#how do i ask my doctor to put me in a chokehold until i stop breathing

[postcardgirl]

It's been like 26 years and I still haven't gotten to yell off of a cliff, but if there ones thing thats for sure in this fucky wucky lucky brain of mine, that wouldve been my ticket to sanity

[zodiakuroo]

Pretty Things Don’t Need To Think

Kuroo decides he's had enough of his smart, independent girlfriend. He wants her to be his good little housewife instead.

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

Contains: 18+ oh boy... dubcon, big dick kuroo, dumbifciation, misogyny, manhandling, oral sex (deepthroating), pee in vee sex, degradation, manipulation, pwp, breath play, mouth spitting, creampie, thigh riding, slapping, spit, porn watching, crybaby reader but kuroo is a meanie so :3

Word count: 4.6k

Notes: my first time writing smut n it’s mindlessly self-indulgent i just had this weirdly specific fantasy that i need to get out byeee

Kuroo loved the fact that you were smart. He loved the fact that you could debate and argue with him for hours on the most obscure topics. He love that you were always interested in his nerdy rambles and he found it adorable that you would sometimes go off on your own nerdy rambles. When he met you, he was so used to fucking brainless bimbos that he was surprised to find a girl that he both wanted to sleep with and have a conversation with. Your intellect was one of the many reasons he wanted to pursue a relationship with you beyond sex. One of the many reasons why he planned on marrying you.

Kuroo also loathed the fact that you were smart. Not loathed exactly. He just hated your stupid fucking degree. He hated the fact that it demanded so much of your time and energy that you sometimes had to put your studies before him. You wanted to be doctor, always wanted to apparently. You wanted it so bad he felt a little ashamed for how much it annoyed him.

But he didn’t understand it. You were going to be the wife of Kuroo Tetsurou, President of the Japan Volleyball Association. Is that not enough of an achievement?

 You didn’t seem to think so.

Now Kuroo’s not a misogynist by any means. If he were, he wouldn’t even let you get this stupid degree. He doesn’t want you to be some mindless Stepford Wife who only cooks and cleans and says “Yes, dear” “No, dear.” Of course he believes in equal rights and all that bullshit but he just doesn’t see any reason for you to work. Financially, there’s no need. More importantly, as his wife you would be too busy taking care of him, his home and his children for you to even thinking about having a job. He would let you get this degree purely for you to soothe your own ego, so you could feel like you’ve accomplished something.

And this is the fucking thanks he gets.

Coming home every day to see you hunched over the dining room table, 4 different textbooks open, papers scattered everywhere. He works hard every day to make a comfortable life for the two of you but asking to come home to a clean apartment and dinner on the stove is too much to ask apparently.

You don’t even register that he’s in the room until he places two large warm hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump, quickly soothed with a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hi baby” he mutters against your scalp, gently massaging your shoulders.

“Hmm. Hi Tetsurou.” you turn your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and bleary from staring at your computer all day.  “How was your day?”

“Same old.” He places a chaste kiss on your lips. “How’s it going here? Are we winning?” He glances at your notes, Intercranial mass lesions. Subarachnoid Haemorrhage. Spontaneous Intracerebral Haemorrhage. He wonders why you do this to yourself. Pretty things like you shouldn’t have to think.

You groan. “Not at all. This neuro final is gonna kick my ass.”

He chuckles, hands gently massaging your shoulders. “You say that every time and every time you ace it baby.”  Instead of asking you where his dinner is, he asks “Have you eaten today? What do you want for dinner?”

“ I’m not hungry Tetsu. You can order whatever you like.” He clenches his jaw in irritation. You can’t even be bothered to give him your full attention for 10 minutes? The man who works so hard so that you can afford to sit at home and study the whole day?

No.

He’ll get your attention one way or another.

“Angel,” he drops his voice an octave or two, leaning down so his mouth is pressed right against the shell of your ear. “How about you take a break yeah? Wanna help you relax.” He starts to kiss your neck. He hears your breath hitch. He’s got you. “You worked so hard today plus I reaaaaally miss you.”

With that he begins to leave wet kisses on your neck, feeling you melt into him. His hands move away from your shoulders, gently groping at your chest.

You suddenly go rigid. “Tetsu, not right now.” He doesn’t want you to know how pissed he is but he can’t help it, he groans in frustration. “I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly “I really need to get through these last 3 chapters.”

“Yeah right. Got it.” He storms off with a huff. He’s furious. Your little studious shtick has been nothing more than an irritation for him. But this is too far. He hasn’t come in a month, since you started prep for finals. You’ve been too busy to take care of him. You suggested porn and he laughed in your face. Why would he jerk off when you have a perfectly good pussy? Don’t be ridiculous.

“Tetsurou don’t be mad please.”

“Not mad baby. Keep studying. That’s important to you right?” He’s not convincing anyone but you don’t have the time or energy to engage.

You let out a heavy sigh before turning back to your laptop, falling back into studying like the whole interaction never happened. It made him even angrier. How you couldn’t care less about him right now.

“Just gonna watch some TV. That okay with you, love?” He says sounding sickly sweet, almost sarcastic. If you notice, you don’t make any mention of it.

“Mmhm. Just keep it down please.” You don’t even bother to fucking look at him. 

You don’t wanna pay attention to him? You want him to just jerk off? Fine then, have it your way. Kuroo throws himself down on the couch as he rips off his tie with a little more force than necessary.

This is petty.

He makes quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt.

This is childish.

He quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls his slacks down just far enough to take his soft dick out of his boxers.

 This is your fault.

 You pushed him to do this.

He takes his phone and uses his internet browser to take him to the first porn site he can think of. He doesn’t really care about the kind of video so “Busty blonde slut gets destroyed” seems like a good a choice as any. He clicks on the video and sets up his phone to mirror on the TV screen. With the volume about as loud as it can go, he presses play.

The loud exaggerated moans and gagging startle you. Your head shoots up and you see your boyfriend, lidded gaze fixed on the flat screen TV in front of him. He’s panting, letting out little moans. You crane your neck to see what he’s watching and you see on the TV a bleach blonde girl with massive tits being an absolute trooper as she gets facefucked relentlessly.

“Kuroo, what the fuck?” God he hates when you call him by his last name mostly because you only do that when you’re really annoyed at him.

“Hm? What is it baby?” Now it’s his turn to not even glance in your direction. He’s too focused on the way the girl on screen’s throat is bulging as the man thrusts into her mouth. Maybe he should watch porn more often.

“What are you doing?” He can hear the irritation building in your voice. He hears the chair scrape along the hardwood floor as you stand up to get a better look at him. He knows you can see exactly what he’s doing now.

He smirks, turning to look at you for just a split second before his attention is back to being on screen. “Watching ah fuck watching TV”. He starts to stroke himself faster now, knowing you’re watching him. He’s a little embarrassed by how turned on he is. Cock already rock hard, his tip bright red and shiny from leaking so much pre-cum.

“Do you have to do… that… here? I can’t concentrate.” You clench your fists and your sides.

Oh you’re pissed. But this isn’t exactly the reaction he wants from. He’ll make it work though.

“Not my problem babe. Shit.” He takes his free hand down to play with his swollen balls and god, if he weren’t so determined to dump this load inside you he might have come right then and there.

“Kuroo!” You shout. He’s still not looking at you. How could he when the girl on the screen is getting absolutely railed. He only hears the sound of your barefeet on the hardwood floor as you storm over to the couch. He’s not sure what your plan was when you decided to come over here, but it doesn’t even matter anymore because the second you’re close enough he yanks you by your wrist and forces you into his lap.

“Tetsu!” You thrash and struggle in his hold but it’s no use. He’s bigger and stronger than you.

He wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you into a chokehold. “Oh I’m Tetsu now?” he laughs bitterly

“Let me go! Please!” You still haven’t given up getting out of this, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Shut up. I want you to watch this.” He’s forcing you to look at the screen now. “Look at that yeah? Look at how she’s taking that big cock.”

A hard palm strikes you across your cheek. “Stop squirming and watch.”

The blonde woman is bent over a coffee table while the man behind her rams his dick into her without abandon. Kuroo can’t decide if he finds her whining hot or annoying.

“Looks like it feels good huh babe?” His head is buried in the crook of your neck. “Wanna make you feel good like that.” He places a quick kiss to your temple before pulling your t-shirt over your head, your bare chest now exposed to the cool air.

“Tetsu please.”

“Please what baby?”

Please let me go.

But the way he’s hands are gripping at your breasts, pulling and twisting your nipples, you can’t form any words. Only whimpers.

“Please make you feel good? That what you want baby?” He whispers as he slots his thigh between your legs.

“Yeah yeah please Tetsu.”

Kuroo has turned his focus onto your neck. Harsh sucks, leaving bruises and bite marks in his wake. He wants to laugh at how pathetic you are. Just a few minutes ago, you were adamant on ignoring his presence and now you’re writhing in his lap begging you to touch him.

“Really? I thought you needed to study.”

“No no no Tetsu, only need you.” Just a quickie. You’re both pent up. 10… 15 minutes tops. Then you’ll go back to studying. That’s what you tell yourself.

“That’s right baby.” He grips your hips and grinds you down on to his thigh. “I know exactly what you need.” You take your cue from him and begin riding his thigh, neurology notes long forgotten as he goes back to assaulting your neck. The combination of the sensation of your clothed clit rubbing against his thigh and visual stimulation of the explicit content on your TV makes you dizzy with pleasure.

Your movements become frantic. You’re practically humping his leg at this point. He knows you’re close which is why he wraps one arm around your torso, pulling you back into his chest.

“Baby please.” You whine. Oh, you’re really crying now.

“Oh angel, you were gonna come just from that? Just from humping my thigh and watching some other bitch get eaten out? My angel must be so pent up huh?”

You can’t do anything except whimper and nod.

“Mmhm yeah my baby has been working too hard. Thinking too much. You’re too cute for that you know baby.”

You keep nodding, no idea what you’re actually agreeing to, too busy keening at the praise. You keep trying to move your hips but he just tightens his hold.

“It’s okay though baby I know how to take care of you. Your man knows how to turn off that little brain of yours.”

His hand slides into you shorts, fingers pressing on to your clit over the top of your soaked panties. The moan you let out might rival the porn star on screen, who now by the way, is riding the face of her co-star while she sucks his cock.

He slips his other hand into your panties and starts rubbing quick “Yeah that’s it. Feel good babe?” You melt into his chest. “Yes Tetsu! So good!”

Kuroo pushes his long middle finger into your dripping hole. So tight and warm, he has to bite back a moan of his own. A few slow pumps, before he lets his index finger enter you as well. He’s done going slow now, he starts fucking you with his fingers, thumb brushing over your clit every now and then.

You were so close before, it takes almost no effort on Kuroo’s part to get you there again. You throw your head back on to his shoulder, muscles tensing in anticipation of your impending release. “Tets- gonna cum, gonna cu-“ The second you feel the waves of your orgasm crash on to you, Kuroo has his hands off you entirely, reaching for the remote and turning off the explicit movie.

Ruined. He ruined your orgasm.

You open your eyes and you see Kuroo looking every bit the smug bastard and your own teary eyed reflection in the black screen. “Tetsurou… Why? Why would you-“ You can’t even get the sentence out before he delivers a harsh smack to your clit.

“You think you deserve to come?” A large hand wraps tight around your throat as he lets out a humourless laugh. “You’re stupider than I thought.”

“No Tetsu ‘m not stupid” You manage to rasp out but that just makes him squeeze even tighter.

“What was that? I thought I heard a stupid bitch say something.”

You claw at his had trying to get air into your lungs but Kuroo doesn’t budge.

“Please! Sorry! Please!” is all you can manage to get out. Just as you start to see spots, Kuroo lets go.

Airways burning, you sputter out a “thank you” but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care. “You’re sorry? Show me how fucking sorry you are.” He’s shoves you on to the floor unceremoniously.

While Kuroo removes his slacks and boxers, you try to compose yourself. You know what’s coming but first you need to stop coughing and stop crying. After a minute of deep breathing, you open your eyes and find yourself face to face with Kuroo’s monster cock.

And you’re not exaggerating. The thing is terrifying. Long and girthy, the biggest you’ve ever seen.  He’s unbelievably hard with bulging veins, the tip almost purple with arousal. You’re mesmerised by it. 

Perhaps the only thing scarier than his dick right now is the man attached to it. He’s staring down at you with so much condescension, small smirk playing on his lips. He wraps his hand around his thick base. “You good princess? Get to it.” He tuts.

You place one of your hands on his throbbing member as you tentatively stick out your tongue to lick at his tip where pre-cum is dribbling out. You slowly start to stroke him up and down as you swirl your tongue around the head. Kuroo is being kind, letting you go slow. If you think he’s doing this for your benefit, you’re mistaken. He wants to take his time with this. More importantly, he’s got about a month’s worth of cum stored up in his balls and he wants to make sure that every single drop goes inside your little cunt.

You take what you can fit (just less than half) into your mouth, lips stretched wide around his dick, the head is poking at the back of your throat while your hands work the rest of his shaft. You look up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. He can tell by the way you’re looking at him you want him to know how sorry you are.

It’s cute.

He grabs you by your hair and pulls you off of him. ”Aw baby, that’s it? I thought you were sorry.” 

A mixture of saliva and pre-cum dribbles down your chin. “Tetsu I am sorry. I’m so sorry!” You whimper.

“Yeah?” Kuroo whispers. His grip on your hair tightens as he tilts your head up to look at him. You stare up at your boyfriend, as he bends down to kiss you. Again, it’s surprisingly gentle but is quickly contrasted with the way he uses the other hand to grab your face, squeezing harshly to make you pucker your lips and keep your mouth open.

He smiles down at you, almost lovingly before he puckers his lips as well, letting a fat glob of spit drop from his mouth into yours.

It’s gross. It’s degrading. It’s cruel.

And that’s why you swallow it down almost immediately, without being asked. 

“Good girl” He whispers and gives you a kiss on the nose as a reward. The simple praise shoots straight to your pussy and now you’re greedy for more.

Kuroo leans back and assumes his previous position but this time flexing his elbows and putting his hands behind his head. He’s still wearing his dress shirt, unbuttoned so you can admire his delicious torso. Toned and tanned with the trail of dark hair running all the way to his groin. He looks completely relaxed with his eyes closed and for a moment you find yourself enamored by how stunning he is. How stunning your man is. You want to please him now more than ever. You want him to call you his good girl again. You steady yourself on your knees and prepare for the task at hand

You start off with a few shallow bobs on his cock. Then you take a deep breath through your nose before taking as much of him in your throat as you can. “Holy shit.”  He breathes out. His hips thrust up reflexively while you try to suppress your own reflex, trying to keep him has deep as possible for as long as possible. You’ve had lots of practice deepthroating your boyfriend’s dick but somehow it hasn’t gotten any easier.

You pull off of him but not completely, just enough to open up your airway to let much needed air into your burning lungs. You twist your hands around the exposed part of him. You look up at him and he’s giving you that fond smile again and it makes your heart swell in your chest. It’s all the motivation you need to take him back into your throat. Again you take him as far as you can but there’s still a good inch or so that you can’t take no matter how hard you try.

“Aw baby you need some help?” Kuroo coos from above you. You look up at him with big watery eyes and nod as best you can with his dick lodged in your oesophagus. He lets out a hum. “Anything for my baby.” He places one of his large hands on the back of your head and pushes you down until your nose meets his pelvis.

Your throat muscles are spasming around the impossibly large, impossibly deep intrusion but Kuroo keeps you there, seemingly reveling in your gags. Your drool dribbles from your lips, down his balls on to the black leather of the couch. You try breathing through your nose but you struggle. However, your discomfort is completely eclipsed by Kuroo’s moans and grunts. If it makes him feel good you’ll keep him in there as long as he wants. You’ll let him thrust into your mouth until he comes if he so choses.

Lucky for you, that’s not what he wants tonight.

You pulls you off his dick by once again but slowly this time. He watches the string of drool that connects your lips and drags you away until it snaps. He take his heavy shaft and slaps it against your right cheek. You let out a gasp and a smirk starts to play on his lips. Before you know it he’s smacking and dragging his cock all over your face, covering you in a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum. “God damn. Prettiest fuckin’ girl in the world right here on her knees for me.” He says as he leans back to admire his handiwork.  “Open” he says. You obey without hesitation and he spits in your mouth again.

You swallow eagerly. “Thank you Tetsuro.” Your throat feels raw but you smile at him, absolutely giddy, nonetheless.

“Get up here, pretty girl.” Kuroo helps you to your feet and shimmy out of your bottoms before guiding you on to his lap so you’re straddling him. Immediately two of his fingers are inside you again, your slick cunt offering no resistance whatsoever. “You know angel, I’m still not sure how sorry you actually are.” He’s scissoring his fingers, stretching out your walls. If he were a different man, he’d thrust into you right now without any prep but he sees how fucked out you already are, there’s no need to punish you any further. His fingers move at a tortuous pace, squelching as he thrusts them in and out of you.

You’re panting. “Anything, I’ll do anything.”

The slow drag of his fingers grazing that spot inside you as he pulls out makes your eyes flutter shut. When you open them again, Kuroo is holding the same fingers in front of your face. Your boyfriend keeps is hazel eyes locked on yours as he sticks out his tongue to lick up the arousal soaking his digits.

“Hmm ‘course you will.” He slaps his fat cockhead on your sensitive clit making you squeal.

He drags his tip from your clit to your dripping slit over and over again getting it nice and wet.

You chant “Tetsu please” like some twisted prayer. You desperately want to make up for your earlier ruined orgasm.

“Wanna see you bounce on my cock, angel.”

You oblige him wordlessly, taking hold of his shaft and lining in him up with your entrance. You slowly lower yourself on to him wincing at the way he stretches you out. The prep was minimal and his fingers are no match for the size of his cock. You have to stop to breathe and blink away tears. You lift up your hips and lower yourself down slowly again, taking a little more of him inside you. You repeat the process a couple more times.

As much as watching your struggle to take his cock strokes his ego, Kuroo is growing bored. It’s time to take matters into his own hands.

Kuroo grips your hips and takes you by surprise as he thrusts up into you, making you take the whole thing. You let out a shrill cry as the tip of his cock nudges at your cervix. A heavy smack lands on your ass. “I said bounce angel.”

“So big Tetsu fuck. So big.” You whine as he pulls you up, before he sheaths his dick fully inside you, making you shriek for a second time.

God you could be such a crybaby sometimes. You were starting to piss him off again.  He pulls out of you completely and says “Turn around.”

“Tetsu no please! Wanna see you.” You pout, your eyes welling up with tears.

Another smack. This time across your face. You reach up to touch the sore skin on your cheek, it feels hot. “Don’t talk back to me you stupid slut.”

You whimper but obey his command. You don’t want Kuroo to be angry at you.

“Now sit on it.” He spanks you another time before gripping your ass and guiding his cock into you until your ass meets his groin.

Playtime is over.

Kuroo slips his hands under your thighs, grabbing the back of your knees and folding your body in half. Now he’s really fucking you. His thrusts are rough, cock knocking against your cervix repeatedly as he sinks himself into your sopping cunt over and over again. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass and the squelching of your dripping pussy make for the lewdest symphony you’ve ever heard. 

“Tetsurou ‘m close. Please” you cry. The way his dick is rubbing against your sweet spot means you won’t last long.

“No.”

Despite his denial, he doesn’t ease up on his thrusts. You’re trying to concentrate on holding back your orgasm but honestly you can’t concentrate on anything except Kuroo pistoning his fat cock in and out of you.

“Look at you.” You see your reflection in the black TV screen. “You see that?” He gives one particularly hard thrust to emphasise his point. “Fucked stupid huh?”

“Yeah Tetsu Yeah.” It’s no mirror but you can see all that you need to. You see your boyfriend using your body like a fleshlight, thrusting up into you at a relentless pace. You see your cunt split open on his cock. You see yourself being completely and utterly owned by him.

“My girl is such a fucking whore huh? My own personal porn star.”

“Need to cum nnggh let me cum please.” You’re teetering so close to the edge and Kuroo’s filthy mouth is not helping your situation in the slightest.

“Why should I let you cum hm? You’re so good when you’re desperate. Think I should keep you like this.”

“Please Tetsu. Please. Wanna be good! Wanna be your good girl Testu! Wanna take care of you! Please.”

He likes the way that sounds.

His good girl. His wife. His. His. His.

“Cum for me angel. Cum. Right now.” He says, lips pressed against your ear.

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. With the way he’s pounding his dick into your tight little pussy you have no choice but to spiral into orgasm. Your pussy spasms around his cock, pulling him deeper inside you. The hot coil in your tummy that’s been building unravels and the bliss hits you so hard you see starts. Kuroo keeps fucking up into you as you cream around him. As you come down, you go limp in his arms. That doesn’t stop him from using you though.

His grip around your thighs tightens and that’s how you know he’s getting close. “You gonna be a good girl for me? You gonna take this fat fucking load? Yeah? Take all of it deep in your cunt?” He growls right into your ear.

“Tetsu gimme pleasepleaseplease” You beg him as you cry from overstimulation, barely able to form the words.

“Take it. Take it. Fuck!” He growls as he shoots his load right into your tight, gooey pussy. You feel his hot cum fill up your womb and the sensation is so overwhelming it makes you go cross-eyed, tongue lolling out of your mouth. He grunts, still rutting into you through his orgasm. When he’s done he pulls out of you, smiling as he watches his cum leak out of your spent hole.

Kuroo loves the fact that you’re smart. But when you’re like this? Absolutely cum drunk, eyes glazed, body covered in bruises and willing to do anything he asks you to? He fucking adores you like this.

“Go take care of dinner princess, then your man is gonna take care of you some more.” He swats you on your ass.

You giggle and let your wobbly legs carry you to the kitchen with your boyfriend’s cum running down between your thighs, thoughts of your upcoming final completely fucked out of your head.

Along with every other thought not revolving around your future husband.

Kuroo reaches for his phone to text his assistant and tell her to cancel all his meetings for tomorrow. He has to go ring shopping.

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 20

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

The boys are trying their hardest to find you. And you are trying your hardest to find out more, to find out why you are so important. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Kidnapping, hint of violence. 

“W-What do you mean gone?” Namjoon was the first to break the silence.

“She was talking to some of our employees. Then she went to the washroom but never returned. They found this placed behind the stack of hand towels.” Jin opened his palm and all the boys saw your wing charm. The one that was supposed to be on your bracelet.

“So, she was taken?” Jimin asked in disbelief. His words made all their stomachs sink, this was their worst nightmare. This was supposed to be the perfect night for all of you.

“It’s obvious she was taken. She left this there for a reason.” Hoseok pointed to the black wing charm.

“There are hundreds of people here. Someone must have seen her. Namjoon, can’t you get access to the cameras? This is your building.” Yoongi asked.

“Let’s go.” Namjoon nodded and led everyone back in.

“I need access to all the security cameras. Now.” Namjoon commanded. The manager nodded, hurriedly bringing the 7 bosses to the security room. Taehyung sat down, typing away.

“Look out for her.” Jin said.

“There!” Jungkook pointed. You were being escorted out by a group of people, walking calmly to not attract any attention. But it was obvious that someone was pointing a weapon at your back to push you forward. For a split second, you turned to the exact camera the boys were watching, meeting eyes with the lens. The boys held their breaths as they watched.

“No...” They watched you get into a car and the car drive away into the night.

“Call a meeting. Now.” Yoongi growled, slamming his palm onto the desk. The boys were quick to move, exiting the small room.

“We’ll get you back.” Taehyung whispered, placing his palm against your face on the screen. Pursing his lips in determination, he ran out of the room to assist his brothers.

“We’re going now. Run the license plate number and put out a notice to our allies.” Namjoon ordered. Their car pulled up and they jumped in.

“Every enemy of ours is a potential suspect.” Jin said.

“We have thousands of people who want to kill us! It might be too late by the time we go through everyone. There has to be a better, more efficient way!” Jimin said impatiently.

“Give doc more credit. She is smart enough to survive a lot longer than we think. Besides, they won’t be so dumb to kill her off quickly. They’ll definitely come into contact with us to give us demands or make us do something for her to safely return.” Yoongi stated, crossing his arms.

“Young masters.” The maid opened the door for them.

“No more visitors. The house is on lockdown until further notice.” Hoseok ordered and the maid nodded, running off to inform the other workers of the house. The boys went to the other wing.

“As expected, the plate is of an old vehicle. It was meant to be scrapped last week.” Jungkook said.

“Get in contact with all your underground informants. Someone must slip somewhere. See if anyone has heard anything.” Namjoon sighed.

“I’ll go meet mine first.” Jungkook grabbed his coat, leaving the house once again. The boys tried to busy themselves but there wasn’t much they could do with no clues. 

“We can hardly see their faces.” Hoseok pointed at the screen, rewatching the footage from different angles. 

“We shouldn’t operate here. Let’s use ‘Magic Shop’.” Jin said. Magic Shop was a shared business between the 7 boys. Like the name, it had everything they needed. Information usually passes through there.

On your side...

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar place. You looked around to scan the area, it was a small concrete room with an old bed in the corner, a small barred window to the right and two doors, you guessed one led to a bathroom. Your hands were tied in front of you, ankle chained to the wall, and there was a dull ache at the back of your head. You remembered what happened. 

You were finishing up in the toilet when you heard the door open and footsteps enter the washroom. From the heavy stomp of footsteps and heavier breathing, you knew whoever entered was male and not female.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come out. We know you’re in there.” A gruff voice sounded. You remained silent but you knew that this can only go on for so long. As quiet as possible, you tried to get your phone out of your clutch to reach the boys but there was unfortunately, no signal.

“We’ll break the door down.” They threatened.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming out.” You sighed, hand resting on the doorknob. When you stepped out, you looked up to see two men that you’ve never seen before.

“Let me at least wash my hands first.” You raised an eyebrow. They looked at each other before nodding. You washed your hands with soap, not even meeting eyes with them.

“Are you done?” One growled in annoyance.

“Yeah.” You picked up a hand towel to wipe your hands then tossed the used towel into the bin.

“You’re gonna walk calmly, out of the building. If you dare do anything else, it’ll be the end for you.” You felt cold metal press against your lower back. You nodded as one opened the washroom door for you.

“Go.” They pushed you forward. As you left the washroom, you side eyed the gleam of a gem under the light. You only hoped that the boys would see it. No one suspected anything as you walked out of the building with two men behind you, one standing suspiciously closer than the other. A car pulled up to the steps of the building.

“Get in.” They opened the door. Turning around, you caught sight of a security camera, staring at it for a few seconds before the men impatiently pushed you into the car, slamming the door shut.

As the car drove, you tried to remember where you were headed or at least, some landmarks.

“You guys didn’t blindfold her?!” The driver finally noticed you. The male that was sitting next to you pulled out a blindfold, getting closer to you.

“Get away.” You tried kicking him.

“B*tch!” The male squirmed when you successfully manoeuvred yourself to get him in a chokehold despite the small backseat. But you had forgotten about the other person in the passenger seat.

“Sleep tight, princess.” There was an impact to the back of your head. Black spots appeared in your vision and soon, it was dark.

“Look who’s awake.” One of the doors opened, a bright light shining into your darkroom. You winced slightly at the sudden brightness hitting your eyes. A suited male came in, walking towards you. You stared up at him but the shadow made it impossible. 

“Nice to meet you again.” He said, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“Do I know you?” You groaned. 

“How could you forget me? I’m hurt, doc.” 

“Well, if you didn’t know how light directions work, the light makes it a little hard to see your face. All I see is a shadow now.” You hissed with a glare. Then he bent down and you saw his face. 

“Recognise me now?” He smiled. 

“Not... really?” You tilted your head. His smile fell from his face as he frowned. He backhanded you, waking you fall to the side. Your cheek throbbed and you tasted iron in your mouth, knowing that you were now probably bleeding. 

“Look, I’m sorry you’re butt hurt about me not recognising or remembering you. But I meet new people every day. If everyone is like you and expects me to remember them, my job would be a lot harder than it already is. Stop being petty.” You growled. Usually, someone in your position would be more submissive, considering you didn’t have the upper hand. 

“Ever the smart mouth, doc. Let’s see how long you can keep that up.” He threw his head back, laughing. 

“I also wonder how long it will take for you to realise that kidnapping me and holding me captive isn’t going to do anything.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, doc. Ever so naive. What you don’t know is that with you being here, my boss already has control over your 7 mafia bosses. They’re probably scrambling and panicking to find you.” He said. 

“I’m just an employee.” You shrugged. 

“That’s what you think. You think every employee has a diamond bracelet like you?” He asked. 

“I never really cared, it was just a pretty bracelet to me. But I’m sure you’re about to tell me how important that is.” You said in a bored tone. Under playing everything was now your plan. 

“Only the 7 bosses have that bracelet. It’s a sign of their highest rank. And guess who’s the 8th person to ever get one?” He smirked. You didn’t let it show but deep down, you were surprised. You never really noticed the bracelet on the boys. Because like you said, you never really cared or gave it much thought. 

“So trust me, they’ll be here.” He scoffed.

“Hold on, I’m still trying to understand, so you and/or your boss is the enemy of the boys? You’re not from one of the families I cared for?!” You asked. 

“Oh, doc.” He shook his head, laughing. 

“Man, talk about shallow...” You rolled your eyes. The man just waved, heading for the door. He slammed the door shut, leaving you in darkness once again. You sighed, looking down at your dress that was now dirtied. 

“Who is he?” You wrecked your brains to try and remember. 

“The guy at the casino.” You finally remembered the incident that happened when you first had dinner with the boys outside, at Jin’s casino. 

He tried to speak to you as you were coming out of the washroom and it ended with Yoongi escorting you to the car while the others ‘dealt with him’. Though at that point, you didn’t know what that meant. Now, you imagined how the boys must have given him a ‘stern warning’, for him to have such bitter feelings towards you. 

“Talk about holding a grudge.” You sighed. 

“No wonder they didn’t want me to remove the bracelet. Some VIP treatment this is.” You wondered out loud. You needed to find a way out of here, you couldn’t just sit and wait to be rescued. 

“Let’s see.” You brought your bound hands up to your mouth, hoping to be able to use your teeth to try and loosen the knot. 

“Here. Eat.” The door opened, making you put your hands down quickly. It was one of the men that kidnapped you from the ball. He held a tray and a bottle of water in his hands.

“Is it poisoned?” You looked at him skeptically. 

“You never know until you try, right?” He raised an eyebrow, placing the tray in front of you. 

“Just eat!” He hissed impatiently. 

“You take a bite first. You eat it, I eat it.” You shrugged. The man was given strict orders to make sure that you ate. And all you were doing now was making his job a lot more difficult. He glared at you but you just stared back nonchalantly, not backing down either. 

“It won’t be poisoned. We’re waiting for the 7 to come. If you’re dead, there’s no use in all this.” The man scoffed. 

“If it’s not poisoned, then eat it.” You said. The man closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. You knew you were being infuriating but your attitude was the only thing that you could use as a self defence now. 

“I swear.” He scooped up the rice and kimchi, taking a bite. 

“Now that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” You said. The guy clicked his tongue, undoing the rope around your hands to let you eat. He took a seat opposite you on the ground, but keeping his distance. 

“This food is sh*t.” You took a bite. 

“Well, it’s all you’re getting so learn to like it.” He crossed his arms. You sighed, eating your food in silence. 

“Alright, I’m done. I might actually throw up if I continue.” You scrunched your face, pushing the tray. The man took the rope to bind your hands again. Seeing the gun holster on his waistband, you knew it would be foolish to try and fight back to escape now. So at this moment, you just had to be obedient and do whatever they told you to do. 

“Ugh.” You threw your head back, trying to get the stiff kinks out of your shoulders and neck. You stared at the metal brace around your ankle, that was gonna be hard to get out of. 

-

“Where’s Taehyung?” Namjoon asked when he came back from his meeting. It was safe to say that thanks to their parents, Namjoon and Yoongi had the most ‘ears to the ground’ in the group. 

“He went for a breather.” Jimin informed softly. 

“We need to think this through. Doc hardly meets anyone with us... Or at least, ones who are alive.” Hoseok said. 

“I’m going for a meeting.” Jin looked at his phone. He stood up and left with his bodyguard in tow. 

“Hyung is right.” Jungkook started a fresh document to list down the times you went to visit any of the boys’ place of business. Most of the time, the boys tried to go home for you to treat them since most of your equipment was at home but of course, there have been urgent times. 

“She came to mine. But the person was dead.” Jimin raised his hand and Jungkook noted that down. The door opened and Taehyung came in. He dragged his bloodied bat on the ground, falling onto his seat. 

“Where were you?” Yoongi asked. 

“Just needed some fresh air.” Was all the younger said. Taehyung didn’t deal with emotions well, which is evident considering what happened with his father. 

“Anyway, we’re listing down the times doc came to our place of business to maybe find out a time where our enemy might have seen her.” Namjoon got his up to speed.

“Did you forget she doesn’t even know that she wears our family band around her wrist?” Taehyung asked. 

“Did she not even notice?” 

“No, she didn’t even know what I was talking about when I mentioned it to her at the club the other night. She thought it was just a nice gift. I told her the gist of it but she probably thought that most, if not all, our employees have one too.” Jimin informed. 

“Whatever it is. We’re all just trying to form at least a list of suspects. Every option, we’ll try it.” Yoongi said. 

“She hasn’t been to Stigma or Singularity before. I usually handle those businesses outside and try to go home to get treated by her.” Taehyung crossed his arms.

“Stop looking at that.” He saw Jungkook still had the paused video of you staring at the camera on his computer screen. 

“Let him be.” Namjoon chided. 

“I got video footage from Daydream.” Hoseok informed. His place was one of the only one that the car could have possibly driven past. If they did, they would have a general direction of where you went. 

“Hook it up to the screen.” Jungkook handed Hoseok the cable to hook his computer up to the screen and he played the footage from the night before. He carefully skipped forward the seconds, they couldn’t risk missing something. Everyone was quiet, their focus on the video footage in front of them. Jimin stood up from his seat. 

“There. Fast backwards 10 seconds. Slow the video down.” He pointed. Hoseok moved the video back. In the slowed freeze frames, they saw the exact car drive past Daydream and take a left.

“Hobi, where does that road lead to?” Yoongi asked. 

“Uh, the car slanted left. That leads to the highway... Up north, I think.” Hoseok pulled up the map. 

“Yes. That highway heads north.” Taehyung said. Finally, the boys felt like they had a breakthrough. The kidnappers probably held you captive somewhere up north of Seoul. 

“Who are the clans in the north?” Namjoon asked. 

“Here they are.” Jungkook flipped through the photos on the screen. 

“It is one of them. No one else would let another gang on their territory, knowing that they kidnapped one of ours. Unless they want an unnecessary war on their hands.” Yoongi said. Even if they did have enemies, a lot of gangs would rather be an ally instead. Bangtan was just that scary. 

“I’ll call Jin hyung and let him know.” Jimin took his phone out, stepping aside to call the eldest, letting him know what they had found out so far. 

It only took 20 minutes for Jin to come back, unsuccessful from meeting with all his informants. No one had a clue as to who was vengeful enough to kidnap you from Bangtan. 

“We’ll start visiting some of them. You guys fill Jin hyung in on what’s going on. It’ll be faster if we split up to visit the gangs.” Taehyung said.

“Okay. Don’t be reckless.” Namjoon said. Jimin nodded, a silent promise to keep Taehyung in check. Grabbing what they needed, the duo left ‘Magic Shop’ immediately. 

“Show me the photos.” Jin said. Once again, Jungkook pulled up the photos. 

“Hold on. Go back.” Jin stopped the maknae. Jungkook clicked the slide, going back to show the photos of the leaders and righthand men from one of the gangs. Jin moved closer, squinting slightly. 

“That guy... Don’t you recognise him?” Jin pointed. 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked. 

“We’ve encountered him before. That first dinner with (y/n) at my casino. He harassed her outside the washrooms. Jungkook came to rescue her in time and Yoongi took her away before he could reveal anything. We didn’t kill him since we didn’t want to make anything too obvious yet.” Jin frowned. The others finally remembered. 

“But she didn’t have a bracelet yet.” Hoseok reminded.

“From the way Jungkook sprung to protect her... They must have been keeping tabs on her.” Namjoon concluded. 

Just then, the phone rang. 

~~

Ko-fi link

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[buckyodinson]

If you take request, can you do one with Whiskey? The reader is an agent that is the crush of Whiskey and he tries to ask her out, but she thinks that he is only a player so reject him every time. She end up hurt badly during a mission and he saves her and host her in his ranch for the recovery. He tries to confesshis feelings to her and so it is fluffy and smutty if u do it 🥺

Recovery

You sighed as you looked up from your computer and watched Whiskey approach your office, bracing yourself for the inevitable flurry of compliments and flirty comments that were about to be thrown your way. He was charming, you’d give him that. But you’d heard the rumours about Whiskey, and didn’t want your name involved with any of them.

He knocked on your open door and smiled when you gestured for him to come in, “Hey, sugar.” he drawled and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“What can I help you with, Jack?” you roll your chair back slightly as he rounds your desk and perches on the corner of it.

“How’s about we go for a drink tonight? Just you and me?” he winks and you sigh.

“Jack. You already know my answer.”

“You might wanna reconsider.” he smirks as he holds a file out to you.

You take it from him, and you see that you and Whiskey have been assigned to a recon mission tonight, in a bar. You inwardly cringe, knowing Jack will almost certainly play up the flirty behaviour while in the bar.

“I guess I’ll see you tonight then, Jack.”

“I’ll pick you up at 8, doll.” he winks at you once more and walks out of your office.

You groan and rub your eyes as you pore over the file in front of you, preparing for tonight.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. You were to go to the bar, which was a front for mob activity, and Whiskey was supposed to pick a fight with someone, to give you a small window of time to break into the back office and steal the data you needed from their system. It sounded easy enough on paper, but the whole mission was compromised within an hour of being in the bar. You were supposed to spend at least a good hour or two surveying the bar, working out your strategy before you initiated anything. You and Jack were sat in a booth, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he’d press his lips to your temple every so often as you chatted, so if anyone was watching, you just seemed like a regular couple out for a few drinks.

It all went downhill, however, when Jack went up to the bar to get another round, and a man came and sat himself down in Jack’s spot, “Why don’t you let me take you home and show you a real good time, instead of that hillbilly you came here with?” you laughed at him calling Jack a hillbilly, since this guy had a much stronger southern accent than Jack.

“No thank you.” you threw a smile at him and tried to shuffle away from him, but he grabbed your arm and tried to pull you towards him again.

“Get off of me, asshole!” you hissed and before you knew it, you’d slapped him across the face. He flinched back, shocked at your action, and you notice lots of people have turned to look at you. Shit. This could’ve blown the whole mission.

“You heard the lady. How’s about you fuck off and be on your way?” You were relieved to see Jack hovering by your table, drinks in hand, as he stared down the guy sat next to you, who’s face was growing redder by the second.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” the guy slurs as he stands up and plants himself in front of Jack, trying to act tough.

Jack takes a sip of his drink before putting the glasses down on the table and he turns to you briefly and winks, “Go out to the truck, baby. I’ll be out in a minute.”

You grab your bag and walk away as you hear the commotion behind you, and you give a quick glance around before slipping down the hallway to the office that you’d noticed when you went to the bathroom earlier. You opened the door and saw a man sat at the desk in the middle of the room, he glared at you and you squeaked out a slurred “I’m s-so sorry sir! I thought this was the ladies room!” before giggling and covering your mouth with your hands, subtly shifting your watch to face him.

He visibly relaxes and smiles, “That’s okay, darlin’. Head back a few doors and you’ll find what you’re looking for. Just close this door on your way out.”

“Of course! And sorry again!” you smile and press the button on your watch that activates it’s flash. You slam the door behind you and rush up to the desk, grabbing the dazed man and putting him in a chokehold as you grabbed a sedative from your bag and injected him with it. He thrashed for a few more seconds before going limp in your arms and falling into a pile on the floor.

You fished the thumb-drive out of your bag and made quick work of downloading everything from the computer. As you watch the files being downloaded, you look over at a screen that shows the CCTV from the bar, and you can see that the fight is still raging, and you can’t help but notice how attractive Jack looks using his lasso. While you have a spare minute, you go to the trouble of turning the recording off and deleting the footage that had already been recorded over the last few hours. You can still see what’s going on around the bar, but it’s no longer recording anything, so now they can’t watch this back and see you and Jack slip out.

You watch the thumb-drive percentage climb until it reaches 100% and you put it safely into your bag. On the CCTV screen, you notice a man approaching the hallway and coming towards you. You mess up your hair a little bit and smudge your lipstick before opening the door and closing it behind you, acting shocked when you bumped into the man in the corridor.

“Oh! You uh- you might wanna give him a minute, he’s uhh... he’s cleaning himself up.” you give him a suggestive look and realisation dawns on his face once he takes in your disheveled appearance. You slip past him, making your way back to the bar where the brawl had since calmed down, noticing Jack and the man had been thrown outside to deal with their problems, along with a few other men who’d joined in the fight. You walked out of the bar to go flag Jack down, but as you approached the crowd of men, you were shoved to the ground from behind. You quickly made to stand again when the man behind you pulled out a gun and shot you in the knee.

You went down immediately and the noise drew the attention of Jack and the other men. While the men were all fighting one another moments ago, there was an unspoken agreement to chase after this guy and teach him a lesson. Jack rushed over to you and picked you up, carrying you to his truck. He laid you in the back and quickly jumped in front and high-tailed it back to headquarters, calling to get a medical team ready for your arrival.

He paced the hallways of the medical wing the entire time your knee was being operated on. He couldn’t get the image of you in the backseat of his truck, bleeding profusely, out of his mind. Champ had come down to check on you, and he attempted to calm Jack’s nerves, but he couldn’t stop worrying.

Champ eventually got Jack to stop pacing for a few minutes, and gestured for him to sit down next to him in the chairs of the waiting room, “She’s gonna be signed off of field work for the meantime, until her knee is fully healed. She’ll be on bed-rest for at least the next two weeks.”

“Good.”

“Usually that’d mean you’d step up and assume some of her responsibilities. However, seeing the state this has put you in, I’m gonna be very generous and sign you off for this week too. You’re only gonna get yourself into shit out in the field if you’re too busy thinking about her.” he gave Jack a knowing look, and Jack sighed, letting Champ continue.

“So once she’s out of surgery and cleared to go home, you’re gonna go with her and keep her company.” Jack’s raised his eyebrows in shock, and he felt a little more relaxed than a few minutes prior. “By next week, we’ll see how things are looking here, and that’ll determine whether we need you back straight away or not.” Champ stands up and holds his hand out.

“Thank you, Champ.” Jack shakes Champ’s hand before standing up and pulling the older man into an embrace.

“Take good care of her.”

“I will, sir.” Jack gives a curt nod as Champ leaves.

The prospect of spending the week keeping you company had reduced his stress a little, and he stayed in the waiting room instead of pacing the hallways. His knee bounced as he waited, and he sprung up from his seat when a doctor poked her head into the room and told him you were out of surgery.

He spent the evening sat in the chair next to your bed, and you were initially hesitant about him staying with you for the week, but you soon came round to the idea when you saw how worried he was about you. He eventually went home that night to get ready for the week ahead, and came back to see you the next morning.

You figured he’d come round to your apartment each morning and keep you company throughout the day, but when you were discharged and he walked you to his truck, you were confused when he drove in the opposite direction of your apartment.

“Where are we going, Jack?” you piped up from the back seat where you had your leg propped up on the seats.

“My ranch. I can take better care of you there, compared to your apartment.” he smiled warmly at you in the rear-view mirror and you felt your heart flutter in your chest.

The first few days were a little weird but you slowly got used to the routine of Jack taking care of you. He cooked for you, and pretty much never left your side, constantly checking on you. He slept on the sofa, even though you insisted he should be sleeping in his own bed, but he claimed he was a restless sleeper and might accidentally jostle your knee in his sleep.

Showers were a tad awkward though. You couldn’t get the cast around your knee wet, so he had to help cover it before you could get into the shower. You also couldn’t support yourself without crutches, so he brought one of his patio chairs into the shower so you could sit while you were in there. Once you were done and called for him, he’d bring you a towel and help you out of the chair and into his bedroom. He was a complete gentleman about all of it, which took you a little by surprise. You figured he’d make suggestive comments, but he tried to give you as much privacy as possible, and when he helped you get dressed, he averted his eyes where possible. You couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks would flush when he was in such close proximity sometimes.

During your time with Jack, you began to realise he wasn’t the man you made him out to be, and you were glad he was the one looking after you. Your feelings for him bloomed as time went on.

He went out for groceries one morning, and in his absence, you hobbled your way to use the bathroom, but one of your crutches slipped once it hit the tile, and you toppled over. You managed not to hit your bad knee on the ground, but pain shot up your leg at the sudden pressure you put on it trying to stay stood up. You cried out in pain and tried to sit up, hissing at the ache that had settled through your body from the fall. There was no way you were going to be able to get up from your spot on the floor without help. Shit. You were just gonna have to wait for Jack to get back.

Thankfully, he returned after only about 20 minutes of you being sat on the floor, and you sighed in relief when you heard the familiar rumble of his truck as he parked outside.

“I’m back!” he called and you heard him shuffling about in the kitchen before you heard the steady thump of his boots as he came into his bedroom.

“I’m in here, Jack.” he heard your dejected voice, and he went into panic mode when he caught sight of your legs sticking out from the bathroom doorway.

“What happened, doll?” his voice was laced with concern, but he had an angry look on his face as he helped pull you to stand, supporting the weight of your leg as he walked you over to the bed.

“I needed the bathroom, and one of my crutches gave out from under me.”

He sighed, “What have I told you?”

“Well I’m sorry I needed to pee, Jack.” you spoke sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood.

“You can’t be doing stuff like that, doll. There’s a reason you’re staying here with me. I’m here to help you.” his tone was serious as he glared at you.

“I’m a grown woman, I can go the bathroom by myself.” you countered.

“I know, but in this state, you can’t. It’s too much stress on your knee.” his voice raised just slightly.

“Why do you care so much? Give it another week and I’ll be back in my apartment and you’ll be free from all my shit again.”

“Because I love you! And it kills me to see you in pain like this!” he didn’t even register what he’d let slip until he saw your shocked expression.

“... you...you love me?”

He just nods solemnly and looks at his feet, wishing the ground underneath him would open up and swallow him.

“Jack, look at me.”

He winces as he looks up at you, and his heart falters at the soft smile on your face, “I love you too, Jack.”

The dumbfounded look on his face pulls a giggle from your throat, and he drops to his knees in front of you, wincing slightly from the impact but shuffling closer to you all the same, “Really?”

“Yeah.” you whisper as you reach for his face and pull him towards you, smiling as he presses his lips to yours. He pulls away, speechless.

“I guess getting shot in the knee worked out pretty well for me.” you snicker at the scowl that overtakes his features, pulling him to you to kiss him again.

[herradhighpriestess]

The Butcher and the Maiden

Summary:

Summaries are hard, has a definite foundation in the series for names, faces and identities but then goes in a different direction. An abducted Vought scientist, secret formula. Starts slow, but smut and major character deaths ahead. Becca isn’t a part of this Butcher’s world. Lots of triggers and consensual non-consensual activities afoot. I hope you enjoy, xoxo

Chapter One: Outpatient Surgery 

“Were you this much of a sniveling cunt before the Compound V or is this the effect?” Butcher growled before he depressed the trigger on the detonator and watched the Supe’s midsection explode from the C4 belt that Frenchie had wired together from phone charger cords.

“Goddammit Butcher, we needed to try and get some answers first. That’s the fifth Supe you’ve blown up, you know how hard they are to get a hold of,” Mother’s Milk growled as he shook his head.

Butcher chuckled as he wiped grey matter from his forehead. “He wasn’t going to give us anything, these fucking Supe’s are all the same.”

“How do you know? You didn’t even ask him anything?”

“No, but I got this,” Butcher said and tossed a laminated ID badge at MM’s broad chest.

MM examined the badge, seeing it was an access pass for one of Vought’s off-site research facilities.

“So, what, we’re going to go walk right in the front doors?”

“Something like that,” Butcher said with a smirk.

Both men looked to Starlight when she spoke from the doorway.

She couldn’t conceal her disgust at the blown apart and remaining visceral stump of the Supe and averted her gaze up to Hughie as he came to stand beside her.

“I could go there, if I got stopped, I could say I was returning the badge, that I found it.”

Hughie immediately began to protest and both Starlight and Butcher simultaneously interrupted him.

“Let me do this,” Starlight murmured.

“She’s a Supe, she’ll be fine,” Butcher grumbled and pushed past all of them.

Hughie followed him to the shabby bathroom as he wiped a damp cloth over the most obvious of the blood stains he could see and paused when Hughie didn’t move from the doorway.

“Stop getting distracted, your bird wants to help.”

Hughie blew out a breath and stepped aside so Butcher could find Frenchie and the Female and bring everyone together to discuss a way of getting into the Vought facility with the access badge.

Frenchie pulled up some info after hacking a Vought firewall and according to a glossary of Vought’s offsite facilities, this particular badge granted access to a building that was classified as Medical Research and Development.

Frenchie continued to check the schedules of the various companies that hauled away documents to be archived or shredded and trash abatement.

MM noted a few things that would be needed with a stubby pencil on a yellow pad of paper.

Everyone gathered around the dimly lit table in the rundown safehouse. As MM outlined a rough outline of the Vought facility, putting x’s on the entrances and rear access doors as well as the safety required fire escapes, Dr. Olivia Phillips pulled her luxury sedan into her reserved parking space behind the Vought Medical R&D building. She flipped down her visor and checked her teeth to make sure her breakfast bagel from the drive-thru espresso hut hadn’t left a poppyseed lodged in between her front teeth.

Olivia dabbed on a fresh coat of peach gloss before pulling her purse and backpack from the passenger seat. She juggled her coffee as she clicked her key fob and the car beeped twice.

She adjusted the thin strap of the hot pink backpack over her shoulder as her high heels clicked on the pavement of the freshly paved lot.

Olivia gritted her teeth as she slid her access badge and heard her co-worker Craig’s voice sound from behind her.

“Morning Florida,” he drawled.

She fought to keep tension from making her shoulders rise and plastered a saccharin sweet smile on her face before glancing back at him as the door buzzed loudly as it unlocked.

“Good morning Dr. Dalton,” she said and fought to not walk stiffly to the employee lounge and locker room as he called to her back. “Oh, come on, call me Craig.”

Olivia stuffed her bags in her locker and slipped on her lab coat before draining the last of her now tepid coffee and taking the stairs down to the sprawling lab in the basement.

She was buzzed in by security and washed her hands thoroughly before grabbing her daily inventory sheets and reviewing the notes left by the night shift.

Olivia pulled a few cultured specimens from one of the deep-freezes according to an urgent work order from a Vought scientist on the third floor. She tagged the specimen and checked the task off her task list.

Doctor Olivia Phillips had no idea that in just a few hours, her life was going to be completely turned upside down, shaken apart and turned inside out.

Olivia was listening to a voicemail and didn’t hear Craig until he tapped her on the shoulder.

She nearly dropped the phone as he held his hands up and pretended that he hadn’t purposefully made his approach as stealthy as possible.

“How’s it going Florida, what do you have planned for your Friday night?” he asked openly leering at her chest.

“I’ve asked you to not call me that,” Olivia said stiffly and deleted the voicemail.

“Sorry, sorry,” Craig said and leaned on the stainless-steel counter and pulled one of the ink pens from its mesh holder.

Olivia hated her pens getting stolen, so she decorated them with garish artificial hibiscus blossoms and gaudy feathers.

“Come get drinks with me tonight,” he said easily and deftly twirled the blooming pen in his long fingers.

Olivia reminded herself to keep smiling, “no thanks. I’m driving to my parent’s house this weekend, it’s their anniversary.”

“Bring me as your plus one,” he quickly countered.

She shook her head as her smile started to fail around the edges. “It’s just a small family get together; my mom hasn’t been feeling well.”

“You always have an excuse,” Craig said snarkily and shoved the pen back in the crowded holder.

As Olivia took in a deep inhale as the head of Vought’s R&D pouted, across town, MM, Butcher, Hughie and Starlight loaded into the dark nondescript van as Frenchie kick-started the foreign made motorcycle and the Female climbed onto the seat behind him, molding herself against him.

They started towards the Vought facility, obeying all traffic laws, and not drawing any unnecessary attention to themselves.

After checking to make sure it was Friday, they decided to approach through the delivery entrance.

There were several surveillance camera blind spots, but that facility wasn’t considered high-risk for break-ins.

As the van and motorcycle closed the distance between themselves and the facility, in the basement lab, Olivia blew out a relieved breath when Doctor Craig Dalton was paged on the overhead system and he had to leave.

She tapped her fingers on the stainless-steel counter as she listened to the next voicemail message and looked up at her educational accolades in matte grey frames with a simple ivory mat.

“Dad says this job is just a stepping stone,” she mumbled aloud, reminding herself that as soon as she logged enough hours she could get a better job in the main Vought laboratory downtown. She needed two-thousand hours with Dr. Craig Dalton before she could apply.

As she logged some chemical panel results from a high-pitched lab assistant in the downtown lab, MM and Butcher breached the service entrance and went to the right in search of the freight elevator that led to the basement as Hughie, Starlight, Frenchie and the Female took the second freight elevator to the first floor in search of the security office.

Olivia cranked the satellite radio station when one of best classic rock songs ever began to play.

As she sang along to the song in a blissfully unaware off-key tone, out in the hall, a security guard who was taking a smoke break returned early and turned the corner, nearly colliding with MM’s formidable frame.

The fresh-faced guard pulled his firearm as Butcher raised his own gun.

Several gunshots were rapidly exchanged and called the attention of two more nearby guards who began sprinting towards the sound of gunfire.

MM’s hand shot out and pulled the guard into a chokehold and easily snapped his neck, letting his body drop heavily to the gleaming linoleum.

Butcher and MM dashed into an alcove and exchanged gunfire with the two guards. MM threw a flash grenade down the hall and the inexperienced guards were too slow to react and shot wildly as the explosion disoriented them.

MM and Butcher’s sites each found a guard and ended them efficiently with a shot to the head and heart.

Butcher staggered and dropped to one knee as his side felt like it was coming apart. MM saw the blood soaking through his ribbed, grey shirt and half-pulled Butcher to the closest open door.

Olivia nearly fell off her padded stool when MM practically kicked in the door, dragging a bleeding Butcher behind him.

She fumbled for the phone as MM slammed the door shut and engaged the deadbolt.

“Put down the phone,” MM ordered calmly as he aimed his titanium gun at her.

Olivia nodded and replaced the phone and swallowed hard in relief when MM put the gun into his waistband. “You’re a doctor?”

Olivia nodded, not trusting herself to be capable of speech.

“Do you have the supplies here to help him?”

“It’s not really that kind of lab but there are some emergency supplies in the cabinet.”

“Get them,” MM shouted and Olivia scrambled to the cabinet and yanked out a plastic-handled case and nylon duffle bag of emergency supplies. She dropped next to Butcher as she yanked on a pair of snug-fitting green chemotherapy grade gloves.

MM watched Olivia as she yanked Butcher’s blood-soaked shirt out of the way and pressed a large, square gauze to the bullet’s entrance wound. MM dialed Frenchie and told them to pull the van around the back and that Butcher had been injured.

Olivia dug around in Butcher’s side and eventually her gloved fingertips brushed against the bullet lodged in his belly.

“You need to keep pressure on this,” Olivia said to Butcher as she needed both hands to get to the suture kit. The blood threatened to seep around her fingertips as she pressed a fresh white gauze to the wound.

Butcher looked at her and arched an eyebrow, his pupils seemed to truss her up and see inside her before he blinked and added with a ragged chuckle.

“I don’t have time for that love,” he grunted as he leveled his gun at the door as it was broken down and a pair of bulky guards rushed inside.

Olivia blew out a sharp breath and shifted until she could lean her hip against the bandage and hold pressure long enough to dig out a sterile needle and length of sterile suture.

Butcher tried to focus on the door and not the woman who within minutes of seeing him, had a gun pointed at her and was then saving his life. He let his eyes move over every bit of her exposed skin as she put several internal stitches to stop the bleeding and then stitched him close.

She felt herself flush at her uneven stitching. “It’s been a long time since you were in clinical, you stopped the bleeding and that’s what matters,” she told herself.

Olivia looked up startled as a skinny pale guy with huge, unblinking eyes and a cute blonde dropped into the room from an off-white ceiling panel.

“What the fuck is going on?” Olivia murmured to herself, but Butcher heard her. He kept his expression neutral and tried to conceal the pain that was radiating from under her busy, gloved hands.

Olivia taped the edges of a thick absorbent dressing as the skinny guy and blonde each got on a side of her impromptu surgical patient and hauled him to his feet.

She found herself walking with them as they scrambled out the rear of the building, pressing a sterile swab to the wound’s seeping edges.

Olivia shadowed Butcher’s half-carried steps until he helped half-slide himself into the back of a van and then started to back up with the intention of returning to the safety of the building.

“I’m going to need you to get in the van doctor, please don’t make me repeat myself,” MM ordered easily.

Olivia felt her bladder tighten at the emptiness in his words and nodded as she kept her eyes on MM’s broad frame as she climbed into the back of the van.

The skinny guy climbed behind the wheel as the blonde got into the passenger seat. The muscular man pulled the van’s doors closed and Olivia turned her attention back to the man she was pulling a bullet out of just minutes after seeing him for the first time.

Hughie pressed the accelerator and the van lurched as it gained speed. Olivia pressed two smooth fingertips against Butcher’s neck and found his rapidly pounding pulse.

“Don’t worry love, I’m still alive,” Butcher murmured as he sagged against the bare metal floor of the van.

“This will sting,” Olivia murmured as she started a saline IV on Butcher and only had large bore needles available that would part his flesh more than necessary.

She taped the plastic IV catheter in place and injected a broad-spectrum antibiotic, not trusting how sterile her technique was considering the field circumstances.

Butcher grunted and then fell silent as Olivia cleaned the coagulated blood off his side to make sure he had stopped bleeding.

Olivia glanced up at him, finding his eyes closed. “Are you with me?” she asked as she tore off a fresh strip of paper tape and affixed it to his side.

“Yes doctor, but I could use some mouth-to-mouth when you’re done there,” he murmured in a heavy, masculine tone despite the blood loss and ensuing state of shock.

Olivia shook her head and attended to the smaller wounds and lacerations Butcher had sustained as Hughie continued driving the van for another hour before pulling into a low-rent mechanic shop that would serve as the new safer safe house.

MM and Hughie flanked Butcher and moved him to an industrial green cot as Starlight held out her hand towards a visibly shaken and fish belly white Olivia.

“Hi, I’m Annie, I promise you’re going to be okay. Just bear with us a while as we get things straightened out.”

Olivia stared at Annie’s extended hand before tucking her hair behind her ears and clearing her throat.

“Hello, Olivia, Olivia Phillips,” she said and closed her hand around Annie’s as she stood from the rear of the van.

Annie trailed her eyes over Olivia’s blood splattered form. “Let me show you where you can clean up, I have some stuff you can change in to also.”

Olivia felt a touch of relief as she followed Annie to the rear of the auto shop and a shabby bathroom with glorious soap and hot water.

Annie set a stack of clean clothes on the counter and hovered outside the door as Olivia took a long time cleaning up. She washed her hair three times and scrubbed her fingernails until the cuticles threatened to bleed. She turned off the water when it began to cool off and dried with the rough towels before slipping into knit pants and a long-sleeved thermal top and blue-grey hoodie with a local burger chain’s brightly colored logo.

As Olivia got dressed, on the other side of the shop in a room that used to be the manager’s office, MM adjusted the lumpy pillow behind Butcher’s head.

MM paused and looked over when Olivia appeared in the doorway and moved to the other side of the cot. She peeked under the edge of the gauze dressing and nodded in satisfaction that the swelling had not increased nor a return of blood loss.

“Why don’t you go clean up,” Olivia said to MM, gesturing to his blood-stained hands and shirt.

“I’ll stay right here, I swear,” Olivia said dramatically and managed to keep from rolling her eyes.

MM finally nodded and went to clean up in the same cramped bathroom.

Olivia tucked the rough wool blanket around Butcher’s side and felt how saturated his shirt was with blood, sweat and topical antiseptic gel.

She tisked to herself and rooted around in the nylon bag she had carried with her from Vought, the company’s name in bold embroidery on the bag.

Olivia found a couple bottles of sterile water and spied a half-empty cardboard box of clean shop rags in the corner of the room.

She was tearing the cellophane seal on the first bottle of water when Butcher’s pained groan broke into her thoughts.

“Am I going to live?”

“I think so, just don’t aggravate the stiches by moving around too much,” she cautioned before she laid the back of her palm against his forehead as she counted his respirations.

Olivia flinched as he shot out his hand and captured her wrist, keeping her hand pressed to his forehead.

“You should get more rest,” she murmured as she tried to tug her hand free.

Butcher nodded in agreement and gave her wrist a final squeeze before releasing her.

The instant knot dissolved in Olivia’s gut when he let go of her and she adjusted the linen up and around his shoulders.

MM reappeared at the very moment her phone chimed from deep inside her lab coat’s pocket. He crossed the room in three long strides and yanked at her jacket, ripping the pocket until he could close his large hand around her phone.

He frowned as his eyes moved over the text message.

“Are you okay Florida? Call me ASAP,” MM read aloud from the rectangular screen.

“Is that some fucking Vought code?”

Olivia shook her head and stared at her phone solidly in his grip. “It’s a stupid nickname, that’s my direct supervisor.”

Butcher hovered between a conscious and unconscious state, but he heard the stupid nickname and tucked it away for later reference.

Annie rapped on the door jamb and broke the growing heaviness in the small room. “You should get some rest too, we’ll take turns keeping an eye on him,” she said authoritatively nodding towards the passed-out Butcher.

Olivia nodded and followed Annie to another room that had a couple chairs and broken-down sofa kept company by a buzzing, blinking vending machine.

She ate a bag of stale sour cream and onion potato chips and can of flat soda before curling up on the sofa with a similarly scratchy wool blanket that Annie had left for her.

Olivia settled on to her back and shifted uncomfortably as she stared up at the water-stained ceiling.

Her frenzied, stressed mind and physical shock response had her thinking of the most unimportant things.

“I forgot to mail the mortgage,” she whispered to the empty room as she thought about the rectangular envelope on her hallway oak entry table. “Will I ever get to wear that new DVF to Caroline’s wedding?” she murmured before sleep finally conquered her taxed system.

Hours passed as she slept, her future still murky and composed of the unknown.

[scoopsgf]

1 + 96

It’s raining when it happens.

Raining just like when it had happened to Ben.

Only this time they’re inside, and it’s the thunder that counts: rolling across the swelling black sky after a crack of white-hot lightning, so loud it dulls the sound of the bullet going in.

But Peter hears her fall. He scrambles off of his bed and bursts into the kitchen to find May on the floor, in a steadily-growing pool of blood, surrounded by shards of glass from the shattered window she’d been shot through.

He stops breathing. He stops thinking.

Peter swings to the hospital because it’s the fastest way there. He knows how long it takes for ambulances to travel in this city; he’s well aware of the odds of her surviving a five minute wait time. Using his biocables cuts that neatly in half.

He bursts through the sliding glass doors of the emergency room and calls for help. It comes quickly. Suddenly there is a sea of blue-scrubbed doctors taking May from his arms, transferring her to a gurney, getting an oxygen mask on her face, wheeling her away. “Were you shot? Are you hurt?”

Peter blinks. It takes a minute to register that the nurse is asking about him.

“What?”

He comes back into focus. “Are you hurt?” the nurse asks again.

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s not—it’s not my blood.”

His voice is strangely flat. The nurse grabs a chart. “Do you know her name? Where did you find her?”

Peter blinks. Does he know her name? What kind of a question is that? Of course he… of course he knows his own aunt’s name…?

“Do you need to sit down?”

“Her name is May Parker,” Peter blurts. “Just—call this number,” he takes the chart from her and scrawls down seven digits he’s memorised by heart and hands it back. “They’ll come and they’ll take care of her. I have to go.”

The nurse’s brow furrows. “Sir, you’ll have to give a statement to the police—”

He rips out of her grip and runs out the way he came in.

—

It takes three rings, but then the phone is picked up.

“I need your help.”

—

He meets her in the back alley behind his building. “Hey,” he greets, and in return he gets a punch to the chest.

Peter chokes and rubs his ribs. “God, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Nat’s features contort with pity. “Sorry, but in my defence you shouldn’t have snuck up on me.”

“I thought you were supposed to be some world-renowned spy.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” she retorts, “but here we are.”

Peter’s face darkens. It’s stopped storming and the rain has dulled to a lazy drizzle. The ends of her hair are damp and curling and her breath steams. He steps around her and scans the building opposite his own. “Up there,” he says, jerking his chin toward a window on the fourth floor—which is directly opposite the one above his kitchen sink.

Nat follows his line of sight. “You sure you wanna do this?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, be with your aunt?”

Peter’s fists curl. “I’m not just gonna stand there like an asshole while she—” his throat stings with bile; he swallows. “I want to do something. I need to do something.”

Nat raises her hands placatingly. “Whatever you say, little spider.”

—

They sneak into the apartment building. It’s nondescript, pretty much exactly the same as his own except it clearly hasn’t been remodelled since the seventies so the carpet looks like something out of The Shining, but the layout is an exact match.

Nat picks the lock on apartment 4D and they slowly creep inside.

It’s completely empty. Like, no furniture, no bed, nothing. Peter’s stomach turns as the sweep the place only to come up empty handed, until—

“Bullet casings,” he announces, crouching by the window to pick them up.

Nat’s at his side in an instant. She takes one and inspects it. “FMJ,” she says with a frown. “Jesus, whoever did this really wanted to make sure she’d stay down.”

At the look on his face, she sighs. “Sorry.”

“Oh, sure.”

Nat leans out the window and scans the alley below. There’s nothing but a dumpster and a cardboard box full of kittens that Peter’s secretly been feeding for about a week.

“What do you think?”

“I think,” she says, “we need to speak to the landlord.”

—

The landlord is a little old guy named Skipper who tells them repeatedly that he can’t give out private information.

Then Nat gets him in a chokehold and he starts talking.

“He’s this creepy dude,” Skipper wheezes, rubbing his blotchy throat. “Reggie Farbank. Lanky hair, beady eyes, tall. Comes and goes all the damn time but he never stays long. Just checks his mailbox and leaves.”

Peter and Nat exchange a glance. He returns his gaze to Skipper. “Do you have a copy of his mail key?”

—

Reggie’s PO Box is empty except for one note, folded in half with Peter’s last name on it.

Nat scowls as she reads it over his shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” she growls.

—

Tony sits by May’s bed, pinching his brow as he listens to the steady, rhythmic beat of her monitors. It’s been about twenty minutes since she was moved from the OR to the ICU; the bullet had been through and through, but it had fractured her collarbone and shattered her shoulder blade—not to mention the damn thing was half an inch from puncturing her lung.

She hasn’t woken up yet. The doctors had mentioned it would be a while.

“Where’s Peter?” He’d asked them when he’d arrived, only to be met with bewildered looks.

Only one of the nurses had asked, “Might’ve been the kid who brought her here. He looked pretty shaken up. Gave us her name and your number and then ran off.”

Tony had sworn something nasty in Italian and pressed for more information only to receive none. They were all clueless. The storm had taken out their power and they’re running on backup generators, so there’s no security footage to run through. Peter’s trackers are off—but they were turned off manually, which means he had to be alive to do that.

He’s not dead but he’s not here and Tony doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

The smell of rosemary herald’s Pepper’s entrance into the little room. She runs her hand through Tony’s hair. “Anything?”

“Nadda.”

“You’ve tried calling—?”

“I’ve tried everything,” Tony says, a little harshly, and then sighs. “I’m sorry. I—I sent Happy down to check the apartment and… and to clean it up.”

Pepper looks a little sick. She hands him her coffee. He takes a long drink.

“Pete’s phone is off.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m—I don’t know.”

He’s clueless. Helpless. It doesn’t make any damn sense. Why would Peter run? There’s no way he was involved in this, so what could he possibly be doing?

“Do you want to go and look for him? I can wait with May.”

Tony shakes his head. “I’m not leaving her. He wanted me here so I’m staying. Why else would he have had them call us?”

“Tony—”

“I’m staying,” he says. “Besides, I already called in Rhodey. He and Happy are combing the streets as we speak, but odds are he’ll show up here and I’m not gonna be gone when he does.”

He’ll need me.

—

Peter and Nat make no sound as they slowly creep through the storage facility.

He’s holding a gun.

Guns are not his thing, but he hasn’t really given himself the chance to think about it. Nat had put it in his hands and if the time comes when she tells him to shoot, he knows he probably will. He’s angry enough to, bitter enough. He can’t stop wondering how long Farbank was watching them for; he’s been feeling off for days, spine tingling as he walks through the house, the hair on the back of his neck rising when May opens the window to let fresh air in.

He should have known.

He should have seen something like this coming.

“Any idea who he is?” Nat had asked on the drive over.

“No,” Peter had replied, checking the magazine on the glock.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to find out ourselves, then.”

Only the address had been written on the note they’d found, but Peter doesn’t need the unit number. He just follows that feeling—it’s like a game of hot or cold, but instead it’s his stomach twisting and his skin prickling.

It’s like someone is stabbing needles into the ends of his fingers when they finally find the right unit. Peter takes one side and Nat takes the other. Their eyes meet across the distance.

He nods.

She shoots the lock.

—

“She’s crashing—code blue—”

“Someone get me the defibrillator!”

—

“I knew you’d come.”

Peter and Nat stand at the mouth of the unit with their guns raised. Peter’s bones feel like lead and his mouth tastes like metal.

There are pictures of him all over the walls: some blurry, some clear as day, all taken from the vantage point of Farbank’s apartment. He feels like vomiting but doesn’t. Instead he says, “So exactly what the fuck is this supposed to be?”

Farbank looks crazed. His hair is greasy like it hasn’t been washed in days and his eyes are bloodshot, pupils blown. He’s clearly high off his rocker. “You are the bane of my existence,” he says wildly. “You destroyed my family, so I destroyed what’s left of yours!”

Peter glances at Nat, who looks just as confused as him. “Enlighten me.”

“My brother,” Farbank snaps. “My big brother, Matt. I bet you don’t even remember him, do you? It was six months ago! He was—he was all I had left—we only had each other and you tore us apart!”

Farbank sweeps one of his many monitors off his desk with his outburst. In response, Nat cocks her gun and steps a little closer to the wall to give herself a wider range.

“So what, Parker here got your brother arrested so you decided to commit murder? Get yourself locked up too?”

“At least then I would be with him,” Farbank growls. There are tears on his cheeks. “Do you have any idea what they do to people in jail?!”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” she says coolly. “So what’d he get put away for?”

Farbank looks down, mouth twisting. “Armed robbery,” he whispers.

“Oh?” Nat tilts her head. “Sounds pretty justified to me.”

“We had no money!”

“But you had other options, I’m sure,” Nat says. “Robbery is just easier. Put the gun down.”

Peter had forgotten Farbank was even holding one. He starts sobbing, but then like a switch being flicked his monologue starts back up again. “It doesn’t matter! You can kill me and it won’t matter! The whole world is gonna find out your identity, Peter Parker! I have hours of footage, frames upon frames of proof! Did you really think you could just sneak out of your apartment every night and no one would notice?”

Nat squints at Peter. “Good question.”

Peter scowls. “Suck it, Nat.”

“Whatever,” she looks back at Farbank and then, in one swift move, she lowers her weapon. “Relax, I’m not gonna kill you.”

Farbank blinks. “What?”

“Yeah,” Peter adds, “what?”

Nat shrugs. She advances toward Farbank with her hands raised. “Everything is gonna be okay, I promise. If you just hand me the gun—”

Farbank lashes out, but Nat is quicker and she sees it coming: she disarms him in one swift move and plants a Widow Bite on his neck that has him convulsing on the floor and frothing from the mouth.

“Ew,” Peter says.

Nat hums. She’s already focused on hacking into the computers. Peter zip ties Farbank’s wrists and hears her snort. “God, talk about amateur hour.”

Peter isn’t listening. He stares down at the man who shot and possibly killed his aunt. “He deserves worse than this.”

“I know,” Nat replies easily, “but I don’t want you to be the one who administers his justice. That shouldn’t be your weight to bear.”

“Some people would say it’s my right.”

“Not me.” She types a few lines of code into the system and then says, “Wiped.”

Peter watches her promptly turn away and start ripping his pictures off the wall. Frustrated, he gets between her and them. “Nat,” he says, “what he did—”

“Hey,” she puts her hand on his arm, “you’re angry right now. You want to hurt him and I get it. But you won’t. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday you’re gonna come to your senses and remember that it wouldn’t do you or May any good. In fact it would only hurt her more, so let me handle it, okay?”

He sighs and closes his eyes for a second. The next thing he knows, Nat’s arms are around him. He’s only got a couple of inches on her, so her chin rests neatly on his shoulder.

“It never gets any easier,” she mutters, “but I’m gonna make sure you’re safe from here on out, I promise.”

And Peter doesn’t really know what to say to that, but it doesn’t matter anyway because he can’t speak. If he does, he’s gonna start crying, so he just holds her back and tries to even out his breathing.

“Okay,” he whispers eventually. “Thank you, Nattie.”

—

It’s four in the morning when his kid finally shows up at the hospital.

He’s not dead and surprisingly enough he’s not alone. Nat is trailing behind him, looking grim and exhausted.

But Peter… Peter looks so much worse.

And Tony’s not about to make it any better.

He stands unsteadily. Pepper reaches out to support him but he waves her off. “Kid—”

“Is she okay? Is she in surgery or…”

And then he gets it. It’s the way it always happens in the movies, a cresting realisation, a dawning horror. Peter just goes still. “Tony,” he whispers, “don’t tell me… please don’t tell me…”

Tony reaches out. “Pete, I’m so sorry. She held on for as long as she could but she suffered a stroke—”

Peter collapses into a chair. His eyes are wide, full of unshed tears. His hand covers his mouth.

Nat looks stricken. “Fuck,” she hisses, sinking down into the chair next to Peter’s.

Tony perches on the coffee table in front of his kid and reaches out to hold his free hand. “Pete?”

“I just… I just need a minute.”

Tony nods. He’ll wait.

As long as it takes, he’ll be here.

[stefciastark]

Metal Arm ~ Webpril Day 7

A/N: Here is Part 1 of what will be a 2 part mini-story. Doombots threaten Manhattan, but with a significantly reduced team and some bad luck, things don't go so smoothly for Peter. It only briefly touches on the 'metal arm' prompt, but this is also inspired by a request from Hannah on AO3 to write a bit of 'post-battle injured Peter hides his injury and won't admit anything is wrong.' I'm really excited to write Part 2 tomorrow, had a lot of fun writing this first part!

~Read on AO3

~Read on FFN

Peter had never really been strangled, yet today it had happened not twice, not thrice, but it was bordering on his fourth time being on the receiving end of a chokehold. The Doombot cutting off his air circulation ended up being at the wrong place at the wrong time however, as three out of its four limbs were obliterated and sent to mecha-heaven. All except the one heavily bicep-ed metal arm that clung to his throat like shit to a shovel.

“Get. OFF,” he gritted through his teeth, tearing the appendage off of his throat and tossing what was now just a torso, head and forelimb onto the growing pile of Doom scrap metal.

He had to take a breather for a moment and remind himself that these were robots and not real people. Despite how convinced their A.Is were that they were in fact the real Doctor Doom, their suicide missions were nothing more than a result of malevolent - albeit skilled - programming.

“You good, kid?” The Ironman suit hovered a few feet away from Peter, appearing to dance slightly in the air as Peter’s brain started playing ‘catchup’ with oxygen. He felt himself nodding in response, muting his comms momentarily so that what was present of the Avengers wouldn’t hear his breathing; he was pretty sure the exhaust pipe on the old Vauxhall Cavalier his uncle used to own sounded healthier.

The team was small today; Thor was offworld, Bruce didn’t feel like having another near miss after almost levelling another city during an incident the week prior near Seattle, and Clint was - as Tony put it - too busy ‘playing house’ in the country. That left Tony, Peter, and Natasha Romanoff on the mission. Peter was unsure whether to call her Nat, Romanoff, or use her Black Widow alias, and instead anxiously settled for using none of the above and simply avoided using any moniker to address her whatsoever. It had worked out for him well so far.

While it was by no means a three person job, they would have to make do, and so far, they were making...something happen. The showdown had initially begun in Hell’s Kitchen and was progressively and concerningly migrating towards the Lower East Side. The closer the action got to the east side of Manhattan, the closer it got to Brooklyn, and the closer it got to Brooklyn, the more there was a chance of the threat moving to Queens, and Peter wanted to keep the rough and tumble away from his neck of the woods if he could. So far they had left in their wake twelve office buildings turned to rubble, eleven burst sewer pipes, and at least ten separate fires that he was pretty sure were still burning. All they needed now were nine civilian casualties and they were almost halfway to rewriting ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’.

Tony didn’t have time to follow up with Peter’s uncharacteristic lack of a verbal response as two Doombots that had split from the herd attached themselves to the red and gold armour, their green capes combining with the suit to make a metallic caricature of a Christmas tree. Tony had a whole three seconds of warning before their self-destruct protocols were activated, and everything within a 300-foot radius erupted in a shower of rubble, flames, and smoke.

The suit - for the most part - diminished Tony’s impact with the building adjacent to the Tenement Museum. Peter didn’t quite have the luxury of inches-thick armour, and as he sailed diagonally across Delancey St through the glass window of Double Chicken Please, he made a personal vow to make them his new go-to fried chicken joint as a form of apology.

“Stark, was that you?” Nat (Peter decided that was the name he felt most comfortable with) queried over the comms, the distant sound of shots being fired and the purring motorcycle beneath her leaking into the background.

A stream of expletives from the man in question poured in through his suit’s speakers. Peter found it funny that if it were anyone but Tony in any other situation other than their current predicament, the frankly obscene amounts of swearing would be concerning.

“How many left on your end, Rushman?” There was a groan and the uncomfortably familiar sound of shifting rubble. “I think we’ve just about wrapped up here.”

Peter had been working on gently extricating himself from where he lay in a supine position behind the bar, struggling to hold onto consciousness through a haze of pain. The wall between Double Chicken Please and Subway had collapsed, half of it inconsiderately laying across his chest. He noted wryly that he didn’t expect himself to be battling unconsciousness behind a bar until he was at least twenty-one, yet here he was, five years too early.

A large bang went off from what sounded like only a block away, which was then followed by a moment of complete and utter stillness.

“I think our last guests just left the party,” offered as an explanation from Nat, finally breaking the silence.

“Don’t you hate it when you have company and they don’t even offer to help clean up? I am sickened by the youth of today.” Tony had managed to disentangle himself from what could now barely be called a building. The engineer was able to identify the date of manufacture on the most recent wave of Doombots - they were only three months old. “Speaking of, Spiderling, let’s get this cleaned up. I have a date with takeaway and my favourite sweatpants waiting for me at home.”

“Try not to wreck any more buildings while I’m gone, boys,” Nat said, immediately beginning her commute to the Avengers facility.

Natasha had become the face of the Avengers during the inevitable PR followups that seemed to accompany any and every brush with threat since the Chitauri attack on New York. She was level-headed and presented well, and so far had the least amount of tallies on the “PR Fuck-ups” chart that hung in the communal kitchen in place of a calendar. It was the team’s personal inside joke that S.H.I.E.L.D didn’t approve of, which of course made them double down their efforts if it meant ruffling Nick Fury’s feathers.

“Try not to wreck my public image, it’s what funds those luxury bath bombs you keep ordering,” Tony shot back, no venom in his teasing words.

Peter was otherwise occupied during his teammates’ little exchange. He had his arms arranged in an upside down tricep pushup position, palms pressing against the sizable concrete slab that occupied the space from his waist to his sternum. As he lifted the offending cement off of him, he very nearly dropped it back down as the air rushed out of his lungs. Something in his chest shifted sickeningly, followed by a stabbing pain that burned everything from his ribs to his airways. Failure never an option, he persevered, relieved when the hunk of wall finally slid gracelessly down the pile of debris.

He thought having a literal chunk of concrete off his chest would feel better.

“Pete?” His name was said with such a mixture of impatience, exhaustion, and concern that Peter found his nerves standing on red alert. This would be the first hour of many on cleanup duties

Taking a wavering breath, afraid to breathe too deeply, he steadied his voice and activated his comms. “Sure thing Mr Stark, on my way!”

Peter winced; he definitely overdid it on the enthusiasm. With every step he took his discomfort grew until the pain from his chest radiated down to his hips and he had to stop himself from hunching over and limping his way back to the Delancey St intersection. There were only two of them now, a whole lot of city to tidy up, and not a whole lot of time to spend fussing over what was probably just some deep tissue bruising. Plus, this was his first call to action since July, and it was now approaching the end of November.

Bracing himself for the amount of suckthe next few hours would entail, he gritted his teeth against the throbbing that rolled like waves from deep within his chest, and prepared to put on his best Oscar-worthy performance he’d titled: “I’m Fine - A Teenager’s Pledge��.

There was no way he was going to let Tony down.

A/N: There we have it! Things didn't go so smoothly for Peter, and I know he has superior healing and all but this poor boy needs some more safety built into his suit. Tomorrow will be the Part 2 fill for this mini-story, so check back in for the concluding part :) Thank you for all your continued support, kudos, and comments. Please feel free to send any fic requests into my Asks! Sending hugs to you all <3

[blackaquokat]

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 5)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 4 !

A/N: This chapter is shorter than past ones, but somehow I don’t think you guys will mind, considering...well. You’ll see.

TW for another Attempted Murder. And an actual onscreen murder. 

---

You go right back to your cell. You don’t come out for dinner or the rest of the free time you’re allowed. 

Yancy doesn’t return to the cell either. 

Rex pops in, leaves beef jerky and apple slices on the little coffee table that also decorates your cell. 

“I’m not much of a cook myself,” Rex says to your back. “That’s my cousin’s specialty. He’s been working for the same rich bastard’s family for twenty years now, but on occasion he comes by to teach me a thing or two. Let me know if you want me to teach that Yancy dick a lesson.”

You mumble a thanks, but you don’t turn away from the wall. Your tears have long since dried up, but you’re in no shape to be interacting with anyone else.

The worst part? There is the smallest part of you that thinks...you could probably be happy here. With Yancy and Tiny and Rex and Jimmy and everyone else. Sure, you could do without the constant fear of getting shiv-ed in the shower, but you also deal with the fear of getting killed at home. On the way to and from work. In your office. Living in fear of getting killed over your ethnicity and gender (or lack thereof) is par the course, but at least here you’ve built up the kind of reputation where the backlash to your death would actually cause a stir outside of your professional influence.

If--when you get out of Happy Trails Penitentiary, you’re going to miss these people. At least you can rest with the knowledge that a few of them have your back.

You hear someone else stroll down the hall. Notable, since the cells are all empty right now. It might just be Rex or maybe someone else checking in on you. Still...you’ve been lying here for about half an hour, you should probably get up. 

As you start to do so, a length of cloth suddenly pops in front of your vision and tightens around your throat. 

The air knocks out of you as you’re dragged from the bed and land hard on the floor. You can’t get a look at your assailant and struggle to slip your fingers under the cloth to get it away from your throat and panic rises in your chest and you can’t breathe, you stretch out a different arm and scratch at whatever part of your assailant you can reach. All you get for your efforts are grunts of pain and the cloth tightening further on your trachea, but then your arm reaches back even further in a last-ditch attempt and you manage to crack your knuckles into his nose and listen to your assailant cry out, but your vision is already blackening and you have enough time to think, this is it, this is it, Mom, I’m so sorry, I--

“EAGLE!!”

The cloth jerks and then drops and you fall to the floor in a heap, hand going for your bruised throat. You roll over and try to climb to your feet. Tiny is on your assailant’s back, legs wrapped around his abdomen while her arms have him in a deadly chokehold. The assailant spins and rams her into the wall of the cell, knocking over the small nightstand and the lamp. Tiny clings tighter through the pain in her face but after three more hits into the wall, she drops her grip and falls to the floor while you’re still regaining your breath and reaching for the lamp (it’s the nearest and closest thing to a weapon in your reach). 

Your assailant turns back to you and pulls out a shiv but then Yancy comes barrelling out of nowhere and stabs the guy in the stomach with his own shiv.

Your assailant drops to the floor in a bloody heap. Yancy kneels beside him and turns him onto his back. “How about you tell me why youse just tried to off my friend here, and I’ll consider endin’ your life a little sooner. Cut youse’s suffering short, ya know?”

The assailant gurgles before looking at you with a sinister grin. “You know exactly who sent me.” He starts to laugh and you only have a moment to be unsettled by this reaction before Yancy reaches out and slices the shiv across his throat.

You shut your eyes and press the heel of one hand against your eyes while your other hand continues rubbing at your throat. You feel someone touch your shoulder.

“Hey, Eagle,” Tiny whispers. “Let me get you to the doc, okay?”

You’re stuck in a daze as you let Tiny lead you from the cell. 

You almost died. In a far more horrific way than bleeding out from a shiv. You’ve seen too many of these cover-ups come across your desk before. 

You almost died. Again.

But what’s even worse is that your attacker wasn’t another inmate. But he was someone you’ve seen in the prison before.

He was a guard.

---

“I was telling off the boss for his behavior,” Tiny explains later, while the doctor looks you over. “I told him he overreacted and that you hadn’t done anything to deserve his bitchiness. He didn’t take it well, but I didn’t care and I came to look for you…” She looks down. “Maybe if I hadn’t stuck around to yell at him, I would have found you sooner--”

“You--” Just the one word hurts like a bitch coming out of your damaged trachea. You clear your throat and try again. “You saved me, Tiny. Thank you.” One of your arms spreads out, a silent offer, and to your surprise, she smiles and steps into your embrace.

Is this what it’s like to have a sister?

The thought hurts almost as much as your throat.

You don’t see Yancy until you’re escorted back to your cell by Tiny and Rex after getting the “okay” by the doctor. He’s standing by the bars, waiting for you. Arms crossed, head ducked. He looks oddly contrite. 

Not that you’re noticing very much, considering you’re still shell-shocked by the assassination attempt and the implications behind a prison guard making the attempt.

But when you’re inside, Yancy puts his hand at your elbow and leads you to the bunk while Rex escorts Tiny down to her cell. You exchange a grateful nod with her before sitting down on your bed. 

Yancy sits down next to you. “I...I...” he shakes his head. “Youse almost died here.”

If it didn’t hurt to speak, you would have had a lot to say in response to such an obvious statement. As it is, all you manage is, “Hadn’t noticed.”

“I shoulda been here,” Yancy insists. “I shouldn’t have…” You see him look at you out of the corner of your eye. His gaze lingers on the facial injuries you sustained from your fight with him. “I’m sorry.”

If you were in a better mindset, you could have appreciated the significance of Yancy apologizing. But all you can think to say at that moment is, “You were there. You and Tiny. You saved me.” You shake your head, tears falling down your face for the second time that day, for the love of God. “Our last interaction wasn’t that stupid fight, at least.”

A shuddering breath leaves Yancy at that. You take that to mean he feels the same about the situation. 

“Yancy.” Your voice sounds so hoarse. “A guard tried to kill me.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t safe before. But if any guard here can also get me…” You bite your lip, then wince as the action stretches a cut on your chin. By chance, you reach back and rest your hand on the blanket behind you. Your eyes widen in horror and feel around the bed frantically.

“My notebook is gone.”

“What?”

You stand and glance frantically around the cell space. “My notebook, I always have it either on that table or hiding in my bed-sheets, it was here before I was attacked, and now it’s gone.”

Yancy stands up, an unsettling realization slowly shaping his face. “What exactly was in that notebook, Eagle?”

“That’s just it!” You hiss back to him. “Nothing incriminating for anyone! I hid my mom’s picture in there!” That reminder is particularly panic-worthy. “It’s a list of books inmates are asking for, other possible improvements that can be made to Happy Trails, the only thing I can think of is--” You stutter to a stop and fall back onto the edge of the bed. “Oh God.”

“What?”

“I...I just wrote up a list of people I could probably talk to about grants that could be used for Happy Trails. That’s the only thing I can think of that would make someone take it. Only one person in the entire prison could benefit from that kind of list.”

Yancy’s eyes narrow into something dangerous and he starts rattling the bars of the cell. “Rex! I need to speak to the Warden!”

“What?!” Rex shouts back from the end of the hallway. “Now?”

“Yes, now!”

---

Even though you insisted on joining him, Yancy made you stay in the cell. You obey, because you are so damn tired and wrung out, the idea of confronting the warden over your notebook might be a little much for you.

But it means sitting in a cell. Alone. The same cell you were almost murdered in. A double-edged sword. You feel as though you’re going to sink through the floor into the darkness and let it choke you up until the moment Yancy is escorted back. 

The grim looks on Yancy and Rex’s faces are not encouraging.

“What are the odds that the warden will put me in protective custody after he stole my notebook of financial backers? Or that he’ll at least give me back that picture of my mom?”

Yancy’s silence is all the answer you need.

“Yeah. Thought so.” Your eyes shut as Rex shuts the door and leaves you and Yancy alone again. “I’ve seen a lot of shit in here. He probably thinks I’ll...I don’t know, blackmail him or report his crappy operation.” You suck in a breath. It catches at the ache in your throat. “Odds that I’ll survive until the next Visitation?”

“Eagle--”

“Maybe I should start carrying a shiv around. Not like I’ve got ready access to a scalpel, like my mom did when she was an army nurse.” You are seconds away from sobbing hysterically, but you can’t stop yourself from talking even as it hurts your throat. “At least at home, I had my favorite pair of scissors when I was attacked, but there is no way I’m going to have access to any here, and those were almost as long as shears--”

“Eagle, hey--”

“That asshole was going to hang me in this cell,” you hiss, suddenly. “He was going to fake my suicide.”

Yancy winces. Then he nods.

“I...I don’t mind being here,” you admit, barely above a whisper, and not just because it still hurts to speak. “I like fixing up the new library collection, I like the connections I’ve made, I...I like that I’m not alone. Felt like I was always alone before, even with Mom and Damien…” You laugh in disbelief and give a groan of pain a moment later. “But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this...I’m not ready to die yet. Funny, considering I think I’ve been ready for most of my life, but...not like this. Not for someone else’s greed.” Your arms wrap around your waist, as if you can keep your molecules from flying apart in a fit of panic. “I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s fine, Eagle.” Yancy slides closer to you, puts his hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got a plan.”

You finally make direct eye contact with him, for the first time since your fistfight. He looks determined and intense. “Does this plan involve bundling me away into Solitary?”

“I’ll tell youse about it later,” Yancy squeezes your shoulder and you’re astonished by the comfort drumming through you at the gesture. “You need some sleep.”

Your laugh is disbelieving again. “I don’t think I can fall asleep tonight, Yancy. I keep feeling that damn pillowcase around my neck.”

Yancy is silent for a moment. He clears his throat. “Youse, uh...youse want me to stay up? With you?”

Your body starts to tremble in earnest. You drop your head into Yancy’s shoulder, wrap your shaking arms around his waist, and finally let yourself sob quietly. If Yancy is at all uncomfortable or disgusted by this turn of events, he doesn’t make any indication of it. He’s stiff for mere seconds before one of his arms goes around you and pats at your arm in an awkward staccato. 

(Dimly, you wonder when was the last time this man properly hugged anyone, or when he was last hugged himself. You’ve gone almost a month now without physical affection from your mom or Damien and the skin hunger is hitting you particularly hard now.)

You don’t remember falling asleep. You just remember feeling safe, calm, utterly exhausted, and listening to feeling the beat of Yancy’s pulse as your head drops into the crook of his neck.

---

Link to Chapter 5 !

Thank you for reading! Please reblog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @raimeyl , @scribbeetle , @its-dari , @neverisadork , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @wildfandom , @shrinkthisviolet , @purple-anxiety-blog , @conceitedink , @skidspace

[xserpentlife]

Open Your Eyes (Pt.2)

Requested: Anon Hello! Can I request a fangsxreader where she’s jughead sister and dating Fangs and instead of Fangs the reader is the one who gets shot and fangs is like super worried and thinking that reader could die? I love loveloveeee your blog so much thanks.

A/N: Part 2 hope you guys like it. part three is coming out on Friday.

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death. Gunshot, guns

Word Count: Around 1700

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“We’re here” Jug and I grabbed her in our arms carrying her in screaming for someone to help but no one was moving. “Someone help us!” Jug had me support her as he grabbed a nurse.

“We have a female with a gunshot wound please help her, please” The nurse just shook her head before a doctor barged out.

“What is going on?”

“My girl got shot, sir please help her, please you gotta”

“Get me a gurney now!” I tried following them back but was stopped by the doctor.

“Son you can’t come back here I’m sorry, wait out front”

“I need her! I can’t let her be by herself”

“If you need her, then let me help her!”

“Take care of her!”

The doctor disappeared behind the doors, my last glance at Y/N was her eyes closed on the gurney. Fuck what I would give to be able to see her eyes again. I just stood there before Pea came over grabbing my arm and leading me to a chair next to Toni. Jones nowhere in sight. I sat on the chair not able to move. All I wanted was for her to be okay, to see her eyes again, see her again. I didn’t even realize what was going on until I felt my back slam against a wall. Jughead grabbed me up out of the chair shoving me into the wall. I didn’t say anything, he was angry I knew that. He was pissed and he had a right to be it was all my fault.

“I fucking told her to stay home, told her to fucking wait and that I would bring you to her but no of course not. Fuck Fangs why would you let her do that. She just had to fucking come and see you, had to push you out of the way of that stupid fucking bullet. That should be you back there not her!”

“Let him go Jug, he didn’t do anything”

FP ran in then.

“Where is she! Where’s my daughter?”

“She’s in surgery dad” Jughead had me held up as FP began yelling in my face as well.

“Is she gonna make it? What did they say?”

“I don’t know, they just took her back”

“This is your fault Fogarty, why the fuck would you let her push you”

I stayed silent, my eyes glossed over with tears about to spill.

“I told you to protect her! The one fucking thing I asked of you when it came to my baby girl and you fucking failed. Failed Fogarty and now she’s back there fighting for her god damn life.”

Jughead pressed me harder against the wall. “If she dies Fangs. I’ll fucking end you.”

“I…” Sweet Pea came over shoving them off of me.

“Cool it, Jones, let him down”

“Need I remind you I am your leader Sweet Pea!”

“Fuck off Jones, get off your leader bullshit for one minute. Fucking think for one second. Your daughter and your sister is back there fighting for her life because she stepped in front of Fangs. You standing here yelling at Fangs isn’t gonna change that she is back there fighting! Yeah, maybe it wasn’t her best decision but she did it because she loves him. Because she cares about him more than anything else in this world. So maybe you both need to go take a walk or something. You need to let him down don’t you see he is hurting just as much as you, he’s just letting you yell at him taking all your hits because he doesn’t care about anything but being able to see Y/N again. I don’t really give a shit what you do but stop fucking yelling at him for no reason because it’s stupid to blame anyone here but Mantle who had the gun, which by the way anyone know where he is?!” Jughead let me down right then as FP grabbed his shoulder walking out of the hospital. As soon as he let me go I fell to my knees. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, tears came down full force. Usually, I wouldn’t cry but right here right now I didn’t care at all. I looked up to Pea who had kneeled in front of me.

“What if she… what if she’s gone because of me. It’s my fault, Pea. What if…”

“Stop with the what if’s Fogarty you know how fucking strong she is. Think about it, she is basically indestructible. Hell think about when we met her”

“Your right Pea. Fuck she was such a badass.”

“Yeah, I remember you were flirting with her but she poured the milkshake on you and told you that you were thirsty. Oh my god, I remember it like it was yesterday. She wanted to fucking smack you when you said you wouldn’t have been able to drink it anyway cause your lactose intolerant”

“ Oh yeah I forgot about that part”

“She was pissed”

“I know I thought she was about to throw mine on you two, but remember she just took it cause she wasted hers on you. Said she deserved it”

“She always says she loves your smart ass comments, guess that’s why you guys fit so well. She has the same exact ones makes me wanna pull my hair out”

“Pea, Oh my god remember the time that dude smacked her ass and she put him into a chokehold and basically body-slammed him. That dude was like twice her size ahha”

“Yeah and we were standing to the side and you wanted to take care of him for touching your girl”

“Dude I was pissed wanted to shove him across the room but she beat me to it”

“I thought she was just gonna smack him across the face or something, but nope she really went there. No guys mess with her now!”

“I remember our first date too fuck remember I called you freaking out, I screwed it up so bad but she didn’t care”

“What when you caught the pasta on fire?”

“Look I don’t know what happened”

“I do, you forgot the water, you know the one thing pasta needs to cook and uhm I don’t know not burn!”

“I was nervous!”

“Wasn’t she talking to Toni when she pulled up”

“Yeah Toni tells me about it all the time, I’ll never live it down. She pulled up when the stove was on fire and saw me trying to put it out through the window, she rushed in and fixed everything up. She started eating the hard pasta just to make me feel good. Turns out she actually likes chewing on hard pasta. But anyway we went to Pops after though and it was all good. But she did make me drink a few sips of her milkshake cause she ‘wanted me to try how good it was’ and I regretted that instantly”

“Oh yeah you kicked her out of your trailer after bringing her back cause of your terrible gas, haha she called me and asked if you had some condition or something!”

“Wait she what!”

“Oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that… oops”

“We have been dating for years and you haven’t told me that she thought I had some farting disorder!”

“She promised me to secrecy Fogarty”

“Jesus Christ”

“She fixed everything that night, she always does. With her, it’s like nothing can go wrong. Even if I’m in the worst mood everything turns up when I see her. Literally, with her everything is right. Fuck Pea… I can’t lose her. I won’t”

“She’s gonna be fine she always is. Plus she wouldn’t leave me here to deal with your ass alone. Now go sit down I'm gonna grab you some food”

“Thanks” FP and Jughead came back in as Pea sat down and handed me a sandwich.

“Any word yet?”

“No”

“Fuck” Fp slammed his fist into the wall

“She’s gonna be okay I know it”

“You know nothing Fogarty!”

“No shit FP, I know nothing because none of us have heard anything and we have been here all night. I haven’t moved a fucking muscle. Look FP I love her just as much as you do. She is my fucking everything okay. I would do anything. Don’t you think if I could be the one in there right now I would be! She is my life, my world. I… fuck I need her back as much as you do… I need her”

“Look I’m sorry Fogarty I just… she’s my baby girl, my everything too. I don’t wanna lose her either. Fuck if she knew I yelled at you she would be wringing my neck right now, fuck I’d give anything for that to happen right now”

“She’s gonna be okay”

“You don…”

“I may not know for sure, I may not know what is going on. But Y/N is a fucking fighter you know that more than anyone. Who was there with Jug when you went downhill FP. Who stayed and had your back that entire time even though her father was slowly slipping away. Who took care of the Serpents why you were going through all that shit. Fuck who took care of Peabody! Y/N is the strongest person I have met in my entire life. She will get through this. I know it”

“But you don’t know that Fogarty I could lose my daughter!”

“Yeah and I could lose the one person who means the most to me in the world so I guess we're in the same boat FP”

“Both of you need to stop. She wouldn’t want you fighting. Fuck I could lose my sister, Pea could lose his best friend. The serpents lose their family, but we won’t because she is strong as hell we all know that. She is going to be okay”

“People for Y/N Jones” The doctor came out then I stood right up along with everyone else.

Taglist: @chipster-21

[starryknight09]

Unforeseen dangers Ch. 1

Summary:  As Peter recovers from his capture by Ross, a photo of him with Tony and the Avengers leaks and is splashed all across the media. Luckily, no one can figure out who he is and everyone thinks the buzz will die down. However, the public’s interest has been ignited. While Tony worries it’s only a matter of time before Peter’s identity is exposed, Peter isn’t as concerned. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“Let him go Ross.” Tony ordered.  

He held his arm out, repulsor charged and aimed at the man in front of him, but he didn’t fire.  He couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t hit Peter.  Ross had his kid in a chokehold and he was using him as a human shield, cowering behind him with a gun held to his head.

“I don’t think I will.” Ross said with a sneer, tightening his hold.

Peter’s face was starting to turn red, but he still struggled weakly, trying to pry Ross’s arm away from his neck.  But he couldn’t get away.  For Peter not to be able to free himself, Ross must’ve done something to block his strength or he was more hurt than Tony realized.

Peter’s terror filled eyes stared at Tony, silently pleading to be saved.

“You should’ve listened to me Stark.” Ross grit out.  “Now it’s too late.”

Ross readjusted the gun so it was flush against Peter’s temple.

“No!” Tony screamed.  But it was too late.

Ross pulled the trigger.

Tony awoke with a scream dying on his lips.  He jerked upward, instantly recognizing the interior of his bedroom.  A dream.  It’d only been a dream.  It hadn’t happened.  Peter was safe.  Safe and asleep in his bed across the hall.

Tony took a few deliberate breaths to try to quell the lingering panic and his racing heart.  He ran a hand down his face to wipe away the cold sweat.

“Shit.” He shook his head.  Even though his clock read 2:45AM there was no way he was getting back to sleep tonight.  Peter was back home but his brain couldn’t seem to get with the program and believe that he was actually safe.  The nightmares were starting to wear him down.

He got out of bed and changed into appropriate workshop attire, jeans and a t-shirt, since that was where he was headed.  The past couple days he’d been toying with an idea for how to keep Peter safe, and after that dream he felt motivated to complete it tonight so Peter could get it as soon as possible.  Just in case.

He stepped out of his bedroom and paused outside Peter’s door.  He should walk past it.  Logically he knew Peter was asleep and perfectly fine, but he still couldn’t stop himself from quietly turning the doorknob and poking his head inside his son’s room.  Peter slept soundly on his back, completely oblivious to Tony’s nighttime rounds.  A pile of pillows cushioned his bad leg and he appeared to be resting peacefully, although the way he was tangled in the covers didn’t look all that comfortable.

Tony opened the door the rest of the way and crept silently across the room to his kid.  As he got closer he could hear soft snuffling snores.  Usually Peter didn’t snore, but he also usually didn’t sleep on his back or take painkillers that completely knocked him out either.

Tony gently maneuvered his son’s sleep limp limbs so he could pull the sheets off and rearrange them so they softly fell back into place and completely covered Peter.  He did the same with the down comforter that was half on the floor.  Once the covers were nestled up against his kid’s chin, Tony took a second to appreciate the serene sight in front of him.  It helped to erase the remnants of fear left from his nightmare.  

Ross hadn’t won, and he never would.  The man was dead.  Tony had made sure of it.  He brushed his son’s hair back and dropped a kiss on his forehead.  Peter didn’t so much as stir.  A smile tugged on Tony’s lips.  Sometimes he was blown away by the amount of love he could feel for one small human.  It felt like his heart existed outside of his body, away from his protection, vulnerable to all the dangers and hurts of the outside world.  He’d wrap Peter in bubble wrap and have him within sight at all times if he could, but he knew that wasn’t possible, or even particularly sane.  So instead, he had to satisfy himself with these small moments in time when he knew Peter was safe.

He reluctantly pried himself away from Peter’s side, backing out silently and shutting the door behind him, the sight of Peter peacefully resting ingrained in his mind.  With his worries now settled, he might’ve been able to go back to sleep, and he briefly considered it, but instead of going back to his bedroom, he wandered down to the communal floor, only slightly surprised to find the lights on.  The Avengers as a whole kept odd hours.  It wasn’t rare for someone to be up all night or to get up in the middle of the night to grab a snack.  He was, however, surprised to find several people up.

“Why wasn’t I invited to this party?” He griped as he headed to the coffee pot in the kitchen, walking past Bruce, Steve, Clint, and Nat sitting on the couches watching something on the TV at low volume.

“We thought you were asleep.” Steve answered.

“I was.” He said simply and went to work making a pot of coffee.  While he waited for it to brew, he walked over and stood to the side of the couch where Steve sat.

“Bad dream?” Steve asked without any judgement.

“What gave it away?”

“Lucky guess.”

“The circles under your eyes have circles.” Nat added.

“That’s a gross overstatement.” Tony argued and crossed his arms over his chest.  He didn’t feel like talking about it.  They could all probably guess why he was having trouble sleeping anyway.

“So, what’s everyone doing out here?” He asked, deflecting, his favorite tactic to avoid conversations he didn’t want to have.

“What does it look like?  Same thing as you.  Not sleeping.  We know he’s your kid, but you’re not the only one who’s feeling a little fucked up from everything.” Clint said with uncharacteristic honestly as he stared at the TV.

Ok, so his usual deflection tactic had definitely failed.  He blinked, not quite sure what to say in response to Clint’s blunt statement.  It was true.  They couldn’t understand what it’d felt like as Peter’s father, but he did recognize that they all still loved his kid and what had happened had been hard on them too.

“So you turn to,” he glanced at the show on the television and recognized it instantly, “Downton Abbey?  Oh dear god.  Did Happy turn you all to the dark side?”

“Nice Star Wars reference.  You learn that from the kid?” Nat asked.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes a mind numbing period drama is the best kind of medicine.” Bruce said.

“Is that your official doctor opinion?”

“Uh-huh.” Bruce nodded distractedly as he grabbed handful of popcorn from the bowl in his lap.

“So you’re saying watching garbage television will help me get over the nightmares in vivid technicolor of my kid dying?  Really?  That’s how to fix this?” He’d meant it to come out jokingly, but instead, the words that escaped him had a desperate edge to them.

They all looked over at him and he could see the concern etched on all their faces.  Great.  Exactly what he’d been trying to avoid.  The coffee maker beeped.  Perfect timing.

“Why don’t you sit down and join us?” Steve asked, patting the empty cushion next to him.

“Think I’ll pass.” He sniffed, going for obnoxious so they’d know to leave him alone.  If he stayed he wasn’t confident he wouldn’t end up spilling his guts, or possibly crying, and he didn’t have any desire to do either of those things at the moment.

“Tony.” Steve sighed in frustration.

“Sorry.” He shrugged, making it obvious he wasn’t sorry at all as he turned and walked to the coffeemaker.  “I’ve got a project calling my name.”

“There’s nothing you need to do down there that can’t wait until morning.” Steve argued.

“Wrong Cap.” Tony said as he poured the coffee into his largest insulated mug.  “This can’t.  Got something I have to make for the kid.  You cope through boring period dramas.  I prefer work.  To each their own.”  He raised his mug in a brief mock salute.  

He frowned and then took a sip of his still too hot coffee to cover it.  He hadn’t meant to let that truthful little tidbit slip out.

“Tony—” Steve started, probably to try to convince him to stay, but Bruce interrupted him.

“Steve.” Bruce said softly and when Steve glanced over, Bruce shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Tony pretended he hadn’t seen and kept walking toward the elevator.

“See you in the morning tin can.” Clint called out from behind him.

He raised a hand in a halfhearted good bye but didn’t turn around.  The elevator doors closed behind him and as he descended he started mentally going over the specs for the device he planned to build for Peter.  Something that would help keep him safe and hopefully help Tony’s peace of mind, more so than any Downton Abbey episodes ever could.

“FRIDAY can you ask Peter to come down here?” Tony asked as he put the finishing touches on the watch in his hand.

“He’s on his way boss.” FRIDAY told him after a few seconds.

“Tell him there’s no rush.” Tony added.  He didn’t want Peter to try to hurry and end up falling.  For someone with super abilities, he wasn’t the most agile on crutches.  Tony had watched him almost face plant yesterday.  Luckily, Steve had been close enough to grab him before he hit the ground.

“I will relay the message.” FRIDAY said.

Tony nodded as he turned the watch dial to the correct time.  Once it was set, he turned it over in his hand, examining it for any imperfections.  He didn’t find any.  Not that he’d expected to.  He’d made it after all.  The watch had turned out perfect.  

Instead of a digital display, he’d chosen a classic watch face and stifled the desire to use a nicer casing.  He didn’t want to risk it getting stolen, so he’d gone simple instead.  Silver links made up the watch band and the hands were a matching silver with a navy blue watch face and red numbers.  He hoped Peter appreciated the subtle red and blue theme.

“Hey dad, what’s up?” Peter greeted as he entered the workshop, “FRIDAY said you were looking for me.”

“Come here.” Tony said, beckoning him over with his arm.

He watched as Peter crutched his way over and stopped in front of him.  

Tony stood and moved his desk chair so it was right behind Peter.  “Take a seat.”

Peter eyed him apprehensively but did as he was told.  As soon as he was sitting, Tony grabbed the crutches and set them against the desk beside him.

“Am I in trouble?” Peter asked jokingly, but Tony heard the hint of nervousness in the question like he wasn’t quite sure.

“No.” Tony answered with a smile.  “You’re not in trouble.  Actually…I have something for you.”

Tony held the watch out to him.

Peter quirked his head and gave him a curious look as he took it.

“It’s a…watch?”

“Very good.” Tony said.  “It’s nice to know your powers of observation are as sharp as ever.”

Peter rolled his eyes and asked, “Why are you giving me a watch?”

“It’s more than a watch.”

“Of course it is.” Peter said wryly.

Tony watched as his kid studied the watch in his hand, trying to figure it out.

“Ok I give up.” Peter said after a minute.  “How is it more than a watch?”

“That’s a highly advanced piece of Starktech in your hands.”

“What?  Are you marketing watches now?  Because if you are, I hate to be the one to tell you this but your product doesn’t seem very…”

“Very what?”

“It’s not the type of design you typically go for?”

“Hm.  Maybe I’m going for an image change.”

“To what?  Cheap and vintage?”

“Hey.” Tony lightly cuffed the side of Peter’s head and the kid smiled.  “I’ll have you know it’s even harder to make something that advanced and have it look like that.”

“So it’s supposed to look like this?” Peter turned the watch around in his hands.  “Is it some kind of antitheft outfitting?”

Tony grinned.  Sometimes he forgot just how bright Peter was.

“That’s exactly it.”

“Ok.  And is this one like a prototype?  You want me to test it out for you?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“How many of these is SI going to manufacture?”

“Just that one.”

Peter’s brow furrowed and he looked up from his inspection of the watch.  “What?  I don’t understand.”

“That watch you’re holding is one of one.  I made it just for you.”

“Why?  What does it do?”

“Put it on and I’ll show you.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?” Peter asked probably just to be difficult.

“No.  That’s not as fun.” Tony answered.  “Put it on.”

Peter let out a resigned sigh, but listened, and fastened the watch on his left wrist.  “There.  Happy?”

“Very.” Tony said.  “FRIDAY, how are we looking?”

“Everything is functioning optimally as projected Boss.” FRIDAY answered.

Peter lifted his wrist to stare closer at the watch again.  He shook his head.  “I don’t get it.  What’s it doing?”

“It’s tracking your vitals and your location.”

“So it’s for spying on me?” Peter scoffed and moved to take it off.

Tony leaned forward and intercepted his hand before he could.  “It’s not for spying.”

“Feels an awful lot like spying.”

Tony sighed and knelt down in front of him, still holding Peter’s wrist loosely as he looked up into his kid’s eyes.  “I promise it’s not for spying.  It’s to keep you safe.”

“You already watch me in the suit.” Peter complained, lips thinning in obvious displeasure.

“I know.  And you know why.” Tony smiled sadly.  “Same reason.  To keep you safe.  The contingencies in the suit protect Spiderman, but I made a big mistake by not having similar protections in place for Peter Parker.”

Tony couldn’t keep his eyes from flicking briefly to Peter’s leg where his jeans hid the swath of bandages covering the still healing bullet wound.

“That wasn’t your fault.” Peter argued.

“Yes it was.  I’m your father.  It’s my job to keep you safe, and I failed once already.”

“No you—”

Tony continued, ignoring Peter’s protests, “I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.  That’s why I need you to wear the watch.”

“I don’t know.” Peter eyed the watch dubiously as if it might jump out and bite him.  “It still feels a little too much like big brother for my taste.”

“It’s not.” Tony shook his head.  “It doesn’t surveil you.  It’s only outfitted with a GPS and a vitals tracker.  So if you ever end up in trouble without your suit or phone, I can still find you.  And if anything ever happens to you, if you ever get seriously hurt when you’re not in the suit, I’ll know right away.”

“That’s it?” Peter asked, still wary.  “I thought you said this thing was high tech?”

“That is high tech.  Sheesh you’re getting spoiled.” Tony stood, holding back a wince at the creaking in his knees.

“I’m pretty sure a Garmin does the same thing.” Peter joked but Tony chose to take it as a win since his kid was no longer looking at the watch like it was something repulsive.

“Well a Garmin doesn’t have FRIDAY installed in it, now does it?” Tony countered.

“FRIDAY’s installed in this?” Peter jerked his arm away and held it out like the watch was going to attack him.  “You just said it was only a GPS and a vitals monitor!”

“It is!”

“Then why is FRIDAY installed on it?” Peter narrowed his eyes at him, clearly suspicious.

“In case you’re ever in a situation where you need her.” Tony explained.  “You can activate her and the watch will have the same capabilities as your phone.”

“So she’s not going to be listening in on every word I’m saying all day?”

“No.”

Peter brought the watch in closer and twisted in his wrist around to look at it from every angle.  “How do I activate her?  Please tell me you didn’t make it voice recognition with her name because that’s going to be problematic in day to day life.  You know, since Friday’s also a day of the week.”

“I know, and of course not.  Remember you’re talking to a genius here.” Tony reached out to cradle Peter’s wrist with the watch on it.  “It’s touch activated.”

“How?”

“See these two side buttons?” Tony pointed to the prongs sticking out on the side that would usually be used to wind a watch but he’d reconfigured for a different purpose.

Peter nodded.

“Hold them down at the same time.”

“Ok.” Peter did it and the watch face flickered a faint blue, only noticeable if looking directly at it.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah.”

“That means FRIDAY’s activated and online.  She won’t speak unless you talk to her but she’ll be listening and recording.  If you’re in a situation where she can’t speak, there’s a silent mode.  Just tap the top button again and instead of speakers, she’ll respond on the watch face screen.  To turn her off you do the same thing as you did to turn her on.”

Peter repeated the action and the face flickered again.

“Ok that’s kind of cool.” Peter admitted.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet kid.  I want to show you something else.  Turn FRIDAY on again.”

Peter did.

“Ok now tap the face of the watch twice.”

He watched as Peter complied.  The watch face switched from the clock hands to a digital display similar to his Starkphone home screen.

“Whoa.”

“Yep.  Check this out.” Tony smiled and tapped a keyboard screen icon.  A hologram keyboard manifested a couple inches above the watch face.  “It has text capabilities and a lot of other functions.  But try to keep in on the DL all right? This is for emergency use, not for playing around at school.  Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh I almost forgot.  It’s outfitted with one more feature.  The most important one.” Tony said seriously.  “It has a panic button.”

Peter’s nose scrunched.  Tony could tell he didn’t like that idea so much, but he didn’t voice it.

“I’d rather you have it and not need it, then need it and not have it.” Tony explained.

“I guess.”

“See this button here?” Tony pointed out the single button on the opposite side of the watch face.

Peter nodded.

“You can either hold it down for three seconds or tap it three times in a row.  Either will activate it.  Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Only use it for emergencies.”

“Ok.” Peter said softly.

“But if you need it, I want you to use it.  Ok?”

Peter nodded.

“I want you to wear it whenever you’re not in the Tower or in the suit.”

“As long as you promise you’ll only use it in case of emergencies and not to spy on me.”

Tony held up a hand and vowed, “I promise.”

“Ok.”

“Thank you.” Tony smiled and ruffled Peter’s hair before letting his hand drop onto his kid’s shoulder.  He gave it a squeeze and leaned down to kiss the top of Peter’s head.

“Now come on.  Let’s head upstairs.  I hear Cap’s cooking.” He handed Peter his crutches and stayed close as his kid stood and adjusted the crutches under his arms.

“He is.  He’s making enchiladas.” Peter threw him a mischievous look.  “I’ll race you upstairs.”

“As much as I’d love to take you up on that, because I think this might be the only time I’d ever have a chance of actually beating you, I’m going to have to pass.” He fell into easy step beside Peter, settling a hand lightly against his upper back as he started crutching toward the elevator.  “Let’s just take it slow for now.”

“Party pooper.”

“Yeah that’s me.  Party pooper dad.”

Peter smiled at his response and Tony’s heart stuttered briefly in his chest.  Similar moments had been happening ever since he’d gotten Peter back.  He’d be in the middle of doing something mundane when he’d suddenly be struck by the awe that Peter was there.  He was ok.  Hurt, but healing.  Alive.  It could’ve gone much differently.  He could’ve lost his son.  It was the reason he’d been having such a hard time sleeping.  The reason he’d woken in a fit of fear and spent the rest of the night making the watch on Peter’s wrist.

“What?” Peter asked him once they were in the elevator.  Tony realized he’d been staring.

“Nothing.” He shook his head and gave his kid a tight smile.  He didn’t want any of his worries weighing on Peter.  “Nothing at all.”

[astratis-blog1]

Sexless?  The truth behind the "perfect" Instagram image that may present as anxiety to your doctor

Lack of fulfilling sexual connection is making us anxious and depressed. As a family physician, I see this up close and personal

A couple in their late 50’s — a man and a woman — is in my examining room to review a recent visit to the ER for shortness of breath.

Trevor has a chronic lung disease that causes him difficulty in walking more than a few blocks. We talk about Trevor’s recent episode of distressed breathing which required antibiotics and steroids over a 3-day hospital admission. Celine, his wife, recounts with frenzied gesticulation the terrifying wait for the ambulance as her husband struggled for breath. Now that Trevor is stable, we take time to review the treatment plan for his lung disease. As I’m summarizing the medication changes, Trevor says, "Doc, there’s one more thing…"

Sexual Health – an oxymoron in the digital age

Sex – or the illusion thereof - surrounds us. Sex-themed documentaries on Netflix provide light entertainment, VR/AR experiences in sex are blowing up and hook-up dating apps have re-defined the way we meet. On our crowded subway commute, multiple pairs of feet peek coyly from under 480 thread count sheets and ED pills are touted as the must-have product alongside beard balm. We are a captive audience for marketing that makes us believe that everyone is having terrific, frequent sex. Is it true? No, in fact, evidence suggests the opposite. But when immersed in an illusory landscape of copious sex and not getting this mythical goodness, we experience FOMO and anxiety. As a family physician, I will tell you that, when it comes to sex, we may be more lacking – and lonely – than ever before. 

Hidden meaning for the doctor’s visit  - the Hand-on-the-Doorknob Question 

"My wife has a problem with me spending time on the internet", Trevor admits in a low tone. Celine is quiet now, eyes downcast, fiddling with her coat zipper. I am also Celine’s doctor, and I ponder silently on our prior encounters where she has talked about her panic attacks and difficulty sleeping.

I ask Trevor for more details and he grudgingly explains that his wife has been getting angry with him over his late-night sessions on his computer. He says he’s "blowing off steam with some websites", which, he says, helps him deal with his chronic lung disease.

He doesn't feel this should concern Celine, however, stating that everyone is online, and pornography is what "everyone’s doing" these days.

Silence has become commonplace in their household. With the kids grown and gone, the couple eats dinner separately, Celine at the dining table with a book and Trevor in his den over the computer. They can’t say when they stopped sharing a bed, but Trevor spends nights on the couch downstairs as it’s easier for him to avoid the walk upstairs and, anyway, "I would bother Celine if I came to bed late".

In her own clinic visits, Celine has described a choking sensation of panic that usually grips her in the evening hours, the relentless tossing and turning until 3am. She has difficulty concentrating in her job as a human resources manager, and she feels restless and frustrated. On prior visits, I had worked with Celine on medication options and referrals to therapy. Yet it’s only now, as I sit with Trevor and Celine, sensing the palpable wall of hurt and resentment between them, that I understand what has been keeping Celine anxious and sleepless: Lack of intimacy. It has been over 4 year since the couple has had sex.

A plethora of sex in the modern age is a double-edged sword

Choice is wonderful. Choice in sex validates our individuality. Choice invites us to confront our small-mindedness and try new things, and it offers convenient access to sex when competing priorities vie for space on our schedule. However, the now limitless opportunity to consume sex, particularly in the digital space, can put a chokehold on real sex between people, and starves our fundamental human need for intimacy and connection. Especially as we remain, for the most part, hardwired in our desire for the idealized monogamous relationship and family. If you doubt this, keep an eye out for ads promoting this season’s perfectly curated wedding registry or other paraphernalia commodifying marriage and child-rearing – Ad fonts may be minimalist but our mindset on relationship remains remarkably traditional.

The seduction of virtual sexual experiences can distract us from putting much-needed work into intimacy in our relationship, because it’s easy. Communication about sex, on the other hand, is messy, imperfect, emotionally charged… in other words, real. Discordant desire, which is when one person in a relationship has a different level of libido/desire than the other person, may be caused by a lot of different factors, and each situation is unique. However, relationships affected by discordant desire all share a deep sense of shame, rejection and devastated self-esteem.

Unfulfilled sexual expectation is just as much a concern for single folks. Despite the apparent availability of sex and casual hook-ups, millennials are having less sex than generations prior. Millennials face staggering rates of anxiety and are outpacing prior generations in their use of both prescription and nonprescription drugs to combat poor mental health. Is lack of sexual connection in some way contributing? As digital options for sexual experiences become exponentially more sophisticated and accessible, we need to start talking about how to preserve true human connection, or perhaps redefine them to fit the brave new world.

Acknowledge the deep sense of rejection in discordant desire, then move forward together to build a new paradigm

As a family physician, I recognize how anxiety, panic and insomnia may all be symptoms, at least in part, of feelings of isolation and abandonment in an intimate relationship. Realizing that Trevor and Celine are suffering, I put aside my worries about the full waiting room and commit to spending time with this couple in order to dig under the surface of this issue that, though mentioned tentatively, has profound influence on their wellbeing.

In this clinic encounter we acknowledge the shame and loneliness that Trevor and Celine have suffered as a result of discordant desire, and we bring awareness to the various factors that have resulted in their rift in intimacy. We address Celine’s experience with postmenopausal physical changes that affect her enjoyment of sex and talk about some options that she can try. We highlight Celine’s devastating sense of rejection that has kept her anxious and sleepless. Trevor hears, for the first time, the hurt that Celine has quietly suffered, and commits to working together on improving their intimacy. 

Options such as relationship coaching and sex therapy are proposed as means to address sexual detachment  and rebuild loving communication. Over the next six months of regular visits with Trevor and Celine, I witness their steady progress toward rediscovering common ground as a couple. Through tremendous hard work and, in spite of ongoing medical issues, they rekindle their desire of years prior. Celine reports that she is finally able to sleep through the night.

Where pharmaceuticals cannot tread: Healing by harnessing one’s own inner wisdom

As a family physician and relationship coach, I am uniquely positioned to help individuals and couples harness infinite inner resources to build healthy connection between physical, mental and sexual wellbeing.

In coaching, I help people reclaim their sense of worth, get clarity on their values and purpose, find their power in their relationship and take decisive action in transforming the dynamics of their intimate life. Through a powerful coaching experience, we are able to see the challenge of sex in the digital age as an opportunity for self-growth and discovery of a transcendent intimate relationship.

[starfaring-princelotor]

Sweet Tooth

Summary: A simple bite wound changes Prince Lotor and his strange urges pull out a rather...interesting side of him.

Pairings: Lotor x Reader 

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing.  ★

Part One___Part Two___Part Three

Prince Lotor was a man of many things. He was intelligent, cunning, cautious; all traits well-suited for an heir to the Galra throne. Being raised under Zarkon and his iron rule on the empire taught the young prince several skills that shaped him into the commander he was today. Lotor was ruthless where it counts, he knew how to play his cards, and had no qualms with taking a life in a battle. He had class, he could control himself as well as his generals, though right now? Right now, maybe there was an...urge.

On his throne, his leg was shaking up and down in slight impatience. All his generals took notice of his odd composure, but it was Acxa who decided to approach him. “With caution,” she reminded herself. If anything, perhaps the adrenaline was still coursing through his veins from their last mission? Or the pressure of Voltron encroaching onto Galra territory was beginning to weigh in on him? It could be a number of things she had no insight about, though that didn’t stop her from continuing her job as being HIS general.

Once she was a few feet away, her sharp eyes noted how his damaged armor was missing here and there. She also noticed...a sizable bite mark on the inside of his arm. It looked infected, though Acxa couldn’t remember seeing any animal attack him on their recent mission. Yes, there were swords clashing and guns a blazing, but not a beast in sight. She cleared her throat, pulling Prince Lotor out of his thoughts as his piercing eyes honed in on her slender face.

“Sir,” she began with the utmost respect laced in her voice, “All prisoners have been boarded and we are ready for take off. We had few casualties in the battle and they are being treated in the medbay.”

Maybe her voice emphasized “medbay” a little more sternly to try and pressure him to get his arm looked at.

“Thank you, Acxa. Chart a course to Diad’ix galaxy. We will be visiting a little planet called Cyleus,” he ordered with a slightly strained tone due to his teeth grinding together, “That will be all.”

In all honesty, he needed rest. This new...disease coursing through him was troublesome and he would not risk his health when his plans were JUST starting to fall into place. There was a doctor there, a good doctor he knew very well, who could help him with his predicament. What problem was it? He certainly couldn’t outright tell his generals when this was clearly something he could handle on his own. Simply put, he had a craving. An urge for his next fix. An addiction.

A...lusting for something sweet. For candy, for milkshakes, for sugar, for something to satisfy his sweet tooth.

The man was actually sweating in restraint! He pushed his hair behind his ears, trying to recall where this strange sickness came from. The mission started out well enough. His plan was to rescue you and your crew, one of the unlucky coalition soldiers who got captured by his ruthless Galra commanders. Mind you, got captured by one of his Galra commanders who did not see Lotor as a prince nor heir to the Emperor Zarkon. Due to this and his status, Prince Lotor had to stage the rescue as if he was part of this father’s enemy attempting to free captured war refugees.

It worked, but there was a problem. To you, all you knew was that another Galra was going to take you captive. Sell you on the black market? Enslave you until death? Eat you? You didn’t know, so of course, you fought. You fought tooth and nail, not once believing that your savior had pure intentions with you and the other captives. In the midst of it all, between fighting you and the sentries trying to foil Lotor’s plans, he had managed to grab you in a strong chokehold.

“Stop, I am not your enemy!” he remembers yelling, trying to reason with a stubborn person like yourself, “Cease your struggling lest I-”

And then you bit him. Bit him like an enraged animal ready to tear through life and death just to survive. You didn’t relent when he let out a pained grunt, nor when he started yanking your hair to pry your teeth off of him. From an outside point of view, perhaps this would’ve been comical to see. The great Prince Lotor struggling to subdue a defenseless prisoner in his convoluted rescue mission. The pain was intense and he knew you could taste his blood flooding your mouth by now. It seemed as though you were ready to chew through his entire arm!

Prince Lotor couldn’t have that. So, in a reckless decision, he brought the hilt of his sword down harshly on the back of your head and successfully knocked you out. He would salute you on your resilient hold and how you had actually managed to WOUND him. Barbaric, true, but it worked. His generals and crew gathered all the prisoners they could and brought them upon his ship. Lotor personally dragged, er, carried your unconscious body into your own metal cell. He half debated about ordering one of his generals to put a damn muzzle on you like the dog you were.

Lotor’s eyes snapped open after his thoughts ended. Did you perhaps have venom or was your saliva deadly to his kind? That could explain everything. It wasn’t like he didn’t get his current vaccinations up to date...but there was no vaccine that could make him immune to everything. Fuck, he wanted honey. He wanted to gorge himself on the syrupy concoction, dunk his entire face in a pot of the gooey gold. The thought alone had his mouth salivating and he had to cover his lips so no one saw him drool. Prince Lotor suddenly stood up from his seat when his unruly mind began breaking his inner will.

With hastened footsteps, Lotor reached the doors to your cell and commanded the guards to let him through. He folded his hands behind himself, both to show his authority and to hide his still tenderly, wounded arm. Lotor couldn’t show you how much your bite afflicted him. As he stepped through with his head held high and menacing boots announcing his arrival, the first thing he heard was...munching. So, you were awake. Good. Now he could finally interrogate you and demand to know what venom you injected-

Oh...his nose twitched. He could smell it from here. It was sugar. Very potent sugar. His keen sense of sweet smelling delicacies was heightened and he couldn’t help but lick his lips in want. Control was waning and he must! Resist! Temptation!

You stopped eating your last meal and stared up at the mighty Prince Lotor. Stiff, stock still, but eyes quite focused on your huddled form. No, not you entirely...he was eyeing the chocolate smudged all over your mouth. It was right there, on the corner of your mouth, and he could just-he wanted to just lick it off you, maybe even nibble your lower lip to imitate the texture of a firm chocolate bar. Lotor swallowed thickly and he suddenly realized it was slowly getting harder to control his breathing. With every breath, he could taste the sweetness in the air coat his tongue, tease him, beckon him to give in, to satisfy his crazed hunger.

And you, you weren’t moving. You were prey, just waiting there, oblivious to whether or not you knew of the little problem you oh-so-generously bestowed upon him. You warily watched him kneel before you, the sudden action making you jolt back a bit in fear. He was unpredictable, it showed in his dangerous eyes. Lotor leaned closer to you, just shy a few inches from your lips, and you feared making any noise in front of him. Was he testing you? Scrutinizing your every miniscule expression? Is this an interrogation trick?

“What have you done to me…” his voice was thick, heavy with unbridled hunger as if he was dying of thirst.

Something changed then. Prince Lotor sounded...weak. Strained. He was holding back and part of you worried he was going to snap any second now. A plan formulated in your head. Now was the time to escape! He was injured and if you were quick enough, you could hit him across his temple and make a rush for the exit. You could take out the guards quick enough if they were distracted and...and what was that sliding down your arm?

“W-what are you…?” your question trailed off when Lotor pinned you with a heated stare.

The Prince trailed his hand down to your wrist, gripping it firmly with his fingers, then brought it up between the both of you. Halfway unwrapped in crinkled foil and paper was the delectable bane of his existence: chocolate. He didn’t know Hershey’s, but the smell...it made him shudder in want. He couldn’t hold back any second longer and, in the privacy of the cell, he finally indulged his hidden, shameful desire. Lotor began gorging himself out of the palm of your hand, panting heavily and with no coordination of his princely title whatsoever.

All you could do was stare in shock at the wild look behind his eyes. The way he scarfed down the delicacy as if he had found the forbidden fruit of the Gods was both arousing and frightening. Frightening because THIS was the Galra heir to the throne, the same throne that subjugated their prisoners to the worst possible torture imaginable. He was eating so fast and you did see those threatening fangs of his bite a little too close to your thumb. Half of you worried he would eat your hand while he was at it.

And yet, the way he was licking your fingers made you flustered. His warm, slick tongue wrapping eagerly around your index finger and those wet, sucking noise were absolutely filthy in the silence of the cell. Was he aware of how erotic his raw hunger looked right now? Did he know that the more he lapped messily at the melted goo between the crevices of your fingers only made you shiver in odd delight?

“Oh…” he moaned lowly, almost growling, before finally breaking away after indulging himself for a few seconds longer than what was considered proper, “That was...divine…”

Was his urge sated? Absolutely not, if his half-lidded, smoldering gaze was anything to go by. Prince Lotor was still lost in his desire for the sweet, foreign taste of chocolate and his next fix was currently on your lips. Without sparing a second thought, he cupped your face with his hands and kissed you in feverish need. He still had that accursed craving coursing through his veins and his mind was clouded to the brim with this delicious kiss. Lotor paid no attention to his overheating body at all, nor did he reign in control over how improper it was to, ah, indulge his prisoners.

You had no time to even process how a prince from your enemy was currently giving you the best kiss of your life. The heart in your chest was beating so fast, you wouldn’t be surprised if he heard it with those elegant ears of his. The way he moved his lips sensually over yours had your mind in a tizzy. Was this how he broke his prisoners? With the art of seduction? It was...definitely a possibility now that you got to experience it first hand. Lotor’s body was so firm against yours and his palms felt like a warm, toasty fire in the chill of deep space. It was difficult to pull away, even as his tongue lapped lazily at the corner of your lips.

“Give me more…” Prince Lotor tugged at your lip with his fangs, drinking in the pleasurable groan that escaped your throat, “I demand it…ah...”

He was panting like a dog now, pressing his towering form more insistently against you in hopes that somehow, you could grant him his desperate demands. Before you could answer, his mouth was upon yours once again, those dark eyes of his clenched close in strain while his tongue slipped through your lips. Lotor could taste it, taste the lingering sugar coating your wet muscle, and he found it absolutely intoxicating. He felt drunk off of you.

Prince Lotor wanted, needed more, but it was too late before he realized his body could not handle it. The addicting sugar, the fever that came with this foreign infection, it weakened him to the point where he had to break the kiss. You were finally able to catch your breath in the haze of lust, yet Lotor seemed exhausted. Sickly, even. Now, his skin was clammy and before you could get a questioning word out, the mighty Prince Lotor let out a pained grunt, swayed slightly...and suddenly passed out.

“L-Lotor?!” you were crushed under him, trapped under his body that felt like was exerting more heat than usual, “Prince Lotor?!”

Did you...just kill the coalition’s enemy with a sugar rush?

[b1ipblip]

In Too Deep

Chapter 2- Pop Tart

Mafia! Au

Warning: blood, swearing

Word Count: 3.1k

Next ->

Seoul was ruthless. The underground thrives in the city. Gang activity was spiking and doesn’t look like it will be decreasing any time soon. Public offices are corrupt and everyone knows that it is to some degree. But people usually push that thought back and enjoy the good economic times that the underground brings. For something that feels so far away from society, it’s kinda surprising when you see the city’s sin with your own eyes.

You were carried from the car to Jin’s office with ease. No-one stopped them or even questions them holding an unconscious, bloody girl. They own the building after all.  After the four of them get up to the 10th floor, Taehyung lays you down on a hospital cot in Jin’s office space.

Jin immediately goes to put on gloves once he enters the room. He removes the cloth stuck to both of your wounds. He has to clean away the blood before deciding that the wounds were bad enough to warrant stitches. Jin swears under his breath when he sees the full extent. Any deeper than it was then it would have hit your trachea.

After pumping you full of general anesthesia, refusing to let you wake up in the middle of stitching your throat up, he readies his sterilized needle and thread. Namjoon knocks lightly before walking in. “How is she?”

“I gave her anesthesia so she’ll be out for a while. We can keep her in here until she wakes up,” Jin quickly begins sewing your slow bleeding wound.

The cut was about four inches long because you turned your head while the knife was pressed to your neck. Ten stitches later, he finishes and begins on the deeper cut on the palm of your hand.

Namjoon visibly winces when he sees the muscles in your hand twitch. To be fair so does Jin. “Well, I’ll leave her to you,” Namjoon takes his leave before he starts gagging.

When Jin finished, he turned off the IV and carefully took it out of the crook of your elbow. Bandages wrap around your neck, hand, and inner elbow. Jin cleans up his work station, periodically glancing over to you. 

~~~

Your eyes are greeted with harsh light and a headache. You bring your hand to cover your face as you slowly set yourself up on the hospital bed. Your gut twists as you do. You ignore it and swing your legs off the side of the bed.

You really didn’t feel like getting up, but you thought you probably should. You push yourself off the bed, and then you were on the tile. “Dammit.” Your vision blurs for a second and you blink slowly. Your arms refused to push you up so you decide that the ground was not as bad as you thought and laid down.

You tuck your arms beneath your head and just stare up with your droopy eyes. You didn’t know where the hell you were. The cool tile felt nice against your hot skin. But there was a weird cluster of dots on the ceiling panel looked like a smiley face. You chuckle a little, your eyes half lidded. You were comfortable. That is until you hear a low grumbling from your stomach. “Hungry,” you mumble.

Finally, you manage to will yourself to your feet despite your limbs feeling like lead. Hunger was enough to even motivate someone as delusional as you. You shuffle out of the room and begin looking for the kitchen.

At the end of the short hallway, you see what you think is a living room. When you walk towards it, you see a welcoming refrigerator in the open concept kitchen in full view of the living room. Your bandaged hand wraps around the chrome handle of the fridge to open it. You find nothing worth mentioning and grumble. You lumber over to different cabinets to look for something edible. Until finally, you spot the holy grail. Strawberry pop tarts; not even the whole grain kind that they sold at your old high school. Your eyes light up as you snatch the box from the cupboard and take a package.

After putting the empty box back in the cabinet you tear open the wrapper and contently begin munching down on the delicacy. You set the wrapper containing the second pastry on the counter and rested your elbows on the granite. You were too busy with your pop tart to notice the man enter the room. You were too busy to notice him rapidly approaching you with killing intent. In fact, it wasn’t until the pop tart fell out of your hand, and your head slammed against the wall that you notice the man who had you in a chokehold. 

“Who the hell are you?” he seethed. Your vision got fuzzy and you try to blink it away. Your head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton.

“Wha-?”

“You heard me dammit! Who the fuck are you?!” he pressed. Your mind was slow but it was fast enough to notice your lack of oxygen. He leans in and bares a snarl. You claw at his hands weakly and gasp for air.

“I, I-”

“Spit it out!” he squeezes your neck even harder, eyes burrowing into yours. Black seeps into the corner of your vision.

“I just w-wanted a pop tar-”

“Suga put her down! She’s a patient!” Jin heard the commotion and ran over just in time. He sucks in a deep breath. Suga releases his grip and you collapse on the ground. You reclaim the breath you were deprived of. “Shit.” he ran to your side and pushed your chin up. You hiss in pain, feeling your skin stretch painfully His brows furrow together and his lips twist into a frown.

He looks at your neck and the reddened gauze around it. “Ah fuck.” he curses. Jin runs to his office and grabs more gauze pads. Your head rests against the wall, your feet sprawled out in front of you. You look up at Suga with half-lidded eyes.

“Rude, you made me drop my pop tart,” he gave you the strangest look, still not realizing that you were out of it from general anesthetic.

“What are you, ten?” he squints at you. Jin groans and rushes back over.

“No, she’s just hopped up on anesthesia,” he crouches down and unwraps the bandage. He replaces the bloody gauze and secures it again. “You really shouldn’t have come out of that room,” Jin looks at you.

“How was I supposed to know? I just wanted a pop tart. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to it,” you barely manage to stand up and get the pop tart that safely landed on the counter top as well as the one still in the package. before plopping down on the kitchen tile, still glaring at Suga.

Namjoon jogs over to the scene of the commotion, followed by Taehyung and Jungkook. Namjoon does his best to fight off a grin when he sees you pouting on the kitchen floor, “What happened?”

Jin pinches the bridge of his nose as Suga scoffs and you sit cross legged on the floor with a pop tart. “She’s hopped up on anesthesia still and Suga thought she was an intruder and she really wanted a pop tart?” Jin barely manages. Meanwhile, Jungkook enters the room after hearing the commotion.

“Hey is that my pop tart?” you freeze at the accusation from the youngest. In your hand, you held to remaining, untouched pop tart. You break it in half and offer it up.

“Sorry, can we go halfsies?” you ask. Jungkook, thoroughly amused, stepped up and took one half of the pop tart from you.

“Sure, thanks,” he smirks and leans on the counter above you. He watches his elder’s incredulous looks while eating his half of the pop tart. “She offered.” he shrugs. Jin sighs aloud, running his hand through his dark hair.

He looks out the windows, “It’s already past midnight, what should we do with her?” he turns to RM. He grabs his chin and glances at the girl with a bloodstained shirt.

“Well we can’t let her go anywhere with a bloody shirt. And if we let her go like this, people will ask questions. So I guess she’ll stay the night here.” he shakes his head.

~~~

“What the hell? Where the hell?” you wake up with a pounding headache in a foreign room. It looked like a doctor’s office. You look at your reflection in the glass cabinet. You see gauze peeking out from under a large turtleneck sweater. You look down. This isn’t mine, you think. You try to remember what happened last night. Oh right, you left the party and walked around an industrial district.

Oh right.

Your mind fills in the rest of the gory details. Did those people take you? That had to be it. Your bandaged hand pulls back the blanket laid on top of you. You slip on your shoes, which were at the foot of the bed, before cautiously opening the door. The hall was empty.

A shadow passes over the walls and you duck behind the door waiting for it to pass. Your heart hammers in your chest as you cover you mouth to silence your breathing. You wait for a few moments before slinking down the hall to what you think is an exit.

You press your ear against the door, you hear voices and quickly retract from it. It must be some kind of office or master bedroom because it’s huge. You repeat the process until you find a door that has no voices behind it. You open it and it leads to the main hall with elevators. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when you press the down arrow.

It opened and there was someone there. You keep your head down but don’t miss the face of the tall man who brushes past you as he exits. The doors shut and you try to steady your heartbeat. They reopen at the front lobby and you try your best to not sprint to the door.

~~~

“Where were you!? I thought you got kidnapped!” Jennie screeches at you as soon as you open the door. You sigh.

“Sorry, I left my phone off. What happened is the cab took me to the wrong address. It was already super late and there was a motel like a block away so I stayed the night,” you rattle off a lie. She pinches the bridge of her nose, exasperated.

“You really need to stop scaring me like this. You’re paying the bill if I get a heart attack because of you,” she points at you. Luckily, she doesn’t mention anything about the turtleneck sweater that you definitely weren’t wearing last night. The sweater that conveniently covered the large bandages on your neck and palm.

You look at the clock as see it is almost time for your 8:30 chemistry class. You change into some different shorts, almost completely covered by the sweater. Packing your bag with your homework, textbook, pencils, and notebook, you wave farewell to Jennie. Once you get out of your dorm, you stuff earbuds in and make your trek to the science building. You tune out the rest of your surroundings until you are physically in the desk in your class. Eye bags marred your face, showing just how drained you were from whatever the hell happened last night.

You get your things out of your bag and put them on your desk. But out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see someone familiar. Round glasses frame his round eyes. He slings his backpack on his desk. When he juts his jaw out it hits you.

He was one of the men who you encountered in the warehouse. By the time you remembered, it was too late. You made eye contact. His eyes widen and he quickly turns.

When class started, you could barely focus. Why was he hear? Was he in this class before? You could feel his eyes on you. You know your professor was rattling on about radioactive elements or something. Something about poison? You didn’t know. You opt to record the lecture to listen to some other time. 

When classes ended, you packed up your things and start for the door. Someone grabs your injured hand and squeezes it, sending a dull ache through it. You know exactly who it was. 

“Come with me,” he says in a low voice. You don’t hesitate to comply. He drags you out of the classroom, into a taxi, and back into the building you barely escaped this morning. He doesn’t let go of you except in the taxi. You were terrified. 

You could have sliced the tension in the air with a knife when he ushered you into an office on the same floor you woke upon. The leader, you presumed sits at his mahogany desk in a large leather chair. The doctor stands by his side and the other man from last night sits on the edge of the desk closest to you. They all stare at you in various ways. Concern, curiosity, and distaste.

“Have a seat.” a low voice rumbles. He wasn’t giving you an option. You grip the arm of the chair and sit down, trying your best to not bring any attention to your trembling hand. You weren’t quite sure if it was from how hard your hand was squeezed prior or nerves. You use the trick you were taught in school and look directly above his forehead to make it look like you were maintaining eye contact. “Who are you?” the leader wastes no time. He leans back into his chair.

“(y/n).”

“And what were you doing in that warehouse last night?” you swallow hard and shift in the seat.

“I was out walking. I was trying to clear my head and I wandered in,” you tell the truth. He doesn’t believe you. You could tell.

“What were you doing before?”

“I was dragged to a frat party. I left early because it wasn’t having a good time.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. He makes a note that she’s a college student.

“Did you realize what was happening when you got to the warehouse?”

“Not until I had a knife to my throat. I was looking at the graffiti,” you mutter the last part. His tongue prods the inside of his cheek. He notices you have an accent. He can’t seem to place it because he hasn’t heard anything like it before.

“You’re not from here, are you? Where are you from?”His interrogation left you feeling odd. Why was he asking you these things?

“A tiny town in the south. Called Geumil-eup,” his eyebrows raise a fraction. You wouldn’t be able to see it if you weren’t paying attention to his every minute movement. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the mahogany.

“Quite a leap from there to Seoul. What about your parents? What do they think about you moving here?”

You shrug, not quite sure how to respond. “Never got the chance to ask,” you say, somewhat cryptically. “They were gone before I could,” 

The doctor looked taken aback by your statement, “They left you? Why?” His curiosity was alarming. Why were they so interested in you? Why are you even still alive?

You shrug again, “They went on a business to Busan and haven’t come back yet. I don’t know.” They were all left puzzled, including you. The subject was dropped for the moment. Their questions were objective. They had a purpose.

“Anyway, where did you learn to defend yourself?” Their boss inquires. You started to gather that they were trying to figure out if you were connected to the law-breaking or enforcing. 

“Took judo all through middle and high school.” Silently, you gather information about the people in front of you with every gaze. You look around the room, at their clothes, their gestures, posture, anything. This is all real. It’s not some prank with a hidden camera. You were in danger. 

“V,” he motions to the man sitting on his desk. “- is one of the only reason you’re alive. Says he owes you one. Why’s that?”

V, you finally learned his name or probably nickname. V nods as if saying it was okay to say what happened. “A couple weeks back, he stepped into the intersection with a car still driving forward and I pulled him back,”

“It wasn’t just driving forward, it was going at least 50 km per hour. I would have been roadkill if I got hit,” he states bluntly.

“More or less,” you quip.

“Regardless, we should have killed you or at least keep you here for this. But since I have a good feeling, I’ll let you go,” his eyes darken with shadow as he leans forward. “But if I hear a word about today or last night, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Chills run down your spine. Fear gripped your heart as you nod rigidly. “Good, now back to your parents. When did they leave?” you were surprised at his interest even after the whole ‘I’ll kill you’ thing.

“About six months ago, why?” you furrow your brows and he presses his lips into a thin line, clearly trying to piece something together. The room stood silence for an uncomfortably long time. Time seemed like it was frozen.

“What’s your last name?” he breaks the silence. Your parents taught you what to do in this situation. You knew what to do. They said if someone knows your full name, they know everything. Your parents secured a large fortune as company owners despite living modestly. Anyone could be after that. Money makes the world go ‘round after all.

“What should you do on a Sunday?” you ask the question that had been hammered into your head. Only give them your last name if they answer-

“Leave the umbrella at home,” both you and the man’s eyes widen.

“(l/n),” you answer back. As if the fog lifted, he knew exactly who you were. He slumps back in his chair, dumbfounded. His demeanor, as well as everyone else, ’s in the room changed. The (l/n) family? But he said nothing, his expression did not change. “How do you know my parents?”

He didn’t answer you. He didn’t have the heart to. Not yet at least. Instead, he calmly had you escorted outside without another word spoken to you. What you didn’t know is that they now placed you on a no-touch list. It was the least Namjoon could do for your father and mother.

~~~

[sneakywitch-thief]

Words:  4,577 || One-Shot Robert Joseph MacCready/Lucy MacCready

An unlabeled holotape found in a Third Rail trash can.

( A short look into MacCready's past set in the world of my fic "It Had To Be You", but can be read independently.)

Now for all you Johnny Mathis fans out there in the Capital Wasteland, playing ‘til forever, it’s The Twelfth of Never.

Even now, Three Dog’s still running Galaxy News Radio.  

Him and his damn— dang Brotherhood goons.  They’ve got DC in a chokehold and its even got most of the mercs spooked.  The ones that have a shred of a soul, anyway.  After the clean water started flowing it was good for a while, but now.  Now that the Brotherhood’s got its shit— crap together, they took back everything they promised, and then some.  It was all some ploy, I guess, to get us wastelanders in line.

Even Little Lamplight hadn’t been entirely immune to that.

That funny mungo who passed through Little Lamplight never came back, now that I think about it.  Said I looked like her butt and insulted my mom, even with my rifle pointed right between her eyes.  Balls of brass.  Last I heard of her, though, she got herself killed to get the Brotherhood’s little project up and running.  Used her all up too.  She was our friend, she had saved some of the kids.  Hearing she helped the Brotherhood, that mungo, our mungo, well.  We were a bit friendlier to mungos in steel after that.  We didn’t just outright shoot them like we damn right— like we definitely should have.  Lucy even gave them some of our fungus for their drugs and medicines.  It was good for a while.  Life was good, if you can believe it.

Then Lucy and I got big.  Didn’t matter that I had made Little Lamplight what it was.  Rules were rules, even for the mayor.

Big Town was a mess when we got there.  Our kids who got big, well, they had been easy pickings for raiders and slavers and muties.  Our mungo helped them out a bit, so they survived, at least.  We were far enough from DC that we didn’t feel what happened right away.  It was good for a while.  I found work to support me and Lucy guarding caravans.  Got good caps to buy food and Brotherhood Aqua Pura.  Better guns for our big kids in Big Town.  Funny, how I still think of them as kids.  Most were older than me and Lucy, but still.  I had been their Mayor and I had done well by them.  They were good kids, and they were mine.  So I did my all to keep doing that.

I took different jobs, a bit shadier and some a bit less moral, but hey.  I had a wife to feed and my own stomach to fill, don’t judge me.  Lucy kept doctoring for Big Town, even helped travelers and merchants with their brahmin even though she didn’t know a thing about them.  Didn’t stop her from learning.  She wanted to help.  All the time, mothering anyone and everyone and just being so damn— dang— so dang kind.  And the world ain’t kind to kind people.

And true to fashion, the world went and made her an actual mother.  

You ask me how much I need you, must I explain? I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain

I didn’t know quite what to think when she told me.  I still hadn’t even told her what I was actually doing on all those long jobs in the Capital Wasteland.  I told her I was a soldier.  I couldn’t tell her that I was a hired gun for half a dozen merc groups, taking and stealing and killing to put bread on the table.   I don’t know why, I had done worse to protect Little Lamplight when I was mayor and she hadn’t batted an eye then.  But now, married to a girl I didn’t deserve and now to be the father of her child— a father!  The words would just catch in my throat and choke the courage straight out of me.  So I’d slink off to another job or some other thing.  Anything to distract me from the thought of actually being a father, I guess.  The thought of it all terrified me.

When Duncan was finally born, happy and healthy, well.  I was more scared than ever.  He was this tiny and delicate thing, beautiful and perfect, a miracle, and me.  Me, his merc daddy and his mother who knew fuck-all, er, nothing about it all, I wondered what on earth I had done to deserve him.  At first, I felt like I didn’t.  I didn’t spend a lot of time in Big Town, or at the homestead we built together some years later.  There were always more jobs to take and more caps to make.  Looking back I have no clue why Lucy decided to stay with me, but for some reason she stayed.  She stayed and raised our son, built our home, and loved me.

And I was there for almost none of it.

I didn’t see my son’s first steps or hear his first words, and at the time I told myself I didn’t care.  I was making sure we survived and I was providing for them, that was enough.  Jeez, I remember now Lucy playing with him, he was two, I think.  He was smashing together some blocks she had whittled him, she sneaking glances at me as she picked up another of his messes.  And during it all I was pouring over some new rifle or loading pistols.  I don’t remember that anymore, but I thought it was important at the time, I think.  A soldier, I told her I was, gunning for the Brotherhood.  They were the good guys, I would lie to her, we’re making the Wasteland a better place.  And at that she would smile and tell me she was proud of me.  I hated hearing it every time but, hey, if it kept up the lie it was good enough for me.  I remember the guns, Lucy walking up to me and wrapping her arms around my neck, settling her head next to mine.

She told me that she’d be having another.

And I remember being, of all things, mad at her.  Wasn’t one kid enough for her, I had wondered, as if it had been in her control or something.  I was having enough trouble even being able to look at Duncan, being what I was and how I was, I was a pretty shit— no, I think I’ll say it.  I was a pretty shit father and husband, then.  Having two kids with a shit father seemed a bit much, and to me then, well.  Might as well have been the end of the world for me.

So I did what I was best at, lied about having to do a job or something and split.  I think that was my first time to the Commonwealth, after she told me.  Place was almost sh— crappier than the Capital Wasteland, if you could believe it.  Good bar in Goodneighbor to drink away my sorrows.  Spent all the caps I would have earned that job drinking at that bar.

When I came back Lucy was bigger then, and Duncan was too.  They were both so beautiful, waving at me from behind the rows of razorgrain, Duncan running to catch me around my knees.  Daddy, daddy, he was nearly screaming his joy.  That smile, that f— that freaking smile on his face, every time he saw me.  Breaks my heart even thinking about it, now.  Especially now.

Lucy pulled me aside that night and told me she was getting lonely.  Didn’t we have enough to get by now?  Couldn’t we settle down now, raise our children?

God, I loved them so much, but at the time, hell if I knew it.  All I could think about was all the danger around the corner and the caps we needed to stay alive.  I ran on that, I had to.  I couldn’t handle being a husband, a father.  Shooting, stealing, killing — that was what I knew.  What I know.  So I kept doing that.  I brushed her off, telling her raiders and slavers didn’t just stop and settle down.  I had to keep working, getting caps, soldiering as I told her.  Doing my part and fighting the goddamn Good Fight.  More lies to keep her happy, to keep her from knowing who I really was.  And it worked for a while.

You ask how long I'll love you, I'll tell you true Until the Twelfth of Never, I'll still be loving you

She was pretty well along with our second when the Aqua Pura stopped flowing.

Of course, it still was here and there, say through my merc contacts — but the merchants weren’t carrying it anymore.  They couldn’t, they would tell me, the Brotherhood wasn’t giving it freely anymore, and what remained of the purified Potomac was swarming with the horrors of the Wasteland.  They had quit their patrols outside of DC.  Merchants couldn’t even buy the stuff, they had to brave muties and ants and ferals for it at the river.  And of course none of them did.  I had nearly blown one of their heads off, the a fu— freaking coward.  I needed the stuff for Lucy.  She had told me children weren’t easy to have here in the Wasteland, what with all the radiation and the disease and the fighting.  So I only ever got the best for her.  For our kid.  She almost lost Duncan once when I couldn’t get any of the good stuff.  Got so sick she couldn’t even stand, and then the bleeding...  

Ever since, only Aqua Pura would do.

So I went to DC, through all the muties and all the whatever else decided to ‘eff me up that day, and went straight to the Brotherhood.  Cut through all the dang middlemen, get straight to the source, you know?  Well DC was a warzone again, what with the Brotherhood infighting.  It had stopped though, suddenly and without warning, and the streets of DC were quiet.  I remember feeling uneasy about it.  I finally found them holed up in the Citadel, even the red ones.  Something was off, but I didn’t give a damn.  Getting water for Lucy, that was something I could do.

They offered me water in exchange for hired muscle.  Like an idiot, I agreed.  I was part of a team of mercs, some of them I had done less savory work with before, some looked more like raiders than anything.  We were all men and led by one of the reds’ officers, some Paladin.  They called the job a supply run.  Didn’t know why they needed mercs for that, but hey, they were giving me good water so who cared.  We went to some settlement built out of a fallen building.  Not many people there, and it looked like it had seen better days.  Like the rest of us, they were hurting bad for the pure water we had become accustomed to.  Being in the worst of the Wasteland, they were getting the worst of the water.  Many were dead or dying from it.  

That, that was even we could see just looking at them as the red Paladin spoke to some scruffy looking scavver.  The conversation between them wasn’t long, and after it a few bottles of precious Aqua Pura switched hands.  I remember being taken aback by it at first, as I was working for the jerks and I wasn’t getting any until the job was done.  But then the scavver went into his tent and brought out what must’ve been his wife.  She was just as scruffy looking as he was, if not more.   She was quiet.  A little girl clung to her ankles, giggling at being dragged about.  Another child, an older boy, looked somberly on from the door.  I thought of Lucy and Duncan at the sight.  I wanted to see them for some reason, then, so much so my heart ached with it.  But I brushed it off and focused on the job.  We left the settlement, undoubtedly to move to the next one.  I wondered, absently, what kind of supplies we were trying to get.  Or were we just giving them away?  But no, the merchants weren’t getting any.  What gives, I thought to myself, and soldiered on.

The woman and her girl followed us.  When we got far enough from their settlement, the girl got scared and started crying.  Wailing.  Made me think of Lucy back home, across the Potomac and far away from all this.  Was she crying for me, about having to raise Duncan and the next kid all on her own, run the farm, while I was trying to run from it all?  That little girl crying reminded me of all of this and I needed it to stop, immediately. ��The annoyed Paladin shouting back another order to quit it just made it more official.

So I bent down to the girl, remembering Lucy’s tricks to make Duncan calm from his frequent toddler rages.  Puffing out my cheeks, funny faces, the whole thing.  Probably made myself look like an a— like an idiot to the other mercs, but who cares?  I needed that girl to stop crying before I did too.  She thankfully got to laughing then at me, and it was better then.  When I stood and went to move back to spot in formation, the mother spat at me.  She called me cruel.  

Hold me close, never let me go Hold me close, melt my heart like April snow

I shrugged it off, thinking it was just her being naggy or crabby or something, and went back to my position.  When we stopped for the night, and the woman and her child were still following us, I asked why she was there.  The merc I asked, a really shady guy called Neil I had run a heist with a few years back, had instead of answering me, given me a cigarette.  He asked me about how my wife was doing, if she had had her kid or not.  For what I later learned to be good reason, something in my gut told me I shouldn’t answer him.  Something was off.  But I wanted to know, so I told him.  Duncan was as healthy as can be, and a second was on the way.  Lucy couldn’t have literal sh— crap water, so here I was.  Neil just nodded over his cigarette and never answered me.  But at that point, I had got to thinking about her and him and nothing else really mattered anymore.

Suddenly I just wanted the job to be over so I could go home.  I thought seriously about just doing what Lucy told me.  Settle down.  For good, stop doing godda— gosh-dang merc work, farm the earth and be a father, a husband.

The next morning we were off to the next settlement and the Paladin talked to two more men.  The first was a filthy old man, so old I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had dropped dead from a fart right then and there.  The red Paladin gave him three bottles of water and the old man brought out a woman with only one arm. One of many of his women, if what I saw through the open door was right, and most were in similar condition.  She was despondent and wouldn’t answer our questions, but sidled over to our woman and her girl.   We left the old man and his women, despite the pleading looks they gave us.  The Paladin did nothing and neither did we.  As we walked I looked back to the women that followed us.  They must have been good friends or something, I had thought, because they held their hands so hard their knuckles were white.

The next house was more of a tent than anything, and the Paladin talked to this guy who looked like a literal greaseball.  Balding and fat, covered in grime, chewing on some sort of leaf as he listened to the Paladin.  He accepted ten bottles of Aqua Pura with a toothless smile and parted the flap of his tent.  Inside was a teenage girl, so young she wouldn’t even be a mungo by Little Lamplight standards, if she had had the luck to be with us.  She screamed at the sight of the Paladin.

He dragged her out kicking and screaming by the hair.

I really wanted out of the job after that, after I realized what it was.  When we were ordered to shackle her to the other women, the little girl.  When we herded them into the gates of the Citadel.  For my work, I was given five bottles of Aqua Pura, half of what we had bought a teenage girl for, and a sack fat and heavy with caps.  I remember clearly walking home the weight of those caps, that water that felt so tainted with the mark of Brotherhood upon it, the stain of what I had witnessed.  Of what I had done.  What I had stupidly told that, that fucker Neil!  I remember then throwing them all in a dumpster and breaking into a sprint.

Lucy and Duncan were sleeping when I burst through the door, nearly out of breath and muscles screaming from running for miles without rest.  We have to leave, I remember saying, packing up what little we had in a suitcase in a frenzy, we have to go.  Lucy, after she had woken and seen the look on my face, the terror, she didn’t question.  She gathered up Duncan, carried him in her thin arms above her massive belly, and followed me as we ran from the place that had been our home.  A light appeared in the sky in the distance, growing bigger.  I knew immediately what it was and told Lucy and Duncan to stay quiet and hide in the far end of our razorgrain fields.  

I watched with a sinking heart as the vertibird landed outside our homestead, armored men in red and silver milling about.  They kicked open the door when no one answered, began searching when they couldn’t find us.  Their headlamps were approaching.  I don’t know how, I can’t remember from the adrenaline and panic in that moment, but we got past them, only shot at once or twice, and away.  Though I’d like to say far away.  The Wasteland was too empty to evade sight by their Vertibirds, ironically our only safe haven was among the ruins of DC.  I hated the idea of having to go closer to them to get away from them, but there weren’t too many options.

We took the metro system to evade notice, and maybe, flee the Wasteland.  To what lengths would the Brotherhood search for us?

I'll love you 'til the bluebells forget to bloom I'll love you 'til the clover has lost its perfume

Well, we never found out.  The Metros were something both taken and avoided by many.  In the days before the Brotherhood change in leadership, well.  There had been patrols to clear out feral nests and mutant hives.  Not anymore.

All the routes I had learned over the years through my merc jobs, none panned out.  We got lost in the dark twists and turns, we got blocked by locked gates or train cars scattered or busted to hell by explosions or who knows what horrors that walked these tunnels.  Sometimes tunnels carried the echoes of the laughter of drugged-up raider gangs, others the freaky shouting of super mutants.  Hours passed, or minutes that felt like it, I don’t know.  But we were lost in the metro and we were at our wit’s end.

It got dark again, and Duncan was hungry.  When he began to cry, it carried loud and long through the tunnels.  It was shrill and it near made my heart stop.  Lucy did her best to make him stop, but he was inconsolable.  He wouldn’t stop fucking crying, and when I heard the scrambling and the shuffling of feet I knew soon we’d all be.  I yelled at them to hide and we do, in a subway car.  This horde of ferals, more than I’ve seen in my entire goddamn life, come running down the tunnel searching for us.  There’s like, thirty.  Fifty.  I don’t even know how many, but all I’ve got is this stupid fucking hunting rifle from my Little Lamplight days on me.  My arsenal’s back at the house, which is swarming with Brotherhood sons of bitches and now there’s a bunch of ferals between me and them, so I’m fucked.  The thing’s a rusty bolt-action and I’d maybe manage to gun down two or three before we’re torn apart.  They’re slowing now, following the echo, but they don’t know where we’ve gone.  Fucking miracle, that.

I tell Lucy to sneak down the car, past the ghouls and down the tunnel.  I’d stall them here and follow them.  I knew I could outrun them, and I’d distract them from Lucy and Duncan, who were slow.  It’s a fucking dumb-ass plan, but it’s the only one I’ve got, okay?  I tell her to run, I push her when she tries to say no.  She has to, for our kids.  A ghoul hears us, starts walking towards us through the darkness.  It’s face, it’s face freaks out Duncan and he starts screaming again.  Lucy clamps a hand on his mouth but it’s not enough.  She runs off at a sprint, but she’s so pregnant she’s waddling and straining with the effort of it.

Fuck, fuck, fuck it all!

I slam a leg bone from a nearby skeleton into the handles of the subway door and smash open a window with my elbow.  I start firing at the ghouls trying to get in at me, one by one, I fire at their fucking heads.  They explode, bloody and wet and they fall to the ground.  For every one I shoot there’s two more and the bone won’t hold forever.  I hear Duncan still fucking screaming and it’s so much louder here in the tunnels, I can hear it it’s so fucking loud in my ears it hurts, but I keep firing.  As fast as I can I keep firing, and the bone creaks with a sickening snap.  God, they’re breaking through and—

They scramble over each other for me, for flesh, and I keep firing as I run, I have to.  They can’t reach Lucy, they can’t reach Duncan.  I need to fucking stop them or I have to distract them from the screaming from my wailing little boy or something, anything, but god damn it I can’t! One runs past me, then two.  I turn and sprint past them, punching them or kicking them in the back of their melted legs to trip them.  But it’s not enough, it’s not enough!

I catch up to Lucy, and thankfully I’m still ahead of the ghouls.  But her hair’s sticking to her face from the sweat, her face strained from the exertion of the running, from carrying Duncan.  She looks about ready to collapse, but still when she sees me she gives me one of her smiles.  It’s tired and weary from the pain from the running, from fear of the ghouls, but still.  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and the sight of it is burned like a brand into my fucking brain.

I'll love you 'til the poets run out of rhyme Until the Twelfth of Never and that's a long, long time

She trips then, a ghoul has her.  She yelps at it bites at her.  Duncan falls out of her hands and to the ground, hitting his head on the concrete.  Immediately, he’s quiet.  So quiet I can feel, I can hear, my heart drop.  I scream, everything’s falling apart.  My body burns with adrenaline, with fear, with everything as I scoop up Duncan and kick the ghoul in the face.  But there are five more behind them running faster than I can shoot them and their mouths slobbering with hunger, and who knows how many behind them.  I can’t see for shit anymore anyway, there are too many tears.

She sees them too, looking back, and she tells me to run.

Lucy, I can’t just leave you!  I can’t leave you to die!  Lucy!  I’m screaming at her, crying freely now, I can’t stop it.  Thinking about it now, looking back, I feel it again.  God dammit.

She tells me to save Duncan.

I don’t know how I managed to escape the Metro with Duncan, unconscious in my arms, or how I found myself at a farm north of the Capital.  Lucy wasn’t there.  She still hasn’t come back, in these years, though part of me still wants her to come back to me.  I never told her that I loved her, not even as she left herself for the ghouls.  More than anything, I want to tell her that.

I… I want to tell you that.

Duncan’s four now, and I’ve sworn to be better for him, but shit, it’s so fucking hard without you.  He needs a father to be there for him and he keeps asking where his mother is, fuck, he can’t remember your face anymore, Lucy!  He doesn’t remember the Metro, thank god, but he can’t forget you.  Fuck, I can’t forget you.

And now he’s coming down with something real weird and I don’t know what to do.  He’s, he’s sick.  He’s coughing and he’s covered in these blue boils and it’s scaring me to death, the doctors I’ve talked to and wasted all my fucking caps on don’t know anything.  Lucy!  Lucy, I can’t… I don’t know what to do.  Where ever you are, just, just help me.  Please.  I can’t lose him, too, not after losing you.  

I’ve heard about all the tech in the Commonwealth, I’ve seen it.  Before the war that’s where all the egg-heads went, right?  There might be something there, some medicine or something, that might be able to help him.  I’m thinking of leaving him here in the care of this family I’ve been a farmhand for the past year or so.  Don’t worry, they’re good people and I think I can trust them.  If not, I’ve given them a fuckton of caps to keep him safe until I can find a cure for him.

Until the Twelfth of Never and that's a long, long time

But anyway, the caravan I’m leaving with is calling for me.  They’ll leave if I don’t go— well, and I’m sick of hearing that fuck— freaking Brotherhood sellout Three Dog anyway.  Why didn’t I turn off that damn radio before I started recording… and what’s with this song anyway?  So terrible, making my eyes water.

Shit, I said all that while I was recording?  I meant to make something for Duncan for when he was old enough, if I didn’t come back, to remember his old man— but, f-freakin’ heck, this stuff is utter shit.  Said too much.  You’d be better at this, Lucy, I think.  I’ll have to delete this later…

Anyway, I’m headed out so I guess this is goodbye, huh?  I already told Duncan but I guess I should tell you too.  Leaving you two and the Wasteland behind…

Good-bye, Lucy.  I… I love you.

[static.]

[22introuble]

Milk

I don't think I've ever been a big fan of milk, by itself that is. My earliest memories of it is my mom warming it up and giving it to me with a dash of coffee. The flavor was truly exquisite and that may be why I like coffee so much now. Milk itself tho I have never liked it. I watched this documentary that my friend recommended titled "Dairy is Fucking Scary" and ever since then I was like ew milk. When I do drink milk tho it has to be accompanied by something. The only way I drink milk by "itself" and I put this in quotes because it's not truly by itself, is with bread, pan dulce to be specific. I get my glass of milk and dip my bread in it. Usually, I don't finish this because I only eat this when I am at home and my parents normally don't have non-dairy milk because they are not lactose like I am. I haven't been lactose all my life, it happened my first year of college. It might have been a result of my gall bladder surgery but after I left home and started eating at the DC I remember getting a glass of chocolate milk and I had never felt worse. It honestly felt like I had taken a laxative, it was THAT bad. Although I didn't think anything of it then and thought it was just a bad day when I drank milk and it happened again I was like hold awn. I drank milk a couple more times just to make sure and then this thing happened where I didn't get my period for 10 months so I went to the doctor and asked about the milk thing and that's when I found out I had developed an intolerance to milk. At first, I didn't really care and I still kinda don't lmao because I don't consume milk all that much. The only time I was consistently drinking milk was in hs when I was obsessed with cereal and had it for every meal for like a month until my mom stopped me lol. Either than that being lactose hasn't really affected me all that much at least I like to think that. I try to avoid it but there are only so many products that are dairy-free. For example, sour cream, milkshakes, yogurt, cheese, and ice cream. It is so hard to find these items without dairy and when I do find them they are so expensive and sometimes they don't even taste good. Or when I go to coffee shops I forget to ask them for dairy-free milk but that's on me. That's why I don't even take being lactose all that seriously unless I know I'm consuming dairy in large quantities I'm usually good with just a little. I'm not like drinking milk by itself and I usually do a good job at avoiding items that are heavy on dairy because I know what can happen lol. Lately, tho I've been obsessed with Monterey Jack cheese, and obviously, it has dairy so it makes me so bloated and g**** it's not even funny. I can't stop eating it tho like it's so mf good. Besides that now when I drink milk it's either almond, oatmeal, or coconut. There's soy milk but I don't really like that one. Now future me you might be asking yourself why I wrote a damn near essay on milk. Well if you must know I went to Safeway earlier and got pumpkin spice cheesecake ice cream and even though I only ate a little my stomach is killing me. Milk, how weird that that is one of my only weaknesses. This white liquid has me in a chokehold but it's okay because I know how to fight.

[ellygoesnyooom]

RFA + Saeran forget MC: part 2

Aaaand here is round two of three of angst! This has Jaehee and Jumin, the next one will have the Choi bois! Enjoy!

Part one (Yoosung and Zen): here! Part two (Jaehee and Jumin) : x Part three (Saeyoung): here! Part four (Saeran): here!

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of guns, blood, general violence

Jaehee

The day was normal for the two of you; you opened up the café, worked hard to please the customers, and finally closed later that night. It was just the two of you, about an hour after closing, and you both were washing dishes. She was drying, and you were elbows-deep in frothy bubbles. She had music from Zen’s musical playing through the radio, and you both sang along, having memorized the words.

“Dance with me, Jaehee!” You called happily, taking your arms out of the water and grabbing her hand, dragging her towards the center of the room. You didn’t even bother drying your hands. “MC, the dishes!” She tried to reason with you, but quickly gave in, tossing the towel in her hand off to the side and grabbing your other soap-filled hand in hers. You two danced happily, singing along to the song and gliding not-so-gracefully around the shop. She rested her forehead on your shoulder, hers shaking from laughing so hard. This was the happiest you had ever seen Jaehee, and it warmed your heart to see her so carefree.

When the bell chimed above the front door, you both froze and turned. The music was still playing, echoing throughout the café, but that was long forgotten as a man stood in the doorway, a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Sorry, sir, we’re closed. We’ll be open tomorrow morning if you-“

“I’m not here for coffee,” He growled, and as soon as the door shut, he locked it. Jaehee’s hand tightened in yours as you both stood, wide-eyed as the man approached and withdrew a gun. “Okay, lovebirds, put your hands in the air.” You wanted to spit a snide remark at him, but with a gun involved, you quickly let go of Jaehee’s hand and raise them up in front of you. Jaehee stared, wide eyed, yet did the same. “Okay, you two, where’s all the money stored?”

“We don’t store our money here. It’s in the bank.” It wasn’t a lie, but that sure did make the robber mad. He jumped forward and wrapped Jaehee up in a chokehold, pressing the gun to the side of her head. You sucked in a breath, watching as she struggled in his grip. “Okay miss, if you won’t tell me where the money is, I’ll have to take this little lady’s life. Now, we don’t want that, right?” You shook your head and started to turn, when he snapped, “No,you stay facing me so that I know you aren’t trying to pull any funny business! And keep those hands up!” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly started backing up, but then realized how to get Jaehee free. You subtly waved your hand, which brought Jaehee’s eyes to you. “Judo,” you mouthed over and over until realization crossed her face.

“What are you doing, praying? Get me the money, damnit!” You continued to back up until you bumped into the counter, then started to feel your way around it to the back of the shop. He followed, shoving Jaehee forward, who had her eyes shut in concentration. “It’s right under here,” You told him. “Let me kneel down and-“ He interrupted you. “Nope, no can do. I will do it, so that I know there isn’t any funny business going on.” He started to kneel down, but since Jaehee was about half a foot shorter than the man, she jumped up, her head colliding with his jaw. Then, she jabbed her hands back into his gut, using that to break herself free and grab the gun from his hands. “Oh, so little lady knows Judo, I see,” he sneered, a grin breaking out on his face. “Great, this will be fun.”

You didn’t know Judo, so you left Jaehee to fight off the man while you ran to grab your phone. With shaky hands, you dialed the emergency service, and quickly whispered to the operator the required information. When you heard a strangled cry from Jaehee, you whipped around, fear soaking you to the bone. She was sprawled on the ground, and the man was standing above her, the gun aimed at her chest.

“No!” You cried, throwing the phone onto the counter, still on the line with the operator, and dived in front of Jaehee, just in time for him to shoot the gun. The bullet hit your arm, but through the adrenaline coursing through you, it didn’t hurt too badly. “I called the police, and they are still on the line, and will be on the way here, so I suggest you take your gun and bad-boy façade and skedaddle. Or stay, it’s your choice. Either way, you will be caught and thrown in jail for what you have done here.” You threw your arm out with a hiss of pain and grabbed the gun, yanking it from the man’s hands and aimed it at him. ”Go.” The man stared down the barrel at you before quickly turning and bolting from the store.

You threw the gun across the room with your good arm and went to your phone, telling the operator that you had been shot and your girlfriend was unconscious on the floor before hanging up and rushing to her side. Carefully, you put her head in your lap and grabbed the towel from off the counter above you to tie around your wound. “You’ll be okay, Jaehee, you’ll be okay,” you whispered, the only other sound Zen’s musical echoing throughout the room.

When the doctors let you go later that night, you went straight up to ICU, where Jaehee was. The nurses allowed you to go in, so you did, and went straight to her side. Her hand, the one you had held in your own soap-filled hand, now had IV’s taped into them. Her eyes, once open and glittering, were now shut. Monitors beeped and whirred around her, broadcasting her vitals and heartbeat. She didn’t belong in here. If that man hadn’t come in, they wouldn’t have been in the hospital in the first place.

It didn’t take long for her to wake up, but when she did, you almost wished she hadn’t. The first words from her mouth were not what you had expected. “Who are you? Why am I in the hospital?” You swallowed back your tears before saying, “It’s me, Jaehee. It’s MC. You don’t remember me, do you?” She shook her head slowly, eyes analyzing your face. “I’m your girlfriend, and our café was just robbed. You fought off the robber, but he must have knocked you down, and you hit your head on the counter or something of that nature and got knocked out.” She looked confused. “I don’t own a café; I work for C&R as Chief Assistant.” Slowly, you shook your head. “No, Jaehee, Jumin fired you months ago. You opened the Café and asked me to be your partner.”

She bit her lip and turned away, so you took that as your cue to leave and grab a nurse. Before you exited, you told her you would be back, whether she heard or not was unknown to you. You stopped by the nurse’s station and told them what you observed with Jaehee, and left.

The next day, you came back to her sitting up and flipping through TV channels aimlessly. When she realized you were there, she turned the TV off and turned her attention to you. “You came back.”

“Of course I did, Jaehee.”  A small smile turned her lips up. You smiled back and pulled a chair up to the edge of her bed and sat down. “So, you say we are dating. And I was fired from C&R months ago. And I own a café.” You nodded, chewing on your lip. “That would explain why I have long hair right now,” she murmured, which made you chuckle. “Yep.” You fell quiet as she gathered her thoughts, then spoke. “I…believe you. You feel very familiar to me, like I’ve met you. And I always loved coffee, so the café makes sense. But why I was fired is beyond me.”

You took an hour to tell her about when you showed up in the chatroom, all the way up to yesterday. During that time, she took it all in, eyes and ears only for you. A nurse came in to check on her vitals, but other than that, her attention was solely on you. When you finished, she had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t remember you. I’m trying, but I can’t.”

“It’s fine.” You took her hand in yours and squeezed. She squeezed it back, just like the night before. “I understand that you won’t remember everything that has happened, and I understand we may need to start from scratch. I’m perfectly fine with that, so long as I still have you. So don’t fret about this, okay? We will make it through, together.” You wiped a tear from her eyes, and she smiled softly. “Yes, we will. Thank you, MC.”

She never got her memory of you back, but in place of the lost memories, you two made even more. She always enjoyed hearing about stories from before the accident, and you were always glad to tell them. She was always grateful for what you sacrificed due to her amnesia, and you showed it back with your love and patience. It was hard, but you both worked together, and came back stronger than before.

 Jumin

It was snowing as he made his way down to the car waiting for him. Driver Mei Kim was waiting in the front seat as he slid into the back seat, brushing off the snow from his jacket. “To the penthouse?” Driver Kim asked, to which Jumin answered, “Yes, and make it quick. My darling MC is waiting alone with Elizabeth 3rd.” Driver Kim nodded, and pulled into the street.

Jumin was particularly excited to see you this day, as he was returning home from a week long business trip. He wanted to bring you so that you wouldn’t be lonely, but he would be tied up every day of the trip and wouldn’t have enough time to spend with you.  You would have just been sitting alone in the strange hotel room with nothing much to do, so he decided to leave you back.

He was going crazy at the slow pace the car was travelling. Everyone had reduced speed in the storm, the white flakes falling and whirling around the car in a white blur. Gosh, if he wanted to go this slow he would have walked! He would have taken the helicopter, but the harsh weather conditions would have made that both difficult and dangerous, so his only option was by car.

When the building came into view, his knees started to bounce slightly in impatience, but he kept his face straight and emotionless. He only let his guard down around you, of course.

As soon as the car was stopped, he didn’t wait for someone to help him out; he opened the door, stepped out, and started to briskly walk up to the door. “Mr. Han, wait! Slow down! The sidewalk hasn’t been salted yet! It’s icy!” He didn’t hear this soon enough. He took another step, still at the same speed, and his foot slipped out from underneath him. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His arms started to flail as he teetered, forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards, until finally he fell backwards and kept going. He didn’t have enough time to catch himself, and fell onto the cement with a loud crack as his head collided with the concrete. Everything disappeared after that.

“Mrs. Han, you need to come downstairs quickly. Mr. Han has fallen and is about to be taken to the hospital via ambulance.” You stumbled back in shock. Jumin fell? And is downstairs, being ready to be taken to the hospital?

“I will be down in a second. Don’t let the ambulance leave yet.” You slammed the door and ran to grab your jacket and shoes, not even bothering to put them on until you made it to the elevator. You slammed your hand down on the main level button and slid your shoes on, watching as the doors closed agonizingly slow. “Come on, come on!” You yelled as it leisurely started its descent. The elevator kept stopping for various people to climb on or get off, and eventually, around the 30th floor, you bolted off the elevator. You ran as fast as you could, not caring who was watching or who you pushed aside. Once you reached the stairwell, you flung yourself down, running fast as you could down.

By the time you made it downstairs, you were panting and gasping for breath, but you could see the flashing lights of the ambulance outside, and see silhouettes of people moving about outside. The doors pushed open, and ran into someone who let out a surprised gasp, but you ignored them, carefully picking your way over to the ambulance. The paramedics were preparing to shut the door, telling one of the bodyguards they couldn’t wait any longer. You could see his figure on the stretcher, and men working around him. “Wait! I’m Mrs. Han, let me on!” The paramedics stopped, gave one look to her, and gestured for her to get on. You waved away any help and hopped in, settling yourself on his right side.

“I’m here, Jumin,” You choked out, gripping his hand. It was cold from the chilling temperature outside, and you wrapped your hands around his, warming it up as the ambulance took off, the sirens wailing.

The ride there was only a few minutes long. When you arrived, you were whisked away from Jumin. He was taken one way, and you were taken another to fill out paperwork. If Jumin were awake right now, he would be furious that you were alone without a bodyguard, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

You settled yourself into one of the hard plastic chairs and filled out the seemingly endless stack of papers. By the time you were done, all of the RFA had showed up. It was in the news, and they came as soon as they heard. How they knew which hospital he was in was beyond you, but you assumed since Seven showed up first, it was he who used his hacking skills to tell the RFA where they were.

Finally, a nurse came in and said he could have one visitor at a time. You stood up, wrapping your coat around you tighter as you followed her to the hospital room he was in. There were already bodyguards waiting outside, but they knew you and allowed you in.

Pushing the door open, you saw him sitting up, eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. It pained you to see him reduced to the scratchy hospital gown and uncomfortable bed, but this was going to help him. His eyes opened and scanned over your face as you came closer and sat next to him. When you tried to grab his hand, he yanked it away. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

That stung. “Jumin, it’s me. MC? Your wife? The bodyguards let me in.” No light graced his eyes, and they stayed steely and cold. “I am not married.” You scoffed and grabbed his hand, pointing out your matching wedding bands. “We are married, Jumin. I’m your wife, you are my husband.” At that moment, a nurse came in. Her eyes scanned over the situation going on, at you showing him your matching wedding rings. “She didn’t tell you, did she?” the woman asked you, and you could only assume she meant the nurse who showed you in. You shook your head.

“He is suffering temporary memory loss due to the trauma of him hitting his head on the cement. It should be back in a day or so, so don’t worry. The doctor has deemed it a grade three concussion, but only because he was unconscious for 24 minutes.” Jumin tensed in the bed beside you, but didn’t say anything as the nurse checked his vitals and warned you that you had five more minutes before leaving you two alone again.

“So, ‘MC’. We are married? Since when? I feel nothing when I look at you. Plus, all I need is Elizabeth 3rd to keep me happy, what makes you any different?” Tears started to well up in your eyes at this. You knew the nurse said this should pass, but what if it doesn’t? What if you lose your husband to a snowstorm? “…I’ll be waiting for you at home, my love.” You brought his hand up to your face and pressed a kiss to the backside before he could react, and stood up, leaving the hospital room.

“I’m ready to leave,” You told one of the body guards outside the door, who then paged Driver Kim. “He will be waiting outside the front doors for you, Mrs. Han. Have a safe drive home,” The guard said, giving your shoulder a sympathy squeeze before you turned and left. As you passed the waiting room, you saw Jaehee standing off to the side, talking on the phone with someone. Yoosung, Zen, and Seven were sitting in the chairs, murmuring amongst themselves. You decided you would just tell them via the chatroom that you left, and exited out the front doors. Driver Kim was waiting out front, and you slid in, slamming the door and asking him to take you home.

  The next day, Jumin arrived home, but his memory was still gone. The doctor had given him pain medication for his concussion and instruction to not work or strain his brain for the next few days. You were left in charge of making sure he didn’t, but that was easier said than done when he didn’t even remember how you met, or who you were. It was as if you were a stranger who lived with him and knew his deepest secrets, and you could tell he didn’t like that.

“Jumin, you can’t do that, go back and rest.” That would result in him kicking you out of that room as he worked. That repeated, until the only rooms you were allowed in were the guest bedroom, the bathroom connected to that, and the kitchen. So that is where you stayed. You sent him texts to remind him to take his meds, and send him good morning/night text messages, but that is all the contact you had with your husband for two days. You weren’t even allowed to go by Elizabeth 3rd.

It was the end of day three of the memory loss. You were starting to worry that he would never remember you. Worst-case scenarios ran through your mind constantly, breaking you down until you just lay in bed for the whole day. When a knock sounded, you thought it was a bodyguard making sure you were okay. “Go away! I’m not dead in here!” You shouted, but the door opened anyways. You sat up quickly in bed, ready to tell the guard off, but stopped short when you saw Jumin standing there, eyes glittering. “I remember.” That is all he said. The two words brought tears to your eyes as he came closer, sat down on the bed, and engulfed you in his arms.

You two just sat like this, him holding you as you cried into his shirtfront while rocking gently back and forth. “I’m sorry, my love. I feel horrible that I did not remember you and treated you as if you were a prisoner in your own home.” You leaned back to look him in the eyes. His hand came up and brushed the tears from your face as you spoke. “That was not your fault. Yes, I did feel bad, and yes, I did miss my husband’s embrace as I slept, and yes, I did struggle. But you know what, dear?” You took his cheeks between your palms. “You remembered. I don’t know what brought it back, but you remembered, and that’s all that matters. Let’s move on from this, shall we?” He nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before drawing you to him.

“Uh, Jumin?” You murmured into his chest. “Yes, my love?”

“Am I allowed out of the guest bedroom now?” A deep chuckle vibrated through his chest as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, yes you are.”