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missgeniality · 4 years

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A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years

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The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

134 notes · View notes

gogglor · 3 years

Text

Cap-Ironman RecWeek: What-If Wednesday

Time for another installment of @cap-ironman rec week! Today’s theme: AU’s.

I know AU’s in different settings are half the reason most people read fanfics, but they’re not really my thing on the whole. AU’s where different choices are made, or different events transpire? Absolutely. Coffee shops? Not my cup of... you know.

So, here’s my AU recommendations for mostly “turn left” scenarios. This time with an under-the-cut break so I don’t take over everyone’s timelines (sorry about that last post). Also with some summaries truncated for length.

Alone Like This

Author: GotTheSilver

Word Count: 7,452

Summary: Steve, post waking up, runs away from SHIELD, and Tony's the one who tracks him down.

Why You Should Read It:

First off, GotTheSilver’s been consistently and regularly putting out solid Stony since 2012 and not only are they not stopping, they’re only getting better. This writer doesn’t get nearly the fanfare I’d expect in Stony circles for someone who puts out this much good stuff, and here’s hoping this post can be a part of changing that.

While I am always a sucker for enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, there’s something to be said for stories where Steve and Tony hit it off right away. And watching these two very different people look at each other and see the same sense of being lost, then finding each other again is... excuse me, there’s something in my eye, ignore me.

Second Chance Lives

Author: raeldaza

Word Count: 43,872

Summary: Tony's gonna die of palladium poisoning anyway, why not join a pointless expedition to recover Captain America’s body? And after, well, why not dedicate his last few months to making sure an American hero settles into his new life? What else is he going to do, get drunk at parties?

Why You Should Read It:

This writer doesn’t write a lot for the MCU but when they do, dang.

“Tony is the one helping Steve acclimate to the new century before Avengers 2012″ is a whole genre of Stony fanfics that scratch an itch I didn’t even know I had before I started reading fanfiction, and this is one of the best ones out there. It’s got it all - Steve poorly coping with his PTSD, Tony poorly coping with his immanent mortality, some breathtakingly poor communication between the two most emotionally stunted men in the MCU, and a cat named Roomba. What’s not to love?

Should You Choose to Accept It

Author: elwenyere (look, you’re gonna be seeing a lot of them this week, sorry-not-sorry)

Word Count: 27,106

Summary: After a terrorist attack and a field operation gone wrong, the Avengers realize that Nick Fury's secrets are just the start of a much bigger mystery. Steve and Tony try to keep some things from each other as well, but that can't possibly affect the mission — right? Mission Fic + Getting Together (or Mission: Getting Together) that mashes up elements from Iron Man 3, CA: Winter Soldier, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season one, and Mission Impossible 3.

Why You Should Read It:

You can see my post yesterday for singing El’s praises, but what I really liked about this fic was how how damn creative it is. The CAWS/IM3/AOS mashup is everything I wished the actual MCU gave us and more, with well-developed characters and an exciting story to put them in. And because it’s El, you know the banter’s gonna be on point, the way the characters care for each other is gonna be emotionally constipated but touching, and the pacing’s gonna be exciting enough to draw you in and keep you there. Also, this fic doesn’t have nearly enough kudos so please go read it and fix that or I’m gonna have to try to hack AO3 and that’ll just be embarrassing for all parties involved.

What Happens In Vegas

Author: sabremc

Word Count: 161,951

Summary: “What the hell, Tony?” Rhodey demanded brusquely. Tony winced and drew the phone away from his ear. “You’ve got cops and Feds all over the hotel. I’m watching you perp walk out of the police station on repeat on CNN. They’re saying you tried to bribe Stern? Fox News has you selling weapons on the black market, and God that picture they’re using is the one from Bali in ’09. You look like shit. They wheeled Stern out and put him in an ambulance, by the way. Got some paparazzi swearing you decked the guy. Now they’ve got ‘copters following it like he’s OJ.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Sourpatch, I’ve got it covered. Uh, though, I should probably tell you that, purely in the interests of national security and the greater good, I kind of had to fake marry that stripper-gram you sent. Thanks for that, by the way,” Tony added quickly.

Why You Should Read It:

If you’re deep enough into Stony to see posts like this on Tumblr, you probably know sabre’s what we in the business call a “big name author.” They’re prolific, they’re popular, and most importantly, they write words good (technical term). Seriously, sabre just keeps cranking out high quality stuff over and over again, raising the bar for the rest of us like a jerk (not really. I’m not bitter they write stuff so good I wish I’d thought of it first. Not at all.)

I never read stripper!Steve or stripper!Tony as a rule, but this came so widely recommended that I broke that rule and boy am I glad that I did. This is also the only fic on this list that’s a true-AU, with Steve being a non-powered vet from Afghanistan who left his army career to help Bucky and is stripping in Vegas to raise money for a prosthetic arm. He’s booked to do a private show for Tony, shenanigans ensue, and now they’re fake-married. This fic’s got some top-of-the-line banter and character development, but I particularly love it for its rich setting. Sabre paints a Vegas not just with strip clubs and blackjack tables, but KISS-themed minigolf, romantic dinners on the Eiffel tower, gaudy hotel lobbies, and making out on giant ferris wheels. It’s such a richly developed playground for the characters to play on, and through it, Steve manages to find a life for himself he’d given up on, and Tony finds multiple ways to show his kindness and depth of feeling for Steve. I know the word count’s long for this one but trust me, you’ve gotta read this fic.

Wait & Sea

Author: Lenalena

Word Count: 53,244

Summary: In which Tony and Steve get sent on an undercover mission aboard a cruise ship to make contact with Hydra. In this AU the military has kept the discovery and defrosting of Captain America a secret, so Steve and Tony have never met before. Yet they are to pose as newlyweds....

Why You Should Read It:

This one’s old and popular enough to be considered one of the “classic” Stony fics, and for good reason. Lenalena doesn’t write too often and not as much as they used to, but the fics they have up there are an absolute delight.

This is another fic that I skipped a bunch of times for being outside my comfort zone, but when I finally read it I saw why everyone’s so wild about it. In this story, Steve’s defrosted a bit earlier and not revealed as Captain America. He and Tony are sent undercover to sniff out Hydra shenanigans on a cruise and, because it’s fanfiction, they’ve got to pretend to be a married couple while onboard. There’s tons to love about this fic, but the things that bring me back to reading it over and over is first, Tony’s kindness and the way he’s attuned to Steve’s feelings, which... God, just inject “kind, observant Tony” straight into my veins, please and thank you. This is also another really rich setting for a story, and Lena knows how to fold the the hokeyness of the cruise into the seriousness of the mission and the depth of feelings Steve and Tony are finding for each other in a really beautiful, layered way. It’s funny, it’s heartfelt, it’s steamy, it’s gripping... why are you still reading this here? Go check it out for yourself!

Ashes to Ashes

Author: dirigibleplumbing

Word Count: 51,582

Summary: After regrouping following some surprise time travel, the world's heroes and sorcerers come up with a plan to protect the Mind and Time Stones by taking them into space in opposite directions. The result involves a lot more time loops than Steve would like, but at least they're getting a second chance to stop Thanos. (As well as a third, and a fourth...) And if Steve takes the opportunity to try to reconcile with Tony, too—well, they have the time, and Steve's going to make the most of it.

Why You Should Read It:

Dirigibleplumbing’s another name in Stony fanfics that does not get nearly as much fanfare as they deserve. They’re consistently a really creative voice in Stony fanfics and I always look forward to their stories showing me something new. Go read all their fics, I need more people to geek out with me over them.

I tend to limit myself on Steve-and-Tony-mend-things-after-Civil-War fics not because they’re not good, but because they’re so heavy, and also the Sokovia Accords have five hundred layers of crap in them that no good fic could possibly hash out well. This one, though? When you add in the Infinity War/End Game fixit? Poetry. Art. Music to my ears. DP wrote a really engaging, twisty story where it’s hard to predict what’s coming next, in spite of it literally being a pseudo-Groundhog day scenario. The characterizations are great, the story is engaging, and the feelings are big and sad and eventually happy. Go read it, you’ll love it.

I have tons of other recs for this category but this seems like a good place to stop for today. Tomorrow’s Alternative Media Thursday, and I’ve got some real gems I’ve been saving for that day (aaaaand possibly a self-rec or two ;)

#capimrecweek #tony stark #Steve Rogers #stony #fanfiction #MCU #ficrec

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evanstanwrites · 4 years

Text

Hot dentist - Steve Rogers AU

Sum: What did I bring myself into? Flirting with my dentist, none the less hot dentist, and then let him drive me home? Wasn’t this doomed to fail?

pairing: Dentist Steve Rogers x reader

warnings: my bad writing xD, +18 only, SMUT, public sex, unprotected sex, sexual acts while driving

I was so nervous as I stood in front of the dentist’s office in my local hospital. Today was the day I’d get my wisdom tooth removed, I had been in so much pain that I couldn’t delay it any longer. A few weeks ago I had noticed that there was a piece that had broken off my tooth and it had been the cause of a lot of pain, seeing as the nerves in the tooth got uncovered. So I found the little bit of courage I had left and made an appointment with my local dentist, an old but friendly man who was only a few weeks from retirement.

He had taken one look at my broken tooth and knew that it wasn’t a job he could handle. It turned out to be a wisdom tooth that I didn’t even know I had. It was the surprise of my life and when he said that I had to go to the hospital’s dentist to have it removed under anesthesia I panicked completely. I was already scared shitless of a regular dentist and needles now they were gonna stick needles into my mouth? What more do you need to shit your pants out of fear. But I got my shit together because I didn’t want to live with this kind of pain forever so I made the appointment with doctor S.Rogers at my local hospital.

“Hey, I’m Y/n and I have an appointment with doctor Rogers,” I say once I got my shit together and got to the front desk of doctor Rogers’s office.

“Welcome, Y/n, please fill in this form while you wait. You can hand the filled in form to the doctor” The lady behind the desk says as she starts to hand me all different kinds of papers and documents.

“The waiting area for doctor Rogers is at the end of the hallway, you can take a seat there.” she smiles and points in the direction of the waiting area.

After a short thank you and a nervous smile I follow the given directions through the long hallway filled with other waiting patients at all different doctors’ offices but none of them are the one I need to be at. After what seems like a long walk I finally reach the waiting area I need to be at seeing a large nameplate on one of the doors stating the doctor’s name.

I take my place on one of the chairs and start to fill in the form I was given by the lady at the front desk. Just as I was done the door of the office opens and a tall blond model like man with one of the brightest smiles stands in the door opening.

God this man was drop dead gorgeous, who was he? Was he the nurse, Maybe doctors Rogers’s assistant, or what if this was doctor Rogers? Omg kill me now, I’m not going to survive this if that species of a man is gonna do the procedure.

What if I say something stupid during the anesthesia?

“Miss Y/l/n?”

God even the sound of his voice is to melt for. I quickly get a hold of myself and stand up.

“That’s me.” I smile at the man.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Doctor Rogers. please come in,” he says as he steps out of the way and signs for me to walk in first.

Oh god, he is the doctor, I’ll have to do my best to act normal. I think to myself as I walk into the office and sit on one of the chairs before handing over the filled in forms as he walks past me to his seat.

“So I got all the information from your dentist, seems like you need to have your wisdom tooth removed.” He explains as he sits down behind his desk, looks over the papers before smiling at me.

“I do see here that you requested the use of the anesthetic gas but I fear that it’s not possible today due to some technical problems.”

“Oh, so what’s going to happen then?” I ask suddenly not that concerned about the fact that I didn’t know how to act around a drop dead gorgeous doctor but more scared about the procedure itself.

“Well seeing as you’re the last patient of the day our only option for the procedure is a local anesthetic. But I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. I know it sounds more terrifying than it actually is. I promise you I won’t hurt you, it’ll be a bit uncomfortable but it won’t hurt.” he reassures me which to I can only nod shortly, still nervous.

“You’ll be alright, miss, you’re in good hands”

One of his warm hands covered mine that laid on top of the desk as he says it with a smile.

Wow, this man is really all smiles but knows how to put someone at ease. I think as I smile back at him.

“Okay, Thank you, doctor Rogers”

“You’re welcome and please call me Steve. What ya say we get started and get it over with?”

Steve’s not even finished speaking when he stands up from his chair and holds a hand out to help me to my feet and leads me to the room next to the office where the procedure would take place.

And before I know it I’m in the chair leaning back, watching Steve move around the room as he washes his hands before gloving up.

In the end, he was right, I barely felt it when he injected the local anesthetic into my gums. In comparison to any dentist I had ever met Steve was very soft in his handling and very talkative, it seems like he forgot that he was working in my mouth and that I couldn’t talk back. Which lead to a couple of funny moments but it did put my mind at ease, I wasn’t scared at all anymore and it started to feel more like Steve and I knew each other for a long time. He even flirted with me a few times, at least I think he did.

Every time he’d had to do something that would cause me even the slightest bit of discomfort he warned me and checked if all was alright after.

Overall the procedure only took around half an hour and soon enough Steve was putting his work in finishing with stitching up the wound.

“Here you go sweetheart, we’re all done,” he says leaning back on his chair before cleaning up the little worktable so I could sit up.

“You got someone to take you home? Because it’s not wise to drive while the anesthetic is still working,”

Shit, I didn’t think about that. He’s right I can’t drive like this.

“No, I don’t but I’ll call for a cab to drive me home,” I say which comes out a bit more like a mumble due to my still numb mouth as I stand up from the chair, ready to collect my stuff so I can leave even if I don’t really want to. I wanted to be in his presence for as long as I could, that was the kind of effect he had on me.

“No need to call a cab, I can drive you home seeing as I’m off in a few minutes.” he smiles as we walk back into his office “Only if you want that is?” he quickly adds.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose after all I’m just your patient,” I say a bit unsure, I want to say yes but was it wise to, it isn’t professional at least.

“Well as soon as we walk out of this office you’re not my patient anymore and we can do what we choose to do,” he chuckles as he sits back down behind his office ready to finish up his paperwork for the day.

“Okay, you can drive me home if you really want to,” I respond trying not to smile that big so I wouldn’t drool too much caused by the numb lips. Steve seemed to notice and chuckled a bit louder.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, the anesthetic will wear off. The numb feeling should be over in about half an hour,” he says before pointing at his computer.

“Give me 5 minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs in front of the main entrance. I quickly need to fill in this form and then chance and I’ll be down to pick you up.”

What did I bring myself into? Flirting with my dentist, none the less hot dentist, and then let him drive me home? Wasn’t this doomed to fail? But then again I was already in too deep to stop now, there was no option to go back now. There was no harm in having a bit of fun right? Who knows what I get out of it: a friend, a one night stand, or maybe a boyfriend? Who knows? Was this really so bad? No not at all, there was nothing wrong with this.

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of Steve’s car flirting with him, a lot. The atmosphere turned hot and sexual very quickly just as our conversation and it seemed like it affected both of us. Steve obviously had a ‘little not so little’ problem in his pants and he didn’t even try to hide it. Even his hand has found its place on top of my thigh, slowly rubbing small circles onto my warm skin making me squeeze my thighs together to get some relief. The smirk on his lips showed me that he knew that it affected me too, I bet he could almost smell how wet I was.

“Really I can’t say thank you enough for driving me home. I don’t know how I can ever repay you Steve,” I say with a small smile.

“I could think of something,” Steve smirked seductively

“Oh, what are you thinking about then?” I ask faking innocence, I had a good guess what it would be and I was totally down for it but I wanted to see how he would respond.

But Steve didn’t say anything, he just softly took my hand, gave it a soft reassuring squeeze and placed my hand on top of the bulge in his pants.

I sucked in a deep breath of surprise, he felt huge for what I could feel through his pants.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to sweetheart” he quickly says taking my action as a rejection.

“No, It’s okay, I want to. I just wasn’t prepared to feel,... you feel so big Steve” I giggle which makes him chuckle in response.

“Well that’s because I am big sweetheart” he winks just as I start to unzip and unbutton his pants.

“Can I?”

“Yes, go for it”

More he doesn’t has to say before I slip my hand through his now open pants and wrap my hand around his rock hard cock. His skin felt warm and soft in my hand, god he is really big.

I tried to feel as much as I could, discovering every inch, every vein, every unique part of his cock.

“you’re teasing sweetheart,” Steve says softly as he holds back a moan.

“But I like teasing,” I pout which makes him laugh

“You little minx,”

I finally decide to stop teasing and now wramp my hand firmly around his now leaking hard cock and slowly start stroking it.

“Yeah that’s it sweetheart, just like that” Steve moans as he tries his best to keep his focus on the road but that proved to be a hard task.

I loved the feeling of his cock in my hand and started to imagine how he would feel if it wasn’t my hand wrapped around his cock but my pussy. I bet it would feel great, hit all the right spots and make me fall over the edge quickly. Damn, I almost came just by thinking of it.

“Oooh fuck it” I hear Steve bread hard as he suddenly makes a sharp turn into what seemed an empty backroad surrounded by trees.

“Euh Steve, this isn’t the way to my place,” I say surprised as I pull my hand out of his pants and look around me. There was nobody or nothing but trees to be seen.

“I know but I can’t keep my focus on the road anymore, and I need a turn too sweetheart” he smirked as he parks his.

Before I even know it he gets out of the car, and I follow his lead, meeting him at the hood of his car. It doesn’t take long before he’s all over me, kissing me along the curve of my throat, his hands moving all over my body like he’s making a road map to some treasure.

“You’re driving me crazy sweetheart” he pants

“Maybe you should do something about it” I smirk as I hop onto the hood of his car

“I so want to kiss you right now but I fear that will have to wait. But can I fuck you instead?” he asks as he steps into the open space between my legs while his hands move up my legs.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I chuckle as I lift my skirt a bit as an invitation for him to slide his hands under, which he eagerly does and starts to rub over the soaked crotch of my panties making me move my hips up to his hand and moan at the touch. It really had been a long time since the last time someone even touched me down there, I felt like I was a virgin again.

“Please, Steve, just fuck me already” I moan

“Look who’s impatient now,” he says as he shoves his still unzipped pants a bit lower so he could free cock, giving it a few strokes before moving the crotch of my panties to the side and slowly rubs the tip of his cock between my folds coating himself in my fluids.

I don’t care that we’re in public, I don’t care that someone could hear or see us, in this moment there was only Steve and me and how good he made me feel. I was already flying high on pleasure and he wasn’t even inside me yet. So the moment he actually started to push his cock inside me I couldn’t stop myself and moaned loudly at the feeling, feeling every inch of him as he filled me.

“Fuck you’re so tight sweetheart” he moans, seemingly just as much lost in pleasure as I am.

Once he was fully inside of me he didn’t give me much time to adjust to his huge cock and just started to pull back out slowly and thrust back in with a hard and fast snap of his hips making me almost scream out in pleasure. I can only hold on for the ride he takes me on as he set a strong and fast pace. Proving my imagination from earlier in that to be true, his cock does hit all the right spots every time he slams back in.

One of his strong hands grips onto my hip keeping me in place while with the thumb of his other hand he rubs my clit edging me closer and closer to an orgasm.

“Steve,...., so close,..., please,” I didn’t even know what I was begging for but Steve seemed to understand as he started to speed up the movements of his thumb on my clit.

“It’s alright sweetheart, I got you. Cum for me, I’m right behind you.” he moans out of breath. It seems like that was all it took before he guided me over the edge and I came harder than I’ve ever done before with a loud scream. It didn’t take long before Steve followed me and spilled his seed deep inside me.

“I should have made that appointment much sooner with you doctor Steve.”

please remember to like, comment and reblog :-)

@feelmyroarrrr @rynabarnesrogers-reading @denisemarieangelina @patzammit @palaiasaurus64 @loricameback @lizette50 @jennmurawski13

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x y/n #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x you #dentist steve #doctor steve #Chris Evans #captain america #steve x you #steve x reader #steve x y/n

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it��s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you. You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

Text

Ignorance is Blitzed (Part One)

When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initally thought. WARNINGS: you get poisoned and feel pretty shit, there are some potty words, but all in all pretty tame (FOR NOW).

This will probably be at least a two part-er, so let a sister know if you want to be tagged(?)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You’d barely had a chance to get out of the building you’d been searching before you coughed so violently you fell to your knees, a horrible gasping sound tearing its way out of your throat before you even have a chance to scream for a medic.

You were dying. You had to be dying.

You’d found an ivory crushed tablet at the bottom of a footlocker you’d found inside of the bombed out general store the Nazi’s had been using as sleeping barracks, and instantly pinched some of it between your fingers for closer inspection, rubbing the chalky dust between your fingertips to see if it had the same texture as aspirin.

It wasn’t uncommon for one of you to find medications and other rations in footlockers and other personal items during an inventory search, and most of the time you could easily figure out what it was and whether or not it was something Doc or someone else might need.

But this tablet and it’s powder were unfamiliar (aspirin would’ve had a more obvious, sour odor that you would’ve clocked the minute you’d opened the footlocker’s lid), and when you brought it to your nose to sniff it more critically you instantly regretted it—the smell was chemical and harsh and it burned your nasal passage in a way you’d never experienced before. Your eyes had instantly watered and you’d exhaled sharply through your nostrils in a vain attempt to make the hurt go away.

The pain spread up your head and spiderwebbed into your brain. A bursting prickle of pain behind your eyes flared like a burning star, your face had begun feeling hot and your head was ringing.

It’s too hot in here, I have to get out of here so I can breathe.

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes as you stumbled back out the way you had come, bumping heavily between the rough stone of the wall and your friends as you desperately tried to remember the way out.

You felt sick to your stomach as your skin breaks out into a cool sweat. Panic was setting in, with your ability to breath compromised as well as your hearing beginning to go white.

“Y/n?” you think you hear Martin calling your name through the fog that is taking residence in your ear canals, and something is trying to pull your hands from your eyes. “Hey kiddo, what’s wrong? What’d you find—?”

“DON’T!” You blurt, opening your eyes and wishing you hadn't when the room begins to spin. You see the light of the doorway over Bull’s shoulder-Bull? When did he get here?- and you close your eyes and forget everything else except for forward and outside and I can't breathe….

“Hey!” Someone (Luz?) growls as you shove the shape of him out of the way, and you don’t think you’re making sense but you’re talking all the same.

Stop talking, you need air!

When your knees hit the hard ground you barely have a chance to catch yourself on your hands before you dry heave so hard you can feel the ache of it in your ribs. Your heart is beating too fast and hard in your chest and if you could feel your hands you’d use them to tear some of your layers away because you’re boiling alive and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Fuck, what happened—WHAT HAPPENED?!”

With a great deal of effort you crack your eyes open again and spot Ron Speirs’ signature glare coming your way, shucking off his vest and bag without breaking stride as he neared. You’re aware of Martin and Bull by your sides, but you can’t seem to figure out what they’re saying.

Why is no one helping me? Can’t they see I’m dying?

“Don’t touch the tab- cough cough….the footlocker….!” you try again, tasting blood in your mouth after you released another hacking cough, and you’re dimly aware of Bull pulling your hat off of your head and sigh at the blissful chill of fresh air on your clammy skin.

“We got it, no one’s gonna touch it, y/n—” he murmurs somewhere to your left, and you think you nod in understanding but you can’t be sure/

“What’s happening?” Ron snapped, his rough hands grabbing your face and tilting it up so he could look at it. “Where does it hurt, y/n—?”

“I can’t breathe! It's so hard to breathe— Fuck, i think my brain is melting…”

“Your brain?” his voice is lower in volume now, yet your head still throbs as if he were shouting. Your head is thudding in time with your heartbeat, and you don't realize you’ve been crying until his thumbs brush away from the tears clouding your vision.

A tremble runs through your body and you squeeze your eyes shut as the world tilts from side to side unreliably.

His rough hands are abruptly snatched back, but you can’t open your eyes to keep track of where they have gone.

Suddenly, a set of arms hook under your knees and shoulders and you're lifted from the ground, your head reeling.

“Don’t!” she gasps as the person carrying her begins to quickly walk back the way you’d seen that Speirs had come from. “I’ll get sick on you—!“

“Then get sick on me. It’s not the worst thing to happen to this coat.” Ron says matter-of-factly, making his grip on you painfully tight as he begins barking orders at people around you.

“Ron—” you try again, but your body spasms in his arms as the pain in your head crests to new heights. “Oh, God, I think I’m dying—”

“Shut up.” He hisses, and you think you hear a stain of panic in his command. “Just shut up and try to stay awake”

You sob as you lean your head against his shoulder, your bones too big for your body and your skin aching.

The next time you blink Roe is suddenly there, and your mouth is so dry your tongue creaks as it moves in your mouth.

You’ve been set on a lumpy mattress somewhere and Ron, Nix, Bull, and Roe are standing around you and talking amongst each other too quickly for you to catch.

By some miracle you are able to shove Roe away from your side just in time to avoid your vomit as you lean over the side of the bed and throw up painfully onto the ground where his feet had just been.

Your head is so foggy now, and everything hurts so badly you wish that you would just die and be done with the whole thing.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up about that?” you hear Ron chide, and hands are smoothing your hair off of your face and neck with a gentleness you didn’t expect from someone so rough. “You heard the Doc, didn’t you?”

You shake your head because you honestly had no idea what Eugene may have said (because up until recently you hadn’t even known he’d been there), letting another set of hands push your shoulders back until you were laying on the mattress again.

You felt Roe rubbing at the skin inside of your elbow as he prepared some sort of injection, and you tried your best to hold still so he could find a vein.

“C’mon, y/n,” Nixon’s voice was far away, and in your delirium you could’ve sworn he sounded just like your dad. “I know it’s tough but try to stay still—”

Home, home, should’ve stayed home. Wouldn’t have died like this at home….

“It’s okay, darlin’” Roe mumbled, cursing in French as another spasm of trembling runs through you. “It’s gonna be over soon—”

Before you can even begin to panic about that promise, hands grab your face again and turn your head away from the doctor, and when you open your eyes all you can see is Ron.

“It’s not poison, you’re not dying, Y/n- look at me! Good, now just look at me and the Doc’ll give you something to make you feel better—”

Th poke of the needle makes you cry out like a baby, but rather than getting angry with you Ron just nods and makes a soft tsking sound under his breath.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

You watch those dark eyes of his harden as he shoots a look towards Roe. “How long till that shit kicks in—?”

“Seconds. It may not knock her out, but she should start feeling better right away—”

Speirs didn’t bother waiting for the man to finish before looking back down at you and softening his gaze once more.

He must be scared, he wouldn’t be acting like this in front of other people if he wasn’t scared i might not make it.

Whatever Roe had injected you with was cold in your veins, blissfully cold, and you could feel it turning your spasming limbs to lead with each slowing thud of your heart.

Taking what had to be the first deep breath you’d taken in hours, you watch as Ron nods and makes a point to sync your breathing, his breath cool of your damp face as he exhales with you.

“Good, good. That’s good, sweetheart….”

Your eyes lose their ability to focus, eyelids now too heavy to keep open.

But the idea of letting them close and going to sleep filled you with dread, and even though you couldn’t articulate your concern Ron seemed to read your mind and you felt his lips at the shel of your ear.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise you that you’ll be okay, okay?”

You weren’t sure if he was saying it more to you or to himself or to the other men in the room, but you nodded all the same.

A cool cloth is wiped across your brow and you feel yourself sinking into whatever medicated slumber Roe has concocted for you.

“What the fuck is Pervitin and what the hell was it doing in an SS footlocker?”

Bull’s voice sounds like it’s underwater, and the harder you try to listen and see what the answer is, you quicker you slip into the cool and inviting darkness that curled around the edges of your mind.

I could rest, you think with resigned exhaustion as you let yourself fall from consciousness. It’s been so long since I’ve rested….

The weight of Ron’s hand on your cheek was the last thing holding you to the world, and when that slipped away you followed suit.

And nothing hurt anymore.

******IMPORTANT HISTORICAL CONTEXT:

After discovering boxes of tablets labeled Pervitin on a downed German supply plane (if i remember this correctly), the Allies realized that the Axis countries had developed a performance enhancing drug that would: 1. Keep soldiers awake and active for days at a time without needing sleep/food, 2. Increased aggression and confidence in battle, and 3. Kept soldiers from slipping into ‘shell shock’.

BIG PROBLEM THOUGH, BC PERVITIN IS LITERALLY JUST METH. REALLY REALLY PURE AND CONCENTRATED METH (which is BAD!)!

So, the Allies said to themselves: “Self, self here. Listen- what if we came up with our own Pervitin for our soldiers so they too can be better/faster/stronger?”

So, the Allies came up with Benzedrine- WHICH IS ALSO METH AND STILL VV BAD FOR YOU!

In this story, reader stumbles across some accidentally and unknowingly ends up ingesting it and you get vv sick (which is also a thing that happens to ppl who accidentally inhale amphetamines). Bc I’m a nerd I looked it up that nowadays you’d probably be given some sort of Benzodiazepine/nourishing fluids cocktail to counteract the side effects, so we’re gonna pretend that’s what the cure is in the 40s MKAY? MKAY.

(also tagging @mrsalwayswrite bc rumor has it they also have a soft spot for our dashing murder prince with nice hair and death in his eyes)

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography #Also sorry for the word play I've been hanging out with my dad too much

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wonderful-wells-writing · 3 years

Text

Chemical; Harry Wells x OC Fic; Chapter 2

The first chapter posted on the new blog of course goes to my main girl Stacy

You can find the Prologue and first chapter on my master list which is pinned on this blog.

A lot of this chapter is scientific jumbo that explains the basis of Stacy's powers, I tried to make it as readable as possible. I felt it was important to show Stacy and Harry discussing science to see them bonding over something

Also heads up for mild smutty content,. there are like 2 paragraphs towards the end that have some female masturbation.

And as always all sorts of love to @elfwoodfae @wintersire and @steamjunk90 who are just a handful of the super awesome people who encourage me to write and make me feel proud of this character.

“So now that we have Dr. Light,” Stacy leans back in her chair, rubbing her eyes, “we just have to finish the dampening serum, perfect the injection method, convince Light to help lure Zoom, and then…” she chuckles, “pray, right?”

Harry is peering into the microscope next to her, “Prayer is a waste of time; the science is solid. We’ll get this done.”

“You say that, but we can’t actually test the serum before we use it, do we?” The young woman reaches for a blood draw kit, “and no science is solid without testing.”

“She makes a good point,” Cisco is spinning on his stool, unsure what to do as it’s Stacy’s lab, and he knows the consequences of messing anything up within its walls.

“Ramone, don’t you have your own work to be doing?” Harry sighs, adding a drop of fluid to the slid he’s looking at under the microscope. He murmurs under his breath, “incredible,” as he watches the cells he’s observing react.

“Actually, I’ve already finished the prototype injector,” Cisco stops spinning to talk to Harry, “I’m just waiting on you to come to look it over.”

“Stacy, have you checked your micloxin and glucose levels lately?” Caitlin is scrolling through data on her tablet, “Because that last test we did shows your powers operating at10 percent efficiency.”

“I mean, I’ve been running at like 30 percent for a month now, so that’s not really as big of a surprise as you think,” Stacy is in the process of torniqueteing her left arm as she says this, “but yeah I’m about to check now.”

“30 percent!” Caitlin’s eyes widen, “why didn’t you say anything? We could have helped you figure out what’s going wrong.”

“The things you can do, Langdon,” Harry turns to look at her, “and it’s less than 30 percent of your power?”

“No, that’s my efficiency,” Stacy corrects him before hissing as she sticks a needle in her vein, “you’ve only seen a fraction of a percent of what I can theoretically do.” She watches the crimson fill the vial, momentarily mesmerized by the color. “But if my micloxin levels are low, then how much I can do before it’s a strain, and how quickly, gets severely reduced.”

Wells ponders for a moment before asking, “What is micloxin? That’s not something I’ve heard of.”

Dr. Langdon grins, tossing the vial of blood to Caitlin before turning to face the man. “Micloxin was one of the compounds I developed as a STAR Labs researcher before the Particle Accelerator Explosion, my thesis on the science behind it is actually want got me hired here. Our Wells… Thawne was always impressed by theoretical sciences as long as the mind behind it could write a convincing argument that it was feasible.” She briefly remembers the letter she received offering a position at the lab but pushes it all to the back of her mind.

“You know, if Thawne was from the future,” Cisco points out, “maybe he was hiring people like you because he knew it was going to work out. Maybe in the future, they use micloxin for all sorts of shit.”

Stacy nods, “It’s possible, and truthfully I want to hope that’s the case.” She rubs her arm where she had stuck the needle, there is a small streak of blood, but she’s already completely healed the puncture. “I mean, my goal was for my research to help people.” She sighs, pushing the thought away into the same corner as the memories, before using one hand to type something on her keyboard, then turning the monitor to show Dr. Wells a set of molecular compounds and formulas. “Anyways, micloxin is now one of the three abnormalities my body produces as part of the changes I underwent when exposed to the dark matter. So I utilize those abnormalities as part of my powers.”

Harry leans in to read the computer screen, eyes quickly scanning the diagrams, and uses the mouse to flip through the pages. “So, this was your work here at the lab?”

“Part of it,” she drums her hands on the desk, “My thesis was focused on STEM cells and ways to advance the field, micloxin was a theoretical alternative I proposed as a part of the paper. I was placed on a team focused on STEM cell advanced usage and production methods when I started here. Still, I was given resources to look into my theories in my spare time.” her eyes follow Caitlin around the room as the doctor places the blood sample in an analyzer. “I was given my own team when I developed micloxin. I still helped the original team; I was even able to use my micloxin to develop a serum that turned healthy white blood cells into STEM cells.”

This piques Harry’s interest further, “You found a way to produce STEM cells? It took a dozen scientists and doctors on my planet to develop a method to force them to grow in their lab.”

Stacy tucks a stray hair behind her ear, “From there, my team and I started using micloxin to develop other formulas that could be used in the medical field. For example, we had just developed a programmable serum that could be used in a variety of ways to manipulate cells.”

Dr. Wells folds his arms and gives the woman a rather impressed look. “That is quite a resume of scientific achievements for somebody as young as you. I’d love to hear more about the science behind your work if you don’t mind.”

Cisco snorts in the background at the comment about Stacy’s youth. To which she turns and gives him a look that indicates he should hush before returning her attention to Dr. Wells and picking something to continue to explain to him.

Caitlin crosses the room to stand next to Cisco and discreetly shows him the test results on her tablet.

“I may not fully get the bio-mumbo jumbo,” Cisco starts with a whisper.

“Biochemistry,” Caitlin corrects.

“Right, that’s what I said,” Cisco takes the tablet and reads the numbers carefully, “But even I can tell that that’s bad.”

“IF we don’t figure out how to control her micloxin levels,” Caitlin looks worriedly at Stacy, who is explaining to a fascinated Harry how her body now produces STEM cells rather than white blood cells “she could lose her powers.”

“Well,” Cisco glances up at Caitlin, “Would that really be the worst thing? If she loses her powers, she doesn’t have to deal with the side effects, right?”

“That’s the thing,” she presses a link on the tablet screen that takes them to a different set of data, “she would still have to deal with them> Stacy would pretty much be stuck in a perpetual low charge mode. She’d be constantly experiencing the symptoms, and her recharge would do nothing to abate it.”

“That would,” Cisco takes a moment to process that, “Oh, that would really really suck for her.” But then, he looks over the data projections, “I don’t understand how she’s not symptomatic right now with what her levels are at.”

Both of them look to the two scientists, who are utterly engrossed in their conversation. But Stacy’s body language displays that she has more on her mind than just chemicals. When she listens to Harry speak, she starts to chew on her lower lip. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, and her breathing is heavier. To top it off, she can’t seem to get her legs to stay still; she keeps having to stop herself from rubbing her thighs together.

“She’s definitely in low charge,” Caitlin murmurs, “Look at her; she’s trying to ignore it, but….”

“She can’t seriously be thinking about,” Cisco shudders, “with him? Really?”

“Don’t blame her; she can’t control….”

“Is everything alright over there?” Harry interrupts their quiet exchange, having become aware that they were staring rather intensely at him and Stacy.

Caitlin clears her throat and stands up a little straighter, “Dr. Langdon, your sertolix and glucose ratio is out of its normal range; I think You’re due for a recharge session and maybe some dinner afterward.”

“But I just recharged last night… and this morning….” Stacy complains, but she knows it’s true. She can feel its effects, has been all day. “And Harry and I are having such a pleasant conversation; I don’t want to stop for a charge.”

Harry can’t stop the slight smile that creeps up on him. It’s not often that people refer to interacting with him as ‘pleasant.’ And this was perhaps the most relaxed he’s felt in the days since Zoom… right, Zoom. Unfortunately, the smile drops off his face as the stakes drop onto his shoulders again like a load of bricks.

“I’m sorry, but until we can figure out how to stabilize your micloxin levels, you’re going to have to charge up more frequently,” Cailin glances at the test tubes full of sample serums on her desk. “Especially if you’ll be spending all day testing your powers, even in a minor capacity. So you’ll have to recharge your sertolix levels if you want to be effective today.”

“Sertolix?” Harry glances at Stacy; she hadn’t gotten to that point in her explanation yet.

But Stacy can’t look him in the eye anymore. Now that Caitlin had brought it up, it was getting harder to ignore the side effects of her low-charge state. “It’s what we call the hormone my body produces and uses to control the cellular manipulation process. So I have to do a thing we call recharging to get my body to produce it in order to continue using my powers.”

“I thought micloxin was the chemical your body used,” Harry questions.

“It’s sort of a combo job,” Stacy stands, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. “My micloxin levels determine how quickly I burn Sertolix when I use my powers and how much I gain when I recharge.” She steps around him to go towards the door, “Anyways, Dr. Snow is right, I do need to... Go do that. We’ll get a lot more work done once I have more of it in my system. I should only be like 45 minutes, maybe an hour.”

“You should probably take 2, Dr. Langdon,” Caitlin points out, “Your levels are practically non-existent.”

“2 hours?!” Stacy stops and turns to face her, looking exasperated, “ I can’t ‘recharge’ for 2 straight hours.”

“I mean you can,” Cisco shrugs, “that’s like, your whole -ow!” He flinches as Caitlin kicks his ankle.

Harry stands, offering this in response, “Perhaps you could show me this recharging process, and I can help you determine if there’s a more efficient….”

“No!!” Stacy half shouts, barely managing to choke the words out before her body freezes in a conflict between ‘stay composed’ and ‘freak out.’

Cisco tries, and fails, to suppress a laugh, nearly falling off his stool in the process, “no, ha-no, that would be a great-ha- idea!”

Caitlin attempts to swoop in for a rescue, “Dr. Wells, since you have the time now, you should check out Cisco’s prototype, give it the all-clear before we use it on Zoom.”

Harry looks over to those two, mouth half-open to ask a question, but is not quite sure how to phrase his confusion. Before he can find his words, he catches Caitlin motioning to Stacy and turns back in time to see her using the distraction as a chance to flee.

“Okay, what is going on here?” Harry throws his hands up in the air.

“Listen, how about we just say that some things are better left to the imagination and leave it at that,” Caitlin responds.

“I mean, some things are better seen than….” Cisco starts but shuts his mouth at the cold glare from Cait. “Fine, Harry, come on, and I’ll show you what I’ve been working on.”

---

After an eventful day and night of Dr. Light escaping and convincing Linda Park to help, then training her to pretend to be her Earth 2 doppelganger, the team is putting the finishing touches on their plan to take down Zoom. Stacy is back in her recharge room to get a good enough level to add her cells to the serum.

Harry peers through the magnifying glass for the hundredth time, trying to find anything about the device beneath that he could tinker with to keep his hands busy.

“How much longer will she be?” Harry mutters, his question directed at Cisco, who is cleaning up his workstation.

“I dunno,” Cisco is growing somewhat irritated at the alternate Dr. Wells and how he’s scrutinizing his craftsmanship.

“I just need a vial of her blood to finish the serum, then we’ll be all ready,” Harry rubs the back of his neck. He can’t remember the last time he was this tense.

Cisco has a terrible thought that comes with a grin, “I mean, you could pop in there for a blood draw. I’m sure by now she has enough go-go juice that a blood sample can power the serum.”

Harry stands up, “you’re right, won’t take but a moment of her time. Then the serum will be ready by the time she’s out, and we can go get this over with.”

“She’ll be in the room down the hall and to the right from her lab,” Cisco calls out as the man leaves the room, and once he’s out of earshot, he mutters to himself, “God, I wish we at least had cameras in that hall, I’d pay money to see the look on his face when….”

“Where’s Dr. Wells going?” Caitlin asks as she enters the room.

“Oh, just to run some tests,” Cisco lies, moving over to his injector so he can inspect it.

Caitlin can sense that he’s withholding something, “What kind of tests?”

“Just… test... Tests..” He fumbles with the tools at the station, trying to appear busy.

“Tests on?” she pushes harder.

“Tests on… Stacy…” he says quietly, avoiding his friend’s piercing gaze.

“Oh, Stacy…” Caitlin’s eyes go wide, and she moves for the door, “If he goes to her now, He’ll see….”

“Chill out, Cait,” the engineer grabs her arm, “He’s got to find out eventually?”

“Not like this he doesn’t,” Caitlin exclaims, “Why would you send him to her.”

“Honestly, he’s really been pissing me off since he got here,” Cisco says, “I thought sending him to get surprised by that would be good payback.” “And you didn’t stop to think how Stacy would feel about that!” she responds, “You’ve always been the biggest supporter of her boundaries being respected. So why would you send a stranger to go witness her like that?”

Cisco pauses, a realization crossing his face, “I… I didn’t think about that… I was just thinking about… oh shit.”

“Yeah, now come on, maybe it’s not too late to stop him!”

But Harry has already made it to Stacy’s wing of the building. He swings by her lab for a blood draw kit, then heads down the hall.

The first thing he notices is that the door is thicker than most of the regular ones in the building, but it’s fitted with the same electronic locks that the rest of the building is, the ones that never work. So, he pushes the door open with no resistance.

The room is dimly lit, and as his eyes adjust, his ears pick up on what seems to be a soft moaning and an odd, almost vibrational sound.

“Dr. Langdon?” harry calls out, pushing the door open the rest of the way, allowing light from the hall to spill into the room. His gaze travels along the floor of the small room, finding the purple carpet to be an odd choice before he reaches the feet of a small couch pushed against the back wall. A love seat, actually, it’s the same shade of purple as the carpet, and he sees that Stacy is sprawled across it and… oh… OH!

There’s a beat where Harry’s jaw drops, his eyes widen in shock, and his body freezes as he tries to process what he’s seeing. The woman is laying on the love seat, her head thrown back over the armrest, eyes closed, mouth open, and making little sounds of pleasure between breathy whispers. She has one hand up her shirt, fondling a breast she has pulled free from the restraint of her bra. But on the other hand, now that’s the one getting naughty. Her pants are hung over the back of the seat, and she has some device…

His gaze snaps away from that and ends up locking eyes with Stacy as she looks towards the opening doors. Her pupils dilate in the lights, and it takes her a moment to adjust. When she realizes who’s standing in the doorway, her heart drops into her stomach, and her breath catches. Fear and embarrassment take over her features.

Harry turns and slams the door behind him, his head spinning as he attempts to scrub the image he just saw from his mind. But total recall is a bitch, and he doubts he will ever forget the sight of her… he shakes his head, ‘just don’t think about it, just don’t think….’

Confusion reigns supreme in his head as he tries to process what is happening on the other side of that door. Why is it happening? His heart is racing, and his mind can’t settle on an emotion to feel. He raises a hand to cover his mouth, squeezing his jaw and inhaling sharply through his nose. ‘What the fuck was that?!’

He hears the door open behind him, and his entire body stiffens.

“I’m so so sorry you had to see that,” Stacy says, out of breath and fully clothed, “Dr. Wells, I swear I can explain everything if you just… give me a moment.

‘Dr. Wells…” his mind conjures the scene again against his will. The breathy whispers, he realizes now what she was saying. ‘ Dr. Wells.’ His name, or maybe the name of the man who once carried his face. He doesn’t know which option is better, or worse, or god why is any of this happening.

His brain, genuinely unsure what to do with his emotional state, settles for anger. “What kind of bullshit was that,” he spins around, his face red, perhaps from the rage, but more likely, it started with embarrassment. “I thought you were a serious and mature scientist,” he can not meet her eyes, not while that image plays over and over in his head. “But here you are wasting everybody’s time by going off to… to… to pleasure yourself?!”

Stacy is shaking, sweat dripping down her temple as she tries to find her words, “Please just let me explain….”

“Explain what?!” He has to restrain himself, “that you have so little self-control that while everybody is preparing to face off against Zoom, you have to go treat yourself? Where’s your self...”

“Harry!” A voice shouts from down the hall. “Harry, don’t go in…” They turn to see Cisco jogging up to them, with Caitlin shortly behind. “Shit… we’re too late, aren’t we?”

Stacy feels a wave of cold wash across her as she starts to realize what happened, “Cisco... He was with you… did you let him…”

“Stace, I am so sorry,” Cisco rests his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to punish Harry for being a dick, but I... I didn’t think about your privacy.”

“You send him here?” Stacy’s voice shakes. She tries to stammer out something, but she can’t even find words to express herself in this situation.

“Wait.. wait,” Harry scoffs, “You knew what she was doing in there?”

Caitlin steps forward to try and diffuse the situation, “Please, Dr. Wells, just hear us out. Everything will make sense if you just let Stacy explain.”

“I don’t think there’s any explanation that will make this situation….” Harry starts.

“It’s my recharge process!!” Stacy blurts out; her hands are curled so tightly that the nails are digging into the skin of her palm. “It’s what I have to do to get the energy for my powers back.

Harry sputters and looks at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“She is,” Cisco confirms, stepping towards Stacy, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It took some time for us all to get used to, but it’s the only way to get her body to produce sertolix.”

The older man opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it, then opens it again. He keeps trying to start a statement, a question, and finding that he doesn’t have the words for it.

Meanwhile, Stacy’s heart is thundering as the fear of rejection takes hold of her. She has already come to respect this version of Wells and enjoyed conversing with him. But she knew that her condition makes things awkward. She often felt like it made her lesser, that because she constantly struggled with such thoughts and needs, it made her impulsive and immature. The last thing he wanted was for Dr. Wells to think the same of her.

“How?” Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “How the hell does… does touching yourself recharge your powers?” Caitlin begins to speak up, but he shakes his head. “No, I want to hear it from Dr. Langdon. If she wants so desperately a chance to explain herself, then now is her one chance.”

Stacy takes a deep breath, and her voice trembles as she speaks. “When I experience… sexual-based pleasure, that is when my body releases sertolix, alongside the usual cocktail of endorphins and oxytocin. But, unlike those hormones, sertolix remains in my system until I expend it with my powers.” Again, she takes a deep breath, “As I explained in my lab, the amount I get is determined by my micloxin levels. We have some theories that it’s produced similarly, but we’ve not been able to figure it out.”

Harry steps away, running a hand through his hair. That’s actually a pretty good explanation. It aligns with the science she was explaining earlier and explains why the group acted so dodgy about her recharge process. He sighs, considering for a moment that he might have overreacted.

Well, honestly, it wasn’t that much of an overreaction, he realizes. Anybody would have been shocked to witness something like that unprepared.

“It’s the only way…?” he asks after a minute of thinking, “You’ve actually tried to find other ways, yes?”

Caitlin pipes up to give her friend a break from this intense moment, “Last year we extensively studied sertolix and were unable to determine any way to produce it other than through sexual contact. But, trust us, we all wanted to find a more convenient way to charge her powers.”

Stacy gives a small, half-laugh, “It’s ridiculous, I know, a meta who’s cursed to be stupidly horny all the time, and has to masturbate or have sex to use their powers, sounds like something out of a bad porno.”

Cisco starts to make a joke but thinks better about it and shuts his mouth.

Stacy and Harry’s eyes meet, and he is softened by the sadness in her’s. He realizes that she didn’t choose this, and the implications of such a condition begin to become apparent. The need to recharge her powers in such a way would make it impossible to put her in the field as a hero unless they had a better understanding of the changes her body had undergone to cause this. Such research must be awkward, no matter how close and laid back the team is. Hell, something like this would undoubtedly throw an odd color on any relationship she might try to have.

“I need… time… to process this,” Harry says, stepping away. “And we all have more important things to attend to anyway.”

“Didn’t you need some of Stacy’s blood? To finish the serum?” Cisco asks.

“I can get it later… later..” he starts to walk down the hall, away from all this crazy.

As she watches him walk away, Stacy folds her arms across her stomach, pulling into herself. “Do you think he hates me now?”

“No!” Caitlin tries to be reassuring. “I’m sure he just… he needs to adjust. We all needed to adjust.”

Cisco gives Stacy a pat on the back, “Anyways, who cares what he thinks? He’s a jerk.”

But Stacy cares.

#harrison wells #harry wells fanfiction #harry wells #harrison wells fanfiction #harrison wells earth 2 #harrison wells earth 2 fanfiction

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choco-mark · 4 years

Text

A Marriage of Inconvenience (4)

overall pairing: mafia!jeno x mafia!oc

overall genre: angst | smut | fluff

warnings: language, mentions of violence + death, oppression of women, murder/homicide, mentions of drugs + drug use + drugging someone else, mentions of severe injuries

summary: when two mafia gangs decide to end their family feud after decades, your mother decides to give your hand away to marriage of their son, lee jeno. he seemed to hate you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, but could the resolution lead to something much more than a bride and groom?

words: 4.1k

masterlist

requested by 🤡 anon

19 April

Jeno’s eyes trailed his older brother’s body, watching him walk in front of him while clenching his teeth, trying to get out of the grasps of his men. Taeyong had just barged into the van without a second word, his men killing each and every other soldier waiting to be dismissed except his two brothers, who were now being manhandled inside. “Don’t fight it,” he cooed, not looking back at Jeno as he glanced over to Mark, who was just as equally trying to get away. “I don’t want to kill you, you know. You are my brothers after all.”

“So then why are you abducting us?” Mark asked in an incredulous voice, the hallway coming to an end as Taeyong reached out the door in front of him, looking back at Jeno and then Mark. “Huh? Father was right, you’re insane!”

“Shut the fuck up!” He hissed back, closing in on Mark as his eyes scanned his face, lip tucking under his upper teeth as he tilted his head. “You don’t get it, Markie boy, you and your measly little baby brother here would never get it. Father had me start the second generation of NCT, I’m sure that you’ve figured it out by now, hmm? That’s how you’re here in the first place, you were clearly smart enough to track sweet Y/N’s messages, hmm? I knew you’d be able to do it,” he clicked his tongue, turning back around to give the door a bit of a tap.

“At least you’ll get to see your girl now, right baby Jeno?” Taeyong’s hand enclosed over the handle, giving it a harsh twist as he swung the door open, the red room with matching couches coming into view. His jaw dropped from the empty sight, only discarded roles littering the floor. “What the...”

“I can’t believe you fucking escaped,” Haechan snarled again, locking the handcuff around your wrist and then fastening the matching one to his own. “You were supposed to listen, sweetheart. It would have been much easier if you did so.” He raised his head, looking at your brother with hooded eyes. “I should’ve expected more from you too, you’re a Park after all.”

Your eyes, however, were fastened on the perfectly brandished knife that was tucked into the belt of the gorgeous man; just a single step backward and it could be in your hand, easily available to stab him with a sharp blow to the stomach. But it could only work if you were able to do it as quickly as possible, and in the condition you were in currently, you couldn’t trust yourself to move as fast.

The moment that he stuck his hand into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out yet another deadly syringe, your twisted his other arm back as you stepped behind him, yanking the blade from his belt and holding it to his throat. However, Haechan was faster, his leg pulling Jisung towards him, the tip of the needle threatening to push into his skin at any moment. He let out a breathless chuckle, his head tilting upwards as you didn’t make a move. “Put the knife down and I won’t inject him.”

You hesitated, your eyes now on Jisung, who’s face looked absolutely mortified as he struggled to get out Haechan’s grip around his body, the chains around his wrists clashing together as he felt the needle pierce his skin in the slightest. There was a momentary wince from him, enough to let you pull down your hand, dropping the knife to the floor with a loud clang.

“Good girl.” He pulled at his arm, forcing you to stand beside him once again, the leg around your brother falling as he pulled away from him. Haechan glanced over at you, your eyes already drooping from the effects of the drug beforehand, making him break out into a nasty smile. “Oh darling, you’re so tired already?”

His right hand inched closer to your cuffed wrist, his own hand outstretching your arm as you noticed the familiar movements, your head shaking on its own accord as you tried to pull away. But he was stronger, keeping you in place as the needle pierced into your vein, injecting the substance into your body in one slow shot. “It’s either you or him, baby.” You heard his voice floating around in your mind as you drifted off, the effects of the drug being different than before. Wait, but why do I feel so...

“You’re so brave for your family, Park Y/N.”

“Yeah, I got her,” Haechan’s voice was a low growl through the phone, calming Taeyong’s nerves as he continued to pace around the room, his eyes momentarily glancing to Jeno and Mark, who were now tied to the couches, their postures completely straight as they fought against the material. “Brother Park here got out of the rope and untied her too, apparently. He’s cuffed now.”

“Good,” he sighed into the speaker, a hand moving up to run through his dyed hair. “Bring them back to the red room. You gave them both a—” his sharp eyes focused on his youngest brother, who was currently giving him a look of death. “—dose, right?”

“We ran out. I knocked out Y/N, though, girl put up a bit of a fight when I threatened to touch the boy: tried to slit my throat.” There was a short, unamused chuckle from his end. “Open the door, the one on the right. She’s out cold, I’m gonna put her on the bed.” The call ended with that, the sound ringing through Taeyong’s ears as he sighed, waving away the rest of the men in the room.

There was a bed in the room, a king-sized bed in front the couch that his brothers were currently tied to; the sheets were made of an expensive silk, hopefully, he thought, expensive enough for your liking. It was a perfect deep red, basically waiting to cover your soft body as he had gotten that bed with the thought of you in his mind. Your sharp figures, the poise of your body, almost everything being concealed by the colors of the bed, soothing him deep inside as he moved towards to door, swinging it open.

Haechan pushed in Jisung by the neck, nearly making him fall to his knees in front of Taeyong before he caught himself, stumbling forward instead. His huge eyes fixed on the man, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion before the straightened out again as Taeyong grabbed the tall boy by the collar, forcing him towards the other couch. “I wouldn’t have lured you over if I knew you would pull your precious sister away,” he said, quietly enough for him to hear as he pulled out more rope from under the couch, wrapping him down immediately. “You Parks are so fucking disobedient.”

Jeno had a clue who the pink-haired teenager was, assuming from the way he looked completely terrified as he laid his eyes on him. His eyes fluttered over to Haechan, who was walking over to the rest of them with you thrown over his shoulder, an arm secured over your thighs as he realized who that was. “You...”

He snapped his head over to Jeno at the whispered sound coming from his throat, raspy as he realized who it was; his ego soared, knowing that he had his brother’s fiancee fastened over his shoulder with you having no actual control over yourself as he smirked at the older boy. “Fancy seeing you here, brother. Taeyong said you would come; I didn’t believe it. Oh Mark, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

His face was twisted as he walked over to the bed, carefully laying your body against the soft mattress. Jeno and Mark watched him intently, Jeno’s fists curling involuntarily when he saw the silver-haired man’s hand brush away a few strands of hair from your face, the touch making you stir softly. Haechan cooed at the sight of you, sighing as he wished to press his lips against yours once again, but there was a hiss from the other side, making him look up. “Hands off,” Taeyong chirped, taking a seat next to Jisung with his head still facing backwards, scowling in annoyance. “I already told you, Haechan. She’s mine.”

He rolled his eyes, stepping back but ignoring his older brother’s word as he focused on Jeno, who was watching him as if he was about to pounce at any moment. “You got yourself a pretty Park and you took it for granted,” he ran a hand through his hair, giving your unconscious body one last look as he made his way over to the couches. “You’re so spoiled, Jeno, you don’t even know her value. And Father gave her to you, out of all of us. So fucking spoiled.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” He shot back, even though he knew that Haechan was right. He had treated you like you were a piece of shit the entire time that you had been at their house, but it didn’t occur to him that not one, but two of his siblings were also pining after you. “What the hell did you do to her?!”

“And what do you mean she’s yours?” Jeno whipped his hair over to Taeyong, who was watching him in mock amusement as he raised an eyebrow. “What bullshit are you pulling, Taeyong? Abducting her from a mission that you were supposed to be at, both you and Donghyuck were supposed to be at, and using this place as what, your safe haven for some new mafia society? You do realize how fucking insane that sounds right?”

“No, Jeno, you don’t get it,” Taeyong deadpanned, glancing over at your brother, who was currently listening to the whole conversation in horror. Never did he think that your father giving away your hand to a Lee would lead to this, especially not including him, in the least. And now he was hearing that this was supposed to be some gang that he never heard about? “It’s not insane. You know why?”

“Because Park Y/N was supposed to be mine, right from the very beginning. Father set her up with you instead, because of what, some measly age difference? And brother, I already knew how you would treat her, just like you treat anyone that isn’t a Lee.” He sighed, leaning back against the soft cushions as he slapped a palm to Jisung’s thigh, startling the poor boy. “I wanted her to be the start of NCT 127. I wanted her to be my wife, a queen that would rule the way I wanted her to. But Father didn’t like that. She’s at the top of all of NCT, marked as one of the most graceful fighters, professional and beautiful. I’ve seen videos of her work before; her perfect slitting of a member of NCT Kim for trying to side-step her, that’s when I knew she had to be a part of the new generation. She’s perfect, Jeno, that’s what you don’t see. She’s better than you, than me, better than everyone else here.”

Taeyong leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he spread out his legs, cocking his head to the side. “That’s why Father sent you here, to get his precious treasure back before I’ve married her into the new clan. Isn’t that right? You aren’t here for your fiancee, or I should say, your ex-fiancee.” He opened his palm, the diamond ring that was fastened around your neck in a chain falling from a latch to his fingers, the jewelry dangling in front of Jeno and Mark’s faces. “It didn’t occur to me that this was the proposal ring until I saw it around her neck; she doesn’t wear necklaces, isn’t that right, Park?” He looked back at Jisung, whose eyes widened as he nodded slowly. “It’s pathetic, a fake ring around her neck. You couldn’t even put it around her finger like a man?!”

“It’s expensive,” Mark muttered under his breath, watching with pained eyes as he dropped it to the floor, a few sharp clangs ringing the room. Damn, I should’ve bought gold if I knew this was gonna happen. “Really expensive.”

A slow jolt went through your body, the last few loud words bringing you out of your hazed slumber. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, closing almost immediately as you took a strangled breath, the voice of Taeyong’s rant moving on as you tried to raise yourself from the bed, but failed. You felt so weak, so much more weak than before as you sat up in the slightest, taking account of what was happening front of you. Mark’s eyes focused to your stirring body first, stifling a gasp as he realized that you were awake, his anxiety of never leaving the red room slowly dissipating as he quickly glanced away, trying not to make it too obvious. Your eyes met his however, and they widened at the sight of him, and you blinked a few times: was that really him?

You recognized Haechan’s figure leaning against the opposite couch, his back facing you as you sat up completely, your posture catching Jeno’s attention as well. He didn’t give you a look, however, only acknowledging you for a moment as he quietly hoped that you would find a way to get them out of there. He was tied up, and so was Mark. The only one who was no longer chained was you, but you were already fazed from before, your mind being unable to process on anything that was going on.

Jisung. Jisung. Where’s Jisung? Your question was answered in an instant as you saw the dyed hair next to Taeyong, almost still as a statue as you realized that he couldn’t see you. He’s not hurt, right? He didn’t drug him, he injected me. I got it. I got the dose. Your thoughts were trying to convince yourself, making you shake your head as you tried to get back in focus. Mark and—Lee are tied to the couch though, probably Taeyong’s doing, I’m guessing. He really likes ropes, it looks like.

“ —She’ll love me eventually,” Taeyong’s voice finally found its way back into your brain as you swung your legs off the bed, grabbing a discarding knife on the bedside table at you tried not to make a noise, your footsteps being silent as you tried to listen to his words. You had already figured it out before, that Taeyong was the one who had requested for you to be sent over to the Lee household, that he was the one that wanted you to himself even though you were engaged to his brother. It sounded delusional. “That’s not the case, I don’t need her to love me yet. I have her now, and I’ll make her mine. One way or another. It’s just you that’s the problem.”

Your fingers wrapped around the hilt, the familiar feel coursing through your veins as you found a little control. Closing your eyes, you aimed the knife at the long torso of Haechan, leaning forward to throw it but hesitating. You weren’t sure if the man was even truly a follower in whatever Taeyong’s plans were, but from the way he had looked at you in sympathy when you had begged him not to drug Jisung, it didn’t seem like he wanted to.

Mark caught your eye, nodding over towards Taeyong almost immediately as he saw you perched to aim at the other brother’s back. You took note of it, watching as everyone was still focusing on his preaching words of his new gang, his new generation, with you as his newly wed queen. At the sound of that, you couldn’t help but let out a quiet hiss, which didn’t go unknown to Haechan as you let the blade go soaring as your eyes blackened out for a brief moment.

But you never missed, that was something that everyone knew, and the blade had now lodged into Taeyong’s right shoulder blade, making him fall forward as he groaned loudly. Haechan moved towards you, his arms outstretched as he realized your shaky movements, but you bent down, swinging your leg fast enough to sweep him off his feet, making him collapse to the ground in an instant. As fast as you could move, you ran over to where Taeyong was reaching for the blade in his back, but you were there first, pulling it out of him immediately. “H-Haechan, call for—backup.”

“You won’t need it,” you pulled him to the ground, tracing the knife through his shirt, seeing the trail of blood it left as you stuffed it into your belt, your fist giving him a hard few blows to the abdomen. You glanced over at Jeno, watching as he continued struggling against the ropes and handing him the blade instead, quickly focusing back on Taeyong. “How do you want to die? I can strangle you? Use the knife? Maybe the ropes—”

There was a hand in your hair, yanking you back painfully as you felt Haechan’s hand tangle further into your locks as you let out a squeal of surprise, your back pressing flush against his chest, his heavy breathing being evident in your ear as an arm fastened around your waist. “I treated you so well,” he whispered as your hand grasped his wrist, trying to yank it away from your head. “Is this how you repay me?” You were about to knee him when there was a huge force from your side, knocking the both of you towards Jeno and Mark as Haechan groaned, his grip loosening around you as you looked over at Jisung, who was now standing proudly, his foot having been used for a good work.

You noticed how Jeno was struggling to get out from the rope, and you moved forward quickly, grabbing Haechan and slamming him to the ground with all the force you had in your body. Snatching the knife, you cut through both Mark and Jeno’s ropes, setting their torsos free. There was a hand around your ankle as you leaned down to work at the ropes against Mark’s feet, making you fall down to the ground. “Stupid girl,” Taeyong muttered, dragging you closer to him as you grabbed at Jeno’s feet, slicing the rope in one motion to let him free. “Is that how you treat your fiancee?”

Jeno felt his blood boil at the words, his body taking over him as he stepped down on Taeyong’s arm harshly, clearly making a break to bone as he let go of his hold on you. Standing over him, he hoisted him up and against the couch, punching him painfully in the face a few times. “She’s not your fiancee,” he snarled, watching his knuckles grew with blood. “She’s mine.”

As you set Mark free, you watched as Haechan finally recovered from the shock, his consciousness coming back to him as you stood over him, watching the pretty man intently. Jisung was in front of him, his feet by his head as you gestured for him to come over to you, and he came immediately, standing beside Mark.

There was a burst of the door from the left side, a swarm of Taeyong’s men flooding into the room as Mark cursed under his breath, making you unaware for a moment as Haechan grabbed at your arm, making you fall down onto him. You pulled yourself up quickly, however, yet his strong leg kept you fastened to him, making you squirm. “You can’t get away now,” he chuckled softly, blood oozing from the corner of his lip. “You’ve lost, darling, just admit it.”

You stopped your movements for a brief second, the sound of his words ringing through you as you pushed yourself off of him, giving him a sharp, probably stinging slap to the face. “I don’t think you get it,” you kept your knees down on his arms, digging deep into his muscle as you felt like mocking him the way he had been doing to you this entire time. “I don’t lose.”

As the men started coming towards them, Jeno manhandled Taeyong to face away from him, pulling out the two glocks that he had stolen from the two of them, turning back to throw one at Mark. He also got his hands on a set of keys, realizing that they matched the colors of your brother’s cuffs, and he threw them his way, his eyes not moving to match his. Jisung caught them however, and Mark helped him out of them, giving him a stern yet soft look.

“You drugged me,” you continued, still looking down at Haechan, who was looking up at you with a twisted look, one that spoke a firm ‘i’m proud of it.’ “You drugged my brother, I shouldn’t let you go. I should kill you. Right now. Right here, right where you did it.” Your hands were already fastening around his neck as you heard Jeno and Mark shoot at the men, each of them falling instantly with a fatal hit. “I should—kill you.”

But the world seemed to go by you in a blur as Haechan’s expression never changed, the beautiful dusted look that would have enchanted anyone in a second brushing over you as you couldn’t bring yourself to actually close your fingers over his throat: to take his life away from him as quickly as he got it. “But you can’t, sweetheart. You won’t be able to kill me, because deep down, you know that you don’t have it in you.”

The words stung at you, engraving inside of your brain so deeply as you were hastily pulled off of him by Mark, who was urging you to leave with them. Your mind was still out of it, unable to focus on his face as he shook you by the shoulders, yelling something: let’s go? We have to leave? You weren’t sure, but he pushed you forward, making you move towards the door in a stumble.

Jeno was right behind you, Jisung by your side as you walked without control, not being able to understand the world around you. You felt hot, suffocated too: was it the summer? The heat was too much, maybe you should open a window. You shook your head violently, the red walls shaking in your vision. It’s not hot enough to open the window, turn on the fan instead.

“Lee Jeno!” You turned around at the shout of the broken voice, your name being called straight after as your mind spinned, the dizziness not registering anything except for an injured Taeyong sitting up with a gun pointed straight at you, right for your heart. But, you thought, your head tilting shortly, I thought he wanted to marry me. And maybe he did, maybe he wanted to marry you if you had agreed with him, but the bullet had already been shot, making you brace for impact.

But it never hit, a gasp coming from another as you forced your eyes open, your eyes falling on the tall figure in front of you, which fell to the ground in a short second. It felt like it happened in slow motion to you, from the way you noticed it was Jisung, your mind trying to process everything at once as you let out a silent scream, seeing the blood pooling out from your brother’s chest. Except it wasn’t silent, it was deadly, and you fell down beside him, kneeling to his face as you panicked, your heart nearly stopping at the sight of him.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. It was the only thing on your mind as you touched his body, his face, pulling him towards you as much as you could before there were hands on your shoulders, trying to move you away. Jeno, perhaps, but you didn’t care, your body shaking him away as you saw your tears ruining Jisung’s bloodstained T-shirt, the emotions becoming too much for you to realize as you continued blabbing out something, anything. He needs help, he’s hurt. He’s bleeding, he got shot. He’s hurt, Jisung’s hurt. Please help him.

Your mind went blank, your vision going dark, your body collapsing in an instance to the shock; and yet so much changed, a family torn apart by a single shot. Oh, isn’t it so sad?

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oh my god guys!!! it’s out finally after like..two weeks? a week? i’m sorry i made y’all wait for so long but this took..oh my god, a long time!! what’d you guys think??

638 notes · View notes

mymoonagedaydream · 4 years

Note

opening up to bucky about your childhood bc hydra tested on u :((

Rot

Summary: You’d never shared the details of your past with anyone before

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Language, horror themes

Author’s Note: This one is a little dark

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You hadn’t had a full night's sleep in years.

The human body is resilient and adaptable, at least that’s what Fury had told you, so you must have gotten used to functioning on just a few hours a night.

Still, you’d kill for even a small amount of peaceful, uninterrupted rest.

This was just another night you found yourself wearily staggering into the living room. You knew there was a small chance you’d bump into someone, but it was worth the risk, because your bedroom had become too closely associated with this torturous insomnia. Even in full daylight its darkness was overwhelming.

You huddled yourself into the corner of the sofa, clutching your knees to your chest and feeling hot tears begin to stream down your face. Crying had become almost second nature, you often didn’t realise it was happening until you felt the salty sting against your cheeks.

‘Nightmares?’

The gruff voice from the doorway startled you slightly. Bucky was somehow able to move in complete silence, you were completely unaware of his presence until he spoke.

You didn’t turn, instead just nodding and wiping your face as subtly as possible, hoping he hadn’t been standing there long enough to gauge how distressed you were.

The next thing you knew, he was leaning over the back of the sofa next to you.

‘You wanna talk about it?’

This was the most he’d said to you in the six months you’d been at the compound. Steve said he probably stayed away because you reminded him too much of his past, which you understood, but hearing that just made you feel even more like an inconvenience.

That’s all you were, a fresh opening on a healing wound.

‘I don’t know if that's a good idea.’

‘I’m sure I can handle it.’ He rounded the couch slowly and perched beside you, close but careful not to touch. ‘It’s good to talk.’

You let your eyes scan over his face, noticing his vaguely sallow complexion and the dark circles underneath his eyes. He obviously couldn’t sleep either.

‘I wouldn’t even know where to start.’

He gripped his knees and shrugged slightly. ‘What brought you to them?’

You were silent for a second, just thinking.

Maybe he was right, maybe it was finally time for you to open up.

It made sense to do it in the company of someone who could genuinely relate to some of your experiences, and something in Bucky’s face that you couldn’t quite put your finger on prompted you to trust him completely.

‘It was a new initiative. Hydra agents were sent to adopt twelve children from orphanages all over the country.’ The information spilled out of your mouth much easier than expected, like it’d been coiled up, waiting to break free. ‘Pretty smart, they knew we wouldn’t be missed.’

‘Jesus, I didn’t know they tested on kids.’

‘Maybe they thought we’d be more resilient against the serum or something, I don’t know.’

You felt the memories begin to flood back as you spoke, things you’d spent years trying to suppress were bubbling to the surface. To begin with, it was much less painful than expected, just a slow, steady drip of faint echoes that reverberated through your mind before slowly fading.

Then, out of nowhere, something snagged. You squeezed your eyes shut and winced, hard.

It was the room, you could see it again.

You could smell its heavy must, hear the ceaseless creaking of the pipes, feel the cold, damp floor beneath your bare feet.

‘Tell me what you’re seeing.’ Bucky’s words cut into your spiral, letting you plant one foot back in reality whilst the other stayed firmly in the room.

‘The cages. Lined up, six on each side, like a battery farm. Second on the left is mine.’

‘What happened there?’ You flinched and dropped your head, every nerve in your body screaming at you to let that memory go, when you felt Bucky’s hand softly land on your arm. ‘Stay with it.’

‘The man in the white coat. He came everyday with the syringes. Some of us begged to know what was in them but we were ignored, some of us struggled but we were held down. Then, the feeling-’

‘White-hot agony, in every vein.’

Your eyes flicked towards his, both of you gazing at each other in morbid silence for a few seconds. He slowly moved his hand down to meet yours, interlocking your fingers together and squeezing tight before prompting you to continue with a faint nod.

‘The, uh- the girl opposite me died on the second day, I never knew her name. Most of the time I can’t even remember her face.’ Your voice was heavy with guilt and shame, which made Bucky’s grip on your hand tighten even further. ‘Then, one by one, the rest of them followed. The symptoms were the same every time, as soon as the shaking started they knew they were going to die.’

‘Jesus. They should’ve known better than to put that shit into kids.’

‘They didn’t care what happened to us, they didn’t even check on us outside of the daily injections. It was just some sick experiment.’

‘That doesn’t make sense, surely-’

‘They didn’t even take away the bodies.’ Your voice started to crack. ‘Those people were my friends. I had to watch them rot.’

You only realised that you’d started crying again when Bucky’s free hand moved up to your face, his thumb wiping gently across both your cheeks as he gazed at you solemnly.

‘Were you the only survivor?’

‘Yeah. I was half-dead when SHIELD found me. Sometimes I think it would have been better if they hadn’t made it in time.’ You felt your bottom lip start to quiver. ‘But more often I just wish that I’d been the first to go.’

He immediately moved to circle your shoulders, shifting closer as he pulled you into his side and wrapped his arms around you.

Your body went completely limp.

You buried your face in his neck and let him support your weight completely, sobbing harder than you’d been able to for years.

‘You’re still here, y/n. You’re still here.’

---

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brandyllyn · 3 years

Text

In our own image... (28)

Chapter 28

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters...

My Masterlist

Word count: 2370. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) language.

Kina held her arms tight to herself, biting her lip to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She could feel her body jerking from the strain, hoped that the man behind her would assume the movements were related to the cold and not that her entire world was crashing down around her.

I’m yours.

Two words. Two words that had absolutely ruined her. Crawling into her heart and curling like a thorny vine, puncturing into her and injecting its poison directly into her veins. She had thought…

She had thought he was with her. Had thought that when his mouth was on hers and his lips caressed her that his mind was clear and he was with her. She had missed him terribly. Missed his smile and his laugh and that spark of joy inside of him that set fires into everyone around him. And yes, she had missed his taste and his kisses and his touch but above everything she had missed him.

I’m yours.

Two words. Two words that had shattered her certainty. Shattered her belief that everything was alright again. Was it him she was kissing? Or the soulless husk he had become when the Chasīar had sung his soul into their keeping?

And how would she know?

That was what hurt the most. She wanted to go back to Delacrix. To claw the eyes out of the women who had done this to him. To rip their voices from their throats and…

She took a shuddering breath. It would do her no good to think of what couldn’t be. She called up the Song of Stillness. She couldn’t sing it but the melody helped clear her mind regardless.

"Did I do something to you while I was… enchanted?"

Oh Chasī, why did he want to talk?

"No. Of course not."

Silence again. Then, "Did I try to do something? Did I… did I try to force you to-?"

She turned back to him so quickly she nearly elbowed him in the head, reaching for his shoulders beneath the blankets and shaking him. "No. Poe you couldn’t."

He captured her wrist in his hand, holding it softly. "Then tell me what it is."

She couldn’t think when he was looking at her like that. Soft and concerned and so him her heart could break. She tried to pull away again but his eyes narrowed and he gripped her harder.

"There is something you’re not telling me. And after everything, I think I deserve to know what it is."

He was right. He was right and she hated him for it. "It’s nothing you don’t already know," she said instead.

It was her turn to stare at his back. He let her go with a grunt, turning over with a soft curse. "Fine."

Kina ached to reach out to him. She rolled to lay on her back, staring up at the bunk overhead, hands clasped on her stomach. It was odd and intimate to be trapped under the blankets with him. Caught up in the warmth of him and the smell of his skin.

"You loved me."

She didn’t need to look at him to see him freeze. Could hear the breath catch in his throat.

"What?"

Swallowing, Kina turned her head away from him, staring into the pale shadows cast through the folds of the blankets. "You… you loved me and I don’t know…" She trailed off, unsure of how to move forward. He shifted his weight next to her and now she could feel his breath on her neck.

"I think I did. I probably still do." The tears came unbidden again. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to fight back the sob but his hand cupped her chin, turning her to face him. "Why does that make you so sad?"

"It’s not real," she choked the whistle out, trying to push him away from her. "It’s not real and I want it to be so much."

Poe caught her to him, pulling her body close to his and chasing the tears that fell from her eyes with his lips. "Sweetheart please don’t. Why do you think it’s not real?"

His sweetness overwhelmed her and she cried harder, giving in and pulling him close to her. Pretending for just a moment that he was still him and that this moment was something more than the echoes of what had happened to him. He held her tight to him, soothing his hands up and down her back, murmuring soft sounds into her ear.

"This song," Poe started and she blinked at him. "It… it made me worship you. Adore you. Yes?"

Kina nodded.

"But I did those things before that happened. Do you remember?"

She swallowed, trying not to. Trying not to remember the way he had touched her, held her.

"How am I supposed to convince you I don’t adore you - when I have from nearly the moment we met?"

Kina sighed, face scrunching while she thought about the problem. "I don’t know."

Poe was quiet, his hands still moving on her back. "What if we… What if you told me to do something? See if I can say no?"

"But you know I want you to say no," Kina whistled lowly and he cursed.

"Well shit, Kina, I’m not sure what you want me to do." She could feel his aggravation, his anger at the situation, rolling off of him.

"Don’t yell at me Poe, I don’t like this any more than you do."

They were both silent for a few minutes. Finally Poe grumbled, "I can’t think with you this close to me. I’m going to see if BB-8 has the heat working yet."

Kina bit her tongue when he slid out of the bunk, but she did shove one of the blankets at him. "Take this."

"You’ll be cold," he started to say but she gave a sharp whistle and cut him off.

"So will you, take the damn blanket."

Poe grunted at her and took the blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and pressing the door lock panel. A wave of warm air flowed into the berth and Kina sat upright, letting the blanket fall to her waist.

"What the hell?" Poe snapped, dropping his blanket by her feet and stepping into the hallway. "Why is our berth so kriffing cold if the ship’s heating is back on?"

Kina grabbed her translator, cuffing it to her forearm as she left her bunk and joined him in the hall. "I don’t know. We should ask the droids."

Poe nodded at her and crossed the hall towards the cockpit. Kina trailed behind him, running a hand along the bulkhead. The cockpit door slid open, but there was no one inside. When Poe turned back to her Kina was frowning, her hand pressed to the wall.

"What is it?" He asked.

"It’s warm."

Poe tilted his head, "Yeah, we know that."

Kina glared at him. "No, it’s warm. This thing would take hours to fully warm up. It hasn’t been hours."

Poe reached out and laid his palm on the wall next to hers. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying," Kina pulled her hand back and took off at a brisk stride, "that it never got cold out here. Not really. Certainly not as cold as our bunk."

"But Beebs said…" Poe caught her arm, stopping her just before the common area. "Are you saying BB-8 lied to me?"

"Let’s see." Kina crossed to where the two droids were docked, squatting down and tapping on the larger droid’s sensors. "BB-8, wake up please."

Lights flashed and the droid spun in place. "Hello Friend Kina are you-" The droid cocked its top unit and then froze. They spun more slowly in the opposite direction. "You look upset Friend Poe."

"I am upset," Poe snapped and Kina looked back to see he had his arms crossed and one foot tapping. "I’m upset because someone told me the heating was out and it would take hours to fix. But now we’re up and it seems like maybe the only heating out was in our bunk?" Poe squatted next to her. "BB, did you lie to me earlier?"

The droid spun but didn’t reply, lights flashing again. They rocked backwards a little, knocking into K-0 who lifted their photoreceptor with a muffled curse. "What want?"

"Stay out of this K-0," Poe snapped and Kina reached over and shoved his knee.

"Don’t bark at my droid."

Poe glared at her, "I’ll bark at whoever I damn well please. BB, tell me what happened. You’ve never lied to me before buddy." Kina made a scoffing noise but Poe ignored her.

"The heating was out, Friend Poe," BB-8 replied with a slow set of beeps and whistles.

Poe’s eyes narrowed. "For how long?"

"Twenty minutes," K-0 said in their deadpan voice and BB-8 whirled and bumped the smaller droid.

"K-0 stop."

"Hey!" Kina reached out and scooped up K-0, pulling them out of the way. "Do not." She set K-0 down and the droid immediately zipped around her and rammed into BB-8.

"Fight."

Poe reached out to stop the small droid and then yelped, pulling his hand to his mouth. K-0 tilted their array at him. "Want fight too?"

Kina grabbed K-0 again, this time with both hands, and stood up, backing away from the two on the floor. "This seems like it’s a you two problem."

"Don’t you dare," Poe pointed at her and Kina froze. In her hands, K-0 squirmed, their wheel spinning helplessly.

"Put K-0 down," the droid said.

"Are you going to attack Poe?"

"Yes."

Kina sighed, "Then no."

"Bad Kina."

Kina parted her lips to reply and then raised an eyebrow at Poe. "Your friend is leaving."

"BB-8," Poe bit out sharply and the droid rocked backwards from where they had been trying to slip away unnoticed, slowly spinning their top unit back to Poe. "You get back here right now and answer me."

BB-8 looked so sad as they rolled back to Poe Kina almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

"Why did you want us to think the heating was out?"

BB-8’s answer was so low Kina couldn’t hear it. She carefully squatted down again next to Poe, resting K-0 on the ground but holding the droid in her hands.

"What was that?"

"We wanted you to be cold," BB-8’s answer was louder this time but no less confusing.

"Why would you want us to be cold?"

"So touch," K-0 interjected helpfully.

Kina frowned at the droid and then looked at Poe. "You wanted… you wanted us to touch? Touch what?"

"Each other," BB-8 said mournfully, a sad whistle punctuating the statement.

Poe looked as confused as Kina felt. "I don’t understand…"

"Friends were happy together. We wanted Friends to be happy again." BB-8 bumped Poe’s knee, an obvious bid for affection but Poe ignored the gesture.

"You were trying to force us together?" He asked sharply instead.

"No!" BB-8 spun more frantically. "Not force. Just… help."

Poe sighed, pointing a finger at the droid. "You can’t do this Beebs. You can’t lie to me or break things. That’s not okay."

BB-8 looked so dejected that Kina couldn’t help but defend them. "They were only trying to help."

Poe glared at her. "I can’t have my droid going off on his own harebrained schemes. I need to know I can rely on him."

"You can rely on me Friend Poe," BB-8 bumped his knee again - and again Poe ignored them.

"You lied to me Beebs," he snapped. Kina reached out with one hand, stroking along BB-8 and felt the droid turn towards her, nestling to her knee instead.

"You’re making them feel bad." She stroked BB-8’s sensors soothingly.

"Good." Poe braced his hands on his knees and stood up, glaring down at them.

"God you’re being such an ass." Kina stood as well, the weight of the two droids against her calves as she rolled her eyes at Poe.

"And you’re not taking this seriously enough. BB-8 could have killed us."

"No!" BB-8 whistled.

"Oh for fuck’s sake," Kina shook her head. "The only danger we were in was numb toes."

Poe poked her in the shoulder with one finger. "Just because they’re people doesn’t mean they can’t do anything wrong. BB-8 did something wrong."

Kina batted his hand away, "If you put your hand on me again you need to be prepared to lose it."

"Is that so?" He poked her again, eyebrow raised. "Who’s going to stop me? K-0?"

"Bad man."

She didn’t bat his hand away this time, just reached out to grab his thumb and twist it back. But he was expecting her, pulling his arm and shifting his shoulder back as she reached out. "You wanna fight? Cause I’ve had a really bad fucking week and I could use it."

Kina froze, jaw dropping open. "We’re fighting," she whistled softly, shock covering her face.

"Yeah we are."

She shook her head and reached out, grabbing his shoulders. "No, Poe. We’re fighting."

He glanced down at her hands on him, arching an eyebrow. "Is that-?"

She didn’t let him finish his sentence. She fisted her hands into the material of his shirt and pulled him to her, slamming her lips to his. He sank into it immediately, his arms wrapping around her and his tongue delving into her mouth. Whatever energy he had been channeling turned to passion, his hands catching into her hair and moving her head just so.

Kina melted into his embrace, letting him lead, letting him do whatever he wanted. She reveled in the taste of him, the smooth strokes of his tongue against hers. The way he held her tightly to his body.

"What-?" He started to ask, breaking away to put a breath of air between them.

"Take me to bed Poe Dameron," she whistled and he groaned, kissing her again and backing her out of the commons.

"Plan work," K-0 said and Kina opened her eyes and looked over Poe’s shoulder. K-0 bumped into BB-8 softly and both droids watched them leave.

Kina could only hope Poe hadn’t heard them.

Chpt 29

#poe dameron #poe dameron x ofc #poe dameron / ofc #star wars sequels #star wars fanfiction

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rosierocks30 · 3 years

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Hidden: Ch. 20

Chapter 20: Dancing with the Devil

(Levi/Arne)

It was dark and smelly. He can hear drops of water from wherever he was placed. Arne woke up from being knocked out at the tarven. He realized this was a cell and his wrists were cuffed to the wall. The son of farmers felt anxious from wanting to know where his wife was. Is Ingrid safe? Are they harming her? Is their unborn child safe too? So much fear of what ifs ran through his mind.

Arne heard noises of the guards coming towards his cell. The sound of keys shuffled as the guard inserted the key into the lock and unlocked the cell’s bar. Once the guard opened, he shouted at Arne. “Prisoner, I see you’re awake. We’re moving you to the other dungeon.”

Arne barely noticed the guard had a dark mask on his head. Probably concealing his identity. As Arne was uncuffed from the chains, the guard dragged him away from the cell. His body was a bit weak from who knows what they use to knock him out.

The silence was killing him. All he saw the cold hallways leading to the other parts of the dungeon. The dark haired prisoner glanced at a room where a wooden like table was in the middle.

Two others went to grab Arne and placed him on the wooden table. They strapped him down tightly with thick leather belts.

“As a punishment for crimes, the king made you his labrat for risky experiments. The scientist will arrive soon.” The guard said.

Not too long, a man arrived and looked at Arne. “Aw this is my latest subject?”

Latest? So there were other unfortunate lads before him? He won’t be surprised if none had survived from whatever sick experiment the king had approved.

“Hello there! I’m Gabriel Hange, the king’s new scientist. You looked well fitted than my previous subjects. Good good. We’re gonna need a healthy one. Hopefully, you will be my breakthrough!” He giggled with excitement.

Arne was already irritated with this mad lad. The scientist Gabriel dismissed the guards when they left the room. Now it was him and this deranged man. “It;s just you and me. Before I start, what questions do you have?”

Arne does have many questions but most of them won’t get answered as this scientist might not know it. “What do you plan on doing to me?” He asked.

“You’re a man of getting to the straight answers? Well, let’s start at the beginning. The king had wanted a loyal knight to serve and obey him only. So I was granted an audience with him when he heard about my theory of it’s possible to create a titan in it’s human form without shifting into one of the nine titans or being pure mindless ones.” Gabriel explained to Arne.

“So basically I will become a weapon?” Arne said.

“Yeah, something like that if you survive.” The scientist said.

Arne doesn’t have a choice since he was tied to the table. He closed his eyes to pray to the gods and goddesses to protect his wife and their unborn babe. “Let’s just get this over with.” He mumbled.

“Yes, yes. I hope you make it through, sir.” The dark brown haired man said.

“I’m not a knight. Just a peasant farmer.” He glanced at Hange the scientist.

“Of course, then what shall I call you?” He said.

“Call me Ackerman.” Arne said.

Gabriel nodded in accepting the other’s request. “Alright Ackerman this will hurt.”

Arne took a deep breath to mentally be prepared for the pain he will endure. As he felt a burning pain inside his veins, Arne grunts from trying to not let this pain consume him. Gabriel had injected a small dose of blue liquid into the bloodstream of Arne’s veins. The scientist wanted to start off a small dose before giving the all the blue serum like fluid to his test subject. The dark brown haired man with glasses watched how this man endures the pain. Usually, the other test subjects begin to scream for mercy. Their bodies become purple as the serum slowly deteriorates their organs and melts them until blood comes out from their noses, eyes, ears, and mouth. It looked like a deadly poison killed them. Technically, this serum is like poison. This prisoner hasn’t shown signs of bleeding from nothing of the areas the scientist had seen with others.

“You are strong for enduring this small dose. Let’s see if you can handle half of the serum I have.” Hange said. He connected a bag with serum to the tube that’s connected to a needle on Arne's arm. He slowly squeezed the bag as the fluid went into Arne’s bloodstream. Arne felt sweats and heat from his body raising its temperature for trying to kill off the foreign fluid inside his body. Finally, the scientist finished the bag.

“Alright, all done. We’ll just have to wait until the next day if you make it or not to add another bag of fluid into you. For now, I will observe how your behavior and symptoms react to the serum.” He said.

Arne couldn’t answer him as he still felt his body on fire. He began to scream when the fluid began to boil in his blood. Oh gods, this is the worst torture ever. He was thinking death would be more pleasant.

No...he can’t think like that. He must get this through to escape and find Ingrid. Ingrid and the babe need him. He must survive. He’ll live and protect his family.

The sequence turned white and Levi Ackerman woke up with sweats and fever. The raven haired man grunts from the fever and the pain he felt from his body. Davos and his assistants rush to get him stable. Levi’s vitals were going off the chart. The captain felt hallucination of seeing a familiar blonde beauty that he loves and cherishes.

“Historia….” His wife’s name whispered breathlessly from his dry chapped lips then darkness greeted him.

Levi’s eyes opened slowly as the view was not the white room nor the dungeon cells. Where the fuck is he? Where did they move him this time? He slowly sit up and heard heavy chains move. He glanced down to see his wrists were cuffed and chained to the bed. He could smell sterile and medicine. Did they put him in a hospital? A figure appeared before him. The figure was an old man with few hairs on his head. He has a genuine smile on his face which Levi senses this man must be the doctor from the uniform white robe they wear. Right next to him was a familiar brat he used to kick the shit out of him to save his life.

“Had a nice nap, Captain? The doctor had to make sure you won’t die on us, but you are Humanity’s Strongest. You’re too hard to die anyways.” Eren smirked.

Eren is lucky Levi was chained and weak at the moment from kicking his ass again. Levi glared at the Titan Shifter.

“How unpleasant to see you, Jaeger.” He mumbled.

“You might find it hard to believe but I’m not the enemy, captain.” Eren said.

Levi scoffed as he does find it hard to believe. “Tch.”

“We have a lot of catching up to do because Historia has begged me to help you out to escape the palace and sent you back to the Assassins and the soldiers.” Erren whispered.

Levi glanced at him in confusion. Is this a joke? Eren had decided to play the good guy? Levi doesn’t want to fall for this brat’s tricks. Did Historia contact Eren to help out?

“Look Levi, Historia and I made a pact to help you get out of here. Most of the soldiers are planning to strike soon. I am spying for the military and the assassins. I had to convince Davos to let the doctor check up on you. As to him and the templars, you’re valuable to them.” Eren said.

“Didn’t you want the whole world to end to save Eldia or some fucked up shit?” Levi finally spoke.

“I did, but my perspective had changed.” Eren’s thoughts were on Natasha when he said that.

“You have done fucked up shit. So give me a reason why I should this time believe you have changed?” The assassin may be weak from recovering from a high fever but his tone was dark.

Eren frowned; he remembered the atrocious he had committed for the sake of freedom to the Eldians. In his mind, he had to become a great villain for the world to be untied and defeat him while freeing the curse. Now, his selfish desire had altered his destiny. He wants to do whatever it takes to protect his girl and their unborn. He wanted to give them peace and freedom without causing the majority of the world into chaos.

“We both have something in common.” Eren said.

“Like what?” Levi said.

“Being a father. My kid will be born in nine months and I want this mess that I create be dealt with before he or she comes into this world. I want to keep my family safe. I know you want that too for Historia and your son. So, this is what’s going to happen. While most of the people are busy attending the ball, me and two others, Rick and Reggie will help you out to sneak away from the city. But I won’t go out of the city since I need to be here to play the “good brother”.” Eren explained to Levi.

“What about Historia? I am not going to leave without her.” Levi hissed.

“I understand you want to take her away from this hell, but she needs to be here in order to work. Her alibi will be the ball as queen she will be too busy attending guests at the ball. I promise to you that she will not be harmed. The Brotherhood and Paradis needs you as much this nation needs the soldiers. Marley finally regains their country from the Templars’ soldiers. Reiner is one hella Commander in Chief.” He chuckled.

“The Armor Titan was made into a Commander? Didn’t know Marley had sympathy to allow an Eldian to rise from the ranks.” Levi said.

“Yeah, I guess it was the templars who made this side of the world more united than I did.” Eren chuckled darkly.

“Promise you will keep her safe if I go?” Levi finally gave in.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure she will be safe.” Eren confirmed.

Levi nodded. “Alright, but I’m holding on to your promise, Jaeger.” The shorter man said.

Both men begin to plan out to sneak Levi away from the Templars’ grasp. It’s a good thing the King was still out of the country to deal with some templar business.

(Gilbert)

Ever since he accepted Alexander de Lorenzo’s offer, Gilbert had been receiving expensive gifts from many places around the world. Whenever he meet up the Grandmaster, they had an amazing sex. It felt exhilarating and forbidden. Gilly still received love letters from Nathaniel as the king was on a business trip along the Grandmaster. But Alexander somehow convinced Nathaniel to let Gilbert be in charge of the templars and the people of Paradis even by law it should be the queen. As if he’ll let that man stealing harlot gain more power than him. He had worked his ass off to get where he is. Right now, he had to attend the ball along with her. Ugh they have to work together to make this charity ball successful. This will show both of his lovers that he is capable of taking on a big role. He will not fail. The tailor was adjusting Gilbert’s outfit for the ball. It came from Italy where Alexander was from.

“My Lord, this suit is at it’s finest. Such a luxurious material can’t be found on this side of the world.” The tailor praised him.

“Yes, this is one of a kind.” Gilly gloated.

“It’s all set to be used at the ball. I hope you have a wonderful time. You will be the center of it tonight!” The tailor said.

“Yes, of course.” he smirked.

The ball had started and Gilbert was wearing a viper mask made of gold and crushed diamonds which it’s one of the gifts Alexander gave him. The guests had arrived with their masked on and the outfits were filled with so many colors. The tables of food from all over the world were displayed. The music plays with joy to dance and mingle. So far the ball was looking perfect. It would be magical if this bitch next to him was locked in her room and not greeting the guests. This was supposed to be his night instead the guests praised the queen how beautiful and breathtaking she looks. She was wearing a silver ball gown with the top silk material and the hem was puffy with flower patterns. The chest of the gown was shaped into a heart as her breasts were pushed up a bit. It would be inappropriate but since the Templars took control, Alexander had encouraged Nathaniel to bring in modern fashion and lifestyle even though Nathan wanted the old ways when King Karl had reigned in this island.

Historia’s mask looked like a delicate swan with white and silver. The eye shape had dark shade. She was a Swan Queen as the nobles and Higher class praised. After greeting, he took a glass of champagne to drink and tried to not let her ruin the rest of the night. He will be praised and admired by the end of the night.

(Hange)

Today half of the people are heading out of the walls to prepare to meet their allies across the sea. It’s clear Mikasa had made Hizuru their allies again. Marley had become their allies as well. This was a historical moment. For centuries these two sides were enemies until now.

The Commander of the Survey corps had been alone writing her journal since who knows if her journal could end up in some museum or used as a school research paper.

She and William had been strategizing to give a surprise attack to the templars. But first they are waiting for Eren helping Rick and Reggie to sneak Levi out of the palace. Once it is done, they will give their second base which it’s at the coastline of this island. To let their allies in and heading towards here to take back their home. If Marley was capable of winning their nation so the Paradisian can.

(Sasha)

The female Eldian soldier was having the time of her life residing in the city that never sleeps. New York City was so pretty with light during nights. She had tried many cuisines of different cultures. She was in heaven. The baby had been so far easy to take care of. Atticus had been a good boy. He rarely cries unless it’s necessary. He was a curious baby when toys were given to him to play. Only soft ones as he is just a month old. For a month old, he was a big boy. Sasha thought this kid will be tiny like his parents. Maybe the prince inherited a tall gene from somewhere. That would be funny if the baby grew up to be taller than both of them.

Sasha was strolling with the baby stroller to enjoy nature in Central Park. It’s not like the nature she grew up with back home in her village, but this will do. She spotted a nice big tree where she can place a big blanket and have Atticus lay down to enjoy the fresh air. He had been cooped up in the house for weeks. A child should start embracing nature at this age. Sasha's parents had taken her outdoors when she was days old. As it was tradition back at her village.

She may not be a pro at raising babies but she will from now raise the boy as the way she was raised. Once the blanket was spread Sasha placed the big bag on the blanket then gently picked up Atticus who giggled with joy from being picked up. He loves being carried. This kid was definitely a prince.

“What a cute boy you are?” She coos at the infant.

Atticus squeals in delight. He was laid on the blanket. Then Sasha places his toy jungle gym over him so he can kick and play. Today was a clear warm day with a breeze. Is this what it feels like to be free from discrimation, oppression, war, titans and corruption? This was a true paradise. Sasha didn’t have to worry for her life, but she felt guilty because back home her comrades and family are there where danger lurks.

Sasha smiled at Atticus who was too entertained with his toys dangling over him. She didn’t notice someone’s presence when her mind was drifted away from thinking nostalgia memories with her friends from Levi’s squad.

“What a cute baby you have?” The man looked at Atticus which the infant stopped playing to glanced at the stranger.

Sasha quickly sits up to be on alert if this man gives any bad intentions. “Yes, he is cute. Isn’t he?” Her brown eyes stared at his brown eyes.

“I mean it makes sense since he got his cuteness from his mother.” The man gave a flirty smile at her which Sasha responded with a blush from his bold comment.

“Thanks but I’m not his mother. I’m just his auntie well sorta. It’s really complicated.” She chuckled.

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought he was yours, but that’s a good sign because you’re not with anyone, right?” He grinned.

“I- right. I don’t have a boyfriend if that’s what interests you.” She said while her brow raised up.

“That definitely interests me. By the way, the name is Niccolo Browns. What’s your name?” The man with blonde short wavy hair smiled.

“My name is Sasha Braus and this cutie is Atticus Ackerman.” She glanced at the baby who was again busy playing with his toys.

“Oh what a beautiful name you have, Sasha. The kiddo got a cool name. His parents must have out a lot of thought into his name.” Niccolo said.

“Thank you. Your name sounds fun to say.” Sasha repeated his name especially because she likes the way his name sounds.

“Thanks, I’m glad my name sounds fun to you.” He laughs from hearing her saying his name in different ways.

“So, I notice you’re not from here? Your accent is hard to figure out where you’re from.” Niccolo had been thinking where her accent came from. It’s definitely not any European country. Is she from a Marleyan colony region?

Sasha paused to think if it’s safe to tell this man where she’s from? There’s a chance he may not have heard the Eldian people and the conflict the Eldians dealt with most of the nations from the other side of the world. She took a glimpse at Atticus. The female soldier made a promise to protect the prince at all cost. She can’t let her selfish desires jeopardize the child’s life.

“I’m from an unknown country that not many people knew about.” Sasha said.

“Ah I see...trying to be mysterious?” He grinned. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me yet.”

“Sorry, I’m a refugee so this place is still a culture shock, but the food here feels like heaven.” Sasha felt a drool escaping from her mouth at the thought of food.

“Oh a refugee? I’m sorry to hear that. I bet it’s hard to adjust to a new life here? Hold on, you’re a foodie? This makes it easier to woo you.” Niccolo crossed his legs to sit on the grass to be comfortable.

“It’s ok. One day, I will be able to go back home.” Sasha was curious what he meant about wooing her with food? “You know good places to eat?”

Niccolo’s eyes sparkled as she asked him where are the best places to eat in NYC. “I have a restaurant in the Upper East Side.”

“Wait, you’re a chief? That’s so cool. I will happily be your food taster.” Sasha grinned with joy. Food was her passion. She loves to eat that sometimes her friends have to drag her out from a tavern before they get kicked out.

Niccolo was happy to hear she will taste his food whenever he creates a new dish for his customers.

“I would be honored for you tasting my food. Maybe this weekend, I'll show you my restaurant and I’ll make a spectacular dinner. You’ll be the first to try a dish I have created recently. What do you say? A date?” Niccolo glanced at Sasha in hoping she accepted to have a dinner date with him.

Sasha contemplates whether to go on a date with him or not. If she asked her new friend to babysit Atticus maybe she’ll agree to go on a date.

“Yes, it’s a date.” She smiled. Niccolo was pleased she said yes.

(Eren)

It was now the perfect hours to get Levi out of the clushes from the enemies. He had a little meeting with Reggie and that Rick guy. They plan on meeting him and Levi with a carriage full of metals.

The green eyed Titan shifter had Levi dressed up as one of the Jeagerists. Both former comrades could hear the sound of the music and the people chatting. Eren thought of Natasha being there probably bored. He remembered her telling him how she hated going to social events. She dealt with her boredom by drinking and probably flirting with some random guy to where she takes him home for the night. Of course, this is different. She’s with his child. He hopes this escape plan with Levi will go smoothly. Eren wanted to be with his lover to hold her and give sneaking kisses.

The quad holder titan shifter stared at the entrance where the ball was held. Right where Queen Historia was greeting, Eren spotted the woman he loved was also greeting and talking to the arriving guests. He was struck by what Natasha was wearing. Her dress was hugging her body. It looked like it’s her skin, only there were sprinkling diamonds on the top of the dress. Down where the hem of the dress was split on both sides to let her legs exposed including a bit of her thighs. Her mask was a gold and emerald venetian butterfly shape. It covered the upper part of her face. To Eren, she looks mystifying and beautiful.

Levi interrupted him from gazing at Natasha so far away. “So is that your woman huh?” He whispered.

Eren glanced at the captain then nodded to confirm. He could tell that Levi was also staring at Historia so far away. He understood how painful it was to not be with their lover without putting them in danger.

“We’ll get through this, kid. One day, we’ll be with them, but right now we need to be focused.” Levi’s tone was compassionate towards Eren. Long ago, Levi was like a mentor and older brother towards Eren during the time when he was a soldier with one purpose to destroy all titans to free humanity. Now that purpose has changed overtime from learning the truth.

“Right…” Eren takes in this rare moment of Levi being understanding.

Both men resume to walk away the entrance of the ball before they get caught. By the time they exited the palace. Rick and Reggie were already on the carriage with leftover materials covered by a heavy cloak. Quickly, Eren led Levi to hide under the cloak where the materials are.

“Alright guys, be safe and careful. There are many guards tonight because of the ball in this city, but once you get out of the city, you’ll be fine. Send me a letter when you guys make it so the queen can know this escape plan has worked.” Eren said.

Rick and Reggie nodded. “Understood.” Reggie the assassin said. However Rick had one thing on his mind.

“Eren, please let Eve and Maggie know that I couldn’t make it to the ball.” Rick said with a guilt on his expression.

“Alright. I’ll let them know.” Eren said.

“Oi, we should go now before we get caught.” Levi said from under the cloak. All four nodding then the carriage begins to stroll away. Eren watched them leaving the palace. As he can’t see them anymore, the former leader of Jeagerist goes back to the palace.

While Eren was walking to go to his room, Floch stopped him. “Hey Eren, your brother was looking for you.” The green eyed man glanced at the red haired man. He noticed how Floch’s face was covered with bruises and a swollen eye. His cheeks were puffy due to being kicked repeatedly. This looks like how he had looked when Captain Levi beat the living shit out of him to save him from being executed during the first trials of the discovery of being a titan shifter.

“What the hell happened to you?” Eren looked at the red haired Jeagerist.

“Eh, it was some bitch that was playing hard to get.” Floch mumbled annoyingly.

“Playing hard to get or you can’t take a no?” Eren’s sly comment made Floch glared at him. Once upon a time, Floch was one of his loyal followers. This guy admired and praised him like he was some god. When he came back to be a spy for the Assassins, Floch’s behavior became estranged and mad. He assumed power got over his head. As Floch now became the second powerful man in the Jaegerist group, Eren can see him being too entitled, especially having women coming to him. Of course, he had heard rumors Floch won't’ hesitate to cross the line if a woman doesn’t respond to his advances. It disgusts Eren to the core. Floch reminded Eren the First Fritz King when he took Ymir the Founder as his concubine/consort.

“Shut up, Eren. You can’t say shit when you use Belia to warm your cock.” Floch scowled at him.

Eren’s facial expression became dark. He didn’t hesitate to pinned Floch to the wall to remind him who is still in high rank.

“Whatever me and Belia had was an agreement we used each other to fulfill our needs behind closed doors.” His hand gripped tightly on to Floch’s neck. Between him and Floch, Eren is stronger than him. The power of being a titan holder gave him abnormal strength. The only who can compete with a titan shifter’s strength are the Ackermans. They were created to defeat a titan shifter or a pure titan.

He watched how Floch’s eyes widen with fear. The coward forgot not to pissed off a titan shifter like Eren Jaeger.

“T-that’s not what she told me. She thought you and her were together.” The other growled.”

“And you believe her? You know what, don't answer that. Like I said, there was no us between me and Belia so you can tell her to stop with her lies and tell everyone we’re together. She’s too delusional.” Eren scoffed and dropped Floch as he wouldn't waste his time on Floch nor whatever Belia had been telling the Jaegerists. He should have not pursued sleeping with Belia in the first place. It’s one of the main reasons he distanced himself from her. She’s just batshit crazy.

“Of course, she is my cousin, you fucker.” Floch coughed while being on the ground.

Eren didn’t bother to give him attention. He kept walking to find Zeke. Finally, he entered Zeke’s study room which Nathaniel provided him when their alliance was formed. He knocked on the door to hear his brother to tell him enter. His hand turned the knob to open the door and saw Yelena there. It’s rare to see Zeke without Yelena being with him. Even when Eren needed to have a private discussion, she was always there. It irritated him.

“Ah little brother. I’m glad you’re finally here. Make yourself comfortable.” Zeke glanced to see Eren entering.

Eren goes to lean against the wall instead of sitting on a chair. He waits for Zeke to say whatever it was.

“Eren, had you visited Ymir through the Path lately?” Zeke said.

“No, I haven’t. She has been quiet lately, but I will try tomorrow night.” The younger Jaeger brother said.

“That’s strange. She usually keeps in contact with you. Yes, try again when you can. You should wear something formal for the ball, little brother.” Zeke was already dressed in his suit for the ball. His mask was laying on the desk.

Yelena was for once wearing a dress and not a suit like she usually does whenever she attended a social event. Her dress was surprisingly shiny where the flowers pattern spread from the top to the bottom of the gown. Probably, Zeke convinced her to wear something nice for this ball. She was already wearing her mask.

“I’ll think about going to the ball or not.” He said.

“Ah come on Eren. Live a little. You need to have fun once in your lifetime. You dance or flirt with some pretty girl at the ball. Maybe take Belia with you. I heard you two have been very familiar with each other alone.” Zeke grinned.

The dark hair titan holder scoffed when he mentioned Belia. He will have a talk to her. This was all a misunderstanding. If Natasha hears any of these rumors, his chance with her will be over. That’s something he can’t allow. He won’t let anyone come between him and her and their unborn child.

He pushed himself off from the wall. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

Zeke noticed how his brother got irritated when he mentioned Belia. What Eren doesn’t know? He had spied on him and the handmaiden girl, Eveline Potts. It makes all sense how Eren behaves around her. His eyes were full of love and compassion. Something he had never seen his little brother act. This had worried him since there’s a chance his brother might not go with their plan. There’s two alternative plans both Zeke and Yelena could do. Either offer Eren to let his child born if he continues the plan or cause an accidental death of Eveline Potts. Something Levi's words had sunk in his mind. His little brother is a hot blooded man and he did spend so much time with Eveline, but he also spent time with Belia. Maybe he should ask Yelena to check if Belia is not with a child too. Zeke will only let one child from his brother exist.

“Yes, we are done here. You can go now. Oh, if you do have fun tonight make sure you are extremely careful. You don’t want to end up having some poor bastard child born into this hateful world.” He said.

This made Eren’s hand shaken on the doorknob. He was now suspicious what his older brother meant by that? Maybe it was nothing since he had once slept with Belia many times. Yeah, that’s what Zeke meant.

“Don’t worry about that. I am careful.” Eren opened the door then walked out. He shut the door. He was panicking inside. Does Zeke find out about Natasha and the baby? Damn it. He should have made Natasha leave with Rick, Levi, and Reggie. Fuck what Rico and the others will say. His growing family’s safety is his main priority. Guess he’ll be going to the ball to talk to her about leaving the palace.

When Eren reached his room, he saw a suit already laid out for him to wear. Next to it was a mask for the ball. He sighed then began to get ready for the ball.

(Eve/Natasha)

Earlier that night as the ball had just begun, Eve finished getting ready as she put on the emerald earring studs her grandmother let her borrow for the night. For the final touch she slipped the ring that Eren proposed to her. His mother’s ring was perfect for the dress she was wearing. It’s too controversial, but the Templars wanted to bring a modern lifestyle to this island. Let’s see if the crowds are ready for her entrance. Natasha is a Stark and the Starks are the center of the attention. Tonight, she is the late Tony Stark’s granddaughter.

After being ready, she went to Historia’s chamber, who gasped seeing how beautiful Eve looked. Eve blushed from receiving praises from her own grandmother. Of course, Eve complimented Historia’s gown. She looked like a queen in her own rights.

“Are you ready, your majesty?” Eve said. Historia gave a smile and nodded.

“I am. Let’s leave. The guests should arrive by now.” The blonde woman came out of her bedroom and saw a few of her ladies chatting excitedly about the ball. One of them was Belia who happened to be a Jaegerist. What Natasha researched on Belia? She is the daughter of some lord and a mistress who’s related to Floch. Basically, both Olivia and Floch are cousins. That woman had given Eve hateful glares. It doesn’t bother the female Ackerman, but it all makes sense how they resemble each other.

At the moment, Eve ignores her and focuses on the queen. The queen was in lead. Eve was almost next to her but a few inches behind her the rest of the ladies were behind Eve. She won’t be surprised if they all were offended in why the queen allowed a handmaiden in front of them who are noble blood. Eve may have royal blood but this time era no one knows beside Eren. By the time, they all entered the ballroom. People made eye contact with them, especially when the queen had arrived at the scene. The guests praised the queen on how beautiful and elegant she looks tonight. The brunette could hear the noble ladies were giggling and enjoying the attention they are also getting. Natasha was walking like the ballroom floor was the runaway. She may not have been a model but she was a fast learner whenever she had attended a Fashion show with her nana long ago.

The queen began to greet the guests along with this guy Gilbert. Eve was quiet waiting patiently for the queen to be finished greeting. Meanwhile, she observed the crowd. She spotted Eren all the way at the hallways before entering the ballroom. He’s probably busy dealing with whatever a Jaegerist does. Finally, the greeting was over and Historia gave her ladies including her a dismissal for them to enjoy the event.

Now, Eve goes to find her friend and his girlfriend. They were supposed to be here by now. As she was browsing through the crowds, some men had their eye on her. She can see the way they look at her like she’s some prize to possess. Eve noticed she was not the only one wearing a controversial outfit. Oh god, she hopes they don’t come towards her to ask for a dance. Just when luck was not on her side, a man approached her with confidence while sipping a glass of champagne. Wonderful. She is craving for a glass or more of champagne.

“Hello you, majestic beauty. I haven’t seen you before. Shall I be your first to dance?” He smirked. The pregnant woman was about to reject the man but a certain obnoxious woman decided to step in for her.

“Yes, she would love to dance with you, my lord.” Belia pushed her towards the nobleman which he caught her from falling. Eve can feel his hands on her waist. The heiress glared at the other woman who had a smirk.

The man dragged her to the dance floor. Eve observed how the people are dancing. It looks like waltz so she positioned herself to dance. His hand gripped on her hip which he was supposed to place it on her back. She glared at the man.

“Hey you’re supposed to have your hand here.” She removed his hand from her hip to place it on her back.

“I do apologies, my lady. It seems my hand has a mind of its own.” He grinned.

“Huh right.” She rolled her eyes but started to waltz around the dance floor. The music was playing as she danced with this stranger.

While she was dancing, partners were switched to the nearest pair. Eve was dancing to another stranger then once again she was switched.

“Ms. Potts, what a delight to see you here?!” Zeke smiled as he led the dance.

“Oh hello Mr. Jaeger. Yes, I finally decided to come to the ball.” She said.

“I’m glad you decided to come. You look beautiful like a butterfly. I’m sure you have already got some suitors wanting to dance with you.” He smirked. Zeke noticed her gown was revealed on both her legs and shoulders. Even he can’t help how irresistible she looks tonight. His brother has a good taste. It’s a shame. She’s taken by his little brother. The way her dress was tight around her body, it seems she isn’t showing yet of her pregnancy.

“Thank you and you look handsome as a bird?” Eve couldn’t tell what kind of mask Zeke was wearing.

“It’s a peacock.” Zeke said.

“Ohhh I see now because of the feathers.” She said.

“Miss Potts, I’ve always been curious about where you're from?” Zeke wanted to fish for as much information from her.

“Where I’m from?” This caught her off guard. “I’m from Trost District. I’m curious why this interests you?” She felt a bit suspicious on why Zeke wanted to know where she’s from.

“It’s the way you behave towards people. It’s not how a native of this island acts. I know you’re not from Marley or other nations where Eldians are being segregated.” Zeke said.

“And where do you assume where I’m from, Mr. Jaeger?” Her brow raised up as she suspected where this would lead.

Just when he was about to answer, Floch interrupted their conversation. “Zeke, you don’t mind if I steal this gorgeous creature?”

“No, you can dance with her.” Zeke said, feeling disappointment their conversation was interrupted. He let go of Eve and bow to end their dance. “It was a pleasure to dance with you. Miss Potts.” Zeke left her with Floch which she was not pleased being alone with this creep.

Floch already grabbed her hand and placed his on her lower back close to her bottom. He led the dance as a different song was playing. It was a bit faster to waltz.

“What do you want now, pig?” She hiss at him.

“I suggest you don’t make a scene. You’ll embarrass yourself in front of this stuck up rich and noble people.” Floch glared.

“Apparently kicking your ass once wasn;t enough for you to leave me alone.” She cynically responded.

“Listen bitch. It wouldn’t get to that point that night if you give in. I would have made you crave my touch.” He leaned in to whisper seductively.

This guy doesn’t have any self respect or to anyone if he thinks she’ll just let him do whatever he pleases. “You’re full of yourself if you believe I’ll beg for you to fuck me? Why are you so stubborn to want me? There are other ladies who gossip in wanting to get fucked by you.” She scowled.

“Because you’re the mysterious woman every man in this palace wants to have. I will be the first to have that taste before any other man. Beside, that dress; you’re making it difficult not to ignore you.” Floch’s eyes stared up and down slowly. She felt he was undressing her with his eyes. How repulsive he was to her?

“I’m not some sex object for you to keep being persistent like a child who doesn;t get what he wants.” She was about to free herself when a familiar voice cut in.

“Floch, you heard the woman. She has no interest in you.” Eren placed his hand on Floch’s shoulder which the red haired man flinched cowardly.

“Fuck off, Eren. She just hasn't been with a real man.” Floch tries to be brave and not let Eren take this woman too.

Eren ignored Floch’s hostility as he preferred to give his attention to Natasha. “Eveline, may I have this dance?”

She gave a warm smile to her lover. Yes, she may be mad at his actions from a week ago but seeing him here may her heart beat fast. He always has a way to make her melt and he doesn’t try to do anything.

“Yes, you may have a dance with me, Eren.” To free herself from Floch’s grip, she stomped his foot a bit hard to cause him hiss from pain. He let her go and Eren grabbed her hand to pull her away from him.

Both couples left Floch alone as they headed away. Eve sighed in relief. “Thank you for saving me from not kicking his ass again.” She said.

“Again? He- oh it was you who gave him those bruises? What did he do to you?” Eren realized she was the woman who caused Floch pain for a week.

“Let’s not talk about it. We’re at a ball. Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight, my love?” She doesn’t want a fight to break out if Eren finds out what Floch had tried to do with her that week ago.

Of course, Eren sensed she was deflecting his question and became insistent. “Babe, tell me what did he do to you? Did he try to hit on you?” Eren’s tone was getting a bit aggressive yet it was low enough for only them to have a private conversation.

“Eren, please can we talk about it after tonight? I promise I will tell you, tomorrow. I know you will cause a scene and fight him which the ball will be ruined.” Eve pleaded with him.

Eren scoffed annoyingly but accepted her plea. “Fine, but tomorrow promise you will tell me then I will happily kick his ass.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh my hero.” Her tone was sarcastic.

He smirked and leaned into her ear. “I can be more than just your hero. “ His tone was husky. Eve felt her body getting warm from how it reacted from his tone.

Damn it her pregnancy hormones are acting up. She had read it’s possible that pregnancies can cause sex drive but randomly. She took a better look at what he was wearing. He wasn’t wearing a suit like other men were wearing tonight.

“Why aren’t you wearing a suit?” She asked.

“Oh, Zeke or Yelena had chosen an outfit for me but I used a black dress shirt that I bought earlier and a black dress pants. I picked the devil mask cause it represented me.” He said.

She does see the horns from his mask. He does look like the devil which it made more difficult for Natasha not to make it obvious she desires him right now. They danced the fun happy music until it’s over.

The group on the dancefloor clapped. Eren noticed the ring Eve was wearing on her finger. He gently grabbed her hand and smiled. “I’m happy that you’re wearing my mother’s ring. You make it look beautiful. And your dress. You love making people eye on you huh?” He teased her.

“It goes with the earrings. That’s why I’m wearing it tonight.” Eve said. She was trying not to give him ideas of him being forgiven. Her fingers playing with the ring on her other finger. This jewel had gone through so much and yet it still looks good as new.

Eren couldn’t help himself to brush a strand of hair from her elegant loose lower bun hairstyle. He carefully observes every detail of her.

“What are you thinking, my love?” he whispered to her.

“I am thinking of wanting a glass of champagne.” Her lips pouted when her steel eyes glanced at a waiter carrying a tray of glasses of champagne. Eren chuckled how adorable she looks.

“You know you’re not allowed to. It’s bad for the baby.” He still whispered. She groaned and rested her head on his chest.

“It would be simple if I feel repulsive like most of the foods I eat. Seriously, your kid doesn’t let me enjoy meals without throwing up.” Eve peeked up at Eren.

“You should tell the kitchen staff to serve you mashed potatoes with lemon water. It will help the food go down to your stomach and the water will stop the nausea whenever you eat.” Eren said.

Eve was amazed how Eren knew this vile information. “Where do you learn from?”

“Remember my dad was a doctor? Sometimes as a kid I used to go with him to see his patients including Mikasa’s mother when she was pregnant.” He explained.

“Oh right. Hmm, would you be a doctor if you didn’t choose to be a soldier to fight the titans?” In the background, a new song was playing to dance slowly which both pairs danced together. Eren held her hand to spun her gracefully. Once she spun, Eren pulled her against his body.

“Probably or I might be a military doctor instead.” He admired the way her dress flowed when she spun around.

“But instead you chose to fight alongside.” Natasha said. Eren nodded. Both remained quiet as they danced.

“Wait for me here. I have a request to make to the musicians.” Eren whispered to her ear. She nodded but was curious what kind of request he would ask of them.

Eren let go of her then walked away from the dance floor. Eve was alone as others around her danced to the soft music. At first it felt awkward standing around alone until the music had changed to a melody that it sounds familiar but doesn’t remember where she had heard this song. It felt time had stopped and only saw Eren walking towards the dance floor. She noticed the dance floor was empty. Her thoughts wonder how she is going to dance this song which sounds medieval only a touch modern.

“What song did you tell them to play?” Eve asked him.

“Volta.” He said.

Natasha didn’t know how she knew the dance moves to Volta but her legs began to carry her away. She danced around him in a way seducing her partner to dance with her. His emerald eyes focus on her. Once she made a few dance steps around him, he bowed mockingly. Natasha smirk then curtsy to him. Her arm reached out for Eren to grab on. Natasha moved towards him but stopped as she held his arm. She slid her hand down to his hand. The heiress let go of his hand to dance around him but much closer.

Eren could feel her warm alluring presence as his eyes watched her like a predator. Her dress flows from the twirls. Her legs exposed as she showed her dancing skill. In his eyes, he was looking at the temptress that seduced him from his once destiny to cause chaos to save humanity and his people. Eve was charismatic and mysterious which had intrigue some of the men in the palace. That irritated Eren by listening to them talking about his woman. Then his train of thoughts were interrupted as he felt Eve’s hand clap on to his front throat. She squeezed it but stroked up to his chin and held on to his jaw while her silver eyes gave off her seductive stare. Oh he knew what she wanted from him. Both could feel their lips hover teasingly.

They can feel the desire and passion for each other as their dance turned into a battlefield of sexual tension. If it was possible, Eren would take her right here on the dance floor. He took a few steps forward making her take a few steps back. Their sights on each other haven’t broken once. The music begins to pick up the beat a bit fast. They may not hear the crowd excitedly watching them dancing, but they were aware of how their dance will give them something to talk about after the ball.

Eren held her hand to spin her around then stopped her while her back was facing him. In the crowd, few faces watched with different expressions. Historia smirked with joy as she knew who was the person behind the devil mask dancing with her handmaiden. Zeke and Yelena had neutral expressions. On the other hand, Floch was making a distasteful expression. It didn’t take rocket science to know both Eren and Eve have a strong chemistry for each other. The red haired man glanced at his cousin who had a dark look. Belia understood why Eren had not given her divine attention. All this time he had someone and it was this lowly handmaiden. How dare this lowly harlot took what belongs to her. Just when Belia was thinking about the truth of these two, she noticed Eve made eye contact with her and gave a victory smirk.

Belia’s mood became sour as she quickly snatched a glass of champagne from a waitress and gulped down furiously. It looks like war had been declared between her and Eve. The noble woman didn’t bother to stay until the dance ended.

Natasha was pulled to have her back pressed onto Eren’s body as his hands moved to grope her breasts then slide down to her hips. She turned around to face him and took a few steps back to walk fast towards him and hop. Eren lifted her to have her legs wrapped around his waist while he spun both of them around. He places her down but holds on to her arm when both spin together again. He made her spin towards her to latch his hands onto her waist. Natasha could feel his warm breath on her ear which makes it hard to stay composed. She heard him whisper something huskily but her trance of euphoria prevented her from understanding what he said. Whatever he said, she instantly nodded. Once again he lifts her up but a bit higher and spins around. Eve was lifted up in a lying position until he let her down. Her hand movement was elegant and graceful and she was placed down. Both intertwined their arms to have their hand pressed together while spinning slow. Carefully, his arm snaked around her waist as she leaned back to arch her body. He let his fingers to caresses from her neck down to her breasts. Finally, one last turn to Eve facing away from him but their bodies pressed each other. Her face was tilted away while regaining her breath from their intense dance. As the music stopped, the crowd applauded and cheered for them for the entertainment they provided. Their trance was broken when reality abrupted their own world. Both pulled away from each other and smiled at the crowd.

Eve leaned to him to whisper. “Meet me outside by the hall that’s connected to the royal garden.” Just like that the Eldian-American left Eren alone. He gave her a smirk and waited until she disappeared from his view. Once a few minutes passed, the titan holder make way to meet his lady.

(Eren)

The night sky was clear with stars twinkling. The weather was cool. Eren walked through the open hallway outside of the palace. He saw her leaning against the big pillar by the edge of the garden. The emerald eyes man walked towards his lover. She was still wearing her mask. Eren lifted up her mask to see her face completely.

“You took a little long.” Eve said while she pulled him to her. Her lips crashed against his to passionately kiss him. In response to her aggressiveness, he pinned her to the hard surface pillar. His hand groped her thigh to lift up and place on his hip. Both lovers breathe heavy from the fiery intensity for each other. His fingers brushes on her exposing thigh then down to her leg and up back to the thigh. Eve let out an erotic moan. Eren smirks from her reaction.

He breaks away from their kiss to sloppy kiss down on her neck to the valley of her breasts. He noticed her breasts looked bigger than what he remembered. His hand pulled down the top of her dress to have her breasts free. Eren cupped one of them to greedily latch on to her nipple and suckling. Eve’s eyes widen while whimpering from how sensitive her nipples are from the changes of her pregnant body. It may hurt but the adrenaline and lust she felt turned into pleasure. Her hand stroked his dark brown hair then gripped harshly the move he sucked and pulled her nipples.

“E-eren, which room is the closest?” She tried to form a sentence as her moans were increasing.

“Mmmm my room is not that far from here.” His voice became raspy.

“Take me there.” She mewls when his finger makes way where her wet core is.

Eren chuckled how demanding she was being when she was at his mercy. “What’s wrong here? The night sky looks perfect for a passionate love making.” Just like the devil, he encouraged her to give in right here. His finger circles her clitoris teasingly. He could feel the amount of slick she produced. She was probably wet when they were dancing the Volta. He let his thumb attend to her clit while his two fingers entered into her hole to finger in a slow teasing pace. Natasha closed her eyes as she took in the pleasure he was giving. Her hips buck to rock against his fingers.

“Dollface, if you can contain yourself while I taste you, we’ll go to my room to resume our fortification.” He said then Eren pulled his fingers out to suck on them. She never disappoints him with how delicious she tastes.

He kneel down to the ground and place her leg on his shoulder. Her back leaned comfortably as her eyes gazed down to watch him lifting the hem of the dress. She bit down her lips when his tongue stroked her core. Subconsciously, her hand gripped and pulled his hair while he feast between her legs. This will be harder than she expected for her not making any noises. He continues to ravish her until a wave of orgasm rush into her. A small whimper escaped from her lips which Eren pulled away from her core then got up to take a look at his work. Her face was flushed while her chest rose up and down from regaining her breath. Her hair came undone. He felt satisfied in leaving her like this. His hands help pull down her dress. He helped tucked her breasts back into the top of her dress.

“Can you walk to my room?” He gave her a grin.

She glared playfully then smirked. “Of course I can.”

With that, both of them quickly walked to Eren’s room to finish off what they had started.

(Alexander)

He picked up his phone while it rang. Once the phone was answered, a breathless man began to speak.

“Sir, Subject 18 had escaped.” The Grandmaster frowned at this news.

“How did you let that happen? Your job was to make sure Subject 18 was locked with tight security. You have failed me. I will immediately take a leave back to Paradis. Once I arrive, you better find the culprit who let him escape.” His tone was dark as this news had ruined a perfect day in his villa home in Italy. Alexander hung up and sipped his wine trying to calm down. He will need another descendant to complete data if they can’t find Levi to bring him back. If his theory was true, the Eve had led the revolution to free humanity. With her memories, he could find a particular item to dominate the world.

A/N: If you guys needed an idea how the Volta dance looks like, I use the one in The Tudors where Anne and Henry danced together in a small gathering. You can find it on YouTube. Other than that, enjoy this chapter.

#eren jeager #jaegerists #oc female #OC: Natasha #sahsa braus #niccolo #sasha x niccolo #historia reiss #levi ackerman #crossver #Asassin's Creed #and others

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unichrome · 4 years

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I’ve been wanting to write down as much as I can remember from the month at the hospital in April, and this tumblr blog is the only thing I have that even remotely resembles a journal. So here it is, feel free to read and comment if you’d like, but please don’t reblog.

I was living in Copenhagen when this happened.

A few weeks prior, I started a new medication, an antipsychotic so the usual side effect was to be expected: tiredness. But I’ve been in this carousel before, I know the worst is over after a week or so. I did indeed become extremely tired, and this was during working-from-home corona days so most shifts I ended up napping in the couch at any chance I got. Easily slept 12+ hours per night. It kept getting worse, I couldn’t stay awake during the days, became extremely lethargic. And it didn’t get better after a week, it just kept getting worse. So I called my psychiatrist and told her the medication wasn’t working and I felt so very bad and tired.

I got a new appointment with her, which I can’t even remember really. She got worried and sent me off to the psychiatric ward, where they did the standard blood test. Then sent me off to a room. Luckily I had anticipated for something like this to happen, so I had brought the work phone as well as chargers, so I could call in sick to work. A while later, three people suddenly entered and told me I had to go to the hospital right now, two of them were from the hospital transport. They took me to Amager hospital, I was so confused and not really present at all. I don’t know what they told me, but I needed a blood transfusion immediately. I stayed there for a night, the only thing I can remember is going to the bathroom once.

The Amager hospital apparently wasn’t capable of providing the care I needed, I was transported yet again, to Rigshospitalet. The memories from here on are very blurry and sporadic. Eventually I heard that both of my kidneys were failing, when I was admitted on April 22nd, my kidney functionality was around 18%. If it drops under 20% it becomes lethal. Kidneys are also responsible for the production of blood, which wasn’t happening anymore and I had a very dangerously low count of red blood cells.

I’m super difficult to get blood from if the first attempt isn’t successful, as the poor nurses became painfully aware of after failing on the first try. During one of the first days there, when the daily blood test was to be taken, they didn’t succeed. Three nurses tried, eventually they called for a narcosis doctor to try with a ultrasound machine to find my veins, but it didn’t work very well either. They stung me all around the body, down to my feet and it took at least an hour to get the sample and my body had pretty much gone into shock since medical procedures and needles of any kind are one of my worst fears. Because of this it was decided to install a port for draining blood so this wouldn’t have to be repeated every day.

A kidney biopsy was ordered as well as more detailed blood tests to figure out why this kidney failure was happening. I would also have to call my parents in Sweden and tell them what was happening, and the fact that they couldn’t come and visit me, at all. I was in a quarantined zone of the hospital where no visitors were allowed, not even family. But also Denmark had closed its borders at the time, so they couldn’t even enter the country in the first place.

My only contact with the outside world was my phone that I treated as the most precious thing in the entire world, it was also pretty much the only thing I had with me. I would have long calls with my family talking about the most mundane and boring things but it was such a blessing to hear about, I would drag out the subjects as much as I could and so would they. I’d often cry after having to stop the calls.

The biopsy and tests revealed that I had antibodies that shouldn’t be there. My immune system was attacking the body, pretty much. This autoimmune disease is very rare, Microscopic Polyangiitis, and will cause kidney failure (and other organ failures) if not discovered and treated in time. Since I barely had any prior symtoms, it wasn’t discovered in time. My lungs were also examined as the disease usually targets kidneys and/or lungs, but no significant damage was found there luckily.

I was put on steroids (prednisone 60 mg) that would support the kidneys and dampen the damage from the antibodies as well as chemotherapy (Sendoxan 100 mg) that would shut down the immune system almost completely. Synthetic hormone injections every week to stimulate the production of red blood cells.

Every morning a blood test was done a 6:00, as well as checking the temperature and blood pressure. I was forced to drink 3 liters of fluid every day (which I logged on a paper meticulously - every ml counted) and I could only pick between water, disgusting orange juice or disgusting apple juice. Except during lunch, when I got a small package of milk - this became pretty much the highlight of my day. One glass of milk. That was like pure joy, it tasted so divine. In just a few days your entire world shifts in such a way that this package of milk is what you look forward to the next day.

All day I was bedbound and in a haze, time was entirely dependent on medicine, meal and test times like a work schedule, from the 6:00 tests to the final 23:00 medications, that left 7 hours of rest that was robbed from me because prednisone makes you unable to sleep well, even with the sleep aids I got. Despite being in bed almost all day every day, I was constantly sleepy and tired but I would never get any rest. Couldn’t even pee normally either, had to collect everything in a bottle for them to log.

But of course it would get worse. After about 6 days, my doctor came in and told me that the treatment didn’t seem to be working fast enough. My kidney functionality kept dropping, now at 13%, creatinine levels above 400 (it should never be above 80 for women, around 200 is kidney failure). They had one more weapon to combat this - plasmapheresis. This would mean connecting me to a machine that would take out my blood, clean it from the harmful antibodies, and put it back in again. Hopefully this would buy me time for the treatment to win. To do this, they had to cut up my throat to insert two tubes that would take in and out the blood. I had to be awake during the whole procedure to control the breathing as instructed.

I wasn’t connected to the machine all the time. A few hours every other day. It was noisy, sounded like a miniature washing machine, and I hated it so much. The tubes in my throat, blood going in and out of me, it was just pure terror even if the procedure itself didn’t hurt. I got some mild sedatives but they were way too mild and didn’t do shit. The fact that I didn’t have to be connected to the machine every other day became yet another highlight like the milk. I’d talk about how today was such a good day because it was a no machine day, like a holiday.

Showering was horrible too. Because of the tubes I had to avoid getting them wet as much as possible while still somehow washing the hair. Then the tape around the tubes had to be changed and I hated anyone touching that area. I went for as long as I could between the showers, up to 9 days.

I was quickly becoming very weak, as the medications and chemo ate away at my bones and muscles. My legs have always been strong, I’ve had no problems doing squats with a grown man hanging on my back. But one day when I was in the bathroom, I spilled some toothpaste on the floor. I squat down to wipe it, but I couldn’t get back up again. My legs were way too weak. I ended up having to drag myself up via the toilet and sink, it felt so humiliating I refused to use the button to call for help. I bet it took several minutes to get back up standing.

It was still very unsure if I would make it, the plasmapheresis wasn’t a guaranteed help. One day a psychologist came to talk to me, but the only thing I remember is that he asked if I was afraid of death. I told him that my current biggest fear was the damn tubes in my neck, the constant needles, every day the touching and prodding of my body, but it didn’t seem like it got through to him. Maybe because my Danish was so damn shitty too, I could barely articulate myself and what I felt in Swedish, much less in English or Danish, I think I was mostly rambling incoherently.

In the meantime my parents had been writing the hospital for updates and visitation possibilities, and eventually the kind nurses and doctors there started fighting for getting my parents to visit. They got granted an exception by the hospital to visit my room once per day, but they still couldn’t get into the country. My parents contacted the Danish police asking if an exception could be made since it now was entirely possible that this could be the last time they’d see me. They were eventually granted permission and now the final hindrance remained - getting there. Since they live far up north, the transportation options are limited especially during corona. There were essentially no flights, so the second best option was train for about 2 days.

As luck would have it, the plasmapheresis did help, my kidneys were slowly recovering and once I got up to around 25% functionality, I was free from the damn machine and the medications now had the upper hand against my stupid immune system. In the final days at the hospital, my parents arrived. And we could actually be happy because it seemed like the danger was over. I begged the doctor to release me and let my parents help me at home instead. I knew how to take the medications by now and it wouldn’t be necessary for daily tests anymore. She agreed but I had to come to the hospital every few days for a checkup.

And that concluded my first chapter of this disease and kidney failure. Thank you for reading all the way to here, I appreciate it.

#njursvikt #sjukhus

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evangelene · 4 years

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Despite What You Are (5)

Summary: Vampires don’t feed on blood, they feed on fear. So, why is yours so potent? Why were you saved by the most dangerous of all vampires–Kim Namjoon?

Based on this request:

“Can i ask for a ff where namjoon is a vampire mafia boss and has a spft spot for you. And you get into trouble woth a rival gang and he goes crazy? Fluffy and angsty 🌹”

Thoughts from the bedside

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

It was bright. Sunny, borderline too sunny—the first time you were seeing the outside world since your departure from the world due to a smoky shitpile of a vampire injury. There probably should’ve been more fear associated with the act, but it was real hard to be fearful when Namjoon stood by your side.

Perhaps that moment should have been your first clue to your inevitable fate. But you were dumb, always and forever.

Without thinking, you sunk down to the grass, feeling the heat of the earth seep into your bones. Even when you were at the hunter’s association, the only version of the outside you ever got to see was one covered in barbed, electric wire and asphalt that desperately needed to be replaced.

Nothing really ever lived there; even the weeds were nonexistent--as if even the Earth knew that place smothered everything that tried to survive.

You could feel Namjoon’s eyes on the side of your face as you closed your eyes to the healing power of nature Yeah sure, it was just some fucking grass—but for someone who hadn’t seen nor felt grass in several years, it was heaven. There was even a pathetic little tree within eyesight that looked like the tree of life to an environmentally starved human such as yourself.

“What was it like in the human compound—not the Hunters’, but the one you came from?”

“Mmm.” You didn’t open your eyes because, well, you didn’t want to yet. “It was home. I grew up there; I had parents, friends and a life that actually felt like a life. I went to school and graduated; I had plans to get married and have a steady job. I remember that it was a place that felt safe and felt like it would bring me happiness... It was a place where I could dream. I haven’t dreamt in so long—it was better not to then to be crushed by what couldn’t be.”

Namjoon was silent for a moment, contemplative. “I wonder what my dream was before you. I can’t seem to remember if I even had one.”

“Namjoon!” It was perhaps the most horrifying noise to have ever graced your throat—somewhere between a growl and a shriek that ripped your vocal chords and left dryness at the back of your tongue. However, with the wire wrapping around your waist--threatening to cut off circulation to your desperate, dragging feet--you couldn’t find it in you to care about the pain of your scream. Rather, you let out another.

“Namjoon!”

There were tears coming to your eyes before you could stop them, adrenaline injecting itself into your veins out of frustration. Garlic. It smelled like too much garlic and the metallic tang of blood. If you were in a better state of mind, you would have chuckled about the fact that you finally, finally got rid of the smell of garlic burned into your nostrils from years of soaking weaponry. Before you could scream again, a gloved hand enclosed around your mouth—that motherfucking radio buzzing with static before a voice you desperately didn’t want to hear reverberated through the streets.

Don’t let her escape.

Despite the fact that the blood running through your system turned to ice, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of Namjoon, sandwiched between Taehyung and Yoongi as they looped their arms through his. His screams somehow made it past the rushing in your ears and the silence of your body loosing the majority of its senses.

You hated that you could still hear the sizzle of garlic hitting his skin, the god awful smell permeating your nostrils.

I’ve got a read on your location—I’ll send backup. Make sure she’s alive.

Suddenly, as if you hadn’t been thinking about it every waking second—as if you haven’t been planning on putting your life in the hands of some shoddy medicine to remove it—you remembered the implant the Hunter’s Association had placed within you.

Hey, at least now you knew it was a GPS, right?

Yeah that did absolutely shit nothing to comfort you and before you knew it there was a god awful noise that sounded more feline than humanoid ripping through your chest.

Like a tiny, miniscule insect caught in a widow’s web, you shook and struggled. Every limb flailed fingers and joints digging into every available surface area of the woman holding you hostage. Your hands came up to rip the stupid lens off her face—the fucking bullshit piece of technology that Hunters wore regardless of the time of day. You nearly managed to reach her eye before she jerked her head away, your legs trying to kick out the back of her knee in her distraction. In a final act of desperation, your teeth sunk into the leather of her glove, trying to break flesh.

The wire around your waist cinched tighter around you, digging into your skin as you let out a god-awful shriek. “Fuck off!” But it was muffled through leather and hunter’s fingers.

She’s being unreasonable. Sedate her.

Another hunter approached you, ready to help assist the woman holding you like a wild animal needing to be removed from someone’s home.

“Oh fuck no!” You spat, hoisting your legs up to press square against his chest, shoving with all of your weight to keep him at bay. You couldn’t go down yet. Not yet. Namjoon was hurt. Namjoon needed you and these people would have to do everything in their power to stop you from going to him if they had any hope of keeping you.

Not that you were strong. God you wished you were strong now more than ever.

One of the woman’s hands freed themselves to search through the pack buckled around her hips.

Your mind raced, trying to travel back to hunter’s training, trying to remember what sedatives they had—how quickly they took effect. Would you have time to escape before you went down? Would you make it back to them?

Would you make it back to Namjoon before it was too late?

Too late. Too late for who?

Your eyes scanned the battle wildly, hunters invading the corners of your visions like the black spots you see when you’re about to pass out. Through their backs, you could see Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin fighting them off in an attempt to get to you. Occasionally, one of them would look up at you and you could see their desperation increase in the power of a hit thrown to a human.

Y/N. I’m well aware that you can hear me.

Your laser focus slid back to the walkie at the female’s hip.

Your whole body froze at the sound of your name, one of your feet propped on the face of the hunter in front of you while your arms shook from the effort of holding back the huntress’ hand armed with a needle--far too close to your skin for comfort.

I want to personally congratulate you. When you come home, you can expect to see a medal waiting for you in your honor. You brought us directly to Kim Namjoon. You brought down the largest and most powerful clan on the entire continent—you should be proud. Despite your previous disobedience, I will have you know that your slate will be cleaned with this gift to us.

A year ago, the news would have been good to hear for yourself. One less clan? One less powerful ass vampire to threaten your life? Great. Excellent.

But, since the only remaining strand of fear currently inhabiting your body was for Namjoon and his safety, you realized that you were no longer that girl from a year ago. You were no longer afraid of the world outside your walls, you were no longer afraid of all vampires and you sure as hell had no fear for the people that you once were forced to consider comrades.

God, if you could spit in the General’s Assistant’s face, you would have hocked the biggest motherfucking loogie your body could offer.

“And what makes you think I want your useless medal?” You hissed, returning from the depths of your repressed memories to the present moment. With renewed vigor, you clamped your legs around the male hunter’s head. Every ounce of strength you owned went to your core and abs, lip curling as you began the process of crushing the motherfucker’s head. His hands reached up to claw at your thighs, his mouth gasping for breath as the woman’s efforts to save her fellow hunter distracted her from the bigger picture: you. Still using your strength to kill, you discovered the ability to multi-task long enough to snap the needle out of her weakened hand.

One threat down. For now.

Not to say she couldn’t grab another. Not to say you weren’t one more hunter away from being dragged back to the base camp.

Are you choosing their side?

You looked up to meet Hoseok’s gaze, as he was the closest and the most active in trying to get to you. He was the one within earshot; he was the one that was most likely going to bring you back to Namjoon or get hurt trying. And god did you love him for it.

(Vampires don’t make any sense)

“Yeah, well, humans don’t make much of it either.”

“You’re smart enough to answer that on your own.” You chuckled darkly, adjusting your grip on the man enough to be able to get a better grasp on his skull—the prior position obviously wasn’t working because…well… he was still breathing. The huntress behind you jerked you to the side in an attempt to remove you from the man you were smothering between your legs. However, it was the worst life-saving attempt you’d seen yet, considering you hadn’t let up on your vice grip and you had no intentions to do so.

All it did was snap his neck.

“But yes.” You murmured to his body as his hands slumped off your thighs and the huntress screamed out in rage directly in your ear. “I choose his side.” You slammed your skull back into her face, wincing at the throbbing of your eardrum.

The statement was all it took for Hoseok to take that final burst towards you, any concern for the bullets fired from the guns all around you lost in that moment. Your concern for his safety, however, only increased until you finally saw why he was no longer worried about the garlic soaked threats: Jimin was using the remainder of his strength to aid Hoseok (Small, almost invisible shields no bigger than a dinner plate—ten at max, so, considering Jimin’s weakened state, it was probably like five. The younger had told you about his ability one night when you were far too curious and far too drunk off some wine Jungkook raided for you).

If you had been in a less concerned state of mind, you probably would have noticed that his lips were moving in an attempt to convey a very important message to you. One that you blatantly ignored because one: it was loud as hell currently, and two: you were dumb.

Hoseok growled in frustration at you as you furrowed your brow on him, thrashing in the huntress’ grip whilst you tried (and failed) to read his lips. You would have absolutely bombed any whisper challenge.

It wasn’t until he was practically in front of you that you could finally make out what he was trying to say, and surprise! It wasn’t “Do apes eat chocolate?”

“Y/N! Cover your ears!”

“I think that Hoseok has the worst ability.” Jiwoo said during one of her bouts of oversharing. You two were similar in that aspect. Suddenly, when presented with a genuine friend willing to listen to your endless rambling, you both found silence impossible and filled it to the brim with ADD thoughts. “I mean, not the worst as in, like, useless—but worst as in fatal.” She made a face at the ceiling. “I said that wrong, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Jiwoo.” You, too, chuckled to the ever listening ceiling. “You did, but continue anyways. I really want to know now.”

“Well…like…how do I put this…” She paused. “Okay, well he can alter his vocal chords in a way that can bust the brains of whoever he chooses. It’s like a sonic scream—however it’s all dependent on the tone. He’s perfected the right note to kill humans within his radius. Vampires are another story; he’s been working on that one. Apparently vampiric brains vary too much to make it easy for him.”

In a heated scramble as the woman screamed “STAND DOWN” in your already aching ear, you wrestled your hands free—nearly slapping yourself in the process of trying to keep your brain in your head. You thought that having the precious organ leaking out your ears would not be an attractive or life-sustaining look.

The sound burst through your fingers anyways, shimmying through your ear drums until your head was shaking with the force of Hoseok’s screams. The people around you froze and twisted like they’d been shot, bodies contorting at impossible angles as if they were exploding from the inside out.

In the chaos, Hoseok was able to get close enough to you to slap his hands over yours as added cushion to the hell of his voice. Despite both layers of skin and bone, you still felt blood dribble down from your nose and onto your upper lip. You screwed your eyes shut and clenched your jaw against the dampened noise; god, you did not want to imagine what it would sound like with bare ears.

The huntress behind you finally slumped, the wire around your waist loosening to a puddle at your feet, now that the person holding it was no longer living.

When Hoseok’s hands finally lifted off of yours—it couldn’t have been longer than five seconds, even if it felt like an eternity to your dum hooman brain—your ears were still ringing.

But you were alive.

Which, honestly, was more than you could say for the fallen hunters strewn around you like dead flies.

You didn’t want to look behind you, but curiosity got the better of you and you wound up making eye contact with the woman who had been holding you hostage. Granted, her eyes were darkened and seeing nothing—but that didn’t stop the frozen look of pain on her face as blood leaked from every possible orifice. If you weren’t so preoccupied in your thoughts, you probably would have thrown up. Instead, you just spit the gathered blood in your mouth at the ground, frowning at the radio on her hip.

“If you can hear me, fuck you.” You mumbled, if only because your tongue felt heavy and the world was swaying around you. You doubted that he could; the words were for your own sanity, for your own control of your life. For Namjoon.

Namjoon.

Namjoon needed you.

You took one swirling look at Hoseok, nodding your thanks because you couldn’t remember how to use your vocal chords. Your first attempt at bolting back towards the compound was thwarted by the fact that your legs were now noodles and the ground was pitched at a drunken angle. Gracefully, you wound up slamming into the busted concrete in a pile of limbs. But, like the stubborn mule you were, determination had you back on your feet and plowing forward before you could even process the fact that you had actually fallen on top of a dead body.

There was a fierce ringing in your ears and every breath you took sounded too loud for the sudden silence of the universe but that one singular thought outweighed every earthly issue.

He chuckled softly. “You are a very interesting human, Y/N.”

Somewhere in the distance, in a faraway parallel universe where your body was but your mind wasn’t, you could feel the pain, exhaustion and agony of moving as fast as you were forcing yourself to. However, it was easily washed out by the pounding of your heart in your chest and the buzz of worry in your brain.

He still had the same smile though.

Bursting through the gates of the compound like a garlic soaked madwoman, you scanned the crowd of equally panicked vampires, failing to note the ones trying to direct you in favor of focusing on the most devastating sound you’d ever heard:

Namjoon’s agonized screams of pain.

Rushing out onto the warehouse floor, you noted that they had haphazardly tossed him onto a table, several vampires holding down his limbs in an attempt to stop him from writhing to the floor. A very unsure and emotionally unstable Taehyung was wiping at his neck in a vain attempt to stop the flow of blood despite his thrashing.

Everything that had been burning hot in your body instantly hit its freezing point, suddenly making you unable to feel your extremities.

Mechanically, as if you knew you couldn’t touch him with your own bloodied, garlic-tainted hands, you ripped off large chunks of your shirt to wrap around them. You stepped towards him slowly, giving yourself enough time to prepare yourself for what you had to do.

However, you, yourself were at a lack of what that might be.

You couldn’t tear your eyes from him—everyone else disappeared around you as if he was the only remaining being on this planet besides yourself. He was sweating with a fever, his skin paling before your eyes.

Vampires don’t get sick.

“Namjoon.” You whispered, completely ignoring the concern of Taehyung by your shoulder. Gingerly, you placed your clothed palms against his chest to get better leverage for you to take a closer look at his wound. Luckily, it appeared that the bullet had just grazed his neck--which would have been fine for him were it a normal bullet. However, since it was garlic laced, the location was perhaps the worst spot in his body to receive such a wound.

Since it was in a place that was directly flowing garlic laden blood to a system that couldn’t handle the substance.

“Namjoon.” You whispered again.

He only let out a huff of breath and a pained grown, his eyes unable to focus on anything in front of him.

Get rid of it, you have to get rid of it. You have to take out the garlic. You have to---

Your hand reached up to cup his face, forcing his gaze to flicker to you.

“Namjoon, look at me please. If you can hear me, please look at me.” Your brow furrowed in determination. “Don’t close your eyes. I need you to stay awake. I need you to look at me. If you—if you close your eyes and I lose you then what was the fucking point of all of this?” You hissed because you wanted to shout but you couldn’t make yourself any louder than you already were.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you watched cool droplets pepper his skin.

Shakily, he freed one hand from the vampires holding him, slowly reaching up to brush away your tears intermingled with blood; his blood or yours, you didn’t know.

You could feel it then, whatever “it” was. You could feel him. You could feel his pain, his fear, his worry. You could feel what he was thinking without being able to process it into words. And, in that moment, you knew you would risk it all for him.

Because….because….

Because I love you.

“Trust me.” You murmured, leaning into his touch before shifting to get a better grasp on him.

Water wouldn’t work, and with a lack of medical knowledge or equipment, there wasn’t a better way to get rid of the poison in his system.

So you did what only a human could do. You leaned down, feeling the heat of his fever radiate a scorching energy across your skin as you got closer to the wound. Swallowing one last free breath, you steeled your nerves and latched your lips around the wound.

You took an experimental bite, gathering as much blood as you could in your mouth before leaning up to spit the garlic laden liquid into the hem of your destroyed shirt. The second time you went in, he jolted against you—his body letting out an awful groan that quickly became a borderline scream. It took every bit of muscle you didn’t have to hold him down and repeat the process.

In that moment, you felt like an honest to god vampire—the ones from the history books; the ones that turned out to be incomparable to the real ones. The ones prior to the War of 2048. The ones that drank blood and lived in the darkness and didn’t understand humans as a source for anything but food.

The ones that wouldn’t be able to grasp your free hand as tightly as the one beneath you.

You continued until you couldn’t taste garlic anymore, until his skin slowly returned to its normal, honeyed color. You continued until the vampires around him could release him because he was no longer shaking uncontrollably. You continued until his sweat broke and the heat of his skin no longer scalded yours, until you couldn’t take the continued taste of his blood—until it became more metallic than sweet.

In a final gasp of breath, you spit the remainder into your soaked shirt, lifting your head to wipe at the smear of blood on your chin.

His eyes bore into your face with a clarity that relieved the majority of your worries.

He still couldn’t move properly, and he still wasn’t fully himself because, naturally, it would take a while for him to gather back his full strength. But what mattered was that he was here now. He was alive and there wasn’t enough garlic remaining in his system to threaten his life.

Taehyung handed you a fresh rag, allowing you to press it against Namjoon’s wound as he coughed. His words were weak, but you were hyper focused on him and could have heard them even if he didn’t make a sound. “This…” He coughed again. “This wasn’t what you wanted.”

Your eyes felt like they were being held open with toothpicks, your body succumbing to exhaustion now that the adrenaline was quickly leaving you behind. Despite it all, you couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his worry. “No. This wasn’t what I wanted.”

“I…” He licked his lips. “I’m not what you wanted.”

You brushed his damp hair off of his forehead, continuing to hold pressure to his neck. You couldn’t help the gentle smile you gave him. He was cute.

This vulnerable version of him was cute.

“No.” You murmured. “No you weren’t.”

You could see the smile in his eyes, if only because his face had trouble making any expression other than tired pain. “But you stayed.”

You could have left. You could have let them take you back to the humans.

But you didn’t.

He didn’t have to say it for you to hear it, for you to read it in the features of his face.

You nodded, feeling your heart go rogue against your sternum. “I did.” You chuckled. “I did.”

~.~

You rested your head against the wall of the bathroom, brow furrowed on the ceiling. Every ounce of your energy was zapped into oblivion, leaving you a heaping mess on the floor of the restroom you’d been banished to.

In the wake of their clan leader being injured, you’d been removed from his side to go clean up—however, with the six currently occupied, the other vampires deemed you dangerous (what with your garlic hands) and, unbeknownst to the people who gave a shit about you, you were forced to take care of yourself. That, however, was hard to do when you were a walking injury who found out she could no longer move.

Not like you could blame the vampires though, as far as they were concerned, you were a walking weapon. And, well, they didn’t really understand the human body’s limits—the only people who did were otherwise occupied.

Of course, that didn’t change the slight sting of loneliness in your bones. Honestly, you were spoiled being around people who cared about you for more than the title of your chess piece.

It made you want to continue to be cared about.

Well, it was your fault that you made yourself a garlic bomb during a vampiric battle.

Battle? Were you really part of a battle? Did you seriously live through a battle?

Who the fuck were you now? Some freaking heroine in a dystopian novel?

With a scoff that determined you were no longer going to mope and feel sorry for yourself, you weaseled your way up into a sitting position—albeit with too much effort and a heaving amount of pain that had you wincing and biting your cheek to stop from crying out.

“Okay, Y/N. Next step.” You murmured to yourself, grabbing the edge of your destroyed shirt. “You can do this.” You managed to get the fabric to your shoulders before you forehead broke out into a sheen of sweat and you gasped out a pathetic noise of pain at your aching and bruised muscles. “Okay, girl, maybe you can’t do this.”

It was at that moment, with you pathetically bearing your ruined bra to the universe inside the bathroom walls that the door burst open with absolutely no hint of delicacy.

You honestly couldn’t find it in you to give a shit as you tilted your head up to meet the intruder’s gaze.

Jiwoo’s angered stare met yours, the rage transforming into worry within one millisecond as she caught sight of you pathetically slouched on the tile. You didn’t get a chance to speak or unpack any of her emotions before she was letting out a snarl.

“I’m going to kill them.”

“Who?” You would have been scared if she didn’t look like she was going to cry. If your arms weren’t dead weight in your lap and if you legs could work you would have hugged her.

“Everyone. The people that did this to you, the vampires that thought you could fix yourself on your own, you for getting into this mess--everyone.” You hadn’t realized she had been holding the door open until she fully stepped inside and let it slam behind her with an earthquake thud.

You only nodded stupidly, your gaze cast down to your hands and the bloody, smelly mess that they had become. “I have garlic on me.”

She crouched down, grabbing the non garlic soaked bit of your shirt to remove it entirely before tossing it into a corner. You didn’t miss the way her lip curled at it in disgust. “So?” Her voice was soft in comparison to the steel of her features as she crouched down in front of you. “I can’t believe they left you all alone in here. How are you supposed to care for yourself in this state?”

The longer she squatted before you, the longer she assessed the damage done to your body, the deeper the crease between her brows got. It would have been a shame if she gave herself wrinkles, she was pretty.

“What about Yoongi? The others? They need more attention than me—“

“Y/N.” She cut you off grabbing both of your hands despite the grit of her teeth as the garlic sizzled into her skin. If only because you were afraid she would hurt herself further, you let her lift you to your feet so she could help you wash the blood and pasta sauce from your hands. It was definitely her doing the lifting too; you were more ragdoll than human at the moment. “I won’t let you be alone. Not right now.”

You stared at your feet, letting her take care of you—refusing to meet your own stare in the cracked and dirty mirror above the sink. Who wanted to look at themselves when they knew they were the reason for everything that just happened? She reached over to the first aid kit that had been tossed in the room with you earlier, frowning at the pathetic array of medical equipment garnered for you. “There’s not even anything to scrub you with.” It seemed her disdain for the vampires that left you in here by yourself was only growing by the second, her anger a ticking time bomb. You felt she didn’t know what else to be—you felt like she felt as helpless as you did.

“Ji, its fine, really—“ But, when you lifted your head you could see her taking her shirt off behind you, dunking the fabric into the sink before you could even form any words. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m taking care of you.” She said simply, grabbing your arm to begin cleaning the stale blood from your skin. “Because you can’t and he can’t and no one else will.”

“I can do it.” You murmured weakly, but if it weren’t for her grasp on you, you would probably have collapsed to the floor; even she could see that. Your eyes followed the path she cleaned, wincing at the pain that came with the archeology of healing. Underneath layers of dirt and blood you both discovered the cuts and bruises—the threatening fractures that had you making pathetic noises in the back of your throat. You discovered the pain that settled into your bones and made you immobile; even you didn’t know just how bad your injuries were. You hadn’t really had the chance to figure it out in the wake of Namjoon.

But the masochistic part of you said that it wasn’t enough pain—you should have more. You should be dead—you should—

“Why?” Jiwoo whispered, her voice hoarse. “Why would you put yourself in danger like this? Namjoon—he could have handled it himself.”

You knew that. A deep-set part of you knew that. As her shirt turned washcloth soothed the heated ache in your back with cold water, you knew that everything you did was in vain. Even sitting there, safe and sound in an abandoned bathroom, you could still hear Namjoon’s screams. You could still hear the buzz of the walkie talkie’s feedback.

You could still smell garlic.

“He could have.” You murmured.

All your fault, Y/N. This is all your fault. If you weren’t so stupid he would have been alive and well and completely fine.

So would that Hunter you were partnered with.

Jiwoo’s gaze softened on you, her forehead resting against your temple. “If it was Yoongi, I know I would have done that same. But you and I—we are different species, you have to know that. You matter too much, Y/N. What would we do without you?”

You felt tears building in your eyes, that pathetic, fragile spine of yours folding easily to your fear, your blame and your guilt. You were nothing if you weren’t weak-willed, a human afraid of everything.

Especially herself.

“I wanted to keep him safe.” You whispered. “I’m nothing special, just a dumb human. But he’s done all of this for me and I—I-I—“

Jiwoo’s arms were around you before you could think properly, the pain in your bones a punishment you bared with all the grace of gritted teeth and a yelp of pain that you swallowed in your chest. Her hugs were a force to be reckoned with, because they were usually the contact you got when you needed it most.

“You are incredibly special.” Her anger tried to punch through your thick skull like a lobotomy needle, quick, sharp and to the point. “You aren’t special just because Namjoon is your mate, not just because you’re a small, fractional possibility in a sea of normality. You aren’t special because your fear tastes like what I imagine your human sugar tastes like to you. You are special because you are Y/N. There is only one you; no one can replace you.”

“Everyone is replaceable.”

She shook her head. “No. Not everyone is. Not everyone can make Hoseok laugh so loud that he breaks the glass to the oven. Not everyone can make Taehyung distract enough to get lost during missions because he was looking for a game—if only because he now has someone who wants to play with him. Not everyone can make Seokjin smile like we’ve never seen in years. Not everyone can make Jungkook control himself around a human as much as you can; if only because he wants to be your friend so bad that he forces himself to do the impossible. There hasn’t been a single person—vampire or human—to understand me the way you have. Not everyone can stand up to a room full of vampires when it is obvious that they shake at the mere sight of them. Not everyone can dare to shoot a gun at death and still be standing of their own accord. Not everyone can stand in the middle of two species and find peace with what they had always considered their enemy. And for sure, there isn’t another person on this planet that could make Namjoon fight as hard as he is for you. Y/N, there is absolutely no one else like you. If you were not here, we would all suffer.”

At some point, during her speech that could have moved mountains, her thumbs had come up to brush away tears you hadn’t realized had been falling. It was a lot to say you were worth it when this mess was caused by you.

It’s all your fault he’s hurt.

“But I couldn’t save him.” You whispered.

Her hug was unrelenting, her care momentarily forgotten in the wake of your emotional trauma. “You did.”

“But it was my fault that it happened in the first place.”

“It was the Hunter’s Association’s gun, not yours.”

“But—but I am a Hunter.”

She pulled back to asses you, her eyes flitting across your face as if she was trying to figure out if this was truly a person she knew. “Are you?” Her brow furrowed on you. “Have you ever killed a vampire, Y/N? Hell—“ She scoffed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“My--my actions caused people to die.”

The trees became made of blood, the petals falling bits of bone that dislodged from the branches. In the shadows you could see clawed hands reaching for you, pitch black eyes boring into yours as it grabbed your wrists and—

Jiwoo lifted your hands to your line of sight. Her hands weren’t clawed; her nails were blunt and normal around your wrists—gentle, even. Her eyes were clear and kind and didn’t whisper death threats in your ear. “These, Y/N. Have these hands ever taken life?”

You stared at her; the force of your nightmare dissipating around you launched you into a state of shock. It was a ghost that had haunted you, a shadow that never removed itself from you—something you could never get rid of.

But in the bathroom, there were no trees and there was no blood but your own.

You still had your guts in your stomach and you heart in your chest.

You shook your head.

She smiled, blinding in the close proximity. “Then you are not a Hunter, you are Y/N, a very special human. My most special human friend, someone I could not live without.”

The tears that fell could have been from the pain and exhaustion, from the relief of thinking you lost Namjoon, from the realization that your life was inextricably changed forever. But, for the first time in forever, you wanted to believe that they came from happiness.

It was funny how a vampire could be more human than humanity itself.

~.~

It was strange, to say the least. An odd feeling to have the roles reversed; like you were in a parallel universe where you were stronger than Kim Namjoon, the clan leader of the century. It didn’t feel right for you to be sitting curled up in the chair while he lay injured and breathing heavily on the bed. How long ago was it that you woke up to those golden eyes? How long ago was it that you were in that bed while he was in that chair?

How long was it that you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere he wasn’t?

It had taken Jiwoo a tremendous amount of effort to get you upstairs and to the room—despite protests from both her and Taehyung who insisted that you get your own rest in a more comfortable place such as their own plush beds. However, you told them you wanted the chair; you told them that you wanted to see him—that you needed to be there. With pity in their eyes, they obliged if only because, by now, they knew you could be unreasonably stubborn when you wanted to.

It was a painful fold, no matter how you situated yourself in the furniture, you couldn’t get comfortable. Everything felt swollen and injured, threatening to tear your skin at the seams and spill all your metaphorical stuffing to the floor. But you wanted to be there.

It should have been boring, honestly. Sitting there aching and in pain and just staring at him as he slept should have been the epitome of torture. But it wasn’t. There was something that stilled the panic inside of you just by watching him rest. Despite the way your fingers fiddled at your chest, you felt comfort in watching the rise and fall of his breaths. It didn’t help your nails from scratching at your skin as if you could reach through your own skin and rip out the device to blame for all of this. If you could have, you would have gone back in time and forced him back sooner. You wouldn’t have laid there on the asphalt like a tired heap of a human, you would have remembered about Jisung’s teleporter.

Maybe then this wouldn’t have been your fault.

But no what ifs and no time controlling could transfer this blame. Even the soft words from Jiwoo couldn’t erase the guilt settling in your gut. Nothing could stop the cacophony of sound from reverberating in your skull, bouncing through your brain until all you could hear was the endless repetition of “My fault. It’s my fault.”

Even when you screwed your eyes shut in the hopes that the loss of one sense would erase them all, it couldn’t stop the unbidden image of Namjoon falling as he screamed in pain. Nothing could uninstall that frame of mind you had when you thought that you were going to lose him forever. You were afraid like you hadn’t ever been.

You’d never had a need to be afraid for another person, because you’d never had any people you loved more than yourself.

You didn’t want to be in this world if Namjoon wasn’t; you didn’t want to imagine a life without him in it.

In that moment, your body went lax, a chuckle escaping you as the tears burst past the gaps in your eyelashes. You had to give up to move on. You had to give up because there wasn’t any way you could lie to yourself any longer.

You loved Kim Namjoon. More than you’ve ever loved anyone, more than you think you’d ever love anyone else.

He wouldn’t understand the sentiment, he wouldn’t reciprocate in the way you wanted him to, but it was better to have what you could than nothing at all, right? He cared for you, and that was enough—that had to be enough.

With a heavy sigh, you peeled open your eyes, tilting your head back to the spot where you knew Namjoon would be.

However, you didn’t expect to meet the intensity of his golden gaze in that exact moment. You didn’t expect him to be awake, one eyebrow raised at you as you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sight of an injured man coherent.

“What is so funny?” He murmured, his tone shifting the moment he caught the quick sight flash of a tear kamikaze-ing down your cheek. “Why are your eyes wet?”

You let out a bark of laughter, unable to help the sudden onslaught of fresh tears running wild. “It’s called crying, stupid.”

“But why?”

You loved him. You loved him so much.

Your eyes met his once more and you shook your head, your lips twisting into a sad version of a smile. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Letting your extremely unhelpful answer slide for the moment, his eyes flit across your features to linger heavily on the bruising evident from the blown out collar of your shirt—his piercing stare especially zeroed in on the blood seeping through the fresh bandages on your hands.

You could sense his hatred and anger without him ever uttering the words; you could taste it in the air as it soured on the back of your tongue. All he had to do was look at you for you to know what he was thinking.

Was it the same for him?

You rested your chin in the palm of your hand in an attempt to hide some of the damage from his probing stare. “I’m fine, honestly. You…” you took in a sharp breath. “You almost weren’t.”

He sunk his head back into the pillow underneath him, however his gaze never wavered from you. “Humans are more fragile than I will ever be—you were also almost not fine.”

“Perhaps. But at least I didn’t have artery exposure to a substance I’m deathly allergic to.” You murmured, raising one eyebrow back at him.

He pursed his lips at you, an ever present crease gathering between his brows. “Touché.”

There was a brief moment where it was just the two of you, meeting each other’s stare. Naturally, you had to be the one to look away first, finding solace in the way your hand curled around the fabric of your jeans. It was easier than trying to decipher what that glimmer in his gaze meant.

However, this time he was the one to break the silence first. “I’m sorry that I did not tell you what we were going out to do.”

You shrugged. “I want to say its fine, that I am overly emotional about a lot of things for no reason. But it’s not.”

He nodded. “It is not my intention to exclude you from these happenstances; however I value your life over your temporary satisfaction.”

“Will this be a long-term issue?”

“I hope to clear this mess as quickly as possible, as Jisung has decided to make himself far more annoying than initially planned.”

You bit your lip, your fingers kneading into the sore flesh of your thigh through the fabric. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? All of this. You wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for me.”

“Y/N, while it is true I may not have been a clan leader if it weren’t for your existence, I would still find myself in a similar predicament. We want to protect our mates.”

“You were born to be a clan leader.”

His eyes sparked with something you couldn’t yet name and you didn’t dwell on it for fear of your thoughts leaking into his. “I appreciate the compliment. I would appreciate it even more if you quit blaming yourself for the results of Jisung’s confrontation. This is not your fault—my injury is not your fault.”

“The tracking device is in me, it is my fault.”

He let out a long-winded sigh. “Is that what this is about? Something that the humans did to you? Do you now blame yourself for their faults as well? What they do to me, what they have done to you, is also not your fault.”

“But—“

“Y/N.” He slowly extended one hand out towards your chair, his fingers long and inviting—they looked like they might be real nice to lace through yours. “Come here.”

You didn’t move despite the fact that there was a tantalizing offer on the table, instead, you swallowed and forced yourself to face him with all of your mouse bravery. “I thought I was going to lose you from this. I thought that this was it, that I wasn’t going to see you alive anymore because of this stupid device. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if…if…if…”

“If I died?” That damn eyebrow of his was at it again, incredulously raised just to mock you.

You gulped despite the fact that your mouth was dry. “Yes.”

His eyes were warm, warm in the same way that protected you years ago, warm in the way that engulfed you while attacking Jisung, warm in the way that only Kim Namjoon could be. “I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon; death is improbable because I have you.”

You felt your face heat up like a kettle on the stove, slowly seeping up your neck until the tips of your ears were burning. You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you embarrassed, but his words hit too suddenly for you to recover quickly.

“Besides, we now have matching scars.” He gestured to his bandaged and immobile shoulder before going back to offering you that extended hand.

Like the shittiest matching couple’s outfits.

“I would equate it more to couple’s tattoos—I saw those in one of those mating movies.”

You shook your head, too tired to correct his entire being in the moment. “That’s a curse, not a sign of affection—don’t you know those always end horribly?”

He rolled his eyes. “Y/N, will you just take my hand?”

“You need to sleep.” You whispered, despite the fact that your fingers were already reaching out to brush across his.

It took little to no effort for him to snap his hand around yours, ripping you from the sheltered safety of the chair and into his side as if that was the place you belonged. However, you could see a sheen of sweat break out across his skin from the effort exerted to move you like a ragdoll.

“You’re going to hurt yourself further! You’re still healing!” You snapped, though it had no bite with the heat emanating from your tomato cheeks at the close proximity to his face. You were absolutely, 100% sure that he could feel the way your heart jack-hammered against your sternum.

“Well you weren’t making it easy, so I had to do something.” He mumbled like a kicked puppy, wrapping his good arm around your shoulders to keep you pinned to him. “Besides, you’re warm in the way I like. You are a natural healing agent.”

“Stop saying embarrassing stuff!”

“But I like the way it makes your face turn different shades of burnt.”

“You’re lucky I don’t want to hit you because you’re injured!”

But he only laughed, the sound vibrating through your bones. “I am, aren’t I?”

You buried your face into his good shoulder so he could no longer get the satisfaction of flustering you with his being. “Stop watching romance movies—you’re getting cheesy.”

“What’s cheese?”

You groaned, reaching up to cover his eyes with your hand. “Just go to sleep already, would you?”

~.~

“You’re going to have to feed if you’re going to have any hope of getting off of that bed.” Yoongi’s glare was unrelenting; his arms crossed and frown permanently creased into his features. However, it appeared that Namjoon was otherwise distracted, his attention solely focused on you and Seokjin as he assessed your injuries. “Yah! Are you even listening?”

“No.” Both you and Namjoon spoke at the same time, much to your scowl and his shit-eating grin.

“He’s too busy focused on the person who’s been able to walk around and move just fucking fine this past week while he’s still bed-ridden and glued to a mattress.” You grumbled under your breath, wincing as Seokjin slipped a needle under your skin.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asked instead of answering either you or Yoongi’s retorts.

“I’m giving her something to help with the swelling.” Seokjin murmured. “However, perhaps you should take the advice of your colleague and your mate and focus on yourself in the meantime.” He hit a particularly sore spot, whispering apologies as you pressed your lips into a line to unsuccessfully disguise the grunt of pain.

“I want to know what it is. I want to know how to help her—I don’t want to rely on you for everything.”

Dead puppies dead puppies. Daisies. Dogs. You missed dogs. It’d been a long time since you’d seen a dog.

You focused your ADHD thoughts on literally anything but the fact that you were relying on Seokjin for far more than making you better—you were relying on him for a secret that, if Namjoon were to catch, the two of you would be screwed. Well, maybe not you, but boy would you be pissed if you couldn’t get this fucking thing out of you. And you kinda sorta liked Seokjin enough that you really didn’t want to see him without a head.

“That is a concern for later, Joon. You can’t learn when you’re getting a fever from lack of food.”

It was almost cute how Namjoon pouted at the rejection. It was kind of cute how he wanted to be the one to be by your side always if it wasn’t for the fact that you were a strong independent woman who---

Who were you kidding, it was hella cute. You felt like a romance novel heroine living up the dream with her hot vampiric mate.

Well, if it weren’t for the fact that you weren’t the least bit the heroine that anyone would write about.

“Besides, she’ll be fine. She’s surprisingly durable for a human.”

Namjoon scoffed. “You hadn’t seen her the first time.”

“I can imagine based on the state of the second time.”

“Hey.” You waved your hands in the air like an idiot, smacking Seokjin extra if only because you couldn’t do the same to Namjoon. “I’m still here guys.”

Seokjin only chuckled. “For now. Make another mistake and you might not be. You have to be more careful.”

“Yeah yeah.” You groaned, even though everyone in the room could fully tell that you had absolutely no intention of doing just that as long as Namjoon’s life was on the line. Well, Seokjin especially—what with the time for your plan coming quicker than either of you were properly prepared for.

“So are you going to feed or what?” Yoongi snapped, causing you to hide a burst of laughter behind your hand.

Namjoon glared at the elder. “If you carry me. I am not about to expose her to that.”

So you become a toddler when you are bed-ridden and can’t move.

“I heard that.” He snapped.

“You were meant to.” You chuckled, sticking out your tongue until Seokjin tested your reflexes by slapping his hand against your knee, causing you to let out a quick yelp that had everyone in the room laughing.

~.~

He was basking in the afterglow of his meal, and despite the fact that he probably just killed a human, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. He looked the healthiest he’d been in days; it was amazing what the required nutrients could do to a being.

“Shouldn’t you be scared?” He murmured as you wiped a rag down his face to clean up the blood splattered there. It wasn’t his, that much you knew.

“Probably.” You murmured, tilting his head to the side to gain access to his neck. Somehow he even managed to get it along his collar bones. There was a big part of you that knew you should have thought about the person behind the blood, the person whose fear made this vampire so healthy—the person who’s life had to end for his to continue. But, with no body and your worry otherwise focused on Namjoon’s healing, you felt more like a mother cleaning up a toddler who just shoved their face in chocolate cake. “But there are sacrifices for everything, aren’t there?”

“There are. But am I worth those human lives?”

You wanted to tell him yes, to say that he was far more important than any of those lives—but that was selfish of you and that was your heart talking over your mind. So instead, you remained silent and let the quiet in the air force you to choose your words carefully.

“Did you…did you kill them?”

“I did today.” He murmured, refusing to meet your gaze. “Does that upset you?”

You dried his face with the clean cloth, shrugging. “Not as much as it should. From what I understand, you’re a picky eater.” And it was the honest truth; you were surprisingly okay for it for someone who literally puked the last time she even thought about a dead body.

He snorted, his eyes glued somewhere towards the wall. “I don’t usually.” He whispered, almost as if he was afraid of your answer. “I don’t usually kill them—humans at least. Hunters are different, but the ones that are brought in from the enclaves I don’t like to destroy.”

“You have to keep them around as a food source. Right?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s not that. I just feel…they were left behind by their own people. They were sacrificed for their own kind—it’s not right to me to take what little they have left from them.”

“You pity them?”

“I suppose I do.”

You sat back on your heels, staring at the side of his face if only because he wouldn’t meet you head on. It was one of the rare occasions where it appeared that the most fearsome clan leader in all of the continent seemed afraid himself.

It was quiet, if only because you knew he had more to say—more to get off his chest. So you waited until he turned to face you, to ask you the question burning at the back of his throat.

“Do you hate me for it?”

“For killing?”

He nodded and you couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. “I have never seen you like this before. What made you show this side of yourself to me?”

“You make me question my entire existence Y/N. I don’t know humans; I don’t understand how they think. I prefer your smile to your face when it lets loose water—“

“When I cry.” You murmured stupidly.

“When you cry, yes. I dread your fear more for your sake than my own. When I picked you up off the street so long ago and brought you back here, I thought I could handle it if you despised me. But now, I don’t think that I could.”

It took your breath away, how honest he was. He was always honest, albeit grumpy and sometimes irritating. But he could say these things to your face; he never hid his feelings from you—his thoughts and his worries. That was more than you could have said for yourself. How did you come to deserve someone like him when you were so….flawed?

“I don’t hate you for being what you are. I’m not afraid of you for killing.” You rolled your tongue along your teeth, trying to find the right words in the hodgepodge whirlwind running through your mind. “I mean, I don’t want to see you feed. I don’t want to watch you kill because I have the spine of a coward and I would probably be afraid in that moment. But of you? Never. Not anymore. Despite what you are, Kim Namjoon you are my…. My….”

“Mate?” He whispered, his eyes searching your face as if it had the answers to questions he had yet to ask.

You shook your head. “Despite what you are, Kim Namjoon, I am yours.”

You couldn’t say he was yours, you didn’t own him. He was the leader of a clan; he was the property of many peoples. He couldn’t give you all of himself like you could give to him. He couldn’t give you the love you wanted, but you could give him yours. It was the truth, a double edged sword that both healed and hurt you at the same time. But that was what it was like to love someone like Kim Namjoon.

And if that was the most you could have then you would run with it until the end of the world.

He cocked his head at you, still trying to decipher the meaning behind your stance. “You told me you were not property.”

You let your shoulders slump, a horrible groan ripping from your throat as you fought back the redness of your ears with every fiber of your being. “For the love of God, you are the densest fucking vampire ever.”

“I don’t understand.”

You snorted. “I know, but that’s okay for now. For now, you have to get better so you can get that pea brain of yours working properly.”

“Hey!”

You laughed, enjoying the way that your laughter enticed his own.

~.~

“Namjoon?” You murmured to the quiet of the room, carefully watching the even rise and falls of his chest. “You awake?”

It was a whisper, but you knew, if he were conscious, he would hear it. Recovery had been hard on him; it was a slow process that took time and effort. But, you felt that he was just now beginning to get to a place where you could be positive that he would be fine. You needed him to be fine before you did this. You needed him to be fine but immobile—because then he couldn’t stop you. This was prime timing for what you were about to do, for the crazy decision your idiot ass was about to make. You knew if you didn’t gun for it now, you would never get a chance like this again.

When he didn’t respond, you slowly, ever so slowly, shifted towards the edge of bed.

Carefully, watching his every waking breath and move, you peeled yourself from the bed without so much as a squeak from the loudest mattress springs on planet earth.

Padding to the door like a kid trying not to wake their mom after curfew, you gave him one last parting glance over your shoulder. “I’ll be back.” You nodded to him as if he could actually hear you--as if that could still the rapid thumping of your heart in your chest. You swore you could feel the beat in your throat.

It was a lie that you wanted to believe. You didn’t know if you’d be back, you didn’t know what was going to happen in the span of a few hours. Maybe you wouldn’t be, but you had to have hope if you wanted your feet to move out into that hallway.

With the door closed gingerly behind you, you took a moment to stare at the wood. It was imperative that you gained your resolve once more before continuing onward.

This was for him; this was to prevent incidents like this. You didn’t want to be to blame if they humans came again, you didn’t want to be the cause of his death. You were absolutely positive that you wouldn’t be able to handle it all a second time.

Seokjin was already standing outside the door, quietly waiting for you to meet his gaze. You could feel the heat of him by your side. Patient but ready.

You were thankful for him now more than ever.

Without a word, you nodded to him and the two of you set off outside.

~.~

You busied yourself by playing with the scalpel on the table next to you instead of focusing on the bright ring lights, on the metal table under your ass and the button up shirt you wore for easier access to your chest. You tried to not think about the fact that soon your organs would be exposed to the air in the shed--hat soon you would be either dead or better for it. But, well, that pretending was becoming increasingly harder to do.

“You did a real good job cleaning this place up, Jin.”

“I can taste your fear, Y/N. There’s no point in hiding it now.” He murmured, his back turned to you as he thoroughly scrubbed at his hands. “But thank you. I had to make sure it would be a proper place to do this.”

“You even fixed the floorboards—I didn’t figure you one for carpentry.”

He chuckled. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I suppose.” You could see yourself in the polished metal, how haggard your face was, how your expressions belittled your resolve. “If I really start to get afraid, you won’t kill me, right?” It was a horrible squeak that made you hate your rabbit tendencies all the more.

“I won’t. I have far more restraint at a mere human’s fear.” He chuckled. “Yours included.”

“That’s the first time that ‘mere human’ feels like a comforting phrase coming from a vampire.”

He shot you a glance over his shoulder, his eyebrows knitting together. “We don’t have to do this now, Y/N. We don’t have to do this at all. There are other options—other—“

“No.” You shook your head, setting the scalpel down as Seokjin grabbed a pair of latex gloves he had set by the sink. “We’ve come too far and done too much. We’re doing this.”

“Are you sure?”

“100%” You smiled, though it felt more grimace than smile. It seemed to work for Seokjin, if only because you bet he knew by know that you were stubborn and scared and jumped into things head-on without thinking. If you decided that this was what you were going to do, then he had no power to stop you.

He started towards you, towards the little table he’d procured for his medical supplies. His fingers ghosted over the anesthetic he chose—an oral one, since the last thing he needed was further fear attracting others to you. Needles were a hard pass in a compound full of vampires who could taste fear in the air.

He lifted the prepared cup, handing it over to you.

You, for your part, were surprisingly calm as you started down at the liquid—translucent red, like a punch or a fruity drink. It most definitely was not, but one could pretend.

“Don’t make this be the last time I see your face, okay?” Your voice was weak despite the smile in your statement. “And Namjoon…if he—“

“You’re coming back, Y/N.” Seokjin murmured. “I won’t let you die on this table.”

“I know.” You smiled, heaving out the deepest of sighs from your chest. “I think I just wanted to hear you say it.” You swallowed your own spit, raising your little plastic cup to the air. “Cheers.”

And then it was sliding down your throat, calm and cool and oh-so-fucking terrible tasting. It was like they tried to flavor it with cherry to make it easier but artificial cherry tasted like shit. You remembered when you were seven and your mom bought a bag of cherries from the grocery store to try. You remembered her laugh at your face as you realized the medicine you grew up on was a huge lie to the reality of the sweet fruit.

You didn’t know why you were remembering her now.

You wondered if she still thought of you. If you died, would she ever know?

“It’ll take a few minutes to sink in.” Seokjin murmured, his hands gently pushing you back onto the table. “So relax.”

“Okay.” You whispered more to yourself than to him, shaking off the bitter taste in the back of your throat. “Okay.”

It was silent for a moment. That one quick moment of peace. It was refreshing; it was the calm before a shitstorm large enough to tear you in two.

In the span of a few seconds, the table you were on was suddenly knocked over, sending you careening to the floor in a pile of limbs and confusion. In your out-of-body experience, you could hear Seokjin shouting something that you couldn’t make out. You had to squint to even see him past the sudden, blaring reality that you were on the ground.

Apparently, his shouting was directing you to “for the love of god move!” considering he was landing a punch on a freshly teleported Freckles.

It was horrible and gut-wrenching to know that the reason your head was fuzzy was the due to the anesthetic you could still feel coating your throat and that you had about five minutes before you would be gone to the world.

In the chaos and the crushing realization that you would be of zero help, you found that you couldn’t even make a noise.

“J-Jin!” Your voice was soft to your own disoriented ears as you struggled to your feet. “Jin!” It, unfortunately, wasn’t getting any louder with your increased effort.

“Get out of here, Y/N!”

You frowned, brow furrowed as you took one step, then two lurching ones towards the door—you had to get help. You had to do something for Seokjin, somehow—you had to get someone better than the ticking time bomb that was you.

However, your efforts were thwarted almost instantly by the arm that looped around your waist, yanking you back into the enemy vampire’s chest.

“Oh no you don’t.” Theulgiestvampireever hissed.

You thrashed as much as you could, but your body felt five times heavier than it should have and your attempts amounted to absolutely nothing.

With a forceful kick, Freckles knocked Seokjin backwards and to the ground, blood dripping down both of their foreheads. Seokjin looked up at you through the leaking injury running past his eye, his hand enclosing around your ankle in one last, desperate effort to save you.

“Y/N!”

You couldn’t see Freckles’ evil grin, or the look on his face or the way his leg lifted to deliver a final crushing blow. But you did hear his chuckle next to your ear; you did hear the snap of bone as his heel crashed down onto Seokjin’s hand. You didn’t miss the way Seokjin’s head snapped back dangerously when met by the force of Freckle’s knee.

You screamed even though no sound came out.

I’m sorry Namjoon. You thought before reality shifted around you, breaking you into that nauseating place between worlds. The moment, thankfully, only lasted a few long seconds before you were launched into a heap outside of the fencing of Namjoon’s compound.

You gasped for breath, trying to help yourself to your feet to no avail. Your body was now too heavy for you to move it of your own accord and, when you tilted your head to the night sky, you realized that you couldn’t even feel the asphalt digging into the skin of your palms.

The world blurred around you, despite every effort to keep it in focus.

“Now who’s pathetic?” You hated the sound of his voice, hated that it haunted your nightmares and made you fear for Namjoon’s life. He bent down to your form to pick you up as if you were empty, as if you were nothing more than a slightly weighted bag to sling over his shoulder.

“You ready to meet a god, Y/N?” Jisung chuckled.

You grasped for anything to keep you tethered to your surroundings, fists weakly hitting his back. But, it was useless. It was all so useless. Before you could stop it, you were tumbling into unconsciousness.

~.~

When you finally came to, you had a pounding headache and found that were suddenly unable to move at all.

Well, for one, it was hard to move when your body was still stiff from however long you were out cold. Secondly, it really didn’t help that your arms were twisted behind you and bound by zip ties so tight you felt them cutting off circulation. Your legs didn’t fare any better, considering they were each bound to the front legs of the hard, metal chair you found yourself on.

With a groan to the ceiling, you tilted your head to scan your surroundings and get a better grasp of the reality of the situation you were in. If it weren’t for the fact that your brain wasn’t fully awake, you probably would have split in half from the force of your fear.

The room you were in was dilapidated and fading, however, you came to the conclusion that it was once used for education. Desks were piled in a corner, a broken chalkboard littering the floor to your left with bits of crushed chalk and dust. However, the second you fully awoke, you found that you couldn’t get a good look at much else because your attention was immediately drawn to the table set up next to you. Sitting atop of it was a laptop screen, plugged in via extension cord and a surprisingly quiet generator. Jisung sat smugly next to the laptop, lips twisted in a grin that would put nightmare shadows to shame.

But you were too glued to the sight of Namjoon’s face in the video feed provided by the laptop to care about much else.

He was sitting upright in his bedroom. He must be at the vanity. You thought, stupidly.

He, for obvious reasons, was not as happy to see your face as you were to see his.

“Ah! See that Joonie? Looks like she’s coming to.” Jisung chuckled, hopping off of the desk to take slow, predatory strides towards you. You briefly wondered just how long he had been sitting there, watching you and babbling nonsense to Namjoon.

You were still too groggy to feel too much fear at the action. Rather, you met Namjoon’s gaze through the screen and grimaced.

“Shit.” Was the first, creative, intelligent, and breathtaking thing to come out of your mouth.

“Shit indeed.” Jisung laughed, like a fucking clown from a horror movie you once watched with your best friend back behind the walls of the human world. Before you could react, Jisung’s hand was in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat to the coolness of the room.

“Let go of her.” Namjoon growled; the sound was low and scary even to your half-conscious brain. You could see the muscles in his arm flex, his lip curled in a snarl. It would have been attractive were you not in a predicament that had you wanting to shit your pants.

Jisung inhaled, and, even from your awkward angle, you could see the way his eyes glinted with a fresh feed. “Her fear is so fucking good.”

You quickly gathered that this was all just a pissing contest, a power move to bring Namjoon down. All you would ever be was a pawn, a toy to lure him out. Granted, you, on your own weren’t worth much, but it still sickened you to know that it was about all you would be good for. Vampire or human, it didn’t matter. They just wanted you to kill him—and by gods if you were just going to let it happen.

“Let’s play that game we talked about while she was sleeping, okay Joonie?” The nickname sounded absolutely disgusting coming from Jisung’s mouth. If you could, you would have slapped him yourself (and probably instantly regretted it, but you were always more of a do now think later kind of girl).

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“What game?” You whispered, your breath hitching as Jisung let go of you far too violently for your own taste, travelling somewhere just behind you. You hated how his eyes glowed from your fear once more, your body shivering at the sudden awareness of the temperature of the room around you. “Namjoon—what game?” You looked to him for guidance, but his eyes were cold and rimmed with dark circles. How long was he sitting there, watching you sleep through a screen? “Why are you making him watch this?” You whispered.

Jisung, however, did not have the care for his volume as you did for yours. “Because, dear Y/N, there is no point in torture if it doesn’t rile him up. Pictures would have sufficed but, I am a reaction man. I gotta see his face as it happens, live.” By the time he was finished, the last word were hissed into the shell of your ear. Brought with the enemy vampire, was a blade so big it could have covered your whole face. Jisung twisted it, his gaze never leaving Namjoon’s.

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