#Walk Through Metal Detector

[rssecurityswingturnstile]

1: dc motor speed turnstiles barriers

dc motor speedlane turnstiles barrier is a common door type, which generally includes door frames, door leaves, door manages and locks. Door frames are normally made of steel plates or wood boards, and door leaves are made of cardboard, plastic plates or glass plates. The door deal with is a device that pulls or pushes the door leaf open, and the lock is a device that avoids the door leaf from falling out of the door frame. There are normally two ways to open a door, one is to pull the door and the other is to push the door. The moving door is opened by the door handle pulling the door leaf far from the door frame, while the moving door is opened by the door manage pressing the door leaf far from the door frame.

2: dc brushless swing barriers doors

dc brushless swing barrier gates and dc motor speed turntsile barrier In comparison, train flap barriers gates is designed to obstruct water circulation through its horizontal position. In contrast, dc brushless wing turnstiles gates just manages the flow of water by changing the vertical position of eviction. subway flap barriers Eviction of gates is made up of 2 gates that can be moved horizontally to manage the flow of water. servo motor wing barriers Eviction of doors is made up of a gate that can manage the flow of water by moving vertically.

3: train flap barriers gates

train flap barrier gates, likewise referred to as movable gate, is a flood discharge facility that avoids the water level from being too expensive or too low. When the water level rises to the set worth, subway flap turnstiles gates will automatically open. When the water level drops to the set worth, subway flap barrier doors The door will close automatically. subway flap turnstile gate utilizes a water level sensor to keep an eye on water level changes and manages the opening or closing of the gate to accomplish the function of immediately controlling the water level.

4: What's the difference?

servo motor swing barrier gate generally describes closing eviction, while dc brushless fastlane turnstiles barriers describes opening the gate. train flap barrier doors and servo motor wing turnstiles gates is different from servo motor speed turntsile barrier. It is a gate installed on the water. And servo motor swing barriers gates and dc brushless speed turntsile barrier are gates installed on the wall.

[ultimateaclrecovery]

Sliced my finger open cutting up watermelon 😭😭

It’s maybe fine but it’s like half inch wide and an indeterminate amount deep, but there’s a skin flap and I have to hold it closed or blood gushes everywhere. So I went to the er just to get it checked out and see if it needs stitches or glue or something.

Hopefully that was the right call. Or least not the worst idea. It’s really chill in this er but it’s 8pm on a Friday so this may take forever….

[detective-gum-chew]

You would think that Phoenix is wearing suit pants, but no, they’re blue cargo pants for evidence storing

[anchortex-corporation]

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[officialbillhader]

ah the schipol frisking. i prefer ord's bomb test

[sagsunandmoon]

sometimes i think about how in batman arkham knight, when he walks through the gcpd every metal detector goes off. it inspired me to think about just how many metal weapons the bat carries on him at all times, enjoy this:

The JLA on an off world mission, negotiating with an Alien species:

Unknown Leader: “Yes, I’m afraid this meeting is under a no weapon policy, so please deposit them here along with any other belongings” holding a large metal box

Ollie: deposits his bow and arrow, along with a knife strapped to his calf

Diana: following suit, depositing her lasso and sword

The others do as well, the box quickly filling with a range of explosives, swords, knives, handheld traps, etc.

Then it gets to Batman…

He was just going to ignore the order, keeping all of his equipment with him before Diana gave him a sharp look, he sighed-

He started with his batarangs, the team expecting him to move on once they were released from his utility belt, but instead he proceeded to pull 2 from his calves, 2 from under his boots, one across his chest (nobody knew that the insignia could also come off??), and 4 hidden under his cape along his back.

Unknown leader: Alright then, we may procee-

Batman released his grappling hook from the belt, along with 4 explosives, 2 smoke bombs, and an emergency flair, putting them in the box as well.

Barry looked at him with utter confusion in his eyes, yet also nodded, clearly impressed. He moved to turn back to the leader but was stopped when Bruce pulled out even more equipment.

He unhooked one ear of his cowl, pulling out 3 different lock picks, the other ear detached and and became a retractable blade. (no one knew how this was possible).

Just when they finally thought it was coming to an end, he takes out 3 more knives lined in his cape pleating, a can of shark repellent?, an inhaler (for Tim), a small tin of hair gel (for Dick), a snickers bar (for Jason), a glitter bomb (for Steph), weighted gloves (for Cass), sunglasses (for Duke, not because of his power but because someone will ask him about the power and he feels he needs the glasses to complete the look), and a juice box (for Damian).

The box is full, the team is bewildered, Bruce has the audacity to ask for a second box. The aliens audibly sigh.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

TOO PRETTY TO BE STRESSED

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader summary: aaron swears he's not the clingy type...until you show up, and suddenly it's a full blown PDA parade in the bullpen, based on this request. warnings | an: fluff, they're so in love it makes me sick, lots of touching, hotch soothing r's stress with his credit card, i am once again spreading the suggar!daddy!hotch agenda, the team being annoying, hotch enabling r's spending habits. word count: 2.1k

✧ masterlist

Walking through the doors of the FBI never quite feels normal. You’d think being married to the man who runs one of its top units would earn you a little immunity from the nerves, but nope. There are still plenty of tight-lipped smiles from men who clearly think you don’t belong (to be fair, you technically don’t), and those awkward elevator rides where you end up clarifying, again, that you’re just here to drop off lunch for the most handsome agent in the building. Not that you say that part out loud. 

It doesn’t happen often, hardly ever, really. Aaron’s not the kind of man who forgets things, especially not lunch. Maybe twice every four months, if that. And even then, he never asks for you to bring it. He usually brushes off your offers with a quick ‘I’ll grab something from the cafeteria’ which, of course, actually means ‘I won’t eat until dinner.’ 

And that just won’t suffice. Especially not when he’s been filling out his shirt so nicely, lately.

So there you were, pretty shoes dragging against the dull bureau floor, lunch in one hand, cookies and your purse dangling from the other, wrist definitely starting to ache. You weren’t exactly sneaking into the bullpen, but you weren’t strutting either. Just stuck in that awkward middle space reserved for people who technically shouldn’t be there, but have the authority to show up anyway, because boss man said so.

“There she is! Hotchner’s better half,” Emily called out, spinning her chair around with a grin.

You offered a sheepish wave, trying not to drop anything. “I come bearing gifts…and mild wrist pain.”

“Oh! Are those the butterscotch ones?” Penelope squealed, jumping up from where she’d been perched on Spencer’s desk.

“Yes, new recipe,” you said, carefully setting your things down on JJ’s desk as she kindly unhooked your overloaded purse. “I swapped out the dark brown sugar for light, added a little sea salt on top, and I may have used browned butter this time. I was feeling ambitious.”

“You browned the butter?” Penelope gasped. “You absolute kitchen goddess!”

Spencer leaned in for a closer look as you popped the lid off the container. “That actually changes the flavor quite a bit. The Maillard reaction from browning—”

“Yes, yes, science, great,” Emily cut in. “Can we eat them now, or is there a presentation we have to sit through first?”

You laughed, nudging the tin closer to everyone. “No presentations. Just cookies. Though if anyone gives them a rating out of ten that’s higher than a nine, I won’t complain.”

Morgan was the first to grab one, swiftly using it as a pointer to gesture towards Aaron, who was pushing back his chair. “Oh look, here he comes.”

You glanced up just in time to catch it—that little motion he always did, fingers brushing his tie flat against his chest as he stood. A completely innocent gesture. Totally routine. And somehow still enough to make your mouth water.

“You know,” Morgan added, mid-chew, “that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen him leave his office. Last time he moved like that, we had an active shooter in the building.”

“Alright, don’t scare her,” Rossi scolded, swatting Morgan’s bicep with a file. “She already doesn't like coming here as it is.”

“Now, that’s not true, Dave,” you corrected, grabbing Aaron’s lunch. “I love seeing you all. I just prefer doing it without all the security nuisance, badges, metal detectors and guns.”

Morgan nudged your elbow, eyes still on Aaron as he made his way over. “For a guy who claims he’s not clingy, he’s practically tripping over himself right now.”

“Oh, he’s definitely clingy,” you grinned, just as Aaron reached you, wasting zero time before leaning in and placing a swift kiss to your lips, murmuring a dreamy ‘Hi you’ before pulling away.

“Come on.” Morgan shook his head, reaching for his second cookie. “This is the same guy who made us sit through a mandatory refresher on workplace boundaries, and now look at him, breaking every single one.”

“Let them be in love,” JJ said sweetly, sipping her coffee like this was all perfectly normal.

You looked up at Aaron, eyebrows raised, trying to coax some kind of reaction to all the teasing. But he didn’t even glance at the others, just kept his eyes on you as he took the lunch bag from your hands, his fingers brushing along your wrist with just enough pressure to say thank you, I missed you, without saying anything at all.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, honey.”

“I know, but I overbaked and figured I was due for my monthly dose of shocking the system.” You glanced around the bullpen, cringing a little at the endless clacking of keyboards and constant ringing of phones. It was all starting to give you at least four different headaches. “Feels like there’s less oxygen in here somehow.”

“That’s because no one is allowed to breathe until all the paperwork is done,” Emily interjected dryly. 

“Is that true, Aaron?” you asked, reaching up to fuss with his tie. “Are you working your team too hard?”

“They live to complain.”

A chorus of groans and mock-offended noises rose up around you, just as Aaron’s hand slipped to the small of your back, steering you gently towards his office.

“Blinds stay open, you two,” Morgan called after you, pointing two fingers from his eyes to yours. “We’re watching!”

“Just keep walking,” Aaron murmured into your hair, voice quiet and beguiled, giving your hip a subtle squeeze as he guided you up the stairs.

You bit back a grin, feeling far too smug—and frankly, far too giddy—for someone standing in a federal building. Inside his office, he quietly closed the door behind you and you made yourself at home by sliding into one of the chairs across from his desk. 

“Think Morgan might have a point, you are getting a little reckless with the PDA. You’re going soft.”

He moved to his chair, smoothing his tie against his chest as he sat. “I’ve always been soft with you.”

That answer knocked the wind out of you in the quietest way. You blinked once, then shook your head. “Wow. Okay. That’s not even fair.”

He just looked amused, unpacking the lunch bag while sneaking glances at you like he couldn’t help himself. “You know they’ll be talking about this all afternoon.”

You waved him off and kicked his foot gently under the desk, because footsies, like true love, didn’t have an expiration date. “Let them. Let them talk about how you have a gorgeous, brilliant, amazing wife who is kind enough to hand-deliver your lunch.”

“They already know.”

“Good answer.” You nodded, satisfied, and handed him a few tissues just as he took the first bite of his sandwich. “Now, how's your day been? And don’t say ‘fine’, or I’ll start pulling out my therapist's voice and asking about your coping mechanisms.”

He chewed, giving you a dour look over the top of the sandwich like he was already reconsidering speaking at all.

“Busy. Two consults, one profile draft, and I’ve had to remind Morgan three times to finish his report.”

“So… business as usual.”

“Basically.”

He took another bite, and you used the pause to admire him. How pretty he looked. He was getting subtly more rugged with time, never quite managing the clean-shaven look, not for lack of trying, but that had always been fine by you. You loved him exactly as he was.

Your eyes wandered over his desk, taking in the meticulously organised scene in front of you. Everything was in its place, except for a single pen and one loose file slightly out of line, a tiny disruption in an otherwise perfect system. It made you smile.

He wiped his mouth, and in that moment, his wedding band caught the thin stream of light this moody building begrudgingly allowed in. As if the universe was saying, yes, look—he’s yours.

And you thanked her silently for it. Because he was.

“Want to ditch the rest of the day, fake a headache, and run away with me to somewhere that doesn’t require badge access?” you proposed, straightening the photo of you on his desk. 

He tilted his head. “Tempting.”

“You’d never actually do it, though.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I’ll think about it the whole time I’m here.”

Your smile pulled a little wider. “That’s enough for me. That—and as long as I’ll have you home in time for dinner,” you said, though it came out as more of a question. Maybe even a tiny, minuscule threat. 

“Don’t worry, I will,” he assured you kindly. “I know your parents are coming over tonight. I wouldn’t dream of making you face that alone. I’m guessing that’s what’s been bothering you, hence the industrial-sized cookie batch?”

You sighed, slumping back into the chair. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me.”

“You know they’re hard work. And I can only fake-smile and nod my way through so many stories about people I don’t remember and opinions I didn’t ask for.”

Aaron set his sandwich aside, abandoning it on the tissue you had passed him earlier. He used another to wipe his hands, then stood, taking two steps to get to you. 

Before you could say anything, his hands were on either side of your chair, gently turning it to face him. He crouched down, and you instinctively parted your legs so he could slot in between them. 

“Hey,” he urged softly. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get through it together, and if it gets to be too much, I’m excellent at coming up with polite excuses to get them out of the house.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart.”

And just in case his words were not confirmation enough, his hands came to cradle your face, thumbs circling your skin before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Go to that bookstore you like,” he said next, already reaching into his pocket. “Grab your favorite coffee, roam around for a while, and try not to stress until they text you that they’re on their way, okay?”

He pulled out his wallet and fished out his card. “You’re too pretty to be stressing in this skirt.”

You raised a brow, lifting one leg and watching the flowy fabric settle back down over your knee. “It’s cute right?”

“Very.” He nodded, dead serious. “Go buy yourself another one.” He extended the card towards you like it was non-negotiable.

You laughed, giving his hand a light swat. “I’m not taking your card like some 1950s housewife.”

“You’re not. You’re my very independent, endlessly capable wife who I happen to love spoiling any chance I get. Now, please, take it. Call it payment for lunch…and for making you come all the way here, knowing full well how much you’d rather avoid this place.”

You pouted, eyes dancing between the card and his face. “Fine,” you relented, plucking the card from his hand. “But I’m only getting one book. Two max. The bookshelf is about to collapse.”

“Buy as many as you want.” He reached down, helping you to your feet with a gentle tug. “I’ll build you a new bookshelf.”

“You?”

“Yes, me.” 

“You’ll build me a new bookshelf?”

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “With actual tools.”

“Okay, now I have to see that.”

He pulled back, straightening your cardigan, fussing without ever making it feel like fussing. “Then you better pick up a lot of books.” 

You rolled your eyes, tucking the card away into your pocket. “This is enabling.”

“This is love,” he corrected, stealing a quick kiss before walking you to the door. “Text me when you get there. And if you see a ridiculous romance novel with a cheesy title, get it. I want to hear the plot.”

You grinned, poking his chest. “You just want to make fun of me.” 

“No, I just like knowing what’s taking up space in that beautiful head of yours.” 

“It’s mostly just you.”

He looked like he was trying not to smile too hard at that, so you saved him the trouble by leaning up and giving him one last kiss, ignoring all the hollering behind you from Morgan. 

“I love you,” he promised, smoothing a hand down your arm. “Now, go before I change my mind and fake a headache just to come with you.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @wowitsafemale @cinnamoncunt @mggslover @khxna @keiminds

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[derinthescarletpescatarian]

so i'm currently living in belgium and i went to the australian embassy yesterday to go vote, and while i was trying to find the aus embassy i found the us embassy. i genuinely am beginning to think usamericans are beyond parody, because why the fuck does their full-block sized embassy need an extra 2.5 metre gate sticking out into the road out the front, multiple in-uniform soldiers all sitting in literal guardposts, another just as tall gate to actually get to the front yard, then a metal detector at the doors - there's like 5 layers of security before you can even get through the front door! not to mention the small hoard of massive flags, of course.

meanwhile, the australian embassy is on the 7th floor of a building that has no indication anywhere on the outside that the embassy is even in there (to the point that i walked past it multiple times trying to find it), and all you have to do to get in is alert reception that you're there so someone can come get you and then go through a metal detector. absolutely ridiculous.

I get why the US President has goofy-looking levels of security because people have killed quite a lot of them, and attempted to kill the current one, but the embassy? Who the fuck is expecting a hit on the US ambassador?

[tomsparkyr]

𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐘!

following episode one of 'inside' — george clarke x fem!reader

by any means i do not own 'inside' and all credit is theirs (!!)

wc: 6.4K

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat yourself down on the chair placed in the middle of the room, a soft blue and purple light flooding the area. You smiled at the camera in front of you, feeling a little bit nervous at the entire concept of the show; but nonetheless, you still agreed to contribute to it.

It was difficult not to tell your friends about the whole thing, sworn (and to a contract) that you weren’t allowed to tell them you were entering a home with no outside contact for 7 days; only allowed to tell them you were taking a social media break.

Your family knew, obviously. But unable to tell your fellow youtuber friends was tough, because it was so painfully obvious where you were going.

Having to lie to George, Chris and everyone else was awkward. They had arranged plans for the next week and you had to reluctantly say no, because of course, you would much rather be stuck in a home with people you don’t know and then spending money that could potentially be yours.

Clearing your throat, you introduced yourself.

”Hello, my name is Y/N, I’m 24 and I’m a youtuber slash content creator!” You grinned expectantly at the camera.

Continuing, “Most of my content is just… me and my friends getting drunk and filming it because we think we’re funny!” You answered honestly, thinking back on the many times you got too drunk filming pub golf videos that George had to give you a piggy-back on the walk home.

The camera crew asked you how well you think you’re going to do in the challenge,

“I’d like to think I’ll do well, honestly!” You laughed.

”I spend money but I don’t spend so much at a time; like I could go weeks without buying something, then suddenly I’m a couple hundred quid down within a week?”

You continued, “I think I can go without my phone for a week; I’d like to think I’m not that addicted.” You laughed and cringed slightly.

”If anything I think I’ll miss my friends more than anything. I’m sure I’ll love the people there but it’s meeting new faces, I’d just love to walk in there now and see someone I know— My dog! That’s it, I’ll miss my dog this most!” You interrupted yourself, losing your train of thought.

The camera crew laughed at you and pushed the interest about your dog back home, “I just hope she’s being looked after. I’ve left her with George for the week so I think she’ll live?” You laughed nervously.

Upon this, the camera crew behind the device smirked and tilted their heads downwards so you couldn’t see their face. A couple of them turned around and subtly nudged each other.

It was at this point that the crew said that your interview was over and that it was time to enter the place you’ll be living in for the next week.

You nervously picked up your suitcase, clinging onto your comfort pillow in your right arm and hugging it tight to your chest. You couldn’t remember if you could take this into the house but taking no risks, you took it anyway.

You entered a white room with zero life in it; a metal detector gate stood in the centre of the room and a hole to put your luggage in.

”Oh, God.” You muttered under your breath as you realised there was no turning back now.

You paused for a second and scanned the area before realising it was just you in here, “Oh, I’m by myself… that’s embarrassing.” You laughed at yourself, knowing your friends at home were going to be making fun of you when this aired.

Walking through the metal detector, you lugged your suitcase behind you and only just recognised that you might have overpacked for a place that would not utilise your items in absolutely any way.

After putting your suitcase on the conveyor, you walked through to the main area in which you could hear some voices, none of which you could distinguish.

Walking through the empty hallway, you called out “Hello?”

Upon saying this, two heads poked out and their eyes widened at the sight of you.

The girl ran over to you and embraced you into a hug and introduced herself, “Hey, I’m Mya!” She smiled at you as you responded; she was happy there was another girl in the house with her already.

Meanwhile, the man who had seen you first turned his attention to the other male in the house as you and Mya embraced; “Yo, George, isn’t that your girlfriend?”

George furrowed his brows, a bit taken aback “My what?” He laughed a bit as his feet took him towards the hallway to peek at the new arrival; who was supposedly his girlfriend?

Pulling back from Mya’s hug, you made direct eye-contact with George, your best friend, standing a couple feet away from you. “What the fuck?” You shouted and broke out into a sprint towards him, him already on route to you.

”No way!” He shouted back and caught your figure into a tight hug, his arms wrapped comfortably around your waist and lifted you off the ground slightly as he buried his face into your neck amidst the hug.

You slung your arms around his broad shoulders and fell into the all too familiar embrace, catching his scent and subtly running your hands through the hair on the back of his head.

”Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in here?” He chuckled, his voice muffled as his head was tucked into your neck; he had settled you down onto the floor now but didn’t falter his grip by any means.

You laughed back at him, pulling your head away so you could maintain eye-contact with him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You retorted jokingly.

PK looked confused, “So they are boyfriend and girlfriend then?” Mya laughed at him, knowing the extent that you and George got shipped on Tiktok, the occasional edit finding itself on everyone’s for you page.

You and George turned back to look at PK,“No, no! George is my best friend!” You smiled at him, still in disbelief that George was actually here; “Half my videos are just with her.” George finished for you.

PK tilted his head, pointing between you two in which at the time you realised George’s hands were still resting on your waist while yours were cradling the back of his neck.

Confused (still), PK shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal, completely convinced that he was looking at a couple in front of him.

As more people entered one by one, you and George dispersed from the group, his arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you against him the entire time.

You shook your head and looked up at him with a smile, “What are you even doing here?”

George smiled down at you as you settled themselves down on the sofa in the living room.

“Dunno, the Sidemen like me so I thought, why not?” He laughed at himself, you scooted closer to him as he picked up a cushion to set it down on yours and his lap.

He nudged you, “What about you, you little minx, how did you keep that a secret from me?”

You smirked and fiddled with the loose threads on the cushion.

”I didn’t tell anyone!” You admitted, “Not you, not Chris, not Arthur; I told no one! Not even— Wait…” You trailed off, eyes widening.

”George, who’s looking after my dog?” You said, fear flooding your features.

George laughed and threw his head back, a hand rubbing up and down your shoulder as you persisted on the whereabouts of your dog.

”She’s living with Chris and Arthur for the week.” He reassured you, an obvious relief washing over you as your shoulders fell from a hunched position.

In your own little world, you and George nattered away to each other, updating him on everything he’s missed and completely ignorant to the new members joining the house; because you were all too consumed with each other.

George just knew at that moment that when this aired, Chris was going to rip into the way he was staring at his ‘best friend’.

A shouting voice tore you out of your George-infused daze as it was directed at you two, “Wait, you’re that couple that’s always edited on my for you page?”

The blonde girl next to her snapped her head around to the pair of you sitting with George’s arm still around you, her eyes widening, “Holy shit! I love you two!”

George’s cheeks suddenly were painted a pink colour and you sported a flushed face. An awkward laugh bubbled from your chest, “What?”

Upon seeing your awkward faces and red creeping up your necks, the blonde girl covered her mouth and apologised, “Oh fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

You stood up and left George’s touch, walking over to the girl with a comforting smile on your face.

“Don’t worry! Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You said as you raised your arms out for a hug.

She met you halfway as she responded,“Ugh, you’re gorgeous. I’m Milli.” She smiled sweetly at you, peering over her shoulder to see the other girl still gawking at you.

The louder one strutted over and immediately pulled you into a hug, “I’m Farah, who is sorry about—“ “Oh, God. Don’t even worry about it!” You reassured the girl, finding it quite amusing that you and George had crept your ways onto other people’s for you page.

time skip!

The bedroom situation was the next challenge.

After introducing yourself to everyone (they acted as if they didn’t know who you were, but they had all seen the George x Y/N edits) you all made your way over to the bedrooms, some even breaking out into a sprint.

A couple people jumped onto their beds, claiming it as their own. There were two double beds and the rest were singles, but because there were only 10 people at the time, sharing a double bed wouldn’t be an issue at the moment.

George leaped onto one bed and said sarcastically, “Oh my God, guys, stop fighting over my bed!” You laughed at him and slowly sat down on the one remaining bed next to his.

You crawled onto your bed after readjusting the pillows against the headboard so you could sit up comfortably, leaning back and allowing your eyes to close momentarily.

It wasn’t until you felt a nudge on your shin that you opened your eyes and saw a George Clarke resting on his stomach, a pillow squished between his chest and the bed, his beaming smile staring at you.

You tilted your head at him and smiled softly, lightly kicking your foot back at him as his hand lingered on your leg; the rest of the room became a blur as he kept looking at you.

Sending a quick wink your way, he hoisted himself up off the bed and gestured a hand out to you. You took it as he helped you onto your feet, so the group could walk back into the living room per producers request.

The group all positioned themselves on the couch, George settling down on the end as you squeezed between him and Mandi. With little spare room on the couch, George carefully lifted your leg so it was led over his thigh and his hand rested comfortably on your knee. Opposite you, Whitney grinned at the action.

George was fiddling with his bottle as the group conversed, “So, Y/N what do you do?” Cinna asked you.

Hearing your name, you perked up. “I mainly do YouTube videos with this weirdo here.” You pointed a thumb George’s way.

The group laughed at you and took careful notice at your closeness with George. “And George, what do you do?” She continued.

George tilted his head, “I started on TikTok.” He trailed off as Whitney butted in. “Do you talk on TikTok?”

“Yeah.” George responded. Whitney persisted, “Why not in real life?” You furrowed your brows at this. George, oblivious to her, said “Should I stop?” as he pointed at himself jokingly.

“But you don’t talk in real life! I’m like “George…” Whitney said. She was then interrupted by the Sidemen walking in, smug smirks tugging on their face.

You and George smiled at the familiar faces, previously being in Sidemen videos in the past. You took notice that George’s mood had picked up more now he knew more than one person, becoming more comfortable in the odd place he was confined in.

JJ began for the group, “Welcome to the new series of Inside!” 

The group whooped and cheered at this. Everyone was excited at the prospect of winning a million pounds.

The Sidemen began listing off the rules and concept of Inside, everyone nodding along and the occasional verbal reaction. 

Harry pointed at you and the group, “You’ll be glad to know, the shop is now open!” You and Farah made eye-contact and started jumping up to run to the shop as a joke, the group laughing at the pair of you.

JJ said one last thing before everyone bid their goodbyes to the Sidemen, “Good luck, motherfuckers!”

You all clapped and half heartedly cheered, more nervous than excited at this rate because the money you could win was in the hands of everyone else.

Farah quickly asked as they were leaving, “Wait, can I ask? When is the first challenge?”

“Shut up.”

time skip!

The group all discussed that you wanted to keep the prize money at least 800K, agreeing with a ‘hands in the middle’ before you all jogged down to the shop.

As you entered, half the group were already in there and complaining about the lack of choices they could purchase, Milli however wasn’t upset about the prices at this point.

You and George lurked at the back, shoulder to shoulder and laughed at Mandi as she stood up to the camera asking about the whereabouts of her vodka.

As a quarter of the group decided on food and drinks as the first purchase before you butted in with a suggestion, “Wait, surely we should get some entertainment first, just so we don’t all want to die on the first day?”

George, Dylan and Milli pointed at you, nodding and verbalising their agreement. Milli grabbed your upper arm and took you both to the camera to confirm your order.

“I’ll say table tennis bat and you’ll say table tennis ball, right?” You asked her, she smiled as you both poked your head up to the camera and held your microphone to your mouth.

“Can I confirm the table tennis bat,” “And the table tennis ball, please?” You and Milli spoke, giggling at each other after as you made eye-contact.

You distanced yourself from the group and they began talking louder and speaking over each other, finding yourself settled next to George who had barely spoken outside of you since being in here.

Looking at the list of items, you nudged George, “What the fuck is a ‘golden straw’?” You laughed and furrowed your brows.

You saw his eyes scan the list and chuckle at the item considering its price, “That’s actually a stupid price.” He thought out loud.

“I swear if anyone buys that shit…” You closed your eyes and shook your head, sneaking your arms around him so you could link arms.

The door suddenly opened to reveal the items you and Milli had bought. She turned around and called your name to come over to her. You walked over and tugged George close along behind you.

You saw Milli’s shoulder drop and she leaned down to pick the item up, “What?” You questioned. She turned around and lifted up the one tennis bat.

“No!” You gasped and tightened your grip on George’s arm. “Is it one?” He asked, dreading the worst after your reaction.

“It’s one!” Milli confirmed your suspicions. You groaned, cursing out the Sidemen as everyone around out kept bickering. You watched as Dylan walked back to the camera.

“I’m confirming that you did scam us with that one, I’m not going to lie. So we are ordering one more bat.” He purchased the other bat.

You turned around to face George, smiling up at him as his figure towered over you. “I’m gonna kick your ass at table tennis.” You promised to him and yourself. Laughing at you, he drifted his hands down to rest on your hips, “Best out of three; guaranteed I’m gonna win all three.” He replied smuggly, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Not bothering to listen to everyone talk about eating arrangements, you yanked George’s arm and the pair of you ran back to the living room, table tennis bats in hands and laughing in joy. Even in a confined house with 10 other people, you found George attached to you as if it was only the pair of you; no one else mattered except for him.

George walked around the table, shoving you lightly before the game started in an attempt to throw you off. You cleared your throat, “This is a practice round, no cheating and no foul play!”

“You’re only saying it’s a practice round so you’re not embarrassed when I kick your ass.” George winked at you and threw the table tennis ball down onto the table.

You heard a playful gag next to you, “Ew, guys stop flirting!” Cinna stated sarcastically. You and George only laughed and began playing against each other.

George played against you for a couple rounds, the game going back and forth a handful of times. Eventually, after a good 15 minutes, you beat George in a tight game. George only shrugged and walked backwards to sit on the couch, leaning his body back and relaxing for the first time since walking in here.

You tilted your head and called Dylan up to play against you, still high on adrenaline. “Dylan, come play the reigning champion!”

Hearing this, George’s head popped up with furrowed brows. “What? I thought you said it was a practice round?” He asked in mock offence.

You shrugged, “Yeah it was… until I beat you.” George suppressed a laugh into a groan and rolled his head back as you shot him a sickeningly sweet smile; knowing he had been caught out by you once again (not that he did anything to stop it).

interview room!

“I mean, I think I’ve started off decently. Barely spent money so far, but I haven’t been down there since I got the table tennis stuff.”

“I mean, I don’t really care about winning now that I’ve beaten George in table tennis! I’ve known him for years, played against him thousands of times and now suddenly hours into my new home for the week and straight off the bat I’ve already taken the win”

“My main concern right now is that I’m so hungry. And I know the meals are gonna be shit, but honestly, I could take anything right now!”

After gossiping about the whole pot noodle fiasco, an alert came up on the screen: ‘Lunch is now ready to collect from the shop’.

“Oh, thank God.” You groaned, feeling the effects of a constant rumbling stomach taking a toll on you. George, who was sitting opposite you looked puzzled and partially offended, “You’re taking the piss. Lunch?”

Leading the pack down to the shop, you skipped down to the final step and came face to face with an open trap door and met some… unpleasant food. Picking up two of the pots, you inspected the food.

George creeped in behind you and peered over your shoulder. Upon seeing his presence, you passed him his meal and stiffled a laugh at his scrunched up nose and face of disgust.

Grabbing a spoon, you opened the pot and attempted not to be put off it immediately. You watched Mandi verbally express her utter hatred towards the food; placing a hand on her shoulder, you urged her to try a bit before she opted out. “Hey, Mandi. Just try a little before--”

“Can I confirm an upgrade, please?” You sighed as she ignored you. Feeling awkward now, George wrapped his arm around its usual spot on your shoulder and tugged you against him, whispering in your ear not to worry about it; unbeknownst that the cameras can see and hear everything.

The pair of you walked away from the chaos of buying upgrades, chatting to each other and sitting back down onto the couch.

Cinna watched you and walked up to you, “Come with me to get the rest?” She urged, knowing many people had left scraps of food down in the shop and was aware of your hunger earlier on.

You smiled at her and left George’s touch, him frowning slightly. You followed side by side with Cinna, strutting into the shop and splitting the weight of the spare food between the two of you.

As you began walking away, you spotted something shiny left in the shop.

“No fucking way.” You murmered, now having personal issues with this goddamned straw. Cinna turned around at your words, eyes widening and walking over to pick up the straw.

“Is there a golden straw in there? Did they leave it?” She questioned no one in particular.

You threw the straw a rude face, “That shit cost fucking £2,500?” You shook your head, already having some suspects on who bought it.

Snatching the straw off her, you stormed ahead to the living room to ask some very needed questions; Cinna laughing at you as she trailed behind, finding your beef with the straw hilarious.

“Who bought this?” You spoke loudly as you entered the room, watching George on the beanbag throw his head back in mock frustration, murmuring some swear words in the wake.

Cinna walked in and made a bee-line for Mandi, “It was you, wasn’t it?” Mandi’s lack of an answer told you the whole story.

Passing the straw to Mandi, you felt a hand brush yourself and looked down to George playing with your fingers as he remained seated, his eyes watching the conversations rather than you. You suppressed a smile at this and tried to fight back a blush from creeping onto your face.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the voice of Tobi rang around the house, “It’s time for your first challenge.”

time skip!

Finally, it was you and George remaining; neither of you had been selected to compete in Insider Dating (a part of you felt like they set you two up on purpose, but by no means were you complaining).

“And lastly… George? Y/N?” Simon smirked, holding his card close to his chest.

The group whooped and cheered as the pair of you stood up, even JJ was jeering you on. Tobi leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and JJ let out his gawking laugh in response. You groaned, fully aware it was something revolving between you and George.

George sat down opposite you, a worried grin painted on his face as you sucked in a deep breath, picking up the menu in front of you.

“For not the first restaurant date for these two,” Simon started, smirking as he watched both of your faces grow a shade darker and keeping your heads down low. Some of the other contestants let out a wolf-whistle and slammed the table as they laughed at Simon’s joke. “On the menu for you two is Shocking Questions.”

As you inspected the menu more, confused on what was happening, George had already figured it out. He looked at the Sidemen for confirmation and said, “Oh.” You looked up at him, hoping he wouldn’t see your blush. “What’s that?”

“We’ll be getting shocked.” He said with a lack of enthusiasm. You closed your eyes and sighed, nervous about both the questions and being shocked; but remaining determined that you wouldn’t press the red buzzer.

Simon started, “Okay, George. You’ll be answering the questions first, so, Y/N, please ask the first question.”

You took a deep breath, inspecting the question before looking up at George and asking him, “What is your worst online dating experience?”

Unsure when to start, George looked around him and then at the camera, “Okay, um…”

He placed his hands on the table in front of him, “I matched with somebody on--” He cut himself off as an electric jolt sent his body forwards as he groaned in pain. You covered your mouth in shock and offered a hand out on the table for him to grip onto for comfort.

Taking your hand very quickly he continued, “That’s a lot of power. Um. I matched with somebody on Hinge, and I was speaking to them for about two days. Voice notes back and forth, it was fun. And then--”

Another jolt came through and he squeezed your hand hard, cursing out in the meantime, “Oh, God! I’m sorry, Y/N!” You shook your head and reassured him, “No, no! Keep going, you’re doing great!” The contestants laughed at you as you attempted to comfort George as more jolts came through.

“Fucking hell. Um, then I tried to meet up with them, but it turns out they weren’t real. I was there for an hour and a half.” You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his story, focusing on him and keeping eye-contact with him to try and urge him through this. Also thinking at the same time, if his questions were bad, think of the masacre for you.

“I came back home, reverse Google Image searched them--” George’s body locking up in pain from the electric, “And they weren’t real. Fucking hell, that’s a lot!” He groaned, still squeezing your hand across the table.

Simon urged you to ask the next question, “Could we please have the second question?”

Your eyes widened at the question and George felt more jolts come through, “Oh, my God, please, can we make it a quick one?” He begged, playing with your fingers and cracking your knuckles as a way to distract himself from the pain. “Oh, my God. That was actually quite bad.”

You began starting the next question, interrupted by George burying his head into his bicep and groaning out, “Fuck!”

“If you had to snog, marry and avoid three Insiders, who and why?” You stared into his eyes as a faint pink sprinkled his cheeks; you couldn’t decipher whether that was out of pain or embarrassment of the question.

George pulled a shocked yet puzzled face, “I don’t fucking know!” 

PK from the side shouted out, “Yes, you fucking do!” while pointing your way; you were unable to see this as your eyes were trained on George in front of you.

“Both genders?” George joked to try and diffuse the situation, making the Sidemen laugh as jolts of electricity came through more frequently and painfully.

George shook his head and gestured towards you, “Snog you, avoid Farah,” He turned around to face her and sent an apologetic look her way, “Sorry, you’re quite loud!” The rest of the group laughed as he turned back to you, “And marry Y/N!”

The group, including the Sidemen all screamed and pointed accusing fingers at George, while you sat with a mouth open and a surely bright red face by now. “You said Y/N twice!” Simon raised his brows and shouted at the man. “You can’t pick the same person twice!” JJ laughed.

George’s eyes widened as he realised what he did, “Shit! I meant marry Y/N, snog Y/N-- Shit!” He cursed as another jolt came through and stumbled over his words, “Fuck! No! Snog Mya!”

Everyone, including you laughed at him as Simon now approved the answer, and George’s grip on your hand faltered and he hid his face on the table, embarrassed beyond belief.

Some of the girls awed at his answer as the chaos had only just settled down, the focus turning on to you (as if it wasn’t already).

You rolled your head back in an attempt to release some nerves but failed to do so. You swallowed hard and looked in front of you to see George, now sat upright, staring at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher.

Looking down at the table, you saw George’s extended hand open for you, “Tit for tat?” He tilted his head, smiling at you as you accepted it, your palm brushing his. He took a deep breath as his heart jumped a little bit at the intimate moment shared in front of everyone and dozens of cameras.

Simon perked up again, “George, could you please ask the first question?” 

George looked down at the question sheet, eyes widening at the second question in particular, but chose to tackle that situation when he got there.

“Y/N,” You were waiting for the first shock but it hasn't come yet, “Why did you break up with your last boyfriend?” George asked.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, “Oh, God. Alright, so basically--” You screamed as the first shock came through and your body jolted forward in a much similar fashion as George’s previously had. You gripped his hand hard, feeling bad that you could potentially be hurting him in the process.

“You’ve got it, you’ve got it.” George encouraged you, a soft smile etched across his face.

“Shit! Okay--” Another shock going up your spine, painful but quick, “He said I was in-- Fuck!” More and more shocks came through. You understood you would have to rush this answer because there was no way you could get through it at this rate.

“He said I was in love with someone else apparently, so he-- Shitting Hell!” You gripped George’s hand. “So he cheated on me and I snitched on him to his mother!” You blurted out, hearing the loud laughter from the contestants and the Sidemen around you, even George was trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

JJ’s laugh stood out from everyone elses, “Damn Y/N! We’ll take that. George, next question?”

George’s smile fell slightly, “Right, Y/N…” Your body jolted forward in pain, “Shit! George, I love you but please hurry up!” The group laughed at your reaction.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N explain the story of your first kiss.” His voice faltered towards the end, heart thumping in his chest as your face paled.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head rapidly, “No! No! I can’t say that!” Tobi butted in, “Answer or lose 10K!”

A horrendous jolt of electricity went through your body and your hand held George’s while the other bunched up the cloth of the table as you squeezed it.

“Tell us, Y/N!” You heard other contestants shout at you. Milli shouted, “Come on, Y/N! You can do it!”

You tossed your head back, “Fuck! Okay! So basically, we were younger and neither of us-- Shit!” 

“Neither of us had had our first kiss yet, so we--” You groaned, head now falling forwards as your hair covered your face slightly. George leaned over and brushed it away, tucking it behind your ears. 

“Push the button, Y/N!” JJ urged. “Fuck off!” You screamed back, some of the group crying with laughter and standing up in doing so.

“We played odds on that we had to kiss right then and there! That’s it! Please turn this fucking thing off!” You begged, feeling sweat drip from your forehead now.

However, Simon decided to alter the rules of the game.

“Y/N, we’re not accepting that until you tell us who it was with.”

Your eyes bulged out of their head as the screaming around you ensured, George falling unusually quiet compared to everyone else as his gaze remained locked on you.

“What the fuck? That’s not-- Oh, God!” You groaned, “That’s not fair!”

JJ and Tobi just laughed, “Just tell us!”

You shook your head rapidly, “No fucking way!”

“Say it!” They screamed.

“No!” You responded with the same energy.

“You’re not leaving until you tell--”

“George!”

Everyone around you jumped up in shock and amusement, smacking the table laughing and pointing fingers at you and George.

George’s mouth also dropped open in shock as he didn’t think you would actually admit to it, blush coating his neck and cheeks as everyone was looking at you two and that you had exposed your deepest secret.

Your body relaxed as the shocks stopped but you didn’t necessarily win; sure, not losing 10K is great, but now on day one of your new home, everyone would talk about you and George, definitely not helping your case that you’re not dating.

Simon removed his hand from covering his mouth in shock, “Well… I guess you passed.” He didn’t know what to say, no one did really; everyone was just screaming incoherent words in disbelief of this entire situation.

You had never wanted to hear the words of Tobi more in your entire life, “Insiders, you have completed your first challenge of the series.”

time skip!

After a long first day, you had settled yourself down onto the couch in the living room. Led down, you sported George’s hoodie as he found himself back at the table tennis court; this time battling against PK. Blocking everyone out, you drift off for your much needed nap.

As George played against PK, the new contestant DDG had some questions.

“I didn’t know the Sidemen let couples on here.” He thought out loud, catching everyone in the room's attention. They looked at him with tilted heads. “Who’s the couple?” Cinna asked.

DDG pointed a thumb in your direction as you laid unconscious on the couch, “That’s your girl, right?” He nodded towards George.

George chuckled and looked down, “Yeah, George. How’s your girl?” PK teased.

Shaking his head, George served the tennis ball nonchalantly, “She’s just my friend.” He didn’t know who he was trying to prove, himself or those around him.

Dylan butted in, “Oh yeah, I just kiss my best friends every now and then.”

Without looking at them, George continued, “Ah! I was her first kiss, that doesn’t mean we just kiss every now and then.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh?” PK laughed. In mock retaliation, George served a harsh ball his way, the mini group laughing at him.

DDG looked between you on the couch and George standing to his right, “Hold up… you’re not dating her?” George shook his head.

He raised his brows, “For real, man?”

George slowly nodded, “For real.” He sounded partially disappointed but masked it as he continued playing table tennis.

time skip!

You found yourself standing in the shop alone, inspecting the items as you were yet to purchase anything for yourself, excluding the singular tennis bat earlier. You heard someone creeping up behind you.

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” George whispered from beind you, crouching down slightly so he could reach your height. You leaned back into him and his hands wrapped around your waist.

“Why the fuck do I want that jiggly ball so bad?” You thought out loud. George responded with a loud gawking laugh, stumbling back a bit and bringing you with him.

You turned around and slapped his chest, “No, George! It’s not funny! Why does every part of me need that jiggly ball?”

He looked down at you with a suggestive eyebrow raise, your face fell as you understood what he was insinuating. “Oh, shut up!”

Laughing, you held his hand and walked out of the shop together. You settled on the couch again after your nap, reintroducing yourself Patrice as the last time you saw him was when you were half-asleep.

A couple of minutes later, you heard your name being whispered at the door. Standing up, you followed the noise and was met with George suppressing a wild grin and something stuffed up his shirt. “Oh, God. What did you do?” You smiled.

George leaned down and dragged the pair of you into the corner of the room, “I might have suggested that Farah get something for you.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement.

“No, you didn’t…” You mumbled. 

It was then that George whipped out the bright purple and blue jiggly ball from underneath his shirt, handing it to you and bouncing it between his hands in the process, giggling in excitement. “Oh, my God!” You squealed.

You took the ball from him and played with it for a moment before looking up to see George already staring at you. You shook your head, smiling at him, “Thank you!” 

You pulled him into a crushing hug, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground, swaying the pair of you back and forth slightly. He placed you back down as you seperated from the hug, hands remaining on your waist as you stared at each other, not breaking eye-contact. 

Neither of you said anything to each other, but your eyes said so much more. The hand that wasn’t holding the ball reached up to his face and urged him to tilt his head to the side, before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Pulling away from your peck, you smiled at him and backed away slightly. You tossed the ball so it hit his forehead lightly and bounced back into your hands, “I’ll see you later.” You bit your lip to keep your smile from growing.

Walking away, you didn’t notice that George watched you as you went; a hand pressed up against his cheek where you had kissed him, only hoping it was closer to his lips.

As bedtime rolled around, you situated yourself in your bed next to George’s. You rested on the side facing him, finding him doing the same and could recognise his beaming smile even in the darkness.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as the tiredness took a toll on you. You let your hand flop off the side of your bed, not thinking too much of it.

Then, you felt a soft brush against your hand and looked down at it, seeing George’s hand lacing his fingers with yours as his hand was stretched off his own bed. Leaning off the side of his bed, George pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, signaling a sweet ‘goodnight’ to you before the pair of you dozed off.

Maybe this weird, confined lifestyle where everything was overpriced and challenges determined your mood for that day wasn’t too bad. But maybe, it was rather the person holding your hand that could help you tolerate this.

taglist (ps love u all):

@sidemenslver @wherethezoes-at @multifanxtvshows @bibissparkles @le-le-lea @tiamonetsworld @dopeysunflowers @viagracex @rebeccaw05-blog @sundarksposts @sabbrriiinnaa @lovingaphroditesworld @evisceratedmuke @youtubewag @happyclifford @liz140569 @addiemb8332 @isabellem2909 @madforgeorge @pookietv @iammyownselfdestruction @marijas-stuff @maggie-readss @bambidollstar @lottiewills @hollie911

[wroetolando]

𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙴𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where the world doesn’t know you’re an amputee, but lando does—and he helps in all the little ways that matter, until one day, a fall at silverstone reveals everything

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: apocalypse - cigarettes after sex

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You never expected Lando to treat you any differently when he found out about your prosthetic leg. You’d been prepared for hesitation, for awkward questions, maybe even for pity. But you got none of that.

Instead, you got Lando Norris—the same goofy, teasing, fiercely protective man he always was. The one who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one who knew exactly how you liked your tea, and the one who never, not once, made your prosthetic feel like a limitation.

The fans didn’t know. Not because you were ashamed, but because it wasn’t something you talked about publicly. To Lando, it was just a part of you��something he adapted to without hesitation, in all the little ways that mattered.

They didn’t see those moments.

They didn’t see the way he naturally adjusted his pace to match yours when you were walking through the paddock. Or how he always carried a small first-aid kit in his backpack, just in case your prosthetic irritated your skin. They didn’t see how he looked at you—not with pity, but with absolute, unwavering love.

But one day, the world found out.

And everything changed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Way He Walked

Lando always walked on your left side.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. He never brought it up, never made a show of it, but it was always the same. Whether you were strolling down pit lane, navigating a crowded paddock, or walking through an airport, he positioned himself so he could be closest to your prosthetic.

In case you lost your balance. In case the ground was uneven. In case you needed just a little extra stability.

One day, you finally called him out on it.

“You always walk on my left,” you mused as you strolled through London together, your fingers laced with his.

Lando glanced down at you, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. So?”

“So,” you echoed, narrowing your eyes playfully. “You do it on purpose.”

He shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “It’s just instinct now. I like knowing I’m there if you need me.”

Your heart melted right there on the pavement.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Airport Routine

You hated airport security.

The extra steps, the awkward stares—it was exhausting. You’d gotten used to it over the years, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Lando made it easier.

Whenever you traveled together, he had a system. He held both of your passports, carried your bags, and kept an arm loosely around you as you approached security. He knew the drill—how you had to remove your prosthetic sometimes, how the metal detectors would go off, how TSA agents could be unpredictable in their reactions.

One time, in Miami, an agent asked you to walk through without it.

Lando tensed beside you, his protective instincts flaring, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet.

You steadied yourself, taking a slow, practiced step forward, trying not to let the discomfort show. But Lando saw. He always saw.

And before you could even reach for your prosthetic, he was already crouched down, lifting it gently, handing it back to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The agent stared. You sighed. Lando just smiled.

“All good, love?” he asked, helping you adjust.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “Always.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Race Weekend Adjustments

Lando’s world moved at 300 km/h. Yours didn’t.

Race weekends were chaotic—crowds, cameras, endless walking. You adapted, of course, but Lando adapted with you.

He always made sure McLaren had a seat for you nearby. If you were standing for too long, he noticed before you even said anything. If you were walking too much, he suggested a “spontaneous” coffee break. If your prosthetic was irritating your skin after hours on your feet, he disappeared and returned with bandages and cooling gel like he’d been preparing for it all week.

One time, in Austria, you didn’t even realize you were limping slightly until Lando gently steered you toward a private hospitality lounge.

“Sit,” he said simply, nudging you onto the couch.

You started to protest, but he knelt down in front of you, hands ghosting over your leg. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” you admitted. “It’s just rubbing weird today.”

Lando nodded, already digging into his backpack. “Good thing I came prepared.”

You blinked as he pulled out a small roll of bandages and a cooling spray. “You just… carry that around?”

He smirked, tapping his temple. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Your chest ached in the best way.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Day the World Found Out

It happened at Silverstone.

You were in the McLaren garage, standing behind the engineers, watching as Lando prepared for his home race. The energy was electric, the fans chanting his name just outside.

Then it happened.

One second, you were fine. The next, your foot slipped on a slick spot near the garage entrance. Your balance wavered, your body tilting before you could react—

And suddenly, you were on the ground.

It wasn’t dramatic, but it was noticeable. The people around you turned, startled.

Lando was at your side instantly.

“Hey, hey—are you okay?” His hands were firm but gentle as they helped you sit up, his voice tight with worry.

You nodded quickly, cheeks burning as you adjusted your leg. “Yeah, just slipped.”

But then you saw it—the way people were staring. The way their eyes flickered from you… to your prosthetic, which had become slightly visible in the fall.

The realization hit like a tidal wave.

They knew.

Lando knew it too. And he didn’t hesitate—not for a second.

Instead of brushing it off, instead of acting like it was something to be hidden, he crouched beside you, blocking out the cameras, his focus entirely on you.

“Here,” he murmured, adjusting your prosthetic for you before wrapping an arm around your waist and helping you stand. His grip was steady, reassuring. “You good?”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

Lando smiled, squeezing your hand. “Then let’s go.”

And just like that, it didn’t matter.

The moment went viral before the race even started.

“Lando helping his girlfriend after she slipped… my heart.”

“Wait, was she wearing a prosthetic?? That’s amazing.”

“The way he didn’t even flinch. He just helped her like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

“She’s incredible. We need to hear her story!”

For the first time, the world saw what Lando had always known.

That you were strong. That you were capable.

And that, to him, you were more than enough.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[toournextadventure]

sunscreen

Summary: Why is the airport always so complicated?

Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Swearing, airport security Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader A/N: just a little oneshot about the S2 teaser to get the writing juices flowin

Airports were a liminal space where nothing and everything could go wrong simultaneously. They were a lawless land - if you ignored the TSA agents - with overpriced, extremely potent drinks. There was nothing like getting to an airport early enough to exist in a space where time never moved. Your own plan for the day was to get past security and drink enough to forget the entire flight.

That was looking like a high possibility.

The metal detector remained silent as you walked through, much to your relief. It was always 50/50 if the detector would catch you for wearing the wrong pants (which happened more often than not). The TSA agent waved you over to your bag, and it was a simple wait while he dug through everything. Nosy, you thought, but supposed it was easier than being frisked.

Until he held up Thing, who was entirely motionless.

“It’s my prop,” you said quickly before he could even ask. “I’m in film school.”

Your smile couldn’t have been more convincing. Lying was a skill that came naturally, originating in your chest and extending outward. The day someone didn’t believe your lies would be the day you accepted defeat. It had only happened once.

“You couldn’t put it in checked baggage?” The agent asked.

“After all those late nights? I’d rather keep it close.”

The TSA agent investigated Thing even harder. Flipping him every which way, inspecting every stitch or line on his palm. Annoyance radiated from the tips of his perfectly manicured fingers. Poor thing. He deserved a coffee after all this abuse.

The agent put Thing back into your bag. “Hope you get a good grade.”

“Thank you,” you said with a far more genuine smile. Maybe Thing deserved two coffees, you thought as you slid your shoes on. Your watch beeped; two more hours. More than enough time to have a drink before getting settled. All that was left was waiting for your girlfriend to get through sec-

-The metal detector beeped.

You watched on in abject horror as Wednesday started piling weapon after weapon on top of the table. Knives, axes, you name it. All things that could not only get her kicked out of the fucking airport, but arrested as well. Which would not fly well because you had a plane to catch and you were not missing it.

The TSA agents watched on in horror until she placed the final weapon on the table. How often had they witnessed someone blatantly ignore every single rule of flying? She didn’t even flinch! You had told her so many times not to bring anything dangerous!

One of the agents looked through her bag slowly before pulling out the worst offender of all.

A tube of sunscreen.

“Care to explain this?” The agent asked.

Wednesday looked down at your bag - and consequently Thing, who was peering over the top - with a frown. An adorable look on her, you would never deny. But there remained a hidden storm behind those beautiful eyes. A storm directed at your bag. Instinctively, you pulled it closer to your chest.

“Ma’am,” the agent sighed, “I’m gonna need you to come with me.”

Wordlessly, Wednesday followed the agent away from security and to a side room. A deep, tired sigh left your soul.

“She yours?” The agent beside you asked.

You hummed in affirmation.

“Gonna miss your flight?”

You hummed even harder.

“Go talk to the sweet older lady at the customer service desk, near the middle of Terminal C,” he said.

“Thank you,” you huffed before trudging away.

“And grab a drink at the pub across from it,” he called. “You might need it.”

The agent was right; the lady behind the desk was rather sweet. After avoiding a few key details about why you needed to change the time, she had gotten your tickets all squared away. You had another four hours for Wednesday to finish being interrogated, which left you with… five and a half hours. Around 5 hours until boarding. That was okay, still plenty of time to get hammered before the flight.

At the pub, Thing stood on the counter while you nursed your drink.

“We did tell her no weapons, right?” You asked. He tapped the counter. “And nothing over three ounces?” A harder tap. “That’s what I thought.”

‘She never listens to us,’ he tapped.

“As if we aren’t the ones with the most flying experience,” you said.

‘She thinks she knows more than us.’

“She’s not always the smartest.” You downed the rest of your drink in one kind of large gulp before placing a crisp $30 on the counter and grabbing your bag. Thing hopped onto your shoulder before you both started exploring the airport.

“Want a coffee?” You asked. The singular tap to your jaw had you smiling and directing yourself toward the nearest Starbucks.

The barista didn’t even blink twice at the disembodied hand hanging around on your shoulder and telling you exactly what to order. It was a nice change of pace. You wondered how much weird shit she had to deal with on a daily basis. Probably a lot. Probably more than what you dealt with when you were with Wednesday.

Okay, maybe not, but it was probably close.

“Should we wait for her?” You asked, sipping on your simultaneously too bitter and too sweet iced coffee.

‘It would be the polite thing to do.’

You sighed deeply. “I guess.” The airport rushed past your leisurely pace. “But I’m not bringing her anything.”

Though you did happen to stop at a few shops on the way. Some snacks for your inevitable wait (which you would replenish before the actual flight). A new tube of sunscreen, since Thing’s had been confiscated (which you scolded him for. Again). And of course, a singular bottle of water for Wednesday. And a snack. You couldn’t leave your girlfriend to suffer more than she already was.

“For Miss Addams?” The TSA agent asked when you approached security. Hey, he was the nice agent from earlier.

“Yes please,” you said with a polite smile that said ‘please let me girlfriend out so we can go.’

“I hope you brought something to eat,” he said as he gestured to an empty bench. “You’ll be here a while.”

“Of course I will,” you mumbled softly enough for him not to hear.

The bench was cold, and you were officially worn out. You plopped your bag on the ground and pulled out your laptop. Thing hastily scrambled to hide behind it, and you put on ‘Say Yes to the Dress.’ The reruns, of course, none of that newer nonsense. Each episode, you questioned Thing on the brides’ choices; he was an excellent judge.

Before you could start the seventh episode, the door to one of the rooms opened. Wednesday, as disgruntled as ever, stepped out. She looked around, and you stayed put. No need to make her job any easier. The moment she locked eyes with you, she walked over quicker than you had ever seen. Her jacket - looking concerningly less bulky - hung loosely from her shoulders. Your hand immediately found hers.

The TSA agent looked between Wednesday, you, and Thing still sitting on your laptop. He circled through twice, three, four times before he sighed harder than anyone you had ever met in your life. It was impressive.

“Please,” he begged, “don’t bring any of these things into this airport ever again.”

“We won’t,” you said quickly, shoving your laptop into your bag with one hand. The other would, of course, stay firmly interlocked with Wednesday’s until the day you died. “Thank you!”

You didn’t care if you had to physically drag Wednesday to the plane. Based off the continuous beeping of your watch, boarding had already started, and it was a race against the clock. After all the bullshit she had pulled, you were not missing this flight.

“They won’t leave without us,” Wednesday dared to say.

“Oh no, they won’t leave me,” you grumbled, “I’d be content if they left you.”

“And yet you stayed.”

“Shut up and keep walking.”

The flight attendants were not happy when you and Wednesday finally appeared at the gate. They were on their final call. Two people on standby lost all patience the moment you checked in. If you hadn’t had to wait for your near-felon of a girlfriend, you would’ve understood their frustration.

Not today.

Wednesday sat far too calmly in the aisle seat of first class (courtesy of her father). Which was smart, because you would fight her for the window seat at that moment. Only professional flyers were allowed to sit at the window. Not people who brought weapons and sunscreen through security.

“Will you be upset with me the entire trip?” Wednesday whispered. In the background, the flight attendant was going over the safety procedures.

“We made it to the plane,” you shrugged, “so just until we land.”

She nodded once, clearly going over the implications of your words. Not that you could read her mind, but when her eyes fell to the side and slightly down, she was thinking. You weren’t dumb, you knew your girlfriend.

You leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before snatching her hand, forcing your fingers between hers until she squeezed back.

“And you're holding my hand the whole flight,” you said. Before you could turn completely to look out the window, you saw the tiniest smile on her lips. Okay, maybe you wouldn’t be mad the entire flight. You would just force her to watch a show with you, even if she hated it. Maybe next time she wouldn’t bring sunscreen.

[stealingyourbones]

Zeta Beams are a very finicky and powerful technology that require specific conditions to work properly.

Being shot with an unknown ray from one of Lex Luthors guns mid zeta was not one of those conditions.

Superboy, reappearing out of the zeta beam, now dazed and confused, stumbles and leans against the closest solid object and takes in his surroundings.

He’s in a lab of some sort, and whoever used it knew a wide variety of sciences. Chemistry equipment consolidated to one corner of the room while a mildly cluttered bench of mechanisms, welding equipment, and doohickeys take over another corner of the room. The entire workplace was bathed in a toxic green light coming from…

Kon turned and gawked at the massive swirling green vortex and pushed off the metal edge of the tear in reality that he had been leaning on.

His mind was running miles a minute. He was meant to be at the Watchtower and he’s here in some windowless laboratory and a portal that looks like something straight out of science fiction. He doesn’t know what to do but all of his scrambling thoughts screeched to a halt the moment he heard footsteps and an unknown heartbeat coming down a set of stairs he hadn’t noticed on his quick scan of the room.

He should have flown to the ceiling and hid or used his X-Ray vision to identify the threat but he was reeling so badly he just stood frozen in place, a foot or two away from the portal casting a long shadow that cut through the violently green glow.

A man in an orange jumpsuit barrels down the stairs with- is that a bazooka?

The orange wall of a human man whipped around the barrel to face him. “DIE GHOST!”.

“I’m sorry what?”

Kon didn’t get a verbal answer but he sure as hell got a physical one. The man pulled the trigger and a glowing green bullet of *something* shot towards him. Kon momentarily debated dodging out of the way with his super speed but thought better of it. Robin would tell him to stay still and show the threat that he couldn’t be harmed to shut down the fight before it could escalate any further.

Blocking his face from debris, Kon closes his eyes and lets the projectile make contact.

He expected to be thrown back into the strange vortex portal thing or feel the impact, but to his surprise he felt absolutely nothing. Whatever glowing green and white metallic stuff he was hit with, he was completely invulnerable to as a half Kryptonian.

(It is at this point where I sped the writing along to bullet point outlines)

- Kon goes hey wtf man I’m not a ghost

- Jack doesn’t buy it it might be a ghost trick.

- Jack slowly walks up to Kon with a Fenton bat.

- Kon stares at him arms crossed. He knows now he can’t be hurt

- Jack, making full eye contact with Kon and goes ‘you can’t fool me ghost’ or something and hits him over the head with the bat.

- Bat shatters over Kon’s head as Kon stares at him and does a “are you done?”

- as he says this Jack Fenton slowly raises a lipstick lazer

- Jack turns on lazer and Kon glares at Jack exasperatedly.

- Kon’s patience runs out. He grabs the lazer from jacks hands and crushes it in his palm.

- I’m not a ghost man. I was trying to zeta to the watchtower and now I’m here now can you stop??

- Jack doesn’t understand what those words mean. Mutters that this might be a fascinating new discovery and goes over to the tech corner

- Grabs a tsa metal detector wand looking thing and waves it over Kon, who hasnt moved and is now curious to see what this man will do knowing now that he can’t be hurt. (Later found that this universe boosts his powers a tad which is making him More Invulnerable)

- It beeps and jack looks at it and his face of confusion turns to a massive grin. He turns towards the stairs and shouts to Maddie that they have a extradimensional non ghost guest and to move the ghost gear out of the guest room.

- Kon is like what the shit why did this mans attitude chanhe so much

- kon is then temporarily housed by the Fentons whilst they are delighted to start on a new big project. they plan to make an addition onto the ghost zone portal to find the frequency of other dimensions and make a gateway between them using Kon as the tuning fork to find his dimension.

[headdinthewall]

SURPRISING GREETING ──  g.clarke  ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary : you and george had been friends for a while, albeit mutual due to arthur hill, and being on INSIDE only seems to strengthen your bond. a/n : i did say that i would be willing to turn this into a series and someone requested it be a full series rather than a few odd chapters here and there, so bare with me while i edit the ones i already have uploaded & maybe take them down ALSO pink text = an interview in room 19 content : friends to lovers ,, reader is described to be very feminine & girly (sorry if you don’t like that ): )

─────── IT WAS DEEPLY unusual for you to be involved in a reality tv show where your screen time and presence on set was determined by your personality and like-ability. Being a social media influencer and ex-dancer, you’d faced enough criticism in your life, but now you were getting in face-to-face.

You stood in the elevator, clutching the handle of your light pink suitcase tightly, fingers fidgeting along it and looking around at the bright white rectangular box you found yourself.

“Really making me feel comfortable here guys, like I’m in solitary confinement.” You muttered.

“Hi, my name is reader, I’m 23, and I’m a social media influencer and ex-dancer, I can also sing too, but that’s like . . . back up content I post.” You laughed at your awkward addition.”

Once the elevator doors opened, you stepped into an airport security-esque room. You walked through the metal detectors and flinched as it beeped.

“Yeah, don’t mind me, entering INSIDE with illegal contraband.” You joked poorly, grunting as you lifted your ridiculously heavy luggage onto the conveyor belt.

“I think I’ll be okay about money spending, hopefully anyway. When I do buy things it’s usually impulsively and because I like the look of it … That doesn’t really bode well, does it? I think the main thing for me to get out of this is the experience of … not relying on my phone to do things and reminding myself that although my phone has everything on it, it’s not my entire life. Also I like the idea of doing weird challenges.”

Your white and grey New Balance 550’s shuffled along the floor, the tops of them covered by your flared grey joggers. You pulled the neckline of your baby pink tube top up, nervously running your fingers along it as you heard people already conversing.

“Hello …?” You called out, peeking your head around the corner.

“Oh my God, new person!” A curly haired girl exclaimed loudly as everyone stood up from around the marble table.

“Hi!” You grinned, waving as everyone suddenly surrounded you.

“Oh, you’re gorgeous! I’m Mandi, what’s your name?”

“My name’s reader,I love how you do your makeup!” You complimented her back.

“I follow you on TikTok!” A blonde girl in a coral tracksuit exclaimed, holding your wrist, “Reader, right?!”

“Yeah.” You chuckled.

“Oh my God, I’m Milli, I used to watch all your old dance videos wishing I was you!” Milli said excitedly and you laughed at that.

“You were a dancer?” A dark-skinned girl asked, hugging you in greeting after Milli stepped away.

“Yeah, until I was like 17.” You answered.

“Oh, that’s so cool, I’m Whitney.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled.

“Your nails are so cute, wait—!” She exclaimed, holding your hand in hers as she examined the cute acrylics you had done two days ago, “They’re like so different to mine, we can be like opposite besties, ennit?!”

“Yeah, yeah, one hundred percent.” You nodded before moving on to greeting everyone else.

All the girls were really sweet and happy to see you, as you introduced yourself to Farah, Cinna and Mya as well. The guys also seemed really nice but you didn’t get much time to say anything to them as your eyes landed on a familiar face you definitely didn’t think you’d find here.

“Oh my God, George!” You gasped, hugging him tightly. “You didn’t tell me you were coming on here!”

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me either, that’s kind of the whole point.” George poked fun, wrapping his arms around your waist and gently lifting you off the ground in his embrace.

“Oh, it’s quite nice to see a familiar face, I was expecting to have to introduce myself to ten people.” You laughed, pulling away after a while.

You and George had been mutual friends on Instagram for about five years now, but only met two of those ago due to being invited to a Sidemen shoot.

You got semi-close to him, becoming one of his closer friends and spending a lot of time at his apartment — but that was also credited to you and Arthur Hill being thick as thieves since day one.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Cinna asked, her finger moving between you two.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” You answered, your body still standing instinctively close to him. “For a while now, actually.”

“Ah, that gives you an advantage already.” PK hummed, rubbing his chin, “Lucky, y’know.”

“Everyone seems to be really nice and welcoming, and I’m hoping that they’re not just putting an act up and being fake to win because … mmmm, actually I guess that’s quite strategic. Anyway, yeah, everyone’s…” You held your thumbs up, “Also, it’s nice to see George again.”

After everyone got acquainted with you, the group wandered off to explore the areas, including the bedroom situation, which consisted of eight single beds and two double beds.

People immediately began claiming their beds and sitting on the mattresses, trying to get used to the new surroundings.

“They must’ve spent all their budget on the set, because these mattresses are not it.” You commented, trying to show how not bouncy it was by bouncing on it on your knees.

“No, guys, stop trying to take my bed!” George fake-whined, sprawling himself out on the surface.

You and Dylan laughed at his slight dig towards the girls who were being overly picky with where they laid.

You just chose the bed in the tightest corner so that you couldn’t accidentally roll off in the middle of the night.

You tended to be a fidgety sleeper.

Once you all were content with where you were situated, you returned to the living room and gathered on the sofa to talk about yourselves in more detail.

“So you used to dance?” PK asked as he sat on the other side of the couch, you sandwiched between George and Mandi.

“Yeah, from, like, 2 to 17.” You nodded, smiling as you spoke. “I quit ‘coz I got bored, really. My teacher knew what I was best at and just kept giving me the same choreography to do so I would win trophies and it would look good for her.”

“Well, at least you were getting wins and that.” PK said, arm resting back on the sofa.

“How do you two know each other then? What’s that about?” Mandi spoke loudly, looking at you and George.

“Well, we have a mutual friend, Arthur Hill, don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him—“

“No, never.”

“Oh, the singer?” Cinna piped up, nodding.

“Yeah, so him and George are friends and I’ve been friends with him since I was … 12?”

“Wow, that’s bare time, y’know.” PK huffed.

“Yeah, so we sort of met through him on Instagram at first, and then the Sidemen invited us both to the same shoot, so we met in person. But then, ‘coz I was friends with Arthur and George lives with him, I ended up spending more time at theirs, and … yeah, that’s it, basically.” You summarised quickly.

“And the music video.” George scratched his eyebrow with his thumb.

“Oh, yeah, we were both in Arthur’s music video, too.” You added with a slight blush, the memories of that filming time filling your mind.

“Oh, no way!” Dylan gasped, “That’s awesome, what song?”

“Too Much Ain’t Enough.” George answered. “It was … an experience to say the least, it wasn’t supposed to be me, but the guy literally dropped out a day before, so I had to fill in. Nightmare working with this one.”

He nudged your side and you feigned offence, clutching your chest.

“So, you’re an actor too? Mad, you’re like a double threat.” PK said.

“She sings too, so make that triple.” George bragged for you.

“Yeah, cheers.” You sighed, crossing your arms over your stomach as you leaned your elbows on your knees.

“You sing too?!” Mya sat up straight, shocked by the information.

“Can you give us a little taster?” Farah pleaded.

“No, absolutely not, not unless it’s for a challenge.” You shook your head, laughing.

“So how did you get big?” Whitney asked George specifically.

“Am I?” George frowned, patting his stomach.

“Not like that! Like on social media.” Whitney rolled her eyes.

He laughed, successfully pranking her, “I started on TikTok, um …”

“Do you talk on TikTok?”

“Yeah—“

“Why don’t you talk in real life?”

“— Should I stop?” He joked, making you and Farah laugh.

“But you don’t talk in real life.” Whitney repeated, “I’m like, ‘George’?”

You laughed slightly at his awkward chuckle in response, nudging his shin with your foot, to which he returns the gesture.

There was a silent, telepathically conversed agreement that you and George would stick by each other no matter what, no matter how much the money went down or how tough the challenges got or how much other people tried to pit you against each other.

“Hello …” Toby said slyly as he, and the rest of the Sidemen, rounded the corner into the living area.

“Hello, everyone!” Simon greeted.

Everyone started getting really excited, making funny noises and exclaiming oddly. You saw George visibly relax at the sight of some familiar faces and you smiled softly at his reaction.

“Welcome, to a new series of Inside.” KSI introduced, hands out. The group whooped and cheered, clapping. “You will all be battling it out, for a prize fund that starts out at £1 million.”

“Yep, cheers mate, didn’t know that.” You quipped sarcastically, causing a good portion of chuckles.

The cheers were less enthusiastic but still energetic.

“You’re snarky and I don’t like that.” He scoffed, so in response you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Is that not enough for you guys?”

“They already knew.” Simon tapped his friends shoulder.

“There are going to be challenges that you will all be in every single day.” Vikk spoke, resulting in a few groans, “If you do badly in these challenges, you will lose money from the million-pound prize pot. So just don’t do badly, alright?”

“And as you can see, there’s not much in here because everything costs money.” Harry spoke up, adding his usual dramatic flare of finger waggling and poor posture, which Farah mocked. “But you’ll be glad to know—“ Everyone laughed at the mocking. “You’ll be glad to know, the shop is now open.”

A loud eruption of cheers happened, as KSI said, “Good luck, motherfuckers!”

“What a lovely way to speak to your contestants.” You mumbled.

“Wait, can I ask? When is the first challenge?” Farah put in before the Sidemen could leave.

But it proved pointless as the only response she got was from KSI, in which he stated: “Shut up.”

“Rude boy!” Farah shouted, eyes wide, “What you call this timing?! We were supposed to be collected at 10 AM, brother!”

“We’re not spending any money!” Mandi yelled as you all rose to your feet.

“Let’s go to the shop.” Farah said at the same time.

Quite the juxtaposition of sentences there.

You knew Mandi’s statement of no one spending any money would last approximately … five minutes, especially as you all moved to congregate in the shop area now.

“Let’s try and keep it at half a million, bro.” Farah offered.

This followed in a long winded debate as to what the goal amount of prize fund to have at the end would be. All hands were placed in the middle as you cheered for £800,000.

You shook your head at their naivety and George snorted, noticing your expression and placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to follow everyone as they viewed the shop items.

When you walked into the small room, you took note of the variety of items on show … in words.

“Oh my God, I’m not spending any money!” You cheered, turning around and giving George a solid high-five.

“What? How do you know already?” Dylan asked.

“She has this thing where, as long as the item isn’t physically presented in front of her, she’s not tempted by it.” George explained for you and you nodded in agreement with his words.

“That’s so weird, oh my God!” Mandi gasped, “How? Do you not even like … hear something you might like and think ‘Hm, yeah, I like the sound of that’.”

“Not really, not unless I 100% know what I’m getting, like …” Your eyes scanned the menu and you pointed to the item listed as a ‘golden straw’, “I don’t know what that is. For $2500? It could be anything. Knowing these guys, it’s most definitely just a normal straw painted gold and they’ve thrown it in to make us second guess ourselves. But I’m not tempted because I don’t know and don’t care.”

“That’s crazy, I wish I was like that.” Mya laughed, hand grazing your arm slightly.

“It’s a blessing in disguise.” You shrugged smugly, feigning nonchalance.

As a group, you all decided to purchase a table tennis bat and ball for £2,000, and upon finding out it was only one bat, Milli purchased another.

“I think we should get some snacks.” Whitney proposed.

“Yes, but in groups of two, so whatever you order you share with someone else to save money.” Farah pointed her finger.

“Do you want anything?” Milli asked you, “To share something?”

Your eyes scanned the menu and you shook your head, not entirely thrilled or enticed by the snack option, “Nah, but if you want to buy something I can share with you.”

Milli whined, “Ugh, okay.”

You laughed and squeezed her arm.

You looked back at George, who seemingly shared the same unimpressed demeanour about the menu variety, and took his hand, slipping back into the living room with the table tennis bats and ball.

“I don’t think our promise of 800K will last a week at all. I don’t even think it’ll last a day.” You laughed, “It’s just … everyone says ‘Oh, I won’t spend, I won’t spend’ but they’re already buying unnecessary shit that we don’t need. Like … we do get fed here, y’know that, right? It might not be the best, but I’m sure you can live on … rice and beans, or whatever the fuck they give us, for a week.”

“Whitney, would you share a pot noodle with me?” Milli shuffled into the corridor.

“The thing is, I don’t like pot noodle.” Whitney replied.

“Oh. Reader?”

“Sure, if you’re getting it.” You hummed, biting your bottom lip as you focused on smacking the ping pong ball at George.

After losing the game, you gave up in a fake strop and plopped yourself down in the bend of the couch, and George annoyingly sat next to you.

He slung an arm around your shoulders as you spoke with Dylan and Mandi.

“It’s great that we’re all on the same page, I think.” The TikTok news reporter expressed his opinions.

“It could be somebody else walking away with that 500 grand.” Mandi countered.

“Think about how great your life is outside of this. You only get one week to be put in deprivation, to be hungry, to not be on your phone—“

“For somebody else to win?” She sassed.

“Well, you’re not doing it for that. You’re doing it for the experience of, like, when are you ever gonna have deprivation, like, again? You may never.” Dylan philosophised.

“We had COVID. That’s enough deprivation for me, alright?” Mandi threw her arms out.

“Also, if you think about it. This isn’t really deprivation.” You hummed, looking over the back of the sofa at them, “We have light (natural and electric), semi-descent beds, other people to talk to, and food. Plus, we’re given the option to buy things to keep us entertained. If you want to experience deprivation, you should try solitary confinement or a high risk psych ward.”

After a short while of continuing this vaguely theological conversation, a ruckus began and Farah came into the room, exclaiming that: “PK is not to be trusted! He hid the pot noodle behind the sofa, and I sniffed it out.”

“I tried to order more guys, and then they closed the shop.” Whitney sighed.

“And if we do shit, we need to deliberate with each other.”

As everyone else congregated in the living area, discussing the non-issue, the TV chimed with a notification.

‘Lunch is now ready in the shop.’

There was a mixed variety of reactions, majority being optimistic and jovial, whereas George opted for a fed up approach. “You’re taking the piss. Lunch?”

“C’mon, grumpy bollocks, get up.” You heaved him up off the couch.

“What time is it?” He continued to complain, “Should be dinner.”

“Well, it’s not!”

By the time you’d arrived in the shop, it was already in a shambles, with people spending money on me an upgraded and an endless supply of moaning coming from Mandi and Farrah.

“This is fine.” Cinna shook her head as she ate the rice and beans.

“It’s rice and beans?!” You exclaimed, diving for a pot and opening it with a laugh. “I called it! I called it in Room 19, that they’d be giving us rice and beans!”

“Nah, you defo jinxed it, y’know.” Whitney groaned, cringing at the tastes in her mouth.

You screamed as George flicked a spoonful of rice at you, causing grains to get stuck in your hair.

“George, fuck off!” You cursed, hitting him with a closed fist and glaring.

You shimmied off out of the shop and took a seat on one of the bean bags, preferring to eat your food sat down. George followed you, taking the bean bag and putting it plonk next to yours, sitting and entangling your legs together.

His foot kept sliding up your leg, purposefully pushing your flared leggings up to annoy you.

“Would you give it a rest.” You growled with fake animosity, shoving the cloth back down to cover your shin.

He cackled and shoved a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Guys, there’s food in there that was uneaten.” Cinna announced, coming back in with her arms full of containers. “And, who bought this?” She held up the golden straw.

“Can I have it? I don’t care who bought it.” Whitney reached for it and Cinna gave it.

“It was you, ennit?” She accused, looking at you, “Saying it don’t tempt you and then you bought it for yourself. Clever play.”

“What, no?!” You exclaimed, covering your hand with your mouth as you ate.

“I can— I can confirm,” George held his hand up, “She was with me the whole time and didn’t buy that.”

“Thank you.”

“Was it you?” Cinna walked towards Mandi, laughing and grazing her shoulder, “It was— It was you, wasn’t it?”

“I swear it wasn’t.” Mandi said smugly, not even trying to hide the smirk on her face.

You laughed, slapping your knee, “Your face! There’s no way it isn’t you!”

“Someone did it though!” PK argued, pacing the floor.

“It was me!” Mandi admitted, standing up and flapping her arms about.

“Was it? Was it actually you?” Milli asked.

“Yeah.” She shrugged.

“And you … nobody had any idea.” George joked sarcastically and you laughed, leaning into him.

“I wanted the straw.” Mandi defended, shrugging like it didn’t matter, because it really wasn’t that deep.

£2,500 of £1,000,000 wasn’t that much at all, but it was the knowledge that every dollar spent would eventually add up that irked the group.

“Why?” Jason questioned in a whiney voice.

“I wanna drink my coffee with it, so I don’t damage my teeth.”

“Babe, I wanted to use it first!” Whitney complained, looking upset.

“We can share!” Mandi took the straw from Jason and put it on the table.

“If any one wants to buy and food from the shop — even if it’s just for yourself — it’s fine, just tell everyone.” Farah reasoned as everyone settled.

“Who’s good at math? Should we have a calculator?” Whitney put forward.

George scoffed and gestured to you, resulting in a harsh glare.

“Reader! Reader! She’s excellent at maths!” He said dramatically.

“Are you actually?” Cinna hummed, arms wrapped around her knees.

You shook your head rapidly, “No, dude, I got a C. I barely passed.”

“Hello, Insiders …” The voice of Tobi rang through the speakers, “It’s time for your first challenge.”

Everyone screamed in excitement, getting up and enthusiastically moving to leave towards the Challenge Arena as instructed. The corridor was grey stone, as was the rest of the set, with purple and dark blue lights shining from underneath it.

You had to credit the Sidemen, it was clear a lot of thought and money had gone into making this a real thing, and now you were living it.

“No pressure, yeah?” George muttered to you, a personal whisper that he shared with no one else as you waited outside the Challenge Arena doors.

“Yeah. Sure.” You nodded, blushing slightly at the close proximity of his mouth to your ear. “No pressure, at all.”

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Allure

Part One:Sunshine

❥MATZ x fem reader

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa. The most known and feared alphas of the new generation. It took two dozen elder alphas to subdue them and stick them in the world's most secluded prison- hidden away in the mountains. The prison that sweet little omega (Y/n)'s works at.

Knuckle Velvet (Part Two)

Smoke (Part Three)

➯a/n: i've always wanted to write a story i would like to see as a movie or show, and i very much enjoy supernatural and dark romance, so i made this ! it does get very dark so please read the warnings and take care of yourself first and foremost. i am very proud of this, i hope you enjoy 💕

✃ "Because you're... alluring."

✫彡wordcount: 9.3k

♫"Hey, you should leave that young thing alone, ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday." - Flower Face (original by Bill Withers) ♫ Allure Sountrack

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut, YANDERE, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠWARNING/content: DEAD DOVE I MURDERED THAT BIH

chapter specific: literally what have i done, not beta read(ironically), criminal MATZ, alpha MATZ/omega reader, forget everything you know about werewolves, so much world building, extremely yandere behavior, talk of attempted child murder, class division of werewolves, panic attacks, vulgar language, mind control, lots of scent stuff, unhealthy relationships, ptsd, flashbacks and nightmares, physical violence, manipulation of others dreams, supporting character death, forced soul bonding, forced marking, reader implied to have mental health issues, murder, gore, violence- all that good stuff. THIS IS NOT A NON CON FIC ALL EVENTUAL SMUT WILL BE CONSENSUAL.

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

⁂fic taglist: @potatomountain @spooo00oky

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE ˚➶ ｡˚

You hate weekdays. That much is true for a lot of people. You like to think your reasoning is especially valid.

Every Monday through Friday like clockwork, 6:30AM you walk into the prison. That on its own wasn't so bad. You lived only ten minutes away; the gothic building looked over your village in tandem with the mountains. You could see it when the weather was clear, even from your bedroom on the edge of town. You were no longer afraid of it like when you were a child.

You are, however, afraid of the newest prisoners.

New arrivals didn't usually rock you. This is the only prison in the country fit to hold lycans, after all. They all got transferred here eventually. From beta's who were just stealing to eat, to alphas who used their powers on humans, to those who believed in the old ways and fed on humans.

You had to interact with them all face to face.

You weren't excited for that particular aspect of your job this week.

You made your way through the double doors and greeted the security guard, your friend Hyolyn, as you went through the metal detector. It went off on account of the scent blocker that was embedded in your neck. She chuckled and switched it off so it stopped its incessant beeping.

"Don't laugh at me!" You threw a smile her way as you got your small purse from the plastic bucket she slid towards you. She doesn't bother to check your bag. She knows you well enough to know you wouldn't bring in any "fuck shit", as she would say. "You alpha's don't have to worry about accidentally spewing scent everywhere."

"Thank goodness for that, this place would stink to high heaven." Her unintentional reference to the new arrivals makes the air turn stiff. She could tell you were on edge immediately. "They aren't all that scary," she lays a comforting hand to your shoulder as you fiddle with the long strap on your crossbody bag.

"I heard one of them killed Alpha Greene... you think that's true? That guy was huge, I saw him at The Thing last year, I almost peed myself cause he looked at me-" You stop your own rambling, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a shaking sigh. "I don't want to go in there. Honestly, why can't we install a laundry chute or something, fuck."

"I'll follow you up, I c-"

"No, no, it's visiting day. You need to be down here. You know Chungha? Her daughter is visiting today. Don't want you to miss her." You offer a sad, tight lipped smile, but that doesn't trick her instincts to protect her weaker pack member. She knows you too well to be tricked.

"You just scream and I'll be there. Either of those cocky fucks lift a pinky in your direction and I'll gut them. They don't deserve to see a trial anyway."

A small exhale in the form of a chuckle lightens her protective instincts, she can tell you feel more at ease with her promise to be right there at the slightest hint of trouble.

"See you, Hyolyn."

"Later, babes."

You wave your fingers with a smile as the elevator doors slides shut. As soon as they clunk together, you let it fall and crouch with your head in your hands, taking in deep and slow breaths as you try and force all of the rumors you've heard about the two newest inmates away from your head.

The older alpha of the duo was the first born in this generation. They're always powerful. But he was born to two bloodthirsty rouges. Born in sin and blood lust.

The younger alpha was born just some months after, to an arranged marriage that was purposefully formed to make powerful children. They surely regret that now. Some say the man has the strongest, sharpest claws since the first lycan in Talbot Castle.

When the elevator dings, you're already upright and have that strong facade on that you put on when you're clocked in.

˚➶ ｡˚

You start with the familiar. "Hey, Chungha," you tap on the silver bars of her cell, "hand 'em over." She smiles as she stands, stripping the sheets from her cot and holding them through the bars for you. "Thank you," you draw on with a tug on your lips that matches hers.

"Yunnie in town?"

"Mhm," you hum as you fold the blanket before dropping it in the large basket on wheels, "she came over for stew, I made sure to feed her good and well, don't worry."

You know it was probably problematic, but you couldn't help it. Chungha came here three years ago on a charge for battery, and over those three years you became sort of friends with her.

The battered in her case was her grandfather. When her five year old daughter, Jiyun, started to show signs of being an omega- he left her in the snow to wither away. She managed to survive until her mother came home, and said mother was furious.

She was lucky she didn't charged with attempted manslaughter.

"She said she'll be here first thing."

"Thank you," she had a heavy pull on her voice. You don't have the emotional connection to other wolves like an alpha or beta did. But it was clear to anyone she was being sincere. "You're a good woman."

"Don't mention it, Yunnie is good company. Oh," you start to wheel the basket away when you remember something. You reach into the purse that you had set on the handles. "She made this at art class, asked me to give it to you so it didn't have to wait in processing."

It was a small, cruelly made ceramic bowl in the vague shape of a heart. It was clearly made by an eight year old, but made with love.

"I owe you."

"Just keep working on that parol work." You said lightly and blew a kiss as you moved to the next cell.

    The rest of your work nearly cleared your mind as you went from cell to cell, floor to floor. Omega's were on the second floor. Beta's on the third. Alphas on the fourth. High security on the fifth.

     It's on the fourth level that you begin to feel those nerves that you had just worked away. The scent was becoming stronger. They didn't put them on blockers? Maybe they didn't think it would be worth it. Everyone knew that they were the worst of the worst, they didn't even try to hide it. They would undoubtedly be put to death. Why waste two perfectly good, expensive, blockers?

     The basket of used sheets is nearly full, accumulating into a weight that makes you put your back into it as you push it into the elevator.

    Your index finger reaches out, and before you can stop yourself you've pressed the button to the fifth floor.

       You blank out until the door opens again. Your teeth are eternally grateful for the gum between them so they don't grind themselves into dust. The mint flavor does little to calm your nerves.

     The only thing that makes you come back to your own head is Changbin. He's a big, buff beta with a gun full of silver bullets on his work belt. He won't let them hurt you. His smile washes away a lot of the nerves.

    But the growl that rumbles against the walls makes them return ten, one hundred, one thousand fold. You don't dare say a word. A deer in headlights until Changbin places his hand on the small of your back. "Go on, don't give them the satisfaction of scaring you. They aren't going nowhere no time soon. Take a look."

     He motions you deeper into the hall, florescent lights buzzing above you, matching the jittering feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach. It smells too strong. Too much. You're about to fall to your knees from the weight and you haven't even come face to face with the near feral criminals.

    Changbin opens the doors at the end of the hall.

     They've definitely gone all out to keep them in place. Two large cages placed next to each other in the middle of the enormous room. Made of pure silver and wrapped in wolfsbane. The unpleasant smell of the plant makes your nose twitch. A ring of blood ash surrounds it. Only omegas can pass through blood ash, and now you start to realize why they sent you.

    You want to curse the warden, but the second you open your mouth, a loud cackle sounds out from one of the cages.

     Changbin's hand twitches at the gun attached to his side.

    "Oh wow," the smaller alpha chuckles, eyes closed, head tilted back, as he sniffs the air. "I didn't expect that." More manic giggles slip past his lips.

    You haven't even looked up to see them and you want to cave in on yourself.

    "What are you rambling about, huh?" The guard next to you shouts, making you flinch instinctively.

     "That sweet... sweet, smell," he moans. You can hear him shuffling. "From a peppy little spit fuck omega."

   You gasp abashedly, and now two laughs ring out. You want to wonder how they can smell you. Your insurance provides the best scent blocker in the country. But you're too scared to breathe, let alone think.

      "Shut up," Changbin groans, he can feel you tense next to him, "don't piss me off, Kim."

    "Awe," a new, rumbling voice makes you cower the second it reaches your ears, "this your mate? Hm, no... you wouldn't bring your mate here. You're not an idiot. Then, say... omega." You don't make a move to look when he addresses you, you stay looking at Changbins grip on his gun, silently.

     "Omega, come!" Your feet move for you, and that manic laugh almost makes you wet yourself as you realize that your wolf is making you move toward them without your consent. You stop just outside of the blood ash, where you know you're safe.

     "Changb-"

     "No. I'm the one you're speaking to."

   Changbin seems to be weighing his options, eyeing the men as they eye you.

    "Why are you here? You a shrink?"

    You shake your head.

   "You a lawyer?"

    Again.

   "She works here, dumbass, look at her scrubs," the younger speaks, and you nod subconsciously, to which he giggles, "what can we do for a pretty little thing like you?"

    When you refuse to speak, the guard does it for you. "She's here for your sheets today. Get used to her."

     You hated that this was your job, but it was easy and accessible, and available for omegas. Werewolves are clean freaks. Every day you had a different cleaning task, but you didn't complain. Not until right now- you wanted to rip out the throat of whoever's idea it was to not shoot these criminals on sight.

     "Ah," he hums, and you can feel his eyes raking your body. You can feel both of their eyes. "Not too bad of a sight to get used to. Huh, Hwa?"

     "Mh, that's right... can't wait to get my hands on her."

Your head snaps back to Changbin.

"Awn, she thinks he's gonna help her!" The high pitched giggles bounce around in your head. "Oh, little omega~"

The saccharine coo finally pulls your eyes to the men in the cages.

If you thought you knew what fear was before this moment, you were wrong.

The two strongest criminals in the country, staring you down like a piece of meat. It doesn't matter that they are the ones in cages of silver and wolfsbane. You are the one who feels cornered.

You can immediately feel out their dynamics. The taller one is the older one, quiet and still in his cage as he sits in the center. Shaggy, shining hair framing his face and neck like an elegant piece of lace over a brides face. He has a sleeve of tattoos on one forearm, a thick tattoo on his neck. Eyes glowing a deep, blood red, as he tries to read your entire story with only a look in your direction.

The giggling one is less intimidating, only by a hair. Chemically lightened locks pushed back messily, letting his entrancing features shine in the light from the narrow windows high on the walls. He has tattoos as well, but they seem few and far between. His eyes are human for a moment before they meet yours. Instantaneously, they flick black.

The knot drops from your throat and you let out a small, pathetic, squeak.

Changbin breaks your staring contest with the alpha, shouting orders at them. "Take the sheets off your cot and set them outside of your cage. Do not attempt to touch her, I will shoot you."

    Neither criminal makes a move to follow his orders, both simply staring at you.

A low growl is emitted when the older alpha finally snaps up, tearing the sheet off the sorry excuse for a bed in one fell swoop. The younger follows his lead, shoving their sheets through the bars that are wrapped in the poisonous flower.

You look to the guard, and he nods, "go." With his finger twitching at the gun ready to pull it, you jump over the dark red ashes and into the wolves den, snatching the sheets up as quick as possible and dashing away, out the door before they even get a chance to lock in your scent up close.

The giggles follow you all the way to the elevator and ring in your head even as the thick metal thunks shut.

As you take a deep breath, you notice the sheets are gripped to your chest, your claws drawn subconsciously in your panic and ripping them up. "Shit!" You let out a curse and shove them into the bottom of the basket so you don't have to smell it as closely on the long ride to the basement.

˚➶ ｡˚

The lingering wafts of your fresh scent are long gone, nothing to distract the alpha's from their caged boredom and bubbling rage over being caught. "I'll have that runts heart in my hands by the end of the month." Hongjoong groaned, to no one in particular- he knew Seonghwa was too deep in thought from their recent revelations. "Fucking back stabbers. They're more pathetic than a bitch in heat trying to get off with a dildo."

The thought hit his mind as soon as the words left his lips.

The thought of you, legs spread with your hand dipped low, trying to satisfy your primal urges and-

"Stop that." Seonghwa growls, kicking the bars of their shared 'wall'.

"Settle down!"

"Oh, like you weren't thinking it!" Hongjoong rolls his eyes, a scowl on his face as he crosses his arms. "Your ruts coming and you don't want your-"

"I said stop," he nearly roars, grabbing Hongjoong's state issued orange top and ripping it with his claws as he pulls him forward.

"I know you want her because I want her too." He whispers, smirking at the telltale signs of desire and bloodlust in his mates eyes. Red swirling around the brown of his human eyes. "Imagine how good she'll smell when we take out that stupid blocker. We'll be drowning in her scent." He moans, grabbing his wrist, "I get the honors, my claws are sharper, anyways," he draws them quickly, digging them into his skin as if to prove a point.

"I can use my teeth, mark h-"

"Oh, will you two stop? Love of God..." The guard in the large room slaps his book down on the rickety table. "What is there possibly for you to be fighting about? You're about to be executed, you know that right? No jury in the world will let you walk, especially the human half."

Their frustrations turn to the man, letting each other go. "Ah, you think so?" The older croons, dragging his index over his bleeding wrist and bringing it to his lips, sucking it clean before he continues. "We won't be around these parts long enough to meet the jury."

"What do you mean by that?"

Hongjoong covers his mouth when a laugh slips past. Seonghwa simply smirks as he sits cross legged, eyes locked with the guard as he licks his wound.

"What do you mean by that?!"

The blonde man breaks out in a fit of laughter. The brunette simply flashes his bloody canines in a twisted smile.

˚➶ ｡˚

You spent the whole time doing your daily tasks trying to hype yourself up to go back up to the fifth floor.

You usually went top down, four to one. Nobody has ever been on five before.

You go bottom up today, starting at Chungha with a full basket of freshly washed sheets. She prattles on about her visit with Jiyun, and how she's so thankful for you.

You choose that as your focus point for the rest of the work day, even as you press the button to the fifth floor.

You think back to the first time you spoke to Chungha, she was a crying mess, unable to sense that you were an omega like herself. She cried and cried and cried as you held her hand through the bars of temporary holding. She cried for her daughter, for cursing her with the shame of being the weakest link of any pack. When she looked up and saw your eyes, barely glowing, she cried more.

She apologized profusely, but you reassured her that her words were true, and you hadn't been offended. You told her that, in fact, she was the first to ever share your feelings of what being an omega really meant. It meant loneliness beside anyone but other omegas. Fake relationships born with people who only stuck around because of their primal instincts to either prey on you or protect you. It meant facing the fact that you were outcasts from both of the world's dominant societies. Outcasted from humans for being a werewolf. Outcasted from werewolves for being weak. So weak, in fact, that blood ash didn't even think of you as a wolf.

That night, you drove four hours to the next village over and looked after her daughter until her aunt had room. You remember the first thing the girl said to you. She didn't speak that whole day, surely in shock from the past few days events. But when you tucked her into the motel bed, she spoke as soft as a ghost, "sing me a song?"

You hum it to yourself now, the soft sound reverberating through the metal around you until the door opened.

You wheel the basket with you this time, like it will protect you as you approach the open doors, already feeling the unwavering gaze of the criminals.

"Hey, dolly~" Hongjoong, you had learned when you took a peek into their files, purred your way.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of responding verbally, but he saw the goosebumps on your arm as you reached into the basket, stretching on your tip toes to get the last two sheets.

"You never shut up do you, Kim?" The guard sighed with an exhausted tone, making you smile as you slowly made your way to the ring of red dust.

The throaty rumble from Seonghwa, the older, taller wolf, makes that smile drop to the depths of Hell.

The new guard seems to notice your anxiety, eyeing you up- in a much less predatory manner than the caged men. "Go on, 'mega. I'm watching them."

A bang on the metal bars makes you glue your foot right back where it came from. It's the blonde one, "you shut the fuck up!"

"No, you shut the fuck up! I'm the one with the silver bullets!"

All of the yelling is making you tremble, Hongjoong and the guard going back and forth. "She isn't your omega!"

"She ain't yours!"

Seonghwa watches with a sinister smile as you back away from the ash and the guard, calling to you quietly, "hey."

The soft tone of his voice makes you raise your eyes, but not your head. His eyes don't hold that threatening and dominating red from before. They're a soft brown color that reminds you of a beautiful dark oak in the morning sunshine. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)..." your tongue moves without your consent, fresh blankets held to your work scrubs.

You desperately want the guard to notice this trance you're in, and grab you out of it. You want to do it yourself, but you can't do anything but admire the beauty of the criminal who has you hypnotized.

"You're a pretty omega, y'know? What color is your wolf?"

"Black..." It's a slur off your lips, barely registering in his sharply tuned ears over the yelling that continues to fill the room.

"Mine too. What's her name? His is Akma."

"Solis."

"Very pretty. Is she fast?"

"Yes."

"Does she want an alpha? A mate?"

"Yes."

The guard finally notices your raised gaze, affixed to the infamous, unlawful, man. He puts his gun back in the holster quickly before gripping your shoulder and forcing you to turn around. "You idiot, didn't anyone ever tell you not to look a first born in the eyes?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry." No one had ever told you that, actually.

Both of the criminals share a smirk as the man from your pack attempts to calm you. It wasn't hard for them to figure out you were an alpha-less village. They could smell every single wolf in five miles, and not a single stench from a wolf even nearly as strong as them.

There was, however, you. A honeyed smell that filled their guts with the primal need to rip out the eyes of anyone who dared look at you.

The guard couldn't be more wrong. You are their omega. You just don't know yet.

"Go and give these fucks their sheets, then get the hell out of here." The man shoved you, making you jump clumsily over the ash so you didn't break the seal.

He yells at them to back up, and they do so without a fight.

You shove them both in at the same time before running back out quickly, grabbing the empty basket and dragging it with you, the sound of the wheels scraping with the force of your panic echoing in the near empty room.

"You guys get off on scaring defenseless girls?" The guard scoffs, not expecting an answer as he drags the chair out of the room and slams the doors behind him.

Seonghwa lets his facade fall the second the door shuts, falling to his knees and grappling at the sheet like he's a starving man with the last piece of food on Earth. Hongjoong watches for a moment in confusion until the scent catches up with his weaker nose. Then he's quickly falling in the same position.

"It worked, the guard was so easy to distract," Hongjoong chuckles, face buried into the sheet that smells vaguely like you from your time spent holding it. "What did you learn?"

"(Y/n), a black wolf named Solis," he pauses, eyes rolled back as he takes a deep breath. They're red when they re-open. "No mate. It's really her."

"You think we should have told her?" Hongjoong inquires, looking through the bars.

He's never seen Seonghwa on his knees for anyone but him or the moon.

"No," he shakes his head, turning to lock eyes with him. "She'll figure it out when I mark her."

"When I mark her."

He rolls his eyes at his defiant nature, knowing full well he won't disobey his orders no matter how badly he wants to do something.

In a dog eat dog world, the strongest was the most powerful. Unlike their human neighbors, werewolves don't decide political or social standing by money or family name. They decide based on who comes out on top in a battle of the body and of the wits.

It had been determined years ago, when they were just young rebellious pups, that Seonghwa was the alpha. A fight in the woods under the moon had set it in stone between the two.

He could have ripped Hongjoongs throat out right then and there, but now, 13 years later in the present; they're bonded for life.

Sometimes he still sees Hongjoong as that 12 year old boy under his teeth, still snapping and growling even as he bled out with tears in his dark eyes, fighting to survive purely out of spite.

"You can mark her first," Seonghwa speaks quickly, turning his back as he puts the sweet smelling sheet on his cot.

He smiles at the man, a quiet thanks spoken through their bonded souls.

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday, they don't see you until much later in the day, but they bask in the sight of you opening the door with a broom and tray in hand, smiling at Changbin. You'll be here for a while, it's a big room.

"Hey, Binnie," you whisper to the beta, and Seonghwa has to bite his tongue.

Binnie? Ugh.

Hongjoong isn't so polite, "hey, Dolly! We don't get a hello?" You barely peek at him, eyes flicked from him right back to the floor in a millisecond. He knows you noticed his pout when he hears the smallest 'hello' tremble by your lips.

You start in the corner, headphones attached to your walkman with your favorite song on repeat to try and soothe yourself. Bill Withers calming voice blocks out every word of the teasing alphas, but you can still feel them mocking you and picking at you.

You don't dare sweep anywhere near the blood ash on the floor. One less precaution in place was one more thing to worry about.

"Bye, Binnie."

He does growl that time, eyes narrowed on your back until the door shuts.

˚➶ ｡˚

Wednesday, you have a frown on your face. "Three days in a row?" The guard Hongjoong got in a yelling match with, Merle, greets you as you come into the cavernous room, "bad schedule huh?"

"No kidding," you sigh, feet slightly hesitant to pass the dust border, "I'm here to fix your shirt. It's state property." You don't look at them, but they know who you're referring to.

They act like they don't, though. Just to hear more of your voice. To make you wriggle under their attention. "Sorry? What do you mean?"

You look and point to Hongjoong, his collar ripped from Seonghwas grasp. "State property."

"Ah, of course." He grins like a jackal, pulling it over his head and sticking his hand out of the bars just in the slightest. "On one condition."

You pout, eyes on the shirt which is just far enough away that you'd have to step closer. And it's the cutest fucking thing they've ever seen.

You look back up at him, silently asking. "Sit and talk with us. The guards here are no fun!" His laugh makes you jump back further, he sounds like a mad pirate.

You look over to Merle, who just shrugs, "just get it over with so these guys will shut up. They're only talkative around you, they need an audience for their antics."

"We won't bite," Seonghwa chuckles with his teeth exposed, making you shiver.

"Fine, give it here." You take a single step forward, palm out infront of the blonde.

When you grab it and go to race away like always, his claws wrapping all the way around your wrist stops you, sharp edges threatening to slice your skin down to the bone. You scream your head off, silenced when Seonghwa coos softly, "sit with us, and talk."

"Let me go..." you plead, eyes frantically flicking to Merle, whose gun is drawn to Hongjoongs head from the border of the ash, waiting for him to take one more wrong move so he can rid the world of one of its greatest criminals.

"Sit, omega." You do so, slowly lowering to the floor with your wrist and life still in Hongjoongs hand. "You have your sewing kit with you, I can hear the buttons hitting the needle. So sit, stay, and talk while you fix it."

Once again, they're the ones caged in. But you're the one who's stuck.

     One look to Merle tells you he probably wouldn't help you even if he could get to you. He lowers his gun as your tailbone hits the concrete floor.

     Your thin work scrubs do little to fight the cold of the old flooring, one reason of many that you shake as you reach into your purse and get the small tin box.

     Hongjoong releases your wrist and sits mirrored to you, hands perched on the bars in the gaps of the purple vine flower wrapped on them. Seonghwa comes to the corner of his side of the split cage and breathes in deeply through his nose, eyes locked in on your every movement. "So you're essentially the errand lady? Maid?"

      "Yes..." You murmur under your breath as your fingers work to thread the needle, slowly backing away until you're out of reach, but still stuck in the blood ash with no one to rescue should the men infront of you decide to rip their cages open. You only stop backing away when you hear a warning growl.

     You don't care to see which it came from, you just want to do this as quickly as possible and get far, far, away. They could have chose anyone to focus their annoying efforts on. Changbin, Merle, the warden. But no, just your luck.

      "You live in the village, right? Were you born here?" Seonghwa continues to do the talking as you carefully fix the shirt.

      "Yes. And no."

     A small hum from the one in front of you is a sign they want you to continue. "I was born to an overpopulated pack. They kicked me out when I turned eighteen. Our old alpha took me in." The hitch in your voice is a clear sign that it's a sore topic. And Hongjoong continues to poke the wound.

      "How did they find you?"

       "Woods."

       "Woods?"

     You can't help the small growl of frustration, lip curling as you look up. "Woods."

     The reaction is one you wouldn't have expected from a normal person, but then- they aren't normal.

     They laugh, cooing over your gesture of anger. Compared to them, you seem like a teacup puppy. "My, my," the brunette chuckles breathily, "is that Solis coming to play?"

     "At least she can," you snap, sent to the back of your own head as your wolf tries to defend you, "she isn't a caged mutt."

    Hongjoong breaks out into a manic fit of laughter, while his paramour is the opposite: his eyes flick red before your own, sharp teeth on display in a show of dominance over your smaller ones that are subconsciously bared at him. "Watch it, omega." He spits his words with venom, "I won't be so nice when I get out of here."

     You rip the extra thread with your claw, kicking the shirt across the floor so it sits at the bottom bar of Hongjoongs cage. His chest still wracks with laughter, watching as you sit up in a low squat so you're still level with the alpha.

      It's clear that you aren't currently you. Your wolf has control of your mouth and body, crouched in a position akin to that of a dog ready to pounce as you hiss your words, "I'm going to laugh in your face as you hang."

     "Aw, is that how dear old alpha died?"

     "Cut it out!" Merle screams disinterested, eyes glued to his flimsy magazine.

      "I heard he got gutted~" Hongjoong giggles, watching the color flicking in your eyes.

     "I'll gut you!" Your threat only makes him laugh more.

      "(Y/n)!" The voice of Hylyon breaks your wolf away from you immediately, falling to your bottom and crawling to the sound unwittingly. "You fucking idiot, Merle!" 

     She reaches over the blood ash and pulls you over the ring, letting you collapse into her as she drags you away, still throwing profanities at the incompetent guard. Hongjoong is laughing loudly. Seonghwa yelling at you to come back. The elevator cuts of his roar, the last thing you see through your blurry vision is his fist making a dent in the silver cage.

You fall onto the floor of the metal box. Thoughts flood your head too quickly for you to swim though them, making you drown and try to escape by releasing the pain with tears. You don't even notice when your friend turns her key in the elevator to make it stop in its tracks, you only see her when she sits right infront of you.

"Babes, calm down, I've got you," she reaches out slowly and places a hand on your leg, slowly rubbing her thumb over your knee.

"I can't go back up there... they're too strong, they make me feel like I'm suffocating," you splutter through gasps, "I'm too weak!"

"Hey, hey, you're spiraling!" She opens her arms and pulls you into her, letting you sob into her uniform. "In and out, girl," she holds the back of your neck securely, almost instantaneously making you calm. "I got you... I got you..."

You sit there for a good while, crying into her shoulder as you sort through your wracked brains.

Your alpha was gutted. Right in front of you. Because of you.

Unbeknownst to you, their tuned ears are still listening in, the elevator stuck within their ear shot as you begin mumbling your favorite song to yourself through tears.

˚➶ ｡˚

The sound of claws slicing through the skin on your back rings in your ears. Though, you can't feel it. Your eyes are locked in on your own claws, dug into the hardwood floor of your humble home to keep yourself from being dragged.

     You've been here a million times before.

     Blood pooling off of your body and onto the frigid surface below you. Teeth sharp and bared to the moon though the open window, begging that she might let you survive. Eyes aglow with your instincts as your wolf tries with every fiber of her being to turn, but she knows it's no use.

     The distorted voice above you drips with mocking venom, a chuckle as its owner realizes you can't even fight back like other wolves might: by letting your wolf fully transform.

     The wind blows through your curtains, washes your body in the artic breeze. The snowflakes on your windowsill are so delicate, all of their features fade into a blurry mush as they make contact. They melt, dripping down your wall.

     This time it's different.

      You're turned over, gaping wounds slammed into the floor as always, but when you look up to your aggressor it's different.

      His eyes aren't the yellow of a rouge, but the red of an alpha. His hair isn't that unruly blonde curl that you pulled at frantically, that you can still feel on your finger tips when your hands are unoccupied. It's long, shining, soft looking dark locks.

       You fall through the floor into another time, another place.

     Face first into the snow: your hands, shaking with adrenaline, do little to catch you.

       You don't remember this.

       This isn't right.

       This isn't your nightmare.

       You find yourself in a clearing in a forrest, the densely packed trees creating a bubble of nature around you. "(Y/n)?"

      You whip around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar man. Almost face to face. If he weren't floating a few feet in the air.

     His legs are crossed under him, hands facing palms up on his knees.

      "Don't worry. You're only dreaming." He speaks calmly as he floats around you in a circle, like a shark examining its potential prey.

     You follow him with your feral gaze, that familiar feeling of an adrenaline crash quickly approaching.

You know you're only dreaming. You've had that last dream more times than you can count in the past three years. It always plays the same. But not this time. You're only slightly thankful that you don't have to witness your alphas death again, but the gratefulness is overshadowed by confusion.

"Are you an angel?" You whisper, watching the man's soft and rounded features as he comes to a stop in the air in front of you and gracefully lowers to his feet.

"I can be, if that's what you want me to be. I'm only here to watch your dreams, fight off the nightmares."

"Why?" You feel distant from your body, watching powerlessly as your hand takes his, letting him lead you out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods.

It disappears around you, warping into a spring day on a familiar path.

"A favor for a friend."

With the snow gone, you're in your spot, your old towel on the dewy grass with a book laid atop of it and the soil beneath your feet as you approach.

"Enjoy."

The hand vanishes from your own, leaving you alone on the side of the path. You look for him. But he's just an eidolon, watching you from the sky where you can't see him.

You warily take a seat and pick up the book.

˚➶ ｡˚

They don't see you again through the week. And when the next Monday comes by, their sheets are removed while they're in the showers.

Hongjoong sighs from his place on the floor, for the tenth time in the past half hour.

"Hong-"

"I miss our omega!" He whines, cutting him off.

Seonghwa stands from his cot, slowly lowering to the floor next to their shared bars. He lays flat on his back, mirroring Hongjoong as he tilts his head to look at him. "Soon." Is the only word he utters.

He reaches through the silver bars, ignoring the sting as the fresh wolfsbane brushes his wrist, and takes his hand.

The both of them look up at the ceiling through the bars of their enclosure.

Your scent is long gone from the room, and their noses can barely pick up on it through the rest of the village and prison.

"I want out of here," Hongjoong whispers, so lowly that the guard can't hear him from outside of the door, "when are they coming? Your bond with them is stronger, I can barely feel them..."

"Soon." He repeats, "very soon, Joong."

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday you manage to talk your coworker into sweeping the top floor, and you rejoice in the freedom of not being under the alpha's gazes. You've worked out a good schedule to completely avoid seeing them, and it's made your job feel like it's back to normal.

You can still smell their power wafting through the AC, but it's bearable. You distract yourself in your free time by making excuses to be on the second floor with Chungha and the other omegas.

Today, that excuse is 'omegas need physical outlets too', and the warden let you bring up buckets and brushes so you could all scrub the base boards.

"Oh, I've got one!" The omega to your left speaks, lifting his brush in the air in a eureka moment, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre or... Halloween?"

Chungha scoffs with a smile as she scrubs away to your right, "are we including sequels? There's like a billion!"

"No, stand alone original," Beomhan goes back to scrubbing as he continues, "both of them are classics but which one is a better classic?"

"Halloween is the classic slasher, Texas Chainsaw is like psychological horror," you chime in as you dip your brush into the bucket, sitting on your calves as you take a breather. "I think it's not fair to compare them... but Texas Chainsaw, definitely."

They laugh along with you, and Chungha shakes her head, "Halloween has more rewatchablity. You don't want to see Sally go through that more than once, but Laurie Strode fights harder and it's more like, yeah I'll watch her kick ass again."

"Cinematography in both is so beaut-"

The lights above you flicker before they shut down completely. People start muttering their concerns, quite a few of them looking your way. "Don't worry!" You hop up and get your keys from your pocket as you make your way to the locked stairwell. "I'll go and see what's going on, keep scrub-"

A loud siren echoes in the brick walls, shocking you all to cover your ears.

Everyone looks to you for answers, and you don't have any as your brain starts throwing theory after theory at you.

"It's okay, go back to your cells! Shut them behind you!"

They listened, however grumpy about it. The cell doors locked automatically when they were closed.

"Hey, what's going on?" Chungha asked over the clanging of the cell doors. The two of you, along with Beomhan, were the only ones left after a moment.

"Go back to your cell, Beomhan, hurry."

"No, what's happening?"

     The sirens cut off and leave you in a pregnant pause for a moment as you simply try to calm yourself.

A deafening scream ricochets through the air vent next to you, scaring you into their arms as you all stare at it.

Usually, the air flow covered the echoes throughout the floors. But with no power, you could hear everything- albeit muffled.

Yells and shouts. Gunshots. Growls. Unidentifiable chaos. And above all, your ears tuned in on a rumbling, calm voice through it all.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... It's not warm when she's away..."

Your eyes widen as theres a bang at the stairwell door. "Go, go!" You grab each of their wrists, dragging them into Chungha's cell. You slam it behind you and let down the sheet she has over it, backing away and staring at it as you hear the door hit the wall behind it with the force it's slammed open.

"(Y/n), what the hells happening?!"

     You slap your hand over his mouth and bring a finger to your lips. The other omegas on the floor are all making a ruckus, and you can only hope that it will confuse that unfortunately familiar voice so he can't find you.

˚➶ ｡˚

The beta in the large room ignores Hongjoong as he continuously asks after 'the pretty omega'.

He just sweeps and sweeps, finally understanding why you hate coming up here. He has his back turned to the cage, and consequently, to the windows.

High on the tall walls, the narrow glass is opened from the outside. Seonghwa smirks, and gestures his head to it. Hongjoongs gaze follows, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth so he doesn't laugh.

A skinny figure is sliding its way in through the window sideways.

He drops to the floor as silent as a mouse, landing on his knees and grinning wildly up at his alphas.

Hongjoong throws his head back in preemptive relief, while Seonghwa is watching with a similarly wide smile as the man walks straight through the blood ash, breaking the circle with the tip of his shoe.

The worker still has his back turned as the lock on Seonghwas cage is picked with a long claw. He doesn't even know what's happening as the next thing he knows, he's thrown across the floor.

      Blood ash knocks up around him, coughs wracking his body as he looks up to his assailant.

      Park Seonghwa, newly freed from his cage, looks down at the worker with his eyes glowing red.

     "Now usually..." He begins, crouching to be face to face with him, "I'd go through this whole place just for the fuck of it and cause some beautiful chaos. But I'm looking for someone."

     "(Y/n)?" He stutters out, backing away only to knock into Hongjoongs legs. Stuck between the two criminals, he chooses his own head over yours. "The second floor! Sh-she's on the second floor!"

     "Let's go get our omega, Joong."

      Nonchalantly, Hongjoong draws his claws and slices the neck of the worker. He hops over the gurgling body and follows his mate with an ecstatic giggle.

      He wraps his arm around the skinny man's shoulder, "Wooyoung! Our savior~" He ruffles his hair and laughs as he groans.

     "You guys know I've got your back. Seonghwa told me about your new omega, you seem excited," he mimics the alphas smile as the eldest of the trio opens the doors.

     The guard on duty, who happens to be Merle, looks back with wide eyes.

"Yes, oh yes!" His eyes roll to the back of his head, touching the stitches you made on his shirt. "Oh, you'll love her, she's a feisty omega just like you."

He makes a run for the fire alarm at the end of the hall, but Seonghwa is faster. The beta is tackled to the floor.

"I'm glad you both will have a buffer, tired of you always at each other's throats during ruts," Wooyoung laughs, looking down at the guard as they pass.

Seonghwa had simply torn out his throat with his bare hand and made his way to the elevator, holding it open with an impatient glare.

The door closes behind them and the only sound is Seonghwa's heavy breathing.

"You're real eager, huh?" The omega breaks the silence, "San should be coming in any second to block the main door. No one will get past him. The rest are in the village, just as we planned."

"Good, she'll need somewhere to rest before we take off....Fucking idiots, thinking they can cage us." He groans, eyes flicking to the number above the doors as it dings.

       3? "Fuck."

     The door opens and the woman on the other side takes a moment, nearly walking in before she notices the crimson liquid dripping from Segonhwa's hand.

      She makes it halfway through the hall before Hongjoong pounces on her, fighting her effortlessly as if she's a rag doll. The guards run to try and save her, but it's too late for the unfortunate woman, and they just signed their own death certificate as well.

       Seonghwa and Wooyoung make quick work of them, but their plan is already foiled as the lights flicker to a halt and leave them bathed in dim light of the setting sun in the few windows.

      The alphas fall to their knees as their sensitive ears are bombarded with a loud, incessant siren.

      "Wooyoung!" Hongjoong screams over it, "go turn that shit off!"

      He nods, taking the keys off a mauled guard and dashing to the stair well, leaving it unlocked behind him.

     Hongjoong crawls to Seonghwa, collapsing into his chest with his teeth clenched and palms over his ears. His ears were always more sensitive.

     His partner places his hands over his, thumb running over his own. He looks down with his eyes glowing red, meeting pure black.

He leans and kisses him deeply, all teeth and bloodlust, trying to merge their souls until the sirens cuts off.

Their foreheads rest together, ignoring the chaos of the beta's around them yelling to be released.

"Are you ready?" Seonghwa whispers, gathering another set of keys from the fallen workers. He throws it to one of the locked in prisoners, a smirk on his face. So much for not creating chaos.

"Let's go," Hongjoong holds the door to the staircase open and lets him go first with a dramatic bow.

It takes one scream to start the havoc. The entire prison is filled with the sickly sweet sounds of caged animals with a taste of freedom. Gunfire and howls bring a smile to Seonghwa's lips as he sings out,

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... it's not warm when she's away..."

He hums the song with a wide grin as Hongjoong kicks the door. It takes only one more kick before it slams open and bangs against the cement wall.

The omegas in their cells are all yelling at them, at one another, in general.

Hongjoong kicks one of the many buckets on the floor over and groans, "here I was thinking she'd make it easy. I guess we'll have to go cell to cell!" A small spike of a heartbeat in his ears makes him smirk, following the sound that he memorized the first time he'd heard it.

Seonghwa follows him, immediately zeroing in on the same cell. He comes to stand infront of it, his breath making the blanket behind the bars sway slightly.

You see both pairs of orange slip on shoes and you feel your heart stop in your chest.

You cower further into the corner with Beomhan as Chungha stands in front of you. The sheet is grabbed from the outside and ripped away, making you all shriek.

"Were you playing hide and seek?" Hongjoong giggles, throwing the blanket to the side with his eyes never leaving you, a scowl growing on his features as he notices the way you're curling into another wolf. "You should know better than to hide from your alphas. Come on out."

You shake your head, gaze lowered as you hold onto the back of Chungha's uniform.

"(Y/n)," the saturnine man speaks, "come here."

"No, leave us alone! Leave me alone," your voice cracks despite how strong you want to appear.

"If I have to drag you out of here I will be very angry. Just come on, do us all a solid."

"No-"

"Open the fucking door!"

"No!"

The cells were built to hold lycans, which means lycans shouldn't be able to get in... right?

"Fucking-" Seonghwa hits the bars, leaving a dent and making the three of you jump.

Hongjoong leans on his tiptoes and whispers into his ear, and whatever he says makes his eyes begin glowing a murderous red.

He slowly wraps his clawed fingers around the bars, and the way Hongjoong backs up makes your stomach churn in anxiety of what's about to come.

And it was warranted anxiety.

With a loud growl and a single tug, he rips the silver bars from their cemented place in the wall, causing a large crack to form.

"Holy shit!" Beomhan screams, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Chungha is ripped from the small room and tossed all the way across the room, back colliding with the wall and leaving her unconscious.

You yelp as Beomhan meets a similar fate, torn from your grasp and out into the rec room like he's a mere bag of trash. You see Hongjoong approaching him with his long black claws out and proud, but your vision is blocked by the large alpha infront of you.

     Your hips back into Chungha's small desk, and your hands clamber around, landing on something small and solid.

     You swing it at his head and he ducks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the small cell. You manage to swing again, making contact with his head. The small ceramic bowl shatters into pieces and leaves him only temporarily stunned, glaring down at you.

      "Fucking stop," he growls quietly, shoving you to the floor.

       He lets you shuffle away, only because Hongjoong is right behind you.

     The blonde chuckles, pulling you back up by your collar and crashing you face first into one of the round steel tables bolted into the floor. "Ow!" You yell out as your head makes contact, fighting against him with all your might, but it's fruitless.

     He kicks your feet apart and stands between them, leaning his chest over your back. You can feel his nose against your neck, over the healed skin above your scent blocker. You snap your eyes shut and do the only thing you can thing of.

     You can't fight. Begging to these men would be useless. You can't disappear into the floor like you wish you could.

     "Please, Selene," you pray to the moon, tears slipping past your shut eyes as you feel the claws of the mad man on your neck.

       You cry out as the other worldly sharp nails slice into your neck, slowly and almost surgically. His other hand is cupped on the back of your head, keeping your head pushed into the cold metal. "Shhhh," he gushes above you, "it's okay."

      Seonghwa sits at one of the bolted stools and rests his head to mimic yours, cheek on the table. "We'd've been more gentle if you listened, omega."

       Between the tips of his claws, Hongjoong holds your small alloy scent blocker. Almost instantaneously, your natural scent floods their senses.

     Their deep rumbles of pleasure make you snap your eyes back shut, missing the way Hongjoong stomps on the device.

     "Fuck," the wolf behind you curses, body pressed close to yours like he wants to fuse together, he places his hands in yours and tells you, "you might want to squeeze."

    "Wh- ah!" Your scream echoes over all of the other chaos as his teeth sink into your left shoulder, and you do just that. Your clawed hands squeeze around his, sharp nails knocking together as you hold on like his hands are the only thing keeping you from slipping to the underworld.

       It feels like a million pins and needles washing over you, leaving you paralyzed in place as he purrs into the wound, making your bones vibrate.

     A warm, comforting hand on your cheek makes you force your eyes open. Seonghwa smiles sweetly, like he isn't witnessing one of the biggest crimes in the lycan community.

      Forcing someone to be your mate for the rest of your mortal lives.

     "Breathe, omega," his words make you realize you're holding your breath, and you let it out as a sob. "That's it," he hums, rubbing his hand down your head with all the gentleness he's capable of.

        Hongjoong pulls away with a moan, resting his head between your shoulder blades as he catches his breath.

     Your wolf is already calling for her mate, howling in the back of your mind as you cry.

       "Don't worry, we'll take good care of you." Seonghwas words have little time to register in your adrenaline filled head as he turns your head the other way and climbs up on the table.

     It hits you when he moves your ruffled shirt away from your right shoulder. "No! No!" You find yourself with two million pins and needles in your body now, squeezing Hongjoongs hands all over again as Seonghwa sinks his teeth into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

They're bigger, or maybe they only feel that way because your body is on fire. You sob freely, feet stomping pathetically to cope with the pain.

What little comfort you find in Hongjoong squeezing your hands back is washed away by the simple fact that it's him. That blood from his claws drips onto your skin.

It feels like a century later that the older alpha finally pulls away, a bellow of pleasure as he runs his thumb over the wound: making you jump.

"Your turn, omega."

The weight of their bodies is gone, but you can't bring yourself to move. Out of fear, maybe. Pain, perhaps.

"You know what happens to wolves who don't finish the bond." Hongjoong purrs teasingly, knowing full well that you will have to mark them back least you want to suffer at the hands of the moon herself.

A life with them was better than being turned inside out and left to the elements. Just barely.

You lift yourself on shaking arms and nearly fall as you turn. You would have if not for Hongjoong catching you. He lifts you back to the table much gentler, letting your legs dangle as you sit on the table top.

"Why... why me?"

"... Have you heard of Harry Talbot?"

"Harry Talbots a myth... what's he got to do with your fuck shit?"

"Harry Talbot was the first wolf that could smell his mate. He could tell just by her smell, they were meant to be." Hongjoong slots his way between your legs, smiling down at you with his bloody teeth, "her smell called to him. It wasn't just good. It wasn't a normal scent. It was...alluring."

You were growing dizzy, head spinning.

"Strong alphas can sniff out their true mate. And, baby, we're the strongest that there is."

You have to force yourself to swallow. Have to remember to breathe.

"Why? Because you're... alluring."

That's the last thing you can register before your world turns dark.

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE END ˚➶ ｡˚