#Jean: I refuse to cage another living being

[leedee013]

Hi! Could I request some Etienne for WIP Wednesday?

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Etienne's tail swished back and forth across the floor. Jean took that as a "yes."

Only then did Jean look at his bed, set to a height that fit snugly over his dresser. He then looked at Etienne, who was definitely not tall enough to jump onto the bed.

He cursed under his breath. Of course getting a dog would require a massive amount of reorganizing in the room. He'd just hoped it wouldn't require such a dramatic change.

MASTERPOST

[livfastdieyoung69]

ROCKSTARS NEVER DIE-

(A Nikki Sixx Story. Ch.1)

A knock pounded on the wooden door. Rowan ignored it, they always did anytime before four in the evening. Another knock followed by a frustrated yell of their name (which didn’t have to travel through the door thanks to the fist-sized hole) shortly comes, then a groan, before the person on the other side gives up and stickz their hand through the hole, unlocking the door themselves.

“Rowan.” They scold, a hand on their jutting hip. Rowan didn’t budge. They crept over to the mattress on the floor. “Rowan!” A groan left their mouth after a kick was swiftly delivered to their rib cage. It wouldn’t have hurt so bad if it weren't for the pair of freshly cleaned, white Keds on the person who sent it.

“What the fuck do you want, Holly…” Rowan finally turned over, removing their face from the grimy pillowcase.

“You promised to help out at the diner today, remember? Kelly can’t come in and I said you could.” When she receives nothing but a pissed scoff, Holly continues. “All of the dumb rockstar guys coming down from the rest of the strip like you anyways.”

“That’s cause I am one of the dumb rockstar guys.” Rowan finally sat up, their feet meeting the ground for a second before retreating from the freezing floor. They were never one for the mornings, or being woken up at all, so it was no suprise to Holly they were being bitchy. “No one's gonna be out anyways, it’s the fucking morning in case you haven’t noticed.” Ro grumbles behing a sigh, rubbing at their tired eyes.

“It’s seven pm, Rowan. We have to be there at seven-thirty. And please put something on that isn’t leather!” Holly hollered the last sentence as they left the dirtied room. Rowan let out another groan, their hands from their face and through their hair before a quick stretch that sends them stumbling to the pile of clothes on the floor, muttering about how they’ll wear whatever the hell they want.

They quickly left their room after choosing a pair of torn-up jeans with a leather lace-up instead of a zipper for no other reason but to spite Holly and just wore the loose tank top of some strip-famous band, Chastain, they had fallen asleep in the night before. At the sight of the terrible 70s furniture and bright lights, they left the living room even faster than their room in search of a lighter, thankfully they’d found a pack of crumpled Newports in their jeans, and the pot of probably cold coffee.

“We gotta go, Ro. And you’re not smoking in my car, so can you please just wait until you get a break or something?” They responded with nothing but a sigh before chugging the ice cold cup of coffee they had just gotten to and stuffing the already crumpled pack of cigarettes in their back pocket. Rowan turned around to find Holly waiting at the door with an impatient look on her face so they just grabbed their sneakers to put on in the car.

The bell on the door of Tony’s Diner rang, and Holly entered with a moping Rowan dragging their feet behind them.

“Sorry I’m late Dottie, Rowan wouldn’t wake up,” Holly spoke as she rounded the corner to find the older waitress looking for the pens that always seem to be lost.

“Oh, you’re alright Holly. Where is that troublemaker anyway? Last time I saw the kid they were skin and bones.” Dottie gives up her search, and opens a new pack.

“Yeah, still are. Got a little better since they moved in but I’ve been trying to get ‘em to eat more. I think they saw someone they knew sitting down and went to say hi.” Rowan lazily turns the corner as soon as Holly finishes.

“Hey, Dots! How’ve you been?” They lean against the counter with an easy grin.

“I’m alright, Ro. It’s nice to see you after a while. You been hanging in there after..all that?” At the mention of Rowan's overdose, their smile disappears and they look down, nodding their head and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I don’t do that stuff anymore.” Rowan talked casually, scratching behind theirear, before trying to move away from the uncomfortable conversation, looking over to the line cooks to see who was working.

“Ro, what the hell happened to your hair?” Hearing Holly’s words Rowan turned back around, eyebrows furrowed. One side was its normal, long length, but the right was much shorter.

“What? Oh yeah, someone lit my hair on fire last night so it’s a little uneven.” They combed through the short side with an airy laugh, going back to inspecting the kitchen.

“Christ, kid, didn’t you just say you stopped doing all of that?” Dottie's words may have been harsh but her tone was soft and full of worry.

“Well, yeah, I meant I stopped taking fuckin’ Xanax man! What, do you want me to just throw my partying days away? Let me have some fun.” Rowan walked away after quickly grabbing a notepad and a pen in hopes that the conversation would finally stop. Holly sighs while watching Rowan move over to the table they’d stopped at earlier, already ignoring their problems, sitting next to some dude with hair as long as theirs. (the right side, atleast)

“I’m glad Rowan has you Holly. I don’t think they’d be alive if they didn’t.” Dottie shoves a couple straws into her aapron, speaking remosefully.

“Yeah…I don’t think so either.” Holly can hear Rowan and the eclectic group they sat with laughing, hands banging against the table as the one they’d sat next to pulls at their shortened side of hair.

The diner was surprisingly empty for how late it was. There were always at least two big rushes. The first one was the people who didn’t really party all that much and didn’t like the music all that much either. They were calmer and tipped more. But they were ‘posers’ so Rowan wasn’t a fan. Then the second crowd would come in a few hours later, and a lot rowdier. Most of them were black-out drunk and probably high. They partied, and rocked, and fucked and most of them were huge fans of Rowan. The first was smaller than usual, and now they just had to wait.

Rowan stared up at the clock. 9:57. They let out a sigh, holding their face in their hands as they sat at the front counter.

“You okay over there?” Another waitress- Sophia, Sam, something that started with an s- asked.

“Uh, yeah. Could you just let someone know I’m gonna go have a smoke? Thanks.” Rowan practically ran through the back door out of the kitchen, a cigarette sitting on their lips by the time the cold wind pushed against their face. The small fire of their lighter brought warmth to their fingers and smoke to the air. Minutes later, the heavy metal door creaked open.

“Hey, Ro? Someone’s asking for you out here.” Holly spoke cautiously. It was obvious Rowan wasn’t used to being sober this late.

“Uhm, alright. Just..just give me a sec Hols.” They squatted down before speaking, bringing their arms up to the side of their face and trying to block out the sounds of the strip and the oncoming migraine. Their hands moved from gripping the back of their neck to rubbing their eyes. They sucked a breath in and held. One, two, three, four, five. They breathed out, crushing their cigarette butt on the floor, and stood with another sigh before moving back inside and to the table Holly had told them.

“Alright, what the fuck do you want?” Rowan leaned against the wooden border of the booth, staring at the man with his nose stuck in the menu.

“Nice to see you too.” The man looked up, the worlds smallest smile setting on his face at the sight of them.

“Oh, hey man. How’s it goin’ Mick?” After realizing who it was, Rowan sat in the other seat opposite of him, sinking into the sticky and crumbling booth.

“Y’know, the usual. Life's a bitch, everything hurts, and I’d like to die in a fucking hole.” He responded, voice the same sarcastic monotone it almost always was. “You?”

“Same-same. Life’s a bitch, still pretty fuckin’ insane, and I did die in a hole last week. Unfortunately, i’m back.” The pair shared a couple of kind smiles- unlikely for the both- and fond laughter, before Mick took a sip of his shitty coffee, no sugar, no cream, and Ro picked at the fake wooden panel peeling up from the table.

“Listen, there’s this new band I’ve been playing with for a few days and we could use a rhythm guitarist. You’d fit right in and I said I’d ask around, see if anyone would be down.”

“Don’t have anything goin’ on right now, sure,” They shrug. “This band gotta name or somethin'?” Rowan moved their arm to sit on the booth behind them as they slouched back. Mick let out a huff of air.

“Yeah, I wish. Don’t even have a fuckin’ singer yet.”

Yahoo! A new story :) I’ve been wanting to write a motley story for agesssss. On Wattpad as well just cause I prefer to write on there and paste it over here lolololls. Enjoyyyy

[zardinthebrokenatlas]

This is the first chapter to a book I've got posted elsewhere. It was originally requested 2 years ago but I liked it a lot and decided to make it a book :3

Today's been so boring.. I swear I'll die from just boredom. It's an annoying day. Nothing's happening here in the shop. No customers, no more of us 'tinies' being bought. I guess that's a good thing.. But the easiest way to escape is to be bought. This place is stupid. I wish I could just get out of here.. Not just myself but my distant pals. The ones on the shelves beside mine. Ging and Kila. They are my neighbors and my absolutely crazy friends. Though we may never meet face to face and only rely on voices, I'd say we like family. Always coming up with plans to get out of here and running free in the world again. Well. I guess that's all I have to write today. Time to sit around and wait for the place to close for the night.

  ~ logged on a day, sometime in the year. I don't give a crap.

  I heaved a sigh, popped my journal into my small pack, and leaned against the back of the cage wall. Such a boring day. There were, like, three people that actually came to the shop today. They didn't even buy anything, instead, they just looked around. Why can't they just close now? Ain't nobody coming this late in the day.

  Would it really matter if anyone did anyway? Sure, they'd look around and whatever, but it's so doubtful that anyone is going to buy scrawny little tiny people anymore unless it's for some stupid kid that'll pull you limb from limb because it thinks you're a flipping doll. What kind of psychopathic generation is being raised? Somebody needs to teach discipline.

  My thoughts sure are productive today. Thinking about kids again. Just what I needed.

  Slowly, I forced myself to stand and hobble over to the glass pane that let me stare out into the 'amazing' shop I was trapped in. I stopped directly in front of the clear wall, pressing my face up against it as if it proved how devastatingly bored I was.

  I've lived here for about 11 months now and have grown completely neutral to this place. The employees find me as a 'handful' apparently. Probably because I've been bought and returned many, many times. It's definitely because of my strategy. Depending on the person that 'adopts' me, I refuse to talk or I'll talk to them all the time without shutting up. Course it's dangerous and I do indeed have scars from over-tempered people. It's so very easy to make people annoyed.

Though I would say I'm lucky to never have had to deal with a kid. So far, I haven't come up with any strategies for those vermin. I'd rather eat a rat leg than get trapped in a room with a kid.

  Heaving another exaggerated sigh, I pulled my face away from the glass and tottered to my little endearing house. I dusted a pile of shavings to heap on one side of me before plopping down on the cold metal. Maybe I could attempt to draw again. I'm not great at it.. but practice makes perfect, right?

  Hesitantly, I reached for my pack and pulled out my notebook. Sure. It was a journal, but I had nothing else to use. Plus, the semi-straight lines worked like a grid of sorts, and, just like that, I peeped my head out the front of my 'castle' and began to draw what I saw.

  Though the drawings were absolutely horrific, I managed to get a shelf, the cashier, the rack next to the door, and a bit of the manager drawn before somebody walked in. Odd. A customer.

Closing my book and packing it away to safety, I glanced up at the clock. 6:55. Just about time to close and this.. weirdo decided to show up. Firstly, this guy wore those slick new 'airpod' things and extremely nice clothes, despite it being just a hoodie and jeans. His vibe was like one of those distinctive rich kids from the old t.v. reruns that played during lunch break.

  Even though it made no difference, I scoffed at the college kid. It didn't really matter and I could've cared less, but for some reason, this guy ticked me off. Yet.. I did begin to wonder what that kind of person would want from such a junky store like this one. Maybe supplies or something.

  Wrong. The next thing I knew, I was being taken away from my cage. To be fair, I should have been used to being handled by now, but no matter how much I've tried, I have just always hated it. Probably always will.

  My struggle was cut short as I was dropped into a small cardboard box. Of course, it was one of those awfully shaped ones and had holes poked through the sides, but it was still an awful place to be. A shaky sigh left me as I tried to convince myself that they were just cleaning the cage or something but then the lid was reopened and another borrower like myself was roughly dropped in.

Our eyes met and I could tell we were both confused. This was the first time I'd ever been so close to another of my species. Well, at least since I was stowed away in this store.

It was a young teen boy like myself, but he had red hair, freckles, bright green eyes, and a decent-ish style of clothes.

  "Who are you?" He asked. His voice quaked with fear, but I could still hear the familiarity in his voice. My 'neighbor' from the cage.. I could've easily been wrong, so I held back on calling him any name, instead, I inhaled a shaky breath.

  "I'm Reb. Reb Hilk. Who are-" Before I could even finish the question, he had already practically flung himself at me to get a hug which I returned.

  "It's me, Ging! I can't believe it's really you!! I never thought we'd ever see each other.." His voice cracked, taking me aback at his sudden vulnerability.

  "Neither did I.."

  The moment was interrupted as the box shifted roughly before being opened again. Two more tinies were put in. At first, I had figured that was all of us that were going to be taken, but pretty soon there were roughly eleven of us all together, huddling in groups. Most were terrified, but some were curious, looking out the holes.

  A part of my protectiveness kicked in and I began to pace. This situation had suddenly become much more worrisome. Where were we going? Were more of us going to all get crammed together? There were too many questions and nowhere to get any answers. All I knew is that we had to stick together and figure it out, otherwise we might lose each other.

  The movement continued, shifting from being abrupt to absolutely nothing. What was happening? Were we being bought? Was the store shutting down? Were we going to be.. exterminated?

  I shook my head at the last awful thought. That couldn't have possibly been what was happening. Right..?

  Another shaky sigh escaped my throat as I joined a small group that were huddled together and Ging followed suit. In all my years of living, I had never seen such fear-stricken faces. It panged my heart, but the only thing I could do was comfort. For the first time, I felt helpless.

  In an attempt to locate where we were going, I glanced towards the holes. It didn't help much since the sun had set completely. Of course it had. Lovely.

  Soon enough, after waiting in the dark for roughly twenty minutes, there was suddenly a lot of noise followed by a lot of movement. The box was lifted, a little too fast, and was carried somewhere else.

  As if thinking the same thing, none of us made a single noise, allowing the fear levels to rise again. That's when it dawned on me. Kila, my other neighbor, wasn't with us. Was she not taken? Maybe that was a good thing..

  Then, after what felt like an eternity, the box was set on a table of some sort and someone was messing with the box as if they had no idea how to open it. The tension rose and the silence became deafening. All I could do was hold my breath as the lid slowly fell open.

  Instead of being met face to face with a trash can, like I previously thought, we were greeted by the college kid. My fear was replaced with a sudden stubbornness. I couldn't help but glare up at him. Of course, it was him. He just had to take us away from where we were and no man in their right thoughts would buy so many tinies for pets. He must've had some other plan. Something much worse.

  Just as the guy reached his hand in to take some of us out, I quickly interfered by backhanding him as hard as I could on the finger. Surprisingly he backed off.

  "Fuck off." I growled. The look he gave me was utterly pitiful, but I didn't care. Protectively, I stood my ground in front of my kind, as a defender.

  There was such a cold silence I felt like I could hear the hair on my neck stand on end, but it didn't last long as someone else suddenly scooped the group up and out of the box from behind me. The fear seared through me as I spun around on my heels. It was such a swift motion, I tripped over my own legs.

  "Hey-" My voice was cut off as my chest collided against the ground, knocking the breath out of me. I could hear Ging calling for me, but I couldn't seem to catch my breath before I also was lifted out of the box.

  After I regained myself and thoughts in that small moment, I began to thrash around in the hands of my new captor. It was definitely the one who I just had a stare-down with.

[meetmyblondemuffins]

Movie Antics

Warnings: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex

“Tickets for two,” I said enthusiastically to the man standing behind the glass of the old, worn ticket booth. I heard an exaggerated sigh coming from the right of me. Looking over at Sirius, I raised my brows and jutted out my bottom lip, attempting to make him feel somewhat guilty. I squeezed his large hand and further intertwined our fingers. “You’ll live, Siri. It’s only a couple of hours.”

I’d been dying to see this new independent film that had been released a few weeks ago. I had been putting off watching it for some time now because I wanted to watch it with Sirius. I could tell he would’ve preferred being left behind. The entire ten blocks we walked from the cinema he drug his feet like a child who was being forced into a dentists’ office. I was surprised he didn’t throw himself on the concrete; kicking and screaming. Although he didn’t throw a complete tantrum, he did try making up a thousand excuses as to why he absolutely couldn’t bear to see one second of this ‘horrendous-looking film’.

It started from the second we stepped out of the front door and into the chilly breeze of a typical, dreary London day.

“Look how gloomy it is. It’s bound to rain—we should stay in tonight.”

“It’s gloomy every day, Sirius. And besides, I brought an umbrella.”

“But… why walk allllll the way to the cinema in the cold when we could snuggle up in a perfectly warm bed?” I giggled at his suggestion.

“Yeah, I’m sure all you want to do is snuggle up in bed.” I knew that for a fact, Sirius wanted much more than to lie in bed when he’d already try to rid me of my clothing minutes before leaving the house.

He seemed more sex-driven the past few days than I’d seen him before. Everywhere we went, he was ready to go; whether he spontaneously suggested the idea while lounging around at home, or in complete public. Refusing a cluster of his many advances always guaranteed nothing less than spectacular sex later on. It’s like all of his built-up sexual tension was released all at once; It was fantastic.

As soon as we bought our tickets and concessions, we walked into the dimly lit theatre. Scanning the rows of chairs from left to right, I noticed that not a single chair in the entire room was occupied. I supposed nobody was up for a film on a greyer-than-usual Sunday afternoon.

Sirius walked to the first row that was closest to the entrance, leading me with my index finger wound around his. We sat towards the middle of the row.

I would’ve preferred to sit closer to the front, if even just a few rows, but I decided to cut my pouting, child-like boyfriend a bit of slack. Sirius slouched down in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest as the lights dimmed to complete darkness. Immediately following, lights of the previews that covered the far wall flooded the room. It was almost blinding.

Looking over at the silhouette of Sirius’s profile, the glow of the projection outlined the miserable look he had plastered on his face. I almost felt bad for dragging him here, but on the other hand, I think he was being a drama queen about the entire situation.

Reaching over the popcorn that I had resting in my lap, I brought the armrest that was separating us to a vertical position so that I could scoot closer to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and whispered into his ear, his flyaway curls brushing against my cheeks.

“I really appreciate you being here, you know.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, lightly kissed my temple, and rested his cheek on the top of my head. So he wasn’t completely resenting being here after all.

Sirius and I always did things for each other that we didn’t particularly want to do. We wanted each other to be happy, and it made our relationship stronger as a whole. I was awoken in the middle of the night to him leaving to go prank students with the other marauders and he went to nearly abandoned cinemas to watch films that he had no-to-negative feelings towards. It balanced out evenly.

Halfway through the movie (and also the bag of popcorn), Sirius’s arm that was resting across my shoulders made its way down to my hip. He leaned in to whisper into my ear.

“It’s not too late to get out of here. We could go out to a nice dinner, go for a romantic stroll through the park,” he drug out the ‘a’ in park, “anything. Anything you want.” Turning my full torso toward him, I cocked my head to the side as to say ‘why, why do you do this to me, Sirius Orion Black’. His expression was originally full of hope—hope that I thought this movie was as terrible as he’d predicted before we’d gotten here.

“Anything, huh?” His eyes filled with glee. But his face dropped immediately as I said:

“Well, I want to stay here.”

He went back to slouching in his chair, his head meeting the back of the headrest. I couldn’t stand seeing him act like this anymore. There was no way I was leaving this cinema until the film came to an end; but perhaps I could offer him a deal.

“If you stay until the end, I’ll do whatever you want afterwards.” A smirk form across his lips and I knew exactly what he had on his mind.

Moments later, I was once again engulfed in the film. The main characters had defied their near-impossible chances of being together, and the romantic/sexual portion came to its peak. I felt Sirius’s lips sneak below my earlobe and begin a trail to my collarbone. “I said afterwards, don’t be so eager,” I said placing my hand on his chest in an attempt to stay focused on what was happening between the characters.

“C’mon, even these poor bastards on screen are enjoying themselves. It’s like they’re mocking me.”

“Well I’m enjoying myself. And what, is ‘fucking in a movie theatre’ something you were planning to cross off of your bucket list before you die?”

“Well it wasn’t before but,—“ I cut him off with a look of disapproval. “There’s not anybody here, we’re sitting in the back. This is perfect!”

Before I could object, Sirius crashed his lips into mine. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I’d caused him to suffer—or at least act like he was suffering—for a few hours and I suppose I owed this to him. I wouldn’t be missing out on the movie much. It was like I was experiencing what they were doing, but they weren’t in an empty cinema, it was a bit more romantic on their end. However, I didn’t mind much.

Our kiss deepened as his tongue brushed over my bottom lip before it entered my mouth, exploring every corner. His hand lightly cupped my cheek.

I felt Sirius’s fingertips lightly brush over the slightly thin material of my trousers that separated the pads of his fingers from my inner thigh. In a swift manoeuvre, his fingertips slid under the waistband of my trousers and pulled them down, then danced along my skin, igniting sparks as they made their way to my heat. His middle finger slipped past the side of my panties and made firm circles over my clit.

I’d quickly decided not to make this about me. I’d wanted to show Sirius just how much I appreciated him being there, even if I’d practically forced him to.

I palmed his hardening member through his pants and dropped to my knees in front of him. As soon as I unbuttoned and unzipped his skin-tight black jeans, pulling his boxers down slightly, his erection sprung upright, slapping against his stomach. I bit my lip and looked up at him through my lashes lustfully. He shut his eyes, bracing himself for the warmth of my mouth wrapped around him.

I let the tip of my tongue flick over his slit, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum.

“Fuck, don’t tease,” he groaned, loud enough for only me to hear over the booming cinema surround sound. The flat of my tongue glided over his head as I took the shaft into my hand and began stroking, feeling the veins on his thickness. With each bob of my head, I allowed him to venture deeper and deeper into my throat, hollowing my cheeks until I felt the need to gag. His fingers became entangled in my hair, but he let me go at my own pace. I altered my speed and pressure often which made it difficult for him to stifle his moans.

His hand gripped my hair tightly and he threw his head back onto the head rest, his mouth hanging open. I could taste the familiar flavor of his cum spread across my tongue and slide down my throat.

I stood up from the floor and lifted the armrest on Sirius’s left, allowing us more room. I straddled his lap backwards, his chest pressing against my back. The only thing separating us was the thin lace material of my panties. His right hand travelled up my torso, grazing my rib cage and kneading my breast gently. His left hand snaked around my thigh and pulled my panties to the side. He traced shapes roughly around my centre as I let my head fall back to rest on his shoulder.

He nipped at the sweet spot on my neck and I let out a light moan. As good as his fingers felt against me, I need more. I lifted myself up a bit and reached between us to position his hard cock at my entrance. Slowly lowering all the way back down, I gave myself time to adjust to his large size as he filled me to the brim. He continued massaging my throbbing nerves and I rested my hand over his, getting him to apply more pressure. Arching my back against his chest, I could already feel myself tightening around him and he felt it too. I could feel every muscle throughout his body contract. Every time I had sex with Sirius, it always felt like the first time.

Slightly angling myself to find my g-spot, I let out a muffled whimper and shut my eyes tight when I felt his head brush my

G-spot . I slowly began going up and down on his throbbing dick, grinding against him every time my ass met his crotch. With every motion, I felt my knees weaken a little more each time.

Sirius’s breath became harsh and uneven on my neck and I could tell that he couldn’t hold it much longer. Every individual muscle in my lower body starting in my toes began to tighten in a wave, one after another. The pleasure crept up into the pit of my stomach and I reached my high, becoming a shaking mess in Sirius’s lap. His warm load coated my walls and his fingers dug into my thighs, leaving light scratches.

Once I recovered from my orgasm, I noticed the credits of the film beginning to roll and the lights were returning to their original brightness. I collapsed back into my seat and Sirius struggled to reposition himself back into his jeans. I laughed at the sight of him.

“What?” he questioned continuing to fumble with his jeans.

“Maybe if your pants weren’t so tight Mr Black, you wouldn’t be having such a tough time right now,” I mocked him.

“Whatever, I just hope I don’t have as tough of time trying to get them off when we get home,” he grinned, “you did say afterwards, didn’t you?”

[duuhrayliegh]

A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

pairing: bucky x reader

warnings: TFATWS SPOILERS!!!!!, language, canon lvl violence, soft!bucky, some suggestive content, it’s ten thousand words so i’m sure i missed something, just lmk and i’ll tag it accordingly babes.

word count: 10,246 (i may have gone a little overboard)

a/n: this is the last part, unless y’all want more. i’m rlly proud of myself w this series, granted MUCH of the content was already written for me, nonetheless, here you go. i hope y’all like it <3

read A Friend of Yours - pt. 1 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 2

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

check out my m.list here!

xoxo ray

The Wilson family house was adorable. Two stories with chipped blue paint on the walls and yellowing white on the columns. You had beat Sam there, so you decided to just look around for a few minutes before meeting Sarah and the boys. You walked out to the dock in front of their house, admiring the water, how still and calm it was. You were staring into the distance when you heard small footsteps from behind you.

“You know, it’s rude to sneak up on people.” You weren’t sure which boy it was, but you were trying to present a non-threatening front.

“You know, it’s rude to invite yourself onto someone else's property.” You were surprised when you heard Sam’s voice respond to you. Turning quickly to face the man with the confused expression. “I thought you wouldn’t come to the States because of the whole Enemy of it thing.” He walked away from you, gesturing for you to follow as he picked up your abandoned duffle. “He’s not here if that’s who you’re looking for.” You shook your head as you crossed the threshold into the living room.

“I’m not here for him, although he would be a much welcome bonus.” The two of you shared a laugh. “But no, I’m here to help you however I can.” Sam’s eyes narrowed, wondering if he should question your generosity. Your eyes must have given away your desperation for a home because he decided against it.

“Okay, but if you’re here, you’re gonna work. We’ve got a lot of shit to get done if we’re going to fix this boat up.”

“What boat?” You smiled at him as he began explaining what was going on. He just skimmed the top of what was really happening, but you could tell he was worried even though he wore a good facade.

“Get changed into some clothes you don’t mind getting messed up.”

“Am I going to be doing, like, manual labor?” He gave you a ‘duh’ look to which you groaned, “So, shorts are out of the question?” Sam had already walked into the kitchen before replying.

“Only if you want to freeze your ass off!” You changed quickly into a pair of ripped mom jeans that you cinched with a belt at your waist and a white short sleeved shirt.

“Do you have an overshirt I can borrow?”

“You mean, a flannel?” Sam shot back as he exited the room.

“Yeah, an overshirt.”

“No. A flannel. Come on, say it with me, flannel.” He tossed one your way, which you put on the rolled the sleeves up to your elbows.

“It’s an overshirt, Sam. I’m not seeing the issue.”

“Y/N, it's a flannel. Just say flannel, why you gotta make it all fancy?” He walked out the back door and onto a wooden bridge that led to the marina the boat was docked at. He didn’t let the flannel thing go the whole way over, making you laugh loudly and shake your head. As you walked up the dock, you could see several people helping Sarah and Sam with their boat.

“This is all you guys?” You were amazed, you hadn’t seen togetherness like this since before Aunt Peggy died. “Wow.” You said mostly to yourself as Sam walked you up to the woman of the hour.

“Sarah, we’ve got another one. Sarah, Y/N. Y/N, Sarah.” You stuck your hand out for Sarah to shake, which she did kindly. “I’m going to work on getting some of the siding off the boat. Sarah, Y/N is all yours.” He darted off, leaving you with Sarah.

“What ya got for me, Sarah? I’m here to do whatever you need.” She began instructing you to help with cataloging everything that people were bringing. Whether it be rusty spare parts or a couple twenty dollar bills, Sarah wanted to know and she wanted a record of it. A truck pulled up next to the boat and Sam got out hugging the men that exited it.

“Tommy, Carlos, man, this is amazing.” They exchanged a few more words before one of them asked the inevitable question.

“How do we get it off the truck?” A loud scraping sound emitted as the pallet was taken from the truck bed. Bucky lifted the bundle of parts over his head effortlessly, dropping it on the ground. He turned to the group of three men staring at him.

“You’re welcome.” You laughed as you approached. Bucky hauled a gray and black case onto the truck bed, speaking to Sam about it. Suddenly, one of the pipe fittings went out of whack, causing a steady stream of air to escape on the boat. Sarah stopped in front of it on the dock.

“Sam!” She was holding her clipboard as she watched Sam try to stop the leak with a crescent wrench. Bucky walked up next to Sarah, saying hi before telling Sam he was doing it wrong.

“Men. They even mansplain to other men, can you believe that?” You said from beside Sarah while Bucky finished fixing the leak. You tilted your head to admire him, “But we love to watch them work, huh?” She laughed as you wiggled your eyebrows at her. Bucky and Sam turned back to you and Sarah and Bucky’s eyes widened when they landed on your figure. Sam walked toward the front of the boat as Bucky stopped to introduce himself to Sarah.

“Sarah--” His eyes flicked to yours, “Y/N.” Then he quickly followed behind Sam.

“Oh, what was that, Y/N?” Sarah teased, two can play at that game.

“I don’t know, what was your thing about, Sarah?” You said her name like Bucky did to mess with her. She shoved your shoulder away and pushed you back to work.

You had to admit, watching Bucky do domestic type things with his metal appendage did things to you. Just knowing that he was comfortable enough to be around Sam’s whole family with his arm fully on display, made you happy.  The sun was beginning to go down, and you were sharing a beer with Sam and Bucky. Bucky hadn’t spoken to you directly since he got there and it was starting to irk you. You thought that you had something, but maybe not. Bucky rose from his position on the boat, clinking his bottle with Sam’s, claiming he needed to find a hotel room so he could catch his flight tomorrow.

“You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?” Sam joked.

“I just don’t wanna make it weird for your family.” But Bucky’s eyes caught yours as he spoke.

“Just stay here, man.” Sam began a rant about the people of the town, ending with, “Plus we already got one freeloader for the night, what’s one more, right?”

“Oh goodie! Are we going to braid each other’s hair and play Seven Minutes in Heaven, too?” you teased Sam, but Bucky stiffened.

“We can do whatever you want.” Sam said, then he pointed at Bucky, “Just don’t flirt with my sister. Cause if you do, I’ll have Carlos cut you up, feed you to the fish.” Bucky made a face at Sam before smiling again.

Later that night, after you had all eaten dinner and the kids had gone to bed, you contemplated what your next move was going to be. You were sitting in one of the patio couches outside, a blanket wrapped around your legs, watching the stars reflection in the water. Bucky walked out on the porch, a pair of sweats-- that he had to borrow from Sam because he didn’t pack anything-- slung low on his hips, his blue Henley stopping just before the waistband of his boxers.

His gaze met yours and he approached you as if you were a wild animal and you were going to run away if he made any sudden movements. Your legs had been sprawled across both cushions of the couch, so instead of letting you change positions, Bucky just lifted your legs and then rested them on his lap. His left hand was rubbing back and forth just above your ankle.

“Is there a reason you’ve been avoiding me, James?” He ignored your question all together, opting to ask his own.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You thought back to the first time that you ever saw him. Chained to a chair, hair hiding his face from nosy onlookers.

“Uh, yeah. You were being treated like an animal, caged in a glass box. Why?” His left hand never stopped its motion on your leg.

“When you first started staring at me, I was absolutely positive that it was out of fear. Then when I actually looked at you, you were curious.” You nodded your head, recalling the emotions.

“That was a stressful day.” You could sense that Bucky didn’t need your input to get to where he was going.

“Then, when we were in that stupid tiny blue car that Steve had crammed us into,” he paused to laugh at the memory, “I was sure in that moment, that I was never going to see you again.” His gaze hadn’t left his palms on your legs, refusing to meet your eyes. “And when I saw you in Madripoor, I was positive that it was just someone who looked a lot like you. It couldn’t have been you, I wasn’t that lucky.”

His left hand gripped your leg as he spoke, “But then you started talking and I would’ve known that voice anywhere. All I wanted was to be close to you.”

“Bucky, you almost broke my arm because I sucker punched Zemo.” He shushed you.

“All I wanted was to be close to you, but I’m also a violent person.” He brought his head up, locking his steel blue orbs with yours. “Then you kept talking and you were so smart. So beautiful.” His metal hand left your leg to cup your chin. “Every word out of your mouth mesmerized me, even when you were kind of insulting me.” His thumb stroked your jaw, traveling up to your bottom lip. “And God, the way you said my name.” Your nostrils flared and your brow raised.

“What? James?” You trapped your bottom lip in between your teeth, giving Bucky reason to pull it out with his metal thumb. Your tongue shot out to wet your lips out of habit and Bucky shot you a glare.

“Doll. What’re you doing to me?” He dropped his thumb back to your cheek as his eye flicked over your face. He brought his hands down to your waist, holding it tightly and pulling you closer to him. Your ass now rested against his right leg, and he transferred his grip to wrap around your blanket covered thighs. A squeal escaped your lips without your permission, making your face contort.

“When we were sitting at the bar in your gallery I wanted nothing more than to smother you with all my love and affection.” Your heart rate increased, you want that too. “I’m glad I wasn’t able to though.” Your stomach dropped, a feeling of rejection washing over you. You began to pull away from him, wanting to escape his touch. He gripped your legs tighter against his body, “At that time, I wasn’t what I should be for you. I’ll probably never be exactly what I should be for you, but I’m selfish enough right now that I don’t care anymore.” He twisted his upper body to face you.

“What are you talking about, James?” A visible shiver ran down his spine as you said his real name. He brought both his hands up to grip your face. The cool air added to the temperature difference of his hands.

“I’m talking about this.” It wasn’t a half a second later that his lips were on yours. It took you a second to respond, but you did with fervor. Your hands traveled to his neck to show him that you wanted this too. His fingers fanned out, cupping behind your ears to bring you impossibly closer to him. His tongue traced your bottom lip, seeking entrance which you denied playfully. He brought his thumbs to rest on your chin, applying pressure as he asked again. At this point, you didn’t care about the pardon, or Karli and the Flag Smashers, or Sharon and the Power Broker, or even Sam, Sarah and the boys. You could only focus on James’ lips that were molding so perfectly with your own. You eventually had to break apart, your fingertips coming to rest on James’ kiss swollen lips. You locked eyes with him again, his pupils blown wide, and the two of you laughed.

“Oh, that.” You traced his lips while holding his stare. “Is that why you haven’t been talking to me?” He nodded quickly, gaze drifting down to your lips again. He leaned forward wanting to steal another kiss, but you stopped him. “That’s not okay behavior, James. You can’t just not talk to me because you’re frustrated with yourself.” He hummed a noise of assent, kissing your fingertips on his lips. His palm came up to keep your fingers pressed to his lips as his eyes roamed your face. “What does this mean, James? You aren’t just going to get my hopes up and then walk away right?”  He pulled back from you, a look of disappointment crossing his features.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like that would be a possibility.” He took a deep breath, “After my time in Wakanda, after Shuri de-programmed me, I thought I finally had a group of people I could trust. Then, Ayo was able to remove my arm within the blink of an eye, but not the way that they had when they were tweaking it.” He rested his body against the back of the patio couch. “My therapist had been telling me that I needed to trust someone, and up until that point, I did. I thought I had people who fully trusted me as well.” He looked over at you, silent tears racing down his cheeks. “This clearly isn’t a good excuse, but I felt like you wouldn’t have trusted me either.” Your hands came up to his face, wiping away his tears.

“James, I’ve known of you for years before I met you. Remember how Sharon said I did that report on you in high school?” He nodded as much as your hold on his face would allow him to. “Well, that’s when I first fell in love with the idea of you.” His eyes widened as you continued speaking. “Then, I was lucky enough to meet you and it felt like everything fell into place. After Sharon and I ran off to Madripoor, I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again, and I was okay with that because maybe you were better left as an idea.” You laughed as you looked down at your lap, dropping your hands from his face. “Then I got dusted during the Blip, which is a whole other thing and then Sharon said that you were in Madripoor.” You shook your head then faced him, eyes locking with his red rimmed pair.

“I would love to fall in love with you. And right now, I want nothing more than to let the trust we have for each other grow into something more.” A wide smile spread across his face and he bared his teeth at you, scrunching his face at the nose.

“I want that too.” He leaned forward slapping a sloppy kiss onto your lips, which you returned with equal intensity. When Bucky pulled back from you to catch his breath, he left his forehead resting against your own. Your breaths synchronized and he patted his hand twice on your outer thigh, signalling you that he was going to get up. “We better get some sleep.” He stood in front of you, offering you his hand. You smiled as you entwined your fingers with his metal ones.

Luckily, Cas and AJ were kind enough to share a room tonight so you could sleep in the other. Bucky’s hand never left your side as he walked you up the stairs. Once you had reached the closed door, he wrapped his arm around you, twisting your body to face him, back pressed against the cold wood of the door. He pushed his whole body forward, molding your bodies together as his hands hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“I’m glad that we talked, Y/N.” He pecked your lips, pulling back afterwards to stare at your face.

“I’m glad we did too, but what are you doing?” A nervous laugh left your lips and Bucky’s eyes followed the movement.

“You’re just so pretty.” He leaned forward kissing your cheeks, “I’m happy,” A kiss to your chin. “that I’ll be able to,” one to your nose, “call you my doll soon.” His lips lingering on your forehead before bringing his chin up to the top of your head, pulling you into him for a hug. You brought your arms up to wrap around his waist, your face pressed into the spot where his neck and collarbone met.

“Am I not already your doll?” Your question was muffled against his skin, but he heard you.

“Not until I specifically ask you. You can be mine without being my doll, but I want to wine and dine you before I feast.” Your brows raised again and your lips rolled inwards.

“Before you feast?” You were holding back a laugh, so Bucky pulled back, his hands gripping your shoulders, face serious.

“Feast.” He reached behind you opening the door. He gave you a quick smooch before pushing you into the empty room, alone with your thoughts. You had a harder time falling asleep that night. Bucky, on the other hand, had no problem, sleeping like a rock with a smug smile on his face.

You woke up to the sound of eggshells being cracked and forks hitting the sides of ceramic plates. Walking down the stairs and into the kitchen, you saw Sarah working over the stove while Cas was scrambling eggs. Sarah heard you coming down, ever the always aware mother.

“Hey, hope you’re hungry, ‘cause you aren’t leaving this kitchen without eating somethin’.” She watched as you peered into the living room, searching for Bucky’s imposing figure. “I think he’s down at the dock with Sam. They left real early this morning and girl, I swear to God if they’re messin’ with that water pump, I’m going to strangle the both of them.” You laughed, taking the plate of scrambled eggs that AJ was holding out to you.

“Did you tell them that the water pump wasn’t the issue?” She nodded as she stirred the eggs in her pan. “Then you know that they are, Sarah.” The two of you shared a laugh as Cas and AJ sat down to eat, as well.

“Y’all better hurry up before you’re late for the bus.” The boys quickly shoved their remaining food into their mouths, rushing out the door after kissing their mother goodbye.

“How do you do it?” Sarah’s head tilted, wondering what you were referring to. “Being a single mother and managing a business? Does it all get to be too much sometimes?” She could tell you were genuinely curious, so she sighed.

“It’s definitely challenging at times, but thankfully I have a good enough relationship with AJ and Cas that we’re able to get through pretty much anything. After we lost their Dad, I was all alone and scared. I’m still scared a lot of the time, scared that I’m going to mess them up, you know?” She paused a second to recollect her thoughts. “It’s just by chance that we live in this amazing community that helped me whenever I needed a little bit of assistance.” The conversation between the two of you fizzled after that, perhaps it was too heavy a topic for breakfast to handle. You followed her to meet a group of people at the marina, but the journey there wasn’t silent.

“So, I have a question, but you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. Although I feel like if you don’t answer it, you’re kind of answering it.” You encouraged her to ask whatever she wanted to. “You and Bucky are a thing, right?” You coughed, unsure of how to answer. “That’s all the confirmation I needed.” Sarah smiled at you as your mouth struggled to form words.

“We are, but we aren’t?” Sarah gave you a look making you roll your eyes. “I don’t know he said that he was excited to see where this was going and then we kissed, so yes?”

“Oh, he looks like a good kisser.”

“Right? Just like he’s got the bone structure and lip plumpness ratio down to a T.” There was a brief moment of silence before the two of you burst into a fit of laughter. The walk down the marina dock wasn’t a long one, so you were able to see Sam and Bucky hunched over a pile of scattered parts.

“Uh-huh. No. No.” Sarah’s head began shaking as Sam was arguing with Bucky, who wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, his eyes were roaming your figure, lingering on your face. His eyes darted to Sam before he greeted the two of you with a wave of his hand.

“I told you specifically that the water pump was not the problem, and yet, here you are.”

“Yep, Samuel.” Bucky teasingly berated, taking Sarah’s side.

“You’re in just as much trouble, you by-stander.” Your voice lilted into a playful tone as Bucky made a shocked face at you.

“In our defense, we were supposed to be done long before you woke up.”

“I don’t come up to the sky to tell you how to barrel roll, so don’t come down here and mess around with things you don’t understand.” Your fist came up to your mouth.

“Oh, that’s a-burn, Bird Brain.” You pointed a finger at Sam, clutching your stomach with your other hand as Sarah swatted the two boys away. Bucky stopped next to you, wrapping his metal arm around the front of your body, delivering a soft kiss to your temple. He left with Sam, arguing the whole way to the house while you stayed with Sarah, reassembling the water pump.

By the time you had gotten back to the Wilson house, Bucky was hauling his backpack strap onto his shoulder. You slowed your approach, holding your open palms in front of you, confused as to what Bucky was doing.

“Where are you going?” He turned to face you, a smile spreading over his face. His metal arm wrapped around your waist again, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m heading to New York, I’ve got some stuff to wrap up there. I want you to come with me.” You were taken aback, what about Karli and the GRC?

“We haven’t finished this whole thing with the Flag Smashers, or Walker. Bucky, we can’t just walk away from our responsibilities.” Bucky’s hands clasped around your shoulders.

“We aren’t, Y/N, I promise. Sam has Torres doing something with some signal do-dads and he’s going to call us the second he gets a lead.” He spoke calmly and you thought it over. At least he wasn’t trying to run away again, he was accepting that he had a real role in this. You could feel a shift coming, you weren’t quite sure what it meant, but you were hoping it was a good one.

“Okay, let’s go to New York.”

The two of you hadn’t even been in New York maybe twenty minutes when Sam texted Bucky that he had a line on where Karli was. Supposedly she was heading a takeover of the GRC meeting in Lower Manhattan. If being in New York as a wanted person was nerve wracking enough, now you were going to be surrounded by hundreds of government officials and some of New York’s finest. Bucky was on the phone with Sam, talking through the plan when your phone buzzed. Pulling the device out of your pocket, you saw Sharon’s name pop up.

“Heard you were having a bit of trouble with Karli again. Don’t worry, help is on the way, dear.” Your eyes rolled, still not over your argument before.

“You don’t need to be here for this Sharon.” You paused for a second, your left hand resting on your hip. “How did you even hear about this? Sam just now called Bucky, and I guarantee that he didn’t call you first.” Sharon chuckled on her end of the phone.

“You underestimate my reach, Y/N. I’ll meet you outside the building.” Your jaw clenched.

“Sharon, you said you didn’t want to help. What the hell changed that you’re so willing to put yourself in the middle of all this shit?” She was silent on her end.

“I figured you would want me there.” Well, shit what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?

“Lower Manhattan, keep quiet.” You hung up the phone before she could say anything else. You hated not talking to her, and being mad at her was next to impossible. This was your way of saying ‘I forgive you,’ and you knew she would understand. Bucky didn’t say anything as he watched you push your phone into the pockets of your jeans. He could tell something was off, but he could also see that you definitely didn’t want to talk about it right now. Instead he jerked his head for you to follow him, leading you through the streets of Manhattan.

The two of you could see the red lights illuminating the streets, letting you know that you were here. Bucky turned to you, holding his hand out to you, a single earpiece laying in the middle of his palm. As you took it, his hand drifted to your jaw, lifting it to face him. He placed a sweet kiss to your lips before nodding for you to stay behind him. You pulled the brim down on the hat you wore as you stuck to Bucky like glue. He led you through the barricade, one of the soldiers addressing him accordingly.

“Sergeant Barnes.” You made a face beneath your cap, holding back a laugh as Bucky came to a stop in front of you.

“Oh, Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky looked at you over his shoulder as his skin twitched. Your eyes widened. “Does that turn you on, James?” He wasn’t able to answer because of an interruption by Sam’s voice in your ears.

“By the way, I called in some backup.” An agent approached the two of you while Sam kept speaking. “Also, please remember that I can hear everything you say, Y/N. And I don’t need to know what makes the Tin Man tick.” You laughed at Sam’s statement as a twinge of pink ran up the back of Bucky’s neck.

“Excuse me, sir. Are you supposed to be here?” The agent’s hand came up to his hairline. A click sounded as the agent’s face began to glitch. “It’s me.”

“Sharon, what the hell are you doing here?” Sharon pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“Why didn’t you say that to her? The same people who want me in the Raft, want her there too. Or did you forget that?”

“Do I hear Sharon?” Sam asked as he listened in on your conversation.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky grumbled back.

“Hey Sam. I thought I’d get the band back together.” She threw a wink at you as she stepped closer to Bucky. Sam said something else to her, but you had zoned out to watch Sharon. “I hear pardons aren’t all they’re cracked up to be anyway.”

“Depends on the therapist.” Bucky said as he backed away from Sharon and closer to you.

“They’re going to move on the building soon. Be ready.” Sam brought you all back to the task at hand, switching into Captain mode. Bucky nodded to you and Sharon.

“Go with her.” You made a face at him, about to protest when he cut you off. “I don’t care. Stick with her, Y/N. Don’t get arrested though. We’ve got a date.” He wrapped his arm around the front of your waist, like he did at the Wilson house. He pressed a kiss to your temple, staying a little longer than necessary and giving your hip a squeeze before he released you. You heard glass break above your head as Sam crashed through one of the windows upstairs.

“You guys are going to have to do something. Don’t let ‘em out of the building.” You walked behind Bucky to enter the building, the metal detector going off for both you and Sharon. You shared a look with the woman.

“Oops.” Bucky pointed at a guard in tactical gear while he stepped forward.

“He’s one of them. I’ll get the evac.” He left before you could stop him, leaving you and Sharon to deal with the man he pointed at. The both of you followed him to the parking garage, where he was standing post next to two black armored vehicles. The two of you were waiting behind a pillar as you debated what to do.

“We need to stop him.”

“If we take him down now, they’re going to be suspicious and we are going to get arrested. Cool your jets, Y/N.” Your nostrils flared at her tone, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why didn’t you tell Sam you were already coming?”

“What?” Sharon seemed startled by the question as if you didn’t catch the slip Sam said earlier.

“Sam said that he called in backup. I’m assuming he meant you because we’re the only four people he knows. So why didn’t you tell him you were already coming, or already here or whatever?”

“I didn’t think it was important.” She said dismissively, you could tell she wanted you to drop the subject, but you wanted the truth. Throwing a glance up to the guard, you saw him helping the GRC officials into the vans.

“Damn it Bucky, you had one job.” Bucky ran past you, grumbling a response as he loaded his weight onto a motorbike.

“We aren’t done with this, Sharon.” You pointed at her before she walked away from you. You watched as she ran into the guard then apologized profusely to him. When you caught up to her, she clicked a button in her hand, releasing a noxious gas in the guard’s face. You saw his skin being bubbling and sizzling.

“How’d you do that?” Your eyes hadn’t left the man in the car.

“Mercury vapor, amongst other things.” The two of you continued walking out of the garage, a helicopter started taking off from the helipad on the top of the building.

“Sam, that chopper’s about to take off.”

“Bucky!”

“I don’t fly, man. That’s your thing.” Sam groaned in the earpiece and then you saw him shoot out the window again, chasing after the helicopter. You walked alongside Sharon, following Bucky’s path after the NYPD vans. You got to the barricade just in time to see Scruff holding one of the cars back from falling off a ledge. You were too far away to be able to get to him in time to help, though. You stood next to Sharon as he was ripped away from the back of the car. Your heart dropped as your gaze went to Bucky, who was standing directly underneath the car that was about to crush him.

The crowd around you was holding their phones in front of their faces, at an angle that all they could see was the back of the NYPD van full of GRC officials screaming for help. As the car slipped farther and farther down the platform, your stomach churned more and more. Suddenly, the car stopped, hovering over the opening in the ground. You could make out Sam’s new wings on either side of the car. He pushed forward, lifting the car back to a safe position and then moving away, allowing the crowd to see him fully. The star on his suit glinted proudly as he stood still for a second. The crowd erupted in cheers for the savior. A man to your left cheered for ‘Black Falcon,’ but the man beside him corrected him before you had the chance to.

“No. That’s Captain America.” Red Wing left Sam’s suit to undo the locking mechanism on the back of the van and the GRC officials evacuated the vehicle quickly. Sam turned in the air, removing his shield from his back and throwing it at the Flag Smashers below, knocking them off their feet. At some point, you began moving toward the edge of the platform, ready to help and away from Sharon.

An explosion went off to your right, causing you to search for the source. Puffs of smoke were being thrown in the pit where Sam and Bucky stood and you could see Karli getting away in the confusion. Bucky’s voice rang through your ear.

“Hey. We’re underground. We entered the tunnel on William. Heading south.” You searched for Sharon so you could join up again, but you couldn’t find her. You could hear Sam telling Bucky that the Smashers had split up, and you knew that Bucky would’ve gone with Scruff to keep an eye on him, the unstable bastard. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sharon crouched behind a stack of pallets, and your brows furrowed. She began whistling and then you heard Karli’s voice.

“Dovich? Is that you?” Sharon emerged from behind the stack, holding her gun in front of her.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Karli brought her gun up as well, speaking to Sharon as an old friend.

“That’s what I was gonna say.” Sharon brought her hands up in surrender, and your head tilted, what the fuck is going on? “You know, when you first came to Madripoor, you reminded me of a young me. I took you in, gave you an opportunity, and you betrayed me.” Oh hell no.

“Because you wanted to control a world that hurt you.” Karli lowered her gun but all her senses remained in overdrive. “But I wanted to change it. I’m not interested in power or an empire. I have bigger dreams.” Sharon scoffed, looking around, her eyes darting over where you were hidden behind a stack of boxes. Could it really be? Was Sharon really the person that you thought you knew?

“What, like this?” She stepped closer to Karli. “Come back and work for me again. All of you. We can make a difference together.” Sharon was trying really hard to convince Karli, but she wasn’t having it.

“You just want me because you need your muscle back. Without us Super Soldiers, how much power does the Power Broker really have?” Motherfucker. You zoned out a bit, trying to decide what to do. A male voice began speaking in French causing you to refocus.

“Four times, or--” You could see Batroc’s gun pointed at Karli and Sharon’s face was indifferent.

“I don’t do blackmail.” Sharon gripped her gun tighter, raising it quickly to shoot Batroc. Karli panicked and shot Sharon in the process. The gunshots were loud enough to give Sam an idea of where you were all located. You came out from your position, gun gripped in your hand as you stood closer to Sharon. Maybe you could salvage this situation before Sam got here.

“Karli, calm down.” You kept a tight hold on your pistol as you talked. “Look, I get it. You’re scared, but I’m going to need you to put the gun down.”

“I’ll put mine down when you do.” You could hear a slight shake in her voice. You tilted your head at her apologetically.

“You know I can’t do that.” You cast a glance at Sharon who was clutching her stomach, attempting to stop the blood flow. Karli gulped as she raised her gun again.

“Well, I can’t have any loose ends now, can I? You taught me that, Power Broker.” She sneered at a groaning Sharon. A blinding pain began radiating from your shoulder and your hand immediately when to the area. The force of the bullet knocked you off your feet, slamming your head into the ground.

“Shit, what the fuck Karli!” You could make out Sam’s figure coming up from behind Karli. You saw him process Karli standing over one dead body and two injured ones. The wheels began turning and he started speaking.

“So, what’s next, huh? You kill ten this time, then, what, a hundred? Where does it end?” He stepped closer to an agitated Karli. “Please, let me help you.” He kept his voice calm.

“Don’t try and manipulate me.” Karli approached Sam ready to attack. Their fight continued as she pushed Sam backwards.

“I’m not gonna fight you!” She knocked Sam down to the ground, with the swing of a metal bar.

“Stay down!” She shouted at him. You pushed yourself to your knees, adrenaline pumping allowing you to get to Sharon to help hold pressure on her stomach. You watched from over Sharon as Sam rose to his feet, holding his body in a fighting stance.

“I can do this all day.” She launched herself at Sam, throwing his body back into a bunch of cinder blocks. Sam held his shield in front of him, protecting from her punches.

“Fight back!” She shouted as she delivered blow after blow. Sam ducked low, grabbing onto her torso, using his thrusters to send the both of them flying. Karli used the momentum to push off the ground, to bring Sam up to the ceiling. You sat back on your knees, worry lacing your features.

Sam held one of her hands to his chest as she continued throwing the other into his shield. She gripped the top edge of the shield, using it to gain leverage. She pulled her hand away from his chest, tossing his body forward. The shield slipped from Sam’s arm and he laid on the ground, recovering from her attacks. Karli leant down to pick up her gun and you pushed yourself to your feet, ready to tackle her.

She raised her gun, aiming it at a now shieldless Sam. Karli hesitated, staring at Sam before committing to her cause, ready to kill Captain America. You were steadily creeping forward as she debated, but you could see the moment she decided to pull the trigger. Just before she could, a gunshot sounded from behind you. A gasp left your lips as Sam ran to hold Karli.

Your head whipped around to see Sharon leaning against the stack behind her, gun still smoking. Sharon shook her head at you as she holstered her weapon. Sam lifted Karli into his arms and carried her away from the both of you. You stood a good three feet away from Sharon, hand on your gun in the waistband of your jeans.

“When were you going to tell me that you’re the Power Broker.”

“What the hell are you on about now, Y/N.” Your brows raised and your mouth opened in shock.

“I was fucking here when Karli was talking to you, dumbass. Is that why you shot her? ‘Can’t have any loose ends,’ she said you taught her that, Sharon. What the fuck?” Sharon laughed at you.

“You’re imagining things, Y/N.” She rose to her feet and began walking away from you.

“Sharon, don’t fuck with me right now. How long have you been the fucking Power Broker?” You followed her up the tunnel and out to where you could see Sam lecturing a Senator. Sneaking around to a medical bag, you grabbed two pieces of gauze.

“I’m not the Power Broker.” Sharon rolled her eyes at you, leaning against a car behind the ambulances. You were about to say something else when you saw Bucky and Sam approach the two of you. They took in the two of you, an angry look on your face and an annoyed one on hers.

“You’re blocking my light.” Sharon bit out to Sam.

“We got to get you to a hospital.” Sam told Sharon as Bucky walked up to you, pulling your gauze away from your shoulder, checking your bullet wound.

“It’s through and through and you know they aren’t going to listen to you.”

“It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me all week.” Your eyes glared at Sharon as you spoke. How long has she been doing this behind your back? Someone called for Sam’s attention.

“I think he’s talking to you.” Sharon said, turning away from the newcomer’s view. “Look, I’m sorry for how things ended down there.” Your jaw clenched but you remained silent. “For what it’s worth, the suit looks good on you.” She played a good victim, that’s for sure.

“Alright, can we get out of here, please?” Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you away from the ambulances and news cameras.

“I didn’t forget my promise either, guys.” Sam nodded at the two of you before turning to do his Cap duties. Bucky remained silent beside you, content with just being in your presence again.

He led you to his apartment, bringing you to the bathroom where he pulled out a first aid kit. He placed it on the countertop, placing his hands on your hips and lifting you onto the granite.

“You’re gonna need to take your shirt off.” He flipped the top of the kit open, searching for what he needed.

“Trying to get me naked already? At least take me to dinner first, Sergeant.” You winked as you peeled your shirt off. Bucky glared at you then quickly looked at your shoulder.

“This is going to hurt, just so you know.” He didn’t give you time to say anything else before starting to clean the hole in your shoulder. You hissed as stings radiated from the wound, cursing under your breath as he blew on it. “Alright, here we go.”  Bucky began stitching, returning your body to its former glory in his eyes. “How’d you managed to get shot?”

“I was attempting to get Karli to drop her gun.” You debated on telling Bucky what you learned about Sharon. “Who do you think the Power Broker is?” You asked gauging his reaction. His attention never wavered from his task. He soon finished with the front side of your shoulder, backing away and telling you to face the mirror. Bucky leaned forward, his hips pressing against your ass as he set to work on the exit wound.

“I have my theories. What about you?” You looked at the granite below, tracing the different lines, not answering for a few minutes.

“Mm, not really.” Was it naive to keep the knowledge to yourself? Probably, but this way you could deal with Sharon on your own and not have to involve Captain America.

“Y/N. You lived there for years, you’re telling me that you never encountered the Power Broker? Never worked for him before, procuring a particular art piece?” You shook your head as you felt him start to wrap your shoulder.

“No, I made sure that all my dealings were as clean as the illegal art trade could be.” Bucky nodded, closing the first aid kit and placing it back under the sink. He walked out of the bathroom and into his kitchen, pulling out a bottle of Advil. He shook two tablets into his metal hand and gave them to you along with a water bottle from the fridge.

“Take these and then go lay down. You need to sleep so your body can heal.” You could tell something was bothering him. You reached out to grasp his metal wrist.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Hmm?”

“Nothing. I’ve just got something to do.” You nodded.

“Do you want me to come with you?” His head shook back and forth in denial.

“No, I need to do this alone. I’ll be back soon. Whenever I get back you better be asleep in that bed.” He pointed at the door to his room. He walked up next to you, wrapping his arm around the front of your waist and giving you a kiss on your temple. “I’ll be back, doll. I’ve just got a few things to wrap up.”

He left soon after, leaving you alone in his barren apartment. It was easy to see that he hadn’t made it his home. Probably feeling like he had no reason to, no ties to anyone here. Makes it easier when you have to bug out in a pinch. You walked into his room, searching for a shirt to wear to bed. Finding one of his shirts hanging in his closet, you pulled it over your head after removing your bra. You took off your jeans, trading them for your sleep shorts from your bag.

You climbed into his bed, waiting for his scent to envelope you, but it never came. Has he ever actually slept in this bed? So you laid there, unable to fall asleep, too many thoughts swirling in your brain. How long has Sharon been the Power Broker? Did it start when you first got to Madripoor? Or was it after you were dusted and she was there alone for five years? None of this changed the fact that she needed to be stopped. The amount of influence she had was too great. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand next to the bed, so you rolled over to pick it up.

Court hearing with the Senators tomorrow at 8 A.M. for you. -Sam

You thought about the possibility of being welcome back into your own country and not being treated like a criminal. Thought of the possibility of going to work for the government again. Of working with Bucky and Sam. Of being with Bucky without having to look over your shoulder all the time, and it made you smile. Your phone buzzing brought you out of your trance.

Also, you and Bucky need to come to my house tomorrow. Sarah’s throwing a party, they got the boat finished so we’re celebrating.

That made your smile grow, you were happy for the first time in a long time. The lock of the front door clicked and you jumped out of the bed, grabbing your knife, ready for an attack. You waited behind the door to Bucky’s bedroom, then swung it open. Your hand came up to the intruder's throat and your mind switched out of attack dog mode when you saw Bucky’s raised brow.

“Is there a reason for this?” His eyes were red and he had tear stains on his cheeks. You flipped your knife back down and placed it on top of your jeans.

“Sorry. Are you okay, James?” He shook his head and you opened your arms to him. He walked into your embrace, before exhaling harshly into your uninjured shoulder.

“No, but I will be.” He backed away for a second, taking in your form. “Didn’t I tell you that you were supposed to be asleep when I got back? Also, is that my shirt?”

“Yes, you did and yes, it is. Do you have an issue with that, Sergeant?” He quickly shook his head back and forth, leaning down to pick you up by your thighs and tossing you onto his bed.

“Not at all, doll. You look better in it than I do.” He smiled at you as he stripped down to his boxers before climbing into bed with you. Bucky tossed his arm over your waist, pulling your body into his. He sighed contentedly, basking in the way you smelled.

“Sam got me a hearing for a pardon.”

“Oh yeah? When’s that?” Bucky’s voice was muffled because he had buried his face in your neck, peppering small pecks there.

“Tomorrow morning at nine. Are you going to come?” Bucky thought on it for a moment, before shaking his head.

“I have one more thing to take care of.” You nodded.

“They got the boat fixed and Sarah invited us to the party. Sam says we have to go, it’s tomorrow too. I don’t actually know what time though he didn’t say.”

“Alright, I’ll pick something up to bring after I finish my thing.” You turned to face him, a smirk plastered on your face.

“So, Sergeant does it for you?” You giggled as he groaned and removed his arm from your waist. His hand came up to run through his hair, scratching his head

“Are we doing this right now, Y/N?” You released a cackle of a laugh, nodding in response. “Oh that’s how you’re gonna play this?” He attacked your sides, beginning to tickle you causing you to react accordingly. Somehow, he managed to end up on top of you, in between your thighs. He stopped suddenly to watch as you writhed and giggled.

“What?” You started getting self-conscious, afraid that there was something on your face. Your hands came up to hide your face from him, but Bucky wasn’t having it. He took your hands away from your face by trapping your wrists beside your head. “What? Why are you doing that?” You questioned, only halfway serious.

“You’re just so pretty.” He leaned forward, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss that soon turned into something else. His hands traveled back down to your sides, resting on the bare skin showing from your shirt having ridden up. The temperature difference shocked you enough to make you gasp, giving Bucky the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, escalating the situation.

Your hands came up to the back of his head, holding him in the kiss, guaranteeing that he wasn’t going anywhere. They made their way down his body to rest on his shirtless back. He pushed forward with his hips, the fabric separating the two of you becoming increasingly annoying. Bucky pulled back slightly, nudging you to open your eyes. There was a silent interaction between the two of you in that moment, neither of you was ready for anything intense, so the momentum slowed, but the energy level remained.

Bucky’s hands never left your body that night. Exploring and memorizing every ridge, every stretch mark, every piece of you that made you, you. You drifted your fingers over the scarred skin next to his arm, tiny feather touches that made him hum. Falling asleep in his arms was the easiest thing you ever had to do. And for Bucky, being able to hold you as you flutter asleep was beautiful. He watched as your face relaxed and all the tension left your body, allowing yourself to melt into his embrace. Bucky didn’t like to admit it, but he was a touch starved human being. All those years in and out of cryo and isolation gave his body plenty of reason to crave genuine human touch. And to have a human as charming and annoying as you was a dream come true, his doll.

You woke up before Bucky the next morning. You looked over at his face, tranquility lacing his features, unburdened with no glorious purposes. He was just your James. The two of you had separated sometime during the night, so you scooted closer to his frame. His metal arm is thrown across the pillow behind your head, giving you perfect access to his neck and chest. You glanced at the clock across the room, the hands telling you that it was seven thirty in the morning. If you wake him now, you could have at least thirty-five minutes of bliss, plus some heavy petting if you both were feeling cheeky.

You leaned forward towards his neck, placing tiny kisses from the base of his ear to the puckered skin of his shoulder. You were so focused on your task that you didn’t recognize the change in his breathing pattern.

“Good morning, doll.” If you could melt into the mattress, that would’ve done it. His fucking rasp grated you into a fine powder of a human. You hummed at him, not stopping your kisses, instead climbing up to his jaw and then to his lips. He turned his head and playfully laughed. “Nuh-uh, we’ve got morning breath, ya nasty.” You groaned, retreating from his figure completely.

“Fine, we will brush our teeth together and then come right back to this bed and you will love me, damn it.” Bucky laughed at you as you drug yourself into his bathroom. This was the type of bliss you wanted, and you only wanted to share it with a particular metal armed super soldier. It didn’t take long to brush your teeth, and you pushed on Bucky’s back to get him into the bed quicker. When he did get back into the bed, he was grumbling.

“I don’t know why we’re getting back in bed, we’re already up now.” He smiled as you glared at him. Bucky’s back was leaned against his headboard, so you swung your leg over his thighs, straddling his lower half. His hands rested on your waist as you brought yours up to the sides of his face.

“You frustrate me.” You said with a loving smile and tone before pecking his lips softly as he laughed. “What time do you have to leave for your thing?” You played with the strings of your sleep shorts as he answered you.

“Around eight-thirty, it takes me about thirty minutes to get there and it doesn’t open until nine.”

“I’m gonna be leaving around then, too. What do you wear when you’re going in front of senators to be pardoned for stealing a metal frisbee?” Bucky huffed a laugh, pulling you closer to him wrapping his arms around your back. “I’m thinking a crop top that says “Fuck You,” would that be too obvious?”

“Yeah, that one might be a little on the nose.” Bucky checked your shoulder as he spoke. “Your shoulder looks good, no infection, thanks to me.” He plastered a wide smile on his face afterwards. “Do you know what time Sharon’s hearing is?” You stiffened slightly at the mention of Sharon.

“Uh, no. Sam just told me my time and I haven’t talked to Sharon.” Bucky’s head tilted.

“Everything okay on that front?”

“Not really?” You went back and forth on what to tell him. You didn’t want to give him the extra burden of knowing what Sharon was. “We had a fight a few days ago and neither one of us has cooled off about it, so that’s a bit rocky.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head, so Bucky just held you tighter. “Okay, you don’t have to.” He held you for a few more minutes, before backing away. “Alright we need to get ready.” You groaned, slackening your body, making everything about you dead weight.

“No. I don’t wanna.” You sounded like a child.

“You sound like a child.��� Oh you whore, get out of my head, butt munch. Bucky said, pushing your body off his. He walked to his closet as you laid spread out like a starfish on his bed. Bucky had already picked out a shirt and put on pants whenever he walked back in and you were still laid on his bed.

“You’re gonna be late.” He leaned over your head, appearing to you upside down. His arms were resting on either side of your face, dropping down he pressed a kiss to your lips. “You’ve got to get up, Y/N.” He went to the other end of the bed, where your feet dangled off the edge. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you, you slid off the bed, taking the comforter with you. “Oh my god, this is pitiful, Y/N. You’re a grown woman!” Bucky shouted at you as he left the room.

The two of you parted ways after you got dressed, but not before Bucky wrapped his arm around the front of your waist and placed a kiss on your temple. You wondered why he did that so much, but you weren’t going to argue with the attention because you loved it. You walked up to the extravagant building that was bustling with people. Everything was white, you always wondered why that was. White represented innocence and America was anything but innocence. You ended up wearing your casual clothes for two reasons. One, you were being pardoned, why couldn’t you be comfortable for that? And two, you had somewhere to go after this and that was just as important as this court meeting to you. Walking into the courtroom, you took in all the faces in the seats. Your name was called immediately, so you approached the podium.

“Ms. Y/L/N, on behalf of the United States Intelligence Community, I’d like to offer you and your family our sincerest apologies.” You wanted to scoff, but you bit your tongue. “You’ve always been an incredible asset to our country. Today, we begin to set things right. We begin to repay some of the debt that is owed to you.” You bowed your head.

“Thank you, Senator. It’s been a long time coming.” You could see the Senator’s jaw clench, not used to being brushed off.

“And we’d like to offer you a full pardon. There might be an opening in your old division. Is that something that you’d be interested in?”

“Actually, Senator. I would like to thank you for that opportunity, but no. I’ll be working with Captain America.” The man’s whole body seemed to twitch.

“You aren’t authorized to make that kind of decision, Ms. Y/L/N.” This time you did scoff.

“Yeah, okay. Well thanks for the pardon.” You tapped the podium twice, leaning to walk away. “This has been great, I really feel like we’ve both said our peace. See ya later, Senator.” You walked out as you heard him calling your name. You pulled your phone out, dialing Bucky’s number.

“Hey doll! How’d court go?” You started walking to where you and Bucky had planned to meet after you got done with your respective tasks.

“Oh great! I’m working with Cap now.” You could almost see Bucky’s face.

“Wow, how’d you manage that?” You smirked.

“I can be very persuasive when I want to be, James.”

“Oh is that so, Y/N?” You could hear his smirk as he spoke. “Maybe you’ll have to be persuasive with me one day.” You laughed.

“James, I don’t have to be persuasive with you.” You caught sight of Bucky walking down the street with a store-bought cake in his hand. You held up your pinky finger wiggling it for emphasis, “I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.”

By the time you got to the marina that docked Paul & Darlene, you were buzzing with excitement. Bucky was giggling at your antics, you were practically bouncing in the passenger seat. As soon as Bucky got out of the car, Cas and AJ latched onto him. He went along with them, playing as if he was going to slam the cake into their faces. You walked past Bucky, hugging everyone who greeted you. Once you reached Sarah, you sat down on the picnic table for a second before taking off again. You stood to the side as you watched Sam take picture after picture with pretty much everyone from town.

Bucky stood next to you, chuckling about everyone’s reaction to Cap being from their hometown. One woman almost knocked Sam flat on his ass when she hugged him, a huge smile stretched over her face. You went back to the table Sarah was at, taking a seat next to her. Suddenly Bucky climbed on top of the table, holding his vibranium arm out with two children dangling off it. He was talking animatedly with his other as he told a story about Sam. You had zoned out just staring at him with the kids.

“You know, this could be you.” Sarah said as she leaned next to your ear.

“What could be?” You made a face at her.

“The kids, the community.” She looked over at Bucky, “That hunk of a man over there.” You slapped her shoulder softly before humming.

“I’ve thought about it, but that’s a two person decision and I don’t think either of us are at a point in our lives to raise another tiny human.” Sarah nodded, her features disbelieving.

“Just don’t let that one get away.” Her finger was pointed at Bucky who was playing with the kids at the edge of the dock. Bucky must’ve felt your gaze on him because he looked up, removing his dark sunglasses to lock eyes with you.

“Oh I don’t plan on it.” You smiled at her. You joined Bucky and Sam as they stood in front of Paul & Darlene, taking in the sunset reflecting on the water. Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. You definitely don’t plan on it, you thought to yourself as you leaned into his embrace.

**********************

@londonalozzy @marvelofwitch @dramaticwittch @hellmoonsin @jn-wolf @youcancallmeishita @iabrokengirl @veroxloki @liveloudwriteloud @lainternettuale @angelofthetrenchcoats @rosiahills22 @peachymichu @sj-ficrecs @learisa @itsyagirl01 @simply-me-xoxo @ghoststudyy @taina-eny @japanrecs @sinfulhun-collapsedheart @isaordora @shutupstevie @sprsoldierfics @beachbabe925 @afuckingshituniverse @distinguishedgardenroadbonk @littlewhiterose @bcadc42 @tcc-gizmachine @imagines78643258 @mia-j-333

[alpalpym]

Keep me calm chapter 1

A/N: Mentions of violence, hints at anxiety and anger issues. Don’t interact if you’re not 18+

Description: You're a mutant running away from your second family, the X-men. You meet Natasha under not-so-great circumstances, but she'll prove herself to be trustworthy.

(Cross posted on AO3. Check link in bio!)

  You were absolutely furious as you gave the legs of the interrogation table another kick, chuckling as it creaked and heaved under strain. 

Anger wasn't unusual for you, a trait Professor X had despised. But he had never liked you to begin with.

It felt like hours since the guards put her in here, and with nothing to do, you had resorted to wrecking the place. Hopefully, someone would come in and tell you to stop; you were desperate for some interaction at this point. With your constant kicking and trashing, the special cuffs around your wrists had started to chafe the sensitive skin underneath. You bit back a wince as you shouted at the top of your lungs. 

"Can somebody tell me what the hell I'm doing here, for god's sake!" Huffing when you got no reply, you kicked the table again, sending it hurling into the opposite wall. 

"Can you stop breaking our furniture," a feminine voice grumbled. 

You gasped at the approaching woman. A true sight for sore eyes with her lush red curly hair and an incredibly tight tactical suit. How were you supposed to keep a straight face with that?

You were an observant girl, quickly noticing minor cuts and some dried up blood coating the woman's pale skin, but you kept quiet as she suddenly came very close. Her hands came to rest at either side of your chair, effectively caging you in before she spoke in a low tone. 

"You need to behave while I'm in here."

You snorted. As if you'd follow up on that demand after being plucked off the streets and locked away. Although, you couldn't deny that the red-head ordering you around left you feeling all fluttery inside. 

"Your name is (y/n), current resident at the Xavier institute here in New York," she sighed, "you have quite the record on you kid."

"I'm not a kid," you spat.

The woman just quirked her brow before resuming. "You can call me Natash—."

"I know who you are."

"You need to stop interrupting me." 

Another command. Your ears were burning, and your skin felt itchy at the tone of Natasha's voice. You've never been this susceptible to a single person in your life, not your parents, not the people from CPS, and especially not Professor X. You fidgeted with the fabric of your jeans, trying to ground yourself from the haze falling over you. “Probably the lack of food,” you thought.

"You left your parental house at thirteen, only having been taken in by CPS three years later. What happened within that time?" Natasha had an aura around her that seemed to command respect, and all without ever raising her voice. You appreciated that about her.

"I just roamed around," you mumbled, wanting to steer the woman away from the topic.

Natasha nodded, scribbling down in a small notebook before her green eyes pierced straight through you again. "And how did Xavier track you down? 

You clenched your jaw, the memory a painful one as you tried to recall what had happened to you. All you could remember were snippets, like Professor X's hard eyes as he sat across from you at his desk. Then another image of you strapped on a hospital bed as a sharp needle pierced your neck before pain blinded your vision.

"I don't know." 

"You're not giving me enough info here, kid."

You were racking your brain. For something, anything, to give Natasha just so she would back off. But as much as you tried, there were no memories of exactly how Professor X had gotten to you. Just a ton of feelings, the intensity of it all making you feel like you were going to throw up.

You were hot, the room sweltering. You doubled over, hands still cuffed as you fought against the wave of nausea hitting the back of your throat. Banging your still cuffed hands against the tabletop, you let out a low whine.

"Nat—" You couldn't speak. Why was your throat so tight? It was all so hard. You leaned back against your seat, trying to keep your racing heart under control.

The woman quickly got to your side, her hands hovering over yours hesitantly.

"I don't know anything. Please don't make me talk. Please, please," you cried. Pressing your forehead against a warm shoulder, the fabric underneath you dampened with tears making you want to pull away. But Natasha was soft, so soft, as she gently guided you closer against her. Unbothered by your sudden vulnerability. Natasha didn't mind; you were sure of it. 

Loud banging against the door quickly pulled Natasha off you in an instant, and you whined a pathetic whine from the back of your throat in objection.

"What's this Romanoff? We said interrogate, not cuddle!" 

A slightly balding man with crooked eyes and an off-putting smile stood at the threshold. His arms were spread, holding either side of the door frame as he nonchalantly swayed back and forth on his feet.

"Shut it, Coulson."

At least Natasha was sticking up for you. But the sudden intrusion cleared your head enough for you to realize how much you'd slipped with the woman. How vulnerable you'd been. Weak.

You pushed the red-head off of you, surprising her as she looked at you in bewilderment. "I refuse to speak to any more of you. Let me go."

It was perfectly within your right; you knew that much. Not even Shield had the jurisdiction to force you into talking. And you wanted to leave. Right now.

"We can't exactly do that," Coulson said. He stalked further into the room, the authority practically beaming off of him as he planted himself sideways on the edge of the table. "Listen up, kiddo."

"Stop calling me that!" You were growing sick and tired of people looking down at you like some child. You were better than that. 

"I'll call whatever I want. Five children are missing, and you have something to do with it now talk."

"No!" A quick burst of energy, followed by absolute emptiness, coursed through your body before you were suddenly on the other side of the room. Both Coulson and Natasha were looking at you, utterly baffled that you were able to use your powers despite the cuffs. With Natasha trying to reach out for you and Coulsen undoubtedly calling for backup, you were cornered. 

One swift kick was all it took to drive the man backward against the wall. A sickening crunch indicating that you've definitely broken his hand. There was no way back now, no more playing nice. You made a move to turn around, but your still cuffed hands were now held in a firm grip by Natasha. The woman pushed you roughly to the ground and caged you in with her thighs around your hips.

"Don't make me do this (y/n)," Natasha panted against the side of your neck. She was straining to keep you down, and you felt a warmth akin to pride spreading from your chest at the thought.

Natasha's hand came up to grab the curvature of your neck before applying pressure. It didn't take long at all for you to lose consciousness. Maybe it was the stress. Perhaps you just lacked the strength to fight back against the black widow. But you were soon out like a light.

~

You didn't dream, but you woke up in bed with a racing heart and a fuzzy head. Soft sheets pooled at your waist as you sat up. Your hands were still cuffed, but you were wearing different clothes. How long had you been out?

"Goodmorning." 

Natasha was sat in a plastic chair, her back slumped and looking like hell. It was strange to see the woman like that after she'd been so poised earlier, and you wondered how long she'd been in here with you. 

"Where did you take me?"

Natasha sighed. The woman let her head fall into her hands, gripping her hair at the root. "You're safe here (y/n)."

"You really believe I'm going to buy into that crap? You laughed. The nerve of this woman was uncanny. "You choked me, Natasha."

"I didn't mean to. Just trust me, please." Natasha eyed you unsurely before moving her chair closer to the bed, putting a hand just above your knee. "How are your wrists," she nodded to your lap.

You frowned. But as you looked down, you saw that the skin underneath your cuffs was red and raw. Natasha moved to hold your wrists in her hands, but you quickly pulled them out of her reach. There was a heat in your chest, spreading like wildfire, and you banged your hands against the wall beside you in frustration. "Stop touching me," you hissed. 

As Natasha made another move to take your hand, you harshly shoved your cuffed hands against her. Shock flashed through Natasha's pretty green eyes, but it was quickly replaced by their usual blank look. She gripped your upper arm tightly, fingers digging into the soft skin. "You can't lose your temper around me (y/n)," she said viciously, "be good for me."

Natasha firmly pressed you down against the bed by your arm, her grasp on you still tight and painful. You wildly trashed against her, roughly shoving your body against hers as hard as possible. Everything about Natasha irked you right now. Her commandeering voice, the strength with which she was able to hold you down with ease. But most of all, her unnecessary kindness. 

Aside from her slightly unethical method of knocking you out, Natasha had shown she wanted what was best for you. You'd never admit it, but Shield taking you in had scared the living hell out of you, and Natasha had handled you with such gentleness it made your heart ache with anger and confusion. 

Natasha shifted to pin you down against the mattress, her shoulder pressed against the side of your face. 

"You're just using me," you panted against her shoulder. "Why are you doing this? Just let me go!"

Pressing her forehead against your temple, Natasha quietly shushed you, softly stroking your head. "Calm down for me Малы́шка."

Natasha's arms snaked around you, keeping you in a firm hold. And while you continued to struggle against her for a bit, you gradually started feeling the anger seep out of you. You had to admit it felt nice to have the red-head so close to you, the comfortable heaviness of her body against yours made your chest feel a lot lighter. "Witchcraft," you thought humorously.

Natasha let out a hum of content—of approval— and tightened her hold on you the tiniest bit, making your eyes fall closed again.

Translation: Малы́шка = baby girl

[feralaot]

attack on titan characters biggest character phobia?

this is gonna be a sad one but yes I will do it for you beloved

AOT characters + their biggest fears

warnings: phobias, obviously

eren

god/gods/deities: eren believes that he has made himself into a false god (re: rumbling) and believes that when he dies, he will face eternal judgement by the “true god(s)”

mikasa

intimacy: she’s come to realize that everyone she gets close to suffers in some kind of way and doesn’t want to build an intimate relationship with anyone out of fear that it might endanger them. this, and the fact that she was nearly trafficked as a child.

armin

heat/fire/steam: he’s never been able to explain it because he doesn’t have memory of the event that caused this fear. anything to do with heat, fire, and steam evokes a response in him that makes his whole body feel like it’s burning up and that he’s going to die.

jean

being trusted: jean fears being trusted by people because he still blames himself for marco's death. he believes marco trusted and believed in him, yet jean wasn't there to help him before he died.

sasha

change: from leaving her home, leaving the training corps, going to marley, everything feels like it’s happening too fast and without reason. she just wants things to stay the same; it’s all too overwhelming.

connie

flying: being on any airborne vehicle; planes, blimps, etc makes him incredibly nervous, especially if there’s a way for somebody to get in from the outside while in the air.

historia

needles: her biggest fear is needles because it reminds her of when rod reiss pressured her into becoming a titan and eating eren before inevitably becoming one himself.

ymir

unchecked power: having been formerly worshipped, the idea of having power that cannot be questioned by others is sickening. she always needs somebody to assure her that she’s making the right decisions. she doesn’t want to become corrupt with her own idea of power.

levi

forests: on several occasions horrible things have happened to him in forests. one being losing his entire original squad during the 57th expedition and the second being when zeke turned his comrades into titans, and he had to slaughter them all. he also doesn’t like how the trees block out the sky; it makes him feel like a bird in a cage.

hange

attachment: after being attached with sawney and beane to experiment with them, they tried to stop letting themselves get too attached to people hoping that this would make the goodbye process easier. this has caused them to seem distant towards those who deem them a friend. 

erwin

failure: he’s always been determined to achieve his dream and never let anything stop him. even in the face of death and as his comrades fall around him, he refuses to concede, as he could never live with himself if he had let it all have been for nothing. 

reiner

losing his identity: he’s already lost several of the people that made him who he is and his conscience suffers because of it. with a split personality he struggles to cling to who he really is and fears that one day he may finally go off the deep end and lose all sense of self.

bertholdt

lightning/explosions: he can't forgive himself for what he’s done. whenever he hears or sees lightning he feels deeply disgusted with himself and nauseous. if he hears anything reminiscent of an explosion, he can’t help but grab his own arms or face and make sure he’s still, well, himself. 

annie

being underground: after being trapped in a crystal of her own making for four years and having nothing to look at during that time other than dungeon walls, being under the earth or buried in any kind of way makes her feel like she’s going to suffocate.

porco

being taken advantage of: he’s always had trust issues but being used to break the warhammer’s crystal was the final push that made him isolate and never put himself into another situation where he could be used to somebody else’s advantage again.

pieck

guns: firearms of any kind make her feel sick. they remind her of when the crew in the cart’s gear was sniped out, one by one, and even as a titan she could hear the impact and the sound of shells clattering. when she handles a gun, she can never bring herself to pull the trigger.

zeke

abandonment: after being used by his father, having to eat the man he looked up to, and being betrayed by his brother, the thought of being abandoned once more makes him sick. he doesn’t let himself trust people anymore.

niccolo

lobsters: he refuses to cook, eat, or even look at lobsters anymore because they remind him of sasha, being the first meal that he ever cooked for her. just thinking about them is gut wrenching.

colt

rats: having been a soldier from a young age and fighting in a war for four years of his teenage life, rats in the trenches became a common sight. he saw firsthand how big they got and how they chewed on remains.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Baby, how do you sleep when you lie to me?

FRANCISCO ‘CATFISH’ MORALES and BEN MILLER x FEM!READER┃ TRIPLE FRONTIER.

❝ summary: Benny has flirted with another woman and now he has to bear with the consequences.

❝ words: about 2.8k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, polyamorous relationship, threesome, fingering, voyeurism, unprotected sex, language, mention of bodily fluids and I think that's all.

❝ a / n: you all can blame @chibsytelford for this because it was just a fantasy I had and she pushed me to write it because I can't refuse anything from her. I left the end open so, in case you enjoy it, I have more ideas for them.

Gif credits to the author.

You have given Ben the silent treatment since two days ago. Every Wednesday the guys and you go to a pub to share some beers and old stories and to play pool until late at night. But the younger Miller drank more alcohol than he should and started to flirt with a random chick, who was making him googly eyes since you all put a step in. Supposedly, nothing happened between both thanks to Will who stopped him —supposedly because you weren't there when that happened, as you asked Frankie to take you home; miffed and ashamed.

You have never doubted the polyamorous relationship the three of you are committed to: until that night. The thought of what could have happened if no one had separated them is killing you slowly. You love them both with your life, you can't live without them. But Ben doesn't deserve any kind of attention from you. The funny part is that he doesn't remember anything from that night and blames the beers he drank for his behavior. If he did it, he did it for a reason though.

You can't lie saying it's been easy for you to punish him. You miss him during nights when only Frankie warms you between his arms, feeling a little unprotected without Benny sleeping by your other side, even if he's in the next room. You've found yourself waking up in the middle of the night with a suffocating sensation burning within your chest, crying for the lack of his presence. And Catfish is starting to get tired of this situation.

“This has gotta end”.

The nervous movement of your knee, rising and falling, suddenly stops by the firm tone of his voice and the finger pointing out the distance between you and the boxer, both at opposite sides of the sofa. Since he has reunited the three of you in your living room five minutes away, Frankie has been walking from one side to another like a caged lion, trying to find a way to reconcile you.

“Kiss her”. The pilot demands, three steps away in front of you.

“Try to kiss me and I'll knock you down”. You quickly reply standing on your bare feet, frowning as you cross your arms on your chest.

Of course, the two men knew which would be your response, but Frankie is the one who knows how to break through your fortress when you're resentful. He walks towards you with no expression on his face, leaning forward to press his lips on yours. A soft touch as if he is asking you for permission to go ahead, although he doesn't need it. You are pretty aware of what he's trying, but you can't refuse when his charming tongue slides itself into your cavity to play with yours. You gulp an arousal gasp, feeling Benny's blue eyes —becoming darker at the view— firmly stuck on how much you enjoy Frankie's hands pawing and squeezing your buttocks while tasting the pair of lips he could die for.

You are too bewitched to notice the pilot beckoning him with a hand to come closer. Ben hesitates scratching his forearm with his head bowed down like a beaten puppy. Your indifference has caused him nightmares, pain and anguish. Yes, sex is amazing, but you're more than a girl to hook up. He needs you. He needs your hands to stitch him up after a fight. He needs your legs around him to feel like he's at home. He needs your chest to rest his forehead whenever he feels the world is falling around him. He needs your kisses to put him to sleep when insomnia takes over his brain. He needs your laugh to be happy.

You have been so assorted in your own thoughts that you haven't noticed the change until you hear Frankie's whispers in your ear encouraging Benny to touch you as his trembling fingers don't dare to do it. And now that you are feeling him this close again, you don't want to stop. You can't. The heat begins to concentrate beneath the cotton fabric of your panties, as his tongue invades your mouth and Frankie sticks his chest to your back.

“Tell him what you want”. He murmurs gripping your jawline using five of his fingers, while his free hand lands on his own growing bulge.

Ben trails a path of wet kisses to your neck, down to reach your collarbone. “I wa— want you inside me”.

“But he doesn't deserve it. Not yet”. Frankie claims, earning a whimper from his friend. “Take his hand, show him where you want it”.

Of course, he will not let the boxer have any pleasure from this round. He first has to fight for it —fight for you, after disrespecting your relationship. Because Catfish is upset with him too. Resting the back of your head on his shoulder as you grab Benny's right hand pinching one of your nipples over the dark shirt, you drag it slowly over your body. He can't help but nail his fingertips in your skin, need for your touch, desperate to feel something yours. The younger Miller swallows a knot stuck in his throat when the palm of his hand cups your heated and soaked cunt. You both moan inevitably when he gently rubs it, raising his dark ocean eyes towards yours, as Frankie peppers the top of your head with sweet kisses.

Ben doesn't wait for another signal to snake his long fingers to put your panties aside and cautiously traces the wet slit between your folds, hoping you don't pull him away at the last second. When he sees in your orbs how needed you are for him, understanding you're not going to stop him, Benny pushes softly his index finger into your center, well-aimed to your tight warm hole. You can't help but moan somewhat alleviated, placing your hands on his shoulders to find balance as your knees go weak at his touch. Frankie licking and biting the sweet spot under your ear, whilst massaging your breasts with his experienced digits, doesn't help either.

“Tell him why you are so damn tight, amor”. The pilot hums as soon as Ben's finger has reached your limits.

“I ha— haven't had sex… since Wedne— Wednesday's noon”. You whining almost brushing the younger lips with yours, so concerned that you can't stop your hips to swing looking for more friction against Frankie's hard cock pressed to your ass and over Ben's hand.

And, oh, now he already knows too why Frankie is controlling you and what he can do. And he feels more guilty now. He still can't believe he flirted with a woman who is not you and it's something that is going to chase him for the rest of his life. A life he doesn't want to live without you, nor without his friend.

“Can I put another one?” Ben almost beg, asking Frankie for permission, who continues enraptured on biting your neck with the clear intention of leaving some marks there.

“Uh-huh”. He just affirms.

Ben maneuvers inside your panties to flex his long finger to join the index one. Instantly, your hands grip the fabric of his t-shirt in two fists, strongly closing your eyelids as a pleased whine dies in your parted lips touching his. Saying that it feels so good would be insufficient. The three of you are used to have sex, at least, two times per day —some days, they're capable of overstimulating you to the point that you can't move a single inch of your anatomy. The pace of his thrusts become faster, as much as the limit of your panties lets him, in and out. He knows exactly how to curl and swirl his fingers to push your g-spot, to give you the pleasure you deserve, to make you feel desired. Frankie is the best at eating you out, as his experienced tongue can make you cum in less than a minute. But Ben is the one who knows how to use his trained hands to put you to beg for more, and more, and more.

“Amor, I need to fuck you”. The pilot hisses frustrated onto your ear, before biting and sucking your earlobe. And you are conscious of how he's going to punish the other.

Making him look without being allowed to not even touch himself.

Ben pulls his hand away causing you to grunt disappointed, so Frankie can walk you to the sofa.

“Don't you dare to taste her”. He says then pointing at the blonde, signaling the wet fingers in your juices until he cleans them in his own t-shirt. Catfish knows how much Ben loves to suck them clean, but it's part of his punishment. So he will learn to not disrespect you again.

Removing the only two pieces of clothing that cover your body, you put on four over the sofa keeping eye-contact with the younger, whilst hearing the pilot undoing the belt and the zip that keep his jeans on. Frankie positions himself behind you with a leg kneel on the sofa and the other stand on the floor. At the same time, Benny sits over the armrest, close enough at least to be able to kiss you. He needs something from you. And he'll conform with it.

Usually, Frankie loves to take his time worshipping you —slowly, meticulously— but he can't wait right now to slam his hard dick into your soaked cunt, crashing his pelvis against your buttocks. You cry out on Ben's lips, as the older is still pushing your limits as much as he can with both hands nailed strongly in your hips, almost hurting you.

“Tell me how it feels, baby”. Ben requests huskily, gripping your whole neck with all his fingers.

“Oh, god…” You breathe through your nose, causing your stomach to contract itself because of the lack of air in your lungs. “Frankie feels so good… He's too thick, Benny… He fi— fills me so good…”

“Yeah?”

“Yes…” You try to nod with your chin, as he continues balls deep inside you. “Please, Frankie… fuck me… I need you. I need you to fuck me hard”.

The way you beg him provokes Ben to clench his jaw. He loves that honeyed and painful tone of voice too, pleading him to be impaled by his length and he knows he will have to deal with this situation for some more time until you believe him —until you believe that he doesn't want any woman, but you.

“I'm gonna fuck your soul outta your body, amor”. He growls going back only leaving his glans inside you, before pounding you again with all his strength, enjoying how pissed Ben is watching you two right now, without even being allowed to jack himself off.

Frankie rocks his hips back and forth with an insane rhythm that doesn't let you recover from the hit to your g-spot when he's already pushing it to its limits. The boxer drinks your delighted gasps, not being capable of hearing you moaning Frankie you fuck me so fucking good, baby. He wants to hear his name too and the rage is consuming him by leaps and bounds. Ben always enjoys when Frankie pounds your pussy as you blow him, or vice-versa. There are other times when he's too tired and it's Frankie who worships your body with total adoration. There's no competition between them; but right now, after almost three days ignoring him, not feeling anything more than indifference, Ben is furiously needed.

But doesn't seem enough punishment for Frankie, who —not only haven't had sex since the last Wednesday— that has heard you all this time crying for Benny, believing he didn't love you or desire you anymore. Believing that he was just looking for an excuse to fly away from the two of you. And yes, you have pretty clear that if one of them decides to not continue, you will stay with the other one. You really love them both. Frankie tangles a hand in your hair, forcing you to sit up on your knees and arch your back so Ben has a better view of your naked and sweaty body being hardly fucked by him with no mercy, whilst he is just there. Watching. Feeling the painful pressure under the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. Feeling that he could cum just of watching you being used to finding the most animal pleasure.

“Fuck, amor… you're so fuckin' tight”. Frankie hisses, placing his chin on your shoulder as his dark eyes are on the blue ones, rejoicing at how much Benny wants to leave right now and maybe hit his punching bag until destroying it. “So wet only for me… So warm you co—could set me on fire”.

Ben is aware that if he leaves now, everything will be worse. So he's doing his best to endure like a champion, biting the center of his bottom lip when Frankie tilts your head to trap your mouth and tuck his tongue into it. You feel like you're floating to the seventh heaven when he drags one of his huge hands down your torso to look for your throbbing clit, as your walls clench around his twitching dick. You're close, too close to falling above the edge.

“Please, Fra— Frankie, don't stop”. You whine against his lips, feeling some tickles because of his perfect mustache, breathing his own breath.

“You wanna cum, ah? That's what you want, baby girl?”

He can't hear your response due to the obscene and filthy dry sound his pelvis produces crashing against your flesh once and once. No mercy, rough like he has never been with you unless he has been out of town attending some kind of mission —so keen to fill your guts with his cream and mark a territory Ben isn't allowed to touch for now. Your moans become erratic, stepping on each other. Your voice is breaking with a high-pitched tone, not being able to handle it anymore. And your pettiness appears from nowhere, after what your heart has suffered. You cry out Frankie's full name with your crystal eyes, because of too much pleasure, glued to Ben's.

“Oh, fu— fuck, Francisco!”

Your vocals echo around the living room, whilst he continues going deeper and deeper. His pleased growls join yours, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when Frankie explodes inside you like an unbridled torrent, so warm that it feels like hell is concentrated in your soaked and filled cunt; abused after a short but an intense round of slams straight to the weakest spot of your anatomy.

Even so, he is still pressed against your limits, holding his still-hard dick between your wet folds whilst trying to recover your breaths. You can see Ben heavily gulping his saliva, keeping his hands away from the lump under his sweatpants. It hurts just looking at it, but these are the consequences. And he hasn't cheated you. He feels like he has done it though, and that's more painful than the erection claiming attention, or how only Frankie is allowed to touch you, to comfort you, to talk to you —to interact in any kind of way.

And now, Ben can leave to have a cold shower.

It's the third night you can't sleep. Although you're really tired, you can't find the point where your brain disconnects from the world. Curling your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, you put your eyes again in the stargazing above your head. The soft breeze, sitting on the grass of the backyard of your house, calms you somehow but not enough to husk the insecurities Ben has created you.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice Frankie's presence until he settles himself behind you, urging you with his forearms on your chest to lie back against his. Pressing his lips on top of your head with a tender kiss, he sighs slowly and quietly.

“Benny loves you. He really does. I'm not gonna defend him, I don't understand why he did it and I don't wanna think 'bout what could have happened. But he loves you”.

“I know, but… I feel like I'm not enough for him anymore. Like we aren't enough for him anymore”. You whisper resting your head under his chin, closing your eyelids and lacing your fingers with him, looking for some consolation. “Maybe love isn't enough for him and he doesn't feel attracted to me like he used to”.

“Bullshit, baby. Didn't you see how he was lookin' at you the whole time? Like a fuckin' starving dog, and not because he hasn't had sex in three days. But because he hasn't been touched by you in an eternity. He's been following you like a puppy all around this time, sleeping against the door of your room, begging you to forgive him”. Frankie doesn't want you to convince you about anything, but what he's saying are facts. “Take your time, okay? But don't be too harsh with him. Ben is still here, right? That's the answer to your questions”.

If you’ve liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17

TRIPLE FRONTIER: @phoenixhalliwell @goldielocks2004 @pedritomando @spideysimpossiblegirl @danniburgh

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Chapter Six (M)

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader (slight)

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @dariangarcia​​, @btssmutgalore​, and @junghoseokit​​ for supporting my work. To my mamas, Kaitlin, Adora, Lauren, Lanie, Lu, and Sher.

•••> Word Count: 7.81k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: Jungkook x Reader | Tattooed!Jungkook | angst | smut | ceo!au | rockstar!au | CEO!Reader | Rockstar!Jungkook | AU!BTS | Exes to Lovers

•••> Warnings: angst, dirty talk, sexual teasing, heartbreak, cursing, pining, depression, breakup, emotional instability, arguing | Warnings are written specifically to chapter.

Copyright © 2021 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Taglist: @dariangarcia​​​ @apurpledheart​​​ @itsgottabeyoo-ngs​​​ @hytibm​​ @namjinsbaby​​ @ggukkieland​​ @fan-ati--c​​

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, say so in a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page, or send me an ask!

NAVIGATION: Chapter Five (M) <- | -> Chapter Seven (M) -> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

•••> Official Playlist 

~#~

“I put the dirt into dirtbag. Still got your jacket in my bag.”

THEN.

“Kookie!” You screamed in between breaths, eyes watering at the struggle. “Stop! Please!”

“No way!” His laugh was buried in your hair as he pressed his face against the back of your head. “Apologize!”

“For what?” You wheezed, attempting to get away from the curling fingers that tickled your ribs relentlessly. His long legs were wrapped around your body, restricting your movement and effectively taking away almost any opportunity to escape.

“For calling me a singing demon!” His hands continued their assault, sending you into another laughing fit. You fought helplessly against his tattooed arms.

You wanted to bite back, but the lack of air in your lungs prevented you from doing so. Your heart beat wildly, adrenaline spiking and arms flailing against his grip. Desperation flooding your mind, you wrapped your hand around the one that caged your neck and dug your nails into his flesh in hopes that the pain would get him to weaken his hold.

Jungkook only laughed again and hummed teasingly. “Oh, just like that. Harder, baby.”

Squirming didn’t help much, but when you shifted your hips and felt something poking into your spine, you huffed with defeat on the horizon. His obvious boner signified that he liked your struggle- a clear indicator that there was no way he was letting you go any time soon.

Unless…

With another shift of your hips to grind your ass upwards on him, seating his dick between your clothed ass cheeks, you let the situation take over your body with your brain rewiring into a horny mindset in order to distract him.

“Jungkook,” You whispered through a gasp, hoping the change of pace would throw him off. It was a stunt you always pulled; whether it be during an argument or sex, changing the pace would unfocus your boyfriend’s attention and give you the upper hand.

Sure enough, Jungkook’s embrace around you loosened so that he could give himself more room to slide his manhood against you.

“Oh, baby...” He grunted into your ear with a sliver of surprise tainting his lust.

Slowly, so as to not trigger him, you slid one hand down his stomach and slid two fingers below the waistband of his shorts. With your body on top of him, you couldn’t go further inward, so you settled on harshly scraping your nails across his hip while you dug your other hand harder into his forearm.

“Please.” You said with more air in your lungs. Finally, you could breathe.

“Are you begging for me to fuck you?” His dick twitched against you, desperate to bury itself between your thighs. “Or are you pleading for mercy? Tell me, Y/N,”

Jungkook flipped the two of you over so that your chest pressed into the bed and his entire body pinned you to the mattress with a swift cant of his hips. “Which one is it?”

For a moment, you rolled your eyes and struggled to look at him from your compromised position. It wasn’t until your eyes caught sight of the numbers on the clock sitting on the nightstand that you began struggling with a new burst of concern in your mind.

“Jungkook!” You wheezed. “The time!”

“Answer my question, Y/N. I can stay here all night. The stage can wait.”

“But you’ll be late!” Your voice increased in volume.

“Only if you continue avoiding my question…” Jungkook trailed off for a moment before he leaned down to murmur softly in your ear. “Well, I’ll only be late if you refuse to let go of your pride to ask for mercy and beg for my cock instead. I will rearrange your guts if that is what you’re asking for.”

You huffed in frustration, the desire to fuck your boyfriend dissipating with his words. You knew that Jimin would be through the roof by now, searching high and low for the lead singer of BTS to dress him properly.

“Mercy.” You finally grumbled in defeat, not wanting to delay him any longer.

Almost disappointedly, Jungkook grunted as he removed his weight from on top of you. “Fine.”

“I’ll go turn on the car.” You got up and swiped the keys off of your dresser, thankful that you were still dressed in your internship clothes.

“You go do that.” Jungkook chuckled whilst sliding his shorts off of his body to reveal a very obvious boner tenting his boxers that you pretended to be oblivious of. “You’re a master at turning me on so I trust you with that.”

“Ew.” You grimaced at the poorly-delivered joke. “That was terrible.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was clever.” Jungkook chided.

“Not at all.” You quipped. After you watched him slide a pair of jeans up his muscular legs, you turned to leave. You just needed to make sure he got dressed. “I’ll be in the car.”

~#~

Jimin’s knowledge of art always mystified you. His prowess wasn’t the type of intelligence like knowing how Picasso depicted the loss of innocence in Guernica or how the melting clocks of Dali introduced surrealism to the world of art- no, that was Taehyung’s strong-suit.

Jimin knew how to create his own version of art that left viewers wistful and in absolute awe by making a stage the vessel of his masterpieces.

As you sat on the balcony, overlooking the crowd while they all thrashed and jumped to the beat of Hoseok’s bass drum and the duo of guitars that was Namjoon and Jungkook, you just had to sit back in your chair and stare at the composition that was Jimin’s show.

Flashes of blue and red lights swept across the crowd, printing themselves temporarily into the crowd’s retinas so that when the opposite color came back, a light hue of purple was brought into the experience for a fleeting moment. Short puffs of fire whenever Namjoon strummed a power chord warmed your face, even from the distance in which you sat from the stage, and lasers shot through the crowd every time Yoongi penetrated the sounds of his group with the keys of his keyboard.

Graphics on the jumbotron behind the band, which were also of Jimin’s creation, outlined each member with curls of dark, tentacle-like wisps that matched the purple hue of the crowd with its raven color.

The last song of the setlist, Blue and Grey, was one you were all too familiar with. The lights faded to a soft blue for a moment as Taehyung began the first strong notes with his bass and the crowd in the venue whooped and hollered in excitement- Blue and Grey was BTS’ most popular song. A year and a half into their journey of being a band and they already had a crowd favorite.

As Taehyung continued his bass line with his guitar and tattooed strumming arm put on display by Jimin’s spotlight, Jungkook leaned into the mic and began strumming his own guitar.

“Where is my angel?”

You sighed and leaned forward in your seat, loving the way Jungkook’s voice carried throughout the performance hall.

Taehyung accompanied Jungkook with the intro until Hoseok joined in to transition into the first verse with his high hat and snare drum.

Once the chorus hit, you couldn’t help but stand from your seat as you began to feel the power of BTS’ music rocking the venue.

“I just wanna be happier. To melt the cold me.”

Jungkook’s neck veins bulged from his skin as he belted out the notes, sweat dribbling down his temples from exertion. Even as he huffed for breath in between his lines, the image of him dressed in all black and owning the stage while ripping his fingers through his guitar strings was one you could never get tired of.

The songs were full of angst- the dark, unspoken feelings that not many people talked about- and you loved how you heard them from Jungkook through music. If only he were this honest when it was just the two of you.

“Don’t say it’s okay, ‘cause it’s not okay.” Jungkook closed up his lines with a heartbreaking tone that every fan in the crowd sang along with as Namjoon prepared to sing his part. For a brief moment, your boyfriend met your eyes across the large venue.

“Please don’t leave me alone. It hurts too much.”

~#~

NOW.

You walked into your building, grateful for the warm protection it offered against the freezing winter of New York City.

Noticing the lack of staff around, being that there was only the elevator operator and the receptionist sitting behind the marble counter, you glanced at your watch to check just how long you spent working.

20:17, your watch read. You had been working in front of computer screens and reading contracts for almost 9 hours.

“Greetings, ma’am!” The receptionist stood from his chair. “May I be of any service to you this evening?”

You shook your head to the man and continued on your path to the elevator where the other employee in the lobby waited to take you up. “None needed. I’ll be leaving momentarily.”

“Very well. Please let me know if you need anything.” He sat back down and turned his gaze to the computer in front of him.

The sound of your pumps echoed against the vast but empty room until you stopped in front of the elevator where the woman already had the doors opening in preparation.

“Good evening, ma’am.” She said lowly.

“ ‘Evening.” You responded, stepping inside without another word. The woman kept the conversation at that, which you appreciated, so you smiled at her in gratitude after you placed your key in the penthouse slot. She returned your smile with her own before the doors closed to encase you in silence.

The ride up was quiet, warranting you to pull out your phone so that you could read over your conversation with Taehyung again.

Why am I wearing think socks? I hate thick socks.

Read at 8:01 pm

Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Is that so? Why?

Read 8:03 pm

Just wear the damn socks, Y/N.

Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?

Read 8:04 pm

Negative, captain

Tf

Why am I a captain now

Read 8:04 pm

Cuz I said so. Now stop talking or you’ll make me give away my position

Alright.

Read 8:05 pm

I said stop talking

…?

Read 8:05 pm

Fucking hell.

You let a small giggle slip past your lips at how normal the text conversation was. It was as if you never stopped talking to him, slipping into the normalcy of having Taehyung back in your life as quickly as it had been to cut him out of it. You zoned out for a moment in thought.

The strange sensation of friendship didn’t take any getting used to as it settled itself back into your bones and filled your heart with warmth like it never left- like the ice covering the beating organ was only temporary. As you stood alone, staring shallowly at the increasing floor numbers, you smiled in content.

The elevator slowed as the cabin came close to reaching the top floor, bringing you back to your senses. Sliding your phone back into the pocket of your slacks, you looked up once the elevator doors opened, only to drop your briefcase to the floor loudly.

Jungkook sat against the wall beside your door with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. At the sound of your clumsiness clattering on the ground, his gaze snapped to you as he scrambled to stand up.

Anger flooded you immediately. You wanted to backhand him and rip his hair out. You wanted to scream and cry and lose your shit. However much you wanted to hurt him, though, you could not afford catching an assault charge on the man who defaced you once before.

There was a break of silence as you stood staring at him, unsure of how to handle the punch in your mood while the memories were forced to surface in your mind.

“Y/N…” Jungkook trailed, breaking the tangible barrier of tension. He took a step forward whilst obviously hesitating. “I-”

Instead of screaming at him, you went for the more sophisticated and controlled route to keep your lividity at bay whilst stopping his sentence in its tracks.

“How did you get up here?” It was a sensible question to ask. You just wanted to prevent him from deepening the conversation.

“I pulled some strings.” He murmured, looking down almost shyly, before piping up with more confidence. “But listen, I-”

“Save it.” You cut him off again, unable to control your facade much longer. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

His anxious expression turned worried- desperate. You didn’t miss the way his eyes became more expressive than you’ve ever seen them. “Please, Y/N.”

“Please what, Jungkook?”

“Please just give me a moment to speak.”

For a beat, you pondered his request. Taehyung’s words weighed heavily on your mind. We needed to talk.

Fuck talking. You have been done talking for ages.

“Wow.” You scoffed coldly, ice barriers slamming back into place over your heart. Taehyung had been able to melt them away, but Jungkook put them right back with fierce determination to completely ruin you. “You just want to take everything from me, huh?”

“Y/N, what-“ He blinked cluelessly, caught off-guard by your sarcasm.

“I gave you years to speak, Jungkook. I gave you everything.” You stepped forward, the boiling rage overtaking your body, and came to a stop in front of him with the fury of a charging bull. You wanted him to feel small and vulnerable.

“What else could I possibly give you? I have nothing left.” He took everything. The veins in your body were emptied and exhausted of every single ounce of energy to fight for someone.

You were unaware of the way Jungkook’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms.

You failed to notice how much he trembled under your gaze, physically struggling to protect his butterfly from your wrath.

Your vicious swings at the dainty being of hope were nothing compared to what he, himself, had done to it. Jungkook found it ironic that you gave him an aspect that he was just barely strong enough to protect yet took the darker things from inside him and destroyed them as if they were mere placeholders- as if you were his puppeteer.

You were too stressed to realize the toll it took on Jungkook to keep his act together. He needed to keep the door open long enough to be your friend. Anything to prevent losing you. Earlier, his demons swooped in and overtook him, suffocating him to silence once again, but for the first time, they ebbed away at the mere thought of you.

As he walked down the street with his stage persona flowing, the simple thought of your name empowered his butterfly to beat its wings so fiercely that it blew away all of the impending smoke and dark tentacles of smog that threatened to overtake his vision.

Once he thought of you, he thought of everything.

Your anger was justified. He understood that now. Watching you huff breath after breath following your question was somehow relieving- you still cared enough to be pissed off. Jungkook forced himself to look on the bright side of the encounter with you; he made himself see that you were still passionate about the past. You were passionately upset and he couldn’t be happier.

He had seen you with Taehyung. He saw the way you were happy again. Jungkook wanted a part of that because he was too selfish to back off and stay dormant in your life- too determined to make you silence his demons.

Even if it was just as a friend. He could deal with that.

“You’re right.” Jungkook stated.

You paused in your tracks at the concession. Anger no longer blazing- staying right where it was- you quirked an eyebrow at him. Any time the two of you fought, he would never come even close to alluding that you were right.

“You’re right and I’m sorry, Y/N.”

An apology.

Words always seemed minimal to you. Unless to communicate information, you found that words filled with feeling didn’t mean much from someone you didn’t know.

After Jungkook, anyone that told you they loved you was promptly deemed a liar. Kate worked hard to make sure you were aware of the fact that she would actually take a bullet for you because of how much she loved you. She spent moment after moment proving to you that she cared deeply even though she didn’t have to put up with you.

Your parents, despite not talking to you much, expressed their love and gratitude whenever you sent them money. You knew they were hard workers like you and didn’t have time to worry about trivial things like words. Instead of taking the easy way out by simply telling you that they loved you, they showed you.

But Jungkook, who claimed to love you in the way that a lover would- the only person to actually do so- lied.

You could never trust the words in that way again.

Still, you couldn’t help but be taken by surprise.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Y/N, you’ve been right since the beginning. I took and took and just stopped giving back. I understand that you’re angry and I want to fix it so that you don’t hate me anymore. I want to make it right.”

You were silent. You hadn’t expected him to admit his fault so easily. Jungkook changing the pace of your conversation ruined your momentum, sending you stumbling and scrambling for thoughts.

Jungkook sighed for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line as he let his eyes drop to the floor in your silence. He wasn’t about to lose the opportunity to elaborate further, though.

“Look, I know I fucked up. Bad. I know you can’t possibly forgive me right now, but I want you to know that I’m sorry for the things I’ve done to you.”

Your automatic reaction to being emotionally pushed came back, closing you down and disguising you as a cold woman.

“What the fuck do you know? What the fuck do you know about how badly you fucked up? I don’t need your lame-ass apology, Jungkook. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Stop pretending that you do. Sure, we fucked a little and kissed a few times, but that’s all that it was.” You grit out the last few words, lying through your teeth. “Now please move. You’re blocking the door.”

Shockingly, Jungkook obeyed. He stepped aside and clasped his hands behind his back without another word, allowing you to walk to your door and open it.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

No matter how many times you repeated the words in your head, commanding yourself to abide by the mantra as if it were law, the emotions in your head managed to break through and force your head to turn back after stepping through the doorway.

Jungkook stood as still as a statue, staring at you with a blank expression that was almost eerie. You glanced down quickly, unable to maintain the eye contact, and noticed that his knuckles were clenched.

It was almost as if he was a completely different person because of the fact that his appearance was drastically different from that of BTS Jungkook. The man that stood in front of you was no rockstar. He was not an idol nor a role model that millions looked up to.

He was a scared boy. The fear that riddled his eyes was extremely difficult to miss and it made him seem almost small whilst standing in the small junction between the elevator and your penthouse.

You shut the door in his face impulsively, hoping that you wouldn’t have to see him again.

Backing away from the door slightly, you waited until you heard the elevator signal that its doors were closing before going to look through the peephole. You finally released your breath and slumped against the door when you saw that he had left.

Without his presence putting you on edge and keeping you on your toes, you could finally reflect on the conversation that just transpired.

He admitted his wrongdoings and apologized for them. He showed you his belly and became vulnerable. He admitted defeat.

Jungkook wasn’t an apologetic person in the slightest; he wasn’t a forgiving one either. In all the years that you had known him, he was headstrong and stubborn- if you looked past the part where he closed himself off and cheated, of course.

This Jungkook, the one you had just spoken to, was not the one you remember. Maybe you were right. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore.

Your phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from pondering any further over the epiphany, prompting you to pull it out and fumble with it to get away from the confusing subject. You were thankful for the distraction.

Kim Taehyung (BTS)

I’ll be out front in 15 mins

Cursing internally, you left the idea of Jungkook behind you and rushed to change into clothes better suited for the cold weather.

It was a given that a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips when you slid thick tube socks over your ankles. You hadn’t actually worn tube socks in ages because they didn’t exactly go with your usual professional style of suits and heels.

You zipped your coat up about three-fourths of the way before turning to look at yourself in your mirror with a huff.

Suddenly, you were bombarded with a memory as it flashed before your eyes.

“You know you look good, babe.”

You giggled as Jungkook came up behind you to look at you in the reflection, setting his chin on your shoulder while he used his tongue to toy with the hoop pierced into his lip.

“Thanks, Kook. Just want to look my best is all.” You met his eyes in your bedroom mirror, smiling softly.

“Well, you look beautiful.”

You were left staring at the empty space where his face was, unsure of how to react as you stumbled back from the intrusion. Another meaningless scene came barging into your senses before you could process the first.

“Wow…” You trailed off as you looked at the angry red spot on Jungkook’s chest. A brand new tattoo, the size of your hand, raised out of his skin and shined under the luminescent light of the tattoo parlor. With the tattoo artist cleaning up his station behind the two of you, you were left to admire his beauty in his reflection.

Jungkook stood shirtless in front of the full-length mirror as he smiled brightly at the last tattoo to complete his set. Your eyes drank in the way each exhibit of inked art contrasted with his smooth, caramel expanse of skin while you stood behind him.

The new piece, which was almost large enough to touch the Chinese characters stamped onto the side of his neck and the back of his ear, was a depiction of an angel falling from the heavens. The detail in the blackening feathers attached to the angel’s back was mesmerizing, drawing all of the attention from the rest of the tattoos covering Jungkook’s chest.

“Is there any special meaning behind it?” You asked, knowing that your boyfriend had a few meaningless tattoos that were part of his ‘woke-up-and-it-was-there’ collection.

For a moment, Jungkook stayed silent as he studied the work of art in the mirror. It wasn’t until you called his name again that he answered your question while meeting your gaze in the reflection.

“Nah. It just looked really cool to me.”

You pressed your hand to your forehead and looked away from your mirror, wondering why- now, of all times- you just had to remember those small memories.

You didn’t miss him- you know you didn’t. But something within you twisted at the thought of being with him- the memory of how it felt to be his.

The disconnect between the feelings of your heart and the thoughts of your mind, ever so obvious, shifted. His apology was unexpected, to say the least, but it was also surprisingly heartfelt and pulling on your need to forgive.

Saved by the bell, your landline phone began to ring.

You rushed to the bedside table and grabbed the phone from its dock, pulling it to your ear.

“Ms. Y/L/N? It’s the front desk. Mr. Kim Taehyung is here and waiting for you.”

“Got it. Thank you. I’ll be down in a moment.” You hung up the phone and grabbed your wallet and keys before shuffling over to your desk to grab your briefcase on instinct.

“Wait,” you spoke aloud, laughing at yourself and withdrawing your reach. “I don’t need that.”

As you opened the door to your penthouse, the sound of something lightly hitting your door had you looking down.

A small, navy blue bag, the size of your palm, swung from the doorknob and hit lightly against the wood from the momentum of you opening your door. Confused, you unhooked the loop from the doorknob and looked inside the bag to find a familiar-looking box inside.

Gingerly, you pulled it out and opened it. In the way of the box’s contents was a folded piece of notebook paper with your name scrawled across the top in Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

You held your breath after reading the note and looked down at the small charm.

Since you gave me yours, I’ll give you mine. -jk

In the fabric of the satin display lay the familiar gold chain that Jungkook gifted you those few years ago, but, instead of the small J that you were so familiar with, lay your own initial.

You knew Jungkook’s way with words well enough to know that the small note connected his intentions to the chain. You were instantly pulled back to the night that he gifted the necklace to you in the first place.

“It’s beautiful. Happy one-year, babe.” You whispered onto his lips with a smile.

After you sat back into your seat, Jungkook walked to your side of the table to put the chain around your neck. “I obviously have the describe how much this necklace means so that you never take it off.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t even dream of taking it off, Kook.”

“I still need to explain. It was like a message from heaven when I saw them in the jewelry store.” He pouted, returning to his seat. “So the idea with these is that we’re wearing parts of each other. You’re wearing the part of me that belongs to you and I’m wearing the part of you that belongs to me.”

Jungkook continued as he raised his glass. “So even though you think this necklace is yours because it’s your letter, it’s actually mine.”

You cocked your head in confusion, struggling to understand the concept. “What are you talking about?”

“It sounded so much better in my head, I swear.”

You understood the idea now.

Push off the emotions. Don’t think about them.

You were hellbent on ignoring the weakness, knowing full well what path you would go down if you let them get to you.

Instead, you made your way down to the lobby with the bag gripped tightly in your mitten-clad hands, heading to the desk with determination furrowing your brow. Even as Taehyung stood from the small sofa in the lobby upon seeing you, you did not spare him a glance.

Forcefully, you thrusted the bag into the receptionists’ face, internally wincing at your rude gesture.

“Please put this in the lost and found. I have no idea where it came from.”

The receptionist did well at hiding his expression, however, you could still see a sense of somber recognition behind his eyes. You decided not to press him seeing as you want to avoid the topic of Jungkook like the plague.

“Understood, ma’am.” He took the bag from your grasp before you had the chance to rethink addressing his slip of emotion, placing it in a drawer by his knee. He looked back up and gestured to Taehyung after locking the drawer. “Mr. Kim is here for you.”

You sighed in a mild sense of accomplishment, forcing yourself to shut out the regret and sadness for giving away a formerly precious memory, before turning to face Taehyung with a small smile to mask your inner turmoil. Your smile faltered when you noticed that Taehyung mirrored the same expression on his face that the receptionist wore.

“What?” You asked, walking to him.

“I just-” He looked down for a moment, scowling, and you noticed he had placed his small barbell back into his eyebrow. “-nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me anything?” The two of you had walked to the door, stopping before going out into the cold so that you could finish your conversation.

“Like I said before, it’s not my place to say or judge.”

Taehyung opened the door to an icy gust of wind before you could protest, chilling you into a mind-numbing stupor as you whispered, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Good god, it is freezing.” Taehyung mumbled, linking an arm around your body and ushering you towards his SUV across the sidewalk.

Once sat inside the warmth of the cabin, you shivered in satisfaction at the heat gracing your body.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be outside for whatever we’re doing.” You pleaded to him. The light from the city was filtered by the darkened car windows, however, you could still see Taehyung’s shoulders moving up and down when he chuckled.

“Unfortunately, we are, but fortunately, I brought some heat packs for us.”

You whined in protest, looking up to the GPS screen in front of the driver to see if you could identify where the two of you were going. Without a route plotted, you were left even more curious.

About twenty minutes of small talk and a brief roast session targeting Hoseok later, you sat in front of the ice skating rink at the Rockefeller Center.

“We’re ice skating?” You asked, suddenly in shock. You hadn’t been ice skating since-

No. Stop it. Your mind warred with itself as it suppressed the memory threatening to spill over into your eyes.

“You’re quite the detective.” Taehyung’s sentence was drenched in sarcasm, functioning as the perfect distraction, and prompted you to lightly shove him with a giggle as you exited the vehicle.

“I thought I was a captain.” You pouted against the cold, pulling your hat down on your head even further in hopes of retaining your body heat and warmth from the van.

“You are.” Taehyung laughed again. “Captain Detective.”

You only rolled your eyes at his playfulness before you turned to face the rink from the sidewalk. A person passing behind you and bumping into your back lightly had you cursing New York City’s busy and bustling population.

Seeing all of the people on the rink, you instantly remembered that you did not inform Jay of your whereabouts.

“Do we have security?” Worry riddled your brain as you turned to look at him with your eyes widening in a panic. You became hyperaware of all of the possible outcomes to Taehyung being identified in such a crowded place.

Taehyung sighed as he walked you up to the ticket booth. “We don’t. I just want to have a normal and plain but fun time with my friend- without someone glaring at me like they don’t want to be here while they breathe down my neck.”

Despite understanding his statement, you couldn’t help the automatic stress to being in public without any form of protection.

“Taehyung,” You warned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N,” He mocked your tone childishly before leveling it to his regular voice. “Relax, weirdo. We’re here to have fun and people are too busy having their own fun to notice us.”

“I doubt that.”

It wasn’t until you got your rental skates tightly secured onto your feet and began walking toward the ice that Taehyung mentioned a vital detail that he definitely should have mentioned prior to arriving at the center.

“You what?” You were baffled to say the least.

“I can’t skate.” He sheepishly brought his hand to the back of his head and adjusted his trapper hat under your scrutiny.

“Then why did we come?” You were almost yelling at that point.

“Because Brian told me that you liked ice skating!” Taehyung gripped at your fingers tightly, anxiety getting the best of him.

Fucking hell, Brian.

“Did he?” Your laugh was almost hysterical because of how wrong he was. You were becoming increasingly hesitant about giving your personal assistant a raise now.

Still, it was worth the effort. Brian was just trying to help the world’s most popular bassist when he came to him in need of information. It was a decent attempt.

“Yeah,” Taehyung huffed. “He did.”

“Well, Tae, I’ll have you know,” You moved towards the ice rink with determination. “I haven’t been ice skating in ages and I hardly like it. Hopefully, I still have muscle memory.”

“Oh god.” Taehyung groaned, tipping his head back as the feeling of imminent and utter chaos ensued. “Fucking hell, Brian.”

As soon as you stepped on the ice, you realized that you were still perfectly coordinated enough to complete the task.

Taehyung, on the other hand, clung to the walls like the world was attempting to swallow him into the ground. Dutifully, you stood next to him with a cautious hand on his back in the case that he went tumbling.

The sight was one to behold.

Kim Taehyung, hard core rockstar- the physical definition of a stereotypical ‘bad boy’- with tattoos littering his skin and a glistening eyebrow piercing that was winking at you from under his gray trapper, stood hunched over and afraid as he moved baby step-by-baby step to proceed further around the rink. You couldn’t help but giggle as the man who possessed the prowess of an elegant panther on stage adopted the likes of a stumbling newborn giraffe within the span of five minutes.

You were still concerned for him despite how funny it was. Tentatively, you reached your hand to grip his shoulder and urged him to look at you.

“Tae, are you okay? We can do something else if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wheezed in effort. “I got this.”

Making a show out of how brave he was, Taehyung stood up straight on shaky legs and began progressing forward by attempting to walk on the ice.

“I can show you how t-” Taehyung cut off your offer before you could finish it.

“I’ve been shown countless times how to skate and the best I can do is walk and maybe slide forward a little. I’m a lost cause, Y/N.” Even though he seemed upset, Taehyung couldn’t help but crack a smile at how clumsy he was.

You smiled pitifully at your clumsy friend before you stepped in front of him. “Here, hold onto my shoulders and we’ll slide forward together.”

All Taehyung could do was begrudgingly agree, hating the idea of having to lean on you for support but wanting to remain close to you for the majority of the night. Once he placed his hands tightly on your shoulders, you moved.

At first, you skated slowly so that Taehyung could adjust to the feeling of being pulled forward. Once he got the hang of keeping his legs locked so that you could move around easier, you skated at a normal speed.

After about ten minutes of joking around and catching Taehyung’s slipping form a handful of times, your mind was left free and without defense.

You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you were because of it.

“Y/N, slow down! I can’t go that fast!”

Your breathing came to a halt at the voice that echoed in your ears.

“Here, hold my hand and we’ll skate together.”

Panicking, you rushed your mind to shut it out. No. Stop.

Unknowingly, the chaos in your mind and the desperate need to get away from the memories had you gradually increasing your own speed to subconsciously escape your thoughts.

Taehyung’s nervous laugh and call of your name in warning fell on deaf ears while you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration.

“See? It’s easy. Just step and lean. Step- and lean.” His hand clutched yours as if he was trying to squeeze all of the blood from your fingers but you only squeezed back in reassurance.

“Don’t let me fall, please.”

Taehyung’s skate crashing into the back of yours served as the perfect distraction, yet it only lasted for a split second as the two fo you went tumbling to the ice in a hauntingly familiar manner.

In the process of falling, Taehyung had managed to wrap his arms around your waist and twist his body so that he could take most of the impact from the ice. Landing on top of him with an ‘oof’ reminded you of the last time you went ice skating.

Even with your face mere centimeters from your friend’s, all you saw was him.

Taehyung’s small puffs of air against your lips were an indicator of how close you were to kissing him. Truly, you could kiss him if you wanted to, needing only to relax your neck and let your head fall to close the rest of the minimal gap between you. He looked up at you with wide eyes, holding onto your gaze with an unreadable expression on his face.

All you saw, however, was a small mole dotting the underside of his lips. Fuck, you wanted to kiss Taehyung and rid yourself of the nightmare, but you couldn’t shake the sensation of how wrong it felt to kiss anyone but Jungkook.

“Y/N,” Taehyung called your name cautiously and pulled you from your thoughts. Instantly, your eyes welled with tears at the realization of how fucked you were.

You yanked yourself from him with abandon, needing to get far away from the reminder that you couldn’t move on.

Kim Taehyung was mature. He was kind and respectful- everything you could ask for in a man- yet the thoughts of Jungkook and the good memories you had with him outweighed the bad, preventing you from truly letting go.

Before Taehyung could protest, you stood and left him on the ice, making for a quick exit. You wanted to go back and help him up so that he wasn’t in danger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at his face in this setting.

Instead, you skated off the rink and walked to the skate rental area, plopping down on the bench weakly to untie the laces. Once you did so, you set them on the counter and waited for your boots with your eyes on the ground. You didn’t want anyone to see you on the brink of crying.

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s voice was loud and attention-grabbing. You had half the mind to be concerned that he would cause people to notice him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you finally got your boots and rushed to put them on. Taehyung was finally off the ice when you slid the first boot on.

“Y/N,” He called your name again, awkwardly approaching you with the blades still on his feet. “Please, talk to me.”

You could only sniffle in response and continue to put your boots back on, a fresh wave of tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You’d kept them at bay thus far but Taehyung was making it extremely difficult as his comfort approached you. The welcome yet heartbreaking aura he exhumed paired with your teetering emotional stability wouldn’t fare well in such a public setting.

Without hesitation, you stood and walked away once you were done securing your shoes back on your feet. Again, you felt the urgent need to be alone.

And again, Taehyung was right behind you as he ran without putting his shoes back on.

“Y/N!” He grabbed you as he called your name more sternly, forcing you to face him. Your eyes met his briefly before you looked back down to the pavement and cursed yourself once a tear slipped out. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because I-” Your breath caught in your throat as it constricted due to the beginning of a sob building in your chest. You cleared your throat and struggled to breathe your way through your response- one you had trouble communicating. “-I just can’t.”

Taehyung grimaced, looking around with concern, before he ushered your body to begin walking away from the busy area.

Once you were a good distance down the street, he grabbed both of your shoulders and forced you to face him once again. Away from the well-lit area of the ice rink, the only light that shone in the middle of the dark night was that of the street lights. With bated breath, you looked up at your friend with your mouth closed tightly so that the sob in your chest wouldn’t come barging past your lips.

The pain was nearly unbearable. It anguished you, knowing that you were stupid enough to think that you could eventually move on from Jungkook. It pained you, being aware of the fact that Taehyung had offered himself to you and you did nothing but continue to look at Jungkook.

But most of all, it hurt that you still wanted Jungkook.

If only you could reach into your chest and tear your heart out so that you couldn’t feel anymore. If only you could shut off your feelings so that it didn’t agonize you like this. If only it were that easy.

Under the light of the street lamps with Taehyung’s look of pity- the one he held as he looked at you across the club on that dreadful night those few years ago- on you, you broke.

As you began sobbing, Taehyung pulled you against his body and backed up into the darkness to give you the privacy to cry without being seen.

The pain stabbed your heart repeatedly; quick blows, shallow at first, became increasingly deep as you drowned in the memories of what once was.

Falling so passionately in love became your biggest regret. For so long, you hated the idea. You hated the fact that you still loved Jungkook notwithstanding the things he had done. You denied the fact until you started seeing the good memories again- until it was an unavoidable and objective truth.

The truth that you still loved him.

As Taehyung held you tightly in his embrace while you held your hands to your face and dug your nails into your skin, you sobbed uncontrollably at how completely and royally fucked you were.

“W-why-” You blubbered into your palms. “-why do I-I still lo-ove him?”

“Because your heart wants what it wants, Y/N. You have no control over that.”

At this point, you had to tell him how you felt- how you truly felt.

“I w-wish that it wa-anted you. I’m so sorry, T-Tae.”

“Hey, now. Don’t say that. It’s a waste of time to wish for things that you have no control over. Don’t waste a wish on something stupid like that.” Taehyung pressed his face to the top of your head, pressing his lips there to leave a small kiss. “Besides, I have someone waiting for me back home so you don’t need to worry anymore.”

Instantly, you looked up at him in shock while still hiccuping. “You do?”

“Of course.” Taehyung laughed warmly, smiling down at you. “I wasn’t gonna be stuck on you forever. One way or another, you move on.”

“It’s been years since I’ve even seen him, Tae. The fact that I still haven’t moved on despite that has to tell you something.”

“Which is why I told you that you still need to talk to him. You can’t move on or do anything about the way you feel unless you communicate it.” He pulled back to bend his body to become eye-level with you so that he could look you in the eyes as he spoke. “There’s things you don’t know.”

For a moment, you weighed his words in your mind. If they’re things that Taehyung can’t tell you because they’re ‘not his place’ to say, then you figure that the matter must be a serious one. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. It wasn’t long before you gave in.

“Yeah…” You trailed off in hesitation, suddenly regretting shutting out Jungkook. “I guess I do need to talk to him.”

“Please just… take your time and be patient with him.” Taehyung winced slightly. “He’s hot-headed but he’s a lot better than he was before. I promise you that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Taehyung.” You scowled as you backed out of his embrace.

“You know I don’t. I would never suggest that you talk to him if he was the same as he was before.”

A few beats of silence passed before you asked the question that had been nagging at your mind since your revelation of remaining love for the lead singer of BTS.

“Do you think we still have a chance?”

Taehyung answered immediately. “That’s not my place to judge. All I know is that you guys did something sad like being broke up even though you had life.”

“Good god, Tae,” You huffed out a laugh. “Are you quoting Lil Dicky right now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Taehyung crossed his arms and let out a small ‘hmph’ as he lightly stomped his foot onto the sidewalk. “And you can’t stop me.”

For a while, Taehyung let you catch your breath and calm down while looking up and down the street. It seemed as if he was planning something.

Before you could process what he was doing, Taehyung took you by your arm, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and began walking across the street. You looked up in the direction of your path and noticed that you were heading towards the quaint coffee shop that seemed to be the only open place at the current hour.

Your eyes hurt from crying. Your chest ached from sobbing and hiccuping. Your heart and head hurt as they came to blows with each other. You were slowly beginning to freeze as the calming of your emotions slowed your heart and cooled your body. It was so fucking cold.

You could use a coffee right about now.

~#~

Thank you for reading, reader! If you’d like to check out the rest of my work, feel free to visit my Masterlist!

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

��Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[honeyhan-123]

The Monster In Plain Sight ~ III

Series Summary: Steve’s been slowly biding his time, playing the role of the perfect Captain America, but now he’s sick of playing and he’s going to take what he wants.

Chapter Summary: Steve peels back his mask. 

Warnings:Dark!Steve, non-con, allusions to past victims, Steve is a serial rapist in this, trapping the reader. I’m sorry if theres more but I’m half dead right now so just let me know and I’ll fix it. 

Word Count: 3.2k

AN: This is my contribution to trying to make 2021 better than the shit show that was 2020. I really hope y’all like it!

Also, I’m thinking that maybe this is the last part? Let me know if you want more but I’m not too sure. 

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The ‘safe house’ that Steve had chosen was really just his own little cabin in the woods. Of course it wasn’t just like any regular cabin, there were safety measures in place. Like the fact that it was at least five miles away from the nearest residence, or the fact that to get in or out of the building his thumbprint was needed. But you didn’t need to know any of that. 

It was a three hour drive and Steve couldn’t help but peak over at you out of the corner of his eyes for the entire duration. You wore jeans and a sweater that Steve longed to rip from your body. Once he had you safely tucked away in his cabin he’d make sure you could never hide your body again. 

The thoughts alone of what he had planned made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, trying to readjust himself in his pants. Oh how he longed to just pull over to the side of the road and slide into his new home between your legs. It physically pained him but he still had at least an hour drive to go and he didn’t want to risk you drawing any attention during that time. 

It took longer than Steve wanted to reach his cabin but at long last he finally turned onto the dirt road that made up the last two or so miles to the house. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as you stared out at the dense forest, a hint of nervousness starting to screen in. In a sick way Steve was glad that you were finally starting to realise how vulnerable you were now. 

It had been almost too easy for Steve to convince you to trust him and he couldn’t wait to shatter that trust. To show you the monster that had been lurking in plain sight. 

When he finally eased the car to a complete stop, he allowed himself one last glance back at you. It wouldn’t be the last time he would be seeing you but it would be the last time you would look at him with that level of trust in your eyes. At least, for a while. 

Steve had no doubt that if he kept you here for long enough, you would eventually cave to him. Although, none of the others had lasted long enough for that…

It was rare for anyone to catch his eye for long enough for Steve to bring them here. And the few that had, quickly learnt that Steve was not the epitome of patience that the media often portrayed him as. 

Steve shrugged those memories away. They were the past and he was here with you now. He was certain you wouldn’t disappoint him like the others had. You wouldn’t end up like they had. 

He gave you one last smile before opening his door. The cool autumn air hinted at the fast approaching winter and he saw you shiver as he carried your bags up to the front door. 

‘This is home sweet home. There are various safety measures around the place but you don’t really need to worry about all that. All I want you to concern yourself with is settling in. I want you to like it here as much as I do. After all, it is your new home.’ His words sent a wave of confusion through you.

‘For the next few weeks at least.’ You corrected him with a smile as you gazed around the mud room, completely missing the flash of anger that momentarily took a hold of Steve's features. 

‘Right. Well, it could take some time to catch whoever fucked you.’ You gasped at his vulgar language, turning to face him. 

‘That’s not the word I would have used.’ 

Steve merely shrugged away your chastisement and gestured to the hallway. ‘Let me show you to the bedroom. You followed as he led the way past the dining room and then the kitchen. Just by the door to the kitchen you saw another, one that held a flight of dark stairs, presumably to a basement of sorts. You were glad to not be sleeping down there. 

When Steve nudged the bedroom door open you were surprised by how lived in the room looked. You would have thought a safe house would have a sort of desolate feel to it, but not this one. It almost had a sort of homey feel to it. 

You expected Steve to just dump your bags down on the bed and then disappear off to wherever he would be sleeping but instead, he closed the door behind him and you heard a faint click of a lock. You whipped around to face him, about to ask why he’d locked the door but the words died in your throat as you caught sight of his darkened eyes. 

‘Steve…’ Your voice was timid, taken aback by the abrupt change in him and all too aware of just how alone you were now. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What I’ve been waiting to do for months.’ His voice was deeper than usual and your throat felt tight as he shrugged out of his jacket. It was only when he turned to hang it up in the closet did you realise why the cabin had such a homey feel to it. It had that feeling because it was a home. His home.

‘I- I don’t understand. What do you mean “what you’ve wanted to do for months?”’

‘I mean I’ve been watching you. Waiting for this moment. Patiently biding my time until I had you completely at my mercy.’ He started closing the distance between your bodies and with every step he took, you took one backwards. ‘You know, it’s kind of funny. I knew from the first moment I saw you that I would have you, but I didn’t realise until last night that I wouldn’t be satisfied with just a one off occurrence. You’re better than that, you deserve more.’ 

The back of your legs hit the foot of the bed and you stumbled back onto it, trying to crawl away as the realisation sunk into you. ‘Last night? That - that was you?’ Your voice was merely a whisper but in the silence of the cabin there was no doubt he heard you. 

‘Of course it was me. Why else do you think I made sure I was the first one to find you this morning? Getting you here would’ve been a little harder if you had gotten the authorities involved.’

‘You had no intention of ever helping me. Then why…’

‘Make you get the sperm for a DNA test?’ He finished your question for you, a twisted smirk on his lips. ‘That, I admit, was purely for my own entertainment. Plus I wanted to see your perfect little cunt again.’

‘So what? You just took me here for… for what?’ Panic was truly starting to set in as he revealed what a monster he really was. 

‘Isn’t it obvious? I want you. I wasn’t content with just one night. I want more. So I brought you here, miles away from the nearest residential area. You can scream as loud as you like but no one will ever hear you. You can try to escape me but I will catch up before you even make it off the property. You’re mine to do with a I please now.’ 

His words sent a shiver down your spine and you didn’t doubt that he meant every single one of them, yet there was a part of you that refused to give up hope. This had to all be a dream. Some sick, twisted nightmare. 

You hadn't seen him move but suddenly you were pushed onto your back and his arms were on either side of you, caging you in. ‘So go ahead.’ His lips brushed your own as he breathed the words. ‘Do it. Scream for me.’ 

His words were your only warning before his hands met the straps of your tank top and abruptly tore it away from your body. Your arms came up, trying to shield yourself from him but he swiftly gathered your wrists in his hand and pinned them above your head. 

You thrashed your hips wildly, trying to buck him off of you to no avail. Instead, he slipped his spare forefinger down along your sternum and hooked it underneath your bra. With one last devious smirk down at you, he pulled it away. 

It hurt as it tore around your chest, leaving you completely bare to him. ‘That’s much better isn’t it?’ His eyes danced along your breasts as he spoke, completely enraptured by them for the time being. 

You thrashed even more wildly, your desperation kicking up a notch as his hand slipped along your stomach and down to the waistband of your pants. He deftly undid the button to your jeans and then the fly. He used your own movement to aid him in pulling the denim and your modest panties down and away from your legs. 

You breathed in his own breath as his fingers forced their way between your thighs. ‘Well… Look at this.’ He pulled his hand back so you could see the glistening fingers. ‘I knew you were different. You want it. You want me.’ You tried to speak, to deny his claims but he interrupted before you even had the chance. ‘Don’t bother with whatever falsity you’re trying to say. Those gorgeous lips can lie to me but your body can’t.’ With that he shoved his hand back between your thighs and started playing with the slick he had found there. 

You wanted to hate it, and you did to an extent. Yet, there was a small part of you that couldn’t ignore the growing fire that his fingers had ignited. ‘Stop it please. Steve. Stop.’ Your commands were pitiful even to your own ears. 

‘You and I both know you don’t mean that Baby.’ You shuddered at the pet name yet your denial was caught in your throat as his fingers found your clit. An involuntary gasp fell from your lips and it was all the invitation that Steve needed to lean down and slide his tongue into your open mouth. 

You recoiled at the unfamiliar feeling but no matter how hard though tried to shove him off, he was too strong. He remained stuck, on top of you, the only barrier was his arm leading down to your cunt where he continued to draw out moan after moan from your lips. 

‘That’s it Baby. Just give in to me. Isn’t it so much easier? To just give in to what your body so desperately needs?’ His words were mumbled against your lips and you tried to speak out, only for another moan to betray your mind. 

His hand had shifted slightly, and suddenly there was a finger poking at your entrance as his palm continued to brush against your bundle of nerves. You were unable to do anything but lie there and take it as his finger easily slid into your channel. 

No sooner than he had one finger inside you did he add a second and then a third. ‘God, you’re so fuckin’ wet. So tight. I can’t wait to see you take my cock again.’ His words should have repulsed you but instead they furthered your own excitement. Your thighs clenching desperately around his hand. ‘Oh you like that do you? Me talking dirty? Reminding you that your best feature will always be right here?’ His hand drew back and lightly slapped your swollen lips. ‘This hole. This cunt. It’s fucking marvellous.’ Your eyes squeezed shut on their own accord as his fingers brushed against that spot inside you. 

You were repulsed by your body's reaction. The coil inside your gut grew tighter and tighter with every ministration of his. You longed for him to get off of you yet you also longed for him. Your body and mind were at war with one another but not for long. Your body claimed a swift victory.as your orgasm approached and continued to wash over you, from the tips of your toes to your muddled mind. 

Wave after wave of pleasure consumed you, making its way over your body as your walls pulsed around his fingers. 

‘That’s a good girl. Just give in. I can give you this and so much more.’ You were in such a daze as he spoke that you didn’t even realise his body briefly leaving yours as he hastily shoved his hands down his thighs and his shirt falling to the floor nearby. Just as quickly as his body had left yours, it returned. 

He apparently didn’t think you needed restraining anymore and you hated how his assumption was correct. You were in no state to fight back anymore and you questioned if you even wanted to. You felt his hand lightly brush against your sensitive lips before there was a poking sensation. You gasped as he pushed his way into you. Your groin was already sore from the night before and now you truly knew why. You didn’t have to be able to fully see him to know Steve was just as big down there as he was everywhere else. 

It felt as though he were splitting you open and you tried to shove him off once more, unable to bear with the pain. Your attempts were futile as your hands were merely met with a wall of smooth muscle. ‘I know baby. I know it hurts but - fuck. I’ll make it feel better. I’ll make it all feel better.’ You took little reassurance from his words as he began thrusting, slowly pulling out inch by inch before forcing his way back in. 

His slow pace was torturous. Despite the pain, your body wanted more and it wanted it now. On their own accord, hips slightly lifted up to meet his, trying to invite him further in and Steve needed no further prompting. His pace shifted drastically, his hips now pummelling into yours over and over again. ‘I knew you wanted it. I knew you wanted me. You put up a good fight but now that you have a cock. In you, you’re just a mindless little fuck doll aren’t you?’ When you couldn’t respond his hand lightly slapped your cheek, gripping it tightly. ‘Aren’t you?’ 

You gasped out a meaner ‘yes’. And watched as his smile grew. 

‘And whose fuck doll are you?’ His words alone were menacing enough and you needed no further prompting to answer him this time. 

‘Yours. Steve… I’m yours.’ The words were out of your lips before you had truly had the chance to process what you were saying. 

‘That’;s right Baby. You’re all mine.’ His thrusts paused only briefly as he placed his feet back on the ground and pulled your ass towards the edge of the bed, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands gripped your thighs harshly, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises in their wake. He used his new position to push even further in than you thought possible. How could he reach this far inside you? His gaze was directed down at where your bodies met with the sound of clapping flesh. 

‘See that Baby? See how well your body takes me? How deep I am inside you, basically in your womb?’ His words terrified you but there was a part of you that longed for me. ‘See this right here?’ His finger tapped your abdomen and you could see what he meant as he moved. Even through all the layers of fat, muscle and skin you could still see the bulbous head of his cock as he speared into you. ‘You were made for this. For me.’

You shredded as he hand moved down from your stomach and back to your clit. You didn’t want to want his fingers or any part of him for that matter, yet your body continued to betray you, a mewl falling from your lips as he flicked your clit. 

The coil which you had been denying grew tighter and tighter with every thrust of his hips. You could tell Steve had realised how closer you were as you felt him pull back, his pace slowing ever so slightly. He had drawn you tantalisingly close to the edge and yet refused to push you over. You hated the way your eyes met his, large and doe like, silently begging for more. 

‘You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to cum Baby. I wanna hear you beg for me. For my cock.’ You shook your head back and forth, determined not to cave. All this earned you was a humourless laugh. ‘Let me make this real simple for you Baby. You can either beg for me like a good girl or I can simply stop giving a fuck about your pleasure.’ As though to emphasise his words he let his fingers cease their dance along your clit, causing a whimper to fall from your lips. ‘It’s really up to you. But dildo make your mind up quickly, I’m not feeling very patient.’

Five thrusts. That was all it took for your resolve to crumble and for the words to start tumbling from your lips. ‘Please. Please Steve. Let me cum. I need it.’ 

‘Oh Baby, you and I both know you can do better.’ His words mocked you as his slow pace drove you crazy. 

You swallowed down your pride as you prepared to say your next words. ‘I need you Steve. You’re-’ You were cut off by the sudden fierceness of his thrusts, once again bringing you back to the edge. There was a warning look in his eye as he gazed down at you to keep going with your begging however. ‘You’re the only one. The only one who can give me what I want. What I need.’ Your words which he had clearly so longed to hear sent him over the edge as he collapsed on top of you, grinding his hips against you as he pumped you full of his cum. You hated how the feeling of him coating your walls was what did you in, triggering your own desperate release. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing as your body tried to lock him into place. 

The time it took for Steve to recover truly said a great deal about how much he had wanted this. How own breaths were laboured as he lay unmoving on top of you, his forehead pressed against your own, forcing you to breathe in his air. 

‘God Baby,. That was even better than last night. So much better. I think I… I need a little break before round two. Maybe next time you could do all the work and ride me like how you ride that little dildo of yours hmmm?’ His words were hazy but the force with  which he lifted you up from the edge of the bed and moved so that he lay with his head against the pillow, his cock not once slipping out of you was astonishing. His arms locked around your waist, holding you in place as he yawned. ‘Maybe you could wake me up after my little nap like that? I don’t think there's any better way to be woken up.’ 

His azure eyes closed and you dreaded the next time you would see them once more. 

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[imasimpforstevengrant]

His (Part one)

Edit by the wonderful 💕💕💕 joker_jessica295

Instagram: @joker_jessica295

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Special thanks to @neon-umbrella-for-stella (thank you so much for the ideas!) and @darkshadow90 for the tips on certain scenes 💕💕

• Author’s note¹: Another Arthur/Harley smut. Yes. It took me more than seven months to write it, based one a suggestion from a reader on a different take.

• A/N ²: 447 FOLLOWERS? WHEN tHE HELL DID I GET SO MANY?! THANK YOU SO MUCH OMG

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Summary: A piece more centered in Harleen and her feelings towards Arthur,  Flashbacks to the first meeting and kiss. More sex comes after their first night together as they open up about each other. Meanwhile, a clown has stirred Gotham City by murdering three young Wayne employees, awakening a popular fascination which not even Harleen won’t escape from. She doesn’t know this (wrongly) crowned hero is closer than she thinks.

Warnings: insecurity, self-hatred, swearing, darker Arthur ahead (possessive, lusty, crossing boundaries), age gap, strong sexual themes, sexual humor, oral sex (male receiving), fluff, breast oral stimulation, dirty talk, mild praise kink, possessive, unprotected sex.

WC: +9.946 (IT’S LONG I KNOW… I hope you don’t get bored!)

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November would mark one year since she got to Bronx Apartment after finishing her studies in Gotham’s University, obtaining a degree as a psychologist. Harleen was blessed with an exceptional intuition and a brilliant memory, this preventing her to burn her eyes away studying day and night for exams.

Once finished, she got a job as a therapist in social services. It had been hard to get but Harleen used her charm to convince the man she was ardently committed to social causes. A few smiles to the old, drooling creep during interviews and she got what she wanted. But with the unemployment rate increasing in the city, Harleen knew crisis couldn’t be avoided with a charming smile. Resenting her situation but with no other option, Harleen obtained a job as a bartender in shifts, most of them at night.

She was a frequent target of blatant ogling and indecent comments from men of all ages to which Harleen always replied with sarcasm that either scared them off or ended up with men insulting her under their breath. The first two months in the building were boring and gloomy, until she saw him.

Harleen had seen him a few times. He always seemed so mad, so drawn within himself and yet there was something oddly attractive about him. If not beautiful, it was certainly intriguing. He was the neighbor the other residents warned her about: the laughing guy from the eighth floor. Some told her he was ugly, deranged and creepy. Harleen got her first impression of him during a day off: she went for a drink when the mail boxes, surrounded by a small cage, were checked by the mysterious man.

There he was. The guy was wearing the usual yellow hoodie, navy blue pants, brown vest and a white polka-dotted shirt. Shoes were worn as much as his outfit, hair slicked back, gaze focused on the box that seemed eternally empty. She then noticed the frown that hardened his features, reinforcing the idea that he was always angry, while asking herself some questions about him. Who was he? What did he do for a living? Was he married? Did he have children? He looked old enough to have them.

What was his name?

She would have never imagined she’d figured it out months later. It was one particular night she went out to a party just to return home a little drunk. A catchy song refused to leave her mouth, while dancing in a lively way were enough to get the attention of the loner. He returned from getting his medicines. Hunched pace tracing his way back home, Arthur saw the young recently graduated young lady dancing shamelessly in the hall. She wore a short red dress and her lips shone in crimson gloss.

The image of her hair flowing, creating a blue and pink spectrum of colors turned out to be so unusual and beautiful that immediately sent involuntary visions of her in sexual situations. He hated the idea of her being out of his reach but felt a modest share of satisfaction just by seeing her. This became a common practice on his routine, with Harleen being completely unaware of it. She only saw her mysterious neighbor a few times from then, probably because he had to work. A lot, from what she could tell.

It was Thursday in the evening when she returned from the theater. Harleen was thankful she was on the taxi when the rain started. It was a small luxury she could gift herself after working so hard. She thought her day couldn’t get better when back home when she’d finally get what she wanted for so long.

Once in the elevator bag, in hand, she saw him. The door opening revealed the crestfallen individual, always withdrawn in his thoughts. That would explain why he almost jumped out in shock when he saw her, as if she was some kind of ghost. Harleen finally found the courage to grin and speak up.

“Hi”. One kind greet was enough to freeze him. At the same time, Arthur stared at her, examining the funny hairstyle that embellished her. Simple but pretty: a white sweater and jeans with short boots and a blue bag hanging from her left arm. Buns held her hair, blue the left one, pink the other one. A few platinum locks fell over her neck.

“Hi”, he finally replied. Doubt made his vocal chords tremble. His stare betrayed everything he felt for her, showing even how surprised he was for a woman like her to talk to him. He did his best to return the grin, his lips curving into a sneaky, playful one. Something inside Harleen trembled. Of all the reactions she expected, this was certainly an unexpected surprise. It was like a powerful bolt whipping her body. The odd attractiveness of her older neighbor caught her off guard. She did not expect him to actually have… charm.

There was something that tainted his unique beauty, however. She couldn’t help but stare in silent horror at the small bruise on his eye and a dry trace of blood on the bottom lip. His deep silence and mirthless look on his eyes despite the smile carved a deep wound in Harleen’s soul. He looked so destroyed and yet he managed to be polite enough to reply. She now paid attention to the adorable dimples embellishing his smile. The only thing she could do was smile back, not imagining the magnitude of the feelings she would unleash on him.

The bell rang. Harleen suddenly felt bad to leave for her flat, desiring just a few more seconds to appreciate his features. But she wasn’t willing to lose and her generosity gifted him an awkward but cute hand gesture, which Arthur took a long time to respond to. The absolute amazement in his eyes turned out to be an unexpectedly pleasant shock. That smile… so distant from the serious expression that usually carved his features, lost inside his thoughts.

Once in her flat, Harleen was incapable to stop thinking about him. And that wasn’t the only problem. Thoughts replayed the charming smile over and over again and became particularly intrusive while undressing to take a hot shower. She wanted to know more about him by being subtle, to increase the thrill this stranger had caused to her.

Probably the premise of “opposites attract” took a special meaning for the two of them, causing an authentic interest over the loner’s magnetism, not imagining how much of a surprise he’d turn out to be. What Harleen would have never thought was that the loner was also immensely interested in her…

Through fleeting glimpses of a yellow hoodie, she learned she had a secret admirer (this being a soft epithet for what it was actually an stalker).

Harleen became aware of it after noticing there was always a tall, thin man lurking in the shadows of the buildings in front of the playground she was always in during nighttime. It also happened while she was jogging or hanging on a rope to avoid any further danger lately. The latter was more interesting for him, given she could notice him better: still, predacious, not missing any second of watching her involved in such graceful moves, like floating in the air.

Harleen was sly, of course. She knew she was gorgeous. And the notion of being unreachable was highlighted by adding more sensual moves in this effective way to attract him, assuming the unpleasant cost of being constantly catcalled by other men. But of course her efforts paid off: the long expected meeting would occur on September. She actually expected another day to play innocent and let him stare at her instead of an actual interaction. A few pedestrians passed by, following a series of unpleasant whistling and blatant sexual commentaries.

But she couldn’t care less now, noticing it took him longer for him to show himself up through the dim lights in comparison to other days.

Harleen kept doing her job, however, repeating and extending the same moves to maintain her anxiety at bay. This resulted in more pirouettes so she could catch the familiar glimpse of the yellow hoodie near the darkened corner he usually stopped by to stare. The exercise turned out to be so pleasant that almost made her forget her initial goal, her focus now being to make a risky but stylish twirl.

There were no whistles or any indecent comments this time. Just a soft chuckle that evidently showed his amazement at the pirouette broke the deaf car honks, far screams from angry people that shattered the already silent place. Her swinging form immediately got down while trying not to lose the composure, calling him.

But far from what she expected, the man reacted horrified just to run away. She wasn’t going to give up, quickly jogging towards the fence that separated them.

“Hey!” she extended one hand, clawing herself with the other one. The hooded shadow stood there, panicking. He couldn’t bring himself to disappear in the dark, which made him look like a malevolent spirit.

“Come back!” she yelled, waving her hand incessantly to convince him to return, daring him to answer for such tenebrous and creepy attraction for her. It seemed her call paid off, since the man had no intentions to keep running, choosing to walk his uncertainty away through disoriented circles. He suddenly stopped walking, standing completely still now. Harleen rose an eyebrow, honestly expecting what he would do now. 

That man had issues for sure.

The idea soon morphed into a fact. Once she saw him coming closer to her to finally face her, she found herself unable to hold back a gasp to discover it was precisely her handsome but distant neighbor she had seen so many times and the reason why she had let him cross the line. She liked intense emotions, and something told her this man could give her a good thrill. The loner, for his part, turned around and almost tripped once realizing the short proximity between them.

It was certainly shocking to see an apparently cold, aloof individual who never talked with such searing lust in his eyes. Her hands now clawed at the fence, her icy blue eyes stared at him, feeling a shiver down her spine while she their glare revealed more things about him, one being his complete bewitch (or more like aroused) hearing his breath becoming more and more shortened.  But there was also a glimpse of guilt, lips twitching as if he was repressing a word or even a kiss, she’d dared to say.

The darkness highlighted the odd yet irresistible attractiveness that stole her heart, tracing a smile on her lips. He set his eyes down her body, ending the visual enjoyment focusing on the striking, extravagant mane that reached the upper part of her hips.

“You’ve been enjoying my show, have you?”, she went straight to the point.

A reply came out ringing in a remorseful, broken whisper:

“Yeah”

His name was Arthur. Harleen couldn’t be happier to finally know it, repeating it while taking her time to savor it.

Arthur Fleck.

Nothing prepared her to witness the very thing he was known for, however: the pained, cursed laugh that now resounded through the air.

At first she thought it was genuine but the horrifying shameful look warned her about his desperate attempt to stop and to breathe. The cackles were frustrating and, worse yet, exhausting to the point it made him lose balance while trying his best to look for something inside his pocket. She climbed up the fence to finally make direct contact with him. That seemed to shock him enough to distract his features in a more skeptical expression at the first time someone showing him kindness rather than giving him the usual disgusted stare.

A plastic, worn out card explaining his condition came from his pocket. The fit diminished to painful hiccups to tired sobs, relieved by a few reassuring words to make the stranger stay. It followed with a small talk about Thomas Wayne, unemployment in Gotham City and revealing each other’s “do for a living” but the topic of conversation seemed off. She could tell Arthur wasn’t used to social interaction, noticing how much it took him to find a tone and words to reply coherently. He never lost a sight of her, never taking his gaze off her as she spoke. The blonde felt actual amazement on the intense lust she had awakened on him, motivating her to test him, to see what things he would do to her in a more intimate place.

They arrived to the building. Harleen led her guest to her humble flat. Arthur was fascinated by the pink neon lights that banished the darkness to plunge his senses in a pleasurable, dreamlike numbness. They continued talking. Her flirty attitude and smiles made Arthur feel he was living the best night of his life. The loner was too lost in her bicoloured mane. A small smirk traced his lips, forming those dimples she secretly admired so much.

“It looks like cotton candy”, his mutter rang through her mind, resounding like a small demeanor confessed with relief. The sweet compliment was rewarded, subsequently, with a short, noisy kiss on his forehead. The action quickly makes him recoil for a few seconds, as her memory remembered, just to feel confident enough now to unleash a furious, hungry kiss on her lips. This violent outburst of passion had her lips against his dry, cracked lips, shocking her at first to eventually surrender and responding to the kiss. His inexperience was clear from the beginning but she had more of a convincing proof that the vehemence of the touch starved was, sometimes, more arousing than the dexterity of an experienced lover.

The sound of their lips breaking the caress made the sexual tension even more unbearable. He apologized; covering his mouth like punishing himself for behaving like a deranged creep but Harleen was just too impressed and lost after the spontaneous gesture, praising him for his passion instead of screaming at him. She had already accepted she’d never yearn for another lips except his.

It wasn’t easy for him, however. His rigid posture put in evidence his shame at the (obvious) first intimate contact he held with an actual person. With her head tilting tenderly, Harleen put a rebel curl behind his ear. He shrugged, stepping back, maybe processing the word she chose to describe him. As if that wasn’t enough, Arthur was too self-absorbed in his visible fascination over her chest. There was more than mere lust in his gaze over his disturbing fixation on her bosom, a far cry for the abandonment and yearning for intimacy but being too afraid to show it. Harleen fought the persistent (and reckless, utterly reckless, she had to recognize) urge to grab his hand and let them knead her soft forms, getting him to know her more personally.

Instead, Harleen took his hands on hers, caressing them tenderly. A defeated sigh, at last, made him regain composure. His whisper sounded broken but clear, much to her joy.

“Can you please...?” Arthur wasn’t able to even to complete the plea as the blonde closed her eyes slowly as her face broke distance with his to once again experiment the clouding, soaring euphoria their careless closeness brought with it. The party clown had a hard time processing the warm and maddening sensation of her lips on his, convincing himself that this was no hallucination. They took their time, finding the perfect angle to get a better caress from each other: Harleen had the initiative throwing her arms to his neck, causing the loner to respond by locking his arms around her waist.

Intimacy became too overwhelming when her tongue tried to play with his. The lovers laughed the nervousness off as the kiss finished momentarily to recover from the numbness. But he went back to devouring her to memorize every little sensation, growing more and more confident, tilting his head now to obtain a better taste of her mouth. It proved to be too much for him, however. She sadly felt him distancing from the embrace, most probably because his old fashioned ways deemed improper to sleep with a woman he just had met.

She felt so many things that fateful night misting her senses to verbalize her thoughts. But one thing was for sure:

She would burn Gotham to see him smile. 

*-*-*

It was 09:33 am according to the green bluish digits on the old clock, light drizzle falling over Gotham City. A disheveled, yawing Harleen woke up by herself. Laziness held her muscles still until her stomach made clear that breakfast was a must.

She put on black shorts and a grey, long sleeved-shirt, combing her hair to then make a couple pretty braids that fell over her torso. The combination of pink and electric blue was pleasant to the sight, as the mirror revealed. Soon after the observation, she contemplated the empty space left by her lover: Arthur Fleck. She closed her eyes.

That name sounded (or more like tasted) so different now. The memory of this lonely, sad man turned into a sex crazed lunatic still shocked her, as her facial expressions brought out. The fierce passion he had just loved her with turned out to be hard to be believed considering how deprived he was of human contact.

It wasn't just the thrill of surprise but the tenderness of his vulnerability, an aspect whose contrast between despite looking twice as older than her and being a late bloomer just highlighted their affair: Arthur was so different in intimacy, letting go of that repression that harmed his soul since he understood his needs as a man. She smiled, still thinking about what they had done. The thought led her to look for him while her vision became sharper, slowly overcoming the persistent need to go back to sleep.

When she stepped outside her room, a chuckle reverberated through the air, making her come to her senses. Eyes blinking, a pleasant feel of lightheadedness befogging her mind as the silence was broken by a familiar voice.

“Knock, knock”. Harleen was still too sleepy to catch a clear glimpse of the loner behind her who, in turn, locked her form as if she was a prey.

"Huh?" she hummed, confused. But there was no verbal response from him. Arthur reacted kissing her neck with ferocious passion, holding her figure possessively, absorbing her scent. The blonde made an instinctive futile attempt to free herself to recover from the scare the sudden grasp had caused on her. A breathy whisper in her ear dissuaded any intention to undo the embrace.

“You’re supposed to ask who's there”

Harleen turned around, her long blond hair tickling his face. He wasn't gone but by God, she was thankful for that. Arthur undid the hug, directing his hands to her face to press kisses on it repeatedly.

"Mr. Fleck--" the blonde murmured, "I thought you were back on the business making people smile". Arthur smirked. A high pitched giggle left his mouth. He now directed his fingers to feel those attention drawn to her gorgeous, full pink lips.

"I am right now" the loner leaned his forehead against hers. Now that her vision was slightly clearer, she noticed Arthur had left her flat for a moment, given he was wearing a red sweater he didn't bring before. The loner then proceeded to take a black wand off his sleeve, offering it to her. Harleen giggled and took it, deciding to play his game. The object lost its rigid shape, causing Arthur to laugh at her disappointed reaction. He demonstrated his aptitudes as a party clown taking back the wand just for it to regain rigidity once on his hand. He whistled, adding a funny sound as he shook it against his other hand, checking its stiffness.

"What are you doing?" Harleen seemed completely taken by the action, her smile encouraging him to finally offer her the aforementioned wand as a bunch of flowers while humming a song. A tender, excited scream made him chuckle as her hands stopped shaking to hold carefully the gift. It had plenty of feathers of different colors but she loved the simplicity of it.

"Thank you" she placed them in the table, along a small pot of flowers.

Harleen stared at him, tenderly. All Arthur could do was smile, holding her hands briefly on his to then slide one up her arm to reach her face. She suppressed a gasp, which seemed to change the course of the original touch in thought, as his hand recoiled for a moment to return with more intensity to her face.

"We had one hell of a good fuck, Mr. Fleck" Harleen whispered, intertwining her fingers with his. Arthur burst out laughing as her swearing manners still made a great impact against his older ways. But he liked her honesty, nonetheless.

"I think we woke up the whole building" Harleen laughed.

“I don’t see the problem with that”.

“I never said it was“, Arthur replied, cocky. A deep intake of breath then happened, “You know I—“he stammered, nervous. With a cute giggle, the blonde slid down her hands through the soft fabric of his half buttoned shirt that left a glimpse of his chest, invigorating him to keep on. Arthur stared at her, not a word from his mouth, enticingly.

“I-- was just wondering-- what else we can do", he kept on after seconds passed by, trying to catch her mouth with his, nuzzling her face, “’because-- I told my mother I had a call—“, he continued, “from work… so I'd stay away from my apartment for a while. I need some—“he took another deep breath, trying to find the courage to look at her in the eye to pronounce his intentions.

“I need some space, Harleen…” Arthur stared up and down at her figure, hands sliding up the collarbone to rub her shoulders, persuading her to be an accomplice of this reprehensible deed, "but not alone”. The words, though flawed in pronunciation, were perfect to keep her gaze lost as if Arthur had cast a spell on her.

“I plan to have you all for myself today and I'm--" he closed his eyes, hiding his face in her neck, sniffing her hair while trying to voice his intentions despite the nervousness that made him stammer, "I'm eager to know you more personally".

Harleen was actually shocked with what she just heard. A mixture of utter tenderness and searing lust made her blood boil. Did he lie to his own mom to spend more time with her?

"Well with the riots out there, bar is closed for a couple of days so consider it your lucky day” her voice chirped in joy. His eyes shone with modest but genuine happiness at the good news. Then he smiled, flaunting those crooked teeth Harleen loved so much.

The blonde felt she was about to kneel and unzip his pants to give him the reward he deserved for such gesture when her stomach claimed for some food, impeding the spontaneous sexual fantasy to become real, earning a disapproving look on his face. It took them time to regain calmness, as their laborious breaths tried to cool down the fire inside them.

“Why are you doing that?” his tone of voice revealed impatience, leading her to express the idea to have some good meal before any intimacy could take place, causing his displeased expression to turn into a wide smirk.

“Great!” Arthur chuckled, granting her some personal space.

They made their way to the kitchen. Arthur took a sit while waiting, taking a cigarette to light it. Harleen quickly prepared the table, taking the electric kettle to fill it with water to pour it on the coffee machine, putting bread on the toaster and turning the radio on in hopes to increase the domestic bliss. The smoke filled the room but she couldn't care less. The news announced a cold, rainy week while announcing a new episode of the Murray Franklin’s show presenting a famous actor as a guest next week given the release of the film he recently starred in the next week. The announcement ended with a shortened version of the groovy organ of Frank Sinatra’s anthem “That’s Life” which Arthur hummed along. But as soon as the theme song ended on a fade out, he silenced himself to hear, much to his annoyance according to the tired, throaty groan that followed the happy hum, a reporter pronouncing the news related to the continuation of the garbage strike.

Both stood completely silent as the report that exposed most of Gotham's slums to insalubrities. The fear of the possibility to catch a severe disease was reinforced by the citizens who claimed to have seen the rat population increase. The piece of news changed to the Mayoral election, which seemed difficult given the riots and general dissatisfaction of Gotham citizens with unemployment rate and apparent authority's indifference in the matter. The note ended with Thomas Wayne promising order and prosperity if elected. More announcements followed, but the lovers didn’t pay any attention to it. His great displeasure caused Harleen to turn off the device.

"I just can't understand how my mother thinks he's gonna help us" his hand took the cigarette back to his mouth, adding that just because she worked for him more than thirty years ago did not mean he had the obligation to run in aid for her. Arthur rolled his eyes, making clear his profound dislike for people like him and the insufferable infatuation Penny felt for him.  

“I’ve told her so many times she doesn’t have to worry about money. Everyone is telling me my stand ups are ready to make it on the big clubs”.

Harleen nodded, enthusiastic at the possibility of Arthur getting a name for himself in the stage.

“I’m not the man of the house for nothing”.

Harleen took the toasted bread and coffee kettle to the table.

“Man of the house, huh?”

“Yes, since I can remember. But even I need a break” he took another long drag, his lost look causing a deep sorrow on Harleen.

She lamented the prolonged solitude that caused him to pronounce such wounded words, hoping (maybe in an unconscious way to cope with stress) to get out the pain it caused him. The blonde extended her hand towards his, in a sweet attempt to cure or, at least, relieve his pain.

His absent gaze combined with the smile caused Harleen to feel a shiver down her spine. She laughed nervously to later pour the coffee in his mug to fill her own later. He didn’t laugh, staring at her and rubbing his forehead with his thumb. This dark glint promised her so many things, and few of them were good. He wasn’t afraid anymore to hide his intentions from her, seeing the affection was mutual. She could also see a spark of pride, engulfing his mind in another deep state of absent thoughtfulness. He pronounced no words, looking now at the recently poured coffee, whose steam slowly diminished to long twirls to nearly invisible white lines. She slowly and carefully extended her hand to his arm to convince him to leave the cigarette aside just to grab the large plate full of breads.

“Aren’t you a cute, little pleaser?”

The tender name immediately washed the worry away from her face while a reddish hue colored her cheeks. Arthur finally gave it a bite, cigarette finally left on the ashtray. The crunchy sound gave Harleen almost a cathartic relief. Whenever the chance to nurture him showed up she didn’t think twice to do it. He left the half eaten piece of bread aside to divert his attention to her.

“You wanna hear a joke?” the playful tone of voice and mischievous smirk made his face adopt such a devilishly appeal Harleen was unable to resist.

“Yes!” she said it as if that could convince him to have one more toast. 

“Why are poor people so confused?” his grin drew those adorable dimples in his face again.

“I don’t know” a frisky look gleamed in her eyes. 

“Because they don’t have any cents” he answered, before his voice exploded in a loud cackle. Harleen laughed at the simplicity of it. He was actually a funny guy, if only life could have been more generous to him. Bless his soul for making people laugh in such hard times.

Harleen was too lost in his joyful expression beyond if the joke was funny or not. His green eyes shone with a special light in the rare moments he could be in tune with his surroundings. It was as magical as seeing a shooting star. How she wished to take away the pain from him just to see his beautiful smile more often.

Throwing a smoking puff to the air, Arthur leaned in as if to tell her a secret.

“This is the first time someone is so nice to me", the loner confessed, shaking his head. He looked so lost, eyes following the smoke elevating in a single line undone by the move to breathe in the last remains of the cigarette. His personal battle against his warped perception of reality still gnawed his trust on her. A tender pout formed in her lips.

“You’re the first person who doesn’t feel uncomfortable around me” he muttered.

Her thoughts drifted to a greater, sadder horror: to make a difference in such a dark, mirthless man’s life just for being kind barely managed to even imagine the inhuman hardships he had been through during all his life. She lowered her head, trying to resist the actual pain in her chest. How a sentence that was so heartbreaking could also be so beautiful?

“I’m sorry, Arthur”. Her eyebrows arch in a sad expression that seemed to make him reconnect with reality.

“For what?” he frowned, confused. She tightened her eyelids, trying not to embarrass herself in front of him with such an explosive display of emotions, silencing her sobs the best way she could allow herself.  

“Everything” Harleen finished. His instinct ordered him to show distrust, unconsciously trying to find any trace of lies. Nobody ever had apologized or even shed a tear for him. As he realized her care was genuine, his mind replayed the phrase over and over again while trying to process these intense, new feelings blooming in his heart over the typical, negative thoughts ghosting around his mind.

“Oh, no.  No, no, no, no, no. Don’t do that” Arthur reacted panicked, “please…” his fingers dried the watery creeks, “don’t make that face to me. I’m here to put a smile on your face”.

He inhaled deeply, before continuing:

“You know… a famous comedian used to say… uh –“ his troubled mind tried to remember the name but then opted to articulate a coherent word to elude anything that could ridicule him –‘a day without a smile is a wasted day’.

A soft hum left her mouth, though a far shadow of sadness still haunted the tender quote.

“You know what I like about you, Arthur?”

“Yeah?” he was genuinely intrigued to know.

“You could even put the fun in a funeral”

His wide and evil grin, made her put a loose lock of hair behind her ear as a result of an involuntary move to cope with the nervousness.

“Fun in a funeral?” he repeated, a loud and moved hum sounding like a purr, staring at her while a chuckle shook his shoulders, “How sweet”.

How didn’t he realize how attractive he actually was? She asked herself surprised.

“Come here” Arthur patted his thigh loud enough for her to listen to it for her to reply. After drying the creeks coming from her reddened eyes, Harleen calmly got up from the chair. Arthur took distance from the table to allow her a comfortable sit. His fingers held her cheeks to create a smile despite her watery eyes.

Harleen blinked, and a tear escaped. Arthur brushed it away once it ran over her face. He thought she looked pretty when she cried, though. She gave him a sad smile and soon found solace in his face, ruffling the fluffy hair to distract her mind from any unhappy thought. Arthur closed his eyes, slowly caressing her thighs in sensual payback for her little attentions.

Once their foreheads found each    other, the blonde muttered:

“How’s that feel?”

“Feels… good” he hummed against her mouth. His lungs inhaled deep before adding:

“I thought I felt better when I was locked in the hospital”.

Harleen widened her eyes in surprise, taking a short distance from him, not knowing if it was another self deprecating joke or the truth, given the defeated tone the sentence was pronounced in.

“What?” but a castdown look was all she needed to figure out the sadness such place caused on him. It wasn’t a secret Arkham was a human dump, considering it held Gotham’s most demented and dangerous criminals and unfortunate souls who couldn’t go anywhere else. Harleen’s eyes widen in a horrified expression.

“Arthur” her hand caressed his cheek, worried about the lightness he seemed to take his life, she tenderly tilted her head, “why were you locked up in that place?”

His tone of voice revealed his annoyance mentioning that place. He shamelessly nuzzled her right breast, trying to avoid the subject:

“Who knows, maybe I lost it or tried to kill myself...I just didn't want to feel so bad”. Arthur gazed up to her. He had never been more honest in his life.

Her horrified reaction to be told being locked up, bashing his head against the wall almost everyday just reminded him how much worse was to have a significant other who made him feel alone. Months surrounded by people in white outfits, convincing him to take the pills to make him, at least, presentable to the world and also deprived of any loving contact from Penny’s part under the excuse of fright caused by doctor or anything related to hospitals. It reminded him how pathetic his life was. Sometimes he forgot how much forgiving he was with his mother’s recklessness concerning his own wellbeing.  

Her kiss on his forehead, however, seemed to bring him back to reality. Arthur felt he had awakened of a bad dream, but found himself amazed as he noticed he wasn’t alone with a blanket on while an alarm buzzed, as it was his usual routine. The loner stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Her blue eyes, dilated pupils, body full given in to him. The loner blinked, eyes half closed, fighting the dissociation.

“Arthur” she called him. He looked dizzy. The blonde felt a pulsing heat making a place between her legs when the loner held her waist to lift her figure in order for it to adopt a riding position. She gasped, clawing to his shoulder once her figure obtains the desired position.

“What is it?” she whispered. But there was nothing except for a dead silence. Maybe it was another relapse of a dissociative episode, which made his mind to distract so any negative thought would fade. He panted, hiding his face against the silky platinum braid falling over her breast. The blonde didn’t move an inch, anxiously expecting to know what he would do now. He was so hard to read most of the times, leaving so many doubts and thoughts capable to drift anyone off sanity. Maybe he just didn’t want to talk. Maybe he just wanted to bond through touches.

Harleen felt a shiver once his mouth kissed the covered breast, playfully nuzzling with the erect nipple highlighted by the thin fabric. Blood boiled, as if her body demanded immediately to respond to such attentions.

She could tell Arthur was immensely pleased at her receptiveness concerning sex. His breath shortened, fighting the lightheadedness their suggestive position caused on him, loving how her body rode his hips, like a thrilling prelude before any intimate encounter could take place.

An impish, seductive smile must have given him the hint to keep on but he was way too shocked at first to react immediately. Harleen tugged on the shirt for it to loosen enough in order to offer him a privileged view of her bare breast, awaiting his mouth to finish what it just started, setting aside a few obstructing locks. Arthur’s jaw dropped, a line traced by pleasure soon contorted his lips. She hummed softly, admiring the sight of the loner hungrily lapping his tongue over the pink areola.

“You’re such a surprise for a late bloomer” the blonde leaves a beautiful, mischievous expression take over her face. Arthur detached his lips from her to ask:

“You calling me ‘old’, Harleen?”

“No!” she rushed to explain herself. The sassy tone of the question eased down any thought of annoyance, “I just—”

“I may look old, but I’m a fast learner” he cut her off, mouth back on the sensitive part. Harleen threw her head back, not showing any sign of opposition while Arthur clumsily undid the garment to leave her topless. This only ignited the fire inside of him, hanging on to her waist to sink his head between her breasts, rejoicing in the softness of her skin as his arms imprison her body. The elation wasn’t strong enough yet to stun her muscles entirely, gaining a little strength to make paused (or more like patient) undulatory moves against his body. His eyelashes flutter, causing tickles up her chest.

"I want you to put more than just a smile on my face" she caught his bottom lip to devour his mouth hungrily. He consented the kiss but didn’t respond to it, not even bothering to close his eyes.

"And what would that be, Harleen?" he looked genuinely puzzled, intense hue of green piercing her soul. She combed his hair back, sliding her hands down to hold his face in them. Arthur felt like a youngling in love for the first time. And having her covered intimacy grinding the growing bulge swept away all rational thoughts, making him listen to his needs as a man for the first time without overthinking ruining it.

Harleen supported on his shoulders, intensifying the sinful friction. Arthur groaned, relaxing when she generously offered his body another warm rub that was close to send him to heaven. On his face a deep feel of pride and complacency traces his lines given the arousing effects he had on her. Shuddered and impressed gasps left their mouths, until her voice sounds again:

“You’re so hard. That’s a very good thing” a secretive whisper kept him enchanted, her flirtatious glare invites him to get up. Arthur frowned but let himself guide by her when the steps were directed towards the wall, where Harleen didn't hesitate to corner him with famished kisses, feeling his chest underneath the red shirt.

The blonde slowly undid his shirt to obtain a proper look of his upper body to worship with her mouth, starting with the neck, nuzzling a few curls out of the way to brush her lips against the curve lining down his collarbone.

His whole form shrugged, writhing and panting. The dubious nature of this situation  slowly dissipated to allow him to enjoy the treatment her mouth gifted now to the notorious prominence coming from his neck, not missing any inch of skin with her lips.

It didn’t take long for his pants to turn into needy groans as soon as his chest was blessed with kisses, then his abdomen, the blonde was careful to not overwhelm him, holding on a few seconds before continuing to reach her goal: Mouth waters at the sight of his the rigid manhood covered by his pants, giving it a tiny nibble.

The mood was immediately killed when Arthur jolted in shock when he finally realized what she was going to do.

The irruption visibly took her by surprise, facial expressions changing from excitement to disappointment.

“Did I…?” she stammered, shrugging in fear, “did I do something wrong?”

He sighed, sliding his hand on his hair in a nervous reflex. Harleen then remembered this was new for him, despite how much enthusiastic he was. How much violence had he faced during all his life, she would never know.

Arthur cleared his throat, inhaling deeply, still processing all those hands on his body with the sole purpose to pleasure him.

“No, no”, he rushed. His voice quavers, afraid a laughing fit could ruin a intimate moment he had longed for so much with a girl, trying to put his mind in order, “This is the first time someone does this to me... and that feels like a good thing to begin…”

A bright smile returned to her face when one hand held up her chin while the other one caressed her cheek in a tender approval of what she was going to perform on him.

“You want this…” she seductively stared up to him, while her hands unbuttoned his pants, obtaining what she just craved: the underwear contains the hardened member, which she frees with a quick fumble on the clothing.

Arthur stared at his private spectacle in hypnotized ecstasy, still trembling.

“Yes…” he hissed, “oh yes, I do”.

Harleen took a few seconds to admire the twitching, aching arousal held in her hand. She smiled as her eyes were up to look at him.

“Then feed me some candy, Arthur Fleck..." his jaw dropped, felt his legs tremble, lust slowly dissipating any other thought. Being addressed by his full name, certainly had an impact on him. The enticing image of a partially undressed Harleen between his legs surely made him forgot how vulnerable he was before her by exposing his almost completely bare body.

However there was not verbal response from Harleen’s part. Her firm hand caressed his erected intimacy for a delightful prolusion, keeping her lover completely in a trance, causing his nervous hands to grab in a contained, almost angry fistful of hair. Nothing prepared him for the next.

Her tongue, of course, did its wonders. First a few, paused licks to the tip while giving him sensual, playful looks to then leave wet traces down that soon derived to long, hungrier licks sent the loner in a desperate, ecstatic state.

“Godfuckingdamni--!” was all he could be capable of articulate, before any feeble attempt to form a word distorted into desirous gasps and screams, Harleen rejoices at his reactions. To be the first woman to see him free from inhibitions, given in to his instincts, shaking away his polite, silent manners felt like a privilege.

“Keep doing that” his demand was desperate, dealing with it by uncoiling a few locks.  A wide smirk approved her tongue to explore and taste more of him, feasting now on the tip to absorb it, so he could become more familiar with her mouth. The explicit image gave him the confidence to stop repressing his desires for the sake of decency.

Her greed to have a different taste of him made her take turns between moistening the full erect manhood to partially engulf it later.

He now couldn’t even stand still, writhing like a dying animal, incapable now to look at her in the eye, believing the mere sight would make him unleash his climax, hands held on to his thighs, climbing up to his hips, looking to elicit more sounds out of his throat.

His chest heavily went up and down while Harleen kept on her voluptuous routine: first oiling him with her tongue to then make the tip disappear in her mouth.

His closed eyes, completely given in with an overjoyed expression on his face moved her to cause a greater gratification on him. She waited for the right moment to make Arthur look at her so he could cherish what she had in store for him. For a more dramatic reaction, she choose to disconnect her mouth from him, the sound of her lips detaching from the tip had him about to pass out.

“You’ll love this” were the only words she said. No further explanations. Her tongue gifted him another paused, devoted lick. It worked to make the full intake more enjoyable for him. Arthur’s body rears up violently. Raspy, loud groans and moans elicited by the tease tore the air.

Harleen placed her hands on his hips, helping herself to feel more of him between her lips, staring up to him as she received his swollen, overstimulated masculinity.

Arthur gathered enough oxygen to talk to her.

“Harleen—“ his eyes widened in awe, focusing on not passing out. His chest shook violently still recovering from the initial shock, “you nev-- you never cease to amaze me”.

She let a sweetly sinful smile trace around him, bobbing her head in a faster pace, muffled moans struggling to come out as she savored the stiffened sex with voracious appetite.

“That’s it… that’s better” he hissed, lip twitching, completely bewitched by the scene, “you’re such a good fucking girl for me”.

A happy hum vibrated through his skin.

“Am I, mister Fleck?” her squeaky voice in false innocence  crowned an scene so obscenely explicit with a comic touch.

"Yeah… Like that... Just--" he gently slammed his back against the wall. Further vocal expressions of elation came from his mouth, trying to appease the urge to scream his lungs out for whole fucking Gotham to hear him. A shiver ran down his spine. It was so difficult to keep eyes open in that  moment but the need to set his sight on her triumphed over any sense of exhaustion. His worn out hand slid down to hold her nape to obey the instinct to thrust into her mouth, just to better cope with the wet, narrow warmth Harleen welcomed his manliness with.

The blonde placed her hands over his hips, executing a very subtle move to contribute to deepen the intrusion that maddened Arthur so much. The slowness of this action made her push him away to then bring him back into her over and over again, gradually increasing the rhythm that turned the party clown into a noisy, urging mess. The rapturing and breathtaking routine of her mouth colliding with his unrelenting length sparked a merciless shiver that weakened his thighs, a stunning reminder of the glorious pinnacle he was about to reach.

“Stop��, his tortured plea was unexpected.

The mesmerizing image of a joyful Harleen with him appearing and disappearing from her lips right below him at incessant speed was more than he could take without going insane. The situation was getting out of his hands when Harleen also gave it firm caresses and long, rushed licks.

“Please”, he whined, voice too weak, covering his mouth in order to quieten the moans, “oh, God--Stop!”

His command finally made Harleen react, seeing it was actually too much. It took him a moment to catch his breath and recover his strength to pronounce about his intentions.

“Arthur? Is everything okay?” she muttered.

“Take that off” his instincts took over his mind, leaning to get her up and direct his hands towards her shorts, lowering them. She doesn’t oppose, unable to respond verbally, having the feeling the behest was actually told to himself. It didn’t matter anymore. She smiled as she saw the impatient hands lining her curves, fingers clutching at the cloth to whisper, “I like it how it looks but I want it off”.

Harleen eyes the action in fervid silence while he couldn’t stop staring down at her fascinating nudity, directing one hand in a sinuous move to part her intimacy to delicately rummage the silky smooth folds he wanted so much to be wrapped around.

Harleen jolted, lolling her head back,  amazed vocal expression resounded in his ears. Her eyes gleamed with resolution about his intentions, and a shivering gasp follows the brash action. A vocal expression of mischievous complicity comes from her.

“I see… you want to fill up the tank?” she chirped with a frisky giggle.

Arthur nodded in impatient muteness, while crashing his lips on hers in such a reckless way their feet ended up nearly tripping on the way to the couch. At the same time, he got rid of his underwear, undoing her braids, bicolored mane perfectly lining her curves now.

A firm push to throw her to the couch was just the beginning. She almost landed completely on her back, if it weren’t for her arms avoiding it.

“Easy, clown man!” her expression turned out to be so funny for the loner to let a cackle loose. From her angle, Arthur looked so frighteningly dominant. It embellished his figure like a statue, his disheveled hair highlighting the hungry and desperate expression which his carnal urges claim to be sated.

The magnificent preface maintains him from a considerable distance from her, surrounding the blonde like a prey, unable to decide what to do to her first. 

Harleen makes the first move. to fulfill her purpose, she held her legs with a provocative glare, limbs hardly exposed her undressed figure to him. The wavy moves made Arthur crawl his way to her like a starving beast.

Her receptive reaction to the kiss motivated his hands to roam over her thighs, directing them up to the knee to untangle her legs, eventually.

A devilish smile approves the suggestive image of her  pressing now his waist, sensing they were so close yet so far of each other. He devoured her mouth avidly at the same time his sense of newfound dominance urged him to place himself above her.

Harleen slid her hands up his battered back, breaking the kiss to hold and scratch his scalp to mumble:

“I want you deep inside me”.

Arthur hid his face on her neck, wallowing in the gentleness of her touches. She clings to his arms, abandoning all defenses, letting him know she was totally his to possess.

His biceps accentuate by supporting himself. Long, brow curls fell over the curve of his neck, eyes on her when his hips moved even closer to her. Harleen diverted her attention to it, but she immediately crumpled her lungs for air as Arthur teased the burning folds with the tip, becoming familiar with the part he was going to invade soon.

“More… more, oh, please” her lewd smile, cute little hums and whines mixed with his own shortened breath and surprised but satisfied groans made them forget about the world for a short while. Arthur constantly rubbed his manhood against her moistened entrance, exulting at the furious grunts the sweet torture elicited.

In exchange, she pressed her legs as a slight punishment for such daring move. But she was loving every second of it. Her eyes appreciated the paused caress between their bodies.

Seconds passed when his prolonged absence began to cause her actual pain, wrapping her legs around his hips. He let his hands fell beside her head, to plant a last kiss before proceeding.

"Knock knock" he muttered against her lips.

"Who's there?" She replied with anxious anticipation.

"It’s the mailman, miss. I’ve got an special delivery. It can hardly wait for you to see it"

She widened her eyes in surprise before his boldness to even joke in a moment too intimate as this but ended up exploding in loud cackles that left her breathless. Her reaction caused an expression of fascinated disbelief to take over his face. Both laughed it off shortly to resume were they left off.

His stare, predacious and craving, petrified Harleen.

Once his bare sex perfectly fit her hot, silky intimacy, Harleen  threw her head on the pink velvety pillow, dramatically panting as her body focuses on adhering to this desired invader. His name leaves her mouth as a desperate prayer, as if he was her only saviour, much to his delight.   

"You like that, don't you?" he hissed while giving her body another brutal thrust so she could feel him inside her as intensely as possible.

“Yes!” Harleen replied, not giving a fuck if it sounded indecent, “Arthur, I want all of it, please! Please!”

“All of it?” he smirked, reinforcing his invasion, obtaining louder screams from Harleen, doing her best to deal with the urging length in, searing walls flexing around him.

“Allofit…” but it was unintelligible for him. Arthur was too busy indulging in a deeper intrusion, eyes closed for a better focus. His thrusts were taken over by an animalistic despair, not hesitating to harden the pace even more as the eventual natural need for release set aside any sense of self control.

Nothing could take the wide smile off her.

“You are so good at this, mister Fleck…” the playful praise sounded more like a helpless little whimper, arousing Arthur in ways he would have never imagined. It lead him to lean into her, but she quickly took advantage of it by captivating his form, legs pressing his hips to deepen the intrusion even more.

Arthur threw his head back, stopping for a moment to process the pleasure the abrupt move had caused on him. Harleen contemplated in silent joy how his arms had taken a more muscular shape, gifting him an evil, yet charming smile when she held his face with both hands to pepper it with kisses, holding to his back as if her life depends on it, body ready and eager to obtain more of him.

He slowly made his way out of her just to violently slam back in, causing soft sobs that ended in more desperate praises, which played an important part during the act.

“Keep fucking me like that… I beg you” he closed his eyes, ecstatic, lips parted.

“I will” he gasped.

As soon as she moans his name, Arthur sensed his last sense of self control disappear. He could feel her nails in the skin of his back, which doubled the joy of another brutal thrust into her, exhausted groans leaving his throat. Harleen squirmed while dealing with the intense pleasure his unmerciful pace caused on her.

“Arthurarthurarthurarthurarthur” the blonde called him before losing her own sense of reality, the last coherent word before a lovely, mellifluous mixture of moans, groans, grunts and sobs seized her lips.

Him.

It was all about him, she realized. She swore everything had lost into oblivion. There was nothing except the throbbing welcome her tight walls granted to his twitching gristle.

In that moment she finally comprehended his impact on her life, remembering all the good moments they had shared, everything that led them to this moment, so close to end the act with thunderous moans.

She wasn’t afraid to accept this man had become her entire life since she had lied eyes on him, the first and last person she thought about every time she woke up and certainly the reason why sudden smiles traced her lips during work.  

However, her body warned them about the proximity of the peak when the pulsing grip around him intensified, interrupting the happy daydreaming about him, returning her to the raw reality she was protagonist of.   

The gorgeous moaning mess he had done from her had encouraged the loner to fasten the rhythm, loving to bring her to the brink, frantic spasms whipping his nerves while her moans echoed louder and louder. Her features showed an agonizing expression, lips partly open but unable to utter anything, mind fogged by lightheadedness.

“Arthur, I can’t— I—” the violent, feverish orgasm caught her unprepared: a blaring, euphoric cry served as the glorious conclusion of their union.

Arthur found the strength to distance himself from her, far too weak to resist the temptation to earn a good vision of her naked body in that moment. Harleen was still numb, hair covering her face like a curtain, blue strands all over her chest, contrasting with her pale skin. He followed the long mane down, eyeing her quivering figure, so full of him. He stopped to stare at their sexes still caught in a sore and reddened embrace.

The loner eventually surrendered with a powerful groan, exploding inside of her. He exhaled in stunned relief and sexual bliss. His eyes behold such beauty so full of him, retaining him even when her moans indicate that it was too much for her to bear. This let an even wilder side of him to appear when pushing slightly deeper, thinking it would go unnoticed, but she was too immersed in her thoughts about the man who lied over her. The stillness helped her to put her mind in order, dimensioning this feelings blooming in her heart.

It was hard to stare at each other at this point, but she slowly turned her head to see him despite the blue mane hinders a proper sight of him. Sunlight shone brightly on his face, curls tousled, from what she could see. It was like a little light of happiness shining at last. For the others, he was a deranged creep, but in that moment, Harleen felt he was the most beautiful man she had ever met in her life.

The blurred image eventually became sharper when his face came closer to hers, oozing his seed inside Harleen through his spurred flesh. It felt like hours passed by.

Small beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his open mouthed  expression was of pure astonishment and fascination. The slender fingers set aside her hair, touching her lips, probably to kiss her again.

But nothing happened. Instead, Arthur decided to break the contact, paying attention to the zone in question.

With slow vehemence, he was finally gone.

The action left a thin, niveous line dripping from the tip, leaking from her in small creeks in a beautiful way their bodies demanded to reconnect each other.

“Fuck” he muttered, grinning. Despite the exhaustion, Harleen mimicked it. They couldn’t say anything else, for words were unnecessary. He wouldn’t know it, but Harleen had already accepted a great truth about him.

She was madly in love with Arthur Fleck. _______________________________________

Weeks passed. It was raining in a cold Thursday on Gotham City when Harleen returned home from work. The garbage strike was worsening, rioters looting any store they could and the mayoral candidate being the focus of criticism and repudiation of people. The reason behind it? She would find it out soon.

A taxi honking distracted from her quest for an answer but that didn’t stop her for too long. She heard people talking about nowadays and what Thomas Wayne had said about people in Gotham after something horrible had happened in the filthy subway. The macabre part awakened her curiosity. Was there something she didn’t know about? She looked for a kiosk at the end of the every block to see if there were papers about the aforementioned topic.

It was near a telephone cabin when Harleen finally found what she was looking for… but she didn’t know where to start. Just a headline in bold was enough to freeze her:

KILLER CLOWN ON THE LOOSE

LATEST NEWS ON THE MURDERS

[rhysismydaddy]

Fanny Pack Sexiness (Nessian Smut)

Prompt: *sensually unclips fanny pack* this is weird, i know. but i just saw a tweet and i thought if anyone could write this, it would be you.

Laughed so hard when I read this. If this isn’t Nessian, I don’t know what is. NSFW warning because I do love a fanny pack moment ;)

_________________________________________________________

Nesta glared out the window, keeping her unspoken vow to not look over at the atrocity that was her boyfriend. 

Well, that wasn’t not fair. 

The boyfriend himself was actually pretty nice to look at. 

Broad shoulders, a tall frame filled with meaty muscle, curly brown hair, and golden eyes made him interesting enough, she supposed. 

But it was what the bastard had chosen to wear that had driven her insane all day. 

The monstrosity was strapped around his waist currently, and she could’ve sworn it was laughing up at her. 

Consider this the first and last time she would ever travel with him. 

Because since it wasn’t obvious enough they were American, Cassian had chosen to wear a fanny pack. Over an I <3 LONDON shirt. Which he’d paired with khakis. 

He looked like the cover of a tourist’s guide made for forty year-old, single men who lived with their mothers. 

And she knew it was at least partly her fault he was dressed so stupidly, but she refused to apologize. 

Last night, they’d been heading out to dinner, when she commented that almost always, he wore all black. Honestly, it wasn’t even a complaint, considering she was guilty of the same thing. 

Why bother trying to put together prints and fabrics and colors, when black looked so nice on her? 

Anyway. She hadn’t been complaining. Teasing, but not complaining. 

But noooo. He’d immediately gotten that annoying, competitive look in his eyes that both made her smile and want to strangle him. 

“What would you like me to wear, Nesta?” he’d asked, golden eyes practically glowing. 

She’d sighed, probably making things worse. “I’m just saying, we look a little goth when we’re together.”

Cassian had just smiled down at her, then walked out of their room. She hadn’t thought any more of it when he’d slipped back in later that night, but then this morning, when he’d gotten dressed in the bathroom and opened the door with a flourish, she’d almost hit the floor. 

He was not built for fanny packs and khakis. 

He was built for... well, he was built to be naked all the time, but since that would probably get them sent back to the states, tight black shirts and jeans was a decent second option.

Plus, as if it weren’t bad enough already, he’d been adding to the ensemble all day, building up to the horrendous outfit she was currently avoiding looking at. 

His faded combat boots had been replaced with flip flops. His hair was tucked under a very large hat with a Big Ben outline across the front. He’d even stopped to buy a fucking old-fashioned pipe from the William Blake exhibit they’d gone to see. 

He was trying to drive her crazy. 

But little did he know, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. After three years together, she knew how to drive him crazy, too. 

So she’d plotted and schemed all day. And as they rode back to their hotel in the cab, it was finally time for it to come into play. 

Trying to be discrete, she nodded at the driver.

Cassian’s eyes shot to her as the man slammed on the brakes. It had costed her twenty Euros, but seeing the look of shock on her boyfriend’s face was so worth it. 

Especially as she shouted, “Drive him to the other side of the city and kick him out!”

And jumped from the cab. 

It was still moving a little, but she’d been prepared and hit the ground at a run. 

Manic laughter came out of her as Cassian turned around in the now-speeding cab, shouting something unintelligible back at her. 

He wanted to dress like a tacky tourist and drive her crazy? 

Fine. 

She’d just have to show him what he was missing out on. 

~

A little over an hour later, the door to their hotel room swung open, hitting the wall angrily. 

“That asshole took me halfway to fucking Essex, then had the audacity to charge me for the ride. Next time you have someone kidnap me, at least pay the fee, woman! I swear-”

Whatever he was about to say lodged in his throat as he took a look at what she was wearing. 

It was all new, and his eyes took in every piece of the wardrobe with a predatory gleam that sent her toes curling. But she acted unaffected, even as she bent down to fix the strap of her very high, very uncomfortable shoes. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice rough. 

Straightening, she shrugged and fluffed her hair. “I’m going to dinner.”

“You mean we’re going to dinner.”

Finally. 

Nesta turned towards her boyfriend, enjoying the way his eyes dipped to the almost indecent amount of cleavage on display. 

She traced her eyes over his entire rumpled, touristy outfit. “I’m not going in public with you while I look like this and you look like that.” 

His eyes narrowed as he finally caught on to what she’d done. “I’ll change then.”

It was a struggle not to laugh. “Well, you seemed so intent on replacing your wardrobe, I figured I’d help you out and dumped your suitcase.”

That was a lie. It was safely hidden down at the front desk. 

“You did what?”

Ignoring the question, she said, “You’re welcome. And since you can neither change nor go like that, I guess I’ll just see you later.”

Making her way to the door, she was abruptly stopped by a hand smacking into the wall closest to her, an arm now blocking her path. “Nesta Archeron, you are not going out looking like a goddamn supermodel while I sit here with my thumbs up my ass.”

“How you fill the alone time is irrelevant to me, Cassian.”

His other hand made its way to the wall, too, caging her in. 

“I know you wouldn’t throw my clothes out. Where are they? Tell me, and we’ll go to dinner.”

She shrugged, resolve to keep the secret building by the second. 

She was aware they were both a little competitive, but she didn’t care. She was winning this, one way or the other. He’d admit he’d been wrong to dress like an idiot today, then--and only then--she’d give him his clothes back. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he told her, the tone of his voice proving that it was working. 

He was suddenly so close she couldn’t think about anything else. 

Even dressed in head to toe tacky, he somehow managed to suck all the air out of her lungs. 

One hand turned his hat backwards so the brim wouldn’t poke her, and he leaned in close enough to run his nose down her neck. 

“Tell me, Nesta.”

“No.”

His teeth nipped at her skin, and she shivered. “Do I need to fuck it out of you?”

Gods, yes. Please. 

That hadn’t been her plan at all, but her body was more than on board with it. 

Except there was a bit of a problem. 

“You are not fucking me with a fanny pack on, hate to break it to you.”

Cassian pulled back far enough to wink at her, then his mouth was on hers, dominating her in the way that she’d only ever let him do. He pressed her against the wall, chest tight against hers, as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. 

Hands on her waist lifted her, and then she was being thrown halfway across the room onto the neatly-made bed. 

Propping herself up on her elbows, she glared over at him. 

“I was being serious, Cassian. You’re not getting any while you’re dressed like Uncle Sam.”

He swaggered over to the foot of the bed, the comment not at all impacting his confidence. 

“Allow me to remedy the problem then, princess.”

The hat’s the first to go, and it was a relief to see his unruly hair finally free. She heard the slap of his flip flops on the floor and figured he kicked them off, too. Cassian tugged the horrible, bright yellow “I <3 LONDON” shirt over his head, then stared at her, eyes narrowed. 

“I’m keeping the fanny pack.”

It was adorable how wrong he was. 

Raising an eyebrow, Nesta leaned back and let her thighs fall open, keying him into the fact that she’d somehow forgotten to put on underwear tonight. 

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move to take off the damn pack. 

So she ran a manicured nail over her bottom lip, then slipped it in her mouth and sucked on it. She was pretty sure Cassian was about to pass out as she released it with a pop, then brought it between her legs. 

“Nesta.”

“Hmm?” she responded, the sound drawn out and breathy as she pushed the finger inside herself. 

“I like the fanny pack.” He sounded so sad, it was almost comical. Like a kid on Christmas who’d just been told Santa hadn’t come.

Too bad.

“Then stand there and watch.”

Oh, he did. His eyes were intent on her hands, both the one between her legs and the other that made it’s way to her breast. 

She rolled a nipple between her fingers and groaned, and he leaned down to fist the sheets at the end of the bed in his hands. “Fuck.”

Nesta refused to give first. Absolutely refused. 

And she knew what it would take for him to give in. So she added another finger, back arching off the bed, and worked herself until she was so close she couldn’t stay still. 

His knuckles were white as he gripped the comforter tight enough to threaten the strands, but it wasn’t that that forced him to lose their little battle. 

It was the sight of her coming undone before him. 

She moaned, and it might’ve been his name that fell from her lips, as release found her. When she heard the strangled, creative curse he let out, she knew she’d won. 

Forcing her eyes open, she watched as he finally unhooked the fanny pack and let it drop to the floor. 

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. 

Cassian quickly kicked off his hideous khakis, then prowled up her body, dropping little love bights on her thighs, her hips, her breasts. 

“That was so hot,” he groaned as he settled between her thighs, bracing himself on his elbows. 

“That was the idea, idiot.”

He stopped for a moment, pulling back to give her a sour look. “I think I’m going to make you apologize for that.”

Before she could tell him there was a fat chance of that happening, he pushed into her. Nesta gasped, and his mouth was suddenly on hers, absorbing the sound. 

After a brief moment to adjust, his hips grew rough against hers, the grip he had on them almost bruising, but she didn’t care. 

“Fuck, Cass,” she groaned, arching into his touch as he drew little circles on the bundle of nerves between her legs. 

He picked up speed, pounding into her so hard she started shifting up the bed until he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her in place. 

Release started building up in her, and she could tell it would be almost too intense when it crested. But just before she got to find out, he slowed his rhythm, swirling his hips slowly against hers. 

An indignant, hateful sound left her mouth, and he pulled back enough to smirk down at her. 

“Say it,” he commanded, eyes like molten caramel as they watched her hips try to gain more friction. “Say you’re sorry, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fuck you,” she panted, barely resisting the urge to punch him. “You insufferable, arrogant bastard.”

“Not exactly what I want to hear, but close.”

A maddeningly slow circle of his hips had her regretting ever going out with him. 

Another had her planning his murder.

Yet another had her cursing the day he was born.

“Say it, Nesta. You know you want to.” He dipped his head to kiss the base of her throat. 

Her body was so strung out it was a miracle she didn’t burst into tears, but she somehow managed to hold off for another few minutes.

But then he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head and all but growled, “Just fucking say it. Say it so I can fuck you like you deserve.”

And she was just desperate enough that she said, “I’m sorry I called you an idiot, you horrible asshole.”

He smiled down at her, and she glared. “Such beautiful words.”

“Cassian, I swear-”

The words became lost in her throat as he finally, finally started moving again, somehow harder and quicker than before. 

Release immediately crashed into her, and she moaned as she drew tight around him. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, and even though she currently hated him, the words just made the release that much sweeter. 

Especially as he didn’t stop. Her body was trembling underneath his, but he kept going, even dipping his head to kiss his way down to her breasts. 

His tongue swirled around the peak of one, and she groaned loudly as the wave inside her seemed to crash once more, leaving her scattered and broken in the aftermath. 

Cassian finally followed her lead, collapsing on top of her and pressing her into the mattress below as he said her name in a helpless, loving sort of way. 

Their breath was uncontrolled and loud, and it took a few minutes before either of them could speak. 

Then he asked roughly, “Now, where’d you hide my shit?”

“Front desk,” she panted, pushing her hair off her forehead with a tired hand. 

He drew back, looking over her partially-clothed body in a satisfied, male way that made her smile. “I really like that dress, in case it isn’t obvious. Want me to go change so we can eat something?”

Before she could respond, his mouth was at her ear, hot breath raising goosebumps across her skin. “Or do you just want to eat here?”

Suddenly, food was the last thing on her mind. 

Her hands found their way to his hair as she drew him back down to her. 

“Just get it tomorrow,” she murmured, lips finding his again. “And never wear that fanny pack again.”

_________________________________________________________

Like I said, I had WAY too much fun writing this hahaha. Kinda really loosely based on when Joey (Friends) went to London and dressed like a tourist :)

Tags: @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[rayveewrites]

Ray Hijacks the Team ZIT Ghostbuster AU Again

So @shadeswift99 made a few posts a while ago about a Team ZIT(S) ghostbuster AU, And then I may or may not have hijacked the post to add in ideas for most of the other hermits because why not.

Now, back then I was spitballing ideas and making them up on the spot, which is admittedly my usual writing process, but hey.

That said, I've had more time to think about it, and then last night I blacked out for a few hours and came to with a Google Doc filled with short bios for all of the hermits and a handful of hermit-adjacents. Now, this rapidly turned into an urban fantasy AU in my hands, but hey. It's fun.

This is in alphabetical order, with alternate personas (EX, Helsknight, Beetlejhost) beneath their original counterparts when applicable:

Bdubs

Lives in an old mansion in the woods alongside Doc for reasons known only to them. Bdubs works as an interior designer, with a side gig as a freelance hairdresser. His eyes are unnaturally large, similar to Keralis’, and he is at least partially a plant. Completely feral and frequently gets in trouble for having knives on him at all times. He and Cleo have a thing called Knife Club which makes everyone else nervous. Nobody messes with Knife Club. It’s not worth it. Sunbathes frequently.

Beef

Is a perfectly normal human being. He works as a butcher with a side gig as a graphic designer specializing in album covers and spends his free time playing pokemon and dragging Etho along to social events. He was the first person to spot the cryptid, and the first person who Etho approached of his own accord.

Biffa

Is a ghost possessing a robotic shell. Biffa is from the future. While initially his main goal was to get back home to his own time, Biffa has since made friends and settled down into a new life running a cafe specializing in a wide range of teas. He’s quite content with this, and has actually found himself far happier than he was in his own time. While his nature means he can see, hear and touch ghosts, his body was built specifically for a disembodied soul to be in the driver’s seat, and he doesn’t want to risk another taking control. Also, he has more important things to do than have fistfights with ghosts.

Cleo

Is a ghost possessing her own dead corpse. Her nature allows her to see, hear and touch ghosts. Can and will fistfight spirits. She works as a teacher, so she’s usually busy, but occasionally in really nasty situations the Beetlejhost will drag her in to break a ghost’s legs. Does sculpture in her free time, and is actually really good. The only one who can wrangle Beetle to any real capacity, and she’s learned to keep him on a fairly short leash. Housemates with Joe, and Keralis also pops in pretty frequently. Has Knife Club with Bdubs. Has an enchanted flower crown that prevents her from decaying further; a gift from Beetle. Recently started learning magic in the form of necromancy and illusions. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Zloy, in which she temporarily traps his soul in random inanimate objects every now and then.

Cub

A bit of a ‘mad scientist’ archetype, Cub’s experiments are not exactly the most ethical, though they’re at least more professional than Doc’s. Responsible for the creation of Jevin. Cub gets possessed stupidly easily- sometimes willingly- and can usually handle it himself but sometimes has to call for help. Has a magical method of communication with Scar for exactly this reason. Has a day job as co-owner of a business called ConCorp, which he started with Scar. Has probably broken the Geneva Convention.

Doc

Was presumably human at one point. Now an abomination. Repeated experiments on himself have resulted in a massively changed facial and foot structure, a body covered in mottled green scales, claws, and goat horns. He lost half his face in one of his experiments, and constructed a new cybernetic one. He lost his right arm fighting God. Killed said god and would do it again. Lives in a mansion in the woods with Bdubs, though nobody’s really sure why. Owns a casino because of course he does. Also a living crime against fashion, because the man refuses to wear anything other than his tattered lab coat, torn jeans, and crocs.

Ely

Runs the local radio station. Nobody’s ever seen him in person, and nobody knows where he gets people’s voice clips for his remixes. Probably a cryptid. Maybe a ghost. Seems pretty chill, despite the blatant invasions of privacy.

Etho

Is a cryptid. Lives out in the woods in an abomination that can barely be called a house. Has never been seen in anything other than full Kakashi cosplay. Tends to keep to himself, but occasionally lets Beef drag him along to social events, often with Doc and Bdubs. Nobody really knows what his deal is. Probably not human. Probably.

False

Used to be part of an illegal underground cage fighting ring, until she earned enough to buy her way out. Having grown up in said ring, she struggles to adjust to normal life, but living in a town where the barista is a robot and the local tailor has wings makes it easier. She now has a job as security at Doc’s casino, alongside Iskall.

Grian

Is either an angel or a demigod, but nobody knows which. Has wings. Is both a tailor and an architect. A complete gremlin who has elaborate masks of various birds and will wear them to commit crimes. Eats seeds. Messes with everyone else’s plants. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats. Volunteers at the local theatre.

Hypno

Has three eyes, but hides the third one under a bandanna at all times. Can see ghosts with it. Had problems with sections of plumbing randomly getting clogged and also making very weird noises, and eventually called Team ZIT when the plumbers couldn’t find the source. Was prepared for ghosts, but wound up with a slime creature instead. Works in a $2 store for some reason.

Impulse

Is fully human. The most sensible member of Team ZIT (which admittedly isn’t saying much), Impulse has a day job as a freelancer building custom PCs and fixing broken tech. Agreed to the whole ghostbusting deal because he was bored, mostly. Was the first one to meet Skizz face-to-face, and is the one to own that particular place outright. Gets possessed every now and then, usually by larger spirits. Used to run solely on caffeine and chronic anxiety until Zedaph started getting on his case about his sleep schedule. Now he runs on less caffeine, more sleep, and the same amount of chronic anxiety.

Iskall

Was part of a cloning experiment to create the ultimate hitman, and was the only known one to both survive and escape before the whole thing was shut down by the authorities. Their eye and arm were replaced with cybernetics in order to increase their already enhanced abilities, and they were chased by said authorities, eventually winding up on Mumbo’s doorstep and becoming Mumbo’s problem. Now works as security at Doc’s casino, alongside False. Lives at Jungle Wood flats. Occasionally volunteers at the local theatre. Does bonsai as a hobby.

Jevin

Is the slime creature in the pipes. Hypno lets him live with him under the condition he stops blocking the plumbing and making weird noises at 3 AM (Jevin still blocks the plumbing and makes weird noises at 3 AM, just not as much as he was). Has taught himself to take a humanoid shape, and likes having fingers. Sleeps in the bathtub because he can. Was created from a vat of chemicals in a secret lab underneath the house, which used to be owned by Cub. Doesn’t really talk to the man in question that much, but will occasionally refer to Cub as his father for the sole reason of watching him go through eight existential crises in three minutes. Has a glock.

Joe

Head librarian at the local public library, and has read a lot of books on Supernatural Things. Is a veritable fountain of exposition if you can figure out what he’s saying or have Cleo along with you to threaten the integrity of his shins. Has never been seen in the same place as the Beetlejhost. Are they the same person? Are they entirely separate beings? Is there a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde-type situation going on? Who knows!

Beetlejhost

Literally nobody really knows what his deal is. Nobody. Team ZIT ran into him on a call that they expected to be a false alarm and then he decided to follow them home. Spends most of his time being a minor nuisance in the most bizarre ways possible. Is implied to be responsible for the Ever Given getting lodged in the Suez Canal, but never confirmed. When he’s not bothering Team ZIT or getting them out of tight spots, he’s usually pestering Cleo, the only one who can keep him in line. It’s not really known if he and Cleo have a history or if they’re just Like That.

Keralis

Is a ghost haunting an architecture firm, and is mostly bound to the building, though he can travel to other buildings the firm has built, which is, uh, most of them. Initially only able to do small things- mostly writing notes or drawing diagrams- he eventually meets the Beetlejhost when the latter follows Mumbo to work one day for shits and giggles (he wanted to see how long he could mess with Mumbo before the man noticed. As it turned out, about a week, and by the end it was Iskall who noticed). After a couple of days in which Beetle teaches Keralis Ghost Things™, he scares half the office when he finally manifests for the first time. Has unnaturally large eyes and nicknames for most of the workers. Has no idea how he died or what his unfinished business might be. Very knowledgeable about architecture, and his input is usually very much appreciated.

Mumbo

Is a perfectly normal human being who does IT at Keralis’ architecture firm. Lives at Jungle Wood flats and spends most of his free time tinkering with tech and trying to keep Grian and Iskall out of trouble, which is a losing battle. Has a large, beating golden heart in his flat. He’s not really sure what its deal is, but if he feeds it apples it produces enough power for the entire building. Oh, and if he forgets to feed it for an extended period of time it starts draining his bank account. It’s really weird.

Pixlriffs

Was a perfectly normal human being until he died protecting a certain Russian zombie and became a perfectly normal ghost. Was a reporter in life and is a reporter in death. Runs a blog alongside Zloy about the local goings-on, supernatural or not. The blog’s the type where unless you live in/near the town you most likely won’t stumble across it, but they do have a small following of outsiders who assume the blog’s just a work of fiction. His unfinished business is to prevent Zloy from doing anything particularly stupid, a constant battle. Is able to go more places than Zloy due to being incorporeal, but respects people’s privacy. He’s bound to Zloy to a certain degree, not being able to go beyond a certain range of his friend. The range is pretty big, though, and he has plenty freedom of movement.

Python

Had a run-in with the fae as a kid, in which he accidentally pissed one off. In retribution, the faerie challenged him to answer a riddle or he’d be turned into a snake. Python’s answer was partially correct, so the faerie only transformed him partially. Python is fairly chill, though he strongly dislikes the cold and starts hissing if anyone disturbs him during Sun Time™. Sometimes Bdubs, being partially flora, joins Python for Sun Time™. He’s not venomous, because, you know...python. Also, he has a mildly disturbing habit of strangling rats and mice and then eating them whole, but he can’t help it and just tries not to do so when he has company.

Ren

Is a werewolf. He’s pretty chill regardless of form, though it’s only been recently he’s been comfortable enough leaving his ears and tail visible. He works as a lumberjack. One time Pixl introduced him to Monty Python’s Lumberjack Song and it quickly became his favourite thing. He spends most of his free time volunteering at the local theatre because Ren is absolutely a theatre kid and nobody can convince me otherwise. Gets possessed every now and then. Lives in Jungle Wood flats.

Scar

Works as a landscape developer. Gets possessed absurdly easily, though not quite as frequently as Cub. Has a magical method of communication with him. Technically co-owns ConCorp, but isn’t as involved. His cat, Jellie, is very obviously an eldritch abomination in feline form and he is comedically unaware of this. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats with Grian, Iskall, Mumbo, Stress, and Ren.

Skizz

Is the ghost haunting Team ZIT’s office. He was murdered by someone he’d thought was a friend who was trying to use his place to hide from the cops, and he’s stuck around, haunting the building. His unfinished business is to make sure nobody else uses the building for anyone shady, but the ghost rumours tended to chase most people off. Eventually he gets used to having Team ZIT around, and when Tango admits he doesn’t really have anywhere to go one day, Skizz eventually makes the decision to finally unlock the still-furnished upper floor for him. He’s bound to the building, but Impulse learns that carrying Skizz’s old vest with them allows him to leave. After that, Skizz sometimes accompanies them on missions and occasionally just hanging out. He’s usually more helpful than the Beetlejhost is.

Stress

Is a witch. Stress lives in Jungle Wood Flats and works as a doctor who specializes in supernaturally caused injuries- Team ZIT are some of her best customers. She also sells magic potions of various kinds, and has a side gig as a florist. She’s 90% of the Jungle inhabitants’ impulse control. Also has cryokinesis.

Tango

The Team ZIT member with a car. He gets possessed with frankly ridiculous frequency, but claims not to believe in ghosts for a long time (and keeps up the bit for even longer). Has developed various signals to indicate when he’s being possessed again. The strongest one, a rather nasty demon Cleo and the Beetlejhost had to team up on, left him with his glowing red eyes. He didn’t really have anywhere to go before Impulse bought the office, and tended to sleep on the couch or in his car until Skizz decided to let him into the upper floor, where he now lives alongside Zedaph and Impulse.

TFC

A now-retired ghostbuster, TFC calls in Team ZIT one night when he finds himself in over his head against a ghost with a grudge. He winds up becoming a bit of a mentor figure to the trio, usually coaching them over the phone if they’re not sure how to deal with one of the stranger spirits. Lost his leg years ago in a fight with a poltergeist that could have gone better, and now has a robotic prosthetic made by Doc.

Wels

While Team ZIT was out investigating some rumour or another in the woods, they came across a large stone box. Following video game logic, I guess, they then decided opening this large stone box sounded like a fun idea. Well, Tango and Zedaph did. Impulse was a bit more hesitant. The box actually held a medieval knight who’d been put in an enchanted sleep for centuries by his demonic doppelgänger, and was very much not prepared for modern life. Team ZIT took him to Xisuma, who happened to live closest, and Wels is currently helping out on the farm and trying to adjust to life in the 21st century. He can understand and speak modern English just fine because magic. Volunteers at the local theatre quite a lot.

Hels

Is Wels’ doppelgänger. Technically a minor demon. Won a fight with Wels and sealed him away for centuries as a result. A recurring problem. His real motivation is that he really desperately doesn’t want to go back to Hell, but he’s too proud to admit it. Lives in the woods with EX, who’s basically his only friend, though the weirdo with the brown cardigan keeps pestering him about his backstory and feelings for some reason. Has minor pyrokinesis.

XB

Like Biffa, XB is also a ghost from the future, though it seems to be a different timeline than Biffa’s. His unfinished business is preventing the apocalypse, but he has no idea how to do that, no idea if he’s in the right timeline, and is pretty sure he’s gone back a lot farther than he probably should’ve. Also, there’s the whole paradox issue, where if he prevents the apocalypse he never has a reason to go back and prevent the apocalypse, so he doesn’t prevent the apocalypse, so he has to go back and- he tries not to think about it too much. He mostly just hangs out in an abandoned house on the edge of town and vibes.

Xisuma

Is a beekeeper. Nobody’s ever seen his face; when he’s not in his beekeeping outfit, he’s either wearing a helmet, or (more recently) an extremely lifelike and detailed animal mask (is it a mask?). Actually a shapeshifting alien, he crashed down to Earth after a scuffle with his evil clone and was stranded because Earth doesn’t have the right tools or resources to repair a spaceship. These days he’s actually found he’s happier tending to his bees, selling honey, and helping his friends out, and probably wouldn’t leave Earth even if he could. It’s a simpler life, but a pleasant one. He bonds with Biffa over a shared love of tea and being stranded in a technologically inferior world and finding a home.

Evil Xisuma

Is Xisuma’s clone. Feels that if everyone’s going to call him ‘Evil’ he may as well own it. Shot his original’s spaceship down in a scuffle but wound up being brought down with him. Currently hides in the woods. Generally more of a minor nuisance than an actual danger. Used to spend his free time bothering X but has gotten put off by Wels, who has a problem when it comes to evil clones. His friends consist of Hels, who is a terrible role model, and Zedaph, who’s trying to help him work through his problems behind everyone’s backs. Can summon lightning because he deserves it.

Zedaph

Is the reason Team ZIT is ghostbusting in the first place. He’s a sheep shearer by trade, but that’s a fairly seasonal thing and ghostbusting is more fun anyway. Has somehow never been possessed, and claims it’s because he’s always standing next to Tango. He makes sure the other two gets enough sleep Because we all know they can’t be trusted to do it. Probably has some sort of really bizarre and situational magical powers he is thoroughly unaware of. Qualified to be a licensed therapist. Made friends with Evil X at one point, somehow.

Zloy

Like Cleo, he’s a ghost possessing a corpse. Unlike Cleo, there’s a good chance it’s not his corpse. Eh, it’s not like anyone else was using it. Runs a blog with Pixl, because why not. Was already a zombie when he met Pixl, who was still alive at the time. His body is a bit more decayed than Cleo’s, but it’s fine. His goggles are enchanted with the same preservation spell; it’s not really ever explained where he got them from. Has no regard for privacy but is fortunately unable to turn invisible or phase through walls due to inhabiting a physical body. Both can theoretically physically fight ghosts and has enough time to physically fight ghosts, meaning he would be a valuable ally if he could be bothered. Lives in a graveyard. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Cleo, in which he puts jabs at her on the blog. Once spent a week as a (very sarcastic) floating potato.

Hermiton

Is the name of the place they all live in/near. Located in an ambiguous location in an ambiguous country, Hermiton is technically large enough to be considered a city but has Town VibesTM. Supernatural going-ons are a fairly normal part of life, and a good number of inhabitants aren’t humans. Despite this, the wider world seems mostly ignorant of the existence of ghosts, magic, etc. I’m not too sure about geography, but it’s surrounded by forest in most directions and in a warm enough climate to not have snow in the winter (so Python doesn’t, you know, freeze to death). Most people don’t tend to bat an eyelid at strange-looking people walking down the street or serving them at the store; they’re used to it by now. There are several theories as to why Hermiton specifically has so much going on when it comes to the supernatural- ley lines, secretly the resting place of some long-forgotten god, et cetera- but it’s actually more of a case of ‘people who have supernatural traits hear rumours of a place where a lot of people have supernatural traits and go there in search of answers/a place to belong’. This doesn’t exactly explain where all the ghosts came from, but hey. Nothing’s perfect.

[staywritten]

A Love That Lasts │ Chapter V

A Love That Lasts │ Chapter IV (Final Chapter)

Synopsis: You’ve spent the last two years, helping your very handsome next door neighbor raise his adorable daughter. The two of you fell into a routine before you knew it. And now you had this little family. You couldn’t help but fall for him.

Genre: Parent!Au, Dad!Bang Chan, Fluff, Nonidol!Au, Smut

Word Count: 3412

Part I │Part II │Part III │Part IV

A Love That Lasts Masterlist

Masterlist. AO3

Warning: This Chapter contains Smut. Rated M

After a much needed, long walk Chan opened the door to his apartment, sliding off his shoes “Hey…” he smiled warmly seeing you sitting on his couch in your pajamas, nursing a beer. 

Minseo quietly, tucked against your side fast asleep. “I’m pretty sure Felix was supposed to be on babysitting duty tonight” his eyes were so soft as he watched you. Loving every bit of just how domestic you looked in his home. It was like you belonged there.

You set down the beer, almost embarrassed to be caught looking so comfortable. “I got off work early, so I told Felix I’d cover the rest of his babysitting shift”

“I don’t remember having beer in the house” he chuckled, taking a seat next to you. He brushed Minseo’s hair out of her face and smiled seeing her so peacefully asleep.

“I may have brought it from home” It took everything in you to manege a small polite smile “You look tired... Did your date not go well?”

He lifted Minseo’s in his arms, rubbing her back gently “I’ll tell you about it in a bit, I’m just gonna put her to bed first” he kissed her hair softly before disappearing into her room, leaving you awkwardly fiddling on his couch. There was so much you wanted to-needed to say, but was it the right time?

After a few minutes, he returned to the living room and slumped down on the couch next to you. He rubbed his temples releasing a deep sigh.

 “You sound exhausted” you offered him your beer. “How bad could it have been? A date with a beautiful model” your tone doing little to hide the pout in your voice. 

Chan tossed his head against the couch, laughing “She was very pretty and very nice but…Maybe a bit too young, but it was a nice date she was patient.” he brought the beer to his lips taking a swig. “It was nice going on a date, and it reminded me of times before responsibility and parenthood... but, at this point in my life I don’t think I can casually date. I don’t need a girlfriend, I need a partner. Someone who could love Minseo with all their heart, someone willing to give herself half of me, and put in the effort”

“You’re asking for a lot for a first date” you laughed.

“Too much?” he grinned at you, handing you back the bottle. 

“Perhaps” you smiled taking another sip. “Well what did you guys do on your date?”

“She insisted on this trendy restaurant, it was over priced and kinda mediocre but it looked aesthetically pleasing and as nice and sweet as she was, all I could think about was…” He trailed off looking at you, his gaze refusing to leave yours.

“Was…?” your voice small, barley a whisper.

“Was how I wished I was out with you…” he reached for your beer, setting it on the coffee table, his fingers grabbing your chin and coxing you to look at him. “I’m done running from this”

“Chris…”

“I like you...I more than like you but I don’t want to scare you and I just really want to kiss you and-”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his, taking his bottom, lip into your mouth. Your hands desperately grabbing his jaw as you deepened it. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumb running small circles against your skin as he shifted you onto his lap, allowing you to straddle him. He groaned, pulling back and holding your neck with the span of his hand. Peppering kisses down your jaw. He brushed his nose up your neck, letting his full lips trace you. “I can’t believe I’m finally kissing you…” he whispered.

You smiled, licking your lips. “I can’t believe I still had to kiss you first.” He chuckled biting your lower lip.

“I’ll make it up to you”

He easily took the lead of the kiss, guiding you, nipping, biting, sucking. Anything and everything  to get you worked up. Your kiss was slightly bitter from the beer, the faintest hint of sweetness from the cookies he knew you indulged in when you were stressed. He couldn’t have imagined a kiss more fitting of you. More perfect. The way you smiled into the kiss when you caught him staring. Your tiny giggles when your noses bumped or your little snort when he bit down a little too hard on your lips and had apologized profusely.

This was a moment that plagued his dreams, and he always thought that it could be nothing more than wishful thinking.

He rubbed his thumb lovingly against your jaw just taking you in. How beautiful you looked in the dim lighting of his living room. Your lips swollen and parted, lids half open as you watched him, how your chest rose and fell for you to catch your breath. “Beautiful…” he whispered like a prayer on his lips. “Your collar bones…” kiss “Your neck..” kiss “Your jaw…” kiss. He grinned reaching your lips “Mmm... these beautiful lips...” he lips barley ghosting yours and teasing you. Cruelly moving back and making you chase him.

“Chris….” you whined, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips. Nothing could explain just how safe you felt in his arms. How warm and welcomed they were. How with just a kiss every single one of your anxieties of the past two years for having feelings for him and worrying that they weren’t reciprocated disappeared.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, following it up with tiny kisses peppered against your jaw. His long lashes tickled your skin while he did so. Every time he kissed you it was like a surge of butterflies in your stomach, he was just so sensual, so sturdy. His broad shoulders steadying you when you got a little too excited and rocked into the kiss. And perhaps it was because it was so dark in the room but your senses were in overdrive. The taste of the red wine he had on his date, still lingered on his lips, the fresh woody and minty notes of his cologne making you dizzy as you just wanted to take in all of him.

“Am I dreaming…?” he beamed up at you, his dark brown eyes staring so lovingly into yours.

“If you are, I don’t want to wake up…” you pressed your forehead against his.

Was it possible to be in love with a man you’ve never dated? Were you just jumping the gun and letting your feelings get the best of you?

But any moment you doubted this, you reminded yourself that your friendship with Chan was gradual, you loved him as a friend first, there was nothing rushed about the two of you. You were slow and steady. You’ve come to terms that you’d been in love with him for a very long time and just hadn’t learned to recognize it.

“I never want to let you go…” he whispered against your lips.

“Then don’t…” you tilted your head watching his grin widened before he effortlessly lifted you into his arms. “Chris” you shouted in a whisper, not wanting to wake Minseo. Your arms wrapping around his neck as he walked down the hallway. “What are you doing?” you giggled into his throat.

“Making up for lost time” he set you on his bed, crawling in after you. He made quick work of the buttons of his shirt. Sliding it off, tossing it on the ground and caging you in under him. “I let two years go by…” he pulled you into another sweet kiss. “I’m not losing a single moment more”

You ran your hands down his chest eyeing him. Your fingertips trace the grooves of his muscle. “You have no right being this attractive”

“You’re one to talk” He gave you that little shy laugh, while looking away bashfully and your heart melted. Despite being so sensual and so sure of himself, it was moments like that. Shy, cute, giggly, dimply Chan that got you. I love you so much… but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud, not yet at least. 

You knew he knew it, but it just wasn’t time to say it.

He pulled off your T-shirt and groaned seeing your bare body beneath him, the roughness of the pads of his fingers tracing your skin over the buds of your nipples. “You weren’t wearing a bra?” he grinned, teasing and pulling on your nipples gently.

You moaned, letting your head fall back into his pillows. “It’s not comfortable” you almost pouted at how teasing he was.  

He grinned pulling your sweat pants down, catching how your thighs squeezed together. “I got you Baby…” he cupped you from the outside of your panties “You’re already so wet and I barely touched you.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you” you grabbed his wrist holding his hand at your core, knowing he was only teasing you again. “Chris please…”

“How can I say no when you beg for me like that?” he kissed your jaw before sliding his hand into your panties. Feeling his long fingers make their way into you, Curling just the right way, making your body shiver and a sweet  gasp escape your lips.

Your back arching against his bed as you squirmed. Your grip on his wrist tightened, needing him to continue. “Chris...Nnn right-ah right there” He smiled against your jaw, continuing to trail sweet kisses while pumping his index finger faster. Each time you tensed and gasped ,his lips found your to muffle you cries.

“God...I love your voice… I never get to hear you like this” he chuckled rocking his hips against your sensitive hips. His very prominent erection pushing against his jeans. He grinned as you moved your hips harder, enjoying the friction he caused.

“Mmm Chris…” You pressed your chest against him, a smile growing on your lips. “You feel good...And here I thought you’d be rusty”

“Rusty?” He scoffed, snapping his hips forward causing a loud gasp from you.

“Chris~” you hit his chest at how bold he decided to be, knowing damn well you had to be quiet. “Behave” you scolded him.

“Trust me Baby… I’m not rusty at all... “ he smirked, his teeth grazing down your skin before taking your nipple into his mouth. “Mmmm.” he sucked hard on the bud, his lips popping once he removed them. “I’m gonna wreck you” he whispered against the shell of your ear, his hand letting his pointer finger leave a trail up your body over your breast and into your mouth.

You wrapped your lips around his finger, tasting yourself on him. You couldn’t tear your eyes away of how intensely he watched you, his brown eyes darkening as he took in a sharp breath. He may have been teasing you but he was at your mercy. You tongue swirling around the pad of his finger as you sucked on it.

“Tease” he licked his lips, pulling his finger from your mouth.

“You’re one to talk” you challenged him, biting your lower lip.

“I really am” he undid his belt, and you almost came then and there from just how sensual it was. His dexterous fingers moving to push the leather from the buckle and how swiftly he tore it from the loops. He quirked a brow watching your reaction. “Oh Baby…” he cupped your breast. “I can think of about a hundred ways to get you to scream my name… But right now I just want to make love to you…” he smiled pecking your lips softly. “Can you be a good girl for me?”

You nodded letting your hands run over each and every one of his abs as you unbuttoned his pants. He took a deep breath and cocked his neck to the side. “I say be a good girl and you give me the look, what am I going to do with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something” there was this playful little twinkle in your eyes and he was a goner. He freed himself from his pants, pushing them lower on his thighs. You widened your legs for him, sighing as he pressed against your entrance.

It’d been a while for you too, and your lack of a sex life never bothered you. Not to say that there was no stimulation, you just never needed another person for it, not at least for two years. But one look at Chan, his chest heaving those veins in his arms so prominent as he stroked himself. All of your sex drive came rushing at you and you wanted nothing more than to cum for him.

Chan really was a dream come true. You weren’t gonna lie and say you’ve never imagined this, you just never expected him to be your literal wet dream. It was the eye contact that got you. His intense sexy gaze that never left yours, with each snap of his hips. Even when you were a wanton mess, panting his name heavily and looking away in embarrassment, he’d always make you watch him.

Those little words of encouragement, and sweet nothings he’d whisper in your ear, while he held your hand, or showered you with kisses. All of this sweetening those sinful things he did with his hips.

“You’re such a good girl for me…”

“Look at your pretty little cunt…”

“You’re taking me so good Baby”

The way he’d bring you over the edge, you body shivering, your vision white, and before you could come down from your high he’d rub your clit and he wouldn’t stop until you came again.

Chan was a dream come true and you couldn’t imagine anyone better.

You’d lost track of time from the love making you were sticky and tired, your body heavy and limp. He wiped you down with a damp towel, giving you one of his shirts to sleep in. “Mmm I finally feel like I might get a good sleep tonight” He grinned against your cheek, bundling you in his arms.

You smiled, playing with his fingers, lacing them with yours. “Isn’t this the part where you kick me out?”

He scoffed. “Ha, fat chance getting rid of me” he pecked your cheek.

“Christopher Bang, are you actually needy?”

“The neediest” he chuckled “And I love to cuddle” he gave you a gentle squeeze.

“You’re so cute” you wiggled in his arms to turn and face him. “Goodnight Chris” you cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss.

And for the first time in along time Chan managed to get a full eight hours of sleep. There wasn’t the worry of work, the anxiety of not being productive enough. There was just you and him, and the longer he slept, the longer you were in his arms. He woke up a few times that night, his body not accustomed to sleeping for so long. But each time he woke and saw your sleeping face, so content and safe in his arms, he couldn’t help but relax and slip back into a dream.

Minseo yawned padding out of her bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. A smile immediately graced her chubby cheeks when she saw you, sitting at the breakfast table with her dad “You’re still here!” she grinned running to you, wrapping her little arms around you.

Minseo had always complained about how she didn’t like that you weren’t there when she woke up. Most mornings you did join them after you’d gotten dressed for the day, but it wasn’t the same. She giggled and bounced in your arms snuggling you.

Chan pouting from across the table “What about me, huh” he deepened his pout. “You didn’t see me all night, where are my kisses?” Minseo laughed before wiggling out of your arms and going to hug her dad. Showering him with loving kisses. “That’s my girl!” he held her in his arms as she filled him in on her day from the moment Felix picked her up from school, to the cookies you baked to all the movies you watched with her and everything she dreamt about.

After a rather leisurely morning Chan smiled looking outside “It’s such a nice day Minseo, do you wanna go to the park?”

“I wanna go to the park! I wanna go! Can we Daddy please!” she squeezed his hand jumping.

“We can go” he laughed “Go pick out what you wanna wear”

The two of you laughed together while you cleared the table and did dishes. Chan wrapped his arms around you, sneaking in a kiss here and there while you cleaned. “You’re distracting me” you giggled.

“Good” he beamed.

You turned around in his arms, splashing him with the water. “Cut it out, What if Minseo sees” you pouted letting him hug you, your fingers instantly going to play with his curly hair on his nape.

He brushed his nose down your bridge. “Mmm I’m sure she’d be excited” he grinned. “I hear she’d think you’d be a pretty cool mom”

Your eyes widened “You heard that?”

“The window was open” he gave you a sheepish shrug. “You were so cute…” he pecked your lips. You groaned in embarrassment, trying to hide your face in his chest. “Nooo you don’t get to say all of that last night and hide from me” he laughed tilting your head up. “Look at me~” he cupped your cheeks, rubbing his thumb against your skin. “I’m probably getting a head of myself but-”

The front door swung open, and the two of you pulled a part, like two teenagers that were sneaking around. You coughed and Chan tried to stifle a laugh. A rather disheveled Felix walking in, running his hands through his hair. “Enough you two. We need to talk” his low voice is uncharacteristically serious. “I’m not going to just stand here and watch you throw away your relationship because you’re scared of failing, or you're scared of love or some shit. You belong together. You’re in love with each other. Anyone that’s ever seen you guys with Minseo would think you’re married. And I’m not gonna sit here and be complacent as you throw it all away.” he stopped his foot in frustration.

“You’re absolutely right Felix” Chan grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He called your name sweetly “Will you be my girlfriend?”  

“Yes Chris, I’d love to be your girlfriend” you giggled, pressing a sweet chaste kiss against his lips.

Felix stood in disbelief watching you two “Wait-that was way too easy are you guys already...?”

“We’re dating,” Chan chuckled. “We figured it out last night” Chan wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Aww come on guys! I really stressed all night because of this, I felt so guilty setting Hyung up on that date”

“Felix, no worries I appreciated the date. It kind of made me realize that I already had what I wanted and needed”

Felix grinned “So… you’re saying that I’m that mastermind that got you two together?”

“I’m not saying all that-”

“But you’re saying some of it”

“Felix no-”

“Ugh I’m a genius!” Felix beamed heading straight for a tray of cookies. “You know you can just thank me in your wedding vows” he gave you guys a wink “Well it’s all in a days work for a natural born cupid like myself” He grabbed a cup of orange juice before heading out the door “Cheers~”

Minseo walked out of her room dressed in her brightest t-shirt and shorts. “Who’s getting married?” She looked to you and her father, seeing you too holding hands. “Are you guys getting married!” she bounced up and down happily.

You laughed “It’s been one night” you kneeled in front of her letting her hug you. “Baby no. Your dad and I decided that we’re gonna start dating” you smoothed down her curly hair. “No one is getting married-”

“Yet” Chan interjected, bringing the cup of juice to his lips.

You looked up at him, almost in shock by his cocky little statement. You rolled your eyes seeing him raise his brows playfully.

“What changes?” Minseo looked at you curiously.

“Hmmm? What does change?” you looked back at Chan. It was hard to imagine much of your routine changing, you already spent every day with him. Most of your free time went to him anyways.

Chan kneeled down and poked Minseo’s dimple. “Nothing much, we’ll be together more and sometimes I’m gonna want to take her on a date alone and you might have to hang out with Felix but nothing big changes” he smirked at you “And she’s probably gonna be here when you wake up now” Chan grinned seeing your eyes widen, you covered your face to hide the warmth on your cheeks.

“I like these changes!” Minseo hugged Chan tightly.

“Me too” Chan smirked before lifting Minseo in his arms.

“What am I going to do with you two troublemakers?” you couldn’t help but smile back at them, Chan wrapped his free arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. 

“Too bad you’re stuck with us” he grinned

They’ve always been yours. Your happy little family, but now you weren’t scared of losing them. This was where you belonged.

End.

Epilogue 

Hey Friends! ヾ(＾∇＾)

Thank you all for coming with me on this journey I hope you liked it. This was my first written series on here and it was just so fun to write and you guys were so supportive. 

And although my series is over there is a epilogue I’m working on because it was just so darn cute I couldn’t say goodbye yet

M.List  AO3

∘Tags List:

@skzsprinkles @tophuphu​ @hugs4chan  @cobbiebaexqueen @minnieskz​  @channieboyo @em0cleo @chwrryeols​ @binki-g​ @7829-kamie

[zootopiathingz]

Thrill of the Kill

Part 1/2 (TW for blood and gore)

What if Judy and Nick didn't switch the Night Howler serum?

Just when their luck seemed to be turning around, Judy and Nick were once again struck by another surprise. Only this time, the shocking turn of events was something neither of them could have predicted. The new mayor Bellwether (formerly the assistant mayor), whom they thought was just a small and kind sheep was the mastermind behind the savage attacks in the city. She was the one targeting predators. It was her cronies doing her bidding, making the Night Howlers into a serum that infected all types of predators.

Judy was fast to realize this, as it was suspicious as to how she and the rams found them in the closed museum on their way to the ZPD. Thankfully, Judy didn't give the case to her. If anything, she held it tighter, and tried to insist she and Nick take it to the ZPD instead. But that plan backfired quickly. Their exits were blocked, and their only choice was to run and maybe come up with a plan to outwit Bellwether and her men.

But as the two ran into a closed-off section of the museum, managing to outrun the ram following them, Judy tripped over a tusk display, dropping the case and falling to the floor. She let out a painful cry as she held her injured leg, noticing the tear through her jeans and the blood caused by her cut. "Carrots!" She heard Nick say as he ran back to her. He picked her up as she grabbed the case and carried her over to hide behind a nearby wall.

Well, now that had two problems. There was a power-hungry mayor chasing them, and poor Judy couldn't even walk. How were they supposed to get out of this?

As Nick tended to her leg, they both heard Bellwether's voice call out, beckoning for Judy to reveal herself. They didn't have time, they had to get the case to the police somehow. Judy abruptly held the case up to her friend, since he was the only one between the two of them that could complete the job. "Take the case. Get it to Bogo." She knew it wasn't the best plan, but they were running out of options.

However, Nick refused to just leave her here, understandably. He didn't know what Bellwether and these rams were capable of, and he would never be able to live with himself if anything happened to Judy. "I'm not gonna leave you behind." He argued, pushing the case back to her, "That's not happening!"

"I can't walk!" She whispered urgently.

"We'll think of something." He said, trying to ease her nerves. But could they do? They were outnumbered and surrounded on all sides. It would take a miracle for them to escape unharmed.

While Bellwether continued to try to get them to surrender, they spotted a rabbit mannequin display, almost the same size as Judy. They decided to use it to trick the rams while they made their way out. Nick set it at an angle that it's shadow could be seen, then quickly scooped Judy into his arm while he held the case with his free paw.

It worked for a minute, and though when one of the rams saw it was fake, it caused some confusion which should've bought them some time. Up until they heard the clanging sound of Nick bumping into something.

"Over there!" Bellwether signaled the rams to follow the pair. Nick made a run for it toward the exit, but he struggled to carry Judy due to her limping. She held onto him tightly so she wouldn't fall, but it still slowed him down.

Unfortunately, the ram caught up to them and head-butted the two into an exhibit pit. And even more unfortunate was the gun case didn't fall in with them. Instead it was brought right back into the sheep's hooves, and now Judy and Nick were trapped.

Bellwether laughed as she walked up to the edge of the display, looking down at the two mischievously. "Well, you should've just stayed on the carrot farm, huh?" She said to Judy, "It really is too bad. I.. I did like you."

Judy sat up and glared up at her, trying to keep a brave face. "What are you gonna do? Kill me?!"

"Oh, no. No, of course not." Bellwether chuckled, then revealed the dart gun she had been hiding behind her back, her expression switching to an evil grin. "He is."

Right as the gun was fired, Nick felt a sharp pain in his neck caused by the serum pellet. He fell to the ground with a harsh grunt, holding his neck where he had been shot. "NO!" Judy yelled in horror as she scooted to his side, watching him start to twitch and tremble. "Oh, Nick!"

While Bellwether faked a panic call to the police, Judy stared down as the fox try to maintain control over his mind and body, unsure on how to help him. It wasn't like there was some magical antidote for Night Howlers she could give to him. "No, Nick, don't do this. Fight it!" She urged him, rubbing his back to try to soothe him. But it was no use. He already made contact with the serum, and now they were both screwed.

"Oh but, he can't help it, can he?" Bellwether asked mockingly after hanging up the phone, "Since preds are just 'biologically predisposed' to be savages."

Judy frowned nervously up at her, feeling guilt build up at those words. If she hadn't said something similar at the interview a couple weeks ago, she and Nick wouldn't even be in this situation, and he wouldn't be savage right now.

She gasped, now seeing Nick direct his attention to her. His widened eyes stared at her menacingly, his pupils beginning to shrink, the affects now completely taking over. And now there was nothing she could do but try to avoid his attack for as long as she could until the cops arrived. She quickly pulled back and scrambled onto her feet, having to limp away due to her injury.

Seeing her run away sent Nick into an immediate rampage. On all fours, he began to chase the limping rabbit with a loud snarl, doing whatever his instincts told him to do. It was hard to get away from him, being that even if her leg wasn't hurt he would still be faster than her. She tossed a nearby deer mannequin in his way to distract him and hopefully keep a distance between them.

Bellwether watched the scene unfold completely amused. It was working out better than she thought. If all went according to plan, Judy would be dead, Nick would be caged like the rest of the savage predators, and prey would finally have the high ground in society.

"Gosh, think of the headlines! 'Hero cop killed by savage fox'!" She taunted, walking around the exhibit to be right above the bunny.

Judy backed up against the wall, gasping in fear as she watched Nick chew and tear up the dummy, showing it no mercy. If that's what he did with just a mannequin, then she wasn't looking forward to witness what he would do to a live animal. She swallowed and looked up at Bellwether with a glare, "So that's it? Prey fears predators and you stay in power?"

The mayor shrugged, "Yeah, pretty much."

"It won't work!" Judy shook her head.

"Fear always works!" She retorted angrily, but then resumed her smug expression, waving the gun around casually. "And I'll dart every predator in Zootopia to keep it that way."

Judy didn't have time to give a response, as now she saw the fox beginning to crawl closer to her, poking his head through the fake grass. She gasped, trying to scoot away, but there was no room left behind her. She was trapped.

"Oh Nick. No..." She whispered sadly, observing her friend's state; his bearing sharp teeth, his shrunken eyes, his flaring nostrils, his low growls. This wasn't the Nick she knew and loved. It wasn't him, she kept telling herself. No matter what he was about to do to her, she kept in mind the real Nick would never do.

Bellwether laughed before her expression went cold, "Bye-bye, bunny."

As Nick closed in, Judy took a deep breath to brace herself for whatever would happen next. If this was how she died, then so be it. Hopefully someone else in Zootopia would find out the truth and stop Bellwether once and for all, so that predators could live in peace again.

Suddenly, she let out an agonizing scream as she felt Nick bite her neck, sinking his teeth into the skin under her fur. Nothing could've prepared her for that kind of pain. She felt a warm liquid roll down the side of her throat, and she knew it was blood.

She choked out a cough, pressing her paws on his shoulders, trying to push him away or at least pry his teeth out of her neck. But her attempts only made it worse and further angered the fox. He growled and pulled her up by her throat, tossing her into the fake grass. Although his actions nearly strangled her, it did cause him to release her, but only for a moment.

Right as Judy tried to stand up, she was shoved back to the ground and pinned down by the savage fox. He began to bite her chest and shoulders, tearing through her shirt with ease, tasting the blood that spewed out with every slash he made. Judy screamed and cried with her weakened vocal cords, placing her paw over her neck to try to prevent blood loss.

"Nick, stop it!" She demanded, despite knowing it was useless. Nick didn't know who she was right now. Hell, he didn't even know his own name. Right now he was on a hunt, and he wasn't gonna stop until his hunger was satisfied. Still, Judy had to do something. She squirmed and threw her legs around to try to kick him away, but no matter how much she moved, Nick wasn't setting her free.

She caught a glimpse of Bellwether, who was staring down at her, rather enjoying the sight of the bunny being mauled. How could someone be so sick and twisted to think this was entertaining?

Judy tried one last time to make this stop, and she prayed it would stall for enough time. She raised her leg up to shove her knee right into his stomach. He yapped and hunched over, in which she instantly seized her chance and crawled out of his loosened grasp, hauling herself away from the fox as fast as she could.

But her efforts were once again unsuccessful, as now Nick was even more irritated. He growled loudly and swiftly grabbed her leg with his teeth, dragging her back towards the wall. Judy cried out desperately, grasping onto random objects that she couldn't seem to hold onto for long enough. Her open wounds left a trail of blood as she was pulled back to the previous spot, where there was already a puddle of thick redness waiting to expand.

Judy felt too weak to continue trying any longer. The loss of blood was getting to her, and any hope she had of being rescued was fading. She stared up at the fox as he gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes at her. She wasn't as scared as she was a moment ago, now she was more devastated than anything. What was Nick going to do if he was ever brought back from this savage state? How was he going to live knowing he killed his friend?

"I'm so sorry, Nick." She whispered weakly, closing her eyes as a tear fell onto her face. All that was left to do now was accept her fate, and hope everything would sort itself out.

Right as Nick was about to finish her off, he suddenly froze. Judy opened her eyes to see him collapse on the ground next to her, seemingly passed out. She tried to sit up to see what was going on, but she could barely move her arms. Luckily, she could see everything from where she was laying.

To her relief, the other officers arrived just in time, and apparently had tranquilized the fox. A couple of them used an emergency ladder to climb down into the exhibit, while Bellwether tried to "explain" to Bogo what happened. It was at this point Judy had to say something while she could. She couldn't let Bellwether get away with her plan.

"W-wait," She spoke up in a frail voice, but it was loud enough for the others to hear. "D-don't listen to her. She's been..targeting p-predators."

Bellwether laughed 'innocently', regaining her guiltless facade. "Don't be silly, Judy. I would never hurt anyone." She looked up at the Chief, "We better get her to a hospital quick, she's not making any sense."

Bogo was about to say something, until he and the rest of them heard the mayor's voice. But it wasn't actually her that was speaking. It sounded more like a recording.

"And I'll dart every predator in Zootopia to keep it that way."

Everyone looked to see Judy holding up her carrot pen that she managed to hold on to this whole time, playing back the recording of Bellwether revealing her evil schemes. They all widened their eyes and turned to the sheep, watching her face drop.

The rams tried to make a break for it, but there were too many cops for them to get away. While the ones above were busy arresting Bellwether and her cronies, the two cops down in the exhibit ran to Judy's side to aid her. One of them wrapped a towel around her to apply some pressure to her gashes. The other kneeled down to Nick, pulling out a muzzle from his belt's pouch.

Judy's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the muzzle. She couldn't let them do that to Nick, not when it was the one thing he tried to avoid his whole life. "W-wait, no." She reached her paw out, signaling the officer to stop what he was doing. "D-don't hurt him, please.."

Although they were confused by her request, they obeyed and carefully carried her and Nick out of the exhibit, preparing to take them to the nearest hospital.