

That night you got into the car of those two guys, they told you they just needed to ‘talk with some of their guys’. You got out of the car with them, the ‘other guys’ already waiting for them, but as soon as they saw you something changed. “We got something for us to have some fun” the one next to you said and pushed you forwards, you stumbled on the hard ground. The other got closer and you knew what was going to happen to you, but then he came. You still remember his words: “You’re here to work and not to take advantage of some innocent girl. GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER NOW!”. Then a shoot, and the guy who was feeling you up just seconds before fall down next to you. Blood running put off the wound on his head. The next thing you felt was his arm around your waist pulling you up, protectively pushing you against him, the gun in his other hand. You can still feel the warmth that filled your body in that moment. You never felt so save before.

Ushijima took you home that night and stayed until you felt asleep. The next morning you woke up finding some fresh croissants in your kitchen together with his number, saying that you should text him. And so you did.. and he asked you for one small favour. This favour was 2 years ago. You got used to all the money, the adrenaline and the fun.

“I’m so sorry Bokuto.” You say and pull the owl into your chest, feeling the tiredness taking over your body you closed your eyes.

Wednesday, 2am

Your eyes shoot open. What was this noise? Is someone at your door? Yeah there is definitely someone banging on your door.

You grab your gun and walk over to your door.

“Y/n.. please tell me you can hear me.” Wait you know this voice, but it sounds different?

You look throw the door viewer and you see exactly what you feared to see.

Quickly you open the door and help Bokuto in. Blood dripping out of a wound on his arm, his right eye is swollen and all in all he doesn’t look good, probably due to the blood loss.

You guide him to your bathroom and he sits down on your toilet.

“Can you take off your shirt?” You ask him and he nods, taking off his shirt. You grab a long tweezer and some bandages. FUCK your disinfectants are empty. “Bo, I’m sorry but I need to get vodka, I forgot to stock up on my disinfectants.” You look back at him, “Take that towel and press against the wound.” Hurrying back to your kitchen you grab the vodka and come back into the bath only to find Bokuto passed out. “FUCK!” You exclaimed and quicks check his pulse.

Okay. Everything is alright. He just passed out. You quickly clean up the wound with the vodka, which eventually gets him back to reality. “SHITT” he groans. “I need to get the bullet out. Here bite on that towel.” You hand him the towel he was originally supposed to press on his wound.

Carefully you remove the bullet with the tweezers and sew the wound together. You’re really glad you volunteered for the ambulance when you were 18. After putting on the bandage, you finally look into his eyes.

“Bo, what happened?” Your eyes filled with sorrow.

“Nothing major, one of the gangs that worked for us though it was a good idea to act up.”, He took a sip out of the vodka, “but don’t worry, I took care of them.” He lazily smirks.

“Bokuto - “ you start but he interrupts you. “It’s fine really, I can go now if you want. Your apartment just was the nearest and I needed somewhere to go and you told me that you volunteered for the ambulance so, sorry if I caused trouble.” He gets up, his face twitched in pain.

Why do all of them have to act so tough. You can’t even count the times Tosh stood in front of your door, with several wounds barley able to walk - all the convincing it took you to made him stay, it was ridicules.

“Bokuto, please stay.” You stutter. He turns around and looks down at you. “Do you really want that?” He asks. You nod and take his hand leading him to your bedroom, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates at first but then took off his shoes and lays down.

“Do you need anything?” You ask him and he smiles. “Just you in my arms.” Your heart arches and you slowly walk towards him. You sit down next to him and he wraps his non injured arm around you to pull you down on his chest. After a few seconds you shift and wrap one arm around his waist, your head rests on his chest while you throw one of your legs over his.

“Who caused them?” He asks, his fingers tracing the marks Ushijima left on your collarbone and neck. You gulp, already looking for an excuse. “Wait never mind, just tell me if it’s something serious with this guy?” He mumbles his fingers now run through your hair. “I really don’t know, it’s mainly sex but I-“ you sigh, you’ve actually always been confused about what this thing between you and Tosh is. “It’s fine, that just means that I have to take more effort in now to make you mine.” You feel your cheeks burn at his words - ‘To make you mine.’.

As if you’re in trance you look at his eyes and push yourself up, to kiss him. Finally you feel his soft lips again. Switching the position you’re now sitting onto of him, deepening the kiss. You don’t know how much practice he got, but you’re melting in the kiss, both of you not wanting to break it. Soon after you need air, he gently stokes your cheek and gives you a perk on your lips. “We should sleep okay?” You whine in response. “No baby, we sleep now, we are not in the right state to get this more heated.” He chuckles as you mumbles something not understandable and cuddle back up on him. His arm pulls you tighter onto him, his face nuzzled in your hair, as you fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

Wednesday, 7 am

You wake up by someone calling your name.

“Hey, y/n.” Bokuto whispers in your ear while planting kisses on your temples. “Baby, I know you’re awake.” He laughs softly and you groan. “Just a few more minutes..” You mumble and cuddle closer to him, hiding your face in his chest, shielding your eyes from the morning sun.

“Baby.. You need to get up. You have a class at 9am.” He stokes your hair and looks at you lovingly. You move your head, eyes fluttering because of the light and place a kiss on his jawline.

“I’ll just skip it.” You close your eyes again but Bokuto takes away the blankets and now you’re freezing. “OMG BO?!” Your eyes are now fully open and you look at him disgusted. “You don’t need to care about my education” you huff. Yes, you’re grumpy in the morning. Especially with the lack of sleep and your needed caffein. “Go and get ready, I’ll make some coffee grumpy.” Bokuto laughs. “Wait, let me check your arm first.” You look at the bandage on his arm, which has a light red sport showing. “No, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He lies, and clearly you know that he does, but you don’t have the energy right now to discuss this topic any further with him so you just sigh and make your way to the bathroom.

Wednesday, 7:50 am

“Here.” Bokuto places the cup in front of you, while you scroll through your phone checking your messages. “Thank you Bo.” You smile, not lifting your eyes off your phone. “Should I drive you to your campus?” He asks and lifts his own cup up to his lips. “Would that be okay for you?” You now look at him. His hair is still messy, he has dark circles under his eyes, one of his eyes is still some colour of purple, his shirt isn’t buttoned up completely, leaving the upper buttons undone. “You look like shit.” You state. “Oh you were the one putting vodka on my wound, how do you expect me to look?” He rolls his eyes in a joking way before he adds ”besides I’d put on a different shirt if I were you. There is quite some discolorations showing.” You groan, remembering the mess Ushijima left on your skin and get up to put on a T-Shirt with a higher collar.

Wednesday, 8:40 am

You get out of Bokuto’s car after saying your goodbye and promising him that you won*t ignore his messages and be save and most importantly text him if you’d feel uncomfortable.

Walking towards the building your class is held in you receive a massage from Ushijima.

From: Tosh

Wait for me in the room after the lecture ends. We need to meet Kags at the Casino afterwards.

You reread the message for five times and the ‘wait for me in the room’ won’t make any sense.

“Hey Y/N!” Your best friends walk up to you and you great them putting your phone away. It’s Ushijima after all who knows why you need to wait there for him.

Wednesday, 9:15 am

The door opens and your faculty director walks in. “I’m sorry to announce that Professor Bernstein died.” All the student immediately start to whisper, all the crazies theories about his death coming up, “YET we quickly found someone who will take his place for the rest of the semester. Please welcome -“ you stop listening. You already know who he is, and now you know why your old professor has died all of sudden. You roll your eyes as Ushijimas lock with yours.

Wednesday, 1:30 pm

You told your friends that you need to talk with the Professor because of some essay you had to do. They just smirked at you “You don’t have to lie, we have eyes. He is hot as fuck, shoot your shot babygirl.”

Sadly you weren't the only one staying in the room. Around 10 other female students are circling the desk Ushijima leans against asking him question after question - or more likely flirting with him. You huff. As if anyone of them would have a chance with him. The black hair one with this extremely deep cut shirt takes a step forward and - puts her hand on his chest?

The more you watch her touching him, the more annoyed you get. You sigh loudly, getting attention. He smirks and tells the other girls off, which still try to stay ,but quickly run off as his presence changes, showing that that he was not kindly asking them.

He slowly walks up to you. “Why?” You just ask him. “It was the Boss’s idea. We’re all worried about your safety since this Bastard picked you up on the campus and also came to you last night.” By now he reached the sport you’re standing, hovering over you. You open your mouth to say something but he’s faster “Don’t worry, I know you’re just playing your role babygirl.” He gently stokes your cheek. “Shouldn't we go now? I bet the others are already waiting.” You grumble and add “You took long enough answering those questions - about what? If your muscles are real?” If you could take back your words you would. The last part was supposed to be your thoughts only. “Is my baby jealous?” He smirks. Yes, yes you are jealous. You’re not used to see other girls flirt with him that offensively. Usually when the two of you are around others it was visible for everyone that he was with you. “Now you know how I feel, when I see you with Bokuto. So just imagine how you’d feel if you know one of them spends the night at mine.” He whispers the last part in your ear. Your stomach twists simply by the thought of some other girl sharing a bed with him. Your lack of answers is enough for him to smile softly. “Exactly baby. But don’t worry. I don’t want anyone else than you.” he gently kisses the soft skin behind your ear. “Now let’s get going, the boss is waiting”

taglist ( open ) : @kageyamasbraincell , @theduvetpirate , @tendouthighs , @lilacshouko @softhourswithseb @theperksofcoffee @cuddlesslut @chromaticstudio @shhhlikeme, @kynyta @yammmers

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x y/n #bokuto imagine #bokuto x reader #bokuto headcanons #ushijima x reader #ushijima headcanons #hq headcanons

121 notes · View notes

fabulouspotatosister · 4 years

Text

Reset - Part Four: The Escape

a/n: No, this is not chapter five of Portal 2. Speaking of Portal 2, I should play that game again... Anyway, welcome to fourth, and penultimate (I love the word penultimate, it’s so cool) chapter of Reset! Please enjoy!

Word count: 4,764

Warnings: Mentions of blood, slight injury

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four: Hello!] [Part Five]

"Wake up, wake up -"

"Argh, come on, reset the system, reset the system -"

"Just let me save them!"

...

You open your eyes.

Human beings are complex machines. There are so many moving parts involved in keeping just one human alive. You've sometimes envied the alien species that you've met during your travels that function on so much less - some of them don't even need to breathe.

But you're human, almost unfortunately.

You inhale a lungful of water - it burns your throat and nose like water from a swimming pool. It hurts a lot, and you panic, thrashing around in the water that surrounds you. Your hand bangs against a flat surface in front of you, and your panic stops for a moment. You remember this - the dream inside the dream, the short vision of reality - you curl your hands into fists and start pounding at the surface in front of you.

Bang! Bang! The sound is hollow in the water. Your vision, though blurry from all the water in your eyes, clears a bit - the flat surface in front of you is glass, and not too far away from you, you think you can see the blurry shape of someone else, someone important -

Your panic returns with a vengeance. You keep on pounding at the glass. If you could scream, you'd be screaming. Your throat is still stinging and you're running out of air. You're running out of time.

Suddenly, the barrier slides down. All the water rushes out, taking you with it. You're left spluttering on the floor, soaking wet, and now you're aware of how cold the floor is. Metal, maybe?

You cough and press your palms to the floor. Definitely metal, you think, as you pull yourself up to your feet. You heave and wipe the water from your face, but your hand gets caught in a wire. You curl your fingers around the wire and pull - pain explodes behind your eyes, and the wire digs out of your temple. You feel something warm drip down your face that definitely isn't water.

You take in a deep breath when the pain disappears. There are tendrils at the end of the wire that curl into themselves once it’s out of your head – you let it fall to the floor, sparking.

You're forgetting something, you think through a haze, and you spin on the spot - and right in front of you, you see the Doctor behind the same pane of glass, also submerged in water. There's a strange contraption on his head that almost looks like a pair of headphones. The cable runs alongside where the Doctor is and into your now empty chamber.

"Doctor?" You rush forward and press your palms against the glass. It doesn't budge. You look up at him - he almost looks dead in there - and panic starts to rise up your throat again. "Come on, come on, open up!"

You start banging your fists against the glass, just like you did, but nothing seems to happen. You could wait for the glass to slide open, just like yours did - but that could have been a fluke. If he wakes up in there he's going to drown and you can't do anything about it.

You swear, and take a few steps backwards. Then you start to run at the glass, leaning your whole body forward. You doubt it's going to break, but you're going to try, damn it -

Just as your shoulder collides with the glass, it slides down. Water rushes towards you and the Doctor's limp form crashes into your arms, sending you both to the floor. The contraption on his head hits the floor with a loud crack and rolls off of his head. Your back hits the floor with a wet thump, and you don't think you can hear the Doctor breathing.

You push and roll him off of you. He's pliant against you, and your heart catches in your throat.

"Doctor, hey," you say, moving to lean over him. He's so pale. You gently slap your hand against his cheek and wince at how cold it is. "Wake up."

He's still not moving, and now you're terrified. You press your head against his chest and strain your hearing, trying to listen for something, anything - you think you hear the faint sound of his heartbeats. You sigh in relief, but it's a small comfort, because he's still not waking up.

You cradle his head in your hands, moving it around slightly. "Hey. Don't make me panic over here, you're not gonna like that."

Nothing still. You bite back a sob.

"SOMEONE, HELP!" you yell. Your voice bounces against the walls and the only response you get is your own echo pleading for help back at you. You brush back the hair on his forehead. He looks so calm, he could be just asleep, he's probably just asleep, but you're alone in a strange place and honestly -

"Hey, wake up, I need you," you beg. You rub your thumb against his cheek. "I don't wanna be alone here, we have to get out of here together, okay? Please wake up."

You just get silence from him. You squeeze your eyes shut and press your forehead against his, your own heart beating in your chest so hard it's started to actually hurt. Physically and emotionally.

"Please wake up. I know you can hear me," you whisper, and swallow thickly. Fear turns to desperation turns to courage. "I love you, okay? I love you, and if you don't wake up, I'm going to -"

"...what?"

Your eyes shoot open. The Doctor smiles weakly at you, his eyes shining with what you hope is just water. He reaches up to put a hand on your cheek. "What are you going to do?" he wheezes.

"Nothing," you breathe out, but you're smiling so hard your face might break. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and you have to admit it's a bit of an awkward position - the Doctor lying on the floor and you kneeling beside him - but he's here now, and completely alright, and that's what matters the most to you. "I hate you."

The Doctor shifts into a sitting position and presses his face into the crook of your shoulder - "No, you don't."

You sit there for a moment. Both of you soaking wet, cold, and a little bit out of it, but alive and together. You feel the Doctor shake slightly in your arms, and he mutters something along the lines of "we're alright," but you're not sure if he's comforting you or himself. When he pulls away, his eyes are still shiny.

"Wait." The Doctor's brow pinches, and leans forward to look at the side of your face. He lifts his hands to your temple and his fingers come away bright red. "You're bleeding."

"I am?" You touch the same spot and hiss in pain. "Oh. I am. Ow. Is it bad?"

"Yeah, it's bad," mutters the Doctor. You have to smile at his honesty. "You won't bleed out, but it looks deep. Are you feeling alright? Where'd you get that?"

You jerk your thumb behind him at the sparking wire still on the floor. It's only now you notice that it's covered in blood too, the red fading into the water all around it. You try not to feel sick at the sight. "I pulled that out of me."

"You pulled that out of you?" The Doctor's face morphs into one of mild disgust, and he turns around to take a look at it. He lifts it up and squints at it. "Oh, this is Gargontian technology. Direct link simulation. Taps right into your brain. Very painful, they used it as an interrogation tactic in their wars." The Doctor's voice trails off. "A whole world... in one little wire. No wonder it was so hard to control. I wish I had my sonic."

There's a loud hissing sound, then a clunk, and then the sound of something sliding open. You both turn around to see a redhead in a frilly pink dress, nervously holding her hands behind her back and standing on the balls of her feet.

"Michelle!" The Doctor cries, pulling himself up to his feet, then frowns. "Wait, no. Marlene. You look human."

The Doctor holds a hand out for you - you take it and pull yourself up, feeling rivulets of water run down your legs. Marlene grimaces, pulling away some of the layers of her dress. Underneath all the tulle is a blinking device strapped to her calf. Marlene puts her hands behind her back again and the device disappears under all the pink fabric.

"I like looking human," Marlene stutters, "and it's so easy to just use an asset you've already made instead of making a new one, and besides, humans are pretty cute -"

"Even with our less developed brains?" you tease, and Marlene flushes a bright red, redder than the hair of the body she's wearing.

"I take that back," she says quickly. "I underestimated you, when I put you under. I thought you'd be easy to control without a dampener. I was wrong."

You walk forward and pat Marlene on the shoulders. "Yeah, but you ended up being right in the end. You got us out. Thank you."

"Thank you. I never thought I'd hear that." Marlene shudders a little bit, her big eyes shining with tears.

She plunges her hand down the layers of her dress, fishing around for something - and she lifts out a familiar, screwdriver device. The Doctor's face lights up immediately. "I think this is yours?"

The Doctor practically snatches his sonic screwdriver out of Marlene's hands. He brings it close to his face, squeezing his eyes shut and smiling like an idiot. "I've missed my sonic!"

"Don't tell me you like the sonic more than me," you say, rolling your eyes.

"There's a special place in my hearts for the sonic," the Doctor replies. "Don't get jealous."

"I'll try not to."

"If you guys are done being cute," Marlene says, making her way to the exit of the room and peeking out the door, "we have to get going now. We don't have long before the Director notices you two are off the grid. Now come on, follow me."

Marlene's poofy pink dress is a huge contrast to the bare, metal hallways of the ship you're on. You can barely even guess where you are, and what time it is, although time is a bit of a given on a spaceship. The hallways are lit up with bright white lights that give everything a clinical feel. Every few steps, Marlene has to stop and peek through the doorways that divide the hallways. Her pink dress reflects the light and casts pink shadows on the floor of the ship.

"So, tell us a bit about the place," the Doctor says, clapping his hands together.

"The Director re-purposed the ship for the job," Marlene says. "She found it in a junkyard and stole it, then built everything on it and started collecting checks for simulation work. You guys were for a specific client."

"Hang on." The Doctor sniffs the air. His frown deepens. "This is a seventeenth century Gargontian mining vessel! You don't steal these things nor do they end up in junkyards."

"That's what the Director's told me." Marlene's voice is tight. "I haven't had a reason to think she was lying until she brought you guys in."

You glance at the Doctor - he meets your eyes, and you both exchange a look of confusion, though the Doctor's seems to be turning into one of understanding. He nods in Marlene's direction and you keep going, following Marlene through the shiny hallways.

Marlene pauses in front of another doorway. This one isn't opened - she leans forward, reaching out to open it, but pulls back quickly and keeps walking forward, a troubled expression on her face. "D-don't look in there," she calls back.

The Doctor stops completely in front of the doorway. "Right, what's in here?"

"Doctor, don't you think we should be following her?" you ask. Marlene hasn't noticed that you've stopped following her yet, still walking slowly forward.

"Sorry. Don't have the best track record for following instructions," the Doctor says quietly, pointing his sonic at the door. The door hisses as it slides open, and that noise is what startles Marlene - you hear her scream and her quick footsteps as she runs back towards the two of you.

"Guys, I told you not to open that -!"

The door slides open and you gasp, bringing your hands up to your mouth.

The room's full of chambers - glass chambers, full of water like the ones that were holding you and the Doctor, and full of people. Every chamber has someone in it - different kinds of aliens, some humanoid and some not, all suspended in water and all of them paler than death.

You rush to one of the chambers and press your hands to it, looking up at its occupant. Every single one of them has that wire embedded in their temple too; their skin all discolored from how long they've been suspended. You feel sick – these people are all like you, stuck in a dream they don’t want to be in – and you press your hands to the glass again like it’s going to magically slide down and free everyone.

"We have to help them," you mumble. "We have to get them out, too."

You hear Marlene make a strangled noise behind you. "I can't."

You whip around to face her and she shrinks. "What do you mean, 'I can't'? You got us out, you have to help them too! Why can't you -"

The Doctor whispers your name, moving to stand next to you. "She can't help them because they're dead."

Your stomach turns. The idea of dying in the simulation becomes a lot more real, and you reach out for comfort - you find the Doctor's hand already there, because it always is, and you feel a little bit calmer.

"It's what would have happened to you," Marlene says shakily, wiping her face. "The direct link means direct access - and direct access means you can just -" Her voice breaks off, the poor, poor girl - you let go of the Doctor's hand and reach out to her, but she shrinks away again.

"But I saw. I got in their heads. I found out what life was really like." Marlene's voice grows quieter and quieter, until you can barely hear her. "So I tried to help them. And the Director saw, every time, and she..." She chuckles dryly and wipes her face again. She seems to flicker. "They weren't very good actors, let's say."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and Marlene shakes her head.

"It's doesn't matter. I'm getting you guys out of here if it’s the last thing I do." Marlene straightens and walks out of the room. Your eyes follow her as she walks out, and you feel something weighing on your heart.

You catch up quickly with Marlene - she's walking slowly, maybe because of the big dress she's decided to put on her disguise. She looks a little better when you see her face again, but her eyes are still red and her cheeks a little bit shiny.

"I'm taking you to the storage bay," she says, "that's where we've got your ship. The blue box. Once you can get in there, you're free to go. I'll cover your tracks for you, and make sure the Director doesn't see - she sees everything."

"That's great," you say, and she offers you a shaky smile.

"O-oh, it's no problem." She presses her hand against another panel. Again, it flashes green and opens - she peers inside the space, and the Doctor joins her.

"It is repurposed," the Doctor mutters. He points his sonic at the wires and squints at the readings. "That's a lot of output for a repurposed mining ship. Does it take a lot of power to keep everyone alive?"

"Yes," Marlene answers. She moves to close the panel. "Okay, we're all set. No one's watching, let's go-"

"Well, most of them are dead, so why do you still need the high output?" the Doctor asks. Something changes in his voice. "Gargontian technology doesn't need a lot of power to run simulations, and you're running assisted ones. And if we're the only ones left alive, that means you were only running one simulation. So why are you still using increased power?"

For a moment, you reach out to stop him - Marlene's a little on edge, he's scaring her - but he turns to face you, and you finally see his eyes. The Doctor isn't intimidating her - far from it. You've seen this Doctor before. He's grilling her because he knows something she's hiding, and he wants to know if he's right or not. Marlene swallows.

"We have to keep moving," she says quickly, and the Doctor sighs.

"Do you not get it?" the Doctor says, waving around his sonic to prove a point. "We've been walking for at least thirty minutes, and, if your Director is really constantly watching, then we should have been caught by now."

"Very smart, 11A, very smart. I think I underestimated you."

Marlene nearly jumps out of her skin at the voice that echoes through the halls. "Ma'am!"

"Marlene," the Director sighs. "What did I say about helping the subjects escape, hmm? We've been over this."

Just as the Director finishes her sentence, the doors at the ends of the hallway slam shut with a terrible bang. The white lights that illuminated the whole place turn into an ominous red that makes everything seem like it's been bathed in blood.

The Director's voice is low and soothing, if not for the fact that she was the one who trapped you here. "You're supposed to be helping me, dear. Why would you waste your chance? Be good, Marlene."

A form flickers into view - tall and thin, with features almost wolfish. It must be the Director - her skin is tinged lavender, and her fingers are much too long to be human. Her smile is stretched wide over her face.

“Not anymore.” Underneath the red lights, Marlene looks like a scorned princess - and when she raises her head, she wears the expression of one. She turns her head to face you and the Doctor, and takes a long look at the both of you, her expression morphing from fear to anger. "I'm doing it for love."

She stomps toward the open panel and gestures towards the wires. She makes a pulling motion with her hands. "Help me?"

You nod and reach in, wrapping your whole hand around the bundle of wires, and forcefully draw your arm back. The wires stretch and snap, leaving a gap of sparks in its place. The lights turn back into the safe, clinical white. The doors slide open gently, and Marlene brushes past the two of you.

The Director keeps on talking as Marlene leads you through the hallways. "You could meet me," she says, almost sounding bored. "I'm in the Central Hall. You could get answers."

The Doctor raises his hand slightly, as if meaning to say, “me, I want answers,” but Marlene shoots him a glare so scathing he keeps his mouth shut.

"Shut up," Marlene snaps. "They don't want answers, and never from you. Just let them go."

"Not a chance," the Director says. "I promised my client sixteen times the detail, four times the size on this simulation, and you're just going to throw it away? I was nearly there."

"Sometimes, it doesn't just work." Marlene keeps her eyes forward. "We're nearly there. Just a few more doors until the storage bay, and then you're free."

"Do you really think it's that easy?" The doors slam shut again and the floor underneath you shudders. You reach out and grab at the wall for support as you feel the whole hallway start to move – the Doctor stumbles on his feet, flails around, and grabs your arm for support. You hear a grinding noise, like the room is travelling on rails, and the lights flicker above you.

“Definitely repurposed,” the Doctor says, his eyes wide. “Rearrangeable hallways. I didn’t think about that.”

“I’m just right beyond that door,” the Director laughs. “Get ready for the big reveal.”

The door slides open, and smoke rolls out into the hallway. The room inside is barely illuminated, save for one large window that shows the expanse of space. You can just make out the silhouette of a figure sitting cross-legged in a chair.

“Not that big of a reveal, is it?” the Doctor calls out.

“Oh, I like you,” the Director croons, and then a bright light shines above her.

“Are you always this dramatic or have you been saving that for us?” you call out. You hear a faint chuckle.

“I liked you better as a housewife.”

“Sorry, it was boring,” you shoot back. The Director’s smile grows wider.

“Marlene, come here, be good,” the Director says, crooking a finger in Marlene’s direction. Marlene walks forward robotically, just one foot in front of the other, but you can see her shaking slightly. “I didn’t know you were this good at lying. I didn’t even know you learned to lie.”

The Director lifts up Marlene’s dress to show the device strapped to her thigh – and then she strikes it with a well-placed kick. Marlene’s form flickers, then shatters entirely. In her place is an almost exact replica of the Director, hunched over and wide-eyed, still holding on to the lower part of her body.

You gasp, and Marlene curls into herself at the sound.

“A perfect replica,” the Doctor says. “So what is she? A clone? A projection?”

“Why trust others with your work when you can ask yourself to do it?” The Director runs a hand down Marlene’s face. Marlene shivers, her eyes trained onto the floor. “I forget that Gargontian artificial intelligence is always learning. This one grew a conscience. This one learned empathy.”

“Yeah, things that help you care for others,” you say loudly. “I guess you don’t have a lot of that, trapping people in their own minds.”

The Director looks up at you. Her eyes are as cold as ice, and you shiver too. “I gave you what you wanted,” she starts, “I gave you the life you wanted with him.”

“Not like that!” you cry out. The Doctor’s gone quiet beside you. “It was never like that.”

“Oh?” The Director raises a brow, still holding Marlene’s face in her hands. “Did you not want him to feel the same as you did? It was your dream. A simulation based on your mind. You made him feel the way you wanted, in the end. Isn’t that how it works, Marlene?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marlene whispers, her voice thin.

Guilt feels like looking at Marlene’s tear-streaked face. Guilt feels like the Doctor’s silence beside you. You’ve already told him you loved him and now you’re scolding yourself again because he’s heard it a billion times before, hasn’t he? And none of the times he said it back were even real. You swallow, but keep your eyes trained on the Director. You open your mouth to retort, but before you can speak –

“Actually, that was all me,” the Doctor says. You look at him, your eyes wide – he just shifts to stand closer to you. “Well, mostly me. Sans the being human bit. But I had a hand in that.”

You can’t do anything but stare, and stare, and when he turns to glance at you for a moment, he lifts his lips in the barest hint of a smile, a comforting smile, before it’s gone in favor of a clenched jaw and fire in his eyes. “Now, let Marlene go, let us go, and we won’t cause you any trouble. I’m sure you’ll find business elsewhere.”

“Let Marlene go?” The Director barks out a laugh, lifting their gaze to the ceiling like a haughty rich woman. “How can I? I control her. She won’t try anything.”

Marlene shudders, and then stills. She takes a deep breath in, growls and wrenches her face out of the Director’s grip. “But I can try this.”

The lights go out. Long, thin fingers wrap around your wrists and pull you away, out of the room and away from the Director. You think you hear the Director screech, a long keening sound. The thin fingers on your wrists turn into short, more human ones – the lights flicker in again and Marlene, back to her red-headed, is standing in front of you. She’s gripping your wrist and the Doctor’s wrist, and she looks terrified.

“There’s not much time. I’ll move the rooms, get you closer to the storage bay -” She lets go and lifts up her skirt to look at device on her calf – it’s sparking, and so is Marlene’s hands if you look close enough. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. You have to run.”

“We’re not leaving you here,” you protest.

“I can’t leave.” Marlene’s face flickers between her human one and the Director’s face. “I want you guys to leave. Doctor, can you…” She thrusts her leg out at the Doctor, and the Doctor sonics the device. It stops sparking, and she nods at the Doctor.

“It’s a temporary fix, it won’t last for long,” the Doctor says. His eyes are shiny again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, and that’s why you have to hurry.” Her form flickers again, and suddenly it’s like looking in a mirror – she looks exactly like you, down to the trail of blood running down your temple that’s drying now. She smiles at you, then nods at the Doctor. “Get out of here. I can distract the Director for a while. Go.”

“Marlene, don’t-”

“You said you could stay with someone forever and never have to stop moving – so don’t stop moving.” Marlene takes your hand in hers, and she smiles at you with your mouth but her eyes. “Good luck.”

The Doctor grabs your hand and pulls you away gently – “Come on,” he says, softly, but you’re just looking at Marlene.

“I haven’t thanked you enough,” you whisper.

Marlene nods at you. “Just once was enough. Now go.”

And so you run, because that’s what you do best. Marlene disappears behind you – you don’t even hear her run away, because you’re too busy listening to the way your feet thud against the metal floor and the blood rushing in your ears, roaring like an ocean. You let that ocean wipe away your tears, and you keep running, the Doctor’s hand in yours.

Through it all, you manage a laugh. The running is what you’re used to, the thrill of the chase and the thrill of escape, and you laugh through it. The Doctor laughs too, and it’s a warm sound. It’s enough to make you forget that you’re running for your life and that you’ve just left someone behind.

You don’t even notice the doors slide open in front of you. The TARDIS comes into view, blue and beautiful – the Doctor reaches out and snaps his fingers. The sound echoes, and the doors swing open, and you both fall into the TARDIS together, crashing into the floor holding each other’s hands.

Relief still humming in your blood, you breathe out, “We’re out.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor says quietly, “we are.”

Are we going back to normal now? That question goes unspoken, and unanswered.

There’s a moment where the blood stops roaring in your ears, and you’re left cold. It all drains away from you. The excitement, the exhilaration, and all that’s left is that sadness. It leaves you in a single sigh, all of that emotion leaving in one breath, and oh, you’re so cold.

“You’re shaking,” the Doctor murmurs. He lifts you into a sitting position and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back in soothing motions that do nothing to ease the chill that’s settled into your heart. You try to ignore the way you can hear his breath stutter like he’s cold, too. “You’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. We’re home.”

You believe him.

Taglist: @starlingelliot, @hufflepuff-always-and-forever, @littlemissslytherinprincess, @just-a-nat

#a real surprise!#with tragic consequences #and real confetti! the good stuff #our last bag! :D #jess writes #doctor who #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #11th doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #made an edit! i missed something :0

170 notes · View notes