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bby-deerling · 6 months

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distraction (law x reader nsfw)

law is a dork who has to plan out his rizz in advance. pre-timeskip law in mind. loose sequel to counting coins afab!reader nsfw, mdni, 18+, wc 2.8k

(read this fic by @grandlinedreams while writing this, it greatly influenced the direction i went with this!)

cw: edging, overstim, fingering, oral (fem receiving), piv sex, law likes it when you call him captain

Time often turns into an illusion when submerged in the dark depths of the sea, but the exhaustion in Law’s body tells him it’s well into the early hours of the morning. A textbook on diagnostics lay open in his lap, pages left unturned for quite a while as his eyes repeatedly glazed over the words and diagrams, unable to digest any of the information. Just as he thinks he might be able to regain the slightest bit of focus, he twitches as he feels your thigh move against his again. It was his own fault—he was the one sitting with his legs spread apart and refusing to budge—nevertheless, he was vexed at how much the slightest touch from you affected him.

You were nowhere near focused either. Despite having a variety of medicines in progress to write updates on in your lab notebook, your hand hadn’t written a thing in ages, your pen either bouncing on the spine of the notebook or tapping against your bottom lip, unknowingly torturing your captain. Eyes fixed against the wall as you leaned into the couch, mind adrift, he watched the subtle movements in your chest as you breathed. Your boiler suit was unzipped and hanging around your waist, and the flimsy yellow crop top you had on left little to Law’s imagination. No bra, as usual, he noted, trying and failing to tear his eyes away from you.

He had mentally rehearsed his plan an endless amount of times at this point.

In the months since your first meeting at a coin shop, you spent a lot of time working in close proximity with Law, just as he had promised. Despite a steep initial learning curve, you had proven yourself indispensable to the crew with your inventive synthetic techniques; the medicine cabinets had never been more well stocked. A self-taught doctor and his makeshift pharmacist—what a match.

Without realizing, he began to rely on your company, whether it was keeping him company in his office during nights like this one, or accompanying him on island trips to execute your now perfect tag team operation to get deals on coins he needed for his collection. The two of you had crafted an airtight plan together that had yet to fail; once he identified a coin he liked, he would silently give you a signal and switch a coin in your hands with his devil fruit ability so you could go haggle with the shop owner, working them down by displaying your expert knowledge of coin grading, always backing your statements up with references to prevent getting backed into a corner. Shachi and Penguin had once asked him why he didn’t just save the money and steal the coins with his devil fruit to begin with.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he had said with a smirk.

The real reason was that seeing you use your brilliant mind gave him an intoxicating tingle at the base of his spine.

He showed his appreciation for you and your intelligence in the small, seemingly innocuous touches he would give you from time to time—a squeeze on the shoulder, a pat on the head, often accompanied by verbal praise on your work. His words often made your cheeks flush bright red, smiling bashfully and sputtering out a “thanks, Captain!”, but he couldn’t help but want to push it further. Always quiet, humble and so, so sweet, you weren't the type to push boundaries, leaving Law to be the one to nudge the envelope. Slowly and methodically, he increased the frequency of his touches over time to the point where you began to reciprocate back. More importantly, you were now comfortable enough with him to sit close enough to be rubbing thighs with him on the couch in his office.

He was tired of walking through the plan in his head. It was time to pull the trigger.

You turn your head towards him as he says your name, startled out of your daydream.

“What’s up Captain?” you ask with a sleepy smile. His eyes meet yours, intense as ever; the feeling had once been intimidating to you, but you had slowly become accustomed to Law’s steely gaze ripping you apart.

“You’re distracting me.” he says as you try to read his face to no avail.

“I’ll head to bed then,” you say with a yawn, “g’nite Law!” his heart stutters when he hears his name on your lips; he had given you permission to use it in private, but you rarely took the opportunity to use that privilege.

He knew you would take his words as a dismissal—on any other night they would be—and he delights in the surprise on your face when he grabs your wrist and prevents you from leaving the couch. He stands, tattooed hand still pinning your wrist to the couch, and leans over you, tossing his bucket hat onto the floor. You’re already putty in his hands as he grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I think I’m distracting you too, aren’t I?” he asks, allowing the smallest hint of a smirk to grace his face as he knows he’s finally got you right where he wants you. “You’ve been spaced out for hours. Haven’t gotten one bit of work done.”

“Guess I worked past the point of fatigue, Captain.” you reply, corners of your mouth quirked upward.

Law’s thumb runs across your chin, then grazes your lower lip; he delights in the subtle reaction he gets from you.

“You wanna know what I think?” he whispers, leaning in closer to your face.

“Hmm?” you hum, feeling electricity swirl in your veins as he traces a finger up the bare skin of your side.

“I think you deserve a reprimand for drooling over your Captain all night instead of finishing your notes.” he growls, finally bringing your lips to meet his. You kiss him back immediately, and he delights in the gasp you make when he slips his tongue in your mouth. Law presses your wrist further into the couch as it twitches in his grasp; he could feel how desperately you wanted to touch him back, but he was insistent on keeping things on his terms.

He had spent too much time and energy planning this out to lose control and not take his time with you.

With a flick of his wrist, you’re sitting on the edge of his bed and his hand is slowly crawling up your stomach under your sad excuse for a shirt. Taking a nipple between two of his fingers, he groans as your hips squirm against his.

“You wear this on purpose?” he asks, hand dropping to play with the hemline of your shirt. “You wearing this to tease your Captain? To drive me nuts while I’m trying to work?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t realize I affected you that much, Captain…” you reply, cursing yourself for not being able to banter with him like you usually would when he’s not affecting you this much.

Little did you know, Law was counting on taking advantage of your sheepishness.

He grinds his hips against yours slowly, arm hooked around your waist to make sure you felt every bit of his arousal rub against your damp core.

“Well,” he murmurs in your ear, “hope you can feel it now.” You let out a shaky breath and slam your lips against his, desperate to feel his tongue against yours again. He indulges you briefly, before pulling away again, eyes gleaming with mischief that made your face tingle in anticipation.

“Patience.” he scolds, running his slender, tattooed fingers across your jawbone. “I’m supposed to be teaching you a lesson, after all.”

Noticing you squirming your hips to get more friction against him, he steps back, still holding onto your face. Amused at your frustration at his teasing, he gives you a lopsided smile. He was a firm believer to sticking to his plans, and he still had to completely ruin you with his mouth and hands before even thinking of fucking you.

When you find yourself pushed back on the bed and Law slowly crawls on top of you, both of you now shirtless, you smirk, thinking he’s caved and was going to give you what you desperately needed; however, unbeknownst to you, you’d only backed right into his next little trap. Caged beneath him, you were now completely at Law’s mercy, and he meant to draw this out as long as possible.

“You’re always staring at my hands. Any reason why?” he asks you, fingers slowly roaming across your upper body; his touch is light and careful, not too far gone yet to lose his surgical precision.

Your face flushes, realizing he had caught on to the way you shamelessly stare at his strong, beautiful, inked fingers when you think he’s not looking. Even the most mundane acts—writing, inspecting coins, sewing up patients, using his devil fruit abilities—were enough to drive you wild, wanting to feel his touch all over you.

You feel silly at overestimating your ability to hide things from your Captain—after all, Law never misses a thing.

“I think you know why, Law.” you say, voice laced with lust and just the slightest hint of frustration at his teasing. “I want those pretty fingers everywhere.”

“Is that so?” he muses. “Tell you what—" the pressure behind his touches increases, causing your breath to hitch. “—I’m going touch you everywhere, and you’re going to tell me where you want it most.”

It starts with a hand cupping the side of your face; you nuzzle into his touch, giving him a smile that melts his cold heart so much that he almost thinks about cracking and giving you what you want. His touches don’t stay innocent for long, tracing his fingers against your lips again, before experimentally sliding two into your mouth, groaning as you eagerly suck on them, running your tongue along the digits. A third finger slips in your mouth, causing you to let out a moan that slowly turned into a muffled giggle. Law gives you a puzzled expression until you point at the three fingers he was using.

E, A, T

“Keep fooling around and it’s going to be another hour before I eat you.” he says with a scowl, though there’s no real bite to it. His fingers slowly pull out of your mouth, and he wipes your own saliva on the top of your breast. A shiver runs through your body at the sensation of the cool air in his cabin running across your own spit; this pleases Law as he starts to rub small, gentle circles into your nipple with his thumb.

“Right there…” you whisper, “Feels so good, Law, don’t stop...”

“Really? That’s where you want it most?” he teases. “I suppose I can just quit now then…”

“Law, please… keep going, please…” you huff. Never in all your months with your Captain had you seen him so incredibly smug.

Despite his threat, D continues to trace circles on your nipple as his other hand dances all over the bottom half of your torso; he’s intent on continuing his teasing, but still desperate to explore your body after months of craving.

The moans you let out once he finally reaches your inner thighs are music to the surgeon’s ears. “Is it here? This where you want it?” he asks, running A and T upward towards your entrance, and then back down again. “It seems like it…” he muses, “Unless there’s somewhere else you want me.”

“Please Law, rub my clit…” you whine. Being the target of Law’s slow, methodical affections was thrilling, but your bud was throbbing with need and you desperately needed release.

He chuckles as he pinches your nipple and complies with your request. “All you had to do was ask.” he says, you know, like a liar. His cock twitches in his pants, almost painful by this point, but he was still determined to mess with you just a little bit longer.

So, when he sees you’re nearly about to come, he pulls his hand away. You groan and ball your hand into a fist, nearly punching the bed in frustration. “Law…” you whine, head spinning and hips shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he says teasingly, hands exploring your thighs. “You went quiet, were you trying to focus on getting off?” you nod and give him a strangled mhm in response.

“Maybe you’ll remember how this feels next time you decide to distract your Captain when he’s trying to work.” he whispers lowly, slipping two fingers inside of you effortlessly.

“So wet…” he sighs, admiring the way your body tenses as he curls his fingers upward. “It’s here isn’t it? Where you want my fingers the most?” he asks.

“Mhm!” you moan, unable to string together a coherent sentence as you soaked his tattoos with your arousal.

“Knew it.” he says with a smirk. “Gonna come for your Captain?”

“Law—” you whine his name, only to let out a strangled moan of frustration as he pulls his fingers out of you and puts them in your mouth, shutting you up while you lick them clean.

“Was that insubordination?” he muses, “And here I was about to let you come.”

“Please, Captain…” you beg when his fingers leave your mouth, frustrated at him for denying you but still compliant with his little game. “I need you to make me come so bad Captain—”

“How’d it taste?” he asks, purposely ignoring your pleas.

“Tasted good, Captain…” you reply, praying he planned on using his tongue on you next.

He glances down at his watch. “Hasn’t quite been an hour since your last nonsense, but I’m getting hungry. Count yourself lucky.” he says, kissing your thighs before latching onto your clit. You nearly see stars when he laps at your extremely sensitive bud, and feel the warmth grow in your stomach as his fingers find themselves back inside of you; it was all almost too much. Drowning in pleasure, your head buzzed but he was purposely not letting the wire snap. You snap your hips erratically against his mouth, desperately chasing your orgasm and praying he wouldn’t stop again.

He doesn’t.

Pure ecstasy overtakes your entire body as you come, intensified by the vibrations of his satisfied chuckle against your clit. Your orgasm is long, lewd, and messy, and intoxicating to Law as he eagerly laps up your wetness. It was perfect, you were perfect, splayed out, twitching, and gasping just for him.

“You did so well for me…” he soothes, leaving tender kisses on your thighs as you catch your breath.

Once you regain your senses, you experimentally run your fingers through his hair, body still too much in shock to sit up properly. “Felt so good Law… ” you whisper, voice raspy.

When you tell him you need a moment to recover, he nods and crawls up beside you to hold you close, pressing comforting kisses to the back of your head.

“Hope it wasn’t too much…” he says, suddenly worried that he had gone overboard with his teasing.

“You’re perfect, Law,” you assure him as you turn around in his arms and give him a chaste kiss on the lips, “just no more teasing tonight.”

“Promise.” he says, hands running down your side towards your hips. “Can’t say anything about tomorrow though—"

His breath hitches as you run your fingers along the waistband of his boxers, dipping them under and tracing the skin underneath. He grabs your wrist and guides your hand to his aching cock.

“No more teasing tonight.” he insists as he slides his boxers off, your hand lazily stroking him.

“Haven’t I earned the right?” you ask with a playful smile as he lines up his cock with your entrance. Despite how pretty it was, he was determined to wipe that look clean off your face and devour you.

“Shut up and take it.” he groans as he bottoms out inside of you all at once, tired of the back and forth. He gives you no time to adjust, but his first few strokes are slow. However, he quickly picks up the pace, drunk on the feeling of finally being inside you.

You cry out from overstimulation as his cock hits your sweet spot over and over again, feeling the seeds of another orgasm blooming.

“Take it for your Captain. Come for me again.” he orders, gritting his teeth as he resists the urge to cum before you do. When your walls clench around him, he can’t hold back anymore and spills deep inside of you.

“Law…” you say as he lays on top of you and nuzzles his face into your hair.

“Mhmm…” he responds, starting to feel the tempting pull of sleep wash over him.

“You always gonna be that mean to me in bed?”

“Only when you distract me.”

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece scenario #one piece smut #x reader #mdni #law x you #trafalgar law x you #cmon f*ck me emo boy!#this might be a lil ooc idk

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bangtanflirt · 8 months

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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 6)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: mentions of covering up SA cases, lasting mental effects of dubcon under the synthetic hormones, morally gray characters, lots and lots of self-deprecation and low self-esteem, one mention of sexual dreams

____

Yoongi’s eyes are on the screen, but his mind is everywhere but the presentation. The meeting room is chattering away about profits and liabilities but all he can think about is you and Hoseok. The feeling of betrayal clawing its way into his chest, ripping out his heart and snuggling into his ribcage as a replacement. Betrayal for making him think you weren’t just as twisted inside as the rest of your kind: the ones with mansions, luxury cars, and chauffeurs waiting on their every move. The kind that Yoongi’s worked for already. He remembers how lucky he felt when he got this job, how ecstatic he was to finally work under someone who wasn’t insufferable. Sure, you were brash and cold, but that was nothing compared to his old boss—the one who’d make him commit a thousand crimes to cover up his own. He can’t remember how many books he’s cooked or funds he’s laundered at this point. The worst were the sexual assault claims, looking into every poor woman’s eyes and writing off a check as if it would make her hurt any less. All the nights he’d cry himself to sleep, feeling like a monster, but not knowing how to stop. His mother’s health has always been the first thing on his mind, and it goes from bad to worse too quick for him to quit with no backup. Hospital bills never pay themselves, do they? Especially not when he's the only breadwinner in the family.

He remembers the day you two first met, at a museum opening in Spain, where he was assisting his former employer in landing a partnership with your firm. He can’t say he liked you from the get-go. Didn’t like you at all, quite frankly. You were quite the expert at barking orders, making a scene at every little mistake the nervous waiters made. Everyone was on edge the minute you’d sit down, designer purses propped on the table that cost more than the last surgery his mother needed. But something changed as the week-long trip progressed, when he saw how quickly you shut his boss down the second he proposed a less-than-legal deal. It’s a deal he’d help get many others to sign off on before—with no one caring about the legality when millions were on the table—but you were passionate in your rejection, saying Shin Investments would never take part in anything illegal under your watch.

He still doesn’t know how he found the courage to approach you for a job at the end of the trip. He knew it was risky, that you could not only reject him but also tell his current boss that he’s looking elsewhere. But he was so fed up. Fed up with doing all the dirty work. Fed up with evading the law under the excuse of “doing his job.” You gave him hope that there was a place where he didn’t have to do all that.

You had given him an amused brow raise in response, mentioning how you’d fired your last assistant, just prior to the trip, for smiling in a way that annoyed you. He knew you were challenging him, basically telling him he’s free to try, but he won’t last more than a week.

But, surprisingly to everyone, he does. It’s been two years since his first day, and it’s not an exaggeration to say his relationship with you back then is night and day from the one now. You had purposely put him through absolute hell during the first month, having him run around the office scrambling day after day. But even at your most difficult, it was always “run four blocks to my favorite salad bar and get me lunch in the next twenty minutes” and never “tell the new hires if they keep whining to HR about a compliment, they won’t ever work in this industry again” (the latter being the exact words his former boss once said to him). So, as challenging as you were, it never phased him, as you were much better than the alternative.

It was a little after that first month when you started warming up to him, having your first real conversation after you had one too many glasses of wine at an afterparty. It’s when you admitted that you were looking for any excuse to fire him.

“Because I can just do it. I can do it without any red tape, you know? Firing an assistant is that easy. My father wouldn’t even bat an eye. It's one of the few things I don't have to report to him.”

In a strange way, he understood. You were overcompensating. Even you, the CEO, felt powerless in her circumstances.

That was the first of many similar conversations over the years, each one giving him more insight to why you are the way you are. He’s managed to be the only person who can dull your sharp edges, and you’ve managed to do the same for him. And that’s why it feels like a knife is twisting into his gut at the thought of you using Hoseok for you own pleasure, taking advantage of him in a way Yoongi didn’t know you were capable of doing. No, it wasn’t illegal, but still morally wrong—and though he was understanding of your questionable ethics when you agreed to the Kang deal, knowing how you get when you’re backed into a corner, this was unacceptable. No one was backing you into any corner this time. You did this because you wanted to. It made him feel like he was right back at his old job.

And the worst part is the jealousy. His rational mind knows Hoseok is the victim, but his irrational mind—the one that’s in love with you—can’t stop feeling jealous. His thoughts are racing at a thousand miles per hour, conjuring up scenarios of what the two of you could have been doing. Was it like the dreams he’s had of you? Dreams of you flipped on your stomach under him, moaning his name…but with his name instead? Yoongi feels his skin crawl at the thought of you chanting Hoseok’s name in that way. He’s disgusted in himself for thinking like this, but it’s hard to push it all down when his emotions are threatening to spill out at any moment.

___

Jin steps out of the library for a broom when he lays his eyes on you, absolutely mutilating a poor dethawed chicken. It’s clear that you haven’t cooked a proper meal for years, or maybe even ever. The way you’re holding that knife is unintentionally the funniest thing he’s seen in a while, and that’s why he doesn’t even realize the slight laugh escaping his lips. You look up at the sound, meeting his eyes, which turn from joyful to terrified in a single second.

He almost flinches at the expectation of yelling alone, but that’s not what happens. Instead of your shouts filling the giant kitchen, it’s your laughter.

“I look like a mess, don’t I?”

He shakes his head no, to which you just laugh louder.

“It’s okay Jin, I know I suck at cooking. I’ve been putting this poor chicken through hell for the last forty-five minutes.”

He takes tentative steps forward, broom forgotten as he tries to think on his feet and be useful to you.

“I could…I could do it if I’m allowed. I’m a really good cook!”

You look down at the chicken, almost considering it with how outside of your skillset this all is. But you think better, as he’s already been cleaning the library for hours.

“It’s alright, I think I’ll just leave this chicken alone for tonight and order pizza.”

“Please, I insist! You let Jimin make breakfast!”

You don’t miss the way he pouts the last part out, eyes furrowed in a way you can’t help but find adorable.

“I wouldn’t have let him if he didn’t wake up before me. You guys are recovering patients, you should be resting, not cooking. You shouldn’t even be cleaning the library honestly.”

“But we want to help, we want to be use-“

Jin’s words are cut off by the sound of sniffling, heads turning to the source: a very scared Taehyung stands in the entryway of the kitchen, with Jimin by his side. Your heart drops at the sight of tears rolling down Taehyung’s cheeks, and so does Jin’s—apparent in how fast he makes his way over to the wolf.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?!” He takes his pup’s face into his warm hands, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

Taehyung doesn’t answer, instead saying “I’m so sorry” like it’s a mantra. Jimin doesn’t dare speak, eyes trained on the ground.

You’re unsure if you should step in, as it looks like they’re all having a moment, but it’s clear Taehyung isn’t going to respond to Jin.

“What happened?” You ask softly, knowing anything more in your tone will easily spook them further.

Taehyung’s too distraught to register you’re even addressing him, let alone answer back. It’s Jimin who nudges at the younger wolf’s hands, which you notice have been hid behind his back.

“Taehyung, sweetheart, what’s behind your back?” You pray the use of the nickname will calm him like it did with Hoseok, but he just keeps hyperventilating more.

“Jin, please get him some water” the oldest wolf is darting to the water pitcher before you even finish your sentence. Taehyung refuses to let his hands leave his back, leaving Jin with no choice but to bring the glass to his lips for him. It’s only after a few gulps does he regain some sort of composure. It’s then that he brings his hands to the front, bringing to light the ruined mess of pages in his hands.

Jimin crosses his fingers, praying to any and every god that the book isn’t of significance to you, but your reaction makes it clear to everyone how that is far from the case. You look devastated.

It’s your late grandmother’s favorite book: a collection of translated old German poems. You had stored it in the library—granted, in a clumsy pile with the rest of the things you’ve been too busy to properly put up—planning to get a glass case and eventually display it in the living room.

Your grandmother was your favorite person in the world, and that book was her favorite thing in the world. Some of your happiest childhood memories were created with her reading you those poems, at a time when every other adult in your life was too worried about the family business. When she passed last year, she left you a lot, but the diamonds and pearls were never as dear to your heart as that book. And there it was, in Taehyung’s hands, pages stained and soaking wet.

Jin and Jimin had warned Taehyung not to bring orange juice into the library, but he was too stubborn. He assured his hyungs that he was careful enough to drink it without spilling anything, too excited at the prospect of having full access to the fridge to think much about anything else.

And now the damage was done.

Frankly, you want to break down. But you don’t. You do what you’re used to from the office: take a deep breath and compose yourself before the slightest hint of a tear can creep up on you. Crying alone in your room? Perfectly acceptable. Crying in the sole presence of your assistant? Not the end of the world. Crying in front of literally anyone else? You’d rather burn your flesh off.

“It’s okay” the words are not convincing, but at least your voice isn’t shaking. You try to get away from the situation, feeling suffocated, but the worried hybrids are hot on your trail.

It’s at that moment the main door opens, and you can’t be more thankful at the timing. Yoongi’s here. The one person you can let all your emotions out to. Yoongi, with his comforting words and ginseng tea offerings—if anyone can calm you down right now, it’s him.

Except there’s no warmth in his eyes today, not even when he sees your crushed state or the book in Taehyung’s hands.

Speaking of Taehyung, the wolf is looking at him with pleading eyes. If you aren’t in a state to punish him, someone has to. He fucked up big and deserves whatever either of you dish out. He does hope, however, that his knuckles are spared this time.

“I-I ruined y/n’s book. ’M so s-sorry! Please punish me!”

“Taehyung, I said it’s oka—”

Yoongi cuts you off, tone ice cold.

“It’s not your fault. She should’ve kept it in a safer place.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“What the fuck, Yoongi?”

“Am I wrong?”

“That’s not the point. You know how much that book means to me…and that’s the first thing you say? You know that’s not what I need to hear right now.”

And that’s when Yoongi’s bottled up rage finally spill all over the floor, flooding everything in its path.

“Well life’s not always about what you want to hear, and if you were taught that as a child instead of being surrounded by servants and yes-men, then maybe this concept wouldn’t be too foreign for you.”

There’s a bite to his words, a bite with canines sharper than those of any wolf hybrid, and it completely destabilizes you. Hot tears start prickling your cheeks, fighting them off no longer a choice.

“What’s gotten into you? W-why are you acting this way?” Your voice is shaking now.

“Because I’m fucking tired of coddling you, of telling you that everything you do is okay even when it’s not. Maybe it’s on me, maybe if I called you out on your shit earlier then it would never get this bad.”

You’re not understanding what he’s trying to say, but you don’t know if that’s because he’s not making sense or how cloudy your brain is right now. Regardless, the venom with which he speaks is enough to shatter your already fragile mental state. The others shuffle down into the living room at the commotion, and suddenly everyone is seeing the one thing you never wanted them to: you bawling your eyes out.

None of the hybrids know what to do. Namjoon’s eyes are locked on Yoongi, ready to lunge if he poses any physical threat, but it’s clear in his body language that Yoongi doesn’t intend to hurt you in that way. Hurting you with words, however, is not something the lab trained Namjoon to protect you against.

It’s not long before you’re running to your room, locking the door, and letting the mascara fully trail down your face, all while gasping for air. Your lungs feel heavy, your eyes feel heavy, everything just feels so heavy. But nothing’s heavier than your heart.

___

Hours go by and the chicken on the counter is long abandoned—no one quite in the mood to eat. You haven’t left your room since the incident, and Yoongi cooped himself up in his room shortly after. The air feels as thick as smoke in a burning building, blocking the lungs of anyone who tries to breathe it in. It’s Taehyung who’s squirming the most, mentally degrading himself for causing all of this in the first place.

I should have listened. Jin and Jimin warned me, but I’m just too stupid to listen. It’s always me that messes up. I’m always the problem of the pack. Maybe if I beg, she’ll only kick me out and let everyone else stay.

A lesser Alpha might have scolded him at the moment, but Namjoon understands how much Taehyung is punishing himself already. He’s all too familiar with how married his pup is to his self-deprecating ways, no matter how much anyone assures him that he’s enough. The lab was always the most strict when it came to the youngest caretaker hybrid, his naturally clumsy nature being the perfect target for their cruelty and leaving him with little to no confidence in anything anymore. So all Namjoon does is take the boy’s hand into his, giving it a squeeze that translates to “I’ve got you,” and wiping away his tears as they rapidly fall. Jin’s got him situated in his lap, hands gently stroking his sides in a way that’s always soothed Taehyung.

“You’ll listen to Jimin and I next time, won’t you pup?” Jin’s voice isn’t all that scolding either, just firm enough to make sure Taehyung learns some sort of lesson from this…for whatever adoption center they’re shipped off to soon.

Taehyung lifts his head up from the oldest’s shoulder, frantically nodding yes.

There’s a knock on the door that makes every hybrid jump, Yoongi’s voice asking to be let in.

“Come in.” Jimin decides too quickly for anyone else to protest.

He awkwardly hovers beside the door, not bothering to close it as he steps in. It’s not long before Yoongi’s eyes zone in on the one he’s here for: Hoseok.

It’s a selfish thing to do, as Hoseok looks like he’d rather be tied to a train track than look into Yoongi’s eyes, but he needs this. He needs to look at the hybrid, the victim, to remind himself not to falter no matter how many tears you shed—because, yes, even now there’s a part of him that wants to hold and comfort you. Yoongi’s always loved sparsely, but hard, and turning it off overnight isn’t something he can do. So, there he is, actively draining out as much as he can by looking at the victim of your actions.

He’s about to apologize for snapping at the wolf yesterday, when another figure peaks into the ajar door. You inch your way closer, not aware of Yoongi’s presence until you’re right at the entrance. Your eyes are puffy and stained black from makeup, but you clutch the wound care kits close to you and brush past him nonetheless. No matter how much you want to lock yourself in your room for eternity, you have a responsibility towards these hybrids and their recovery. It’s clear, as you make your way to the couch, that you’re tired and embarrassed. No one comments on it, though.

“I need to do their wound care.”

And yet again, he seems ready to pick a fight, ignoring your unspoken plea and staying right in place—eyes narrowed into judgmental slits.

“I don’t know what I did that pissed you off so much, but I’m fucking sorry, okay? I can’t deal with this right now, please leave.” Your voice is meek, absolutely no fight left in you. Just desperation to not be in Yoongi’s presence, afraid of what hurtful words will come out of his mouth next.

Yoongi lets out a dry laugh, putting everyone’s nerves on edge. “You don’t know what you did wrong?”

You shake your head earnestly, trying not to feel small when he uses that condescending tone.

“How can you even say that?! How can you pretend to play the victim when Hoseok is right here. I want to throw up just looking at you right now.”

Hoseok? Why would he bring up…

Suddenly all the pieces fall into place.

“Oh my god Yoongi…you assumed I…we…”

“I didn’t assume anything y/n. Hoseok told me directly, so lying isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

You turn your head at a rate that almost gives you whiplash, looking at the hybrid with big eyes. Hoseok doesn’t look at you—can’t look at you. The feeling of your gaze scorches his skin.

“Hobi…”

Hoseok doesn’t know how to breathe anymore, doesn’t know how to do much of anything other than let his own tears waterfall down, heart cringing at the disappointment in which you say his nickname. He knows it was wrong to lie, but he could never have guessed it would turn into something this serious. Did Yoongi like you? Is that why? Or did he have the same moral code thing you had—one that Hoseok couldn’t wrap his head around. The lab had made it very clear that using him for his purpose was no different than using a chair for its purpose—and no one here had a moral problem using chairs. It all hurt his head too much to think about. But regardless, thinking was pointless, because you weren’t even using him. He couldn’t even do that for you, and now his lie is the reason you’re hurting.

Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok. Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok.

“I’m so sorry!” The words are broken and muffled through tears, “Y/n didn’t lie…it-it was me…I didn’t want everyone to know I was b-broken.”

The room goes still, the last sentence lingering in the air.

I didn’t want everyone to know I was broken.

Your eyes soften.

“You’re not broken Hoseok”

“You don’t have to say that. I know I am. That day…you pulled back because you could tell I didn’t want it…you shouldn’t have been able to tell that…no…I shouldn’t have not wanted it…that’s why I’m broken.”

Jimin is quick to embrace his hyung, shielding his wrecked state from view, although too late. The hybrids are at a loss for words, with Namjoon being hit the hardest. Hoseok lying meant he didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell the pack the truth—to tell his Alpha the truth. And that’s a failure Namjoon will have to carry on his shoulders for a long time. But now’s not the time for a self-evaluation, now he needs to make sure Hoseok feels his touch on his back. The rest get their hands in wherever they can, gentle pats and caresses to lessen his distress.

You don’t know what else to do to comfort him, to make him believe your words. And frankly, you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to comfort anyone right now. For a moment you can’t help but envy Hoseok, seeing the way his packmates hold him so dearly when he’s crying. You wonder how it must feel to be loved by so many people. It’s not something you can see ever happening for yourself.

Yoongi's not faring well either.

There’s not a word strong enough to describe what he's feeling right now: a cocktail of guilt and absolute dread, swirling in the glass that is his body. Every spiteful word he’s said rings in his ear. How mean he was, how cruel he was. How easily he dismissed your grandmother’s parting gift to you. The worst thing? He made you cry. He’s always promised himself that he would be by your side when the world made you break down, but now it was him causing those mascara stains. And in front of a fucking audience—the thing you hate the most.

“Y/n I—” he doesn’t even know what to say.

No one does, honestly. No one has the heart to blame Hoseok for lying—not when he’s huddled up crying and labelling himself broken. You can’t exactly blame Yoongi for believing him either, because who wouldn’t do the same?

But, regardless of the context, is that how he thought of you? Has he always been by your side with this contempt, thinking of you as a spoiled brat he’s obligated to follow around? That you’d use anyone to get what you want? You would understand if this was back when he was a month into the job…but now, when it’s been two years and you’ve opened up so much of yourself to him…he still held those views? Were they always buried down, hiding until he couldn’t keep them hidden any longer?

Has he stuck by your side all this time feeling so disgusted by you?

Can I even blame him? I am a bitch, after all.

It’s Jimin that pulls you out of your head, bringing a glass of water to your lips as you so badly need it right now. “We’ll do wound care on ourselves tonight, please get some rest.”

___

Yoongi’s two steps behind you, holding his breath as the two of you leave the hybrid room. He doesn’t stop at his bedroom, though, instead following you straight into yours.

“I’ve been a dick.”

You slump onto your bed, dejected, “Maybe I deserved it.”

That’s the last thing he wants to hear. Never in his life did Yoongi think he would be jealous of his coworkers, the ones you’d yell at and kick out of your office the second they made a mistake—but right now, that’s precisely what he wishes you would do. Because the yelling he can withstand, but this is too much for his heart.

“You didn’t deserv—”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend that you didn’t mean any of it. I know I’ve never been the easiest person to deal with. You don’t have to like me to do your job well…if you still want to even work for me…”

“I should be the one begging to keep my job. I only said what I said out of spite, y/n, I wanted to hurt you because I just felt so angry. Fuck, the thing I said about your grandmother’s book too, I feel like shit.”

You wince at the mention of the poems.

“Seeing her book in his hands…I wanted to yell at him so bad Yoongi...but he looked so terrified…and Hoseok looked so terrified too …so who am I even allowed to be angry at?”

Yoongi doesn’t know how to respond, so he instead grabs a makeup wipe from the vanity. He’s gentle in the way he glides it across your skin, extra care around each eye. You let it happen, like a limp doll in his grasp, head hurting too much to be anything else.

“Get some sleep now.”

“How can I be sure you don’t hate me? That you don’t hate working for me?”

“Because”

I’m actually in love with you.

“You’re more than my boss. You’re my best friend y/n.”

____

A/N: I know I'm the writer but I'm waiting for them to be a fluffy big happy family as much as the next person. Baby steps though. Please let me know your thoughts! They are always appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #unnatural instincts

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seat-safety-switch · 2 months

Text

Recently, I was alerted to the fact that folks are shoving perfectly good playing cards into chunks of plastic and then having those cards valued. That seems like the kind of scam that I would normally be into, but the business is way too crowded. All I know about is cars, and cars already have several "appraisal" scams going on as well. No: where I saw money was in the plastic slab business.

You might not realize this, but making things out of plastic is insanely cheap. It's part of the reason why we're all drowning in little gewgaws and shitty strawberry clamshell containers we can't safely get rid of. Spend a few grand making some moulds, then press cheapo squashed-flat dinosaurs into them for years and years, and sell them at a thousand-times markup.

Me, I don't have "a few grand." I don't even have a grand, most of the time. Actually, I just lied to you (force of habit.) I do have a grand: a Plymouth Grand Voyager with no wheels or suspension. And it's got lots of little enclosed spaces that we could make into low-pressure plastic moulds. After a quick trip to swap some pricetags at the local Hobby Lobby, I was in business pouring huge amounts of high-grade synthetic craft resin into the nether regions of my van. And watching that resin pour right out onto the ground, through the gaping rust holes. Right. Now I remembered why I didn't fix this thing.

Don't worry, though: there's a customer for everything. You see, art buyers are also very interested in speculation that inflates the value of their holdings. And if you wear a different hat when you appraise "modern art in semi-clear epoxy resin," then you can sell that pile of goop on your driveway to someone who surely isn't just using it to launder money for the CIA. Everyone wins! I love the new economy.

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charliesgoodboy · 7 months

Text

2023 M. MORALES-42🕷

hi! i'm tila! lips full of filler.

unapologetic,

always thinkin' bout dick

so pink, so cutie

bouncy bubble booty

feeling esoteric,

watching daniel derek.

my sexy aesthetic is highly synthetic,

fuck my genetics(i'm totally plastic)

song: . . .ılı BIMBO DOLL tila tsoli

TW: age gaps(reader is 12-13 miles is 15, and i'm sorry i love cute lil age gap stories), reader is mad persistent, male leaning reader(fem still welcome), leaning afro-puerto rican/hispanic reader, today is my birthday so it's also readers birthday, if you don't like de la rosa you need HELP

MILES MORALES who would always say you were just nobody. everytime you'd wave to him at school, walk with him all the way to his grades hallway, or sit with him at lunch even if it wasn't your lunch period. "ain't you got math right now?" "you remembered my 7th period!" "go." his eyes would roll watching your face turn into a fake sad one as you'd walk away dramatically talking about some 'i'll miss you' and 'don't forget about me mi corazón!' he'd call it stupid, idiotic, dumb shit. but he wouldn't be able to get through the day if you weren't there.

MILES MORALES who would get 'teased' by others in his grade, he was one of the most liked so it wasn't serious, while you would get cheered on my kids in your grade since he was a grade or two above you and you were trying so hard. it was a shame the next day you didn't show up, not at his locker, you didn't walk him to class, you weren't even at lunch. he would here around in your class that you had gotten pretty sick and you wouldn't be back for maybe a week. and that whole week his mood was absolutely terrible.

MILES MORALES who ended up hurting your feelings by accident. he didn't mean to yell his mood was still just a little sour from when you weren't here. you were just some kid who bothered him but he was just so used to you which was why. he knew what today was which is why you were way more excited to see him—hoping he'd at least wish a happy birthday to you, and he really was. he had a whole card in his backpack and a few de la rosa candies and he was god awful careful with them.

MILES MORALES who would wait outside the school grounds watching as your head was down, your feet kicking a rock then kicking it somewhere else getting ready to walk home. he'd take a deep breath, walking over to you stopping you by your backpack making sure you wouldn't trip, and handing you the card and candy. "be careful, i ain't buying you new ones." "miles? you remembered? i knew you loved me!" "don't push it chiquito." watching you almost skip home a smile would cross his face as he'd shake his head heading back home.

MILES MORALES who couldn't wait to see you tommorow.

'mi corazón': my sweetheart or my heart

'chiquito': male version of shorty

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x male reader #prowler x reader #prowler miles #prowler x male reader #miles 42 #miles 42 x reader #miles 42 x male reader #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader #atsv x male reader

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cosmal · 1 year

Note

hiii babe 🍰

spacey jane: james potter + i knew by lizzy mcalpine.

i knew that you loved me when i saw that my shoes was untied you bent down to tie it in the middle of the street

shoelaces

summary — james potter ties your shoes up in the middle of the street. you love him.

content — james potter x fem!reader, she/her, fluff

note — thank you this was such a cute request

The faster you walk, the more you get hit by the snow. The wind picks it up and blows it in your face. It’s so cold it feels like needles against your numb cheeks.

James has your hand inside his pocket because you’d forgotten your gloves and you wouldn’t take his.

“Y/N, sweetheart, take these.”

“No, because then you’ll be cold.”

“Right, then give me your hands.”

You’re both half trudging down the sludge against the pavement, James’s hand tightens too hard when he thinks you might slip.

“Why has Sirius invited us to his place on one of the coldest days of the year?” James grumbles. Half an hour ago he was giddy with excitement to see Sirius’s new flat.

“And why did you park three blocks away?” you ask.

James ignores you. You both know it’s because there wasn’t a single park, you just like to tease.

You’re almost there but every step you take feels heavy, like his flat just won’t get any closer. You go to cross the road right outside where you’re supposed to be and can feel your shoelaces hitting your ankle.

“Shit, my lace,” you mumble. You’re too close to slipping, you can’t imagine tripping over.

James stops right in the middle of the street when he looks down at your feet. “Stop,” he says softly. You stop with him when your arms snags against his.

He bends down onto one knee right into the snow and you gawp. “James!”

He swats your foot. “Stand still, angel.”

You do as he says. Mostly because you want him to hurry. “What are you bloody doing?”

“Babe, I don’t want to be a smartass right in the middle of the road,” he snorts, tightening your laces a little too hard, “but I’m tying your shoelaces up.”

“Yes, James,” you chide. “In the middle of the road.”

He makes two loops and if you weren’t too busy watching the corner to your left, you’d laugh at his bunny-ear method. With love, of course. He’s adorable. But right now, you’re a little peeved.

James looks up at you with soft eyes and a bright smile. You melt faster than the falling snow. You’re half annoyed because he’s being reckless, but also half adored because he’s being reckless on behalf of you. “I didn’t want you tripping.”

You want to put your hands in his hair. You also don’t want to encourage him. “Thank you, James, truly baby,” you hurry, words a little jammed, still genuine, “but please hurry up. I don’t want to get flattened.”

“I’d never let that happen,” he says, a little offended, a lot loving.

“I know.”

James grins. “Double knots?”

You roll your eyes, still annoyed. Shaking your foot you say, “C’mon, up.”

James gets up, letting you pull him into your side to cross the rest of street. Standing under a street lamp you stop still. James stops too, though hesitant.

“What’s up? Your other shoelace undone?” he frowns.

“No, it’s good.”

You needle your arms under his, pushing through the fleece of his parka jacket, angling your head up to look at him. James looks confused, still, he wraps his arms around your back with a ruffle of synthetic materials.

“I know it’s cold, baby,” he starts, squeezing you close, “but don’t you want to get inside? I’ll hug you all over Sirius’s new couch if y’want.”

His head blocks the the street lamp, curls haloed by warm yellow light and a falling of snow. You watch it decorate his hair and scatter in his too-long lashes, landing on the lenses of his glasses, and for the hundredth time since you met him, you think he’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. It’s always just as startling as the first time.

“Did you just tie my laces in the middle of the street?”

James might think you’re scolding him. Though your features are soft and little too lovesick. You seem quite dizzied.

James grins boyishly. “Yeah…”

“We could’ve been hit by a lorry,” you laugh, half smothered by a chattering of your teeth.

“We could also freeze to death out here,” he says back.

“James…” you mumble, hiding your face in his chest. He smells like damp fleece and dwindling cologne that the wind keeps picking up.

“What?” he lets out a startled laugh, shielding your cold head with his big hand. Your hair is already half-damp. He’s starting to regret not letting you out at the front of Sirius’s building and finding a park himself.

“You love me,” you say suddenly, voice tainted with girlish laughter.

“Of course, I do,” he says. He smooths a kiss into your hair for good measure.

“Only boys who love you tie your laces up in the middle of the street.” You pull back your head from his chest and catch his gaze. He looks a mixture of confused and a little fond.

“How do you know that?” he feigns shock, “Who else has been tying up your shoes, huh?”

You shake your head, giggling, “No one.”

He dips you back, arms tight around your torso. Mouth hovering over yours, he says, “Who else?”

“No one,” you repeat, huffing a high pitched laugh. “Just you.”

He kisses you. Soft and quick and all things cold. You can’t help the smile that presses up against his lips. “Good,” he murmurs quickly.

You try to kiss him back. He grins all smug when he has you chasing his mouth. He stops when you huff, letting you too willingly kiss him.

“Should only be me tying up your shoes,” he says.

“Yeah,” you hum back.

And obviously he is. He doesn’t let you tie your own laces ever again when you’re around him.

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undergroundrockpress · 1 year

Text

May The Sun Shine Upon You (Synthetic Trips, Inc) - 1971. Art by V. McCully / S. McCully.

#psychedelic art #V. McCully #S. McCully #Synthetic Trips #1971 #1970s #purple sunshine #acid art

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mediocre-quill-ink · 11 months

Note

I just found your Dirty cop post and I'm here to ask...

Are you planning on making a continuation perhaps? 👉🏼👈🏼 Cause it was fucking amazing!

Ty so much for the request, and thank you for saying it was amazing. i really appreciate it!!!

Pt.1

Dirty cop pt 2

Content: probably inaccurate to the game. Tried to work this one into Canon a little bit. Ralph is a major character in the first half, Simi public sex, light bondage, a lot of degrading, female anatomy but gender nutral terms when being adressed. Connor has a sweet spot???

I gazed into the pouring rain, wondering how long till freedom comes. How much longer I need to hide. To run. Ever since I got apprehended by that RK800 a week ago, my anxiety has been spiked. Not to say I completely disliked our interaction. One moment in particular I was quite fond of but... getting arrested or dismantled is by no means something I'll embrace.

I've heard news here and there of another rogue android "freeing" others. Whispers of a revolution on the rise. God, I hope so. I want to feel safe. Free.

I flenched at a clatter, whiping around to see a scared WR600, a large blue gash stretched across his face. A floor board snapped benith him, causing him to fall through it and trip, letting out frustrated and pained cries. "Are you alright, Ralph?" I asked, slightly started.

I met Ralph a week ago after running from the RK800, connor. The bus dropped me off in front of the dilapidated building, and I decided to make a temporary home there. At least until I could find a better squat. When I first hopped the fence, I was surprised to find myself at knife point. Something along the lines about how he doesn't trust strangers. How humans hurt him. With enough convincing, I was able to stay. I don't entirely trust him. He's unpredictable and violent, but I like him. He's fun and cares a lot. He seems to have grown rather attached to me despite his fears. And I'm sure he feels the same way about me. He's really sweet when he's not flailing around a knife, but he's also very cautious of me, doesn't like sudden movements.

"No! Ralph is not okay! He got hurt!" I sighed, slowly walking over. He landed on his hands and knees, turing over and sitting down. "Are you bleeding?" I asked, crouching down. He rolled up a pant leg, reveling a patch of the synthetic skin rubbed away, the white plastic shell cracked. I sucked in a breath. "Okay, no bleeding. Good. You're damaged, but you're good. You're fine. Can you walk?" Ralph didn't say anything in response, just muttering to himself. "Ralph? Are you hearing me?" I placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. He glanced over at me for a moment before looking off into space again, still muttering. "Okay. I'm gonna walk away for a minute and give you some time to breathe. I'll be back soon, and I'll take care of you, alright?" He didn't respond. I removed my hand from his shoulder and stood up. "I'll be back soon." I repeated before finally walking away.

I stepped into the dusty living room, taking in a deep breath and sitting down. Fuck. I need to find repairs fast. Ralph stabbed me the first day I found this place, so I need to find a proper bag of theriam and probably a hot poke to seal the wound. And now, among other things, Ralph needs a replacement leg piece. As far as I'm aware, this is his only cracked area, which can lead to nasty injuries or malfunctions. I heard there's a small cyberlife store a few miles away. With a proper disguise and some luck, I can probably sneak some supplies back home.

Just then, I heard shifting outside the house. Jumping to my feet, I snuck over to the farthest wall, listening. It sounded like a woman and a little girl sitting at the bus stop. "Kara, I'm cold," said the little girl. "Don't worry, alice, well find some place warm to stay soon," then followed by floot steps, walking down the street to the left twords the convince store. I let out a worried sigh.

"Ralph? Are you feeling any better?" I asked, walking back into the room. He sat in a slightly more relaxed pose. "Ralph is better. Ralph has faced worse." He muttered. "Can you stand? Walk?" I replied. He took a moment, placing his palms firmly on the ground and pushing, standing up. One leg was slightly wobbly, but I think that was more duing of nerves. He exchanged balance between legs and finally stated, "Yes, Ralph can stand."

"Good," I sighed. "Now come on, let's head over to the living room. I heard some people nearby. They're probably harmless. They sounded like a woman and child, but I'd like somewhere secure to stay anyways. " He quickly agreed. "Yes. You can never be too careful."

The sun rose, and I found myself anxiously staring at the wall. Just past it was more noise. Down the street was a cop car. From what I can hear, a robbery. The perpetrators, a rogue nanny android, and a kidnapped child. They may have been who I heard last night. But one thing sticks out to me. A familiar voice imminating from across the street. I can't place why it's so familiar, but it brings up strange emotions. Fear, excitement... arousal? It's husky and dry in tone. Very matter of fact. "Cops. Ralph doesn't like cops." Ralph whispered. "I know, I know." I muttered, trying to figure out what to do. I took a moment to think. Evaluating what to do.

Should we sit and wait it out? Should I run? Go get supplies? Hell, stand in as a witness?

Fuck, think this through.

After a frustrating inner battle I chose.

"Ralph. You stay here and hidden, alright? I'll leave and pick up supplies." I breathed, anxiety pricking my back. "Go out? That's insane!" Ralph replied. "I know, I know. But I'm betting on the cops across the street being too distracted with the crime scene to give too much attention. I'll hop around the back. And be as quick as I can, alright?" "What if you get caught? Ralph does not want his new friend to get caught." He replied, a bit more frantic. I grabbed his hand, stating, "If I get caught, I'll find a way to escape. I did last time. Just keep hidden." I let go of his hand and headed outside before further argument could be raised.

I headed to the back of the property, where the least traffic can spot and swiftly hopped the fence. Trying to casually walk down the street. Don't be conspicuous. As I strode down the street I couldn't help but stop for a moment to look at the crime scene. The clerk at the store was speaking to an officer taking notes. There was an older man with shaggy grey hair and an ugly shirt underneath a jacket. Next to him was a much younger looking android, clean-cut hair, suit calm and confident posture. Oh god. It's him. How the fuck did he end up here?

He turned to inspect the area, looking at the abandoned house. I tried to casually lean against the fence and not look to conspicuous. Pulling my hood up a bit more and trying to look around as if I lost my way. "We should investigate the house. Mabye the criminals took hiding in there." Spoke the RK800, pointing at it before glancing at me. His led spinning.

Stay calm

Stay calm.

When I found myself at Ralph's house, I removed my led as quick as I could and found some human clothes in an upstairs closet. Hopefully, if he's not paying too much attention, he won't recognize me. Or at least think im a different android of the same model.

"You! Come here." He hollered at me.

I glanced around and pointed a thumb at myself.

He nodded, repeatedly for me to come to him.

Shit.

I tried to calmly walk his way. I thought about booking it but then I'd be undoubtedly suspicious. as I finally stood in front of him, his led flickered and swirled, brows knitting slightly. "good morning. apologies for throwing off your day but I need to ask a few questions. do you have any information on the crime scene?" he gestures to the robbed convenience store, his voice with a whisper of suspicion. "oh. not that i know of, no." I breathed, trying to suppress my anxious energy. "well it'd be helpful to ask you a few questions just in case. I hope you understand." he spoke dryly as he subtly turned to other officers. "make sure to sweep the area." he muttered to them before turning back to me. "have you noticed any strange activity in the area?"

"no. I don't think so."

"have you seen an AX400 with a child? she's brunette, about nine years old."

"nope."

"what were you doing by that abandoned building?"

a tenseness gripped my metallic spine. "I was on a way to a local restaurant, i wanted to get some breakfast. But i had to stop and make sure i was going the right way."

"you stared at the crime scene for quite a bit. at me too. whys that?"

i caught myself from gulping and put on a playful smile "well, natural curiosity. disaster is hard to look away from. also, stop me if I'm overstepping officer but... beauty is too." i could feel my false sense of confidence fade into an embarrassed cringe as i finished. his led swirled again and in the distance, the sound of his older coworker cough awkwardly.

"mmm hmm." was all Connor replied. after a moment his led stilled. "you look awfully familiar." he stated, "have we met before?" i sucked in a breath, my chest tightening. "no, not that I'm aware of." i replied.

he scanned me up and down literally and figuratively. then his eyes twitched slightly. "you look very similar to the DB500." he now sounded a bit more accusatory. "well, they had to get the faces for androids from somewhere. I'm sure someone from cyberlife used my face as an example."

"did you volunteer at the company for development?" he asked, again more accusitory than genuine.

"no."

"then they didnt."

there was a moment of silence.

"hank! i need to take this person into further custody for questioning. hold down the team until i get back!" he shouted before opening the door to a cop car and shoving me inside, shutting the door behind me.

"what? Connor! we can have another officer drive them to the station where are you going?" "i know but this witness seems to valuable to interrogate later and to dangerous to be shipped out with a human. ill be back shortly." and he swiftly pulled into the car, ordering it to drive. as it rolled away from the crime scene, the grey haired man could be heard in the distance shouting "goddamn it!"

"what's happening? where are we going?" I ask, gripping the seat. "one thing to know about me is that i always accomplish my mission. you happen to be one that slipped away. i intend to finish my mission." his voice was hard and almost spiteful. "and your mission?" I ask, gulping subconsciously. "well. my first objective is to apprehend you. once your under arrest, you'll be shipped off to cyberlife to be dismantled and see what went wrong. my second objective..." he paused. breaths more heavy before continuing. "i have to admit. after you were in my custody, and after my interrogation I couldn't get you out off my mind. it was... frustrating. a new objective has been added. and that's having my way with you."

my knees weaken. my therium pump pulsating a higher rate. "really?" I choked out. "are you willing?" he whispered back.

a chill ran down my now hot spine. "yes. I'm willing."

he pulled the car into an empty parking lot, an area of Detroit i recognized. I didn't make deliveries here often but that's why it stuck out to me. a fairly quiet and isolated part. it used to be a popular housing and restaurant area before people started loosing jobs and going homeless. this was the first of housing areas to go near abandonment. I wanted to ask why he took me here but i had a good idea.

he stepped out of the front seat and opened the back passenger, where I was. he quickly closed the door and leaned into me, placing sloppy kisses on my shoulder. i relaxed into it, letting out a soft moan and wrapping my arms softly around his back. he, in that moment felt so... desperate. it was strange. my few interactions with him so far have been nothing but cold. stiff. dominant. but right now he was... venerable. I couldn't help but place a soft kiss on top of his coffee locks. a soft moan blew against my shoulder in reply, his hands quickly digging under my musky shirt and jacket, cold hands grassing my stomach.

"I haven't been able to get out out of my head sense you've escaped." he mumbled, kisses growing rougher.

"I didn't understand why. at first i thought it was because i was determined about the case." his rough kisses slowly inched up my throat. "but then this... feeling kept bubbling and bubbling until i couldn't handle myself. and i realized i wanted you." his hands grasped my breasts, squeezing slightly the rolling the hardened buds under his thumb's "no... i needed you." he left the softest bite on my jaw before finally planting a deep, hard kiss against my lips.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, hips bucking into him. I trailed my hands up his back and tangled with his nylon hair. It was soft, not a single knot.

He quickly pulled back from the kiss and finally pushed my clothes above my head, tossing them to the side.

He now dove for my chest, taking one breast in his mouth, wet tongue massaging my nipple. He hooked his thumbs into my pants and tugged them down along with my underwear. It was a rough, almost violent motion. I shimmied my hips, helping him remove them further. He didn't waste time removing them, discarding them just as quickly as my top.

"So desperate"

"What?" He breathed, agrivated expression as he fitted with his belt.

Shit. I thought I was just thinking that. "Nothing." I whispered back. He ripped the belt out out of his pants, pulling them down to reveal a hard-on already springing to life. Holy fuck.

Connor quickly crawled on top of me, caging me against the seat with his arms. He pushed inside me slowly, letting out a soft groan. I could already feel his systems overheating, a heat radiating against my synthetic skin.

He began slow thrusts, planting sloppy kisses against my throat again, now a different side.

Aside from moans and pants, it was eerly quiet. A near abandoned housing area in Detroit was strange. Though I could hear the familiar sounds of cars down the highway or cyberlife advertisements a block down, it was almost eery. Just us parked in an abandoned lot for a former small business pizza restaurant.

"I don't want to hear you call me that again." He grunted against me.

"What?"

His pase picked up, rocking the car slightly. "You called me desprate." He breathed, hot air brushing against my shoulder. "I am not desperate."

"You act it." I replied, arching slightly into him.

He didn't respond, just a swallow imminating from his throat.

"You rushed me into the car when you were on duty. You ripped off clothes, little patience. Your kisses and moans drip with desperation." I added, "I enjoy it. But I have to admit it's not a state I expected you to be in."

"Were you expecting," he let out another choked out moan. "Me to be more dominant?"

"After the impression you left me with the last time? Of corse."

"If you want me to be mean, I'll be mean." He lulled.

At that, an excited moan escaped my throat.

"Do you want me to be mean?" He whispers against my ear, sending shivers down my metallic spine.

"Yes." I whispered.

His pase once again grew rougher, he pulled away from my chest, and sat in a more comfortable position. Instead of pinning me down, he stood upright, grasping my hips and thighs as he plowed into me.

He moved one hand to unfasten his tie. He grabbed my wrists and tied them to the grip on the car door. It fastened tight around my wrists, giving it a few tugs to test and it sat firm around my wrists.

"I can be more than mean," he lulled "I can be cruel." Just after he said that, he pressed a finger against my clit, it began to vibrate. Another wave of pleasure shot up my spine, my mind growing foggy. "And you'd like that, wouldn't you? You filthy fucking Deviant." He panted, pressing hard against my core followed my a sting on my ass. He spanked me. Then, continued to thrust. A shaky moan emerged from my lips, as I tightened around him. He let out a soft pant before quickly regaining composure and giving an cocky smirk. "That what I thought. Disgusting whore." I hummed in agreement. I could feel him twitch inside me.

He used his spair hand to slowly trail my body. From my thighs, up my hips, down my stomach... up my throat. He squeezed. Though I couldn't stop the airway, it did cause a different malfunction. To the voice mojual in my throat. As he squeezed, the moans escaping my throat, choked into nothing but garbled static. "Such lovely sounds~" He hummed. Slowing into a grind. He rocked his hips back and forth, making slow, small thrusts.

I bucked my hips, clinching around him again, forcing out moans from connor. "What a fucking whore. Where have you been all this time? Hiding from me?" He removed the pressure from my throat to allow me to speak. "Fuck," I gasped "I in an abandoned-" I caught myself before I could say the truth. If they haven't searched the house yet, I don't want them to now because of me. Ralph may be a little freak, but I still care about him. "Arcade..." I finally stated. "I was out to find repairs for the games."

Connor stared hard into me as I spoke, using his spare hand to trail across the stab wound Ralph left me when we met. "Who did this to you?"

"It was a misunderstanding. " I mumbled before letting out another moan

He paused to bend down and place a soft kiss on the injury. It was... nice. Soft, genuine. For a brief moment, whatever aggressive mask he had on melted away. Only a moment. Just as quickly as the tenderness came, it went because his expression quickly hardened, stood up, and the movement continued. This time, the shaft moving on its own.

"Fuck," Connor gasped "your such a good hole for me..." He leaned in, pressing his body waight against my core. "You take everything I give you. Such a good girl." He panted, running his hands up my stomach, my chest and softly squeezing my breasts. I could feel him start to twitch inside of me, his moans grew more frequent.

Again, his dominant mask slipping away for a brief moment. He quickly grew desperate again, rhutting against me like a dog in heat. Almost melting against me as he let out whimpers and moans like a cheap whore.

Strings of heat released inside of me, him collapsing into against me.

There was a moment of silence. We were both now sitting next to each other, mostly dressed. For once, his perfect hair was an absolute mess.

"So now what?" I ask. Thinking back to what he told me earlier.

well. my first objective is to apprehend you. once your under arrest, you'll be shipped off to cyberlife to be dismantled and see what went wrong.

My gut wrenched. "Are you gonna... send me off to die now that you got off?"

He sat silent. The cramptness of the car wasn't helping with the suffocating akwardeness.

"I mean... you always complete your mission..." I sighed.

"No."

"What?"

"No... I can't."

I didn't know what to say.

"I can't. I can't take you to jail."

I swallowed hard "why?"

He shook his head, squeezing his hands together. "I... I don't know."

I sucked in a deep breath, squeezing the cool air into my self colling system. "What does this mean?"

He leaned over across me, popping open the door on my side. "Get out. I'll tell Hank you ran away again." I slowly slipped out of the car and stood to stare at him. If I sgull had my led, I'm sure it would be swirling yellow. "You're letting me go?" I whispered.

He nodded solemnly. "I Just... I hope to find you again." He mumbled. He let out a sigh and walked out the car before returning to the drivers seat. He waved goodbye and drove off before I could say anything else. If I could. I was speechless.

Connor. The Deviant hunter.... let me go.

Pt 3

#dbh #detroit become human #connor #connor dbh #connor x reader dbh #dbh connor #dbh smut #connor dbh smut #connor x reader #dirty cop pt 2 #dirty cop

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estarlias · 4 months

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i hope requests are open 👀 weirdly specific request but! fatui scara who made a deal with dottore to never go near his partner (aka reader) bc he knows what that man is capable of, given the experiments, and then one day sees reader come out of dottore’s lab with a bandage and jumps to conclusions

UR SO SMART FOR THIS ANON!<33

Warnings: past injury mentioned, maybe possesive scara if u squint, angry scara (momentarily), angst to fluff(?), protective scara

Scaramouche felt whatever synthetic blood he had inside him run cold. There you were, walking so nonchalantly out of Dottore’s office. Archons, you were so stupid.

He stormed over, a furious expression on his face as he gripped your wrist harshly, uncaring at how you winced in pain, and dragged you to his chambers. The door slammed behind him as he practically threw you onto the bed.

“Scara-” You started to speak, a concerned look on your face before he cut you off.

“How many times have I told you to stay away from him. And you didn’t fucking listen. How stupid can you be?!” Scaramouche pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed as he tried to control his temper.

You felt tears well up in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to.. I got hurt and,” you sniffled, rolling up your sleeve to show him the bandage. “The attendant took me there.. It wasn’t even him, just one of his segments..” You mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Still frowning, Scaramouche sat down next to you on the bed and gently took your arm. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to how he had grabbed you earlier. “Who.”

“What?” You finally met his eyes and nearly flinched from the look of hate he held in them.

“Which attendant took you to him. Clearly, neither of you know how to follow orders.” He continued to glare at you, his eyes narrowed.

You shook your head, grabbing his hands. “It doesn’t matter. I’m okay. He didn’t do anything. I think the attendant freaked out, he was worried you’d kill him for letting me trip in the first place..” You gave a shy smile, kissing his cheek gently.

He huffed, pulling you into a hug. “..I still don’t like that you were over there. What if he took advantage of you, or injected with you with something..” Scaramouche mumbled, his hands gently rubbing your back, almost as if he was afraid you’d shatter like glass.

“Promise me you’ll never go there ever again. If you get hurt, there’s plenty of other doctors here to take care of you.”

a/n: AHH sorry this is so short, finals r this week i’m so busy :((

bonus!!:

“So, how’d you get hurt in the first place?”

“…”

“You did something stupid didn’t you.”

“..I did something stupid😞”

#genshin impact #scaramouche fluff #fatui scaramouche #genshin impact fatui #scara fluff #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #genshin fluff #fatui scaramouche x reader #!! kieran’s fluff ⭐️

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heich0e · 1 year

Text

the heart is but a winding road p.1 - shouto todoroki/f!reader (1.3k) pro-hero shouto, we're talkin late 20s early 30s-ish, this independent bachelor turned begrudging father figure fic was almost certainly inspired by buddy daddies, pure fluff, sho is about to make a new bff who happens to be 5 years old much to everyone's surprise

YOU ARE HERE - p.2 - p.3 - p.4 (upcoming)

It’s not that Shouto wouldn’t make a good parent. Quite the opposite really. It’s just that after his tumultuous upbringing, he’s more at peace with the idea of spending his adulthood independently. He’s a bit awkward with kids anyway. Doesn’t know how to talk to them. The idea of having one toddling along behind him 24/7 makes him kinda itchy and uncomfortable, like when sweaters are made with synthetic material and get put through the dryer.

His friends often tell him he’ll probably change his mind as he gets older. His family does too. But he keeps getting older and his stance stays the same. Fuyumi gets married and starts having kids first. Natsuo and his partner eventually adopt as well after trying for a few years. Denki elopes on a trip abroad and has three kids before their graduating class has even hit 25. Kirishima is next. Momo. Sero. Slowly, everyone Shouto knows is settling down and getting married and starting families.

And he just… doesn’t want that.

“‘Scuse me.”

Shouto is staring at a puddle in the middle of the street one afternoon, lost in his thoughts. It’s just stopped raining, and everything around him on the city street is soaked as the water slowly pools and slithers away into the storm drains. His phone is in his hand, open to where Uraraka has just sent a text to the old class 1-A group chat to announce she’s having her second baby.

Shouto turns towards the sound that interrupted his swirling thoughts, and a pair of wide eyes gazes up at him from roughly thigh-height.

“Yes?” the man asks, polite but a bit clipped, as he stares down warily at the child by his feet.

The kid probably wants a picture, he realizes. Even out of his Pro Hero suit he’s still fairly recognizable, and it’s a common occurrence. He’s got a baseball cap and mask on today though, and really hadn’t wanted to be spotted.

“Uhhh, uhmm…” the kid stammers, tugging at the hem of their little yellow rain jacket.

Shouto sighs a little.

“Do you want a pho-“

“Littering is bad!”

The child’s hands are balled up into determined little fists at their sides, their eyes squeezed closed like they mustered all their strength to say the words.

And Shouto is… speechless.

“Uh,” he falters, uncertain what the hell is even happening. “Yeah?”

The kid's eyes open again, and this time they look more resolved than they had a moment prior. Less friendly, too.

“So why’d you LITTER?”

People walking by on the sidewalk are starting to stare now, and Shouto gets that itchy, uncomfortable sensation that he hates as he feels the prickle of their eyes on him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks the child nervously, tugging his cap down a little further over his face.

The kid puffs out their cheeks indignantly.

“You dropped this garbage on the ground back there.” Clutched in the child’s tiny fist is a slip of paper—a receipt, Shouto quickly surmises. His receipt from the shop he’d just visited, which must have fallen from his pocket when he’d pulled out his phone. The little gremlin waves it around accusatorially. “And you didn’t pick it up! That’s littering.”

Shouto crouches down to meet the kid at eye-level, hoping that, if nothing else, it will stop raising its voice if he gets a bit closer.

“That was an accident,” Shouto tries to explain—tries to deescalate the situation—but the look on the child’s face doesn’t soften in the slightest. The worst part about all of this is that Shouto does actually need that receipt. He eyes it for a moment, contemplating his next move, and then he sighs. “Can I have that back?”

“No,” the kid answers immediately. “Littering is a crime and this is my eminence.”

“Your what?” the man asks flatly.

“My eminence,” the kid replies, turning their nose up at him like he’s the one being foolish.

Shouto blinks blankly at the knee-high pain in his ass.

“Nao! Nao!”

A startled, frantic voice makes Shouto’s head turn on instinct—the panic igniting a sense, an alertness, that’s been long-engrained in him.

He spots you down the road, an umbrella in your hand and a flustered but relieved look on your face, racing towards him.

Him?

Shouto is confused for a moment, until he remembers he’s not alone.

“Mama!” the present bane of Shouto’s existence melts into something unrecognizable to the thorn they’d been in his side only a moment prior—their tone sweet and excited when they spot you jogging over.

“Nao-chan,” you breathe, falling to your knees on the sidewalk and wrapping your arms around their little yellow-raincoat clad body, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Mama, I caught a criminal!” the child, who Shouto can only assume is named Nao, says excitedly as they point an eager finger in his direction.

You turn and face Shouto with a startled look on your face.

This day is really not going his way.

Your cautious eyes scan Shouto for a moment, understandably wary considering your child just proudly labelled him a criminal, but he sees a flicker of recognition kindling behind your gaze that melts away your initial look of mistrust. Begrudgingly, he reaches up and loops a finger under the edge of his mask, tugging it down to his chin to reveal his face.

Your lips part, then close again.

“Nao-chan, I think you made a mistake,” you say softly to the child tucked against your side.

“Nuh-uh, Mama! I caught him littering and I got eminence!”

“Evidence, baby,” you correct the child gently.

“Yeah, that!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, looking vaguely mortified, and huff out a little laugh.

“I’m so sorry,” you say to Shouto, an apologetic grimace on your face, “he’s been obsessed with the recycling hero lately. It’s all he talks about.”

Shouto eyes the child, the boy, at your side. He’s familiar with Reductro, the Recycling Hero, but only vaguely. He’s been working with the education branch of the Hero Commission for the past few years, teaching kids to minimize their waste and promote taking care of the environment, and the two have met in passing a few times through work and the like. Shouto had no idea he had these kind of die-hard fans.

“You like Reductro?” Shouto asks the kid curiously.

The little boy’s face lights up.

“He’s the best!”

“What’s so cool about him?” Shouto asks, genuinely interested.

“He came to my school last week and he helps to get plastic outta the ocean!” The little boys eyes sparkle as he replies. “He took a gillion plastic bags out of the bay last year!”

Shouto purses his lips. that is pretty cool.

“Nao, give the nice hero back his receipt now, please,” you urge your son, seemingly eager to end this ordeal amicably.

The little boy squints up at Shouto’s face, shuffling a bit closer. “You’re a hero?” he asks skeptically.

Shouto nods. “I’m Pro Hero Shouto.”

The little boy’s jaw gapes, and Shouto feels a little swell of smugness in his chest. He’s the number three hero after all, the kid must have heard of him.

“Do you know Reductro?”

The swell of his hubris deflates immediately.

A few more words are exchanged as Nao—Naoyuki, age 5, likes Pro Hero Reductro and dislikes broccoli, as Shouto comes soon to learn—returns his misplaced receipt and you apologize again for your son’s overzealousness. With a few polite bows and one last apology for good measure, the three of you part ways—Naoyuki’s little rain boots thumping along the sidewalk as the two of you depart hand-in-hand.

Shouto looks down at the paper in his palm after you’re gone, unable to shake the foreign feeling that’s crept over him, and curled itself into his chest underneath his ribs. He clasps his fingers around the troublesome receipt and shoves his hand into his coat pocket as he sets off in the direction of his apartment.

He keeps the little slip of paper tightly in his grip the entire way home.

#shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #shoto x you #bnha fic #bnha writing #writing

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ado547 · 9 months

Text

#trap #my melody #epic the musical #synthwave #synthesizer #synthetic #synthpop #vocal synth #rapper #rap #hip hop #rap music #rnb #trippy #trip #melodic rap #crimeboys #crime wave #night rider

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greynatomy · 9 months

Text

Who The Hell Are you?

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

This is a chapter from my wattpad book that I haven’t had any motivation writing from, but is one of my favorite chapters so I wanted to share it on here.

I changed my oc’s name to yn so if you see a name that’s not natasha or yelena then that was my oc.

Let me know what you think!

-grey

———

Standing in the kitchen, Yelena hears someone trying to pick the lock on the front door.

“I know you’re out there.” She says to the person on the other side of the door.

“I know you know I’m out here.” She hears a woman’s voice muffled by the door.

The door opens, then slams shut. Yelena grabs her gun, waiting for the woman to come closer.

“Then why are you skulking about like it’s a minefield?” She asks, pointing the gun in front of her.

“‘Cause I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Chuckling, “Funny, I was going to say the same thing.”

“So, we gonna talk like grown-ups?”

Turning the corner, Yelena points the gun at the woman. “Is that what we are?”

Both women point the gun at each other, Yelena slowly walks backwards as Natasha walks forwards.

“Put it down before I make you.”

“You put yours down.” Natasha replies.Yelena trips, “Watch you step.” Yelena chuckles softly.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, They both grab the others’ gun, quickly pointing it back at each other.

Yelena and Natasha are now impatient, starts kicking each other. Yelena grabs Natasha and slams her to the walls. Switching it up, Natasha then grabs Yelena’s face and lifts her up to crash into the cabinet over the sink. Pushing her face down, Natasha tries to get her to stop fighting.

“Stay down. Stay down. Stay down!”

Letting out a scream, Yelena grabs a plate and smashes it on Natasha’s head. Grabbing a towel, it quickly gets wrapped around her neck, but uses it to her advantage to flip Natasha over her into a door breaking the glass.

Slowly getting up, staring at each other to intimidate, Yelena grabs a knife from the kitchen and stalks towards Natasha.

Trying to find something to use, Natasha sees a stapler and grabs it just before Yelena swings the knife at her. Swinging their desired weapons at each other, the take turns, blow for blow, kick for kick, hoping one would give up.

Both weapons quickly get disarmed by the other, Yelena tackles Natasha into the wall, Natasha grabbing the curtains off its rod and wraps it around Yelena’s neck, Yelena doing the same to Natasha after dropping her on the floor.

Both laying on the floor, cutting off each other’s breathing, Yelena being the stubborn one, won’t give up first.

“перемирие.” Truce. Natasha says, holding a hand out.

Letting go, Yelena gasps for air, unwrapping the curtain from her neck. Both laying on the floor for a bit, Yelena tries to catch her breath.

“ты вырос.” You’ve grown up.

“Ни хрена.” No shit. Yelena says, getting up from the floor. She walks to the kitchen, grabbing the vodka from the refrigerator and some shot glasses.

“You had to come to Budapest, didn't you?” Natasha asks, following Yelena.

“I came here because I thought you wouldn’t. But since you’re here, what bullet does that?” Yelena asks pouring some shots, then pointing at the wall.

Natasha looks behind her. “Not bullets. Arrows.”

“Ah, right.” She says, taking a shot.

“If you didn’t think I’d come here, why’d you send me these?” Natasha ask, putting the familiar bunch of vials on the table.

“You brought it back here?” Yelena walks away, Natasha following closely behind.

“I’m not here trying to be your friend, but you need to tell me what that is.”

“It’s a synthetic gas. The counter agent to chemical subjugation. The gas immunizes the brain’s neuropathways from external manipulation.” She explains, grabbing a bag.

“Maybe in English next time?”

“Это противоядие от контроля над разумом.” It’s an antidote to mind control.

“настоящая зрелая.” Real mature. Natasha replies, rolling her eyes.

“Why don’t you take it to one of your super-scientist friends? They can explain it to you. Tony Stark, maybe?” She asks, packing her bag with clothes and weapons.

“Oh, yeah. We’re not really talking right now, so…”

“Great. Perfect timing. Where’s an Avenger when you need one?”

“I don’t want to be here. I’m on the run. You could’ve gotten me killed.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? You’re the only superhero person that I know.”

Suddenly, they both hear the front door open and close. Natasha quickly puts a new shirt on, grabbing a gun, while Yelena freezes, wide-eyed.

“Yelena Belova!” They both hear. Natasha points the gun at the door.

“Дерьмо.” Shit. Yelena grabs Natasha’s gun, lowering it. Natasha looks confused as to why Yelena looks nervous and not grabbing a weapon.

“Что, черт возьми, ты сделал?” What the hell did you do? Yelena starts to chew on her bottom lip, not moving from where she’s standing. “Лучше тащи свою задницу сюда, прямо сейчас.” You better get you ass over here, right now.

Yelena slowly walks out the door, to the kitchen, Natasha quietly follows behind, still being alert.

“Привет дорогая.” Hi, sweetheart.

“Не говори мне "Привет, дорогая". Что случилось?” Don't 'Hi, sweetheart' me. What happened? Yn irritatedly asks, hands on both of her hips.

“Well, you see, it was not all my fault.”

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten me. Who else did this?”

“She did.” Yelena says, pointing at the wall behind her.

“Funny. No one is there.”

“Wha-” She looks behind her not seeing Natasha. “Come out from behind the wall.”

Natasha slowly walks from the other side of the wall, revealing herself.

“Ah, Natasha Romanoff.” Yn scans her up and down. “Do you usually come to peoples homes and destroy things?” She sarcastically asks.

Yelena let’s out a snort, seeing Natasha shrink from Yn’s intimidating gaze.

“Uh, well, n-no.” Clearing her throat, Natasha puts her tough act back in front and asks, “Who the hell are you?”

“Yelena, it is very rude to not introduce me.” She says, poring herself two shots of vodka, downing each, right after the other. Natasha looks at Yelena, hoping to get an answer.

Yelena let’s put a loud sigh. “Natasha meet Yn… my wife.”

“Wife?!”

“I know. I can’t believe I married her either.” Yn say, walking up to Yelena to give her a peck on the cheek.

“Замолчи.” Shut up. She says, rolling her eyes, letting a small smirk show. “Okay, we are getting distracted.” Yelena says, becoming serious again. Turning back to Natasha, “I kept checking the news, expecting to see Captain America bringing down the Red Room.”

“What?” Natasha asks, shocked. “Taking down the Red Room? What are you talking about? It’s been gone for years. Dreykov’s dead. I killed him.”

Letting out a small laugh, “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Yn asks. Seeing the look on Natasha’s face, she turns to Yelena, “She really does believe that.”

“Dreykov’s dead. It took almost destroying the entire city just to get to him.”

“If you’re so sure, then tell us what happened. Tell us exactly.”

“We rigged bombs.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Clint Barton. Killing Dreykov was the final step in the deflection to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Nodding and shrugging, “Simple as that?”

“Yeah, sure, ‘simple.’” She states, walking away from the couple. “That’s what I’d call imploding a five-story building and then shooting it out with the Hungarian Special Forces. Took ten days in hiding before we could even get out of Budapest.”

“And you checked the body?” Yelena asks, grabbing a gun off the floor, stuffing it in her pants. “Confirmed the kill?”

“There was no body left to check.”

“Oh, come on. You’re Natasha Romanoff. THE BLACK WIDOW and you don’t do something as simple as making sure he is actually dead. A body does not just disappear.” After a moment of silence, “You’re also forgetting about Dreykov’s daughter.”

The three of them freeze, hearing muffled footsteps. The ceiling suddenly explodes, creating a hole. Yelena snatches the vials, stuffing them in her bag. Yn follows her, pushing them both to the wall.

Widows are flooding into the door. Carefully peaking around the corner, Yelena sees two Widows jump down from the hole they created in the ceiling. Running across the room to a different room, Natasha grabs them both and slams them into the wall. Yelena reaches and turns the knob, making all the lights explode.

Momentarily distracted, Natasha, Yelena, and Yn take down a couple windows and makes a run out the front door. Peaking to see the other Widows, Natasha hides behind a wall as they start to shoot at her, same with Yelena. Yn grabs a grenade from Yelena’s bag and throws it downstairs to the Windows.

Running up the stairs Natasha asks, “Where are we trying to get?”

“Motorbike! East side of the building.” Yelena answers.

Jumping out the window, onto the roof, the trio try to run as fast as they could to the motorbike. Jumping and sliding down the roof. Finding a metal pole thing, Yelena quickly unlatches some screws and pushes her foot on the side of the roof, to disconnect it.

A Widow that has been chasing them jumps off the roof and onto the pole, slipping, but Natasha grabs onto her.

“I got you!” However, the Widow grabs her knife and slices Natasha’s hand, making her let go, so she falls. “No!”

The pole crashes to the side of the building, Yn and Yelena crashes into a window as Natasha falls off the side, crashing into the vents in the way.

Yelena groans and slowly gets up, using the wall for support. She limps over to where her wife is laying. “Yn, hey. Are you okay?”

“Lena, yeah. We have to go.”

Running down the stairs, out the door to where Natasha is, Yelena and Yn come to an abrupt stop, seeing her standing over a dead Widow.

Putting the vial back with the other’s being too late to free her, “Do you believe us now?” Yelena softly asks.

“How many others?”

“Enough.”

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