#finger guns my way out because I have a paper to write and instead I wrote....... this

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

Blank Pages and Empty Hearts

Ao3

Blank pages scatter across the desk. There should be writing on them: reports and memos and things of that sort.

Instead, John finds himself staring at solid white sheets.

His first thought is Smythe trying to pull some sort of elaborate prank, but he quickly dismisses it. Aside from their penchant for trying to sneak in green apples, Smythe takes their work seriously.

Pulling out a cigarette, John places it carefully between his lips before lighting it. He takes a long drag before sighing, his breath carrying a cloud of smoke with it.

It's too goddamn early for this.

He stands abruptly, beginning to pace the floor, occasionally glancing back at his desk. He knows, without a doubt, those pages had words on them when he left last night.

No one else has access to his office. The only way someone could get in is if they could teleport-

Realization makes him stop in his tracks. Cursing, he heads back to his desk before dropping into his chair.

Flicking the ashes off the end of his cigarette, he fights back a groan. This is the last thing he wants to deal with.

Especially today of all days.

He finishes his cigarette, stubbing the butt out in the ashtray before standing again. He heads for the door.

As soon as his fingers brush the handle, he feels eyes on him.

Freezing, John closes his eyes, hoping he's just imagining it.

Luck has never been on his side though.

“Well, well, well,” an all too familiar voice croons, “Already stressed so early in the morning, Johnny?”

An annoyed huff escapes John as he turns to glare at the man sitting on the edge of his desk. “I wouldn't be stressed if somebody hadn't taken my paperwork.”

Wiley gives an infuriating smirk. “All work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy,” he mocks as he casually tosses a green apple in the air. He catches it easily before taking a bite.

“Besides,” Wiley continues after he swallows, “Today is a special day. Don't even know why you're here, if I'm being honest.”

Gritting his teeth, John pulls out another cigarette. He waits until he's taken a drag to respond, “What, did you expect me to take today off?”

Wiley's smirk widens. “You did the past fourteen years. I just want to know what makes this year any different.”

“Give me back my documents and perhaps I'll tell you,” John bargains.

An annoyed sigh leaves Wiley as he snaps his fingers.

Ink blooms on the papers laying on the desk. It spreads and swirls until the words return to their proper place.

Pushing off the desk to take to his feet, Wiley begins walking toward John. “So? What makes today any different?”

John frowns slightly. The door is right behind him. His office doesn't have windows. He has no escape route.

He draws one of his guns, aiming easily at Wiley. “None of your business.”

“You wanna repeat that, Johnny?”

In a blink, the gun is out of John's hand and into Wiley's. Wiley easily takes the clip out before tossing the gun and magazine aside.

Swearing under his breath, John considers pulling out another gun, but he knows it's futile. The same thing will happen.

So instead, he opts to counter, “It's been fifteen years. Why would I keep taking today off?”

“Because, you're a hopeless romantic. Always have been,” Wiley taunts as he comes to a stop in front of John. He reaches up to grab the tags hanging from around John's neck. “Same reason you still wear one of my tags.”

He glances down to examine the tags, stiffening when he reads John's name on both of them. “... John, where's my tag?”

For a moment, he sounds so much like Wilbur again that it makes John's chest ache. “Packed away with the rest of your things.”

“Why-” Wiley cuts off abruptly as he puts the pieces together. His gaze rises to meet John's, dark eyes burning with something John doesn't want to name. “Who is he?” Wiley demands, voice deadly quiet.

“Why does it matter?” John questions. “You left. What I do now is none of your business.”

Something akin to a growl sounds off low in Wiley's throat. “You're making a mistake, Johnny,” he warns, leaning in closer.

John feels something in his chest snap. “No, the mistake was waiting fifteen years for you to come back. You made your choice, Wilbur. Now I get to make mine.”

Wiley's grip tightens on the tags before he lets go. “You better pray I don't find out who he is, Johnny.” A sick smile stretches his mouth almost grotesquely. He shakes his head. “And to think I stopped by to tell you happy anniversary.”

Before John can respond, Wiley has disappeared.

Pushing off the door, John goes back to the desk, settling in his chair. He busies himself by sorting through the papers, making neat little stacks as he tries to ignore how his heart attempts to beat out of his chest.

[magadauthan]

Ep 13: Vash the Stampede

@trigun98watchparty The Pain and Suffering Trigun Arc has begun, which must mean it's time for....

...a clip show! Woo hoo!

For the fic writer (me) it's helpful to see what the insurance girls are actually doing. They must be working on Vash-related claims (and, probably, non-Vash-related claims) while they follow him around.

...that would be a fun little fic. "This one was you... this one was you... this one was you..." "IT WAS NOT!"

--I wonder whether Meryl and Milly were ordered to follow Vash, or whether Meryl applied for the posting because of ambition / opportunities for advancement. I'd like to think the latter.

--Meryl having a terrible time with what to write and how to write it is hella relatable. Balancing truth, half-truth, and personal feelings into professional talking points - let alone making it palatable for the higher-ups - is not easy.

--Besides that, she has to paper over why she didn't recognize that Vash was Vash. Half the reason she's so mad at him at the beginning is that she was expecting someone who fit the legendary description, and instead he's a big doofus. What a disappointment!

--And then, horror of horrors, Vash starts to grow on her. How embarrassing. Guess Vash's ridiculous finger-gun hit the heart of a lady after all. Poor Meryl.

--The apparatus Meryl uses for coffee is called a Siphon. Does she carry that thing around? Apparently she runs on caffeine and aggravation.

--Milly runs on tea and amiability.

--OH YEAH, SHE'S ON A ROLL NOW, GET THOSE WORDS OUT WHILE THEY'RE FLOWING GIRL

--"Everyone who has become involved with him has somehow regained an emotion which was once lost." (what's yours, Meryl?)

--She's so confused. Who is he? Who is he, really?

--DUDE. YOU JUST BARGED. RIGHT INTO HIS ROOM. DID YOU EVEN KNOCK.

--Vash is remarkably calm and welcoming for someone who's just had his privacy massively invaded.

--OTOH it's rather nice that Trigun slyly subverts the stereotypical "shower scene."

--Why does he have sweats on right out of the shower? Is he a never-nude?

--"I wouldn't run away." Freudian slip!

--The English translation is janky in several spots, and this is a big one. Meryl is supposed to say "Won't you stop living the way you do?" Vash's response of "I can't until I've buried my past" doesn't make sense in the English because the translation isn't correct.

--those eyes, tho. Meryl is so sunk. She's done.

--Milly, you stinker. She knows what's up.

--Meryl you just jelly now lol

[the-writer-nerd-ro]

From the second I heard about You Awaken In A Strange Place, created by Jacob and debuted on Drawfee Extra, I knew I wanted to do a game night fic.

Jacob has the instructions for this game at pay what you want prices, so I recommend not trying to learn how to play from my little (extremely long) fic.

Shout out to @feeling--pink and @thestrangecarrotcake and my real life partner for providing suggestions to make this a little bit more improvised. I couldn't have done this without y'all.

You Awaken In A Strange Place

“It’s called You Awaken In A Strange Place, a totally improvised TTRPG. All you need is a game master, a few players, some paper, and some six-sided dice.” Marian gestured at the game of Yahtzee, which they’d raided for the game.

“How does it work?” Morgan asked, the most excited to roleplay. She ran a home game with her roommates and had been trying to get The Candy Bowl to play D&D with her for years, so it was surprising that her brother had been the one to bring a TTRPG to the table.

“There are five of us, so not everyone is going to get to pick a category, but everyone go ahead and roll two dice, add up the numbers, and tell me.”

“Eleven,” Morgan said.

“Four,” Hunter said.

“Seven,” Maddox said, smug that she’d beaten Hunter.

“Snake eyes,” Sara said with glee, not caring that she got last place.

“Okay, Morgan, pick a genre, write it down so you guys don’t influence each other, Maddox you’ll pick a location, and Hunter gets to pick a random adjective.”

Once everyone had written it down he collected the slips of paper.

“Okay, our game will be a Rusty Western, set in a town where it’s always winter. This is actually incredibly cohesive.”

“Western?” Maddox was surprised, “I didn’t know you liked Westerns.”

“I took a class on Western short fiction in college, it’s a fun genre.”

“Huh. Neat.”

“Okay, now, in the same order as your first rolls, everyone will say one true thing about the world. Anything you say is true and we will adapt to it, once we start playing you can make up new things about the world, but you’ll have to roll to see if it’s true or if it’s true in a way that’s bad for you.”

“Ooh, fun,” Sara’s eyes gleamed. Nothing was more fun than negative consequences in a low stakes game.

“Morgan, you’re first.”

“Right, since it’s always winter and it’s a western, instead of gun fights people have figure skating duels.”

Marian grinned and wrote that down.

“Maddox?”

“Uhhhh… This is hard.”

“It can be anything at all, big or small,” Marian encouraged.

“Instead of livestock like cows and horses, people have domesticated reindeer and polar bears,” Maddox said after a minute.

“Hell yeah,” Hunter said, surprised by her own excitement.

“Alright, Hunter, what do you think? And Sara, I’ll let you add two things because you didn’t get to pick any of the categories.”

Sara flashed a thumbs up.

“Okay, there’s a nearby town where it’s always summer and we hate those guys.”

“That’s a good one. Sara?”

“Okay, my two ideas are, some people in town are robots and this town is really invested in Christmas.”

“That’s a good way to bring in our adjective,” Marian said appreciatively.

“Okay, now everyone roll again and we’ll see who gets to create their character first.”

“Eleven,” Maddox said, gloating.

“Six,” Sara said.

Morgan held up four fingers.

“I got a twelve,” Hunter said, bursting Maddox’s bubble.

“Alright, Hunter goes first. You have to come up with your character and four skills. Everyone, including me, will come up with four skills and those will be the only skills we can roll on for the whole session. One skill you’ll be great at and get a + 2, another you’ll get a +1, then the next two you’re bad at and you’ll get a -1 and -2 respectively.” Marian took a deep breath.

“Is that all?” Hunter teased.

“If you would prefer, I can let Maddox go first.”

“No, I’m ready, give me a second.” Hunter grabbed her pad of paper and began to doodle.

“Okay, his name is Frost McClane, he’s an outlaw, and he rides a polar bear.”

“What’s the polar bear’s name?” Sara asked.

“Hmm�� Noel.”

“Yayyyyy!” Sara was very pleased.

“Skills?” Marian asked, wanting to make sure the ball kept rolling.

“Okay, +2 to figure skating, +1 to mechanics, -1 to stealing, and -2 to singing.”

“Why’s he an outlaw if he’s bad at stealing?” Maddox asked.

“Because it’s funny.”

Sara peered over at Hunter’s sketchpad.

“Oh, you’re drawing him? That’s so cute! Can you put a cowboy hat on Noel?”

“Nobody can draw a cowboy hat, Sara, but I’ll try.”

“Alright, Maddox, your turn.”

“Okay, my character’s name is Nick North, he hates Christmas, he rides a reindeer, and he’s a bounty hunter. The reindeer’s name is Killer. +2 to riding, +1 to figure skating-”

“You have to pick a different skill from Hunter,” Marian interrupted.

“How are we supposed to duel if I don’t have figure skating as a skill?”

“You would just roll flat, with nothing added or subtracted.”

“Did you just invent this guy to duel me?” Hunter asked.

“Duh. Okay, +1 to lassoing, -1 to forgiveness and -2 to Christmas cheer.”

“He sounds charming,” Hunter snarked.

“I like him,” Morgan said, having a bit of a big brain moment.

“Okay, great start, Sara, your turn.”

“Okay, I’m playing a robot who works at the saloon, they’re kind of dilapidated but they’re trying their best. Morgan, maybe you can help me come up with a name. For skills, I think +2 to bartending, +1 to flirting, -1 to business management, and -2 to conflict resolution.”

Marian snorted, clearly delighted by how this character creation was going.

“Alright, Morgan, bring us home.”

“I’m playing Santa Claus, +2 to omniscience, +1 flying, -1 to square dancing, -2 to holding grudges.”

“So Nick can’t forgive and Santa can’t hold grudges. And anybody can square dance,” Sara said excitedly, glad that dancing was on the table.

“Has anyone here actually square danced?” Hunter asked.

“I have,” Sara said, “I bet my robot has. Does anyone have a name suggestion?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I was thinking about Santa skills. You should be named after a drink since you’re a bartender. How about Screwdriver?”

Sara nodded thoughtfully. “First name Screw, last name Driver.”

Hunter couldn’t hold back a laugh at that.

“Alright, I’m going to add four skills everyone can roll flat on. Let’s add animal handling, kissing, we’ll add a general perception check and…” Marian hummed, deciding whether or not to add an actual method of violence to the game or leaving it up to figure skating. “Snowball throwing.”

“Sounds great,” Morgan said.

“I’m not kissing anybody,” Maddox said.

“You don’t have to. Okay! Five minute break so I can come up with a plot, you can talk amongst yourselves or get more snacks or whatever, I’ll be in my bedroom.”

Maddox got up to get more charcuterie and Hunter kept working on her drawing.

“Where’s Petunia?” Maddox asked from the kitchen.

“She said she had to work, they got a big order or something?” Hunter said.

“They’re doing the flowers for a quinceañera,” Sara said.

“Oh, cool.”

“Are you guys excited for your trip?” Morgan asked.

“Oh, yeah, it’s going to be so fun,” Sara said with a grin.

“I can’t believe you’re driving that whole way,” Maddox commented.

“It’s going to be so fun,” Sara said again.

“You’ll have to send us pictures,” Morgan said.

“Have you seen the “I eat at every Margaritaville in the country” video?” Sara asked.

Maddox scrunched up her face, “That sounds vaguely familiar. Is it by the guys who did the Rainforest Cafe one?”

“Yeah! Hunter said we couldn’t stop at one.”

“Buzzkill,” Maddox said.

“No, I said we couldn’t stop at one and stop at the Rainforest Cafe.”

“So we chose Rainforest Cafe.”

“Good choice. Get me something with Tracy the Tree’s creepy face on it,” Maddox requested.

“No promises,” Hunter said, stealing a piece of cheese off of Maddox’s plate.

“We’ll get souvenirs for everyone,” Sara said.

Hunter was concerned about who was included in everyone, since they were on a budget.

“I just want a seashell,” Morgan requested.

“We’re going to Lake Tahoe,” Hunter said.

“A lake shell, then.”

Marian interrupted the conversation then, stepping back into the dining room with a conspiratorial look in his eyes.

“Alright, guys, you awaken in a strange place.”

Instantly, their attention was rapt.

“Screw, you’re the most familiar with this place, it’s your saloon, but you’ve never seen your saloon in such a disarray. There’s broken glass everywhere, and three strangers passed out at the bar. We’ll resolve who wakes up first of the others in a second, but what do you do right now?”

“Can I clean up a little?”

“What skill do you use for cleaning? If you make a convincing argument I’ll let you roll for it.”

“Bartending. I’m literally tending to my bar.”

“Fair enough. Don’t forget to add your +2.”

Sara beamed and rolled. “Nine- wait, eleven.”

“Great! That’s a success so… You clean up no problem, and you find a broken key.”

“Do I know what it’s for?”

“Not yet. Everybody else, roll your two dice and we’ll decide who wakes up first.”

“Five,” Morgan said.

“Seven,” Hunter and Maddox said in unison.

“This could not have worked out better. Nick, Frost, you awaken at the same time, right next to each other.”

“I lasso Frost,” Maddox blurted.

“You don’t need to, because Frost is handcuffed to you, though you don’t remember how that happened.”

“Shit,” Maddox said, fully embodying Nick. “Can I do a perception roll to try to figure out what’s going on?”

“Of course, give me a roll.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got this… Ten.”

“Great, everyone has succeeded on their rolls so far. You get the lay of the land pretty quickly. You’re in a bar, you followed an outlaw in here and now you’re handcuffed to him, you still don’t remember how that happened but you know in your cold little heart that you were not just chasing someone, you were running from something else. Then you look to your left and see Santa Claus. Frost, you have an action before Santa wakes up.”

“I’d like to do a mechanics roll to wriggle out of the cuffs.”

“Alright, add your +1.”

“Oh… That’s a 4.”

Marian held back a laugh.

“Sorry, Hunter. You tighten the cuff on your hand and it cuts into your wrist a little. You all start with 10 points of health. So mark down that you’re at nine now.”

“Damn,” Hunter muttered. “Do I remember how I got in this predicament?”

“Give me a flat perception roll.”

“Eight.”

“Okay, that’s a partial success. Also I should mention, whenever you completely fail a roll you get a +1 that you can use to bump up a roll in the future, it wouldn’t do you any good here, though. Let’s see… On an eight, you also notice Santa. You’ve never much cared about being on the naughty list before, but maybe it’s becoming a pressing issue now. Morgan, you wake up.”

“Great! Do I remember what happened?”

“You tell me, what do you roll to remember?” Marian trusted Morgan’s TTRPG background.

“Omniscience.”

Marian grinned. “Go ahead, add your +2.”

“How does a 12 sound?”

“You rolled a 10 and got a 12? Incredible. Yeah, okay, you remember pretty much everything. You came to this town looking for Nick, who you found chasing Frost, and you were able to corner them both in this saloon. You handcuffed them together but before you could teach them some moral lesson, there was a blast of warm, powerful magic that put the three of you asleep and temporarily shut down Screw.”

The wheels in Sara’s head were turning.

“So Santa was after Nick… Wait! Is Nick Santa’s son?’

“That’s up to Maddox and Morgan.”

“Yeah, sure,” Maddox said.

“Absolutely! This is so fun,” Morgan said, clapping her hands.

“Did you plan this?” Hunter accused.

“No, but I did set up my character to be Santa Claus adjacent, I didn’t know Morgan was going to be Santa Claus.”

“I wanted to be Santa Claus from the second Sara said the town was super invested in Christmas, but when Maddox created Nick I did consider the possibility that our characters could be related.”

“Why didn’t you mention that to me during the break?” Maddox said.

“Because it’s all supposed to be improvised, I didn’t want to meta-game.”

“Alright,” Maddox said with a shrug.

“Okay, I'm gonna turn it over to you guys for a bit, try not to talk over each other I want to make sure everyone gets a turn, what would you like to do?”

“Can I make a perception check specifically to notice the key?” Hunter asked.

“Go for it.”

“9. Wait, I'm gonna use my point to bump it up to a 10.”

“Alright, full success. You see that Screw is holding a key that you're sure goes with your handcuffs. You could probably try to steal it with your other hand if you wanted to.”

“No, actually, I'd like to try to flirt to get the key.”

“Okay, roll and tell me what you say.”

“Seven.”

“Partial success. What do you say?”

“Is it just me, or do you hold the key to my heart?”

Marian sat back and waited for Sara to respond, fully giving them the scene.

Sara understood the assignment.

“If this is the key to your heart, I'm afraid it's broken. Uh, Screw hands over the broken key.”

“Shit.”

“But, and if you'll allow me to also roll flirting, I say, ‘I'd be happy to help you fix it.’”

“Roll to flirt. +1.”

“Oh, eleven.”

“I think North is probably completely enamored with you,” Marian said.

“Yeah,” Hunter said, completely enamored with Sara.

“That's cheating, they're real life dating they can't date in the game too.”

“If you're not gonna kiss anybody Madds then we gotta get our classic Western romance somewhere,” Marian said.

“Whatever. Can I try to break these handcuffs by force?”

“What would you roll to do that?”

“Uhhhhhhhh…”

“So that's a no.”

“Okay, then I want to yell at my dad.”

“No roll required to yell at your dad.”

“Why did you do this to us?!? You broke the fucking key!”

“Language,” Morgan said, fully embodying Santa Claus.

“Oh, because of your list? I don't care about your stupid list. Either get us out of these handcuffs or get out of here.”

“I don't think you can talk to Santa like that,” Hunter said.

“Oh, what do you know? I know you're on the naughty list too. That's how I've been tracking you filthy scum outlaws.”

“That feels like world building, roll to see if the naughty list actually has tracking abilities.”

“Uh… Five.” Maddox screwed up their face at the failed roll and marked down the +1 for later.

“Okay, that's a failure so. .. It totally does and you've been using the copy you stole from your dad to track bad guys, but you realize all of a sudden that you don't have your copy anymore.”

“Son,” Morgan said, “I understand why you're upset but it seems like someone is sabotaging us, we need to focus on that before we focus on our interpersonal issues.”

“Someone ruined my saloon,” Sara said, “it's usually not like this Mr. Santa Claus it's usually much nicer.”

“I know, I know everything.”

“Everything except who's sabotaging us,” Maddox muttered.

“Can I roll omniscience again to see if I can figure out who's sabotaging us?”

“Yeah, but eventually you're going to need to roll other skills.”

“Got it. That's a six.”

“Can I help him?” Hunter asked.

“How do you help?”

“Well, everyone can roll omniscience, can't they?”

“Huh, I guess you’re right. Give me a roll and if you succeed then it bumps up Morgan's roll to a partial success, if it fails then you share the consequence. And we'll say that a partial success does nothing in this instance.”

“Seven. Sorry, Morgan.”

“It's okay, thanks for trying.”

“Okay, Frost, you do not achieve omniscience. Santa, you're met with a barrier, as hot and uncomfortable as the magic blast that put you to sleep and tore through the saloon. This barrier keeps you from being able to attain more information, and you take one point of… I think it's called psychic damage?”

“Cool,” Morgan said, unphased by the damage and excited about the unfolding mystery.

“Maybe we should get out of the bar and investigate. I think Nick is probably pretty stressed now that he knows his list is missing and he really, really wants to find it.”

“Alright, does everyone want to leave the bar?”

“If he goes I go so that I'm not being dragged,” Hunter said.

“I follow Frost, but I lock up the saloon.”

Morgan shrugged. “I guess I'll leave too.”

“Marian, is my polar bear nearby?”

“Uh, sure, what do you want to do with it?”

“We don't have a brute force mechanic but I was thinking maybe if I roll well on animal handling then Noel can break the cuffs.”

“Okay, but if you roll badly you'll take more damage.”

“Got it.”

“I got a… Nine.”

“Okay, he's able to break it enough for you to wriggle out, but you deepen the scrape from before and take an additional point of damage.”

"But I'm not attached to Nick anymore?”

“Correct.”

“Okay, now I roll to lasso Frost.”

“Okay, add your +1.”

“5.”

“Okay, you slip on a puddle and land in the dirt. Normally this would be a soft landing, because of all the snow, but there's no snow. One point of damage.”

“Am I the only one who hasn't taken any damage?” Sara asked.

“Don't jinx yourself,” Morgan said.

“Jinxes aren't real,” Hunter and Maddox said simultaneously. One of them could have been owed a soda, if jinxes were real.

“What happened to the snow?” Morgan asked. “I’m pretty sure that there was snow when we got here.”

“I’m not gonna make you roll for perception or omniscience, there was definitely snow when you got there.”

“I bet it was those summer people,” Sara said.

“Was that in character?” Marian asked.

“It can be.”

“Right, okay, good guess, Sara has solved like, both of the mysteries so far.”

Hunter squeezed Sara’s hand under the table, very proud of her girlfriend.

“Of course… Those people have always hated me,” Morgan said. “Ever since I told them Christmas in July was not a real holiday.”

Marian cracked up at that and it took a minute before the game could continue.

“I bet they have my list…”

“You mean my list,” Morgan said. “Wait, you lost the list?”

“I didn’t lose it! It was taken from me when you did your stupid handcuff trick. If you hadn’t handcuffed us then I wouldn’t have lost the list.”

“You wouldn’t have lost the list if you hadn’t stolen the list.”

“Is that why you followed me here? Because of your stupid list?”

“No! I came because I care about you, and I miss you.”

Hunter leaned over to Marian while Morgan and Maddox staged some family drama, “Can me and Screw get on my polar bear and ride away while they’re distracted.”

“Screw, do you want to sneak away with Frost?”

“Yeah, but I also want to figure out what’s going on…”

“I want to go find those summer people, I’m not just trying to escape,” Hunter said, as the Santa and Nick fight continued in the background.

“Oh, then, yes!”

“Alright, Hunter roll for riding, and Sara if Hunter fails the roll you can roll to help.”

Sara flashed a thumbs up. They weren’t being particularly quiet, but neither Morgan or Maddox noticed, since they were so into their little argument, which really fed into Maddox’s debate background and Morgan’s roleplay background.

Hunter rolled quietly and then held up ten fingers.

Marian nodded.

“Sara, roll perception to see if you can figure out the correct direction to go.”

“Eight,” Sara said in a low voice.

“Okay, you see some tracks but you’re not entirely sure which way they’re going, so just pick a direction, left or right.”

“Right.”

Marian rolled a dice to see how well Sara’s luck was gonna hold, but he didn’t say anything to confirm or deny whether or not they were correct.

“Yo, Nick, roll me a perception check.”

“12.”

“Yeah, Screw and Frost are completely gone. But you do see polar bear tracks leading to the right.”

“I get on Killer and follow them.”

“Roll for riding, +2, Santa what do you do?”

“I'd like to fly up and try to catch up to them sooner so that it doesn't turn into a fight.”

“Okay, +1 to flying, and if you succeed I'm gonna have you roll for conflict resolution.”

“I rolled a four.”

“The heat magic is too strong and you're unable to get off the ground, I'm not going to make you take damage for that.”

“Nick, let me ride with you.”

“Hell no.”

“Roll me a flat holding a grudge roll,” Marian said.

“What about my riding roll? I got a nine and I'd like to bump it up to a 10.”

“Hold onto that and roll for holding grudges.”

“Shit. I got a 2.”

“Okay, so you haven't forgiven your father but you realize it's silly to harbor this grudge when there is a more pressing matter, so, despite your best wishes, you allow Santa to ride on Killer with you.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Alright, you guys take off and make good time but it's only fair to allow Screw and Frost a surprise round. What do you two do?”

“Do I see the punk from Summertown?” Hunter asked.

“Perception.”

“That's a five.”

“You do not.”

“Then I roll to flirt with Screw.”

“Useless,” Maddox muttered.

“What did you roll?”

“12.”

“Why do you only roll well for unimportant rolls?” Maddox asked.

“This is important, as far as we know we're alone so I'd like to enjoy my time with the cute robot bartender.”

“What do you say?”

“I'm not much of a thief, but I hope to steal your heart.”

“I roll to kiss Frost.”

“I'm so glad I added kissing,” Marian said with a chuckle.

“Uh, seven.”

“You share a lovely kiss but because you're a robot you do shock Frost a little, Hunter-”

“I know, one more point of damage. Why am I the one taking damage? Sara is the one who rolled badly.”

“Because it's much harder to hurt a robot. While you're kissing, two other things happen. The first is that Santa and Nick catch up to you, the second is that you are suddenly pelted with snowballs. No additional damage from the snowballs.”

“I thought there was no snow,” Hunter said.

“The four of you look over and see, standing on top of the last snowbank, a man wearing sunglasses, a Hawaiian shirt, and a black cowboy hat. He says, “You idiots, I've lured you all here, and once I destroy the last of the snow and ice, your town will become a ghost town and Summer will reign supreme.”

“That's some heavy handed exposition,” Maddox said.

“Was that in character?” Marian asked.

“Yes, and I try to lasso him.”

“Roll.”

“Seven.”

“He dodges out of the way but you somehow manage to lasso the naughty list, which is now back in your possession.”

“I immediately take it from him,” Morgan said.

“Roll to steal.”

“9, but I bump it up to a 10.”

“Okay, yeah, you steal it from Nick.”

Maddox glowered at Morgan for a second before remembering this was a game and that nothing had been physically stolen from her.

“You said there was ice left?” Hunter asked.

“Yes, there's a frozen lake nearby that this man intends to melt.”

“I challenge you to a figure skating duel. Nick, will you be my second in the duel?”

“Uh…”

“Roll forgiveness to see if you trust Frost enough to be his second in the duel.”

“I rolled a 10 that becomes a 9.”

“Okay, you agree to be his second but because you don't fully trust him you can't use your rolls to help each other. But, since he’s a summer guy I think it’s only fair if he has a -1 to figure skating.”

“Thanks for throwing us a bone,” Hunter said.

“Should be -2,” Maddox muttered.

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and roll. Hunter, add your +2. You just both have to beat my… One.”

“You rolled a two and got a one?” Maddox snorted.

“Yes. So, you’re guaranteed to win, but let’s see how well you do.”

“I got an eleven,” Hunter said, looking proud.

“I got a four,” Maddox said sheepishly.

“Okay, well, you both do very well against the summer outlaw, but, at the very end, the ice begins to crack and both Nick and the outlaw go under.”

“Roll to lasso Nick,” Hunter said immediately. Even when their characters were enemies, Hunter wasn’t going to let anything happen to her cousin.

“Go ahead.”

“Shit, I only got an eight.”

“Can I give the help action to save my son?” Morgan asked.

“Of course.”

“I got a 12.”

“Okay, together, you save Nick. Maddox, you take one point of damage and I think I’d like you to roll forgiveness to forgive your father and Frost.”

“Okay, it’s only fair… I have a -1 but if I use the failure I just did I roll flat… Ten!”

“Great, it seems like you forgive them, but you tell me how it happens.”

“Frost, you’re free to go, try to get on the right list.”

“If I can interject,” Hunter said, “Frost looks at Screw and nods and says, ‘I think I have a reason to go straight.’”

“Roll to kiss,” Sara said, happy to have sat it out for a minute but eager to join in now.

Maddox rolled her eyes as Sara rolled the dice, getting a very cinematic 12.

“Okay, those two have their movie magic kiss while the sun sets, what does Nick say to Santa?”

“Hey.”

Morgan held back a laugh, sobering up so she could add to the scene.

“You can have the list back, if you would like. I know being a bounty hunter is important to you.”

“It is, but… I think I want to use the list for the right reasons. If you’ll let me come back.”

“Santa scoops Nick up in a hug. ‘I have wanted you to come home for a long time.’”

“I roll to have Christmas cheer but it’s unlikely.”

“I think you have an extra +1,” Marian said, unsure if that was true but throwing Maddox another bone.

“Okay… Then I got a nine.”

“Can I start singing a Christmas carol to give the help action?” Morgan asked, while Sara and Hunter kissed in real life to signify the fact that their characters were still making out.

“Yeah, no one has rolled singing yet I would love if you rolled singing. If you get a partial or complete success Nick can be bumped up to a ten and feel the spirit of Christmas in his heart again.”

“Big money, big money… Seven! That’s a partial success!”

Maddox high-fived her sister. “Nick’s heart grows three sizes and he doesn’t even mind the fact that a robot and an outlaw are making out in the background. Also that other guy is dead right?”

“Yeah, super dead,” Marian said.

“Well,” Sara said, pulling away from Hunter, “should we celebrate at the saloon?”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, “Let’s have a square dance.”

[the-writing-moon]

so i work in a well-known library, right, as a part-timer, and it's been great working with the books, they're real friendly and everything. but this is a very exclusive library, right, you have to send in an application and maybe get interviewed to get in because we're dealing with really old archival material here; i've had to dust crumbled paper off of desks and some of the spines of these hundreds-of-years-old books have been replaced with electric tape with their titles rewritten with wite-out from how much the spines have fallen out. i look up and see dead white men glaring down at me from murals and paintings and busts from the ceiling, probably aghast and wondering how a fucking little island girl is handing their precious books and poking at their dutch-painted glass windows with her grimy brown fingers. this is just set-dressing, so you really know where i'm coming from.

anyways, you know those memes that go around writing communities? doesn't matter if you write fics or manuscripts, we've all seen them, liked them, reblogged them.

"writing a slash fic instead of writing i've been googling what jewelry young german women wore in the 1700s"

"i'm pretty sure i'm on the fbi and interpol hitlists because of my search history"

"story prompt: overly helpful serial killer sweetheart x clueless crime fiction writer"

"when you don't know long division but you can talk about the taxation laws in victorian england because you needed to find out how taxes work to make your story believable"

they're memes that make you chuckle, guffaw, and nod because they're relatable! everyone hates the idea of being corrected by a random poindexter who can call you out on your bullshit on victorian tax laws, you uncultured fool, or who happens to know how blood sprays look if you shoot a person a certain way, you gormless coward, not because they were shooting the gun but they were part of the forensics team, pinky promise, i wasn't there on the 15th of november. and it's a bit absurd. like, who exactly knows - or cares - about victorian tax laws? does it really matter to write about reality in all its facets into fiction? majority of your readers probably aren't vampires or other extant immortals so does it really matter if you don't hold history up as accurately as possible in your 30k friends-to-enemies-to-lovers dark academia yuri slashfic? does historical accuracy matter when you're writing about samurais in the heian period in modern english with modern sensibilities? who would even know what stuff was really like back then? some things aren't googlable, and you can't always trust google anyways.

i don't know the answer to all these questions. but i know the answer to one.

so, back to the library.

one day, i'm shelving history books one after the other, listening to an audiobook from a public library using a library card of which i faked my address for me to use. reparations. and way more ethical than piracy in my eyes. support authors, patronize libraries, and all that. when i shelve books, i like to wonder about who reads them and why. what research they're doing. what they're doing here. whether they know how lucky they are. i envy this library where i work. i envy the people who live in this town. i envy the readers. they have all of this because someone recognized the value of hoarding, the value of taking and tabulating and preserving. one could argue it's the colonial way. but enough of that, i'm shelving books, books that i sometimes wonder at, because i never could have imagined so many books on so many topics, and sometimes they are topics that are so trivial and-

and i'm holding, in my hands, a book about the jewelry young german women wore in the 1700s.

being in a university town, you come to understand that academics have their pet projects; the drive to understand the minutiae of their field, of humanity, of nature. think of a topic and there's probably a dissertation for that. you also understand there is a lot of publishing politics, that researchers' papers are paywalled behind exorbitant fees for which they receive no royalties from. you also understand that academia can also be elitist, even when the people inside it call for open access.

to other people, i'm sure i sound incoherent and raving. but i'm sure that there are people out there who understood why i took several moments staring at this book, recalling all those fucking memes about historical accuracy, of people joking that they're looking for things even the internet has no answer for. because the answers do exist. someone's written about them. someone took the time to look at and tabulate and write about german jewelry. someone else, tax laws. some other person, blood sprays, either through study or applied experimentation. the knowledge is out there. they just aren't available to you.

[pvthfinder]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @streetkid-named-desire Tagging: UH... I'll have to see who's open to sharing their WIPs, but if you are, consider this your call.

I started writing this months ago and it's been sitting in Google docs ever since. It was never really going to be a finished piece, but I wrote it to start getting Sif's 2077 voice (and cyberware) down. Just a little peek into a moment in time when she was picking up jobs, trying to get her foot in the door in Night City. The woman she's working with needs to be fleshed out but I'd like to make her a recurring character.

—

"Do you even have iron?"

Sif gave a mildly insulted look at the question. In this city? But she shrugged, her head bobbing back and forth in a non-committal way. "What do I look like? I've got a li'l .45 that does the job."

"Let's see it", her tablemate said over her coffee. Ringed fingers tapped the foam cup, and Sif forced a huff as she leaned back to reach into her jacket. The hell did it matter what she was packing?

More than she knew, apparently. What she set on the table nearly made the woman spit, but she managed to swallow in time for an exasperated laugh-turned-sigh.

Sif rolled her eyes and leaned further back into her seat. Sure, the old Unity was worn, had some obvious replacement parts, and looked as humble as the price it would fetch on the secondhand market, but it fired. Most of the time.

"Look, I know it ain't much but it's better than nothin'—"

"Oh, honey, this is nothin'." A delicate hand scooped the pistol off the table and turned it, brow rising as she felt its weight. "This is one jam away from a paperweight. Is it even loaded?"

Sif threw her hands up. "Ammo's more expensive here."

"It's Night City. Everything's more expensive," the woman chided, gently setting the pistol down and sliding it back across the table. "I— look."

She was the one to let go of a deep breath this time. "I have an op that I want to make sure goes smoothly, and that means having the right people with the right equipment. It's not personal."

"Didn't take it that way. This..." Sif picked up her gun, wiggling between her fingers before tucking it away in her jacket, "...is just what comes with startin' from the bottom."

She picked up her bottle, ready to leave the conversation there and wave this all off as wasted time. But something kept her from taking that last sip. A question that nagged at her from the back of her head. The same spot where instinct used to sleep like an old hound before she drowned it.

"I didn't peg y' fer someone interested in a charity case, so why do I get the feelin' that it's less about the iron and more about the person aimin' it?"

"Because it always is. I need an unknown face and you need the eds. Supply and demand." The woman stared out the window for a moment, the slightest twinge of a smirk on her lips, before turning back to look at Sif fully. "And you're right. I'm not known for charity, but I do make... investments."

Sif sat up a little straighter. "You know I can't pay."

"Well aware. So I'll make a deal with you instead." Her painted fingers clasped at the paper coffee cup, glint of silver rings out of place against the kitschy, hazard yellow Capitan Caliente logo. "You'll get to take a peek at my arsenal. Anything under a market value of three K is yours—within reason, of course. In return, you'll owe me a little favor."

Sif listened with an even expression, but her tone was wary. "Hopefully a three K favor."

An honest laugh. The first Sif had heard from her, even if it was barely a breath. "It'll be proportionate, don't worry."

"Let's say I agree. Then I've got a question for you," Sif fired back. Her would-be employer gestured for her to ask away. "Why me? Why some untested newcomer? There's other drivers, so I can only assume y' saw somethin' about me 'piques yer interest. And if I'da guess… it's my service record and the chrome that came with it."

The woman paused for a blink, then a smile broke on her face. "That's a bit conspiratorial, but… not wholly untrue either. I mean, I told you I need an unknown, and we both know you're not untested. You've got the record to back that up, but the 'ware is a bonus. What's installed?"

"Optics with variable magnification up to twenty times and compatible targeting soft, nanocarbon subdermal armor over my squishy bits, limb stabilization… those are the big ones." Sif listed them easily. "Not recent market stuff, but military grade. Still works. All tuned to long-range, high caliber work."

"You're a sniper." The woman sounded mildly surprised.

"Was," Sif corrected. "Stuff served me better as a scout fer my old clan than it did in the war. But before you start drafting up contracts, I don't do wetwork and I fall asleep on watch duty. I'm a driver, not a marksman."

"I'll keep it in mind," the woman mused in a tone that belied a reassessment. "But seriously, ditch the Unity."

"Oh my god," Sif grumbled into her bottle.

[drreamgirls]

I have spent a few days listening to the music you like. you have a tattoo of something I still don't understand but love to touch on your ribs, a stranger one on the inside of your arm. you got it when you were still just a kid. my first tattoo was a star instead. i did the math - we got our first tattoos in the same calendar year. isn't that kind of cool. When will you be home? Come home I love you I miss you you're my life Isabelle writes, it's just a text, really, she's probably have had too much sweet wine, and Mizu does not know how to tell her she's missed her too other than call her and ask her if she's been eating, and you're lying. Donuts are not fucking dinner. And yes they are. You're just dour, old and no fun.

And then laughter.

They talk for four hours on the phone while Isabelle strings together a garland. They talk for six hours while Mizu cleans out her guns, sat on the floor in a blank grey empty flat somewhere in downtown Manhattan. There's blood on her hands that is not her own but Isabelle can't see it she's so far away from her now, her absence is a bruise. She tells her I saved a Pinterest tip for the summer about making paper kites. And I planned us a week-long trip to maine, mapped out my favorite places for a hike. Maybe in may... Mizu does not say anything, she hums, thinks that she would go anywhere with her, and isn't that something. She remembers how they had driven all the way from Las Cruces up to Albuquerque and Isabelle had fallen asleep on the ride home, and Mizu had turned down the radio so it wouldn't wake her up. Her quiet hands folded over hers on her thigh. The fire of her dark eyes on hers in that Denny's she had been working at those days, the two of them sat together on that car in the junk yard behind the diner, passing a bottle of beer back and forth between them. Isabelle had been smoking constantly, her skin smelled like drenched violets and smoke, and there was fire in her eyes and something else in them. Hunger. Revelation. Mizu does not drink she's never had. But when she had passed the beer bottle to her with that strange smirk on her mouth and said come on, she had prised the bottle from her fingers, its neck so slick with dark plum lipstick where Isabelle's mouth had been, and she had pressed it to her own lips, suddenly wanting her on her mouth. It had left a smudging of lipstick on her chin and Isabelle had leaned up on her left elbow, licked her thumb and wiped it away, her skin like silk against her face. Her eyes had flashed like mirrors under the street lamp.

Isabelle had once told her that her mom used to love hallmark movies, she would watch them every Saturday, smoking wine in a bottle on the floor, so she had grown up thinking love would look like a firework. it feels like one... Isabelle drawled one moonless August night on the hood of that car next to her, her body burning into Mizu's side. Summer was dripping over them, sweet and hot and languid. it's just that my house wasn't safe. i thought love was a weapon, could be pointed at your eyes. could lose a finger to it, or your teeth. my father used to say passion is everything. I thought that meant constant screaming was a good thing. I thought that meant love looked like a week of anger, because it was worth the weekend's boombox dramatic apology. I thought quiet love was boring. That love had to blot out everything...look like ruining your own dinner table - but what a fucking feast you've had! you're so fucking lucky. She had been so drunk. Mizu had not said anything but she had reached over and gently brushed her curls from her face, wiped a droplet of beer off her mouth. Isabelle's lips had parted like a flame, suddenly sucking on her fingers, and Mizu had pulled her hand back as though scalded by fire, had said you're drunk. Let's get you home. And Isabelle had been suddenly frantic, had said no, not yet. I wanna be with you. please, Mizu and they had lied back down on the hood, under a summer sky purring with heat, Isabelle's head resting against Mizu's and even the air had seemed to shudder at the simple sweetness of it.

It had been easy, falling in love with her. She had not known how to love, but she had wanted to. It had been a shock to her system, suddenly discovering that she had a heart or as good as, pulsing and throbbing for her.

Their love had not looked like a gun; it had felt like a scarf, Mizu's hands smoothing it down Isabelle's chest in the winter, being sure each of the edges are tucked in, worried about her asthma attacks being cold-activated. Still is. It looks a little like: Isabelle racing her while she's wearing heels, and she's laughing and it's the only thing that keeps her from sliding into that dark dead place inside of her. She holds her hand to guide her downhill while walking the dog. They dance in the living room of their new flat to waltz of the flowers, or more like, Isabelle dances (she's always loved ballet) and tries to show Mizu how to hold her arms in proper ballet port de bras and Mizu scoffs and says I'm not a pussy, which earns her a badly unimpressed look, but Mizu is smiling, and Isabelle is thinking you never smile I've only ever seen you laugh with me. Taking a shower together in half light and letting her scrub her back, letting her trace the burn scars over it, they run all the way from her nape to her waist and Isabelle kisses them softly. They sit together on their porch afterwards and Mizu plaits her hair. It takes her ten minutes for a braid but when she's done, it's perfect.

she calls her now, and she's halfway across the world or feels like it. She's missed her. She does not know how to say it other than, turn on your camera pretty girl, let me see your face. Suddenly she's fucking gone. She lives eternities in that smile. For a moment nothing else matters but this, and her, the two of them together. Not anger and death and fury and revenge.

when Mizu looks up, the stars are brighter. how carefully she's woven light into the dead corpsed-out, numb, empty spaces inside of her... when she moves, she feels some part of her soul reflected back onto Isabelle.

Love is not a net, or a knife held to their throat, glinting. It's a blanket.

[legiomiam]

FIND THE WORD

Tagged by @awritingcaitlin (x2) my words are: shrug, see, short, sure, sign and plan, blink, swore (I surprisingly don’t have), small, run

Here enjoy another project From Ashes And Dust

I tag: @juls-writes, @mr-writes, @carrotblr, @botanistweak

And your words are: needle, thread, grin, and toast

☙❦❧

SHRUG

“Get a translator,” Captain Jonah was calling towards the open door, people scrambling to find someone who could understand what the young woman was saying.

“I know a little that I can help you with.” Officer Lumburg let himself into the interrogation room and sat next to Jade, briefly introducing himself in that same language she had spoken.

“Officer Lumburg will help by translating for me. We caught you robbing a medical lab. We also have you on camera, so don’t deny it.” She waits for the translation to be done and the young woman sighs and then shrugs.

Mouth moving as she mumbles some more russian.

“She says that she passed out from lack of food. She has food in her bag you took.”

“You can eat once we are done here.” Jade holds up a paper, “we also have reason to believe that you may be involved in the murder of a local man.” She waited and Leon held his breath watching, if the girl gave any indication to the statement — instead she sat back, frowning. More words.

“She won’t answer until she eats.”

☙❦❧

SEE

“Okay, Wyck, thank you for the update.”  Her footsteps didn’t falter at all, and she could see Hesting Tower, the tall pillar cut through the center of the city.  “Here I go.” All or nothing, bitch.

She kneeled on the ledge there, one shin parallel to the roof of the brick building she was perched on. Soon enough little rows of lights made their way across the street below her, she could make out the uniformed bodies of the patrol officers.  Usually they were very easy to avoid if you knew which direction they were heading. Normally they weren’t seven minutes ahead of schedule.

The schedule change was part of the new security in place within the city limits thanks to terrorists trying to contaminate the blood transfusion center’s supply with an undetectable toxin a few years back, it seemed a repeat was hinted at happening once more. While it kept the citizens believing that they were safe from harm and that they could trust the medical empire that Doctor Derrickson Ehvtz had created just forty years ago.

Yes, good ol’ Doctor Ehvtz. His face was plastered on a billboard when you entered forty-five, treated like a god. It was disgusting.

☙❦❧

SHORT

The smooth panel of wall at the bottom shifted under her touch and she pried at it with shaking fingers. Were the nightmares a warning about this? Pulling out a case wrapped in a dirty cloth she opened it to grab the syringe gun, metal freezing to her skin. However, the relief at having the weight in her grasp was short lived, the little shots of what she needed were not in there. A curse escaped her lips, too loud for her ears, as she hunted for them in the case, hoping one rolled out of its place and was lying on the edge.

No such luck.

Alexia’s fingers brushed a small round pill as long as the length of the tip of her pinkie finger to the middle knuckle. None of the vials for the gun were there, but a suppressant was, and she was thankful, that little yellow pill would do the trick. It would prolong the destruction in her body like the injection, but she’d have to take the capsules weekly instead of a shot every six months.

☙❦❧

SURE

The extra lacings and fastens made sure they stayed on, once when she was very young a shoe had fallen off, thankfully into a dumpster so she wasn’t caught. It had been a mortifying experience as she had to shuffle along the street wet from the storm that had suddenly come on.

She locked a harness around her, one that she got through the underground because it was made from designs from weaponry used to fight people like her. The buckles and clasps clicked as they locked and straps were pulled to tighten it.

Alexia hit that same panel again and the shelf slid in with a soft hum and a purple light lit up inside the drawer underneath as it slid out, a glowing keypad illuminating the room, begging for the passcode to release the glass over the weapons stored there.

“Hello, ma’am.” The familiar voice of her A.I came out of the wall. “Passcode please.”

☙❦❧

SIGN

A breeze blew a few strands of curly hair around her face as she backed up. “Wyck, trajectory from this angle?”

Her robotic partner in crime came to life with a series of beepings, “landing is showing a chance for survival of eighty-nine percent.”

“Eighty-nine?” More strands of red hair curled and twisted in the wind, “what did they do, add spikes to the floor? A button that if you step on it little lasers will slice you into cubes? A pit of man eating rats opens up and you fall into it?”

“Are you done?” A beep, “the glass doors to the balcony are closed. While calculating they were open yesterday, today they are not. Therefore, Lex, if you launch yourself at this angle there is an eleven percent chance that you will not be able to safely grab the railing above the door and swing in undetected. I also didn’t want you to smack into the glass door and get hurt, that would be embarrassing for both of us.”

“Smartass.” She huffed rolling her neck to pop the cervical joints of her spine.

“Good luck to you too, signing off.”

☙❦❧

PLAN

Alexia stuffed another bar of sweet breaded meat into her mouth, chewing slowly. It had gone off just like she planned. Getting the files wasn’t the hard part, none of it was hard actually, too easy for such an amount of money.

Well, compared to what the man was going to give her.

See, his wife had found his messages — and after a tear filled conversation at a bar overheard by a once upon a time customer — the woman had her number and called her making a request for the positive tests and files, while it didn’t necessarily didn’t seem to make a difference at first the files would keep a judge from deciding that the wife, the obvious breadwinner, would pay him.

While Alexia had committed to the job assigned to her, not liking to betray them without a good reason and lose out on money. She couldn’t refuse to help the woman. Plus the pay was better by triple.

After she had tucked the printed papers into a folder that she, then placed into a hidden slit on the inside of her jacket, she continued to search the records. Alexia didn’t need anything; she just was curious.

☙❦❧

BLINK

“Sorry,” her silvery voice rang out in the space between them and Leon’s head turned to follow her down the steps, his partner looked her over once before turning to continue up the stairs that he stood in the middle of.

“Gwerder?”  He shakes his head as if to clear it from a fog, lids blinking to clear his vision.  “Job?”

Right, no time. He shakes his head, “Yeah. Just she looked familiar.” Leon couldn’t place how she seemed so familiar but he bit his tongue and headed out onto the bridge, the breeze seemed stronger the higher up they were.

“No cameras pointing as to where he would have had to jump from, no way to tell if it was a jump or if he was pushed. But the cameras at both entrances should have caught something.

His phone rang.

“Gwerder here.” Leon frowned, leaning over the side to peer down at the monument, a crowd forming to look at the carnage from above. He points and his partner gets the hint.

☙❦❧

SMALL

All it read was scheduled infusion at ten-fifty.

She had time and walked back to where the vials were to take one— stuffing it into her jacket pocket opposite the file. “Wyck.”

Her A.I. beeped to life, “yes ma’am?”

“Record,” with a duck down so the sensor on her ear piece could see the storage units, full of embryos. No later did her mouth open, did the machine whirr and she held still as her ear piece beeped. She watched one of the tiny vials appeared in the center of the tube and a needle pushed through the top, with a click the liquid in the vial disappeared and her eyes followed the red liquid against the fluorescent lighting in the core. A smaller thinner needle pierced the amniotic sack the embryo was encased in and pumped the fluid to mix with the amniotic fluid.

As soon as it started the needle was gone and the process started over until one entire row was filled. She noted that there were other embryos surrounded in fluid varying shades of red.

☙❦❧

RUN

With the sweat cooling on her skin, she kicked off the simple quilt on her bed and rolled to sit on the edge of the mattress. Her feet pressed flat — a mattress on the hardwood floor was all it was — and walked to the bathroom feeling around in the dark. For fear of what she, of what her face, would look like in the mirror she kept the light off too. The thought of her sweat soaked curls hanging limp and her bloodshot eyes didn’t entice her and wouldn’t be a great start to her day. Her heart was hammering behind her ribs as she lifted her hands to the faucet knobs to twist the cold on, watching the faint outline of the water run out of the spicket into the basin. With her breath echoing in the space as that feeling came back she cupped shaking hands under the water, letting it and splashed it on her face, hoping the real feeling of cold water would let her body realize that what she had dreamt was just that— a dream.

The cold water dripped from the tip of her nose, it ran in little trickles down her jaw and shin. In an impulsive decision she decided to stick her entire head under the water. It plastered her hair to her neck and face, and ran up her nose. She opened her mouth to breathe occasionally spitting out the water that trickled in. The darkness behind her eyelids giving way to her nightmare, the tightening of her chest becoming unbearable. The images replayed themselves on repeat even after she had opened her eyes. It felt as if she was slowly sinking into the floor, a floor that ceased to be there.

[yougobunny]

How many self indulgent headcanons can one person write about one character? Let’s find out!

As a child, Lexi thought that she had a secret power. She didn’t tell anyone about it out of fear--childish, innocent--that if she did, it would be taken away. So she didn’t tell anyone that she had the secret power of summoning lost things back to her.

When her hair brush, the one with the silly banana print and matching banana shaped handle, went missing, she looked high and low, ducking into every room of their little house in search of it. She found it a few days later, tucked in the space between her dresser and the wall. When her favourite plush elephant disappeared at the playground, Lexi had been distraught until several days later, when a pair of road runner siblings came knocking on their front door with Mr Fudge in tow. The older of the two explained that his brother had picked up the plush elephant at the playground and they had been knocking on doors in the neighborhood to find its owner. Lexi’s ma invited the boys in for cookies, but they declined and went off on their way. 

She knew better as she got older, of course, but it was still fun. She imagined a world where nothing was ever truly lost, not really. Someway, somehow, everything she loved would find their way back to her. She believed this even when her ma got into the accident, and she sat in the sterile waiting room with her pa pacing a few feet away and everything was somehow too empty and loud and hea-

Sapphire squeezed her hand. Their laced fingers rested on Lexi’s lap, the weight comforted and anchored her in place.

The doctor arrived just then. Lexi’s pa stopped pacing and was immediately within a foot of the doctor, expectant and desperate and more scared than Lexi had ever seen him before. 

It had been touch and go for a while but her ma had made it. Lexi didn’t tell anyone, not her ma when the doctor let them in to see her, not Sapphire later that night when Lexi stayed over, but she imagined that a part of her--that power she had wielded as a child--had kept her ma with them.

Everything she loved would always find their way back to her. 

*

It happens over and over again. The purse that went missing when she was 14 showed up just shy of her 18th birthday. Her little rose plant couldn’t be salvaged from a nasty aphid infestation and two days later she rescued a wilting potted plant that someone had left out with the rubbish to nurture back to life. Romantic partners came and left and Lexi’s heart sometimes felt like an open window in the midst of summer, always ready for the next. 

Sapphire never left, not until Lexi made her. Even then, even after the harsh words and the angry tears and how absolutely nauseous Lexi had felt when recalling what she had said, a part of her knew that Sapphire would come back to her too in time. 

Then the meteor hit and Lexi woke up in a room where a haggard looking nurse informed her that her parents had found her, and yes they were alive, and yes they will be identified that she was conscious. Lexi heard her, she did, but she also realised that she could hear everything. Hasty footsteps and whirring machinery and the wailing of both sirens and people. The barrage of heartbeats, the ones that were slowing down. Someone was dying. Someone’s heart was slowing down. It was going to st- “-is responding.”

The voice was so familiar and close that Lexi didn’t even think before her name sprouted from Lexi’s lips like a shouted prayer. The nurse in her room jumped, startled by the sound, but Lexi didn’t care. Not when her shouting caused a commotion out in the corridor, not when the door slid open and summoned Sapphire, her scrubs grubby and stained as if she had lived and bled in them. (She’ll say later that she did).

Later. Later. Later, when the clean up starts and Acmetropolis could properly mourn their losses, later, when Lexi gets discharged to her ma’s apartment that had been structurally spared. Later, when Sapphire slept a dreamless, uninterrupted 12 hour sleep for the first time since the meteor. There is time to talk and apologise later. For now, Lexi desperately grabbed at Sapphire as soon as she was within reach and the two girls collapsed against each other. For now, Lexi clutched at her friend and sent out thanks to the universe for bringing her back.

*

Lexi could hear them approaching the surface and had sprinted in the direction long before the others. She was only partially aware of the rest of the team behind her. The only exception was Rev, having passed all of them and was now in waist deep water to haul Duck and Ace to shore. The speedster deposited them to the sandy bank, Duck clambering to his knees amidst heavy gulps of air. Lexi was almost upon them by then, so she didn’t need super hearing to hear Rev gasp, “‘Duck, he’s not breathing.”

(She heard it too. She heard one frantic heartbeat and one disappearing even before they broke the surface.)

“No no no no no,” Lexi collapsed onto her knees on Ace’s other side. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t hear. Ace was so still and silent, it was against the natural order of things. He can’t be dead he couldn’t leave them he couldn’t leave her nonononon- “Move!”

Someone shoved her hard and sent her tumbling backwards onto the sand. She would have yelled, but the person who had shoved her back was Duck. His own breathing was still erratic, his limbs still weary, but Duck had two fingers under Ace’s chin tilting his head up and he breathed into his mouth and Lexi remembered. She remembered. Duck knew CPR. 

(So did she. So did the rest of them. But the terror had frozen her limbs in perpetual inaction and she hated it.)

Duck started compressions, fingers interlocked over Ace’s chest and counting each pump. He was working on muscle memory, so even with the panic rolling in his chest his movements were calculated. “Come on Ace, don’t do this to me bud. You gotta breathe.” Duck braced himself better and continued. 

“Lexi, can you hear a pulse?” Duck asked, breathless.

“Nothing,” Lexi's throat felt hoarse, but she steeled herself, “Let me take over.”

Duck nodded, sitting back onto his heels and letting Lexi take his place. His own breathing had barely evened out when he had started, and judging by the searing pain in his wrist he must have injured it while underwater. The pain while he had worked on Ace was excruciating, but he had to do something.

Lexi’s movements were far more erratic than Duck’s, but she had the technique down just right. “Ace, fuck, you can’t do this.” He felt too still, too cold, under her hands, and she fought the bile that rose in her throat and pressed down into his chest. There was a crack as bone gave way under pressure, and Lexi kept going even as the tears come because no this can’t be happening come back come back come bac-

Ace’s chest heaved under her hands and he coughed. Duck reached around, helping Lexi roll him onto his side as a deluge of murky water expelled from his lungs. Lexi rubbed his back, bent over with exertion and relief that made her light-headed. 

(Later, Duck will half-joke that his kiss had brought Ace back from the dead.)

Lexi clutched her own chest and let out a long, exhausted breath. The things she loved tended to come back to her, and Lexi would fight tooth and nail to claw them back to her if she had to.

[honeypiehotchner]

you look stupid (Gibbs x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Uhm…hi :) I’ve been watching NCIS a lot lately and Gibbs does something to me soooooo here’s this. Purely for my own entertainment, but I thought I’d share. ALSO! I don’t think it’ll be a series like a novel with a plot, but I might be doing a series of one shots with these two. Because this was SO fun to write (also it’s like 4.2k words mwah)

Warnings: bickering like a damn married couple, SMUT!, fingering, orgasm denial, semi-public, just in general Gibbs being sexy

Prompt: that one tumblr post that goes “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid”

In all the years Ducky has worked with Gibbs, he has never known someone to piss Gibbs off as much as you do.

In all the years that you have been in the workforce, you’ve never had a boss that pisses you off as much as Gibbs does.

It’s a delicate balance, you think. He calls you a pain in his ass; you call him a bastard. You can’t think of one day where the two of you didn’t scream at each other until you got it out of your systems.

You still remember the first day McGee walked in on you fighting with Gibbs. Tony was at his desk, stuffing his face, per usual, completely oblivious to the empty paper coffee cups you were throwing at Gibbs’s head.

“Your aim is shit, L/N!” Gibbs yelled after he easily dodged the last one.

“Bite me!” You threw a pen at his head that time. It hit his forehead (sideways, thankfully) and bounced onto his desk.

McGee was frozen. He thought, any second, Gibbs was going to pull a gun on you and shoot you dead in the middle of NCIS.

But instead, Gibbs grinned. “Now that was a good shot.”

You gave him the middle finger in response.

McGee looked at Tony, and Tony only shook his head. “You have to let ‘em get it out,” Tony said.

“Where’s my list, Tony?” Gibbs called from his desk, clearly unamused that Tony thought he had downtime while the two of you argued.

Tony dropped the magazine quickly. “Coming, boss.”

“McGee,” Gibbs stared. “Do you want an invitation to your desk?”

“No,” McGee said quickly. “No, boss.” He scampers off to his seat.

“I have something,” you mutter.

“Do you now?” Gibbs turned toward you. “What is it?”

“You need a haircut,” you muttered, snatching a file off your desk. You nearly threw it at Gibbs, saying, “I’m getting lunch.”

McGee doesn’t remember when he was more shocked. Before you left with the arguing, or after you returned from lunch with a coffee and a cookie — for Gibbs.

+++

Ever since you started at NCIS, that is how it has been.

You don’t know when the switch flipped, all you know is that now, arguing with Gibbs doesn’t ‘blow off steam’ like it used to. You don’t feel better after it, and it doesn’t feel like an inside joke anymore. It feels real.

And that bothers you.

It bothers you especially because the heat is all coming from him. You noticed it when he threatened to fire you two days ago. Despite all the arguments, he’s never done that. Not once. Not to you.

But he seemed serious when he said it. So serious that you backed off immediately, genuinely worried for your job’s safety.

After a few days, though, it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Abby, I don’t know what it is,” you sigh. “But I’m ready to rip his head off. For real this time.”

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t be,” Abby shrugs. “Gibbs pisses me off sometimes, too.”

“This is different, though,” you murmur. “I can tell. It’s like he’s seriously mad at me, but I— I don’t know why.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“No, if I do that then I’ll get some Marine lecture about insecurity and honestly, I’m not in the mood for that today.”

“Yeah,” Abby frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” Gibbs announces himself in his usual way: by being nosy.

“That Y/N has to…” Abby looks at you for help.

“That I have a date tonight,” you cover. “A blind one. Friend set me up. They’re never fun. You know how it is.”

Gibbs’s expression is unreadable, even to you, and that’s troublesome.

“You’re talking about blind dates,” he says, taking a step closer to you, “when we have a dead Marine?”

“He’s not gonna get any deader,” you shrug. And you were helping Abby with some of the evidence while Tony and McGee were out interviewing.

Gibbs takes another step. “You think this is funny?” And another. His nose might as well be touching yours now.

“I think,” you pause, rummaging through your jacket pocket for a moment before you find what you’re looking for. “You need a mint.” In one swift motion, you’re popping a breath mint into Gibbs’s mouth, patting him on the cheek once its in. “Better.”

Instead of spitting it back out at you, like you expected him to do, he tongues it over to his cheek. “Are you done?”

“Depends,” you say. “How long are you going to stand there until you remember this tactic doesn’t work on me?”

It’s a joke, truly. You had told him once that the last time a man got that close to your face, he kissed you. You had this shit-eating grin on your face when you told him, too. Gibbs took it as a note to never get in your face the way he does with Tony and McGee.

Except today, apparently.

Reluctantly, though, Gibbs concedes, and steps away from you.

“I’ll be at my desk,” you smirk, walking past him. “Bye Abby.” She waves to you with a smile that turns into a frown when Gibbs scoffs.

“That’s where you should be anyway,” Gibbs calls out.

You throw him two middle fingers before you disappear.

Once you’re gone, Gibbs turns to Abby. “What have you got, Abs?”

Abby grins, staring at him with two raised eyebrows, tapping her toe against the floor.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I just don’t think green is your color, Gibbs.”

He knows exactly what she’s getting at, but he doesn’t reply.

+++

This continues for another week, and it gets worse.

Gibbs puts you with Tony every chance he can get, even though he knows the work takes twice as long when the two of you are paired. He makes you stay at the office with Abby while everyone else goes out. You’re barely around Gibbs for more than three minutes before he’s making some excuse to go somewhere else, to talk to some random person — clearly to be anywhere except beside you.

It’s exhausting, at this point. You’re ready to give up.

You have, honestly. You’ve stopped trying to talk to him. You stopped wishing him a good morning or night a few days ago. You’ve even stopped telling him when you’re going to get lunch, so when you disappear, he has to ask McGee or Tony where you went.

Every single time, McGee and Tony share looks before saying, “Lunch, boss.”

Gibbs doesn’t know why, but every single time he realizes you’ve left without saying anything, it hurts. 

You don’t even bring him coffee anymore.

“Tony, McGee, I want you both to go talk to our Marine’s parents,” Gibbs orders. “They had something to do with his disappearance, even if they don’t want to admit it. One of you, talk to them. The other, start snooping.”

You’re sitting at your desk, quietly mulling over the Marine’s file, and waiting for Gibbs to bark some order at you. Or, if he’s keeping up his act, he won’t speak one word to you since he’s already given you one order for the afternoon — and you’ve yet to complete it.

You almost want to make a bet with yourself about which it’ll be.

“Do you want coffee?”

You keep reading, not even sure if the question is directed at you.

“L/N,” Gibbs says. “I asked if you wanted coffee.”

Looking up from the file, you shake your head. “No thanks.” And you go back to the Marine’s background.

Gibbs sighs. You’re like him: you never turn down coffee.

You hear his chair squeak as he gets up, his footsteps against the carpet as he walks toward your desk. And then the file is plucked from your hands.

“Gibbs,” you mutter. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Don’t care,” he replies, closing the folder and tossing it on his desk. “Up. We’re getting coffee.”

“I said no thank you.”

“And I said, get up.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your anger that is already boiling. “No.”

Gibbs tries to control his face. “Agent L/N, if I have to drag you into that elevator, I will. It was not a suggestion. It was an order. Up.”

With a huff, you stand, walking around your desk and past Gibbs, knocking your shoulder against his on the way.

He’s ready to throttle you just for that, but he doesn’t.

You wait by the elevator with crossed arms. He presses the down arrow and waits, silently.

The doors open and you step inside first, grinding your teeth to keep from yelling at him. He steps in after you. A few seconds after the doors close and the elevator starts moving, he flips the emergency switch.

“Here we fucking go,” you roll your eyes, not caring about being polite anymore since he clearly isn’t going to either.

“Do you have a problem, L/N?”

“Do you, sir?”

Gibbs pauses. You only use ‘sir’ when you’re beyond pissed at him. You’ve only used it once before.

“I have a problem with your tone,” he says evenly. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into you?” You turn your body to face him. “You’ve been ignoring me for a week, you’ll barely look at me, and you leave the room every time I walk in. What the fuck is wrong with you, Gibbs?”

“I’m your boss, Y/N, I’m not supposed to be your friend.”

“But you are!” you yell. “You are and it sucks because right now I just want my best friend back! But he seems to have his head shoved too far up his ass to even give a damn.”

“And mine has been acting like something crawled up her ass and died for as long as I can remember!”

“Because you piss me off!”

“I’m a bastard! What else do you expect from me?”

“To man up and stop acting like you don’t want to kiss me!”

Gibbs scoffs, looking away from you. “Oh, please.”

“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid, Gibbs,” you say with no remorse. Because it’s true. And it’s about time he owns up to it.

“Do I?” He steps closer to you, backing you into the railing of the elevator.

“I think you do,” you reply, tilting your head back to meet his eyes, and to put your lips even closer to his than they were. One more step and he’d be all but kissing you.

“I think you’re forgetting Rule 12.”

“Rule 12 is the most bullshit rule you have,” you mutter. “Especially when you’re one inch away from fucking me right now.”

“You have no idea the things I’d do to you.”

“Try me.”

He thinks about it for a moment, smirks, then steps away from you.

You scoff. “Just as I expected.”

Gibbs flips the emergency switch with a laugh. “And what did you expect, L/N?”

“That you wouldn’t be man enough to do something about it,” you shrug. “Looks like I’ll agree to that blind date I have tonight. He might be nice. Maybe better than the last one. I could invite him back to my place—”

Before you have a chance to even think about continuing, Gibbs has flipped the emergency switch and slammed you against the wall of the elevator, both hands on either side of your shoulders, caging you in.

You smirk. “Problem, boss?”

“You have such a smart mouth you should consider yourself lucky that we have a missing Marine. Because if we didn’t have a job to do, Agent L/N, I’d fuck you right here in this elevator so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk out of it.”

Your eyes almost glow with lust. “Is that a promise?”

He stares you down, not blinking or moving.

Rolling your eyes, you finally take matters into your own hands and push your face forward, connecting your lips.

Gibbs is stunned for a moment, feeling your lips against his, and then he’s ravenous. You’ve pissed him off beyond belief, and he’s going to make you pay for it. Quickly.

Instead of teasing your lips with his tongue, he bites your lower lip, forcing you to gasp, and his tongue pushes between your lips with ease. Without looking, because he doesn’t need to, he unbuttons your pants, yanking the zipper down, and maneuvering his hand inside, only to be met with nothing.

You’re naked underneath these pants.

You smirk when you feel him falter. “What?” you murmur against his lips. “It’s laundry da—Ah!” The sneaky bastard.

“What?” he mocks you, smirking against your cheek, nipping at your earlobe while his index finger massages your walls. “I thought this was what you wanted, huh?”

You whine loudly and he shushes you, putting his other hand over your mouth.

“You’re going to cum all over my hand, and you’re going to make it quick.”

You nod dumbly, hips jerking against his movements, gasping when he adds a second finger.

“You’ve got two minutes,” he says. “Starting now. You either cum in two minutes or you don’t. Your choice.”

You’ve cum in less time, so you don’t see it as a challenge, especially not when it’s Gibbs who has his fingers buried in you, his body pressed against yours, whispering dirty things in your ear.

But two minutes pass quicker than you expect them to. Gibbs can feel your walls beginning to spasm, but the seconds are running out.

“Times up,” he says, pulling his fingers from your heat. He watches you, your eyes closed, standing right on the edge, but unable to go over it now that he’s left you. You look like a painting, mouth open, sweat glistening on your neck.

“Gibbs…” you murmur, nearly whine, opening your eyes when he only hums in response because he has his fingers in his mouth, tasting you.

He reaches behind him and flicks the emergency switch, causing you to scramble, your trembling hands fumbling with your pants. He swats your hands away gently, zipping you up. For someone who just fucked you with that hand, it’s incredibly steady.

“There,” he whispers. He kisses your forehead gently, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m sorry I’ve been more of a bastard than usual lately.”

“You’re forgiven,” you smirk, “on one condition.”

He already knows what you mean. “Later,” he says.

The elevator dings and your eyes widen, wondering why Gibbs isn’t moving. The second these doors open, whoever is standing there will know. God forbid if Tony and McGee are back and standing there—

But Gibbs sent the elevator to Autopsy, and outside stands only Ducky, hat on his head and coat over his arm. It must be his lunch time.

Ducky smiles knowingly, looking between the two of you. “It’s about time, Jethro.”

Gibbs shakes his head, waving the doctor inside. “Thanks, Duck.”

Happily, Ducky steps inside, standing next to you. He nudges your arm gently. “I tried to get him to come to his senses months ago, Y/N. I’m truly sorry it took him so long.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Ducky,” you nudge him back. “It’s not your fault he’s a bastard.”

You and Gibbs share a look, and he raises his eyebrows at you, letting you know you’ll be paying for that later, too.

+++

Once the Marine is found — alive and well, though his career in the Navy won’t be any more — Gibbs doesn’t have to ask twice if you want to crash at his place.

Tony and McGee are long gone, not having to be asked twice about going home, either. But you stayed back a little at the office, waiting Gibbs out, wondering what it’ll be.

Eventually, he came over to your desk, turning off your lamp. You looked up at him with a tired smile. He nodded his head, said, “Come on,” and that was all it took.

Late at night, NCIS is barren, so Gibbs holds your hand as you walk out to his truck. Like a true gentleman, he opens the door for you and shuts it.

The ride to his place is quiet, but once you’re there, it all starts again.

“I can’t believe you talked to Ducky about me.”

Gibbs scoffs, tossing his keys on the counter. “I had to. Do you have any idea how hard you are to figure out?”

“Back at you,” you snicker, kicking your shoes off by the couch. “Abby has heard plenty about you pissing me off. I thought our bickering was a joke!”

“It is!”

“Until you threatened to fire me!”

“Because instead of doing your job, you talked about dating—”

You snap your fingers. “There it is.”

“There what is?”

“Your jealousy is showing, Gibbs. This is what I mean: you look stupid.”

“I look stupid, huh?” he fires back, once again getting right in your face. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how stupid you’re about to look.”

“Fucking try me.”

“Oh, believe me,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I will.”

Before you have a chance to figure out what he’s doing, he’s already done it.

“Gibbs!” you squeal, beating your fists on his back. “Seriously?!”

He literally threw you over his shoulder, and now he’s carrying you to his bedroom. Like a sack of potatoes.

“I think I kinda like this view,” he muses, smacking your ass, earning another squeal from you.

“Bastard,” you chuckle, poking his sides.

“That is what they call me.” You can hear his grin.

Once inside his bedroom, he sets you down, grinning even wider when you glare at him.

“I could’ve walked.”

“Ah,” he shakes his head, pulling you back into his arms. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Damn him, you think. Damn him for being this good.

“Now,” he says softly, one hand cupping your cheek. “Where did we leave off?”

“You leaving me hanging,” you pout. “Your stupid two minutes.”

“We have all night tonight,” he says, but it sounds more like a warning. “I’m sure I can fix that.”

“You better.”

Clothes come off randomly, in between heated kisses and muttering from the both of you. Even making out can’t stop you both from bickering.

“Really?” Gibbs says disbelieving. “It’s laundry day, but you have a bra on?”

“Would you like my nipples to be out at work?”

He raises his eyebrows, no doubt considering it for a moment.

“Around Tony?” you add and immediately, Gibbs shakes his head. “That’s what I thought.”

Gibbs glares before unclipping your bra with ease, tossing it onto his dresser — definitely on purpose. You don’t know if you’ll be getting that back.

Left only in his underwear, you tug at the elastic and he kicks them off, now both of you bare, no more barriers between the two of you.

Carefully, he lays you down on his bed, making sure you’re comfortable against the pillows. He takes his time, kissing all over your face, then your neck, nipping and sucking and leaving marks that you’ll scold him for in the morning. But right now, it’s Heaven.

He begins to kiss down your body, to your chest, but you start to whine, clawing at his shoulders.

“What?”  

“I want you inside of me,” you whisper. “Please. Now.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he smirks.

He crawls back up the bed, slotting his body in between your legs. Instinctively, you wrap them around his hips, hooking your heels together at the small of his back, pulling him closer.

“We’ve got all night,” he reminds you, kissing you all over, sensing how eager you are.

“I know,” you smile, running your fingers through his hair. “But I want you now.”

He decides not to tease you any longer, reaching down to guide his head inside of you. You both gasp when he slides in all the way, and you roll your hips immediately, wanting more already.

“Patience,” he warns. “I’m taking my time with you.”

And he does.

He starts out slow, barely pulling out at all before moving back in, rolling his hips against yours, savoring this feeling. He speeds up when he feels your walls beginning to convulse around him, unable to hold himself back from slamming into you.

“Gibbs,” you breathe, nails clawing at his head.

“Jethro,” he corrects lightly.

“Jethro,” you repeat, whimpering when he begins to slam into you with no mercy. “Oh my god, Jeth— Ah! I’m gonna cum—”

“Good,” he growls, moving his lips back to your neck, burying his face there. “Do it.”

A few more thrusts and you’re gone, tensing and trembling in his arms, crying out into his ear. The feeling is godly to him, and he knows he won’t last much longer.

“I need to pull out,” he warns, voice low.

You tighten your legs around him, pressing on the back of his neck, keeping him pinned right where he is. “Don’t you dare.”

You feel him grin into your neck and then he groans, lifting his head to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips with ease. He swallows your moans, relishing in the feeling of your walls already beginning to pulse around him again.

The second time you cum, the feeling makes him lose his bearings, and then he’s pounding into you, filling you with his load. When you feel him twitch inside of you, it’s like your orgasm doubles in size, and you’re clinging to him like you’ll float away if you don’t.

Gibbs puts nearly all of his weight on you, holding you down, holding him inside of you as he pants in your ear.

“Shit,” he mutters. “What are you doin’ to me?”

Chuckling, you pull him in for another kiss.

+++

After rolling around in the sheets some more, the two of you take a shower, and then crawl back in bed.

But you can’t sleep. You’re thinking about anything and everything, and it seems like Gibbs is, too.

A lot of what you’re thinking about, you don’t even know if it’s worth bringing up. Or if it doesn’t need to be brought up tonight, if it can be dealt with later. If you want to deal with it later.

“Are you awake?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You roll over and face him, loving the way he looks in the moonlight. “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna go work on the boat?”

His eyes light up. “Really?”

“I’ll get the coffee,” you grin, tossing the covers off of your body.

Gibbs meets you at the doorway, pulling you in by your hips, kissing you deeply. You almost think he’s going to take you back to bed before he pulls away, just staring into your eyes.

“What?” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “You know I don’t want this to be a one-night-only thing, right?”

Relief floods your body. “Me either,” you murmur. “I want it to be more.”

“I’m not good at marriage,” he blurts, like he needed to get it off his chest.

“Well, I know that,” you grin, patting his chest lightly. He laughs. “It’s a good thing I’m not the marrying type.”

He can’t help but kiss you again. All this time, he’s been holding back, because there’s been this voice in his head, telling him you’d want a husband. You’re younger, you’re beautiful, why wouldn’t you?

But then he thinks, you’re young, you’re beautiful, why would you?

“I decided a long time ago that marriage isn’t for me, Jethro,” you continue, wanting him to know the full truth, right now. “So you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smiles.

“So are we good, then?”

“We’re good,” he nods. “We’re good. Still wanna work on that boat?”

“You mean do I still want to watch you work on a boat? Absolutely. You probably look sexy as hell.”

“I’ll teach you a few things,” he says with a smirk.

You return the expression. “I’m sure you will.”

+++

At work the next week, Tony catches you and Gibbs walking in together, clearly having spent the night together as well. He says nothing when Gibbs is around (of course), but the second he leaves, Tony is nosy as hell.

“Something to share, Y/N?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, logging onto your computer. “You got something to say?”

Tony narrows his eyes. “You came in with Gibbs.”

“We got here at the same time,” you shrug. “Happened to get to the elevator at the same time. It happens.”

“What happens?” Gibbs asks, sneaking up on Tony like always.

“Nothing, boss,” Tony straightens up. “How’s your coffee?”

Gibbs stares at Tony.

“Right,” Tony heads back to his desk quickly.

You share a smile with Gibbs, deciding to keep up appearances as usual. “What? No coffee for me?”

“Get your own, Agent L/N,” he says, sending you a wink.

When you get up to do just that an hour later, Gibbs meets you in the elevator.

[msookyspooky]

Sequels Suck

Part 20

wordcount: 2,709

You backed up near the stage as Derek stood up to walk towards you with a smile. His smile faded as he saw the look on your face.

"YN, what is it?" 

"Derek. Stay back." 

He half scoffed and half chuckled to himself as he walked closer.  "What? Why?" You instantly jerked up onto the stage to get away from him. He stopped walking to stare at you. "Hey, what's the matter?" 

You huffed, feeling your heart beating out of your chest. "What's the matter? Hallie is dead. Andrews and Richards are dead. The killer is here." His face fell and he went to come towards you before you jerked around the back of a pillar. "I SAID TO STAY BACK!" 

He held up his hands, not getting up on stage with you. "Okay...Okay, it's alright." 

"What the hell are you doing here after curfew?!" 

He shook his head at you, reaching into his pocket. You bent your knees, ready to bolt. You swore it was going to be a gun...But instead, it was a piece of paper. 

"You told me to meet you here to talk about...Us." 

You scrunched your face, body straightening out of your running stance. "What? Derek... I never gave you a note!" 

He looked just as confused as you were before giving a disbelieving smirk. "YN, it was lying outside the car as you drove away. It's in your handwriting. I may not have known you long but I've seen you sign your name enough times on bulletin boards and that assignment we have in Biology." 

You cautiously walked towards him, eyeing him as you went to the edge of the stage where he held up the note to you. You locked eyes...You didn't see any ill will. 

Your fingers snatched it...It was in your handwriting all right. Identical. 

"There's no way... Derek, I didn't write this! I would have never had you meet me here! The only reason I'm here is because I was running away from the killer." 

"Well, if you didn't then who did?..." He trailed off as you heard something behind you. The background to the stage rising up. You turned around, the stage was still dark. But two figures stood there barely highlighted in the dim lighting. Long hair. Curly hair. Two petite feminine silhouettes. 

"Murphy?....Louis?" 

They didn't move or make a sound. Standing up straight in the dark shadows on stage. 

You looked towards Derek who jumped on stage with you. You shyed away from him as he got close. He looked a bit hurt by that as he kept walking towards the figures. Derek spared you a confused glance as you followed behind him. 

"Hey...Did my Kappa brothers put you up to this as a prank?...Murphy?...Louis?" Derek mumbled, swallowing as they both stood stock still. He rolled his eyes when they didn't answer. "Listen, this isn't funny. Someone is after YN." 

You felt a deep, unnerving, erriness creeping inside you as he got closer. "Derek, wait." You went to reach out to him...Something was wrong. You didn't like it.

Without warning...The overhead spotlight flipped on. You both shielded your eyes to look at it behind you. Your heart hammered as you both looked at each other before turning back around.

 A strangled scream ripped from your throat as you covered your mouth. Derek stumbled backwards. "Fucking shit!" Tripping over his own feet as he was mere inches from two corpses. Both girls tied upright to wooden stage props, throats slit, faces blue and eyes rolled back. 

Murphy and Louis head of Delta Lambda Zeta. By the looks of it, they had been dead for hours. 

He fumbled his way over to you as you stared in horror. He jerked you out of the way as the stage's backdrop came back down. Making the two dead girls go out of sight. You went to run to one end of the stage to escape and another background dropped. The one with a wooden door built into it. You fiddled with the stage door to see it was locked. Derek looked at you a second, hesitantly going to the otherside for it to do the same. He didn't try the door as the spotlight shined on you. He backed up to get near you as you both waited. You and him both were cornered on the center of the stage. 

 "He's messing with us." You hissed, trying to control your breathing. You jumped when lightning cracked on stage. The ominous music in the background as fake lightning and thunder rippled overhead. 

Derek called out. "Hey! Show yourself! Where are you?!" 

"Right here." 

You both whipped your head around to see Ghostface ascending the steps. 

"You're fast, YN." 

You subconsciously backed up as Derek put you behind himself. "Stay behind me, YN." 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you...You really trust him?...After all, History repeats itself." 

Soon, the voice box was turned off...The voice you heard made your heart stop. "You think he actually liked you without a motive, YN? Hmm?" 

You watched the killer as the mask was taken off... A bloody mark on his forehead from the car crash and Hallie's blood on his knife. 

"...Mickey." Your voice quivered.

Your mouth hung open as it became hard to breathe...You thought for sure it would be Billy or Stu under that mask. Your whole world was turned upside down in an instant. You knew the killer was too bulky in the car to be Stu's tall lanky self but since you only thought they were involved...You just never guessed...

He raised the voice box to his mouth, glaring at you. "Surprise, YN." He threw it off stage. "Guess Sidney got her big surprise last movie...Now, it's your turn. Sequels are always better by a long shot. You should feel honored." 

"What the... Fuck?!" Derek exclaimed, eyebrows shot up and mouth parted. 

Mickey started ripping off the costume as he spoke. "Since Derek here disappeared on my ass...I've been on my own all fuckin' night." He threw his costume down in irritation as he glared right at Derek. 

You blinked, looking over at Derek as he stared at you. You shook your head and backed away. 

"Thanks a lot, partner." Mickey gave with a slight smirk.

Derek took a step towards him. "You mother fucker!" He looked back over to you. Your eyes wide as you took another shaky step back. Your heart crushed that it was true...He really didn't like you for you.

"YN, you know me!" 

"Oh, Derek. No she doesn't…" Mickey gave in an amused drawl. Shaking his head as a smirk spread over his face. His eyes went right to you...Truly looking at the man in front of you now. Knowing those talks in the hospital were fake and that he had this in mind the entire time made you sick.

 He smiled. "Come on, YN. I gotta have a partner. I couldn't have possibly done this alone...How did Murphy and Louis get here while I was chasing you?" 

You lost all your bravery for a moment. Knowing this was the man responsible. They both were. Facing off with Billy and Stu was one thing...These were relative strangers that manipulated you. You didn't know what they were capable of. You were terrified. 

"God, Derek…" You whispered as tears sprung to your eyes. Betrayal evident in your tone as you fought the sickness twisting your gut. 

"No! No, no, no! YN, please-" Derek begged, giving you a desperate gaze that you couldn't trust. You backed against the thick backdrop behind you. He reached a hand out and you shrank away.  "YN, he's lying! The man is lying! Please!" 

"It's okay, Derek. We got her. You can drop the act." Mickey monotoned. Giving Derek a challenging look.

Derek's teeth clenched as he shook his head, turning around to glare daggers at Mickey. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Derek rushed him. Without a moment's hesitation, Mickey drew Andrews gun from his waistband and fired. 

You screamed and closed your eyes right before as you saw Derek fall backwards on stage. Knocked off his feet as he landed hard on his back. You shakily watched as he tried to raise his head to look down at the hole in his chest. Coughing up a bit of blood as it soaked his shirt. 

You hesitated a moment before rushing towards him, getting on your knees to see. "Derek?" You swallowed, tears in your eyes as you realized Mickey really was lying...There was no faking this wound. "Derek, I'm sorry." You rushed out, trying to hold his hand. Your face twisted painfully.

He looked at you, coughing a bit. "I...I would never hurt you...I was going to ask if...If you wanted…" 

You urgently waited until his eyes glazed over and unfocused. A choked cry escaped you as you felt his body go limp. "Derek?...No, Derek!…" You hung your head and gripped his hand tightly. It was limp but still warm as you brought it up to your lips. Your face twisted into a sob as you released his hand to let it fall to his side.

"Aw, I think he wanted to go on a date. A better one than the first... Jeez, YN. What a massive disappointment for poor Derek Feldman." He pointed the gun at you as you slowly stood. Tears streamed down your face as he got closer. "You should really work on your trust issues." 

You slowly looked over to Mickey. You felt your upper lip raise as your hands shook. He gestured to Derek on the ground. "I mean, poor Derek. He's completely innocent! And such a nice boy too." Mickey was animated as he ranted all while you sniffed and clutched your head. "He's bright, funny and handsome. He was going to be a Doctor! He is the exact boy you want to bring back home from college to meet your friends...If you had any left." 

"FUCK YOU!!"  

Mickey instantly brought the gun up to your temple. "OH! SO VULGAR! Would Billy let you talk to him this way?!" 

"Billy's a sick FUCK just like you!" You growled out. 

Mickey shook his head with a smirk before looking back at you. "NO. Billy was a sick fuck that tried to get away with it. " He pointed the gun at himself with a crazed look in his eyes. "Mickey is a sick fuck that wants to get caught." 

"I don't give a shit, you freak!" 

"Oh really?" He pointed the gun back at you. "I bet Billy got to tell you his whole plan; NO interruptions! You are so RUDE, YN! And to a guy who has your whole life in his finger tip!!... So, I'm going to ask you again...Did Billy let you get away with this level of disrespect? HUH?!" The gun was at your temple as you took in a sharp breath.

Mickey's eyes widened to saucer plates as an arm wrapped around his throat with a knife to the side of his neck. Another knife aimed right at his side, ready to gut him horizontally at any moment. 

Your breath caught in your throat…

"Why don't you ask him yourself, you stupid fuck." 

 You never thought in a million years you'd be relieved to see those two.

Mickey went to raise his gun and released a sharp groan when the knife to his throat nicked him. "Go on. Raise that fucking gun and we'll get this party started, baby." Stu grinned while having Mickey in a chokehold. "Man, is this the loser impersonating us?...What a freakin bum. Actually, who the hell even are you anyways?" 

Billy stood to the side, knife ready at Mickey's abdomen. "Don't know...Don't really care." Billy's eyes darted to you. "Glad the sick fuck came to save your sorry ass?" 

You choked on a sob that turned into a cynical snort of laughter. "Hate to say it but...Actually yeah. I won't retract my statement." 

He smirked at that before his eyes darted back to Mickey. "Yeah well, regardless, don't get too happy. You're our kill, not this prick's." 

Mickey looked starstruck as a giant disbelieving grin stretched across his face. Sweat ran down his temple as he grappled at Stu's arm to keep from choking. "Holy fucking shit... I can't believe it...It's actually Billy fucking Loomis." He choked out.

Stu scoffed. "Uh and Stu fucking Macher has a knife to your neck." 

Mickey ignored him as he steadied himself.  Not as tall as Stu but pretty close and a lot more muscular.  If it wasn't for the knives in place, you knew he could over power them both individually.  Together was debatable.

His eyes never left Billy's. "Billy, I thought you were dead... Everyone did...I mean, you're like the whole inspo here!" He coughed out.

Billy sneered at him. "Stop riding my dick and tell me who else is in on this." 

Mickey shook his head with a grin. Face red as Stu tightened his grip. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Do not fuck with me." Billy ordered, pressing the knife enough to make Mickey wince. He swallowed before gasping out laughter. "Holy fuck...She's gonna be over the moon!" 

"That-" Billy pressed the knife to his abdomen. "Is the only reason I'm not making you eat your own intestines yet...Who are you working with?" 

Mickey just chuckled as Stu jerked him. "Stop laughing, asshole! We know you're too stupid to do this on your own. Just come out with it man before you get your fingers cut off...Who is your teammate here?" 

You watched, eyes darting to the door Derek never attempted. You wondered if Mickey would shoot you or if Stu or Billy would go after you. You didn't get to think long as you heard Mickey gag as Stu choked him harder and Billy's knife drew a tiny bit of blood at his side.

"I'M NOT ASKING AGAIN! Who is your fucking partner?!" 

*click*

"Me." 

….

Everything in your world stopped as you heard the voice… You never suspected that voice. EVER. You felt your mouth hang open as a breath caught in your throat. The gun was cocked at Stu's head as he and Billy both froze. Eyes wide and just as shocked as you were. 

"Let go of him or I will blow your tiny fucking brains out all over the stage." She snapped, her gun jammed at Stu's skull. "NOW." 

Stu hesitated before Mickey elbowed him and twisted out of his grip. Billy raised his knife and Mickey showed him the gun with a cocky smirk. 

"Drop your toys, boys. Go on. Drop them." 

Billy and Stu didn't comply and she aimed the gun at you. "Want me to blow her head off? I don't have any issue with that. It's gonna happen anyways but this way we can just get it done and over with." 

You saw the fear in their eyes as she fired a shot. You yelped, clutching your head as it went by you. You could feel the air skid by as it made a hole in the backdrop. 

"Oh shoot. I missed. Maybe I need to aim again?-" 

"NO!" Stu exclaimed, trying to get towards you. Mickey aimed the gun at him. "Better do what my lady says then. She's got a wicked temper...I fucking love it." 

She smirked at that before used her gun to motion outward. "Hurl em into the seats. Right now. Can't have you both grabbing them during the final act." 

Billy bit his inner cheek, glancing at you before tossing his knife. Stu did the same. 

She wore a sickeningly sweet smile. "Atta boys…" She side eyed you with a smirk. "Girl, I see the appeal; I really do! They're so cute." 

You stared at her, shaking your head as your lip trembled. You didn't know her long but it was long enough to form a bond. It was enough to rock your world. It was enough to make you question everything. 

"...Hallie." 

[bangtangalicious]

death valley (m) | part 8

summary: welcome to death valley. once you’re in, there’s no telling whether you’ll make it out alive. a summer internship turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jin x reader, jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au fightclub!au

wordcount: 9.0k

warnings: reader discretion advised. rough sex, physical roughness, sadism kink, pain kink, breast play, fingering, elevator sex (semipublic), praise kink, dirty talk, unrealistic endurance (this is one day LMAO), attempted fire play, bondage, guns, attempted shootings, knife play if you squint, spanking, degradation (name calling, slut shaming, being really mean lolol thanks jin), crying kink? lot of crying, toxic and manipulative behaviors, jin steps on you so there’s that, character death, heavy drug use, paranoia/fear, voyeurism, sex while intoxicated, me trying to put some humor where i can, sweet dom!jungkook, wild dom!jin, and a sprinkle of dom!taehyung ;) ALSO eyebrowpiercing!jungkook. very important. 

a/n: s/o soowoozoo!bts for being my inspo. 

part 0 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | series navi | masterlist |

F L A S H F O R W A R D--

Goosebumps spread across your skin as the silence set in. The room was chilly, air conditioner buzzing in contrast to the slick humidity of the summer night waiting for you outside. The white light made your eyes ache, the walls were plain, dry, empty.

You stared blankly at the table in front of you. The sound of the pen scratching paper made you ache, remembering kinder days when you and Hobi would be goofing around and writing songs. How did you get here? How did you let this happen?

The previous night, you had dreamt of being at a concert, somewhere far from Death Valley. Losing yourself to music and molly, a soft pair of hands on your hips as you danced the night away, singing at the top of your lungs. Those same hands wrapping around your waist, nose tracing behind your ear to whisper to you how pretty you were. How hot you looked and how badly he wanted to tear your clothes off with his teeth. 

You allowing him to pick you up so easily, take you back to his car where you scrambled into the back seat. Like children. The first kiss was magic, you were glued to him and could barely move on. He wouldn’t leave you for a second, he wouldn’t let you breathe. Your lips were hot on each other, soft moans and giggles. Swallowed smiles as you drank one another in, bodies like waves crashing against each other.

Hands wandering until he had you where he wanted. Where you wanted. He loved you down so incredibly good. How he was able to tear you apart while still being so sweet, you could barely even fathom. His teeth dug into the flesh of your breasts, fingers hooking around your panties. 

His tongue ravished your figure. There was no part of you left untouched, no part of you that wasn’t completely ablaze with arousal. You would arch your neck back as he lapped away at the sweetness dripping between your legs, your hands combing through his wavy black hair.

His tongue knew where to go, he knew how you liked it, and your fist clenched as he fucked you with his mouth through and through. He always made sure you came first. Always. Every single time.

Whether you had mere minutes or long hours, he loved the way you tasted, making sure you knew that at every chance he got. Sloppy wet kisses traveled up your stomach to your chest, up your neck, hands caressing your ass, scratching your back, holding you close for a moment. 

You were whisked away into heaven, just briefly, as his thick cock would push into you. Your pussy pulling him in, wanting to feel the familiar but oh so incredible stretch that only he gave you. 

Taehyung. You sobbed as he fucked you, allowing him to kiss the glossy tears off of your cheeks as he rolled his hips, angling so perfectly to nudge deep within you. His sinister grin, his giggles, his chaos. You were in the hands of disaster but you never felt more safe. 

Why are you crying dumbass? He would find your state amusing, continuing to fuck you, thrusts long and smooth. Quick, but slow enough for you to savor each second. Your whining lost behind the wet sound of your bodies colliding.

Where are you? Are you watching this right now? You’re not really dead are you?

Stroking your cheek, he leaned down to whisper against your mouth. The words he would keep on saying, echoing back to you. Play along. I won’t hurt you.

What exactly you were playing, you were unsure. 

“Look at me” Your eyes darted up to meet Jin’s deceivingly innocent eyes. “I’m gonna ask you again, did you kill Kim Taehyung?” 

You gulped, sweat collecting onto the cold handcuffs around your wrists. Jin glanced at the mirrored wall, before letting out a heavy sigh. 

“It appears that Kim Taehyung was murdered about two hours before the party. We found your gun near the body.” Jin holds up the custom weapon Yoongi had given that was unmistakably yours. “Where were you at that time?” You felt your eyes getting heavy.

“I was” You lips were chapped, mouth clammy with a bitter taste. You looked him dead in the eye, stomach sickened by the amusement glistening within them as you struggled with your response. You knew he was getting a kick out of it. You wanted to spit on his face. You wanted to slap him, to scream, to flip the table and break out of the windowless room that caged you.

“I was with...y..” Jin smirked, leaning back. You cleared your throat, mind running a mile a minute.

“With who Y/n?”

You glared at him. He was treating this as some sort of role play. You felt queasy at the thought. Someone was dead. Dead. 

“You. I was with you”

F L A S H B A C K--

The morning rays slid through the expansive glass wall of the hotel room, causing Yoongi’s eyes to flinch, squinting as they opened and took in the day that presented itself. He sighed heavily, the weight of the previous night still on his mind. You were still asleep, but he could see through the chaffing beneath your wrists that you were not comfortable. He took the leash and fastened it to the headboard, ensuring you had no escape. 

Grabbing his keys, Yoongi quickly got dressed in a white hoodie and left the room. He needed to find out the truth for himself. He couldn’t afford to have you lying to him already. 

It was so frustrating to him that you couldn’t just be honest with him. He had been immensely open with you even if he was not proud of what he had to share. Why would you hide things? Hadn’t he proven himself to you? Hadn’t he done everything to win your heart?

Yoongi sighed. His anger issues were core to his being. It was part of his true self, but he had spent years trying to become someone you would fall in love with. All he wanted to do was make home in your heart, but no matter how many of your suitors he ended up threatening, beating to a pulp, and forcing them to bail on you, there was nothing in his power that could tear down that goddamn Park Jimin poster on your bedroom wall.

There was nothing he could do to stop you from writing small fantasies in your journal that you kept stashed in your bedside drawer. 

Yoongi would be lying if he said he didn’t come close to killing Jimin multiple times before. But he realized that would not have delivered him a solution. If Jimin died, you would mourn. You would still harbor that love for him and never have an opportunity to see what he really was. It was because of this Yoongi, with Taehyung’s helpful insight, had orchestrated a way to destroy Jimin in your eyes. 

Jimin was then introduced to Yoongi’s two weapons of destruction, Taehyung and cocaine. Yoongi worked hard to build himself up as a successful music producer. He had to be better than Jimin, had to make sure he could offer you everything Jimin could and more. 

To his surprise, you did move on from Jimin, at least the reality of him. But this fantasy of who he used to be remained pinned to your heart. After Jimin quit music, the mention of his name would still cause you to blush and smile. It made Yoongi want to throw up.

You had to see for yourself. Yoongi learned what it was that attracted you to Jimin and embodied just that. You liked that you had to chase him, you liked that he didn’t give a shit about you. You liked that he never noticed you and you had to pine for his attention. You liked that he was dedicated to his music, you liked the lifestyle he was associated with. You liked his lack of emotion and fantasized of him showing his true colors to you and only you, a sensitive, sweet, charming guy. Anger was not a part of this persona at all. 

When he felt like he had driven Jimin crazy enough with the drugs, he decided to plant rumors on stan twitter that Jimin would be signing with his label. Using his personal relationship with the singer, he was able to sign him on. He conveniently then offered you a summer internship, knowing full well you would be coming for one reason alone. Park Jimin.

Yoongi wanted you to fall straight into his arms. He rented out every available apartment for the months you were searching for a place to live, forcing you to reside in his building. He wanted to win you over naturally. He wanted you to work with Jimin, hook up with Jimin, and end up loathing him. Loving Yoongi instead. 

Jimin’s gang activity was getting on Yoongi’s nerves. Taehyung told him Jimin was in Death Valley, that you saw Jimin at Death Valley. When Yoongi heard from you, not Taehyung, that you had been kidnapped, along with Namjoon nonetheless, Yoongi had enough. He was used to giving Taehyung plenty of unsupervised jurisdiction, so Jimin’s accident was not a surprise to him. 

But you sympathized with Jimin, which was not what he wanted. He then decided to take things into his own hands, threatening Seokjin into throwing the fight to leech Jimin of every cent he had. He broke into your apartment, fucking everything up so that you had no choice but to come to him. To need him. 

And when Jin didn’t lose, he had no choice but to reveal to you who he was. Even after all his honestly, all his trust, you still lied to him. 

Yoongi was furious. He arrived at Death Valley, using the front entrance. Pulling a mask over his face, he barged in, surveying the silence as a sign that the bar was empty. Through the kitchen he arrive at the back storage room, accessible only by key, where all of the surveillance had been set up years ago. 

Monitors were spread across the wall, but Yoongi’s eyes narrowed in at one that was coming up with no feed. Your apartment. Someone had fucked with the cameras. Yoongi types away at the main monitor, enlarging your apartment footage and reeling back to find the moment the device was destroyed.

He sees Taehyung, whispering something to you. Next thing he knows the stream is blank. He grits his teeth, as all the pieces fall into place. He was a fool. How could he have been so blind? Taehyung must be in love with you. He must have, after watching you for so many years. Yoongi scowled at the thought of the ways Taehyung may have seen you, naked, vulnerable, ways that only he should. 

He had trusted Taehyung. Taehyung had only ever shown interest in money and Yoongi thought that was enough. Taehyung must have fucked you over and over again once the cameras were dead. What a whore. It made sense then that he had cut the line through his branding on you. He was the only one who could have. He had access to you and he was psychotic! He must have forced you to lie. You wouldn’t ever hide anything from Yoongi, no, Yoongi was the man of your dreams. You felt grateful��that you had him, didn’t you?

He tilted his head, cracking his knuckles before he punched the glass screen, causing the feed to go haywire and sparks to erupt. Kim Taehyung. You are dead to me.

Yoongi growled lowly before picking up his phone. “It’s me. I need to see you. Now” 

-

Hobi kept his hand on the small of your back as he led you down to the hotel bar. The two of you nodded politely at the staff members who were busily preparing for the big event. The bar was empty aside for a few guests enjoying their brunch-time mimosas.

Hobi couldn’t really revel in the fact that the two of you were getting drinks together, almost like a date. His mind was too caught up in the initial shock he felt when he saw you tied up in his boss’ bedroom. He felt upset, but moreso he felt violated. He wondered if you were getting taken advantage of. Did he promise you a promotion? Was he manipulating you?

Punishing someone like that, Hobi was never one to kink shame, but it seemed a bit much. The name burned into your skin did nothing to ease his concern. Someone who was possessive, violent, impulsive. It reminded him of...

Hobi didn’t know. He didn’t know who gave him orders. He really didn’t care once the cash rolled in, but it began hitting too close to home. He wasn’t thrilled about hurting Namjoon, but two duffel bags of cash were enough for him to momentarily set aside his morals. 

“What should I get?” You surveyed the small menu of cocktails. “What’s gonna fuck me up the fastest?”

Hobi snorted, “Tequila” He twirled your hair as your gaze remained glued to the menu. The thought of you being in danger upset him greatly “Y/n...when did Yoongi brand you?" You called the bartender ordering a line of shots to which the they glanced at the clock before giving you a weird look.

“The night of the rematch” You told him, reacting before you realized what you had said. Your lip tucked between your teeth as you tried to conjure an excuse. A row of shot glasses was placed in front of you. You took one, gulping it down before letting out a heavy sigh. The bitterness burned down your throat. You basked as the liquid hit your mind, easing you slightly.

“Yoongi was at the fight?” Hobi recalled the wild night that the three of you had been at Death Valley. It was the first time he ever saw the man giving him orders. The man was tall, broad, had dark hair and wore dark clothes, face covered in a mask. Could it have been...Yoongi?

“Y/n!” The two of you turned to see Jungkook approaching the bar. He had changed his hair, the blue swapped for a short black cut, and you couldn’t help but double take at his new eyebrow piercing. 

You downed another shot, glancing at Hobi who had raised his eyebrows seeing the drug dealer. Jungkook gave you a light hug, waving timidly to Hobi. You smirked, another shot down the hatch. “Easyyyy Y/n” He placed a hand on your back as he slid into the seat next to you.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Hobi sneered. Jungkook rolled his eyes, used to the condescending treatment of gang members. "Didn’t you get stabbed or something?”

“I did!” Jungkook grinned, “In fact, that’s exactly why I’m here. I think I figured out who Mr. Bossman is, and I wanna fucking kill him”

Hobi rolled his eyes, “Oh really”

“Kim Seok-motherfucking-Jin baby. He stabbed me. He’s the one who showed up and threatened me to move out of Y/n’s apartment, so he’s probably also the one who called for the kidnapping. And he might have called for Jimin’s accident. It makes so much fucking sense”

Jin did what? There was not enough alcohol in your veins to act like you didn’t fully understand what he had just said. Jin had Jungkook move out? It wasn’t impossible. And that’s what scared you. You blinked at Jungkook incredulously, “But he’s literally a police officer”

Jungkook’s grin widened, “Exactly! It’s fucking brilliant. He’s a cop, he fights for the other side. He wins no matter what and can never get caught. No one would ever suspect him. Winning despite being threatened? Who threatened him huh? It’s a fucking ploy. You’re not dead and neither is he I bet. Kingpin. Boom”

You felt sick, knowing that Yoongi was not the only person you needed to be worried about. It was almost funny how blatantly misinformed Jungkook was. “Wow you guys are idiots.” You muttered under your breath, taking another shot before coughing roughly. Should I tell them? Why did Jin lie? Is this even the truth? Jin always tried to pin things on Jungkook, but you defended him. Hearing his words now made your head spin. He’s lying. Jungkook is lying. You wanted to scream, frustration flooding through your veins as you clenched your fists.

“I’m gonna tell Jimin and Taehyung what I know. They will give me so much money dude.” Jungkook chuckled, “And then they’d kill him, oh God finally”

Hobi pursed his lips, mouth feeling dry as he reflected on Jin’s eerie words before he shot him in the leg. He didn’t know where Jin was anymore, handing him off to be taken somewhere. It didn’t make sense. His orders were to seize Jin if Jin won the fight. Why place an order like that all? Why do any of this?

“Y/n, come with me.” Jungkook tugged at the sleeve of the oversized Nirvana shirt you had thrown on after your shower session with Hobi. You giggled, the thought of Taehyung coming into your slowed thoughts like a hurricane, tearing up any understanding you thought you had of the situation. There was only one thing you believed. Only one thing you knew with full certainty and it was all you could hold onto.

“Oh my goodness it’s Yoongi. It’s Yoongi. It’s always been Yoongi” The words spilled from your lips like the tequila that dripped down the side of your lips as you took yet another shot, giggling like a ditz. Jungkook and Hobi exchanged confused looks with each other, only making you laugh more. “I would fucking know okay!” Your laughs grew loud, “I was locked up in his fucking apartment and where the hell were all of you huh? Dumb fucking idiots!” You buckled over, laughing into Jungkook’s chest.

“Jungkook” Hobi sighed, “I gotta get back to work. Can you get her sober please?” Jungkook nodded. He held your waist tightly helping you stand, walking with you carefully to the hotel elevator.

The laughter wouldn’t stop. Passerbys shot the two of you dirty looks as Jungkook pulled you into the elevator easily. Through it’s glass walls you could see the midday skyline, where outside people hustled through life as if everything were normal. Must be fucking nice. “Y/n” Your laughs began to choke in your throat, turning instead to the sobs you tried to suppress with whatever will you had left. 

Jungkook placed his soft lips on your shoulder. Hands sliding onto your waist as he peered at you curiously, “Y/n, is everything okay?”

You shook your head, the elevator door closed as tears began forming in your eyes. Your voice croaked, “I’m dead. He’s gonna kill me. T..taehyung is gonna kill me. I...I know he will. He’s everywhere. Everywhere.” You looked around frantically, suddenly feeling hyperaware of the security cameras littered throughout the public space. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone...I” You hiccuped. Jungkook pulled you into a tight hug.

“It’s okay ssh” He stroked his thumbs them across your cheeks, cupping your face affectionately. “I’m here aren’t I?” You sniffled, nodding lightly. “I got you okay. No one is gonna hurt you”

You stared into his kind brown eyes. You did not trust him, your entire body was screaming at you not to trust him. His fingers danced down your figure, freely gliding over your heaving chest, desperately trying to breathe with the fear that choked you from within.

You blinked at him, eyes glancing down at his pouty lips before finding his eyes again. “Y/n” Jungkook whispered, barely inches from your lips. “I won’t let anyone hurt you okay. I promise”

Fat tears rolled down your face at his words. Jungkook clicked his tongue, cooing at you as he continued to wipe away your hears. “Oh you poor thing” He held you to his chest, kissing the top of your head, before tilting your face up to his. 

He leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as his lips landed on yours, swallowing you into him. The taste of tequila was evident on your lips as he kissed you softly, and you allowed yourself to surrender to his warm touch.

You felt heat pooling in your chest as his fingers trailed up your legs. He traced circles into the inside of your thighs, letting his fingers tease the edge of your shorts. 

“Jungkook” You inhaled sharply, his hot breath tickling your neck as you tilted your head back. He licked his lips before sloppily latching onto your collarbone, sucking down to litter your skin with wet kisses as his fingers slid down your shorts, just barely so that he could roll his hips into you.

He pushed you back against the glass, fingers trailing across your bare thighs before sliding beneath your panties. Jungkook ran a finger over your clothed folds, making you clench down. 

“Y/n” His voice sounded equally as desperate as yours, barely audible over the sound of his heavy breathing. “Fuck I missed you” You gasped as his fingers slid under the fabric. He pushed a finger in, allowing your tight cunt to accustom to it before adding another finger not long after. 

His other hand slid beneath your shirt, pushing your bra up so he could run his thumb over your nipples, his touch featherlight, leaving you breathless. You rolled your eyes back in pleasure, bucking your hips up as he slowly pumped you with his fingers.

“That’s it baby, just like that” He whispered, lips pressing into your neck. You let out a shaky moan as his fingers quickened, pumping in and out of you as you latched onto his shoulders. “Look at me. Look right at me baby”

He brought his lips over yours, just brushing them across your skin so he could gaze deep into your eyes as you fucked yourself onto his fingers. You cried out his name as the friction began to overwhelm you. His fingers easing you right where you needed them, pleasure searing through you as he watched your every move.

"So good for me” He pulled his fingers out, doused in your sticky arousal before he placed them into his own mouth. Your eyes widen as he licked of every last bit of you and smiles. “You taste so fucking good baby”

He kisses you again, harsher this time as his hips roll against you. Your fingers grip his hair as he pulls down his sweats, allowing his cock to spring out. 

“You want my cock?” He ran his tongue over your lips, tugging at them slightly as he stroked his cock. You could feel his hand moving between your legs. “You want my big cock in your little pussy?”

You gulped, nodding as Jungkook looked down, lining his tip against your folds, pushing in only slightly before meeting your eyes again. “So warm and wet for me, fuck” He pushed in further, groaning as you spread your thighs wider, allowing him to thrust as deep as he could. He stilled briefly, kissing you again “You take me so well baby fuck. So fucking tight for me. My pretty baby” He stroked your face, thumb pushing into your mouth slightly.

“Does it feel good?” He mumbled, pulling out just slightly before rolling his hips back into you. He picked up a rhythm, fucking you deep and slow, hands clawing at your breasts.

“Yeah...feels really good” Your eyes fell shut, enjoying the fulfilling pleasure of his movements. He pulled your shirt up, burying his face between your breasts as he continued to fuck up into you. 

“Mmm yeah I bet” He pushed your bra up, allowing his fingers to pinch you nipples. He took one into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the small bud as he began to suckle you, looking up to your face and enjoying your reactions. “You’re so fucking pretty you know that right?” He sucked on your breast harshly before leaving it with a soft kiss and moving onto the other. “So perfect for me”

His thrusts quickened, driving you up the wall as his hands fell to your hips. You burying your face in the crook of his neck as you felt your high approaching. “Jungkook...I’m...”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was raspy with lust, “You wanna cum baby? Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock, wanna hear you make those pretty little moans when you cum”

You cried out with every thrust as he pushed you over the edge, and you felt your pussy burst with pleasure as you came, the sloppy sounds of your arousal echoing through the small space. Jungkook groaned as the hot liquid covered his cock, allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease. 

“There you go. Good girl. Good fucking girl, just like that” He gasped, feeling his cock twitch slightly, buried deep in your cunt, “Want me to cum inside you baby?” You nodded, whining slightly, “Yeah? You want it baby? Huh?” Jungkook’s hips thrust furiously at you, and he cupped your face, bringing his forehead against yours so he could look into your eyes as he came. “Want my cum? Want me to fill you up baby?”

“Yeah. I want it. Jungkook please,” Your whiny voice was enough to have him spurting through you.

“Holy fuck” Jungkook buckled over, holding you tight as cum shot out of him, filling you up and leaking out onto the floor.

He pulled out of you quickly, pulling up his sweats while you fixed your own clothes. Sweat painted his forehead as he looked at you, panting with a big smile on his cute face.

“I missed that” He confessed, pulling you back into him by the waist. He knelt down and pressed his lips on yours, letting his hands slide to your ass and squeeze them softly. 

You heard a familiar ring as the elevator door reached it’s destination. You jumped away from Jungkook, unable to get far as the strong boy’s hold on you remained steady. 

"I see stabbing you once didn’t really drive home the message huh Mr. Jeon Jungkook” 

You felt goosebumps spread as you heard the sinister tone of Jin’s voice. He stood leaning against the elevator as if he had been waiting for you, twirling his knife around aimlessly between his fingers. “Too bad, I unfortunately can’t kill you yet” He turned to you and winked, “Both of you come with me”

-

Sweat trickled down from Namjoon’s neck, his eyes glued to the tattered punching bag in front of him. His muscles were still sore, bruises still spattered across his bare chest. He didn’t care. He was sick of feeling helpless. Under the dim lights of the boxing gym, he pushed himself, another hit, more force, ignoring the pain shooting through his limbs with every strike.

“Don’t overdo it” Namjoon rolled his eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. “Last thing you want is to get injured again” He turned to the sound of loafers echoing across the concrete floor.

“What do you want Yoongi?” Namjoon sneered. The producer smirked slightly, patting the punching bag playfully before pacing around Namjoon.

“I’m gonna kill Taehyung, and I know Jimin is gonna break hell. I need you to protect Y/n for me. Can I trust you, Namjoon?” His voice was stern.

“Man, fuck you Yoongi” Namjoon groaned, “I put my life on the line for you constantly and you still have to fucking ask? Promise me. I want out after this. Promise me a record deal”

Yoongi shrugged, “Okay fine. I’ll sign you. Don’t let her out of your sight.” Yoongi inhaled sharply, “And I swear to God Namjoon if you even think about touching her, you’re dead to me. And I will know if you do.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, lips parted, desperately trying to catch his breath. “Yeah okay. Just get me my fucking record deal”

Yoongi pursed his lips, pulling out his phone and handing it to Namjoon. “Paperwork is ready. You have one job. Don’t fuck up again” Namjoon clenched his fist as Yoongi chuckled in amusement. “I have some business I need to deal with personally. Keep her safe Namjoon, please”

-

You gagged, a puke-ish feeling clogging your throat as you coughed out. Your head was throbbing with pain as you squinted against the gleaming lights from the chandelier above your head. Glancing around, you realized you were back at Jungkook’s place, large dark wooden floors adding to the ambiance that just screamed rich in your face. The plushness of his large bed evident beneath you. 

You get up slightly, peering across the room where you see Jin handing a large duffel bag to Jungkook, whispering something into his ear. Jungkook nods eagerly, shaking Jin’s hand before exiting. He turns back to you, smiling as he realizes you are awake.

“Hey party girl. Recovered from our little day drinking session have we?” Jin chuckled. You scowl, searching around you as your throat desperately demanded water. Jin handed you a glass. “I just got Jungkook caught up, but you and I need to have a little talk” 

You exhaled before emptying the entire glass down your throat. “I know everything” You scoffed in spite, “I know everything you did, you fucking maniac”

Jin smiled wide at the term, “I know. Jungkook told me you think I was behind all of the stuff that’s been going on, stabbing him and kidnapping you. I mean,” Jin laughed, a tinge of condescendence in his voice, “You don’t actually believe that do you? Like, seriously how dumb are these guys. At least you’re smart”

You frowned at his tone, unsure of how to respond. Jin raised his eyebrows at your silence before continuing, “Oh come on Y/n. Use that little brain of yours hm? What the hell would I be gaining from all this? It was Taehyung.”

He extended you a hand, helping you out of the bed and pulling you up to stand before him, “What did he tell you huh? That he’s Yoongi’s friend or some shit? Taehyung doesn’t give a fuck about Yoongi. And I know you know about him screwing over Jimin. He’s trying to take over both gangs, not just Jimin’s, and he’s been lying to you this whole time.”

The bargaining chip. “What do you mean?” You followed the flat echoes of his footsteps down the hallway into the same office that you had Jimin tied up only a few days ago. You suppressed a smile as you noticed the curtains were still torn.

“He’s distracting Jimin and Yoongi with you. He wants them to get up against each other so that he can sway the gang loyalties towards him by showing that their leaders priorities are off. Look here” Jin motioned towards a laptop on the large desk, playing security footage of what appeared to be Death Valley’s parking lot, where people were loading bags of cash into what could have been Taehyung’s car. “He’s robbing them. And you know what else Y/n? When he’s done with all of this, he’s gonna kill them both.” 

No. No way. Betrayal stung you as you process Jin’s words, “You’re just a pawn in his game. You were bait. He just needed to you get Jimin and Yoongi to fight amongst each other. And you let him, didn’t you?” Jin chuckled, patting your cheek. “I know he kept telling you that you could trust him. That he wouldn’t hurt you. It was bullshit Y/n. This man only cares about one thing. Himself”

You thought back to the first night you laid your eyes on him, back when his hair was a faded green, his sweaty tan skin contrasting his dark leather jacket. The look of familiarity in his eyes and the gleam from his diamond studded watch. You were a fool. He strung you along.

“Where is he?” You growled, “I wanna hear it from him. I wanna ask him myself”

“Absolutely. In fact, if you’re up for it, I was wondering if you would be down to do another little mission for me” Jin winked at you. You scowled, folding your arms over your chest, “If we don’t kill him first, he’s planning on killing Yoongi tonight before the party. I know because I got him to let me in on his little coup” Your heart dropped, “You don’t want that do you?”

"No” You blurted. 

“So let’s kill him first. Come on, let’s go get you dolled up for this party”

As you left the office, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure standing at the other end of the hallway.

Namjoon? Your eyes locked with his. He pressed a finger to his lips before pointing at Jin and shaking his head. What is he trying to say. Namjoon seemed to have a warning look in his eyes. You simply shrugged at him, before running down the hall to catch up with Jin.

Namjoon exhaled, watching from a window as Jin and you drove off, likely heading to the hotel. Looking at his palm he saw the way his nails left imprints in his skin from how hard he was clenching his fists. Namjoon wasn’t necessarily a fan of Taehyung, but he knew a thing or two about him from Yoongi. Taehyung would never kill people. He was averse to it for some reason, Namjoon always thought it was ironic for him to be a gangster given that quality. Taehyung could torture anyone, threaten anyone, but he didn’t have it in him to take a life. 

Which meant that Jin was lying to you. Namjoon never liked Jin. Even aside from all the hits he had taken from the strong man, he always felt something was off about the guy. He feels uneasy about what he had just seen transpire, and decided to go find Yoongi. 

-

“Do you want some coke?” You were in the middle of washing your face when Jin walked in with a bag of powder. “I could use a hit, I don’t know about you”

“Oh hell yes. Thank you” He poured out a line on the bathroom counter using a quarter, watching with a small chuckle as you inhaled the drug, nose pressed against the cool marble. You sighed, wiping your nose and flashing a big grin in the mirror “Damn. I needed that. I didn’t know that you use”

Jin bit back a smirk, “I do.” He poured another line on the same place, this time taking a hit himself. “A lot”

“Oh. Officer Jin is a druggie like the rest of us huh” You teased. Jin poured himself a gin martini, taking a sip, eyes alight with amusement. “Does that turn you on ever? Do you ever have a hottie cuffed up and they’re like please Officer does that..you know..turn you on?”

Jin’s eyes widened at you “Not any hottie, no. Now if I had you cuffed up saying that” He chuckled, pulling you to him by the waist “That’s a whole other story” You pushed him away playfully.

“What?” Jin said mockingly, “Don’t remember that night where I gave you the best orgasm of your life?” His traced his lips up your jaw, and you could feel his smile against you.

“Wow. Cocky are we?” You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve had some pretty good sex in my life. Hard to say if that was the best”

Suddenly, Jin pulled his knife from his back pocket, glancing in the mirror as he traced the blade across your neck just enough for you to feel the sharp cold metal glide on your skin, pinching without actually making you bleed. “Don’t even lie. You loved fucking me. Don’t you remember? How fucking wet you were?” His breath was hot against your lips, but it was the look in his eyes that had you weak in the knees. 

Taking his knife, he slit clean down your shirt, tearing it off of you to reveal your bare chest. “On the floor slut” His whispered, flirty demeanor now shifted into something dark. Something feral.

You gulped, taking care to slide your bottoms off, not wanting him to slice them up before lowering yourself down onto the tiled bathroom floor. 

Jin set the knife aside, pulling out his lighter and setting in on the counter before shedding his own clothes, even he kicking off his shoes. He lifted his foot, and you watched with a curious gaze as he placed his foot on your chest. He kept the weight off of you, much to your relief, and you couldn’t help but feel absolutely filthy as he rolled your breasts under the sole of his foot. You had never done anything like this. It seemed so dirty, but felt so good. 

“Oh my god Jin” You gasped as he switched onto his other leg, taking his foot and shoving it into your mouth, watching in amusement as you gagged over his toes.

“Look at you. On the fucking floor. Naked little whore. Letting me do whatever I fucking want.” He removed his foot from your mouth, letting you catch your breath before you looked up at him with quivering eyes.

He felt blood rush to his cock at your expression. Licking his lips, knelt down, climbing over you to gently trail his fingers where his foot had been moments ago.

“And you love it” He sneered, letting his nails dig into your breast, “You love the pain don’t you you fucking slut?” When you didn’t answer he grabbed your jaw, pushing his fingers into the edge of your mouth. “I asked you a fucking question”

“Y...yes” You exhaled. You felt his fingers tease your clit, teeth tugging on your lobe as he laughed darkly.

Jin reached for the martini glass “Turn over” He growled. You found yourself with your breasts pressed flat against the floor, Jin’s cock pressing into your ass. You gasped as he poured the drink onto your back. “This is gonna burn. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl. I know you are, you let Yoongi do it so I can too”

“Wait what” Jin pressed your face down with one hand while the other grabbed his lighter, “Jin. Hold on.” Your voice rose in fear, which only turned Jin on more. He watched as you writhed under him, trying desperately to get away. “Jin seriously. That’s not funny”

“Shhh. You can take it” He cooed, flicking the flame on he slowly lowered it to your skin, bringing it nearer and nearer to the doused skin. You yelped as you began to feel the concentrated heat. Your entire body was petrified. “Enjoy it baby. You like it. You love it. You let Yoongi do it so why can’t I?”

“Jin. It’s not you, I'm just not ready for something like this please” Jin cocked his head aside in irritation, stopping the lighter before it actually touched you and tossing it aside. “I didn’t let Yoongi brand me he just did.”

Jin stilled momentarily. “And you still love him? Even though he did that?”

You didn’t answer. That alone was enough for Jin to rage. He slammed your face back down, the blow giving you a dizzying sensation that hat you getting wetter by the second. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled, “How can you love someone like that?” He pulled your face up, bending you back until you were flush against his chest. “I don’t want any of them touching you again. You understand me?” He let go, giving you whiplash as you fell back to the floor. “Ass up. Now” He spanked your ass hard, causing you to yelp. The stinging pain vibrated to your core. You couldn’t help but love every second of it. 

Jin knew that you were scared of him, he could feel it. He could also see the way your thighs would clench whenever he did anything to you. You were his favorite drug. He was going to ruin you.

He grabbed his belt from the pile of clothes on the side, “Hands under” He demanded, rolling his lip through his teeth as you obeyed him right away. He took the belt tying your wrists to your knees under you.

He took a moment to admire his work, your shivering body all his for the taking. You had no where to run. He had you now. “Who gives it to you the best him?” Pulling you towards him by your thighs, he didn’t care that your knees would burn against the smooth tile as he lined his cock up with your folds. He spat down, a glob of saliva landing on your ass before he used his cock head to rub it all over you. He could hear your shaky breath, your whiny moans that made him want to fuck you even more. 

He slapped his palm  onto the curve of your ass, bending over your to growl into your ear “Filthy whore. You disgust me. You let them all just do whatever they want to you, don’t you have any fucking self respect?” He could see his words were hitting close to home. You pursed your trembling lips as Jin smacked you again in the same place. 

“When will you fucking learn huh? This pussy” He reached his hand to harshly cup your cunt, shoving two fingers inside you without warning. “This pussy belongs to me. You’re mine. My cockslut whore” Taking his fingers out, he shoved them into your mouth “You taste that? That how desperate your needy little cunt is for me”

Your legs were strung together, making it all the more painful when he finally began to push his cock inside you, using his fingers to scissor you open so that he could get deep inside you. His length pushed against your tight walls, your cries and curses only motivating Jin to push further. 

“Who owns this cunt huh?” Jin pulled your hips back, burning your knees each time as he pulled you on and off his cock. Your ass slammed into him with each blow. 

“You do. Holy fuck, you do” You gasped, practically screaming as your whole body ached with pain and pleasure. 

“That’s right baby” He pinched your clit, making you yelp as he flicked at it, pounding into your relentlessly. 

“J..Jin” You mumbled, lips still half pressed on the floor, “Jin please. Feels good” Jin scoffed, “Gonna cum...gonna cum” You inhaled loudly as you felt your high approaching. Your eyes clenched shut as he edged you closer and closer, fingers furiously attacking your clit until he stopped.

You let out a loud sob as Jin yanked you up by your neck “You really thought I would let you cum whore?” His grip tightened, cock twitching at the way your voice sounded choking, the water streaming from your eyes and the drool at the edge of your lips. He kissed you, licking it all up in the process.  

“Look in the mirror. Look at how pathetic you are. I want you to remember the only person who’s ever gonna let you feel this good” You looked at your reflection, seeing only your faces and the way Jin’s nails dug into your neck. He pushed you forward so that your chin was on the countertop. You coughed out, watching as he resumed his thrusts, punishing your clit with the jarring movements of his fingers. 

You screamed, pleasure crashing over you in a wave of tantalizing heat. You gushed onto his cock, tears falling from your eyes due to how overwhelming the sensation was. Jin continued to whisper filth right into your ears but you could no longer hear anything. Your vision became hazy, not minding the blow when Jin shoved you back onto the floor and pounded you to his own release.

On the other side of the wall, Namjoon leaned his head back and sighed, glancing down to see his cock in his hands, now completely covered in cum.

-

Taehyung chewed on his gum nonchalantly as he paced around the luxurious hotel, checking out all the fun features. The pool deck was nice, the lobby exquisite, and his favorite part, the cafe, smelt delicious. 

Yoongi had asked to meet him in his suite. On his way there he ran into you, and you knocked his breath away. He always thought you were beautiful, but tonight you looked elegant. It was such a surprising contrast to your usual getup, but you looked amazing. He was about to tell you just that when he finally registered the hurt look in your eyes.

“You liar” You slapped him with everything you had. Taehyung backed away in surprise. “How could you use me like that? Over and over again. I trusted you. You were really the only one I thought had my back. Without a fucking doubt” You lunged towards him for another hit but Taehyung held your wrist firmly.

“What are you talking about? When did I use you?” Taehyung looked around frantically, “Calm down okay, let’s go somewhere and talk this through.” Your eyes flared in anger. 

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! You’re gonna kill them!” You screamed. Taehyung squinted, noticing the slight redness in your eyes. He sighed in understanding, pulling you by the wrist into a corridor. 

“Y/n. Breathe. Tell me what’s going on” Taehyung attempted to calm you down but you were enraged. “And what the fuck are you on?”

Admittedly, you and Jin had ended up doing many more lines of coke, perhaps even molly, you were no longer sure, but you washed it down with the bottle of gin, finding it unprecedentedly hilarious that Jin liked to drink gin martinis. 

“You used me! To fuck with Jimin! And Yoongi! You lied to me! Everything you said was a fucking lie, everything you did, every stupid word that came out of your stupid mouth was a lie! You just want power. You’re selfish, and...and...you’re gonna KILL them” A dramatic gasp left your lips, Taehyung almost laughed, “You’re gonna kill Yoongi. I...I can’t let you do that”

You pulled out your gun, cocking it and pressing it against Taehyung’s chest. He instantly put his hands up. “Y/n. Y/n stop. That’s not true okay you’re not thinking straight. Don’t do something you’ll regret”

Your hands trembled around the gun “You’ll kill them. You’ll kill them both...I can’t let you do that”

“Hold on!”

Too late. You pulled the trigger.

-

Hobi wandered through the parking lot looking for his car. His eyes narrowed on a familiar vehicle, thinking back to when he had loaded the drug money from the last fight. 

So. Is that guy Yoongi then? The one I kept seeing? Hobi wandered over to the car. Peering inside the passenger window, his eyes locked on a small item on the floor of the car. He squinted to read it, it appeared to be some sort of credit card.

He stepped back, realizing what the name on the card was. He glanced around before taking the end of his gun and ramming it into the door handle. The door creaked open, allowing Hobi to swipe the card up. He slid it into his pocket, before hurriedly returning to the hotel. 

-

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he watched you pull a gun out on Taehyung. He had been thoroughly entertained as you yelled and slapped him, knowing full well that you were high out of your mind. 

Namjoon couldn’t understand Jin’s plan at all. He had eavesdropped on everything so far, as per Yoongi’s orders. Why would Jin ask you to kill Taehyung, why wouldn’t he just do it himself? He knew you would hate yourself if you actually killed him. 

He had also been thoroughly disappointed at how easily Jungkook had bought into Jin’s agenda as well. The things people do for money. Namjoon sighed, realizing that he was pretty much acting on similar motivations. 

You were ready to pull the trigger, and Namjoon was almost certain you wouldn’t do it, until he saw your finger begin to curl. He ran towards the corridor as fast as he could.

“Hold on!” He yelled, but it was too late. Taehyung’s eyes flew shut.

Namjoon blinked, not hearing the familiar gunshot sound. You looked equally confused, glancing down the barrel of your gun. Taehyung let out a shaky sigh of relief, sliding down the wall.

“It...was a blank” You mumbled. Namjoon rushed to your side, pulling you away from Taehyung. “What the...what was I just about to do?” His heart clenched as your lips parted in shock.

“Taehyung are you okay?” Namjoon asked. Taehyung nodded, clearly shaken up but managing to get a hold of himself. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He growled, “Who gave her a gun? And who gave her drugs while she had a gun? Fucking hell”

Namjoon stroked your back as you let the gun drop to the floor, the weight of your actions finally hitting you. 

“I’m so sorry. Taehyung I...” You looked into his eyes. Those eyes that always left you questioning what was really going on in that pretty head of his. 

“Yeah. Jin fucking fed her some interesting stories about how you’re using her. At least I hope they’re just stories” Namjoon peered at him. “I’m Namjoon by the way, we haven’t officially met”

Taehyung shook his hand “Hi Namjoon. I heard you make pretty decent music” He chuckled ironically, “Y/n, I need you to tell me everything Jin said. There’s been some sort of misunderstanding, I promise you I wasn’t taking advantage of you.”

Namjoon made a face, exchanging a glance with you as you nodded slowly. Namjoon was not entirely sure he should believe Taehyung. He supposed it wouldn’t matter, when he knew that Yoongi was planning to kill Taehyung anyways. The more information he had, the better he could at least keep you out of trouble. 

P R E S E N T  D A Y--

Security escorted you and Jimin out immediately as the media broke into a frenzy trying to figure out what had happened. You had hoped your acting skills had convinced him. 

After Taehyung sobered you up slightly, the three of you had sat and schemed. Using everything the three of you knew, you were able to figure out that it really was Jin behind Jimin’s accident, your and Namjoon’s kidnapping, as well as Jungkook’s attempted murder. He was able to do all of this using Hobi’s help, but Hobi seemed not to know that he was receiving orders from Jin.

The question remained how and why. 

“I know you’re not going to believe me. So I have proof” Taehyung pulled his phone out, pulling up a recording of Jin tied up somewhere.

All I ask, is that when the dust settles, Y/n is mine. And I get to kill them. My way

You felt queasy seeing his earnest expression through the film. Namjoon’s jaw clenched, recognizing crazy when he saw it, wishing he could have knocked the guy’s brains out beforehand.

“Listen to me. This guy is dangerous. I don’t really understand why he’s doing all of this. He said he wanted to help me, but clearly there’s some other motive here. Otherwise he wouldn’t go behind my back.” Taehyung muttered.

“The only way to know what he wants is to see what he does next” Namjoon pitched in. 

You glanced between the two men, feeling weirdly relieved that you finally had some solid answers. Having Namjoon by your side after so long was the best thing you could ask for at the moment, and you clung to him, hands wrapped around his arm tightly. He thought it was cute.

“Let me fake my death. Let’s see what he does.”

The drivers took you and Jimin to the precinct. You looked around for Namjoon but he was nowhere to be seen. Your eyes met Jin’s briefly as he signed some paperwork. He winked at you.

“Can I have the body taken to get an autopsy report please?” You weren’t phased by this. Taehyung had said he had enough contacts to make it truly believable that he had died. Jimin’s face was void of emotion as he watched the stretcher go past with the body on it.

You left the hold on his hand, your blood running cold as the body nears you. It was loosely covered with a white sheet, but the arm hung out limply from the sight.

That watch. That’s his watch.

Jimin pressed his lips to the top of your head, sliding his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him “You okay babe?” 

“I...no yeah, I’m just shocked” You stammered. You looked up at him, allowing him to place a loving kiss on your lips.

Jimin felt for you, he really did. He himself was generally an emotional person, it was not something he ever tried to hide. But he always felt like his emotional energy was valuable. He didn’t feel the need to cry. Not for Taehyung.

Jimin stroked your back softly, “It’s scary, I know. I know baby, but don’t worry” He licked his lips, eyes briefly meeting Hobi’s from across the room. Hobi gave him a knowing look.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon”

ᐊ——[ previous ] series navi | masterlist | [ next ]——ᐅ

a/n: WOOHOOO. the fun is really gonna start now. did you miss yoongi? don’t worry, he’ll be back. drop your theories in my asks! who killed taehyung? what’s jin’s deal? 

smut pairs are up for next week! poor oc, she really needs to eat some food. yikes.

see you then & thanks for reading <3 happy juneteenth! 

taglist: @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees @kooookie​ @queenmasterxx @crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra @un2-verse @winter-melontea @equivocacies​ @infernal-alpaca @shrimpmsg @meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii @liltangerined @littlrmills14-blog @issysor @arandomblackgirl @adoringinsanity @giadalin @jeontier @kaithezaftig @jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi @happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs @kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind

[too-gay-for-marvel]

just this once pt.5

a/n: yall. yall im on a roll. and no i will not apologise for anything that happens in this chapter. also, still learning how to do taglists so if it doesn’t work or you weren’t included, send me a message and i’ll try to get it fixed!

Word Count: 4,285 

Warnings: canon typical violence, non-explicit mentions of torture, mutant experimentation

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

“I think Fury is giving you a sign.”

Natasha looked up from her paperwork to see Maria leaning against the door frame to her office. She herself had just gotten back from a mission, evident in her slightly mused ponytail and gun still on her hip. A very beyond attractive look, if Natasha had to say it.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asked, leaning back in her chair to give her full attention to her fiancee.

“So he didn’t tell you,” Maria said with a nod. She pushed herself off the door frame and moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’ll admit that gives me a clue,” Natasha said with a small frown. She didn’t like where this was going.

“He’s sending you on another mission,” Maria replied. “With Y/N.”

“I thought we told him emergencies only,” Natasha mused more to herself than to Maria.

It seemed like Nick was sending the both of you on every mission he could possibly come up with. He needed some information. Then he wanted the layout of a base. Then he wanted some recon on security in another location. All were things that Natasha not only could have done with someone else, but she could have gotten them done on her own.

He seemed to think differently.

“He wants you to leave tomorrow,” Maria continued, bringing Natasha out of her pouting. “Personnel recovery.”

“At least that gives us a few hours together,” Natasha said with a small smile.

“Maybe we can finally get some planning done,” Maria nodded as she stood up. “Maybe a colour scheme?”

“Red and black,” Natasha shot back.

“We’ll argue about it later,” Maria smiled. She walked over and tilted Natasha’s chin up to give her a quick kiss before leaving the office, presumably to get cleaned up.

Natasha looked down at her paperwork for not even five minutes before deciding she was going to rush upstairs and surprise Maria in the shower. She had just started piling the papers up when you walked in, harpoon on hip and soaking wet.

“Did you ask Fury for another mission?” You asked as you plopped into the chair opposite her, water instantly dripping down the sides of the seat.

“No,” Natasha said curtly, hoping she could get you out of her office sooner if she didn’t invite conversation.

“Then why is he sending us together?” You asked. Your fingers started combing through your hair, the webs gathering whatever was stuck. Drops of water splashed onto Natasha’s pristine papers.

“I don’t know,” Natasha said again, turning her lip up when you put a piece of seaweed on her desk.

“I thought you knew everything,” you huffed, staring intently as a shell you had pulled out of your suit sleeve.

“Well clearly not,” Natasha mumbled to herself.

You leaned over to rest your elbows on the desk, your dripping wet hair leaving puddles on the mahogany and her papers. Natasha set her jaw and gave you a look, keeping eye contact. But your eyes gave off that mischievous sparkle, the one that would make any woman swoon. And Natasha’s heart raced.

“Think I can get that in writing?” You asked with a raised brow. “You know, for the next time you act like a know-it-all.”

“Did you just come in here to act like an ass?” Natasha asked as she picked her papers up and started walking out.

“Actually,” you started as you pushed away from the desk and stood up, “I’m here to bring you this.”

You held your open hand out, palm up, and Natasha looked cautiously to see what it was. In the middle of your palm was a whole shell, with a small black pearl in the centre. It looked absolutely stunning, and Natasha reached out to gently take it.

“Why did you bring this to me?” Natasha asked, although she feared she already knew your answer.

“Cheeseburger found the shell the other day,” you shrugged, “and Roger got the pearl out.”

Natasha did her best not to chuckle at the silly names you had given the octopus and otter that usually inhabited your moon pool. Cheeseburger, the octopus, had lost two limbs and had a nasty habit of stealing your cheeseburgers (hence the name), while Roger was an in-progress rehabilitation project. Unfortunately, the three of you were like peas in a pod.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha mused, her eyes still glued to the pearl. “But I can’t take this home to my fiancee.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. The space between the both of you increased as you visibly took a step back, and Natasha missed the closeness. Things had seemed normal only a moment ago, and now she could feel you closing yourself off to her, going cold once again.

“Then give it to Maria,” you shrugged. “Get some brownie points before going off on another mission with her favourite person.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Natasha shot back. “I just don’t want to waste your gift.”

“It was just cluttering up my space,” you replied, voice cold.

“Give it to Yelena,” Natasha said softly, holding the shell and pearl back out for you to take. “She would love it.”

“Yelena,” you huffed with a small smile. A sad smile. You grabbed the shell from her hand rather roughly, causing Natasha to flinch. “Thanks for the input.”

“Y/N,” Natasha started, but you were already walking away in the opposite direction, head high and feet dragging.

Natasha sighed and started her own way back to her floor. She wanted Maria to distract her. From you.

———

“What’s our objective again?” You shouted from the back of the quinjet.

“Personnel recovery,” Yelena answered. “Some scientist wanted out of AIM.”

“Why is that my responsibility?” You continued. Your boots echoed off the floor and you popped your head in between Yelena’s and Natasha’s chairs.

“Because something smelled-”

“Don’t,” Natasha interrupted.

“-fishy,” Yelena finished anyway, and both you and Natasha groaned as she just laughed at herself.

“I’m not paid enough for this,” Natasha mumbled to herself before turning her head and looking out the windows.

“I’ll throttle you,” you said as you lightly slapped Yelena upside the head.

“Listen,” she tried to say around another round of giggles, “if Fury ever told me his plans, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you two.”

“Well why don’t you find out? I wanna know why he’s sending me on this mission.”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know? Surely you must have some kind of-”

“Can you both shut up?” Natasha shouted. The both of you grew silent immediately, and Natasha finally let out a breath and tried to rub her growing migraine away.

“Should’ve just sent Nat,” you grumbled. “She’s grumpy enough to scare everyone away all on her own.”

Yelena snorted, and when Natasha shot a look her way, she tried her best to look out the window. You, on the other hand, held up to her challenge and met her eyes. That ridiculous smirk refused to disappear, and Natasha wanted so desperately to wipe it off your face. But instead she just turned back around and looked out the window once again.

The rest of the trip was silent, only the occasional update being spoken aloud. Yelena managed to drop the both of you off and stayed in the jet, more than ready for when you both got back and could get back to the Tower for a well-deserved weekend.

It was a quick jog to the location, with tents and cages set up all around the landing port. The building was a few stories tall, but well fortified with guards around every corner. The majority of cages were empty, but every now and then you could hear a bear, a dog, a human.

“I thought these guys were scientists,” you whispered from where you were crouched beside Natasha.

“They are,” Natasha nodded.

“Must be pretty paranoid then,” you continued.

“You would be too if your work relied on illegal mutant experimentation,” Natasha clarified. You didn’t say anything else, but she could see your knuckles going pale.

“Let’s get our man and go,” you practically growled. “Before I kill them all.”

Natasha knew you weren’t joking.

You both went in opposite directions, you heading to the back door and Natasha heading to the side. There was no guaranteeing that the scientist was even inside at all, but that was the easiest place to check. There was too much vulnerability outside and Natasha wasn’t going to risk getting caught and failing another mission.

“How are we supposed to find one nerd in a facility full of nerds?” You asked over the intercoms, and Natasha assumed you had made it into the building.

“Be nice,” Natasha whispered, “not all scientists are nerds.”

“Bruce and Tony are,” you replied. Natasha pulled herself against a wall when she heard voices. “Everyone here is.”

“Hush,” Natasha whispered. You remained silent as Natasha listened to footsteps getting closer, and then turning into the opposite direction. She let out a quiet breath.

“Do we really want to help someone who’s torturing mutants?” You asked again, a barely contained anger in your voice.

Natasha rounded another corner, trying to come up with an answer for you. You weren’t wrong; she didn’t like the idea either. Why save the scientist when you could save the people instead? But Fury wanted him, and there had to be a reason for it. The location was known, so someone could always come back to save them another day.

“Nick will send us back another day,” Natasha finally said out loud. You huffed on the other end of the comms.

You both continued through the facility, methodically clearing rooms until finally you indicated you had found him. Some wiry man with broken glasses, according to your description. Natasha gave confirmation and headed to the meet up point, somewhere on the second floor. Once Natasha was about to round the corner to the location, she could hear your voice carrying through the halls.

“You’re lucky I don’t wring your neck myself.”

“What’s the problem?” Natasha asked as soon as she saw you.

You were right. The man was wiry and nerdy, something you would expect from a mad scientist in a comic book. White tape was wrapped around the nose piece of his glasses in stereotypical fashion and he was hunched over like the world was resting on his shoulders.

No surprise, considering you were hovering nearly a foot over him.

“He called me an animal,” you seethed, your hands visibly shaking with the desire to have them around the man’s neck.

“Look at your arms and neck, what else could you be?” He asked in a gruff New Jersey accent.

“You want an animal? I’ll show you an-”

“That’s enough,” Natasha demanded. She stepped in between the both of you and pushed you away, not even bothering to get near the man.

“If he has to go with us, then so does one of the mutants,” you said, leaving no room for argument in your voice.

“We can’t risk it, we’re leaving them here,” Natasha said quickly. The hair on the back of her neck was starting to stand up and her stomach felt like it was dropping.

“I’m not leaving them and taking that,” you said through clenched teeth while pointing at the scientist.

“You’re going to risk my life for one of them?” He asked, his face drawn in disgust at the mere thought that his life was equal to a mutant’s. Natasha wanted to strangle him.

“We will come back for them another day,” Natasha said again, but you didn’t look convinced.

“I’m not leaving without them, so you’re gonna have to wait,” you shot back.

Voices could be heard in the stairwell a few halls away.

“And I’m not risking another mission,” Natasha argued, walking closer to you and forcing you to step backward to keep your space.

“If you think I’m taking that and leaving one of those kids then you’re-”

Click.

The both of you froze, your eyes boring into Natasha’s. A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, so thick Natasha struggled to draw breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears and that feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach returned.

And then your eyes left hers, trailing down to the too-tight cuffs that were now keeping you chained to the pipes against the wall. They weren’t the usual police handcuffs, but the kind that they had used on Loki after the invasion of New York.

You weren’t getting out of them.

“Natasha,” you started, your eyes moving back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered. She took one heavy step back, never taking her eyes off of you.

“Unlock them,” you continued. Your chest was starting to rise and fall slightly faster.

“Someone will come for you,” Natasha said again with a slight nod.

Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Get back here, Romanoff,” you said as Natasha started leading the scientist down the hall.

Away from you.

She didn’t answer. She just felt her leaden boots take step after step, leading her further away from where you were chained. When she didn’t answer, she heard the sound of metal pulling against metal and your grunts and groans as you tried to yank the cuffs off.

“You can’t leave me here!” You shouted, your voice echoing down the hall after Natasha had turned the final corner.

She heard other voices coming from the same direction as yours, quickly followed by shouting and the solid thuds of blows being landed.

“Natalia!” You shouted again once Natasha had opened the door to lead the scientist out.

Only moments after the door shut, Natasha heard your scream. A scream of anger and frustration, a scream that reached down Natasha’s throat and ripped her heart out. The prick of tears in her eyes left a sinking feeling in her gut, left her feeling empty and a broken shell.

But she had a mission. And she was going to complete it.

She shoved the scientist in the direction of the quinjet and didn’t look back. Ignoring the whining and complaining coming from the man and eventually just throwing him into the back of the quinjet, ignoring the way Yelena jumped at the sudden noise.

“Where’s Y/N?” Yelena asked, moving her head around, trying to see if you were close behind.

“Get us in the air,” Natasha ordered. Tears pricked her eyes once again.

“Are they coming?” Yelena asked again, ignoring Natasha’s order.

“I said get us in the air, now.”

Yelena gave Natasha a look that sent a shiver down her spine, but turned around and got the jet in the air nonetheless. The scientist pulled himself into the seat next to Natasha. He seemed much more relaxed, and Natasha couldn’t blame him. He probably didn’t realise just how much had been risked to get him back to SHIELD.

“You made the right choice,” he said after some unbearable silence. Natasha turned to look at him, her brows pulled together.

“Excuse me?”

“You made the right choice,” he said again with an enthusiastic nod. “You never know what those animals might do-”

He was cut off with a choked gasp as Natasha slammed her elbow into his face, and he quickly lost consciousness.

“Just shut up,” she mumbled to herself, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

It didn’t make her feel any better.

———

It was six weeks before the party had been dispatched to get you back.  The party had consisted of Natasha, Yelena, and Wanda, and there was going to be nothing extra. They were going to get you out and get back to SHIELD, no side missions, no stops, no questions.

Maybe it just so happened that the only way to get you was to burn the facility to the ground and get the rest of the mutants out. Maybe they had called for a second quinjet to arrive to make sure everyone was able to get out safely.

Yelena and Wanda were tasked with getting everyone on the jets and eliminating the few soldiers remaining while Natasha had scoured the facility top to bottom to find you. There was a large portion of the basement that Natasha had found, filled with surgical equipment and things that would have been enough to give anyone nightmares.

And you were there, nude, in a too-small empty glass tank with a chain around your ankle. There were rips and tears in the thin membranes between your spines, and a dark black mark on your left shoulder blade. From her angle, it looked like some kind of gunk was stuck in your gills. You were curled up into a fetal position and kept your eyes glued to the ground directly in front of you.

“Y/N,” Natasha said, her gun still drawn but lowered.

“I should thank you, Miss Romanoff,” a voice called, and Natasha spun with gun raised to find a scientist walk forward, standing near a panel by your tank. “You gave me my greatest obsession.”

“How about you just let them out and I don’t kill you,” Natasha shrugged.

“I’ve learned a lot from our little friend,” he continued, ignoring her. “And you’re in time to see the results of something I’ve been working on.”

“Let them go,” Natasha said again. She cocked the gun, but the man laughed.

“I hear drowning is a horrible way to die,” he said, still ignoring her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw you raise your head and look at her. The dark spots under your eyes were beyond evident, sticking out against the sickened colour of your skin. There was no emotion in your eyes, not even a silent plea for help.

You looked like you had already accepted death.

“How long do you think a sea creature can hold its breath underwater before it needs to breathe?” He asked, his fingers typing against the panel.

“Don’t,” Natasha shouted, her trigger finger pulling instinctively and burying a bullet into the man’s chest. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Water started filling your tank, and you stood up to get your head as tall as it could get. Natasha nodded at you once, and you covered your head as she fired shot after shot at the tank. But there wasn’t even a dent, nothing to indicate that the tank could be broken.

“What do I do?” Natasha asked as she ran up to the tank, watching the water slowly rise to your ankles.

You didn’t speak, didn’t open your mouth, instead pointing as best you could to a discrete pipe against the opposite wall. Natasha looked at it and followed the direction until she saw a lone wheel connected to the wall. A wheel that could control the water flow.

“Stay here,” Natasha told you as she ran off, grimacing to herself. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

She grabbed the wheel and pulled, but it didn’t budge. It felt like she was trying to pull a quinjet with her bare hands; an impossible task in and of itself. Her eyes trailed over to see the water had reached your waist. There had to be something else she could get, something to help.

The thud of your hands on the glass made her turn, and you were pointing in another direction. Her eyes followed, but there wasn’t anything she could see that would immediately-

A pipe.

Natasha sprinted to grab it from the table, nearly dropping it in her haste to get back to the wheel. The water was up to your neck, and Natasha could already see that your gills weren’t filtering anything. They stayed terribly still, and Natasha had to drag her feet to get back to the wheel.

She stuck the pipe into the empty spaces of the wheel and pulled, yelling in frustration until it finally moved. She continued pulling until she heard the flow of water stop, and a tired smile etched itself onto her lips as she turned back around to see you.

But the water was over your head, and now she was leaving you to drown.

She couldn’t break the glass; the water was off and you were still drowning. Your eyes were wide, and the fear of the situation finally made its way onto your face as you curled in on yourself and started pulling at the chain around your ankle, air bubbles escaping from your nose at a rapid rate.

Natasha got an idea. She didn’t hesitate as she started pushing the pipe, the flow of water rushing back. Only this time, she didn’t stop until the pipes rattled with the flow, barely able to contain the volume inside. She pushed until the pipe stuck, and she turned and ran back to the tank.

Your eyes were closing, the air bubbles almost nonexistent, your struggle against the chain ending. Natasha started banging on the glass, trying to keep you awake, but you didn’t move, instead just floating, and Natasha felt her heart sink.

The glass creaked under her fingers. Natasha’s eyes shot open and she watched the glass, noting the single crack that started to web across the entirety of the tank. She barely had time to step aside as the glass shattered, water shooting out and leaving you to drop to the ground.

When you didn’t move, Natasha jumped forward, dropping to the ground and immediately starting CPR. She could feel a rib break, maybe two, but she didn’t stop. She wasn’t going to stop until you could breathe. You just needed to fucking breathe-

Your body shuddered as you choked, coughing up water before your eyes shot open. Natasha felt herself let out a shaky breath, but she didn’t let herself rest. She grabbed her gun and shot where the chain was connected to the floor, listening to it break before grabbing you and pulling you up.

“You need to lose some weight,” Natasha groaned as you leaned on her side, your feet barely moving.

You didn’t say a word the whole trip out of the facility. Just managed to  drag yourself out, eventually walking more on your own when you neared the quinjet. Yelena ran up to the both of you and got on your other side, sharing a look with Natasha.

“I’ve got it,” Yelena said in a tone that told Natasha to let go and give her some space.

Natasha did, watching as Yelena finished dragging you to the quinjet and putting you in a seat before wrapping a blanket around your naked form. Your eyes fell back to the ground when Yelena finally got the jet in the air, and you refused to look at anyone when you got back to the Tower, leaving Natasha without a second thought.

———

Natasha was sitting at the bar on the common floor, picking apart her food. She had tried to see you multiple times over the past two weeks, only to be turned away by doctors or Yelena. There was something wrong, but Natasha couldn’t find out because no one would let her.

The ding of the elevator had her turning her head, not necessarily eager but casually curious on who had appeared. To her surprise, Yelena walked out with a McDonald’s bag in hand, some drink in the other. She didn’t look happy, but Natasha could’ve expected that.

After all, Yelena hadn’t forgiven her.

“How are they?” Natasha asked.

“Alive, no thanks to you,” Yelena shot back. But she had stopped and was talking back; that was an improvement from the past two weeks.

“I had a mission,” Natasha said, but her voice was small, weak.

“They were part of that mission,” Yelena answered.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said quietly. She said it to assuage her own guilt. It didn’t work.

“You’re stringing them along,” Yelena said, her voice taking a different tone that Natasha hadn’t been expecting. “Just marry Maria already and end the suffering.”

“I’m not stringing them along,” Natasha defended.

But she knew she was wrong. Yelena was right. And Natasha wasn’t going to stop because what would her life be without you? How could she go about her day-to-day life if she knew you weren’t going to be there in some fashion? Maybe she was in love with Maria and was going to marry her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to throw you away.

“Just be gentle,” Yelena said with a sigh. “Everyone has feelings at stake.”

“And you?” Natasha asked, causing Yelena to freeze. “What feelings do you have at stake?”

A small, sad smile made its way onto her face.

“Desire,” Yelena shrugged, but just like that her demeanour changed. “Y/N said I couldn’t eat before them, and I very much desire this McChicken.”

“You’re disgusting,” Natasha chuckled.

“And this McFlurry. You know the good stuff,” Yelena teased again, causing the both of them to laugh.

“Then go on,” Natasha motioned toward where she assumed you were waiting. “I’d hate for the two of you to starve.”

Yelena gave her a smile, one like the good old days, and continued her walk. She stopped in the doorway and turned around.

“Oh, Fury wanted me to tell you something.” Natasha gave her a look for her to continue. “You and Y/N are going undercover. As a couple.” With that, Yelena continued off, leaving Natasha to deal with the news.

Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

Taglist: @wickedmuses @m-zne237 @noodlybees @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @gottacamz @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday @santasbitch @when-wolves-howl @madamevirgo​ @hopingforromanoff​ 

[megalony]

Business Arrangement

This is a new Murderer! Ben Hardy series I’m going to be working on which was requested by the lovely @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange. I hope you will all like it, I’ve finally got back to writing for Ben and this has turned out better than I expected. Feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​ @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​ @sj-thefan​ @omgitsearly​ @luckytrashgooprebel​ @scarsout​ @deaky-with-a-c​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​ @vousmemanqueez-blog​ @jonesyaddiction​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​ @saint-hardy​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​ @mrsalwayswritex​ @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @crazylittlethingg​ @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @ceres27​ @avyannadawn​

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Part 2

Summary: (Y/n) is more than ready to take over the business from her father, but the only way he will allow her to is if she marries Ben. For the business (Y/n) and Ben agree, but she soon realises she might just need protection and being with Ben becomes more enjoyable than she first thought.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh come on, just this once, what do you say?"

"I say why are you still here, Owen? I've got a meeting with my dad so I need to go now, I'm not just going to blow it off." (Y/n)'s voice was mellow but with the slightest hint of annoyance that she couldn't hide.

She didn't know what Owen was trying to achieve or why he seemed to think that she would change her standards and her morals in the click of a finger just because he asked her to. (Y/n) took her work seriously and her father had asked for a meeting with her which she was now late for. She was never someone who would just flack off work and go out or go home and she knew whatever her father wanted to talk about was serious and to do with work.

Putting her phone in her bag, (Y/n) rolled her chair back so she could see the cupboards under her desk. Her chest shuddered and her teeth started to pull at the skin of her lower lip when she could feel Owen watching her.

In her line of work (Y/n) knew that anxiety and worry was something she should have rid herself of years ago but instead her anxiety always spiked. She hated people watching her, she was always looking over her shoulder whenever she went out, no matter where she went.

Even when she was in her office it didn't feel that safe or calming because unless she locked the door, anyone could walk right in like Owen did. And if she did lock the door people got worried and suspicious.

"Come on Owen, I'm late."

A sigh passed through (Y/n)'s lips as she flicked through the keys on her chain until she found the small silver one for her desk drawer. She made quick work of locking the top drawer so all three drawers couldn't be accessed. They contained confidential paperwork, contracts, deals, amendments, employee discretions and a lot of finance papers. (Y/n) couldn't have anyone sneaking in and taking or copying any of the documents she had.

Her keychain was vast with keys that would open any door in the building, the main safes that contained money, jewellery, guns, ammunition and a lot of pawned possessions and robbed items.

Since (Y/n)'s dad was in charge of the 'family business' it made sense that (Y/n) was the only person he trusted to have a set of keys for everything. She was as high up in the work chain as her father was, she was like his right-hand woman. "Oh alright, next time though."

When (Y/n) felt Owen's hand sliding along her lower back her body shivered at the contact and her hand hurriedly tightened around the door handle as she tried not to swing it open too fast and hit him with it. Her shy eyes adverted to look out into the hallway, signalling for Owen to go out first so she could lock the door.

(Y/n) didn't get along with all the people who worked for her father, with a lot of them it was because she was the only girl in the firm. For some, it was because her father trusted no one like he trusted her so no one could get higher up in the chain of command or highly liked and trusted because (Y/n) ranked above them all.

But there was a majority of the men that (Y/n) got along with, although she knew Owen didn't really fit into that category.

Owen liked (Y/n), he made no effort to hide how much he hung around her like a fly or the amount of times he offered to take her out or accompany her or try to help with her workload. (Y/n) did her best not to offend him but there were only son many times she could decline his offers before she knew he would get angry with her. Right now he was acting like a clingy puppy who thought she was just shy about her feelings for him when really, (Y/n) knew she didn't want to date Owen.

(Y/n) felt like shaking her head and pulling away when Owen placed his hand on her back again like he was guiding her and showing her around the office like she had never been there before. But she couldn't face the confrontation of Owen getting angry at her deflecting his advances because she was too busy for that. (Y/n) didn't have the time to be messing around arguing with him when the business and this meeting with her father was more important.

She tried walking a bit faster to get down the corridor because around the next corner was her father's office thankfully.

"Owen, you know you don't have to walk me there. I know where I'm going... this is my firm." The irritation could be clearly heard in (Y/n)'s voice as she looked up at Owen whose brows furrowed and his smile disappeared.

"Yeah, but I know you like it so I don't mind."

Leaning to her right, (Y/n) moved away from Owen until she was almost brushing up against the wall to reduce the contact between them but Owen didn't seem to understand what or why she was moving.

"Look I'm there now so just get back to work, okay?"

"Is he bothering you, hun?"

(Y/n) knew that voice.

As if in slow motion, (Y/n)'s head turned from her left to look ahead of her and her heart shuddered in her chest like an earthquake was rattling through her body. Her eyes found themselves deadlocked with his and that smouldering look sent shivers down her spine. Those dark green eyes seemed to be searing through her eyes and into her soul and those pale dusty pink lips were rubbing together around the unlit cigarette clasped between his fingers.

It was Ben. Someone who (Y/n) hadn't seen in a while and definitely someone that (Y/n) didn't talk to.

He was her fathers contact, someone who was in the same line of work but wasn't seen as opposition to (Y/n) or her father. Ben was intimidating and just one look at him made (Y/n) uneasy about talking to him because of how cold and daring he came across as.

What was he doing here? (Y/n) knew all of her and her father's appointments and Ben wasn't booked in at any point now or in the near future.

"Is he bothering you?" Ben repeated the question again, watching with a twinge of delight as he brought (Y/n) out of some kind of trance. He noticed how she seemed to look like a scared rabbit, her eyes darting around as if to work out where she was before she looked back over at him.

"No, no he's just leaving." Turning her head, (Y/n) looked at Owen and tilted her head in a way that told him he had to go now.

It was clear Owen was biting his tongue as not to start an argument but he hadn't liked Ben interrupting them or what he had insinuated, even if it had rung true to (Y/n). She watched with a feeling of relief as Owen smiled at her like a wolf before he walked down the corridor, glaring at Ben as he bypassed him and disappeared out of sight.

"Umm... please don't take this the wrong way, but why are you here?" (Y/n) chided herself under her breath, how rude did she just come across as? She wasn't a snide or cruel person and she wasn't the kind to brush people off or come across as higher up than anyone else but she wasn't intending to be rude. She was already so late for her meeting and she didn't want to have to escort Ben out of here.

"I'm here to see the man himself, come on hun I think you're supposed to be here as well, aren't you." Ben's lopsided grin made (Y/n)'s stomach jump and she didn't have the will to argue with him when she knew her father never mentioned Ben being involved in this meeting today.

She had to admit, for the line of work Ben was involved in he seemed to be rather laid back and charming. He opened the door before she even had the chance and glided his other hand through the air to signal he was waiting for her to go in first.

A gentleman.

"Hi, sorry I'm late I got held up, Ben's here, is he supposed to be in this meeting too?"

(Y/n) wrapped her fingers around the strap of her bag as she smiled at her father, somehow being in a room with him brought back her confidence to speak and took away the feeling of being intimidated. She could talk with her head held high and she didn't back down or fear what people thought of her when she was around him, it was the aura he emitted that made her feel confident. She knew he wouldn't make fun of her and wouldn't allow anyone else to either.

"I asked him to be here, I want us all to talk about something."

"Right."

Walking over to the large dark oak desk, (Y/n) sat down on the brown leather chair and set her bag down at her feet. She couldn't help but glance over at Ben when he sat down on the chair next to her. He sat on the edge of the chair, his legs spread and his knees bent outwards and his elbows resting down on his knees. He popped a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette between his lips but the way he blew the first puff of smoke from the corner of his lips made (Y/n)'s legs tense and she bit her lip to stop from making a sound.

Just as (Y/n) got out her notepad and pen from her bag, her eyes darted up to look at her father.

"No. Don't take any notes, there's no need."

(Y/n) couldn't help but frown, what was this meeting really about then? She always took notes in every meeting so she could get her facts in order and make sure she knew what she was going to do and what to tell the workers to do. Notes were always needed in their meetings, they came up with plans, things that had to be done, stuff they needed to remind themselves to do like sorting the pay for the workers. Why wouldn't he want notes in this meeting? And why was Ben here?

"Dad, what's this meeting about?"

"My retirement."

Both Ben and (Y/n) snook glances at one another before they looked back at Dorian. Neither of them seemed to understand why Ben was here so he hadn't been told what this was about just the same as (Y/n).

She knew her father was ready to leave the business, he wasn't well and he had been doing this since his twenties, it was time he stopped and focused on his health instead. The only reason Dorian continued staying in the business for so long was because (Y/n) was his only family. His parents were dead, he didn't talk to any of his siblings who had moved away and (Y/n)'s mother had passed years ago. She was his only child and now his only relative, it wasn't as if he could retire and travel or spend time with his wife or be with grandkids or his children.

All he had was (Y/n) and he always said that when he retired, she would take over the business for him.

"I'm too old for this game now, if your mother was still here you know I'd of left years ago to spend my time with her but I'm finishing now."

(Y/n) looked down to her hands that were resting on her lap, swirling the silver band around her middle finger that held a single diamond stone. It was one of her mother's rings, other than her engagement and wedding ring her mother didn't wear any others. Dorian always said that whenever (Y/n) got engaged and married was when she could have the other rings.

Just talking about her mother always made tears come to her eyes despite how long it had been since her mother had passed away. Her father had always had the old fashioned mindset despite his cut-throat job. He imagined having a lot of children, grandchildren and retiring to either travel or just be at home with his wife.

They tried for children since they married, they finally managed to have a boy and (Y/n) was like a miracle. Their boy died when he was three and that broke (Y/n)'s mother and made (Y/n) all the more special to her parents.

When she passed, it tore (Y/n) and her father up, all they had left were each other.

"I always said I'd leave everything to you, girl, and I know you'll be fine taking over the business, you run it already."

(Y/n) smiled, feeling a sense of relief at the fact that he wasn't about to say he'd changed his mind and she couldn't handle it or he didn't want her involved anymore or taking over. She knew he would never just quit and get rid of the business, nor would he want to hand it over to anyone else other than family. But it still didn't explain why Ben was here.

"But you're only getting the business if you agree to my term."

"What do you mean?" (Y/n) could feel her heart bashing against her ribs when she noticed her father's expression change. He leaned himself forward and clasped his hands together, placing them down on the desk as he looked at her in a way that made her want to shrink and disappear.

"I'm not giving you the business unless Ben runs it with you."

"Excuse me?"

(Y/n)'s jaw dropped and she could feel her chest tightening like someone was squeezing all the air out of her lungs to try and make them pop. She couldn't believe this, what was he doing? How dare he assume she couldn't do this on her own without someone like Ben to stand by her side and hold her hand through it all. She had learnt from the best, she had been doing this her whole life and she ran this business right now, what was so bad about her doing this solo without a man by her side?

"Why? You've always brought me up to run this place and that's what I'm doing! Why do you want me to back down and give this over to some stranger I know what I'm doing."

Tilting his head down, Ben slouched in his chair, pressing the back of his hand to his lips after he stubbed out his cigarette.

Out of all the possible reasons he came here today, this was not what he had been expecting to hear at all. He thought maybe Dorian had some kind of deal he wanted to make or a job he wanted Ben to be involved in. He had no idea that he thought of Ben enough to want him to help run his business that was by far the most feared in town. It was a big compliment to Ben but it was still strange.

"Don't take that tone with me girlie."

"Then don't treat me like some child. I may not be the son you first dreamed of to run this place but I'm the best to do this because you trained me-"

"Stop it!" Dorian's old scratchy voice thundered around the room and made (Y/n) lean back in her seat, feeling like the child he made her out to be. His voice was demanding, authorative and piercing, it even made Ben sit up a bit straighter in his chair like he expected to be told off next.

"I want you to trust me-"

"Quiet! You have always had my trust now listen to me and do not talk out of tone to me again." Dorian took a few deep breaths before he lit a cigarette and looked back to his daughter. "I want you to take over in my place, I have only ever wanted you to run my empire. But I am not willing to lose you like I did your mother, you are all I have left, do you understand that?"

"I'm not mother." (Y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose, willing the tears away as she tried to compose herself in front of Ben who was virtually a handsome stranger she only knew of from glances and gossip.

"If you want this business you comply to my terms and that is final. And my terms are thus; you will be in charge of the whole business, everything is run past you first and foremost as it should be. But I want Ben here for added help, not to take over or control you or the business. He knows the game, he's out in the streets and he's experienced. I need someone to look after you so I can safely let you take over without worrying you'll get hurt."

Dorian couldn't bare the thought of something happening to (Y/n).

He knew that as soon as people got wind that he'd retired and (Y/n) was in charge, she would be a target. He knew she could handle the business and continue it with no problems, but she couldn't always protect herself and deep down (Y/n) knew that. He had to ensure that everything was in place and his daughter was taken care of so he could retire and when he died, he wouldn't be worrying if she would be okay or if she would join him in death far too soon.

"So you want me here as protection, a silent business partner in the office but as far as everyone else knows, I'm involved?" Ben felt a smile etching onto his face, this sounded like a contract deal he could work with, something that was different but very enticing.

He could be a silent partner who was there when and if (Y/n) needed him, he could look over the books, do any odd jobs or assignments (Y/n) needed but he would let her have full control. But for the rest of the world, he was as involved as she was because if people knew Ben was around, they wouldn't dare go near (Y/n). No one would harm her if she had Ben by her side ready and willing to kill to protect her. It would be like a bodyguard service he was more than willing to provide.

"Yes, but I want my daughter protected as much as possible. I'll give the business over to (Y/n) completely, she'll be in charge but I'll add you in as a partner... if you two get married."

It was Ben's brows to raise this time and his mouth to open but no words came out.

(Y/n) couldn't believe this. First he wasn't allowing her to have the business without protection, now he wanted her to get married to get the business. Why was he doing this to her? All her life (Y/n) had been taught how to handle this business and she had been told from the start that all this would be hers one day. She never thought she would have to jump through hurdles and agree to such things to actually get the business.

Was it even worth this hassle?

"Dad what are you doing? You can't be serious, how does that help at all? I don't want to get married- I don't even know Ben. You really want to marry me off all for the business?"

"If you want this business you'll go through with it. If you're married, no one will touch you or this business, Ben will be there to protect you and help with the business and it will all be yours. I can't retire and pass in peace if I have any doubt about your safety. If they know you're married no one will do or say anything, you know how many threats and attempts you've had. Make your choice, both of you."

Ben could see where Dorian was coming from.

Arranged marriages were done quite a lot for reasons like this, sometimes it was for money or the advantage in social life. Other times it was to join businesses or arrange deals and contracts, but sometimes, like this one, it was for ease of mind and protection.

Ben was high up, he was a fighter he got down in the dirt and he killed and fought and built up what he had. He made it hard for people to win a fight against him and his attitude stopped people trying to go against him or hurt him. If he married (Y/n), it would be to his advantage because he would be brought into a business that would place him higher up on the chain and he could be around and protect (Y/n).

And it helped (Y/n) because she wouldn't have to manage the business on her own, she would have someone to confide in, help her and listen to her. And with a husband, people would be less likely to try and get to her and hurt her.

She'd been attacked before because of her father and his dodgy work and she'd been threatened but if Ben married her, he was her protection from everyone and everything.

(Y/n) and Ben locked eyes, both surprised about this deal and neither of them had expected this in their wildest dreams.

It only took one look at them for Dorian to know he had won. They both got what they wanted if they did this and it suited him the best.

The deal was done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What was she letting herself in for?

(Y/n) didn't know if she could go through with this. Was this work and this life really worth marrying herself to someone she barely knew? She would be giving away part of her life all for something she had worked for all her life.

She and Ben still needed to talk this through, they had to come up with rules and a way of doing this. Her dad had already started setting things up so they could get married in three weeks, he wanted it done as quick as possible so he could retire and things could run smoothly for them both. But they had to set some rules. If they were going to live together like they needed to so it would be believable, they should have separate rooms, shouldn't they?

Were they supposed to act cosy and like a couple? What would they say to everyone at work, they would have to play the happy couple and work together. How long were they going to stay together before they separated so they could find other people they actually loved? Find a relationship they wanted which they would make work.

(Y/n) knew her dad would most likely have a say in that though.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) tried to shake all the thoughts from her mind so she could go home and have a relaxing night. She was meeting up with Ben tomorrow for lunch anyway to go over everything, they would talk it through then and she could stop worrying so much when she didn't need to.

Her fingers raked through her hair as she pressed the button on her right to open the back door.

She turned around and brushed her hair behind her ear, pulling the door shut and grabbing her keychain so she could lock up. But just as she did the first lock and moved on to the second one, she felt someone coming up behind her.

There was no time for (Y/n) to turn before she was shoved forward into the steel door and something was pulled around the front of her neck. (Y/n) screamed as much and as loudly as she could but her oxygen was cut off when the item around her neck was pulled tighter. It felt strong and cold like metal wire was being wrapped around her neck and it made her feel like her neck was bleeding and she was going to choke to death.

In a frantic panic, (Y/n) twisted her body side to side and shoved her elbows back behind her to try and wind her attacker as her eyes snapped closed and filled with tears. She felt she winded her attacker but it wasn't enough, her body was forcefully turned around and pushed down the step onto the gravel.

(Y/n)'s hands scraped against the grit and stones to try and save herself as she fell but she couldn't breathe, her mind was starting to scream and her head was pounding. She couldn't even sob although she tried her best to make some noise, there had to be a few workers still here just about to leave, she couldn't be the only one left, she was never the only one around even when she locked up.

"When he goes, we get you."

Those words whispered in the shell of her ear made (Y/n)'s blood run cold as she choked on a sob, scratching her hands against her neck to try and pull the wire away so she could breathe.

As she felt her mind starting to shut down, she heard a voice in the distance shouting and getting closer.

(Y/n) gasped when the wire was suddenly released from her neck and left clasped in her hands causing her body to jolt forward and land on the gravel. Gasps and splutters left her dry lips as she sobbed through breathless gasps for air. Her body started to tremble before she pulled her knees up to her stomach, she didn’t care where she was or who her saviour was who could see her, she wanted to disappear.

"Hey, hey hun. It's Ben, hey I've got you, let me take a look at you, come here." His deep voice was slightly higher in pitch as he darted his eyes from the guy running round the side of the building back to (Y/n) who was laid on the floor sobbing and starved of air.

It took him a second to decide he had to stay with (Y/n) rather than go after whoever had decided to dare and hurt her. Ben wouldn't want to explain to Dorian that yes he had caught his daughter's attacker but to do so he left her shocked and sobbing on the floor, open for anyone else to come and try to hurt her.

Scuffing his knees, Ben skidded into the gravel behind (Y/n) and slowly moved to touch her, not wanting to scare or hurt her but he had to check her over.

Ben was gentle as he slipped one hand under (Y/n)'s neck and moved the other over her and under her chest so he could very slowly pull her until she was sitting up and able to lean back against his hard chest.

(Y/n) kept her eyes closed but for some reason she couldn't help but push herself into Ben. He was trying to protect her and she wanted that. As much as (Y/n) could handle herself in the office and she had grown up around her father and with protection, she was always vulnerable to attacks like this. It was something she couldn't get over, she had lost her mother and she wasn't one to fight like everyone else here, it was her weakness. She wanted to, she wanted to be strong and protect herself but when it came to it her anxiety stopped her.

She could feel herself rocking back and forth out of habit until Ben slowly started to rock the pair of them to try and calm her down.

His hands danced over her neck, looking at the deep red indent mark all around her neck and how it had made a few small cuts into her skin but nothing that needed medical attention.

"D-don't... don't leave me alone." (Y/n) didn't know what came over her but she didn't want to be on her own. She wanted to be locked up at home safe and sound but she didn't want to sit there on her own. Someone had waited until she would be alone and had pounced on her like a predator, if Ben took her home and stayed just for a little while, she would be safe.

"You're okay hun, I'll take you home I won't leave you. You'll be safe."

Ben realised now why Dorian was so insistent on them two being together. No one knew about the arranged marriage yet but they had heard the talk of Dorian retiring, it had been talked about for a while. It was common knowledge that if he retired (Y/n) would be the one in charge and then things like this would happen.

(Y/n) needed to be protected, she needed Ben and his image around so this didn't happen and so she and the business would be safe and they both knew it.

Her father was right, this marriage would keep her safe.

Ben would keep her safe.

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[usercelestial]

In the early hours of the morning, while the golden sun streams through their apartment window, Mickey stirs at a knock on the door. 

He shakes Ian, whose limbs are wrapped tight around him, his drool pooling on his chest. Ian grumbles something but doesn’t move. 

“Someone’s at the door, shithead, go get it,” Mickey shakes him again. 

Ian yawns and stretches his arms, laying flat on his back now, “Who the fuck is here this early?” Ian turns back to Mickey, smiling, “You know what day it is?” 

Mickey scrunches his eyebrows, trying to remember, “Uh, shit, a Tuesday?” He searches his brain for the date but he doesn’t get very far before Ian jumps on him, pressing kisses to his face. 

“It’s your birthday!” Ian says, far too loudly in Mickey’s opinion, in between kisses. 

Oh. 

Mickey knew Ian would want to celebrate. He’s been getting better at the whole self-love thing. Instead of sulking in their room, remembering all the times he was punished for his excitement until he figured out his existence isn’t something to celebrate, they would go out and get dinner and come home drunk on both alcohol and love. Though he can’t help but feel an ache in his chest for his forlorn upbringing. 

“Christ. I forgot,” Mickey places his hands on Ian’s hips, “I’m getting old.” 

Ian scoffs, “Don’t say that. You’re still in your twenties, doofus.” 

Mickey rolls his eyes and pushes Ian off his lap, “Go get the door.” 

Ian complies, leaving one last kiss on his cheek. 

He overhears a soft conversation, hushed and excited. 

He barely makes out what sounds like a woman’s voice paired with Ian’s. Mickey rubs his eyes, trying to rack his brain for any neighbor they might have pissed off last night who would come over to complain. He quickly throws on clothes and walks out to the living room to see Ian standing in the kitchen with Tami. 

She makes eye contact with him, “Fucking finally.” 

“What the hell do you mean ‘finally.’ It’s nine in the fucking morning.” 

“For normal people with healthy sleep schedules, it’s late,” she cocks her hips out, “Came to drop off your present, asshole, say thank you.” 

He punches her shoulder lightly, “Thanks, dick.” 

She holds out a small box, wrapped neatly in green wrapping paper. He haphazardly rips it off and opens it.  

There's an assortment of gifts. The first thing he pulls out is a Mickey Mouse plushie with a card taped to the front. The writing is messy, scribbled crayon, it reads: 

“hapy birth day, uncle mickey

freddie.” 

“Cool,” Mickey’s voice breaks, Tami and Ian snicker. 

“Lip helped pick out the toy,” Tami adds. 

“Fucker,” Mickey gently places the gift on the countertop. 

He goes back in and grabs a package wrapped in plastic. He realizes it’s soap and shampoo, a certain kind he told Tami he wanted a while ago, “How the fuck did you remember this?” 

Tami shrugs, “You’re my friend, stupid. There’s also a cookbook, Lip got that for both of you since Ian’s getting into growing his own food.”  

Mickey grabs the book that’s sitting on the bottom of the box, glancing at it before tossing it to Ian, “Thank you,” he nods and before he realizes it, she’s hugging him and pulling away. 

“Happy birthday, Mick. Love you guys,” Tami kisses Ian’s cheek, “I gotta go, see ya.” 

“Bye, Tami,” Ian waves, turning back to Mickey, who’s still standing, staring at the gifts that Tami dropped off. 

“Hey,” Ian says softly, rubbing his shoulders, “You good, baby?” 

Mickey nods, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just-you know-” 

Ian does know. Not only because Mickey told him how weird it is, how uncomfortable he gets when people do things like this for him-nice things-but also because Ian experiences it himself. Maybe not to the same degree as Mickey, but he’s seen the way Ian malfunctions when one of his friends gets him something nice. He knows he has the same sort of wary confusion when they get to have good things. 

Mickey leans into Ian’s touch, “Wanna go back to sleep.” 

Ian rests his chin in the crook of Mickey’s neck, turning his face to plant a kiss on his cheek, “We can do that, baby.” 

They go back to sleep until one, Ian wakes him again gently, whispering in his ear that they have to get up because Kev and Vee need help in the Alibi. 

“It’s my fucking birthday, they should helping me!” Mickey yelped as Ian poked his side. 

“Come on. The minute they’re done, we’ll come back here and sleep to your heart's content.” 

“So forever?” Mickey asked from underneath a pillow. 

Ian made an alarmed sound from the back of his throat, Mickey threw a pillow at his head, “Not like that, asswipe. Just tired today.” 

Ian nods, sympathetic despite Mickey’s attack, “I know, honey. I promised them we would both go. So get your birthday ass up.” 

Mickey does in fact get his ass up. After thirty more minutes of complaining, they’re off to the Alibi. 

Ian pulls up to the bar and parks right in front of the doors. Mickey’s about to get out when Ian grabs his arm, “Okay, cards on the table, we planned a surprise party for you.” 

Mickey tilts in his head, perplexed by Ian’s definition of surprise, “I don’t think you know how surprises work, lover.” 

Ian picks at the skin of his lip, his eyes narrowed at the hollow of Mickey’s throat, “I just know you don’t like surprises.” 

Mickey sits back in his seat, watching as Ian nervously gnaws at his chapped lips. They’ve had this talk before, mainly about Mickey’s sleeping. Ian’s learned from experience after sleeping in the same bed with him for five plus years that no one should ever shake Mickey awake. Or yell to wake him up. Or sneak up on him. Mickey’s always been hyper aware of his surroundings, it was never something he concerned himself with, ignoring the panic that reached up his throat with surprises. Though recently, Ian told him he has symptoms of PTSD rather than just being cautious. 

“Alright,” Mickey nods, “How many people?” 

“Just my family. I called Mandy but-” 

“She’s working, I know.” 

“She said happy birthday. Kev and Vee obviously. Tami,” Ian squirms in his seat like he’s nervous. 

“Right, well, can’t sit out here forever.” 

The minute they step into the bar, everyone screams surprise. 

Ian was right, that wouldn’t have been good for anyone had Mickey not known. 

“Uncle Mickey!” Franny screams and hugs his legs, “I made you a card!” She presents a card covered in glitter, depicting two stick figures holding guns and bags of money. 

For the second time today, Mickey has to stop himself from crying. Bending down to hug her, he pats her hair and tells her he loves it. 

“Uncle Ian helped!” 

“Did he now?” Mickey raises an eyebrow at his husband, who nods proudly at his niece. 

“Happy birthday, Mick!” Tami calls out, rocking Freddie in her arms. 

Mickey nods and immediately gravitates to the bar, sitting down next to Lip, who’s playing with Freddie’s fingers. 

Kev sets down a beer, “On the house for family, dude.” 

Mickey takes it, trying not to show his unease, he grumbles, “Thanks,” before turning his attention to Ian who’s bending down and talking to Franny and Liam. 

“Hey, Mickey,” Lip greets, distracted. 

“Yo,” Mickey’s about ready to comfortably sit in silence, just enjoying watching on the outskirts as his in-laws mingle. 

“Ian tell you about the party?” Lip asks nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah. Right before.” 

“Knew he would. While we were fucking putting it together, he-” 

“Wait, hold on,” Mickey interrupted him, “You helped plan this shit?” 

Lip deadpans, “Uh, yeah. Well, obviously Ian said he wanted to do something for your birthday but I figured we should have it here, you know. With family.” 

Family. 

He remembers the kitchen conversation, it feels like it happened so long ago. The sinking feeling in his stomach when Lip told him he wasn’t family. To a degree, he understood what he meant, but he still felt the words hit his chest like a bullet. 

“Thought I wasn’t family,” Mickey teases, watching as the realization dawns on Lip, recognition enveloping his eyes. 

“Shit, Mickey, that wasn’t-” Mickey cuts him off by waving a hand. 

“It’s alright, shithead. Don’t give a shit,” Mickey lies, he does give shit, many in fact, but he doesn’t need Lip knowing that. 

“Sure, but you are family, you know that, right?” Lip doesn’t make eye contact with him, just continues playing with his son's fingers.  

Mickey sits on the bar stool, trying to cope with the knowledge that all of these people-these stupid fucking Gallaghers and Balls and Tamiettis-care about him enough to throw him a surprise birthday party. 

His fucking family. 

Ian apparently takes notice of his discomfort and walks over to him, Franny on his hip, “Hey, you good?” With the hand that isn’t holding up a six year-old, he rubs his back, eventually resting his palm on the nape of his neck. 

Mickey nods, “It’s just a lot, man.” 

Ian nods, “I know. Do you wanna go?” 

Mickey shakes his head, staring at the sleepy Franny who buries her head into Ian’s shoulder, her cheek squished on his collarbone. 

“Nah, I’m good,” Mickey says as Franny stretches out her arms, opening and closing her fists. 

“You wanna go with Uncle Mickey instead?” Ian asks her. 

When she nods, he kisses the top of her head and passes her to Mickey. Ian giggles as Mickey’s eyes go wide then soften, his shoulders relaxing as Franny peacefully transitions from one Uncle to the next, blissfully unaware of Mickey’s internal panic. 

“Happy birthday, Mickey,” Ian kisses his cheek and leans into his side, sliding an arm around his torso. 

“I think it might be.”