#i cannot say anything there are just a billion thoughts running all at once

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 2 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, domestic abuse, murder threats, graphic descriptions, noncon turned dubcon, fingering, degrading, knife play

I’m in a field, not sure what kind. There are no flowers or crops. The grass is long enough that it whips at my face every few steps but I’m not bothered by it. In fact, I think I enjoy the feeling. The lush green blades are like hands reaching out to caress my skin as though encouraging me to keep running. 

  Running? I don’t know why I’m doing that. It’s a beautiful summer’s day, maybe around lunchtime. And yet, instead of a soft blue, the sky is glowing a hazy orange that shimmers off the blades of grass and is gradually becoming a deep red. I’m not concerned, there’s no need to be. Though I do sense that something is following me, and has been for a while. I wonder if I know them. Perhaps they’re trying to give me a message. I laugh, they’ll have to catch up with me. 

  The field goes all the way to the horizon. I’m not sure how far I’ve come but I’m not tired and have no desire to stop. That is until I’m made to. One of the blades tangles itself around my ankle and I fly through the air and land with a thud. The lushious grass stands above me now, leaning over as to hide me from the world. Another blade wraps itself around my ankle. It was no accident. They pull at me and pull and keep going. They have the strength of ten men. They’re dragging me into the dirt and I now see this place is not a safe haven. 

  I am being sentenced to an early burial, no one around to say my eulogy. I’m waist deep now and more blades are pulling me down. They cut me out of spite. I try to scream but I cannot form a syllable. There is no noise from anything in this world, even as I scrape the ground on the surface. 

  My face is submerged into the darkness now and all that is left of me is two arms scrambling for something to anchor onto and save me. Until, finally, two calloused hands grab my arms and pull back. 

  You woke up with a start, too fast for your body to react that you’re  immediately hauled back into bed. You paused to give yourself a chance to adjust to the transition between sleep and wake. More importantly, you let the blurred lines between dreaming and reality become clear enough for you to know that your nightmare was just that and assure yourself that you were safe. 

  Once that clarity set in, you allowed yourself to open your eyes again and immediately felt all lucidity disperse. You had no idea where the fuck you were. The room was one you didn’t recall ever being in, especially not the night before. You racked your brain for some kind of explanation as to how you could’ve ended up in a stranger’s bed but found the only plausible answers to be pretty unlikely. 

  You weren’t the kind of person to hook up with strangers, even if you sometimes wished you were. There was no one else in the spacious bedroom and with a quick scan, you couldn’t see any photos of the owner. Another answer was that a friend had invited you over the night before, you’d gotten drunk and they insisted you stayed the night. But you had no recollection of any such events nor did you have friends close enough in the States to offer that kind of invitation in the first place. Whatsmore, you  didn’t know anyone who lived in New York, as indicated to you by the floor to ceiling windows covering the entirety of two sides of the room that overlooked the city.

  Tentatively, you pulled the covers back and slipped out of bed, presenting the baggy vintage shirt with a print you weren't familiar with to yourself. You thought of grabbing some shorts to put on too but weren't sure of the social etiquette of putting on the clothes of a stranger whose bed you just woke up in and didn't remember. The shirt covered half of your thighs anyway. 

  You steadily made your way around the bed, taking in your surroundings as you went. There was nothing personalised in the room. The bed had no unique blankets or pillows, there were no ornaments or shelving of any kind or even any photos. But in all fairness, anyone who stepped into that room would immediately be drawn to the windows that you drifted towards yourself. 

  It was only upon closer inspection that you realised several of the windows were sliding glass doors leading out onto a personal balcony. Along it was a lone table and chair. You imagined that if you had a balcony like that, you’d have a multitude of different flower pots scattered along it. You tried to open the balcony door for a better look but it didn’t budge. 

  Judging by the wisps of yellow peaking over the horizon, it looked as though it was the evening, alarming you to question how long you had been asleep in a stranger's home. Though you couldn’t hear the city below, you could see the frantic life buzzing below as the general gleam of traffic moved as one disorganised swarm. You had only visited New York a handful of times, but you guessed you were in the centre based off of the multitude of skyscrapers around that you seemed to be almost level with. 

  With a shaky breath, you turned away from the illuminated city and cautiously made your way across the cold floor towards the door, only considering finding some shoes or socks for a split second before turning the handle to present the rest of the apartment. 

  “Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath as you took in the space in front of you. From a mere glance, you could only assume the penthouse was the rough size of your workplace. The practically empty, vast space before you certainly screamed New York, not to mention wealth. It had the same dark minimalistic design as the bedroom as though the owner had bought the showroom along with it. 

  The wall to my left and opposite me had the same, slightly overkill, windows to observe the whole city as far as the eye could see. Except they must have been at least forty feet taller to accommodate the second floor that seemed to cover about two thirds of floor space. There was a wide, single level staircase leading up to the landing and as you made your way along the perimeter of the penthouse you could see that not only was there a solid wall along the edges, but there was also a locking door at the top of the stairs with a keypad next to it, similar to the ones at work. 

  Just next to the stairs was a large kitchen area and island with several chairs around it, all of the same design style. It looked hardly used, by the owner or any guests. Even in the main space, there was a large corner sofa that could easily seat about ten people but seemed to have never been touched. You wondered if the television in the centre had ever been turned on either, or if the coffee table had ever had bowls piled up on top of it. 

  Beep. Click.

  You spun around to face the door at the top of the stairs, awaiting the reaction of whoever came through them. A face you certainly didn’t expect to see was that of Natasha Romanoff, sauntering down the stairs in sweatpants and a tank top. Her hair was hanging loosely over her face as her head was dropped to the stairs. You couldn’t find the voice to call her attention, too stunned to even move. It was only once she reached the final step that she glanced your way with a casual smile. 

  “You’re up,” she commented. “I was just about to make dinner.” 

  You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish as you watched, dumbfounded, as the Avenger wandered over to the kitchen and started filling pans with water and prepping equipment. You observed her for a single minute until you were finally able to find your voice. “Natasha?” 

  “Yeah?” She called back over her shoulder. You didn’t respond after a beat, not sure what to even say. 

  “What am I doing here?” You said, only knowing how to be blatant. “Where even are we?”

  “We’re home, of course,” Natasha said matter of factly. You frowned.

  “Your home?” You tried.

  “It’s yours too now detka, you know this.” The redhead chuckled and turned back around to you. 

  “I don’t…know what…what do you mean?” You stammered as the hero started strolling towards you leisurely. 

  “A few days ago, you told me you wanted to go home. Well here you are,” Natasha stated simply, an easy smile still across her rose lips.

  Beat.

  “Is this a joke?” You asked plainly, squinting slightly as you looked Natasha in the eye for any signs of...anything. “Natasha, I don’t remember getting here,” you continued, trying to show the redhead your worry. 

  “That’s too formal for this, call me Nat. And I’m not surprised you don’t remember anything, you were asleep the whole way.” You could feel your eyes widen as your brain screamed more questions at you. “Don’t worry, detka, Strange said it doesn’t affect your sleep schedule because it keeps you tired enough to fall back asleep whenever you want to,” Natasha continued. You didn’t feel particularly tired at that moment. 

  “What is this? And what is it? What the fuck’s going on?” You demanded, feeling suddenly very trapped in the vast space. Your eyes scanned the room around you for any kind of clarity or answer, anything that could give you more than Natasha was. When you eventually looked back at the older woman a chill raked its way down your back. 

  “Watch your mouth,” the ex assassin warned, eyes boring into your own. You were just then aware of how little space, and apparently air, there was between you. You released a shuddered breath as Natasha’s intense gaze didn’t waver, as though she was daring you to even think of getting more wound up. But you just couldn’t ignore the fight or flight instincts screaming at you to get away from the unpredictable redhead. 

  “I just want to go home,” you said carefully. Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “You are home. Don’t make me repeat myself again.” Her frustration was rising as rapidly as your anxiety. 

  “But I mean…my job,” you tried. Natasha’s gaze eased marginally.

  “You don’t need to worry about that. You were only going to be there a couple more weeks anyway,” she pointed out.

  “But-”

  “Your job is me now.” You could feel a lump the size of a walnut growing in your throat as your mind raced with possible explanations of what that could mean. Natasha took a confident step towards you and you took one back.

  “Where’s my phone? And my clothes?” You asked, only just able to stop your voice from breaking. You took a couple more steps away for good measure but felt the chilled window bite into your back. You didn’t miss the corner of Natasha’s lips flicker at the dull impact.

  “You don’t need them,” the older woman stated and strolled towards you. “You just need me,” she explained once she was right in front of you, close enough for you to see the shadows across her eyes that watched you with a kind of fascination. She lifted her hand and you flinched. She didn’t seem to care. Natasha placed her somewhat rough hand against your cheek and watched for a reaction. 

  You couldn’t quite give one. You hadn’t felt a woman’s hand on you like that before. Ever. It was…nice. Your skin heated up under her touch as though it ignited tiny bolts of electricity to shoot across from her to you. This made Natasha’s interest grow and she began stroking her thumb just under your eye, almost making them shutter close. But before you could enjoy the sensation any more, the redhead drew her hand away and brought it back too swiftly for you to comprehend. 

  Your head whipped to the side and your cheek suddenly heated up again but in a way greatly differing from a few seconds prior. It was burning red. “What the fuck?” You yelled, in too much shock to think of what you were saying. You tried to bring your hand up to your sore skin but Natsaha was on you before it even left your side. 

  In an instant, the ex assassin had your front pressed firmly into the glass with your arms trapped painfully between your back and the redhead. She lodged her thigh between yours, pushing herself into you as much as possible and only requiring one hand to hold you while the other grabbed your jaw. You struggled against her but even with the aid of the most adrenaline you had ever experienced, Natasha held you easily. 

  “I told you to watch your fucking mouth,” she hissed, nails digging into your flesh. “I hope you’re not so dumb that you forgot already, or you’re not going to last very long here, malysh.”

  “But you’re an Avenger,” you choked out as tears began rolling down your cheeks and onto Natasha’s hand. “You’re meant to be one of the good guys,” you cried as your hope started to shatter. 

  “Oh I am,” Natasha cooed, condescension dripping from her husky voice. “So I think the people I save should give something back to me.” With that, Natasha withdrew herself from you and sauntered back towards the kitchen like nothing happened, leaving you slumped against the window a whimpering mess. 

  “Go sit at the table,” she ordered. You figured it best to obey and gradually made your way over with your eyes trained on the assassin every step of the way.

  You sat at the table in silence for a while. You weren’t sure for how long because there wasn’t a clock on any of the white or aegean walls. The only indicator of passing time you had was the spread of the orange wisps in the sky that were almost upon you and the bright glow of the sun, just peeking over the horizon. 

  Natasha was busying herself in the kitchen making a dish you didn’t recognise the smell of. You wondered if it was Russian. You hadn’t had Russian food before. At the few moments you risked a glance towards her, she drifted seamlessly between counters as though in a routine she had practised for years and could conduct without any conscious effort. 

  You mostly sat in shock, trying to wrap your head around what exactly it was that you were doing there. Natasha’s answers were far too vague for you to understand though you didn’t feel like enquiring anymore into it. Instead, you just wanted to get out and it seemed the only way to get there was through the locked door at the top of the stairs. You didn’t fancy your chances of trying to get through with Natasha so close by and when you played it in your head it ended with you on the ground again. 

  At some point you began pondering if there was any chance in hell you could think up a plan smart enough to escape. Escape. It was an insane concept. Escaping from an Avenger. On the off chance you even managed it, what would you do once you got out? Tell people you had been abducted by the Black Widow? Who would believe you? Perhaps you could just keep running until you hit the border and crossed over to Canada, surely Natasha didn’t have as much power there. Who were you kidding? Natasha wasn’t just going to let you get far enough to find out. She was the Black Widow. 

  The redhead placed some cutlery and a plate down in front of you before retrieving her own, giving you a chance to assess the meal. It looked to be a kind of stew or soup with beef and beetroot as the sole ingredients in making it a bold red. On top of the dish was a spoonful of cream and some herbs you couldn’t name on the top of your head. You couldn’t deny, to yourself at least, that it smelled enticing and you were curious to try. 

  You waited for Natasha to be seated before you picked up your spoon and watched for her to do the same, only taking a small mouthful after she did, an act she was pleasantly surprised she didn’t have to teach you. The older woman observed you as your tastebuds gave an approving cry for more and you were immediately aware of how hungry you were. Despite feeling sick with anxiety just a few moments prior, you had to stop yourself shovelling mouthfuls of the moorish dish into your mouth at once. It was amazing. 

  As you ate, you tried to take little notice of Natasha. While you were still on edge, your body insisted that the food was your priority at that moment, allowing the redhead to survey your every movement. You liked her cooking, that much was clear. She liked that. If there was one thing Natasha despised in a guest was when they didn’t appreciate what she gave them. 

  “Borscht,” Natasha said, continuing with her own plate while you polished yours clean. “That was the dish.” 

  “It was good,” Was all I managed to say, your throbbing cheek reminding you to at least try and appease her for the time being. It was enough for the spy, for now. 

  You glanced around the penthouse awkwardly as Natasha finished her meal, avoiding her awaiting stare. When she stood up with her plate and strolled towards you you stared down at your plate until she took it from its place and lingered next to you.

  “Thank you,” you muttered. The redhead praised you internally and hummed. 

  “Would you like anything else, detka?” There were several things you wanted, none of which would be accepted. 

  “Some water…please?” Natasha smiled approvingly and turned away. It was only once she did that the thought came to mind and before you could even think rationally, you leapt out of the chair and towards the spy. 

  You made it perhaps half a step. Natasha whipped around immediately and a blur of white came hurtling straight towards your face, knocking you down upon imminent impact. The smash only registered in your ears once you were on the floor and the pain along the opposite side of your face than before set in once the spy was standing above you with an amused expression. 

  You groaned, blinking twice, as Natasha set the intact plate back down on the table and placed her combat boot on your wrist and pressed down. Hard. You cried out and grabbed at her ankle with your free hand as you felt the textures from her shoe ingrave themselves into your bones. “Stop!” You screamed, hitting at her ankle with no effect while the redhead watched you struggle in a pained panic. Again. 

  “I knew you had more fight in you,” she chuckled and squatted down, her uneven footing proving no challenge to her balance, even as your hits grew more desperate. “You wanna play, puppy?” She continued to taunt, wrapping her hand around your throat and constricting without any hesitation. 

  Your free hand immediately set about grabbing and clawing at hers as she watched you choke with a look of intrigue. Your eyes darted between the spy and her boot as the pressure built to the point of snapping. You wouldn’t put it past the sadistic hero to break your wrist, but you also weren't sure what it would take to get her to let up on your throat. 

  “What’s it gonna be, pup?” Natasha teased, highly amused by the conflict across your face. “Three…” she started and your eyes widened, darting back to your wrist for the final time before you focused all your energy at scratching your attacker's hand and wrist. “Two…” You gave a gargled cry of protest as your vision began to blur, depriving you of seeing the drops of blood you managed to draw from the spy. “One…” Your eyes rolled back just as Natasha let go. 

  The Avenger stepped back as you rolled onto your front and gasped to regain control of your lungs between strained coughs. You felt at your throat and cradled your bruised wrist while attempting to draw as much air from the room as you could, though it still felt in short supply. 

  “Smart choice,” she chuckled as you curled up around the broken shards. “Now clean this shit up.” You just about heard her walk back towards the stairs over the sound of your heart pumping in your ears. 

  You took a hold of a large shard next to you and pressed it into my palm, contemplating the two choices you had with it. Use it on yourself or use it on Natasha. You didn’t have guts for either, so instead, you hauled yourself up from the floor and collected all the broken pieces. Luckily, the plate hadn’t actually shattered and there were only a handful of pieces to put in the bin under the sink. 

  You went back to the table for the remaining plate and washed it up along with the cutlery, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, going through the motions on autopilot while trying to process the enjoyment Natasha had gotten out of the scene. You wondered how many more like it you would undergo. 

  Having completed Natasha’s request and not knowing what else she expected of you, you took the chance to start looking through her cupboards and drawers to explore the penthouse more. After all, you had no idea how long you would be there. 

  Her food cupboards were filled with organic and wholly natural ingredients, mostly labelled with brands you had never heard of. Pastas, rice, cereals, all looking different to what was sold in supermarkets and no doubt double the price. She had no savoury snacks and guilty pleasure foods except for a lone jar of peanut butter on the top shelf. The one sweet thing she owned you were possibly allergic to, having never been properly tested but had a suspicion of when you last tried.

  There was a cupboard filled with spices that you didn’t get a good look at because you were overwhelmed with the strong smells as soon as you opened the door. Another cupboard was packed with a sizable collection of different alcohols, none of which you recognised the labels of. There was nothing else that stood out to you as you looked through the remaining drawers until your eyes landed on a vegetable knife. 

  Twice you had attacked Natasha and twice you had failed. It wasn’t surprising. She was an Avenger and perhaps the most lethal spy in the world. But it allowed you to learn. She was quick, so there was no way you could make a move fast enough to catch her out. She was also undeniably stronger than you so relying on brute strength would get you nowhere and you concluded that stealth wouldn’t be your best option either.

  However, with a weapon? Things could be different. If you waited and bought your time, perhaps an opportunity would arise where the knife could make all the difference. You didn’t want to kill Natasha, just do something to help get you out. Perhaps she would let you go if she knew you could actually hurt her back. 

  You glanced back over your shoulder to ensure she hadn’t reappeared without your knowing but Natasha was nowhere in sight. You slipped the knife, blade down into the waistband of your underwear and grimaced at the feeling of the blade pressing gently into your hip. All the more reason to be careful. 

*

The knife was a bold choice. An exciting one too, for Natasha, not you. For you it would be anything but when the redhead got her hands on the flimsy weapon and used it the way she had been itching to. The moment she saw your eyes land on that knife she knew it would be promising, she was looking forward to seeing how you would fail and the fear she would practically be able to taste when it would be used against you. 

  She wanted her sheets stained red by the end of the night. 

  An eye for an eye, she mused to herself as she examined the scratches along her hand. Cat scratches. Kitten scratches. Like any good owner, she’d train that out of you soon enough. They didn’t sting, of course. Infact, Natasha quite admired them. To her, they were a medal of how easily she could overpower you and the fear she could bring out. 

  The redhead continued to monitor the screen for a while, watching as you made your way aimlessly around the apartment again and eventually perched on the sofa as you bounced your leg, appearing deep in thought. It didn’t seem to cross your mind at any point that Natasha had cameras covering every square inch of the apartment and that the S.H.I.E.L.D issued technology allowed her to zoom in enough to count the hairs on your head. She could see you from every angle, any time, anywhere. 

  Eventually, Natasha switched off the monitor and made her way out of the office and to the main door, entering her four digit, fingerprint sensitive code into the keypad to open the heavy barrier and see your head shoot around to face the spy. She didn’t miss the way you pressed your sweaty palms against the hem of the baggy shirt, subtly checking the security of the knife as you stood slowly. 

  “It’s late,” Natasha stated. “Go brush your teeth,” she nodded in the direction of the bathroom that you had looked in when you were alone. You didn’t object and instead made your way cautiously across the living area. Natasha had to stop herself from laughing at the sight, knowing that if she hadn’t seen you grab the knife, seeing the way you walked then would have given it away enough. 

  Amateur.

  When you left the bathroom and Natasha slinked in after you, you stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for further instructions. “What are you doing?” Natasha asked plainly.

  “I don’t…know,” you said, knowing you probably sounded like a lost child but not knowing that Natasha soaked up the view. 

  So needy. 

  “It’s bedtime. Go to bed,” she stated, nodding towards the other door that connected the two rooms. You glanced around and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “You know where it is.”

  “Yeah but…” you trailed off. Was she going to sleep next to you? Had she the night before? Natasha raised an eyebrow in question as she began brushing her teeth. Right. Don’t object. 

  You lingered just past the doorway, wondering which side you were meant to lay in. You had never lain in the same bed as someone before. At least not someone you weren't friends of five years with. You weren’t sure of the etiquette. Luckily, Natasha was willing to show you when she placed an unexpected hand on your lower back and gave you an encouraging push. You hadn’t heard her come back in. 

  She led you to the foot of the bed and pushed you to continue round to the other side while she pulled her top and trousers off. You quickly averted your eyes as she threw on a loose shirt too and slipped into bed. On any other occasion you would be starfishing naked in the king sized bed, but you stayed as close to the edge as you could without falling off.

  Just as you made yourself as comfortable as possible on your side, you felt Natasha’s arm sling across your stomach, narrowly missing the knife, and hook onto your waist to pull you against her. You kept your eyes trained on the window despite feeling Natasha’s breath on your neck that put your hairs on end. The redhead made small circles on your waist, shaking up your mixed bottle of emotions and hoping she wouldn’t take the cap off, and started venturing further up your side and away from the knife. She rested on your neck a while, tracing the area her hand had been before as though she could remember it better by doing so. You could too and your neck heated up under her touch, making Natasha feel as you gulped. 

  She liked that and inched further until her lips grazed your sore neck, softly at first, as though testing that your skin wasn’t hot enough to burn, before kissing the spot her thumb had been. You shuddered at the sensation and willed your eyes to stay open and to not enjoy how it felt to have Natasha’s mouth on you. But it proved harder the firmer she became, hand glued to the back of your neck as she kissed as much of the area as she could and finally started sucking. 

  When you had to bite back a moan, you knew you couldn’t let her continue and frantically reached for the knife only to find it wasn’t there. Instead, it was against your neck, gleaming slightly with spit. “Uh oh,” Natasha grinned, pressing into your back just as she had done the first time. 

  “You like making trouble for yourself, pup?” The spy husked and took your lobe between her teeth. “You haven’t even been here a full day yet and this is your third attempt at hurting me? I thought the last time scared you enough to at least hold off for a couple days,” she teased further and you began squirming in her hold. Natasha only pressed you tighter against her and pushed the blade closer. “You looked so cute getting choked like that.” At that, you tried to elbow Natasha but she caught you with ease and twisted your arm behind your back, grabbing the other while keeping the blade against all your major blood vessels. 

  “Stupid little thing,” she smiled against you as she began sucking small patches of your neck again. “It’s gonna do you no good to keep acting like this, you know? And it’d be such a shame to have to carve up this pretty body just to show you that,” she pouted as your guts churned and you found myself freezing in place. 

  “Then again…” Natasha continued, “this is the third time so maybe you’re not worth the hassle of keeping.” Stupidly, you felt your spirits rise at the hopeful words Natasha muttered, thinking your plan had worked and that the spy didn’t want to deal with the continuing defiance. “I suppose the only question left is how best to kill you.” Your heart stopped.

  “Sure, I could slit this pretty throat and let you drain out on my bed then dump you somewhere, but that sounds like a hassle and a very uncreative one.” She pondered as the room’s temperature suddenly dropped to below zero. “Perhaps I could cut into those small wrists and then drive you home, make everyone think you were just too weak to handle your big adventure.” Natasha pretended not to hear the small whimper that left your lips. “Or maybe, as you’ve wasted so much of my time and energy, I take my time with it to make this all worth it. Start out with small little cuts and rub salt in them; make larger ones and burn them shut; rip your guts out and make you watch. So many possibilities. Any of those sound good to you, detka?” She asked with a small kiss to your cheek.

  “Please,” you sobbed, tears soaking Natasha’s sheet while you felt like a lamb being prepped for slaughter. “I’m sorry…please don’t kill me,” you begged as you suddenly recalled all the adventures and accomplishments you wanted to use the rest of your life to achieve. You wanted to laugh more with friends, you wanted to cry with them, you wanted to have stories to tell people. You hadn’t even felt a woman’s touch yet. 

  “So precious when you beg for your life,” Natasha mused as she pressed the small blade further into your skin until you felt a sharp sting.

  “I won’t try anything again, I swear!” you pleaded, fighting against every instinct in your body screaming at you to fight back. You knew doing so would only play into the spy’s hands. 

  “I just don’t believe you, lapachka. There’s so much fight in you,” she pondered. 

  “I’ll do anything,” you cried.

  “Yeah?” Natasha’s lips turned up against you. “I think you might have to let me fuck the fight out of you, meelaya.” 

  “I…” Words escaped you. You racked your brain for any kind of legible response but your mind was blank, only filled with images of what the redhead could possibly be planning. 

  “Has anyone ever touched you before, pup?” Natasha queeried as she watched a drop of blood drip down your neck and let her free hand roam down. 

  “No, you whispered and felt Natasha smirk against your sensitive neck again, not knowing how excited the truth made her.

  “Then I’ll make sure to ruin you for anyone else.” She husked, as she groped at your breasts and squeezed your nipples between her fingers. You gasped at the foreign feeling that you …didn’t hate. That was until Natasha’s knife dragged across your neck and left a scarlet line in its path. 

  “Fuck!” You grabbed at your neck and the spy let you as she trailed the knife down to your breasts and circled it around your hardened nipples, making the occasional scratch as she went that made you whine every time. 

  Natasha’s free hand didn’t take long to find itself at the hem of your underwear, pulling the band back and snapping it against you as she mouthed at your neck, growing more desperate once she got a taste of your blood you had smeared across yourself in panic. It was as though the metallicity was making her hunter drive go wild as her scratches turned to cuts and littered them across your torso. The more she did, the more you grew accustomed to the sudden sparks of pain and started to ride the high your brain forced you to perceive them as and had to bite back your moans. This was until Natasha dragged her nails down your inner thighs and you couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped your lips. 

  “Oh?” The redhead chuckled and repeated the action, giving her the same response with the addition of you arching into her against your better wishes. “If I didn’t know better I’d be willing to bet those underwear of yours have become a little wet, hm?” She queried as her hands went up to investigate. You didn’t answer, far too embarrassed by the fact you were fairly sure she was right. The deep sigh you heard from Natasha once her fingers danced across your covered slit was confirmation enough. 

  “You’re a twisted little thing, malysh. Did you get wet once I started cutting you or was it when you thought I might kill you?” She continued, genuinely curious. She knew you liked it when she kissed your neck and knew you enjoyed the pain of her nails, but she hadn’t expected to find you that wet between the two. You had clearly been working yourself up for a while. 

  “Answer me,” she demanded with a sharp slap to your cheek.

  “I don’t know,” you whined honestly. Luckily, Natasha seemed to believe you.

  “And there I was thinking I was going to have to make you get my fingers wet for me,” she paused. “Though I suppose there’s no reason to sacrifice one good thing for another.” You didn’t resist when she pushed her fingers against your lips and began sucking on them the moment you could, missing the shaky exhale from Natasha. “Good puppy,” she mused as she fucked your mouth with her fingers, your brain far too foggy to object. 

  Once she deemed them coated enough with your saliva, Natasha wasted no time in slipping them past your underwear and across your slit, sighing deeply when she could finally feel your wetness against her skin. “You’re soaked, puppy,” she groaned as she teased your clit with her fingers. You could only whine a response and buck your hips into her. “God, you’re a little slut too, aren’t you meelaya?” 

  “Yeah,” you admitted, enthralled by the fact you were finally feeling someone touch you in such a way. 

  When Nataha’s fingers pushed inside you, your head fell back against the redhead’s shoulder and you gave a breathy moan that made the spy start fingering you without any ease. You winced at the sudden pain, expecting her to at least start off slow but that seemed to be the last thing on Natasha’s mind as her fingers reached your depths and curled, making you reach back to try and grip onto her for support. Out of the generosity of her heart, she let you. 

  The room is quickly filled with the sinful sounds of Natasha’s fingers pumping into you and you actually enjoying it. You never would have guessed that your first time would be under such dubious circumstances and that you didn’t even care. Perhaps there was a part of you that loved the immorality, to put it lightly, of it all. But that part would have to be investigated another time because at that moment, all you could think of was how good Natasha's fingers made you feel better than you thought possible. The redhead was thrusting her digits in fast succession that still managed to swipe all of your nerve endings in a perfect harmony. It made your head spin so wildly that you were left disorientated, only being able to anchor yourself to Natasha and allowing her to take whatever she wanted from you while you gave her your most vulnerable state. 

  The spy dug her knife into your burning skin again and the coolness of it was gladly welcomed. She cut and you knew that one was deeper than the rest but you were far too overwhelmed by the additional finger Natasha added to care. Your walls protested to the stretch that your body wasn’t prepared for though it proved no issue for Natasha as she murmured orders to “take it” into your ear and straight to your cunt, instead making you appreciate how full you were. Fuller than you had ever been from the limited times you had ventured there with your own fingers, too afraid to pass the limits Natasha had no care of. 

  Once her knife was soaked in red up to the handle, the ex assassin held the top of the gripped part and brought the end down onto your throbbing clit. You rolled your hips into the weapon smeared with your blood immediately with a desperate whine at the intense pressure of it all. “Getting off on the knife that’s dripping with your blood? You deprived whore,” Natasha husked, voice low as she circled your clit with the edge of the handle. This only worked you up to your peak and soon enough, you were gripping onto Natasha like a lifeline as tears sprung to your eyes from how close you were. Of course, the redhead knew the signs and pressed on your clit harder to match the firmness of her strokes inside you, coaxing you to your orgasm. 

  You were drowning when you came, held down by a pressure you couldn’t see but could feel with every fibre of your being. Your whole body was pulsing red hot and you couldn’t breath under the intensity of it all. Thankfully, Natasha was there to bring you out to the other side and slowly pumped her fingers into you as you squeezed them tight. She tossed the knife to the side as the haze in your mind began to clear and your whole body finally relaxed. You didn’t even notice the spy pulling you onto your back, your body too focused on the newly awoken nerves in your cunt that started to ache. It was incredible. She was incredible. 

  She…

  You hoped my eyes to the sight of Natasha kissing the streaks of red that were littered across your chest. You felt your rib cage constrict at the view as the reality of what had happened came crashing down on you and threatened to pull you back under the waves. The spy had been carving up your body while she fucked you and it made you cum harder than you ever had in your life. She smirked up at you, as though she was peering into your mind and could hear your conflict over the things she had made you feel. 

  That look was almost enough to distract you from the fact that she was pulling your underwear down and settling herself between your spread legs, even though your breathing hadn’t yet evened out. “I can’t,” you started, reaching down to push her away but Natasha just slapped your hands back. 

  “You can and you will,” was all she said before her mouth was on you again, tasting the pleasure she had given you. You whined and tried to crawl away but Natasha wrapped her hands around your thighs to keep you where you were with your legs either side of her head. 

  She took her time with her tongue, making sure to let it venture to every inch of your overstimulated cunt while you lay there and took it all. Feeling her hands so firmly on your thighs, her moans vibrating through your body, her hot mouth on such a sensitive area. It was all too much and it didn’t take long before you were falling over the edge again, except this time you kept plummeting and didn’t hit the ground.

  Natasha was lying besides you when you came back around, her watchful eyes lifting as you did. “I lost you there for a second, detka,” she chuckled, running a hand across your hair that covered your face and pushed it back behind your ear. You were too tired to even flinch. Nor did you object when she pulled your head into her chest and kept her hands there. Instead, you listened to her heartbeat and let yourself drift off to the rhythm.

[artistotel]

tips for traditional artists (mostly painters)

so while i primarily post doodles and such on this blog, my true passion is traditional art. :) i see a lot of tips for digital artists but rarely for traditional ones, so this is just my own experience (before anyone goes like "oP tHaT iS nOt UnIvErSaL eXpErIenCe" (i know this site well enough lol) if the advice doesnt sit well with you feel free to ignore it because i am def not an end it know it all. and nobody is because art is so broad and there is no right way to do it.

EQUIPMENT

so, first of all, in my language we have a saying "the tools dont make a master", meaning a true master could create with anything. i mean, sure, to a point, tools wont replace your ability to conceptualize art, but cmon.

equipment matters, especially when painting. i mostly work with acryllics and markers. lets talk about acryllics.

paints

its important to get at least okay quality paints. the stuff i use is not insanely expensive - croatia has limited offers, and i am poor. however, i tried paints for like 1€ from tedi and they are far inferior to goya's paints i use (3-4€ cca per 100ml. and those 100ml are going to last you a very looong time if you work on small scale paintings, and i even managed to fit in large ones).

ESPECIALLY THE WHITE PAINT. i cannot stress this enough. if youre gonna buy cheaply, buy everything cheap except for the white. make sure the white is good. it will serve as a thickener for other colours and good white can even do a good job of covering up the black paint.

brushes: get good brushes. if you paint frequently with bad brushes (like the ones i get from muller; they seem fine but ehhh im constantly changing them) you will be spending more in longer run than you would if you invested in something better. im not talking about 100€ packs made of donkey tail strands or whatever, i mean normal brushes, but look at reviews a bit. i once ordered like 10€ pack of brushes from amazon and they performed muller ones by far (and were cheaper); they left thicker paint and didnt get ruined after five uses.

markers

now see, i dont have any advice here, but i wanted to contrast it with my previous talk about how i purposefully buy good paint. well, i purposefully buy bad markers. really bad ones. because equipment often depends on what style you are after. i use flomasters, and they do what i want: and thats a cheap and trashy look.

canvases and papers

if youre gonna invest into something, invest into paints rather than canvases. you can trick a bad canvas by putting on multiple colour layers, you cant trick bad paints. but there are differences to bad and good canvases, of course. however, if youre just starting out, just go get a bad one; i take most of mine from tedi, or order online. you dont gotta spend billion of euros on them.

paper is also important. i am a painter and i bought a Leuchtturm1917 though unfit one, and was annoyed as to why everyone thought it was great. then i bought the one with specific sketchbook paper and it works fantastic. if youre painting, you need appropriate paper.

learn colour theory and some art history

yes i know this sounds boring. but its not. draw inspiration from your predecessors. there are people making oil paintings of modern things. you heard "dont shade with black" (and thats my personal mantra too) but chiaroscuro was a valid art movement. if you take a look at my own art you will most likely say: oh, thats pop art! and you would be right. i am inspired by roy lichtenstein, andy warhol, and other pop artists. but thats just the surface. my use of colour is inspired by the impressionist takes on it; i dont shade with darker colours, i shade with different ones. i shade red with blue, yellow with purple or red, and so on. if you look at the topics and subjects of my art, you will find surrealism. if you look at my approach to art itself, you might find influences of croatian naive. learn about actual philosophies behind art movements you like; you might find something for you.

ok these are just some general thoughts i had, id probably have more lol but thats it for now

[preet-01]

A short prequel of sorts for my last Lewis x John Elkann ficlet. I cannot stop thinking about this pairing.

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, John had never wanted for anything.

If he even thought about something, it would appear in front of him. Not quite served on a silver platter, but as close to it as humanly possible.

So he had never wanted for anything in his life, at least not until he’d run into one Lewis Hamilton — not yet a Sir but still so chivalrous.

A chance meeting had turned into a years long desire for the British racing driver. How anyone got anything done with Lewis near them, John would never know, but god did he want to find out.

His first thought is to throw money towards getting closer to Lewis. It’s a path that tended to always work. But Lewis had been a star from the day he touched one of those RC cars. And he was labeled the billion dollar man — Lewis had no need for the endless amount of money that John had at his disposal.

He has done work harder, get crafty and go out of the box.

Stepping outside of Italian aristocracy and industrialists, John finds himself in the presence of fashion icons and celebrities that he can’t name off the top of his head. But during every event Lewis greets him with his perfect gap-toothed smile and a joke about it being a small world.

If only he knew the effort John went to and the “anonymous” donations he’d made.

Lewis’ social circles are filled with parties and designer clothes. It truly is a blessing that Ferrari designs clothes and gives John an in. There are professional benefits to it, celebrities that wouldn’t have thought to come to a Ferrari fashion show are booking it in their calendars.

The next step to actually getting Lewis is getting him away from Mercedes. The team that had once lauded Lewis as their star had been slowly declining over the years and in John’s opinion wasn’t worthy of Lewis anymore.

But despite all his efforts, Lewis remains oblivious.

Until after the Singapore Grand Prix, Lewis on the podium and alone. A win that could have been his had something been different lost. A team that barely acknowledged him.

Lewis would typically fly with the team, but John offers a ride on his private jet and for once he actually accepts. There’s a hidden hurt in Lewis’ eyes that he would not have gotten to know Lewis so well, he would’ve missed it.

“How come you’ve been at so many races recently, man? I don’t think I’ve seen you this much ever,” Lewis questions.

“I am a fan of the sport first and foremost. Might as well enjoy the benefits of running Ferrari,” John replies. “And there are contracts that I want to be finalized,” he adds.

“Charles and Carlos? It would be a good idea to lock down drivers before it becomes chaotic with the other half of the grid not having contracts finalized during the summer,” Lewis notes.

“Charles, yes. With Carlos, however, we want to keep the seat open should someone else want it. Perhaps a world champion,” John replies vaguely. He’s curious to see what Lewis will say.

“Nothing could take Max away from Red Bull, especially not now that Daniel’s back there as well. And I doubt Fernando would return to Ferrari after his run,” Lewis says.

“They’re not the only champions on the grid and definitely not the ones I want,” John tells him.

“Oh, but I said after Monaco-“

“I know, but just keep it in mind. If we do sign Carlos again it’ll only be for a year,” John cuts him off.

He’ll have to forget being subtle because Lewis is perhaps one of the most oblivious men he’s ever met.

[wyldblunt]

hi personal post just under a cut, it's not even serious or negative or anything i just feel like blabbering and it's embarrassing to have it out in the open lol

i NEED......... to get over how shy i am abt playing w ppl in game... it's not even just Running Content, i mean i get anxious/shy about even just. goofing around aimlessly/map completing with anyone i haven't known for literally years. or who i am not literally married to.

idk what it is!!! my brain immediately kicks into overdrive and gets completely clogged up with "am i not talking enough. are they getting bored. am i moving too fast/slow. i don't know what to do. this is stressing me out" and i have zero idea how to stop myself from getting like that. literally yesterday (SORRY IF THIS WAS YOU??? I THOUGHT YOU WERE NICE FWIW) someone came up to me and marina in game and said hi nicely and asked what we were up to and i like. Answered Once, and then did not talk again the whole time, and we sort of ran around together for a bit until i kind of lost track of them but the ENTIRE TIME i was agonizing over "am i being totally unfriendly and weird by not chatting. am i coming off like i want them to go away or just generally like an asshole" and as you can see i am also still agonizing about it now. even though objectively it was probably completely fine.

and EVEN WITH very good friends i've known for a long time i clam up like that... when i was trying to get into ffxiv some very good friends stopped by to give me stuff/say hi to my character etc and i got the exact same way!!! ppl i literally talk to all the time on twitter etc but then the second we're behind in game avatars i just get stressed out and start feeling super awkward and aside from like. jumping in place a few times suddenly forget literally every single thing i have ever known about human socialization

but it's dumb!!! and i'm so over it!!!! i wanna run dungeons and fractals and stuff, i even wanna scrape a group together to kind of activate my old guild again and claim a guild hall, stuff like that... and i KNOW the tumblr community is a great way to do that bc u guys are all so friendly and chill and it's way better than trying to throw myself into pugs or whatever. but oh my god. my fucking BRAIN, man

as i type this all out i do wonder if maybe a solution would be getting on voice chat w ppl while trying to play stuff together bc i truly feel like 90% of my anxiety comes from "i cannot type in chat and play at the same time, therefore i get super overwhelmed and confused about how to communicate naturally" and i feel like vc would solve that. but uh. if anyone does not mind sometimes running content with a guy who will probably be mostly silent and weird the whole time (the real glyndwr experience!!!!) please feel free to hit me up and i will get back to u between three and six billion business days

EDIT adding on more bc im still thinking lol. i just have a huge huge fear of coming off like a dick or like im unfriendly or something. ppl have constantly told me im intimidating for ages and it hurts my feelings and i get really antsy about it (this is why i never play reblog games abt like "rate how intimidating the person u reblogged from is" etc bc if anyone actually said they were scared of me i would get sad for real lol!!!). i naturally usually have a kind of flat/dry affect online and i make friends slowly, and i don't feel like changing how i express myself bc it's natural to me but. agh!!!! agh!!!! my wittle feelings!!!!!!

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xxviii.c: The Viper, “he has run a muck in our business, and refuses to come to the table to talk and work out some kind of territorial agreement.” Yeah … sounds like the dirty prick. “But first … you are to agree to do something for me, in return for my help.” I tense up … feel my heart start to race. W-what? … “You are to run some jobs for me … High Priority” Shit. I lean forward … and put my head in my hands to think … High Priority Contracts are typically some real dangerous shit, dealing with some real dangerous people … not what I'm trying to involve myself in necessarily, unless they can help me, clearly as to my current visit. I lean back up, and remove my hands from my face. *Sigh* … ok … so say I help you here, how many contracts are we talkin? “Seven” Seven! … fuck me … why so many? … why so specific actually? I was expecting you to dodge my answer … and be more … cryptic. “Yes well … you are going to be quite busy with those seven, there would be more … but I'm afraid that is probably not within the time zone I'm needing … you will be working against some old friends of ours.” Old friends? “K-Industries” Holy Fuck Van … I … I don't know about that, it's downright dumb to get in any trouble with them … even you should steer clear, and you used to know that. “Things have changed … K-Industries have been moving product in bulk, as to underhand us on the street level, we are to show them that is unacceptable … that there are consequences to moving into our territory.” ahhh damn … this is so fucked V … we're not even close to standing against them in any context … especially with their publicity armor they've always had and flaunt, not to mention the billions they have at their disposal. “Yes yes Salem … I know this, this is not news to me, I've thought it all through, there really is no choices here … we must act now … they are forcing us. I need your help, as you need mine … we both can come up on top here, if we reunite once again, and you serve as my Rồng again.” listen V … I'll help … but only for those seven contacts, no more than that, no side jobs for the main jobs none of that shit … call me when things need to be done on the main projects here, I don't want any more trouble then I already have here. “I know … ” she reached across the table and put her hand on my wrist, “You have no need for worry … these contracts are from me, and vetted by good people … you are safe, this … is a win-win.” *Sigh* yeah yeah. I stood up. I've heard it before V … but seeing I have no choice here, I'll play your game for now. She stood up quick with a big smile and eyes even bigger. “You will not regret this … this is the start to your new safer life … I promise you this … by the end, you will have less problems, both in the concurrent and in the making. All shall be safe.” Mmhmm, we'll see. Anyways what now exactly? Do you need my help to get Alzon any? Or what's next here? “Tell anything you can about him to Cadeo, he will write down everything and I'll go over it later tonight, I want to know … everything … including why you were even anywhere near him, let alone to be put on his hit list. Then after I've looked it over, I will give you a call, and we can speak then on what's next. We'll start with that … then we can move on to the first contract, and so on continue our efforts in tandem.” Ok! … ok … sounds like a plan then … well then Mrs.Van … it was a pleasure to see you again, and I'll be awaiting your call. I tip my head a little and start to walk away … when she grabbed my shoulder and said. “You know … you cannot do this alone.” I stop in my tracks, and turn around slowly. I mean … maybe, maybe not … “No … you cannot do what I've asked, alone … you will need help.” … ok … what about Cadeo in there, could show him some ropes and progress him fur- “No! … he is not ready, and this life is not his to live … and we both know you don't work well with others outside your circle.” … Just as I thought I was in the clear … she just had to come back with something … [To Be Continued]

[dailydoseofdaisyrose]

GLOOMY WINTER DAY

Slow.

That is the only way to describe the day I am having today. I will admit Tumblr was not my first option when deciding which platform to create my blog but in all honesty it is the platform I am most comfortable and familiar with. However I am not too concerned with the platform I truly just want to write, and I hope anyone who comes across this do not judge me for my informalities, grammatical errors and overall awkward sentences. My goal is to improve overtime, I know my level of skill when It comes to writing and I am in no shape to even call myself a writer but hopefully with the growth of this blog I can learn and develop into a respected and talented writer.

In all honesty I feel guilty for writing, I know it is such a weird thing to feel guilty about but for some reason I do. I do not want to get into the details as to why, seeing that I do not understand where that feeling is rooted in. I will say there's a certain comfortability I have right now writing to the cyber world, a place where billions of people go and yet there's this sense of security in being invisible to all those prying eyes. I am no one on the internet and I enjoy that thought. I am not sad though, I would like to make that a very clear point. not that there's anything wrong with being sad but because I don't want to give off the wrong impression, I do enjoy my real life outside of the computer screen but It is nice to escape every once in a while. although, since we're already on this topic, experiencing life through the physical realm is more of an escape these days. I find too many people are so dependent and lost in this cyber world and in all honesty I am a victim of this too.

slow.

back to the word slow, I wanted to talk about slow days for a moment because I struggle with accepting the slow days. I will let you in on a little secret, I am 21 years old. I do not want to reveal too much of myself on here but my age does play a role in what I intend to say. I am a baby, a beginner, a grasshopper as some would say, I am new to this game of life. I do not know the rules, or strategies, I can confidently say I do not know all the players and most importantly I do not know what the objective of the game is. I can however say what I do know so far and I intent to go into detail of the wild things I learn from this game but for now I will voice my opinion on slow days.

they are necessary, we as humans need slow days and I believe that in today's society it is so easy to get wrapped up in the superficial aspects of the world. I see so many people who are constantly running, maybe not physically but mentally and emotionally. People who run away from their problems, past traumas, running to chase highs because they cannot handle the lows. I can only imagine the exhaustion the earth must feel having to harbour all the messed up energies that we as humans release into the world. However, slow days are sacred, they allow us to release and flow with life. I need slow days, my brain is always going and I too, find myself getting mentally trapped in this rat race of capitalism and draining myself of the precious life-force that is within me. It's easy to feel unproductive while having a slow day but the reality is, slow days are needed. Why spend a beautiful day of rest stressing about the fact you are resting and not truly getting any rest by the end when rather you can rest, and actually allow yourself to regain the energy that you need and feel good about being kind to yourself?

slow.

that is how I am going to spend the rest of my day. I will slowly breathe. I will slowly read my thrifted book. I will slowly eat my nutritious food. I will slowly stare at the sky and watch the clouds drift along. I will slowly live my life because even though I am 21, I am young, and I have the energy to go fast that doesn't mean you have to. I see so many people my age doing amazing things and I get this guilty urge to make something better of myself but the truth is, I just want to move slow.

Slow is not bad. Slow is not good. Slow is slow and thats all it will ever be, a word to describe the day I am having. it is not something that defines who I am as a person or the rate of my success, it is just a word that is used when fast is racing towards the finish line leaving me behind.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

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

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[ameliora-j]

before i fell // dm x reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, talk of a breakup, mention of loss of virginity, mention of not eating, mention of not sleeping, pansy is kinda ooc and so is draco, the slytherins are assholes

a/n: i used a lot of olivia rodrigo lyrics bc i listened to SOUR while writing lol. lmk if i should add other warnings and happy reading babies!

you would be cliche and say that you fell in love the way that you fall asleep. slowly and then all at once. but you couldn’t because you didn’t. it wasn’t a john green novel and you weren’t hazel grace lancaster. falling in love wasn’t simple, and that description of it truly… didn’t describe anything. falling in love was more complicated than that. there were more layers to it than that. falling in love was rather… quick and unexpected. unexpected like snow in the middle of march. or rain when there’s not a cloud in sight. quick like waiting months for an event and finally when the time comes, it feels like you blinked and then it was over.

falling in love with draco malfoy was all of these things and more. falling in love with draco malfoy brought upon more layers than that. falling in love with draco malfoy brought pain. not just any kind of pain, no… horrible, heart wrenching, gut twisting pain. pain that began by bubbling itself in your chest right at the center of your heart, then slowly but surely worked it’s way outwards. encapsulating your entire body and making every inch of your body ache. pain like when you get attached to a character and the author kills them off. pain like when you finish your favorite book and you realize that you’re not truly in that universe and none of that actually happened. pain like when you’re two hours, fifteen minutes, and twelve seconds into avengers: infinity war and peter parker says “mr. stark, i don’t feel so good.” pain that you’ve never felt. pain that can’t be described. pain that you felt for days. pain.

you thought it was strange when the platinum blonde slytherin sought you out. he came to you one day while you sat silently at the black lake. you were alone, but only because you liked to be. you had friends of course, many actually, but you chose to be alone. the black lake was your place of solace. then along came draco. he sat beside you, a good distance away, but his presence was known. you looked to him for an explanation but he offered none. just smiled at you and turned to his notes, so you did the same. the second time he came, he sat closer, but still in silence. the third time is when he struck up conversation.

“yln, yeah?” he questioned.

“yn, actually. but yes, yn yln. and you’re draco malfoy?” you asked.

“i am,” he smirked at your knowledge of his name and then you returned to your studying. after that, the two of you talked every time he came and sat with you. short discussions about the weather or the potions assignment. you don’t know when, but soon they became longer. discussions of your day and your family. your interests and how you got your name. how you loved the rain and the stars and how you loved hogwarts, but you often missed home. draco knew you inside and out and you knew him—and before long, you called the tall, skinny blonde your boyfriend.

you walked the halls of hogwarts together, hand in hand. draco walked haughtily with a hard scowl and you with a bright smile. while you walked cheerfully and waved to your friends and to first years while draco glared at anyone who dared look at the two of you. he took you to parties in the slytherin common room and you wore his jersey proudly at quidditch games, even when he played against your house. he bought you lavish gifts at all of your trips to hogsmeade and he showered you in kisses, praise, and affection. you were whole heartedly smitten with the sole heir to the malfoy fortune.

it was one fateful day in the common room when your heart absolutely exploded. that was the day you knew that you fell in love with draco malfoy. you had been a thing for about two, going on three, months. you were sitting in the slytherin common room, reading in silence when he asked. you were pressed against his chest and he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “‘ve been meaning to ask you something,” he murmured gently. this caused you to close the book and turn your full attention to him. “want you to wear this,” he said, holding out a ring. “it’s the malfoy family crest.”

your stomach and your heart exploded into billions of butterflies and you launched yourself forward, straight into his chest. millions of emotions overcame you as you squeezed his neck as tight as possible. you nodded into his neck as a few stray tears fell. he kissed your head repeatedly as he slid the ring onto your finger before pressing his lips to your’s gently. you giggled excitedly as you stared down at the ring on your finger. “do you like it?” he asked you.

“i love it, dray. i love you. thank you s’much,” you confessed for the first time as you cuddled back into his chest. you don’t know what it was that made the blonde boy seek you out, but you’re glad he did. if only you knew the true nature of his intentions. but alas, you were oblivious.

it was the beginning of the school year, on the train to hogwarts. in the compartment of what was labeled as “the slytherin squad.” there sat theo nott, pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, and—your now boyfriend—draco malfoy.

they were all sitting around, taking the piss out of draco for all of his past failed relationships when it was brought up. “i’ll bet malfoy couldn’t get a girl to fall in love with him if he paid her,” theo spoke.

“i’ll take that bet,” draco countered.

“alright. but we get to pick the girl,” blaise decided.

“what?” pansy asked as theo began to look around the compartment. it was a few minutes before he found the victim. it was then that your fate was sealed. there, sitting in the back corner, head tucked deep into a copy of the fault in our stars, was you. you. awkward and quiet. you with seemingly no friends. poor little unsuspecting you.

“that one,” nott smirked evilly.

“what the weirdo?!” draco exclaimed incredulously. “no way!”

“so then you forfeit?” blaise asked, causing draco to release a frustrated exhale.

“alright i’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes.

“then we give you five months. make yn yln fall in love with you in five months and we’ll do your homework for the rest of the year,” theo posed.

“and if i don’t?” draco asked.

“and when you don’t… thennn,” blaise taunted as he searched for a deal that was fair.

“then we get two hundred galleons each and you have to apologize to potter for making his life hell,” theo smirked. draco scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“and what are my conditions?” he raised an eyebrow.

“she has to say it first. you can do anything you want or need to get her to say it, but you cannot say ‘i love you’ first,” blaise spoke.

“this doesn’t seem fair to yn,” pansy piped in.

“shut your mouth parkinson. no one asked your opinion,” theo growled with a roll of his eyes. but it was too late. there was absolutely nothing the girl could do to get the three to change their minds. she just had to sit idly by and watch draco malfoy break your heart as she said nothing. she wished that she could stop it, but their minds were made up. and the three of them were very stubborn.

it was a few days after draco gave you his ring when your bubble came crashing down. you were walking to meet draco at your spot at the black lake when blaise and theo intercepted you. you knew who they were, of course you did. they were your boyfriend’s best friends, however why they were currently speaking to you, you had no idea.

they told you it would be quick. that they just wanted to show you something in the slytherin common room and left little room for argument, so you had no choice but to follow them there. they sat you on the couch and began to discuss your relationship with draco. you were very confused and had no idea why you were here. “so… draco hasn’t told you?” blaise mocked a gasp of shock.

“no?” you raised a soft eyebrow as you stared on. this made theo smirk evilly as he pulled up a projector and pointed his wand at it. a picture appeared, it looked like a memory. “what’s this?” you asked before the boys urged you to ‘shh.’ you sunk further into the couch as you idly watched on.

you truly weren’t paying attention untill you heard the voice of your boyfriend. the words he spoke stung. you were soft. emotional. the way he spoke about you absolutely crushed you. it would crush anyone, but it shattered you especially. “she’s so fucking weird!” “i’ll take that bet.”

‘s all you were. all you ever were. just a stupid belt. another notch in his belt. it was that moment that draco had barged into the common room. but by then, it was already too late. the tears had already sprung to your eyes and you were preparing for a torrential downpour as you heard his voice. “i’m out!” he announced breathlessly. he froze in his run as his eyes fell on you and what was playing on the projector currently. “bunny…” he whispered softly as his hand touched your shoulder, but you quickly jerked away as if his hand had burned you on contact.

“don’t call me that. don’t touch me,” you demanded as the tears began to fall. “that’s all i was? a bet?” an involuntary whimper sounded from the depths of your throat. “i feel so stupid.” you shook your head.

“no, bunny please listen to me,” you didn’t allow the boy to finish as you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself.

“don’t call me that!” you demanded. “in fact don’t call me at all. don’t… don’t talk to me draco. ever again. i can’t believe i fell for your stupid joke. i feel so… i feel like an idiot,” you spoke. you shook your head, hastily wiping at your eyes untill you saw stars. it was then that you decided to walk away.

“YN STOP!” draco yelled. “LISTEN to me,” he demanded.

“NO!” you shouted as you turned to face him finally. “godric draco, i wish you would’ve thought this through before i went and fell in love with you,” you sniffled as you wiped your snot on your sweater sleeve.

“yn please just let me explain. please listen to me, please,” he begged.

“i feel like you betrayed me,” you shook your head. “i told you everything. you were my everything. draco i loved you. i actually loved you. i thought you loved me too but i guess you’re just a really good actor,” you sniffled once more. “i hate you draco. i really fucking hate you. i don’t want to hear your bullshit explanation because i know that you’ll never feel sorry for the way i’m hurting right now.”

“it was a bet!” draco shouted as you walked away, hand on the door knob. you scoffed as you muttered a sarcastic, ‘no shit.’ “that’s how it started yes, but then i got to know you. i figured out who you were. i learned that your favorite color is yfc and that you prefer night over day because you love the stars and that your favorite star is scorpius and you would name your son after that star one day. i learned that you love to read and you love when it storms but you're afraid of the thunder. you only dance when you’re drunk and you giggle when you’re nervous and i love that giggle. with everything in me i do. your favorite book is yfb and you choose to be alone but you let everyone be your friend. you’re gorgeous. inside and out and while it may have started as a bet, somewhere along the lines i fell in love with you so yn please. please don’t leave,” he whispered the last part as his voice came out broken.

you took a deep breath in before you began to speak. “you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more. i’d say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that,” you shook your head as you furiously wiped at your eyes again. “i gave you my all draco. you were my first everything. i gave you my virginity for merlin’s sake. all to find out that i was just some stupid bet,” you scoffed.

“yn please believe me when i say that you’re so much more than that,” he begged again. “i came to tell them that they won. that i wanted out because i fell in love with you too!”

“it doesn’t matter if you don’t see me as a bet any longer. the fact is that you did. i’m worth so so much more than that.” your breaths were ragged as you spoke. “i really wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you.” you repeated with a small sniffle. “don’t you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded? don’t you think i loved you too much to think i deserve nothing?” you were openly sobbing at this point.

“yn please believe me when i tell you how sorry i am…” he spoke softly.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry. feel sorry for yourself. because someday i’ll be everything to somebody else,” with this you turned away from him. you hastily opened the door and practically ran out of the common room and away from him.

at that moment you decided to forget about it. draco, and the bet, and love, and everything. like in the vampire diaries, you decided to turn your emotions off. you laid in your dorm crying for hours before you made that decision, however. your dorm mates checked on you often, but you never offered more than merely a half hearted shrug, letting them know that you were still alive, but barely breathing. you skipped classes and meals. you were a mere shell of yourself. it was about two weeks before you could face draco again. and even then you couldn’t truly. you went into the great hall and found “the slytherin squad” sans draco.

pansy looked at you sympathetically while theo and blaise basked in the glow of their new victory. you pulled the ring off carelessly as you stopped in front of them, hair disheveled and uniform askew. you had dark bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep you’d gotten in the past fourteen days and your eyes were rimmed red with the weight of your emotions. “c’you just give this back to malfoy,” you murmured half-heartedly as you dropped the ring on the table in front of the three. just speaking his name brought you pain.

your shoulders were sunken in defeat and you were but a shell of your usual cheerful self. you don’t even know when the last time you saw daylight or had fresh air was. “wait yln,” pansy called hesitantly. you turned to face her, still staring down at your mary janes as you pulled and twisted your fingers untill you heard your knuckles pop. “you… you really love him, don’t you?”

you just shrugged your right shoulder as you used the heel of your palm to wipe the snot from your rapidly reddening nose. “i was just some stupid bet,” you replied as tears begin to spill rapidly over your waterline.

“if it’s any consolation… it was those two bozos’ idea,” pansy told you as she pointed to blaise and theo.

“doesn’t matter,” you murmured. “he’s still a traitor,” you answered as you walked away, forgetting all about the slytherin prince and his stupid friends. forgetting all about how he hit you with a train of his “love.” forgetting all about how for three months he was your everything. forgetting all about how he wrote to his mum about you and you wrote to your parents about him. forgetting all about draco malfoy. the platinum blonde boy with stormy grey eyes who had a long story buried beneath his haughty exterior. the boy who you called your first. your first kiss. your first time. your first love. forgetting all about the boy that made you fall in love just to tell you it was all a bet.

attempting to revert back to how you were before you fell.

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[burnedbyshoto]

good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose. 

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas. 

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

.

..

.

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones. 

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him. 

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too. 

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him. 

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders. 

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation. 

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement. 

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

.

..

.

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped. 

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

.

..

.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be. 

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits. 

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!” 

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined. 

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you. 

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet. 

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees. 

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see. 

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you. 

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room. 

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars. 

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal. 

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas. 

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you. 

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips. 

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you. 

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

[chosenimagines]

-HURT-

01 We are not "just friends" and you fucking know that

02 Could he/she/they make you feel this good?

03 You will leave me alone, won’t you?

04 You caused this! YOU caused my tears

05 Please

06 I can’t be with you

07 What is this?

08 Why are you so mean?

09 I don’t want you here

10 I don't believe in fate

11 Don’t come near! I don’t want you to hurt me again

12 You are quiet interesting

13 I am no hero! I have never been a hero. No one wants me to be the hero

14 There is nothing that makes me stay here

15 I can’t do it! I am a failure

16 You are too loud

17 Why do people always betray me? Why did you betray me?

18 Nothing holds me here

19 It’s all your fault

20 She/them/he is just the one

21 I cannot accept that

22 You did what?!

23 You thought I liked you?!

24 Of course it is your fault!

25 How could you do that to me?

26 Please forgive me!

27 What do you need right now?

28 You have been breaking my heart over and over again

29 I asked you to stay but not anymore

30 I loved you

31 I can't loose you

32 I am done

33 I am tired of running away

34 You broke me. There are 7 billion people on this damn planet but you were the one who broke my heart

35 Because I love you, you idiot

36 Not again!

37 There is only you!

38 You are my safe place

39 I look at you and I’m home

40 There is no one to blame but you! You did that. You hurt me. You broke me.

41 Don’t cry because of me! I am not worth any of your tears

42 How is it that I am always getting stuck with you?

43 Don’t you get it?! It is you! It’s always been you!

44 I am still in love with you!

45 You taught me that

46 God, I can’t fucking stad you

47 Nothing I told you was true

48 Am I dreaming?

49 You deserve the world and so much more

50 Sorry doesn’t fix anything

51 When did you stop loving me?

52 Forget it. Just like you forget everything else

53 You made me feel that way

54 I am scared of you

55 I moved on

56 Please don’t make me choose

57 I have no feelings for you

58 What has happened to forever?

59 I don’t miss you

60 You will hurt me, won't you

61 But you have to believe! I had no choice

62 I should not love you but I do

63 It was a bet

64 People say I am heartless

65 Giving up was always the best option

66 Go! I know that you didn’t choose [me] because it is her/him/them/you. It always have been her/him/them/you…

67 I have nothing left

68 You already lost me

69 Why do you hurt me so much?

70 I have never liked you

71 I am not going to fight you

72 I am not scared of you

73 You always make me feel so stupid and I am sick of it

74 You left! Left without saying goodbye

75 Why so worried all of a sudden

76 You never cared about me and you don't care

77 I don't believe you

78 You lied to me and now you are talking about truth and honesty?!

79 How could you humiliate me so badly?

80 I can’t love you! I don’t know how.

81 Your love sucks

82 I miss you! I miss us.

83 I can't take it anymore

84 Forget it! You are just a fucking bastard

85 Don’t. You. Dare.

86 Never EVER do this again

87 Nothing you do could ever make it up to me

88 I am way too worthy to keep doing this

89 Stop! You are hurting me

90 Give it up

91 I hate that you make me feel things so I decided that this has to stop

92 Just give me up. I can’t take it

93 Before you say something! I have this

94 Do I know you

95 Who are you?

96 If you have to think twice then I am going to leave

97 Shut up for once in your life

98 Why are we doing this again

99 You made me to what you see now

100 I did not see that coming

101 I don’t think that I could ever forgive you

102 It had to end

103 You make me choose?

104 THEN LEAVE

105 You judged me

106 Yeah… Merry Christmas…

107 How could you do this to me?

108 I can’t fight for us anymore

109 I can’t believe you

110 I am sorry that I’ve trusted you

111 I don’t belong to you! I don’t belong to anyone

112 We are done

113 Stop crying

114 Don’t make such a fuss

115 You are wrong! I want to get married. But I just don’t want to get married to you

116 I really thought you were the one but I was wrong

117 All along you were with them/him/her

118 You’ve done the things I could have never imagine you’d do to me

119 You didn’t only break my heart. You broke my heart, my soul and my body

120 I have to choose

121 You fooled me twice!

123 It’s over

124 You are wrong

125 The worst lie you’ve ever told

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 1 - Frankenstein

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunvelies​

“We buried you.”

The feast before Kim Jang Won is absolutely stunning. Lemon meringue tarts, strawberry smoothies (with actual strawberry bits in them), pancakes and freshly buttered croissants, a gorgeous transparent glass pot with the golden shade of chamomile tea and a beautiful tray of puffs and eclairs.

It would be even more stunning if it wasn’t her view every morning though.

“Hey, um, don’t we have like alternating menus or something for breakfast? I feel like I’m eating the same thing every morning now, it’s kinda getting tacky.”

“Miss Kim, I hope you know you’re the one who decides what the menu is. You chose this set like a week ago and you told us not to change it for the next two weeks.”

Jang Won sneers at her butler, arguably the only person on the property to has the guts to talk to her in a way that could get her fired.

“You’re lucky I can trust you.”

Ro Il Jung purses his lips into a thin white line, scratching his cheek with one of those knuckly, wrinkly-skin-covered fingers of his. “You seem to forget that I wanted to retire last year, Miss Kim.”

Jang Won huffs childishly, sticking her tongue out, now a gentle, thick shade of smoothie on her tongue. “I’ll let you retire when I find someone else I can trust, Mr Ro. It’s just too bad I don’t have anybody in mind right now.”

Mr Ro shakes his head like a parent disapproving of his child, but a house guard pulling the heavy doors of the entrance over accompanied by some urgent yelling tears his attention away from the owner of the mansion. 

Jang Won looks up from her butter and croissant, at Mr Ro, who excuses himself before heading for the entrance hall. 

“Sir,” He begins before he can even note the visitor. “If you could--”

“Mr Ro!”

Jang Won hears her butler’s words fade to a complete silent, only listening to their visitor talk. But it’s strange, because it’s a familiar voice...

Mr Ro cannot believe the sight before his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re still working here. It’s so great to see you again!” Then the visitor pulls Mr Ro into a hug, harshly patting the space between his shoulder blades. 

The lady of the house cannot take it anymore, not when she can’t eavesdrop on the conversation occurring in her own halls. So she gets up from the table, heels clacking against the marble floor as she heads into the entrance hall.

“Alright now, who’s got the guts to stop me in the middle of my French breakfast this morning?”

Mr Ro turns in silent shock, eyes wide and glaring while Jang Won processes the face of the visitor. 

The man hadn’t looked like he aged a day since he was--

“I’m sorry,” Jang Won scoffs, waving her beautifully done manicured fingernails in the air. “If this is some impractical joke, please do tell because my brain is just about to explode from the sight right now. Y’know,” She gestures to her head and mimics the sound of a bomb. 

“Jang Won...” The visitor strides towards her, arms wide. But she raises a palm and shifts backwards, a cautious half-smile mixed with a frown plastered to her flawless skin. 

“Not another step, nuh-uh,” Waving a finger before his nose, she shakes her head. “There is no way in Hell you can be standing here.”

“Oh, but I am, love,” Once a warm voice that sang her to sleep, Jang Won cannot decide if the tears in her eyes are welling from relief or fear. “I’m home.”

“No... no!” She slaps away his outstretched hands. “We... we buried you...”

“And I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now, my child, but... we have more important things to worry about.”

Mr Ro’s face is contorted with a mess of confusion and anxiety and he watches the first tears fall down Jang Won’s cheeks. 

“What...? ‘More important’-- No, how is anything more important than you... standing here?” The last word comes out like a final breath, at a volume just enough for him to hear. 

“I came bearing news, Jang Won. I-- Well...” He rubs the back of his head, eyes tilted down to his feet. “Because I’ve return to the board of administration now... part of the company now comes back to... me--”

What?

“And... you cannot inherit any part of the company unless you are married to someone from a family from the same administration board.”

Jang Won’s tears solidify into fumes of anger as the thought runs through her neurons. The middle aged man begins to panic when he can read the rage in her eyes, her fists now clenched and the markings of her rings probably embedded into the flesh of her palm. Her knuckles begin to turn white as does his face, ever so slightly.

“Now, now, love. I know what you’re thinking and we can sit down and have a chat about this--”

“‘Sit down and have a chat’?” Jang Won scoffs miserably, lower jaw hanging agape. “Why don’t we sit down and let me ask you whiCH SCIENTIST MADE YOU FRANKENSTEIN?!”

The hallways of the mansion echo the shouts, the sound waves bouncing back and forth between the marble walls mostly adorn with gorgeous, one-in-a-million paintings. 

“That’s not important now, hun. I just need you to understand that without this marriage, you will lose the house and everything you own from HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“I built HERA & ARTEMIS after you were fucking bURIED! Who are you to tell me that you will inherit it ownership and I can’t just because I’m not married?!”

“These were instructions from The Board, Jang Won. I had absolutely no say over this--”

“BULLSHIT! If you have the power to take ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS just because you climbed out of your own grave, why don’t you have the power to help m-- Oh, oh...” Jang Won frowns in disdain, disgust welling her lungs and her gut. 

“What?” His eyes widen and shoulders shrug.

“You came back just to tell me this... because you want HERA & ARTEMIS for yourself.”

“What-- No--”

"You... low-life... scumbag!" The sharp shatter of the glass cabinet behind him echoes through the entrance hall of the mansion. One of the palm-sized statues sitting on the table in the middle of the circular hall lands amongst the billion pieces of glass on the marble floor.

"You give me my freedom and now you tell me I have to get married?!" The final word is literally pushed through her teeth when she cannot clench her jaws even harder. The tremors vibrating up her fist and into her arm and then her entire body makes her look like a volcano ready to erupt, so if these people haven't gotten enough, they have yet to see what's in store.

"Just who the HELL do you think you are?!" Grabbing another one of those tiny statues, Jang Won throws it into the other glass door of the cabinet.

"Jang Won, will you calm down?!"

"Don't you DARE tell me to calm down! You waltz back into this house after GOD knows how long- Hell, we BURIED you!"

"There was a mistake of the body identification and frankly, I expected a warmer welcome from you!"

"HA! A ‘warmer welcome’?! What do you want me to do? Set the entire house on fire? Do you want me to? Because I will!" The man has his brows furrowed back, palms out stretched to her. The mansion staff have all gathered a safe distance around the two of them, Mr Ro and some of those closer to Jang Won trying their best to get to her and calm her nerves but there is just absolutely no way she isn’t going to hurl a brick at her father.

"I can't BELIEVE you're standing there as if you own this place," The muscles around Jang Won’s nose twitches as the frown sinks deeper into her forehead. "I want you to hear this mighty well and crystal clear. You may have been the one who gave me life, but you will never EVER be my dad.”

The huffs that are billowing out Jang Won’s nostrils are starting to hurt.

"There is not a single cent you're stepping on - or touching, for that matter - that belongs to you. The only reason why I haven't fucking put a bullet through your right eye is because I'd go to jail and every thing I've worked for would be thrown out the window.”

“Now, now, love, we can sit down and be civilized about this—”

“Fuck you,” The anger surges through her, and she picks up one more palm-sized statue from the blue resin table. The heavy bronze weight leaves her fingers, and before it can hit the slightly aged man, someone reaches out and catches it instead.

“What the HELL are you doing?!” The scream echoes through the hall of the mansion. Younghoon sighs heavily, hand retreating back to his side as he hands the statue to one of the house staff.

“You have no right to get involved in this—”

“Jang Won, let’s go,” Younghoon strides across the space and grabs her arm, back-facing his father and trying to pull her in the opposite direction. “We can talk about this in your office.”

“How are you thinking straight?! We BURIED him! We watched his coffin get lowered into—”

“I know! I was there!” His eyes flutter shut in frustration, shoulders raising as he sucks in a deep breath, flaring his nostrils. “There’s no point destroying your own property over this. We can carry out some investigations, figure out what really happened, then we’ll work from there.”

The grip on her arm tightens when her instincts try to writhe away from him, but obviously, he doesn’t relent.

“Don’t do it. It’s not worth your time, or mine.”

He stares down at Jang Won, but it doesn’t scare her, not when she has a ghost standing right in the middle of some shattered mess. Not one cut on him.

Younghoon grimly shuts the door as Jang Won stomps over to her office desk and rests her palms flat against the Agar Wood surface. With a sharp, swift feat, she swipes nearly all the documents off the furniture. But when she misses the empty glass (that would usually be filled with some kind of alcohol or soda), she doesn't hesitate to pick it off the desk and propel it into the marble by the television mounted to the wall.

The shatter startles Younghoon as he whips around, eyes darting frantically between her and the mess she’s made.

"Jang Won!"

"Should I be concerned you don't seem one bit bothered that a dead man is standing in our living room - MY living room?"

"That dead man is our father."

"No, that dead man WAS our father before he ditched us! How are you not- UGH!"

Frustrated, furious and absolutely exasperate, she plops down into one of the two sofas sitting in the middle of the office, feet almost tempted to kick the frosted glass table in the middle but she holds herself back. Younghoon manages to get a few house staff into the room, who hurriedly help clear the glass and return the documents to the table. Fingers pressed into her temples, Jang Won could only imagine the gratification she could receive have if she had the chance to ram her first into someone's face.

Younghoon waits for the staff to leave, then stands by the sofa opposite her, one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair. The late morning sun reflects off his soft, dark brown locks when he absent-mindedly rubs the back of his head and he proceeds to unbutton his blazer to allow him a seat. The leather squeaks under his weight before he leans his elbows on his knees, knuckles resting under his lips and chin.

"Please tell me you're actually thinking and not just trying to look pretty. You're in my house now, not some studio photoshoot."

"I'm thinking about where to put a whole person for you."

"Don't bother, he's moved half his things into the first guestroom. He's probably holding a conductor's wand right now and asking the staff to help him with the second half."

"Have you called the funeral services?"

"And say what? 'Hey sir, have you... perhaps mis-screwed a coffin about 2 years back and now we might have a problem of a zombie'?"

"I'm just saying someone might've paid someone to replace the bodies!" Younghoon frowns, eyes stuck to the rug under his feet. "We don't know how it happened but someone MUST know, right?"

"I think your best bet is the asshole living down the hall now."

"He's not gonna budge, we both know that."

"Well, Sherlock Holmes, thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"I'm just trying to help. You need to stop your nonsensical whining and use your brain like how you used it to get all this money."

Jang Won picks up a pillow and hurls it into Younghoon. “You’re lucky you still stick around, else I’d have the both of you screwed over.”

Younghoon catches the pillow, holding it to his side. “The day I stop looking out for you is the day I die, alright? So you can be rest assured I’ll--”

“Miss Kim!” Mr Ro’s voice calls out from outside the office. 

“What is it, Mr Ro?” Younghoon turns and returns the call, head tilted towards the door. It croaks open, and Mr Ro’s eyes are tired, wary as he sticks his head in.

“Your father just left and... and I think you should see the news.” Mr Ro pushes past the heavy door and reaches for the remote sitting on the frosted glass. The television screen mounted above the fire place flickers on, and there it was, her father’s face.

“The Board has just confirmed the ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS will thus forth be returned to Kim Jo-Pil, father of Kim Jang Won, the current owner. Investigations as to Kim Jo-Pil’s supposed death two years ago are still ongoing.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

“We’ll be-- Wha-- The Board’s just come in with some new information! Kim JO-Pil has announced a marriage between Kim Jang Won, current owner of HERA & ARTEMIS and Lee Juyeon, the next-in-line to becoming the next Director of Apple, South Korea.”

Younghoon’s eyeballs are about to bludgeon out of his eye sockets. “Jang Won... I know what you’re thinking... But don’t--”

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL HIM!”

[nomunamuinmybrain]

Work you out (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Rating: M

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2.4K

In collaboration with the lovely @alwaysdarkestbeforethedawn94

Disclaimer: if you are under the age of 18 please know that this contains heavy sexual themes and mature language.

Summary: Working for Hybe has been an experience. Being Jungkook’s manager is another story. His sharp eyes, firm jawline and snarky attitude was a deadly combination to begin with. The guy easily found his way to your heart and you simply couldn't take it anymore.

Thinking back to how I managed to land such an unimaginable employment opportunity must have been a miracle. Unquestionably, working for HYBE had so many benefits; I swore to never leave this place. Sure, I was a simple manager's assistant, but I was by the side of one of the managers that handled the most important talent in the stretch of South Korea, the entire globe to be honest, BTS. I was assigned the position of assistant to the manager of one of the guys, none other than Jeon Jungkook. I really couldn’t believe my luck. Not only was I a part of one of the most skyrocketing influential enterprises in the country, but I also had the chance to meet some of the most inspiring people in the whole world! Who would have thought?!

Did I have a crush on the guy by the end of my first month working here? Yes, but who wouldn't? He is the sweetest, always polite and courteous. I've met my share of self-boasting asshats; this industry is flooded with such. This guy is worth billions and he has remained ridiculously humble. Word got around about him being a wonderful young man and I could positively say he is so much more up close. Jungkook is ridiculously handsome that’s a given already, but his personality was the real deal-maker. He reminds me of a dark stormy thundery night where I cover myself with my favourite warm fluffy blanket starring out of the window a rich flavored hot chocolate in hand.

In general, I quite enjoy working at the company’s principled environment. Don’t get me wrong, nothing in this world is rainbows and butterflies, but overall, I can confidently say that it’s been a mainly positive experience. Thankfully, the department I am in is assembled by kind, funny people who like to get things done. There hasn’t been a day were I regretted coming here. As for my daily duties as an assistant, working for Jungkook meant keeping up with his appointments, helping him with anything at anytime, managing his schedule, making sure it matches with the other guys' and so much more. I was required to work around the clock and as a single independent woman in her late twenties who was trying to figure out the world around her that didn’t sound like such a bad idea, though I digress. Essentially, I was one of the employees responsible for pretty much anything and everything he needed. Our department was at his disposal 24/7 running around, living that busy life.

That's until the pandemic struck. That was the first time I thought to myself that this might be nature’s valiant plan to get back what man so forcefully took from her. Suddenly, everything was canceled; life got put on a hold. My dearest supervisor, Jungkook's manager, had to stay at home because he had kids. In fact, a lot of people had to stay at home. Abruptly, days became weeks and weeks became months. The desperation and frustration we were feeling was like nothing else ever experienced. Truthfully, it felt like something had been stolen from us and we could never get it back. In this manner, when the gears finally started grinding again I was assigned to be the on-site manager for Jungkook. That meant being in direct contact with him more so than before and of course, being responsible for a ton of other obligations.  

Not going to lie, the first months were slightly awkward for both of us and understandably so. We both were used to very different working arrangements. I might have been working behind the scenes before, but now I had to step into the spotlight becoming his own personal shadow, and I am sure he wasn’t really comfortable with that. Taken into account the current situation everyone looked like a volcano ready to erupt.  

Once, I happened to accidentally step in a not so common incident; maybe it was a circumstance I wasn’t supposed to witness. He was on the phone at the time, when I saw him. That’s why I decided it was best if I stayed behind the half closed door of the studio. I couldn’t hear what he was saying and it was none of my business after all, but I could tell by the minute I laid my eyes on him that something was wrong. Something had been bothering him; irritation written all over his face. He was pacing back and forth, phone still on his ear. He was clenching his fist so hard I wondered if his nails cut into his skin. He was breathing heavily, almost as if he would burst and his muscles grew tense.  

Then, in an instant, it seemed that the call ended and as he was putting the phone in his pocket he slammed his fists down onto the table a loud bang echoing in the room. After some consideration, I knocked on the door to make my presence known and he sharply looked at me. Without having the chance to say anything to him he let out a loud growl and left the room leaving me dumbfounded and unaware by the door. Soon after that, he apologized for the way he acted confessing that he had an unfortunate falling out with one of his closest friends and at the time he couldn’t process what was happening. I would never forget that day. It was the day I came across a not so familiar side to him.

From that day forward, things miraculously became easier and Jungkook was way more relaxed around my presence, we joked around often and he even texted me to ask about a variety of things outside of regular working hours. We managed to develop a teasing relationship full of endless borderline flirtatious banter. He had this other side to him that only a selected few got the chance to know. Jeon Jungkook was indeed a comforting raging night, but he was also an infuriating playful mischievous brat when he wanted to be. This in all honesty, made him a hundred times more irresistible in my eyes.

Life was going on smoothly until Jungkook decided that taking after midnight trips to the gym was perfectly acceptable, insisting that I escort him instead of his bodyguard. I cursed every single time but I went anyway. Forty-five minutes after midnight he was lifting weights, unbothered. Taking secret short glances towards him I contemplated what I had done in my previous life to deserve this torment. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t care less about the late hour, but to have this view in front of my eyes was causing me both mental and physical pain. The guy was clearly sculpted by the gods. With his broad chest, muscular arms and thick thighs he could have anyone he ever wanted. He even sported an hourglass figure; He is insanely unreal. That’s the main reason why I decided to sit there preoccupied with a silly game on my phone to kill time until the suffering ended. I was barely hanging from a string at the verge of blowing off the barrier between my personal and professional life.

Out of the blue, with a loud grunt, he dropped the weights, drawing me out of my contemplation. He looked annoyed for whatever reason. He tried his best to seem nonchalant but it was obvious, in his beautiful stern eyes. Could he be craving for an audience? Abandoning every rational thought I had, I put my phone away, looked in his direction as I got up to get water. I smirked at his clear annoyance. Surely, we weren't supposed to interact with the artists this way but I am cranky and sleepy, and for the first time ever, he was being kind of an ass to me. Was I perhaps the reason behind his sudden personality change? The thought kept floating at the back of my mind.  

This kept going on for about three weeks or so and I gave him nothing. His annoyance prominent in his expression, more and more as the weeks went by. He was hot but I am sure all he had been seeking was an audience given that he missed it, or so I thought. Thursday evening rolls around and I was particularly iffy tonight ‘because I was extremely frustrated, sexually. This one was making my situation worse, sporting a tight black tank top and skinny grey sweatpants which made him look like a treat. He could easily pass for a bodyguard with those broad well-built shoulders. As my eyes scanned his body I realized this was the first time his tatted sleeve was on display. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander. By the time I was done his eyes were already fixed on mine and I turned away immediately, embarrassment written all over my face.  

Seeking solace in the women’s bathroom I tried to extinguish this ravenous yearning. The feeling of cold water did nothing to help the burning desire that was building inside me. Without warning, a knock at the door was heard, his sweet angelic voice following "Are you okay?" he asked, the remnants of a smirk could be heard still. "Jungkook you cannot be here, I am okay. I'll be out in a minute." I exclaimed, as calm as I could. "It's been ten minutes. I can't continue unless you're there." He insisted, I heard him chuckle after that.

With that, it was now or never, I pushed the door’s handle and made my way outside rolling my eyes in the process and he caught that, quickly moving closer, clearly annoyed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in my features, making him look not quite intimidating but definitely interesting. No, it was my mistake. Not just interesting, he looked ravishing. "As I said, I'll be out in a minute. Then you can finish up" I argued. But he didn't budge, moving even closer, if that was even possible, he was almost a breath away. "I don't feel like working out anymore" he declared like a child whose toy was taken away from him. As if I chose to play heads or tails with my career, I poked the beast further, "What is it that you want to do then?" I asked making sure he heard the annoyance in my tone. Coming even closer, to the point where he was completely pressed up against me, "You" he uttered calmly yet authoritatively. Before I could process what he had just said his soft lips crushed mine with a vengeance, thirsty. Pulling my lip with his teeth, he kept planting kisses from my lips to my jaw trailing down to my neck and décolletage; a surprised panting left my lips.  

It felt as if I had involuntarily awakened this beastly hunger within him. His kisses insatiable and his touch was possessive, "I've been thinking about this for so long" he confessed as he took my hoodie off. "Sitting there, not giving a word let alone a glimpse. If you think this is off-limits you're wrong" he growled pointing at himself. "I can guarantee that once we're done here you definitely won't be able to look at me, ever." As he said all that, he managed to get me in a compromising position against the sink, his slim waist in between my legs. He kept my gaze as he lowered his head between my thighs. Little shit kept giving me hickeys on the soft flesh of my inner thighs, so close to my now dripping core. He enjoyed tormenting me and it showed. I was helpless but oh, God was all of this hot. He licked a stripe over my soaked panties, "Oh baby, you smell delicious" and with one hand he took off my underwear completely.

He sank in my folds, letting a guttural moan that I felt vibrating through my core. Not being able to think about what was happening I let myself indulge in my carnal desire my hands tangled in between his luscious hair.  

He loved food and I've watched him eat before, but this must be one of his favorites ‘cause he was doing his best not to let a drop go to waste; he acted like a man starved. His hands held me in place, thankfully, ‘cause everything was too much; nothing could stop me from shaking, feeling everything deep in my core, he was too much. He just had to be good at everything. He kept a torturous tempo, from sucking my clit to his sinful tongue penetrating me, and as tears gathered around my eyes he decided to add his slender fingers in bringing me closer to heaven than I've ever been. "That's it baby, let go. Let go for me" he exhaled and just like that I had the most intense climax. My limbs felt numb, my whole body felt like rubber.  

Before I could register what was happening he was back at it, sucking my over stimulated clit, my thighs unconsciously closing around his head as oversensitivity hit. "One more, please, come on baby, you can do it" he begged. He kept pumping his fingers while sucking my clit, as if it was his only goal in life. My screams muffled through my own hand clamped on my mouth as I reached my high for a second time that night. I felt it take over me with such intensity I didn't register what had happened. He emerged from between my thighs, soaked from me squirting and with a proud look on his face he declared "Now I look like I had the workout of a lifetime".  

He helped me get dressed and pulled me close for a soft peck. He must have noticed my concerned look because he wrapped his arms around me in a warm hug and said "Don't be scared about this, we can work it out. I really like you and I'd like you to stick around". Starring into his eyes, I nodded and he pulled me close for the sweetest kiss, trying to tame my bewildered hair. He helped me get dressed and got out the door first to make sure that no one was around. I waited for a moment and then I got a text.  

[jocia92]

… So much of an actor’s craft is figuring out the “I want” of their character, but that’s got to be a little different with Tom since he states that he literally cannot want anything. What challenge or opportunity did that pose for you?

I think he wants to improve. I think he wants to calibrate according to Alma’s needs, wants, and desires. I think he’s very ready to learn and to understand. That was the kind of primary objective: listen, learn, calibrate, improve. That’s almost the track of each scenario. He just gets a little better each time, and the process gets a little faster. But certainly, in the beginning, he’s just delivering this sort of 20 classic chat-up lines that he’s been uploaded with and getting it all wrong. It’s fun to watch the machine learn and chart that progress.

On a practical or philosophical level, how did you approach the process of humanizing a character that’s an algorithm, or did you at all?

It was very much about charting with Maria exactly when we want to see the machine, when we want to see the human. Even playing with that ratio was really interesting and fun. It’s not so much about watching him play the machine, but watching a character try to play the human. Certainly, in the beginning, in some of the not quite so successful human moments, shall we say, we deconstructed what we regarded as the conventional human behavior in that. We looked at a lot of screwball comedies, like Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Katharine Hepburn movies. [We were] taking a move or a gesture, breaking that down, and just doing two of the things. It just suddenly looks very odd and wrong, and you’re like, “Oh, this is what a human does in this moment!” But it’s just off. It was really as much about looking at the human.

You’ve mentioned things like The Philadelphia Story as shaping the film and its central relationship. Was that to ground it in reality or further ensconce it in the warped reality of cinema? Grant and Stewart are recognizable to us as people, but things like that mid-Atlantic lilt were entirely manufactured for the screen.

That was a very key point for Maria in referencing Cary Grant. The hair color that we chose for Tom was very much like Cary Grant’s hair color, being a shade darker than is possibly human. And the skin tone being slightly artificial for Tom. You’re right, Cary Grant is often very heightened and mannered sometimes, and it works in the situation in the style of the thing that he’s in. But we quite liked the idea that Tom has been uploaded with some outdated versions of what a romantic lead was supposed to behave like.

It’s striking just how thought-out things had to be down to how Tom responds to dead air space in a conversation. What was the process behind those small moments that can make or break the believability of a character?

It was very fun to play with, and probably quite frustrating for a lot of the human actors. Maren was giving a beautifully naturalistic performance, and the conventional responses that there should be from her scene partner weren’t there. We deliberately strip those away—sometimes without telling her, sometimes without needing to tell her. It’s just the way that Tom was, so it was about pushing those moments into a space that became a little uncomfortable: not jumping in on the lines where you might normally jump in, sometimes coming in hard, sometimes offering a delayed response, sometimes none at all. Playing with those, and watching how comfortable or uncomfortable that made them both, was really fun.

Did that frustration, built in by the process, bleed over for Maren into the character of Alma, do you think?

Maybe for Maren. Certainly, for me, it was frustrating in that I would have to remember not to respond in the way that I might normally and remove some of those things. [I had to] really break down exactly what Tom is thinking, what his programming is doing in that point, how he’s responding and calibrating, and whether we see that or not. Choosing moments to show the human, to show the machine. Along with Maria, that was one of the great joys of the role.

How did you settle on the physicality of the character? Was it at all helpful to have done something like Beauty and the Beast in a mo-cap suit to be hyper-aware of how your own movements translate to the screen?

Very much so. In fact, in pretty much every role I’ve done since Beauty and the Beast, I’ve incorporated not always a movement coach, but I’ve definitely looked at movement theory and physicality in a totally new way because of the challenges of that role. And, I have to say, dance plays a huge part in that. Whether it’s incorporated on the screen or if it’s something that just feels as if it helps the role, I often find that a dance studio is a very fruitful space to discover things about your character’s physicality. Learning the rumba for this role was incredibly helpful because it’s a very precise, technical, almost robotic dance in terms of the laser precision that’s needed to get it absolutely right. I had a fantastically exact teacher in Berlin who was teaching me the rumba the whole way through the shoot. We shot that [one scene] quite near the end of the shoot. Just to have those lessons, that kind of physicality, and that poise with me the whole way through the role was really useful.

How did the role being in a non-native tongue affect the characterization of Tom? Was it all easier to make him seem slightly unreal given that the words might not come quite as naturally as they would in English?

I think it was a deliberate choice on the part of Maria to look for a foreign actor who could speak German. She needed somebody who could both get their heads and their mouths around the very technical German that was required, which, even for a German is pretty complex, but also who had that sense of otherness. I’m sure they could have tailored the screenplay to any number of nationalities, but I was very happy they came to me and made him British. It definitely helped with, as I say, the fact that he’s listening, learning, focusing, trying to improve…that was literally all I was doing last summer, every day.

How do you lock onto the frequency of German comedy, which isn’t always something people associate with that country or people? How is it different than doing something like the more mannered British wit of Blithe Spirit or the broad studio comedy of Eurovision Song Contest?

It’s not a country known for it, but I think they should [be]. I find Germans very funny. They have a very interesting sense of humor. What’s particularly delightful is the way that they can tackle really kind of big, sometimes weighty, issues with a certain wit and lightness of touch, which is not common to all countries. Physical comedy, I think, is fairly universal. I think there’s something almost farcical about some of the physical stuff that we managed to get in this. It was really fun to make people laugh in a foreign language. It was surprisingly delightful. It felt very unifying, somehow, to be able to get a joke across in any language.

[sytco]

common blessings [joochan]

pairing: childhood friend!hong joochan x reader

word count: 3.5k (!)

requested: "toothrotting fluff ft. joochan"

dedicated to @sahiflowers.

a/n: im SO SO sorry this took so long and i hope u like it even a little and that it makes u smile thank u for being so patient ily!! ily!!! reminder im always here for u!!

In which you find that time is meaningless when Joochan is not by your side.

~

wonderboy.

-

Sometimes, you speculate whether Joochan has some kind of genius for finding you as soon as the school bell rings, signalling the end of another day.

Today, he surprises you behind the auditorium where you lean against a maple tree, hugging your bag to your chest, because you’ve skipped your last period (Introduction to Psychology) in favor of lying on the grass so you can watch the clouds in peace. And Joochan smiles a fond, fond smile because you have that look on your face again that you only get when you’re lost in thought.

“Missed me?”

You tense from shock before relaxing at the sight of your boyfriend who widens his arms so you can walk right into them.

“How’d you find me?” Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his vest and Joochan reaches up so he can play with the back of your collar.

“Just had a little hunch you might be here.” And this is the answer he always gives, accompanied with the same smug smile each time.

You pout even if Joochan can’t see it. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“Well now,” he says in an affected voice that sounds like the narrator from that National Geographic documentary on penguins the two of you watched last week, “I can’t afford to have you getting your hands on all my secrets, can I? I’ve got to keep some things to myself so that in ten year's time, you’ll still think I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe.”

It’s ridiculous, you think, how it’s nearly winter but the way you can feel the laughter that starts in his chest and electrifies you to your fingertips is more than capable of keeping you warm and making you feel like you’re really alive.

“Doesn’t matter if I find out all your secrets or not,” you mumble, “you’ll always be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe to me.”

From the courtyard around the corner, you can hear Jaehyun shouting a loud “Oi Joochan!”.

Joochan ignores him and instead casually pecks your cheek with a kiss that feels like a blessing. “Always?”

You tilt your head as though unsure. "Well… for at least fifty years, probably.”

“Fifty?!” Joochan echoes in mock outrage, and you playfully poke his side to which he flinches slightly.

“I was lying. I meant for all of time ever.”

And despite him doing his best to hide it, your boyfriend melts instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck where he’s probably smiling his brilliant smile that feels like the sun against your skin.

Jaehyun’s voice interrupts the peace and quiet once again with a noticeably louder and more panicked tone.

“Hong Joochan! We’re going to be late for soccer practice!”

Joochan groans exaggeratedly and you can’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “Wish I didn’t have to go to stupid practice,” he grumbles.

“You know, I’ll wait for you in the library until you’re done,” you offer and Joochan perks up - if only slightly because your arms still feel like heaven after years of loving you, and two hours of kicking a ball around (while Donghyun and Jibeom brainstorm inventive ways to trip each other up, much to Coach Lee’s chagrin) just can’t compete. He tells you as much in the way his arms tighten around you.

“You’re the best,” Joochan declares suddenly, “I might be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe, but you’re the best.”

You snort. “Go to practice already before Jaehyun starts going spare, wonderboy.”

Joochan kisses your forehead one last time before he detaches himself from you with a dejected sigh and picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder despite your protests. “Walk with me to the oval?”

You slip your hand into his hand only to find it a perfect fit and wonder briefly if there is anywhere in this world you would not walk to with Hong Joochan, the boy who has a smile like sunlight and a personality like a billion shooting stars.

“Of course.”

*

fm.

-

There is the occasional moment in which you wish that your boyfriend wasn’t so exceedingly talented in nearly every field he tries his hand at, because the various extracurriculars that Joochan (being the naturally energetic and enthusiastic person he is) involves himself with have an awful way of making tremendous demands on his time towards the end of the semester.

Right now is one of those moments when Joochan trudges into your room and dives face first onto your bed without even bothering to shake his coat off. “So what was it today?” you ask in a voice that betrays your concern and Joochan can’t help but smile at it.

“Theatre rehearsal,” he yawns, “then string quartet practice. Also an hour of soccer drills with some of the boys. Even though it’s a Saturday.”

You get up from your chair at the desk so you can sit on the bed where Joochan immediately moves his head onto your lap, lifting your hand and resting it on his hair. You absentmindedly start stroking it, staring out the window at a soft grey sky.

“Did you eat?”

Joochan shakes his head. “No time. My dumb E string broke again so I barely managed to have half an apple before we went straight into a new Mozart piece today. Think we might perform it at the next concert. You’d come, right?” And he asks that in a self-assured tone, because he already knows what your answer is going to be.

You give it to him anyway because there’s no point in hiding your blatant admiration for all that he does. “No matter what.”

“And just to see me, right?”

You fake a pause that has Joochan peering up at you suspiciously.

“You do know I have friends who aren’t you that are participating in the concert, right? Like Jangjun and Sungyoon?”

Joochan scowls. “But none of those hooligans are your boyfriend, who - in case you forgot but I do know you’d never - is me.”

“That’s quite true,” you concede before leaning down to kiss his cheek with a smile that makes Joochan’s stomach fill with butterflies which are probably colored pink and green and blue. It never gets old, he thinks: your talent for turning his world upside down in a look or a word or an action. And you don’t even know you’re doing it most of the time.

“Mean,” he accuses but in a half-hearted manner and your smile only widens because you know that Joochan is supremely happy despite his exhaustion, if the way his brow has smoothed completely and he has started drawing little stars on your knee is anything to go by.

There’s a gentle lull in the conversation while you continue to run your fingers through Joochan’s hair, and especially his fringe. It’s almost as though time has passed you by, leaving you together in your own little reality where things like hazy futures and big concerts and broken violin strings do not dare draw near.

“Wanna order something later on for dinner?” you ask quietly.

“Maybe,” he grins through closed eyes, “but nap first.”

Your radio continues to run, and you drift in and out of listening to the DJ duo while watching the rain finally fall outside.

“It’s been pretty cold recently, hasn’t it?” one of the DJs opens the conversation after a small stream of ads.

“Sure has, pal. And speaking of the cold, apparently our first snow of the season is scheduled for next week Friday!”

“So do you have any plans lined up with a special someone?”

“Just had to remind me of how single I am, didn’t you”- rambunctious peals of laughter crackle from the speakers - “but maybe some of our lovely listeners will send in their plans for next Friday.”

“I sure did - and wow, they’re already pouring in! Do you wanna read one out?”

“Let’s see… Listener ha_miii_ran says: ‘I’m planning on confessing to my crush of two years. I’m pretty nervous about this so I’m hoping the two of you will wish me luck!’ All the best of luck to you, Ha Miran-nim, from the both of us. I don’t know how you’re planning on it, but hopefully the first snow will act as a good luck charm for you!”

“Yeah, good luck Ha Miran-nim!” the other DJ chimes in. “Be sure to update us on how it goes!”

“Well, we’ll be back with some more stories after this excerpt from a famous piano concerto - maybe some of our more classically-inclined audience will recognise its globally renowned composer.”

A beautiful melody begins to play and you’re on the cusp of losing yourself in the music when you are most abruptly interrupted by a sleepy, but decisive, “Gershwin.”

You blink down at Joochan. “What?”

“It’s Gershwin. The composer. Don't you think your boyfriend's clever for knowing that?"

“I thought my boyfriend was asleep, actually,” and you narrow your eyes.

“I was,” Joochan protests, “I only woke up when they were talking about the snow or something. And then they talked about that person who’s confessing to their crush of two years - got me thinking about how I can relate because I vividly remember having a crush on you for at least three before I could muster up the courage to confess. Which ended up working out for the best, you know,” he adds in a thoughtful tone, “but sometimes I’d get so nervous just thinking about it that I couldn’t sleep at all. Anyways, I’m really hungry now, so can we order something soon please?”

Maybe it’s the way he so nonchalantly wears his heart for you on his sleeve, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you as though you have strung the Milky Way itself together and made a gift of it to him. Maybe it’s the way you simply realize that you might not be able to live with yourself if you were to lose your boyfriend, ever. But for whatever reason it is, a thousand smiles bloom in your heart and you lean down to give Joochan a kiss that hopefully tastes like everything you cannot possibly put into words.

“Anything you want,” you whisper, and Joochan draws a heart on your knee in response.

*

enchanted.

-

You’re outside the auditorium again but in front of it, this time, and not behind. The post-concert hubbub has died down, mostly owing to the fact that much of the audience has left already whether it’s to a late congratulatory supper or down to the boardwalk where fireworks are scheduled to go off at midnight. The bouquet of lily of the valleys in your hand trembles slightly as you use your other hand to fumble around for your ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“You’re waiting outside, right?” Joochan asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“See, Donghyun, I told you I was right about - wait. Wait! Don't move!”

And then you have less than two seconds to process exactly what is happening before your boyfriend catches you up in a running embrace that sends the world spinning in a flurry of snow and stars and kisses that Joochan plants all over your cheeks. He remains blissfully unaware that somewhere in the vicinity, Donghyun has started making gagging sounds at your very public display of affection, punctuated by Jaehyun’s giggling. (You pay them no mind.)

“Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks, fond expectation twinkling in his eyes.

You nod too much. “You were incredible,” you tell him honestly, and Joochan beams.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he says in a satisfied voice as he pulls you closer. “Guess all those hours of practice paid off.”

“It’s almost like that’s the whole point of practicing,” you tease.

“It’s lucky you’re cute and I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Joochan crinkles his nose in contrived distaste for your little jab before hugging you again so he can hear you whisper just how proud you are of him, right into his ear.

And the two of you stay like that for a little before you remember the gift you brought with you.

“For me?” And the look in his eyes reminds you of how he looked at you when you first told him that you loved him too - or maybe of every time you’ve told him that you love him too.

“Who else?”

He snaps up the bouquet, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply with a smile. "This is a nice surprise."

"They mean 'return to happiness'," you say, gently touching a little white bloom that looks like a star against the backdrop of Joochan's black school blazer. "Thought it was cute. And the florist was sold out of roses anyway."

Joochan laughs with the warmth of a thousand sunbeams and puts your hand in his so he can start gently tugging you away.

“But your violin”- you begin protesting.

“But nothing,” he shushes you as the school gets smaller and smaller behind you in the distance. “I don’t even want to see that thing for a week. Hey, and guess what - I found a secret place for just you and me so we can watch the fireworks without being pressed up against everyone else like sardines in a tin can.”

“You and I are going to watch the fireworks?” you echo, surprise colouring your voice.

Joochan’s exhale turns into a giggle. “Who else?” And you dig an elbow into his side, hiding a smile at his antics.

The two of you stroll down quiet streets and you lean into your boyfriend’s comforting warmth. Most shops are closed with the exception of some fast food chains and convenience stores, but you notice almost none of them now as Joochan picks up the pace, his excitement bleeding into the quiet song he sings that floats up in the air and is lost somewhere in the stars above.

“Here we are,” says Joochan proudly and he helps you up into the little gazebo at the top of the hill you hadn’t realized you were climbing. “Take this,” he adds as he tosses you a torch that brightly illuminates the space you’re in as soon as you switch it on. You turn to the rustling sounds on your left, finally seeing the wooden bench that Joochan is busy spreading a rug over.

“You planned this beforehand?” And there’s a note of wonder in your voice - the same kind that only Joochan ever seems to be able to evoke. “I thought we were going straight home.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him with a charming smile and you do so immediately. “Told you I can’t give up all the secrecy. Not yet.” Or, he thinks privately to himself, not when you look at him like that.

The golden light from the torch casts long shadows over the grass and gives Joochan’s face a nearly ethereal glow that reminds you of summer sunsets despite the cold. You slip into a soft and easy silence - one that comes from memories built upon memories, resulting in a code made up of gazes and touch that only the two of you will ever understand. And so when he squeezes your hand gently, you instantly open your arms for him to sink right into.

There’s only a few minutes left until midnight when you finally speak.

“Joochan,” you murmur.

“Mm?”

“You ever think about where we’ll be this time next year?”

Joochan shifts his posture slightly. “Often, actually. Especially when I go to sleep at night and think about tomorrow - then I’ll wonder if it’ll even remotely go the way I want it to.”

“And how do you usually want it to go?” you ask.

“Someone has a lot of questions today,” Joochan remarks with a droll look on his face that makes you laugh briefly before his expression sobers. “But usually I want it to go safely. You know? Everything in its proper place and things like that. And more importantly, I want to know all the time that I’ll be able to see you.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking out over the view of the city. If you squint, you can just make out the boardwalk by the beach and the crowds of people who have gathered there, young and old alike. “I’m scared sometimes.”

Joochan frowns. “Scared of what? I’ll fight it off for you,” and he waves a threatening fist at nothing in particular.

“The future, I guess. It sounds silly but… sometimes I don’t know if we’ll always be okay. Like this, the way things are right now. Whether it’s tomorrow or next year or even after that.” Your voice fades in volume until it’s nearly lost against the threads of your scarf, and Joochan’s heart breaks a little when he hears it: the genuine uncertainty and timid fear that seeps past the smile you give him in an effort to hide it.

“Why do you think we might not be okay?”

You look down at your feet, almost embarrassed by your own honesty. “Well, people… change, Joo. They move places, and have goals to achieve and dreams to chase down. And we’re not immune to that either.”

It’s Joochan’s turn to be silent for a bit as he mulls over your words before he straightens in your hold, turning his face towards you so he can affectionately bump his nose against yours. “You’re right,” he says in a voice that mirrors your sadness, “and it would be a lie to say I don’t think about the same things you do. But”- and he leans in to give you a quick kiss that’s shaped like a smile - “it’d also be a lie to say that every dream doesn’t feature you in it. Because every dream of mine that I’ve ever had places you centre stage.”

He kisses you again, a little longer - a little more wistfully.

“You see, the real problem here is that you have me perpetually thinking that I can’t do any of this without you,” he says simply. “Whether it’s late night phone calls or early morning messages; or maybe we’ll find ourselves having to book flights for each other, holding bags full of gifts that remind us of us. And maybe it’ll be hard and maybe I’ll wake up some days, knowing I won’t be able to see you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be okay.”

You swallow and Joochan watches you carefully, the urgency in his eyes prompting him to lift your chin so you can see it too.

“Even if we change,” he continues in a whisper, hoping you will understand the heart in his words. “And we should. And we will, and we’ll still be okay. You believe me, don’t you? Seeing as I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe?”

Somewhere, midnight comes and goes and the fireworks start, dousing you and Joochan in bursts of coloured light.

“Of course I do,” you smile with eyes that glitter with tears of relief and he pulls you into a tight hug, so tight you can feel every movement of his rib cage as he breathes in and out.

For once, you do not feel that fear deep down that threatens to taint your time with the only boy you think you cannot live without. And so you unreservedly hold him in return, fingers running through his hair as he tells you that he loves you, over and over again.

*

up, up and away.

-

There had been a time during your childhood when your one greatest wish had been to go see the stars.

So your friend Joochan, in all his clumsy sincerity, had done his best to make you a rocket out of a box he’d found at home. He’d then brought it to your house after he’d finished it, blue marker staining his fingertips and glitter shaped like stars lost in his thick fringe.

The two of you had sat in it together and looked up at the moon, holding hands from childish innocence and recounting thrilling tales of adventures you’d never had. And before having to go home to bed that day, he’d made you a promise that present-day Joochan complains about not being able to fulfill.

“I know I said I’d take you to the stars,” Joochan sighs in displeasure from where he lies on your bed, right next to you, “but while your boyfriend is exceptionally talented, you do know I’m no astronaut, right?”

You hold his hand in response and look into his eyes that sparkle with mirth and deeper in, shine with a love that always gives you peace.

It may be that Joochan will never be able to keep his promise of taking you to space in a real, functioning rocket. But, as you drop a kiss on his mouth that soon widens into a brilliant smile, you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

After all, it’s hard to miss the stars when for you, they all start with Joochan and end with him.

-

if u liked this please consider dropping a like and reblogging with ur thoughts because feedback is!! always appreciated thank you!!!

[danny-chase]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson Characters: Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon (momentarily), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned) - Character Additional Tags: Stephanie Brown POV, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Chocolate Milk, post mission talks, Damian Wayne is a brat with a heart of gold, Stitches, Canon Typical Violence, but not for long, because i like fluff better, Fluff, Stephanie Brown is Batgirl, Dick Grayson is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Sneezing, Coughing, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne's almost parent, Stephanie Brown is Damian Wayne's almost big sister, And kind of Dick's little sister Summary:

Steph hasn't worked with the new Batman and Robin duo long, but she doesn't hesitate to come when they call for backup. Their family's a little rough around the edges, but she'll do what she can to smooth things out.

“C’mon, faster!” Stephanie hated when Barbara seemed anxious, when she was anxious, generally something was about to go wrong. Really, really, wrong.

 “I’m homing in on the coordinates.” Barbara was driving on autopilot, but she couldn’t resist saying the line. Damian’s tracker blinked closer and closer. The kid had run off earlier that night, Dick, however, was getting better at predicting when it would happen and followed. She’d been on call for backup, Damian needed space, but he was also a magnet for trouble and unfortunately for them-

“Robin retreat! Retreat! Get out of here!” Dick screamed over the comms. The kid shouldn’t be out in the first place, still recovering from a concussion. She rounded the corner. Victor Zsasz was pushing forward aggressively trying to circumvent Batman to get a stab at Robin. Dick was holding his own but kept taking hits for a dazed looking Damian.

“Get Robin and get out! Maneuver 23.” Barbara commanded. She was seconds away, Zsasz was too close, she wasn’t going to make it, not going to make it-

 “CATCH!” She complied, automatically responding to Barbara’s harsh tone, spreading her arms as the bike swerved right.

 “JUMP!” Damian appeared to do the same with Dick, who tackled Zsasz out of range.

 “FUCK!” She yelled, because Damian jumped right into the path of her oncoming bike and-

 They grasped each other’s wrists in a practiced motion, using momentum to swing Damian onto the backseat of the bike.

 “Holy fuck.” She whispered. Hadn’t expected that to work. Sure, they’d done it a billion times practicing, but like… damn. That was freaking awesome. But also-

 “Are you okay?” She turned to look back at a pale Damian, blood staining the right side of his uniform. He nodded curtly, she could see a sheen of sweat glistening under the streetlights. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts.

 “We cannot retreat, Batman needs backup! Turn around at once!” He demanded, swaying in his spot. On a motorcycle. She might die for this, but she turned around, pulled him closer (surprisingly without argument) and started applying pressure to his side. One hand on the wound, the other keeping him propped upright. Maybe she would die, but Damian would fall off over her dead body.

 “Yeah no, I’m just gonna try to keep your blood on the inside till we get to the Bunker.” She felt a raindrop plop on her forehead, all the more reason to keep on course. Damian was already injured and tired, she would not be the one responsible for making his situation worse. “Then you can bleed out in peace.”

   Stephanie sighed as she swirled milk and cocoa together on the stove, rain pattering steadily outside. Where would she be if she’d had a normal father, or a normal life? She had a standing invite to some party; she could be out with friends. But some little gremlin child would have been murdered by Zsasz blocks away and no. She wouldn’t trade Damian’s life for normality. She was Stephanie Brown after all, abnormal was her middle name, and she accepted it with pride.

 Sure, she wasn’t mixing alcoholic drinks right now, but she was mixing chocolate milk and that was close enough. Damian clomped up the stairs, and angrily settled at the table. Think of the gremlin, and he shall appear.

 “You shouldn’t have retreated.” He muttered, slumping in the seat. His cheeks were already flush from the exertion of walking up the steps.

 “And you should go to bed.” He glared at her, looking utterly nonthreatening in his pajamas. He was wearing one of Dick’s old t-shirts, oversized, draping down past his elbows. He must have his own clothes, but she’d never seen him sleep in anything else.

 “Then why are you preparing two mugs of hot chocolate?” He asked smugly. Well, as smugly as he could with twelve stitches in his side.

 “Because I know you won’t listen to me.” The grin was replaced with a frown. “But I don’t mind, that’s why I made enough for two.” She quickly continued. Damian stared ahead at a place on the table. She weighed her next words. They both knew fully well that he wouldn’t sleep until Dick made it home in one piece, and for that matter that she would either. Leaving Damian alone with his thoughts seemed cruel under the circumstances.

“You didn’t listen to me earlier.” He accused agitatedly, breaking the silence.

 “I don’t make a habit of listening to Robins.” She said with a smirk, attempting to lighten the mood. She carefully poured the steaming cocoa into the mugs, keenly aware of Damian’s eyes following her every move.

 “You listen to Gordon.” He pouted. She placed a mug in front of him and sat down across from him.

 “Most of the time, and she’s not a Robin. I don’t listen to you, Tim, or Dick, and certainly not Jason.”

 “Why not?” He challenged, not making a move to touch his mug, still glaring at her with a dark expression on his face. “You were a Robin, were you not? You think you’re above us-”

 “No, Dames, you gotta read the situation you know?” She took a long sip of cocoa. Damian crossed his arms. She sighed. “Look, if we always listened to Dick, he’d be dead already.” He nodded carefully. “Same thing with you and Tim.” His nose scrunched at the mention of Tim.

 “Don’t compare me to-”

 “Whatever it is, I’m not, I’m just saying, I’d be a lot happier if you weren’t shish kabobbed by Zsasz.” His brow furrowed. “Okay fine, I messed up, you probably would have been fine. We shouldn’t have retreated. But you were down, and we made a judgement call – not just me, Dick would rather die than-” Damian’s eyes went wide. “Poor choice of words, I take it back. He’s not going to die, he just…” God, what was she doing? What was she even trying to say?

 “I know you’re not worried, because you’re you, but if I was you, I would be worried, but I shouldn’t be worried, because Dick’s a badass, so he’ll be fine, and knowing that you’re safe will help him stay focused on the fight. So you’re helping by staying right here, yeah?” She leaned back against the seat. Smooth, real smooth.

 Damian’s lips were pursed by the end of her rambling. “I’m not worried.” She heard him mumble under his breath. He took a sip of cocoa. “Grayson is a competent fighter; he would not be so easily defeated.” She pretended not to hear his voice wobble slightly at the end. The poor kid.

 “He’ll be home any minute now.” She assured.

 “And he’ll yell at you for not making enough for him.” He added sagely.

 “Then he’ll yell at you for not being in bed.” Damian rolled his eyes.

 “I shall already be in bed by the time he makes it up the stairs.” So confident in his abilities. Dick probably let him think he got away with it.

 “Well, then he’ll anxiously pace outside of your room, and peak in to fuss over your stiches.” She predicted. Damian snorted, and took another sip of cocoa.

 “Damian, you could have been seriously hurt, you’ve got to be more careful!” He perfectly imitated Dick’s voice. Steph had to fight back laughter and swallow her cocoa. “Why did you give him sugar, it’s his bedtime?” He directed at her.

 “Robin, cease with the hot chocolate immediately.” She croaked out in a gravelly Batman impression.

 “Holy hot chocolate Batman!” Stephanie lost it as he did a perfect impression of Dick’s normal voice. Damian allowed himself a small smile.

 “Oh my God, you have to teach me how to do that.”

 “Are you sure you have the talent for it?” He asked smugly. She brushed off the comment. Smug Damian was better than sad and worried Damian.

 “Sure, also can you do Scooby-Doo?” Damian’s brow furrowed.

 “Who?”

 “What do you mean who!?” She half yelled. Damian flinched. “Okay, since we’re already up, you’re getting an education tonight, we’re moving to the couch, let’s go, move it people.”

   Two episodes later, Damian’s wide eyes still looked through the screen rather than at it. Not all things, she supposed, could be fixed with dumb cartoons and hot chocolate.

 “Brown?” He softly spoke, as the credits played.

 “Mm?” Silence resounded through the room. Whatever question Damian had died in his throat. “I’m sure he’ll be back any minute, he’s probably overseeing the trip to Arkham.” She guessed.

 “Yes.” Another pause. “He’ll be upset when he arrives home.”

 “He won’t be too upset.” Damian tucked his knees to his chest. “Everyone made it home safe.”

 “Father would have been angry.” She couldn’t deny that. Bruce was, well, Bruce.

 “But Dick isn’t Bruce.” She let the words hang in the air for a moment. “He was Robin too once, you know?” Dick got mad, heck, he killed the Joker like three days after she first met him. He’d been upset with her, for being Batgirl, but his anger wasn’t like Bruce’s, and it hadn’t lasted for long.

 “I know.” He turned to face her on the couch. “He’ll say he’s disappointed.”

 “Ah.” Her heart melted. “That’s always worse.” Damian rolled his eyes.

 “I’ve had worse punishments.” He paused. Damn the League. “But it’s… different.” Steph could sympathize.

 “My dad used to lock me in closets when he was mad.” Damian nodded.

 “I would too.” She groaned. Sometimes she was trying to have meaningful heartfelt conversations with a ten-year-old.

 “Brat. I’m trying to have a moment.” She complained. He fell silent, shrugging his shoulders, possibly as an attempt at an apology. “The point being my mom was always disappointed. And just because one sucked more than the other, didn’t mean both didn’t suck.”

 “Hmm.” Damian leaned back against the pillows. “But I had to do something, he was,” he paled slightly, his eyes widening, “Zsasz was going to kill children again.” He looked at her earnestly. “I couldn’t let him-”

 “Look, no one’s mad at you for trying to do something good. It’s just like… we worry about you, okay?” Damian rolled his eyes again.

 “No need I’m-”

 “You’re staying up until Dick gets back, want to remind me why that is?” He turned to face the rain smeared window. “It’s the same for him, and the same for me. We worry about you too, okay?”

 “You shouldn’t.” Damian muttered. “I’m perfectly capable on my own, I’m trained in twenty-”

 “Doesn’t matter how trained you are if you’re concussed.” She pointed out.

 “It didn’t matter if I was concussed in the League.” Assholes.

 “Well, this isn’t the League, and we care if you’re concussed.”

 “Whatever.” He fell silent after, gluing his eyes back to the screen in an attempt to block her out.

 “Just, let me know next time, and I’ll come with you.” Maybe she was imagining it, but she caught a minute nod.

 Carefully, she reached out, projecting her moves, and ruffled his hair. He didn’t seem much happier, some of the tension bled out of his shoulders. Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing, but whatever mediocre amount of comfort she could supply would have to be enough. She leaned back into her end of the couch, content to sit in silent companionship and let her mind wander off, no longer focused on the cartoon, but on a family forged in chaos.

   “M’ere bud, time for bed.” Someone whispered to her right. Cracking open her eyes slowly, the time on the television box read 3:28. Damian groggily groaned in protest next to her. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the vague outline of Dick sweeping a tired Damian (who was clearly feigning sleep) into his arms. “You should get some sleep too.” He hissed at her, as his footsteps padded away.

 She stretched out on the couch, four hours of sleep, that wasn’t too bad, but her neck was definitely stiff after that. She groaned, turning on the lamp next to her, shutting her eyes again and slowly allowing them to adjust to the light. Dick popped his head back into the doorway.

 “You need anything? The guest room has some spare clothes in your size, we have extra toothbrushes, you can use my shampoo if you want.” He rambled off. It was strange, she could never tell if he was being nice to make up for his initial rejection, or if that was just how he was.

 “Don’t be too hard on Damian.” She curled into her spot on the couch. Dick stepped forward into view, leaning against the doorframe. A pink bathrobe was draped over his shoulder, his wet hair dripping. He tiredly sunk against the wall.

 “I won’t be.” He slid into a squat, then all the way down to the floor. “Was he mad I followed him?”

 “Probably. I think he was more worried you wouldn’t come home.” Damian’s last experience with Zsasz had been… unpleasant. And the villain had carried a grudge ever since.

 “Oh. Sorry it took so long, Alfred kick you guys to bed or something?” She nodded. They’d been whisked out of the command room before she’d hardly tugged off her cape. No doubt Damian would have tried to leave again if they’d been listening on the comms.

 “You’re okay?” It was so weird. She was sitting on a couch, talking down to a cowl-less Batman in a pink bathrobe, sitting on the floor.

 “Fit as a fiddle.” He sneezed, as if on cue.

 “It’s raining pretty hard.” Her eyes flicked towards the window.

 “You don’t say.” He deadpanned, following her gaze. “It let up about an hour ago. Zsasz is back and Arkham, we found the kids he grabbed, I was trying to track down any relatives.” She nodded, Gotham’s foster care system was abysmal, and the social workers overbooked. Finding relatives could save a kid from ending up in a supervillain’s lair.

 “All’s well that ends well.” Dick sneezed again. “I could have helped.”

 “Babs and I had it under control.” She rolled her eyes, typical of the ‘big kids’ to leave her in the kiddies room. “Thank you for watching him.” He nodded at the empty mugs. “It was sweet of you to stick around.” Warmth swelled in her chest at the remark, she didn’t need his approval of course, but it was nice to have it.

 “Yeah well, cut him some slack for me yeah?” He opened his mouth to reply, then paused to cough for a bit.

 “I won’t be hard on him, but no patrol until his stiches heal.” He assured, regaining his composure.

 “I’m sure you won’t patrol until your cold’s passed.” She commented sarcastically. It would do the boys good to spend some time together anyways.

 “Did Babs put you up to this? I-”, sneeze, “told her I was fine. You guys are worse than Alfred.”

 “Nope.” She popped the p. “But I think your kid might feel a little bit guilty about tonight, and it wouldn’t hurt to stay in with him.”

 “He’s not my…” Dick stared up at the ceiling. Tucking his knees up to his chin, just the same as Damian, he went silent.

 “He’s your kid.” She said after a moment. Dick smiled ruefully.

 “He’s your kid too.” She snorted. He was like the little brother she’d never had, not that she’d admit it.

 “Not a chance, he’s all yours and Alfred’s. Babs and I don’t work with minors.” Aside from the times she had.

 “Mmmhmm. So that’s why you were drinking hot chocolate and watching cartoons with him, because he’s not your kid. I guess you don’t think of him as family” He sighed. “And to think, I was going to bring you to the aquarium with us tomorrow, but if we aren’t your family then why even-”

 “Woah, woah, woah. Let’s not go that far, I want to see him next to penguins-er I mean, I want to see the uhh... You know what nope, not ashamed, I want to see the look on his face at the touch tank.” She paused. “Aren’t you rewarding bad behavior with that though?”

 “Well, don’t worry about it, he’s my kid after all.” He chided smugly. “In all seriousness, I just want to distract him long enough he doesn’t go out again.” Another sneeze. “Jeez, stupid rain. Also, Babs is coming, it’s a party.”

 “You’re sure he won’t see it as a reward?” She wasn’t taking children’s psychology for nothing after all.

 “Nah, knowing him, he might take it as a punishment.” He closed his eyes, leaning back into the frame. “But, I try to keep capes and normal life separate, he’ll be grounded from patrol, but I won’t ground him during the day for stuff he pulls at night.” That seemed reasonable. “He’s been doing really well with homeschool.” He opened his eyes again, looking fondly at the opposite doorframe. “I think he’ll really like the aquarium, he’s been studying aquatic life recently and-”

 Dick mumbled on for a while, listing all Damian’s accomplishments, how he was multiple grade levels ahead, and scoring well in all the classes they made for him. How he could go on to do anything he wanted, was on track to take college courses by the time he was in high school, and how bright his future was. Again, she was glad her life wasn’t normal, as he rambled on and on, pride shining on his face.

 “He’s so your kid.” She interrupted after a coughing fit, having lost track of the conversation. Dick blinked at her. “Bedtime.” He nodded, sneezing halfway through.

 “Bedtime.”

  They didn’t make it to the aquarium, as predictably, Dick was running a fever by the morning. But that didn’t stop the party. Barbara brought soup, Alfred made cookies, and Steph settled on the couch next to Damian, picking up where they left off, marathoning Scooby Doo.

 Dick picked apart the episodes from his isolated recliner (they quarantined him three feet away), Damian chiming in to predict the villain’s identity. Barbara grumbled about normal people being easier to watch TV with, and Alfred settled in a chair by the door. If Cass were here, she’d bounce off the walls, and Tim would lie on the floor. Pieces were broken and missing, but as the remaining members of her pseudo-family chattered away, she had hope that things, eventually, would work out.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 107

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,300ish

Summary: The team figures out the monolith and tries to save Simmons

“Do something!”

“Fitz,” Y/N got up and hurried to him. She was afraid to portal, scared of what the monolith might do. “Come on.” She grabbed his arm but he tore it away. “We have to get out of here!”

“Leave me alone!” 

He turned and decked Y/N in the face, causing her to tumble down the steps and to the ground. Y/N gently touched her face, pulling her hand back to see blood.

“Fitz! Y/N!” Mack shouted, rushing to grab Fitz from the container.

“Fitz, get out of there!” Hunter yelled, getting the door.

“Are you crazy?”

“Close it!” Bobbi yelled. “Close it!”

“Y/N!” Daisy rushed over. “Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding.”

As soon as Bobbi and Hunter closed the container, the monolith turned into liquid. Everyone was panting.

“Damn it, Fitz,” Coulson murmured, coming into the room.

“I had to know,” Fitz panted. “Had to— had to know—“

“I already lost Simmons to that thing. I cannot afford to lose you or Y/N, too.”

“Trying to get yourself killed?” Hunter wondered.

“Sorry,” Fitz said. “I won’t give up. I can’t give up.”

“None of us want to, Fitz, but…” Daisy tried to say.

“Fitz,” Bobbi knelt down in front of him, “you tried. Okay? You tried your hardest. Everybody knows that.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I missed something. I m… I missed something.” He wiped something off his face.

“What is that?”

“Proof.” Fitz got up and ran to the lab.

“Y/N,” Coulson said, the others turning to face her. She was still on the ground, breathing heavily. “Oh my…” There was a long cut down the right side of Y/N’s face. “Did he—“

“I’ll be fine…” She panted. “I’ll be fine…”

“Come on,” Daisy urged, helping Y/N up. “Let’s get that stitched up.”

Daisy took Y/N to Coulson’s office and Bobbi brought all the supplies to help patch up the cut.

“He didn’t mean to,” Bobbi said quietly.

“I know,” Y/N responded.

“He just misses Simmons so much.”

“I know.”

“It hurts—“

“I know, Bobbi! Just stop, okay?” Tears formed in Y/N’s eyes. “Out of everyone here, I think I understand the most… I lost Bucky… no one could find his body… I was torn. I acted out too. That’s how I’m here… So I understand. I get that now we know Bucky’s alive, but we didn’t then. And I didn’t think he would ever come back… Honestly, at least he has hope. That’s more than I ever had.”

~~~

Fitz showed up in the office not too long later. He had a tablet in hand and pulled up his findings.

“Sand,” he stated. “Not just sand. Impossible sand.”

“The monolith’s case is a clean room,” Mack said. “There’s nothing in there but that rock. Not even dust.”

“Unless you blast it open with a shotgun and contaminate everything,” Hunter retorted.

“That’s not what this is,” Bobbi shook her head.

“Okay, the sand itself, not unusual,” Fitz continued. “Mostly silicone-dioxide particles just like on Earth.”

“Wait, are you saying…” Y/N paused. “You’re saying this sand is not from Earth?”

“Carbon dating show that—“

“It predates the Earth by a billion years,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi.

“So you think the rock is a portal?” Daisy asked.

“No. No, I’m proving that it’s a portal. Okay, to another planet, a-a very old planet. A crack in space-time that carried Simmons away… and carried the sand back. Which means…”

“She’s out there,” Coulson stated. “But it’s been months.”

“Yeah?”

“She could be long gone from wherever this thing dropped her.”

“Yeah.”

“She could be dead.”

“Yes.”

“But we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” / “You’re damn right.” / “For sure.” / “Yeah.”

“Okay, Fitz, what do you need?” Y/N asked. “I can get Tony to bring some things as well.”

“Uh, uh, well, uh, more historical data. People have studied this thing for centuries. I need an expert on quantum mechanics and Einstein-Rosen Bridge theory. And a— a sandwich would be nice.”

“I might have an idea,” Coulson said, nodding, “about the other things.” He turned to Daisy and Mack. “You two, stay with our new inhuman guest. Be here for Dr. Garner’s assessment. Building that team is still the priority.”

“What did I say?” Daisy commented, her and Mack exiting.

“Bobbi—“

“I’m on this with Fitz,” Bobbi responded.

“Yeah, haven’t you been on this with Fitz the whole time? Hiding his trip to Morocco, covering for him on a constant basis?”

“Have I?” She smirked, walking out.

“And you know where you’re going,” Coulson said to Hunter. Hunter nodded and left.

“What about me?” Y/N asked. “I’m staying until Simmons is found. I’ve already texted Tony and he’s on stand-by if we need anything.”

“With me.”

~~~

Coulson explained that they were going to make a visit to a Professor Randolph. He was an Asgardian, hiding out on Earth. The team had a run in with him once when Y/N was on a break. Bobbi and Fitz joined them.

“I’m sorry,” Randolph said, reading a book inside of his cell. “I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Coulson questioned.

“Potato, puh-tah-toe.”

“And your reason?”

“The nightly news, cities flying into the atmosphere, government task forces, and now the public is freaking out about alien outbreaks. Pretty crappy time to be on Earth if you’re not a local, so I am staying low. And of course,” he chuckled, “there is my current situation.”

“Destruction of property, public drunkenness,” Bobbi clarified.

“And here I thought that Asgardians could hold their drinks?” Y/N retorted.

“Yes, well, Asgardians can generally hold their drink. It’s just, well, one night I tried to hold all the drinks.”

“Asgardians are also strong, right?” Bobbi questioned. “You could easily break out.”

“What? And miss dinner?” He chuckled. “Oh, no. Yes, norse prisons are surprisingly evolved—decent food, comfy bed, extensive library, and no attention being drawn to me. Come back in a few months, why don’t you? Maybe then I’ll be in the mood.”

“Can’t I just call in Thor?” Y/N muttered to Bobbi.

“We don’t have a few months,” Fitz stated.

“And neither do you,” Coulson said. “I don’t have to remind you that I saved your life. Though I did just mention it in case you forgot. But I’d still have no problems contacting those task forces you mentioned. I bet they’d go bonkers to have a real life Asgardian to dissect in their labs. I don’t know how comfy you’d be there.”

“Why, Agent Coulson…” Randolph said, standing up. “Are you threatening me?”

“I wouldn’t call it a… well, yeah, I guess I am. That’s absolutely a threat.”

“You’re different now. You know that?”

“One must accommodate the times or things get messy.”

“What’s with the hand?”

“Things got messy.”

“Well… you’ll have to cover my realize. And if there is a portal, which I will have to see to believe, you are diving into very dangerous waters here.”

“We live in the dangerous waters,” Y/N commented. “And have been for a while.”

Randolph exhaled sharply. “Alright. Well, it’s not like you’re giving me any choice.” 

He quickly tore off the door and the alarm started blaring. He grabbed his coat and they began walking out. Guards rushed in.

“He did it,” Randolph said, pointed at Coulson.

Coulson gave a nervous chuckle and a smile.

~~~

After talking themselves out of it, they took Randolph to the base. He walked around, observing the monolith.

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but it looks like your regular, old—“ He stopped when the monolith turned to liquid then back into a rock. “Oh. How often does it do that?”

“It’s random,” Fitz answered.

“No. No, no, no, no. It may seem random. But… something is clearly triggering it.”

“I’ve checked it against tides, relation to the sun, rotation—“

“On this planet. So you have no idea how to control it. Why come to me? I’m no interstellar-travel expert. I’ve never even studied gravitational lensing or zero-point energy fields or quantum-harmonic oscillation theory.”

“Yet you know all those words you just said,” Bobbi retorted.

“And you’re scared of portals,” Coulson added. “You’re scared of being dragged back home through a portal. Y/N?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Y/N replied with a smirk. 

She walked up to Randolph, opening a portal behind him and pushed him into it. Another portal opened on the other side of the room, causing him to exit from it.

“Impossible,” Randolph panted. “No human should be—“

“I’m connected with the Tesseract,” Y/N interrupted. “I can channel it. And I know it’s on Asgard and I’m pretty sure if I tried hard enough I could send you back there.”

“What I think, Randolph, is that in your drunken stumble through history, you’ve probably investigated every story involving a portal,” Coulson said. 

“And I’ve seen you eyeing all of your exits,” Bobbi added. “My knee brace, wondering if you can get away with it. The only reason you came with us was to confirm its existence.”

“And destroy it,” Randolph confirmed.

“You’ll have to go through me,” Fitz stated.

“And I could. Literally. But, then, I don’t know what amazon woman and robot hand are capable of these days. And don’t get me started with the Avenger over there. So I will help you get her back. I’m not entirely heartless. But if I do, I want your word that we will demolish this portal and no one passes through it again.”

“I’ll sleep better at night,” Coulson confirmed.

“Good. Well, I’ve investigated a lot of these wormhole rumors. But that’s all they were, rumors. None have panned out. So we know nothing of its origin.”

“Kree, maybe.”

“And this parchment was found with it,” Bobbi said, grabbing the paper and handing it to Randolph.

“Well, hello,” Randolph said, studying the parchment through the bag it was in. “I’ve seen this.”

“It’s a common Hebrew word.”

“Yes. What else do we know, Mr. Fitz?”

“Uh, well, the monolith changed hands a lot,” Fitz explained. “Germanic tribes, spent the hundred years’ war in France. But before the Napoleon era, it was moved again. I lost track of it somewhere in—“

“England.”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

“Because I have seen this word carved into the walls of a castle in Gloucestershire, England, in 1853. To the plane!” Then Randolph started for the door, when no one followed he turned around. “W—am I allowed to say that?”

“Let’s all go to the plane, I guess,” Coulson agreed.

~~~

While on the flight over to England, Y/N was talking to Tony.

“Are you sure you guys don’t need my help?” Tony asked. “I could get there at the same time as you still.”

“I’m sure, Tony,” Y/N replied. “The lead we’re currently following seems solid.” Y/N sighed. “I just want to bring Simmons home so that I can come home.”

“You’ll find her. I know you will.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

From the doorway, Fitz cleared his throat, drawing Y/N’s attention to him. He looked guilty.

“I need to go, Tones,” Y/N said. “I love you.” She hung up, slipping her phone in her pocket. “You need something, Fitz?”

“Yeah, I, uh…” Fitz started, coming to sit beside Y/N. “I need to apologize… I shouldn’t have hit you back like I did. You were only trying to help… I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Fitz.” She rested a hand on his knee. “I completely understand… I was the same way when Bucky died. Or, I guess, when I thought he was dead… So I get it, Fitz. I think that’s why Coulson called me in.”

“Or cause he missed you. You and May left, he lost his hand and Simmons… I think he just wanted a little of the good old days back.”

“Sadly, after we find Simmons, I can’t stay… I need some more time. I’m doing much better than I was. But I don’t think I can ever go back to this life full time. I don’t think it’s in the cards anymore.”

~~~

Randolph led them into the castle. They looked around with their flashlights, searching for the carving.

“Yes. Yes, yes,” the Asgardian exclaimed. “I came here for a costume ball. That was the pretext, of course, ‘cause I had heard rumors of travel to the stars. Found it all to be nonsense. But it was a fun party.”

“The carvings?” Coulson questioned, trying to get back to the point.

“Oh, right, right. Of course. So I was here admiring the stone work, and…” 

Randolph turned and shined his flashlight on the stones over the door. There was the word, carved in to one of the stones.

“The same as the scroll,” Fitz stated. “Death.”

“Maveth,” Randolph clarified. “Yeah, one of its translations is actually ‘death by punishment’.”

“Could mean no trespassing,” Coulson suggested.

“A Hebrew warning carved in an English castle struck me as odd. Out of place. Seems ancient.”

“But you stopped looking into it?” Y/N asked.

“A man dressed as an owl, of all things. I got him drunk enough to admit that no travel to other worlds was even occurring. Just ritualistic killings.” Everyone continued to look around as Randolph talked. “En, the whole thing stunk of half-baked satanism. Just some fabrications to entice new members. And, well, there were fire dancers. I got distracted.”

“Here’s another one,” Coulson called. “This is why I got rid of all the SHIELD logos on our vehicles. It’s like screaming for attention.”

“About time,” Y/N muttered.

“You know, there’s an ginormous eagle symbol on top of our jet,” Bobbi pointed out.

“Yeah,” Coulson agreed. “Sometime I can’t help myself with the cool.”

Coulson then pushed a stone in the wall, causing part of it to open up. Revealing a passage way.

“You certain about this?” Randolph asked. “It does say death by punishment.”

Fitz and Y/N went in, examining the walls. They made their way down the passage. Eventually it led to a round room, with old equipment in it.

“Okay, well, this wasn’t on the last tour,” Randolph said. “It’s an odd shoe for architecture this period. Definitely built after I was here.”

“Reminds me of the bunker under the Louvre,” Bobbi commented.

“What? There’s no bunker under the Louvre. That’s a joke, right? You messing with me.” Bobbi simply glanced his way and walked to the other side of the room and Y/N chuckled. “Alright, great. Now I’ll have to check.”

Fitz knocked on the metal he was studying. “It’s late 1800s,” he stated. 

He pushed the lever up. Suddenly, electricity crackled and the room lit up.

“Still got some life to it,” Coulson commented.

“I hear water,” Bobbi added. “Could be a stream underground, maybe hydroelectric power.”

On the other side of the room, Fitz hit the control panel on the wall and Randolph pulled down another lever. Suddenly, a round floor panel, in the center of the room, disappeared. They all walked up to it, looking down.

“This looks a lot like it was made to hold—“

“The monolith,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi. “This machine was designed to control the portal, to open and close it at will.”

“Do you know that, or is that just what you hope it to be?” Coulson asked.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

Sighing, Coulson pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Mack, I need you to load something onto Zephyr One and bring it to us.”

“What exactly am I bringing, sir?” Mack against on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah… you’re not gonna like it.”

~~~

It wasn’t long before Mack and Daisy arrived with Zephyr One and the monolith was being lowered into the hole. Fitz and Randolph were getting the systems working. Bobbi was guiding the container down, monitoring the monolith on the tablet she was holding.

“Zephyr One,” Bobbi called into the comms, “you’re clear to retract.”

“Wow. Room full of ancient gack,” Mack commented as him and Daisy entered the room. “Kind of reminds me of your office, director.”

“Realistically, what are the odds of this thing working?” Daisy asked.

“If we were realistic, we never would have gotten this far,” Coulson said.

“With anything,” Y/N added.

“Well, Andrew Garner thinks I need to be more so,” Daisy said. “He recommended three months observation and counseling before reassessment for Joey. Says I’m reckless.”

“Wonder what he thinks about me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Coulson said. “He probably just meant that—“

“He said you’re desperate,” Daisy added.

“What? He didn’t say that. Did he say that?”

“I can read minds, Phil,” Y/N said. “He definitely said that.”

“You can read minds, too?” Randolph pipped up. “Why is the Tesseract gifting you all these things?”

“Long story.”

“Let me guess,” Bobbi came up to them. “I’m struggling to come to terms with physical limitations and losing my sense of self instead of redefining it.”

“No,” Daisy said. “He didn’t mention you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, he did. That’s what he said.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yeah.”

“Mack,” Fitz called. “Mack, push that lever.” Mack turned to a lever. “No, the one— the one that’s— the one that’s down. The one— the one beside it. Push it.”

Mack did as directed while Fitz did the same thing on the other side of the room. The gears starting turning, the machine started working. The room began to tremble and the monolith turned to liquid.

“Fitz, it’s working!” Y/N exclaimed.

Fitz knelt down beside the whole, pointing a flashlight into it.

“It’s staying open,” he stated. “Light! I need more light!”

The trembling began to get to Daisy. Y/N watched with concern as she groaned and put her head in her hands. She went over.

“Daisy?” She quietly called. “Daisy, what’s happening?”

“We got a problem!” Mack shouted.

“I need some bloody light!” Fitz yelled.

“Fitz!” Coulson called, tossing him a flare gun. 

Fitz shot it through the monolith. Daisy held her head as she began panting.

“The gears have locked!” Mack yelled. “Bobbi!”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she saw blood coming out of Daisy’s nose.

“Daisy!” She exclaimed. Y/N caught her as she fainted, slowly lowering her down. 

“Skye?” Coulson called, coming up beside them. “Hey.” The trembling and machine stopped. “Skye, are you okay? Skye?”

“It’s Daisy,” Daisy replied softly.

“What?”

“It’s Daisy now,” Y/N responded.

“You’re really having a hard time with this, huh?” Bobbi wondered.

“Damn it,” Coulson muttered. “Yeah. Daisy, hey.” Daisy lifted her head up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she replied. Y/N helped her sit up. “I’m better. That pulsing sound was killing me.”

“What pulsing sound?”

“Are you serious? It was deafening.”

“The vibrations,” Y/N whispered. 

“What?”

“The vibrations. You can sense them. And there was so many, that it was too much for you. It’s kind of like, how if you’re all thinking at once, especially about a similar think, I can sense it.”

“Maybe, Y/N’s on to something,” Bobbi agreed.

~~~

The team was currently trying to find a way to put the machine back together.

“It’ll just rattle apart again,” Fitz stated. “We have to reinforce the connections.”

“Reinf— look, most of the workings are under the ground,” Mack said. “We just can’t tear the castle down. And actually, we’re lucky the room is shaped this way, or the machine might have shaken it apart on top of us.” The two bent down to try and pick a piece of the machine up.

“Wait. Wait. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s the point. Quantum harmonic oscillation theory, like the professor said.”

“I know that look,” Bobbi commented.

“It’s a strange shape for this time period because it’s made to resonate, uh, to—to—to—uh— create a-a quantized field within the stone.”

“Fitz, you’re talking, but we’re not totally following,” Coulson said.

“The room is a speaker. The machine is an amplifier. Uh, a sub—subsonic frequency to resonate with the monolith.”

“You saying you figured out a way to fix the machine?” Mack asked.

“No. I’m saying I figured out that—“

“We don’t have to,” Daisy said, glancing at Y/N. “I can do it. I can open the portal myself.”

“Daisy, no,” Y/N said. “It’s too risky.”

“If I can open the portal and help save Simmons, then I’m doing it.”

~~~

The team added a frame with a lot of rope, to lower some into the portal and bring them back.

“Well, turns out we’re standing in the in the middle of the world’s largest subwoofer,” Randolph stated.

“Yeah,” Mack agreed.

“If the point of the machine was to resonate the room at a certain frequency,” Daisy said, “I can do that.”

“And you can replicate it?” Coulson asked.

“Kind of drilled into my brain.”

“And it could kill you,” Y/N stated, not at all happy with this plan.

“How long do you think you can hold it?” Coulson asked. 

“Maybe a minute,” Daisy responded.

“If it’s too much, you pull back. I can’t lose you, too.”

“I got this.”

“Here we go,” Bobbi said, reentering the room with a machine. “Camera and data sensors are hard-lined back to us through a cable. No signal loss that way.” She clipped it onto a cable to be lowered into the portal. “If Daisy can hold it, we’ll get a visual of the other side.”

“That’s what we’re looking for,” Coulson said before turning to Daisy. “Alright, you listen to me. You take care of yourself. We lose that probe, nobody cares.”

“Uh, I’m confused,” Randolph spoke up. “What exactly is she planning to do here?”

Allowing her space, everyone moved as Daisy readied herself. She held both arms out to the sides, causing the parts of the old machine to tremble.

“Sorry,” she strained an apology. “Still tuning.”

After getting the right tune, she aimed at the monolith. Causing it to turn into liquid. 

“Hold it open as long as you can,” Fitz stated.

Everyone turned to him. He had clipped himself onto the cable. He ran towards the liquid monolith.

“Fitz, no!” Coulson shouted.

But Fitz jumped into the monolith, disappearing.

“I’m going in after him!” Y/N yelled. 

“No!” Coulson held her back. “I can’t lose you anymore than I already have.”

“But I’m the best chance to get back if Daisy can’t hold it long enough.”

“You don’t know if you can do that.”

“And you don’t know if I can’t.” They stared at each other. “If Daisy looks like she’s ready to give out, I’m going in. And no one can stop me.”

The trembling and the cable rope moving was causing the structure that was keeping it steady to lose up. Mack, Bobbi, and Y/N all quickly grabbed onto a different piece, trying to keep it steady.

“Damn it. Pull him back,” Coulson ordered, rushing around to where the cable was. “Get him back here.” He pulled the lever and the cable began spin back up.

“I can’t hold it!” Daisy shouted.

“Y/N, don’t! We can’t lose the both of you!”

Before Y/N could jump, Daisy stopped the trembles and the monolith burst into pieces. Every looked down in the hole, hoping, praying, for something to give. Suddenly, Fitz uncovered himself and pulled Simmons up. Daisy fell to the ground, Mack and Y/N rushing to her.

“You did good, tremors,” Mack said. “You did good.”

~~~

Y/N brought everyone onto Zephyr One quickly. Simmons needed to be checked out immediately and Fitz needed to be monitored in case of radiation. They laid Simmons in the containment module, hooked up to IV’s and allowed time to rest. Randolph and Y/N were standing outside as Coulson came to update them.

“They’re gonna be okay,” he informed. “No sign of radiation or infection. Fitz would never have found her, but she saw the flare. We brought a woman back from the dead today.”

“Yes,” Randolph agreed. “And, happily, you kept up your end of the bargain. The portal is destroyed.”

“Thank Daisy for that.”

“Yeah. Agent Coulson… what exactly is Daisy?”

“The call themselves inhumans.”

He looked surprised. “I have not heard that word in a very long time.”

“You know it?” Y/N questioned.

“I know more about them than I do you. You are something else… The Tesseract you said, that’s how you get your abilities?”

“Part of them.”

“Interesting.”

~~~

They were landing at the base when Y/N pulled Coulson aside.

“You’re leaving,” he stated.

“I am,” she replied.

“Anything that I could do to convince you to stay?”

“No… Look, I’m sorry, Phil, that I left and May left. But sometimes you need to tap out. SHIELD can’t be everything in anyone’s life… Even yours.” Y/N pulled him in for a hug. “If you need anything like this again, I’ll be there.” She pushed herself away, walking back towards the portal she opened. “Just don’t go opening anymore portals to other planets any time soon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Phil.”

~~~

“But she’s safe? There’s nothing wrong with her?” 

“Nothing,” Y/N shook her head. 

“Wow,” Tony leaned back. “That’s… that’s—“

“A miracle. An absolute miracle.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to join the team again?” Tony pulled Y/N in-between his legs. “You didn’t miss it at all?”

“I missed them. But not SHIELD. Plus,” she gave him a kiss, “I wouldn’t get to do that as much as I would like.”

Tony hummed. “Good. Can you do it again?”

next chapter >

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