#but feel free to insert whatever language you feel suits him

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Series Masterlist

taglist: @ya-khochu-umeret (anyone else feel free to join!)

Warnings: violence, anxiety, death, graphic descriptions of violence, nightmares, language

A/n: i’m like so tired of defending my billy love 😭😭and completely not ready to go back to school, but here’s an update lol

Chapter three: you’ll be alright

Billy’s foot taps anxiously on the cold linoleum floor, the only sound in the room beside the shifting of the rubber-suited peacekeeper at the door. He’s been watching the clock as it ticks forward, time moving in spurts of closed eyes and counting to ten.

When he woke up this morning, it wasn’t to the sound of rain like the morning before. No, he was forcefully woken up by the blare of an alarm and the lights clicking on. Breakfast was a rushed, uncomfortable event, the reality of today settling into each of them when Billy and Heather were told to hold out their right arms in order to insert the trackers that let gamemakers keep tabs on their location. Afterward, they were escorted to the hovercraft in order to take them to wherever the arena has been built this year. Every year it's different, from tundras and rainforests to islands and rolling hills. Billy doesn’t know what he wants it to be. All of his thoughts seem distant and fuzzy.

Goodbyes to Hopper and Dmitri had been rushed and frantic with whispered advice and teary compliments. Neither one of them said anything about seeing Billy again, which he appreciates. If they don’t have expectations, they can’t get let down. It’s what he would do if he were them.

Ever since he’s gotten into this room, no one besides the silent peacekeeper has entered. The white-tiled wall is starting to blur together, and the crack in the ceiling is starting to look like a girl in a dress. Time, as a general concept, has lost its punch after being in this room. He’s guessing that’s the point, though. Might as well start the mind games as early as possible.

Billy’s not going to give in to the madness yet, though. He passes the time playing with the necklaces around his neck, silver and gold charms jingling against each other.

He’s leaning his head back against the cool tiles of the wall when the door opens with squeaky hinges and heavy boots enter. “How’re you doing, killer?” asks a familiar voice.

Kali walks over to him somberly, examining his current state, splayed across the chair, legs outstretched. “How was the wait?”

Billy stands up, his chair kicking on two legs as it’s pushed backward. With quick footsteps, he paces around the room and says, “I swear, I’m going to fucking run out that door if-”

“If what? They don’t put you in the arena right now? Come on, Hargrove, don’t pull that empty threat shit on me. Appreciate safety while you can,” says Kali, brushing his anger away with a brush of her ringed finger. “Now, do you really want to spend your last moments in this lovely room sulking and puffing?”

Billy sighs and nods, settling back into the chair. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she says easily. “Put this on and then I’ll give you my thoughts.” Clothes are shoved into his hands, and Billy is pushed into the corner of the room. He does as he’s told, donning the thin black cloth. It’s fairly similar to the athletic material he was given for the practice days, but this time it comes with a thin black jacket.

“So, I would say, based on the thin material and jacket that you’re going to be going into a fairly temperate environment, so not too much rain or cold, which is good. There’s not a lot of sun protection gear either, which I would count on meaning trees or some other shade.” Billy doesn’t know how knowing this is going to help him, but he appreciates the heads up anyway. “They gave me these for you.” From a box in the corner, she produces a pair of brown spiked boots with rubber soles and a glossy layer of paint.

“Hiking boots?” he asks, running his hands over the thick laces.

“Bingo,” she confirms. “Hopefully whatever rocks or uneven ground they have planned offers some shelter, which is what I would recommend going for first. The first night is going to be the hardest to make it through because that’s before the careers remember that they can die too.” He takes the boots and laces them onto his feet, leaving his ratty cracked leather ones under the chair for someone to burn. “Tell me honestly now. How are you holding up? You’re heading into a lot.”

“My headspace’s been better,” Billy says, running a hand through his hair and rubbing at his eyes. “But I’ll hold up.”

“Yeah,” agrees Kali, tapping him on the shoulder awkwardly. “I’m sorry it has to be like this.” Billy sees the strength in her eyes and the pain hidden beneath a layer of darkly colored makeup.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, it just is,” says Billy. He can’t keep the sadness out of his tone, laced with anger and spite. There’s no way he can change his situation, no reason to be angry at this point. It’s done, and it doesn’t matter that it hasn’t started yet. Best care scenario, he wins and goes home with even more nightmares.

With a hand on his arm, Kali leads him to a platform in the corner of the room where he’ll stand to be raised into the games. She puts a ringed hand on his shoulder and looks into his eyes. “Give ‘em hell, Hargrove. I’m rooting for you.” She steps away and a glass wall comes down from the ceiling, encasing Billy on the pedestal. The glass is smooth and thick, and when Billy reaches out to touch it, it’s cool against the pads of his fingers. Kali nods at him from outside the glass, mouthing good luck.

From somewhere, a speaker announces to him that he has ten seconds for everyone to clear the room before the platform raises and Billy is inserted into the arena.

He tries to say goodbye through the glass, but Kali is facing the other direction and walking out of the room. The peacekeeper doesn’t let her look back.

He’s left alone in the room on unsteady feet and with hands that shake. Underneath his boots, the ground pushes him upwards towards the ceiling. Right before he’s about to hit his head, it opens up and he’s hit with streaming sunlight and the sound of birds singing. As he gets closer to the top, he can see a green meadow dotted with white wildflowers. In the center of the meadow, there’s a shining metal structure shaped like a giant cornucopia, supplies stacked throughout the hollow inside. The further away from the cornucopia the worse and less frequent the weapons and food get, but in the middle, there are weapons of all kinds, swords and knives gleaming in the sun. They’re piled high and intimidating.

Billy remembers Hopper’s words, whispered into a hug. “There’s going to be a place where they put all of the weapons and supplies. Don’t go for it, it’ll be a bloodbath. Run, as fast as you can, to wherever there’s shelter.” Shelter. On the edge of the meadow, there is a green forest with tall trees that grow taller into the depth of the arena. That’s the best he’s going to get.

The whole arena fills with the voice of a gamemaker. “Welcome to the hunger games. You may step off your pedestals in sixty seconds, starting now. Sixty, fifty-nine...” Billy decides to tune out the countdown, at least until the numbers get close to zero. There’s no reason to stand there and listen when he can use the time to plan.

Billy sees a backpack not too far away from him and starts planning. He has forty-five seconds. He looks around for Heather but doesn’t see her. That means she’s probably on the other side of the cornucopia, blocked from his sight by the metal structure. They can meet in the middle, then he thinks they should be able to continue on together through the woods.

That is if they can make it to each other. Billy knows that this part of the game is brutal, commonly referred to as the bloodbath. The weaker tributes don’t make it far past this point usually, but Billy’s not going to let that happen. He won’t die on the first day.

The path to the backpack is fairly straightforward and evenly distanced between him and the girl next to him, he just needs to get there first.

Twenty-seconds. His mind wanders briefly back home, with the rickety bed and moth-eaten blanket. The garage, where everyone knew each other’s names and let Billy take off early to pick up Max. That old transport where he would take Max. Screaming matches with Max when they were the only ones home that would end in slammed doors and then peace after ten minutes of cooling off.

All of those things will be gone in ten seconds. Gone with his name read over a speaker. Gone when a canon sounds and announces the death of Billy Hargrove or when a crown is placed on his head.

He’s not going to come out of this the same person. He sees flashes of the future, horrifying images of him drunk in a lonely house, broken bottles, and the smell of mildew in the walls. He sees himself having to come back to the Capitol year after year and take some poor kids to their deaths. And that’s if he wins.

Ten more seconds flash by like the images in his mind. He’s not going to let those things happen to him. If he dies, then he’s already succeeded.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t really want to die.

The count hits one and the buzzer goes off. Around him, the others start to move, sprinting in all directions. Billy takes a breath and does the same, jumping off his platform and rushing to the backpack. Billy dives for it before anyone else can get to it, shoving the brown-haired girl out of the way. The impact of his shoulder against the ground is jarring, but it grounds him. Focuses him.

He looks up from his position on the ground and sees the same girl lunging toward him, arms outreaches towards the backpack. Using his knees digging into the ground for leverage, he throws himself to the side and, while she’s getting back on her feet, scrambles away, stumbling towards Heather.

When he looks back to see if she’s still chasing him, he sees her on the ground, blood pouring from a wound in her chest. Her movements are jerky and aborted, struggling to get back on her feet. She falls face forward and lays still.

He allows himself a moment of horror before he trips over himself, throwing the backpack over his shoulder. Heather is still behind his sights, but he continues his progress in her direction.

The grass is dewy and slippery underneath his boots, and some of the others seem to be struggling to gain their footing. They’re getting struck down one by one in various gruesome ways. Cut through the heart. Shot in the eye with an arrow sticking out. Beat to death with a rock.

Blood turns the wildflowers red. Billy keeps running towards Heather, a single goal that holds him away from panic and terror. There’s a ringing in his ears, that covers the sounds of screams and moaning pain. It might even be covering up the sounds of his own ragged breathing. He doesn’t know. All he can hear is a continuous, shrill noise.

He passes bodies, more than he’s seen before. Kids, staring wide-eyed and lifeless up at the blue, cloud-pillowed sky. The only thing he can do is keep moving forward. Towards Heather. Towards the only thing he recognizes out here.

In the distance, Heather’s familiar loose curls come into Billy’s sight. There’s someone next to her, coming towards her. Billy doesn’t think she sees the other person, because she’s looking at Billy and stepping toward him.

Without thinking, Billy sprints towards her. He has to get there in time.

Three steps away. The glint of a knife shining in the sun. Heather gasping, eyes flying wide open. Blood on her hands. Billy’s lunging to get to her.

Heather pulls the knife out of the other boy and he crumbles to the ground. For a second that seems to last a lot longer, Billy and Heather stand opposite him and stare at the unmoving form. Their eyes meet, Heather’s scared and immense. Billy’s scared and hardened.

With their hands grasped tightly between them, Billy and Heather run towards the forest on the edge of the meadow.

The ringing in Billy’s ears has calmed to a dull white noise that lets him hear his own breathing. It’s rattling and unsteady edged with hysteria and sobs. He thinks Heather is trying to tell him something, but he can’t tell. All he can do is follow where she leads, her hand guiding him deeper into the woods where the light dims.

Green forests pass by, sunlight streaming through the leaves. Heather walks a step behind him, spear strapped across her back. Gone is the easy banter, the jokes, and the laughter. Anything they had, any hope, is gone, stripped away by the death they just witnessed.

The sound of cannons fills the air, a booming eulogy to the kids who died within the first minutes of the games. Eleven shots were fired. Eleven kids dead. Thirteen left. “Let’s stop up there by those trees. We should figure out what supplies we have,” suggests Heather dully, stepping in front of him and leading him.

“Sure,” he agrees. There isn’t much else to say. They sit down in a small grove of trees, back against the bark. It digs into the thin fabric at his back and scrapes his skin. It’s grounding. Calming in a way only pain can be.

The contents of the backpacks are dumped into the floor, scattering across the dirt. With all of the food combined, they have a few packs of dried meats and not much else. as well as two water bottles, a hunting knife, some rope, and flint.

“Not too bad,” Heather says, riffling through the food. “But we shouldn’t eat soon. There needs to be a balance between keeping our strength up and wasting food. These are high in protein, which will help, but I wouldn’t count on using these alone. At some point, we’re going to need more.”

“Yeah,” Billy agrees, content to let her talk through it. “Sounds good.” There’s only so much to say.

“Should we do something?” Heather asks uncertainly, repacking the backpacks methodically.

“Fuck if I know.” Billy grabs one of the knives and twirls it between his fingers, testing its weight and tucking it into his backpack.

“Language,” chastises Heather absentmindedly. “Remember what they told us. Killing each other is okay, but cursing is a no.” Sarcasm drips from her voice as she picks at one of her nails.

“Right. Makes sense. Sorry, guys.” Billy looks at what he hopes is one of their hidden cameras and gives it a thumbs up. “I’ll keep the language to a minimum.” Everyone watching knows it’s a lie. He won’t. Somewhere, Hopper is sighing and reaching for a bottle.

“I guess we might as well keep walking,” Billy says, but it sounds more like a question. Heather takes his hand again and they choose a direction. The only noise is the soft sound of leaves rustling in the wind. There’s no trace of any other tributes around them, and Billy doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse. It certainly doesn’t help his paranoia.

They settle into an easy rhythm, their steps in sync. Billy leads ahead of Heather, who covers their steps as best she can. The ground is spongy and muddy in some places, and Billy has a suspicion that they won’t make it out of here without some heavy rain.

He’s not sure how much time passes, but the sun settles low in the direction they’re coming from, seeping the woods in golden light.

“Billy,” Heather says weakly from behind him. He turns around slowly, question on his lips, but it dies as soon as he sees the blood on Heather’s lips. “Run.”

He doesn't want to run. What he wants to do is rush towards Heather and try to stop the blood pouring from her throat, a horizontal red smile above her collar. It won’t work, he can tell she’s already lost too much, but he would try it anyway. The wet, gasping noises coming from her don’t sound promising either, but she’s looking at him with her blue eyes dull of terrified propelling. He wants to close his eyes against the shape of her lips mouthing the word please, but he’s helpless to look away. With the last shaking breath, Heather’s body goes limp in the arms of her attacker, no light left in her eyes.

Billy’s eyes flick up to the girl holding onto Heather’s body. Her bright red hair and manic laugh give her away as the career from District One. Without ceasing her laughter, she kisses Heather’s slack face and runs her hand through the blood covering Heather’s body.

She doesn’t stop smiling as she approaches Billy slowly, Heather’s body dropping to the ground with a sick thud. “You’re Harrington’s boy. You don’t know how lucky you are that he already claimed his stake on you. I’m Shine.” She holds out her blood-covered hand for him to shake, shrugging when he doesn’t accept it. “You’ll probably want to remember that name.” With a wink, she starts to walk away, humming as she licks the blood off her fingers. The three other tributes with her follow behind, snickering at Billy’s dumbstruck expression.

“Oh, and Hargrove? You might want to find good old Steve before tomorrow because there’s only so long we can wait. I look forward to seeing you again, whether you’ve shacked up with Steve or not,” she calls over her shoulder, sending him a vicious smirk.

It’s easy to let anger control him now because if he doesn’t, grief is going to consume him from the inside out. He knows from too much experience that anger can hold him upright for a while.

First, though, he takes slow steps toward Heather. Her arms are cast outwards, her legs at awkward angles from when Shine dropped her. Stifling a gasping sob, he gets down on his knees next to her and cradles her in his chest.

No tears fall from his eyes, but he clenches them tightly shut anyways. They’re not going to make him cry, not that easily.

Not that anything about this is easy. Dropping Heather’s hand isn’t easy, and neither is laying her head down in the leaves, tucking the blood-soaked hair away from her face.

Billy’s on his knees, begging with cracked lips for her to come back, hunched over, bending like a tree in the wind. But he knows he can’t stay here, out in the open, where anyone can see him. Where he can wind up just like Heather.

Billy’s heard people say that, in death, people wear expressions of peace, that they find peace in the last moments. It’s bullshit, he realizes now. The dull brown of Heather’s eyes isn’t peace, it’s absence. Just because she isn’t biting her nails or bouncing her leg doesn’t mean she’s at peace. Billy saw her expression before she died, and it was a far cry from calm.

This isn’t peace.

*

The light has long since faded, dusk draping the forest. The trees flutter, dark emerald jewels brushing against each other and against Billy. He takes one step at a time, no destination or plan. Billy does know that he can’t stop moving, he has to continue the pace. There are horrors behind him, ones he wants to push further away from. Heather’s body isn’t there anymore, he saw the clawed hand reach down and carry her away, but her blood still stains the leaves.

It’s somehow more peaceful without the brazen and noisy presence of light. He can let his thoughts slip away like the moonlight between the branches, push them out with even breaths and measures steps.

As he’s walking, the gentle sound of rushing water fills the air. Billy follows the sound and comes to a small clearing. Multi-colored wildflowers decorate the bank, clear water tripping over rocks and turning sharply to the opposite direction. It’s beautiful, he recognizes. Stunning and comforting and so very gentle. It doesn’t belong here.

There’s a small cave off of the river, hidden enough if he covers the entrance with some of the vines and leaves laying around the river. It won’t work in the daytime, but under the guise of darkness, he thinks it’ll be okay for a place to sleep.

Not that he’s going to get any sleep. Not while there are people out there, waiting to do to him what they did with Heather.

Brown eyes and brown hair. A striped dress. Blood-stained cheeks.

Heather’s gone. Billy dimly recognizes this, in some part of him, but the rest of his brain fights to catch up. It helpfully supplies images, a repeating cycle, of her eyes losing their light, losing her fight. Of blood dripping from her throat and down her shirt, creating a sticky mess.

He wasn’t there for her. She was right there, steps away from him, and he couldn’t save her. He could just stand there and watch the life drain out of her, not moving to help her. For how much he’s always prided himself in never backing away from a fight, today, he wasn’t able to do that. Not until it was too late.

His thoughts spiral further, allowing no room for self-grace, the fickle and peculiar subject. Without respite, he punishes himself thoroughly from the confines of the rock walls. Flashes of who Heather was haunst his memory. Her laugh, loud and unapologetic. Her smile, wide and cunning. Her immediate acceptance of his bad graces and her willingness to move past his bad moods. Not a lot of people had the strength to do that. Most people call it quits and assume what they want to: Billy’s an undeserving and crude asshole who doesn’t need anyone else. Somehow, she saw past all of those walls he put up, the ones that look like steel but are really made of paper. She was his candle out here, providing just a little bit of light in the utter darkness that surrounds him.

Billy is interrupted from his self-destructive thoughts by the sound of footsteps outside his cave. Running on pure instinct, he grabs the knife from his backpack and crouches low to move around the entrance of the cave, hiding as a shadow against the wall. As quietly as he can, he moves aside the makeshift curtain and peers through the opening.

Stumbling through the foliage and crashing around, Steve Harrington curses and looks around him, a hand covering his mouth. He’s carrying a backpack smaller than Billy’s and holding what looks like a large stick.

Logically, Billy knows that he should turn back towards the security of his cave and hide there until Steve passes. But Steve is alone and obviously freaking out a little bit, and Billy is in the same situation. He doesn’t have a friend anymore, the only person he knew is gone and not coming back.

Billy can’t be held accountable for his actions when Steve is right there, no one else is there to stop Billy from standing upright and holding his arms out to his sides. “Am I dreaming, Harrington, or is that you?”

In an instant, Steve has the stick in his hands, raising it by his head. He must realize who Billy is, because he cautiously responds, “Yeah, yeah, it’s me.” With narrowed eyes, Steve looks Billy up and down, his gaze softening at the red eyes and shaking hands. There’s not much Billy can do to hide that. “You’re not looking too good, Hargrove.”

“You don’t look so hot yourself. And I’m not in the mood to fight, so if that’s what you’re looking for, find someone else to be your plaything,” drawls Billy, grabbing his knife from where it was shoved in the back of his waistband. He won’t throw the first punch at Steve, but he’s not going to roll over either.

“It’s not- I’m not like that,” insists Steve. To prove his point, his hands drop to his sides, his posture still laced with tension but more relaxed. The bat drags on the ground where it dangles from his fingers.

“Oh, then you’re my angel,” Billy says dryly, leaning back against the wall of the cave. “Come to rescue me from the rest of your kind? That Shine girl is a menace.”

Heather’s blood on her hands. A sharp smile and bright red hair. That razor-edged laugh that came at the worst time.

Steve winces and takes a step toward Billy, his hands outstretched, reaching for him. “There’s nothing I can say to get you to trust me.” It’s not a question, thankfully, because Billy doesn’t have the brainpower to come up with an accurately snarky response. “So I’m going to show you. Look”-Steve sets down his bat on the grass, handle towards Billy-“I’m unarmed.”

“You’re also fucking insane,” Billy snaps, “if you think I believe that you don’t have any other weapons. I know for a fact that you can probably kill me without that at all.”

“I won’t,” promises Steve, taking another step towards Billy.

“Is that why you called dibs on me? Yeah, I heard about that. Want to explain what the fuck that means, pretty boy?”

You’re Harrington’s boy. You don’t know how lucky you are that he already claimed his stake on you.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours,” Billy grits through his teeth, standing up straighter as Steve gets closer.

He would give anything to be Steve’s, even if it was just for a moment. But based on the way Billy’s still holding his knife, he doesn’t think that it’s going to happen.

“I didn’t want anyone else to kill you,” Steve finally admits, raising the bat. In an immediate reaction, Billy draws the knife from behind his back and puts it to Steve’s throat, with no real intention of doing anything.

“Woah, calm down, killer. I’m just putting it away.” Steve demonstrates, raising the bat again to put it in the pouch of his backpack. Kali’s smile dances in Billy’s head. Killer. Does Steve know that she called Billy that? The thoughts are forced away when Steve’s voice returns hesitantly. “You want to take the knife away from my throat now?”

Billy does, with slow movements. The knife finds its place back in his backpack and he lets go of the thin material that makes up Steve’s shirt. “I don’t want to kill you either, by the way,” he admits. In his head, it’s monumental. This admittance, this honesty, doesn’t come easy. Not when the world is watching him and judging him however they seem fit. They could see this as a weakness and it might even be the thing that gets him killed.

But Billy can’t keep his wits around Steve. Not when he smiles like that, with big brown eyes and runs his hand through his hair, messing it up even more. Billy really hopes Steve isn’t perceptive, because he knows he’s doing a shit job at hiding the way his own mouth ticks up at Steve’s reaction

“So, we aren’t going to kill each other?” Steve asks cautiously. Hopefully. Hair falling into his face. Billy has to suppress the urge to move it back into place. He focuses on the question and pretends that he isn’t affected by the color of Steve’s cheeks. He didn’t know flush could be that pretty. He didn’t know anyone could be as pretty as Steve, but here he is.

“No,” responds Billy shortly. “Not today. I have better ways to spend my time than fighting with you, no matter how tempting the thought is.” It’s very tempting. Billy thinks he would pass out on the spot.

“Good,” breathes Steve. He must realize how close they actually are to each other, pressed together by the previous aggression because Steve clears his throat and steps back. Billy mourns the loss of his heat, despite the warmthof the air.

“We should sleep,” Billy suggests, giving Steve a reprieve from sarcasm and snippy remarks. “I’ll take first watch.”

“No fucking way,” laughs Steve, hands on his hips. “I’m not stupid.” Billy knows that, but he also knows that there’s no way he does anything to hurt Steve.

“I thought we established that we aren’t going to kill each other,” counters Billy, leaning against a tree. “Pretty boy, I won’t hurt you while you get some rest. I’m not a villain.” He hopes it’s the truth. Based on the look Steve gives him, it might be. Steve looks exasperated, yes, but also fond.

“I know that. Or, at least, I try and believe that.” Steve says it like he’s making sure Billy knows. Then, he narrows his eyes and points at Billy “You don’t make it easy, though. I mean, you had a knife to my throat a few seconds ago.”

“I thought you were going to bash my brains in with a bat.” There’s a moment of silence in between them, tension and challenge in the air. Billy relishes in it, wants to live in it, just on the edge of uncomfortable that has him on alert.

“That’s fair,” Steve finally concedes, holding his hands up in surrender. “You can take the first watch.”

“Well now I feel bad about not trustnig you,” complains Billy. Steve grins at him, looking way too pleased. “You asshole, you did that on purpose.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” Leaning in and whispering conspirately, Steve asks, “Did it work?”

Billy sighs and glares at Steve, blinking at him before responding. “Maybe. You can take first watch, but if you kill me while I sleep I’m going to haunt you.” What a way to spend eternity. It doesn’t sound half bad.

“Deal. You’ll be my guardian angel.” That’s not exactly what Billy meant, but he’s perfectly happy for Steve to take it that way. “Lead the way to our home for the night.” Billy takes Steve’s hand in his, which is completely unnecessary and mostly to see the way Steve falters and blushes.

He adds on a “Anything for you, pretty boy” just to see the color turn a more furious shade of red.

Together, they crawl into the space between the vines and enter the darkness of the cave. When Billy chose the cave, he hadn’t meant for two people to be sleeping in, so it’s a tight fit, their legs mixed together, crossing and on top of each other.

“You should get some sleep,” Steve whispers to Billy, their shoulders bumping against each other, back to the cave wall.

“Okay,” he says quietly. The atmosphere presses his eyes closed, gently coaxing him to sleep, Steve’s soft tone lulling him further. His head drops to Steve’s shoulder with a tired sigh and his knees come up to his chest, making him as small as possible. Like this, he feels small, like a creature huddeling close to something warm. It’s easy to curl into Steve’s heat and breathe in the smell of dirt and sweat and something sweeter.

Just as he’s about to drift away when someone reaches over and tucks his hair behind his ear. It’s the barest breath of touch, but the place on his cheek where he was touched burns. It feels like Steve’s brush of a touch leaves a mark behind, red and screaming. Billy doesn’t have a mirror, so he can pretend to wear Steve’s mark as long as he wants to.

With Steve’s body pressed up against his side, thigh to thigh, Billy falls into an uneasy and fitful sleep.

*

Something is chasing him. He doesn’t know what it looks like, doesn’t know what it is, but he knows he has to keep running or it’s going to get him. Take him into its jaws and tear him apart.

It started with him in the woods. He was by himself, calling Heather’s name and then calling Steve’s name, knowing that neither of them could reach him here. He screamed until his voice was scratchy and raw.

That’s when he notices how quiet everything else is. There are no crickets chirping happily away, despite the evening light. The leaves are still in their place, no rustling of animals in the branches. It’s eerily silent in a way the forest never should be.

He can’t help his morbid curiosity. There should be noise, and he wants to know why there isn’t. His thoughts of being alone were replaced instantly by questions and a need for answers.

The sound of twigs crunching underneath his boots is the only noise in the darkness, not even his breathing registering in his ears. In his focus, he doesn’t notice how strange it is, how his movements seem to be in slow motion, shrouded in impenetrable darkness. The sky is without stars, without a moon. A shiny, black hole.

Then, he feels it. A phantom presence at the back of his neck, like eyes watching his movement. All at once, the silences is overwhelming and menacing, opressing him, forcing his knees to buckle and his hands to shake furiously.

Billy tells himself that if he doens’t turn around he can’t see anything, logically, so he grits his teeth and stares straight ahead into the pit black chasam on the forest. When did it get so dark?

“I swallowed all the light,” a voice says, deep and scratchy, coming from all around him, like the darkness itself is talking. “I killed everything good in the world. That’s why you’re left, lovely. I can see the horror inside you, waiting to escape, and I can help you. I can make them bleed, the people who hurt you. You want that, don’t you?” Billy can’t breathe. He hears the words, they’re being spoke directly into his skull, and he hates that some part of his keens at the idea of hurting Neil and the others like him. But the bigger part of his screams and drowns against the oppressive voice, the darkness.

“You’re so beautiful, William,” it coos, and Billy feels something against his back, something living and freezing cold. “Or- yes, you go by Billy, don’t you? Billy, such a pretty name. I have plans for you, my Billy.” That’s when Billy starts running. He wants to push it behind him, run from the words, the terrible words. He has a sick feeling in his stomach, nausea filling his head.

“Why are you running?” it laughs, still as close as before. “You think that’s going to save you from your purpose? Your destiny?” Images flash through Billy’s mind without his permission. Max, her bones broken and sticking out, blood pouring from her eyes, laying alone in a field of blue flowers. Susan, locked in her room at their house, covering her ears against the angry banging at the door, sobbing and pleading for him to go away. His mom, her smile too sharp and her eyes meaner than he remembers them being, her blond hair tinged at the end with blood. Heather, as she was when he left her, but she’s standing up and walking towards him, jerky movements like a puppet on a string.

Finally, Steve. Steve, turning slowly in a circle, his weapon raised, eyes set in determination against something. Something hits him from the side, and Billy realizes with horror that it’s him, knife in hand, bringing it down over and over again through Steve’s chest. Steve, asking why with hurt eyes and a pained gasp.

Billy doesn’t know how he’s still running, but his feet are moving on their own accord, steadily rushing him away from the darkness, but it’s all around him. He can’t escape. The voice comes back, rising in volume steadily, shaking the ground beneath him. “You and I, Billy, we’re children of pain, raised on the blood of others.”

Billy thinks he shouts something, some sort of protest, but the voice continues, strength rising against Billy, darkness caving in on him like a wall. “Together, we will make the world scream.”

“Billy. Billy.” Steve’s voice, coming from all around him, sounding like it’s through water. Dimly, he thinks about whether Steve would travel through water for him.

The ground is shaking underneath him, an earthquake that rattles the teeth in his skull and crosses his eyes. Trees blur and grow taller around him, caging him in. There seems to be a low, haunting noise coming from them. His ears sting and when he reaches up to touch them, his hands come back wet with blood.

“Wake up. Billy- shit- wake up please.” Steve’s voice breaks through again, just as loud as the trees. “It’s a nightmare, nothing more.”

The voice cackles with delight, and Billy slams down into the ground. “Go to your Steve,” it mocks, “He’ll make everything okay for a while. He’ll make you forget for a moment with those brown eyes of his.”

“But, my lovely, remember that you’re mine. All the time you give to him, it’s not yours to give. I’ll make him pay for keeping you happy. Things like us don’t get happy endings. You’re going to break his heart.”

Billy jolts awake with sweat streaming down his face, eyes adjusting to the dark shapes of the cave, Steve pressed to his side, arms around him.

“Hey rockstar,” Steve greets softly, releasing Billy. He offers an explanation with averted eyes. “You were kicking.”

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Billy whispers, heavy with emotion. Steve’s relieved smile is worth the effort. Billy can’t make himself smile, though, not with the darkness still lingering in his mind. The voice rings in his ears. They still ache from the memory of the voice that tore at his eardrums and bled him dry. Absently, he reaches up and touches them to make sure they’re still there. Or to make sure he’s still awake. He doesn’t know.

There’s blood on his hands from his ears. Just like in the dream. The cave, previously warm with their body heat, feels frigid all of a sudden. “It was real,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“What?” Steve asks, concern in his voice. “Billy, it was just a dream. It seemed like a pretty bad one, but still, a dream. That’s all it can be.”

“My ears are bleeding like the did in the dream.” Spurred on, he checks his hands. There’s dirt underneath his nails, but that was already there before. But in his palm, there’s a shallow cut that he remembers getting in the dream from a rock when he fell. There are scrapes on his knees, freshly bleeding, like he banged them moments ago. “So is my hand, and my knees.”

“You were flailing a lot,” offers Steve, but he sounds less sure this time. “It could be from that.”

“Steve, I get nightmares all the time, but never anything like that before. I would remember that.” Billy can still feel the darkness around him. Being close to Steve helps. His warmth, his breath against Billy’s neck, his arm still holding onto Billy’s.

“What- what was it like?” Steve asks hesitantly, almost drawing away from Billy. He’s stopped by Billy clutching onto him with a vice-like grip, keeping him close. He’s not ready to deal with being alone, no matter how many people are watching.

“It was that feeling when you close your eyes and don’t want to open them because you’re scared something is there, but it was a place full of that. Like, it didn’t matter if I closed my eyes, because I could still feel something there. Something made only of darkness. Something evil. It was all around me, no matter how fast I ran away.” Steve hums to show he’s listening and slowly wraps his arm more securely around Billy, moving Billy to where he’s curled into Steve’s side. Billy admits softly, “It showed me things. Images of people. You were there too.” Billy can feel Steve’s questioning look, but Steve doesn’t say a word. Other than the slow movement of Steve’s fingers lazily running up and down his arm, he doesn’t react at all. He just listens as Billy continues. “In the dream, if it was a dream, I hurt you. I think I hurt a lot of other people too. Whatever it was that was there with me said that I was horrible and dark, and it was so easy to believe it.”

Steve stops his movement and brings his mouth as close as he can to Billy’s ear, words low and comforting. “I don’t know you that well, Billy, but I know you aren’t evil. If you were, you would have killed me a long time ago. You’ve had the chance.” His words are true, but Billy can’t bring himself to believe in them, no matter how good they sound coming from Steve’s mouth.

“You were the only thing that could wake me up,” Billy says instead of answering Steve’s assertions. “I heard your voice and everything was easier.”

When Steve responds, it’s with murmured confessions. “I only wanted it to stop. You looked so scared and so, so alone. You were pale and it was even worse when you stopped trashing around. You went limp in my arms and I thought for a second that you were gone.”

“You’re not going to get rid of me that quickly,” Billy says, smiling to himself. Steve was worried about him. Steve cares.

Billy’s not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. Maybe they’ll go back to arguing tomorrow, maybe distrust will come back with the sunrise, but right now? Right now, Steve’s arms around him feel like home. He’s safe here, in their little cave, far away from everyone else at least in spirit. There’s no trace of any other tributes in sight; they really are in their own world.

“Just- don’t do that again, okay?” Steve asks, sounding exhausted. Billy can feel the way Steve is lax against the wall of the cave behind him, almost struggling to keep upright.

“Alright, I promise,” he whispers into Steve’s neck, breathing deeply. In and out. Count to 4, hold, count to 4. It would be easy to fall back asleep, it’s what he should do, but he can’t seem to make himself want that. “I can stay up for a while. You get some sleep, you look tired.”

“Wow, thanks,” Steve responds, but there’s no edge to his tone. “I take back everything nice I’ve said in the past minute.”

“It’s too late for that, I’ve already heard you. My ego might never recover,” Billy warns gravely, grinning to himself.

“Fuck you,” Steve mumbles, his head falling on top of Billy’s. Billy takes it as an opportunity to curl up tighter against Steve, cherishing the steady heartbeat he hears under his chest. The pulse at Steve’s wrist, strongly thrumming away under his fingers. The even breaths tickling his hair. Signs of life that Billy’s going to hold on to and listen for while Steve sleeps. “‘M not sure how good of watch you’ll be able to keep if you’re cuddling me.” Asshole. Billy’s grin grows wider and he pinches Steve’s side. Steve accepts it without comment.

“Get some sleep, pretty boy. I’ll be here when you wake up.” For once, Billy is going to keep his promise. He’s going to be here for Steve, waiting with bated breath for the moment he opens his eyes and remembers where they are.

Hopefully, Steve will let him stay as long as they have together. Hopefully, Billy’s last glimpse of life is into those pretty brown eyes.

“Night, Hargrove.” Steve already sounds like he’s asleep, dreamy and far away. Billy sends a prayer to someone that Steve doesn’t get any nightmares.

“Goodnight, Harrington.”

Billy’s voice is a lot fonder than it usually is. He blames it on the nightmare.

[bloodyhell-lucifer]

Daddy is the devil | Lucifer Morningstar

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x fem!reader

Summary: Reader is one of Chloe’s best friends and they haven't seen each other for a long time so the decision was made. Finally a sleepover at Chloe’s house since Chloe has a day off of work and Dan took Trixie with him to have some dad-daughter time. What they didn't know is that Lucifer will come with unexpected visit and reader’s shirt will cause such a mess.

Warning: language, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, daddy kink, +18

Based on this request: Hello, I hope you are doing well, I would like to politely request a one shot (or more if it inspires you, you do you) from Lucifer, you can do whatever you want with it, reader insert, oc, smut, no smut, totally up to you but I would like it to involve Lucifer meeting/seeing the reader/character (preferably female, gender neutral is also fine) wearing that crop top from Blackcraft that says “Satan Is My Daddy” please and thank you

Notes:

Thank you so much for this request sweet anon! I couldn’t wait to write it down because this idea was so cool.

To be honest it’s my first real one request so I’m pretty excited and also this is my first smut so I’m not so proud about it. I think I don’t know how to write them. Someone teach me?

If there are some mistakes let me know because English isn’t my first language so as soon as possible I’ll correct it.

If you would like to send me a message, ask me about something or send me a request about imagine then the link is in my bio so feel free to message me! I would like to know you better and read your ideas and write them down😄

If you guys like my shitty writings you can follow me for more. I’ll be posting new things sooner than you think and thanks for so much activity under my posts and all the follows, it means a lot and I love u so so much xx

You and Chloe had everything planned for tonight. When you were talking on the phone to discuss the details you decided to have a movie night with some alcohol. You bought some wine, chips and sweets for you and your friend to have some snacks. Feeling of excitement was huge about finally seeing your friend after such a long time. You showed up at Chloe’s door about seven pm ringing a bell to her door. After few seconds the door were open and Chloe lean out from behind of it.

“Oh my god hi girl, so good to finally see you.” she enveloped you in a big hug wrapping her hands around your neck.

“Hi Chloe, long time no see.” you hugged her back. With a gesture of her hand she invited you inside and you stepped in.

After two hours you two were slightly drunk and making fun comments over character that was on the screen of tv during the movie.

“So tell me Chloe, some time ago you were taking to me on the phone about that guy you were working with that just have some attitude and always have something to tell and joke about. What was his name again? Lucian?” You asked her taking other sip from glass of wine.

“Lucifer to be exact. His name is Lucifer.” on her face appeared frown and she raised her brows. “Why you asking?”

“Just asking. You like him?” Hint of concern could be felt coming from your lips.

“Of course I like him. I work with him. He’s my partner.” she responded and nervously began to rub her hands against her thighs.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Is he that handsome that it’s bothering you?” you got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to pour yourself another glass of wine since you finished the last one.

“Please stop. He’s definitely not my type. He’s arrogant, has got a big ego and always have that stupid smile on his face every time we go somewhere.” She folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes.

“Oh I hope I’ll meet him someday. I want to know who’s working with my best friend.” you winked at her and laughed along Chloe.

“Some day for sure.” Chloe was praying that this whole Lucifer topic will end with that. “Tell me you have someone?” She tried to change the topic of that conversation.

“Of course not. Some time ago I had a date with this guy named Brian but it didn’t go well and I lost hope for finding someone.” You said going back to couch and putting your glass on the coffee table that was in front of you. “Listen I’m gonna go and change because this jeans are so uncomfortable and I’m losing my shit with them” You grabbed your bag and went to bathroom to change. You picked your normal pjs which were just crop top with caption ‘Satan is my daddy’ on it and black bottoms.

“Oh Jesus Y/N what a shirt” Chloe blurted as soon as she saw you.

“It’s just a crop top Chloe. Can you just chill? We are already drinking a second bottle of wine and you still seem so stressed about something.” You declared after seeing her sitting so tense. One of the movies you’ve chosen was still playing in the room and none of you was watching it so Chloe switched it to music channel.

“Y/N I’m so sorry. I know I screwed this up. I’ve been stressed about work and Trixie and I don’t know what to do. I hoped I will invite you, we will have fun together after long time and this feelings would go away, but I guess it doesn’t go away and I can’t have fun. I messed up” she sighed and got up from the couch to just stand in front of you having her hands on your shoulder.

“We’re all humans after all, Chloe. I get it and I understand. You don’t have to worry. We can talk about it if you want and we still have time to make it fun. Go get change into your pj’s and and I’m expecting you turning back with a smile on your face.” You smirked to her and went up to set new snacks on coffee table.

When Chloe returned she didn’t have time to say anything because the bell from the door rang immediately.

“Did you invite anyone else?” You asked curiously.

“Of course not. Just you and me. No one else.” She added going to the door to check who was that. You were just standing right behind her.

She opened the door and Chloe saw the the last person she wanted to see today.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed and it was obvious that she didn’t want that person’s presence. You still couldn’t see who that person was.

“Oh don’t be so rude detective. I was in the neighbourhood and I thought that I’ll stop by with a visit.” You heard men’s strong deep voice with a British accent.

Chloe was so tired of this. She didn’t have strength to fight with that man and let him in and then you saw him. The man was a lot taller than you, shit he towered over you. You were so shock seeing that handsome man that you though that you were having a hallucinations seeing a Greek god. He had pitch black hair with little stubble. His hazel brown eyes were twisting into yours like he wanted to see every inch of your soul. Of course his devilish smile was there too to give him another hundred points to looking too fuckin’ good. He was dressed in fancy black suit and black button up that hugs his body so perfectly. You could see from distance that under all that suit he must be having a nice, trained body. Is that legal to look that handsome? You though to yourself.

“Bloody hell detective, I didn’t know you were having a company.” He sent you an evil grin and came into your way. Chloe stood there and she was about to say something when that man spoke to you.

“Hi, my name is Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” He stepped closer to you and took your hand in his. He kissed the top of your hand.

“Like the devil?” You asked and you didn’t know if to laugh or to start panicking.

“Don’t bring my dad into this darlin’. Yeah, like the devil.” He still was having that smirk that could knock you off of your feet by any second. “And you are?”

“I’m Y/N” you gulped suddenly feeling naked under Lucifer’s gaze.

“Oh that’s a real beautiful one” he responded and lean in just to be few centimetres away from your figure. He took one of strands of your hair and put them behind your ear whispering to you. “I really like your shirt baby.”

You wanted to say something, anything but you just couldn’t. You didn’t want to believe that is was that guy Lucifer that you were asking Chloe about.

“Okey enough, Lucifer. Leave Y/N alone. What do you want?” Chloe closed the door behind him and asked Lucifer with frown on her face and furrowed brows. She had her hands on her hips and she really looked like she was not in the mood for such things.

“I said loud and clear I came just to check on you, but now as I see your friend I might want something.” He chuckled and looked at you again. You were so intimidated by his presence that you were looking down at the floor in that moment with blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Can you stop being the perv that you actually are? If you don’t stop you’ll have to leave.” She urged staying in the hallway. Chloe really was pissed off.

“Okey dokey.” Lucifer raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender and he stepped back from you and went to the living room and you and Chloe follow along.

“Okey ladies, let’s start the night properly” Lucifer loud voice echoed through the room and you already had known that you gonna regret it later.

Chloe told you and Lucifer that she had enough of drinking and that’s it. She was not the one to convince so you and Lucifer were left to the alcohol that still was in the house. After another two bottles of wine and another two hours later in the night Chloe’s phone started buzzing and within moments she went to grab it and answered the call leaving the room. You knew you two were pretty drunk but you could still manage with yourself. Lucifer on the other hand after that two hours ended up with his shirt half unbuttoned and messed up hair after you challenged him to do so. You couldn’t get your eyes off of him sitting like that with his legs spread out and your whole body was screaming to straddle his lap. You though you were going to drool yourself at sight of his muscular torso. You felt pretty damn wet in your panties after sights like this.

“Guys I’m leaving for now. I’ll be right back but Dan called me saying that Trixie is burning up and probably having a fever. I’m going to pick her up. I have already ordered a taxi. Please don’t do something stupid. Y/N, I’m counting on you” Chloe shouted to you putting on her shoes, already changed and slumming her front door shut.

“Guess we have some time alone sweetheart.” Black-haired man said to you turning his head towards you. He put one of his massive hands on your thigh and you sighed after his touch touching your sensitive skin. Your knees were touching and you felt shiver running down your spine. His face was millimetres away from yours. The pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip making you tremble. Your breath hitched as Lucifer smirked at you.

“What do you say baby girl? I know you want me.” He seductively admitted. His deep voice echoing through your years. You felt like you were in trance. Thoughts and consequences be damned, you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anything, and fuck anything that was in your way.

His thumb moving away from your lips as he was leaning in closer to you. His lips ghosting over yours. His hands cupped your face with his two hands caressing your cheeks. Both of you starred at each other. Your eyes fluttered closed as Lucifer laid his lips on yours. He kissed you passionately, your lips moving in sync. Lucifer’s eyes fluttering closed as well. He grabbed a hold of your hair pulling at them causing a moan felt from your lips as the kiss began to got deeper and needer. You decided to make a move and straddle his lap. His fingers moved from your jaw to your hips digging into them harshly. Your fingers quickly unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Your hands didn’t waste time to trail down his muscular torso what made him groan into the kiss. You broke the kiss first moving your head down towards his exposed chest, pressing your lips against it. You trailed wet, sloppy kisses down his chest, then down towards his stomach. Stopping above the waistline of his pants. Lucifer smirked down at you, as you got on your knees. Looking up at him, as you undid the button of his pants, then unzipped the zip pulling his pants down, as well as his boxers, you freed his growing bulge. Lucifer let out a hiss, as his cock sprang up, while you bit your lip. You stared at his big cock in awe making your way back to the couch to sit next to him.

“You like what you see baby girl? Would you like daddy’s cock in your tight, little pussy of yours? He asked grabbing a firm hold of your jaw making you look him straight into his eyes.

“Hell yes, please daddy” you said arching your back to get some friction from your actions.

Lucifer lowered you to the mattress, your back met the rough material of the living room’s couch. It felt so inviting, so intimidating. You wanted that so badly, your entire body screamed for pleasure. You felt air leave your lungs because of the handsome man has begun to kiss your neck. Your chest were heaving, you raised a hand to the base of his neck and held him there as he sucked strong marks onto your skin. Little moan left you, while your body began to surrender to him.

“You’ll be in hell soon darlin’. Sorry baby but this shirt needs to get out with rest of your clothes but it’s so beautiful and welcoming.” He quickly made you get rid of your clothes quickly. When Lucifer bended down while still keeping his brown eyes locked with yours his tongue swiped a lick atop your breast, then immediately took your stiffened tit in his mouth to suck. His other hand worked on massaging your other breast and you forgot about everything around you and let your body take over as your mouth produced another groan. That’s when he decided to pull your nipple lightly in between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” you exhaled the curse in ecstasy.

“Naughty girl aren’t you.” Lucifer grinned, but his tone suggested he’s aroused with your language. His hand ran down the plane of your stomach and slipped down to feel your pulsing desire. You could see it in his eyes how pleased he is at the amount of slickness he felt coating his fingers. He toyed with your clit in deliberately slow circles, and you whined at his touch while moving your hips to receive more stimulation. But Lucifer’s fingers went on to explore further inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the gasp that left your lips as he began to stretch you. He bended down again so that his face is above yours, cologne so strong yet soothing. Lucifer’s kisses were hot and needy. His tongue made a reappearance and became acquainted with yours. Your next gasp bled into a groan into his mouth when he added another finger.

“Yeah, please daddy, I want your cock so bad inside me.” you practically begged.

His fingers may be removed from your sopping heat, but in their place, Lucifer’s bending cock slided between your legs to coat it with your wet pussy. Dark haired man finally entered you. Your back lifted off the bed as you let out a lust-filled cry. It was a tight and delicious fit with your muscles constricting around his eager girth. The man’s lips twisted up at the sound and creates his own unbridled groan.

“Spread your legs wide, babydoll. Take the devil all in.” He was so big you didn’t even know how you can adjust, but your body found a way to relax enough for Lucifer to slide in deeper.

Your eyes squeezed shut at how he stretched you fully, but your voice begged him to move, to give you more. He went on to create a steady rhythm with his hips and all with that filthy comments on how tight and perfect you felt around him. You made another desperate noise as you continue your ascent, which prompts him to ask between grunts, “Speak, love. What do you need from daddy?”

“Your big hands with your fingers daddy” you somehow told with filling voice your need amidst your hedonistic sounds.

“It’s going to the direction I didn’t know it’s going” Lucifer laughed with devilish smirk upon his face.

It was what you need after all, the extra stimulation to bring you closer and closer to what could be the strongest orgasm of your life. In a series of ‘yes’s and curses, you reached another plane of existence. Flashes of white light grew behind your eyes while your mouth widened. Lucifer, in turn, exhaled a shaky and pleasurable moan as your body repeatedly constricted and pulled around his cock.

“Oh shit, doll, just right there.” He came inside you, hot and fast, and you feel the descent of your high flow through you. Every part of you was warm and exhilarated and thoroughly pleased. When Lucifer pulled out from you, he rolled over back onto the couch. His grin read that his own desires have been fulfilled. You knew you got yourself into a deep shit and there’s no way going back.

[kenkamishiro]

Lost in Translation: Choujin X chapter 1

Fun fact, I was planning to do fan translations for Choujin X with a scan group until it could get a simulpub release, though I didn’t expect it to get one from the very first chapter lol. I’m happy though since it means everyone can read it right away and it doesn’t mess up my schedule.

So instead I’ll be making comparison notes between the EN and JP text to supplement the official translation. I’m not doing this because the official TL is bad (I actually think it’s pretty solid and I hope it will maintain this quality) but because it’s inevitable for something to be lost in translation, and it’s nice to have that additional context for theory crafting and whatnot.

If you want to read it on Twitter instead, the original thread is here, but this is the proofread and way more detailed version 😄

This translation isn’t wrong, but there’s an emphasis on それ (which is TLed as ‘it’) that connotes a stronger, “other, that thing” feeling that isn’t present here. The general idea behind this sentence is: That [becoming a Choujin] resembles more of a disease [than a transformation].

Ely talks like a tomboy, she uses rougher speech patterns and the pronoun オラ (ora), a derivative of the masculine 'ore'. But it's a bit old-fashioned (eg. すまなんだ) which makes sense considering her upbringing with her grandfather on a farm. Hence her country bumpkin speech pattern in English.

Not sure if I should use Ellie or Ely? Ellie makes more sense based on the kana, but Ishida explicitly called her Ely so I might stick with Ely for now... (also istg that blond guy with the huge chin is a reference, I've seen him somewhere)

Tokio, I know your teacher is annoying, but it's rude to call her that lol. This is basically the oppai equivalent of paisen (senpai backwards, it’s slangier). Similar thing actually happened with Ely describing her dream hubby as Goldilocks instead of blond; ‘kinpatsu’ (blond hair) was inverted to become ‘patsukin’, hence the translation as Goldilocks.

Kurohara Tokio (黒原トキオ) and Higashi Azuma (東アヅマ). Kurohara is a common surname, means 'black fields'. Tokio is in katakana, so it’s hard to say what kanji it could be. 'Toki' could be 時 (time) or 外喜 (outside + delight). The 'o' can be the common male name suffix 男 (boy).

But when I think of Tokio, I think of TK's song called 'tokio'. You can read the translated lyrics here. If these lyrics end up being relevant to Tokio's character development I will eat my shoe lol.

Higashi means 'east'. Azuma (which can also be romanized as Aduma, it’s a softer ‘zu’ sound which is why Tokio called Azuma ‘Aju’ earlier in the chapter before correcting himself) is an archaic form of ‘east’. So...this guy is literally East East. The Choujin X equivalent of Moon Moon 😂

Someone also informed me that Higashi Azuma is a station in Tokyo, though the kana are slightly different (アヅマ／あづま vs. あずま). They effectively sound the same though nowadays, if I have to be honest. It’s like comparing the difference between 애 and 에 in Korean.

Tbh this is minor, but worth mentioning just cause it changes the meaning a bit. Tokio is saying something more like, “Why are we even talking about this [the roly-polies] again?”

I think I heard people talking about how the official TL doesn’t match the original text, but personally I really like how this was translated! Sis is using the expression  「爪の垢を煎じて飲む」, which literally means “boiling the dirt under someone’s fingernails and drinking it”. By taking the dirt/grime under the fingernails of someone that you admire, and boiling it and drinking it like a tea, you can become more like them.

But because idioms don’t tend to directly translate well between languages, translators often have to adapt it so that the meaning still remains the same. In English the closest idiom we have to this is “rubbing off on someone.” The “holding hands” bit was added to replace the physical aspect of “taking the dirt from someone’s fingernails” and also contribute to Sis’s sassy and very informal way of speaking.

So Sis is saying in JP (ignoring her personal speech style for now):

You should take the dirt from under [Azuma's] fingernails and boil it so you can be more like him.

And now in ENG it becomes:

You guys should hold hands or something, then maybe he’ll rub off on you.

It now sounds natural in English, still carries the same meaning as the original text, and also suits the character’s speech pattern.

Moving on, in that same panel the literal TL of Tokio’s dialogue is, “Policeman Azuma got dispatched again today,” emphasizing Azuma’s heroic deeds along with his family connections to the police. Another thing I want to note is that this is the second time Azuma has been called 偉い (erai) so far - noble, and now great guy. I’ll just dump the general English definition of 偉い from Jisho here so you get the general idea:

Great; excellent; admirable; remarkable; distinguished; important; celebrated; famous; eminent

But you can tell from how people describe Azuma as 偉い that others look up to him, think he’s a great person and Mr. Perfect. Always being placed on a pedestal by others. (What are the odds this will affect his mentality after the Choujin serum?)

The meaning is still pretty much the same, but I’ll offer a slightly different perspective. Sis mentions that if she were Tokio, she’d burst from the [Azuma] complex. (Clearly Tokio and Azuma's relationship is gonna crack at some point)

Tokio mentions an idiom about hawks (taka) before recalling his childhood memory about vultures. Vultures are called 'hagewashi', but in the chapter it mentions they can also be called 'hagetaka' (buzzard/condor, literally bald hawk).

The kids call him names like "Hagetaka Tokio" and "Hageo". But Hagetaka Tokio only really works in JP cause Hagetaka kinda mimics his last name (Buzzard Tokio doesn't give the same vibe). Same with Hageo. Hage-o = Bald-o = Baldy.

I also think Buzzard was chosen over another name for a vulture like Condor because Buzzard can pass off as an insult.

I would have translated this as, “I wanted to be a lion too...” but this is just personal preference.

A continuation of the 「爪の垢を煎じて飲む」 expression Sis used earlier. Without the adapted idiom the exchange goes something like this:

Tokio: My sister said I should bring home the dirt from under your nails. Can I have some?

Azuma: ...huh? What for, that’s scary. No way.

Tokio: I have to boil it and drink it, apparently.

Azuma: Don’t even think about boiling or drinking it.

But since the 「爪の垢を煎じて飲む」 expression was modified to make it sound natural in English, it means this conversation has to be modified too.

JP: My sister said I should bring home the dirt from under your nails. Can I have some?

EN: My sister says we should hold hands...so I can be more like you. What do you think?

The “dirt from under your nails” part got adapted to “holding hands”, hence how the 1st line from Tokio becomes, “My sister says we should hold hands...so I can be more like you.” “Can I have some?” makes no sense now in this context now, so it was changed to “What do you think?” as a question to Azuma to keep the similar conversation flow going.

JP: ...huh? What for, that’s scary. No way.

EN: Huh? What’re you talking about? No thanks.

Azuma’s next line is similar enough to the JP text except for the removal of “scary”. I think the reason it was most likely removed is because leaving it as it is could be constituted as homophobic (2 boys holding hands, absolutely nothing scary about it as bible thumpers would like people to believe).

JP: I have to boil it and drink it, apparently.

EN: She said to hold hands so you’ll rub off on me.

Tokio’s response to that is explaining what he meant by his proposal. In the original text he lays out the latter half of the idiom (he doesn’t even realize it’s an expression, poor boy), and in English he does something similar by going into why his sister said they should hold hands (so Azuma can rub off on Tokio).

JP: Don’t even think about boiling or drinking it.

EN: C’mon. That’s not how things work.

Azuma’s then rebuts Tokio’s proposal as ridiculous. In the original text he drops a typical straight man response (don’t do *insert whatever ridiculous thing the idiot suggested*). But since Tokio’s proposal in English isn’t as preposterous, his rebuttal is toned down in response by telling him not to take it literally.

Ultimately, even though a lot of this dialogue was changed, I still think it was successful in maintaining the original’s intent. Tokio takes his sister’s sarcastic suggestion literally and brings it up to Azuma, who dismisses it as silly. It would be nice if we could keep the expression as it was in Japanese, but in instances like this where it’s played off of in multiple lines, that’s easier said than done.

軟体 isn’t an actual word, it’s made up of the kanji soft + body. So kinda like Elastigirl, but Flexi was chosen instead. It doesn’t sound 100% right, but I don’t think I could come up with anything better.

Replacing the しい in 楽しい with the C plus that elongated pronunciation makes Johnny sound even more like a stereotypical Yankee, which is why he sounds like that in English 😂

Random but I found it interesting how Azuma called Johnny a youkai (妖怪) instead of something like bakemono (化け物) or obake (お化け) since they’re shapeshifting monsters.

Tokio is worried that if he doesn't do something right now, he's going to lose his friendship with Azuma. The sentence is fine as it is though.

Azuma’s line can also be worded as, "No hard feelings, okay?"

Bestial = 獣化 (juuka) = beast+change = beast transformation

That’s it from me, if you have questions about the TL feel free to send an ask or reply to this post, I promise I’ll check my inbox more often this time 😂

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

-

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

-

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger).  Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

[skelemira]

Horrorfell Paps x reader?? Feel free not to (also you're a cool person and I'm glad you exist)

Oooh my first time writing Horrorfell Paps!!!

And just bc you didn't specify (and bc u deserve the best~) imma give you both hcs and a lil drabble!!! (Also bc writing hcs first might get me in the mindset to write Horrorfell Paps for the first time!)

(After note: imma do the drabble another time bc I got home late and I'm super drained lol but someone feel free to remind me to do it!)

Kinda long so I'm gonna put it under here

Horrorfell Paps x Reader! (I don't have names for the Horrorfell bros yet so I'm just gonna call him Papyrus)

Hcs:

*He is not one to mince words. He is going to say exactly what he means to say and he is going to give you blunt honesty. He's not going to be malicious about his honesty, and he still knows when to be tactful in revealing information, but if you ask for his opinion he is going to be honest.

*But that makes compliments from him all the more flustering, because when someone unflinchingly honest tells you that they think you did (insert hobby or skill here) very well, then that is high freaking praise and you know they mean it with every bit of their being.

*He's fiercely overprotective for obvious reasons. In the starving Fell underground, you had to fight for everything you had constantly. So when you find something as precious as a mate? You protect that to your dying breath and Papyrus is not only very strong and fast, but he is insanely clever and creative in coming up with ways to protect what is his. It can get a little much sometimes, like when you want to go to your friend's house and he doesn't want you to leave the house without him, or when you want to go grocery shopping when he's at work, but he is rational, so most times you can explain how you have defensive weapons and him on speed dial and how this location is well lit and has security in place, and he will see reason. He's not trying to keep you from the world he's just... Seen the horrible things the world can have in it and he wants to keep those things from you as much as he can.

*He's romantic but is often pretty subtle about it. There was no room for big gestures in the Underground, so the ways you showed your love (besides with food) were with small gestures, by moving the sofa you see your partner keeps stubbing their toe on, or fluffing the pillows on their bed when you've noticed they had a long day. Little things that you could easily write off as something other than romantic gestures. His love language is mostly food, but every once in a while you'll come home and your sheets are freshly laundered or your favorite fruit is freshly cut up on a plate in the kitchen or taking your car to go get groceries and filling it up on the way back. Small things that are practical but help make your day better.

*He's not really opposed to touch (read: this mans is touch-starved as all heck) but, bc of the Underground, he was taught that touch was for harming, never for showing affection. So when you first reach out to hold his hand or put your hand on his femur or something he tenses up. Almost imperceptibly, but you notice. You're a little hurt until you realize what I said above about how he probably wasn't used to showing affection through touch. (Some might say that he just isn't affectionate but you've seen the little signs and ways he shows his affection that may not be obvious to other people, but with him you notice everything.) So gradually you help him grow comfortable with touch. (Normally you wouldn't push, some people aren't okay with touch, that's fine, but you saw him hiding just how desperately he wanted physical affection). You, of course, stop if he ever gets uncomfortable but it goes quite well and eventually he feels comfortable hugging you out of the blue and even holding you while you both sleep. He's still not initiating a lot of physical touch, but he is receptive.

Wow that was a long hc lol uhhh onto a couple more then the drabble!

*He likes to be the only one to handle food. He's not obsessive about it (he nearly is but shhh he's working on it) but he likes his kitchen a certain way and it's just... It's easier for his piece of mind if he decides how much of something is made and how it is made. Sometimes he lets you help cook or bake (baking isn't his strong suit) but most times it's him in the kitchen or (on the rare occasions that you have takeout) you get it at the restaurant or it's from a restaurant he trusts.

*When he does eventually get comfortable enough for physical touch you are ever ever allowed to touch his cracks or scars. The first time, when you do it unknowingly, he actually flinches and gently explains to you (with his body tense and his fangs gritted tightly) to please never touch those parts of him. (He doesn't explain this to you, but he doesn't actually mind the scars, they show he's tough and they show he's a fighter but..... He doesn't want your perfect innocent fingers having to touch the flawed (in his mind) parts of him.

*His ideal date? Doing a puzzle with you with gentle jazz playing in the background. Though he "complains" about it "not having enough spikes to truly be fun" you can tell that he's enjoying figuring out something with you like this in a calm and peaceful environment where he knows he's safe. He makes a meal and, instead of eating at the dinner table, he declares it a special occasion and has you both at on the couch, chatting about the puzzles and each other's day. He's still watching you eat carefully, though, and making sure you get plenty of healthy food to eat.

*On that note, if you aren't at least a little chubby he considers himself to have failed in his job of feeding you, regardless of what those ridiculous human beauty standards say. (If you have trouble gaining weight for whatever reason, though, and you explain that to him, he understands and will back off a little and will stop trying to give you extra portions at dinner.)

*He signs sometimes because his jaw aches, of course you help him get to a dentist and an optometrist to get glasses and braces (though it's a battle of wills to get him to admit he needs help), but some days his jaws ache too much to talk, so he taught you sign language, writing down what he was saying in the early days of you learning.

I hope you enjoyed the headcanons Kat, sorry I couldn't finish the drabble tonight but I will write that as soon as I can!!! It was fun getting to know Horrorfell Paps and maybe one day I'll name him lol!

[isaac-lahey-imagines]

Imagine #70 | Request #31 (Part 3/3 of Isaac Lahey x Alpha!Reader)

Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2 (might need to rewrite these two though)

Can I just say that you guys who stuck with this blog (and the Wattpad imagines) are the best? And to think I haven't posted in years and we've hit 6k+ followers when I came back?! I don't even know how you people are still here and loving the pieces I put out when I'm here cringing over the old works back in 2015!

Warnings: The usual when it comes to the Teen Wolf series, specifically the Dread Doctors' season, mentions of blood, bones breaking, drugs, needles, a few curse words, idk if this is angst? whump?

Word Count: 6k+ (it's probably the longest I've written omg)

Not much of a flashback or backstory (I'm out of words, I can't squeeze anymore juices out of my brain, my bad). As usual, this is note beta-ed and sorry for any mistakes! English isn't my first language :(

~

“No more, please,” weak cries fell on deaf ears as you were dragged down from one hall to another, the smell of disinfectant and rust overpowering your already sensitive nose and magnifying the headache that was present from when you took a beating earlier.

The sound of bare flesh skidding on the polished floor bounced off the walls as you tried to pull away and run from your captors, you did not care of the stinging sensation that radiated from the pads of your feet - the open wounds left untreated by the people who kept you in hopes that whatever was inside of you can take care of it on its own.

You were repulsed at the thought of them still being considered as people after what they have put you through - they were monsters.

“Just a little more, my dear.” One of the figures that held your arm sneered, the grip on your bicep tightening making you clench your jaw. You internally scoffed at this knowing well that it won’t be ‘just a little more’ with how long and how frequent it happened and will happen.

“She should be able to go through another round.” A voice, deeper than the feminine one from earlier, spoke up as you entered through the heavy double doors of a room - an operating theater you guessed from the setup. “Prep her.”

“Her vitals are stronger now.” The third person declared, their fingers flipping through the pages of the clipboard in their hands before glancing towards the monitor to one side of the room - an image of your anatomy on display with different colors corresponding to each system in your body.

“The less you struggle the faster this will be.” One of the doctors, the Geneticist, who dragged you to this hell hole hummed as she was met with resistance on your end while she strapped you down on the cold metal table, the leather rubbing your already raw skin.

Her patience with you was at a limit, she was close to just ending it - ending you. But they have already achieved so much with their craft that it would be such a waste of time and resource to start from square one.

“Remember,” The Pathologist warned as he walked closer to you once you were settled down. “The louder you scream, the more blood we take from you.”

The tears that fell from your eyes to the sides of your face tickled your ears at the threat, small whimpers coming from you were ignored.

“Might I remind you that the btch wakes up?” The Geneticist interrupted, irritation in her voice as she steadied your shaking right hand before inserting an IV cannula in a vein at the back of your hand and taping it in place. Looking up to her left, she reached for the device below one of the two bags that hung on the pole and unclamped its tube letting the mix of anxiolytic, hypnotic, and anticonvulsant start to flow down to you. She then turned her attention to the other bag beside it, a mix of amnestic, and myorelaxant drugs, and did the same - a near-perfect cocktail mix they specifically designed for you.

She reminded the other doctors that no matter how much benzos, relaxants, or other drug concoctions they pump in your veins, you will wake up in between operations screaming your head off while attempting to break free of the hold you are currently in. “No matter how much sedatives we put in her, her wolf is too strong-”

“It’s an animal-” The Surgeon spoke up.

“She’s an alpha, a pure one-” She argued again, almost growling at the hard-headedness of her co-doctors before she was cut off by the same person.

“An animal.” He spoke in finality. “We are humans - gods even! We are at the very top of the damned food chain.”

The room suddenly fell silent, your whimpers, the beeping of a monitor, and the hum of the machines somewhere in the room were the only things that could be heard as you started to feel the effects of the fluids injected into you.

The tension you felt from earlier began to leave your body just as your vision started getting cloudy, your eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. You didn’t notice the Pathologist holding up a syringe to the light, flicking the bubbles away with his middle finger and thumb a few times before the taste of rubber invaded your mouth with such force that hurt your lips, gums, and teeth.

The Surgeon that was above you, blocking the light for a few moments, had shoved the mouth guard in before he continued securing your head in the metal gear positioned above you. Your neck followed suit with a hard metal clamp attached to the table effectively locking you in place and soon, your whole body was completely immobilized with a loud click from the double lock clamps.

The tears continued to flow down the sides of your face as you fought the sleepiness, praying for this to just end. The dread of what is to come overwhelming you and making your body shake as much as the drugs and table’s hold on you would allow.

“I’m surprised the smart one hasn’t figured it out yet.” They exchanged small talk over your muffled screams as soon as you felt the sharp sting of a needle puncturing your skin and into your cervical spine; expelling whatever it was they created into your system for the nth time. Your ears hurt from the ringing in your head while your throat burned as the pain from the syringe radiated all over your body.

“I’m surprised her mate hasn’t.” The Geneticist replied with emphasis.

“My friends, let us not be complacent.” Their leader ended their conversation as he now concentrated on looking at the x-ray on the monitor showing the movement of the serum as it spread in you.

“We continue our routine - clean her up, wipe her to an extent and then return her. ” He added as he pushed more of the liquid in you with a press of a button by your head.

“Marcel, they will know, soon enough.” She pointed out. “She will start to have withdrawals if-”

“We won’t let that happen.”

~

Sneakers skidding on the floor as everyone seemed to scramble out of the way towards the door, eyes wide with fear looking at the figure in front of them.

“Y/N?”

“Alpha?”

Isaac watched as the massive wolf in front of them let out a deep growl with its teeth bared at the people that called her attention, the fur on her back and chest standing up making her look even bigger than she already is.

“Y/N,” Isaac knew that Deaton was the best person to handle all kinds of supernatural cases, hence, the title of Emissary to their pack. “It’s Deaton.”

Letting out another growl as you licked your lips, your tail flicked lowly behind you as your eyes darted to each person present in the room before landing back to one in particular who was too close for comfort.

“Y/N, hey,” His voice sounded softer, it almost made you feel a sense of comfort until his hand reached out to you and made you snap back and almost bite it off.

This instinctively made Scott pull Isaac back by his shirt to a safe distance, struggling a bit in his grasp as the beta did not want to be moved further away from you despite the situation.

“Isaac, move back,” Deaton warned when he noticed that the curly-haired werewolf was not backing down, a hand gesturing for him to move away from you. “She’s scared.”

“No, Deaton, she heard me. She’s there - Y/N,” Isaac argued before turning his attention back to you again, blue eyes already glassy as tears filled the rim of his eyes. “She heard me.”

Isaac tried to hold on to the hope that you were present underneath the wolf because he was sure he saw that familiar glimmer that was distinctly you.

Just as he attempted to reach out to you again with a whisper of your name on his lips, the same frequency you heard before rang in your ears making you seize up and drop to the ground.

“Agh! What is that?” Liam winced as his hands reached up to his head to cover his ears, eyes scrunching shut as he tried to will away the incessant ringing.

“What’s what?” Mason asked with confusion etched on his face as he looked at his friend then to Stiles and the others, the werewolves in the room in particular, doing the same.

Isaac did not care for the ringing he heard, witnessing you looking like you were being kicked or beaten as you struggled to stand up, the sound of pained screams, whines, and whimpers coming out of you pulled at his heart making him drop to his knees beside you.

His hands hovered over your form trying to figure out what to do while he avoided getting scratched by the large clawed paws that writhed with your body, Scott and Thor doing the same and looking over you trying to see where exactly were you hurting.

“Deaton,” Isaac called as he carefully placed his hand on your shoulder before hissing - you were burning up and the black color that coursed through his veins upon touching you wreaked of disease. “Deaton what do we do?!”

“What is that?” Thor asked in bewilderment as he saw what was happening with Isaac’s arms.

“Hold her still as much as you can,” The vet’s voice was calm despite the mess, going to one of the counters in the room and asking Stiles and Mason for assistance as he tried to collect what sounded like glass vials from the way it clinked in their hold.

Isaac heard Thor mutter an apology to his alpha as he tried to hold your hind legs down as much as he can, Scott doing the same by your torso and Isaac by your neck.

“Y/N,” Isaac continued to call for you as he tried to hold your front legs down. “It’s Isaac, baby - it’s me.”

“Hurry!” Scott called to Deaton as his eyes scrunched and a sheen of sweat already present on their foreheads, the ringing still present in their ears making it difficult for them to concentrate.

Just as Deaton returned and knelt by your side, carrying a stainless steel tray that contained what looked like multiple large syringes in it, the static ringing noise started to get louder making the supernatural beings in the room let out a pained groan and lose their grip on you.

It grew too much too quickly to bear, causing the lights and windows above your heads to shatter and engulf the room in darkness. As everyone ducked for cover, Isaac stayed by your side and tried to shield you from the onslaught of sharp glass descending on you.

It took a few moments before the ringing stopped and the feel of cold air entered the room, snapping them back to their senses as their eyes opened at the smell of blood it carried with it.

Isaac immediately sat up as he felt the cold tiled floor and not your warm body underneath him.

“Y/N,” was all he said before he sprinted out of the room, the others following behind him.

“How did she get out?” He heard Stiles behind him once they reached the outside of the clinic, Thor already looking around the perimeter of the establishment for any signs of you.

Isaac’s brain was running a hundred miles at what he saw and what had just happened inside, his lips quivering as he ran his hands through his hair and pulling at the roots in frustration. He sniffled as he tried to stop the tears from running down his cheeks with the heels of his hands. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing before turning to Scott.

“She’s not gone,” his alpha spoke, already reassuring him. “We’re going to find her.”

Just before Isaac could reply and shoot down the optimism his alpha had, a car screeched to a halt in front of them.

“Where is she?!” Lydia asked as she got out of the driver’s side, a frantic look in her bloodshot eyes.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Stiles was immediately by her side, cupping her face in his hands. But Lydia only moved out of the way and turned to Isaac and asked again.

“We don’t know where she is. She disappeared right before Deaton -” Lydia was close to tears again as she groaned in frustration.

“They can’t get her back.” She said, sounding more of a beg as her voice shook a little.

Everyone in front of her stopped what they were doing and looked at the Banshee.

“Who’s they? And where do you think Y/N is?” Stiles asked before a few seconds later, realization hit him.

~

It was on the way to Eichen House that Lydia explained everything she saw that made her break all the traffic laws implemented in Beacon Hills just to rush to the vet clinic. Isaac could not shake the feeling that Lydia, a banshee – a herald of death, had visions of you in his arms already in eternal slumber. His wolf broke more than a little as she spoke more of what she saw, only a few words registering to him – Y/N, doctors, experiment, and torture.

Everything was a flash for Isaac now, he did not even realize that they were now in a tunnel under the mental facility planning on who was going where.

But once their strategy was laid out, Isaac wasted no time in trying to locate even the faintest of your scent in the damp and moldy tunnel he was walking through. He heard Stiles and Lydia speaking on the phone in his pocket that they'd found an office that had files strewn everywhere – files that specifically contained information about you and what they have done with you so far.

“Any luck finding her?” Lydia asked as Isaac heard papers being flipped on the other end of the line.

“Nope, not yet,” Liam replied.

“No, she’s not here.” Thor was next then Scott, all claiming to find only empty rooms and dungeons.

“Isaac?” Lydia asked after not hearing from him.

“None,” he answered, sounding defeated as he rounded another corner with you nowhere in sight.

Isaac could hear collective sighs as they continued their searches, his ears already drowning out what Lydia and Stiles were doing - occasionally spitting out questions of why’s as they continued to browse through what they found in the files.

His breathing became labored as his mind started to play tricks on him the further we walked down the tunnel, the source of light slowly fading the deeper he went.

Just as he was about to turn another corner, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt as though soft fingertips touched him, making his skin crawl as he turned around quickly only to find an empty space. But as he directed his attention to the other corner of the room, the colors on his face drained.

Amidst the mess of metal chains and torn blankets, Isaac watched closely as the figure on the floor took a raspy breath, eyes moving behind closed lids, lips mumbling incoherent words.

“Y/N?” Isaac slowly approached, the other members of the pack on the other line calling for his attention and asking if they heard him call your name.

At the sound of your name being called, your body went rigid. Your eyes flew open, widening as you saw a shadowy figure in front of you moving closer.

“Please, no more.” Your voice cracked from the overuse as you begged, the sound of heavy metal clinking together echoed in the empty room as you backed away slowly. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, please!”

Your frame quivered as you continued to plead, sweat mixed with blood trickled down your body as you attempted to make yourself smaller against the corner of the cell; failing from the sudden pain on the back of your neck that restricted you to move any further away from where you were.

“Y/N, it’s Isaac. I’m not going to hurt you.” Isaac ignored the voices over the phone calling for him, asking if he really found you. “You’re safe now, they’re not going to hurt you.”

Isaac almost expected for you to cower further away from him, but you didn’t – instead, you relaxed a little as his hand landed on the small of your back and the other on your shoulder effectively pulling you into an embrace.

As Isaac felt you release a breath before melting against his chest, his scent effectively calmed you down as your wolf recognized her other half. You both stayed like that for a while before he went back to examining you and what was behind you, more so what was attached to you.

Now, more diligent in his movements, his hands hovered over what seemed to be a tube attached to the back of your neck. He shifted in his kneeling position, careful not to jostle you, before taking his phone from his pocket.

“Something’s attached to her, I need to get it off-.” He informed more to Stiles and Lydia than to others present on the call.

“Don’t!” Lydia exclaimed, panicked at what Isaac was planning. “Not yet.”

“But she’s already hurting!” Isaac’s hands returned to your shoulder and back, holding you closer - as close as the tube permitted.

“That’s connected to her spine, Isaac,” Stiles added, warning him of what might happen. “If you remove it you might do some serious damage here.”

His attention turned back to you when he heard you whimper his name.

You were testing to see if Isaac was really there with you or if you were merely hallucinating again, not sure anymore of what was real after everything that happened to you for the past few years.

“Isaac?”

“Hi,” he smiled down when he pulled away from you a little, his voice shaking as he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m here.”

Your eyes focused on his face, blinking a few times before-

“No.”

That, he did not expect.

“No, no, no.” You mumbled repeatedly making Isaac more confused- were you not happy or relieved to see him with you?

“You shouldn’t be here.” As you came to your senses, you moved out of his grasp and pushed him away at the same time with the little strength you have left.

“Y/N, we came here for you. What are you talking about?” Isaac was hurt, you can see it in his face the way his brows furrowed and eyes already releasing a few tears down his cheeks.

Before you could answer back, the same ringing sounded again.

“Isaac, you have to go, please.” You cried, your own tears flowing down your cheek as you tried to pry his hands that held on to your wrists away, wanting to get out of his hold on you all the while fighting the heavy ache in your body to turn against your own will.

“Isaac, you have to get out of there!” You can hear Stiles over the phone, can hear Scott and the others running to where your werewolf was located.

“I’m not leaving her,” Isaac growled at them but his eyes stayed on you.

“You have to, plea-”

“Y/N!”

A blood-curdling scream left your lips as your body started to tremble on the floor, your bones were visibly breaking and morphing under your skin against your will yet again. The jagged edges of the broken bones breaking through skin and the movement causing purple and blue patches to decorate your flesh, all the while the liquid inside the tube that was still attached to you bubbled angrily.

“Isaac!”

Turning to the person who called his name, he suddenly felt himself being tugged down to the floor as the sound of electricity zipping past them blasted onto the steel bars of a small window on the wall overcame your pained screams.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the static voice called.

“It’s the Dread Doctors.” Stiles’ voice over the phone can be heard, more papers can be heard being flipped and thrown somewhere. “They’re the ones doing this to Y/N.”

“I need to get it off of her!” Isaac spoke to the phone as he watched Thor lunge at one of the doctors in front of them, his clawed hand not holding back any hits he let out. Scott was next when another appeared much closer to where you and Isaac were.

Once your cries quieted down and your body settled down to small shakes - appeased from the onslaught of transforming against your will, Isaac’s hands hovered over the tube.

“You have to go before they hurt you.” It was barely a whisper when the words came out of your mouth, your body was getting too tired to fight it anymore.

“No, I’m not leaving without you, you know that.” Isaac spoke it with a voice that left no room for arguments as he held the tube in his hand and attempted to pull.

Isaac held back a sob as the screams you let out shattered through the noise of the grunts and punches being thrown. But before he could successfully pull it out, a force had hit him and sent him across the room hitting a wall with a loud thud.

“Near-perfect.” Another doctor, the same one who threw Isaac off of you, had appeared next to you with a device in his hand that, from the looks of it, controlled the tube that was pumping the liquid into you.

“Stop, please!” Your hands flew to the contraption attached to you just as Isaac charged at the doctor, sending them both to the ground.

Blinking away the heaviness of your eyelids, you tried to move from your position on the floor only to fall back down flat on your stomach. The wolf in you whined in panic, barking almost as she nudged you with her head to stand up - that you still had strength in you and she was there to anchor you herself.

“Give her back to me,” You can hear Isaac from across the room, the sight of him swiftly landing blow after blow at the doctor caught you off guard. The blood that ran down his temple to his eyes only added a level of intensity to his yellow glowing gaze as he gave a growl that had an unnerving timbre to it. “Now.”

On the other end of the room, you watch Scott claw at the doctor he was against before the mask fell off and revealed a face that was mottled, wrinkled, and scarred. If the true alpha was disgusted, he did not show it as he put his arms up to block the hit the doctor threw his way.

At the sound of a device dropping to the cemented floor, you felt the vibration of the tube behind you stop - the bubbles silencing as it halted its actions. This immediately cleared your head and relieved you of the pain, the fuzzy veil finally lifting as you took another deep breath and attempted to sit upright again.

Successfully sitting up with a few labored breaths accompanied by a wince, you lifted your aching arms and took hold of the tube attached behind you - the stinging feel of the needle made itself known as the small movement you made just from holding it jostled a little.

Taking a couple of ragged breaths again, trying to gather the courage and strength to pull the thing behind you when the air was suddenly knocked out of your lungs. The sensation of a sharp jab radiated from your side, the groan you let out echoed to the other end of the room making your eyes dart to where Isaac was.

“No,” you let out a gasp at the sight of your mate wide-eyed as he stared up at the doctor in front of him - the pain you felt on your side mirroring where the Surgeon’s swordcane embedded on Isaac’s side and giving it a twist for good measure. “Isaac!”

Your wolf’s painful yips turned to a low dangerous growl.

Feeling the familiar throb in your gums as your canines grew longer, you heard a banshee’s piercing scream all the way from the other wing of the Eichen house while a true alpha’s growl filled the place you were in.

“No more,” You say through clenched teeth, Thor’s knees buckling at the command in his alpha’s voice, Scott and the doctors they were up against stood in awe at the willpower you displayed.

“Perfect,” one of them said under their breath, the final push for perfection.

Finally standing tall, the tube attached to your neck earlier now clutched in your hand, you did not waste time as you took down each person who did you wrong.

Going for the closest antagonist in your life, Thor immediately scrambled out of your way as your claws wrapped around the Geneticists neck. You let your body move past her without letting go of your grip on her before using the momentum to lift the doctor up, the weight and force effectively disconnecting her head from the rest of her body before hurdling her to the Pathologist who was clambering away from Scott and the fight.

Everything was a blur to the other occupants of the room as you zipped past them and took down each one before you finally lunged at the Surgeon who finally released his grip on both his cane and on Isaac.

“My child-” he managed to say as your grip on his neck tightened, his feet barely touching the ground - your eyes glowing a dangerous color as you stared up at him.

You can finally see through the mask, raw pink flesh with stitches decorating it was what the steel mask protected. His mouth opened to say something but only a gurgled gasp came out as your other hand embedded itself in his chest and pierced through skin and muscle. You felt your wolf puffing up with pride and anger - you were their greatest creation and downfall.

Silence enveloped the room as the lead doctor took his last breath before you haphazardly threw him to the ground.

With his nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed, Isaac pulled the swordcane out of him. His jaw clenching before he let out a pained groan at the feel of the weapon sliding out before leaning heavily against the brick wall while clutching his side.

Your attention was immediately drawn to your other half, managing to wipe off some of the blood on your hand before tending to him.

“Hey,” Isaac greeted as he tried to not lean all his weight to you as you wrapped your arms around his waist, careful not to touch the stab wound on his side. You felt tears playing at the edge of your lashes as you buried your face against his chest, the scent signifying home.

“Can’t really ask you if you’re okay,” You managed to say once you pulled away and looked up at him.

“You’re one to talk,” Isaac replied with a chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You smiled, wiping the stray tear that ran down your cheek with the back of your hand as Isaac’s lips returned to your forehead for another kiss.

“Y/N, look-”

“No!”

A loud bang and the pain that came with it suddenly broke the bubble of peace you were in.

Clutching you to his chest, you saw the same confused expression that reflected on Isaac’s eyes before they darted from you to where the smell of gunpowder was coming from.

The Pathologist’s hand shook as he held the gun up, a crazed look in his eyes as he attempted to stand up from being buried under his colleague's lifeless body. He muttered incoherent words as he aimed the gun at you again.

But before he can pull the trigger, another loud thud took you all by surprise as you witnessed the man fall down flat on his face.

“Damn.” Lydia was behind him with a bloodied metal bat clutched in her hands - Stiles’ hands were up in the air, his eyes were wide as if he couldn’t believe his girl just did that.

“Well mark me down as scared and horny,” Stiles muttered under his breath, his brain replaying the moment Lydia all but took off with his metal bat and ran down the hall as fast as her heels allowed her to where they were now.

~

“Thank you, Thor.” You hugged the larger-built werewolf, his arms wrapping around you tightly but still being mindful of your current state. “But I don’t think I’m fit to be your alpha - to be the pack’s alpha anymore.”

“I will never understand how you and the others accepted me after what had happened.” Your feet dangled as you sat on a bricked fence outside of the Eichen house, the jacket from Isaac wrapped around you securely to act as a buffer against the coolness of the night.

You can hear Thor’s wolf whine at your words, his face already reflecting the sadness you both felt at what you were doing as he leaned against the fence you were sitting on.

“Alpha, please don’t discredit yourself.”

You looked up at him, not really believing his words with how much damage you’ve done to the pack - to your family.

“You are more than worthy - especially at your age.” He added, pointing out that most of the alphas out there were a hundred years older than you. “You are strong.”

“Thank you, again - for everything,” your lips quivered as you gave your best smile before glancing up to try and prevent the tears from spilling down your cheeks. The thought of leaving your pack broke your heart, they were family. But you needed to have someone better to lead and handle pack-related things -- you needed to recover.

A comfortable silence settled around the two of you before you heard Stiles and Isaac walking towards you.

“Jeep’s good to go, big guy.” Stiles said - more to Thor than you - with a tilt of his head to gesture to where they were parked as Isaac helped you to your feet and walked you towards Lydia’s car.

“You okay?” Isaac asked softly as you both settled in the back seat.

His eyes double-checked the graze on your shoulder from the bullet that hit you, his arms never leaving your side as he let you lean on him - exhaustion already catching up to you with the way your body sagged against his.

No, not really. You wanted to say as he only tugged you closer to him, the drive to Deaton being quieter save for the soft tunes the radio played.

“I will be.”

~~~

Isaac didn’t know what exactly woke him up.

Staring back at the ceiling, his ears strained to hear bed sheets rustling beside him. With the little light that passed through the curtains of the room you shared, he ran his hands down his face before turning to his bedside.

His eyes squinted when his phone awoke and flashed the time, 3:01AM it read - the phone’s screen showed a picture of the two of you together during a weekend picnic Lydia had arranged a few weeks ago. You had your eyes closed and lips smiling - a genuine smile after so long - against his neck as he had his arms wrapped around you tightly while he made a face to the camera.

Isaac stared at his phone’s lock screen a few moments longer before movement on his side and the feel of cold skin touching his leg took him out of his reverie.

Putting his phone back on the nightstand, he curled back down the covers and turned to face you. For someone who’s a warm-blooded supernatural creature themself, you sure have cold feet.

Isaac cupped your face before tucking a stray hair behind your ear, you were lying on your stomach facing him with your hands tucked just a little under your pillow. You were still in deep sleep but it did not look as peaceful as he remembered - your brows were furrowed, your lips moved as if mumbling something and an occasional hand twitch was what he observed.

“Y/N?” Isaac asked, his voice croaked from the lack of use as he leaned on his elbow and tried to coax you awake.

It didn’t take too long before Isaac finally understood what you were saying.

Please, no more...p-please.

Leaning over your side of the bed, Isaac flicked the switch to your bedside lamp open and tried to call for you again. He could now see the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, the sheets bunching up in your grasp as your knuckles turned a lighter shade from how tight your grip was.

I can’t t-take it anymore...

“Hey, baby,” Isaac gently ran his hand down your back a few times, trying not to ‘jolt’ you awake. He knew what methods to use in waking you up when things like these happen, though it took multiple trials and errors with a few bumps - more or less scratches - in the way. But god, he’d take you screaming and lashing out at him any day than this.

I’m sorry, I won’t do it again...

“Y/N, please wake up for me.”

It broke his heart more at the thought that while you were already together, even if in that span of time you were simply friends at first, they’ve already done a multitude of things to you.

“Y/N, I’m here - you’re safe.” He tried again, the soft kiss to your temple lingering a little longer in hopes that it might help - let you sense that he was present and you were not in danger anymore.

“Y/N, no one’s gonna hurt you,” He spoke softly.

Covering your clenched hand with his, it was all it took before your eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air. It took some strength and swiftness from Isaac to hold your wrists when you sat up so fast - almost bumping his chin in the process - that you almost fell out of the shared bed.

“Hey, hey,” He called for you, your eyes were dilated, blown wide and looking around frantically as if you were searching for the threat that plagued your life a year ago and giving you these night terrors that prevented you from having a good night’s sleep.

“I’m here, you’re safe.” He repeated, waiting for you and not letting go.

“Isaac,” He waited a little more before you finally settled down and realized where you were, your voice shook a little as you spoke his name; eyes glassy as you looked at the familiar blue eyes that called for you.

“I’m here.” Isaac gave a small smile as his hold on your wrist loosened before sliding his hands in yours and holding onto them on your lap - the soft yellow light from your bedside lamp gave his face a soft glow; his eyes looking more kinder that it already was.

Not again. Your lips trembled as you held back a sob, you shook your head as you stared down at your joined hands.

You felt trapped.

That was the only thing you felt and you wanted out, you wanted this to stop; you want an end to this thing happening to you - you don’t deserve the man in front of you.

Having known you for so long, Isaac can already see it on your face, he already anticipated it.

“I love you,” He spoke.

Absolutely no room for arguments, “I won’t leave you.”

You felt Isaac’s hands rest on your hips as you withdrew yours from his hold and tried to stop and wipe as many tears as you could with the heel of your hands. He let you lean your head on his shoulder, the feel of his lips placing a comforting kiss to your ear should’ve given your heart a little leap but it didn’t.

“How much longer will you tell me that before you finally get tired?” You did not mean to say it out loud, you hiccupped once your tears finally settled down with your head and heart.

“Never,” Isaac said as he pushed you away a little to look at you, cupping your face in his warm hands to make you look up at him, a glint of playfulness present. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You could only sigh and give a soft smile.

“You’re too good for me, Isaac.”

Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles, he let them go before cupping your face again and leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and lastly a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You deserve good things, Y/N.”

You deserve them after everything you went through. Isaac gave that smile he reserved only for you when he pulled away.

Lying back down, Isaac pulled you closer to him before pulling the covers up just below your chin.

“We’ll be okay, remember?” Isaac reminded you of the words you said to him when he asked you a year ago.

You did not miss the way he said ‘we.’ You did remember what he told you, that you were in this together - you’re it for me.

“I remember,” you answered, curling as close as you can to his side. The tip of your nose resting against the warm skin of his neck as he rest his chin on top of your head, arms tightening around you before they relaxed.

~

Feedbacks are always appreciated! Especially since I miss writing. But again, I won't be doing much writing anymore since I've somewhat lost touch with both my imagines blogs. I might just rewrite/refurbish some of my old imagines/drabbles.

Again, thank you so much for those who stuck by this imagines blog (and for Brett as well). You don't know how much I appreciate it, again, I'm sorry for not being active (read more here)

[binniesthighs]

can u do an enemy to lovers au with han jisung where they are in a hidden fwb relationship? thank u~ 🥺

I really look some creative liberties with this one HA but the product...hehe, I hope that you enjoy it love! I also kinda accidentally made it a period piece??? Like 50′s-60′s? Idk how this happened but the vibe and the music I was listening to while writing really put me in that mood haha

blue velvet | reader x jisung |

Paring: self insert, gender neutral reader x han jisung

Genre: smut n’ angst

Tags: stripper!jisung, stripper!reader, bi!jisung, enemies (competitors) to lovers, secret relationship, friends with benefits, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, degrading names, choking, spanking, v mild spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you slippity slap it friends), creampie, cum eating, scratching, oral (reader receiving) semi-public sex, hello yes this one is kinda filthy ooooops

Word count: 3.2k

Recommended listening: Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton

Fuck. It’s hot in here. Too fucking hot.

Reconnaissance. That’s what you were doing. It was fucking disgusting. Everyone in the room was just as fake as the pleather belts that held their guts in. You had never seen anything more embarrassing in your whole life. Desperation was sweating off the walls and sunk into your skin. It made you feel sick.

You scoffed and took a long sip from your drink.

“One more?” An attentive maître d' asked you--if he could even been called that in a place like this.

You covered your hand over your glass. You refused to pay for any more of that cheap tasting shit.

Next to you a rapt group of men in suits wagged their tails at the view. She wasn’t even very pretty.

Rolling your eyes, you scoped out the rest of the room, adorned in red velvet and gold nearly everywhere. What was this? A high school musical? Even those had more class than this place.

You checked your sliver wristwatch lined by dainty diamonds. You always did like gifts. Too bad rarely anyone would get anything in return.

The girls on the stage twirled around, giving the audience the best view that they could, tiger-prowling to those waving bills in their grabby hands. They were tanned and fashioned into strappy and lacy pieces that looked like they all must have shared them. Pathetic.

“You come here often?”

He swirled some clear looking liquid in his crystal glass, the little string of olives clinking the side.

“Are you speaking to me?”

“No, I’m talking to them.” He head nodded to the same group of greasy businessmen. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time...and likely my last.”

“Huh. Tough critic.”

He didn’t look like the rest of them. Younger, reeking less of starved attention. He had golden blonde hair, and a silk white shirt unbuttoned far into a deep V. He was toned: the muscles on his arms were visible under the thin fabric and his abs made a show thanks to the abandonment of buttons. He wore dress pants perfectly fitted for his thighs. He was...attractive...but not your type.

“What’s not to like? Beautiful people, drinks to make you forget your mistakes? Not your scene?”

You rested your chin in your palm. “It’s my scene, but not this scene.”

“Suit yourself.” He took another swing, pivoting his body towards you, legs spread wide. “I think I know someone who can change you mind though.”

“In this place? Unlikely.”

“Come on...just stay a little bit longer and they’ll come out. They’re the last act of the night for a reason.” He signaled to the maître d' and whispered something into his ear. “Drinks on me. If you’ll stay?”

“Free drinks?” You put down your empty glass. “I suppose I can’t say no to that.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

It was thirty minutes till closing, and you had stayed much longer than you had liked. After all the drinks you had to pass the time, you were starting to feel a little buzz, but nothing much really phased you these days. You started to wonder if he had been pulling some kind of prank. Nothing you had seen was what he had hyped it up to be.

The lights dimmed behind you, making the room dark enough for the tiny white candles at the tables to provide the only light. Spotlights flashed on from behind you too, illuminating the U shaped stage. With the lights, the music faded into something much more sultry.

The first two girls stepped out, both of them wearing white sets that were nearly identical with sheer robes. Two others stepped out after them, this time wearing red and black. It was the same thing you had been seeing all night.

The spotlight tightened.

It was him.

He was wearing a button down and those same pants, everything seemed so tight on him, accentuating every curve of his body. Strangely, when he walked out, he was greeted with wolf-whistles and hoots. He winked back at his spectators, nearly falling out of their chairs to see him better. It was even stranger considering the audience was filled with men.

He walked around the girls on stage as if he was inspecting them, his eyes eating up every bit of their skin. He confidence was unparalleled. He would run his hands down their sides, digging his fingers into their hips. They circled around him until his body was covered with their hands, teasing the audience, just barely touching around his dick, which with his pants...there was little room for imagination.

Silent moans left his lips once they started undressing him giving him their full attention. The cheers grew even louder. Before long, he was nearly fully undressed swaying to the music. He wore nothing special, just some briefs, like any normal person would. It was...confusing.

He took turns “giving attention” to every girl, looking at them like he worshiped the ground the walked on. They would grind their bodies together, or he would pick them up in his arms, and they would wrap their long legs around him. He would pantomime fucking them from behind, screwing up his face as if he really was. Everyone went crazy for that.

It didn’t last for very long and the lights soon went all the way down, leaving the stage scattered with sweating bodies, panting as if they had just cum, entangling themselves all in eachother.

You were a bit unenthused, but it was different. There was something about him that was different.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Were the drinks enough for you?” His voice called to you just as you were about to leave. This time, he returned wearing the same silk shirt.

“I hope that I didn’t make you pay for too many.” You pouted with faux empathy.

“And the show?” He grinned a little.

“Interesting. Considering a place like this.”

He laughed a little. “I help with...the imagination.”  

“So they pretend that you’re them. I’ll admit, it’s smart.”

“You’d be surprised, somedays I get more male customers compared to most of the girls here.” He bit his lip as if recalling a memory. “They pay well too, pay for whatever they aren’t getting at home. Who am I do deny them that when it’s my job?

“You sleep with them?”

“The ones I like.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Can be. In a good way.” He let out a sharp laugh. “So. Did I prove you wrong?”

“Hmmm. I could do better.”

He popped his brows up. “You could?”

He was intriguing. You decided to give him a bite. “I dance at La Rose Rouge.”

“You dance at that overpriced, snotty ass place?” His words turned poisonous.  What’s it like dancing for a guy who’s got a stick so far up his ass--”

“--The price is right, and you get what you pay for there...especially if its me.”

“How am I not surprised?”

“I need to go, I’ve seen all I could here.” You bowed at him a little.

“Wait.” He grabbed at your arm. “I’ve still got one more thing to show you. Follow me.”

 ╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your insides were on fire as he fucked into you. Every time that he thrust into you, he was relentless and unforgiving. He was going so fast you could barely catch your breath. You were bent over some dusty old sofa in an equally dusty dressing room. You would kill him if he left bruises on your hips from how hard he was holding you.

“fuck. shit.” He panted, then reached one of his hands around to rub at your sensitive sex, slick with your excitement.

He was so fucking cocky, but he knew what the hell he was doing. He bent over your back, sucking into your skin, wrapping his arms around you to tweak your nipples. He was wrecking you from the inside out, devouring you like he had never tasted anything like you.

He kicked your legs open even farther. “Fucking moan for me, slut.”

You had barely let him hear more than a few gasps, he didn’t deserve it. You wanted him to moan for you.

“Who are you calling slut?” You said with venom.

You shoved off of him, and he looked devastated. He was cute. He even frowned regretfully like he had done something wrong.

The metal of your rings dug into his neck when you grabbed it, squeezing as hard as you could. Your hot breath snuck into his ear, “No, you fucking moan for me...slut.”

You attacked his lips, tracing the insides of his mouth with your tongue. He moaned right into you and grabbed handfuls of your ass with his two hands. Your teeth bit his lip and pulled. His dick trembled between the two of you and he rutted against your stomach to get some kind of relief.

He took one of his hands to your hair before resting his glossy brown eyes on you. “I’d do anything for you.” His voice quivered. “You ruin me.”

“Get on the floor.” You commanded him, and he did as he was told without a question, laying his bare body on the cold concrete.

The chill of the stone stung your knees, but that didn’t matter, you just wanted to see him unravel. You straddled down onto him, taking him in as you sunk down.

“oh shit,” slipped off your tongue without you having much control over it.

You rolled your core over him, back and forth, circling yourself and bouncing up and down as he rolled his eyes back, licking his lips while you did everything that you wanted. As you bounced he held on to your ass, digging his fingertips in. You had your eyes closed, so you didn’t see it when he rose is hand to slap you hard. It burned beautifully.

“—Jisung? Are you done yet? The rest of us are going out.” A female voice called, and rattled the locked door.

“FUCK OFF.” He groaned, and held onto your ass even tighter.

You let out a unamused tsk. “Jisung? That’s your real name?”

He didn’t say anything, but instead swiftly took you in his arms to lay you down. The chill of the floor startled you into wince, but it felt amazing compared to how hot you were. He entered you immediately again, then slung your legs over his shoulders. His blonde hair appeared to bounce a little with each thrust.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you dragged your nails down his arms, waterfalling pink, perfect, lines. His whole body seized at the sensation, sending him into a fury. He licked his hand from palm to fingers, not breaking your gaze as he used it to rub relentlessly at you.

You were on the edge.  

“Want my cum, you whore?”

You were close as well, and it clouded your senses--you felt yourself slipping into him after holding back for so long.

“ye-yes, I want it.”

He came in seconds, doubling over you when he did, panting like a dog, with you gasping just as hard from your own orgasm. He seemed to shake a little as he came down, nearly suffocating you with his body weight. You jiggled your hips just a little to get a rise out of him. You had guessed correctly, someone like him couldn’t take overstimulation.

“Fuck, wait, wait. I-I can’t take anymore.”

You laughed a little and stopped. “You’re no fun.”

“I thought I literally just proved to you that I’m loads of fun.”

“Mmm, I suppose.”

“You liked it?” He ran his hand through his sweaty roots.

“You made me cum, so...usually I have to fake it.”

“Really?”

You nodded.

“I’m honored.” He grinned a little pridefully.

You reached down to your hole to catch a few drops of his cum on your fingers, stretching it out a little and playing with it. He watched you as you did so, eyes wide. You stood to grab his jaw, sticking your fingers in his mouth which he eagerly sucked.

“Where have you been my whole life?” He looked up at you in wonder.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that...Jisung.”

He watched you then as you dressed, careful not to forget your gorgeous silver wristwatch.

“I won’t be coming back, so don’t expect that this will happen again.”

“Wait--” He stopped you before you grabbed the door handle. “You didn’t tell me your name--”

“--That’s something you don’t need to know.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darling, is there anything that I can get you?”

Your manager swept a caring hand to hold you by the small of your back.

“No, thank you though, love.” You shone brightly back to him.

“Just let me know? So far we’ve got a queue for you. Four gentlemen and three ladies. I expect that the tips tonight will be generous...it’s payday.”

You politely nodded. “Of course.”

“Have you been having a hard time with any of the new faces?”

You took a sip of your brandy. “Some of them have some mouth, but I’ll make them dignified. You can trust me.”

“I always do.” He gently kissed your cheek. “Ah, I forgot to mention, one of your customers brought you a gift. It’s in your dressing room; he wants you to wear it for your dance tonight.”

“I do love gifts.”

“Go get ready darling, you haven’t got much more time.”

Once you were in your dressing room, a medium sized white box waited for you on your vanity. There was no labels; no indication that it was from a luxurious brand. You opened it, and the shirt was wrapped in light pink tissue paper. It was too short to be a robe, but it was silk and white with buttons that looked more decorative rather than useful. You figured it must have been your customer’s: many of them got off to you wearing their clothes. It wasn’t your usual style, but you knew how to make anything work.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“And for our last act of the night: the wonderful, the illustrious...”

You walked out to the silent stage: meant only for you, the stage lights yellow, shrouding you in their brilliance. Your chest was bare, save for the silky shirt falling off your shoulders. They were cheering for you, throwing paper bills at you and calling your name, but you couldn’t hear them at all. You had never felt so whole in your life since being on the stage. It seemed like the rest of your days were just spent chasing some kind of feeling that merely resembled that.

Barefoot, you pranced along the stage, twirling like a ballerina even, letting the shirt billow up just so they could see your perky bottom. With all of their eyes on you, you felt like an absolute vision--like an ethereal being, desired, but impossibly attainable.

The jazz song played on by the live players, a muted trumpet and violins accompanied you. Your eyes swept across the blue velvet curtains of the booths, to every man and woman looking at you in awe. You let the shirt slip just a bit farther, revealing your back, winking. You never had to show them much. It was your charisma that they thirsted for--and that they could only get a small taste of.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darlin’ you’re a catch, an absolute catch.” Your manager snuck up behind you taking your makeup off to hand you the ridiculously fat stack of bills. “You keep us afloat baby, you know that I can’t thank you enough.” He bowed.

“Stop flattering me.” You remarked with a smirk. “I know.”

Your manager left, then the curtain to your room screeched again. He slowly stepped into the light, applauding slightly.

“He’s right you know? Even I can’t get enough of you.”

It was him, cocky smile, swept blonde hair and all.

“You again? I’m surprised that you even made it in here at all. Considering who you are.”

“What? The competition? You didn’t tell them about me, did you?”

You patted some serums into your face. “Better leave soon before they rid you of that handsome face of yours.”

“You saying that I’m handsome?” He snarked.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seeing you, I thought I made that clear? Isn’t that what you were doing when you came to my club?”

“Like what you saw?”

“I stand corrected.” He let up, advancing towards you at your vanity. “And you look just as stunning in my shirt as I thought you would.”

“Your...this is yours? How the hell did you mange that?”

“I have my ways.”

“I suppose you want it back then.”

“No...you can keep it...if you promise me one thing.”

“And what would that be?”

He reached out for your hands, which you tentatively took. He swept you up, pulling you into his chest with eyes dipped in lust.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” He spoke onto your lips with heated breath.

You would’ve been lying if you had said his lips didn’t look appetizing.

“One more time.”

“Bold of you to assume that I’d want to fuck you again.”

“You haven’t been thinking of it too? My hands on your body...”He caressed your body down, “My lips on yours?” He pulled you in by the chin to carefully part your lips with his. “My dick filling you up?” He pulled you in closer to feel his pulsating dick. “You don’t think about it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you want me. All you have to do is say it and I’m yours.”

“You’re looking to get killed if they know you’ve touched me.”

“I’d happily die for you.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that...Jisung.”

His lips fell to your neck where he pressed slow kisses onto it. “Just say it...”

The cool of his saliva on your skin met the air, tingling. You couldn’t believe you found yourself considering...

“I know you want to...”

“This won’t be a common occurrence.” You got out, suppressing your moans.

“Is that a yes?”

“...yes.”

“And we’ll see about that.” He slyly grinned, meeting your lips once again.

He swept you up, and your legs naturally wrapped around him. He carried you out of the dressing room to the main hall, pulling you both into the nearest booth, drawing the blue velvet curtains behind him. His eyes devoured you, casting aside his silk shirt that loosely clung to you. You threw your weight onto the table, opening your legs for him, inviting him. He chuckled a little at the action.

“I can imagine you must’ve been thinking of this as well then.” He kissed down your stomach, removing what underwear you were barely wearing. He kissed and sucked at the skin in your inner thighs, kindling your excitement. Spit gathered on his tongue, which he let drip down to your sex which glistened for him.

Your core begged for that feeling once again, that feeling only he could give you: the one that made you feel alive, like you weren’t just chasing some impossibility.

He lapped at you slowly with his tongue, awakening your whole body.

“I fucking want you.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unfinished Business ~ Part Six

WORD COUNT: 6K

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, murder, blood

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part six of nine of my new Bang Chan series. 

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: TW || Chapter includes mentioned of being touched inappropriately by a stranger, Smut will be included in a later chapter so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"Wake up sleepyhead," You groaned, shoving whoever was waking you up away from you, hitting them in the face.

"Five more minutes." A rough tug sat you up and you came face to face with Changbin, who was holding a plate in one hand and you in the other.

"Chan isn't here. Eat and then do whatever it is that you do when he isn't here." You looked down at the food on the plate and decided within seconds that you weren't hungry for whatever that was. It didn't look appetising and you didn't trust Changbin as far as you could throw him.

"Where's Jisung? I thought it was his shift this morning." You mumbled taking the plate and leaving it on the bedside table. Changbin didn't care if you ate it or not, he didn't really care for you at all, so he watched you walk around the bedroom trying to figure out what your plan was.

"Are you planning your escape today?" You stared at him and raised your eyebrow, as if he could think you'd run after what Chan did.

"No, I was thinking of cleaning. You guys are pigs." He lunged at you and you smirked at him, you weren't afraid of him or anyone else in this place. They wouldn't kill you because of how Chan acted around you, they held nothing over you which meant you had some kind of leverage.

"I'm going for a shower and then I'm cleaning the house." You rolled your eyes at him and walked into the ensuite bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind you. It's not as though you could escape through the tiny window and it wasn't like you had anywhere to go. Your ankle was doing better though which was great, one less thing to have to worry about when you did inevitably escape from Chan.

The front door had banged open, you looked up from the floor you were cleaning to see who it was that had made such a loud entrance,

"You have a date tonight." You stared at Felix as he spoke to you, as though you had some kind of idea as to what he was talking about.

"To whom are you referring?" He held up two tickets to a charity ball and you stared at them, black tie and ball gown were expected. There was going to be auctions held to donate money to charity. It was a charity ball that donated to the nursing home you used to work at, they held the party once or twice a year for benefactors to make generous donations.

"Chan's going to that?" You questioned. You'd served there a couple of years ago when you wanted to volunteer and the place was beautiful, it was right in Seoul centre in one of the biggest, most expensive hotels ever. Felix nodded his head,

"Like he does every year. Donates a large sum to them every year as well as auction things off. He donates throughout the year though through anonymous donations." You stared at Felix as he told you what Chan did for them, it surprised you you'd only ever heard of the bad things that Chan did for his money, not with it.

"Stealing from the rich to give to the poor? Sounds too much like Robin hood for me." Felix chuckled and shook his head at you, he could see something was going on inside your head. Like a battle with yourself that you weren't going to admit to losing just yet, he was brilliant at reading people and to him, you were an open book.

"I can't go. I have nothing to wear." You went back to cleaning the dishes you'd collected from all over the house and that's when Felix pulled out a wallet.

"That's why I have money, Jisung and Changbin will be following along with us to make sure you don't try anything." You glanced over at your shoulder, Changbin wasn't looking too happy about going with you on the field trip.

"Why not someone else?" You took the washing up gloves off your hands and walked over to the towels. They all knew about your dislike for Changbin since neither of you was trying to hide it, drying your hands and turning back to Felix.

"No one else is free...It'll be fun. I'll help you find something and then I'll get us all a tie to match your dress." Your version of fun seemed different from Felix's. You'd rather stay at home in your bed all day rather than shopping for the perfect dress and shoes.

"Let's go-"

"Don't I have to change first?" You remembered Chan's surprise when you wanted to go out in the jeans you'd been painting in. But Felix was fine with you coming in the leggings and oversized shirt they'd gotten you, it wasn't like he was trying to show you off to everyone.

"Not that's fine. Let's go, we don't want to be late tonight."

The shopping trip hadn't been a total drag like you'd thought it would be, Changbin managed to pretend to be happy to be there. Jisung and Felix were like the brothers you always wanted except way better than you had imagined them to be. It was so nice to be out of the house and joking around with them so much you'd almost forgotten who they were.

"I feel stupid," You said, as you stared yourself in the mirror. Felix was in your bedroom wearing an all-black suit, along with a red tie to match your dress. Chan wanted you all to match so people would know you were all together at the party, that way no one would mess with you. Chan had only gotten back an hour ago and had spent his entire time back locking his office complaining about something to Minho. You'd heard him shouting from inside of the bathroom when you were getting ready but you couldn't understand a word of it, it was all too muffled through the walls to understand anything. He'd been shouting at Minho about how Namjoon was going to be at the party, he never made appearances at things like that which was both good and bad news.

"Chan's downstairs now, the car is here." You sighed and came out of the bathroom nervously playing with your fingers as you waited for them to see you again. The red silk gown was floor length with a split at the front left side coming up to your mid-thigh.

"Whoa." You stared at Felix and shook your head at him, he was the one that had picked the dress out and saw you try it on.

"You saw it before."

"That was before the hair and makeup, you look...whoa." Your makeup had been done by someone in the mall along with your hair. You shook your head at him again and went over to the mirror to look at yourself. It felt like you were playing dress up as a kid all over again, the dress cost more than anything you would ever be able to afford in this lifetime or the next and it had an A-line flow with a backless detail. It was something you never would have worn before, but were wearing now because you had to look your best for the evening.

"Chan's gonna-"

"Chan's gonna what - oh my god," Seungmin gasped as he walked into the room, he'd come to see what was taking so long but he was shocked by how you looked as well.

"Boys," You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes and heading down the staircase. You could hear Chan ranting about something to the rest of the boys, doubling their security and watching him all night. He didn't care if they were tired or not, they weren't to have their eyes off the ball for even a moment there was too much at risk.

"Are you even listening? This is more important than all the other times we've been to these things. We have someone important to protect now- Are you even listening to me?" Jisung pointed over his shoulder at you, and Chan turned around to see you standing there with a small shy smile on your face. Chan’s jaw dropped as he stared at you, you looked incredible and he couldn't believe you were standing there so awkwardly. Someone that looked like you should have been walking tall and high with their head held high, and he was going to make sure he could help you do that. He was going to make you confident and feel like the beautiful girl you were. All thoughts about what he was talking to his men about were gone as you came closer to him. He took your hand in his and kissed the top of it, placing it back down at your hip and you felt a flutter in your heart as he stared at you. No one had ever looked at you like that before, it was nerve-wracking but at the same time, it made you feel warm inside, safe and that you weren't alone.

"The car," Changbin said, having no time to waste on this stupid moment Chan seemed to be having with you. They were all on edge for the night and were now protecting you and Chan while you were at the event together.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, as you sat in the back of Chan's car together Jeongin was driving with Seungmin by his side. The car in front of you had Felix and Minho inside and the last car behind you carried Hyunjin, Jisung and Changbin, you were being watched from angles. The same thing, matching cars and number plates in case any of you were followed it would be easy enough to confuse them. He was going to make sure nothing happened to you.

"Everything is fine." He lied, looking out of the window. He didn't feel like he could lie while looking you in the eyes. Right now he was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself, because you weren't his to touch he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by putting his hands on you,

"At the party, I'm going to introduce you as my fiancé...go along with it." You nodded and he slipped off a ring from his pinky finger. Turning to look at you as he slid it onto your ring finger, it was the perfect fit.

"Is there a reason we're faking that I'm your fiancé?" Chan nodded and turned to you trying to make it seem like he wasn't lying through his teeth right now.

"Namjoon."

"The man from the store?" Chan nodded again,

"I realise that I'm not in your eyes but what I do I do for the good of people and Namjoon...Let's just say he has his own selfish reasons for what he and his crew do. Killing for fun, killing for the sake of killing-" You felt fear ripple through your body and Chan could see that so he stopped talking about it. Namjoon was well known everywhere, everyone had heard of Namjoon and if they hadn't they were either stupid or didn't live in Seoul.

"So I have a target on my back because he saw us together the other day?" This was Chan's idea in the first place, he shouldn't be feeling guilty about this but he was. The plan was to lure Namjoon out, but since the day you spent alone together he'd been having second thoughts about the entire thing. He figured being seen by Namjoon would bring him out of hiding and have him admit that he killed Chan's wife. The bonus would be having him scare you so much you would be too terrified to leave Chan's side, so now why was he feeling so guilty for doing it? All he wanted to do was make you stay with him forever, he would be the one to protect you.

"I promise to look after you, he won't ever hurt you." You could tell by the way he was holding your hands, squeezing them and staring into your eyes that he was sincere. Which was what scared you. He was closer to believing that you actually liked him, while you were now stuck with staying with him forever or being on the run from two big mafia leaders who would both want you dead.

"Why do you come to these events?" You asked, trying to change the subject to anything else.  You could avoid the feeling of being scared if you just put it off long enough.

"I have my reasons," He linked your hands together as he sat in the back of the car. He didn't know how to act around you, you were being so nice to him lately and he didn't want to do anything to change that.

"Do I have to be scared about being out with you?" You questioned, your mind wandering back to Namjoon who was going to be at the event.

"No. I promised I would never let anything happen to you and I meant it." He squeezed your hand. You felt somewhat comforted by it, knowing that he was starting to fall for you hard enough to want to protect you. But then your mind went back to Changbin's threat and your conflicting heart. You could already feel yourself feeling sorry for him, clearly whatever had happened with his wife was affecting him badly. Maybe he was just that good guy that got pushed too far. One half of you was wanting to stay with him, but your brain was still on fire battling the thought about him doing what he did to Mrs Lu and the story your ditzy barmaid had told you. That chan had been the one to kill her, anyone with more than three brain cells could tell he hadn't though, that the story of him killing his wife was complete bullshit.

"Thank you." You whispered, looking out of the window nervously as you thought about the event. It was highly publicised meaning someone was going to get your photograph of you sitting there.

"Did you mean it?" You questioned quickly, he hummed at you and turned to stare at your face wondering what you were talking about.

"Did I mean what?"

"About taking me to see my grandfather?" He could tell by the look on your face that you were excited about the thought of it. But you were doing your best to stay calm about it and so he nodded at you. It could be a reward for you if you were good tonight while you were out with him.

"I'll take you if you behave tonight." You smiled shyly at him and nodded, promising you would be good. You'd promised not to try and get away and you meant it.

"Then let's get to it. Maybe get a nice photo to give to him?" Chan asked you, as he looked at the photographers outside the hotel. You nodded and the door opened, flashing lights started to blind you and you held onto Chan as he helped you out of the car.

"How do you deal with this?" You giggled, looking at him as he walked with you side by side. He linked his arm around your waist and smiled down at you trying to look good for the cameras. He paused at the bottom of the steps, a red carpet had been laid out and people were screaming questions at everyone who was walking there. It was like Chan was some kind of famous celebrity and people wanted to interview him.

"I smile and get on with it, I never liked this side of my life. They glorify the things I do and it's wrong, even if I do this all for the right reasons it makes it look good when it's not." You stared up at him as you walked towards the doors, lost in your own world as if the rest of the world melted away as you stared into his eyes. But he kept his head forward trying to focus on not falling over.

The evening was going admirably. You were in the middle of a huge event hall in the hotel, the walls were all white with marble columns to keep up the extremely high ceilings. The boys and you were all at the second-floor bar that looked down over at the rest of the party,

"Y/n?" You turned, to see a man around 6'0 smiling at you and coming over to you. You were standing at the bar while Chan went to stand beside someone and talk. The man was wearing a black suit with a blue tie on, you'd never seen him before so you had no idea how he knew your name. Jisung was supposed to be watching you but he was on his phone, you didn't blame him though it must have been boring watching someone all night.

"Hello." You greeted coldly, looking to try and get Jisung's attention but it wasn't going to work. Changbin was nowhere to be seen and Hyunjin was in the bathroom. You were starting to panic when the man reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it gently, looking at the ring on your finger but he didn't care about it.

"May I have a dance? I'm Clarke."

"No, I don't think my fiancé would like that." You were trying to come up with some excuse to get away from him, but Chan's back was to you as he spoke to someone about a donation he was making to them. You didn't know how to get him to turn around without screaming his name, and causing a scene not something you wanted to do in such a nice place.

"I'm sure he won't mind one dance." He pulled you over towards the staircase that led down to the bottom floor. Your heart began to pound, if the boys looked up to see you missing it would be bad news for you, but if Chan looked and saw you with another man it would be bad news for him.

"My fiancé really wouldn't like this, he's-"

"He's an idiot by letting you stand alone and giving you such a cheap-looking metal ring." His hand landed on your waist. Your eyes locked onto the back of Chan's head, hoping that somehow he would feel the stare and turn around.

"Please let me go." You begged him, but his hand slipped down to your waist while his other grabbed onto your ass squeezing it softly. He trailed his hand to your thigh so you slapped him across the face, the room was so packed no one noticed. So you began rushing over to Jisung, he was the closest one to you and the nicest one out of them all. Your hand gripped onto his bicep as you pleaded for him to help you,

"Help." You whispered, he looked at your panicked face and then saw a man coming over to you holding his face with a red mark across his cheek.

"You slapped him?" You nodded, explaining that he started touching you and you had to get away.

"You little whore, dressing like this and expecting not to be touched?!" You whimpered, as the man began storming towards you. Jisung took control of the situation quickly,

"Chan!" Chan turned around and saw the worried look on your face and then the man. He was livid, he stormed to your sight and took your face in his hands turning it side to side to look at you. The man stopped as he realised it was Chan that you were with and not someone else, he began begging for them not to hurt him but Changbin grabbed onto his arms.

"You okay? Did he hurt you?" You shook your head and Chan turned around to punch the man who'd grabbed you the way he did,

"Changbin, take him back to the house and put him up in the basement I'm not through with him." He ran his hands through his black hair. You noticed curls starting to form as he pulled it from the styling gel, you never knew he had curly hair. It was something you were trying to focus on to keep you calm.

"You sure you're okay? Did he hurt you at all?"

"No, I'm fine. He just grabbed my ass and my-" He went to follow Changbin out of the hotel, wanting to kill him for even thinking about touching you. You grabbed onto his hand,

"Don't leave me please." You urged him and he stared down at your hand on his wrist. He felt his heart begin to pick up and he nodded at you, even if he did feel like it was his fault for leaving you alone when he promised he wouldn't.

"Fine. Let's go and have a drink." You followed him towards the bar and ordered a scotch, he did the same and looked at you. He could tell that the fact that the man touching you was bothering you. You were scared, having someone touch you like that in such a public place, you had no idea what could have happened if he'd gotten you down the stairs.

"You promised to watch me, you promised. What if that was Namjoon that got hold of me?" He shook his head at you. He cupped your cheek in his hands running his thumb over your skin trying to calm you down.

"I took my eyes away for two seconds, it's not my fault you're so beautiful that everyone wants you. I promise he'll get what's coming to him. No one will hurt you or touch you." You realised what he meant by that and you stared at him,

"You're going to kill him..." It was a statement rather than a question, about what he was or wasn't going to do. But he heard your voice crack and he stared at you wanting to search for any signs that you didn't want him to, but all he could see was the sign of you being okay with it.

"Yes." He answered blandly, but he didn't care, no scumbag should get away with touching people that clearly asked him to stop.

"Good. Make him pay for it." He liked this side of you, you had no idea where it was coming from but you wanted the man to pay for what he'd done to you. It always happened in the bar you used to work in, sleazy men would touch whoever they wanted and get away with it and you were sick of it. It was about time that somebody took care of it.

"I'll make sure he does." He promised, kissing your cheek and then looking around for the time,

"We have time for a dance before the auctioning starts." He took your hand, you downed the drink of scotch, following him to the staircase to head down for a dance together.

Both of you lost in your world as Namjoon watched from across the room, he asked his right-hand man for the information they had gathered on you. It was strange how you'd seemingly come from nowhere and were now being announced as Chan's fiancé. They told him about your family history, your grandmother using his money and dying leaving bills unpaid. He smirked watching you being waltzed around by Chan, he had a plan now. Chan's hand was placed on your waist, while his other hand held onto yours, slowly leading you along the floor swaying back and forth with you.

"You look great tonight, by the way, I don't know if I mentioned that." You laughed at Chan and nodded at him, even though you didn't believe what he was saying.

"You didn't have to, the boys did it for you. Apparently, I'm 'whoa'." He chuckled and nodded in agreement with them.

"They're right. You look gorgeous." You could feel your cheeks heating up as he complimented you,

"Dip." He said, you stared up at him as he dipped you down and smiled at you. A camera flash went off capturing the happy moment making you both momentarily blind.

"Look at the happy couple." You both stood up to see Namjoon staring at you,

"Y/n Y/l/n, and Bang Chan...surprising couple." You cleared your throat and Chan wrapped his arm around your waist, he knew Namjoon would have gotten to know everything about you by now.

"Can I see the ring?" You didn't have a chance to decline, Namjoon just took your hand in his and stared down at the small silver band around your finger.

"Huh. Seems simple for someone like Chan to give you." Chan didn't have time to say anything,

"I asked for something simple, inexpensive to prove how much I wanted Chan for Chan and not who he was and his money." Namjoon nodded along and looked at Chan.

"May I dance with her?" Chan stepped aside willingly, not wanting to disobey Namjoon and cause a scene. He watched as Namjoon began to dance with you in the same way Chan had been doing before.

"I know he took you against your will, do you want to get out of here?" You stared up at Namjoon as he stared off behind you, trying not to make it look obvious about what he was talking about.

"He didn't take me against my will, I went with him. I love him." You seemed so convincing you almost believed yourself, Namjoon stared down at you shocked that the words had even left your mouth.

"Love him? My dear, that almost sounded convincing to me. You barely know the man, you've been with him less than a week." He kissed your forehead and brought you into a hug,

"You better watch out my love, as soon as he turns his back, you're mine just like his ex. I'll assume he told you the horror story but be warned, I will kill you just like I did to her...Paint his living room a nice shade of red again." He left you alone and you stood staring at the back of his head, Chan frowned coming over to you.

"What's wrong? Did he hurt you? Say something?" You turned to look up at Chan and he stared down at you, you looked terrified, more terrified than the night he'd killed Mrs Lu.

"H-He said I have to watch out before you turn your back and I end up just like your ex." Chan's hand on your hip tightened and you whimpered moving away from his grasp.

"What does that mean? What happened?" He looked around and shouted Seungmin and Jeongin over. It gave him the confirmation he'd been using you for, but now his blood ran cold at the thought of Namjoon threatening you. It wasn't just Chan using you for information anymore, he liked you a lot and now you were in real danger

"Give them the money, bid on the weekend away, I need to take her home. Namjoon threatened her." His hands were on your arm and he was rushing you out of the hall and towards the exit of the building,

"Smile and look happy, if Namjoon knows he's scared you he wins." You nodded and started smiling up at him, he took your hand in his and sighed.

"Come here," He bent down to pick you up bridal style and you squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck and staring into his eyes.

"What are you doing?" You asked, looking into his eyes and nowhere else as the cameras flashed at you both running to the car.

"You move too slowly in those heels. I have to get you home where I can keep you safe." He sat you in the car and told Felix to drive fast and not stop for anything.

"What happened with your ex...Is he going to get me?" You panicked and he linked your hand in his.

"I'll tell you everything, I promise, but right now you need to get home and get you safe. I'm not going to let you die okay." He kissed your cheek and you laid your head on his shoulder, staring at the back of Felix's head as you drove to the house.

"You'll be fine here, no one can get in here, it's all secure," Chan said as he stood in your door, you were laid in the bed dressed in an oversized shirt and some shorts. You hadn't stopped shaking since the moment you left the hotel and he still hadn't told you what happened with his ex. Just that she was dead and it was Namjoon's fault. You were more scared of Namjoon than you ever had been of Chan,

"Get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning. Seungmin is right outside if you need him." You nodded at him and he turned to leave the room without another word.

"Goodnight." You called out and he nodded at you, saying it back before leaving the room quietly, shutting the door behind him.

You laid there for an hour while you listened to the wind and rain outside, the thunder started and you wanted to cry. Thunderstorms used to make you calm but tonight it seemed to make everything scarier, like in a horror movie. Every sound made you think it was someone trying to break into the mansion, specifically your bedroom. You got out of the bed and snuck out of the door, Seungmin was asleep so you could sneak out of the door without being heard. You tapped on the bedroom door belonging to Chan but there was no response, you were about to turn back when thunder clapped so loudly you jumped. Rushing into the room the door banged, he jumped up and pointed a gun at you thinking you were an intruder,

"Chan!" You held up your hands to make him see that you were free of any weapon, and that you weren't going to hurt him, but you let out a whimper as he kept it tracked on you,

"I'm sorry." You whispered, turning to stare at him. He was wearing a black t-shirt and some shorts, he shook his head and stared at you, panicked that something was wrong.

"I'm sorry! Did you hear something?" He questioned you, he got up from the bed to get closer to you.

"No, no." You whispered, shaking your head and looking around his room, it was the one room you hadn't been in yet.

"Do you want me to put the gun away?" You nodded frantically, slowly lowering your hands down now that he knew who it was in his bedroom this late at night.

"Yes please." He took the gun and put it away in the drawer beside his bed and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of your head as you got closer to him.

"What's wrong?" He sat down on the bed and you walked into the room sitting down beside him.

"I'm scared, he said he'd kill me, Chan." You admitted and he sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and drawing you closer to him,

"What if he gets me?"

"I won't let it happen. I won't let him anywhere near you, you're mine and I'm going to protect you." He repeated, pulling you to lay down on the bed with him. He spooned you and began tracing patterns into your skin as a way of trying to calm you down. You let the 'you're mine' comment pass, it felt nice for him to say that to you right now, it was something you needed to hear.

"I promise." He kissed your shoulder blade and you closed your eyes, feeling safe and protected around him enough to fall asleep for the first time all night.

"Get some sleep. I promise to protect you." He kissed your shoulder again and you hummed, shuffling back towards him wanting him to hold you closer. But you turned around to face him instead, deciding now would be a good time to question him since you weren't tired.

"Aren't you scared of him?" He shook his head and ran his hand over your cheek, tracing his thumb along your skin as he stared into your eyes. He had to be strong to you even if it meant telling you he wasn't scared when he was.

"He holds no power over me, I don't care about him but if he comes anywhere near you-" Your hand on his cheek calmed him down, you could see him growing more and more agitated, but he was shocked that you'd touched him like this. All the other times you seemed to move away but you were willing, getting close to him and touching him willingly.

"Thank you for protecting me, not just with Namjoon but with that guy at the party." He nodded, the guy had been locked in the basement the moment the boys got him home and Chan was planning on dealing with him in the morning.

"Anything for you." You looked at him, your eyes glancing from his to his lips trying to fight back the feeling of wanting to kiss him but it was hard. You close your eyes and leant in and he leant down pressing his lips against yours. As soon as he kissed you the world fell away, it was all slow and soft something you'd never thought would happen to you, it felt like it was something from the books you'd read as a teenager. It was comforting and his hand fell away from your face and to your hip, dragging your body closer to him so there was no space between you any more. You could feel his heart beating against your chest as he brought you closer, pulling away and running his thumb along your bottom lip.

"Do it again," You begged him to kiss you one more time, your mind blank as your heart took over your actions. He pressed his lips against yours, the world falling away in an instant, but this time the kiss was hot and full of passion. His tongue ran along the seam of your lips and you parted them for him wanting nothing more than to make out with him all night. The kiss was sloppy and you could taste the scotch you'd both been drinking that night. You wrapped your arm around his neck and he chuckled, pulling away from you not wanting to take things too far too soon.

"Enough for one night," He placed a gentle kiss on your lips again to satisfy you and you shifted on the bed, laying your head on his chest to fall asleep while listening to his heartbeat. He laid on his back looking at the ceiling while he listened to your breathing trying to make it the focus of his thoughts. As long as you were still breathing he had something to fight for, something to stop him going after Namjoon right away and coming up with some kind of plan. For you it felt safe right next to him, it was strange and didn't make sense in your head but your heart was telling you it felt right to be there with him no matter what he'd done. The kiss had been too good for you to ignore the chemistry between you both. He kissed the top of your head as your eyes got too heavy to keep them open any longer, and you stopped fighting to keep them open, drifting away into the best night's sleep you or Chan had ever had in the longest time.

Tagline: My fantastic and wonderful editor I would be nowhere without! @moonprincessdiviniation​ @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @hugs4chan​ @ncitythoughts​ @inseonqt​ @cloudsgathering​ @atletino​ @mischiefmakerliesmith5​ @freckledquokka @happygirl327​

[waitimcomingtoo]

Paranoid

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

submitted by @7teenbl-ck : your Criminal Minds obsession gets you paranoid about crime in your neighborhood. Everything scares you now, even Peter

Masterlist

(this gif has nothing to do with the story but omg look at it)

“Baby, wake up.”  

You jolted awake when Peter shook you, your laptop sliding off your stomach and onto the bed.

“What time is it?” You asked groggily as you rubbed your eyes.

Sleepy you was peters favorite version of you, so he took a minute to answer as he admired the way your hair stuck up in every direction.

“It’s not even nine yet. I just got back from patrol.” He told you as he rubbed your hip.

“I must’ve fallen asleep watching Criminal Minds again.” You said before hiding a yawn behind your hand.

“Why are you so obsessed with fake crime when you have a boyfriend out there fighting real crime?” Peter pouted, moving your laptop off the bed so you wouldn’t lose it.

“I watch it for the plot.” You smiled sleepily at him, and he saw right through you. Peter let out a short laugh and brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss it.

“You watch it because you’re in love with that stupid agent Reid or whatever his name is.” Peter grumbled, his jealousy making you smile.

“It’s Doctor Reid.” You corrected, and he rolled his eyes at you.

“You’ve been watching that damn show every single night when I come back from patrol.” Peter whined as he pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back. “Why don’t you let me tell you about the real unsubs I see?”

“Fine, baby.” You patted his knee and curled into his chest, still half sleep. “Tell me about patrol tonight.”

“I saw a pigeon l in the backseat of a moving taxi.” Peter said excitedly, and you chuckled against his chest.

“How is that a real crime?” You teased him.

“That’s theft of service. That pigeon could get get fined up to $4,000.” Peter argued and you let out a laugh.

“Who would waste their time trying to bring a pigeon to justice?” You asked, and Peter fell silent.

“Peter? I need you to be honest with me.” You said, your tone suddenly seriously.

“Okay, sure” Peter sat up a little to give you his full attention.

“Did you go after the pigeon?” You squinted at him in the dark. Peter was quiet again and you could see him chewing his bottom lip in the moonlight that came through your window

“Peter.” You repeated in a warning tone.

“It was a slow night! The pigeon needed to be set free before he committed a misdemeanor.” Peter defended.

“You know who never has a slow night?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Don’t say the BAU” Peter groaned.

“The BAU!” You cheered. “Let’s watch Criminal Minds.”

“But I want to cuddle.” Peter whined. It not that he didn’t like the show, he just wasn’t in the mood for it. He’s much rather hear about your day or just about anything else you wanted it tell him.

“We can do both.” You insisted as you pulled your laptop into your lap. Peter scooted between your legs and let you be the big spoon as you clicked on an episode.

~

You spent the entirety of your Saturday watching Criminals minds while Peter was at his SAT prep class. He told you he’d be over around 5 to keep you company, something that had slipped your mind around the fourth episode you played. This episode in particular hit a little too close to home, as it took place in New York. As the episode went on, you began to feel fear bubble up in your tummy. It didn’t help that your parents were away for the weekend, leaving you all alone in the apartment. You paused the episode and went to make sure that your door was locked. You sighed a breath of relief when you saw that it was, and leaned your back a against it. That’s when it dawned on you.

You have so many windows.

And windows are just tiny glass doors that criminals can come through.

You rushed throughout your apartment, shutting and locking every single window you had. You shut all the curtains before returning to you bedroom to resume the episode.

While it played, you googled crime statistics in New York.

“443 out of 100,000 people in New York are criminals?” You read out loud to yourself, suddenly feeling very unsafe. You began to google crime in your immediate neighborhood when the episode caught your attention.

“Our unsub is a white male in his mid to late 30s. He’s going to be physically fit and may have already inserted himself in the investigation.” Emily Prentiss said, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“I know some physically fit white males in their mid to late 30s.” You whispered in fear.

“He’s only attacked cars at first, but he recently escalated to apartments.” Derek Morag added and you gulped.

“I live in an apartment building.” You realized as white hot fear shot through your body.

“His last victim was a high school girl. He broke into her apartment when her parents weren’t home and attacked her while she was drinking a glass of water in her bedroom.” Hotch explained.

Your eyes shifted to the glass of water you had beside your bed. You swiftly punched the glass, making water spill all over your carpet. You had just turned your attention back to the screen when you heard a knocking at your window. You let out a scream and dove under the covers, saying a prayer in every language you could think off. You let out another shriek when they knocked again.

“Who’s there? Are you the criminals? From the statistics?” You yelled form under your covers.

It wasn’t until your panicked breathing calmed down that you heard your boyfriends voice.

“Y/n? It’s Peter. Open up.” He called, his voice muffled through the window. You peaked from beneath your covers and saw Spider-Man perched at your window. You sheepishly got out of bed and opened the window for him, locking it the second he got inside. You peaked through your curtains for anyone who might be watching and shut them tightly.

“Why was it locked? I thought you always left it open for me?” Peter grumbled as he took off his suit. He put on the clothes he left in your room as you sat on your bed.

“But leaving it open for you Peter is the same as leaving it open for all the criminals in New York. All 443 out of 100,000 of them!” You exclaimed and he paused as he was sliding on his shirt.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I have been googling crime statistics in New York all day. Do you know how bad the crime has to be for it it warrant statistics?” You asked him, panic evident in your eyes. He took a seat next to you and took your hands in his.

“Baby, this neighborhood hasn’t had a crime since the guy on the fifth floor stole that lady’s package. And he returned it once he saw it was a cat bed, so no one was even arrested.” Peter reasoned with you but you still looked scared. “What’s got you all worked up?”

You looked at Peter as you nervously chewed your lip and it clicked.

“Don’t say the BAU.” He groaned and buried his face in your neck.

“The BAU!” You protested and he muttered something against your skin before picking his head up. He could see that you were genuinely afraid, so he pulled you into his arms and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Sweetness, that show isn’t real.” Peter sighed as he rubbed your back. “It’s dramatized and fake and unrealistic. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“The show isn’t real, but the criminals in New York are.” You said quietly. “There are a lot of bad people in the world and New York is full of them. And then you tell me about all this crazy kinds of bad people with giant wings and illusion technology that the rest of the world doesn’t even know about.”

Guilt twinged in Peters chest at your words. He never should’ve told you about the guys he was fighting if you were already paranoid. He picked up your head and held it between your hands, giving you a gentle smile to calm to down.

“You know what those guys have in common?” Peter asked you and you shook your head.

“No, what?”

“I took them down.” Peter said with a cooks grin and you rolled your eyes at him. “Beck is dead and Toomes is in prison. They can’t get to you.”

“But-“ You began.

“And neither can anyone else.” Peter finished. “My job as Spider-Man is to keep New York safe, but my job as your boyfriend is to keep you safe. You’re always gonna be my number one priority.”

You smiled slightly as Peter and pulled him into a long kiss to thank him.

“Thank you.” You mumbled against his lips. “I guess I shouldn’t be this paranoid. I just kinda forgot my boyfriend was Spider-Man.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here.” Peter chuckled. “To remind you.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human​ @celestial-skylines​ @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @delicately-important-trash​ @spideygirl2003​ @the-crazy-fanfictionist​ @maryjanee23​ @spacebitch2​ @geeksareunique​ @emmamarshmellow​ @jillanaholland​ @unbelievableholland​ @rebekkah4766​ @flixndchill​ @sovereignparker​ @wendaiii​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever​ @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave​ @itscaminow​ @thegr8kush​ @solarxmoonchild​ @where-art-thau-romeo​ @canyouevencauseicant​ @probablyparker​ @illwritetomorrow​ @thehappygrungelife​ @saysomethingspiderman​ @parkerboop​ @smilexcaptainx​ @hes-amarillo​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah

[hobiwonder]

Workaholic | (m)

Genre: Smut, pwp. fluff if you squint.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Warnings: language. foreplay, descriptions of unprotected sex, dirty talk, object insertion, cum eating, creampie.

Words: 10k

Summary: Yoongi needs to relax and Hoseok has many tricks up his sleeve to make him. None of them Yoongi thought included hiring a hooker to pay him a visit one stormy night. 

You were only trying to escape a crazed man chasing you down on a stormy night. Never was your intention to end up in an attractive man’s house. Definitely not one who thought you were a hooker. 

a/n: i read a little novella like this a while ago but it was about vampires. I cannot remember the name but here is my twist on it kwhduebgjswbvhw. enjoy. Plz validate me with comments thank u. 

(he’s adorable omg)

“You really need to take a break Yoongi,”

“I’m fine,” he may be able to fool himself in to thinking he’s fine just because there isn’t any immediate struggle, his mental state was far from it. Still, didn’t stop Hoseok from barging in his office like he owned it – he only owned part of it – and demanding that Yoongi take a rest.

“no you’re not. You’re so damn bitchy all the time. Take a damn break. This isn’t a case of working hard to make it somewhere in life. You own the fucking company.”

“I’m a Partner. Not the actual owner.” Hoseok is waving his dismissal as he crosses his ankles on Yoongi’s desk.

“Same shit. You’ll be the sole partner in a few more years if you keep going at this speed. It’ll be MinKim Inc than just Kim.”

That was the goal, yes. Currently, Kim Seokjin, Yoongi’s close friend, was the heir to the corporation.

“You’re a partner here too you little shit.” There is no point in trying to kick his Italian loafer clad feet off because he just crosses them over the desk again.

“Yes but at least I’m not slaving over at my office to acquire more of it. All good things come in time.”

“Exactly. So leave me alone, I’ll have my rest when it’s time.” He had emails to respond to and his head had already started pounding. He was so damn tired all the time despite sleeping at least 7 hours. What use was there to sleep anymore if it didn’t provide the relief he needed?

“Bro you’re really fucking things up for yourself. You need to get laid.”

This makes Yoongi snort as he continues typing. Hoping Hoseok didn’t notice how his finger halted for a quarter of a second before he kept typing.

“I did. Or tried to, I guess.” Hoseok’s eyes have widened like saucers for some reason. Always so dramatic.

“Wait, by any chance… was it with Mina?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi’s eyebrows drop in to a furrow at his question like this was some sort of mystery he was about to solve. But Hoseok just sits back with a ‘thump’ before breaking in to fits of laughter like he couldn’t believe it.

“So it’s true. Damn. I really didn’t think she was telling the truth.” Now he had Yoongi’s full attention.

“Who?” Abandoning his email, he turns to Hoseok’s still shaking frame.

“Mina. That’s who. Do you have any idea what tales that tattle tale has been telling about you lately?”

“No. And I don’t care.” Women tended to exaggerate things.

“Oh but you should, brother. Apparently you can’t get it up. And now I know she wasn’t lying about everything.”

“What?! What the fuck? Has she been mouthing off about me like that?” There is an ever present annoying, self-satisfied smirk on Hoseok’s face. But Yoongi couldn’t care less. His manhood was at stake.

“Got your attention didn’t I? Yes sir. At the lounge yesterday she seemed rather devastated. Did you really not show her a good time?”

“Well,” Yoongi tried to salvage his brain for some plausible explanation. But it was true. Mina was one of the sexiest women in his circle and yet, last week he could not stay hard for the life of him. “In my defence, I got her off three fucking times with my damn mouth. Ungrateful.”

While Yoongi is shaking his head in disappointment, Hoseok seems to be rather occupied with something going on his little scheming head. “What? Why are you spacing out like that?”

“Just thinking. Has this been going on for a while?”

Snorting, Yoongi pushes off Hoseok’s feet for the hundredth time. “You’re not my therapist Hoseok. I’m sure I just need more,” Yoongi grits his teeth and swallows once, twice, just to get the words out, “rest. I’m not about to pop Viagra because one girl isn’t satisfied with not having my dick. Though I can understand her pouting.”

Yoongi was allowed to be cocky. His dick game was pretty good. You obviously need to have a reputation to actually save it.

“Hyung, you need both. You’ve been stuck in this office for months and you barely do anything exciting. When was the last time you went out just because you wanted to let off some steam?”

The bastard knew the answer and just wanted to humiliate Yoongi. So he stays silent, watching Hoseok as he straightens up.

“At least you got your feet off my damn table.” Yoongi mumbles to himself, hoping he’ll drop it. No such luck.

“You know the reason you can’t even enjoy the simple things in life anymore is because you don’t even go have a meal at a restaurant just to have an enjoyable evening anymore. Remember when we used to have lunch at the Shaw’s every week?”

Those were good times. It was fun, that’s what Yoongi remembers.

“You want Hyung to take you out on a date? Is that it?” Yoongi’s little jab at humour doesn’t faze Hoseok as he continues to stare down the elder. Which Yoongi would smack him for any other time but this time, he was right. Hoseok only said it all because he cared about him.

“Well, it has been a while since I ate something other than takeout in my office….” Leaning back in his chair, Yoongi can’t help but let out a groan as his muscles get a break from their punishing position that Yoongi kept them in to stay alert and focused.

“Great!” Hoseok has all but switched from the utmost serious face he had been showing Yoongi and back to his chirpy self. It almost gave Yoongi whiplash. Something didn’t smell right with how quickly he was satisfied.

“Hoseok, what are you planning? I can tell you’re up to something.” Yoongi stares up at his retrieving figure, almost a dance to his step.

“Don’t be so vigilant hyung. We’ll just have dinner on Friday night and some drinks at the bar, that’s all.” His smile is too big for Yoongi to continue staring at him to sus him out. So he lets him go.

“Whatever, I’ll see you then.”

“Bye boss! I’ll see you Friday. Get ready to party baby. Whoo!” His loud scream is obnoxious and nothing out of character and Yoongi won’t lie; He’s sort of excited about Friday.

Maybe listening to Hoseok wasn’t such a bad idea. Not when Yoongi just had the best steak he’s had in years.

“Damn. This was good.” Hoseok is still dabbing at his mouth with the napkin while he just nods his agreement.

“See? I told you that you’d have fun. Plus, I know the chef here so you my brother, got a $400 steak for free,” He drops the napkin in front dramatically as if he’s won some medal.

“Yeah yeah, thanks for getting your hyung steak. Now let’s get out of here.” Yoongi is already up and brushing down his suit but Hoseok seems to be in no rush.

“No. We’re going to the bar, remember?”

“Really?” Yoongi doesn’t want to sound like he’s complaining since a night out is the most fun thing he’s done in a while where he hasn’t pretended to have fun. He genuinely felt more relaxed and almost looked forward to spending the weekend home. Or… trying. He’s never not worked on a weekend before.

“Yes. Now stop your whining and lets go.” Yoongi knew better than to argue with Hoseok. At least he didn’t have anything weird planned like Yoongi had thought earlier. There was no telling with Hoseok around.

“Two whiskeys please. Neat.” The bartender shoots Hoseok a nod before he starts pouring the drinks. Yoongi sweeps his gaze across the floor of the upscale bar. He couldn’t remember the last time he visited here with Hoseok or any other office friend really. But after a whole day of outings with his best friend, an amazing dinner and now this, he was starting to remember how much spontaneous fun he used to have. He wasn’t 21 anymore and going to clubs and spending his hard earned money on lap dancers wasn’t exactly his forte. But enjoying a top quality Whiskey definitely was.

“Feels good doesn’t it? Drinking in peace and not worrying about going somewhere tomorrow so you have to stay completely sober?” Hoseok’s grin has Yoongi relenting his facial muscles as well as he just nods.

“Yup. Thanks for today. It’s been a while since we came here, huh?”

“I’ve been here plenty hyung. Just not with you in a while so I have to admit, you’re probably the best company.”

“Well shit,” Yoongi can’t help but laugh, “Even better than that Irene chick?”

“Even better than her.” Both of them chuckling in unison, clinking their glasses. “Cheers.”

“Remember when we first came here?” That was all it took for Hoseok to start laughing uncontrollably.

The rumbling thunder was making you nervous. You were supposed to finish a bunch of file analysis today and submit it to your supervisor before you left. It was already well past 9pm and you still had three more manila folders to go through. There was no room for you to mess this up. You’d just been hired in their college graduate program, earning the position through the diligent work you’d done during your internship. It was rare that Kim Inc hired staff through their internships. They were merely a gateway platform for students to try and earn a position elsewhere with their name on the resumé. Which wasn’t difficult after having spent even a few weeks at the company.

Their reputation was nothing short of ruthless. Hard work took up a whole another meaning and you had discovered that yourself when more than once your colleagues had cried in the bathroom because of the pressure. It was a cutthroat business and your supervisors in each department you’d worked at had let you know exactly that. Still, the extremely work-orientated mannerisms of your superiors around you only pushed you to do better yourself. If you were on top of everything, the rewards were plenty. Only ones who couldn’t handle the pressure really felt like everything was unfair. Because that had been you at first. Now you knew better than to complain about the company that would help you pave the way for yourself. You needed this job to create a picture perfect record of your work ethics and achievements so you could one day work for yourself. One day at a time right?

Glancing at the clock however, the minutes were escaping you quicker than what you would’ve liked. You had recently been transferred to the materials department. Where all the products your company made were designed and their prototypes developed before being transferred to other departments. You’d been told too many horror stories about the head od department, Mr. Min, to act like this was just like any other job. His department was infamous for producing almost perfect prototypes that when they were sent to be assembled and polished, the other departments rarely had to do much else. And because of that efficiency and work ethic, Mr. Min was praised countless times a day by your superiors while the common employees were scared shitless of the guy. Though you’d never actually seen him in person, you believed when your supervisor, Ilhoon had told you to not be mistaken and slack off.

So here you were, slaving away at your desk, typing your analysis in to the computer furiously while trying to glance outside the massive glass walls at the same time. It seemed like it was going to rain heavily and your time was running out. It was almost 10pm and that was the deadline you’d set for yourself. You didn’t want to cut corners but you also didn’t want to push your luck with the storm. The offices were in the middle of the city while you lived in a more modest part of town so it would take you at least 30 minutes to get home on public transport. You’d just started working at your current job so you hadn’t been able to save much for a car when you always ended up spending your money on decorating your apartment.

“Crap.” Muttering all sorts of prayers under your breath, you finally start on the last report, just shy of 20 minutes until 10pm. Thankfully, your increased fervour to have everything finished before you left must have paid off – or maybe your prayers answered? – and you were running the report through the spell check before sending it to Ilhoon and scurrying out of the floor. As if sensing that you were just about to head home – the storm has all but started raging hard, raining mercilessly and swinging the trees in all directions with the force of the wind. Even the elevator lights were flickering occasionally.

You really needed to get a move on if you were to get home. Running in heels wasn’t your strong suit but you managed the best you could. Thankfully your skirt wasn’t a flowy one today but a more pencil shape so you wouldn’t have to worry about holding it down because of the ferocious wind. The security guard at the front door bids you good bye after asking you if you needed a taxi – which you stupidly declined. Too ambitious thinking you could make it to the bus on time. But that shouldn’t have been the only problem you should’ve thought about. At 10pm, there weren’t that many people using the buses as their preferred commute. And definitely on such a stormy night. Which meant that the only other person on the bus with you was a greasy looking man that looked older than he probably was because of his blackening teeth and matted down hair. His clothes weren’t faring well either but you still clung on to the tiniest bit of hope that he wanted nothing to do with you.

Of course that was stupid to think because ever since you’d gotten on, he had been staring. Did he really not have anyone else to bother tonight? You were starting to get nervous and somewhere deep down you knew he was waiting to get off where you were. And letting him know where you lived wasn’t something you were too keen on. To make matters worse, just 10 minutes in the ride – with many stops because of the traffic in the rain – the man had gotten up from his seat at the back and started walking towards you. Your heart was thumping loudly and the nervous edge was becoming sharper and sharper. Making you feel entrapped. But not just metaphorically when the man sits right behind you, not faltering with his eye contact.

Okay you needed to do something now. Maybe pretending to text will make him lose interest? If he knew there was someone who knew where you were right now he’d maybe leave you alone. Quickly, you rummage through your bag, taking out your cell phone from the bottom of it. The relief is short lived when you punch in your passcode and see that it only has 5% of battery left in it. You try not to look panicked, still glancing out the window to just see a bunch of pouring rain and the trees dancing in it. There was no time to preserve the battery, you just needed to look like you were conversing with someone.

It works fine for a few minutes until your phone gets stuck, making your heart drop when you sense the inevitable. Just after a few seconds, it shuts off completely and right then, from the corner of your eyes, you can see the man watching your downfall. He’s been on the bus for god knows how long and now that he’s been watching you for the last 15 minutes, there is no way this is just a coincidence. He was following you. Without thinking, your panicky brain has decided that you needed to get off and maybe catch the bus after this. You could wait on the bus stop until the next one arrived which shouldn’t be too long but at least there was a chance of more people being present on the bus. Or not at all. You didn’t care as long as you were away from the foul smelling man sitting right behind you.

“Hey there pretty woman. You headed to Marsden Park too?” The beating of your heart was so loud in your ears after hearing the familiar name of your suburb that you wanted to jump out right that instant. It’s then you realise he’s seen the name of the suburb on your ticket and definitely knew where you were going.

“N-No. I’m going to see a f-friend.” Without wasting anymore time, you’ve pressed the stop button on the bus, getting off at the next stop. Surely you weren’t too far off from your suburb? You’d been in the bus for ages you must be a little far from the city. To your total and utter dismay, you haven’t even left the area that qualifies as the actual city. All this time on the bus and you were stuck a mere few miles from your office?

However, you’ve been shaken out of your meltdown when you notice the same man you’ve been trying to avoid, get off the bus too. “Oh god, no.”

You’re walking fast, not even thinking about the fact that the rain is soaking you from top to bottom. You couldn’t exactly stay at the bus stop! He would probably rape and kill you right then. There was no sign of anyone else around. Especially since this neighbourhood seemed to be filled with endless number of mansions. You could hear his footsteps on the side walk as your heels clicked, the rain not drowning out its sound completely. Maybe you could just knock at one of the doors and someone would answer? But you knew it would be not in your favour since none of the houses had even the front porch light on. Were all these people dead? Why wasn’t anyone home damnit!

You glance back and see the man not too far behind and decide to cross the road. There was an intersection coming ahead so maybe you could dodge him by walking to one of the streets. At this point, you were soaked. Your blouse and skirt completely stuck to your body, making the fabric heavier and harder for you to walk in. Walking faster, you curse yourself for wearing heels. They practically gave away where you were heading! Looking back, you see the man stopped in his tracks, seemingly trying to tie his shoelaces and you see that as an opportunity to make a run for it. Quickly, you cross the road, heels clicking and alerting the man as he tries to get up and run after you. However an oncoming car right as you’ve crossed the road to a street filled with even bigger houses, races down the road, splashing water almost violently on to him and you can hear him yell.

“Motherfucking rich bastards! Fucking racing their fucking cars!” His voice is even more threatening and scary than you remember and your fight or flight instincts finally help you make a decision for the better. Reaching down you take off your heels, chucking them on the opposite side of the road towards the other street before you make a run inwards, hoping to find a house that will let you in and call your friend or police or something!

“Where are you bitch?! You can’t run away from me just yet pretty lady.” Bitch and pretty lady in the same sentence? If you weren’t scared to death you’d laugh at how much of a ladies man he is.

You must have thrown him off at least a little because his voice sounds a bit distant now. You take this as your que to try and find someone who actually lives here. God must have listened to your prayers as you see sliver of light filtering through from a house right towards the end of the road. You run like hell towards it, hoping and praying that someone is actually home. Another obstacle you didn’t think about was the fact that before getting to the front door, you would need to get past the security cameras. But it was a matter of your life at this point so you just keep running, coming to stop before what seems to be a CCTV camera and a touchscreen pad that shows you standing in front of it. There is an option to ring inside the house and you frantically try to press it. Or you think you pressed it? It’s all touchscreen and you assume that it must be able register a touch even through water.

Finally, a light turns on after your endless smashing on top of the ring button. The light is flashing right across your face, momentarily blinding you with its brightness.

“H-Hello?! Is anyone listening?! Help me, please!” You’re almost in tears at this point, glancing around you. Your voice had been loud and there was a very possible chance that the man chasing you could have heard.

“Do you not see the sign? No sales person.” A deep, lazy drawl comes through the speakers and you’re enraged. Did you look like you were here to sell something? You needed help!

Right on cue, you can see a figure walking fast inwards to the road. It was raining so hard you couldn’t even see properly. But all you cared about was getting inside somewhere safe. So swallowing your anger, you try to plead your way in.

“Please. Help me! Someone is following me.” Your eyes try to portray your desperation and fear. There was no part of you acting at this point as a sob escapes your lips that have started to tremble from the cooling temperature of your body. There is a silence for the next few seconds and you can’t help but look down. He wasn’t going to let you in, was he?

“Seriously? You want to leave now? At,” Hoseok makes a show of glancing down at his Piguet watch, “Half past 9?”

Yoongi doesn’t have time to argue with him. He felt deliciously tipsy from the Whiskey and wanted to relax in his massage chair at home, make some beats, play piano or whatever the fuck he pleased to do. He was on this ‘rest’ high and wanted to ride it as long as he could before his brain manipulated him into going back to work.

“Yup. Hyung had fun but now I need to get home. Enjoyed wasting time with you Hoseok.” He pats his back while Hoseok only shoves him playfully, muttering a ‘shut up’.

“I got this.” Hoseok had shouted him dinner, it was the least he could do for his best friend.

“Look at you. Taking care of me for once.”

“Don’t mention it. I know you’re poor right now.” Hoseok just rolls his eyes at Yoongi’s attempt at humour. Waiting to drop the bomb on him just as they’re both leaving the bar.

“Well, I’m not too mad. I’ll send your gift home then.” And there it was. Hoseok had been up to something. Yoongi knew it!

“What did you do, Hoseok? I swear to god if it-” Hoseok only pats Yoongi’s shoulder, winking in his direction.

“Relax. It’s just a little something to get you little guy stirring.”

“Fuck you there is nothing little about my dick.” He’s immediately ashamed at how juvenile that response was. Whiskey really turned down his inhibitions.

“Then enjoy the damsel in distress I’ve sent for you.” Yoongi shrugs off Hoseok’s hand off his shoulder. That little shit. Strippers again?

“Seriously? You’re sending me a stripper as a ‘gift’?” Yoongi just waits for his response, about to clock him so Hoseok just makes a run for his car as he shouts.

“This one is something else hyung. She’ll fix everything, trust me. Now have fun and you’re welcome!”

“Hoseok you dumbass! I wanted to relax not babysit a 20 year old that needs to pay her college fees!” No luck. Hoseok has already slipped in to his car as his driver takes off while Yoongi’s waits patiently.

“Would you like me to take you to a hotel, sir?” His staff knew him too well but glancing at the impending storm, Yoongi decides it’s probably best to head home in case she’s already waiting. Didn’t want a prostitute dying at his door. That will definitely crush any hopes he had of being a sole owner of the company.

He sighs, looking at his driver. “It’s alright. Take me home so I can at least have you drive her back since it might start raining.”

“Right away.”

The car ride is long and Yoongi is home even before the thunder starts. He lived close to work, in a more quieter neighbourhood to relax in peace. He had tried living in the heart of the city but it didn’t work out with the amount noise he lived in. Still thinking about what Hoseok had said and wanting to call him just to curse him out and hang up. There was no stripper or lap dancer or a damn prostitute out there that could fix his problem. He’d tried and it hadn’t worked. No point in humiliating himself even further. Mina going around town to spread the news about his failing genitals was enough. He just wanted to spend time by himself now. Sure, he might not be that old but his soul already felt like it. He just wanted to maybe watch TV or have a nap.

Damn, he really was that old. By now, the rain was in full swing. Thundering outside like no tomorrow. Turning on the sound system to some beats he’d worked on a few months back that suited just right with the weather, Yoongi exchanges his suit for a more comfortable cotton t-shirt and his lounge pants. His body was considerably toasty after the night cap and he was too relaxed to be worried about anything. Until there is a ring. Many rings to be exact. It’s like whoever was at the main gate had the patience of a five year old. Figures, if that’s the stripper. Because they were all rarely above 21.

He gets the call directly transferred to his phone and after a few rings, he picks up. Immediately, he can hear distressed breathing before the person speaks up. “H-Hello?! Is anyone listening?! Help me, please!”

It’s unmistakably a female voice. Particularly sounding like a damsel in distress – just the way Hoseok had described. Fucking hell, role play? Really? Whatever she was doing, she was selling it quite convincingly.

“Do you not see the sign? No sales person.” Yoongi felt a smidgen of regret when he said the words out loud on instinct. It wasn’t her fault that his best friend was a dumbass and decided to hire a hooker on the worst night of all. He could hear the thunder and the rain in the background and the way her next words were shaky and pleading, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“Please. Help me! Someone is following me.”

Someone following her? That was creative, he’ll give her that. Sighing, Yoongi has to summon all the energy from each limb of his body to get up and walk towards the intercom after contemplating whether he should let her in or just send his driver to drive her home. Quickly, Yoongi hangs up before dialling Hoseok’s number. Which of course, goes straight to voicemail.

“Hoseok you asscrack. There is a girl very ‘distressed’ and claiming someone is ‘following her’. I don’t know whether to applaud you for finding someone who is half decent at acting or ring your neck the next time I see you, freak!”

He’s quickly hanging up, when he reaches the touchscreen intercom, pulling up the CCTV camera to see the person outside his house. Which is a big mistake. His original plan had been to send her straight home, already calling his driver – which he abruptly hangs up on. The woman on the other end looks nothing short of a wet dream. Literally. You’re soaked from the rain, your clothes cling to your frame enticingly and your bambi eyes are staring up at the camera so earnestly Yoongi wonders if this is what you’ll look like on your knees when you beg for him to let you have his cock.

Said cock twitches. Hardening so rapidly in his pants that he actually looks down like it’s the strangest thing. Yoongi almost forgets to open the main gate and finally notices you looking down as if defeated.

You really were good at acting out this role. It almost seemed real. Whatever it was that you were doing; it was working. Yoongi felt hot in his pants already and that was saying something.

“Come in.” He can see the sheer relief in your eyes as you mutter ‘thank you’ over and over. A few more seconds later, there is a knock at the front door. Yoongi walks towards it, hesitating before cracking the door open and finally facing his downfall.

There you were, clinging to yourself as your clothes dripped at his front porch, nipples poking through the fabric of your blouse as the skirt showcased the curve of your supple ass. Your teeth were clattering, shaking Yoongi out of his fantasies enough to let you in. Maybe Hoseok’s idea wasn’t that bad aftercall. He’d be smug about this. Bastard.

“M-May I?” Yoongi just steps to the side, making you stare at him for a little while longer before you walk past him and inside.

His reaction to your body was instant and scorching. He felt hot all over and all he wanted to do was lick the rain drops off your skin, hating the fact that you needed a towel so his furniture wasn’t ruined. Buying new furniture was a hassle.

You’re looking around his large living room like you’ve never seen anything like it before. And perhaps you hadn’t. He couldn’t of a strip club that looked like his house. It was a shame he was having this reaction to a hooker and not someone he was actually in a relationship with. But oh well. At least he’ll get laid tonight. Retrieving some towels from the guest bathroom, he walks back to the living room where you stood in the corner like a timid mouse, still clinging to yourself protectively.

“Here.” Yoongi clears his throat when his words come out too gruff. He needed to top acting like a damn virgin. You grab the fluffy towel from him with the smallest, prettiest hands he’d ever seen. They’d look even smaller with his in them. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to have you. You needed to hurry up before he prematurely ejaculated in his pants.

“T-Thank you. I really appreciate y-your help. I won’t stay long. Just until the storm subsides.”

Wow, you were really going to play the game to completion, huh? Every expression, every nervous shuffle of your feet was so genuine he couldn’t even tell that this was all some sort of play. Hoseok probably had you dropped off outside his house. But no worries, he’ll play along with you.

Yoongi can’t help the smirk that fights its way across his mouth, body buzzing and mind more stimulated than ever. “I’ll get you some clothes, how about that?”

Your head shoots up at his voice, watching his mouth move as he tilts his head backwards, gesturing towards where his room was probably.

“Oh uh… T-Thank you.” You could use some warm clothes. It was starting to get frosty in these cold, wet clothes.

Yoongi has to adjust himself as he walks back to his room, shaking his head at the prospect of playing along to whatever script you were following. But enough games. He needed to have you soon. Taking a white shirt like the one he wore, he noticed the length of it should cover your bottom too. He walks back to the living room where you stood drying your hair with the towel.

It looked so silky and inviting. Inviting his hands to thread through it and grab a hold of it until he brought your mouth down to thrust his cock in to. Fuck he was so hard. You don’t seem to notice his state though. Or you’re amazing at playing innocent. You must be a pro then. Having done this many times. But he tried to keep the inner monologue to a minimum as he hands you the shirt, never wavering his gaze from your body.

You bow towards him in gratitude, keeping your gaze lowered unlike his. “T-Thank you.”

Your pretty hands grab the garment from his hands, noticing the obvious lack of pants but you try not to show it.

What the hell was happening? How did you stumble upon a mansion that apparently belonged to the most handsome man you’d laid your eyes on in a while? And why was this hot, sort of kind, stranger just handing you a shirt? You didn’t want to come off as ungrateful to someone who’d let a complete stranger in their house.

But the way he looked at you, with such carnal lust, had you feeling dizzy. Why did he look at you like he expected something? Your body was warming up considerably whenever you took a chance to look up and see him staring you down like he wanted to eat you. There was no way your hot mess self looked attractive to this man, right? Your hair was a mess, your clothes were sticking to you unattractively and you were shivering still. The inside of his house was definitely warm. But you needed to get warmer. So you had no choice but to at least change your shirt.

He continues to kneel against the wall, inspecting you like you were a puzzle to be solved when it should be the other way around. “Um, do you have p-pants?”

What a stupid question to ask. Of course he did! But it was too late. He was already looking away, obviously trying to hide a smile and you curse yourself inside your head. “All in the wash, sorry.”

And that’s it. He nonchalantly shrugs, pursing his lips like he’s sorry while appearing to be completely non-apologetic.

Yes you’ve walked in to a complete strangers house. You didn’t even ask his name. But somehow, you didn’t feel the creeping fear that you had in the bus. In fact, you almost felt… relaxed. Not scared, just shy. Not every day you meet men as handsome as him.

“O-Okay. I’ll just change-”

“Here. I’ll turn my back.” He takes his sweet time, turning around and ever passing second makes your body temperature climb higher. Why weren’t you running out of the door? You’ll probably die of pneumonia outside so might as well stay here.

You turn yourself around as well, not about to give him a show even if he was looking away. You make haste of your blouse and bra, rolling them in a pile before slipping on the white cotton shirt – that was the softest thing you’d felt, by the way. When the shirt falls below your butt, you decide you can take off the skirt as well and just wrap the towel around your waist. Just when you discard the skirt on to the pile of clothes, you hear him speak up.

“You’re good.” A beautiful, deep chuckle follows his remark and you can’t help but spin around to face him – and he’s leaning against the wall like previously, staring straight at you.

“E-Excuse me?” What was he talking about?

Stalking forward slowly, he doesn’t stop until he’s only a mere metres away from you. “No one has been able to get me this worked up in a while.”

His breath caresses your cheeks with each whisper and you’re so enchanted you don’t even thin to question whatever the hell he’s talking about. Though you’re standing only in a think white t-shirt in front of him, hair wet and soaking through your t-shirt – your body felt like it was on fire. A nervous excitement ran through your shivering frame and you weren’t even sure if it was from the cold or just him. Your nipples had pebbled even harder at his close proximity.

Suddenly, his hand had slid around your waist, gripping it tight while the other cupped your cheek. “I’ll thank Hoseok later for you. Right now I need you.”

“W-What? Who-” You don’t get an answer but you do get his tongue. Forcing it’s way in your mouth, hot and searing. The moan that leaves you is involuntary and you curse your body for giving in to a stranger so quick. Why were you even letting this man kiss you? Did he mistake you for someone else? That must be it. You had no idea who this Hoseok was. But not all of it is his fault when you’re not even trying hard enough to break away from his mouth. He’s pulling your mouth in deep kisses. Kissing you until you feel light-headed and breathless and only then does he break away to let you breathe.

“S-Sir I’m not-” But he only interrupts you before covering your mouth with his own again.

“Call me Yoongi baby.” Yoongi. Why did that sound familiar? You didn’t have the brain capacity to think about anything other than his mouth right now. His hand on your waist had pressed you even tighter against his frame that you could feel every ridge, every curve on him. That also meant the impossibly hard cock that protruded heavily between his legs, pressing against your lower stomach. Due to your not so large of a height difference, you could almost feel him pressed right to your center.

His hand cupping your face was roaming all over your body, down your sides, across your chest to fondle your nipples and making you arch your back further in to him. It took you ages to warm up while it only took Yoongi a few kisses. He finally breaks away, only to pick you up by the waist and walking towards the couch to sit, making you straddle his waist. Thank god you still had your panties on because if your sensitive clit felt even an ounce of friction from his sweatpants, you would cum right on the spot.

“I’m n-not who you think I might- oh.” Your mouth falls open in a silent scream when Yoongi starts to move your hips on to his erection – slowly torturing you to your end.

“And I’m not usually this hard from just a kiss baby. No need to play games anymore. I’ll be taking everything you’re here to give.”

You don’t even know what he means anymore but the way he growls out his words has you shaking from nervous excitement. And this time, your fear isn’t for your life but for your lady parts. This man looked beyond even his own control and you don’t know what he thinks you’re here to give him. But you might just be willing to give him everything when he rolls his hips up in to yours, his hard length nudging squarely on your clit making you shout.

“Yoongi!”

“That’s it, y/n. There you go baby.” You’re too far gone to even question how he knows your name. You’re only trying to hold on to your sanity or what’s left of it as he batters your clit each time he pushes you down while simultaneously pushing his cock up.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard you’ll forget all the other men.” You’d only had one boyfriend in college, so you’re not sure what men he’s referring to but you don’t care. You’d be whoever he wants at this point if he’s going to make you cum.

“Ah Y-Yoongi, I’m g-going to cum.” You’ve started to push down on him, chasing your own high as your mouth falls permanently open while tears sting your eyes at how intense the sensations are. It really is different when someone else makes you cum. This definitely wasn’t anything like your own hand.

“Then cum. Soak my lap and show me what a dirty girl you are. Want you squirting over my cock.” His filthy mouth was your downfall and you were throwing your head back in no time as you screamed out your climax. Riding the waves as Yoongi continued to grind his cock in your pussy long after the aftershocks pass, making you a twitching mess on top of him.

“O-Oh,” you’re flinching away when the sensations become too much and yet, Yoongi doesn’t let up. Slipping his hand inside your panties to lewdly rub them over your cum soaked labia, spreading it even more.

“Look at that. You’re so wet. You came so much baby.” Yoongi’s voice is low and he stares at your face that’s staring down at his hands inside your underwear. It doesn’t help that his arms are incredibly veiny, pushed in your tiny panties. When he slips his fingers between your pussy lips and runs the pad of his thumb over your entrance – you both hiss. You from the sensitivity and him for entirely different reasons. He almost seems angry. Infuriated at what he finds.

“Your pussy is so tiny. Fuck. Tell me how am I going to fit in there, hm?” You can’t do anything but cry out through your tears when he slips two fingers in from the get go. Squelching noises sound obscenely as he scissors your pussy with his index and middle finger. You’re so wet you’re making a visible mess on him, staining his sweatpants further.

“At least you’re wet enough so I can slide my cock in without worrying about tearing your little pussy up.” He’s gritting out between clenched teeth, jolting your body with each thrust of his hand. Your shaking frame is anchored to Yoongi by your hand fisted in his own shirt while the other slips down to try and get a feel of him. Beneath you, he felt so mouth-wateringly hard but you needed to cop a real feel of him. To which he swatted your hands away.

“You’ll get to feel plenty of my cock sweetheart. Be patient for now.” And you just whined at his scolding. Not being able to wait in order to feel his cock inside you. Your entrance clenched every time you even thought about having him inside and each time, Yoongi gave a loud spanking to your ass for trying to lock his fingers out.

“I-I just need you so bad.” You’re bordering at desperation with the way you whine and plead with him. Moving your hips with each thrust of his digits. “Fuck. Oh god.”

Your head is thrown back, your mouth is open as you pant without shame, nearing your orgasm again. But Yoongi jolts your body in surprise when he takes in your hardened nipple between his teeth before sucking on it worshipfully right through it. You must look like a picture out of a porno magazine as you continue to shout with your head throat back, having your pussy fingered like no tomorrow and now – Yoongi sucking on your tits through your shirt, patching it with wet spots of his saliva.

“Ah, ah, ah,” A symphony of high pitched moans – uncontrollable in your defence – fall from your lips as you stand at the edge of your peak, right there. You needed no more than a mere few seconds to reach that blissful high again. Until it’s ripped brutally from you with a loud squelch.

“Fuck… look at that.” You’re trying to gather your breath while from you peripheral vision, you can see admire his soaked hand. Your essence dripping down his wrists and your whole face warms up at the lewd image. You knew you got a little too wet. The brat in you wanted to cum and she claws at Yoongi’s shirt as you whine your protest.

“You can’t even catch your breath and you’re complaining about wanting to cum? Filthy, nasty girl.” His growling only makes you wetter, didn’t he notice?

Or maybe that’s why he does it. Who knows.

Your face is buried in his neck, trying to catch your breath as your pussy continuously clenches, so swollen and ready to cum again that you don’t notice the skinny perfume bottle he’d grabbed from your bag that was on the couch. What was he doing with that.

“Lean back, y/n.” You muster up all your energy, pulling away from the warm crevice of his neck and leaning back until you notice the predatory glaze over his eyes. Yoongi watches you shift backwards on his lap, glancing at the perfume bottle in his hand and then back to his face.

He brings your head forward to push his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you in a sloppy, hot mess before pulling back. “Open.”

Without question, you open your mouth before he shoves the cold perfume bottle inside your mouth. “Hmphf.”

Immediately, you moan and lick around it, making it wet with your saliva. Almost sensing what he was about to do. And you’re right in your suspicions when Yoongi pulls the object out of your mouth and pushes it between your labia to coat it in your sticky arousal.

“So damn wet. You’re leaking like a broken fucking tap y/n. Do I turn you on his much.” You just moan out your reply as he massages all around your sensitive pussy with the object. Right before he pushes the object the length of his hand, inside your clenching pussy.

“Yoongi, oh god. P-Please fuck me. I need you so bad oh god.” Your begging had started already and he hadn’t even pushed the bottle all the way inside you. The cool glass bottle felt so nice against your burning hot skin. And when Yoongi pulled it out just to thrust it back in, you felt the tears escape the corner of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. The bottle was thicker than his two fingers and the slight burn of the stretch had you gasping.

“And you will have me baby. I just need to stretch your pussy out. You don’t want Oppa to tear your pussy now do you, hm?” Oh you wanted that so much. But you could only look down at his vascular hand working in object is and out of your squelching pussy. His lap was almost soaked all the way through with how much you were dripping on him. Even while insanely hard beneath you, Yoongi possessed such control over his own desires that it made him that much more attractive to you. You couldn’t believe he was holding out this long.

“I-I wa-ah-ant oppa to fuck me, please.” Tears were stinging your eyes again and you had lost any semblance of shame. With shaking hands, you took off the cotton shirt, baring your breasts to his eyes as you thrusted them in his face. Hoping to entice him in to ending this torture.

And it seemed to have worked when he shoves the bottle all the way up your pussy before growling at you again. “Get on your knees.”

Your legs were jello but you weren’t about to pass up on the opportunity to taste him just like he was tasting you. Licking up your slick from his fingers and his wrist. Quickly, you slid down to your knees like shapeless matter, plopping down as he watched you.

“Take off my pants baby. Get me ready for your little pussy.”

With trembling hands, you take off his sweatpants, eyes bulging out of your head at the sheer sizeable girth of him. How did he contain that monster? Even just in the sweatpants? He looked painfully hard and you felt bad for having all the attention on you. This couldn’t be pleasant for him, waiting out this long.

“Go on, baby. Get me nice and wet like your pussy.” One thing was definite – his dirty talk had you acting more depraved than you ever had before with someone. You were never the one so readily and brazenly sinking to your knees to in turn sink your mouth down someone’s cock.

Him forgoing underwear was the best discovery because now you could go straight to stuffing your mouth full of his cock. Which you do. Licking from the bottom to the top like some icicle, you wet him thoroughly with your saliva before attempting to sink down on his length. Yoongi was started to breathe heavy, threading his fingers in your hair to slowly guide you over him all the while he cursed under his breath about how hot you looked.

“Fuck, I want to cum all over your pretty face, your tits, over your pussy, in your pussy.” He looked like he was losing control with each word that slipped his mouth, watching you moan around his length while you grasped the base that didn’t go in to your mouth. Yoongi clearly didn’t seem happy since he grabbed your hair in a tight hold, pulling you back from his cock – only to slam you down, filled to the brim until your nose rested against his pelvis.

“Fuck. Yes. Just a little bit baby. Let me fuck for mouth just a l-little.”

All you could do was hold on to his thighs for support as he thrusted his hips in to your mouth over and over. His pace pushing your body back each time he thrusted forward, making the bottle of perfume still inside your pussy, rub against your falls. You well clenching so hard on to the object, trying to move on it to get some sort of relief.

“Don’t. You better not cum unless it’s on my cock. Do you understand?” He doesn’t give you time to respond as he keeps assaulting your mouth – filling it with pre-cum each time he pulls back.

After a few more minutes and a lot of crying – Yoongi finally takes mercy on you, pulling his cock out of your mouth with an obscene ‘pop’. His cock is just as red and angry and your pussy is even more wet. You’re sitting on the floor, legs spread with the bottle of perfume shoved deep inside your pussy. Yoongi takes in your form, cursing under his breath as he looks you over, again and again.

“Come here y/n.” You pull yourself up, shakily getting on the couch where Yoongi lays you down before hovering his body over you.

“I’m going to fuck you until I cum inside your little pussy and have it flowing with my cum so good. Is that okay baby? That I fill you with so much cum your belly swells up? I don’t think there is another option.”

He says it all while looking you dead in the eyes like he’s helpless. Rubbing his cockhead on your enflamed pussy lips. He glances down once before pulling out the perfume bottle with a ‘pop.’ You’re breathing heavy and feel like you might hyperventilate. The anticipation so much for you to handle you wanted to reach down and shove him in already.

Just when you’re about to whine again, Yoongi pushes inside shallowly, fucking only his head inside your clenching entrance in short strokes.

“Yoongi,” you whine like a spoiled brat, “Fuck me already. I’ll d-die without your cock. I need it.” You’re clawing at him again, trying to take off his shirt. Which he does thankfully, chuckling at your desperate behaviour.

“I might need you around more often. Just so you can beg for my cock looking at pretty and pink. So fucked out you probably don’t even know what to do with yourself.”

He needed to shut up and screw you already!

He’s only pushing the head of his cock inside before pulling it out and shoving it back in again. And somehow even that has you so close to cumming you need to bite Yoongi’s shoulder to stop yourself from finishing before the main event. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Yoongi stops torturing you both and pushes himself rest of the way in.

“Oh fucking hell.” He’s glancing down at your enjoined bodied like he can’t believe what he’s feeling.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go slow babe. Your pussy is too good. Fuck I want to fuck the shit out of you.” And he does exactly that.

You can’t even scream as your mouth falls open when Yoongi starts to set a pounding rhythm. Slamming his hips in to yours that his cock nestles deep inside, tickling that spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah. Your pussy is weeping for me baby. You ever felt this good before?” You shake your head frantically, a sob falling free from your lips as you make the first sound since Yoongi started pistoning his hips inside you.

It felt like your pussy was made for his cock. Moulding so perfectly to every ridge and every vein as his naked skin slapped against your ass. Yoongi hikes your legs over his shoulders, almost folding you in half while pinning your hands above your head, completely trapping you. Not that you were going to run away. You could barely moan, only whimpering and sobbing as his cock continued to batter your core over and over.

“Is baby crying because it feels so good? Hm? You want my cock in your cunt forever?”

You nod, hiccupping with every word and every thrust, “ F-Forever-a-and e-ever.”

Yoongi coos at your wet face and contorting face as grinds his hips to hit a different angle inside you, making you scream.

“Then be a good girl and milk Oppa’s cock for all its cum. Come on. Cum and make me cum.”

His words make your pussy clench around him involuntarily, making him curse under his breath. Suddenly, his pace gets even faster, slamming his cock inside you in quick thrusts, battering that one spot over and over as all sound leaves you.

“Right there baby? Fuck you right there?” Your body arches and responds for you. A couple of more rapid slams later, you’re consumed by such intense pressure that finally erupts – it blacks you out for a second.

“Fuck, yes. Squirt for Oppa. All over his cock.” You realise what’s happening and realise it hasn’t stopped yet. You’re still cumming on to his cock, gripping him tight that Yoongi is faltering in his pace.

“Shit. You’re going to make me c-cum light that. Oh god.” Your orgasm is finally subsiding and your vision is clearing enough that you muster all your strength and clench around his cock before pushing yourself up on to it – making the fit even tighter that Yoongi is cumming on the spot.

“Fuck!” The sensations of his orgasm kick start his ministrations again, slamming his cock in you a few more times before his body collapses on top of you. He’d cum so much inside you that you could feel it trickle out around his length.

Both of you are panting hard. Bodies shaking while you hold on for dear life by hanging on to Yoongi. He seems so exhausted as he nuzzles his head in your breasts, hands wrapped around your waist as he pushes himself to the side so he isn’t crushing you. As he pulls out of you, you can see the white ring around the base of his cock that formed after he fucked in to you as he came, making your face heat up so much you thought you would catch on fire. Yoongi had seen it too and he only dips his fingers in the mess leaking from you before bringing it up and smearing it all over your nipples. You watch him as he leans down, softly taking the cum covered tit in his mouth before sucking it slowly. When you’re thoroughly clean, he sends you a mischievous smile before laying besides you.

It’s a comfortable silence and you’re just revelling in the post coital bliss until he speaks up and asks you a bizarre question. “So, what’s your real name?”

You just turn to face him with your eyebrows furrowed. “Y/n. That is my real name.”

When he continues to stare at you, you ask him a question of your own. “Who exactly do you think… am I?”

Yoongi turns to face you completely. Looking very much intrigued. “A… woman who was sent to service me by Hoseok?”

Trying to hold in your laughter, you try to respond. You should be angry really but the way his lips are set in a pout and he’s inspecting your face like he’s so utterly confused is the most adorable thing – and a vast contrast from the man who just fucked your brains out.

“I don’t know who that is. You have me confused with someone else.”

“So…. You really were being chased last night?” A grim look has taken over his features and without thinking, you slip your hand in to his own before you answer.

“I believe so. This grotty old man followed me all the way down to this street. But thanks to you I’m okay.”

You might be playing down the incident that had you sobbing and running across the street but really, you were safe and you had met Yoongi. You couldn’t be mad even if you tried to. Yoongi on the other hand, is already on the phone with someone.

“Yong-Chol, please have the street cams pulled and find any trace of a man running after a young woman last night around 10pm.” He hangs up right after.

“I’m fine! You don’ have to do this.” Gripping his face, you peck his lips shyly – not sure if he wanted you to do that when he thought you were a Hooker not even ten minutes ago.

Thankfully he just grabs your hands in his before kissing your fingertips.

“I know. I want to. Frankly I want to wring that bastard’s neck for making you so upset.” Your heart was bleeding at how sweet he was. “Speaking of wringing, I need to make a call.”

You just law on the comfortable couch, still entangled with him as he calls Hoseok. Who picks up almost immediately.

“Hyung! Finally you picked up.”

“Hello to you too.”

“So uh… who did you exactly fuck last night? Because Leeane never made it.”

Yoongi can’t help but snort as he looks at you when he answers. “I figured. And who I’m with is none of your business. Now leave me alone. It’s my day off.”

“Damn hyung. I love it-” Yoongi just hangs up, rolling over to your side.

“So… I know I’m doing this backwards but, let’s go on a date on Monday? What do you say?”

Crap. You had to be at work extra early in the morning to be present at the analysis presentation of your entire department to the head, Mr. Min.

“I can’t,” you wrap your arms around his lithe torso as he does the same. “I have to be at this big meeting that we have where we present our work to our apparently big, meanie of a boss.” You pout for effect and Yoongi just pecks your lips.

“Where do you work baby?” The nickname has you blushing again and Yoongi just chuckles.

“Kim Inc.”

There is a silence so profound you wonder if you said the wrong thing. Until Yoongi breaks out in to the most beautiful, body consuming laugh.

“I’ll have a word with your big, mean boss. Come here.”

He just pulls you in another breathtaking kiss while you’re just wondering…. How?

Oh how naïve you were.

[imagine-loki]

Gifted

Title: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 43/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

The second you got word from Frigga, you both summoned the spellbook at the same time. It appeared open to the right page in your hands. You were both desperate to get this power out of you as fast as possible. The last couple weeks had been rough on both of you. The isolation and lack of sleep was turning you into a depressed exhausted mess. Loki wouldn’t say anything, but you knew he hated seeing you like that. So you threw magic into getting the portal open as quickly as possible and rushed through the second it was.

Frigga was waiting for you on the other side with Thor. Apparently she’d known when and where the portal was going to open.  “You two look like hell,“ Thor greeted you jovially when the portal snapped shut behind you.  

/Nice to see you too, Thor/ you replied grumpily, but you let him hug you anyway. He was family, so he got hugs, even if you were grumpy and exhausted.  /If you try to pick me up, I will stab you/ you added grumpily.  You felt helpless enough without him treating you like a child. It was usually cute, but not today.  Today you just wanted to be healed and sleep.  For a week. 

"Brother, your lovely soulbond is beginning to speak like you,” Thor laughed, teasing you both and clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“We have had a rough couple of weeks,” Loki answered, his voice betraying his exhaustion.  That was strange for Loki, he usually hid his emotions better, especially from his brother.  

“Come along, children. You will both feel better once we get that power out of my daughter,” Frigga ordered gently, getting you all back on track.  Thor kept his arm around your shoulders and Loki came up on your other side, mirroring him.

“It will be over soon, darling,” Loki told you softly. You nodded exhausted, and let them steer you to one of the private rooms in the healing wing. Loki was explaining to Frigga as you walked about how Balder had broken through Loki’s magic to attack you, which is why you’d slept for one night and a couple hour naps in the past two weeks.  Not nearly enough sleep.  Which made you extra grumpy.

You ended up in the same room in the healing wing where Frigga had healed your mind and your powers. She had you sit on the bed. “Loki, leave us,” Frigga ordered.

“Mother-” he started to protest.  He could be around anything in the healing wing and was the Master Magician of Asgard.  Whatever Frigga was going to do shouldn’t be a secret. 

“Now. This is not for you to see,” Frigga said with a firmness that her son rarely saw from her. 

"Mother, you do not have to protect me anymore. I am not a child,” Loki protested, not removing his hand from your shoulder, the other hand running through your hair. You had the feeling that was for his comfort more than your. Frigga looked him over, assessing his words and body language.

“Very well, but I do not want to ever hear of you practicing blood magic,” she told him firmly.

“Of course, Mother,” he replied formally, bowing his head in acknowledgement of the words.  She would never hear of him doing it, even if he did.  

“Thor, make sure no one disturbs us,” Frigga ordered. Thor nodded and stepped out of the room, guarding the door. “This will hurt, dear. There is no getting around that,” you nodded. “Where did he insert the power?” she asked. You pointed to the spot on your chest. She gave you a look. You knew that look; you were a healer after all. You stripped off your shirt obediently. Loki made a displeased noise, but one glare from Frigga quieted him. You were still wearing a bra, and this was for healing, not for anything remotely sexual. Silly overprotective boyfriend. You laid back on the bed when Frigga gave the word to. “Are you sure you are strong enough for this, Loki? You will have to hold her. This is one of the worst kinds of blood magic, and it will hurt,” Frigga questioned him again.

Loki lifted your left hand and kissed your soulbond marks. “Mother, Lady Y/N is my soulbond. I love her with every ounce of my being and I will do anything for her.”

Frigga evaluated his words, then nodded. “Very well. You will have to keep her from screaming, as that would interrupt process, and hold her still. This will hurt,” she reminded you both. “Are you ready?” You both nodded; you wanted this over, now.

Loki moved to sit next to you on the bed. “I’m sorry, darling,” he whispered as he placed an ice cold hand over your mouth.

/It will be over soon/ you replied.

You both watched in horror as Frigga drew her dagger from the sheath at her side and sliced her palm open deeply. She paused for one heartbeat, two, as golden light started to glow around her. You saw her steel herself, then place her bleeding hand against your chest, in the exact spot where Balder had placed the power in your chest in the first place.

You howled in pain as her magic reached through you, pulling the power from every fiber of your being. It had wound itself through every inch of you, like some awful parasite. It didn’t want to give up its hold on you, and gripped its claws into you deeper as Frigga tried to remove it.  You don’t know how long she worked, how long you wept and screamed from pain, though silenced by Loki, how long Loki had to keep you from bucking and writhing in pain.

Finally, she pulled a glowing orb of power from your chest. With a flick of her wrist, it was safely ensconced in glass. “It is done,” she announced. Promptly, her eyes rolled back in her head. Loki moved faster than you’d ever seen him and he caught her before she fell.

“Thor! Get in here!” Loki yelled as you struggled to sit up. “Love, just lie back,” he told you gently. You wisely did as you were told for once. Thor burst into the room. He took in the scene and rushed to take Frigga from Loki.

“What happened? I thought this was just a spell,” Thor asked as he swept Frigga up into his arms, holding his mother gently and carefully. 

“It was blood magic, Thor. Dark, forbidden, painful, magic,” Loki looked like he was going to be sick. “Be glad you were not here for it. It is done, now, though. Mother will be fine. She just needs to rest,” he added as he came back to your side. “Darling, are you alright?” he asked, pushing your hair back away from your face.

“I love you,” you told him softly, your voice hoarse from an ungodly mix of disuse and howling in pain. 

He smiled and chuckled at you. “I love you too, but that was not what I asked,” Loki replied gently with loving exasperation.

“Is it bed yet?” you managed. 

He laughed again. “Yes, we can all go get some rest. Are you going to stab my if I carry you?“ he asked with a smile.

"Not you, only Thor,” you murmured sleepily.

“Thor is too busy with Mother to try to carry you. You are safe from him,” Loki told you with a chuckle.

“She does not need to be saved from me,” Thor complained in a whine.

“I didn’t get to thank Frigga,” you told Loki, more concerned about that than your own well-being, as per usual.

“You can thank her at dinner tonight,” Loki told you. He used magic to summon you a new shirt so Thor would stop staring at the wall. He stood and leaned down to pick you up off of the bed. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Come, my love, you need rest. You have not slept in a week and you have been through more pain and trauma today than anyone should have to go through. Mother will be fine, Thor will make sure she is well pampered. There is nothing else for you to worry about right now.” You laid your head on his shoulder, too exhausted to argue with him.

“Brother, will you give me a lift back to Mother’s suite so the people do not see her like this?” Thor asked.  He didn’t like asking Loki to use magic on his behalf, but asking on Frigga’s behalf was a different matter.

Loki looked to you. “I am going to set you on your feet. You can hold on to me, but I need one of my arms free,” he told you gently. You nodded, trying to stay at least that much awake. He set you carefully on your feet next to him. You wrapped your arms around his slim waist and laid your head on his chest. “I’ve got you,” he whispered and kissed the top of your head. Thor stepped over to you. Loki grabbed one of Thor’s arms. In a flash of green light you were standing in the queen’s suite. “You ok from here?” Loki asked Thor.

Thor nodded. “Go, take care of your lady. I will see to Mother,” he replied, more formally than usual. Loki nodded curtly and swept you back up into his arms.

“I’m sorry, darling. You know safe teleporting requires physical contact with passengers,” he reminded you. He felt bad for setting you down, which was ridiculous.

“I know,” you replied softly. With a last look at Thor, who was taking Frigga to her bed, to make sure they were ok, Loki teleported you from the room to your own suite. You sighed in relief just to be back there. You were safe. Loki set you carefully in your bed and  curled up with you for your nap. He’d slept about as little as you had over the last two weeks. It really had been an awful couple of weeks for both of you.

So you slept most of the rest of the day until you had to get ready for dinner. “Are you up to going to dinner?” Loki asked as you struggled your way out of bed. 

You nodded as you disentangled yourself from the blankets.  “I’m fine,” you replied. “Besides, dinner is where the food is,” you reminded him with a smile. 

He laughed and succumbed to the fact that you had to leave the suite. “I have missed hearing your voice, my darling,” he told you, wrapping his arms around you to give you a proper kiss. You kissed him back gladly, feeling so much better now that his life and consciousness weren’t in constant jeopardy just by being around you.

“It’s so great to be back to normal,” you finally replied when the kisses had broken momentarily.

“Were you ever normal?” he asked with a laugh, which made you giggle as well.

“Not since I was 13,” you replied. You sighed, much fun as you were having, you did have to go to dinner. You checked the clock; you had enough time, so you got a nice hot shower while Loki whined about not being allowed to join you. You just laughed at your poor unfortunately husband. 

Boyfriend! 

Boyfriend, not husband.

You come back out of the shower, with your hair dry, but unstyled and only wearing a towel, trying to shake the unbidden thought of ‘husband’ from your mind.  “You are going to be the death of me,“ he grumbled at your teasing of him. You laughed and used magic to summon a backless blue halter dress for myself. Loki smiled. "Ravishing as ever, my dear,” he told you, stepping over to give you a kiss. You stood up on your toes to kiss him back. “May I do your hair?” he asked. You nodded, surprised he had even asked. He usually just did it. You sat in the chair in front of the vanity and let him get to work, enjoying the feel of his fingers through your hair. When he finished, your hair was in an updo with elegant braids.

“Lo, this is amazing,” you told him as you admired his work. He summoned the necklace Sif had given you for your birthday and clasped it around your neck.

“I am glad my lady is pleased,” he replied, leaning down to kiss your neck, kissing the spots that were usually covered in hair. You melted at the feel of his cool lips against your skin and turned around to kiss him properly.

“Very pleased,” you replied softly. “But we do have to finish getting ready for dinner,” you reminded him. 

He sighed.“But this is way more enjoyable than spending time with your family,” he whined with a pout. 

“I know. We’ll enjoy more of this after we spend the obligatory time with your family. Besides, we owe our Lady Mother a fair amount of thanks for what she did today,” you reminded him.

“Fine,” he relented. You stood and found the golden wrap that went with this dress. He used magic to be perfectly dressed and have his hair braided in it’s usual fashion for dinner.

“You didn’t want me to do your hair?” you asked him, surprised.

“We do need to hurry if we are not going to be late for dinner,” he reminded you.  

You huffed, but accepted it. “I’ll brush it out for you later,” you offered. 

He gave you a smile. “That would be appreciated.” He offered you his hand and we walked to dinner hand-in-hand. You were greeted warmly by everyone in the court, most especially Thor, Sif, and Frigga. The first thing you did was ditch your escort in an unladylike fashion and go straight to Frigga. Loki followed behind, exasperated. “Darling, you are supposed to stay with your escort,” he reminded you overly patiently.

You heard a couple mutters of ‘Sigyn the Fetterer’ from some of the members of the court. It made you smile.

You dipped into a low curtsy before Frigga. “Thank you for all you did today, Lady Mother,” you told her formally. She gave you a regal nod, trying to hide her smirk at your behavior and Loki’s.

“Rise, Daughter. You are most welcome. I am glad we could break the curse Balder placed upon you. Now, please, join us.” You rose from your curtsy and Loki was at your side in an instant to escort you to your place at the table.

“Sister! you am glad you are well,” Thor exclaimed. You grinned, glad he was back to his normal self. “Are you two staying to visit?” he asked.

“We can’t this time, Thor. We only came back for the healing. And we didn’t tell anyone we were coming. We have to get back to Midgard before we’re missed,” you explained. 

He nodded. “Then we shall just have to have enough fun tonight to last you until you can come visit properly,” Thor decided. You couldn’t help but laugh at him. 

Dinner was delicious, as usual and full of amazing foods you couldn’t get back on Earth.

Afterwards, Thor dragged you to the smaller dining/dancing hall where the younger court members often gathered after dinner. Loki grumbled and dragged his feet. When you got there, Sif dragged Loki by both hands out onto the dance floor. He whined, but you shoved him in the back, propelling him onto the dance floor with Sif.

Thor offered you a hand once Loki was safely on the dance floor. “May I?” he asked. You placed your hand in his and you joined the other dancers. Loki usually liked to dance, but he liked the graceful court dances, the ballroom style dances. These dances were more like square dances on Earth, all rowdiness and fun. You danced until midnight, swinging around with all of the rowdy fun.

You caught Loki just before the last dance started and dragged him to the exact middle of the dance floor. You placed your left hand on his shoulder and and took his right hand in mine. He grinned and took his position. The musicians saw us, and as tradition, made the last dance of the night a waltz. The couples all around you took their positions as well. You saw the joy in Loki’s eyes in the moment before the dance started. The music started, a few measures of the beat, and then the dance began. You and Loki were all grace, twirling in smooth, practiced movements across the dance floor. At the end of the song, Loki spun you one last time, before bowing over your hand to kiss your knuckles. There were cheers all around you from the courtiers who had enjoyed the show. You bowed and curtsied to your admirers until you could finally escape to go back to your suite.

The second you were safely inside, you summoned your pajamas. You reached up to start pulling the pins from your hair, but Loki stopped you. “Allow me,” he whispered. His hands were gentle as he undid all of the work he had done earlier on your hair. It flowed down your back again in soft curls once he was done. You kept your promise from earlier and you sat in bed for a long time while you brushed out his shoulder-length raven hair.

“I love you,” you told him again. You had missed being able to say that, missed being able to say anything.

“I love you too,” he replied softly. He turned and hugged you to him, too tightly. “I missed you these past few weeks, darling. It just wasn’t the same without your voice,”

“I know. I hated being constantly terrified that I was going to hurt everyone around me,” you admitted, holding him too tightly too.

“I will kill Balder for doing that to you.”

“Only if I get to help,” you replied in a huff.

Laughing, you finally went to bed. You had to go home tomorrow after all

[thenicenamesaretaken]

I Have Only ‘til the Night is Over

This was written for @wonder-boy​ who requested Rape/non-con with Gil and team arriving too late to stop it , but picking up the pieces afterwards.  Written for the rape/non-con square on my @badthingshappenbingo card.

PLEASE READ THE TAGS this is a bit of a departure from what I’ve written in the past so just be aware….

Fandom: Prodigal Son

Characters: Malcolm, OC, Gil Arroyo, Dani Bright, JT Tarmel

Square: Rape/Non-Con

Tags:  RAPE/NON-CON, drugged sex, forced orgasm, hostage situation, non-consensual drug use, suicidal thoughts

Rating: EXPLICIT

Find on AO3 here.

***

"Malcolm, I'm so glad you came. Please, come in." 

Malcolm Bright smiles pleasantly at his host, a man named Ian Conway, and steps gratefully out of the chill winter air into the stately old brownstone that Conway calls home.

“I appreciate the invitation.  I haven’t had the chance to enjoy an evening of intelligent conversation since college,” Malcolm tells him as he looks around the entryway, noting the unique artwork and artifacts and subconsciously storing the details away.  

Conway notices and smiles indulgently.  “Please feel free to ask any questions. It’s fascinating to see the way your mind works.”

Malcolm smiles and blushes--from embarrassment at being called out for his obvious assessment of the space, and from the compliment.

“Fascinating isn’t the word most people use,” he admits ruefully, ducking his head.

“Well, most people don’t know what we do.  Let’s have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

Malcolm nods, following Conway into the sitting room and sinking down onto an overstuffed couch.

The walls of the sitting room are lined with bookshelves holding impressive academic collections as well as an eclectic mix of artifacts and artwork matching those in the hall, and Malcolm suddenly feels as if he is back in college, sitting in a professor’s house with fellow students for an evening of drinking and discourse on the human mind.  He’s looking forward to doing the same with Conway.

He’d met Ian Conway earlier in the week when the man had been brought in to assist with a case.  The team had been assigned a high-profile case involving several young men who’d been drugged, sexually assaulted, then murdered.  Details of the case had been leaked to the media, and shortly afterwards Conway had contacted the precinct, offering his help as a professor of  psychology and criminology who had experience with similar cases. Malcolm had been more than willing to accept the help. Murder, he understood; rape, not as well, and two heads were better than one.

They’d hit it off well.  Conway was intelligent and incredibly helpful.  He offered opinions and advice from his own experience without stepping on Malcolm’s toes or making him feel inferior when he had gaps in his knowledge that Conway could fill.  Everyone on the team was highly competent and intelligent, but Conway spoke Malcolm’s language in a way they never could, and Malcolm was thriving on the exchanges they’d had in the course of their investigation.  Conway seemed to enjoy them as well, and had suggested that Malcolm visit that evening to discuss their common intellectual interests in a non-work setting.

It’s the closest thing to a normal evening out with a friend that Malcolm has had in some time, but he doesn’t mention that.

Conway returns with two glass tumblers filled with amber liquid and a matching decanter tucked into his elbow.  He hands Malcolm a glass before settling into a seat across from him, swirling his drink contemplatively before taking a sip.

Malcolm follows suit, enjoying the burn as the alcohol slides down his throat and the rich aftertaste of the bourbon on his tongue.  He tips his glass to Conway in appreciation, leaning back into his own seat.  

“You know Malcolm, when I first heard that the criminal profiler for the Major Crimes unit of the NYPD was a 31 year-old Ivy-Leaguer I was skeptical.  But you’ve impressed me. Your grasp of the human mind is impressive, and not something that can be taught.”

Malcolm chuckles, dropping his eyes to his glass as he swirls his drink absently.  “Well, I started my studies earlier than most,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Conway nods in understanding.  “Yes, I suppose so. And I must admit, I am very curious about the personal aspect of your education, if you’re willing to discuss it.  I understand if you’d rather not.”

Malcolm sighs, considering.  He understands the man’s curiosity.  If the tables were turned, he’d be curious as well.  He takes another sip of bourbon--more than a sip, really--and nods.

“Of course.  I’m an open book.  What would you like to know?” he asks, spreading his hands in invitation.  

Conway gives him a curious look, one that Malcolm can’t quite decipher, glancing at the glass in Malcolm’s hand, then back at his face with a smile.  

“I appreciate that, and please, feel free to stop me at any time.”

The questions are not unexpected, and Malcolm grows more comfortable as Conway’s personal questions lead into more theoretical discussions on the criminal mind.  He loses track of time, finishes his drink and happily accepts when Conway offers him a second. He’s relaxed, happy, in his element.  

He doesn’t notice anything’s amiss until he’s several sips into the second glass of bourbon.  He’s starting to slur his words, taking longer to formulate his responses and recall memories.  At first he blames it on the alcohol mixed with his naturally lower inhibitions due to the relaxed atmosphere.  It's not until his vision begins to blur at the edges and he nearly drops his glass that he realizes something is off.  

He looks down at his glass where it rests against his thigh, then back up at Conway, confusion giving way to realization when he sees the way the other man is watching him now, like a predator watching weakened prey.

“What..?  What did you do?” he stammers.  His head is heavy, tipping back against the couch and he struggles to lift it, to do anything, but his whole body has grown so heavy he can barely even move his fingers.

Conway rises, stalks over and lifts the glass from Malcolm’s loose grip, setting it on the coffee table, and doesn’t answer.

“It… it was you.  You’re our suspect,” Malcolm gasps, a sudden spike of adrenaline flooding his system and he’s able to lift his head, to twist away from Conway and reach for his discarded suit jacket where his phone still sits in a pocket.

Conway tsks, grabbing the jacket and tossing it away.  Malcolm slumps back as a wave of dizziness washes over him and he’s forced to blink rapidly to clear spots from his eyes.  

Whatever Conway had laced his drink with was strong.  Edrissa had never been able to identify exactly which drug (or drugs) had been used on their victims, but whatever they were, they were working.

There’s a growing terror building in his belly as he fights to stay conscious, forces his foggy mind to think.

“You inserted yourself into the case.  Had to keep an eye on things. Was anything you told us true?”

Conway hums noncommittally and sits next to him on the couch.  He settles in sideways so he’s facing Malcolm and watches him with a focus that’s unnerving and sends a shiver through Malcolm’s body.

“It was easy to misdirect you.  So smart, but so fucking stupid.  Blinded by a few compliments and flattery,” Conway spits out, suddenly cruel in a way Malcolm would never have expected he was capable of.  “I have to admit though Malcolm, I’ve enjoyed working with you. Watching you. You would have figured it out eventually. Soon, probably. That’s why I invited you here.  I couldn’t let you dig any deeper. Well, that, and I wanted you.” He leans in, runs a finger over Malcolm’s cheek and Malcolm jerks back, but the movement is slow and muted and he barely manages to turn his head away.

“I’m surprised,” Conway continues, “everyone else was unconscious by now.  I usually prefer things that way, it's simpler. But I think I can make an exception, for you.  Still, how are you still awake?” he asks, and Malcolm guesses its rhetorical but answers anyways.

“Benzos.  They lessen the effectiveness of most date rape drugs.  That’s what you’re using, right?” he guesses.

“Benzos, eh?  I suppose that makes sense, tortured childhood and all.  Just how damaged are you, Malcolm?” Conway muses.  

He shifts a knee up onto the couch and leans over Malcolm, starts to loosen his tie, and Malcolm curses the drug resistance he’s built up over the years and the fact that his brain refuses to just let go.  He’s trapped in his own body, unable to move or think clearly, but conscious enough to be aware of every look and touch, to realize exactly what’s about to happen as he sits there, helpless.

Conway pulls Malcolm’s tie free from around his neck and holds it loosely in one hand.  He grabs Malcolm’s wrists, brings them together in front of him and wraps the tie around them, binding them together tightly.  “Just in case,” he mutters as he pulls on the ends, securing the final knot. Malcolm glares at him, tries to pull away but barely manages more than a twitch of his hands.

Conway smiles indulgently down at Malcolm as if he’s a misbehaving child and pats his cheek.  

“You’re lucky, Malcolm.  Some men like to hurt, to break.  I don’t. I just want to enjoy myself.  You may even enjoy it, too. I’m not cruel.”

“No, just a murderer,” Malcolm spits out.

Conway sighs, runs his fingers over the column of Malcolm’s throat, down to the first button on his collar and starts to undo it.

“Dead boys can’t talk.  Would you believe it's easier to cover up a murder than a rape?  When you know what you’re doing, of course.” He moves on to the second button, then the third.

“You can’t really believe you’ll get away with this, can you?” Malcolm asks incredulously.  “Gil knows I came here tonight.”

Conway pauses at that, his fingers resting over Malcolm’s clavicle, thumb rubbing there absently.  “Well, that does complicate things. But I’m sure he’ll be grateful for my help when they find your body tomorrow,” he says, returning his attention to Malcolm’s buttons, movements sure and deliberate.  “I’ll be devastated of course, and I’m sure there will be some suspicion cast my way since I’ll have been the last to see you alive. But I’m not worried. Like I said, I know what I’m doing.”

He pulls Malcolm’s shirt free from his pants and undoes the remaining buttons.  Malcolm’s bound hands hinder his access but he works around them, moving them as necessary, as if Malcolm’s just a doll to be positioned for his pleasure.  That’s exactly what you are to him, Malcolm’s brain supplies darkly.  A doll for him to use as he sees fit and dispose of when he breaks you.

Conway brings his hands up and rests them on Malcolm’s throat, ever so gently.  He presses on the underside of Malcolm’s chin with both thumbs to tilt his head up, then leans down and kisses him.  Malcolm chokes, pressing his lips together firmly when Conway tries to slip his tongue in. Conway grunts in disapproval and wraps one hand around his jaw, squeezing painfully and forcing Malcolm to open his mouth.  He kisses him again, sucks on his bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside Malcolm’s mouth. He rests his elbows on Malcolm’s chest and leans forward, brings his weight down on Malcolm’s chest and he gasps at the sudden pressure on his lungs, struggles to take a full breath.  Conway moans against his lips and deepens the kiss, holds Malcolm in place as he plunders his mouth with his tongue.

The kiss seems to last forever and by the time Conway finally pulls back and sits up Malcolm is desperate for a breath of air.  He inhales sharply, a broken sob escaping as he exhales.  

“Conway, stop.  You don’t have to do this,” he pants, struggling to catch his breath, to stay calm.

Conway hums, the tips of his fingers gliding down over Malcolm’s neck, thumbs dipping into the hollow of his throat before his hands slide out over Malcolm’s shoulders, pushing his shirt open and out of the way, down off his shoulders till its bunched behind his back.  He stops, hands on Malcolm’s biceps and just looks, eyes traveling slowly up and down his bared chest and Malcolm can practically feel the weight of his gaze on his skin.  He shudders, skin crawling.

“You’re a beautiful man, Malcolm.  I could spend all night looking at you.  But, since you felt the need to tell your dear Lieutenant where you would be tonight I’m afraid I don’t have that luxury.”  Conway pauses, hums thoughtfully as he brings his hands to rest on Malcolm’s ribs. “But don’t worry, I’m still going to take my time with you.”

He runs his hands up Malcolm’s sides, over his chest and back down over his stomach, scrapes with his nails then switches to featherlight bushes of the tips of his fingers.  Touches that under different circumstances would be tender and teasing, but now make Malcolm’s skin crawl. His breathing is ragged and broken, chest rising and falling erratically, stuttering when Conway’s fingers find the sensitive skin high on Malcolm’s ribs, low on his belly; when they skim over his nipples, returning again and again to pinch and flick. 

Conway leans over Malcolm once more, boxing him in, and fastens his lips over the skin at the base of Malcolm’s throat.  He latches on with his teeth, worrying the skin and sucking, leaving his mark. He’s done it to every victim, in the same spot.  Malcolm can feel tears forming in his eyes and he tries to shake his head to clear them, to get away, but can’t even manage that.  

He moves on, exploring Malcolm’s chest with his mouth, kissing and licking, suckling at his nipples, one after the other, blowing on the wet skin and making Malcolm gasp, overstimulated and shocked by the cold.  

“Please, please stop,” Malcolm mumbles and he feels the tears welling in his eyes and falling down his cheeks.  He doesn’t know what else to do, doesn’t know what to say to reason with Conway, helpless in the face of the man’s attentions.

“You’re beautiful when you cry, Malcolm,” is Conway’s only response as cups Malcolm’s cheek and brushes the tears away with a thumb.

Conway rises then and starts to strip, beginning with his own shirt and tie, then toeing off his shoes and stepping out of his pants.  Malcolm’s eyes widen, breath coming faster in short little gasps as panic starts to set in. This can’t be happening, not like this, can’t be real.  How could Conway have fooled them all so well, fooled him so well?

Malcolm’s relieved to see that Conway leaves his briefs on, but he’s sure it's only a matter of time before those come off too.  He can see the evidence of Conway’s pleasure, shudders as he watches the man rub himself and moan, unable to look away from the clear display.

Conway returns and begins to undo Malcolm’s belt, pops the button on his pants and pulls down the zipper.  He wraps a hand around Malcolm’s bicep and pulls him over so he’s laying on his front across the couch, hands trapped beneath him, lower legs still dangling off the edge.  

“Shit, no, stop!” Malcolm cries out weakly, voice muffled as he falls forward into the cushions.  

Conway ignores him, removes his shoes and then his pants in quick jerks.  Malcolm sobs into the couch as Conway runs his hands up the backs of his thighs, over his ass and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers then pulls them down, too. 

Malcolm curses, panting in desperation and tries to struggle, wills his body to respond but it doesn't. Conway palms his hips and Malcolm cries out at the touch, eyes going wide.

"Conway, please--don't," he begs but it falls on deaf ears.

Conway slips his hands under Malcolm's shirt, runs his hands up to his shoulders than back down, gliding over his buttocks then squeezing. 

"I have to say, Malcolm, you’ve got quite a delightful body hidden under all those suits of yours," Conway says with a groan as he squeezes and rubs at Malcolm's ass.

Malcolm whimpers, tries to shake his head but nothing happens.  Conway groans low in his throat behind him, and for all the time he took exploring Malcolm’s body before, he seems impatient now.  It isn’t long before he’s sliding a finger between Malcolm’s cheeks, searching out the tight furl of muscle there.  

Malcolm squeezes his eyes shut, sobs out “no, please no,” over and over as tears fall freely down his cheeks and soak the fabric beneath him.  He’s afraid now, wishes he were unconscious like all the other victims had been, that he could just drift off and then never wake up again.  

Conway pulls away for a brief moment and Malcolm tries to look back at him but can’t, can only wait in horrible anticipation for whatever is going to come next, for what he knows is going to come next.  Conway’s hands return, grabbing his ass and spreading him open as he slips a slicked-up finger inside him and Malcolm whimpers once more, begging quietly as Conway starts to work the digit in and out and even with the lubricant easing the way it burns.  

“You know Malcolm, you’ve given me some much needed motivation to... improve my methods,” Conway muses.  “I’m so enjoying your reactions.  It may take some experimenting, but if I can recreate the right mix of drugs I can find a way to leave all of my boys immobile but awake just like you.  Mmm.”  Conway trails off and slips a second finger in beside the first.  

“There won’t be any more victims,” Malcolm grits out.  “My team--” he grunts in pain as Conway slips in a third finger far too soon and it hurts, steals the breath from his lungs.

“Your team is nothing without you, Malcolm.  Not when it comes to stopping someone like me.”

Malcolm groans in frustration and anger, ragged and broken.  Conway is underestimating them, he knows it. They’re trying their hardest now, of course.  But they are all fiercely loyal and won’t stop until they’ve caught his killer, once he’s dead.

“You’ll make a mistake… eventually,” Malcolm manages to say.  “They’ll kill you.” It’s a threat, one he’ll never be able to make good on, but that he has no doubt his team will given the slightest chance.  It’s all he has left.  

Conway ignores him, continues to work him open, grunting appreciatively in ways that Malcolm tries desperately to shut out.  His fingers move in and out, twisting and scissoring inside him and Malcolm thinks maybe it's better that he can’t do anything but lay there, thinks that fighting would just make it worse, but he still tries.  He can move his head, ever so slightly, and thinks he maybe twitches a finger. But that’s all.  

And then it doesn’t matter anymore, anyways.

Conway pulls his fingers free and Malcolm’s breath freezes in his chest because he knows what’s coming and he can’t do anything to stop it.  He’s left waiting once more as Conway steps away to strip off his boxers and slick himself up. He returns all too soon, digs his fingers into Malcolm’s hips and positions him how he wants him.  Malcolm can feel Conway nudging against his opening and his breathing turns to panicked gasps. Conway forces his way in, one long slow push that drives the breath from Malcolm’s lungs and coherent thought from his mind.  For a blessed moment his mind is blank--he feels nothing, hears nothing but a loud ringing as his mind begins to shut down and tune out everything around him.

Conway starts to move inside him, grunting and gasping above him and Malcolm snaps back to reality with a muffled scream. 

“Fu--ck, you’re tight boy,” Conway moans behind him.  “Is this your first time? Pretty little thing like you, makes it hard to believe.”  

He’s been hanging on to Malcolm’s hips, holding him in place as he fucks him, but after a few moments he shifts, sliding one hand up Malcolm's back to where his neck and shoulder meet and grabbing him there.  He leans forward, presses his hips into Malcolm’s till they’re pushed flat against the couch and Conway is stretched out above him, over him and in him.  

Malcolm shuts his eyes, tries to block everything out once more but it doesn’t work.  With a growing dread he realizes his body is beginning to react. As the burning stretch in his ass starts to fade and the friction against his cock increases his body is pressed into the couch he starts to get hard.  He can’t believe it--he doesn’t want this, wants nothing more than for it to end, but he can’t control it either. It's pure science, nothing more than the result of nerve endings being stimulated. He knows this, but it doesn’t lessen the humiliation and shame he feels in that moment.

Conway is fucking into him with long, deep thrusts now, seems to be slowing down, and Malcolm prays for it to be over.  Conway pulls his hips up once more and Malcolm cries out at the change in position as Conway brushes over his prostate. “Mmm, feel that boy?  Do you like it? You’ve said you don’t want this but I think you do,” Conway gaps out. “God, you’re perfect. I’m so close, Malcolm.  Ungh, yes… yes.”  

“You fucking bastard,” Malcolm manages to spit out, lips curled back in a snarl.  He knows what Conway is trying to do, and he won’t let him. Even if he’s going to be dead soon, he won’t let this man break him.

Conway slips his hand from Malcolm’s shoulder up into his hair, twisting his fingers in the long strands and shoving his head down, forcing his face into the cushions of the couch and cutting off his air supply.  He thrusts faster, hips stuttering, pace erratic till he’s gripping Malcolm’s hip hard, holding Malcolm tight against him as he comes with a shout before collapsing on top of him. Malcolm starts to panic because he still can’t breathe and he wonders if Conway is going to kill him now, suffocate him while he’s still buried inside him.  Finally Conway releases his grip on Malcolm’s hair and pulls out, nudging Malcolm’s hip so that he topples onto his side.

Conway looks him over disdainfully, his earlier appreciation turned to disgust that only deepens as he catches sight of Malcolm’s half-hard cock.  He pushes Malcolm onto his back and smiles cruelly.

“You did enjoy it, didn’t you?” he crows, reaching out to grab Malcolm in a painfully tight grip.

“You know that’s not true,” Malcolm gasps out even as he starts to harden once more.  “It's... basic biology.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Malcolm,” Conway murmurs, his voice sickly sweet as he continues to stroke him.  “But we both know you have a dark side, one that thrives off of violence and pain, one that enjoys this.”

Malcolm clenches his jaw as Conway works to bring him off.  He knows it's inevitable, like everything else this evening has been.

A sudden pounding at the front door cuts through the quiet of the house and Conway freezes.

“Police!  Open this door Conway or we’ll break it down!  We have a warrant!”

Malcolm recognizes Gil’s voice and a surge of hope rushes over him, followed immediately by a wave of shame and dread because if the team is here they’ll know what happened, know what Conway did to him, they’ll see him like this.

Conway shoots to his feet and rushes over to a side cabinet, pulls open a drawer and yanks out a pistol.  He hurries back to where Malcolm is laying and sits beside him, yanks him up so that Malcolm’s body is in front of his, shielding him.  The front door bursts open with a loud crack and Conway tenses behind him, wraps one arm across Malcolm’s shoulders, holding him tight against his chest while pressing the gun to his temple. 

Gil is the first into the room but he freezes as soon as he catches sight of Malcolm and Conway.  JT and Dani are right behind him and they fan out, one on either side, and all three have their guns drawn and pointed at Conway, and by extension, Malcolm.

He watches them, sees as each of them takes in the situation, as realization dawns and they snap their gazes back up to his face, to the gun pointed at his head and he doesn’t even care if Conway pulls the trigger, he just wants this to be over.  

“Let him go, right now, or I swear to God I will blow your brains out right here and now,” Gil says, his voice is low and though his words are measured and calm his body is radiating anger.  

Conway presses in with the pistol, pushes Malcolm’s head to the side just enough to get their attention.  Malcolm closes his eyes, wincing. Conway isn't being gentle, and the gun barrel pressing into the sensitive skin above his temple hurts, and he’s afraid, and ashamed.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” Conway says, settling down further into the couch, pulling Malcolm more fully in front of him.  He brings his head in close too, his mouth next to Malcolm’s ear, and Malcolm shudders as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin there as he continues to speak.  “Besides, I haven’t done anything.”

Gil scoffs at that and JT actually growls.  Malcolm opens his eyes again and his eyes meet Gil’s.  He can see the worry there, the unspoken ‘are you okay?’ as well as the pure fury that’s radiating off of him in nearly tangible waves.  Malcolm doesn’t know what Gil sees in his eyes--he just feels empty--but after a moment Gil’s expression tightens, he grips his gun with both hands and shifts his weight into a firing stance.

“Don’t try me, Conway.  I don’t even need a reason, and I won’t hesitate.  Now let him go.”

“You sure you want to risk it?  I’ve got quick reflexes, you can’t be sure I won’t blow his brains out the second I hear a shot.  Now, why don’t we talk about this like civilized people?”

No one moves or lowers their weapons, but Gil relaxes his stance ever so slightly.  “Fine, let’s talk.” he grits out. “Ian Conway, you’re under arrest for the rape and attempted murder of Malcolm Bright.”

Conway chuckles and shakes his head.  “Rape? Murder? You seem to be mistaken, Lieutenant.  Everything that happened here this evening was just a bit of fun, and there certainly wasn’t any attempted murder involved.”

Malcolm hisses in a breath at Conway’s words even as his cheeks flare with heat.  He knows it's a lie, everyone knows it's a lie, but the implications and the compromising position Conway has him in make him flush with shame.  

“You can’t possibly think that we believe you!” Dani exclaims.

“Don’t you?” Conway asks, his voice low and breathy in Malcolm’s ear.  “Shall I show them?”

Malcolm’s breath catches in his lungs and he shakes his head desperately.  “No! Wait, shit. Gil, he’s right. It's fine, just… go. Please, please no.  Conway, don’t,” he pleads.  He drops his voice, whispers, “I can get you out of this alive, just please, don’t.”

None of them move, and Conway ignores his pleas as he has all night.  He knows it's over, has to know, but he has Malcolm at his mercy, is holding the whole team hostage by extension now, and he can’t seem to resist the urge to exert that power while he still can.  Conway lets go of Malcolm’s shoulder, runs his hand down over his chest and stomach and lower, wraps a hand around Malcolm’s cock once more. Malcolm had softened during the exchange, but it doesn’t take more than a few strokes for him to harden again.  He shudders, twisting futilely in Conway’s grasp. “Jesus, Conway--stop. Ian, please...,” he pleads.  

“Conway, stop.  Stop!” Gil yells at the same time while JT and Dani look on with matching looks of shock and horror.

“I told you he wanted it,” Conway crows, and he’s stroking faster now and Malcolm can feel the pressure building in his lower belly and there’s nothing he can do about it.  A groan escapes his lips and he wants to die, wishes Conway would just blow his brains out because he can’t even fathom going forward from this point.

It's a perfect storm--the drugs in his system and the alcohol combining to lower his inhibitions, the prolonged stress on his body and near constant stimulation all mixed together with a simple biological reaction.  He shudders and comes into Conway’s hand with a sob, tears filling his eyes.  

Gil’s hand is shaking so badly he lowers his gun, his face twisted into a snarl of pure rage as he looks at Conway.  “You sick fuck. Fucking bastard, I’m going to beat you to death with my own bare hands.”

Conway snorts.  “No you won’t, Arroyo.  You’re far too noble for that.  Especially if I’m in cuffs.”

“You’re not going to last long enough to get into cuffs.”

“Oh I think I will.  Detective Powell is going to come over here, and read me my rights, and arrest me.  Once she does, I’ll give her my gun and let her cuff me and she’ll walk me out of here unscathed.  Because if she doesn’t, if you lay so much as a finger on me, this case will never go to trial. Or, Malcolm here will end up with his brains blown out at about the same time as I do.  So, what’ll it be?”

Gil doesn’t say anything, but he takes a step back and gives Dani a curt nod.  She grits her teeth, clearly unhappy about the situation but does as Conway says.  She keeps her gun raised, approaches slowly and very pointedly does not look at Malcolm except for one brief moment when she meets his eyes and gives him a small nod of support, an act of solidarity he can’t find it within himself to return and he glances away quickly.  The sound of her voice seems muffled, he knows she’s speaking but can’t make out the words, he barely notices when Conway finally hands over his gun, when he releases his hold on Malcolm’s body and stands. As soon as Conway is gone Malcolm curls in on himself, grateful to find that his limbs are cooperating once more.  

In the end it's JT who ends up walking Conway out, and while he isn't gentle, he doesn't hurt him, either.  Dani stays by his side, and she’s talking again. He doesn’t know how many times she says his name before it finally registers that she’s speaking to him.

“Bright, hey, look at me, Bright!”

Somehow he manages to obey, to turn his gaze towards where she’s kneeling on the floor in front of him.  She reaches up to cup his cheek but he flinches away from her, tries to bring a hand up to push her away only to realize they’re still bound.  He whines low in his throat, pulling at the tie desperately, trying to get his hands loose.

“Hey, Bright, it's okay, relax.  Let me help you,” Dani pleads, resting her hands gently on his until he settles down.  

“Thank you,” he murmurs dully, still unable to meet her eyes.

She picks at the knots, loosening them and unwinding the tie from around his wrists.  A shadow falls over them and he looks up to see Gil standing next to him, offering his jacket to Malcolm so he can cover himself.

“Malcolm, thank god you’re alive.  When we realized Conway was our guy and I remembered you were coming here tonight….” Gil trails off.

Malcolm yanks the jacket out of Gil’s hands, covering himself as he looks for his own pants.  “I wish you’d let him kill me,” he mutters.

When he turns back to Gil and Dani they’re both staring at him with wide, concerned eyes and he realizes he’d spoken out loud.  “Look, that’s not--I don’t mean--”

Gil holds up a hand.  “We get it, kid,” he says softly, and the tender pity in his voice is almost too much for Malcolm to handle.  He doesn’t want that to be the look they all give him from now on.  

“Look, there’s an ambulance on the way, let's just get you out of here, okay?” Gil suggests.

“No!  No ambulance, I don’t need one.  He didn’t hurt me.”

“Malcolm, you have to go to the hospital,” Gil replies softly.

“I know, I know but I-- I just need a ride, and maybe some help out to the car.  Not an ambulance, please.”

Gil and Dani exchange a look, and Gil nods.  “Fine, no ambulance. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm whispers.  “Could I have a moment, please?”

“Sure kid.  Just, be careful, okay?”

Malcolm nods and watches as Gil and Dani leave the room.  He can hear more voices outside, and he’s grateful that none of the unis or CSU techs have come in yet.  He finds his clothes and dresses slowly, his coordination still a mess. He doesn’t bother with his tie, just buttons up his shirt and pulls on his pants and jacket.  He nearly falls off the couch trying to put his shoes on but somehow manages it, and then he’s finally clothed, the events of the evening no longer on display for everyone to see..  He tries to stand, and he’s wobbly but stays upright until he takes his first step and staggers into the table.

Dani and Gil come rushing back in and Gil hurries to his side.

“You good, Bright?”

“The drugs are still wearing off, but I’m fine.  I told you, he didn’t hurt me. I can give a full report at the hospital.  I’d just, I’d like to go now.”

Gil nods in understanding, “Dani, can you handle things here?”

“Sure boss.  I got it,” Dani answers.  She rests a hand on Malcolm’s arm as Gil helps him outside.  “You had us all worried, you know? Even JT. We’re all glad you’re alive, and we’re going to make sure this guy goes away for life, okay?”

Malcolm nods, and manages a tired but genuine smile.  “Thank you, Dani. For everything.”

Gil keeps a steady hand on his arm as they walk out.  Malcolm feels like he’s drunk, swaying and stumbling as he walks but Gil is there to support him, helps him hobble down the stairs, one at a time, and eases him into the passenger seat of his car.

They don’t say anything for several minutes, and it's Malcolm who finally breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry for what I said back there, Gil.  I don’t mean it. Thank you for coming for me, for always coming for me when I need it.  You have no idea what it means to me.”

Gil spares him a quick glance before turning back to the road.  “I know, kid. It's okay to not be okay, I get it. And, I know that this mess isn’t over yet.  You need to know I will always be here if you need me. So will Dani, and JT. They’ve got your back.  What happened tonight isn’t going to change that.”

Malcolm nods and rests his head against the headrest.

Gil’s right, this isn’t over.  There’s a rape kit and reports to give at the hospital, and more likely than not testimonies at hearings and trials.  It's going to be a long time before he can put this behind him, before he can look any of them in the eye without wondering if they see him differently, now.  But he’ll get through it and he knows they’ll have his back each step of the way.

[chonkychornes]

Open Arms Part 4

Synopsis: You come back broken from a mission, and the one person who could barely put himself back together is the one who is trying to help you.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language? Angst. Smut…eventually.  UST. 4 of ? parts. How’s this as a warning: this is my first reader insert fic and it was a challenge, y’all. So, as long as it isn’t the worst thing anyone has ever read, I’m still doing okay! I hope you enjoy it!

Also, this is really for @quant-um-fizzx​ I couldn’t have/wouldn’t have done any of this without her help and guidance.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

You’re not sure when it happens, but James Barnes has somehow become your closest confidant. You don’t blame yourself; he’s always around. Meeting up with you after therapy sessions, sparring with you in the gym. Walking with you around the grounds of the compound and leaning on your kitchen counters while he watches you cook. 

No, you don’t blame yourself; you blame Steven Rogers. 

Steve hasn’t been keeping up his end of the bargain. That bargain that he proposed. He hasn’t been available after therapy and you actually can’t remember the last time the two of you had dinner alone. 

This is Steve’s fault … so he’s going to fix it; no matter what. 

“Steve, get him away from me. I’m begging you.” You’re pacing in the office Steve has and it’s currently on lockdown. No extra ears and no one can enter without permission. It was the only way you could talk to him without being interrupted

He’s leaning back in his desk chair staring at you amusedly. You have no idea what strikes him as funny in this instance, but it’s annoying. “Hon, I don’t know what you want me to do about it? You struck a deal with the both of us and it sounds like Buck is just making you stick with it since I can’t always be there.”

“How convenient,” you’re getting huffy. “I don’t need a babysitter, Steve.”

“Is that really how you see him? Think of this as accountability.”

The snort that emanates from your body is so out of character, that both you and Steve pause before he chuckles. 

“What do you have against Bucky anyway? He, like all of us, is just looking out for you.”

You plop down in the chair opposite Steve’s desk and sigh, frustration evident across your face. “I don’t have anything against Bucky,” you spit. “And I don’t need Bucky looking out for me.”

Steve stares at you for a moment and a smirk creeps up to his face. “You called him ‘Bucky.’”

The two of you stare at each other for a few beats and you suddenly realize that you can’t read Steve like you used to. Unspoken conversations were a common occurrence between you both along with anticipating each other’s needs or wants. 

Nope, you’re now experiencing this with James fucking Barnes. 

For a brief moment, you wonder if a quick roll in the proverbial hay will clear anything up between you. Something hard and fast to clear the cobwebs. 

You know that’s exactly what you need, except the man sitting across from you isn’t who you want. 

You want Bucky Barnes. 

And it hits you like several tons of bricks. 

You have what can only be classified as the hots for the man with the metal arm. 

But … it’s not just that, is it? That man really understands you and doesn’t placate you. He pushes you just enough and makes you want to be better. You can laugh with him and you can cry with him. Sometimes the two of you talk for hours on end and you don’t feel the anxious pull to get away; you just feel comfortable and content. 

It doesn’t hurt that he’s ridiculously good looking even when he isn’t trying to be. 

And truth be told, even though you’re complaining to Steve right now, you wouldn’t trade any of your time with Bucky for anything in the world. 

So, this is it, you think. This is what legitimate feelings for someone feels like? You’d have thought that there would be mental fireworks or something. 

You look at Steve, eyes wide with wonderment and he grins. “There it is. I was wondering when you were going to figure it out.”

You can’t have these feelings for Barnes. You’ve got to draw a line in the sand right now. 

Why couldn’t it just be a simple little crush? He looked so good in his suit and you could carry that for months until he said something completely asinine. But actual feelings? Nope, this won’t do.  Might as well make a fool of yourself now and deflect from that little revelation. 

“You know, I wanted … a moment a few weeks ago, before you left.” You shake your hair back from your face and look over at Steve.

“Wanting something because it’s familiar is understandable,” he throws his legs up on his desk and crosses his ankles. “Ignoring something that could be real and long and true … well, I think that’s just stupid.”

“I’ve gotta go,” you move towards the door and unlock his office. “We’re not talking about … any of this, okay?” You shoot him a smile and you mean it. You’re embarrassed, but he won’t give you shit for this. He won’t think you weak or crazy; he knows you’re just scared. 

“Sure thing, hon,” he smiles back and it feels like old times. “Don’t forget, movie night tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m bringing cupcakes.” You release the lockdown protocol and move to swing out the door.

“I know what flavor he likes!” Steve’s laughing at you as stop and turn to look at him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you give him a middle finger salute and saunter down the hall. 

You have no idea how you’re supposed to get through your therapy session or the following gym circuit. 

Now that you know how you feel, how are you meant to focus on your feelings in therapy? 

Oh. You guess you could talk about these feelings. 

But then how are you going to spar with James? Because you know full well the man fully equipped with Bluetooth will be waiting in the gym for you.

Then there’s movie night, where you always end up sandwiched between the two super soldiers on the too-small sofa in the common room that Stark refuses to replace because “it fits the space just fine, I wasn’t planning on having two of them here”.

You don’t have time to think about that right now. 

You have a therapy session in twenty minutes and if you text Steve right now, maybe he’ll agree to put Barnes on some paperwork and meet you in the gym himself for the first time in three months.

Then maybe you can cut the session short so you have plenty of time to make cupcakes in whatever flavor is James’ favorite because it’s probably the least you can do, right? He’s been really good to you these last few months and he deserves a treat.

And put on some makeup.

And do your hair. 

And remember to shave your legs in the shower! 

Wait … 

You whip out your phone and send Steve a text asking him what flavor his best friend likes most. 

When he texts you back with his answer and a series of heart-eye and kissy-face emojis, you tell him to kiss your ass and meet you in the gym in an hour and stomp off down the hall for your session. 

Fifty minutes after pacing through your therapy session and talking about your feelings, you find yourself warming up in the gym waiting on Steve. 

You feel good today and most of that is probably from the virtual weight that’s been lifted at the revelation that what you’re feeling for James is real. 

That came to you about twenty minutes into the session and the shrink couldn’t hide her smile when you stopped dead in your tracks and just stared out the window. 

Because you can joke all you want and be crude and make it all about sex, which as you had been saying, would be so nice at the moment. 

But the truth is, James is the type of guy that, when you let your mind wander to that happy idea, you always imagined settling down with. A little place all to yourselves, with a dog for sure. Kids were an open-ended thing that you never really thought that much about, but you’d think about them for him, wouldn’t you? 

Retiring from the superhero life, hanging up the suits, and living peacefully while other people saved the world from chaos. 

You could live a version of that life with him, and you’d love it. 

Would he? Could he eventually leave this life behind? Would he want to with you?

Does he want you?

You think back to all the times you’ve been with James, alone or around the others, and it always ends up with you two together. Talking, sitting, eating … whatever the situation is, someone has to pull one of you out your own little bubble to get any of your time. 

You think about the night you finally left the compound and how you’re still sure the night wouldn’t have ended with a kiss in the restaurant. No, that would have been an awkward drive for Happy as you and James tried to keep your hands off of each other. 

That night would have ended with evening clothes strewn all over one of your bedroom floors. 

You’d take the bet that James wants you. It’s just a matter of if it’s just sex for him or something more. 

Your head pops up when someone enters the gym and your brow furrows when Natasha walks in. “What are you doing here?”

She smiles and being s quick series of stretches, “Girl talk.”

You stand there staring dumbly at her, “You don’t do girl talk.”

She smiles coyly at you, “I do when it benefits me.”

She runs you through 3 circuits and while she’s stretching out your calves on the mat, she verbally pounces. 

“So, what’s up with you and the ghost?” She grins as you try to twist away from her. So far you’d been able to avoid her questions and quips, but now as she basically has you pinned, you have no escape. 

“Why do you continue to call him ‘the ghost?’” Ah, deflection, an old friend. “It’s rude, Natalia.” 

She flips you over and puts you in a deep headlock and grips your hair at the base of your neck.

“I know how you are, stop it,” she grunts into your ear as you wrestle against her. “I already know you have a thing for him. A blind person could see that.”

You free yourself, but you’re certain she has a chunk of your hair in her fingers. As you crouch low and circle her, you choose your words carefully. 

“Maybe I do, but the point is I don’t know how he feels,” You lunge at her, but she sidesteps and you correct yourself to circle her again. 

“Oh, of course, he likes you. He almost mauled you in a restaurant,” When your eyes go wide and you relax slightly, she lunges and flips you over her shoulder. When you’re on your back, she looks over you and smiles. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about that. Look, I need you to make a move, that way I can finally make a move on that patriotic piece of ass.”

You stare at her in shock as you pick yourself and shake it off; you legitimately had no idea that Natasha wanted Steve … but it makes perfect sense. 

“Is it really any surprise?” Nat throws a punch that you easily deflect and you laugh. 

“I suppose not,” you crouch low and swing a leg out, knocking her off her feet in a practiced move. “I always wondered why you stayed around for so long. It’s not like you to put down roots.”

Nat pushes herself up and jumps to land on your shoulders and tries to wrap her thighs around your neck. 

“If you were interested why didn’t you make a move sooner?” You’ve already got one arm around her right thigh, so you lift and toss her off you. 

She breaks her fall on the mat with a cartwheel. 

You smirk and laugh when she pops upright and turns a pirouette. 

“Okay look,” she puts up her hands in a familiar signal that says she doesn’t want to play anymore and plops down. “You and Steve were doing your thing and I know you weren’t monogamous or anything, but I just figured things would get really complicated if I jumped in the mix.”

“He really cares about you, Nat. It would have been really weird.” You’ve conceded that whatever was between you and Steve is over and you can both talk about it, but this discussion? It’s hard and it’s weird. It sucks. 

“Which is precisely why I didn’t do anything,” she looks over at you and smiles softly as you sit next to her. “But now? You’re different. He’s different. I think it would be pretty stupid of me ignore something that could be real and long and true.”

Natasha and Steve are already so in sync, it would disgusting if you didn’t love them both.

You’re both silent for a long time. Shadows move across the room and you finally clear your throat. 

“You don’t need my blessing,” you turn to look at her dead on. You can see hope and hesitancy in her eyes and wonder just how long she’s harbored these feelings, but that’s for her to divulge. “Steve is always going to be my friend. I’m hoping he won’t be the first person I think of when I need something or want to share something.”

“Bucky could be that for you,” Natasha nudges me with her shoulder and I can feel the heat rise on my cheeks. 

“I don’t know how to even go about this! I mean, Steve and I just, I don’t know, we just sort of happened. There was nothing else behind it.” You laugh at the memory and cringe along with Natasha. “I just … what do I do?”

After she’s convinced you of a game plan, you head back to your quarters to take a quick shower and start on phase one: Cupcakes.

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 32: AMJ #5.1

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Well here we are at the final issue of this arc, of what was originally supposed to be the end of this series. I think it’s safe to say that it’s too far gone to be salvaged now. But let’s wrap this up and see if any further damage is done.

As always we have the recap.

Once more, the full title of the movie is here in the recap and yet to be in the story itself, although we got half of it last time.

The recap reaffirms this story’s misguided idea that Beck was trying to be a better man, with his desire to make a film as the only proof. Something just occurred to me about that actually. This story spins out from ASM but in those issue the idea of Beck becoming a better man was never even hinted at. So did Williams just ignore that stuff and impose whatever story she wanted to tell? If so that’s pretty lame writing. At least organically pivot to that. Try to make the transition from Mysterio in ASM to the redemption mode Mysterio not feel as abrupt and part of the same story.

It also doubles down on this horseshit that MJ would honestly let Mysterio walk around free because she connects with him on art. See part 12 for why exactly this is horseshit.

The recap also mentions the Savage Six’s attacks. Nothing wrong with that although it just drives home how (like with beck and the other criminal crewmembers) MJ knows bad people are doing something bad but is doing nothing to stop them doing those bad things. Does that remind you of another story? Like say one from 1962?

Finally I just despise the final line of the recap. It frames MJ and Beck as buddies which is just gross.

As we open up the story proper, we see beck and MJ shooting a scene from the movie. It entails the pair surrounded by robot soldiers and MJ fighting them off. She leaps from a cliff making Mysterio scream ‘Noooo!’. It’s over heard by nearby civilians in the park. Back at the set MJ exits the bouncy castle she landed on and ‘McKnight’ asks Master Matrix if they got the footage; they did.

Not much happens in these pages but there is still a fair bit to unpack.

First of all the fact they are still filming this stuff tells me (maybe I’m wrong) they were more than a few days away from finishing filming last issue. So that’d be even more time that the crew and innocent people have been in danger from the Savage Six.

Also, like last issue MJ can suddenly pull off these very gymnastic moves out of nowhere.

Furthermore let’s consider that the scene is in the middle of being  filmed right? But there are these robotic soldiers with pencil thin waists. They can’t be people in suits. The sheer number of them and the size of them mean they can’t be models either and the way in which they move means they would either have to be

CGI. Except CGI is inserted after a scene is shot, you can’t capture it on camera whilst the actors are filming it in real time

Real robots. Except Mysterio’s budget for practical effetcs was cut way back in issue #2 and creating or hiring out at least 12 (I counted) actual robots would surely be beyond their budget

They are illusions created by Beck. Except last issue he said he’d only use illusions to make MJ look convincingly like Spider-Man. If he’s changed his mind and is more willing to be less authentic why bother having a real actor complete the scene with Spidey at all?

Finally civilians can overhear Beck’s scream. But wouldn’t park goers also have heard the megaphones or other loud noises from the set? Remember in issue #3 how the whole reason they relocated to an abandoned zoo in the first place (and thereby scared Charlie away) was to maintain secrecy? If they are within earshot of a friggin park how has no one overheard the megaphones or other loud noises that the film set is bound to make? Are you telling me that they really never needed to film outside of the caves before this day? That’s rather contrived isn’t it?

On the next page we learn that it’s the last day of filming and MJ just wrapped up her scenes.

However, the investor from issue #2 is open to the possibility of funding another leg of secondary photography. This means that the movie might continue to film and they could reinstate stuff they cut, including scenes with MJ; presumably this would include the romance cut in issue #3.

There are two major points to bring up here.

The first is that I personally suspect that the movie possibly being extended was not Williams’ original plan for this issue. It strikes me as something written once she knew that this series would continue beyond issue #5. As in since the series is continuing the film they are making continues too in order to possibly provide more plot for consequent issues. It might also be Williams being meta.

The more significant point though is that by extending the shooting it means that the crew and all those people from issue #4 would still be in harm’s way due to the Six and the paparazzi they employed.

Notice how no one bothers to think of them with MJ simply delighted and commenting upon how her  character’s scenes could be restored. Once more Williams writes MJ as totally selfish here.

We then get a splash page of Mallorie using a megaphone. She instructs the crew that they only have an hour (magic hour specifically) to film the last scene. One hour and one last chance to finish the movie.

Nothing much to say on this beyond repeating that the park goers should be over hearing Mallorie.

I also find the editorial box a little pretentious but that’s just me, it’s not something to fairly hold against the story.

MJ and Beck talk about the fulfilment of the latter’s dream. Beck explains he feels strange. MJ is surprised at this because he’s getting more money for his own work. Beck clarifies that he feels strange to have made it to this stage. Because they’d faced so much adversity he had expected nothing else. He’d been emotionally preparing for failure. Now he feels strange because he has to face the possibility of success.

He continues that in this final scene he shall envision himself fighting his own demons. He credits his success to MJ personally. She in turn affirms how proud she is of him and that she never disbelieves in them. She heads off to relax and Mallorie assures her that she’ll be called when they wrap up. After all, they need to break up the set pieces.

There are three things notably wrong with this page.

The smallest of these is the dialogue. ‘We faced so much adversity that I’d begun to anticipate nothing but. Deep down, I’d been emotionally preparing…’

It just doesn’t read well and at first glance seems like it’s a grammatical error. As in the intent was meant to be ‘anticipate nothing. But, deep down…’ It’s not technically wrong, but the word choice makes the intent less clear. Using ‘nothing else’ or something other than ‘but’ at the end of the sentence would’ve made the dialogue flow much better.

The more significant problem is MJ talking about Beck getting more money for his ‘own work’. The way the emphasis is placed is clearly intended to mean that prior to this moment Beck wasn’t getting money for his own work but someone else’s. 

This is likely a reference to the first two issues wherein Beck got funding by selling the investors on a different movie than the one he was delivering. The problem is the money they have been using up until now and the additional funds they might get haven’t been off the back of Beck’s own work. The fact that he’s gained trust and money whilst pretending to be Cage McKnight, failing to inform the investor he’s a criminal and has hired criminals mitigates ‘his own work’.

MJ and Beck have no idea if the investor knew of McKnight’s reputation or past work. They don’t know if on some level that influenced his decision to finance them. Even if he didn’t the mere fact he didn’t know he was indirectly giving money over to criminals on the run (some of whom are murderers) makes MJ’s point moot. 

Most people wouldn’t have done that for ethical reasons or just out of concern for themselves. It’s not as bad  but it definitely shares similarities to Otto as Peter Parker dating Anna-Maria Marconi. At best that’s unethical and deceitful and so is failing to inform the investor that he’s financing a criminal.

The biggest problem though is the continued sympathetic framing of Mysterio. Oh how lovely for his character to have had a change of heart and now believes in himself. Good for him. 

How wonderful MJ helped him reach a more positive place in his life and fulfil his lifelong dream. Sure hope none of elderly people who’s life savings he took had dreams of helping their families after they died. Sure hope Gwyneth didn’t have any dreams or ambitions for her life beyond high school.

Fuck this misinterpretation of Mysterio seriously. And no, I have zero faith at this point that Williams is setting up a big rug pull down the line. Everything up until this issue has convinced me this is just how she sees Mysterio. 

And even if she is planning a bait and switch, the fact that she’s had MJ and Beck become sincere friends is aggressively problematic. For God’s sake MJ is so sad Beck has demons. She’s so proud of him. So happy her belief paid off and he fulfilled his dream.

She’s saying all this about a man who abducted her, faked the death of someone she loves, tried to frame, psychologically attack and murder the love of her life. He’s not even expressed any remorse for any of that!

Later MJ records a video message to Peter.

The PeterxMJ shipper in me loves this scene when it’s removed from all context (like how MJ has continuously lied to Spider-Man). I think Williams and Gomez love these scenes too. All three scenes focussing upon MJ and Peter’s relationship have made good use of their chemistry as characters and successfully delivered romantic moments. The art in particular is worthy of praise. The body language Gomez gives MJ converys her flirtatiousness and fun and her facial expressions (within the context of his style) sells you on the idea that she’s talking to someone she is in love with.

It’s nicely followed up on with the first line of the next page where MJ admits being in love makes her dorky.

MJ goes to hang out by the fence (for some reason) where she spots a van pull up. The Savage Six exit from it along with Charlie, who hands over some contact details to Vulture. I’m not sure if MJ is overhearing this herself or if it’s just for the reader’s benefit, but someone from the set emphasises the crew have but one shot to finish the movie. MJ sighs and removes her earrings as the Six make their way up the hill towards the set. Clearly she is ready to fight.

Way to make Charlie comically irredeemable Williams. He’s not been a nice guy up until this point but we might forgive a normal man for being intimidated by these ix violent crooks. But she just has to have him actively try to maybe get some employment out of the situation. On top of everything else it’s just a step too far and it makes him cartoonish. That’s not too much of a problem if he was an actual super villain but he’s just a normal person who’s being written as going the extra mile to be an asshole. He’s not even slightly upset he’s probably helped get many innocent people killed right now.

I also do not buy for a second that van could possibly fit all those people. Yeah, six normal humans sure. But look at the sheer size of Rhino, Scorpion and Stegron. It’d be doubtful it could fit or take the weight of any one of them. But ALL of them and four other people too? Bullshit.

As for MJ in this scene, isn’t it convenient she decided to chill-out by that fence and it happened to be the exact spot the Six were going to pull up in front of. And she happened to do it at the exact time too. What an insane coincidence.

I have mixed feelings about her framing in this scene. Because it’s bad ass and cool and normally I like seeing her like that. But at the same time why is MJ so utterly casual about this situation. She’s not even slightly worried. She doesn’t even look determined. She looks totally non-plussed. Friggin Spider-Man himself wouldn’t be non-plussed by this situation and his odds of survival are vastly better than MJ’s.

MJ is framed and acting like she’s Batman facing some B or C listers. But the ‘power scale’ is simply not like that in this context. The reality of the situation is far more serious than that. She cannot reliably be sure she’s win this fight at all.

I get Williams wants MJ to come off as awesome in this series. I get that she wants to celebrate her character. But this is not the way. Show the characters with flaws, concerns, with weaknesses. But that’s indicative of MJ throughout this story. MJ has been framed as awesome, cool and totally capable throughout this story. That’s great for maybe an issue, maybe even two. But five in a row?

For five issues in a row, MJ always has an answer to every problem. For five issues in a row she’s unflinchingly pragmatic. She never makes a mistake beyond not doing fight choreography fast enough? The closest the story comes to depicting her as imperfect is her discussion with master Matrix last issue and that was framing her as possibly  wrong. Then everything since that moment has shown her to have been justified in her convictions. The only thing she’s truly failed at is keeping Charlie on set but she came up with a solution to that immediately that in turn made her look awesome again.

It’s like this series has taken the idealized view of MJ Peter would have of her and then treated that as her actual character even when the story isn’t from his point of view. Her failings and set backs are minimal whilst her successes are huge. She’s redeemed Mysterio, made his dream come true, made a whole movie click, patched every hole, literally saved the live of the crew.

And now she’s nonchalantly going to kick the asses of six guys who Spider-Man himself has rarely found to be pushovers. Okay maybe nowadays Spider-Man might find beating them easy due to his experience. But in his earliest encounters that wasn’t the case. MJ has never one-on-one battled any of these guys before to my knowledge. But now on her first try, with no powers, no weapons or equipment, no real training, she’s nonplussed about fighting all Six of them at once.

Jesus Christ.

Remember how Spencer within his first 12 issues had MJ confront some concerns she had over dating Peter again with the Lookups?

Remember how Spencer in his first issue had Spider-Man save the day but not be non-plussed or supremely confident about it? Remember how it wasn’t framed as easy?

Shit, MJ’s most iconically bad ass moment wasn’t framed this way. She was scared of Chameleon.

The story framed her as determined in spite of her vulnerability.

She wasn’t going in sure she could win, but she was going to damn well try. Her victory was even a surprise to her

That is absolutely not the case here. Sure, we as readers know MJ is going to win because she wouldn’t be killed off in her own ongoing series. But that certainty comes from outside the context of the story, whilst the framing here is outright telling you MJ is going to be a bad ass and will  win. 

Maybe we don’t know the specifics of how, but there isn’t the slightest ambiguity conveyed. The framing has neutralized the danger and suspense. You aren’t reading the next few pages so see if or even how MJ is going to get out of this one. You are reading to simply see how the Six are gonna get their asses kicked.

What’s so frustrating is that this is not how Williams framed MJ in issue #3 when the Six initially attacked. There she played things correctly, MJ was framed as in peril and had to psych herself up to get the job done.

That was great.

But that’s not here. Here Mary Jane is framed as casually confident in spite of the exact same situation. Only worse because she’s not got Beck there to actually do the fighting for her.

It’s deplorable writing. It’s deplorable framing. And Williams doubles down on it immediately with the next panel when MJ insults the Six. Then tells them they’ll have to get through her first. They laugh of course (which is a prelude to her obviously winning).

Vulture demeans MJ by calling her an attractive accessory. She then hits him with her palm, which seemingly injures his face.

How wonderfully original.

I’ve never in my life  seen a story where seemingly threatening people (usually men) dismiss and demean a female character as a non-threat and just a pretty face, only to be proven totally wrong. That’s oh so original in fiction, in comic books and in Spider-Man comic books too.

Also, I question if MJ could really hurt Vulture that way.

This guy has been punched in the face by Spider-Man himself and that was without his helmet. The guy has super strength so is Mary Jane basically shoving him really going to hurt him? If so then that’s a huge design flaw for a genius inventor to make isn’t it?

Everything else I could say about this page I already mentioned about the last page and in the description for this one.

The art and facial expressions are very good though, kudos to Gomez.

Oh wait, there was one teeny, tiny little thing I forgot to mention. So the Six’s goal is to get to the set right?

And there are six of them right?

And one of them can fly, some of them can leap large distances and others can just break through walls right?

And there is a huge fence right?

Why don’t they just go around Mary Jane?

They are treating this like MJ is the one and only entry point to the set when she isn’t.

They have numerous options for at least one of them getting to their target.

But stupidity is par for the course with this series isn’t it.

The next page is a beautifully drawn splash of MJ hitting Tarantula with some of the set.

I respect Williams knows enough about MJ to understand she uses her limited resources to her full advantage. The dialogue makes that clear. She clearly understand how MJ fights. But again the framing is jacked. Out of context it might seem cool but in context it’s asinine, especially when you consider she could’ve ended this threat altogether with a phone call to some super heroes. Cloak and Dagger are delivering food to this set but she can’t ask them to fight the Six for her?

More problematically where the fuck did that set piece even come from? I checked the art and couldn’t find any yellow thing in sight. We don’t even see how MJ got a hold of it between panels. She palmed Vulture then off-panel grabbed a set piece from thin air, jumped up and smacked it on Tarantula.

That is shitty fight choreography. Fight scenes in comic books are supposed to have a sense of flow, to clearly convey how we got from A to B. Here is a much better example of how you do it featuring Spider-Man fighting (a different) Tarantula.

In contrast to that AMJ #5 is just reaction A jumping immediately to reaction B.

I’m leaving it there for now. We’ll wrap up the issue and initial arc next time.

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[drkstrangeson]

Sleeping Together

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Questionable fluff??? One bad word ;))) (This is written after Pepper said that she would leave Tony, but Tony let Pepper leave.)

Summary: You and Tony Stark were sent on a mission together, but since S.H.I.E.L.D. forgot to provide accommodations, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Authors Note: This is a writing challenge by @buckyismymainman in celebration for their 1k followers! My prompt was; “There was one bed!! *gasp*” This is my first-time writing fanfiction, and I know that my writing is terrible. But I did it for fun anyways and I did have fun writing it. (Although I was SO stressed out bc I’m gonna be judged on my skills) Congrats on getting 1k followers!!! Keep doing what you do and be happy doing it!!!! 💕💕

Also, special thanks to @superbanananinja234 for being my first reader and my personal hype man or else idk if i would’ve posted this. I love you 3k ;)))

Word Count: 2k

Nick Fury had decided to assign you and Tony Stark on the same mission, something about needing twice the amount of brains for the mission. Nick had also assigned Natasha and Clint on another mission, and since it was on the way to their mission location, both of you decided to take the same Quinjet as Natasha and Clint, so that you would be able to joke around with Natasha and get closer to Clint before the four of you went on your different ways.

The moment you found out that you were going on a mission with Tony, you were ecstatic. You always sneaked glances at Tony, whenever he was working out, tinkering around, or taking charge of Stark Industries. Thanks to your training, you were able to escape under his radar for a long time, until you had to spend time alongside him. Sure, he made it hard, because he pretended to not care about anyone, but you knew that he was the most caring person to everyone that he cared about.

Now, Tony Stark had everything he could ever want in the world, and if he didn’t have it, all he had to do was ask for it. Whatever he had was understandably luxurious, as is befitting of someone with a billionaire status. However, since young, he had learnt to close himself off to everyone, and misdirect everyone if he ever needed to do something sneaky, so if he cared about someone, he cared about them. He remembered everything everyone said, just to keep himself safe from imminent danger.

After Natasha and Clint had dropped you and Tony off, you both slowly come to the realisation that S.H.I.E.L.D. decided to not provide suitable enough lodging (according to Tony, at least), both of you went to find the nearest hotel. Except for the fact that this was in a weird part of Earth, and there weren’t any hotels at all, let alone five-star ones.

“Why don’t we just go to a nearby motel or whatever instead? It’s only one night.” You ran after Tony as he took off stomping. “Look, I’ll get a Google maps to the nearest motel up and running quick.” As quickly as you said that, he turned around and pushed a finger square into the middle of your chest, staring into your [E/C]. You stared back, and batted your eyelashes, albeit playfully. “Yes, Tony?”

Tony opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a notification sound came from your phone. “Hey! There’s a motel nearby! Let’s go! You need to charge your suit anyway, right?” You grabbed his arm and pulled him along. He shut up immediately and threw his free arm up in disapproval before trudging after you silently and unwillingly.

“[Y/N], you know I don’t like to sleep in foreign areas.” He eventually spoke up, but not before you both reach the motel.

“It’ll be fine, TonyTones--”

“Do not call me that, [Y/N].”

“Besides, we’re already here, so let's just get a room with two beds, in case you do fall asleep.”

“I will not fall asleep. I’ve got things to do before we continue with the mission tomorrow.”

You shrugged, and headed towards the receptionist, asking if they had a room with two beds.

“Yes, we do, actually. Room 204. Just turn right and head forward. For how many nights?”

“Just this one, than--”

“Make it two.” Tony spoke up from behind you and handed the receptionist his credit card with a wink. The receptionist blushed hard and coughed while inputting some details. They then handed Tony the keys, who in turn, smirked at the receptionist, and gave them a silent ‘thank you’ before turning around and ushering you towards the rooms.

“Tony, why are we staying another night?” You inquired as you both walked towards the room, Tony playing with the key in his hand.

“Well, with me being the best Avenger and everything, I decided to be thoughtful and thought that you would need another day to rest before heading back to the HQ. Totally not because I have something else to do here the next night…” Tony mumbled the last part and attempted to insert the key into the keyhole. You tapped your foot lightly to an invisible song while waiting for him.

“TonyTones, are you not done with the door? I thought you were a genius engineer, what happened?” You laughed lightly at your own joke.

“[Y/N], I told you not to call me that, and the fucking key doesn’t fit the keyhole.” Tony revealed, and you took the key out of his hands.

“Language.” You opened the locked door effortlessly, and scoffed at him. Tony rolled his eyes, muttering something about ‘still being smarter than you’, and you laughed. You walked in, not before stopping at the doorway.

“Oh Jesu— Hey, Ms ‘I-Think-I’m-Smarter-Than-Tony-Stark’, don’t just stop in the middle of the hallway!” You stumbled forward, your back hurting a little.

“Tony, there’s only one bed.” You gasped out, and Tony shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter, I have things to do tonight before the mission tomorrow, remember? I’m pretty sure I told you that I wasn’t going to be sleeping.” He pushed past you and immediately set his suit up to charge. You proceeded to lie down on the bed and sighed.

“And I’m pretty sure I told you that sleep is good for you, oh like, at least a million times now, Tony.” You retorted, but Tony being Tony, he just shrugged. Lack of sleep seemed to do Tony well, but not so much for yourself. Damn you, unfair genetics.

After a nice shower, you sat down beside Tony, who was tinkering with his suit. You never knew what he was doing, going on about transistors and capacitors. Tony had changed into his tanktop, which, in his defence, was ‘the single most comfortable thing to wear, second of which is my suit’. You thought it looked stupid until he busted out his sunglasses. He looked even stupider, and you cracked up laughing.

But, god. Tony looked so good in everything he wore, but somehow, he looked even better in a tanktop. His muscles bulged as he tightened some bolts in his suit. You had to physically turn yourself away so that the weird fantasies in your head will stop. “I’m gonna be sleeping now, Tones, good night!” You said loudly, and pulled the blanket over yourself.

“Good night kid, good job today. You did great. Get some rest.” Tony said softly, not breaking eye contact with whatever he was soldering. He rewired some parts of his suit, and tested out his blaster, without letting the blast loose, in case you woke up from that. After that, he flipped through the files about the mission that was about to happen the next day, before looking over at the bed. He was functioning off of one cup of coffee, and two cups of whiskey. Both of which he took before you both left Stark Tower for the current mission. Which was at least a good twelve hours before this.

Tony could feel himself crashing, but he didn’t want to intrude on your peaceful sleep. Therefore, he grabbed a couple of pillows and put it between both of you, before falling asleep on the bed the moment he laid down.

You woke up in the middle of the night, tangled in someone else’s arms and legs. Trying to pull your arm out, Tony pulled you into a tight hug instead. Looking up to a sleeping Tony, you tried to wriggle free, but his grip was hard.

“Jarvis, you there?” You spoke to the suit, as much as you could possible, being tangled in the arms of Tony.

“Yes, [Y/N]. Do you need help waking up Mr Stark? I’m sure he will let you go the moment he wakes up.”

“It’s fine, just tell him the next time he wants to hug me, he can just do it awake.” Jarvis made a sound of confirmation. Your nose itched, so you sniffed. God, what kind of aftershave did he use, because he smelled SO good. You decided that it wasn’t that bad, and fell asleep soon enough again, feeling safe and secure in his arms.

Eventually, Tony woke up to an alarm, with a sore arm. He groaned, and found one arm below you, with the other on you, as if he was hugging you. Wait, he is hugging you. You were hugging him a little, too, with your legs tangled underneath his. It’s been awhile since he had gotten a good night’s sleep, but he’d never have thought that the reason for his good night’s sleep would’ve been you. You snored softly under him, and he smiled. He tightened his hug, and snuggled against you.

You soon woke to the same alarm, as Tony was snuggling against you. Thinking that it was a dream, you closed your eyes again and leaned closer, before snapping up immediately. You looked around for your phone, while Tony groaned loudly, a verbal way of expressing his dismay at you leaving his arms.

“Tones! We’re late! C’mon wake up!” You flew out of the bed, and hurried to get dressed properly. When Tony did not move from the bed, you gave him a few light slaps on his abdomen. “TonyTones!!! Get up! I’m not about to disappoint Fury!”

“The next time you call me TonyTones, or Tones, I will make you shut up.” Tony sat up on the bed and pointed a finger at you. You stared back at him and retorted.

“And, Mr. TonyTonyTones, how would you do that?” You cocked your head, a genuine question. You started to think. “Put a finger against my lips? Physically shush me until I keep quiet? Oh! Or would you just cup your hand in front of my mouth instead? Because you and I both know I would very likely lick your hand if you di—"

“I’m... gonna kiss you.” Tony said, with a very ‘as a matter of fact’ tone, without breaking his eye contact with you. “I will kiss you to keep you quiet, and I dare to say this, because I know you like me. I know the way you look at me sometimes, [Y/N].” You were about to say something, but he shoved his index finger against your lips. You looked down at his finger, and he chuckled, then removed his finger.

“So, lemme get this straight. If I call you “TonyTones” again, you’re gonna kiss me? Is that right? What if I called you “LooneyTones”? You know, like “LooneyTun—"

All you saw was that Tony took one step forward, and suddenly his lips were against yours. You tensed up, but slowly started to lean into it after you realised how calm, and yet, demanding, his kiss was. You could feel how soft his tongue was, exploring and gently probing around your mouth, desperate to claim you for his.

You closed your eyes, and took your time exploring every nook and cranny of his mouth. Your hands made its way up to Tony’s shoulders, and tenderly touched his cheek. He slid his arms around your waist, pulling you closer towards him. Moaning softly, he leaned in more, before you broke apart from him.

“Hey Tones, no wait, don’t kiss me.” Tony looked at you, amused, and you carried on. “I mean you can, next time, just not now. Remember we have a mission to do?” You mumbled, while looking at him. He put his hands up in defeat, and went over to his suit, unplugging it from the socket. You’ve learnt that hard way once, when he forgot to unplug his suit and had called it during a mission, it ripped out the wires in the walls.

“Let’s go then, as much as you don’t want to disappoint Fury, I don’t want to disappoint you tonight.” Tony smirked and winked, grabbed the keys from the table, and headed out. You smoothed out your clothes, attempted to calm yourself down, and headed out after him.

[venusloveslobotomies]

Pyromania (Bucky x Reader) 8

   Summary: (Winter Soldier-Endgame Insert) You’re an enhanced HYDRA agent who negotiated her way out of being a weapon. You’re now the nurse/ aid of the Winter Soldier. You end up escaping with him and follow him in and out of danger while slowly developing feelings for each other.   Words: 3000+ (approx)   Chapter: 8/?   Part 7

  When I wake up, I’m on the ground somewhere. I sit up way too quickly and I almost pass out again immediately. Some kind of warehouse or… something. I remember falling and hitting the water and then… nothing. Behind me someone moves and I spin around, only to find Bucky waking up. His arm is caught in a sort of vice.   I move forwards and wrap my hands around his face, muttering apologies in Russian. His free hand traps mine there. I press my lips softly to his forehead. He starts trying to get up and I hear Sam’s voice for a moment and then footsteps. I turn around and see Rogers and Wilson approaching us cautiously. 

   “Steve,”    “Which Bucky am I talking to?” He’s clearly uneasy.    “Your mom’s name was Sarah,” He pauses before chuckling, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes,”    “Can’t read that in a museum,” Steve smirks a bit.    “Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?”    “I dropped him,” The two men look to me, “Used the fail-safe. It’s not even written down in his files. Say a word, he drops unconscious and switches out of it,” They nod but still seem unsure.    “What did I do?” Bucky manages to get out.    “Enough,”    “Oh god. I knew this would happen,” His voice breaks a little and so does my heart, “Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do is say the goddamn words,”    “Who was he?”    “I don’t know,”    “The bombing, the setup… The doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’”    “Hey! Ok. That’s enough. Give him a fucking break!” I stand up.    “N/N, don’t,”    “He’s been through hell and back. He wakes up and you’re already interrogating him. Maybe back off a little!” My voice has been rising in volume and I find myself standing directly in front of Steve, “I’m not scared of you. And unlike my soldier, I don’t have any issues with hurting you to deal with you!”    “Y/N, stop,” I whirl around, “He’s just trying to help us,” I huff, debating whether it was worth punching his face but decide against it and march back to Bucky’s side and crouch beside him, “He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where,”    “Well, fuck,” I mutter quietly. Only one reason anyone would want to go there.    “Why would he need to know that?”    “Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier,”

  Watching Soldat train was certainly not my favorite activity. It was stressful and I disliked the other supersoldiers. One in particular was very aggressive.   Today was no exception. The rest of the nurses and I stood by on benches next to our soldiers. I stood with Konstantinov, Soldat’s current handler. Watching a pair of them compete in hand-to-hand, I bounced slightly on my toes. Soldat gave me a look but I ignored him.   I was getting nervous as Soldat started to spar with the angry one. I held my breath as they fought. The other one managed to get a grip on his arm and then kicked him across the room. He landed next to me after hitting the wall.    “You’ll have to do better,” Konstantinov scoffed, “Good work,” He directed towards the other one.   I bent down and pressed my palm to his cheek before he stood up. While the other one’s nurse took his heart rate, he slammed the poor guy onto the ground after breaking his arm.   One of the guards hit him with a stick but it hardly did anything. Konstantinov cocked his gun, “Soldat, get me out of here,” I followed them out of the room while the other soldiers turned on the guards and the nurses. We ended up in a safe part of the facility while the others were sedated.

   “Who were they?”    “Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history,”     “And that was before the serum,” I add, shaking my head.    “They all turn out like you?” Sam seemed edgy now,    “Worse,”     “The doctor,” Steve asked, “Could he control them?”    “Enough,”    “Said he wanted to see an empire fall,”     “With these guys he could do it,” I stand up, “They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming. We were taught the same things too, the enhanced,”    “This would have been a lot easier a week ago,” Sam says to Steve.   They release his arm from the vice, still talking.    “If we call Tony-”    “No, he won’t believe us,”    “Even if he did, who knows if the Accords will let him help?” I turn my focus back to Bucky, who’s trying to calm down again. I run my fingers through his hair and remind him to breathe.   We end up in a really old car, squished in. We were flown to Germany for whatever reason. I’ve relaxed my head against Bucky’s shoulder and when we stop I see that blue-haired girl, Selene, step out of a different car to meet Steve.   After a few minutes of chatting and what-not, they kiss and I smile a bit. Steve seems nice, I can understand why she’s into him. Yeah, he’s pretty but he’s not my Soldat.   He tosses his shield and something else in the back before we drive to the airport.

  We park and get out. I’m on high alert, definitely not liking the parking lot. We meet a man and a young woman climbing out of a white van. They greet Steve while Buck and I lean on the car.   I run my hands over his face softly, knowing a fight is coming. He leans his head into it and my heart skips a beat. I touch his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his lips. I sigh a little before dropping my hands to my side.   I focus on another guy who’s stepped out. He seems… Weird. I shrug it off and the girl waves at me. I wave back but jump a little when Bucky says loudly,    “We should get moving,”     “We’ve got a chopper lined up,” The first guy tells us. Over the intercom, a voice tells passengers to evacuate in German.    “They’re evacuating the airport,” I say thoughtfully. That’s not good.    “Stark,” Sam sighs.    “Suit up,” Steve instructs everyone. Bucky and I don’t exactly have much so he pulls on the leather jacket from our bag that Selene retrieved and I yank on the harness and my fireproof long sleeve and make do with my baggy jeans. I grip his hands while he mentally prepares himself to fight. 

 Steve runs out alone to the helicopter but is quickly intercepted by Iron Man. Cool. This will go down well. I keep count as more arrive. Another ‘Iron Man’ who arrived with Stark. The same one who stopped us in Romania. The man in the cat suit who I now know as King T’Challa. Natasha and another girl with pink hair. Some strange younger boy in a suit. He takes Steve’s shield with some sticky web stuff. I’m not a fan of that.   I move to sit with Wilson and Bucky while they scout for their Quinjet. Sam finds it quickly enough and lets Rogers know.   Immediately Lang and Barton initiate combat and the three of us start sprinting towards the jet. The kid hits the window as we’re running.    “What the hell is that?” I laugh at Bucky’s face, a mixture of confusion and horror.     “Everyone’s got a gimmick now,” Sam rolls his eyes and runs faster. I know he’s struggling to keep up with our pace. I find it difficult already to slow down enough for Bucky, let alone a normal person.   The kid busts through the window and kicks Sam. Hard. I skid to a stop and Bucky turns around to punch him but the spider-kid catches it.    “You have a metal arm? That is awesome, dude!” Ok, that’s disturbing. How did he not go flying? I can see Bucky trying to work that out as well before Sam grabs the kid and continues to fly through the airport.   I’m still standing there when Bucky practically throws me over his shoulder and starts running again.     “Put me down, suka!” I hit his back but he still keeps a grip on me. He does drop me a few seconds later though and flings a huge chunk of… something at the kid. He pulls me behind a pillar. He looks back to check if he hit.    “Hey buddy, I think you lost this!” The hunk of metal comes flying back at us and Bucky throws himself on top of me. I shove him off, ready to set the kid on fire when Sam starts fighting him again.   Bucky grabs my harness and starts dragging me. I see Wilson hit the floor and then get stuck to a railing. Bucky seems to forget he’s got me in tow when he flings himself in front of Sam to protect him from the kid kicking him. We all hit the ground and I’m momentarily unaware of what happens. I see Bucky’s metal arm trapped to the ground with more of that nasty web stuff but I’m too dizzy for it to make much sense.     “You couldn’t have done that earlier?”    “I hate you,” Wilson groans. I sit up but I’m overcome by a wave of nausea. Fuck. I’m definitely concussed. I know I can push through the effects of it but for the moment I just sit there, trying to hang on to whatever remains in my stomach.    “Sunny? Sunshine? Y/N!” I jolt and realise Bucky’s been yelling at me. I wave my hand before jumping up and throwing up somewhere behind a wall.    “I’m good. Let’s get out of here,” I groan. Now that that’s done, I’ll be fine. Bucky’s not having any of it though. He holds his hand out and I begrudgingly allow him to hoist me onto his back, “You’re slow enough without me,” I grumble.    “I lift 400 pounds. You’re nothing,” We start running again and make it outside, meeting Steve and the others. We stop abruptly when some floating figure cuts a line in front of us. Great! Another issue.     “Captain Rogers. I know you believe what you’re doing is right but for the collective good, you must surrender now,” I slide off of Bucky’s back.    “What do we do, Cap?” Wilson mutters.    “We fight,” We all move forward to meet them, jogging, then breaking into a run.   I lock eyes with the pink-haired girl. I meet her and get a good grip on her, trying to wrap my arms around her neck. I’m aware of Bucky on my right, locked in battle with T’Challa. She’s really good at hand-to-hand combat though, and definitely stronger than me. My agility makes me a good match though, and we lose and gain position often. Her fight pattern is uncomfortably familiar and I can’t help but wonder why I recognize it. She jerks away quickly when I grab her hands, which have gripped my harness. I feel their heat and I know I can’t control it for much longer. I use that to backsault out of it and run towards Bucky.   He gets thrown into the side of a box and is clearly winded. T’Challa moves to strike him and I put all my energy into sprinting into him. I slam into his whole body and send him flying. Wanda, the girl who waved at me in the car park, catches him with her weird magic stuff and throws him through a plane tunnel. I salute her before yanking Bucky to his feet.   He’s a little bit out of it so I use all my strength to pull him along, as fast as I can go. Steve meets us and we stop for a moment.    “We gotta go. That guy’s probably in Siberia by now,” He’s panting. Hard.    “We gotta draw out the flyers,” Steve responds.    “I’ll take Vision, you get to the jet,”    “No, you get to the jet. The three of you,” Sam calls in over the comms. Clint agrees.    “Alright, Sam, what’s the play?”     “We need a diversion. Something big,” I consider sending myself to a plane or one of the buildings to blow it up.    “Don’t,” Buck grips my wrist so hard I think for a moment he might break it,   “You’re not playing kamikaze again,” I nod, but still consider it.    “I got something kinda big, but I can’t hold it very long,” Lang says over the comms, “On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half, don’t come back for me,”    “He’s gonna tear himself in half?” Bucky shakes his head. We all wait for a moment.   Lang transforms until he’s huge. Like. Bigger than the planes, “You go ahead. We can catch up,” Buck breathes in my ear. I almost shake my head but the look he gives me scares me a little. And that’s saying something. I nod but quickly press my lips to his.     “Run fast,” I whisper.    “I guess that’s the signal,” Rogers is still staring at Scott.   I take off running, knowing no one will catch me. I don’t look back, no matter how much I want to. I hear burning behind me and realise I’m running on flaming feet. That might be cool and all, if it was because of how fast I was running. But the truth is simply that I’m upset and worried about my Soldat.   I reach the jet and skid to a stop. I try to put out the flames but I’m getting myself more and more worked up the more I try to extinguish them.     “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I stamp my feet. My hands are also burning.   I hear a crashing and see a building coming down over the entrance to the hangar. I rush to reach Steve and Bucky, who are just about to reach me when it stops. Wanda is holding it, barely. Something happens and she has to let it go but Steve and Bucky make it in. I fling myself at my soldier and his arms wrap tightly around me, picking me up and carrying me into the jet. My feet and hands must’ve gone out.   Steve starts it up and we fly out of the hangar. Bucky collapses to the ground, still holding me so hard I can hardly breathe. I don’t care though and knot my fingers into his hair.      “Breathe, doll. You need to breathe,” He whispers into my ear as I fight down sobs. I’m not sure why I’m so upset now. Of all the times to be upset. I must look insane, my eyes are wide, staring straight into his. It’s the sight of those striking blue eyes that make my heart flutter.   His hand reaches for my face and I allow him to brush back my hair and stroke my cheek. I calm down enough to feel us speed up. We must have Stark and the other guy on our tail. Bucky settles himself in a seat and straps himself in. I sit on his lap and try to calm the anxiety in my chest.   We fly for an hour before I start to relax. I find a first aid kit and deal with Bucky’s cuts. I make a fuss over the tiniest things and he allows me. Normally he’d brush me off and try to make me sit down but he must think it’s better to allow himself to be fussed over again. I finally finish and my hands are still shaking.   Why I’m on edge, I’m not sure.

Bucky

  “Kang Y/N,” She freezes, startled at the use of her full name. She locks eyes with Bucky, “You are going to be fine,” He knows that it’s because they’re returning to Siberia. To where both of them were held against our will. She shakes her head and sits down across from him, “What’s going to happen to your friends?”    “Whatever it is…” Steve’s voice breaks a little, “I’ll deal with it,”    “I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve,” He sighs. She exhales and buries her face in her hands.    “What you did all those years. It wasn’t you,” Steve is quiet when he says it but there’s a weight behind his words, “You didn’t have a choice,”    “I know. But I did it,” She stands up.    “Shut up,” Bucky opens his mouth but snaps it shut when he sees her face. It’s dark, her eyes are filling with tears, “Don’t even fucking… Just. Don’t,” She’s been on edge since the airport and this conversation isn’t helping. She walks to sit on the floor of the jet, towards the back.   He moves to sit next to Steve.    “She really cares about you,” His voice is hushed.    “I guess,”     “Don’t give me that,” He rubs his eyes, “She wouldn’t be here right now if she didn’t. I see the way she looks at you. It’s… A lot. The way she hovers over you, fusses about your injuries, always ends up back at your side. I’ve never seen anyone like that before,” Bucky considers his words for a moment.   After HYDRA and SHIELD. After the crash. She was there, obviously looking for him. She came with him, knowing she’d be killed if they were caught. The way she fought to stay by his side after they were taken from Romania.   According to Steve, she’d jumped right off the roof for him. She’s always been like that though. It’s always been… Y/N and Bucky. He’d never really considered it until now.     “Do you think she…”    “I’m not blind, Buck. She kissed you. That’s not just a friend thing,” He smirks at Bucky. He looks back over at her. She’s clearly still nursing a headache and God knows what other effects of a concussion. Her head rests in her hands as she sits on the floor.   He knows he felt his heart skip a beat when she kissed him. It always does when she touches him. He’d always just put it down to the fact that every other instance of physical contact in his life had been violent.    But maybe it was something else…