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arilevenatz · 4 months ago

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Ateez as dark entities

Pairing: ot8!Ateez x reader

Genre: Dark shit

Warnings: dark and twisted themes, yandere themes, damn I suck at writing warnings, please lmk what I can add here

Synopsis: Ateez as dark entities who are obsessed with you. How would that go? (I would be writing this in the third perspective)

Masterlist

Hongjoong: The Puppeteer

A sinister mastermind who controls people’s actions like marionettes, manipulating reality with strings of fate. His words weave deception, pulling the world into his chaotic play.

He saw her in a crowd, but unlike the others, she wasn’t swayed by his unseen strings. Her free will intrigued him, an anomaly in his perfectly controlled world. He watched her for days, testing how much influence he had over her actions. When he realized she resisted, his obsession grew. He needed to break her, to weave her into his masterpiece—his perfect marionette.

At first, she wouldn’t even realize she was being controlled. Hongjoong would make subtle changes—her thoughts, her actions, her choices—until everything she did led her straight back to him.

Her friends would start acting differently, nudging her toward him. Strangers would mention his name as if he was always meant to be in her life. It was a web of manipulation, and she was tangled in it before she even knew.

The moment she tried to break away, she’d feel it—the invisible strings tightening around her wrists. She’d find herself going back to him, no matter how much she resisted. Even when she thought she was making her own choices, they all led back to Hongjoong.

By the time she realized she had never truly been free, it was too late. She was already a puppet in his hands.

Hongjoong wouldn’t resort to mindless violence. No, his punishments would be calculated—surgical.

A single flick of his fingers, and her limbs would move without her consent, forced into painful contortions. She’d feel the strain in her muscles, the stretch of her tendons beyond what they were meant to endure. But he wouldn’t let her break. Not yet.

“I don’t like hurting you,” he’d say, watching as she trembled under his control. “But if you insist on disobeying, I will teach you.”

And just when she thought she’d collapse from the pain, he’d release her—only to hold her close, stroking her hair as she whimpered. “See? If you just behave, you won’t have to suffer.”

Seonghwa: The Phantom Monarch

A cursed ruler who lingers between life and death, draped in shadows and whispering forgotten prophecies. His touch brings both solace and despair, a ghostly presence haunting his own kingdom.

She entered the ruins of his long-forgotten kingdom, unaware of the ghostly presence watching her. When she touched his throne, a flicker of warmth pulsed through his cold existence for the first time in centuries. He had been a ruler without a queen, a soul without purpose. Now, he had one. If she could make him feel, then she belonged to him.

Seonghwa’s trap was patience. He didn’t chase—he lured. Whenever she left a place, she’d feel his presence lingering behind, just out of sight.

She’d hear his voice in the wind, see his reflection in darkened windows. He became an inescapable part of her world, an unseen force watching her every move.

Then, one night, the world would shift. She’d wake up in a place that looked like her home but wasn’t. The furniture was the same, the air smelled familiar, but the sky outside was an endless void. The door wouldn’t open, the windows showed nothing but darkness.

She’d turn—and there he’d be, standing in the doorway. “You wandered too far,” he’d say, tilting his head. “Now, you can never leave.”

Seonghwa wouldn’t strike her. He wouldn’t even touch her.

But he’d make her feel like she was dying.

He’d whisper a few words, and suddenly, the air would vanish from her lungs. No oxygen, no relief—just the slow, creeping suffocation of her own body betraying her. He’d watch her fall to her knees, eyes wide in terror, clutching at her throat as she silently begged for mercy.

Only when she was on the verge of unconsciousness would he allow her to breathe again. He’d catch her before she hit the floor, his voice a soothing lullaby.

“I hate doing this,” he’d murmur, wiping away the tears streaking her face. “But you need to understand. You are mine.”

Yunho: The Hollow Jester

A deceivingly cheerful trickster whose laughter hides an empty soul. He thrives on others’ misery, playing twisted games that always end in despair, his mask concealing a haunting void

She laughed. It was a sound so genuine, so full of life—something he lacked. He saw her in the reflection of a shattered mirror, a place where only twisted souls should exist. But she was untouched, pure. He had to change that. He wanted to see how long she could keep that smile once she stepped into his world of madness.

Yunho would make her question reality itself. It would start small—objects moving from where she left them, voices whispering from places they shouldn’t be.

She’d see glimpses of him in mirrors, but when she turned around, he wouldn’t be there. He wanted to break her mind before he claimed her.

Then, one day, she’d wake up in a world that wasn’t hers. The people around her would wear empty smiles, their laughter hollow and unsettling. No matter where she ran, she’d always end up back at the same place—a grand, eerie carnival with no exit.

And at the center of it all, sitting on his throne of illusions, was Yunho, grinning as he held out his hand. “Welcome home.”

Yunho would turn it into a game—a cruel, endless game.

She’d wake up in a room she didn’t recognize, doors stretching in every direction. “If you can find the real exit,” his voice would echo from nowhere, “I’ll let you go.”

Desperation would push her to run, to fling open door after door, but each one led somewhere worse—a room full of mirrors reflecting her worst fears, a hallway that stretched infinitely, a pit of darkness with no end. The sound of his laughter would follow her, amused and patient.

Finally, when she was broken, exhausted, curled in a corner with silent tears, he’d crouch beside her, brushing her hair back. “See?” he’d whisper. “You’re always safest when you stay with me.”

Yeosang: The Watcher in the Mirror

An entity that exists within reflections, observing silently and waiting for the right moment to step into reality. Those who meet his gaze feel their deepest fears manifest before them.

She looked into the mirror, and he looked back. Unlike the others, she didn’t turn away in fear. She stared, as if searching for something. That was the first time someone acknowledged his existence without terror. He had been watching her long before she noticed him, but now, she had seen him. And once you see the Watcher, he never lets you go.

Yeosang never had to chase her—she was the one who kept looking for him. Every time she passed a reflective surface, his eyes were there, watching.

She should have stopped looking, should have turned away. But she didn’t. Curiosity turned into obsession, and that was his trap.

One day, she’d reach out to touch the glass, and it wouldn’t be solid anymore. Instead of her reflection, it would be his hand reaching back. A single pull, and she’d fall through, tumbling into his world—a place made of endless reflections, where only he could find the way out. But there was no escape.

“You searched for me,” he’d whisper, his lips brushing against her ear. “Now, you’ll never stop seeing me.”

Yeosang would make her lose herself.

The first cut would be shallow—a single line down her palm, bleeding just enough to stain the floor. But the reflection in the mirror? It would be so much worse.

In the glass, she’d see herself covered in wounds, skin marred by deep, jagged gashes. Her breath would hitch—was it real? She’d feel no pain, but the sight alone would break her, make her wonder if her body was even her own anymore.

“Which version of you do you think is real?” Yeosang would ask, voice soft, cruel. “The one standing here? Or the one who’s already been ruined?”

By the time he was done, she wouldn’t be sure if she was whole anymore.

San: The Wrathborn Beast

A relentless, cursed creature with uncontainable fury, lurking in the darkness and striking with unmatched ferocity. His hunger for vengeance keeps him shackled in eternal torment.

She was the first to step into his cage without trembling. His rage had driven everyone away, but she stood there, eyes locked with his, unafraid. He hated it at first—the way she didn’t cower. But then, he realized something. If she could stand before a monster without fear, then she was strong enough to endure him. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, and she was the only one worthy of staying.

San knew she was drawn to him despite the danger. He let her think she had control, that she could leave whenever she wanted. But every time she walked away, something inside her ached. She craved the thrill, the way his presence sent a shiver down her spine.

That was his trap—making her believe she chose him when, in reality, he had chosen her from the start.

The day she finally tried to leave for good, he didn’t stop her. Instead, he let her feel the emptiness, the unbearable absence of him. And when she inevitably returned, desperate for the chaos only he could give, he was waiting.

“You walked into the lion’s den, little lamb,” he murmured, arms caging her in. “You should’ve known you’d never walk out.”

San wouldn’t hold back. He wouldn’t lie to himself about what he was doing.

When he was angry, when she had truly pushed him too far, his grip would be punishing. His fingers would dig into her skin hard enough to bruise, his voice low with fury.

“You want to run? Fine. Let’s see how far you can crawl.”

A single shove would send her to the floor, and he wouldn’t help her up. Instead, he’d watch as she struggled, as she realized how weak she was compared to him.

And when she finally gave up, when she curled up at his feet, he’d sigh—exhausted, but satisfied.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he’d whisper, pulling her into his arms despite her flinching. “I don’t like hurting you. But I won’t let you leave me either.”

Mingi: The Nightmare Poet

A being whose words shape reality, crafting dreams that turn into horrifying nightmares. His voice echoes in the minds of those who hear him, driving them to madness.

She dreamed of him before they ever met. His words had slipped into her mind, shaping her thoughts, her fears, her desires. He whispered stories in the dead of night, and she listened. When she finally saw him in the waking world, there was no shock—only recognition. She had belonged to him from the first nightmare, and now, he was here to claim her.

Mingi’s trap was set long before she ever met him. He had been in her dreams for weeks, whispering poetry laced with shadows, planting fears only he could soothe.

Every night, she dreamed of him. Every morning, she woke up with the lingering echo of his voice in her mind. She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. She was drawn to him, to the way his words made her feel like she belonged in his world of nightmares.

Then, one night, she wouldn’t wake up. She’d open her eyes to find herself in a realm made of her own fears, with Mingi standing at its center.

“You kept listening,” he’d say, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “And now, you’ll never wake up without me.”

Mingi’s cruelty would be subtle—a slow, creeping thing.

She’d wake up with her memories altered. One moment, she’d remember everything—the pain, the fear, the desperate attempt to run. The next? She’d remember nothing but warmth, love, the softest touch.

Which was real? Which was a lie?

She’d claw at her own skin, desperate to remember what was true. And Mingi would watch, amused, patient.

“You’re overthinking,” he’d coo, pulling her hands away so she couldn’t hurt herself further. “Just trust me. I’ll tell you what’s real.”

And by the time he was done, she wouldn’t even realize she had ever wanted to leave.

Wooyoung: The Siren of Shadows

A deadly seducer whose beauty and charm lure souls into eternal darkness. His whispers are irresistible, drawing victims into an abyss from which they can never escape.

She heard his voice first, a soft melody in the dark. It called to her, leading her deeper into the unknown. He watched her hesitate, but her curiosity won. When she finally laid eyes on him, she was already too far gone. He smiled. She had walked willingly into his grasp, and now, he would never let her leave.

Wooyoung’s voice was her downfall. It was everywhere—in the music she listened to, in the whispered words she thought were her own thoughts.

He sang her name in the wind, in the rustling of leaves, in the quiet hum of the night. The more she listened, the more she needed to hear him. That was his trap—addiction.

By the time she realized she was bound to his melody, she was already too deep. His voice was the only thing that felt real.

And when he finally stood before her, holding out his hand, she didn’t resist. “You’ve already fallen,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear. “Now, let me pull you under.”

Wooyoung wouldn’t need to use force. Love itself would become her prison.

He’d kiss her through the pain. His lips would trail over bruises he had left, his fingers tracing over the bite marks he had carved into her skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he’d whisper against her lips, voice trembling with emotion. “But you keep forcing me to.”

And the worst part? He’d be so gentle afterward. He’d hold her in his arms, press kisses to every wound, wipe away her tears with shaking hands. Guilty. Apologetic.

But he’d do it again. And again.

Until she stopped trying to fight it.

Jongho: The Titan of Ruin

A monstrous force of destruction, his strength shatters worlds. He is an unstoppable force, cursed to bring devastation wherever he treads, his very existence a harbinger of doom.

He found her in the aftermath of destruction—standing amidst ruin, untouched by the chaos he created. She should have run. She should have feared him. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached out, as if daring to touch the force that could crush her in an instant. He had never hesitated in destruction, but for the first time, he held back. If she was unafraid of his power, then she was the only one worthy of standing beside him.

Jongho didn’t need tricks or illusions—his trap was raw, undeniable power. He was a force of nature, and she was the only one who dared to stand before him.

He let her believe she could handle him, that she could walk away whenever she wished. He admired her stubbornness, but he knew the truth—she was already his.

When the time came, he didn’t give her a choice. The ground beneath her feet would shatter, the walls around her would crumble. There would be no escape, no safety. And when she turned to him, the only solid thing amidst the chaos, he’d hold out his hand.

“The world is too fragile for you,” he’d murmur. “Stay with me. I’ll make sure nothing ever takes you away.”

Jongho wouldn’t need tricks or illusions. He would simply remind her of who was stronger.

The moment he caught her, he’d pull her against his chest, his grip firm—unbreakable. “Are you done?” he’d ask, voice calm, but with an edge that sent shivers down her spine.

And when she refused to answer, when she still clung to the last scraps of defiance, he’d hold her tighter. Until she gasped for air, until she realized there was no winning against him.

Only then would he let go, letting her crumble to her knees. “Next time,” he’d murmur, crouching beside her, “I won’t be so gentle.”

But she knew there wouldn’t be a next time. Because now, whenever she even thought about running… she’d remember the feeling of his arms caging her in, and she’d know—

She’d never escape him.

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andvys · 5 months ago

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The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ Prologue

⭐︎ When the sun hits, she’ll be waiting

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, post apocalypse, grumpy!steve x sunshine!reader, gore, blood, mean!steve

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Another patrol. Patrols he's been doing for a whole year, and nothing ever changes. Maybe he had to kill one demodog, or demobat, but overall, it was the same walk, the same stance, the same weariness… only this time, something new appeared in his walk.

Word count: 4.8k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I are back with another Steve series, I hope you're as excited as I am, you got a lot of angst, fluff and smut coming your way! And also, shoutout to @ghost-proofbaby who picked the title for this story, thank you my love

series masterlist

☀︎

It was funny.

He had watched apocalypse movies. He had seen the terrible visual effects done with strawberry syrup, the gelatin that exploded pretending to be brains and flesh, the people becoming zombies and doing loud and stupid moans in their chase. He knew the apocalypse would never look like that, but he also never believed he would live in something very much alike, and not at all a movie.

They had not defeated Vecna. They have killed him, but defeated? No. He is gone but he left behind the world he created, he reached his goal and got what he wanted, something that Steve and the others were very blind to at first, they watched him die; they burned his body to make sure that he was gone for good. They thought they won, but it was a false victory, one that gave them all the opportunity to recover, opportunities that included them trying to become a town again, yet after three months of what they thought was safe, the first demogorgon crawled out of the big gates that were created. Killed instantly. Then another. Then twenty. Then a hundred. Demogorgons, demobats, demodogs, and other upside down creatures... and this time, they came with infectious venom.

Venom that turned people into bloodthirsty, flesh eating monsters with nothing but death in their eyes, people turned into monsters who became part of Vecna’s army, crawling into homes and houses, spreading way too quickly and unable to be stopped from claiming not only the town but all of the country and soon the whole globe.

They noticed when it was already too late, when the world was already too far gone and the lives of many were lost and claimed by darkness.

When the realization started sinking in and he saw, felt the panic, the fear, the desperation, the dread and death, he felt like he was going to lose himself, knowing that the world he once knew was gone and never to be brought back again, that it was all lost and someday to be forgotten but a feeling he hadn’t noticed yet was acceptance.

Because if anyone knew how to adapt, then it was him. Unlike many others, he had no home that he lost, he never had one in the first place. His parents' house was only ever a big lonely space that he never found comfort in until his friends filled that space with warmth and laughter, laughter that still echoes in his ears whenever he thinks of simpler times, laughter that he thinks he will never hear again.

The house is now even emptier and colder than before, claimed by vines, dust and spider webs, just like most of the houses in Hawkins are… or the rest of the world. He passed familiar houses before, Dustin’s home and Lucas’s, he only glanced at them, not bearing to look longer, not wanting to feel, not wanting to look back at what he lost.

The gun in his hand feels light, nothing like it used to feel the first few times he had to hold one or use one. His footsteps are barely audible as he walks through the empty cul-de-sac, eyes focused and eyebrows furrowed, he is on high alert, he always is, even when he doesn’t have to.

He feels relaxed, despite the circumstances, despite the death that could be waiting around any corner, he feels relaxed. He walks past the abandoned cars and houses, watching out for any creature that could come crawling out from any hole. A lone plushie lies on the ground, dirty and splattered with blood – a sight that would have made him sick a year ago, thinking about whose blood it could’ve been, now makes him feel indifference. He had seen so many ugly, disturbing things, nothing truly fazes him anymore, it’s awful and sometimes he wonders if he is still a good person or if the horrors of this world have turned him into a monster as well, if the darkness had claimed him too like it had claimed the sick people. Sometimes he feels pain, sometimes he feels nothing but today he feels a sliver of sadness, one that he swallows down as quickly as it comes, he can’t stand it.

The sun shines down on him but he barely feels the warmth even though it’s there, the light of it illuminates the empty road ahead of him, the chaos left behind, the rotten grass and the dead flowers, they don’t grow anymore, the birds don’t sing anymore, he wonders if there are even any left in this world, most have died, just like the ones he used to see every day, they have died.

A soft huff falls from his lips when he notices that the laces on his boots have come undone, he stops walking and looks around, making sure that nothing and nobody will creep up on him the moment he kneels down, he would be surprised if something like that still happened around here though. Hawkins is empty of people and monsters, it was only the doorway for them to get through to get to the rest of the world, this place is just as abandoned as the houses are.

The houses where his friends used to live. Where Lucas used to live. Dustin. The Wheelers. The Byers. That home that was lived in by other people last year. His house. Those remained intact, yet empty and filled with vines, darkness, dust of the memories from those who once lived in there. The only place that got swallowed whole was Forest Hills trailer park. Where Max used to live. Where Eddie used to live.

Placing the gun in his holster, he kneels down and reaches for the undone laces, wasting no second to tie them. His ears pick up on any sound, on the wind that howls through the bushes and the trees, through the broken windows, the bells that still hang from the ceilings on the empty porches. His eyes never stay focused on only the task before him, he is always ready to fight, to kill but it’s been a while since he had to use his gun or a machete, or even his bat.

But today the hairs on his neck stand up for the first time in a while. Goosebumps arise on his skin and he feels it, a presence behind him. Steve swallows harshly, not knowing what to expect the moment he turns around, a demogorgon, a demodog or a sick one. He ties the knot on his boot, tightly.

Unlike a few months before, he no longer feels fear whenever he is about to stare evil in it’s eyes, he no longer dreads it, he no longer feels his heart skipping or racing, he feels nothing anymore.

He reaches for his gun and jumps to his feet, raising his arm and the gun, turning on his heel and aiming at the presence that lingered behind him, the one that would have normally lunged at him by now but it’s not a creature staring back at him nor is it a sick person, a sick person wouldn’t raise her arms up in surrender or step back in fear.

“Hang on! I’m not bitten! I’m alive, I’m still alive!” Your voice is panicked, your eyes are too.

Steve’s jaw is clenched, his eyes move up and down your body, taking in the state of your clothes first, no holes or tears in them, they are clean – clean for the end of the world. Your hair is tied, hanging down your shoulders in two braids, there are knives tucked into your belt and a gun in your thigh holster that you have no intent to reach for. He eyes your exposed skin, where your flannel had slipped down your shoulder, exposing a wound, not a bite, not a scratch, only a cut that he can’t help but wonder how it got there or why.

“Turning takes days,” Steve murmurs as he tears his gaze away from you for a second to scan the area around you two, who knows what you had dragged here or who.

“I can sing Madonna for you?”

He rolls his eyes as he looks back at you, for someone armed with knives and a glock 17 strapped to her thigh, you sure do look like a frightened cat, ready to run. You are not a threat. He knows it; he sees it; he feels it. He knows danger; you aren’t that.

“You’re not bitten?” He asks as he lowers his gun, letting you relax again.

You shake your head, though you can still see the hesitance in his eyes, the mistrust.

“Do I–” you start innocently, blushing already as you look at the man before you, “do I need to get naked? If so, I’d prefer a woman, if that is possible.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly, ignoring the heat that rises in his cheeks. He puts his gun back in his holster.

“Fuck, no, no… I believe you, what– what are you doing in the middle of Hawkins?”

He sees the way your shoulders relax, the way you take a deep breath in and then out, lowering your arms to your sides.

“I was in a small camp, a few towns away, and I’m trying to get to my old home… though, I got a bit lost cause a bat ripped my map out of my hands…” You frown.

“Demobat.”

You tilt your head to the side, furrowing your brows, “what?”

Steve scrunches his nose up, shaking his head at himself, he keeps forgetting.

“Nevermind.”

Your head is still tilted, your brows still furrowed, you look him up and down, no words fall from your lips, for a moment you are quiet.

He grows a little flustered beneath your gaze, not that he would ever admit, you are just the first stranger he had encountered in a while, a stranger who creeped up on him.

“You’re not very attentive.”

Steve raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“You only noticed me when I was already too close.”

He wants to laugh… a little.

“Sounds like you were up to no good,” Steve retorts, glaring at you to which your eyes only widen, filled with yet more panic. You open your mouth and close it again, a few times, the shock not letting you speak but when you do, you stutter and shake your head.

“No! Oh my god! I’m just saying – listen, I want no trouble, I’m just passing through, I just want to go home.”

Steve can’t help but be a bit amused by the panic and the fear in your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to scare you!”

If laughing hadn’t become such a strange thing to him these days, he would do it now, yeah, he would chuckle, he would laugh loudly.

“That’s funny,” he mumbles under his breath, looking you up and down one more time before he turns on his heels and continues his journey down the road. His boots hit the gravel roughly, footsteps echoing through the empty streets, it only takes three seconds before a second pair joins, just like he had suspected.

“Wait!”

You catch up with him quickly, walking beside him now. He feels your eyes on him but he doesn’t turn to look.

“Is this a community?”

He wouldn’t call it that, the few people that stayed here all fend for themselves, just like him and his friends do.

“Not exactly. Would be a very shitty one if anyone could just walk in.”

“Right…” He hears you murmur softly. “Are you passing through?”

“No.”

“Do you live here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Steve rolls his eyes, side-eying you. He is not very talkative anymore, he finds no joy in holding conversations, let alone in answering questions, he barely uses his voice nowadays, he doesn’t feel bad about it, or even guilty. Normally he would keep quiet or even snap at whoever is bothering him, today he can’t find it in himself to be mean… meaner.

“Cause it’s my hometown. Why are you by yourself?” Steve asks without looking at you.

“I left my last camp cause I want to go home, like I said before–”

“I know, I mean why are you traveling by yourself? It’s not safe out here, especially not for women.” Steve rounds the corner, inching closer to the only house that has a light peeking through the boards on the windows.

“It’s not safe for anyone out here, not just for women,” you correct him, looking at him in surprise when he opens the gate to the backyard before you and lets you walk in first. “But I haven’t seen many people since I left the camp,” You mumble and look down at your converse, that look very dirty in comparison to his black boots.

You stand before him now, close, a little too close for a stranger, though he makes no move to put more distance between you. He sees the wound on your shoulder clearer now, a cut caused by either a knife or glass.

You tilt your head up again, you are close enough to see his face now properly, the color of his eyes, hazel. Freckles and moles kiss his skin, his features are soft, his expression isn’t. His brown hair is very… voluminous, his beard is trimmed, he looks clean and he doesn’t smell, a rarity nowadays. He is tall, his shoulders are wide, he is certainly much stronger too, his biceps strain against his black shirt, and it only now dawns on you that you followed a man to what you presume is his home, you followed with no hesitation.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat and take a step back. He had shown no interest in you, he doesn’t seem fond of you following him either. He is just as much of a threat as you are, you tell yourself.

“So er… is it just you here?” You ask, looking at the house he stopped by, the house you presume is his home, his fortress.

“No.”

You nod, pursing your lips as you look into his cold eyes but he quickly breaks eye contact and starts walking again.

“Where is everyone and how many people are here?” You ask as you continue on following him, staring at the back of his head, his mullet looks good, taken care of, you notice. “Also this town lacks security, you should have bigger gates--”

Steve turns on his heel, sighing loudly as he glares down at you, not even moving back when you almost bump into him.

“Will you shut up for a second!?” He grumbles, glaring at you again as he stares you down.

You press your lips together, gazing up into his dark eyes, not breaking eye contact. The look on his face should intimidate you, the cold eyes should scare you, he should scare you but he doesn’t.

“Have any monsters gotten in yet and if so, have you ever fought any? I ran into a dog like creature the other day, that fucker nearly bit my hand off, I–”

Two seconds. You shut up for two fucking seconds.

“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, raising his hand up, he runs his fingers through his hair, his annoyance doesn’t faze you in the slightest, you open your mouth again, ready to ask another question but someone else beats you to it.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You instantly press your lips together, throwing your hand to your holster as you snap your head to look towards the gate and at the person who cut you off, startled by his presence, you take a step closer to the stranger you just met as you eye the man with the long hair, who is looking at you with a smile on his face. His eyes are kind, much kinder than the ones of the man beside you. He is holding a box, a gun is secured and tucked into his belt.

“Who’s this lovely lady, Harrington?” He asks, not stepping closer yet.

Harrington.

You don’t even notice the girl beside him until she clears her throat, offering you a small smile. Her hair is long and curly too, her bangs cover her eyes a little, a rifle is strapped over her shoulder.

“Someone passing through,” Harrington grumbles under his breath, clearly wanting you to keep passing through. “She’ll be on her way now.”

It’s getting dark now, it’s not safe to continue your travel when the sun sets. You planned to find shelter when you stepped foot into this town, maybe find some cans of food in one of the abandoned houses.

The girl meets your eyes, hesitating, she shakes her head.

“Oh, it’s getting dark, besides she could use a bath, Steve.” The girl says, frowning as she looks you up and down.

Offended, you scrunch your nose up and look down at yourself, “hey, I do my best in any possible lake!” You argue, despite the surprise in you. Every group, every community you have come across before, did not offer baths or shelter, not after your pleading, at least.

“She has to go to her hometown–”

“All alone?” The girl asks, frowning at the man – at Steve, beside you. She glances at the one next to her, they share the same look in their eyes. You wonder if they are siblings.

“Yes, all alone.” Steve sighs.

They look at him in disappointment.

He doesn’t want you here.

It’s nothing you aren’t used to.

You’re on your own, you always have been. Though you can’t remember the last time you had a proper shower, a real meal or a night full of sleep. You don’t know how to hunt, you wash yourself in lakes and you never sleep through the night, no matter how safe you think you are, you can’t sleep. You can’t even remember the last time you felt fully rested, not even the communities that provided you shelter gave you that real feeling of safety.

You don’t know these people, the man beside you and the pair before you, but the kind blue eyes and the chocolate brown ones are different from any of the ones you have looked into before – you can feel the indifference from Steve, he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t trust you.

“I-It’s fine, I was just passing through,” you shrug, offering a smile, despite the weird feeling in your stomach. “Do you… maybe have a map for me though?”

“Yeah,” Steve instantly speaks up, clearly wanting to get rid of you quickly.

She crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring your question, she glares at Steve, “did she ask to stay?”

Steve clenches his jaw, glaring back at her with an icy cold stare.

“We can’t afford another mouth to feed–”

The guy with the curly hair steps forward with a sigh, approaching Steve with a stubborn look on his face, “I’m keeping her.”

Steve scrunches his face up, scoffing at his friend, “she’s not a fucking puppy!”

Though he doesn’t listen to him and turns towards you, nudging his head at you, motioning for you to follow him as he goes to open the door to the house, “come on, we’re gonna eat dinner soon, we’re making stew. And you can get cleaned up if you want, Nancy will give you some clean clothes.”

You want to follow badly, the mention of food, of a warm meal makes your mouth water, and you wouldn’t say no to a shower and fresh clothes either but Steve’s unwelcoming expression makes you hesitate.

He is looking down at the ground, his jaw tense, his eyes unimpressed.

The girl, Nancy, she is looking at him still, waiting for him to look at her too but he doesn’t. There is something in her eyes that you can’t read, the same look that resides in his own.

With a sigh, she looks away and starts walking towards you after closing the gate behind her. She can see the hesitation on your face.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, we’re leaving soon too–”

“We are not,” Steve says harshly, nearly making you flinch.

“We are.” Nancy argues, her brows are pulled together, her lips curl downwards.

She is certainly more intimidating than he is.

“You can stay for the night, like Eddie said, we’ll have dinner and you can get cleaned up, tomorrow you can be on your way with the map you have asked for, but it’s getting dark now – so, you’re staying.”

“Okay.”

It’s funny, normally that would have been a warning sign for you to run. People aren’t usually so persistent for you to stay and if they are, you never stay long enough to find out what evilness they have planned for you. Usually you aren’t so trusting, but her kind blue eyes make it hard not to.

Finding kindness in this world is a rarity nowadays, you wonder if these people ever encountered real danger – not the creatures, or the sick people but humans, you found out that those can be much worse, evil. You figure that they haven’t, otherwise they wouldn’t be so trusting towards you, even Steve, he didn’t ask you to take your weapons off of you, didn’t tell you to hand them over, he just let you follow, and his friends open the door to their home for you, they let you inside, he does too.

You have a growing suspicion that they don’t really know the world they live in now, they haven’t seen past this untouched town, they haven’t seen what people are capable of, how cruel and evil they can be, because if they did, you would not be welcome here, not so easily, no matter how harmless you seem to them.

But the kindness you are greeted with today encourages the hope that never died inside of you.

Hope that died in him a long time ago.

Hope that will die in you just like it did in him.

He watches you closely, the way you look around the house the three of them have stayed in for the past year, you throw your backpack to the ground, leaving it abandoned by the stairs. You eye the radio station in the living room, curiosity lingers in your eyes, he notices how your fingers twitch but you don’t touch it, you draw back from it when you catch him staring at you like a hawk – he almost feels bad when you shy away.

You turn your back to him and look at the bookshelf, tilting your head to the side.

Steve should stop it, the staring, but he can’t, he doesn’t know why, you are not a threat, he doesn’t need to watch you but he keeps doing it, slowly following you through the house like you are his prey.

You are the first stranger to enter this house, the first and the only. Every person who stumbled upon this ghost town was turned and scared away by him. He doesn’t know why he let you inside, Eddie and Nancy wouldn’t be able to keep you here, no matter how persistent and stubborn they had been. If they didn’t want you here, you would have been long gone and not walking around the house.

But something about you makes him mad.

Maybe it’s the way you so easily fit in, or maybe it’s the way you fall for Eddie’s charm and giggle at every attempt of his to make you smile, maybe it’s the way you get along with Nancy right away, Nancy who is usually distrusting of anyone she doesn’t know, or maybe it’s the way you look at him when you sit across from him during dinner, the golden light from the fireplace touching your soft skin. Your eyes are big and innocent, the air around you is too, like you had been untouched by the horrors of this world, like nothing ever happened to you, like you didn’t lose anything or anyone, like the world didn’t even scratch the surface of you.

He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know anything about you but he knows what you are – a naive and stupid girl, one that throws herself into danger, the cut on your shoulder and the scars on your upper arm are proof of that, you won’t survive long, people like you never do.

He stares into your eyes and you stare back, eyeing him while Eddie talks your ear off, who is happy to have someone new to talk with, considering he is stuck with people who aren’t the most talkative.

You blink, holding his gaze for a while.

You are trouble, the kind that he wants to stay away from, the kind he needs to stay away from.

And yet he finds himself knocking on the bathroom door to give you the toiletries and the clothes that Nancy had prepared for you after dinner. He is huffing loudly when he hears you singing, or humming. The only person he ever heard hum in a shower nowadays was Eddie, and he did it just to be an obnoxious prick. You, you are just happy, and who the hell is happy nowadays with how the world is? A psychopath. You are a fucking psychopath.

“One sec!” Your voice was sweet as the water is turned off, and soon after, the door is opening and his eyes are everywhere. You are wrapped in a towel, holding it tightly on your chest where the edge is tucked in. Your wet hair falling down your shoulders, the droplets all over your skin, and you have a stupid smile on your face. That snaps him out from the trance of staring at you more than he should. He blames it on not meeting another woman in a while. The only one in this ‘community’ of his age is Nancy, and she and him made it clear that whatever happened when Vecna was alive, that it was purely out of adrenaline and the need to be or feel cared for by someone in that moment.

“Have your stuff. Remember to give the clothes back before you leave tomorrow.” He extends his arms towards you, the body cream on top of the clothes, making you gasp as your arms shoot to take them from him, your eyes stuck on the white bottle.

“Oh god… thank you… I can’t– I can’t thank you enough–”

“Not me. Nancy and Eddie. I wanted you gone, still want you gone.” His eyes are looking away from you, down the hall as he speaks. He is harsh and he knows it, but there is a limit on water usage in the community, and you just used a ton. Which makes him think that Nancy and Eddie are being serious on leaving, not caring for the limits any longer.

Your eyes look up, catching onto the patch of freckles and moles on his neck, as well as a very prominent scar. As if he had been choked by some rope, going all the way around. You were hurt by his words, but yet, this guy is being mean, and wants to kick you out, and he is standing in front of you handing you body cream and clothes, when he could have refused. He could have shot you and defy his friends. He could have been pushier.

And so your hope doesn’t die.

“I’ll thank them later… but yet, thank you, as well.” You persist and he grumbles something under his breath, his head turning to look at you one last time. Hopefully, the last time he sees it before he wakes up tomorrow.

“Have a safe trip tomorrow.” And with that, he walks down the hall and towards his room, slowly closing the door behind him. Robin is going to kill him. Letting a random girl inside the house. Eddie and Nancy were out of their minds. Everyone was, except him. Hopefully.

He hears murmurs between you and Nancy in the hallway, giggles that disappear as you two disappear into Nancy’s room. She is letting you sleep on the bed with her. What the fuck was Nance thinking? You are a stranger… A stranger who seemed harmless enough, a stranger who looked… tired. Like the only thing you wanted to do was sleep, and sleep, and sleep.

He might be over-exaggerating with how he is treating you, but can anyone blame him for it?

His eyes move towards a scarf on his bed frame, his fingers caressing the hand-knitted mustard colored cotton between his fingers. He hears Eddie whistling as he goes into his room and his anger bubbles up inside of him again.

He isn’t leaving this town. It is a stupid idea to do so. It is reckless. It is also going against the community’s rules. He isn’t going to leave. He can’t leave Robin behind, and Eddie and Nancy know she won’t be coming along.

He won’t leave the last thing that is keeping him alive.

#steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst #mean!Steve harrington #grumpy x sunshine

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navybrat817 · 10 months ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 8

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 7 | Series Masterlist | Part 9

Chapter Summary: You talk with some of Bucky's friends and witness what happens to someone who disrespects you.

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.2k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, mention of stalking, inner conflict, insecurities, manipulation, possessiveness, violence (not against reader), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You didn’t respond to the comment and did your best to ignore the stares from the others. Intrigue filled their eyes and you suddenly felt as if they placed you under a microscope. Being the center of Bucky’s attention was smothering, but the weight of their gazes settled so hard in your chest that you worried you wouldn’t breathe properly again.

You looked around in the hopes it would distract you. A nice office, just as you expected. A high ceiling like his penthouse, but with carpet instead of a marble floor. The dark, expensive desk and furniture added to the vibe, powerful and ominous. A bookshelf along one wall lined with books reminded you that Bucky really liked to read. You also wondered who painted the lone piece of art that hung above his desk. A black dahlia, symbolic of sadness or betrayal.

Why that flower?

The wall to your left pushed that thought away. Monitors took up the top half and displayed various parts of the club. You weren’t sure why it took you by surprise, especially since he mentioned seeing you in the VIP section. The man was a control freak. At the same time, the club belonged to him and he certainly wouldn’t be the first business owner to have eyes and ears everywhere around his place.

“Quick introduction before we get into specifics,” Bucky said, nodding around the room. “Thor Odinson, Nick Fowler, Sam Wilson, and Steve Rogers.”

A large blonde with long hair clapped his hands together. “Finally! The future Queen of The 107th! And a beautiful one at that. It’s a pleasure.” Your eyes widened as he stood, his stature as booming as his voice before he bowed. He actually bowed to you. “Are the rest of you not standing? Fowler, Wilson, on your feet with Rogers. This is not just a woman, this is Barnes’s woman. Show her some respect.”

“I swear, you aren’t from this world,” a brunette in a sharp black suit mumbled, but got to his feet along with the others. The unexpected gesture stunned you into silence. “We were starting to wonder if you stood us up.”

“Took a bit of convincing to get her here, Nick,” Bucky explained, making you bite your tongue when he kissed your temple. “She wanted a quiet night.”

The handsome man had a menacing glint in his brilliant blue eyes. “And how exactly did you convince her?”

“You know, you can all sit back down,” you cut in. “There’s no reason to stand just because I’m here,” you added, though you appreciated Thor’s genuine enthusiasm. It was kind of endearing.

“Nonsense. You’re all he speaks of, so you are a Queen in our eyes,” Thor said.

“Future Queen does have a nice ring to it. Maybe I can buy you a tiara,” Bucky smiled. The men chuckled in unison, with the exception of Ray.

Hyenas.

Whatever expression you had on your face made Bucky frown. “Are you okay?”

You wanted to scream how you weren’t okay at all and how terrifying the entire situation was, but Bucky took your hand before you could answer and kissed your fingers. It somehow soothed a bit of the nerves, which wasn’t fair since he was the one who tangled you in this web in the first place. “Just not used to so much attention,” you admitted.

“Let’s sit,” Bucky suggested, leading you to the remaining empty sofa. Instead of giving you space, he kept you at his side once you both sat. Was it a display of ownership in front of everyone or did he just want you right beside him? “Ray, bring her some water.”

Your heart thumped against your ribcage and the gentleness of Bucky’s hand on your cheek startled you. It was different on the club floor. Even with his men teasing you, there were tons of others around. Here in the office, the spotlight was solely on you. All because Bucky wanted you. Otherwise, you’d be invisible.

“I’ll have you home soon,” Bucky whispered, grounding you with the reminder that you didn't have to stay all night. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Told you it was too soon to bring her here,” the dark-eyed gentleman beside Thor spoke, a mildly sympathetic look on his face. “But, no, you never listen to me.”

“And I told you where to shove your opinion, Sam,” Bucky snapped, thanking Ray in a softer tone when he placed a bottle in your hand. At least you knew it wasn’t drugged or tampered with since you had to open it yourself.

“So, Barnes tells us you work with flowers?” Thor questioned.

You nodded, not sure if it should bother you that he spoke about your job or impressed that his friends took the time to remember. “Yeah, I’m a florist. I enjoy it.”

“That is a lovely profession. He also mentioned you occasionally bring flowers to the local hospital at no charge,” Thor continued before the others gave him a look you couldn't decipher. “We do not see a lot of kindness like that around here.”

“Yeah, I sometimes…” you trailed off when you noticed Bucky’s jaw clench. It wasn’t something the two of you talked about during your date, but he clearly knew. You’d have to revisit this conversation later. “Bucky, why don't you tell me about your friends?” You suggested. Anything to take the focus off you.

Bucky blinked and gave you a smile after a moment. “Sure. Years ago, Steve decided to drag me to a veteran support meeting after we served, which is how I met Thor and Sam. They invest in real estate,” he explained. “Sam focuses more on the commercial end and Thor on homes.”

The military background didn't surprise you. Brotherhood. Loyalty. Respect. There was an unmistakable bond there.

“Wilson and I were just discussing our newest acquisitions before you walked in,” Thor said, tilting his glass toward you. “Barnes didn't tell us you lived in such a nice area.”

Your stomach tightened with nerves. “Excuse me?”

Sam looked like he was considering his words when Thor’s gaze flickered to him. “Bucky may have mentioned a property or two in that neighborhood that might be a good investment. He’s right.”

Your gaze jerked to the man holding you. His lips curled, knowing and unashamed. His promise to have you out of your home… “Is my apartment building one of those properties?”

Bucky shrugged. “It might be.”

Your heart gave a hard thud. If he was serious… If his friend bought the building… No, he couldn’t do that to you.

“Nick deals with investments, too, but he focuses more on businesses over real estate. We actually introduced him to Bucky,” Sam said, effortlessly shifting the conservation back to the group. He seemed nice, but how nice could he be if he was Bucky’s friend?

“It really is nice to see the future wife in person.” Nick gave you a quick once over, but there was no judgment, unlike that jerk at the bar. “I can see exactly why he broke into your place just to talk to you.”

Bucky rubbed your back when you coughed. Nick was almost as nonchalant about the situation as Bucky was. “So, everyone really is aware that he’s a stalker,” you said.

“He prefers to think of himself as passionate or intense.”

“Pay no attention to him,” Bucky advised.

Nick simply smirked. “I was giving her a compliment.”

“Jax and Hal have already hit on her and I don't need you bothering her, too.”

“I’m not bothering her. Maybe you're the one bothering her.”

“Please, you don't have to talk about me like I'm not here,” you interrupted. Wanting to be invisible was one thing, but you wouldn't be treated as such.

You shut your mouth when everyone looked your way, but relaxed when all the men laughed again. “I like you,” Nick said. That brought a small smile to your face. It wasn't like you wanted the people in Bucky's life to like you, but it was nice to see that others weren’t phased by his power.

Bucky shot him a look for a split second before the latter put his hands up. “I don’t like her that way. We all know she's your girl,” he promised before looking at you again. “But I do like your spirit. It's good for him.”

Bucky shifted his gaze back to you adoringly as you shrank back into the sofa. “Thanks,” you whispered.

“And since you’re here, I wanted to ask what you think I should get Brady and Addison for their upcoming wedding,” Nick smirked again, but it was much softer this time. “I asked Bucky, but he thought I should ask you since you're so close to them.”

A chill ran over you. How did… “Nick,” you whispered, recalling your earlier conversation with Addison. “You’re Brady’s new boss, aren't you?”

“Smart girl.” he smiled, impressed. “I’m a boss of sorts. He’s a hard worker. Loves his fiancé. I hope they're enjoying their dinner.”

“Check their registry. Everything they want is there,” you said as evenly as you could manage, wishing you had the strength to bolt from the room.

You swallowed back the urge to get sick as Bucky rubbed your side. This wasn't just meeting his friends. This was a not-so-subtle way to tell you that you weren't getting away from him. And how could you? There was a chance that Sam bought your building. Nick had a way to get to people you cared about. And Steve showed up at your job, one of your only safe-havens. What was next?

It would've been easy to feel hollow to it all as Bucky wove himself into your life. Was it just control he sought? Or did he want to be in as much of life as possible so you couldn't forget him if you tried? No matter where you went, where you looked, who you saw, it would now trace back to him. Like he wanted everything to begin and end with him.

You looked toward Ray, but he looked at the floor. Sighing, you shook her head. You were all alone. “So, Bucky knows how to get into my home and pretty much knows everywhere I go. Sam or Thor might be buying the building I live in. Nick is working with someone close to me. And Steve… clearly knows where I work. Am I missing anything? Is this totally normal behavior for all of you?”

You could still see the intrigue in their eyes at your clipped tone. “You seem unhappy by that, but it is a dangerous world out there and you are a guarded treasure who needs to be looked after,” Thor spoke, looking to the others for support. “All of our women are.”

Nick nodded after a moment. “Varying degrees with our approaches, but yes. It’s dangerous out there.”

You huffed. Did they think they were the good guys? Were their significant others like you? Trapped? “It’s dangerous here, too.”

“You’re not in any danger with us.” Bucky turned your head toward him. “But Thor's right. You are my treasure, Kotyonok. I found you and I’m not letting you go.”

A possession. Something to covet. “You could’ve just left me buried in the sand or at the bottom of the ocean,” you whispered, ignoring the hurt in his eyes. “I didn’t ask for you to dig me up.”

“This is all overwhelming. I know it is,” Bucky whispered back, like the others weren’t listening. “If you’re upset that Steve went into your shop or for anything else, you can blame me.”

Of course that was the thing he commented on. “Oh, don’t worry. I do blame you.”

The men laughed again as he ran a finger along your neck. “Another thing I’ll make up to you.”

You huffed again. “And how will you do that? Jerk off while I’m on the phone with you? Because you already did that earlier.”

Bucky smirked at your sass when Sam coughed and said, “Steve, you’re being awfully quiet over there.” You almost forgot he was there since he hadn't said much else since you walked in.

“Who cares about Steve?” Nick grinned as he sipped his drink. “Let’s hear more about that phone call.”

“Just observing, Sam.” Steve cut in and crossed his arms as his gaze swept over the group. “And don’t be rude, Nick.”

“Is it rude if I also want to hear about the phone call?” Thor asked.

Heat flowed to your cheeks and you wished you just kept your mouth shut. “Please, forget I said that,” you begged. Because now that you mentioned it, it would play on a loop again in your mind.

Bucky said low enough for only you to hear, “Next time I get off, I want you right there with me.” The heat in your veins turned to molten lava. “But since you want to change the subject, Steve has been my best friend since we were kids and now he helps out around the club and with other endeavors,” he introduced, a hint of pride and fondness that wasn't fully extended to the other men. “I think you two are going to get along very well.”

“I think so, too.” Steve smiled and you did your best to return it, but it fell flat as you remembered the flowers at Bucky's penthouse. “Thank you for making my best friend happy. That’s all I want for him.”

“Thanks,” you said. That was all you wanted for your best friend, so you understood to an extent. “Did your girl enjoy the tulips or did you make that whole thing up?”

You weren't exactly sure what Bucky told him to do when he went into the shop, or what he told any of the men to do for that matter. Spying, keeping tabs, it was just a reminder of the eyes and ears your pseudo-boyfriend had around the city. Your brain begged you to get out of there, but you couldn't move.

“She really does love tulips and was very happy with them,” he assured you. “So I should thank you again for making her happy, too.”

You shouldn't dig the knife in after he complimented you, but you couldn't help yourself. “And are you like Bucky and stalking her, too?”

A hint of pink showed in the blonde’s cheeks when Bucky and Nick chuckled, but he gave you a lopsided grin and didn't seem at all offended. “I've actually done a little bit more than that,” he said, your heart dropping as he looked at Bucky. What did he mean? “Did you get a chance to introduce her?”

Bucky shook his head as Steve’s face fell. “Didn't stop at coat check,” he answered before he added, “His girl works here part-time, but I thought it would be better for you two to officially meet when we go on a double date.”

“A double date?” You asked.

“Yeah, the four of us. Steve and I already have a few ideas on where to go.” Another thing that wasn’t a suggestion. Wouldn’t be a choice. Did Steve’s poor girl have any idea?

“What does coat check girl’s boyfriend think about the double dates?” Nick said, typing out something on his phone.

Steve's smile slipped. “Soon-to-be ex and she has a name.”

“That's right, I forgot. You're going to ‘handle him’,” he said, your body tensing at the implication.

“I'm sorry. Didn't you break your future brother-in-law's arm?”

“I almost broke both arms,” he shrugged when you gawked at him. “My girl’s a best-selling author, but her brother is a piece of shit.”

Thor downed the rest of his drink. “That reminds me of the time I broke my father-in-law's fingers. My brother advised against it, but…”

The voices blended together as you took a sip of the water. You weren't a violent person, didn’t speak casually of violence the way they did, but the urge to hit or throw something became stronger with each passing second. All things considered, you were extremely patient with everything. How much more could you take?

“I want to go home, please,” you told Bucky. You had to get out of there. “I mean it. I met your friends and-”

The room went silent as someone knocked on the door. No one made a move, except for Ray and Steve who both reached for something in their jackets. “Expecting someone, boss?” Ray asked.

“Actually, I am.” Bucky checked his watch. “Should be Ari and a guest.”

“What guest? Not Ransom,” Steve said, his body still tense.

“And not Andy or Scott. They’re out of town,” Nick added.

Bucky’s wolfish smile was back on his face. “You’ll see.”

The doors opened and in walked the man who insulted you at the bar, looking around like he owned the place. Ari followed with a glare that had you shrinking into the sofa again. The night was just getting better and better, wasn't it?

“John?” Sam didn't look impressed. “Really?”

Bucky stood up to shake the man’s hand and you suddenly missed his warmth. “John. Enjoying your evening?”

“Yeah. That shirtless bartender gave me drinks on the house.”

“I’m glad Hal took care of you.” You could smell the liquor coming from him the further he stepped into the room. “And I think you know just about everyone here.”

While the men had smiled and welcomed you, none of them extended the same courtesy to John. Steve and Sam looked like they wanted to punch him. Nick didn't even glance up from his phone to acknowledge him. Thor simply got himself another drink.

“I do.” John hiccuped. “‘Bout time you invited me up here.”

“Yeah, I guess it is about time.” The look on Bucky’s face gave you chills as he grabbed John’s arm and stopped him from sitting down. “Oh, no. You don’t need to sit. You won't be here long.”

“Is that right?”

“That is right.” The grip on John’s arm tightened enough to make him wince. “You see, I told Hal to give you free drinks until Ari came to get you. And the only reason I had you brought up here was so you could officially meet my girl before I have you kicked out.”

“Kick me out?! What the fuck are…” John had a noticeable twinge in his cheek as he spotted you. You wanted to cover yourself up even though you weren’t exposed. “That's your girl?”

“She’s my everything.” Bucky briefly looked away from John to gaze at you. “And from what I understand, you knocked her out of the way at the bar and made a rude comment. I’d like to know exactly what you said to her.”

Nick glanced up from his phone, more interested in the conversation now. All of the men were. That wasn't good. Not at all.

“Look, I may have bumped into her, but I don’t…” John cleared his throat as Bucky stared at him, underlying rage in his eyes. “I don’t recall mouthing off to her or anything.”

“Bucky, it’s fine,” you said. You told him that earlier. What was he doing?

“Kotyonok, do you remember what he said to you since John’s memory is so terrible?” Bucky asked, his gaze still fixed on the man in front of him who was starting to sweat. “It’s okay. You can tell us.”

The others stared at you expectantly. You shifted, not wanting to blurt out exactly what the guy said. Lying wouldn’t make it any better though. Bucky clearly knew what happened.

“See? Nothing happened,” John tried to dismiss you when you stayed silent. “How about a drink?”

Bucky pursed his lips in disdain. “How about I have Ari beat the words out of you instead?”

You gasped when Ari pushed himself off the wall, fear all over John’s face as he advanced. He looked like he was going to piss himself. “He called me an ugly undressed bitch,” you said loud enough to make Ari stop.

Something in the room shifted, the silence extended and uncomfortable as the men rose to their feet one by one. Thor made a show of cracking his knuckles after he winked at you. You had nothing to fear. They didn't want to hurt you. So why were you still trembling?

Steve slipped his jacket off and strode forward until he was beside his best friend. “You said that to her?”

John bravely or stupidly attempted to deflect. “The music is loud and-”

“You better shut your fucking mouth if you even think of calling her a liar. Not that I need anyone else’s word except for hers, but Hal also heard you. Even told you to apologize, which you chose to ignore. I can pull up the camera if you want to see the footage.” Bucky’s even tone had you trembling in your spot just like John. “You really have the nerve to come into my club and speak to my girl like that?”

John scrambled for words as he pointed at you. “I didn't… I mean, look at what she’s wearing! How was I supposed to know?”

“That should've been your first clue that she was special. Everyone else down there has to abide by a dress code, but not her. That’s how much power she has. And you tried to make her feel bad for that?” Bucky held a hand up when Ari stepped forward again. “No. I won't let that stand.”

“Bucky.” John swallowed when the rest of the men shifted to surround him. The only exception was Ray, who stood closest to you. “I…”

“Apologize to her,” he snarled. “Get on your fucking knees and say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” John glanced at the floor. “Don't make me get on my knees.”

“That’s enough! I don't want his apology anyway,” you spoke up. An empty apology from a jackass was meaningless. “I appreciate that you want him to say sorry, but I’d rather he just leave if that's okay. Please.”

Bucky let out a slow breath. “My girl has a kind heart.” He briefly took his eyes off John to offer you a soft smile before turning his attention back to him. “But I don't. You’re banned from my club. And by the end of the day tomorrow, you’ll be banned from just about everywhere in the city.”

John laughed, a broken, nervous sound. “This is a joke, right?”

Bucky cracked his neck. “I’ve never liked you. None of us do. We tolerated you, but I won't tolerate you insulting my girl.” He signaled for Ari to open the doors. “So you have two options. You can leave on your own and be permanently banned from this establishment. Or I can make you leave and you’ll be permanently banned from this establishment. Your choice.”

“You can't ban me for one comment! That's insane!”

“I consider it harassment,” Bucky corrected him. Ironic coming from him since he invaded your life. “I take it I'll have to make you leave?”

“You know what? Fuck you. This club sucks anyway.” John moved toward the door before he stopped to look back at you. “And you think you’re special since you're up here? You’re just an uptight bitch who-”

Bucky’s fist connected with John’s jaw before he could finish his insult and you could only shriek as he hit the wall and crumbled to the floor a heartbeat later. Steve hauled him to his feet by his collar before he could recover and punched him in the stomach hard enough that you flinched. Ray shielded your body as best as he could as everyone took turns punching him.

“Don't look,” he whispered.

“I don't know if I can do this,” you whispered back. You were trying to stay calm, but this…

“Yes, you can. Just breathe. In and out,” Ray urged. His face didn't give much away, but you sensed his relief when you took a few deep breaths. “There you go. And don't look.”

You didn't look. It still didn’t block out the sounds, fists connecting against skin and bones, and John’s pained groans. Nor did it stop you from shaking. It couldn't have lasted more than a minute, but it felt like a lifetime until the room went quiet again. Was it over?

“What did you guys do to him?!” You asked, loosening your hold on Ray’s arm. When did you grab him?

“We taught him a lesson.” Bucky flexed his fingers with a sigh. “I have an abundance of patience for you, it's less so with people who are disrespectful and vulgar with you.”

Ray still shielded you when you tried to look where John lay in a heap, but was careful not to touch you. “...Is he breathing?”

“He is and he's lucky for that,” Bucky replied, nudging him with his foot. “Looking strong, John.”

“About time we shut him up,” Nick said, plopping back down in his seat. “Should've banned him months ago.”

“No one deserves a beating more than John,” Steve said, gazing at you like a big brother who just beat up a schoolyard bully for picking on you. “And don't worry. He won’t speak to you like that again.”

“He won’t be speaking much at all after that,” Sam said, taking a drink from Thor’s outstretched hand. “No big loss there.”

“Ari, would you mind taking out the trash?” Bucky asked, tilting his head as he looked down at John. “And can you get the cleaners up here to do something about the blood on my carpet?”

“On it.” Ari effortlessly picked John up and put him over his shoulder as you tried to process what you witnessed. You were past processing any of it, your brain nearly broken from the stress.

In fact, the only one phased by the violence was you as everyone went about their business again. It made your head spin. That was all from a guy insulting you. What would they do if someone actually tried to do anything to you?

Ray stepped aside when Bucky made his way back to you, the anger gone from his eyes. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, pressing his lips against your forehead. “I'm sorry if that scared you.”

“Of course, it scared me! You all beat the hell out of him,” you scolded. On instinct, you grabbed his hand to check it. You had no idea why you wanted to make sure his hand was okay after everything. “None of you had to do that.”

“We don't like bullies,” Steve said as Bucky let you inspect his hand, your fingers gently brushing over his knuckles. “It was bad enough what he said, but he knocked you out the way, too, and didn't apologize. He deserved it.”

“Yeah, he did,” Bucky agreed, taking the opportunity to grip your hand before you could let him go.

“That was a bit much,” you said. It was overkill in your eyes. “I'm not worth beating someone up over.”

He met your gaze with a smile. “You’re worth more than I can ever give you. And he won't be bothering anyone in this club ever again.”

“You're really going to ban him?”

“Absolutely. I have a reputation to uphold. He's only going to mess that up if I let him stick around.”

“Ari isn't going to…” You weren’t sure what he would do to John since they were out of sight.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing.” Bucky moved his hand to your cheek. “I only wish I could hit him again for how he spoke about you.”

You rolled your lips between your teeth. Defending you that way was a lot, but a morbid part of you liked that he stood up for you. “Thank you, but no more hitting people in my name. I can't stand it if someone else was hurt because of me.”

“His actions got him hurt because he hurt you first. I know he did. And I said I’d step in if someone hurt or upset you.” His gaze dropped to your mouth when you bit your lip again. The insult did bother you, but it didn’t matter now. “You really do have a kind heart and you’re making it very difficult not to kiss you right now,” he added, brushing his thumb over your lips.

Goosebumps rolled over your skin at the touch, but you stepped back before he could push his thumb into your mouth. He was still dangerous. Still taking over your life. That was enough to wake you from any spell he tried to put you under. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Just returning the favor.” He held up his hand again with a small smile. “You sure you don’t want to give it another look? A little kiss might make it feel better.”

You rolled your eyes. The man was utterly ridiculous. “I’m not kissing your hand, Bucky. We both know it’s fine.”

“One little kiss? Please?” He winced for show as he flexed his fingers again, but you wouldn't budge. “C’mon. You were worried about my hand enough to check it for damage.”

You shook your head. “I wasn't worried. I just wanted to make sure you didn't injure yourself because that would just be one more thing you’d hold over my head,” you deflected, glancing around to find everyone staring at you again with smiles on their faces at the exchange. “Thanks for defending me.”

“Nothing to thank us for,” Thor held his glass up to you.

Steve looked at the monitor that displayed the coat room. “We take care of our own.”

An alarm on Bucky’s phone went off before you could say anything else. “And look at that? It’s time to go.” The men groaned before he shut the alarm off. “I promised I’d have her home and I’m keeping that promise.”

Steve looked the most disappointed of all. “I barely got to talk to her,” he grumbled.

“Next time, okay? And the double date soon.” Bucky smiled at his friend.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” Thor said as Nick and Sam nodded in your direction. “And I hope to see you at my party next week. Everyone will be there.”

“Maybe,” you said, putting as much emphasis on the word as possible. How would you get out of that? And the double date?

“Okay, you’re all welcome to hang out, but we’re leaving,” Bucky said.

“Maybe I should find my own way home,” you said. Bucky didn’t just have his claws in you, his friends did, too. You needed a breather. Some wine. “I really don't mind getting a cab.”

“Not happening,” he whispered. It was worth a shot. “I need to make sure you get in bed safely.”

“In bed?” You repeated, almost laughing until you saw his serious expression. “You seriously don't expect me to invite you in, do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, steering you toward the door as Ray followed. “Besides, who else is going to tuck you in?”

Was tucking you in going to be enough to satisfy him tonight or would he take it further?

You’d find out soon enough.

Now we know what happened to John! What do we think of his friends? Will Bucky be good when he takes you home? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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trivia-yandere · 5 months ago

Text

survival

you apply to a dating-show in hopes of winning enough money so you and your sister can live comfortably. what you didn’t know that you would be competing to death for the heart of one man while those on the dark web watched.

word count: 12.569

warning: several character death, blood, dark web, yandere tendencies, kissing, voyeurism, manipulative tactics, cult-like behaviors, orgy (ft. jimin+taehyung+jungkook), oral sex (f), unprotected sex, fingering, public sex, nipple sucking, dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie, exhibitionism,

@sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @investedreader @chimmisbae @

valentine's day masterlist

“Let’s get something straight, ladies.”

Your eyes turn towards who is speaking. The woman is tall, her skin almond and seemingly shining beneath the golden lights of the mansion. Her hair is neatly slicked into a bun, not an out of place hair in sight. Her eyes are dark as they roam around the room at each one of the contestants. She raises a manicured hand, crimson nails going around to point at each of you - six women in total.

“This is a competition.” the woman says, lowering her hand. “You all are not friends.”

You don’t respond, opting to listen instead as the other women chatter amongst themselves. One thing for certain, you didn’t have to be told at all.

“For the past week, you along with hundreds of other women had fought diligently to be where you are standing now. This is your final challenge. Look to your left and your right, as you are now competing against your direct rivals.”

You glance around, the mansion surely was luxurious. It has the highest ceilings you’ve ever seen; not as if you’ve seen many. It’s bright with shining lights, a sparkling chandelier high on the ceiling that caught your attention upon having entered. The floors are marble and appear so clean that you could even see your reflection on it.

“You each have rooms located up the staircase.” the woman waves her hand to the large staircase, its carpets are dark and looks as if it wouldn’t squeak beneath your feet like the stairs you’ve grown accustomed to. “Your names are located on the door. Here, you will change into what you see is fitting for today's challenges.”

The woman begins to stroll up the stairs, her heels not being a problem in the slightest as you six begin to follow her.

The railings are a mahogany color and as you walk further up, you notice the walls are painted with a mural of a landscape. It appears to be a forest going through different stages of seasons, winter being the first and spanning all the way through spring, summer and fall. Your eyes marvel at the sight - how detailed the mural was and how long it must’ve taken to complete.

“I can’t believe we’re in such an amazing house.”

Your attention is caught when one girl speaks. You’re now at the top of the stairs and make your way towards the bedroom, your eyes skinning over the names until you see where yours is. The door is tall and has the same mahogany color as the stair railings. There’s carnings on the wooden door displaying an array of flowers. The handle is cold and shiny and it clicks as you open it.

The room is large - the largest room you’ve even encountered, even larger than your living room in your apartment.

As you enter, the lights turn on automatically, the same high ceilings as the rest of the mansion with a diamond chandelier right in the middle of the room, as well. Below it, a large queen sized bed that’s elevated sits, an array of pillows displayed neatly on it.

The floors are the same marble as before, only this time there’s a white, fluffy rug by the bed.

You release a sigh, kicking off your shoes to then go towards the bed. You plop down onto it and it slightly bounces back. You have never been on a bed that was this comfortable before and it’s as if it embraces you entirely, your eyes already becoming heavy.

There’s a loud ringing nose that catches you by surprise and you spring up from the bed. Your heart is pounding and your head whips around to find where the ringing is coming from - it’s loud, almost as if it’s a speaker, but you cannot find from where.

“Welcome,”

The voice speaks and you’re now positive that it is a speaker - maybe on the walls or ceilings.

Your eyes cannot find anything.

“Anjali, Chan-Mi, Y/N,” your ears perk when the speaker - a man - says your name. “Zarish, Luisa, Siohban.”

You suppose these are the girls you will be competing against. You swallow the lump in your throat as the speaker continues to speak.

“I suppose you all know what you six are getting into being a part of this?”

“A dating show…?” your sister murmurs, her eyes cautiously watching you. “...out of everything? A dating show?”

“I’m not expecting anyone to understand.” you suppress a laugh. You tap your fingers against your thigh as you sit besides her on the small couch in your living area.

“You’re trying to find love in this economy?”

“Realistically? No.” you shrug your shoulders. You and she were watching something she had put on Youtube when you had decided to tell her your plans. “But I read the terms and condition and the contract so-”

“You’re serious? About going on a dating show?”

Your sister doesn’t look amused in the slightest and honestly, you didn’t blame her. You and she would laugh at how ridiculous the girls looked pinning after one man and often fighting for his heart just for him to not choose any of them - and now you were going to be doing the same.

“For love? No. I don’t even expect to be chosen.” you admit, turning towards her to give her a soft smile. “But, we do get paid for being on there. Exposure, too. It’s a start and whatever money we need I will surely take.”

Your sister sighs, nodding slightly. “How long will you be gone?”

“A week max. It’s live, apparently.”

You were older than your sister by nearly five years, having taken her in a year after you left home yourself. While your sister remained in High School, you had to be the one to work for everything you and she both needed - two jobs weren’t ideal for you, but you made it work.

As time went on, bills increased, as did rent and the overall cost of living. Your sister needed necessities and as did you and your two job income wasn’t enough.

“How did you find out about this?”

“Job interview.” you snort, as if two jobs weren’t enough, you were thinking about picking up a third - just for a few hours you had free on your off days. “Said I…would fit the part. Whatever that means.”

“Would I be able to watch it live? What type of dating show is only a week?” your sister is asking all of the correct questions that you should - but you are only there for the money; you are sure everyone else is, as well.

“I’m not even sure where it would be streaming. I’ll have to ask. I’m sure it’s very…variety show like? Maybe even a game show?” you shrug your shoulders, pondering if there would be an elimination every day of the week; how anyone would find love that way is beyond you. “Us competing for a man possibly none of us are attracted to.” you joke. “Having us do odd challenges to win his heart.”

“I bet he’s ugly and old.” you sister cringes. “What if you have to kiss him?”

You cackle, head leaning back to laugh. “For a few thousands, it’s what I have to do. Life isn’t cheap.” In the back of your head, you understand that this isn’t ideal - that your sister was right and this could be an older guy who’s not the most attractive looking man; as no one knows what he looks like. But if this is what you had to do then so be it.

You were taking a week off of work for this - luckily, paid time off has come through for both jobs. “Even if I’m not the winner, honestly, let’s hope for that. I’ll be back.” you promise her.

Your sister nods her head slightly, tilting her head to the side to look at you.

You understood what you were getting into and doing this for - and you are positive your motive is similar to the other five women. None of which know who the man is, his beliefs, likes or dislikes - anything. You were all completely in it for the money; the promise of a lavish lifestyle.

In the beginning, you told yourself that you didn’t need to win, you think, you just had to be here long enough to get any form of prize.

However, now, you’re certain that this was now or never. You came this far and even managed to be picked by the man himself along with the other five women; all rivals of yours.

“That being said, the competition starts immediately. I’m looking for a wife and I don’t have much time to find her.”

You want to scoff at how desperate the man sounds. You try to put a face to the voice, but are unable to. He sounds young, no older than 30, but with the way technology is now, you can never be certain.

“The game starts now, you all.” the voice says. “If I cannot find a wife in you five, then that means I’ll have to do this all over again - and I’ll rather not.”

There’s a shiver that runs down your spine at his words and you’re unsure as to why. You take a deep breath.

“I need a wife that knows how to cook exactly what I want.” Your feet begin to move with impatience. “This mansion holds several kitchens. In about an hour, I expect you all to be downstairs and in your designated kitchen doing just that. I’m not a picky man,” there’s heartfelt laughter from him. “and I cannot wait to try what you all cook for me.”

The room is quiet again, indicating that the man was done speaking.

You swallow. You had an hour to get ready and to you, that was more than enough. You worked with as little as five minutes before, an hour was nothing to you.

You start by going to the closet - a large walk in one - that holds clothing that you were told would be in there. You would be cooking, so there isn’t a point to overdress, however, you understood that you can’t look as if you’re at home. Your usual oversized t-shirt and sweats wouldn’t be acceptable.

You also weren’t going to force yourself into a tight dress to appeal to the eye of the man you’re supposed to be cooking for. It didn't make sense.

The next 30 minutes consisted of you showering and getting ready yourself. You weren’t positive if this was when the man would make his appearance to you all, and you had to be prepared in case he had.

You stood out amongst the other five women who were all dressed to impress and you would only be a hater to say that they didn’t look nice. Even better than you.

You swallow, casting your eyes ahead of you to look at the women from early; the host.

“An hour to prepare a meal.” the woman states, her hands behind her back as she strolls towards you six. “In your designated kitchen, there would be food already laid out for you. What you do with it is all up to you. Follow me.”

The woman begins to stroll out of the large foyer and down into a hallway where each of you follow her. The mansion is huge indeed, having separate kitchens for each girl to go into. Yours was the third, and immediately you found yourself going to work.

The kitchen is huge - of course - and has a chandelier right above you hanging from a tall ceiling. The floors are hardwood and pristine and don't creek beneath your feet. On the kitchen island located in the middle of the large kitchen, lay an apron that you proceed to tie around your body.

You cooked for you and your sister whenever you had the chance to. It was enjoyable at times as you loved cooking for her. Cooking now, however, was a necessity to win. You needed to be the best, and if not, you needed to be damn close to it.

An hour flew past as though it was only five minutes. Your hair, once laid perfectly into a tidy bun, was sweated out a bit. You huffed at your reflection into the knife you were holding upon seeing yourself.

“Time’s up. Bring your plates of food back to the foyer.” says a voice over the speakers, this time not the man, but the host.

You drop your knife into the sink and turn towards the island where your plate of food sat. You were given steak and did what you thought you could with it, stewing it along with vegetables. You cooked a simple white rice atop of lettuce - you’ve done what you thought you could with what little you had.

“Ladies.” the host says, nodding to you all. “Place your plates right here onto the table.” she says, motioning to the large, glass table behind her. There’s cards that sit about six inches from one another that have each of your names labeled onto them.

“Now, Kim Seokjin-ssi will test them all.” she proceeds to say as each of you gather back into a line.

Kim Seokjin.

Your eyes begin to widen as a man, tall and slender, begins to strut from up the staircase to where you all stood. Your eyes are fixed onto him - as are the other women. Your mouth parts a bit as he bows before all of you, a mop of dark hair bouncing.

“Hello to you all.” the man says, a familiar voice dancing through your ears. The same exact voice of earlier.

Kim Seokjin was not an older man, no. He was young; and maybe you should’ve guessed by his voice. However, he didn’t look a day over 25. His skin was clear of any blemishes and porcelain similar to a doll. His eyes are beady as he looks between the six of you. His lips, plump and pink, form a low smile.

Jin is sporting a solid, black dress shirt that he proceeds to cuff toward his elbows. His dress pants are baggy and brown, however not a wrinkle in sight. You ponder just how much his outfit is, as you were told that wealth such as him doesn’t talk, but whispers.

“Now, let’s see.” Jin says, clapping his hands as he turns away.

Jin eyes the array of food on the table, humming to himself softly.

It takes 10 minutes for Jin to try it all. Ten long minutes of you all waiting in silence as he eats, nodding his head a few times and then whispering to the host, who would either snicker or respond.

“Siobhan.” Jin speaks, his back not turning to face either of you. The host does, stepping away from Jin. “Come closer, please.”

Siobhan does, her long locks bouncing onto her shoulders as she comes face to face with Jin. He’s a beauty of a man and instantly, your heart jolts. Jealousy, sure, yet you weren’t here for true love. This wasn’t the bachelor. You were here for money and that only.

“Chan-Mi…Luisa…you two, as well.”

Your blood runs cold, your palms beginning to sweat. You’re unsure what Jin is doing - if you’re about to be eliminated or not. Your eyes glance at the other two women left, Zarish and Anjali. You suck in a breath, turning your eyes back to Jin. It would be humiliating to be sent home so early.

“Your food is…”

You swallow as the man slowly turns, his arms now behind his back. The smile on his lips he sported 10 minutes prior had disappeared.

“Lackluster.” Jin murmurs, and instantly his right arm jerks, a dagger held tight into the palm of his hand. He slices Siohban’s throat as quickly as yall all seen it, the woman gasping and clenching onto her neck.

There’s shrieks that erupt around the room as Siohban falls to her knees in a pool of her own blood. Your eyes widen, a hand going to clasp onto your own mouth and the sudden sight before you.

Without much warning, the knife is japped right into Chan-Mi’s stomach, her scream haunting you. You’re frightened where you stand, your eyes wide.

Luisa is next, but she knows what to expect. She turns to run away, but trips with how terrified she is. She falls onto the ground before she has the chance to go anywhere and Jin lets a hand grab her long, wavy hair. He yanks it back, the dagger slicing right against her throat. Blood squirts out of it, splashing a few feet away from yours. You feel your stomach churn, the sudden need to vomit.

“Do calm down.” Jin says, throwing the knife onto the ground by Siobhan, who’s body appears lifeless. “This is a competition. I know you all aren’t here for love.” Jin scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “You’re here for money. I have a lot of it. However…” Jin looks between the remaining three of you.

You were the calmest, however, maybe you were just hiding it. There’s great fear in your eyes that has you startled into silence, only a single tear falling from your eyes. Zarish had fallen to her knees, pushed the farthest away from you and Anjali, who was trembling at the sight.

“...you’re going to have to show me what you’re willing to do for it.”

“I know you three need some time.”

You had proceeded to vomit into the toilet as soon as you entered your bedroom. You thanked the shared bathroom, as you’re unsure how much longer you could last. The heinous sight of murder flashed before your eyes, no matter how hard you attempted to squeeze them shut.

Your heart pumps with fear. Just an hour ago you stood before three dead bodies - this was real. This wasn’t a dream, nor a prank. The screams of fear coming from you all were real.

Jin had gone on for the next 10 minutes explaining the rules - rules you thought were already given to you. Of course they weren’t. You had gotten yourself into this mess, biting more than you could even chew. There was no “out” of this. Once witnessing bloody murder, Jin had told you three the truth. That there were only two ways out of this twisted game of his. You either had to win and become his wife, or lose and be dead.

There was no leaving alive unless you were the sole winner.

This was a life or death situation now; you were truly fighting for your life.

“But I am in need of a wife as you know. You’ll need to do more than just cook.”

Jin’s voice is taunting you through the speakers. He speaks coolly, as if he hadn’t killed anyone. You ponder just how long he’s done this - and if there is any way out of this at all. Or was this just a sick game where he would eventually kill all of you and repeat the game again.

You proceed to flush the toilet, falling besides it as Jin continues to speak.

“I need a wife that knows how to clean, as well. In an hour, meet in the foyer and await your next challenge.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, body trembling on the cold tile floor. You aren’t sure if you could do this anymore. You’re terrified that you’d be the next to go; it was only three left and it hasn’t even been a day.

Jin’s impatient and he doesn’t wish to wait any longer than he needs. He wants someone now; tonight preferably.

Your eyes snap open, staring straight ahead.

You couldn't afford to die. You weren’t here for just yourself. You had a sister you needed to take care of.

You took a shower in case it happens to be your last, at least you would know a bit or peace. You are the first to be in the foyer, followed by Zarish. She doesn’t look at you when she arrives, and you cannot blame her. Neither of you wish to be here. The atmosphere has changed from one of lighthearted competition to dreadful act of survival.

Anjali is the last to arrive and the girl's brown eyes are red and puffy from her crying. She’s trembling when she arrives and even though you sympathize with her, you cannot bring yourself to care far too much into it. You had to care about the life of your sister and that was the will you needed to survive this.

“Ladies,” the host claps as she struts into the foyer. “follow me.”

The host makes no attempts in waiting for you all, nor does she stop to acknowledge you three. She takes you down a long hallway until you three stopped behind three separate doors. She proceeds to turn back towards you. Her eyes trail between your faces before she stops at Anjali and scoffs.

“You won’t survive if you keep trembling like that.” she says snarkily. “Behind these doors is your next challenge. As you know…” she stops dramatically to look between you once more. “...Kim Seokjin isn’t just any man. His line of work is different from normal men. That being said.”

The doors are automatic and they open before the host could finish her sentence.

The sight behind the doors is traumatic. You instantly gag, clenching a hand to your mouth.

Behind your door lies the dead body of Chan-Mi. The room is covered in blood. It’s a single room, all white. White walls and tiled floors that’s stained crimson.

“Jin would like you three to clean the room and get rid of the body.”

Anjali instantly shrieks, her back hitting the wall behind you all. She shakes her head, her hands tugging her hair.

“Please, I-I-”

“You have an hour.” the host interrupts. “Do whatever you think you need to do.”

Inside the room, there’s a timer high onto the wall and close to the ceiling. It ticks down exactly one hour - a short time to clean a murder scene.

Your mind tries to think back to the true crime shoes you’d watch with your sister on how you could possibly get rid of a body; you never thought you would be in this situation.

You spring into action, making your way down the hall.

“W-Where are you going?” Anjali calls for you, not moving from the wall.

You don’t answer. You were told to do anything necessary to clean this mess up. For the first time you notice it - the cameras. It’s high and it follows you as you walk. You ponder just how many people are watching you here being forced to commit these criminal acts, now fully engrossed in it.

You open doors until you find one with cleaning supplies. You take a deep breath, grabbing whatever your arms could hold.

You work on autopilot, your mind completely blank as you work. You wrapped Chan-Mi’s body in one too many trash bags, refusing to look into her face. Her eyes were open but lifeless like the rest of her.

Dragging a body was harder than the movies made it, placing it right outside of the room and making your way back inside to clean it. You scrub onto your hands and knees, mind remaining blank as you focus on removing the crimson from your sight. 45 minutes, 30 minutes, 20 minutes.

Your heart is pumping outside your chest and your breath heaves as you drag the body down the hallway to the front door. You hadn't had any time to explore the mansion and today wasn’t going to be the day. You had 15 minutes until the challenge was done and you were told to get rid of the body by any means necessary.

The mansion is quiet and you’re positive Jin, the host and who knows how many other people are watching you now. You open the main doors of the mansion, poking your head out. It’s evening now, the sky has different shades of purple hues.

You drag Chan-Mi outside, down the stone stairs and towards the side of the house. You’re unsure how long you walked with the body until your legs gave out and you collapsed.

You breathe heavily, your mind regaining and you scream out. It echoes off of the trees, the eerily silence of the mansion adding more terror to your situation.

Focus - you tell yourself.

Remember what you’re doing this for.

Your knees tremble as you stand, fixing your hair. A few strands had fallen from your bun as you were cleaning vigorously. Your eyes scan the area, pondering where you were going to put this body.

Your eyes drag towards a pond and even if your moral compass was eating at you, you understand that this was life or death - for you and your sister.

“A better life…” you murmur to yourself, reaching the pond. “...for me. For us.”

You threw Chan-Mi’s body into the pond. It splashes loudly and all you can think is you hope you’re far enough for anyone to notice far too quickly. It isn’t a lake with running water, so the body would move anywhere. However, the the pond is surrounded by rocks and if far enough, the untrained eye would never notice-

“Are you okay?”

Your body stiffens at the words coming from behind you.

Slowly, you turn, eyes catching onto a man a few feet away. He’s strolling towards you. He’s tall and his cheeks are dimpled.

“I-I…” you’re unable to speak. You immediately get up from your knees and begin to walk towards the man. “...I was just going for a walk.” you speak, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I ended up falling and…made a mess of myself.”

The man reaches you and looks at your appearance. He nods his head with a chuckle. “I can see that. I have never seen you around here.”

“You live around here?” you ask. Where did this man come from and just how did he know you were here? Your palms were already sweaty and you didn’t have time to stay and chat. You had about five minutes until you had to be back at the mansion.

“I do. I hike in the woods all the time.” the man nods his head. “I’m Namjoon.” he raises a hand for you to grab.

You do hesitantly, nodding your head. “Y/N.” you murmur. “I have to get back. It’s nice to meet you, Namjoon.” you say. “Enjoy your hike. I hope you aren’t as clumsy as me.” you attempt to joke, making your way around the man before he can say anything else.

You enter the home quickly, slamming the door behind you. Jin is behind it, almost as if he’s waiting for you.

You stop in your tracks, unable to form words.

“You’re right on time.” Jin says. “The first to arrive.”

You’re exhausted, falling to your knees. You hang your head in defeat.

“I’ve watched you, Y/N.”

Your ears perk at Jin’s words. You hear footsteps coming closer to you.

“We all have.”

“What…how many people?”

“Thousands.” Jin chuckles. “Don’t worry. It’s only the dark web.”

Your blood runs cold once more. You don’t want to ask anymore questions, far too afraid to know anymore.

“You’re becoming a favorite, Y/N.” Jin kneels down to face you. He pats your head as if you’re a puppy, encouraging you to look at him. “The way you got rid of the body and managed to get away from Joon.”

“Joon…” you murmur, the dimpled-cheeked man flashing through your mind. “...you know Namjoon….?”

Of course Jin did. There wasn’t any home for miles. How else would you be caught in such a situation ? Maybe that was a part of their plan, to try and get you to confess what was truly going on in hopes that you would look for a way out.

You clench your eyes shut and release a shaky sob.

“You won this round, Y/N. Come,” Jin offers out his hand for you to take. “Let's get you ready for the final round. I hope you didn’t like Anjali as much.” Jin begins to laugh heartily. “You won’t be seeing her for the final challenge.”

You weren’t told by Jin how long you had until the final round. You were in the shower once more, this time sitting on the shower floor and allowing the water to run down your body. Your eyes are closed, and as much as you tried, you cannot get your mind to go blank.

It was a lot for one person to handle in just one single day.

You wished you understood more about Jin and the dark web. You’ve heard about the dark web before and the last thing you ever desired was to be a part of it. It brought chills up your spine to just think about how many eyes are on you and what those eyes are involved in themselves.

You finally got out of the shower once the water began to run cold. You wrap a towel around you, your wet feet strolling towards the large, round mirror inside of the bathroom. Your eyes watch yourself, however not truly seeing yourself. It’s as though you’re witnessing a shell of yourself.

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. You want to laugh bitterly at the unfortunate circumstances that you are dealt with - and just how much of a terrible person you were becoming because of them. Was this real life or a nefarious dream you fell into due to slumber?

There’s a knock that sounds at your bathroom door that causes you to flinch, startled.

You take a few moments to answer, instead choosing to listen quietly, unsure who would be behind the door at such a vulnerable moment you were in now.

“It’s me.”

Jin.

You feel goosebumps liter your arms at his voice. Still, your mind cannot embrace the fact that Kim Seokjin, someone so beautiful as him, is a part of this. Involved with not just this twisted game of survival, but the dark web, as well; which is an iceberg itself.

Your hand wraps around the cold doorknob and you slowly twist it open, cracking it open so you can peek out at the man. He offers a curt grin, his head slightly tilting.

“It’s dawning on you, isn’t it?” Jin questions vaguely. “That this is real life and not some sort of nightmare?”

Your heart jolts and you swallow your words. It’s as if he took the thoughts right out of your mind.

“It’s far too late in wanting to drop out of the competition.” Jin murmurs. “I’m sure you know why.”

You wouldn’t be able to leave here alive - you’re well aware.

Slowly, you nod your head, slightly opening the door a little wider.

“I came to see how you were doing.” Jin takes a few steps back and it’s then you realize that he changed from his attire earlier, to a black suit. “This…can weigh heavy on people such as you.”

“What do you mean people such as me?” you question low. You proceed to open the door fully, your towel tightly around your frame.

Jin begins to stroll away from you and proceeds to take a seat onto your bed. A shame you haven’t truly had the time to lay in it, but he doesn’t wish to extend the games. For months, he had women come in and out - all failing. He wants this game to end tonight, and there’s only two opponents left. He surely hopes either you or Zarish would be the one to end his suffering in having to do this - and he can go home with a wife.

“It’s obvious you aren’t…part of this lifestyle.” Jin looks up at you now, brown eyes giving your undivided attention. “You and Zarish aren’t doing this for love, either.”

“Are you?” you’re bold enough to ask, your right hand holding the top of your towel tightly. “You do this…often?”

Jin snickers. “Unfortunately,” he nods. “no one has won as of yet. This is why it appears the challenges are a bit fast paced.”

You sit in the doorway of the bathroom awkwardly as you await for him to continue speaking.

“Why are you doing this?” Jin questions. “What made you want to come here?”

“I didn’t think I would have to hide a body.” you say truthfully, a bit of sadness in your voice. “I didn’t think I would be fighting for survival, either.”

“I do apologize.” Jin says, yet you don’t hear any sincerity in his words. “It wasn’t my idea of presenting the game as a bachelor type.”

You nod your head. Of course there were others involved, deeper than just Jin and Namjoon.

“What are you fighting for, Y/N?” Jin proceeds to dig deeper. “What do you have to live for?”

Jin’s eyes are intense as he awaits an answer from you. It causes you to look away, goosebumps growing even harder onto your skin. You nearly forgot that you were naked beneath this towel and semi-wet.

“I have a sister.” you say truthfully. There isn’t a point of lying now. This could also be a test to see if you were going to be truthful or not. If Jin had ties to the dark web, who knows what else he’s apart. “And I needed money…”

“I see.” Jin hums. “Everyone has their reasonings.”

“Can I ask yours?”

Jin is intrigued. Zarish wasn’t much of a speaker, yet he couldn’t blame her. Her demeanor is colder than it once was when she arrived, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. There were two contestants and a final round.

“You…there has to be a reason why you’re doing all of this, right?” you lean against the door frame. “You can’t have a hard time finding a wife.”

Jin’s lips twitch upward.

“Observant.” Jin nods. “I can get a wife anywhere. But…” Jin spreads his legs a bit. “Where’s the fun in that?”

There’s a sinister way in which Seokjin laughs.

“Sure, you didn’t come here for love. That doesn’t mean that you and I couldn’t grow to love one another, right?”

The question strikes you as odd, seeing as this was still a competition.

“If you win, of course.” Jin adds, as if reading your thoughts yet again. “You’re already a fan favorite, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

You exhale.

“Do you want it?”

Your attention is brought back to Jin.

“Do you want a better life?” Jin continues. “Do you want it enough to fight for it? There's only one more round left, Y/N.” Jin prods on, his eyes roaming your face for any emotion. “Show me you want to survive, Y/N.”

You find yourself in front of Jin now, who awaits for you to do something. Anything.

You wanted nothing more than to survive this - not for just your sake, but for your sister. Her life depended on yours, and maybe that was all the will you needed to survive this.

“I do want this.” you murmur, unsure of what you’re now doing kneeling before him as he sits onto your bed. Your right cheek sit lightly against his knee.

“I know.” Jin answers. “I can see it in your eyes. It’s easier to do the things you do if you tell yourself it’s for someone else.”

Maybe being an accomplice to a murder was easier if you told yourself you were doing this for your sister.

You hum.

“Get dressed.” Jin says, a soft hand laying on your left cheek. “The final round will be starting soon. Make yourself presentable.”

You remove your cheek from his knee just as Jin stands to his feet. He looks down upon your vulnerable figure but doesn’t say another word as he saunters out of the room. You watch his figure leave sullenly, a coldness running through you as you felt alone, but knew that you weren’t truly.

“This is crazy, don’t you think?” you murmur to Zarish. “That only one of us can survive this?”

Zarish offers a glance, the soft music playing in the background of the large ballroom. All surrounded by people who are associated with Kim Seokjin himself.

“We…can both survive this.” you say to her, taking a sip of your glass of champagne. You offer a few smiles to guests. “We can both escape before anyone notices us.”

After Jin had left your room, you continued to sit onto the ground by the large bed for what felt like hours until you finally got to your feet to get ready for the next challenge. You weren’t sure what presentable was, but you only had what was in the large closet to choose from. All dresses ranging from long to short.

You grabbed a short dress, stopping at your knees. You opted for this incase you were getting into something that involved you moving a body again - or running for your life. You only had heels to choose from, but you chose a pair that would be easy to get out of if needed be.

You decided to fix your hair to the same bun as before, this time neater and allow a few strands of hair to be released, twirling your finger around it a few times to allow it to curl.

There’s another knock that sounds, this time on your bedroom door. You stand a bit straighter before strolling to the door and opening it.

“It’s time.” the host says, dressed differently. A wine colored floor dress that hugs her curves. On the right side is a slit that rides all the way up to her mid thigh. “You have five minutes to meet everyone downstairs in the main hall.”

“E-Everyone?” you speak up, eyebrows knitting.

“Yes.” the host nods. “The final round is to impress not only Kim Seokjin, but those who associates with. You’re attempting to be a wife, correct?”

You nod, a bit dumbfounded.

“Okay then. Here is your moment.” the host turns to walk away. “Don’t let these people see you be frightened. They’ll eat you up and spit you out if so.”

The host’s footsteps get quieter as she descends down the carpeted hallway. You take a deep breath as you replay her advice - or warning - in your head. You take another deep breath before following her down the hallway.

You can hear faint music along with chattering voices. You suppose this was the final challenge, and maybe the most nerve wracking one of it all. You barely knew Seokjin, so being surrounded by people such as him was just as terrifying.

You decide to follow the music down to the far right of the foyer and down a dim-lit hallway until you reach the large ballroom. It’s surrounded with people - all wearing masquerade-like masks. You felt anxious being surrounded by them, unsure how to truly handle it all.

The ballroom is designed just as elegant and expensive as the rest of the mansion. Its lights are lit dim just as the hallway, but the candles add a bit more flickering light to it all; a sinister type of feeling, however. There’s round tables with white tables clothed all throughout the ballroom, with four chairs each. Only a few people were seated as they chatted amongst each other, while the rest were standing.

There’s flowers, all white, on each table. As well as hanging from the ceiling besides large chandeliers that aren’t shining to their full potential.

“Y/N.”

Your head turns to the sound of your name. A masked figure stands tall besides you, his face fully covered by the gold mask. The candles surrounding the room dance off of his mask.

“I-I…”

The man raises a hand to his mask and lifts it, and instantly you recognize the man just by half of his face, dimples poking out. It’s Namjoon, and he speaks when he takes the mask off fully.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

“You, as well.” you say shyly, glancing around the room. “You…are a part of this?”

Namjoon chuckles with a quick shoulder shrug. “Sure,” he responds. “You managed to be quite a fan favorite.” he says to change the subject.

You scoff to yourself. “Of the dark web?” you question. “I’m not sure how to handle that.”

“No one ever truly does.” Namjoon answers. “You have my vote.”

“Vote?” you ask, just as Namjoon puts his mask back over his face. “All of these people have to vote…?”

Namjoon nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“Thank you.” you murmur.

Namjoon’s vote is just one of hundreds.

“Follow me.” you tell Zarish, your eyes roaming around the large room to find no one you recognized. You find that those with gold masks were the ones who held higher importance. “Let’s get out of here while everyone is distracted.”

You grabbed Zarish’s hand in your own and tugged her along. You managed to get out of the large ballroom and into the quiet hallway. Your heels click along the marble floor, as does hers.

“Where are we going?” Zarish sputtered, her head turning back to the party for a moment before looking ahead at you.

The plan had hit you an hour in. You had met more people, all who spoke to you behind their respected masks. You were polite to them, even engaging in light conversations before you were onto the next; none of them being Jin. You suppose he was watching you from the shadows, awaiting for when the votes would be announced.

Zarish was a beautiful girl, tall with long black hair that she had tucked in a low ponytail. Her dress is floor length and lavender-colored.

You go past the foyer to down the other side of the hall. It’s familiar to you both, where you had gone just hours before to clean the dead bodies of former contestants.

You drop Zarish’s hands when you reach one of the large kitchens. You turn to her. “Grab a weapon.”

“A weapon?” Zarish whispers with wide eyes. “W-Why-”

“How long do you think it’ll be until they realize we’re both gone?” you say, your heels clanking against the tiled floors of the kitchen as you search the drawers for a knife.

Zarish doesn’t say anything, but she’s visibly nervous. She goes to the other side of the large kitchen to find a weapon.

Your reflections glare in one of the large cutting knives. You grasp your hand around the handle and lift it up.

“Why are you here?” you ask Zarish as she opens one drawer. “For money?”

Zarish nods her head, her hands clenching the sides of the drawer.

“My father is sick.” she responds, releasing a soft sop. “If I would’ve known I was coming to this…”

You sympathize with her. You take a few steps closer to her until you’re behind her, your free hand on the short of her back.

“My sister,” you speak, taking a deep breath. “I came for her. To give us both a better life.”

Zarish nods slowly.

“I don’t think any of us knew…” you don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you clench your eyes shut.

“I…I just want to get out of here.”

Zarish’s voice cracks when she speaks. She doesn’t want to cry, especially not now. She sniffles and turns around to face you. “Y/N, I-”

It takes all the will in you to jab the knife right into her stomach. It was nothing personal to her. You held no ill intent towards her, and if there was truly a way out of here, surely you and she would’ve managed.

Maybe in a perfect world there was. You and she ran off into the arms of safety - yet this was reality. There were cameras watching your every move.

Zarish doesn’t put up a fight. Possibly death was easier than fighting her way out of here. The saddened look in her eyes does reach yours, yet she doesn’t say anything in protest.

You remove the knife from her stomach, her hands going to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“I’m going to help your father.” you murmur, driving the knife repeatedly back into her stomach several times. Each time is met with a gasp from the woman. “So in a way, you being here isn’t completely a loss.”

You’re completely covered in blood by the time you’re done, Zarish’s lifeless body on the pristine floors. Her blood soaks into your dress. You drop the knife and it clunks loudly on impact.

You make your way out of the kitchen and down the familiar hall towards the foyer and back to the ballroom. It’s as if no one has truly noticed you and Zarish are gone.

You stop at the doorway of the ballroom, the blood staining your hands. Your eyes search for Jin and you’re sure you found him. His mask is the only mask that stands out, a silver color. It appears as if he’s watching you from the eyeholes of the mask.

You walk towards him, your mind focusing on him and only him. The people appear to be quiet now as you walk past them, allowing you to stroll without a problem.

You stop just a few short feet away from Jin, panting heavily now.

“You told me,” you begin, your eyes never wavering. “that if i wanted to win…if I wanted a better life…” you swallow. “...I’d have to show you.”

Jin’s right hand reaches up towards the silver mask. Slowly, he lifts it from his face. His expression is an emotionless one, but it’s easier to speak with him now that you can see his eyes.

“What did you do?” Jin questions, though he’s positive he has an idea.

“I killed her.” you respond. “She…”

Your thoughts speak at you all at once. You tilt your head a bit.

“She was going to run away.” you mumble. “She…told me to go with her. I did.” you admit half of the truth, because did it truly matter now? “...then I killed her. There isn’t a way out of here, right?” you ask Jin. “We would have both been dead. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to win.”

Jin’s dark eyes watch you from where he stands. Slowly, your sanity was dripping away and in such a short amount of time.

Rosy plump lips grin towards you and that alone causes your heart to leap.

“Come,” Jin announces, his hand waving you over.

Widening your eyes, you do as you’re told. You round the large table and come besides Jin, behind him a few bodies you were not aware of, all dawning gold masks.

Jin goes into his pocket and grasps a small, square box. “Congratulations, Y/N.” Jin speaks, opening the box to reveal a ring inside of it. It’s quite different from a ring you’d expect as a wedding ring, yet this whole situation alone was. It has a gold band that surrounds itself with diamonds while an oval emerald diamond sits right in the middle of it, smaller silver diamonds outlining the oval shape.

“We have no time to waste.” Jin removes the ring from the box and holds it up. “Give me your hand.”

You watch in slight awe as Jin slides the ring onto your finger. It’s a surreal feeling in knowing that you won this twisted game he has forced you into. A game that lasted only a few hours, but felt like weeks on end.

There’s clapping that sounds throughout the ballroom and for a moment, you nearly forgot that it wasn’t just you and Jin in the room.

A man with a gold mask comes forward, papers in hand. It wasn’t Namjoon, you note, as the man wasn’t as tall.

“Come,” Jin wraps a hand around your waist. “let’s sign these documents.”

Jin doesn’t waste any time in handing you your own pen to sign a few documents that he doesn’t allow you to read. All of your signatures were right besides his, already pre-signed.

You aren’t nervous about signing your life away. Afterall, it isn’t everyday that you go through such trials and tribulations to assure you live long enough to see yourself be married.

That, and murder someone for the first time. Maybe tomorrow when your reality dawns on you would you actually break down. As of now, your mind remains blank and you’re working on autopilot.

There’s a hand that catches you out of your thoughts. It’s holding a clear champagne glass full of slightly bubbling liquid.

You grasp the glass from one of the men sporting a gold mask. He holds another one out for Jin who also takes it. Jin holds his glass up for you to clank against his in a toast.

“To Y/N and I,” Jin announces, his dark eyes reaching yours. “to death do us part.” he says, a more sinister meaning behind the words.

There’s more cheering as you lift the champagne to your lips and sip, as does Jin. His eyes never leave you. He finds that even if you’re possibly in shock now, the reality not fully sinking in yet and covered in blood, he finds you beautiful.

Maybe it’s also because in a short amount of time, you’ve managed to succumb to a bit of madness, realizing that if you wanted to survive all of this meant that you had to do what you possibly didn’t want to.

“A lot to handle in just one day?” Jin murmurs your way, leaning down a bit. There’s chattering throughout the entirety of the ballroom.

“Yeah.” you nod your head in agreement. “I…became a killer?” you’re unsure how else to put it.

Jin chuckles at your cuteness. “In a way,” he responds. “the best has yet to come.”

You aren’t sure exactly what he meant, but you were going to find out.

Your body warms in a matter of minutes and slowly, you begin to relax. You were already eerily calm as if you hadn’t murdered an innocent woman. Yet, you felt even calmer - was that possible?

It was as if your body was shooting serotonin boosts throughout you and you were becoming relaxed.

Happy even.

“You,”

Seokjin’s voice sounded so close to you as you down the rest of the champagne. Your throat was throbbing for more, thirst growing throughout you.

“are in for a long ride.” Seokjin finishes as he places a hand on the low of your back. Dangerously low that it shooks electricity right up your spine.

“Am I?” you question, turning a bit to look at him. His lips are curled slightly and beady eyes are already watching you.

“Indeed you are.” Seokjin murmurs. He takes a curt sip of his bubbling champagne before he presses the glass to your lips. You open your mouth to drink the remaining of it, your eyes unblinking from Seokjin’ - almost as if in a trance.

“There’s things people like us do.” Seokjin’s fingers tap along your back. “The elites.”

“Elites?”

Seokjin begins to stroll and he keeps you close to him. The room is crowded as it has been for a while, yet you remain close to Seokjin as if it was just the two of you. The room is loud with chattering voices that you cannot make out in any conversation, but even then you only hear Seokjin as he speaks.

“Powerful people like me.”

Jin steers you towards a tall door that opens upon arrival by another masked figure who waits right beside it. The masked man bows to Jin and you as the two of you stroll through the door and down the long, carpeted hallway.

“These…parties?” you question. You rock your head side to side a bit, your hand coming up to wipe your forehead of a light trail of sweat. “Is everyone here elites?”

Jin nods his head. “Everyone once in a while, we all come together.” he murmurs. For an odd reason, the carpeted hallway appears entirely too long. At the end of said hallway is a pair of double doors that match the ones you and he walked through. “It’s like a secret society.”

“Secret society…” you trail off. You blink a few times when you and Jin reach the end of the hallway, your mind thinking a million questions at once. “...what do you guys do…?”

You got your answer quicker than you realized. The door is opened by Jin and he pushes you in gently. Your eyes trail over the large room. The carpet is the same crimson red as the hallway, though this time there’s gold patterns. The tall walls appear to be stone and now you realize just how enclosed this room is.

Moans and squeals fill the room, naked bodies all over the place. You and Jin’s entrance goes unnoticed by the sea of people engaging in sexual activity. Right in the middle of the large room are a group of women engaging in oral sex, their manicured hands roaming one anothers naked bodies.

Jin notices the way you push yourself closer to him and his arm around you holds you a bit tighter. He leans down a bit to murmur to you.

“Sometimes we come together and have a little fun.” Jin responds.

Within the sea of naked bodies, there’s still a few - men - that are covered. You noticed the gold masks that are similar to the ones Jin and Namjoon wore. Fully clothed and lingering in the area.

In the corner of the room, there’s a group of people fucking. A few naked bystanders watch, one woman's head on another's shoulders as if they were watching their favorite show. Your eyes watch the way the man fucks the woman with such earnest and need.

As if they were the only two in the room.

“Takes a lot to get used to this world.” Jin’s voice sends shivers down your spine and it knocks you back into reality. “You are an elite now.”

You swallow, eyes slowly widening at the words before you shake your head a bit. You bite your lip as you continue to survey the area. Were all these people elites? Is this what the ultra wealthy did? Partake in sex parties?

It shouldn’t catch you by surprise. You recall Namjoon’s words from earlier on how he voted for you. This was another part of the world of the elite. A game. After watching you all engage in a sick game of survival, they come here and fuck one another brains out.

You take a deep breath. There wasn’t any turning back now. Your dress is still covered in Zarish’s blood, staining the expensive material. Your mind is swirling and your core is telling you that possibly you drank more than just champagne.

“You look tense, Y/N.” Jin rubs your back softly. “You should unwind.”

“Unwind…how?” you question low. You could guess how. The sea of people all surrounding you two, all engaging in different sexual positions. “Jin?”

“Hm?” Jin hums. His long fingers appear to tap along your back as he awaits for you to answer him.

“Zarish,” you begin, swallowing a bit. Your mind was swirling and you didn’t want to forget what you had promised her prior to what you’ve done. “I…I promised her…”

Jin blinks, perfect eyelashes fluttering. “That you’d help her sick father?”

You knit your brows.

“I know everything about all my contestants.” Jin continues with a curt nod of his head. “You remain so noble, Y/N. My wife.” Jin’s fingers dance up your spine until they stop at the nape of your neck. “Whatever you set out to do, I will allow it. For now, let’s enjoy ourselves.”

Your head turns just in time to catch the figure that struts towards you. The gold mask comes to your line of vision and all you can think of was Jin and Namjoon. You do not move, even when the masked man stops directly in front of you and offers a bit of a head tilt. You cannot see his eyes and the eye holes of the golden mask appear like an endless dark hole.

“Y/N this is-”

“Jimin.”

The masked man speaks, his voice muffled a bit behind the golden mask. His hand lifts up to remove the mask, an act that appears taboo in a place such as this, but possibly he does it as an act of familiarity.

The man that comes from behind the golden mask has the same level of beauty as Jin and Namjoon, a pair of dark eyes staring back at you and a low grin that shows ulterior motives.

Jimin…

The man’s pearly white smile captivates you for a second too long that when he holds his hand out for you to take, you’re standing a bit dumbfounded.

“It’s nice to get the chance to meet you, Y/N.” Jimin’s voice sounds like honey - sweet and sugary. “My name is Jimin. Park,” Jimin, once you place your hand in his surprisingly soft and calloused-free ones, lifts it to his mouth. They’re a bit glossy, you note. “Jimin.” he says after he pecks your hand.

Your head slowly turns to Jin who’s already watching. He doesn’t say anything about Jimin’s actions and instead takes a step back, as if to allow you to do as you pleased.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” you murmur meekly. Your thighs pressed together firmly, the surrounding moans mixed with skin slapping was too much. How could they ignore the sex surrounding them?

They were elites, your mind tells you. They do this often.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Jimin allows your hand to drop, but he doesn’t step away.

“Yes…?” you glance around a bit. One girl is on her knees not too far away. Her mouth was occupied and so were her hands.

“Is that a question?” Jimin chuckles. He turns his head behind him to follow your gaze. “This must be a lot for you.”

All you can feel is your body burning up. You release a short huff. The room was stuffy and even this dress was feeling a bit too tight.

“I have never been a part of…”

“An Orgy.” Jimin chuckles, his laughter just as sweet as his voice that it causes you to melt a bit.

You proceed to glance towards Jin again. Just what was he doing standing and watching you for?

“Would you like to?”

Jin doesn’t answer for you, not even when your eyes meet his for any form of guidance.

You’re sure you don’t have a choice, you think. You were brought here for a reason. The blood on your dress was the reminder of the choice you made. The papers you’ve signed and the ring Jin put on your finger.

Slowly, you nod your head.

You wanted this, you told yourself.

You’ve killed for this.

“Champagne?”

There’s another voice this time. It’s as though you were hypnotized by Jimin that you had not realized another golden masked man stopped directly beside you. He holds out a single glass of bubbling champagne for you to take. You do, placing the glass against your lips and proceeding to downing the drink. You lick your lips as the masked man takes it from you.

“Turn around.”

That’s Jimin talking. You do, your heels falling silent against the carpeted floor. You’re now facing Jin. He’s leaning against the stone wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

Jimin’s hands are on your back and you could feel it loosening. He begins to unzip the dress slowly, bringing up anticipation. Your head tilts a bit, your breathing increasing.

“Not participating today?”

Jimin isn’t speaking with you. The masked man who brought you the champagne responds.

“Maybe later. I just want to watch for now.”

Your dress falls to your ankles. You don’t feel cold, even when the goosebumps erupt through your bare skin. Your body grows even hotter, especially with how close the unknown masked man and Jimin were to you.

“Congratulations on your engagement Y/N.” Jimin murmurs from behind you.

“And to Jin-hyung.”

Jin’s eyes blink away to look at the two men behind you. He offers a curt nod to them.

There’s hands onto your body now and a pair of lips on your neck. They move entirely too fast for you to process. Your eyes flutter and it’s becoming difficult to keep your eyes on Jin.

“It’s been a while since we’ve sampled something new.”

You catch a glimpse of it from the corner of your eyes. The gold mask that falls to the floor.

Jimin’s index finger hooks beneath your chin and pulls your face his way. His lips are centimeters away from you and before he could place his lips upon yours, you pull your face away.

Was this what Jin meant? Was he going to sit and watch you the entire time?

Jin’s eyes connect with yours for a moment and he only nods his head. His arms are crossed over his chest now.

Gradually, you begin to turn your head back towards Jimin. He hadn’t moved from his position and once he realized you were willing now, he placed his lips upon yours. They’re soft and have a faint taste of strawberries.

There’s a pair of large hands that grip at your skin as your lips dances with Jimin’s. Your body radiates more heat as if you’re a furnace and you cannot help the choked moan that dies down in your throat. Maybe it was because you knew Jin was watching you the entire time. Maybe it was because you’re just another body in a sea of people all doing the same.

Jimin releases your lips, but that doesn’t mean you are done. Your face is yanked to the left and you finally come face to face with the other man. He’s just as beautiful as Jimin and the rest of them. His eyes are dark and his lips are thin as the kiss along your jaw. The unknown man was rougher than Jimin, his large hand cupping your neck to pull you closer to him.

“Taehyung.” the man says, his voice deep and raspy that you clench around nothing upon hearing it. As if reading your mind, he introduces himself before his own lips are on yours. He forces your mouth open, his tongue exploring your mouth.

“Champagne, sir?”

Jin turns his eyes to the naked woman with a tray of champagne. She doesn’t look directly in his eyes as she awaits for him to dismiss her or take the champagne offered. He does, long fingers hooking around the glass and he nods his head to dismiss her. She strolls away, naked body swaying into the sea of people.

Jin brings the bubbling liquid to his lips, eyes darting back to you. You were a mess already, Taehyung and Jimin not being known to waste any time. You were already out of your bra and it lay discarded on the ground. Taehyung has a mouth full of your left nipple, large hands aggressively gripping and tugging on your breast as he suckles.

Jimin’s hand find their way between your legs that he shoves apart. He doesn't bother to tear your panties off just yet, his fingers working your clit as his tongue twirls over your right nipple.

Your moans do not go unnoticed by Jin, even in a room full of squeals, slapping skin and aggressive moaning. They’re like honey - sweet and curt and entirely new to his ears. He licks his lips, taking another sip of champagne.

It’s entirely too fast for you to process, you think. The way Taehyung was rough and dominant while Jimin was the exact opposite. He was more teasing, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit while his tongue flickers your nipple dangerously slow.

You don’t attempt to contact your moans and even your body begins to feel heavy. You’re leaning entirely onto Jimin, but the man doesn’t appear to be bothered by it.

“S-Slow down-”

Taehyung’s teeth graze your nipple as he pops it from his mouth. His eyes look upwards at you and he grunts. “No.” he says. “We’re preparing you for hyung.”

You gasp when Jimin’s finger skims across your hole, teasing you even more. He chuckles a bit, a cool laugh because he knows just how much you want his fingers in you.

“Get you nice and ready to be fucked.” Jimin sing-songs, his contrast compared to Taehyung a true eye opener.

“Table.” Taehyung says, and before you have the chance to process, you feel yourself being lifted off your feet.

You yelp when your back slams against something cold and hard. Your eyes dance around the large table, already occupied with people, yet you were the center of it. To your right were women who were being watched by other masked men - not golden masks - as they performed several sex acts.

“Take these off.” Taehyung tugs at your panties, snatching them away from your wet core and down your legs. He doesn’t bother to toss them anywhere near you and instead discards them behind his shoulders. “Let’s see how wet you are, huh?”

“Pretty wet.” Jimin says from beside Taehyung, placing a few of his fingers in his mouth and sucks them.

Taehyung’s hand slaps against your inner thighs once he shoves them apart. You squeal, the action causing a jolt of pleasure right through you.

“We’ll make you even wetter.”

It’s Taehyung that acts first, long fingers inching inside of you. Your back arches when he begins to pound them inside of you so roughly that you barely have time to react. Beside him Jimin holds your right leg while Taehyung your left, both eyes trained on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers.

Jin emerges right behind you on the table, another glass of champagne in his hand. He looks down at your face - fucked out expression with fluttering eyes and flushed skin. There’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth that trails down your jaw.

“You must want a cock in you, Y/N. You’re milking all over Tae’s palm!” Jimin chuckles, squeezing your thigh.

“No fair!”

Jin knows the voice of his dongsaeng. The whiny familiar voice of Jeon Jungkook as he appears, mask dangling from his shoulders.

“You didn’t wait for me!”

Taehyung’s pump slows a bit as he turns to the younger man with a roll of his eyes. He releases a sigh. “You were late.”

“I was busy.”

Jungkook meets your glossy gaze and he grins.

“Y/N,” Jungkook leans closer to you. “I’ve voted for you since the beginning.”

“You’re ruining the moment, Kook. Do something or go.” Jimin hisses, with a soft glare.

“I plan to.” Jungkook pushes Taehyung away. “You’re doing nothing but teasing her. I’ll be making her cum.”

The three of them together always caused competition - Jungkook being the most competitive of the trio. Jin doesn’t say anything and he’s a bit amused when you sigh meekly.

Jungkook takes Taehyung’s place between your legs, forcing your right leg into place so you cannot move away from him. He offers you a short wink before lowering himself to your clit.

Your thighs jolt to close, but with Jimin and Jungkook, they don’t. Jungkook’s tongue is warm and it licks between your folds rather aggressively.

Taehyung isn’t amused by being taken over by Jungkook, but he isn’t going to fight him. Not now, at least. Instead, he places his fingers inside your gasping mouth.

Tasting your arousal was something you’d never thought you do - yet, neither was being an “elite” and partaking in…orgies? Especially while your soon to be husband watched above you.

However, it all appears to be a dream. You aren’t bothered being completely naked by three unknown men you all met today while one eats you out as if he has something to prove.

Your eyes roll as there’s another set of fingers pumping inside of you now all the while Jungkook’s warm tongue continues to suckle onto your clit. Your chest heaves as it was all too much now. You’re unsure who’s hand is gripping at your breast, their thumb flicking your nipple, but you’re sure it’s Jimin.

Jin can feel his cock twitching from his suit pants. He drops the empty glass onto the table and leans closer to you, cloudy eyes on the way your breast bounces as your hips jerk against Jungkook’s tongue, pussy squeezing around his fingers.

“She’s so fucked out.” Taehyung chuckles, removing his fingers from your mouth so he trails them down towards your breast.

“I think she’s about to cum.” sing-song Jimin.

“Are you ready for her, hyung?” asks Taehyung.

“I didn’t make her cum yet.” Jungkook groans, fingers pumping inside of you. Your juices coat his palm and he’s entirely enthralled by how sopping wet you are.

“We’re just warming her up.”

Jungkook groans. There’s nothing more he hates than to leave a woman in such a manner. He removes his fingers and sighs with a shake of his head. “Maybe next time.” he says with a cute pout. It’s then you notice the piercing on his lip. “Hyung.”

You lay flat against the table now, chest heaving. Your thighs quiver and you can barely keep your eyes open now. Your high was slowly coming down, but even then did you feel the electricity through your veins.

“Time to consummate the marriage!”

Jimin’s voice dances through your ears.

“Y/N,”

You open your eyes to see Jin right in front of you. His head is tilted and he appears to wait for you to be fully coherent before he speaks again.

“Welcome to the elites.” Jin says, taking a step closer between your legs.

You exhaled a shaky breath, unanswering.

Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook stand around, their own glasses of champagne in their hand and they down them one by one.

Your low eyes watch as Jin begins to loosen his belt from around his waist.

“Enjoy your night tonight, boys.” Jimin says, lifting his third glass of champagne. His eyes turn from Jungkook to Taehyung. “There’s a long work week ahead of us.”

They carry on their own conversation that goes on deaf ears when Jin places both hands onto your waist and pulls you closer towards him.

“You aren’t going to remember this tomorrow.” Jin murmurs. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I’ll manage.” you murmur back, a hand reaching out to grab at his suit. “Please fuck me.”

Jin chuckles at your filthy words but he was going to do exactly what you asked.

“I have a million on one match in Paris.” Taehyung says. “I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

Jin’s cock is leaking pre-cum when he releases it from his underwear, his suit pants dropping by his ankles.

“Your pussy is pretty.” Jin comments. “I’m glad you won the game, Y/N. You fit into this world greatly.”

Jin enters you without much warning, but your pussy is so wet that it isn’t a problem. The stretch is good, a low groan deep in your throat.

Jin begins to pound into you, his aggressive thrusts only adding to the other around the large room. His eyes watch the way your breast bounces beneath him. He hooks your legs around his waist for a deeper entrance.

Witnessing the way you submit fully to him and allowing yourself to be pleasured by his dongsaengs caused a deep desire to grow within him. In all ways but one, you were the one he needed. The endless games he partaken in to assure he found the perfect wife had led him to you.

Your pussy grips Jin’s cock with such need. It’s as if it’s been waiting for him this entire time like a missing puzzle piece. He never wants to stop, he thinks. You’re beautiful underneath the dim lights of the room, eyes dark and clouded with temptation, lust and intoxication.

“You’re gonna cum before I do.” Jin grumbles, his fingernails digging into the skin of your hips. He snaps his hips roughly, the table long moving erratically beneath the two of you. “Go ahead and let go, Y/N.”

You’re flipped, your front slammed against the cold table.You come face to face with Jungkook, who’s eyes sparkle a bit, but you don’t have the time to talk. Jin enters you once more, pounding so deep inside of you. Your hands reach out to hold anything on the table and find nothing - until Jimin takes your hand and allows you to squeeze.

“I have to go to Japan.” Jimin says, his thumb rubbing the top of your hand encouragingly as his hyung fucks you without a care in the world. “Meeting with politicians.”

“Ugh, boring.” Jungkook leans back, arms behind his head as he listens to Jimin speak.

“F-Fuck.” you shake your head, stomach churning with the familiar feeling from early - the one you lost when Jungkook was forced away from you.

“Let go,Y/N. Cum all over me.” Jin says darkly, his fingernails were going to leave bruises on your skin when he was done with you.

Your ass slams against his abdomen, his pounds growing harder and harder by the second.

“To the newlyweds.” Taehyung raises yet another glass of champagne, his words slurred a bit.

You’re seeing white this time, juices pooling out and down your thighs. You squeeze Jimin’s hand in your own, a spew of curse words leaving your lips.

Jin isn’t done - not yet. He continues fucking into you while you squirm underneath him. It was all too much to handle, the overstimulation beginning to hurt a bit. However, the pain felt good and even you found that you were going to cum once more.

“I’m going to take you to our home and fuck you even more.” Jin’s sloppy thrust indicates that he was just as wrecked as you were. A hand takes your hair and forces you back so he can place his plump lips besides your ear. “Y/N…my wife…” Jin groans, milky seeds erupting inside of you so deep. It’s just as hot as you feel, filling you to the brim entirely.

You drop back onto the table with an exhausted huff, eyes fluttering close. Jin remains inside of you, his cum pooling out and filling you up at both a rabid and slow pace. Sweat pools the corner of your forehead and you are about done with the night.

“To the newlyweds.” Jungkook claps his hands together. “I can’t wait for the wedding.”

“To think it took this long for you to find the perfect one.” Jimin states. You are asleep now. Still naked and on top of the table, weariness taking over your body completely. “One manipulative little bitch she is for tricking that girl. I like her.”

Jin agrees. He pulls his pants up and tightens his belt just as before. “Whatever it takes to win.” he says, placing a hand onto your head and rubbing a bit. “She’ll fit right in.”

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sosa2imagines · 4 months ago

Text

Finding you again... Part 1

Warning- Hydra, torture, slap, mentions of kidnapping, getting stabbed, angst.

You don’t remember how long you’ve been here. Days, months, years, it all blends into a blur of sterile hallways and cold, fluorescent lighting. You were taken by Hydra, forced into their web of control and obedience.

You were nothing but a tool to them, a pawn in their game Alexander Pierce made it clear from the start, you were to obey, to serve their cause, and above all, to ensure his weapon was maintained.

The Winter Soldier.

They called him that, never by a name, never as a person. To them, he was a machine, a tool to be used and discarded.

But to you?

To you, he was more than that. Beneath the blank stares, the mechanical precision, and the programmed responses, you saw fragments of something else. Someone else.

The first time they let you care for him, you had whispered, “You’re not a machine. You're human.” He didn’t react, but you saw it, a flicker of something deep within those stormy blue eyes. A spark. It was enough to make you believe he was still in there, buried under layers of pain and conditioning.

Days passed, and despite the cold treatment from others, you treated him with kindness, offering soft words, gentle touches, and, when no one was watching, a bit of warmth that had long since been stripped from him. You tended to his wounds, cleaned the blood from his hands, and tried to remind him, in the smallest ways, that he wasn't alone.

But as you tended to his wounds and cared for his needs, you couldn't help but see glimpses of the man he used to be. The Winter Soldier was a blank slate, a weapon without a past, but you could sense that somewhere deep inside him, a spark of humanity remained. Every stolen glance, every subtle movement, and every whispered word you shared felt like a small victory over the darkness that had consumed him.

As the days turned into weeks, your bond grew stronger. You found yourself talking to him, telling him stories, and sharing bits and pieces of your own life. He rarely responded, but you could see that he was listening, that he was taking in every word you said. The blankness in his eyes seemed a little less empty, and his touch, while still mechanical, felt a bit gentler, as if he was carefully testing the waters of human connection.

One night, as you were checking his injuries, you noticed his hand was trembling slightly. A rare show of vulnerability. You gently took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. For the first time, he didn't pull away. Instead, he held on, his grip firm, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he let go.

In those silent moments, the world outside faded away. You could almost forget that you were trapped in this labyrinth of pain and control. You could almost see a future where he wasn't a weapon, and you weren't a prisoner. But deep down, you knew that this fragile connection could easily be shattered by a single order from Alexander Pierce.

And you were right, because Hydra was relentless.

One day, after a failed mission, the air in the control room was tense. Pierce was furious. The Winter Soldier sat stoically in the center, still bloodied, from the bridge fight with Captain America and his friends. His chest heaved slightly, his face an unreadable mask, but you knew he was processing, trying to make sense of what he saw, of who he saw.

“Who was the man on the bridge?” Pierce's voice was sharp, grating.

The Soldier said nothing, eyes downcast.

Pierce stepped forward, the sound of his polished shoes echoing in the room. Without hesitation, his hand flew, striking the Soldier hard across the face. The crack of impact made your stomach churn, but the Soldier didn’t flinch, just sat there, accepting it like he always did.

That was the moment something inside you snapped.

“Stop it!” you blurted out before you could think. The entire room fell silent. Pierce turned slowly, his cold, calculating eyes narrowing in on you.

“What did you say?” His voice was deadly quiet, but you stood your ground.

“I said stop it…” you repeated, stepping between them. “He’s done enough. He’s been through enough. He’s not a machine, sir, and you know it!”

Pierce’s lips curled into a cruel smile, his amusement short-lived. “Ah,” he mused, circling you like a predator, “I see the little pet has grown some claws.” Without warning, he struck. A flash of silver, the sting of cold steel against your skin.

You gasped, your scream getting stuck in your throat, staggering backward as pain blossomed across your stomach. A deep, searing cut traced from just below your belly to the very edge of your panties, the fabric dampening with blood almost instantly. You clutched your abdomen, vision blurring as you sank to your knees.

The Soldier didn’t move, didn’t react, not yet. Not until Pierce barked, “Wipe him!”

The technicians stepped in, forcing him into the chair, metal restraints clamping down around his limbs. He didn’t fight, but his eyes met yours just before the device powered up. A flash of recognition, a sliver of something almost… concerned. Then the light enveloped him, and just like that, whatever was left of him was gone.

You tried to focus through the haze of pain, tried to stay conscious as Pierce loomed over you with a smirk. “Let’s see how well he takes orders, shall we?” he said before turning to the now-blank Soldier.

“Stitch her up.”

The Soldier stood, moving with mechanical precision, collecting the medical kit from the table. You wanted to protest, to push him away, but you couldn't. Instead, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he knelt beside you, his metal hand pressing you down, keeping you still. His flesh hand hovered over your wound, steady and unfeeling.

As he threaded the needle and began stitching your torn skin with clinical efficiency, you couldn't help but whisper, voice trembling, “You’re still in there... I know it...”

He didn’t respond. His hands moved without hesitation, each pull of the thread sealing the wound but leaving your heart aching. The man you’d come to believe in, the one you saw glimmers of hope within, was gone, wiped clean like a slate.

But even as the pain pulled you into darkness, you held onto one thought.

You wouldn’t give up on him. Not now. Not ever.

Your Winter.

Part 2-

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

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@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss @kpopgirlbtssvt @baw1066 @leviackerman2030

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fellominaarcher · 13 days ago

Text

THE DEVIL'S BRIDE — JENNIE

now I'm fucking leaning on that

SYNOPSIS

» » Desperate to revive her dying music career, burned-out producer Y/N performs a ritual to sell her soul to the devil—only to summon Jennie, the devil’s daughter. But the deal comes with a twist: her soul won’t just be sold, it’ll be married. Now bound by an unholy matrimony, Y/N must navigate a literal deal with the devil… wedding vows, rings, and all.

» » devil!Jennie x artist!fem!reader

» » genre: supernatural horror-romance, dark comedy & psychological thriller

» » warning: power imbalance, occult themes, ritualistic self-harm, blood, dubious consent within contract marriage, morally grey actions, strong language & mind games & sex (in the future)

» » inspo: Unholy Matrimony — Karina x fem!reader, I can't find the OG author account :((

Y/N used to be everywhere. A sought-after songwriter-producer with hits under her belt, awards on her shelf, and a waiting list of artists begging for a piece of her sound. But lately, the tide had turned. Newer, younger producers had flooded the scene. Labels were chasing trends, not talent. The phone didn’t ring as often. The emails came less and less.

It wasn’t that she was any older than them. It was just the way the industry worked: burn fast, fade faster. She was burned out. Inspiration had dried up. And no matter how many all-nighters she pulled or vintage synths she dusted off, nothing sounded right anymore.

Desperate to reignite the dream she built from scratch, Y/N did something she never thought she would.

She considered selling her soul.

It started as a joke—one of those late-night, half-drunk conversations with a friend who said, “You might as well summon the devil at this point.”

Y/N laughed at first. But something about the idea lingered.

She didn’t believe in anything, really. Not heaven, not hell, not even the horoscope. She wasn't raised with that kind of fear. But desperation breeds a different kind of faith. And she was running out of options.

So she researched. Dug into forums, deep web archives, dusty occult PDFs. It was ridiculous, sure but what if it worked?

Then came the night.

A full moon. Wind howling against the glass windows of her penthouse. Unlit candles lined the floor, forming a crooked path from the studio to the open balcony. Her white silk robe fluttered as she stood barefoot on the cold marble floor. A sharp knife in hand.

She sliced her palm—flinched. Blood welled and dripped.

A drop on her tongue. A few into red wine. The rest splattered onto the black marble. She muttered the words she'd memorized, her voice trembling, unsure.

The room fell silent.

Then—

“Well, my father couldn’t make it. Or as I might say: he won’t do it. So he sent me instead. His daughter. One of them.”

The voice was smooth, sultry, and amused.

Y/N turned.

Standing in the shadows of her balcony was a woman—striking, terrifying, beautiful. Catlike eyes that glinted with mischief. Crimson lips curled into a lazy smile. Black boots clicked against marble as she stepped forward, like she owned the place.

Y/N stumbled back, falling to her knees. “What the…?”

The woman, Jennie, cocked her head. “Do you know what you’re getting into? Selling your soul. Devoting yourself to Hell. Tsk. Pathetic. Desperate little dog.”

Y/N blinked up at her, breath catching. “So... slice the palm, blood, wine, creepy words then I sell my soul to the devil, right? That’s how it works?”

Jennie grinned. “Correct.”

Then she paused.

“But... you do know that ‘sell your soul to the devil’ is quite literal, right? Like, marriage literal. Vows, rings, binding contracts. Consummation. All that.”

Y/N stared, slack-jawed. “...Wait, what?”

Jennie raised a brow, her tone flat. “What do you mean ‘what?’ This is standard procedure. You want success, my family wants souls. It’s transactional. Marriage makes it binding.”

Y/N squinted. “You mean like... wedding marriage?”

“Exactly. Dress, vows, eternal damnation. Maybe a honeymoon in Hell. My father's old-fashioned that way.” Jennie waved a hand dismissively as she wandered the penthouse, inspecting the place like a realtor. “Honestly, you’re lucky. If you had summoned him, it would’ve been way worse.”

Y/N was still kneeling, mind reeling.

“A wedding?” she echoed weakly.

“With me,” Jennie added, smiling down at her. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

Y/N stared at the wine glass still stained with blood. She thought of her dwindling bank account. Her name slipping off playlists. Her inbox, empty.

Jennie, Satan’s daughter, held out her hand not for a handshake, but like she was offering a dance.

“So?” she said, with a smirk. “Do you want to be mine, or not?”

Y/N blinked. Her head was a cloud of disbelief and iron-scented fog. She glanced at the hand, perfectly manicured and ominously calm, and gently slapped it aside as she rose on shaky legs.

“Don't take this personally,” Y/N muttered. “I just... need a minute.”

Jennie raised a brow, amused. “Oh, honey. That was very personal. Want to hear what happened to the last girl who said ‘give me a minute’?”

“No.”

“Smart.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, ignoring the sting in her palm. This was all spiraling. She wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating, or if burnout had finally bloomed into full-on insanity. Marriage? To the devil’s daughter?

Did she not read those crusty, probably-forbidden ritual papers carefully enough? Maybe she was just too excited at the idea of not fading into irrelevance to fully process the fine print.

“Am I marrying you right now?” she asked, voice dry and tinged with panic. “Like... this second?”

Jennie had already picked up the blood-tinged wine and was sipping it casually, like it was sparkling juice at a dinner party.

“The drink’s not bad,” Jennie commented, smacking her lips before casting Y/N a sidelong glance. “Needs more blood, less Merlot.”

“Answer the question,” Y/N said, grabbing a clean towel and pressing it to her bleeding hand.

Jennie’s smile curled lazily, like a cat stretching on a pile of bones. “Well... do you want a human-style wedding? Vows, flowers, questionable music choices, drunk uncles?”

“Hard pass.”

“Then we do it our way,” Jennie said sweetly, too sweetly.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “And how exactly do demons or whatever you are get married?”

Jennie stepped closer, her boots soundless on the marble floor. She looked up at the ceiling, humming dramatically like she was trying to remember something she absolutely wasn't.

“Oh, you know. Your soul gets dragged into Hell. You recite some ancient vow no living tongue can pronounce properly. Then we soak your body in a thick, black tar-like substance and voilà! You’re married.”

Y/N blinked. “...That’s the whole process?”

“Almost. Consummation too,” Jennie added, tone flat now. “It... binds the soul.”

Y/N looked at her. “You mean sex.”

While Jennie explained the terms of this supernatural marriage contract, Y/N's mind raced. Was it worth sacrificing herself for eternal damnation just to hear her songs on the radio again? What if she changed her mind later? What if there was no "later" to speak of?

But she'd already summoned a literal demon into her penthouse. It was too late for second thoughts.

Y/N turned to face Jennie fully, decision crystallizing like ice in her chest. "Deal. Let's get married." The words left her mouth before her brain could stop them, heart hammering against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

Jennie glided over to Y/N with predatory grace, setting the wine glass down with a soft clink before taking hold of Y/N's injured hand. The towel fell away like a discarded prayer. "From now on," Jennie murmured, fingertips brushing the open wound with surprising gentleness, "I am yours and you are... mine."

The cut sealed itself instantly, skin knitting together as if it had never been torn. Not even a scar remained but just smooth, unmarked flesh and the ghost memory of pain.

Y/N stared at her healed palm, then at Jennie's face. This was really happening. She was about to marry Satan's daughter—a being whose name she didn't even know yet. A creature with red hair that caught the candlelight like flame, eyes that held hints of red in their depths, and an expression that managed to be both devastatingly beautiful and faintly cruel.

Is this how devils were supposed to look? Hauntingly gorgeous with killer smiles and the ability to heal wounds with a touch?

"By the way," Jennie said, as if reading her thoughts, "you look absolutely pathetic standing there gaping like a fish. It's almost endearing in a deeply embarrassing way."

Y/N blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, did I stutter? You summoned me with all the grace of a drunk toddler, nearly fainted at the sight of your own blood, and now you're staring at me like I'm some sort of museum exhibit." Jennie's laugh was melodic and mean. "Honestly, I'm starting to wonder if Hell has quality standards anymore."

And somehow, despite everything, Y/N found herself almost smiling. At least her future wife had personality.

Even if that personality seemed dedicated to creative insults.

Jennie didn’t wait for another word. With a palm pressed firmly between Y/N’s shoulder blades, she guided her into the dining hall. The space felt different—off. The air was heavier here, the shadows slower to retreat.

At the head of the long, obsidian dining table, Jennie pulled a velvet-cushioned chair out with a lazy grace. Then, without ceremony, she shoved Y/N by the shoulder into it.

“Let’s get married, you little puppy,” Jennie purred, brushing Y/N’s hair back with a predatory tenderness. Her eyes glinted, just for a second, with a crimson flash. She bit her bottom lip, excitement curling at the corners of her mouth.

The literal daughter of Satan was about to wed a struggling pop producer. If it weren’t happening to her, Y/N would’ve laughed at the absurdity. This sounded like internet folklore cooked up by someone high on cough syrup.

Y/N tilted her head to look up at Jennie. “This instant?”

Jennie pushed her head gently but firmly to face forward again.

“Sit still.”

Y/N blinked. “I didn’t even get your name yet. Hey…”

Jennie sighed as if this was the most inconvenient conversation she’d had all century. “Oh, shut up.”

And yet, Y/N didn’t resist. Not really. Just a small grumble. She wasn't scared, not in the traditional sense—more like disoriented, as if this was a dream dressed up in velvet and blood.

Jennie stepped closer. She cupped Y/N’s face, fingers cool against her skin. Then, with a smooth motion, she covered Y/N’s eyes with both hands.

Darkness.

Then came the whispering.

Jennie’s voice first, soft and low in her right ear. Then others—many others—joined in, layering over each other like a ghostly chorus. Y/N couldn’t understand the words, but they echoed somewhere inside her, twisting through her bones. She felt dizzy. Sleepy. Disconnected from her body.

Where does this take her?

When Jennie finally lifted her hands, Y/N gasped.

She was no longer in her penthouse.

The space stretched endlessly in all directions, an eerie void painted in shades of crimson and black. The air smelled metallic, thick. Ruby stones grew from the ground like grass. The sky above them pulsed a dark, sick red. The silence here had sound.

Hell.

“This is home, Y/N,” Jennie whispered again, her breath grazing her ear. A single claw-like nail dragged along Y/N’s jaw, sharp enough to prick but not pierce.

Y/N stood, blinking at the uncanny landscape. Her mind screamed this had to be a hallucination. A dream. But the cold under her bare feet, the thick air in her lungs—everything felt real.

She was here.

She summoned the devil. And the devil said yes.

How the hell was she supposed to back out now?

Regret was blooming, fast and uninvited.

Jennie stepped around her with a smug calmness and slipped her hand into Y/N’s. “C’mon. Let’s make us belong to each other now.”

Y/N said nothing. Wordless, like the little lost dog Jennie kept calling her, she followed.

The “venue” was horrifyingly beautiful. Dark elegance stitched into every inch. The floor was lined with polished black stone. Candles floated mid-air, their flames flickering with a purple hue. Ruby stones grew like tall grass around the ceremonial space, their surfaces catching light that seemed to come from nowhere. Contrary to traditional beliefs about Hell, there was no fire.

Before she knew it, Y/N found herself standing at an altar with Jennie holding both her hands. She glanced at their wedding guests: a group of figures with faces obscured by cloth wrapped around their heads like burial shrouds.

It was deeply unsettling.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. But Y/N felt them watching.

Worse, above them was beyond the fabric of this twisted sky—loomed something. A colossal presence. Watching. Breathing. Waiting.

Y/N’s stomach churned.

“The name’s Jennie, by the way,” Jennie said with a wink.

Before Y/N could respond, Jennie pressed her thumb to Y/N’s forehead.

Y/N’s body convulsed. Her head jerked back as if struck by lightning, and a deep gag rose from her throat. Her eyes rolled back, whites fully exposed. A burning pain shot down her spine.

“If you see it…” Jennie whispered, lips brushing Y/N’s ear, “read the vow.”

Y/N could suddenly see it.

Not written but etched into her mind, carved in symbols older than memory. A vow in a language not meant for mortals, vibrating against her skull, begging to be spoken.

With trembling lips, Y/N spoke the words. They felt like ash and fire pouring from her throat.

Each syllable echoed. The covered heads guests figures raised their heads. The red sky rippled. The ground beneath her feet shuddered.

And Jennie’s smile stretched wider.

This was no metaphor. This was real. This was Hell. And Y/N was marrying it.

Everything after the vow moved too quickly for Y/N to process.

One moment, she was standing on the altar, voice still echoing from an ancient vow her mouth wasn’t supposed to form. The next, shadowy creatures with tightly wrapped cloth around their heads—no eyes, no features, no humanity were dragging her somewhere deeper. Their touch was ice, their hands skeletal and firm.

She was paralyzed beneath them, limbs slack, breath shallow.

They carried her toward the black water.

It rippled like oil and stank of iron and forgotten things. No reflection. No end. Just a surface meant for swallowing. The moment she was lowered in, it enveloped her completely.

A part of the ritual.

A necessary step to marry the devil.

Y/N had thought it would be simpler. Slice your palm, spill some blood, recite a few spooky phrases—and boom. Contract signed.

But no.

It was so much more disturbing than she could’ve imagined.

Just flesh. And vows. And immersion.

All happening too fast, too surreal for her mind to latch onto.

And suddenly—

She was back.

Back in the endless red-and-black void, but seated now, shivering slightly on a velvet-cushioned chair that hadn’t been there before. Across from her sat Jennie. Red hair glowing like embers, eyes fixed on Y/N with an unreadable expression.

Not quite concern. Not quite cruelty.

Curiosity.

She tilted her head. “It’s okay. You did good,” Jennie said, voice low and eerily gentle. “Now... let’s get you home.”

Before Y/N could respond, Jennie leaned in and wrapped an arm around her. Not tight, but supportive. Y/N, exhausted beyond reason, allowed her body to lean into it. The weight of everything—ritual, vow, decision—came crashing down all at once.

Her head dropped against Jennie’s shoulder. Dizzy. Breathless. Empty. It had taken so much out of her. And yet, she hadn’t even begun to pay the price.

This was just the start.

Still... if it meant going back to what she once was—writing hit after hit, producing music that swallowed the world whole, getting her name back into every artist’s mouth and every teenager’s playlist...

Maybe it was worth it. Maybe.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, her breath softening as the void around them began to melt away.

And Jennie? Jennie simply smiled.

taglist (open) — @saysirhc

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gloomskulls · 6 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ YELP REVIEWS [tasm!peter parker x reader]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ a fan decided to make an unofficial yelp page for spider man as a joke. A lot of clients...or citizens had so much to say.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ none

A/n: Just a random short fluff. I'll go back doing dark stories once I feel like it. I haven't really used Yelp, but my friend gave me this idea lol, so credit to Angelina lol. Don't steal this coz I'll shave your head.

Peter slumped on the couch scrolling through his phone. He frowned intensely and tapped a link you had just sent him, headlined as "Spider-Man Yelp Reviews"

You leaned against the door with a stifled grin. "Found it while looking at reviews for that new pizza place. Thought you'd get a kick out of the comments from your…clients."

Peter groaned. "Clients? I'm not running a business. What is this?"

Thumbing through the reviews, he cycled through disbelief, frustration then finally wounded pride.

2 stars

"He saved me from a mugger, but he sailed so quickly I didn't even manage to get the chance to say than you. Really rude."

3 stars

"I appreciate the help...however, he left me dangling from a lamppost for 20 minutes until the cops arrived. You could have just dropped me on the ground bro."

4 stars

"Brilliant rescue, but my phone screen got cracked when he yanked me into a speeding car. Thanks, I guess"

Peter threw his head back, exasperated. "Cracked phone screens? I'm sorry, Janet, would you prefer to have been hit by the car?"

"Peter, this is gold," you dropped beside him taking the phone to scroll further. "Ooh, look at this one!"

1 star

“I yelled for Spider-Man to come help me when my cat was stuck in a fire escape. He didn’t show. What’s the worth of a superhero when they won’t even help the little guy from time to time?”

"That wasn't even a crime," Peter exclaimed with hands thrown up. "What do people expect me to do run a cat rescue hotline?"

"I mean…isn't helping people your whole thing? Even the little guys? Or, in this case, little cats?"

He narrowed his eyes at you. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, I'm loving it." You scrolled to another review.

3 stars

"Got my purse back after it was snatched, but when he handed it to me, he just said, 'Here ya go,' and left. No photo, no autograph. Kinda rude."

"Oh no, Peter, how dare you not stay for selfies mid-crime fighting?" You snickered.

Peter dragged a hand down his face. "Am I supposed to throw a meet and greet after every mugging? Should I bring merch? Web-slingers for kids? Spider-Man action figures?"

You wiggled your eyebrows. "Don't tempt me to start a side hustle."

He shook his head, scrolling further. His eyes widening in disbelief at the review.

1 star

"I yelled for Spider-Man to help me with my groceries. He didn't show up. Ended up dragging six bags up five flights of stairs by myself. What's even the point of having a superhero if he doesn't help the little people?"

Peter let out a strangled laugh. "Groceries? I have to save people from groceries now?"

"Be honest," you teased. "If you would have heard her, would you help?"

He hesitated. "…I mean, maybe. If I wasn't busy."

"Softie," you said, poking his cheek. "You're gonna carry someone's Costco haul one day; I just know it."

Peter groaned louder and clicked on another review, muttering, "It can't get worse. It can't possibly—"

0 stars

"Spider-Man swung by my building and broke my balcony railing. Now my landlord's charging me for repairs. Thanks, webhead."

"Oh," you managed a stifled laugh. "Isn't that the guy from your last patrol? You know, the one who yelled at you when you were chasing that car thief?"

Peter buried his face into his hands. "It's not my fault that balconies are so flimsy in the city. It's very hard to swing around without hitting something."

You patted his shoulder soothingly. "Don't worry, hero. I'm sure you'll get your Yelp rating up again. Maybe even start a loyalty program? Save five, get a free coffee?"

Peter shot you a look, betraying irritation and amusement. "You're impossible." You just grinned menacingly at his words.

"Hey, look at this one," you said, stealing the phone and scrolling to a five-star review, finally. "Finally, some love."

5 stars

“Spider-Man saved my dog from traffic. My girlfriend thinks he's cute. I do too, honestly. Would let him rescue me any day.”

He blinked. "What…what does that even mean?!"

"It means you’re the city’s hottest, most eligible bachelor,” you said, draping an arm over his shoulders. "Even dogs are falling for you. Can't blame them."

He rubbed his temples. “I think I need to retire. Or move to a quieter city. Do they need Spider-Man in, like, Ohio? Whadoyo think baby?”

You smiled and opened the Yelp app. “There, there, hero. I’ll fix your reputation." You assured him as you patted his back

Peter leaned over, squinting as you typed. “What are you— '5 stars. Spider-Man is amazing. Handsome. Athletic. Definitely has a great butt' Babe!" He read out everything you typed for him as you clicked the submit button

You winked. "Just telling the truth. Besides, if you're going to be stuck here, you might as well be a five-star hero."

"Unbelievable," he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me

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grimm909 · 3 months ago

Text

Dial 17 for blackmail - Part 1

Hello, everyone. I don’t have much to say here, so I apologize for any English mistakes you might come across—english is not my first language.

WARNINGS: Blackmail, sexual abuse, emotional manipulation.

All characters are written as 18+. Please, do not proceed if you are under eighteen.

Enjoy your reading!

You stare at your haggard reflection in the mirror, the edges of which are marked by cracks — though not as broken as your spirit.

The body you examine from top to bottom is no longer yours, nor does it seem like a part of who you really are. You want to rip off that skin marked by love bites, as they call it, turn it inside out, peel it like a tangerine.

Disgusting.

Your soul screams, trapped inside that contaminated piece of flesh, disgusted by being there. You grit your teeth as your eyes, intensely red, meet your own reflection. They are like that not only because of the incessant tears that fall, but because of the pure and suffocating rage that pulses through every fiber of your being. A fury so overwhelming that you feel capable of reducing NRC to dust with the force of a single scream.

But the cruel reality is that you can’t.

At most, you would scare Grim and the ghosts of Ramshackle. And drawing attention to yourself is the last thing you want, or they might discover the situation you're trapped in. As entangled as a butterfly caught in a spider’s web, slowly being devoured alive. And your tormentors fit this dark metaphor perfectly.

You swallow the sob that rips down your throat like a thorn. It’s unbearable to stare at your own image for more than a minute without being dragged into the memories of the horrible things they’ve done to you. And it doesn’t matter how many baths you take; their smell seems embedded in your skin, like an invisible scar.

"Henchman, how long are you going to stay in there!?"

On the other side of the door, Grim’s dismayed voice echoes through the bathroom walls. It’s so unexpected that, for a moment, you’re startled, imagining that he might come in and discover the marks you’ve been trying to hide at all costs. However, the door remains locked; you make sure of that meticulously, checking the lock repeatedly before getting into the shower just so your nosy little friend won’t suddenly come in.

You clear your throat, doing your best to keep your voice from sounding choked with tears.

"I’m coming out now, oh great Grim-sama."

You answer, a little more hoarsely than he would like, but with a clear hint of mockery.

However, considering your roommate’s modest intelligence, it’s quite likely that he takes your mockery seriously, believing your words are genuine.

"That’s right! The great Grim-sama should be in there and you out here."

A breath escapes your lips, in disbelief at his naivety. Sooner or later, you’ll have to teach him not to take everything others say so literally. At least, your furry little friend is a source of encouragement for you, even in the midst of misfortune.

You turn on the sink tap, letting the water run as you wash your face, marked by seemingly endless tears. When you finish, you look up at the mirror, staring at your reflection for the last time. The features once contorted by anger and bitterness slowly dissolve as your lips form a discreet smile, carrying an unexpected softness and a long-lost innocence.

You’re good at pretending. Good at lying. Too good at covering up. Maybe too good for your own good.

But your silence comes at a high cost: the weight of unexpressed emotions accumulated day after day, and you could drown in them at any moment. It’s a miserable existence of constant vigilance, of keeping yourself in check so the truth won’t come out — because deep down, you know no one can really help you.

Telling what’s bothering you, who is bothering you, would have dire consequences for your friends. The Leech brothers have always been too good at getting rid of anything — or anyone — that threatens them.

"You can come in." You announce to your feline friend after opening the bathroom door and giving him space to jump inside, then closing it again, since Grim can’t reach the handle on his own.

You grab your cellphone from the small dresser next to the bed, sitting on it and logging into Magicam to see what’s new — more specifically, to check if there’s anything compromising about you spreading through social networks.

Going through each profile, especially the ones belonging to the Leech brothers, you let out a sigh of relief when you realize everything is fine.

At least, for now.

The cell phone vibrates in your hands with a message notification. Just above the screen, before the preview disappears, you catch Jade’s name flashing across it.

Your lower lip is clenched hard between your teeth in nervous tension, already knowing that absolutely nothing good could come from this. With no choice, you open the message.

Jade: Meet me in the greenhouse, after class.

You: I can’t. I’ve made plans to study with my friends.

Jade: Oh, really? Interesting. But I doubt you’ll be able to focus on studying if that video ends up on all their phones.

You: Please, leave me alone.

Jade: You know I hate cheap blackmail, but sometimes you have to be persuasive, right? Go to the greenhouse, after class. Alone. Or maybe the rest of the school will get to see a much more… intimate side of you.

You: You don’t have to do this. I’m going.

Your fingers curl around the device with such force it looked like you were about to snap it in half. Rage boils inside you. That bastard! How could he be so deceitful?

Before you actually broke the only means of communication you had — since Crowley wouldn’t give you another one anytime soon, and buying a new one was out of the question — you made the sensible decision to throw the phone onto the bed.

Grabbing a nearby pillow, you buried your face in it to muffle the shrill scream that escaped your lips, dragging on for several seconds.

[...]

After classes, it was easy to lie and convince your friends that you were meeting with Jade just to discuss a few tasks that needed to be done at the Mostro Lounge — since you worked nights at the restaurant to have a little extra money at the end of the month, even if that meant constantly facing the two people you hated most in Twisted Wonderland.

And, as expected, none of them wanted to join you. Grim, in particular, scrunched up his nose at the mention of the name “Leech,” preferring to steer clear of the topic like it was a plague. In the end, they all agreed to wait for another opportunity to study together, confident in the belief that you could take care of yourself.

And how could you not?

You face four overblots, one after another in a short span of five months, without ever letting the situation shake you. You always maintain a cold and impassive attitude while assisting in the fights. Seriously, you even headbutt Riddle during his overblot. If that isn't excessive courage — especially for someone without magic — then what is?

In a way, you’re almost like a source of inspiration for these boys; kind, confident, clever, and funny. Yes, that’s everything you are… or everything you wish you were.

“Oh, look who decided to show up.”

Your eyes meet Jade’s heterochromatic gaze the moment you open the glass door of the greenhouse and step inside. The air inside is humid, heavy with the scent of damp soil and fungi in various stages of growth. Jade is alone, seated at the long wooden table, surrounded by pots holding an alarming variety of mushrooms.

“You came so quickly, pet.” The nickname slides off his tongue like a thin, sharp blade, slicing through your mood the instant it’s spoken. Jade always knows just what to say to make you shudder — in disgust, in frustration, or maybe both. “Sometimes I wonder just how far you’re willing to go over a single video.” He smiles, that same devilish, toothy grin you’ve come to despise over the past few weeks.

In your mind, you rewrite his words: Sometimes I wonder how close I can push you to the edge… just for my own pleasure.

“Maybe that’s why no one wants to join your stupid club,” you snap, provoking him even though you know it’s a terrible idea. You still do it.

“Feeling bold today, aren’t you?” Unfortunately for your ego, his smile doesn’t waver, but his two-toned eyes narrow in a veiled threat.

“What do you want?” you ask sharply, not wanting to drag this pointless conversation on.

“Fufu, in a hurry, are we?”

He mocks before standing, and your body reacts before your brain can even process it. Your muscles tense at the thought of him coming closer to do what that bastard does best: be a damn leech.

But instead of approaching you, Jade calmly turns and walks to a nearby table, where a small pot holds a peculiar mushroom. With the care of an expert, he plucks it from the soil.

Only then does he face you again. Looming in front of you, presence heavy and suffocating — like a predator eyeing his prey.

“I’m not going to be your damn guinea pig.” Your voice is tight, your words dripping with contempt. You want to lunge at his throat.

“No?” Jade raises a brow, feigning surprise.

Then, in a slow and deliberate motion, his free hand slides into the inner pocket of his white lab coat. His lips curl into a wicked little smile.

Your stomach sinks. You know exactly what he’s about to do.

The phone.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” The words escape before you can stop them. The bitter taste of surrender clings to your tongue — such a contrast to the defiance you had just moments ago.

It takes everything in you to swallow your pride and protect the little dignity you have left.

Jade looks more than pleased with your sudden and ‘voluntary’ change in behavior. His hand abandons the phone, but you know it isn’t a retreat — just a reminder that the threat still exists.

“Just give it to me,” you mutter, holding out your hand, annoyed.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” He smiles and tosses the tiny fungus into your hand. His next words are accompanied by his signature move: hand over heart in mock gratitude. “It’s so good to have you as an unofficial member of the Lovers Mountain Club.” A guinea pig — that’s what he means. You’ve learned to read the double meanings behind Jade’s flowery language.

“What does it do?” you ask, examining the pink mushroom with white spots, barely the size of your pinky finger.

“You’ll find out once it takes effect.”

“I hate surprises that come from you.” Your voice is sharp, full of resentment.

“From me? Oh, don’t be so cruel.” Jade frowns and feigns sadness, though the playful gleam in his eyes betrays the act. “Now… the mushroom you’re holding? Ah, that’s a different story. I’m sure it holds a rather peculiar surprise.”

You hate those last words — the clear disdain in them. It’s like he’s mocking your ignorance. Jade definitely knows what that damn mushroom is capable of. He just doesn’t want to tell you.

Your eyes fix on him, your fingers curling tightly around the fungus as if you could crush the answers out of it. But Jade just offers another wide smile, baring the sharp teeth that always make him look more predator than man — which, in truth, he is.

“You know exactly what this thing does, don’t you?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“Oh, how perceptive.” He chuckles, his voice smooth like a seaside tale. “But where’s the fun in just telling you?”

“You have a nasty habit of playing dumb,” you growl.

“I’d say it’s a personal charm,” he replies, unbothered. “But if it makes you feel better, I only withhold the details that would make everything… boring.”

The cunning glint in his eyes only fuels your irritation.

“Jade, if this thing is poisonous, I swear—”

“Poisonous?” He tilts his head, tone dripping with false innocence. “Now, now, do you really think I’d let you hold something like that without warning you?”

“Yes.” The reply is instant, dry.

Jade laughs, a low, rippling sound, like an echo from the ocean depths. He steps closer — just enough for you to smell that ever-present marine scent clinging to him — subtle but deceiving, like the merman before you.

“How cruel.” He sighs, placing a hand to his chin as if deep in thought. “But I understand. Trust is such a fragile thing, isn’t it? Like glass… or a tiny mistake when ingesting a mysterious mushroom.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Jade.”

“Yes, yes, I know. No jokes.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, but the smile stays — mocking. “Let’s just say this mushroom has… interesting properties. You might find the effect a bit inconvenient, but I personally find it fascinating.”

The way he emphasizes “inconvenient” makes your skin crawl.

“What effect?”

Jade doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he observes you for a long moment, like a predator studying its prey. Then, with the ease of someone who has all the time in the world, he leans in slightly, voice nearly a whisper.

“Why spoil the surprise? You know I’m being honest when I say this will be… interesting.”

Your stomach twists. Something tells you that, with Jade Leech involved, “interesting” is just a euphemism for “trouble.”

Either way, you have no choice.

Anger bubbles beneath your skin, but there’s nothing you can do except follow his orders like an obedient little pet, lowering your head and offering your paw as instructed. The bitter taste of submission is worse than any poison that mushroom could carry.

A sigh slips from your lips, heavy with frustration, before you finally bring that damn mushroom to your mouth. No chewing, no hesitation — you swallow it whole, as if you could erase the disgust along with it.

For a moment, nothing happens.

“That’s it?” you ask, brow furrowed.

“Oya, were you expecting more?” His voice drips like poisoned honey, full of amusement. Jade’s eyes gleam with something strange — laced with danger.

He takes a step forward, collapsing the space between you. His presence has always been too overwhelming, suffocating like the deep sea where no light reaches. But this time, something is different — something predatory in the way his gloved hands rise, about to reach for your skin.

“If that’s all, then maybe we can—”

“No, no.” You react before his touch lands, instinct screaming at you to back away.

With a quick leap, you dodge, feeling the heat of your skin narrowly escape Jade’s sticky hands — even if they’re covered by the pristine gloves he always wears.

The merman’s grin stretches, sharp teeth bared as if he just had fun toying with easy prey.

“I’m leaving!” you shout, louder than intended.

And then, without waiting for a response, you turn on your heels and run, refusing to look back.

Because deep down, you know if you do, you’ll find Jade still there, smiling. Watching.

And, worst of all, waiting.

[...]

Hours later, while still working at the Mostro Lounge, you can no longer hide from yourself what you feel. The heat beneath your skin is scorching, pulsing, almost unbearable. The knot in your abdomen tightens, radiating a warmth that runs down your legs, and your head spins in a slow spiral, as if trapped in a lukewarm, thick dream.

You can barely register the customers' faces, and the simple task of writing down an order feels like it demands absurd concentration. Each step feels as if gravity has lost part of its weight over you.

A fleeting train of thought is enough for you to understand: all of this strange, unfamiliar sensation is the fault of the mushroom you were coerced into eating earlier.

So that’s what Jade means with that nonsense about “interesting effects.” Well, interesting it is — especially the throbbing sensation between your legs — although none of it is welcome. And even with your mind foggy, it’s easy to connect the dots: all of this is nothing but a crude trap, made to leave you... vulnerable.

You hate realizing that. You hate that disgusting conclusion and everything it implies. Suddenly, the urgency to leave becomes stronger than any effect that damn fungus causes. You need to get away from the crowd, away from prying eyes — and, most of all, away from the Leech brothers.

Your gaze sweeps the room, searching for them. You find only one — which isn’t exactly a relief. The other could be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

And there is he. Floyd Leech. The lazy smile, the sharp eyes, the unpredictable gestures — as dangerous as they are hypnotizing. You don’t dare look directly into his eyes, but you feel it. You feel when he turns toward you. When Floyd’s gaze burns into the back of your neck like direct sunlight.

In a moment when he seems distracted — maybe arguing with some unfortunate customer — you take the chance. You slip quickly through the door that leads to the kitchen, praying to go unnoticed.

There, among the boiling pots and the scent of spices, no one questions your presence. You walk straight to the side door of the pantry and push it, relieved to find it, as always, unlocked.

You enter, closing it behind you. There’s no lock — Azul is the only one with the key — but simply keeping the outside light out already creates the illusion of safety.

You’d never choose this place, its interior lined with shelves of ingredients and stacked boxes. You know very well that if the Leech brothers enter, there’s nowhere to run. It’s the worst place to be alone. But right now, anything is better than staying under Floyd’s gaze or anyone else’s.

You close your eyes and press your trembling arms against the wall, determined to wait until the effects of the fungus wear off — even if that takes hours. Going back to Ramshackle alone isn’t an option; your body feels ready to collapse at any moment.

In here, wrapped in silence, your heart hammers so loudly it seems to vibrate inside your skull. Everything is muffled, as if the world outside is underwater.

You hear a click — the distinct sound of a door being opened. Your eyes snap open, but your dazed mind and even more sluggish body aren’t fast enough to react.

That’s when you feel it: sudden heat pressing against your back. Before you can move, a dull thud echoes through the tight space.

Someone… or rather, Floyd, slams both hands against the wall beside you, trapping you between him and the concrete. His hips press against yours in a slow, playful motion, and you sense the wide grin spreading across his face, even without seeing it. A shiver runs up your spine as Floyd’s drawn-out voice cuts through the pantry’s muffled silence.

"Heeeh~ Koebi-chan is trembling..." he hums, leaning in to sniff your neck with a satisfied sigh. “You also smell sweeter than usual…” His tone wavers between playful and something dangerously hungry, like a predator savoring its prey before the bite. He seems to feel just how much your body is already reacting to him… how soaked your panties must be by now.

The heat rolls over your skin in waves, blending with the peculiar dizziness that’s been dancing in your mind since you ate that damned mushroom. The effect is intoxicating, clouding your thoughts and making everything around you blur — except for Floyd’s overwhelming presence.

"Now’s not a good time for this..." you manage to murmur, afraid that any louder sound might draw unwanted attention. But every word seems to melt in your mouth, soft and weak.

Floyd doesn’t seem interested in your excuse. On the contrary, the mischievous glint in his eyes and the way his fingers drum against the wall suggest he’s enjoying your unease. He tilts his head, pressing his lips to the curve of your neck, his breath hot and ragged. He moves his hips against yours again, forcing your body even harder against the cold wall — your breasts now fully pressed against the freezing concrete, contrasting with the almost suffocating heat he pours over you.

"Hmmm~... but Koebi-chan is being so sweet today." The laugh that slips from Floyd’s lips sends a shiver down your spine. "If I squeeze a little more, do you think you’ll break?"

Your fingers curl against the wall as you struggle to stay clear-headed, but the effect of the mushroom makes every touch, every whisper, every closeness unbearably intense. The rising heat inside you mixes with the nervousness of being cornered by a Floyd especially intent on teasing.

"Neh, neh, Koebi-chan..." He chuckles softly, his teeth grazing your skin. "Should I take this chance? Or are you going to try to run?"

The way he whispers those words sounds more like a challenge than a real question. You’re not even sure you can take a single step away from him.

You try to move away, but your knees falter, and a wave of dizziness washes over your body. A shaky breath escapes your lips as your legs give out completely. Before you can collapse, Floyd catches your waist with ease, lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing. He laughs, spinning you slightly before casting an amused glance toward the pantry door.

“I think we should take her somewhere more comfortable, right, Jade~?"

"Indeed." Jade’s voice fills the space, smooth as silk. He’s leaning against the doorframe, watching everything with the same smile someone would have while observing an exotic dish. How long has he been there, silent?

“Ahhh~ Jade! Look, Koebi-chan’s all limp like seaweed." Floyd laughs, keeping one arm around your waist as your feet finally touch the floor. But it’s him who’s holding up your entire weight.

Jade raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from you to his brother. "Hmmm... I suppose it’s because of that peculiar mushroom she ate earlier. The symptoms include dizziness, heightened sensitivity, and... well, a certain degree of vulnerability."

The way he smiles as he says that makes your stomach turn. You try to pull away, but Floyd only presses you harder against him, his grin wide, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Heehee~ that means I get extra fun taking care of her!"

Jade lets out a dramatic sigh before walking to your other side, also wrapping an arm around your waist to help support you.

"Very well, I think I should come along. After all, we wouldn’t want you getting too carried away, Floyd."

The teasing in Jade’s voice is unmistakable, and you wish you could respond, but your mind is a whirlwind of uncontrollable sensations. Floyd, on the other hand, just grins wider, clearly pleased with the situation.

"Neh, Koebi-chan~ Looks like you’ll have some extra company.” Floyd whispers close to your ear, his voice dragging like a wave ready to swallow you. “Get ready, ‘cause it’s gonna be a veeeery fun night~"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #jade leech smut #twst jade leech x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech #twisted wonderland jade #floyd leech x reader smut #twst floyd #floyd leech smut #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd twst

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littlemisshyperfixation · 1 year ago

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Jungkook Fic Recommendations Part 2

Here - have a kookie <3

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 1

One Shots

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (s) (ft. mingyu) @hannieehaee ⊹₊⋆ being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

never go to sleep angry (a f) by @just4koo ⊹₊⋆ one of the most important rules of your relationship was to never go to sleep angry. when the rule was ignored, it led to an argument and a huge misunderstanding.

Standing Next To You (s a f) by @back2bluesidex ⊹₊⋆ Your and Jungkook's relationship is all about dark rooms, shadows, rendezvous and secrecy. It pains you to even think that you can't claim him as yours in front of the world. But Jungkook is always there to set your fears free because he loves you even more than you love him.

How to Get Rid of Your Virginity (s f) by @strvngeweather ⊹₊⋆ You've always been the good girl who followed the rules but you're ready to shed that image and lose your virginity to the college's resident bad boy: Jungkook.

Butterfly (a s) by @ctrlhope ⊹₊⋆ he’s been watching you. waiting, stalking his prey. waiting for you to tangle your pretty little wings into his web. chasing you. hunting you. making you play his games until you realise the truth that lies behind your eyes.

Stardust (f s) by @euphoricfilter ⊹₊⋆ If Jungkook would have known an unintentional orgasm would have led to this, then he would have begged you to work out with him sooner.

PRINCESS TREATMENT (f) by @2hightocare ⊹₊⋆ Jungkook simply does everything to make you happy

daybreak (a f s) by @bbangtans ⊹₊⋆ One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.

Is you is or is you ain't (my baby) (a s) by @ki-yomii ⊹₊⋆ after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do.

begging for mercy (s) by @jeonsalibi ⊹₊⋆ you hated everything. you hated his face, his hands, his everything. in particular, you hated the effect he had on you.

admiring from afar (f s) by @jeonsalibi ⊹₊⋆ you owed a friend a favour, a favour which entailed a blind date. but the catch, it was only blind on your side.

and my man, thank you to my man (s) by @aaagustd

#bts #bts x reader #bts fic recs #bts fic recommendations #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fic recommendations #bts jungkook #jungkook bts

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 11 months ago

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🧠🪱Wiggly Wednesday🪱🧠

(This one ran away with me, whoops)

Batboy_Kas: Um ... dude, what? 🤨

This is the dm that greets Steve when he pulls his phone from his back pocket to check his Instagram. One confused frown, some scrolling, and one near-heart-attack later, he concludes that he forgot to lock his screen when he put the phone away earlier.

Which caused him to somehow end up on this random stranger's profile.

And go to his DMs.

And send him a GIF.

Not just any GIF. One of a grotesquely round and jiggly, animated ass. There's a text beneath the GIF. It reads: 2iggnag lg9gajdgka hfhdgjy.

"Aw, fuck!" Steve swears, neck prickling with heat as he types his reply.

Steve_Hairington: Shit, sorry. My ass typed that 😅

Batboy_Kas: Fitting choice of gif 🍑

Steve_Hairington: Yeah I guess

Batboy_Kas: You could say it's a ... smart ass

Steve snorts a laugh. What a dork! He's still debating if he should reply or leave it at that when Batboy_Kas sends his next message.

Batboy_Kas: So ... not even the tiniest chance you were flirting with me?

Steve_Hairington: Sorry dude. I prefer my men-

(He pauses to squint at the guy's profile pic. A cute little cartoon bat.)

-a little more human-shaped.

Batboy_Kas: Hey! That's just bc you've never had a creature of the night b4 🦇😉

Steve_Hairington: 🤣🤣🤣 Nice try, bat boy!

They end up texting (and flirting) regularly. Kas - named after some vampire dude from that dungeons and dipshits game Dustin enjoys - is a huge fantasy and music nerd, can keep up a string of banter for hours, and his dms quickly become the highlight of Steve’s days.

He knows better than to meet random faceless and nameless strangers from the internet, he really does. But when Kas says he's in town for work some two months later, Steve is a bit embarrassed at how fast he agrees to a date.

Kas doesn't really beat the vampire allegations when he shows up at their meeting point, skittish and nervous, clad in an oversized Metallica hoodie, drawn all the way over his head inspite of the sunny weather, dark shades obscuring his eyes.

He's cute, though. Sweet and almost shy without the distance and a screen between them, but still with that quick wit and edgy sense of humor Steve has come to like so much. A deep, rich voice that makes something inside Steve’s belly tingle, a hint of dark curls spilling out from his hood, and strong, calloused hands covered in rings, the edges of black tattoos disappearing into his sleeves. It makes Steve wanna take the stupid hoodie off him so that he can see all of him.

Which is exactly what he does when they take it to Kas's hotel room later that night. And God, the man is gorgeous. Dark, messy curls framing a pair of insanely dark brown eyes and the poutiest lips Steve has ever had the pleasure of kissing. An intricate web of tattoos that are just begging to be traced with his tongue.

Later, when they're lying together in an exhausted tangle of naked limbs and sweaty sheets, Steve snaps a photo and saves it as his phone background. He doesn't think much of it.

Until a week later, when Dustin opens his phone to read out a message while Steve is driving and starts shrieking so loudly they almost crash into a tree, bc why the fuck does Steve have a selfie of himself and Eddie Munson - frontman of the world famous metal band Corroded Coffin - on his phone and are you both naked, Steve???

Tagging some friends to share a brainworm of their own:

@cuips-not-cute @steddiecameraroll @postmodernau @oh-stars @steddie-island

@wynnyfryd @pennyplainknits @medusapelagia @hotluncheddie @sidekick-hero

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #brainworm #wiggly Wednesday #hype's wiggly Wednesday #hype's brainworms

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doomedmoth · 7 months ago

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Better kind of best friend (part 3)

Pairing : Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux x Charles Leclerc | Poly & bisexual fem!reader

Warnings : obsessive/possessive/manipulative behavior, suggestive content/smut, fluff then angst then dark fluff, inaccurate racing calendar and school programs, polyamory, use of y/n

Synopsis : When you left the UK for a year long art restoration program in Monaco, you mainly wanted to make some friends. What you didn't expect was to find your best friend on the first day. And then fall in love with her. And then get tangled in the web of Monaco high society as her boyfriend came back to town, unaware of your little affairs. What the fuck happened to you, you just wanted to make some friends...

Moth's prophecy 💡 : Your favorite omen of doom & cringe is baaaack ! I wanted to give a special thanks to all the precious cryptids who have asked for the part three for literal weeks, always staying patient, nice, and sending messages so sweet I rot my teeth on them and made a collection of screenshots in my notes to motivate me. I never thought anyone would like my writing, let alone wait for it, so thank you. Y’all are my lights. On the subject of Better kind of best friend, a fourth part was not planned at first, but will make the ending smoother, so I’m sorry, this is not the end yet ! For those just discovering the series, you can find part one here and part two here, or in in the masterlist ! Enjoy !

“Ah per favore… Tell me you’re not dressing up like that for her.”

“Ah please, tell me you’re not giving your opinion when no one asked for it.” Chiara popped her tongue at your cold answer, and stayed in the opening of your door, clearly judging you.

You had been going through your closet for about an hour now, and the floor seemed to only disappear more and more under the layers of clothes thrown onto it carelessly. Nothing seemed good enough, partly because you had no idea what to expect for the evening, and mostly because no matter how much you refused to admit it, Chiara was right. You wanted to look pretty for someone else than yourself. For two people exactly. The thought of how quick you had thrown away all of your big principles when faced with fluttering eyelashes and pink cheeks almost made you sick.

Yet when they both got up from the table, Alex running to your arms with a smile and Charles blushing, eyeing you up and down, you thought that Chiara should just shut up once in a while. This was too good to not enjoy.

And you had promised yourself this would not be the same this time. They were your friends, they were dating, and you would keep a healthy relationship with both of them. But then Alexandra softly kissed your cheeks, and took your hand in hers. You would limit any type of confusing physical touch, and make sure to not give in to sweet pet names. But then she led you to Charles, who put his hand, much bigger and more calloused than his girlfriend’s, on your waist, and brought you closer to greet you. You would not let your fantasies take over facts, and you would keep all communication clear and honest to ensure your best friend stayed exactly that. A best friend. But then he told you you were gorgeous, and she giggled while still holding your hand, and they had your favorite drink already on the table, and suddenly you forgot everything you had told yourself in the mirror while getting ready. Surely it would come back to you if it was that important. Right ?

Back to you it came, in the form of Alex’s gorgeous friend and one of your workshop colleague, Luca. Almost falling on you as you exited the bathroom, he seemed like he had had one too many drinks already, and didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

“Oh mais regarde toi, quelle beauté !” He grabbed at your waist and kissed your cheeks, blabbering on and on in French about your makeup and outfit. “Who are you trying to impress by looking so gorgeous, babe ?”

You chuckled and pretended he was wrong, but could not help and steal a glance. Of course you wanted to impress them, what a joke to pretend you did not care. Why for, even you had no idea, but you knew you would be satisfied as long as they kept their eyes on you. Which they had stopped doing for a while now, seeing as they were cuddled up on one of the couches, Alexandra sitting on Charles’ lap, hands in his hair, while he peppered her neck and shoulder with soft kisses. You could hear her giggles from afar, smell his shampoo, or maybe you just knew them too well for your own good.

You knew you were staring, knew Luca would be quick to catch on to what was happening if you did not get a hold of yourself, but it seemed that even the music and lights had faded in favor of the scene in front of you. It was hypnotizing, seeing her give in, seeing him take charge, knowing in your heart you should be there but never would be. Cheeks heating up, you turned back to Luca.

“I actually wouldn’t mind some company, if anyone here shares your opinion tonight.” Beaming, he hooked his arm with yours and took you straight to the bar to get a refill, which would inevitably end up spilled on the floor when he made you dance until you saw stars.

You don’t know how long you had danced for when he came to you. Hands sliding down your waist to your hips, his hot breath making the hairs on your neck dress up, you did not look up. You knew it wasn’t him. Because you knew how his hands felt from that one time he caught you from falling, because no man in their right mind would dance that way with their girlfriend’s friend in a crowded club, because it would never be your neck he buries his face in. But just for a few seconds, maybe minutes, you caught yourself hoping it was true, dreaming you would turn around and get a glimpse of green eyes before his lips crashed into yours. But the eyes were dark, the hair too blonde, the hands too soft. And yet you still let him kiss you, and when his slim fingers brought your dress higher on your buttcheeks, you even moaned in his mouth. Desperate was an understatement at this point.

“I’m going to put my fist so far up his ass he’ll be lucky if…” Alex’s sentence was cut short by Charles’ hand slamming against her face, flashing an apologetic smile to the friends they were chatting with and dragging her away. “Who even is that ? I’m going to get a bouncer to kick him out.” Charles had to tighten the grip on his arm to finally get her to look at him.

“Calm. Down.” This seemed to only piss her off more, but before she could start another rant, this time aimed at her boyfriend, he grabbed her by the neck and kissed her, giving him the advantage of surprise to then speak in her ear. “I know. But love, just look around you. At least half of this party knows us. I’m not sure punching a guy flirting with…” Unsure of how to call you to appease Alex, he opted for simplicity. “Y/N, and making a scene like a jealous wife is the best way to get her back.”

She sighed, head rubbing against the palm of his hand, before raising her doe eyes at him. “Then do it, Charles.” Getting closer to him, Alexandra brought her lips to his, her breath intoxicating like syrupy almonds. “Everyone knows you. Everyone loves you. Who would even dare to say something to Mr. Golden Boy.” Fluttering her eyelashes, she knew exactly how to get him. Sweet as honey, sharp as glass. “Why don’t you be a good boy and go fetch her for me, hm Charlie ?” He only managed to nod pathetically, his whole body aching to get on his knees and have her sit on his face.

The tension in his muscles was still present by the time he got to the bar stool where you were sitting, and he thought he might actually end up smashing the guy’s face against the counter. You were laughing like he had never heard before, the kind of sultry giggles that belonged to cab rides and hotel hallways, only an invitation for the hand already sat on your thigh to go up further. He barely had time to think of consequences, and you to realize he was standing behind you, before his hand fell to the guy’s shoulder, and he started speaking in his ear. The music was too loud, you were getting really drunk, so when the man’s eyes got wide, and he apologized before leaving in a hurry, you were unable to guess what Charles could have told him.

“I’m sorry, doll…” It wasn’t the first time he called you that, yet everytime it left your heart pulsing, and your core aching for more. You felt your legs wobble as he slid between them. “Seems he wasn’t interested in much more than a quick fling.” His fingers ran up your thigh and you almost fell the dig of a nail, before he took the hem of your dress and brought it back down to its usual length. The exhale that came out of your mouth felt like the first one in hours. “And you’re worth more than quick, aren’t you ?” At this moment, no, you weren’t worth more than that, you were yearning for someone to take your mind off the shitshow that was your heart, even if it meant bending over a bathroom sink for any nameless guy. But you smiled through the shivers and thanked him, even daring to put your hand on his. Everything was spinning, your ears were ringing, but he was smiling back at you, so maybe this evening wasn’t so bad. “Party’s over, let’s go home, doll.”

On the way back, Alex sat in the front of the car, but kept her hand on your knee the whole way, tracing small circles on your exposed skin. It almost seemed to you that with every sharp breath you took, you saw her smile in the car’s mirrors, but you fell asleep without being sure.

Even Charles was annoyed now. Maybe he could buy you a leash, make sure you were never straying too far. A tag too, so that you wouldn’t get lost. One with his name etched into the metal, just so there’d be no doubt. Just so that everyone knew who you belonged to. Would you be good ? Obedient ? He barely managed to get back to reality before his face got as red as his suit. Knee bouncing restlessly, his eyes were unable to leave you, bent over his car as a mechanic showed you his seat. If he could see you, it meant everyone could. And that was starting to get on his nerves.

“Sorry I found a pretty one” Alex whispered, sliding up behind him, her voice a low hum of amusement against his ear. “Sometimes I wish I could lock her up too…”

“I mean you could.” Charles knew he was fucking up. The words had tumbled out before he could stop himself, the implication behind heavy with something he would not dare to name. He knew his girlfriend had been teetering on the edge lately, and that any idea fueling her possessiveness would be considered, no matter how immoral. He knew he was supposed to be the voice of reason. Your soft way back to her, to them. Like the web to the spider. But this new mechanic he was definitely going to get fired was now making you try a headset, and he was playing with your hair, and the image of you getting yanked back to his feet was taking too much place in his brain. So when Alexandra stared at him, he simply shrugged, surrendering. “I don’t want her to stray too far when I’m on track. Who knows what could happen to her.”

When the free practice started, and Alexandra sent you to get her painkillers from the “infirmary”, you didn’t know what you were getting into. As the door locked behind you in the small storage room, you became painfully aware that you had no idea how this world worked. You had followed her instructions blindly, not really knowing anyone, and not wanting to cause trouble. And now you were banging on the door, feeling the air slowly get out of your lungs as the panic took over your body. There wasn’t any light in the room, and you could faintly hear the rumbles of the cars in the distance. Everyone was probably busy either watching or working on the track. No one would hear you scream, yet you begged for help with every bit of energy left in you.

Claustrophobia had been the fear you never got over. Taking stairs rather than elevators and walking over crowded buses, you had mostly managed on your own. But there you were, stuck in what seemed smaller than your bathroom at the residency, wondering if you were about to suffocate to death between tyre blankets and wires in Abu Dhabi. Charles had told you the practices lasted about an hour. But would you ? And even if your lungs hadn’t burnt from the thick air then, would someone find you right away ? Who could even come to look for you, in such a foreign place, with no friends other than two of the busiest people there could be this weekend ? Tears streaming down your face, you found yourself wishing you had never left their side. Maybe that would have been childish, but you would have been safe.

“Y/N ? Y/N are you in there ?” Anywhere in the world you would have recognized this voice. The only one that would understand your pain because she knew your fears. You screamed her name and heard rustling in the hallway. For a second when the door opened, she stood bathed in the clinical white lights, and you thought you had died. No angel would ever come close to such a vision. “Y/N ! Mon chou come here oh my god” She fell to her knees, opening her arms, and it felt like coming home. To hell with the physical distance, to hell with the principles. She had found you. She had saved you. Your head in her neck and her hands in your hair, you tightened your arms against her even when she gasped, but pulled you even closer. The tears falling down on your cheeks weren’t yours only, and you could barely make out what she was saying.

When the buzzing in your ears finally calmed down, she had cupped your face, whispering inches away from it. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you you’re safe. Please don’t leave me anymore. Please please please Y/N I beg you I got so scared, you weren’t coming back and I thought something had happened to you, it’s not safe here.” Rubbing your cheek with her thumb, she even kissed repeatedly your forehead as you could only nod, still crying. “Stay by my side, please never do that again. I thought I had lost you, I thought…”

You said yes, over and over again, apologizing as if it had been your fault, promising to be good like a prayer to a benevolent deity.

When Charles got out of the car and saw you holding Alex’s hand, your whole body twitching while she was beaming, he could not help but smirk. On a counter next to his phone, the keys to one of the storage rooms sat innocently, gleaming under the lights.

The weeks following the incident felt like a blur, as if your mind was slowly sinking into the mist of December mornings, and the last of your independence with it. Wherever you turned, Alexandra’s warmth and Charles’s steady hands were there, lingering at the edge of your vision, too close to be a coincidence.

But it was too comforting to not bathe in it. Your mind kept on replaying the moment your friend had found you in the storage room so many times it became a mantra, a balm to soothe the fear that still clawed at your thoughts at night. She found you. She saved you. She would never leave you. Charles too, after making a scene at the race and demanding the lack of safety in the infrastructure to be investigated, had made a point of shielding you from anything he deemed not safe. Which now that you were back in Monaco, seemed to be everything and everyone. You caught him glaring more than once at strangers, his body always carefully sliding between you and anyone who got too close.

Yet you had also been witness to the ugly side of fame since, the shadows it casted and the vultures it attracted, and trusted them to keep you away from it. All celebrities seemed to like their private life to stay, well… Private, and so when he brushed a stray hair from your face and told you he wouldn’t let any creep bother his dear friend, you believed him.

And truth be told, you loved the attention. That’s what you wished for, all you ever wanted, you told yourself as Alex braided your hair on the couch of the residency, Charles scrolling on his phone, his knee brushing absent-mindedly against yours. It was sweet, how they cared so much. Your roommates had given up on understanding, as long as the mood was not as icy as it had been the past month, they were fine with pretending nothing had ever happened. Life itself seemed to be so much easier with just them anyway. Why bother looking elsewhere, for what even ?

“I thought you were really cute, and I just wanted to give you my number, if you ever wanna go on a date.” The French accent snapped you out of your thoughts, and you nodded, blushing, as the barista winked at you. Your gaze immediately darted to the side, as if they’d be standing there, watching. But you had come alone, like stepping outside without a coat, not sure how you were now feeling about the decision. No matter what, it seemed their presence clung to you like a second skin.

They weren’t stopping you from dating, or making friends out of the internship. But it had been a while since you had thought about anyone else in that manner, and stepping out of the comfortable bubble you had built around the three of you now seemed like such an effort, on top of being scary. A voice in your head, your voice probably, even though it sounded too much like Alexandra’s, always ended up whispering : What else do you need that you don’t already have ?

The barista’s number scribbled on a napkin stayed untouched in your bag. Charles’ eyes had lingered too long on your phone screen one night, and when you mentioned in passing the way the uber driver had complimented your makeup, Alex had tilted her head just slightly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, her tongue brushing faintly against her canine. But they laughed it off, and you laughed with them, sinking into a soft net that felt more silk than cloud.

Had you been more careful, maybe you would have seen the signs. The way stuff in your bedroom seemed to change places, or even disappear. The deleted messages sent from your own phone, asking to be left alone, confirming you weren’t interested. The delicate touch of a hand on your arm, the oh-so-French kiss on the cheeks you always seemed to receive whenever a flirtatious wink was sent your way. But you had missed her, and you liked him so much, and for nothing in the world you would go back to a world where those weren’t your best friends. No matter how hard it was to fall asleep picturing them running their hands further than morality authorized.

As you lingered by Marco’s door, his bed still a wreck even though he had left a week ago, you couldn’t help but sigh. The house was so quiet, barely troubled by the faint swirl of wind in the garden. You thought you would like it this way. Even though it had been fun, living with seven other art students had been… Messy. Now everyone had gone home, and there was no need for fighting over the thermostat or Sunday mornings rush to get groceries anymore. Only the handmade decorations were left behind, like ghosts of their absence.

You couldn’t explain to yourself why you had resisted going home. On the phone with your mother, you had brushed it off with excuses about the time-consuming art pieces, the flights, and how it would be easier to stay. But when the clock struck midnight on the 22, and the thought of waking up alone for the next few days clawed at your chest, you booked the next available flight. You’d surprise your family. Sitting at the table and laughing at their jokes and going for a walk after lunch. You’d come home.

The morning of the 24th greeted you with hope, and then a storm. Nice’s airport’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on the crowd’s disappointed faces as flight after flight turned red on the departure boards. You tried to stay calm, fiddling with a trinket tied to your bag, but when the announcement came that no flights would leave until the storm cleared, something inside you cracked. You were stuck. Not home. Not Monaco.

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over Alexandra’s contact. You hadn’t told them you were leaving, hadn’t wanted to explain why the urge to run away, and why you were now desperately crawling back. The empty airport felt like punishment, and your fingers moved before you could second-guess yourself. Faced with her warm voice, the words tumbled out on their own. The storm. The canceled flights. The panic of the crowd slowly but surely spreading to you.

“You stay there, we’re coming to get you”. You barely had time to protest before the call ended.

When their car pulled up outside the terminal, the storm still raged, rain lashing against the windshield as Charles parked. Alex hopped out, an umbrella barely covering her as she ran to you, her sparkly short dress illuminating the pavement. “Oh, mon chou, you must be freezing,” she cooed, wrapping her coat around your shoulders and guiding you to the car.

Charles was waiting, heater blasting, his smile soft as he looked back at you from the driver’s seat. “You should’ve told us you were leaving,” he said, a hint of reproach softened by his tone.

You shrugged, sinking into the warmth of the car. “It was a last-minute thing.”

Alexandra clicked her tongue, clearly disapproving, as she slid in beside you. “At least you have your bag ready.” You barely had time to register what was happening as you saw Charles type in an address that was definitely not the residency. Before you could ask, his eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You’re not spending Christmas alone, doll. I called my mom on the way, so I hope you like oysters.” He broke eye contact as you opened your mouth to protest, his voice much lower, daring you to defy him. “Don’t argue with me, it’s already settled.”

Their idea of Christmas was something out of a dream. Charles’ family home in Monaco was decked out in soft lights and greenery, the smell of mulled wine and myriads of meals filling every corner. His family welcomed you with open arms, and Alexandra’s parents, who had joined as well, treated you with the delicate attention of pretending like your presence had always been planned.

The day went on as if you were stuck in the flow of a warm river, feeling the deep call you but unable to move a muscle to swim against it. You hadn’t been allowed to lift a finger, Charles steering you away from the kitchen when you offered to help, pressing a glass of wine in your hand instead. “Absolutely not. You’re a guest, Y/N. Relax.”

Everytime someone asked how you were enjoying the day, one of them was always quick to describe how “special” it was to have you here, and how glad they were to finally be able to introduce you. Their attention was always on you, always ready for any request you might have. What had become a natural habit, developing over the last few weeks, was now exacerbated under the glimmering lights, and the Christmas tree seemed to wink at you, knowingly, as if it was in on whatever elaborate spectacle Charles and Alexandra had orchestrated. Their care was overbearing but left no room for complaint. By the time dessert was served, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. An intricate figurine in a glass case, too precious to touch but constantly on display. Anytime Charles called for his doll, you got dizzier.

When everyone gathered around the fireplace to open their gifts, the cook gave you a knowing look and gestured at another glass of wine left on the kitchen counter, before swiftly exiting the room. You gladly took it and observed from afar the parade of extravagance. Designer clothes, limited-edition art pieces, concerts tickets in another country. If you thought your own Christmases back home were lavish, it was no comparison to the Leclerc’s.

“Here, mon chou.” Alexandra purred, pressing a carefully wrapped small box in your hand. “We planned on giving it to you next week but now’s even better.”

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone turned to you. This was not planned. You did not have time to get either of them anything, even less their families. It all felt like a show you had never agreed on being a part of. “You really didn’t have to-”

“Open it.” Charles interrupted, his grin infuriating, dimples bigger than ever. He lounged back on the sofa, one ankle resting casually on his knee, his gaze fixed on you. With a brush of his hands, he pretended to swish away your worries. “We’ll go and change it if you don’t like it”.

The box revealed a delicate bracelet, platinum with tiny diamonds winking along its length. Sucking in a breath, you felt their eyes on you, expectant, hungry for your reaction. “It’s pretty, no ?” Alexandra’s voice was eager, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bracelet to clasp it around your wrist. It was too much. The alcohol made your head pound and you felt like throwing up. Raising your eyes, the guilt hit you like a wave. They had done so much for you, gone out of their way to include you, and you couldn’t even summon the gratitude they deserved ? The metal was biting into your skin as if in reprimand, your whole body feeling like fire since you had finished your glass. Taking a deep breath, you excused yourself to “freshen up”.

The low hum of voices faded as you found a quiet room in the labyrinth that was the house. This is what you’d always wanted, wasn’t it ? To be cared for, adored, treated like the most important person in the room ? Then why did it feel too much ? Why did it feel like drowning ? You thought back to October, and quickly recognized the signs of your love barging through the door, demanding the best place at the table. You couldn’t let either of them know you were back on your stupid feelings, or they would leave you again. And then ? You had seen the pain, for everyone involved. Good friends. Best friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. You exhaled, praying for your thoughts to shut up, concentrating on the wind outside.

It was Charles that came for you, sitting carefully next to you on the bed, as though you might shatter if he moved an inch wrong. Turning away from the frosted window, you murmured. “Just needed a breather.”

“I’m sorry.” Before you even had time to ask what for, he sighed, gesturing vaguely towards the door. “For all of this. We just wanted to make you feel welcome but… It’s obviously not working.” Running a hand through his hair, betraying his frustration, his other one went tentatively to yours, and your fingers laced together. “I can see you’re not enjoying this, and I know it will never be the same as being with your family.”

“Charles, I don’t-”

“I can arrange a plane.” He was rambling on, a habit they seemed to share, and in the soft light of the moon, you could swear his eyes were red. “First thing in the morning, have you be home before lunch. We love having you here, doll, but… I think it might have been selfish of us.” There. You had made him sad. He had made you feel like family and you had fled like a spoiled child. If anyone was selfish here, it was you.

“No !” You blurted, the word too loud, startling even yourself. Moving towards him on instinct, you threw yourself in his arms, hands gripping to his back, fingers curling against the smooth fabric of his sweater. He tilted his head, questioning, but you only buried your face against his chest. “I… I don’t want to leave. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed ungrateful. I didn’t mean to. It’s not too much, you’re not too much. You could never be. I’ll try harder, I’ll appreciate it more, I’m sorry I-” It seemed the habit had also infected you, and your monologue was stopped by Charles’ thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“Shhh” The hand that was in your back went up to your head, softly rubbing your hair, as you lost yourself in his eyes. Were those freckles or just beauty spots ? Had those always been here ? You felt tempted to touch them but froze up when your lips opened up on instinct. Seriously, how many drinks did you have ? “You don’t have to apologize. I just want you to feel welcomed and… Appreciated.” The moment stretched, world narrowing to the warmth of his arms and the pulse of your heart as he opened your mouth even more and slid his thumb past your lips, your teeth, and to rest against your tongue. “And loved.” His gaze was fixated on your lips, and for a brief moment, until footsteps were heard in the hallway, you thought he was going to kiss you, or maybe slap you. You wouldn’t have protested either.

His lips went to brush softly against your forehead, and it took every last ounce of self-control in you to not bite down on his thumb as he took it out of your mouth. His fingers traced down your cheek, your jaw, down to your neck, where he softly closed his fingers around your throat as the moan that had been stuck in there was finally let free. You wanted this moment to last forever, almost wished he would choke you out so you would never have to go back to reality. But something snapped suddenly in his eyes, and he ruffled at your hair before standing up with a confidence that made you question if the moment had truly happened, or if the cook had spiked your drink. In the white light of the night, his finger shined briefly with saliva, and you followed him back to the living room like a dog who had gotten the sweetest treat.

The floor length mirror stared back at you, unkind in its honesty. You leaned in as Alexandra gently titled your chin up with her fingertips, her voice humming as she added the finishing touches to your makeup. The sharpness of your features seemed amplified under their bedroom golden light, and your reflection felt foreign. Maybe it was the week, and its endless swirl of champagne, parties, and faces you couldn’t remember. Or maybe it was the memory of Christmas Eve, and its almost-kiss which kept replaying in your mind like a broken record you didn’t have the strength to discard.

Charles hadn’t mentioned it. Not a word. The morning after, his smile came on as easy as ever, his voice smooth and jokes easy, as if nothing had happened. Alex had thrown herself onto him, bathing him in affection, as though your world hadn’t turned upside down in that hidden room. Even now, as his hands brushed against your shoulders, slipping the straps of your too-short dress into place, you were wondering if you hadn’t dreamed it all.

“Stop squirming” He teased, smoothing out the fabric and pulling up the zipper.

Alexandra laughed and stepped back to inspect her work, two fingers still holding your chin. “She’s not squirming, she’s just nervous.”

“Il y a pas de quoi être stressé, c’est le Nouvel An, pas une gardav’ non plus…” Not understanding the slang, you copied your friend’s reaction, and as she clicked her tongue, you rolled your eyes.

You felt like an imposter. How could you have let it get this far ? You were supposed to go back to being friends, that was the deal. Not over complicating things, not pushing boundaries of what they were giving you. But then every time one of their friends got curious about you, Alexandra would say you were “Just someone special”, her casual voice contrasting with her nails scratching on your thigh. Her eyes would flicker, the kind that warned you not to correct her, and you let yourself get locked up in this almost-relationship that you had so desperately tried to escape a few weeks before.

Reaching for the curling iron, she murmured, more observation than question. “You’ve been quiet today.”

“Just tired, I guess… We’ve gone out a lot this week.” You forced a laugh, aiming for nonchalance, but Charles simply raised a brow, not impressed.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can just stay there, order some food, …”

You cut him off by twirling on yourself, the dress flaring so high it couldn’t have been conceived to cover anything. Alexandra groaned and caught you by the shoulders to steady you, apparently not satisfied with your curls. “When I look like that ? It would be such a waste !” The green-eyed boy chuckled and nodded in agreement. Dressed to perfection, your hair soft and shining, you looked exactly like what they wanted you to be : a doll. And truth be told, you enjoyed it. When he kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and they both looked at you with something that could be pride, you knew you owed it to them to have fun, at least tonight, at least the following months. At least until England called you back and you answered, leaving your summer love to rest on the green hills. You owed it to them to pretend you weren’t haunted by the ghost of “almost”, and maybe you could even pretend long enough to end up believing it yourself.

“Close it, you’re going to swallow a fly.” Charles pushed softly on your chin to close your mouth you had left wide in awe, before rubbing the nape of his neck. “Much funnier in French…” He mumbled before leaving his keys to a valet, and opening the way for you and Alexandra. The mansion was huge, its garden spilling to the edge of the woods behind it, and the music pulsing through the air carried promises of a night you might not remember in the morning.

It seemed everyone who knew a Formula 1 driver, directly or indirectly, had been invited. Some faces you recognized, but most not, and the shower of compliments you found yourself in as soon as you stepped foot in the main living room quickly felt suffocating. The polite flirting made you feel uneasy, their admiration like scrutiny, and before you even had time to cling to your anchors, they drifted away. “I’ll be right back, chou.” Charles’ hand brushed briefly against yours before he followed his girlfriend to go greet some friends, and you stayed right where they left you.

No matter how much you repeated your internal calming mantra, the vulnerability was creeping in. There were too many people you didn't know, and so you made it a mission to not lose again the only two that mattered. When they asked if you were having fun, you nodded, the lie automatic. For the following hours, it turned to truth, as you stuck close to them like a guard dog unwilling to stray too far from its leash. If Charles moved to refill a drink, you downed yours too quickly to follow. If Alexandra drifted to another conversation, your hand clung to her elbow, begging to tag along. You weren’t proud of it, but the dread clawed at your chest every time you stood alone for more than a heartbeat. You were enjoying yourself as long as you weren’t left to your own devices. Long gone was the resolution of making new friends, it seemed.

The air in the house had been filled with tension as midnight approached, and you felt like you had suddenly woken up. A glass of something golden in your hand, its fizz long forgotten, you were nodding along to Pierre’s story about an incident on a recent trip, while his girlfriend Kika hung onto his arm, punctuating his tale with playful jabs. You tried to listen, you really did, but something was missing, and you couldn’t help but give in to the voices bothering your every thought as he wrapped up his story.

“Have you seen Charles ? Or Alex…?”

Kika’s lips curled, mischief in her eyes, and she exchanged a look with Pierre who chuckled. “They’ve probably gone to enjoy the view, as usual.”

“Top floor,” Kika added, still giggling as she sipped her cocktail. “There’s a balcony up there that’s quite… Private.”

Mumbling a quick excuse, you set your glass down and slipped away, through the maze of guests and corridors of the sprawling mansion. The thud in your ears was soon more heartbeat than music, the knot in your stomach tightening between unease and anticipation. When you reached the top floor, the door to the bedroom was ajar, dim light coming from within and spilling onto the hallway. You closed it behind you, breath stuck in your throat.

There they were. Alexandra’s back was pressed against the railing, her sequined dress shimmering in the moonlight as Charles leaned into her. His hands rested on either side of her waist, fingers curling possessively over the iron, as he brought one knee up between her legs, silencing her laugh. He was working down her throat when she opened her mouth, eyes fixed on you, but did not stop kissing and biting, seemingly not caring.

“Oh darling, caught us” She purred, her voice thick with amusement. Her manicured finger pointed at you before curling, inviting you to come closer. You should not. You should flee. This was not your moment, it would never be. Also, you should keep a closer eye on your drinks because someone was definitely having fun drugging you lately, no way any of this was true. But your feet moved before your brain was done having a panic attack, and you found yourself gently pushed in the woman’s arms by Charles.

She probably saw your eyes jumping from one to the other, thoughts racing behind them at light speed, and with each hand on your cheeks, centered you back to her face. This felt like deja-vu, your lips so close, your perfume swirling together, like the wish you had screamed to the moon that night was finally becoming true, only a few months too late.

“I’m sorry.” Oh no. Oh not again. You were about to jump out of her embrace when you felt his body behind yours, closing back on both of you as his hands caught on the guardrail once more. “Stay. Please.” Not like you had much of a choice anyway. Charles was looking down at the garden over her shoulder, badly pretending as if he wasn’t inches away from the most private conversation happening tonight. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize what was going on between us. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process. You deserve the world, not any of the mess I put you through. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.” She was already forgiven, how could she not when her apologies were whispered between your lips. “But I know where I stand now. And if you allow me, I’ll never give you less than the world. Because that’s what you deserve. Because you love me and I love you.”

“Ten !” Charles took a step to the side as the screams from downstairs echoed through the whole house. He leaned on the balcony, and you almost fell to the floor from the shaking in your legs. “Nine !” She caught you by the waist and pulled you back to her with a laugh, one so hesitant it could only be filled with honesty.

“Eight !” You were dreaming. You wanted to punch yourself to wake up, but without even knowing how, your hands had gone up to her arms, shoulders, neck, cheek. “Seven !” You had promised yourself, you had promised her, and Chiara, and the world itself, that you would be fine being just friends. “Six !” Why was she the one ruining all of your efforts ? Why was she still the one you would wait for, when everyone else was long gone ?

“Five !” Was Charles just going to stand there, and pretend like his girlfriend didn’t confess to someone else ? “Four !” Maybe they had talked ? Maybe they had been open this whole time and you hadn’t seen the signs ? Would he kiss you too ? “Three !”

You cupped her cheeks and it felt like the world exploded when your lips met. Or maybe it was just the fireworks. Maybe it was the culmination of months of pining, love and pain, that was giving her kiss a taste of blood, a taste of more. She switched your places, pinning you against the barrier and deepened the kiss as your hands tugged at her hair, undoing the curls she had so carefully crafted. Everyone was screaming for the New Year, but you felt like they were doing it for you. Is that how it felt, to love and be loved ? Like you would rather run out of oxygen than end the moment. Like teeths and tongues, being fourteen and messy all over again. Like a movie-worthy compilation of every smile she had flashed you for the last four months was playing behind your closed eyes.

When you opened them, her mouth now running wild on your jaw, it’s a green spark of amusement that was looking back at you, a slow whistle coming out of his dry lips. Shit. You had kissed his girlfriend. Or his girlfriend had kissed you. And he wasn’t moving to join in. Were you about to be thrown from the highest balcony in some sick kind of real-life Cluedo ? But he simply brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and the small caress he gave to Alexandra’s back made her moan against your collarbones. “Les clés sont sur la porte mon amour.” She mumbled what you understood to be thank you, not sure why for, as he moved towards the door.

“Wait Charlie I’m…” It was difficult to talk with Alex, determined to kiss every inch of visible skin on your body, and there was a lot. “I’m sorry I… What’s happening ?” You could only hope they had not broken up, not because of you, yet you saw no world in which this situation would be acceptable for him. With his usual playful grin you had grown so fond of, he winked at you before exiting the room swiftly.

“There’s a time for actions, and a time for explanations. Happy New Year, doll.”

With every step that she took you followed, painfully aware of how much she knew you, much better than you would have thought. Kissing in all the right places, her grin was getting wider every time you winced under the dig of her sharp nails, and she hushed you as if the drunken screams downstairs weren’t covering your moans. But you were determined to be good, as you had been from day one, and so you bit the pillow and pulled at her hair, let her know it hurts and let her keep going, because you loved her and she loved you. And she would never leave you.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Taglist : @sam-is-lost // @mangotaitai // @ilovechickenwings // @eroselless // @zreads111 // @crimson-spine // @inejismywife // @champomiel // @eternoange1 // @charizznorizz // @exactlycoralfox // @waitwhendidwegethere // @cluelessred3 // @spookystitchery // @erikasurfer // @catswag22 // @appl3-0rchard // @janeh22 // @boohoneyy // @sheslikeacurse // @customsbyjcg-blog // @urmotheris // @lewisvinga // @formulaal // @novocainenoon // @taytaylala12 // @esterdnebe // @jack0357 // @mortallyblueninja // @jexxy04 // @itsprashimusic // @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp // @annabellelee // @natsmywife // @daisyfreecs // @scorpiomindfuck // @themessietbihalive // @ananyasr1bughead

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returnofeternity · 14 days ago

Text

synopsis. you’re stranded in the wilderness with your sister’s soccer team. you’ve managed to survive this far. but then you just had to go into the caves and get bitten by a spider.

pairing: ibarra!reader x the yellowjackets

genre: comedy, fantasy.

wc: 3,186

fic note. this may be a nothing burger, but im proud of it! expect more spidey!reader from me. if ppl are interested in a part 2, or just more thoughts, i'm more than happy to make it.

· · 🕷 · ·

in your defense, it looked fun.

you heard about lottie, travis, and akilah exploring the caves, and you wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

it looked cool, and honestly, what were you to do out here, all alone and stranded in the wilderness, if not explore? you could only walk so far from the shelter before you hit the plane wreckage again, and it was all boring. you're pretty sure you've made friends with some of the deer around here after passing by them so many times.

so when you thought about going alone, in the middle of the night, you expected it to be fine. okay, even. but of course, that's not how it went.

and, okay, maybe a part of you is just doing this to impress lottie. maybe if you experience a hallucination, she'd be stoked and praise you for hearing the wilderness even when she hasn't taught you like she's been teaching travis and akilah.

or maybe you'd die from lack of oxygen and eat your sister's words, which is the worst way to die. all you'd hear from the afterlife is mari lecturing you about how she told you to stay away.

when you enter the cave, it's humid and warm, and you feel a light sweat covering your body the further you walk inside. it's already a hot night out, and you are so not looking forward to the walk home. probably gonna covered in grime and sweat. and you really don't wanna walk to the lake to get more water.

the light you're holding doesn't really do anything to help you see your surroundings as you slowly shuffle into the dark cave, but you remember your way from when mari showed you all when they were looking for ben. only problem is, you can't remember which way leads to the toxic gas side, and which way doesn't.

you take your best guess and head to the left side, and you pull your face covering up so you're not breathing it in so freely. something bad tugs at your stomach, and you stop for a moment, reconsidering your decision.

the cons: you don't have anyone here to pull you out if you pass out like the others did. no one knows where you are. mari might have a clue, but she also knows you like to wander and be alone for a few days, so who knows what she might do. you might fuckin' die.

the pros: lottie'll be proud. the girls might think you're cool for surviving.

you roll your shoulders back and sigh heavily. "que dios me salve."

;

it's hard to breathe in here.

it smells, well, gassy, and your eyes are watering up like a motherfucker which is annoying because you can't see where you're going anymore.

but no hallucination yet. might happen soon though. you feel weird. sleepy-weird. like you've taken too many sleeping pills than you should have and you got sick. the dripping from the cave sounds so much louder than it should. it's like a boom every time it hits the floor.

the gas makes your eyes droopy, but you shake your head to keep yourself awake.

just as you round the corner, you barely manage to move out of the way before you're face-to-face with a spiderweb. it clings to you, and you drop your candle to quickly swipe the webs out of your face and hair.

the candle goes out.

"shit!" you hiss, trying to adjust your eyes to the dark as you pull webs out of your face. in doing so, you accidentally rip your face covering off, but you have more things to be concerned about.

you really hope there were no spiders on it. god knows what kind are out here.

you blindly feel the ground for the dropped candle and recoil when you touch something wet. and to make things worse, you start to feel something crawling up your back. a prickling sensation arises across your skin, and you arch your back to try and get whatever it is off of you. when you feel it crawl up to your neck, you get goosebumps, and you rush to your feet, trying to shake it off.

but it bites you before you can brush it off.

you scramble backward, breathing heavily. "ow! fucking shit." the bite stings like hell, and you quickly check the bite for any blood.

there is none, but you feel something stringy on it, and you groan with disgust and almost gag when you pull a web from the bite wound.

suddenly, you're dizzy. and your body feels 10x as hot as it did before. your mouth fills with drool, and when you bring your hand up to wipe the spit from your chin, it feels like it's in slow motion.

gotta get out of here, you think.

you stagger forward, leaning against the wall for support and guidance as you hopefully make your way to the cave's exit. everything's double-vision in your eyes, and before you know it, your knees hit the ground. you're barely conscious enough to protect your face as you fall, and the last thing you feel is the sharp sting on your face and the throbbing pain in your neck.

;

when you wake up, you're miraculously out of the cave. well, halfway out and definitely farther than you were when you passed out. you're still on the floor, lying on your stomach. as you sit up, you can clearly see the light of dawn from the opening of the cave. some leaves fall from trees as the wind blows, and it's odd because you can hear it whoosh. the sky is painted in dark purple and yellowish shades, and if you had to guess, you would think it's around 6 am.

"ugh, fuck." you mumble, groggy and disoriented.

and alive.

and...feeling better? much better. for some reason, it feels like your vision is crystal clear, and the morning air, smelling of pine and dirt, feels so overwhelming. and you feel...tighter? like your muscles are somehow larger than they were before. you look down and inspect your arms, your veins bulging and pulsing.

weird. but you're alive, you need to get back to the shelter before anyone suspects anything.

and fuck. your wound. the spider bite. you completely forgot about it.

your fingers fly to your neck, and sure enough, there's a tiny bump as feel around. is this why you feel so weird? maybe you are dying, and it just takes a long time for the poison to settle in. but it doesn't feel like you're dying. other than a bit of lightheadedness, you're fine. senses are on overload, but you're fine.

you get up off your knees and walk out of the cave, and since it's such a beautiful morning out, you take some time to admire the sun rising before you head back

;

everyone's still asleep as usual when you arrive at camp, and you sneak into the hut you share with gen and melissa. you're careful to not step on their feet as you walk in between them, but gen shifts in her sleep and almost breaks your ankles. you catch yourself in an instant. your feet stay planted onto the ground as if they were anchored to it. your body feels sturdy, like if anyone were to push you right now, you'd stay upright.

you take a quick peek at melissa and gen's faces to make sure they're still asleep before you collapse onto your blankets and sigh. you feel so tired all of a sudden. the usually uncomfortable feeling of wood digging into your back feels nice all of a sudden, and you feel sleep claw at you.

turning onto your side, you get into a comfortable position before bunching up some of your blankets to hug close to your body, and you close your eyes. melissa is the one sleeping in front of you, and she has her hat placed by her head, ready to be put on first thing in the morning.

honestly, you're surprised she doesn't sleep with it on.

it's close enough to you that the tips of your fingers brush against it, and it's comforting to stroke as you succumb to your sleep.

you're dead asleep by the time gen and melissa wake up.

they talk to each other for a bit before they decide to go out and get some air. melissa groans and stretches while watching gen leave. and, of course, she can't leave without her pink hat. she blindly pats behind her to find it. her fingers brush against the top, and she grasps at it, but some strong force prevents her from taking it.

she blinks the sleep from out of her eyes and turns, looking back to find your fingers on top of the brim. you're not even holding it, they're just placed on top.

"what the..." melissa tugs at it again, expecting to effortlessly take it from your grip.

but no, it's like it's glued onto your fingers as she pulls and pulls.

"what's taking so long?" gen pops her head in, wondering why melissa isn't trailing after her like always.

"my hat." she replies, irritated. she lifts the hat to show gen, which as a result, also lifts your arm up.

"just take it from them." gen leans her weight on one foot and rolls her eyes.

"i'm trying to!" melissa's annoyed, and a little unsure of her strength because how in the world are you doing this? and in your sleep?!

gen walks in and kneels by you and melissa, elbows her to the side, and attempts to take her hat from you. it doesn't work. her brows furrow in confusion, but melissa's are furrowed in irritation. you somehow sleep through all their noisy bickering as they go back and forth trying to seize the hat from you.

it does, however, gain the attraction of your sister. assuming she's missing out on something, she strides up to the hut to see what the commotion is.

the harsh sound of the hut curtains being pushed aside catches melissa's attention, as gen is too busy prying her hat from your grip.

"get your freakily strong sibling to give me my hat back!" she yells desperately.

mari walks in further and sees you fast asleep, your face twitching as the two girls beside you shake and poke your body. she huffs and crosses her arms as she walks up to you and kicks your ass with her foot.

"get up, idiot."

your eyes shoot wide open. somehow, you can sense that mari's about to kick you again, and you reach back to shoo it away swiftly. you're a blur as you scramble to your feet, the hat still stuck to your fingers as you raise your hands in front of you in defense. all three girls look at you, and you look at them, perplexed.

"what?" you ask.

"uh, my hat?" melissa glares at you.

you look at your right hand and are baffled to see it hanging from your fingertips like it's nothing. you grab it with your other hand, and it comes off easily, which makes melissa huff. you watch her get up and stomp over to you, and you hand it to her with an awkward smile. she tries to swipe it from you and walk away, but now it appears to be stuck to your other hand.

"what the fuck?" you whisper, watching melissa pull with all her might.

"yeah, what the fuck?" mari repeats. she walks up to you and gives you that older sibling look. "give mel her hat, stop fucking around."

"i'm not fucking around!" you yell desperately, glaring at mari. "i don't know what's happening."

all of a sudden, the hat falls from your grip. it's unfortunate because melissa was pulling and pulling so hard, and now she's on the floor clutching her bloody nose. but at least she has her hat.

;

you don't know what's wrong with you.

you've been off all day.

it's like your whole body has changed. it feels weird. different. like it's not yours anymore. you think it has something to do with that spider biting you. if it was poisonous, surely you'd be dead by now, right? and you don't think it's an allergic reaction to it. you're not sick or anything.

and you found something out. well, two things. one, you have super fast reflexes. two, you can jump super high.

after the whole melissa thing, you decide it would be nice to take a walk, you know, clear your mind. it was nice at first. the breeze hit the sweat on your face so nicely, and you even found a few berries. when you were heading back, you saw the runaway bunny that akilah lost. and you know it was the bunny because of the fur pattern. you tried to sneak up on it. you got on your belly and crawled toward it, like a spider, and you were so zoned in on the bunny that you didn't even realize the leaves were sticking to your hands.

you got about an arm's length from it before you fucked up.

one breath too loud and the bunny was alerted, but you were faster, and managed to swipe it before it could get away.

and on the walk home, bunny in your arms, you saw a lone berry in a tree. it was far too high for you to reach, but you tried anyway. in one leap, you were almost as tall as the tree. the branches scratched your face and got tangled in your hair, and your heart fell out of your ass for a second when you looked down as you fell. but somehow, you landed it. unscathed and alive.

you needed to tell someone about it.

so as you stand around akilah's pen, you see nat exit her hut, and you make your move.

"hey," you run up to her, walking with her as she makes her way to the storage hut. "can i talk to you about something?"

natalie pauses in front of the hut. she turns to you and puts her hand on her hip. "this isn't another mari-shauna thing is it? she's already on week 2 of house arrest, you know there's not more i can do."

you roll your eyes. "no. it's about something else. about...me."

nat grows concerned. "are you okay?"

"yeah, just...wanna get your opinion on something. can we talk alone?"

you look around the shelter. tai and van are out, doing their own thing. gen is outside soaking a rag to clean the dried blood out of melissa's nose. it's too risky to talk out here. you don't want anyone thinking you're fucked up on cave gas.

nat nods, and she leads you back to her hut. she makes sure the curtains are closed before she turns back and sits down on one of her blanket-seats.

"heard you beat up melissa. prank gone wrong?" nat's voice is light and teasing. her eyes follow you as you sit next to her.

"no." you mumble, still a bit guilty about the whole thing. "and i didn't beat her up. i don't know what happened. i... i went out into the caves last night, just to explore. i got bitten by this spider and passed out."

"what?" nat scoffs, leaning in closer.

"i don't know how i got out of there. i woke up at the entrance. and that bite really fucked me up. i think something's wrong. like, just this morning, my fingers were stuck to melissa's hat. and i could sense when mari was gonna kick me before she did it."

you sound crazy.

"i think you just need some rest. you look a little pale." nat tries to reassure you. she places her hand on your thigh and pats it. "you're probably just paranoid because of-"

she's interrupted by you reaching out and grabbing a fly between your fingers. she looks at it with awe. the flapping of its wings dies down, and when you release your grip on it, it drops to the ground, lifeless.

"weird things like that keep happening." you quietly say. "that spider... i think it did something to me."

"okay." nat nods, pursing her lips. "okay. so what? you think you have powers?"

she doesn't say it mockingly. she almost sounds intrigued.

"can regular people jump as high as trees?" you ask bashfully.

;

it turns out that having spider powers in the wilderness doesn't really do a whole lot to save you from it.

other than your "spidey-senses," coined by your sister, which enable you to hear prey around the wilderness so gen can hunt way better than before. and plus, you get to help with your webbing so they don't run off. but it's always a pain to remove it. and shauna's always glaring at you when you get lazy and tell her that it'll just melt off while she's cooking it.

you can't really swing around and call for rescue. there's miles and miles and miles of forest, and even if you did make it out to somewhere where someone could see you, no planes ever fly by this place. it's deserted. but to help out and to instill a little hope in everyone's hearts, you've made an SOS message out of your webs on top of the trees. at least you think it spells out "SOS." you didn't really check.

these powers did you get cred, though. not to mention your sister's totally jealous. you love fucking with mari and zapping her with your webs from time to time. it's never not funny seeing her scream and wipe at her body because "something" is on her. and that whole "i want lottie to think i'm cool" part? she totally digs it. she told you it was a gift from the wilderness, and that your spidey-sense is you tapping into It. she had a thing for being the one to train you to control your powers when they all found out. because, god, you were a mess at controlling it at first. you didn't know how to calm down, and you stuck to everything when you were overstimulated. one time when shauna got pissed at you for taking her knife, you accidentally webbed her to you because you thought she looked so hot jabbing her finger into your chest. you couldn't control what came out of you. but you think she secretly liked it. those looks she was giving you later that night weren't ones of anger.

it's really not that bad out here though. you just don't know what the hell to tell everyone if you all get rescued. are they gonna find out you got bit by some radioactive spider and got powers? are they gonna experiment on you? who knows. but for now, you really like being the savior of the wilderness. it's nice helping around for once. it's nice being needed.

and you really need to make a suit out here. the branches are killing you, even if you have super healing abilities.

#yellowjackets x reader #© returnofeternity #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x yn #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets thoughts 💭#lottie matthews x reader

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just-aake · 8 months ago

Text

A Feline Connection Part 4

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha works together with you to help Widow and learns a bit more about just the kind of person you are.

Warnings: light angst, violence, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 4329

Natasha steps onto the rooftop of a building, her footsteps barely making a sound as she surveys the city sprawled out beneath her. The low hum of night traffic mixed with the distant murmur of voices, creating the familiar backdrop of New York City after dark.

She approaches the edge of the building, her gaze sweeping across the streets below, her mind preoccupied with the message you had sent her.

A quick glance at her phone confirmed the location and time. She was exactly where she needed to be, but there was no sign of you or your little companion yet.

Natasha lets out a quiet breath, pocketing her phone as her thoughts drift to you.

Despite the doubts her training pressed upon her, her instincts tell her you weren’t a bad person—that she could trust you.

But she couldn’t let her personal feelings interfere, not when so much was still uncertain.

Your situation was complicated, tangled in a web of dangerous choices, which meant Natasha had to remain cautious and vigilant.

That’s when she feels a subtle shift in the air, a sudden presence behind her.

Instinctively, Natasha whirls around, her hand snapping out to catch a wrist mid-motion.

Her eyes meet yours, and in the instant of realization, she halts the throw she was about to execute. Instead, the force just pulls you closer in the process, until your chest is pressed against hers.

You stumble slightly, your hand instinctively landing on her shoulder for balance and support.

Natasha freezes, her breath catching at the sudden proximity.

Neither of you move, the air between you charged with tension. The heat of your body pressed intimately against hers sends a jolt through her system, and for a split second, she forgets to breathe.

A low chuckle escapes you, the sound reverberating against her chest. You look up, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“You’re getting better,” you murmur, a teasing smile curving your lips. “This makes it four to one.”

Natasha blinks, still processing just how close you are.

“Four to one?” she echoes, her brow furrowing slightly.

“How many times I’ve successfully sneaked up on you,” you clarify, your smirk widening. “You’ve only caught me once now.”

Natasha huffs, a faint smirk of her own tugging at her lips.

“Two of those times, I was asleep,” she counters.

You shake your head, clicking your tongue playfully.

“That’s no excuse for the Black Widow,” you tease. “What would your fans think?”

Before Natasha realizes what she is doing, she finds herself leaning slightly closer to you.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, her voice lower than usual, “you tell me.”

Your grin widens, clearly enjoying the usual banter between the two of you.

“I’m sure they’ll still be impressed by your other charming qualities,” you respond softly.

But beneath the amusement, there was a flicker of something else in your eyes—something deeper, almost as if you were daring her to close the distance between you.

Natasha’s pulse quickens, the warmth of your body drawing her in like a magnet, the faint glow of the city lights behind you only adding to the moment.

But just as quickly, she reminds herself of the situation. Of where you both stand.

She swallows, clearing her throat as she quickly releases your wrist and takes a step back, pushing away the feeling that had crept up on her.

“So,” Natasha begins, her voice slightly more controlled, “where’s our little friend?”

Before you can respond, something small and quick leaps onto Natasha’s back, clinging briefly before hopping onto her shoulder.

Startled for a moment, Natasha relaxes as she turns to see Widow perched there, letting out a happy meow in greeting.

Natasha chuckles softly, reaching up to scratch under Widow’s chin.

“There you are.”

You step around her, moving toward the ledge with a teasing glance.

“I’m pretty sure Widow’s score against you is much higher though,” you remark over your shoulder, brushing past her as you approach the edge of the rooftop.

Natasha’s eyes follow you, her attention drawn in once more, mesmerized as you gaze out over the cityscape, your features softened in the dim light.

That familiar warm feeling stirs within her as she takes in the sight of you.

Her focus is only broken when a soft paw taps at her cheek.

Natasha turns her gaze to the feline, who gives her an almost teasing meow before leaping gracefully from her shoulder to yours.

You smile fondly at the cat, gently stroking her fur before turning your focus back to the building across the street.

It’s an exclusive club—one of those high-end places with multiple floors reserved for private, discreet business dealings, both professional and personal, and most of the time, not law-abiding.

“What are we doing here?” Natasha asks, joining you by the ledge.

“This is where the control system for the device inside of Widow is being kept,” you explain, your tone shifting into something more serious.

“How do you know?”

You glance at her, raising an eyebrow in return.

Natasha nods slightly in understanding.

“You already tried to steal it,” she guesses, her eyes scanning the building across from you both. “But something went wrong.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, a hint of amusement flashing in your eyes.

“The system can’t leave this location,” you explain, giving Widow a gentle scratch on the head before setting her down on the ledge. “And Widow has to stay close enough to maintain the connection, which means the bomb has to be deactivated on-site.”

Natasha hums in acknowledgment, her fingers resting lightly against the cool stone of the building as she considers the situation. Deactivating a bomb with specific limitations–that’s something she can definitely help you with.

After a moment of silence, you speak again.

“How’s your mission going?” you ask casually, glancing sideways at her.

Natasha shoots you a look, one that clearly conveys her wariness of sharing too much. You had interfered with her mission before, after all, and trust was still a fragile thing between the two of you.

“Let’s just focus on deactivating the bomb first,” she says, pivoting away from your question.

You smile knowingly, understanding and respecting her decision to keep things close to the chest.

“Fair enough.”

Standing beside Widow, you pull out a small pen-like device from your pocket.

Natasha watches curiously as you aim it at one of the windows across the street.

A thin red laser flickers from the pen, bouncing off the glass as you click it a few times.

Widow’s attention snaps to the laser instantly, her tail twitching in anticipation. She lets out a soft meow before, without hesitation, leaping gracefully from the ledge.

Natasha’s heart skipped a beat as she watched the cat jump, and she leaned over the edge, only to see the feline's agile body landing on a nearby balcony below before disappearing into the shadows.

“You sure she’ll be okay?” Natasha asks, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.

You shoot her a playful glance.

“I told you—they always land on their feet.”

Natasha rolls her eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Standing a bit straighter, she turns back to you.

“So, what’s next?”

“Now…” you trail off, stepping closer to her, brushing your fingers lightly against her shoulder.

Your smirk deepens as you lean in, the space between you narrowing again.

“Now we see if the Black Widow can keep up.”

Before Natasha can respond, you shoot a grappling line across the street, the device pulling you swiftly into the shadows of the opposing building’s alleyway.

Natasha’s heart races as she watches you disappear, your movements smooth and precise.

Without hesitation, she grabs her own grappling hook, launching herself into the air with practiced ease. As her feet hit the ground, adrenaline surges through her veins, heightening her senses.

She stays close behind, catching glimpses of you darting through alleyways, your figure slipping in and out of view.

Almost closing the distance, Natasha rounds a final corner, only to find herself alone, standing at the back entrance of the building.

She scans the area, brow furrowing when she doesn’t see any sign of you.

Stepping up to the back door, Natasha tugs at the handle—locked.

That means you didn’t go in this way, but discovering that doesn’t mean it’s not something she can’t use.

With a determined sigh, Natasha knocks loudly, stepping back as the door clicks open.

A confused guard peers out, and Natasha gives him a small wave.

"Hey," Natasha greets with a disarming smile.

Before the guard can react, she flips him over her shoulder with a quick, fluid motion, knocking him out cold. Catching the door before it closes, she slips inside.

Moving swiftly through the dark back room, Natasha reaches the main doors leading into the club’s crowded interior. She cracks the door open, scanning the room for any sign of you but finding none.

Wondering about your whereabouts, Natasha suddenly feels a light touch on her shoulder and turns her head quickly, startled to find you standing there with a teasing smile.

“That’s another point for me,” you say, your tone playful.

Natasha huffs in disbelief but can’t deny you’ve managed to sneak up on her yet again.

Before she can respond, you grab her hand and pull her into the chaotic crowd of the club.

“Come on, Widow’s probably already waiting for us,” you say over your shoulder.

The music is loud, bodies moving in rhythm all around you as you guide her toward the bar. You signal the bartender for drinks before leaning back casually against the counter.

Without missing a beat, you slide Natasha’s hand to rest on your waist, your arm casually wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

Natasha’s breath catches, her body brushing against yours as her other hand rests on the bar counter for support.

The close proximity between you stirs something within her, her pulse quickening at the way your warmth seeps into her skin.

Leaning in, you make it look like you’re whispering something intimate, but your words are purely business, focused on the mission.

“The only way to the elevator for the exclusive floors is through that door,” you murmur, nodding toward a guarded entrance. “We’ll need a valid room key to get in.”

Natasha swallows, the sensation of your breath against her ear momentarily distracting her.

“You have one?” she asks, her voice slightly breathless.

"Not yet," you reply, leaning back, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "But I’ll have one in a second. How’s your acting?"

Before Natasha can respond, the bartender sets two drinks beside you.

Turning, you grab them quickly before spinning on your heel and colliding with a nearby patron.

The impact sends the drinks spilling all over the man’s expensive suit. He lets out a shout of surprise, his face contorting in outrage.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, your tone perfectly apologetic as you frantically pat his soaked jacket with a napkin.

The man scowls, waving off your apology and shoving you back roughly.

“This suit is worth more than your life!” he snaps angrily.

Before he can say anything else, Natasha steps in, her arm wrapping protectively around your waist as she pulls you against her.

Her gaze sharpens, daring the man to make a scene.

“It was an accident, and she already apologized,” Natasha says, her tone firm. “Now, I suggest you go clean yourself up before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

The man hesitates, his mouth opening as if to argue, but when his eyes meet Natasha’s steely glare, he rethinks his decision.

With a disgruntled huff, he storms off toward the restroom.

Turning in her arms, you flash her a playful grin.

"My hero," you tease, placing a dramatic hand on her shoulder.

Natasha rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.

“The key card?” she prompts.

With a smirk, you hold up the card you deftly swiped from the man’s jacket.

“Got it.”

“Show-off,” Natasha mutters, though her voice is tinged with warmth.

With the key card in hand, you lead her toward the guarded entrance, your hand finding hers again.

The guards barely glance at you as you approach, their attention more focused on the crowd behind you.

With a quick swipe of the card, the door unlocks, and the two of you slip past the guards, making your way toward the private elevator.

Once inside, the doors close with a soft hiss, and the noise from the club fades into silence.

The enclosed space feels intimate, and Natasha is acutely aware of your proximity, your hand still lightly clasped around hers.

“So, what’s next after we finish this?” Natasha asks, her voice softer.

You lean casually against the wall, tilting your head at her with a teasing smile.

“Already thinking about the future? We haven’t even finished the mission yet.”

Natasha huffs a soft laugh, but there’s an underlying seriousness to her question.

“Will you leave the city?” she asks, her voice softening in understanding how that would be the safest option for the two of you once their leverage on you is gone.

Your playful demeanor falters slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression.

“I don’t know. Widow’s grown pretty fond of you,” you say before giving her a soft smile.

“She’ll miss you…” you swing your clasped hand lightly before adding in a whisper. “…and I might too."

Natasha’s heart skips a beat, her eyes locking with yours. The space between you seems smaller, the air around you charged with something unspoken.

Before either of you can say anything more, the elevator dings, signaling your arrival.

Natasha glances away, the moment interrupted as the doors slide open to reveal a sleek, quiet hallway.

You let go of her hand as you step out of the elevator with Natasha following soon after.

You find the door you need to enter at the end of the hall.

There is only one problem—a complex lock is in place, far more sophisticated than expected.

You kneel before it, pulling out a small set of tools from your jacket.

Natasha stands beside you, her eyes scanning the hallway as you start working on the lock.

You can feel her close, her presence like a shadow hovering protectively over you.

A few moments in, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches Natasha’s ears, her posture tensing.

She knows that just standing by the door is too suspicious, especially if someone spots them like this.

She’s about to warn you and prepare for a confrontation when, without missing a beat, you stand abruptly and grab Natasha by the arm, pulling her close.

Natasha’s eyes widen for a split second, but you’re quicker—your lips press against hers, soft and urgent.

It takes her only a heartbeat to respond, melting into the kiss, her hand sliding up to cup your neck, pulling you closer.

Your back bumps against the door as Natasha steps forward, closing any distance between your bodies. You gasp in surprise at the action, the soft and low sound escaping from you as Natasha deepens the kiss.

Her lips move against yours with a heat and intensity that catches both of you off guard while your fingers find and clench at her jacket, pulling her impossibly closer to you.

Natasha’s body molds perfectly against yours as the sound of the footsteps draws nearer.

Whoever was coming stops briefly at the end of the hall, but the sight of two people lost in a passionate embrace seems to deter them, and soon the footsteps retreat quickly.

As soon as the danger passes, you pull back slightly, your breath warm against her lips, your dilated eyes still locked with hers as a flush graces your cheeks.

Natasha feels a rush of heat in her chest at the sight and finds herself wanting to linger in the moment.

“Was that part of the plan?” Natasha whispers, her voice rough and breathless.

You smirk, your thumb brushing lightly against her waist.

“Improvised. But effective,” you tilt your head slightly, causing your nose to brush lightly against hers, your voice lowering. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve had to pretend to kiss someone.”

Natasha smirks, though her voice is tinged with something more.

“Sure…pretend.”

For a moment, the two of you don’t move any further away from each other, the heat still remaining.

Natasha exhales softly as her eyes linger on you a moment longer, and she finds herself leaning in again, slow enough for you to move away if you want.

But you don’t.

Just as she’s about to close the distance again, a sharp click echoes through the hallway—the lock disengaging.

The sound pulls both of you back to the mission at hand, interrupting the moment, and the two of you hear a distinct familiar meow from behind the door.

Clearing your throat lightly, you give her a small smile before turning the door handle and stepping back to push the door open.

“After you,” you say softly, holding the door open for her.

Releasing a steadying breath, Natasha steps past you, her heart still racing from the kiss, but her focus returns to the task ahead.

Inside the room, the dim light casts shadows on the furniture.

Widow steps out from the darkness, meowing softly as she moves toward Natasha.

However, the cat stops in the space between the two of you and turns her sharp gaze from you to her curiously as if she senses the shift of the tension in the air.

Natasha scratches the cat’s head gently in greeting before glancing at you.

“Where’s the system?” she asks, her mind shifting back to the mission.

You move to the large desk, pressing a hidden panel. The surface slides open, revealing a sleek terminal.

“Right here. Couldn’t exactly carry this out the window,” you joke.

Natasha moves to the screen, her fingers quickly accessing the system.

Widow hops onto the desk, curiously observing Natasha before attempting to reach for the keys on the keyboard, but you pull her back before she can.

“No,” you reprimand gently.

The cat lets out a small, disgruntled cry, displeased at not being allowed to assist Natasha in her hacking.

Natasha’s lips quirk up fondly at the cat’s antics before returning to her task.

As she works, you stand nearby, watching her closely, your presence a comforting weight beside her.

For a moment, the mission fades, and Natasha finds herself thinking about your words in the elevator and what happened earlier, wondering if this—whatever this is—could be something more.

But there’s still so much she doesn’t know about you—of the things you’re still hiding.

Wanting to learn more, Natasha breaks the silence, her voice soft.

“What happened between you and them? To make them go this far?”

You lean against the desk, your teasing tone light.

“Trying to dig into my past, Miss Black Widow? Feels like something we’d discuss on a first date.”

Natasha smirks, her fingers still moving over the keys.

“This would definitely be one of the more interesting dates I’ve had.”

You chuckle, running a hand through Widow’s fur as she curls beside you.

Just when Natasha thinks you’re not going to tell her, you speak up.

“We worked together for years. Started off small—simple jobs, easy money. But then, things got darker. Shadier deals, dangerous clients.” Your voice lowers, growing more serious. “I didn’t know people were getting hurt. But when I found out…I couldn’t stay. So, Widow and I ran.”

Natasha nods, her heart softening at your story.

“And now they want you to pay for that.”

“Pretty much,” you say before hesitating slightly and deciding to add under your breath. “That and when I left, I stole almost all of their money at the time and gave it away anonymously to multiple charities across the world.”

Natasha pauses, her brows raising at you in disbelief.

You give her a serious nod in response, no signs of joking or teasing in your expression. Widow meows as if confirming your statement.

Natasha exhales an impressed huff, shaking her head slightly.

“That’s bold,” she states, her fingers moving deftly over the keyboard as she resumes her work. “But strangely, not surprising of you.”

You let out a light laugh, pushing off the edge of the desk where you’d been leaning. There’s a casual ease in your posture, but your gaze lingers on her as if considering something deeper.

“What about your past, Miss Black Widow?”

Natasha’s lip twists slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing her face before she looks up at you.

“Everything I’ve done was revealed to the public when SHIELD fell,” she says, her voice carrying a heavy note of resignation. “So, you know my past isn’t all that much better than yours. Neither am I.”

A quiet settles over the room, the only sound being the soft clicking of the keys as Natasha continues her work.

You watch her in that silence, your mind running over her words and the weight they carry.

Finally, you break the stillness, your tone thoughtful.

“I disagree.”

Natasha glances at you with an amused smirk on her lips.

“And what do you think you know about me?”

You meet her gaze steadily, the playful edge in your smile softening as you speak.

“I know you have trouble sleeping because you’re haunted by what you’ve done.”

Natasha freezes, her fingers going still as her eyes snap up to meet yours, surprise flickering in her gaze.

You hold that connection, offering a small, genuine smile as you continue.

“I know that’s why you spend your life dedicated to helping others. Why you keep trying to fix things, why you’re helping me and Widow.”

As if on cue, the cat meows from her perch on the desk, casting a curious look between the two of you. You chuckle lightly at Widow’s timing before turning back to Natasha.

“I know that you don’t judge people based on past mistakes, no matter how bad they were.”

There’s a pause, the air thick with the weight of the moment.

Your voice softens, and the sincerity in your words is palpable as you add, “And I know you’re a good person. You’ve already proven that to me. More than once.”

Natasha’s throat tightens, and she swallows lightly, clearly moved by your words though she tries to hide it.

Her gaze lingers on you a second longer, searching your expression for any trace of doubt or insincerity.

“Careful,” she finally says, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, her voice teasing but softer now. “You’re starting to sound like a fan.”

You roll your eyes, though your chuckle is warm, the tension between you lightening for just a moment.

“I think I might see the appeal,” you tease back, flashing her a smile.

Natasha’s lips quirk upward, her eyes softening briefly before she returns her attention to the computer. Her fingers fly over the keys, a determined focus settling back over her as she works.

After a few more moments, she inhales sharply.

“I’ve got it,” she says, looking up at you with a triumphant glint in her eyes. “I can deactivate the device.”

You step closer, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the screen. The proximity makes the air between you feel charged, your breath warm against her neck.

"Great. Let’s finish this."

Natasha presses a few final keys, initiating the deactivation sequence.

Widow, who had been lounging nearby, suddenly stiffens and stands. The cat lets out a disgruntled meow, glaring at both of you with wide, accusing eyes before biting at the side of her body in irritation.

“So…it’s done?” you ask, your voice laced with relief but still tentative as you straighten and take a step back.

Natasha nods, glancing at the system.

“The bomb’s deactivated,” she confirms. “But we should still take her back to the Compound, just to make sure everything’s clear.”

Before Natasha can say more, a sudden alert flashes on the screen.

Furrowing her brows, she analyzes the information, her heart sinking as she realizes the deactivation triggered something else—another similar device has been activated.

Her fingers flies across the keys as she searches for more information.

The location of the system for this other device appears to be hidden somewhere else instead of here, so there nothing she can do to deactivate it.

But she does end up finding some details and specifications about the device.

Her eyes scan the screen before widening in alarm once she sees who the device is implanted in.

Your name is listed at the bottom of the screen.

Before she can react, Natasha feels a sharp prick on the side of her neck. She recoils away and turns around, her hand flying to the spot.

Her eyes meet yours in confusion before drifting to the tranquilizer in your hand.

You flinch guiltily at her accusing stare.

“That makes it six,” you say softly with a sad sigh.

Natasha frowns in realization as her body becomes almost instantly numb, and she stumbles back against the desk, trying to support herself up.

Widow runs toward her, meowing in concern, her paw raising to grip Natasha’s arm.

But Natasha doesn’t pay attention to the small creature, her focus entirely on you.

“Why?” Natasha grits out.

“I told you—one more job,” you say, your voice filled with remorse. “And I can’t have you interfering.”

You give her a regretful expression.

“Unfortunately, I do need to use you one last time.”

Natasha feels the last of her energy escaping as her legs collapse from under her, and she falls to the ground, her eyelids feeling heavier to keep open.

You crouch down beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that cuts deeper than any wound.

Widow hops down from the desk and lands in space between the two of you, her cries growing louder in panic as she looks between you and Natasha in confusion.

Natasha feels the soft paws pushing insistently against her as her vision darkens, her body going limp as the last of her strength fades.

Widow’s concerned cries grow distant as the world around her slips away. The last thing she hears before she loses consciousness is your voice, soft and filled with regret.

“I’m sorry.”

And then, there’s only darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

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