#beta with anger issues??? are you fucking kidding me????

[sweetlullabyebye]

Every day I wake up and remember Liam Dunbar was underdevelopped by the showrunners

#okay hear me out #his ied. #why was it never talked about more #like 1. talking about mental health in a show aimed at teenagers and young adults is so important imo #2. the way they handle it??? omg it's so bad??? #like BASIC RESEARCH would've been enough to understand the disorder and write it coherrently into the storyline but no #beta with anger issues??? are you fucking kidding me???? #the treatment of mental health in medias sometimes make me so mad #okay apart from mental health #why did they not develop anything about the lad #his interest in history? his relation with his parents? did he have friends in his old school? anything about him being good at lacrosse? #i will admit that i enjoyed most of his storyline and traits appearing with theo #like theo helping as an anchor and actually caring for his anger meanwhile the others are just like #'yeah go ahead get angry put your mental health at risk so we can do this that's great' #thiam #you get it #idk what this post is #anyways i researched more about ied and the show could've explained so much more but no bare minimum is all we get #liam dunbar #teen wolf #teen wolf liam #mental health in medias #urgh

[staytheword]

in flames

in flames — part two of the smell of roses [ ← part one → part three ] [ series masterlist ]  [ playlist ] [ general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors do NOT interact!! no real people are represented. 

•  lee know x female reader / changbin x female reader / lee know x female reader x changbin (NOT a love triangle), all other stray kids members are featured but not main characters.

• non idol au, bikers au, rivals to lovers au, small town au. inspired by sons of anarchy. (not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes/typos)

• word count: 14k (14,679)

• warnings: mentions of all sorts of illegal activities. corruption and blackmail. a lot of drinking (sometimes excessive). swearing and insulting. drug consumption (weed only). anger management problems. pyromania. mental health issues. mentions and depictions of violence. bar fights. mentions of blood, broken bones, stabbing and general violence. threatening. motorcycle pursuit. guns and gunfire (no wounds). polyamory. smut. fingering, dirty talk, slight voyeurism (hearing only), mentions of "sharing," use of pet names, making out with multiple people.

He’s put down his spoon, his elbows on the table, and is looking at you like he’s two seconds away from killing you – but you’re starting to understand that’s just his face. 

• taglist: @upallnight-s ; @ughbehavior ; @changbinluvr ; @valreadsfics ; @ppiri-bahng ; @mchslut ; @lady---boner ; you? (let me know if I forgot you, I lost my post-it note with your usernames)

The drugstore is quiet, which you are grateful for, because you can grab the morning after pill somewhat discreetly, although everyone knows everyone in this town. At least, the pharmacist is a woman you’ve never seen judge anyone, so you pay for your purchase and escape without a word. 

Once you’re outside, you breathe in the morning air. The breeze is chilly, the sun warm. It’s a beautiful day for being in complete denial of what you’ve done.

You don’t regret fucking Lee Minho. 

You regret fucking the president of the Vices Motorcycle Club. 

As if they are two different people. 

You’ve woken up determined not to erase what happened from your memory, but not acknowledging it either. It was good – great, even – but now you can move on. 

Right? 

You have a message from Seungmin telling you an order is ready for you at the hardware store, so you stop by once you finish work. You’ve been alone all day, feeling both exhausted and fearful, grateful that you didn’t have to explain your mood to your father. Oh, what’s up? Not much, Dad. Just let my greatest enemy fuck me senseless in his clubhouse last night. The usual. 

Well. Of course it sounds bad when you say it like that. 

“Hey, Min,” you smile when you enter the shop. 

You expect him to give you his usual smile, but he avoids your eyes. “Hey.” 

Without another word, he bends, grabs a bag and puts it on the counter.

“Your order. I’ll add it to your tab.”

He’s still not looking at you.

You take a step forward, taking the bag between your fingers. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

His eyes stay focused on the form he’s filling, his jaw clenched, his face closed. Something’s wrong. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he replies, but his voice is sharp and angry. 

“Seungmin…” 

He clenches his fists, seemingly trying to stay calm. Your heart is squeezed so tight in your chest it hurts. Your friend is angry at you. Really angry. And you don’t know why. 

You hope it’s not what you think. 

“Did I do –”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” he finally snaps, looking up at you. His eyes break your heart – dark and resentful. They pin you to the spot. 

“What –”

“Look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t spend the night at the Vices’ clubhouse last night.”

You swallow. Your throat is dry. Oh no.

“Yeah,” Seungmin chuckles bitterly. “You really thought no one would notice? That no one would see you? It’s all over fucking town. I had to hear it from my mother.” 

Your cheeks burn with shame. “Min, I…” 

“How did you think I felt hearing her tell me that you, my friend, the one who was always the first to support me in hating these guys, spent her evening cuddled up with their president, drinking beer and watching a goddamned movie?” 

“I was going to tell you,” you mutter, shaking. “I can explain. It just happened, it…” 

Seungmin sighs. “I don’t even want to hear your excuses.”

“Please just hear me out. Minho invited me, and I –”

Seungmin’s eyes widen and you realize that is the worst thing to say.

“Minho?” he repeats. 

You bite your lip. You feel it slip it out of your hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“This must be a fucking joke. Are you friends now?” 

The thing you hate the most about yourself is that you’re an open book. So of course your friend reads it on your face. Of course he does. 

“Wow,” he lets you, his voice completely flat, and it’s even worse than the anger. “Are you… Are you fucking him?” 

“Seungmin,” you plead pathetically. 

“You know what these guys did to my mother, how scared she is, and you do that? Above all things, you do that? What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

“I told you, it just happened, and it didn’t mean anything, I swear,” you cry out.

“Get the fuck out of my shop.” 

His voice is ice cold. It sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Get your shit,” he enunciates, “and leave.”

You look into your friend’s eyes, but there is nothing. You feel his disgust, his spite, his disappointment – and each is a digger sinking into your already bleeding heart. You know it’s useless to argue. You don’t have any excuses. 

So you look away, and then you walk away, avoiding the sight of your reflection in the shop’s window as you go along it. 

Hyunjin calls your name, but you ignore him. You throw a middle finger behind you and keep walking. Your steps are far from straight, but you don’t care. 

You’re too drunk to care about anything, which was the whole point. 

It’s bitter cold outside and you’re not dressed for it, because you barely feel it. All you know is you have to find a place that will serve you alcohol, since Rossi’s will not. You’ve been there for the past hours, asking for drink after drink until Hyunjin started to glare at you, only to eventually say you’ve had enough. 

You managed to argue for another one but then he had shaken his head. I’m getting you home. You snarled at him. No.

Who cares, anyway? 

You didn’t have anything.

You didn’t have anyone. 

You were a mess. 

“Y/N!” Hyunjin calls again. He’s stepped outside the bar and watches you go. He can’t follow you – he’s the only one on the clock tonight – but you know he’s hesitating. 

As you keep walking away, you hear the faint sound of his voice, but it’s not addressed to you. Maybe he’s calling someone. Ha. Joke’s on him – no one will want to come and get you. You don’t care.  

You stumble through town until you finally get to another bar. You rarely go there because it’s not really your crowd – they don’t have the liquors you like and instead of the music you can hear at Rossi’s, they show sports matches. It seems like it’s football night because the place is crowded, but you push through the crowd until you get to the bar, where you ask for a drink. 

You down two shots of whiskey and ask for a beer. You’re not a football fan, you don’t even know what teams are playing, but you still cheer with everyone else. A few guys invite you to their table, and you let them pay for another drink. 

One has his arm around your shoulder. You faintly recall he’s a construction worker – not like you care who he is. He gives you attention and you relish in it, playing hard to get. He leans towards you and slides his hand on your thigh, which he rubs not so gently, and you’re so deep in your self-hatred you consider letting him do whatever he wants to you. 

It’s not like you want to feel something. 

Quite the opposite. 

His lips are on your neck, and you smell his breath and you close your eyes. 

“What the fuck?” someone close to you says. “What are they doing here?” 

Your eyes flutter open, the guy against you pressing himself against your ass. 

“Dude, I think…” 

A hand grabs the guy by the collar. Another collides with his nose – it snaps in a loud noise. You blink, unstable on your feet. 

You’ve seen this scene before – except last time, Minho just let Jisung go.

He doesn’t this time. 

There’s blood and screams and crunching noises. 

It’s not just Minho, it’s a bunch of them, all in their leather vests, fighting against the thigh-guy and his friends. You see him, his silver hair a mess, fists tight in anger, blood sprayed on his beautiful face.

Changbin crushes a guy’s skull against the bar. 

Chris is fighting two guys at once and winning.

Jisung shatters a bottle against someone’s head and is shoving the shards in his chest. 

You stagger and someone holds you up. Felix. 

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice deep, guiding you gently towards the exit. 

You can’t comprehend a single thing that is happening – but you follow him outside, squeezing his hand so hard you’re sure you’re hurting him. From up close, you see he has long eyelashes and so many freckles you keep losing count. 

You both enter a car. A taxi, you imagine. You don’t notice. 

“Felix,” you slur, slumped against him. “Felix.”

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Why do you like fire so much?” 

You’re not articulate in the slightest and you wonder how he understands you, but he does. He chuckles. 

“Because it’s alive.” 

You stare back at him. “That’s beautiful.” 

He smiles. “I agree, Y/N.”

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Home.”

“Ugh,” you groan. “I don’t want to.” You start to struggle against him, but he just chuckles.

“Not your home, Y/N. Ours.” 

You’re surprised but strangely delighted, so you stop arguing. Instead, you start asking Felix questions about fire – how long it takes for this or that to burn, what is his favorite thing to set fire to. It’s not a long ride, or maybe it is, you have no idea. Felix doesn’t even pay the taxi, if it even is one, and helps you out of the car. 

A small house stands in front of you. It looks modest and even desolate but still cozy. You head towards the house, and Felix holds you up and it’s a good thing because your legs barely work, your brain even less. 

“Will you show me a fire trick?” you ask him. 

“I have to get you to bed first, otherwise the boss will be mad.” 

“Ooh,” you chuckle mischievously. “We wouldn’t want him to get mad, right?” 

Felix shares a knowing look with you. He guides you inside the house, which is plunged in darkness, so you don’t see anything. You just stumble through the corridors and doors until Felix helps you sit on a bed. You bring your legs against you, rubbing your eyes. 

“What happened back there?” you ask. 

Felix shrugs. “Just some scores that needed settling. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Did you know I was there?” 

“Yeah,” Felix answers carefully. “Hyunjin said you might need a lift home.” 

You gasp loudly. “You know Hyun?” 

“Everybody knows everyone in this town, Y/N. You should know that.” 

“Yes, but how?” 

Felix indulges you, playing with his pack of matchsticks. He tells you the old story of how he met Hyunjin. He had just lost his parents in a car accident. Hyunjin’s parents owned the funeral place, and they had talked a lot the day of the burial. Hyunjin had been the one to tell him all the right things. They stayed good friends, though they didn’t talk every day. 

When he’s done, you have tears running down your cheeks. “That’s so beautiful. I’m so sorry about your parents…”

“That’s ok, Y/N. It was years ago.” 

“My dad must be so ashamed of me,” you moan, sobs shaking your shoulders.

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?” 

You’re not sure that advice applies to Temperance, but you’re too drunk to realize it. Instead, you smile at Felix. 

“Let’s play with fire together.” 

You both sit down on the floor, and he brings a variety of things to show you how fast they burn. You’re both giggling like teenagers when the front door of the house opens to let in a few people, their heavy boots making the floorboards shake. 

“Felix?!” a voice calls.

“Here, boss.” 

He stands up just in time for Minho to appear, but although you’ve sobered up, you’re still too drunk to move quickly – Felix’s speed almost makes you dizzy. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Minho asks. 

“Just – I was –”

“I told you to get her in bed,” Minho hisses.

“She kept talking to me,” Felix mutters. “Besides, she’s here safe, right? That’s what you wanted. We were just talking.” 

You had forgotten about the matchstick you were holding, and the burn stings your finger before you let it go. 

“Aouch, FUCK,” you snarl. 

“Safe, huh?” Minho says. 

Felix bows his head, but Minho only sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Yongbok. You can go.” 

A second later you are alone with Minho – he crouches next to you. 

“Hey, Trouble.”

You smile drunkenly at him, pointing at his cheek. “You have something here.” 

“That’s called blood.”

You pout. “Ew.” 

“Be grateful it’s not brains.” 

He says it lightly, and his face looks so gentle, it’s a brutal contrast with the blood on his cheeks and fingers, that you notice as he cups your cheek. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Fantastic,” you answer. 

“Y/N.” 

You’re pretty sure – but you’re very drunk – that it’s the first time he’s called you by your name. Not Trouble. Not doll. Your name. 

You bite your lip. “It should feel like a mistake,” you whisper. “But it doesn’t.” 

“Life’s too short for regrets, doll,” he says. “Your true friends will come around.” 

You look up at him, eyes burning with exhaustion and tears. “Is everyone okay?” 

“Jisung got a nasty cut, but he’ll be fine. Don’t worry about him.” 

“And Changbin?” you ask. 

Minho smiles. “Changbin’s fine.” 

“Okay.” 

After a second, he takes you gently in his arms, lifting you up. He helps you remove your shoes and your clothes – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before, anyway. He hands you a t-shirt, which feels soft against your skin, and you lay down in bed afterwards, slipping under the covers, and he strokes your hair. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

“Hm?” 

“This is my room.” 

“Oh,” you chuckle. “So this is the squeaky bed?”

With a mischievous smile, you start to rock your body – and just as expected, the bed squeaks, the headboard slamming into the wall. You snicker. 

“That’s very loud.” 

“Told you,” he says with a wink, closing the lamp on the bedside table. 

You instinctively close your eyes, and the darkness almost instantly puts you to sleep – you’re just conscious long enough to feel a kiss on your forehead, and in response, you whisper Minho’s name and wish him good night. 

When you open your eyes in the early hours of the morning, you are not alone. There is a warm body against yours, an arm around your hips, a breath against your neck. The blinds are drawn, but pale light pierces through enough for you to see around you. You blink, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Your mouth opens in a yawn, and you slowly turn on your back. 

Minho is still asleep, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a tangled mess in front of his eyes. His mouth is slightly open, letting you glimpse at his cute teeth – he looks so young. So kind. So beautiful. 

He takes your breath away.

You would have thought you’d be bothered to wake up next to him, but you’re really not. You even find yourself smiling fondly, playing with his hair a little. His hand has fallen on your stomach, warm and heavy. His arm is still bandaged from the other day. His scar is pink, and you want to kiss it. Like you, he’s dressed – it’s weird to see him in just a plain t-shirt, though. His bed is not very big, so you have no choice but to stay close. You take a few seconds to look at him, trying really hard not to let your thoughts wander, but it’s hard. 

You used to see the leather cut, and the leather cut only.

Then you saw Lee Minho, president of the Vices. 

Now, you just see Minho – and yet, he’s all of those things at once. 

It’s silly. There’s no future with Minho. You don’t even want that – he just makes you feel good right now. Not an old lady type of guy, he said. 

You need to go. You need a glass of water, something to eat, and a shower. You’re working this afternoon. You have a life to get back to.

Sort of. 

You think about your father. About Seungmin. About Hyunjin. 

What do they think of you? 

Not much, you tell yourself.

You inhale slowly, chasing the thoughts from your head. You can’t apologize for who you are. You’ll apologize for the hurt you’ve caused them because you feel awful about it. But you can’t be sorry for who you are, as messed up as that person is. 

Gently, you take Minho’s hand to put it aside so you can leave the bed, but when it’s barely in the air, his fingers sprawl around yours and clutch them. 

“Hmm.” 

He guides your hands, intertwined, towards his lips, and places a soft kiss on your fingers. It’s a good thing you’re laying down because your legs turn to melted butter.  

“Am I pretty when I sleep?” he asks.

You scoff. “You look like a little bunny.” 

“Bunnies are cute, aren’t they?” he says, his voice hoarse, opening his eyes slowly. 

“Sometimes.” 

He smiles lazily at you. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fine, I think.” 

“I slept more than fine. That sweet ass was right against my dick, keeping it warm.” 

You shake your head with a sigh, although there’s an obvious smile on your face. “You start early.”  

“I just never stop.” 

He was inches away from your lips, so it’s not a stretch or a surprise when he steals a kiss. You think you must look terrible, smell foul, but he clearly doesn’t care. His tongue slips into your mouth, curling against yours, and you can’t help but arch your back, wriggling closer.

“I have a question,” you breathe. 

“You start early,” he teases. 

“Your scar,” you ask. “What happened?” 

He gives you a long look, but his smile doesn’t go away. 

“It’s a long story, Trouble. I’ll tell you around a drink.” 

You nod in agreement. 

His hand leaves yours, slipping down your chest to grab your breast, teasing your nipple above the material. You shudder against his lips, breathing heavily, forgetting everything about what you should be doing. You love lazy morning sex, and Minho is offering you just that. 

“When I came to bed last night,” he breathes, his other hand sliding inside your underwear to caress you. You hiss, bucking your lips. You hadn’t been particularly aroused, but his touch is making quick work of it. “And saw you there in my bed, your hair a mess, that sweet mouth of yours parted…” He slips a finger inside of you, tentatively, and you moan. “Fuck, I wanted to slide between your legs and wake you up by devouring you.” 

“Minho…” You’re breathing hard. Your hand cups his ass before you start to stroke him above his boxers. He’s still soft, but you feel him harden against your touch. 

“Maybe we can try it sometimes?” he pants. 

“Yeah,” you agree, moaning softly. 

“Or would you prefer waking up with my dick caressing you instead of my tongue? Once you’re awake, you can moan for me, and I’ll fill you.” 

You’re hazy with sleep and your hangover and his words are making you lose control. He has a few fingers inside you now, and you’re soaked and in need of him – and so is he, by the way his length throbs in your hand. 

“Do you have –” 

You weren’t safe the other day – but this morning you need to be. 

“As you wish, doll,” he nods. 

He rolls over so he lays above you, sitting up to reach inside his bedside table drawer. He slips on the condom, raises one of your legs, and enters you. You gasp softly, your body adjusting, and he starts to roll his hips. 

His bed is very noisy, but you hope it’s early enough so that his roommates won’t be bothered. You’re too into the moment to really care, anyway, your arms around Minho’s neck, his breath mingling with yours. 

“That’s so good,” you whisper. “You fuck me so good.” 

“Tell me, baby doll,” he sighs. “Tell me how much you like it.” 

You do, in his ear, against his neck, around his lips. His thrusts are deep and measured, hitting you in all the right spots. His bed is like background music and you feel your mind unravel. You’re so close to coming, and you tell him not to stop. He grabs your chin, more gently than he has before.

“Look at me,” he whispers. “Open your eyes and look at me as you come around me.” 

You’re lost in the daze but you manage to open your eyes, finding his wide open – they catch yours and hold you there. You can barely moan anymore, your breath caught in your throat. 

Minho lifts your hips slightly, angling your body so he can go deeper, and that finishes you – you come like a roar of thunder after lightning strikes. 

“God, that feels good,” he groans, slowing down just to accelerate again. His breath hitches, and he pulls out, stroking himself as he comes. 

You let your head sink further into the pillow, your mind completely empty. Minho falls beside you, kissing your shoulder. You need a shower, you need to go home. But you just want to sleep again – and you do, just for a while, until the sun is bright and warm. 

It’s a quiet life you’re living. 

You wake up alone, go to work, come back to your apartment, and go to sleep alone. 

Seungmin still doesn’t talk to you. Your dad and you avoid each other as much as you can. Only Hyunjin still feels like your friend, but you’re scared it’s just to keep an eye on you – so much you barely go to Rossi’s anymore. 

You haven’t seen Minho in a while. 

You heard he’s busy. The pick-up driver Changbin put in the hospital decided to press charges, another police department behind his back – apparently the beat-up happened out of Temperance lines – and it’s a whole mess. 

Changbin is in jail, temporarily, until everything is figured out. 

You don’t want to bother anyone. 

But you’re worried. 

About Minho. About Changbin. About all of them. 

You hate the feeling. 

Never were you supposed to get attached. 

One night, you’re in tears, your body trembling from confusion and loneliness. You’ve inhaled some weed but the smoke just made it worse. You wander in your apartment but you grow too restless and can’t stare at the walls anymore. So you grab a hoodie and your keys and you seek refuge outside. 

You want to see Seungmin. You want him to tell you, with this steady voice of his, that you’ll pull through. But your friend is out of reach. 

So in the fog of self-doubt, your feet lead you to Hyunjin. You’re ashamed, but you still go. It’s late, and you look terrible, with your red eyes and your tear-stained face. You don’t care. 

Hyunjin opens his door, wearing a tank top and boxers. From the state of his hair, you’ve pulled him out of bed. He rubs his eyes, frowning. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hey,” you say, voice breaking. “I woke you up, right?” 

“It’s fine. Seo-ah is still asleep, though.”

You nod. “I’m sorry, I just…” You sigh. “Fuck, why am I here?” 

You shake your head. You’re high, you feel sick, and you can’t stop crying. Hyunjin puts a hand on your shoulder, pulling you inside his apartment. 

“Did something happen?” he asks, his voice tense. 

“No, I just… I don’t…”

You let out a whimper, falling against his shoulder.  

“I don’t feel so good, Hyun.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you sob quietly. 

“Why are you sorry? C’mon, don’t be silly,” he asks, stroking his hair. “Sit down.” 

You listen to him, and he sits with you. Instantly, you feel better - you just need someone to hold you. 

After you calm down, he heats some food up for you, like he knows you haven’t eaten correctly in a while and talks with you as you eat. His eyes are stable. His presence is soothing. He calms your tears just by being here, and listens to you as you tell him everything. How you’re ashamed and not at all, how you miss Minho and not at all, how you wish for Seungmin’s forgiveness and not at all, because you don’t deserve it.  

Hyunjin strokes your hair as you cry and tells you you’re not a bad person. 

You wish you could believe him. 

It’s only noon, and you have nothing to do. 

Your father is taking care of the shop this afternoon, and he’s insisted you go home because you look tired. You didn’t have strength to argue with him, so you agreed. 

Now you’re walking around town aimlessly, not wanting to go home, trying to resist going by the clubhouse to see if anyone’s there.

It’s been a while. Weeks.

You’re not sure. 

As you walk, you inhale deeply, the sun warm on your face. You decide to stop and get yourself an iced coffee, and it helps with the headache – but it soothes nothing else. 

You decide to head home for a nap when you spy blue hair ahead of you on the sidewalk. 

Your heart clenches in your chest. 

“Jisung!” you call, accelerating your step.

He keeps on walking, seemingly not having heard you, and he’s quick, so you have to speed up. 

“HAN JISUNG,” you yell out, and finally he slows down and you’re able to catch up with him.

“Oh, Y/N,” he says. He’s not wearing his cut, which is odd. Just a white shirt and jeans – he looks strangely normal. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.” 

Any of you, you bite down.

“Right,” Jisung says, blinking excruciatingly slowly. “It’s been a little busy.”

“I heard…” 

Jisung gives you a smile. “I have somewhere to be, but if you want to meet up later we can. I really need to get high.” 

“You and me both,” you sigh. “Come to my place?” 

You make plans for later, and although the knot in your stomach remains, it feels a little looser. Before you head home, you go to the grocery store, grabbing beer and snacks. You take a shower, change, and start pacing. 

Jisung, of course, arrives 48 minutes later than the time he gave you, but you’re relieved to see him, to have company, you don’t even bring it up. 

You sit on your couch, music playing in the background. He starts to fill his glass pipe and you munch on Cheetos.

“How is he doing?” you ask Jisung when he mentions Changbin. 

He shrugs. “Okay, I think. Jail is no joke but we have friends there. Vice’ll be fine.” 

He lifts his eyes to give you a smile. 

“I’ll tell him you’re thinking of him. That ought to help.” 

You slap Jisung’s shoulder so hard some weed spills on the ground. 

“I swear if you say anything, Han Jisung…”

“Careful with the weed, dude,” he just chuckles, continuing his task. 

You bite your lip. “What about Minho? He’s not in town, is he?” 

“No,” Jisung says, shaking his head. “He’s laying low.”

“Like in a safe house?” 

“Something like that.” 

You moan, wriggling on the couch.

“C’mon, Ji, give me something.” 

“If it is a safe house, then telling you about what would defeat the purpose, right? You ask too many questions.” 

“Tell me about it,” you groan. 

“He’s fine, Y/N,” Jisung grins. “Think about it this way. When he comes back, the distance will just make the sex better, right?” 

You scoff at him, shaking your head. 

“What happened to you, Ji?” you say. “Where have you been all those years? Will you ever tell me?”

“I would, but I barely remember it myself.” 

You know he’s half-joking, but you decide not to insist. You don’t need to know, anyway - and you find it’s an enthralling thing about him for his past to remain a mystery. Instead, you start talking about random things, exchanging the pipe to take your hits. The weed is very good quality, so you feel yourself drift away quickly. 

It’s a night of snacks, laughter and smoke. 

You wake up the next morning, still on the couch, Jisung sprawled on the floor. He looks like a baby when he sleeps. You shake him slowly, just in case he has somewhere he needs to be. He sniffles, mumbling something about an appointment, and he leaves your apartment with his eyes only half open.

The next day, someone walks in the shop looking confused. It’s a delivery driver, and he’s holding a single rose. You recognize the name on his baseball cap - it’s a flower shop from a nearby town. You arch an eyebrow at him. 

“Can I… help you?”

“Are you Y/N?” he asks, glancing at his phone. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

He shrugs, like he gives up on trying to make sense of the situation, and hands you the rose. 

“Delivery for you.” 

“You’re delivering flowers to a flower shop, you know that, right?” 

He shakes his head. “Just doing my job.” 

“Right. Thanks.” 

You take the rose. It’s the color of blood, so dark it almost looks black. Its thorns are sharp. You glance at the label. 

Heard you were worried.

Cute.

Don’t cause too much trouble without me. 

You can’t hold back your smile.

It’s a beautiful night. A light breeze, an indigo sky. 

You arrive in front of the Vices’ house. It’s as you remember, except all the lights are on, and you can hear faint music coming from inside. You walk slowly to the door, feeling strangely nervous. 

Jisung wrote that morning. 

Vice is getting out. We’re back. Party at 10. 

It’s been weeks - and they almost feel like a dream. But you’re just happy to see them again, thrilled at the idea of being a little less alone. 

You miss Minho. All of them, even. But mostly Minho.

You’ve dressed up a little for him. Fishnet tights, a black dress. 

You’re pretty sure he’s going to like it. 

The door opens on Jisung, who hurries you inside. 

“We’re getting the cake,” he explains, guiding you into the living room. People are chanting something like happy you-got-out-of-jail-day and you find yourself joining them. You catch Minho’s eyes from across the room. He looks tired but happy. Relieved. 

Changbin has a smile on his face when they place the cake in front of him – you’d never see him smile before and you think it really suits him. He looks even more tired than Minho, his hair is longer, the circles under his eyes dark. But he’s smiling. 

There are no candles on the cake. Apparently Felix stole them all one night for an experiment and forgot to buy more. 

Changbin chuckles, applauding with the rest. Then he looks up at you, and you give him a warm smile. He echoes it with a nod, eyes sparkling. 

The crowd breaks around him and you just laugh with Jisung, who gets you something to drink, and you promise to share a few hits later. You stand there quietly, a few minutes later, when Minho walks up to you. His grin is mischievous. 

“My little Trouble,” he says. “It’s good to see you.” 

“How do I look?” you say, turning around to show the outfit you’ve carefully selected.

“Like a fucking treat.” 

His hand slides across your thigh, softly stretching the fishnets you’re wearing. 

“I can’t wait to rip those later.” 

You laugh, and he throws an arm around your shoulder like you’ve seen each other only yesterday. You want to ask about the past weeks, but they are clearly in mind to celebrate, and you don’t want to ruin the mood – so you just let yourself be carried away by the festivities. 

You drink a little, not too much – you want to keep your senses close to you. You still get a hit with Jisung as promised and then decide to cook mac and cheese with him, but you both forget to turn on the stove and the saucepan is quickly forgotten. 

You’re squeezed between Felix, who is whispering to a giggly Cherry, and Minho. You mostly listen to their conversations, feeling both out of place and like you belong there. It’s an odd feeling, but you’re soothed by it. 

Changbin is right in front of you. 

There’s a new tattoo on his arm. 

He keeps smiling. 

You can’t help but stare at him. You don’t know what it is, but you’re hypnotized. There’s just something about him tonight you can’t get enough of. 

It might be the way he’s holding the girl next to him, stroking her thigh.

You look at his fingers, the rings he has on them, and you suddenly imagine them in your mouth. Focus. The weed must be getting to you. You let out a giggle and try to focus on something else. 

Time passes and you find yourself glancing at Changbin again – he and the girl have started making out. You’re just in time to see him grabbing her head and swirling his tongue inside her mouth, and you have to clench your jaw to stop your whimper from escaping your lips. Discreetly, you cross your legs, applying just a little bit of pressure. You’ve been a little touch starved, but damn. You need to get yourself together. 

Luckily Minho never lets out of his grasp for long, either stroking your hair or softly caressing the skin inside the little squares of your fishnets. You have to promise you’ll be right back when you stand up to go to the bathroom. 

The house is not too big so it’s easy to find your way around. You find the bathroom and grip the door’s handle – but you stop. Since the music is quieter here, you can hear faint noises coming from another room. You glare at said door. It’s unmistakable – the sighs, the moans, the thumping. People are fucking. You remember Changbin grabbing the girl’s hand and leading her away. Oh.

Oh. 

You shouldn’t – you really shouldn’t, but fuck it, you still do. You approach the door on tiptoes, although you’re convinced they’re not going to hear you by all the noises they’re making. Well, her, mostly – but it seems like you can hear muffled groans that are more masculine than feminine. You put your ear against the door, listening. Faster, Vice, she says, and you bite your lip like your life depends on it. 

You can’t resist. You listen. 

She tells him to go harder. He slaps her skin – you can only guess where. When her moans start to annoy you, they suddenly get muffled, and you imagine Changbin’s hand around her mouth, quieting her. You close your eyes, your fingers going between your legs to just press your sensitivity. 

“Really, Trouble? I didn’t expect you to be a voyeur.” 

You spin around, both of your hands going on your hips, your face on fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I’m not,” you scoff. “I was just…”

Minho raises an eyebrow, approaching you slowly.

“…making sure no one was getting killed in there. Noises were weird.”  

“Hmm, hmm,” he nods, stopping an inch away from your face. 

“Turns out, she’s fine. Just fucking,” you chuckle. 

Minho just stares at you, and you scowl. 

“Fine,” you snarl. “So what? I was just curious.”

“Our Vice certainly seems to have caught your attention, doll,” Minho says. “Did something happen between you two? You’ve been thirsting on him all night.”

“Wha – I have not been –”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eyefuck him,” Minho sighs. “Pressing those little legs together. Your cheeks have been red all night.” 

You slide your tongue against your inner cheek, but your shoulders roll back. It’s no use with Minho anymore. “Was I that obvious?” you admit in defeat. 

“Not to the casual observer,” he shrugs. “But I keep a very concerned eye on you. I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

You play with your fingers, biting your lip. 

“Does it… bother you?” 

“That you’re interested in him?” 

“You have cockblocked me twice before,” you sigh. “You said nobody touched what was yours.” 

Minho laughs, pushing away a strand of your hair. He smells like burnt wood and whiskey. “That doesn’t apply to Vice. He’s the only one I can share with.” 

You arch an eyebrow. “Really? Why?” 

“No particular reason. It’s just like that.” 

He leans towards you, starts kissing your neck, and you close your eyes although your mind is elsewhere. You could say you’ve forgotten how soft his lips feel against your skin, but that would be a lie. “So you… You wouldn’t…”

“Mind if you made a move on him? No, doll. By all means. I’m sure he’d oblige. We have similar taste in women and I caught him staring at your ass several times tonight.”

You sigh softly, leaning into him, your hands sliding against his waist to pull him closer. Then you realize what this could sound like, and you blush furiously, putting a finger on his chest to push him away – just enough so you can look at his face. 

“Not that I need your permission to do anything,” you precise.

“I would never think that about you, doll. You’re like me – you go get what you want. So if you want Vice, go for it.” 

“Maybe later,” you breathe. “Right now I need a fucking drink.” 

“I wish you didn’t say that last word.” 

You give him a slap on the chest. “Maybe later,” you repeat. “Besides, what are you doing here? I said I needed to pee.” 

“I thought you might want company.” 

“Jesus Christ, Minho, you’re like a cat. Leave me go to the bathroom alone.” 

He moans, pouting slightly. He grabs your head, biting your shoulder. You gasp at the feeling. “I’m starving for you, doll. That body… those moans through your lips.”

His hands slide over your body. 

“I want to fuck you over the bathroom sink.” 

You shudder. You have to admit the noises coming from the next room have turned you on – and you haven’t seen Minho in a while, let alone had any action. Also, the thought of fucking right next door to Changbin excites you even more.

So you open the bathroom door and whisper to Minho to follow you inside. 

“It’s, hm… It’s good to see you.” 

You instantly regret opening your mouth, but it’s too late. Changbin raises his head to look at you from the other side of the table, his spoon hanging above his bowl of cereal. He’s not smiling anymore, but he feels less threatening. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent enough time with him – but you’re still scared. Even with his hair all over the place and his eyes not yet rubbed out of sleep, he looks like he could snap you in half and not blink. He just has that energy about him. 

“Right,” he lets out eventually, but his voice sounds uncertain, like he didn’t know what to say. 

You smile awkwardly at him, taking a bite from your toast. “You must be happy to be home.” 

You have no idea why you’re trying to make conversation with Changbin of all people, but here you are. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Much better than jail.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. “I can imagine.” 

“Can you?” 

You stare at him, frozen. He’s said it in such a low voice, almost threatening, and you’re terrified you’ve just said the worst thing possible, because of course you can’t imagine what he’s been through, or what jail is like, so you stammer – and then Changbin winks at you. 

“Just fucking with you,” he states. 

You close your mouth, which had been stupidly opened. You scoff. “Jerk.” 

You’re not looking at him so you can’t be sure, but you’re pretty sure you spy a smirk on his lips – which he hides by taking a spoonful of cereal. 

“I heard you asked about me.” 

You feel your cheeks redden. “Who told you that?” 

“Jisung.” 

“That son of a bitch, I swear…” 

“A part of me was expecting a visit.” 

You eye him, arching an eyebrow. “Woah there. Wouldn’t go that far.” 

“What are you doing tonight?” 

He’s put down his spoon, his elbows on the table, and is looking at you like he’s two seconds away from killing you – but you’re starting to understand that’s just his face. 

“I – nothing. Why?” 

“I have to drive next town over for a spare part for my dad’s bike,” he explains. “You want to come with me?” 

“By drive, you mean…” 

“Have you ever seen me drive a car?” 

You must admit he’s right. 

“Sure,” you answer. “Why not. I close the shop at 6.” 

“I’ll pick you up there.” 

You open your mouth to tell him no, that you’ll meet somewhere else, because you don’t want people to see you, but you stop yourself. It’s useless, anyway. Not only are people going to find out anyway, but everyone already knows. 

Once you’re done with breakfast, you head outside and walk back home. It’s a long way but you don’t mind – the sun warms your face, the breeze airing your neck. You've borrowed – well, stolen, you’ve decided – a t-shirt from Minho, so it doesn’t feel at all like a walk of shame. You’re just going home. 

Home, with your heart strangely full.

When you step out of the shop, later that day, the breeze is gone and it’s just hot. You instantly start to sweat because of the humidity, and you’re grateful to only be wearing shorts and a light t-shirt. You turn to lock the door, making sure everything is secured, and as you do, the roar of an engine fills your ears. 

Strange, how it no longer fills you with spite. 

It almost makes you smile.

It almost soothes you. 

Changbin slows down and stops his bike in front of you and you almost faint at the sight of him. Your throat dries, your legs wobble. 

The arms. 

Because Changbin is only wearing a tank top underneath his cut, his arms are entirely visible to you. Stretched on the handles, you can trace the lines of his muscles, lifelines dug into his skin. They outline the curve of a bicep, the angle of an elbow, and swerve all the way to his hands. You stare at his fingers, gripped around the handles, his usual rings shining in the sun. 

His helmet covers his black hair. He’s wearing sunglasses.

And, for the love of heaven, he’s wearing leather pants. 

Is he trying to drive you mad?

Because it’s working.

“Hi,” you say pathetically. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Is he chewing gum?

How can chewing gum be so attractive?

Is this a trap? 

“Yeah,” you answer, your voice a little high-pitched. 

“Do you have your sunglasses like I told you?”

“Yep.” You take them out of your bag and slip them on.

He tells you to put your stuff in the saddles and you do before you get on the bike. Your legs are shaking and you’re sure you’ll fall on your ass, but you make it there. Behind Changbin. Against him.

“Tell me if you need a break,” he says, and you nod. 

You used to dislike motorcycles for the sake of it, because they were how the Vices drove around, because they reminded you of them. Now, you’re not so sure, because when Changbin says that, you think to yourself, I could stay here all night. You could drive me to the stars and back, and I’d never let go. 

Changbin’s got his spare part, and you’re driving home. The night has fallen, the sky deep black. You’re driving on a scenic road, so there’s not much light except for the occasional streetlight. The asphalt trails alongside the mountains, and it smells like leaves, like wind, like leather. You breathe in tranquility, your cheek against Changbin’s back. Your hands are crossed around him. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of him in one of his rearview mirrors. He looks so peaceful. 

He slows down suddenly and stops at a viewpoint, which is just a patch of unpaved road at a curve. He stops the engine, and you take the cue, getting off the bike. You shiver a little, because it’s colder now that the sun has set, and Changbin lays something heavy on your shoulders. 

His cut. 

You glance up at him in shock, but he doesn’t say anything - so, neither do you. You slide your arms through it. 

You expect disgust, or even just a shudder, but there’s nothing. 

The both of you walk to the rail, staring at the distance. There’s no noise except for the sound of the wind in the trees. 

“Look up,” Changbin says to you, pointing to the sky. 

You do - and as a cloud rolls away from another, you see a patch of pitch black, covered in tiny stars. It’s so beautiful it steals your breath, and you stare in awe. You’re silent for a few minutes. 

“Puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?” he simply states.

You find yourself nodding. “It really does.” 

You turn to him, looking at his profile. He let his bike’s lights open, and they set dancing shadows upon his face. You’re so entranced, you forget to be reasonable, and soon he glances back at you. You don’t look away, though - you really can’t. He’s so different from Minho, and yet so similar. They’re like two sides of the same coin, you think to yourself. The arrogant and the angry. 

The talkative and the silent.

You think about what Minho said. 

We have the same taste in women. 

A spark passes in your eyes. Changbin catches it. 

His hand slides on your cheek. His rings are cold against your skin. You lift your heels to meet him halfway. 

His lips are warm. You shiver against them, his other arm hugging your waist to urge you closer. Your hands grip his shoulders, and you sigh in his mouth as his tongue teases yours. 

He leans you against the rail, but you’re not afraid of falling. 

He’s holding you tight.

Your fingers drift on his arms, on his chest. His trace your ass. Your hips. 

His mouth leaves yours. He breathes heavily. 

You open your eyes to see him, jaw clenched, shaking his head. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask in a small voice.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. Let’s not do this.” 

He steps away, walks back to his bike. He doesn’t look angry, so you don’t ask if it’s your fault. You don’t feel like it is. You hope it isn’t. 

You follow him carefully, taking the helmet you left on the seat to put it back. 

“Now,” he says quietly. 

“Huh?” 

“I mean now. Let’s not do this now.”

You look at him, registering the words. It takes you a second, your heart faltering, before you put a prudent hand on Changbin’s arm.

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

He gives you a surprised look, then softens. After you give him a smile, he nods, and you drive away without another word.

He gets you home, and you thank him for the evening. Before you go, you put a kiss on his cheek. 

It’s an extremely slow day at work, and you’re in no mood to be productive, so you’re on your phone scrolling at memes when Minho enters. You don’t even have time to welcome him, he just strolls to your counter, flashes a smile, and tells you he needs a modest but tasteful bouquet – and he’s in a hurry.

You show him to ones you’ve prepared. He takes the first, hands you a few bills and walks out without another word. You stare at his back, shaking your head. He’s exhausting, and you’re a little pissed he hasn’t asked you how you are, but your stupid face can’t help but smile. 

Later that afternoon, you get a text from Seungmin and raise an eyebrow. 

Mininie 

Are you busy tonight? I need to talk to you

You

?? Sure. You want to get a drink?

Mininie

Rossi’s at 9

You agree to the plans, feeling both confused and anxious. There was no way Seungmin would’ve done that if it wasn’t important. You rack your brain, trying to think about what mess you’ve made recently, but there’s nothing that really stands out. You haven’t talked since the last time – you’ve left him alone like he promised. Should you have reached out? Is he mad you haven’t? 

You groan, exhausted of yourself. 

When you get to Rossi’s, Hyunjin is alone behind the bar. He nods towards a booth to his left, and you spy Seungmin’s brown hair. You approach him slowly, biting your lip. 

“Hey,” you say once you’re standing in front of him.

He glances at you and you can’t read him and it’s making you nervous.

“Hey,” he replies. “Sit down.” 

He waves at Hyunjin, pulling two fingers up. 

“Two pints, Hyun.” 

The latter nods and then gives you a glare – don’t fuck up, he seems to tell you. You want to pull your tongue at him but you feel that might be a little impolite to do in front of Seungmin. 

“Min, listen, I know I should’ve…” 

“Did you tell them something?” he says, cutting you off. 

He doesn’t sound mad, but he doesn’t sound happy either. Your heartbeat accelerates. 

“What? Tell who?” 

“The Vices. Have you talked to them about my mom?” 

You feel the blood drain from your face, and you stammer. “Wha – why are you – did something happen?” 

“They visited her today. At her house.” 

“What?” 

“She called me as soon as she saw the bikes because she was scared,” Seungmin explains. “When I got there she was having tea with Lee Minho, a huge smile across her face.” 

You try your best not to burst out laughing. “Tea?” you repeat.

Seungmin nods. “Tea.” 

You bite your lips really hard, but you can’t hold it back. You can’t. It doesn’t help that even Seungmin seems seconds away from bursting out that loud laugh of his. A snicker escapes your lips, and you close your eyes, inhaling slowly. 

Hyunjin appears right then, setting down two full beers on the table, eyeing you both for a few seconds before he quietly turns around. 

You breathe out.

“She said he came to apologize,” Seungmin says after taking the first sip of his drink. “That he had never wanted to scare her, and they felt terrible about it. That they just wanted her to feel safe and protected – that it was the whole point of them being around.” 

“Oh.” 

“I thought to myself, it could just be a sudden change of heart, but he’d brought a bouquet of flowers with him, for my mom,” Seungmin adds, arching an eyebrow.

“What does that – oh. Oh.”

Seungmin nods. “So you see why I wanted to talk to you.” 

You shake your head. 

“Min, I swear. I never asked them to do that. I’m just as confused as you.” 

It takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts. You’ve only mentioned Seungmin to a handful of people, because you needed to talk about your falling out. Hyunjin. Jisung, a little. Where did it come from, though? You can’t be sure.  

“I let him sweet talk my mom,” Seungmin says, his voice a little softer. “But I followed him outside and we had a little talk before he left.” 

“Oh?” You ask, trying not to sound too interested – but you are. 

“He’s completely insane, Y/N,” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head. “You can’t trust someone like that.”

“I never said I trusted him,” you mumble, but it’s a weak retort. 

“But he made some good points.” 

You glance at Seungmin, who shrugs. 

“I’m not saying I like him. I definitely don’t. But remember when you said they were not like you imagined? I kind of get that.” 

“You do?” 

Seungmin gives you a pointed look. “I’d never hang out with them like you do, I couldn’t, but talking with him… I see how you and him could hit it off.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you can’t help but be a little arrogant. 

“Aw, Minnie, are you giving me your approval?” 

He glares at you and sighs deeply. “Like I just said. Two reckless shit stirrers.” 

You chuckle and gently nudge his arm. 

“Seriously, Min,” you say. “I’m really sorry. I was an idiot.” 

“You still are,” he points out, and you have to agree.

You raise your pint towards him. “Cheers to that.” 

“I heard when you spent some time with Vice.”

You and Minho are laying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your limbs. He’s beautiful, almost glowing, entirely naked except for the silver chain around his neck. You play with his silver hair, twirling strands around your fingers. 

“Yeah, a little,” you say. 

Minho pushes your hair out of your face, putting his arm behind his head to support it so he can look at you better. 

“Did you make a move? He wouldn’t tell me.” 

You pout. 

“C’mon, now, Trouble. Don’t get shy on me now. Two minutes ago you were riding my dick.”

You roll your eyes. “We kissed. He stopped it.” 

You must be making some sort of face, because Minho lets out a laugh. You hit in on the chest as hard as you can – of course, he barely budges. 

“Don’t fucking laugh at me.” 

“Don’t despair, Trouble. He likes you.” 

“That’s what I thought, too,” you sigh in annoyance. “But he’s been avoiding me since.”

You give him a glare.

“Not unlike someone I know.”  

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Have I been doing that?” 

“Yes. Am I not interesting anymore because you’ve fucked me?” 

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

“Like what, then?!” 

“Don’t get anxious, doll, there’s still a number of things I plan to do with you. I was just leaving space for Vice.” 

You arch an eyebrow.

“I knew you wanted to try him. And him you.” 

You scoff. “You should tell him that.” 

“I told him to go for it, that he’d have a good time. But when I mentioned fucking you, he said something about you not just being a piece of ass.” 

“He… what?” 

The words surprise you - and yet they don’t. Let’s not do this now, he said. You thought he meant it was the wrong moment, but it might be something else. 

“Don’t get excited, it’s not like he’s secretly romantic and soft hearted,” Minho sighs. “But he is less of a whore than me.” 

You decide to bring up the fact that Minho just called himself a whore later.

“What about the other night? The girl?” 

“Guy spent weeks in jail, you expect him not to want some pussy? He didn’t want it to be you, though. I guess he was too frustrated that night. So you can expect him to take his sweet time with you once his mind is made up.” 

You smack him lightly. “Jesus fucking Christ, you talk like I’m going to let him do anything he wants to me whenever he wants it. I’m not just a fuck toy, you know. What if I’m not in the mood?” 

“Then he’ll wait,” Minho answers, laughing. “But let’s face it, doll. Vice walks into this very room right now with his dick hard and his eyes all over you, would you really say no?” 

You stammer slightly. “If I didn’t want to, yes.”

“But what if you did?” 

“Tssk. Why are you so invested in this?” 

“Because he’s my oldest friend, and you’re my favorite girl.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. Minho sits up, his fingers grabbing your chin gently. His face hovers yours. 

“It’s not like we’re in love, Trouble. I just want us all to have some fun while we’re young. A day without your exquisite body getting venerated is a day wasted.” 

“Tell him that, then,” you blurt out. Quickly, you shake your hands. “I mean fuck, no, don’t tell him that.” 

Minho squeezes your ass in response, a smirk on his lips. “Have I told you I fucking love this look on you? It’s a very “slut just got rammed” look.” 

You bark out a laugh. “Did you just call me a slut?” 

“Apparently.” 

“Careful, I just might start to call you whore.” 

Minho barks out a laugh. “Gladly.”    

Being with Changbin is easy. 

Almost too easy. 

You glance at him from across the convenience store, his brows slightly furrowed as he tries to decide which brand of beer to buy. You see his face reflected in the refrigerator windows, his head tilted. With his back to you, you can take in the sight of his wide shoulders and his cut. 

You’ve been spending more time together - most of the time, he takes you for rides around town, finding excuses to run the engine for a little too long. You’re grateful for it because when your arms aren’t around him, holding tight, the rumble of the motorcycle under you, you almost miss it. 

Eventually he makes his choice and you walk back towards him, holding two bags of potato chips. You surprised him when he came to get you earlier. While you’re wearing one of your usual sundresses, you paired it with a new jacket - a leather one. His crooked smile had been instant - and he gives it to you again as you stop next to him. 

“You sure you don’t want anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

One of his hands is holding the pack of beer - his other arm he settles on your shoulders, keeping you close. As much as Minho makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a precipice, Changbin is already at its bottom with his arms wide open. 

He walks with you to the cashier, telling you about some stupid thing Jisung has done lately, and you listen to him, enthralled with the sight of his smirk, of the rare spark in his eye. You’re so focused on him you don’t notice the guy in front of you, who is standing there, taking up all the space in the aisle so you can’t walk forward. 

Changbin does. He stops, tightens his hold on you. 

“Seo Changbin,” the stranger spits. “Surprised to see you put a toe outside Temperance knowing the price on your head.” 

Changbin arches an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be smarter than to listen to rumors, Santiago.” 

“Not just rumors, man. A lot of people want you dead.” 

“Then they should line up and take their shot.” 

The guy chuckles before giving you a long look. 

“Cute. A shame, really.”  He looks back at Changbin. “It’s nothing personal.” 

Changbin tenses. “Do what you gotta do.” 

You look up at him. The man walks away, drawing his phone to his ear. Changbin puts down the pack of beer.

“Leave it,” he whispers in your ear. “Quickly.” 

You leave the bags and follow him outside. In a matter of seconds, you’re back on his bike and you’re driving away. He’s speeding, you can feel it - his hands are gripped around the handles so hard his joints are white. Your heart is beating fast, and you’re not sure you understand what is happening - just that it’s bad. 

Changbin burns a red light. 

“We need to get back to Temperance ASAP,” he tells you. “No one can touch us there. Don’t be scared. I got you.” 

You swallow and nod although he can’t see you. You grip him tighter. 

You’re close to town when you hear the deafening noises of multiple engines. You look around nervously - and then they appear. A few motorcycles, four of them, approaching you very fast. In the darkness you can’t see too well, but you’re sure they’re wearing cuts too. They are not friendly. 

Changbin accelerates and you watch the movements of the other bikers. They’re fast, and they make a lot of noise. In the rearview mirror, you see one of them take out a gun. 

“Changbin!” you shout. 

He’s already seen it, though, and swerves sharply in a nearby street to avoid the gunfire. It’s like you can’t breathe, as Changbin guides you through narrow streets. The other bikers aren’t far behind, but Changbin is good. He knows the area better, perhaps, because he takes his turns at the very last second - and soon you can only see two bikes behind you. 

Changbin heads for the main road again, and your eyes are full of tears. Temperance is right there, and when you pass the town border, Changbin suddenly breaks. He turns his bike to face your pursuers, lifting his visor to stare at them. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he snaps at them. 

The next seconds are tense - they stare at each other, anger emanating from every inch of them. You can only watch and hope for the best. Fortunately, the other bikers relent. They turn and drive away - on their cuts, you can read Skulls. 

Changbin breathes out. “Fucking pest,” he spits. 

“What’s going on, Bin?” you ask. 

“Just people thinking they own everything outside Temperance.”

“That never happened before.” 

“They’re trying to prove themselves,” he sighs.

After a few seconds of silence, Changbin relaxes, rubbing his eyes. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you home.” 

“No,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I want to stay with you.” 

You can’t see his face well, but he nods. 

“Okay.” 

He drives away. You expect him to go to the clubhouse or the house the Vices share, but instead he drives a bit further, down a street you don’t know very well. You look around in confusion as he enters a driveway. The house in front of you is small and looks abandoned, like no one has lived in there for years. 

Changbin pulls out his phone and activates something on an app - in front of you, the garage door opens. He parks inside it, closing the door behind you. 

You disembark, taking off the helmet, still a little shaken from the pursuit. 

“Where are we?” you ask.

Changbin leaves his helmet on his bike and you do the same. “I’ll show you.” 

He takes your hand, guides you inside the house. It’s not as decrepit inside as you would’ve imagined it. The house is empty except for a few pieces of furniture here and there. It smells a little stuffy but it’s clean. 

“It was my father’s house,” he explains, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s mine now. I don’t want to sell it.” 

“Why not?” you ask, taking a few steps in the main room, heading to the kitchen in curiosity. 

“I’ll live here one day. Make it mine, with my old lady.” 

You turn to him and give him a smile. “So you’re the type, huh?” 

He nods, and you find it endearing. You wouldn't've thought it - Changbin always looks so withdrawn. That he eventually wanted to have a family, to raise it in the house where he grew up - it was beautiful. 

“I can see it,” you say with a smile. “A big table. Curtains floating in the summer breeze. Kids running around the yard.” 

“Yeah?” 

You turn to him and smile. “Definitely.” 

You walk closer to him, staring at him. Adrenaline is still pumping in your veins from earlier - it would be lying to say that a part of you didn’t enjoy it. 

The danger. 

The risk. 

Minho would love to see you like this. 

“Are you asking me something?” you tell Changbin in a low voice. Slowly, you sink your hands in his pockets, covering his hands with yours. 

“What if I am?” 

“Fuck, Changbin,” you sigh. “You haven’t even touched me yet.” 

“I don’t need to,” he whispers, leaning his head forward. His lips graze your cheek. Your ear. You breathe heavily. “I already know.” 

“What?” 

“That you’re what I want. What I need.” 

He kisses your skin. Your earlobe. You shudder. 

“I want you to be mine.” 

“Changbin…” you breathe. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“Why not?” 

“Because I’m… What if I’m…” 

You chuckle nervously. You put a hand against his chest, pushing him slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What if I’m terrible in bed?” 

His chuckle is low. “I know you’re not.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“I can. Minho told me.” 

At the sound of his name, you tense slightly. Changbin smiles.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not asking for you to just be mine. I know you by now. We can share. And he’ll never settle down. I will.” 

He kisses your neck. 

“I can make you happy, Y/N. I can make you whole. Please let me.”

All you want is to say yes. All you want is to give yourself to him - but can you? Will you? Giving your entire being to a person? You’re not sure. But you know it’s not really what Changbin is asking. His words and his eyes tell you you’ll always be free. Your heart won’t have to be constrained. It can just breathe - it can love as fully and widely as it wants. 

“Don’t answer now,” he breathes. “Just wanted to be clear with you. About what I want. What I see. I’ll take you as you are if you’ll have me.” 

“So politely asked,” you chuckle, your hands traveling up his arms. 

He laughs against your skin, then steps back to look at you tenderly. “Can I kiss you?” 

You snort, shaking your head. “Dude, you basically just asked me to raise a family with you. And now you ask permission to kiss me? You’re so weird.” 

He just shrugs, and you giggle. 

“Yes, you lunatic, you can kiss me.” 

His lips come in contact with you, sucking them around his, tasting every inch. He kisses you so well you forget everything but the fire inside you, and you wrap yourself around his body to deepen the kiss. He nibbles on your lip, rolls his tongue around yours. 

“Fuck, you’re such a good kisser,” you breathe, and he smiles. 

You desperately need him to touch you. 

“Changbin…” 

“Hm?” 

“Can I take your hand?” 

“Hm.” 

You gently align his fingers with yours, and you guide his hand in between your legs. You bring up your dress, and slide his fingers against you. You gasp at the contact, and he groans, curling his fingers. 

“Can you feel it? How wet I am for you?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are closed, his mouth open. You hear his heavy breathing, you feel his tense muscles. 

“There’s just something about you, Changbin,” you whisper, slowly moving his hand. “Don’t you know the effect you have on me?” 

He opens his eyes, then, and they are so dark, you can only plunge head first in them. “I don’t think you have any idea of the effect you have on me.” 

You can only stare – because he’s moving his fingers on his own, in all the most delicious ways, and your legs start to feel weak. 

“Minho got to you first because he’s a sweet talker and I’m not,” Changbin hisses. “But the moment I heard you in the flower shop, I knew I wanted you.” 

He pushes a finger inside of you, and you gasp in the darkness of the empty house. 

“You know me and Minho had a few drinks, that night? And you know what we said?”

You shake your head. 

“How delightful it must be to get you to moan our names.” 

“Tsk. I don’t believe you,” you taunt him.

He smirks. “It’s true though. The fire inside you…” He inserts another finger, and you grip his shoulders. “Made me want to be consumed by it.” 

You sigh as he accelerates his movements, letting out a whimper. He bites your earlobe, sucks it in his mouth.

“I wanted to wait a little,” he breathes. “Get to know you, see what kind of person you were. That just makes it all better, I think. When you know the person – when you finally understand what makes them tick.” 

You wish you could hold up your end of the conversation, but you’re lost in the haze. You clench around him, ready to come. 

“Minho had his turn. It’s mine, now, right?” 

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Tell me.” 

“It’s yours, Changbin. I’m yours.” 

He suddenly removes his fingers and you groan in frustration. He ignores your complaint, lifting you up and pushing you against the nearest wall. He devours your lips again, his hardness pushing against your legs. You moan against his mouth, your body shaking under his touch. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “I need to feel you around me.” 

“Please, Changbin,” you sigh. “Please fuck me.” 

“I’ve made you wait, haven’t I, beautiful?”

“Too fucking long,” you groan. 

He smiles. “I have an idea.”

Almost too easily, as if you weighed less than a feather, he wraps you around him, your legs secured around his waist, and starts to walk back to the garage. 

“Where are -”

“Just wait.” 

Once in the garage, he walks over to his bike, and you stare at him with wide eyes. Oh. He chuckles at the look you give him. 

“What is it? You don’t like the idea?” 

Gently, he sits you on the leather seat of his bike, and you kiss him hard. 

“I think I like it a little too much,” you breathe.

He takes off your panties and unclasps his belt. As he takes off his pants, you sprawl yourself more comfortably on the bike, opening your legs wider for him. He gives you a dark look.

“A fucking sight,” he lets out.

You chuckle and you help him with his buttons, reaching in his boxers to stroke him – he groans, immediately grabbing your wrists to put them on each side of your body, pinning you in place.

Well that reminds you of someone.  

He takes another step forward, his length pressed against you, and the pressure makes you shiver. You’re dizzy from desire, and you barely register as he guides your hands. He puts one around one of the handles of the bike, the other around the edge of the seat. He hovers over you, grinning. 

“Hold on tight.” 

He enters you slowly, and you roll your eyes back at the feel of him. He pushes all the way into you, and stays there to take a long breath. He’s taking all the space, and it feels almost too natural, like he belongs there, and you wish you had the words to tell him. 

“You’re so warm, fuck,” Changbin sighs, and you feel your breath against your hair. 

“God, Changbin,” you breathe. “Fuck me.” 

So he does. His thrusts are measured, not too fast, but each is enough to bring out a moan from between your lips. You hang on to the bike, who trembles at every move – but the sight of Changbin fucking you on his bike is too much for you to really worry about it. He looks like a storm, his sweet lips parted, his muscles contracted. He’s big and strong against you, and you pull him closer. 

Your breath accelerates as the same time he does, pounding into you, and you’re clenching around him, feeling your orgasm all the way to your toes. Your nails sink into the leather of the seat. 

“Oh, fuck, that feels good. You feel so good coming around my dick.” 

“Holy shit, Bin…” you whisper, feeling your body relax. 

But Changbin shakes his head, placing his fingers on you, circling your sensitivity, making you tremble.

“I want to make you come again,” he whispers. 

“I don’t… I…” 

“Don’t slip away from me. Stay right there. I’m so close.” 

He never stops fucking you, and your mind is in a daze – his fingers are grasping at the last remnants of your orgasm, assembling them into a new knot ready to unfold. You almost whimper against him, feeling your skin in flames.  

You open your eyes to look at him – like you, he’s sweating, his hair wet, and the sight is enough to send you on the edge. He grunts, holding you tight, and he comes inside of you. You follow him, gasping, your legs shaking. 

It takes a while for you to recover – you’re not sure if it’s minutes or seconds. Changbin is panting, his forehead against yours, and you never want to move. 

You want to cover him in kisses. You give him just a few, but it feels like enough. 

“So?” you ask, mischievous. “What is worth the wait?” 

“Every second,” he sighs. “Fucking the woman of my dreams.” 

You shake your head, biting your lip, smiling. “Well, I will say this,” you say, your voice hoarse. “It’s my first time fucking on a motorcycle.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Changbin says with a smirk. “Did you like it?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Then let’s do it again. I need that pussy to drip on that leather so much it’ll leave a stain.” 

You bite your lip. “That was filthy, Changbin.” 

“I’m not sorry for it.” 

You grab his face by the chin and kiss him. “You better not be.”

The next night, you go over to the Vices’ clubhouse for a party, and there’s a cake waiting for you. It reads “congrats! you finally fucked” – and Minho howls in laughter when he sees the look on your face. 

“Really?” you sigh.

“I’m just proud of you,” he says, stroking your hair. 

You look for Changbin, and easily find him – he’s smirking not far behind. It’s not that you didn’t believe Minho when he said he wouldn’t mind you fucking his Vice, but it’s a relief to see it’s actually true. The two even seem closer than before, playing a friendly game of Texas Hold’em together, testing each other’s poker faces. 

You find yourself talking to Chan’s old lady a lot, and she tells you a few stories about the club, about her first months around them, and you’re laughing so hard there are tears in your eyes. She’s hilarious - and you catch glimpses of Chan looking at her adoringly. 

After a quick run to the bathroom, you want to take some air - you go through the garage, which is the quickest way from there, and you open the door of the office on Felix making out with Cherry. 

“Oops. Fuck. Sorry.” 

You peck your lips, trying really hard not to laugh.

“No worries,” Felix smiles brightly before he cups Cherry’s cheek again, sinking into her arms, kissing her deep. 

You stay for a second too long because Felix looks like an amazing kisser but you eventually close the door, giggling hysterically. 

“So that’s where he is, the little fucker.” 

You turn around, jumping at the voice behind you - to your surprise, it’s Hyunjin. He’s tied his hair back and is wearing a leather jacket. How on theme. 

“Told me he’d meet me outside. Guess he forgot.” 

You gape at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Felix invited me. Said you were having a party. I brought a guest, too.” 

You glance behind his shoulder, expecting his girlfriend, but it’s Seungmin you find standing there. He looks a little embarrassed to be there, staying back, as if afraid to come closer. 

“Min,” you mutter, advancing towards him. 

“I know what I said.” He raises his hands. “I just, I was alone, and I wanted to check up on you, and…” 

He stops talking when you collapse in his arms. It feels so good to have your friend here. All your people here. Your heart could burst with happiness - and it has nothing to do with the few drinks you’ve had. 

“I still don’t like them,” Seungmin mumbles into your hair. “But I heard the parties were pretty cool.” 

“Let’s get you a drink, then,” you say, clenching his hand. 

Hyunjin smiles fondly at both of you. 

“Adorable. Can I get a fucking drink for once?” 

You grab Hyunjin’s hand as well, smiling widely, and lead them inside. Everyone is happy to see them - Minho welcomes Seungmin with a smile, and Changbin goes behind the bar to prepare shots for you three. You take them a little too quickly, laughing. Seungmin takes some time to unwind, but you let him - you understand his reservations more than most. You’re just happy he’s there. 

You know he’s being your friend.

And you want to be his. 

You play darts together as Hyunjin, Changbin, and a few others take over the pool table. Felix and Cherry are nowhere to be seen - Minho starts a game of Mario Party with Jisung, who is just sitting there with the controller in his hands, not even playing. From the vacant look in his eyes, he’s stoned out of his mind. The atmosphere is relaxed, the music not too loud. 

That’s when you hear the police sirens. 

At first, they sound faint, buried under the sound of music and conversation - but soon the blue and red lights shine through the windows and no one can ignore them. You see Changbin tense, but Minho stays calm, sitting on a couch, legs sprawled. Changbin walks over to them, utters a few words in his ear, and they both nod. You catch Minho’s eyes - he winks at you. 

You grab Seungmin’s hand. 

“What’s going on?” he asks you in your ear.

“I don’t know,” you reply nervously.

A few police officers enter the clubhouse, led by their sheriff. Jeongin is among them, but he’s not smiling as he usually is. Instead, he looks around like he’s going to spit on the floor in disgust. His colleagues are the same. 

Changbin waves towards the bar, and the music gets cut off. 

The silence is deafening. 

“Having a little party, are you?” the sheriff says, looking at Minho, who still hasn’t moved. “Celebrating something?” 

Minho smirks. “The pleasures of the flesh,” he replies smugly. “I’d offer you cake, but there isn’t any left.” 

“How about a drink, then?” 

It’s like time is slowed for a few seconds, as the sheriff and Minho stare at each other - you look at Jeongin questioningly, and he winks at you. Oh. 

“Prospect,” Minho says. You notice Felix has just arrived in the room, his hair dischevelved, his lips swollen. 

“Yes, boss?” 

Cherry is hiding behind him, giggling silently. 

“Get a drink for the sheriff and his friends, will you? The good stuff.” 

“Right away, boss.” 

It’s then that the sheriff breaks into a wide grin, walking to Minho to shake his hand. The music starts again, and the other police officers disperse around the room, their serious looks completely gone. 

“What was that all about?” Seungmin breathes, shaking his head. 

“Must be some inside joke,” you reply nervously - it has unsettled you, too. 

“Holy shit, is that Kim Seungmin I see?” 

Jeongin barks out a delighted laugh as he walks towards both of you, pulling Seungmin into a hug. He ruffles his hair, Seungmin sighing deeply. 

“Turned to the dark side, have you?” 

“No,” Seungmin retorts, pushing Jeongin away. “Just… playing darts.” 

“Don’t tease him, Jeongin, will you?” you tell the officer with a glare. 

Jeongin raises his hands. “Cross my heart, hope to die.” 

“Tssk. The last time I heard you say that was at the town barbecue after you promised not to flirt with my cousin and you ended up flirting with my mother,” Seungmin says darkly. 

“Well she wasn’t your cousin, was she?” 

Still, Seungmin looks like he has relaxed again, and the boys start to move towards the bar - but you feel a hand on your waist, sliding from your back to your stomach. Minho spins you around this way, his eyes digging into yours. 

“Missing some Trouble,” he breathes against your lips. He smells like vodka and gasoline, and it’s intoxicating. 

“Don’t you have enough of that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at the sheriff, who is currently doing shots with the club’s secretary, whom you’ve found out is Chan’s uncle, one of only ones from the old generation who is still alive. 

“They always do that,” Minho chuckles. “Their little show. Try to act like they’ve still got any kind of authority around here.”

“Hm. But you’re it, aren’t you?” 

“You know it, Trouble,” he growls, embracing you in a deep kiss.

It feels a little embarrassing to do so in the middle of the room where there are so many people you know - Hyunjin, Seungmin, even Changbin who days ago was fucking you on his bike - but you don’t push him away. It’s not like they don’t know. Everyone is too busy drinking and partying to care, anyway. 

So you kiss him back, hungrily, and he squeezes your ass. You slap his chest in response. 

“You know what your nickname should be?” you squint your eyes at him. “Greedy.” 

“Greedy and Trouble. We make a good pair.” 

You chuckle. Something flashes in Minho’s eyes, and he grins. 

“Sparkle some Vice in there and you’ve got one hell of a party.” 

You stare back at him, eyes wide. “You mean…” 

“Wouldn’t you love it, Trouble?” he mutters, his soft lips grazing your jaw, your neck. You shiver against him.

“The two of us, just for you. Two mouths to kiss you. Two tongues to lick you up and down,” he continues, kissing your neck. You close your eyes, not even caring about how exposed you are. “Four hands to worship all parts of you.” 

He comes back up to kiss your cheek, his lips then grazing your ear. 

“Two hard dicks to fuck you until you can’t breathe.” 

You gulp, indulging in the fantasy - the tension between your legs is almost unbearable, and you have to breathe out slowly to calm yourself. 

“That sounds a little overwhelming,” you say, opening your eyes to look at him. 

Of course, he looks particularly happy with himself. “Oh, don’t worry. We can go slow. Ease you into it. But I think you’d like it. Have you ever done it?” 

“A threesome?” you ask. When he nods, you shake your head. “No.” 

Minho smiles. “Then think about it.” 

He laughs. 

“Although I think I already have my answer. You’re soaked, aren’t you? I can smell it on you.” 

You slap his chest again, and he keeps laughing, but he’s not mocking you. 

“Wait for me in my office,” he says. 

You nod as he walks away. You head for the bar, and get yourself a shot. Minho is talking to Changbin, who glances at you. Is this happening tonight? Oh God. You’re not prepared for this. Still, you can’t stop it. You won’t. 

You are shuddering in advance. 

You look for Seungmin, because you don’t want to just disappear on him, but he’s in a deep conversation with Jeongin. His smile is calm and sincere, and he looks happy, so you’re not too worried. You head for Minho’s office, closing the door behind you. The sound coming from the main room is faint, and the sudden calm acts like a cold shower. 

What the fuck are you doing? 

You really should stop. It’s getting out of hand - but you can’t bring yourself to. You know the second Minho will walk in, you won’t be able to say no. He has a hold on you - a delightful, heavenly hold. And Changbin. Changbin, you feel, has become a part of you, settled into your heart without difficulty. It’s just easy with him. You know you can’t have them both. Not for more than a few hours. 

You still want to. Your heart is in their hands. 

You’ll have to let them go at some point.

Both of them. 

You’ll have to see them with other partners. You’re not jealous. 

But you’re a little possessive. 

You’ll have to keep living your life. How, you’re not sure. You feel yourself bound to the club now. Too many ways in.

No way out. 

Lost in your thoughts, you jump when the door opens. Only Minho walks in, though, and he doesn’t leave you any time to say something - he just grabs your face in his hands and pulls you into a kiss. You moan against his mouth, pushed against the desk, burying your hands in his hair. 

“Such good memories from this room,” he chuckles after kissing you for so long your lips feel raw. He bites your lower lip, inciting a little whimper from you. “I can barely get any work done here anymore, I just keep thinking about it and get hard.” 

You laugh, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Really?” 

“That makes you happy, doesn’t it?” he chuckles. 

“Well. I’ve dreamed about ruining your life for some time now,” you admit cheekily. 

He slaps your ass. “My little Trouble. Except it hasn’t exactly gone as planned, right?”

“Hm. You don’t know that,” you admit, kissing his cheek, his jaw, the corners of his lips. 

“You’re telling me it’s all part of your evil plan to fuck not only one, but two Vices?” 

“Going down the hierarchy,” you say. “I’m gonna burn it all down.” 

Minho laughs and kisses you again. 

“Let’s fuck some sense into you,” Minho breathes. “After tonight you won’t want to leave.” 

“I already don’t,” you sigh before you can think about what you’re saying. Minho stops for a fraction of a second, but soon kisses you again, even more feverishly. You swirl your tongue around his, grinding your hips against his. 

He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you’re so lost in the moment you don’t hear the office door opening and closing. You faintly hear the sound of a lock, and suddenly there’s another pair of hands on you, fingers pushing away your hair, lips kissing your neck. 

“Sorry, Vice,” Minho says. “We got started without you.”

“That’s fine,” Changbin breathes. 

You’re pressed between both, feeling your thoughts already wander off. Your throat is dry, your chest in a tight knot. You turn to Changbin, because you need to see him. He’s looking at you, softly, hungrily. 

“Hi,” he mutters. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you. You look beautiful tonight.” 

It’s a bit hard to focus because Minho is pressed against you, his lips not leaving your skin. 

“Changbin,” you breathe, sliding a hand on the back of his neck. “Are you really okay with this?” 

“Are you?” he asks. 

You nod, although a little timidly. 

“Then yes,” he says, leaning towards you. 

He steals your lips. Minho caresses you, grabbing your breasts to massage them, and you moan in Changbin’s mouth. Then it’s Minho you’re kissing, Changbin breathing hard on your skin. It feels like a dance, and you are swept away, letting your body relax. You can trust them. 

You’ve only been kissing for less than a minute when someone knocks on the door. You all tense, like you’re kids getting caught, and Minho leaves you in Changbin’s arms to answer the door. He envelops you, devouring your lips, and you desperately want to rip off his clothes to see him better. 

You faintly hear Chan’s voice on the other side of the door, catching a few words - Felix, fire, the sheriff - and when the door closes, you know it’s over. 

“Sorry, Trouble,” Minho says. He looks good with his hair ruffled by you, his lips bright red. “Felix has apparently set fire to a car outside, so I need to take care of that before he gets arrested. Vice, I need you to talk to the sheriff, he’ll only listen to you.” 

Changbin lets out an annoyed sigh. “That fucking kid, I swear…” 

Minho gives you a smile. “Don’t worry, doll. Minor setback. We’ll have to do this another time.” 

“That’s okay.” 

He kisses your cheek, and Changbin your forehead. They leave the room, and you’re left there, frustrated but slightly amused.

Hello! Thank you sooo much for reading. I hope you enjoyed the second part of this story. Let me know what you thought with a comment if you can, it's motivation fuel, and who knows, it might help me post the rest faster. Lots of love xx

#changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #seo changbin x y/n #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin x you #seo changbin smut #changbin smut #lee know smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #skz x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader

[thelunarbar]

Anger Is A Powerful Weapon

:Patience Series Part Three:

Word count: 1304

Trigger warnings - again illusions to abuse, mentions of blood. I can’t think of any others, but let me know if you see any.

A/N - I’m sorry this got very angsty. I promise part four will not be so angsty. And as always no beta we die like goose.

-/-/-/-

Mav’s brain short circuits when he opens the door and finds himself staring at Bradley. He can’t decipher the look in Bradley’s eyes and he doesn’t know what to say.

After several seconds of silent staring Bradley rolls his eyes and pushes past Mav. Mav continues staring out the door for a few more seconds, trying to process what’s happening before closing the door and turning around.

“Is Ice here? I need to talk to him.” Bradley says.

“In his office. He’s on the phone, not sure when he’ll be off.” There’s an edge to his voice that Bradley has never heard before. Bradley opens his mouth to respond, but before he can Bob walks in with a large encyclopedia of planes in his hands.

“Hey, Pete?” He asks, looking up and stopping in his tracks when he sees Bradley. Bradley stares at Bob, mouth gaping before shifting his gaze back to Mav.

“What the fuck?!” He snaps. Bob flinches and takes a step back, staring wide eyed at Bradley and then at Mav before turning and hightailing it up the stairs. “Who’s kid is that?”

“He’s our foster son.” Mav tells him.

“Why? Decided fucking up one person’s life wasn’t enough for you?” Bradley keeps going, but Mav is too hurt by his assumption that they would ever try to replace him, to follow whatever else he’s saying.

“Stop! Stop it! None of that is true!” Mav protests, wishing he didn’t feel on the verge of crying.

“What then? Did you you decide fucking up future wasn’t enough? You have to fucking replace me too?” Bradley snaps. “You’re so desperate for a child that loves that you’ll take in a child who’s probably never known love just to prove that you’re not the bastard I already know you are?!” Bradley’s face is red and there’s fire in his eyes.

Neither of them notice Ice at the top of the stairs. Now Ice doesn’t yell. On principle he finds it never helps anything and tends to make situations worse, but when those words leave Bradley’s mouth it’s the last straw. “Get out of my house.” It’s not quite yelling. Not yet, but it’s closer than Bradley’s ever heard him. Genuine fear flickers in Bradley’s eyes for the briefest of seconds before being consumed by the fire of his anger.

“And you’re no better! What made you think after everything both of you did to me that trying again with some other kid who’s got god only knows how many issues of their own, would be a good idea?! How many kids do have to screw up before it’s enough for you?!” Bradley spits. Ice sees red.

“I said, get out!” Ice does yell then. He descends the staircase with heavy steps. Bradley stares him down, not wanting to be the first to cave. Ice glares daggers at him. “Get. Out. Now!” When Bradley still refuses to move Ice grabs the front of his shirt and pushes him back toward the door. That seems to be all it takes because Bradley pushes Ice away and pulls the door open. He slams it behind him.

Ice is still fuming, but when he turns to look at Mav and finds him crying, his anger gets pushed to the back of his mind. He pulls Mav into his arms and rubs his back. Mav begins to sob into his chest, shaking and clutching Ice’s shirt in both hands.

“Tom?” Bob asks from the top of the stairs.

“Hey buddy, what can I do for you?” Ice asks, still holding Mav close. Bob hesitates, then comes down the stairs a little ways.

“Was just wondering if I could have some paper and a pencil?”

“Of course you can. Gimme a minute and I’ll find some for you, ok?” Bob nods and scurries back up the stairs and down the hall to his room.

Mav is no longer full on sobbing, returning to silent tears again. Still holding Ice close. Ice doesn’t know what to say or do to make this better. After a couple more minutes of crying, Mav pushes away from Ice and wipes the tears off his face.

“Mav-” but Mav just shakes his head and starts up the stairs. Ice knows right now he needs space, but they’ll talk later. Ice does follow him up the stairs, but only to get to his office to grab paper and a pencil for Bob.

And then he goes back downstairs to throw dinner together before he goes out to find Bradley and knock some sense into him.

-/-/-/-

It’s almost seven when Ice gets back. Mav and Bob are sitting at the table. Mav mindlessly pushing his dinner around his plate and Bob carefully sketching a plane. Mav glances up when he hears Ice enter the room and gasps when he sees him.

There’s a significant amount of blood on Ice’s shirt.

“Tom! What-”

“It’s not mine.” Ice cuts him, sighing heavily as he drops into the chair beside Mav.

“Then who’s is it?” Mav asks, eyes narrowed as he picks up his glass of water. Bob is watching them now, eyes curious behind his glasses.

“Bradley’s.” Mav chokes on his water and spits it all over his plate and the table. He coughs and splutters for a second.

“What?!” He finally manages to get out before caught once more.

“I went to see him. And things got heated and I decked him.” Ice sighs again and closes his eyes. “Don’t think I broke his nose, but there was a lot of blood.” He plucks at his bloodstained shirt.

“You-? Tom! What’s wrong with you?!” Mav asks while sopping up the water all over the table.

“He had no right to say those things to you and he wasn’t even remorseful about it.” Ice straightens up in his seat and grabs Mav’s hand. “If anything he’s had it coming for awhile.” They sit in silence for several seconds before Mav starts to laugh, silent, shoulders shaking. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Mav says, still shaking with laughter, “I just never thought I’d see the day the Iceman lost his cool.” Ice is still concerned for his husband’s mental state, but at least he’s not crying again.

“Oookay then.” Ice shifts his focus to Bob. “That is amazing kiddo. You’re very talented.” He nods at Bob’s sketch. Bob goes pink in the face and smiles just a little.

“Thank you.” He replies softly. He goes back to his sketch.

Ice glances back at Mav when he squeezes his hand.

“Thank you for defending my honor.” He smiles softly and leans over to give Ice a kiss. “Is he ok?”

“He’ll be fine. And hopefully have a little more sense.” Ice promises, pressing a kiss to the back of Mav’s hand. “I’m gonna go change. I’ll be right back.”

-/-/-/-

After dinner Bob asks for help getting a shower and is thoroughly embarrassed to have to ask, but Mav assures him that he has no problem assisting him. Turns out all he needs help with is getting the temperature set right and washing his hair. When that’s done Mav leaves him to finish and goes to dig out their rather sad collection of board games.

Bob jumps at the opportunity to play Trouble and takes great pleasure in beating both Mav and Ice. After a couple hands of Uno Ice moves to his chair and picks up his book while Mav teaches Bob how to play Monopoly.

And it almost feels like there a family.

-/-/-/-

Three weeks later they’re very comfortable in their routine. Bob is adjusting and settling in well. They haven’t seen or heard from Bradley since the day Ice punched. And other than that it all feels almost perfect.

And that’s when they receive their third call.

-/-/-/-

Taglist! Lmk if you’d like to be added to the list for future updates!

@pollyna

#top gun #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #robert bob floyd #mavdad #icepops #my fic #mine mine mine #angst #part four will not be so angsty I promise #however I think we can all agree Bradley needs to get his head out of his ass and start acting like an adult #not saying Ice’s method is the best but it will yield rich rewards #rie writes #patience series

[jeoniius]

Next Life | kth (m)

☆ summary:  Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night.

☆ pairing: husband!tae x wife!reader

☆ genre: angst, smut.

☆ warning: sexual content, angst

☆ word count: 4k

☆a/n: Finally this is done. Thank you so much @jkiddingjeon for beta-ing the fic, it meant A LOT. I really love this fic and I hope you enjoy it too. ngl it's a pretty heartbreaking fic so get ready for some ANGST.

Love. Hate. 

It’s always adjacent to each other. Something that’s always there when the other is present. It also changes people. How it makes people go from loving someone and being best friends with someone to trying everything they can to pull them down, to take them out. 

You’d say you can relate to it. In more ways than one. You had seen your fair share of people going from loving them unconditionally to talking shit about them the next day. Divorce was one of them. All the promises and vows made of staying through health and sickness, through good and bad, thrown out of the window. 

You thought of it as one of the most heartbreaking things and now you were here. Doing the exact thing as you watched the clock tick by, thinking of ways and excuses to get you out of this marriage. This marriage that ended everything. It hadn’t always been like this. No, you were in love. You were so madly in love that if anyone had told you you’d stand in this place today you’d not believe it. 

You are still in love. So madly in love but the difference being you want it to end. Maybe that way you’d find each other again.

As time went by, you stood by the railing of your balcony. The bright light of the city shined underneath you as you thought Tomorrow would be it. The end of what once was seen as a beautiful love story by not only you but by many others. The final chapter.

Maybe love and hate stood adjacent to each other but you could never hate him. 

And so you stood there, taking it all in, you thought about where it went wrong.

7 months ago

“I can’t believe you think that!” you shouted, hands up in the air as you walked back into the apartment, him following you behind. 

“Well I wouldn’t if you kept your distance!” he said, raising his voice.

“Oh my god. One hug. It was one hug. And that too because he was leaving.” 

“It didn’t look like one,” he argued back. 

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? Nothing happened, you know that.” you said trying to calm yourself down. 

“Stop trying to argue with me all the fucking time.” he bit back. 

“Oh, I am arguing? You were the one who started it.” You took long strides towards him. 

“You were the one who accused his wife of cheating although you have no proof whatsoever” you gritted through your teeth as your finger poked his chest. 

He let out a loud groan as you run your hands through your hair. “You know what, Taehyung? You can stay here. I’m leaving.” and with that you grabbed your purse and keys and strode out the door, slamming it behind. 

Kim Taehyung. 

The love of your life. You met him in college. As cliché as it sounds, he was the heartthrob with his extremely good looks and his unbelievable flirting skills. You weren’t supposed to know him at all if you thought about it. 

Your college held its annual fest, and you were the head of the management. You had stumbled across him when he had come to drop off some supplies instead of his best friend. You got into a small quarrel when he commented on how you were the head of the management when you were only a freshman and questioned your ability to pull the entire thing off when it was only three days from the fest and not even one percent of anything was done.

You got into a bet with him as you made him promise you that he’d treat you to something of your choice if you pulled it off. Nevertheless, you pulled the entire thing off within the next two days, proving him wrong. As a promise, he treated you to something really expensive(of course you had picked it) and then swore to never question your ability.  

You started seeing more of him, with his surprise visits to your class (which usually ended up with girls surrounding you asking how you knew him) or him coming to your seat in the cafeteria just to give you some new juice he got for you. Sometimes he’d ask you to come to one of his basketball matches and then took you to dinner afterward. 

You felt your heartbeat increasing every time you saw him or heard his name in fact, and before you knew it, you were confessing to him, putting your heart on the line. 

The day you confessed, you ran out before he could even reply. Too scared to be rejected. But Taehyung did something you’d never expect. He brought you to an amusement park, took you to dinner, and then confessed to you with thousands of chocolate (literally). 

You both had your fair share of arguments and then makeup sex. Mind-blowing sex to be exact. 

Your relationship with Taehyung was built on trust. He’d be there waiting for you every time you came home late and vice versa. You’d be at all of his games. You’d go to every party, hang out with your friends.

Once he graduated, he’d wait to pick you up every day. Every day you’d go to your favorite café, with your friends, complete assignments and projects, argue about who won the last UNO game, girls vs boys. 

He spent every hour with you when you struggled with your dream job and you did the same. When you finally did get the job, he asked you to marry him. You nodded then and there. Tears escaped, phone calls were made. Everyone came to the engagement party and then the wedding and you truly thought everything you ever wanted was there. Your family, your friends, his friends, him. 

But what you didn’t know then was what followed after. Just like promises are made, they are broken. Trust is broken and the bond doesn’t stay. 

The first two years were bliss. You went to Paris for your honeymoon and then to New York. Yes, New York for your honeymoon. You experienced the love in Paris and the rush in New York. 

You spent most of the days in Paris, going to spots of attractions, enjoying the food in the café, walking around the streets drunk and completely in love, having late night sex, morning sex,  just lots of sex to be exact. 

But in New York, you spent your days going to Times Square, Bars, and Pubs had ‘the’ New York pizza and cheesecakes and hotdogs and whatnot. Went shopping and sightseeing. Roamed around the streets at night, met so many people.

You believed you had found what you had been looking for all your life. Someone to go to romantic dinners and the craziest parties with.  

But what followed was something you didn’t think would happen. Every marriage has its ups and downs. You had to. But then it started.

Every party would become an excuse to start arguments, every late night at work would lead to assumptions. At first, you thought it would be fine. Talking would help, it was always the key for the both of you but lately, every time you spoke or tried to solve the issues, it would end in huge fights, sometimes followed by sex, or even if not sex, you’d stop talking to each other and then one day pretend nothing happened. 

Although in heels you walked around the park near your apartment. ‘It will be fine’ you told yourself as you tried not to break down. Deciding it would not be a good idea to go anywhere at that hour, you sat by a bench.

The cold wind hit you as a shiver ran down your body, the thin wine slip dress doing nothing to stop it. The screen of your phone lit up as you saw multiple texts from Taehyung. A part of you was happy that he cared enough to text you. You clicked on his profile as a series of texts came up.

Tae: where are you?

Tae: come on Y/N, don’t be stupid. 

Tae: it’s really late. where the fuck are you?

Tae: baby, you’re scaring me. 

Sighing you got up and made your way out of the park. Since you lived in a complex, it didn’t take you too long to walk. As you opened the keys, you saw Taehyung pacing around the living room. “Where are my keys?” he muttered to himself, not noticing your presence. 

A clinking sound made Taehyung look up as the keys hit the ceramic bowl on the kitchen top. “Where were you?” he asked, trying to control his anger. You didn’t answer him as you took off the heels, internally sighing when the cold floor hit your barefoot. “Are you seriously gonna ignore me? I asked where the fuck were you?” he pulled you by your wrists stopping you from going further. “Don’t do this.” you gritted through your teeth as you harshly pulled away before going inside your shared bedroom. 

You slipped out of the dress and you got inside the shower, the hot water touching your skin as you stood there. No matter how much you tried not to think about it, you always went back. Where did it go wrong? 

You changed into shorts and one of Taehyung’s oversized shirts as it reached mid-thigh. Getting inside the covers, you relaxed, the cool sensation of your bedsheet and covers calming you somehow as you turned towards the glass wall. 

You heard a sigh as Taehyung got inside the room. He got inside the covers and stared at your back as you tried to keep calm. You felt an arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer, back colliding with his chest, nuzzling his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” his voice came muffled as you felt the vibrations on your neck. 

“I really am.” he said, taking a deep breath pulling you closer if that was possible. You sighed, turning to him. 

“I felt really cheap, you know” you said, hands reaching to cup his face. “I’m so sorry baby.” he sighed, closing his eyes as you ran your hand through his hair. “I know.” 

He pressed a kiss on your lips as you pulled him closer, hands wrapping around his neck. You sighed into the kiss as his lips trailed down towards your collarbone, sucking and nipping then. Soon enough he was inside you as he went on an animalistic pace. “Do you think he can fuck you like this?” he growled. You ignored him as you knew you were close, focusing on your climax. You came within the next few minutes as he rubbed your clit while thrusting.

Later on, he lapped up the spilled contents lazily as you screamed his name, your cries stroking his ego.

He wrapped an arm around your naked waist as he fell asleep on his stomach, head on your chest, legs tangled over your naked ones. You stroked his hair as you stared at the ceiling, his words ringing in your ear ‘Do you think he can fuck you like this?’

A small realization crept inside your head. He was never gonna trust you.

He stirred in his sleep, pulling you closer, he pressed an open-mouth kiss above the swell of your breast in his sleep. Releasing a long sigh, you kissed his head, quickly pushing the thought aside. 

That was the first mistake. 

“I love you so much,” you said. 

You pulled the robe over your body tightly, a coffee cup in your hand. Picking up your phone you looked at the time. 3:08 am it read. The city still buzzed with life. The cold breeze hit your face soothingly as you closed your eyes. Only if you had done something before, things wouldn’t have gone wrong. 

4 months ago

Your phone buzzed as you frustratedly rubbed your face. You dreaded picking up the call, not wanting to have to shout again. Things had been gradually worsening between you and Taehyung. Late-night fights, coming home drunk, not talking to each other for weeks had become a common thing nowadays and no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you both tried to co-operate, you didn’t seem to escape it.

“You should talk to him.” Ae-ra said, handing you a cup of tea. 

Tea. 

You never liked tea. You were more of a coffee person. You preferred the rush, the adrenaline. But nowadays, you were tired. Tired of doing the same thing over and over again. Having the same quarrels and fights over and over again. Tea seemed to calm you. 

“And then what? Get into another fight?” 

“You know what I mean, babe.” She said as she rubbed your arm soothingly.

“Maybe later. I cannot deal with him now.” you sipped on the cup.

What you didn’t know was that “later” would come that fast. You went back to your apartment to get more of your clothes. You planned on going at night, when he was most probably out with his friends or whoever kept him busy nowadays. But to your surprise, he was there. 

You opened the main door, using the key you had with you to meet with his laying figure on the couch. His head shot up at the sound of the door, eyes meeting each other. He looked drained, hair messy and bags under his eyes. You cursed under your breath, debating if you should just go back to Ae-ra’s place and come later for your clothes. 

“Look who’s here.” he scoffed as he got up from the couch.

Deciding on the former, you walked past him without taking another glance, into your shared bedroom. Taking a bag out, you shoved as many clothes as possible wanting to stay away from this mess. “Are you gonna ignore me now?” you heard him as he entered the room. 

You zipped up the chain as you walked towards the door wanting to leave. He grabbed your hand before you could go any further. He felt so scared when he saw you packing your stuff, so much that it suffocated him. “Fucking answer me.” his voice raised as he stared at you. 

Taehyung’s eyes softened as he saw the dry tears on your cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to pull you close and never let go. To talk to you and tell you it would be fine, that you would figure it out together. 

As he saw your tired eyes, glossy as you tried to keep your composure, he wanted to kiss you so badly and keep you tucked away from every bad thing; ever, even himself if he was bad for you.

And maybe he would have done that. Hugged you and kissed you. Kept you in his arms if you didn’t start talking. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” you pulled away harshly. “You know what? Yes, I am ignoring you and gladly will.” 

“What is wrong with you? You cannot just come and go like that.” he said, hands gesturing to your bag.

“I can and I will. You cannot stop me” you clarified.

“ Yes, I can. I am your husband for god’s sake.” a frustrated tone laced his words.

“Husband?” you scoffed. “When were you a good husband? Where did this go when I stayed up till dawn every day waiting for you?” 

“You know how hectic things have been at work.” he looked at you knowingly. 

“That doesn’t mean you’d stop spending time with me!” you yelled.

You knew you were being unreasonable. Things really were hectic at work for him. But you couldn’t help but feel lonely when you came home after a long day to an empty and cold apartment and then stayed up every day almost all night for your husband. You felt so neglected when he’d come home and go to sleep straight away without saying anything. 

All the doubts about your marriage slowly were coming true and you wanted nothing more than to prove it wrong. But talking about it led to arguments with Taehyung. So you decided to stay away from home, so that you didn’t have to think about it, to begin with. 

That was the second mistake. 

“You are going nowhere.” Taehyung took the bag from your hand and walked towards the bed. “You’ll stay at home.”

“Home?” a humorless chuckle left your throat. “I will go anywhere I want, but home.” 

“I mean it Y/N. Stop acting like a kid. Go wash up and come to bed.” he sighed. 

“I’m not staying” you concluded, ready to leave your stuff behind as you turned. 

You felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist as he stuffed his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. A tear left your eyes, followed by streams, and for some reason, your heart broke, it felt like he was pulling you apart from inside. 

You felt his warm breath as he mumbled something. He pressed you towards him as you silently cried. 

Later that night, as he fucked you slowly, something different than his usual dominating aura, your heart ached, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. He kissed you ever so passionately, that you cried. 

Something told you that it would be over soon, so you hugged him as close as you could when he slept. You cried as he hugged you in his sleep like you would go away if he didn’t have you in his arms. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbled in his sleep.

That’s when you realized how bad the entire situation was. How bad you were for him just like he was for you. How bad this marriage was. 

And what followed after confirmed everything you ever doubted. 

2 months ago

“You think I didn’t see you?” you yelled. 

“What are you talking about?” he looked curious. 

“Oh sure, play the good guy, make me look bad, why don’t you?” you scoffed.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” he repeated. “How would you? You thought you were good enough to keep it away from me.” you said. His eyebrows crashed as he tried to understand. “I saw you with her. Maybe that’s why you were always late. You were too busy fucking her.” a bitterness stayed in your mouth. “Are you kidding me?” he said as he raked his fingers through his hair. 

“You are accusing me of cheating, Y/N? You?” he scoffed. “Don’t think I forgot about the party.” 

“Oh my god. You were never going to believe me, were you?” you looked at him with a glint in your eyes. 

“You are being paranoid Y/N,” he said calmly. 

“You know what? Maybe I will go to him. The guy you accused me of cheating. Maybe I will let him fuck me. Clear all your doubts and make it true!” you were screaming now. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice so calm maybe you would have been scared if you were thinking straight. 

“Neither can I.” you said as you walked out of the house. 

The next day when you woke up, you felt bad for yelling at him. So you decided to go back and talk to him. And maybe you would have if fate didn’t have anything else planned. 

As you walked into the house, you saw a man sitting on your couch, Taehyung at his side as paper lay in front of him. The man looked at you briefly before turning back to Taehyung. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Lee.” he said as he shook hands with the man. The man nodded. 

Before leaving, he looked at you, “See you in court.” 

You furrowed your brows before realization hit you. “Tae, what did he mean by that?” 

He kept quiet as he gathered the papers. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” you tried again. Taehyung got up as he handed you the papers, then went to the bedroom. You stared at them as you couldn’t process anything. 

You cannot get divorced. You cannot live without him.  

You walked inside the room as you saw him looking out. “Tae, we can talk, right? You don’t mean this.” your voice shook. 

Walking up to him you wrapped your arms around his, face buried in his back as you mumbled “This is a joke, right?” 

You heard his sigh before he turned to you, eyes glossy. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“We won’t. We’ll figure it out. We don’t have to do this.” you went on. 

“Y/N-”

“No, no, you don’t understand. You are out of your mind. We can’t get divorced.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot do this anymore.” he said,

You looked at him. “Why are you saying it as if it is all my fault?” 

“I don’t mean that.”

“You absolutely mean that. Your face says it all.” you gestured toward him. “Oh. You really are gonna do this?” you said as he rubbed his face. 

“Well, fuck you, Kim Taehyung. You can do whatever you want. You can blame me all you want but you and I both know the minute I walk out, you are going to regret this.” 

“You can keep going for my heart and put all this on me, but you will miss me to your bone the minute this is over.” you said as you stormed off. 

That night, you went back to Ae-ra’s place. You screamed at the sky pretending it was him while he stayed awake that night as he looked at the sky. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I love you so much” he said, tears freely falling.

It really was over. All your doubts came true. Your marriage ended. Maybe it was for the better. ‘You’re being paranoid’ he said. He was right. You became paranoid.

You wiped the single tear and looked at the sky, soft light spread across as the birds sang. 5:00 am

You picked out the attire you were going to wear to the court. Your phone buzzed as you picked it up. It was Ae-ra. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get through it. she said.

You went to the court that day. You watched him as he entered the room, a black tux hugging his frame. He had become more buff than he was the last time you saw him two months ago. As he ran his fingers through his hair, his shoulder blades flexed. The same shoulder blades that had your nail marks reminding the night before from every morning you’ve spent together. You smiled at that memory. 

Soon the judge walked in and the process went on. 

At one point in your relationship with him, assuming was something you both picked up. Long gone was the trust which was the key in your relationship. Maybe it was for the better. You both were paranoid; assumptions feeding more into it. 

But what you both gradually became, was bad for each other. Not at the beginning of your relationship, but somewhere in the middle, it went out of hand. Maybe if you spoke to each other more, maybe if you hadn’t pushed your thoughts the first day it came, then maybe you wouldn’t be here. But everything happens for a reason. 

Kim Taehyung was the heartthrob of the campus. Kim Taehyung was the first person you confessed you loved. He was the first person who heard ‘I love you’ from you. He was your first love. 

As the saying goes, some people are in our lives, just to teach us a lesson. Good and Bad. Kim Taehyung was that for you. You were still in love with him. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and yours did. You loved him more than you did before. And so maybe letting him go was easy. You were bad for him and he was bad for you. But that didn’t stop you from loving him.

And that didn’t stop him from loving you as you sat at the courthouse, as he looked at your face when it was over, as he lay in his bed alone that night.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be. Or maybe you were, but you didn’t know-how. But it was fine. And maybe as time goes by, it would hurt less. 

Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night. 

taglist: @mwitsmejk​

#bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts fic #bangtan #kim taehyung #kim taehyung angst #taehyung angst #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #husband taehyung #divorce au #btsau #bts au fanfic #bts au fic #bts kim taehyung #kth smut #kth x reader #kth angst #angst #btsangstff #btswritersclub

[nashibirne]

Gimme Shelter - 1

Here it is, Part 1 of my new Henry Cavill RPF story. It's a slow burn again and I really hope you like it. If you do, please let me know and leave a like, comment or reblog.

You can find the next parts on my masterlist.

Thank you @legendarywizarddetective for reading in advance and for your encouragement 💜😘🤗

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Kat Spencer)

Words: ~2.9k

Summary: Henry has to deal with a personal crisis and he finds shelter with his old rugby mate Sam and his sister Kat. She used to be Henry's best friend a very long time ago. Will they be able to become friends again or maybe even more?

Warnings: RPF, mention of depression, burn out and mental health issues, mention of bullying

No beta! All mistakes are mine. English is not my mother tongue so expect bad grammar and wrong spelling.

Disclaimer: I don't know the real Henry Cavill, this is pure fiction and nothing more

Credits: Pics for the moodboard from Pinterest. Faceclaims: Kat = Jennifer Connelly, Sam = Charlie Hunnam

Taglist

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @madbaddic7ed @artandotherdelights

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, see the storm is threatening

My very life today

If I don't get some shelter

Yeah, I'm gonna fade away"

(Gimme Shelter, written by Keith Richards / Mick Jagger)

****

1

"I have a new tenant for the apartment."

Sam looked at his sister who was chewing on the last bite of her pizza.

"Really? That's great. Who? Kim?" Kat asked.

"No, she's back with that idiot Sean. Doesn't need an apartment anymore. No, it's Henry."

He knew she was not going to like this and he mentally prepared for a fight.

"Henry? Henry who?"

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Cavill."

Kat stared at him, mouth agape.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope."

"You can't be serious, Sam. He can't move in with us."

"Why not. He needs a place to live, we have a place for rent. It's perfect."

Kat got up and took a bottle of water from the fridge before she turned to her brother again. "This is anything but perfect and I'm quite sure he has a pretty home in London."

"But he doesn't want to live in London."

"Oh really? But in St. Ives? How's that?"

"He just needs a change of air."

"Fuck, Sam. What kind of bullshit are you trying to sell me?" Her light green eyes were sparkling with anger which wasn't surprising. Henry Cavill was a sensitive topic for Kat and though Sam and Henry had stayed in touch throughout the years after they'd left boarding school, he and his sister hardly ever talked about him.

"Okay, okay." He held his hands up in surrender. "No need to get mad. It's just, he had some problems lately and he really needs some time off but he doesn't want to live alone."

"What kind of problems?"

"He went through some tough shit, Kat. In his job, in his private life...plus he worked almost non-stop in the last five years. He's burnt out, had kind of a breakdown and a mild depressive episode. He's much better now but his doctors told him to find a place to recover. To take his time before he returns to the business and get some rest, for the body and the mind."

"Shit, that sounds awful." Kat started to chew on her bottom lip, an unmistakable sign that she was conflicted.

"Yeah. When he told me about it I offered to let him live with us for a while. I mean it's perfect here for someone who needs time to think and to get himself straightened out."

"And how long is he going to stay?"

"I don't know, a few months?" Sam shrugged. "I told him he can stay as long as he wants."

"And I don't have a say in this? This is my house too, Sam." Kat looked at him with a frown.

"No, not in this case, Kat. He's a friend who needs help. I won't let him down."

Kat took a deep breath.

"What are they going to tell the media? His fans? He can't just vanish into thin air."

"They're gonna sell it as a time of self-discovery including digital detox...something like this. Actor goes on a spiritual journey, you know. He said it wouldn't be good for his image and his career to admit he had a mental breakdown."

"And it never occurred to him that this may be part of the problem? That he can't just be honest?" She rolled her eyes.

"Maybe it will dawn on him when he finally finds the time to rest and reflect on the past few months." Sam shrugged again and got up to throw away the pizza boxes.

"Why doesn't he go back to Jersey to live with his family?"

"I'm not sure. I think they had some kind of serious disagreement."

"What? I strongly doubt that. They stick together like glue." Kat was really surprised and a little shocked to hear that. The Cavill family had always been so close, so happy, so perfect. The complete opposite of her own famiIy. Sam sighed. "As I said, that's just my assumption, what I think I read between the lines. I didn't want to pry. Maybe you can ask him when he's here."

"You don't want to pry but I can? Are you crazy?" Kat showed him the middle finger. "You used to be best friends, Kat. You and him were so close…"

She snorted. "Yeah, more than 20 years ago. We're not friends anymore."

"I know. One day you were as thick as thieves and the next you hardly talked anymore. And you've never told me why."

"Because there's nothing to tell. It's a normal thing. Friendships begin and end. We just...drifted apart." Kat answered with a dramatic gesture and a sarcastic smile.

"You've always been a terrible liar, little sister. But it's okay. I don't need to know, it's none of my business. But maybe you and Henry can become friends again after all these years."

"I don't think so."

"20 years is a long time to hold a grudge against someone." Sam said with knitted brows.

"I don't have a grudge against him."

"If you say so." Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Just promise to play it nice, okay?"

"I don't promise anything, Sam. You want your old rugby team mate to live with us because he needs shelter. Okay. Fine. I accept that. But I'm gonna stay out of his way. I don't owe him anything." Her tone was annoyed now and Sam knew her well enough to realize this was really going under her skin. 

"Sure, I know that. I just want you to give him a chance. Don't treat him like an unwanted guest. He doesn't know I didn't ask you, I told him you agreed."

She pouted her lips and took a deep breath.

"God, Sam…"

"Please?" He gave her his best puppy dog eyes and Kat shook her head in amusement. "You're the worst."

"So you're in?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."  Sam nudged her before he pulled her into a hug. "You're not gonna regret it, sis."

"I'm not so sure about that but we'll see. When is he going to move in?"

"The day after tomorrow." Sam grinned sheepishly and Kat couldn't help but laugh. "Okay. I'm not gonna ask you how long you've kept this a secret from me."

"Yeah, you better not."

"Well, then...let's prepare for the arrival of superman."

****

Two days later Henry arrived around noon. He drove up outside the house with a pick-up truck and a little trailer that contained some furniture and moving boxes. 

He got out of the car and greeted Sam with a tight hug.

"Sam."

"Henry, it's good to see you."

"Same, mate. Good to be here. Thanks for having me."

"Sure thing."

Henry looked at the house. "It hasn't changed a bit. Must have been 23 or 24 years since I've been here for the last time."

"Wait if you see the inside. We changed a lot, complete make-over. It's much brighter and more modern than back in the days."

"Sounds great." Henry smiled widely. He was so happy to be here. It felt strangely like coming home though he had only spent one summer here with Kat, Sam and their parents when he was 14 or 15. He was a little anxious about meeting Kat after all these years and for the first time after they graduated from school. He didn't really know what to expect from her and most of all he had no idea if she'd forgiven him.

Kat was watching them from the window of her room on the first floor. Henry looked gorgeous. Of course he did. A little tired maybe but still fabulous. And it was so easy for her to recognize the boy in him who had been her best friend for 3 years at boarding school which feels like an eternity when you're a kid. He was such a sweet guy, a little dorky but really cute. Lost, when he arrived at Stowe. Lost, lonely and homesick. He was overwhelmed by the new life at boarding school, he was shy and a little clumsy and she had felt a strange kind of protectiveness for him from the moment they'd met for the first time. Kat had been sent to Stowe one year after her brother at the age of ten and three years later she was already kind of an old trouper and so she took Henry under her wings and helped him to settle in. They became best friends soon and she always got herself into trouble defending Henry from the bullies that called him fat Cavill because he was a little chubby and lemon because he had no girlfriend.

Eventually he started to play rugby and hockey and he lost weight, grew tall and turned into a very handsome teenager. When they were 16 he joined the drama group and suddenly he was popular. From zero to hero. The beginning of the end. Kat sighed. She knew she had to go downstairs and say hello. She had promised Sam to give Henry a warm welcome and to make him feel at home right from the start.

She took a deep breath and left her room.

When she appeared on the doorstep and Henry's eyes fell on her he was amazed. Kat had always been pretty. A sweet little tomboy when he met her and a lovely teenage girl a few years later. He hadn't been surprised when one of the most attractive guys of their school became her boyfriend. Aaron Taylor was an outsider who stayed away from the popular kids, not because they didn't want him in their inner circle -they would have welcomed him in their middle with the greatest pleasure since his mother was a famous actress- but because he simply didn't want to be one of them. He found their superficiality despicable and boring and never tried to hide it. He was aloof and arrogant but Kat and him made a beautiful couple. As beautiful as Henry and Poppy Edwards, Stowe's queen bee, only much more interesting because they always stayed on their own which gave them an aura of being different and special in a mysterious way. 

Now Kat was a beautiful woman and incredibly attractive with her dark hair, the fair skin and the light green eyes. The resemblance to her mother was striking while Sam looked exactly like Mr. Spencer with his blond hair and blue eyes. They used to call Kat Snow White at school, of course she hated it and they said it to mock her but that was exactly what she still looked like. Like the princess from the fairy tale. Her clothes didn't really fit into that picture -faded KISS band-shirt, skinny jeans and Doc Martens boots- but this contrast between her natural grace and the self-chosen anti-girlish look were part of her charm and her appeal, it had always been.

"Hello, Henry." She came down the stairs in front of the entrance and extended her hand to him. "Hi, Kat." He shook it with a smile. Her fingers were cold as ice. "It's been a while. Good to see you."

"Yeah, good to see you too." She returned the smile half-heartedly and an awkward silence fell over the scenery making him feel insecure. He looked at her but she avoided his gaze and Henry was relieved when Kal started to bark inside the car. Kat's face lit up immediately. "Who's that?"

Henry went to the Dodge and opened the door. "That's Kal." A big dog jumped out of the car and ran around wagging his tail.

"Oh, what a cutie." Kat squeaked and squatted down before she called the American Akita. "Come here, Kal." He ran to her and she petted him stroking his thick fur. "Good boy." Kal got really excited by the unexpected amount of love he was receiving from the strange woman and licked her all across her face which made her laugh out loud.

"Kal!" Henry scolded in a strict voice. "Sorry, Kat."

She shook her head with a jolly smile and this time their eyes met. "It's fine, Henry. Not a problem." Turning to Kal she added: "I love sloppy kisses from big hairy bears like you. You're such a cutie pie, aren't you." She kept on stroking him. "Mr. Darcy's gonna hate you." 

"Who's Mr. Darcy?" Henry gave her a curious look. 

"Our cat."

"Your cat." Sam rolled his eyes. "He hates everyone but you." 

"He just doesn't like to share my attention." Kat grinned and looked at Henry. "Don't listen to Sam. He just can't stand him. Darcy is great, a little peculiar maybe but still great."

Henry chuckled. "Can't wait to meet him."

"You will. Eventually. When he lowers himself to endure our company. The cat's a snob." Sam grinned. "So let's go inside?"

"Yes. Sure." Henry nodded with a smile. He was relieved that Kat seemed to be okay with having him in their house. She was a little distant which wasn't surprising regarding their history but she was friendly and that was a big relief. Maybe they would finally manage to get things straight after all these years.

"Kat, why don't you give Henry the grand tour of the house and I'll prepare a little lunch and afterwards we will get your stuff inside, Hen."

Kat hesitated. She didn't want to show Henry around but she also didn't want to discuss this in front of him so she gave in with a forced smile. "Sure."

"You don't need to make lunch, Sam. I don't want to be a nuisance."

"Bullshit. You're not a nuisance and it will be done in a minute." Sam waved it off and went inside.

"There's no point in arguing with him about things like that. He's such a mother hen…" Kat gave him a wink and they entered the house a moment after her brother. Henry sniggered. "Really? Sam "The Bull" Spencer has turned into what? A housewife?"

"Something like that, yes. He's very domestic lately. Especially since he's with Lydia."

"Ah yes, his girlfriend. He told me about her. So it's serious?" Henry followed Kat, who went upstairs. "Yes. It is, I guess she's gonna be my sister-in-law anytime soon."

"Do you like her?"

"Very much. She's great. Perfect for him." Kat nodded with a smile.

"And what about you? Are you in a relationship or something? Found your Mr. Right?"

Kat's smile faded and her expression went blank. "No." The answer was as short as cold and he knew he had crossed a line. He bit his lip and was just about to apologize when Kat turned to him again.

"Let's start on the second floor."

"Okay." 

She showed him his apartment which was really nice. Two big, light rooms, a stylish bathroom, modern furniture and a very cosy atmosphere.

"I hope Sam told you that the studio doesn't have a real kitchen, just this kitchenette."

"Of course. He said I can use your kitchen downstairs."

"Exactly. You can use all the rooms downstairs, except Sam's rooms of course, but the living room, the library, the music room and the dining room and our little gym in the basement. We have a pool outside if you like to swim and you may remember the garden...well yeah. But I better show you instead of talking about it."

They went back to the first floor. "Here are my rooms and my office. Over there is the laundry room." She pointed at a door at the end of the corridor. When they were back on the ground floor she showed him all the rooms she had mentioned before plus two guest rooms, another bathroom and a storage room. The house was amazing and very different from what Henry remembered. After taking a look at the garden and the brand new pool they met Sam in the kitchen.

"Perfect timing." He turned around presenting them a big plate packed with sandwiches. "Come, sit." Sam gestured towards the table and they sat down.

"That looks delicious, Sammy." Henry took a  big bite of a tuna sandwich. "Thanks. So how do you like your apartment?"

"It's perfect, just like the rest of the house. I can't thank you enough for letting me stay. Both of you." He glanced at Kat who had taken the seat opposite instead of next to him. "Well, you pay rent….and we were looking for a tenant, you were looking for a place to live. Win win situation." She said chewing on her sandwich and the way she shrugged this off showed him she wasn't too enthusiastic about the arrangement 

"Right. Win win. You're not gonna regret it, Kat." He looked her in the eyes and grinned. "I'm the best tenant a landlord can wish for. I'm quiet, tidy, helpful and…"

"Trustworthy?" Kat cut in with raised eyebrows and a sarcastic smile. Henry's grin froze on his face and his cheeks started burning with embarrassment.

"Kat…" Sam shot her a warning look that was supposed to remind her to play it nice but she ignored him.

"As much as I'm enjoying this lovely chat with our perfect new housemate...I gotta get back to work." She grabbed her sandwich and got up. "See you later."

She left the room and Henry realized he had been wrong believing that they could live together like nothing had ever happened between them.

~~~~~~~~~~

tbc

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #cavillry #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill rpf #rpf #henry cavill x ofc #slow burn #friends to lovers #friends to lovers fan fic

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns​, my beta @demisexualemmaswan​, and my artist @cocohook38​. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part  is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @xhookswenchx​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @spartanguard​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @carpedzem​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @lassluna​ @distant-rose​ @courtorderedcake​ @winterbythesea​ @thesschesthair​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @batana54​ @it-meant-something​ @xsajx​ @therooksshiningknight​ @gingerchangeling​​

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded. 

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours. 

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. 

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath. 

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

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped. 

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him. 

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake. 

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car. 

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat. 

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside. 

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

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

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward. 

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break. 

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now. 

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won. 

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

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on. 

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home. 

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps. 

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind. 

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep. 

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb. 

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position. 

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek. 

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual. 

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.” 

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes. 

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #ghost story #horror #strange lieutenant duckling #lol trust me #happy ending of sorts

[darealsaltysam]

what your paladins main says about you

a comprehensive essay by a paladins player of right around 4 years

this is like really long so i’ll make it under the cut so my followers don’t have to scroll through this if they don’t wanna

(for context i’m a current maeve main, i used to main skye and sha lin and played tyra a long while ago)

.

Androxus

it’s not a phase, mum

“i don’t care we don’t have healer, i’m really good at him i swear”

you ult every time it loads in and you die before the final shot

your favorite mode is siege because you can fly up and shoot the whole point on ult

you’re usually really stand-offish and don’t communicate much and/or a 13 year old boy with anger issues

.

Ash

you are level-headed but in a scary way

you will hold the point solo even if it costs you your streak

��get on the point” “guys get on the point” “attack the objective”

you’ll ult to save yourself 99% of the time

good leader

.

Atlas

you probably used to main lex or androxus before he came out

“he’s like a flank, but a tank, he’s great!”

you chase after solo kills instead of sticking to the point

healers hate you, flanks and damages fear you

your favorite mode is death match

.

Barik

you’re a former/current tf2 player looking for something fresh

you don’t like working too hard so you spam turrets on the point and hope for the best

“healer stick to me i’m boutta ult”

actually really nice between rounds

but you don’t communicate much mid-game and kind of do your thing

.

Bomb King

you’re a really old player. you have the beta makoa skin and you were there when lex was first released. veteran’s discount.

your favorite maps are the old ones and they barely show up any more

the team always underestimates you

“who plays bomb king in 2021 lol?”

you need a hug

.

Buck

“wait, he’s a flank? i thought he was a tank??”

you’re also a veteran in the game

you’re a dying breed. i like never see you. do you even exist?

you’ve been here since like the first day of the game

buck gets so many skins and you want all of them but the best you have is a random recolor

.

Cassie

sweetest person alive

“we can do it guys! let’s try to all rush the point this time!”

you are the bane of every flank

the opposing team hates you, your own team kind of doesn’t notice you’re there

*casually gets a pentakill*

.

Corvus

you know those weirdly political kids who like ww2 and know the details of every tank to ever exist? yeah that’s you

but like that’s corvus. as a character.

but no one ever plays him.

like i never even see him do you exist???

you are a cryptid.

.

Dredge

yo ho you’re a hoe

no seriously the other team views you and they FEAR you

“yeah i just got a penta kill” “YOU WHAT?” “eyes on the point mate don’t get distracted”

hella good at the game and hella casual about it

you like onslaught on the one sea map the most

.

Drogoz

another veteran, are we?

you’re either useless or can wipe out a whole team in seconds. there is no in-between.

you always have a really cool skin.

dovahkiin, dovahkiin...

“i don’t care about the point i gotta get them trips”

.

Evie

you bought her because you thought she was cute, admit it

*turns into ice right before dying* *turns into ice right before dying* *turns into ice right be

your personality type is identical to her. no question about that.

always buys faster reload and better speed

strangely good communication with the team

.

Fernando

gay gay homosexual gay

“he’s kinda hot if you look at him the right way”

fernando is the tank for gay people

you are gay people

i don’t have much more to say

.

Furia

mum energy. not as much as inara mains, but still, mum energy.

will protect every member of the team with your life, even the flanks

you’ve been maining her since she was first added

i bet you didn’t even know she’s canonically seris’ sister

“we’ve literally failed to capture the point the last 3 times we might as well give up and go to another game”

.

Grohk

“yeah i have a gremlincore tumblr blog, how could you tell?”

i honestly have no words

you’re kind of like a catboy but a racoon

do you even heal the team or do you just pretend

you were there when lex got announced and thought he was cringe, now everyone finally agrees with you

.

Grover

he was your first purchased character and he’s stuck around ever since

he’s the only healer you can play well

“i am groot lmao”

you would never say a word to your team

would give your life for the tank but that’s about it

.

Imani

daenerys targaryen on drugs

your favorite anime is my hero academia

your husbando is todoroki

you see where i am going with this

“team protect me i’m gonna ult” *dies 5 seconds into ult*

.

Inara

BIG MUM ENERGY

your team is your family. you will protect them with your life.

can only hold your own with a good healer so you have good teamwork going for you

*cutely places wall in front of your ult*

useless in tdm so you stick to onslaught, siege and koth

.

Io

are you a furry, furry, or a furry?

“victow! dont ult on my tweam pwease! uwu!”

you 100% find her attractive in some way shape or form

you are either a 30 year old redditor who enjoys loli content or a 16 year old teen who is playing a shooter for the first time

she’s kind of cute, i guess

.

Jenos

i can never tell if i’m going to absolutely destroy you or if you’re gonna kick my ass

*cutely holds you up so the whole team can shoot you to death*

kamehameha

you’re a healer??? i guess???

your character has such deep lore and i bet you don’t even know half of it

.

Khan

one day you were playing and your team desperately needed a tank. you picked the first one you saw. suddenly, you’re lian’s foot stool

despite 2 layers of heavy armor, you’d still let this man walk all over you

“this skin is really cool, wish it wasn’t behind a pay wall...”

YEET

you actually know the game’s lore, for some reason

.

Kinessa

i never trust people who are good at a sniper. if you’re bad that’s natural and you’re 99% of the population. if you’re good you are definitely up to something

you’d sell your sister for 5 pennies if you could

you’re missing from the team all game and somehow have the most kills

“we have a kinessa???”

you are an urban legend to your team

.

Koga

someone’s been watching naruto

you are so shit at the game. like i’m sorry. no one’s good at koga i’m so sorry

how do you have so many skins for one character???

you’re always missing from the point

healers hate you. so does the enemy kinessa.

.

Lex

quit the game /nm

“who mains lex in 2021??? lmao???”

wall hacks, aimbot, and it’s all legal for you as an ability. you are a hacker in a world of puny vanillas. you like it easy so you go for the easy min max character. have fun getting hated

you think he’s hot and press on his loading abilities just so he can scold you and you can hear him being mad at you

*bonk* go to horny jail

.

Lian

"she could step on me”

you used to main some sort of healer but switched over when you got sick of everyone being needy

you can hold a point all on your own for a really really long time but the moment your team gets there you start flunking

you wish you had more skins for her

you don’t

.

Maeve

so imagine this. it was like 2018 and you were just chilling playing the game. you kept getting killed by maeve. in every game. she was in every game you went to and she kept killing you over and over and over again. you got frustrated, snapped, and bought her to see if you could do the same to others. you are now the maeve in every game. the cycle repeats.

your whole team doubts you but then you casually get a quad kill and they just sort of look away

you die a total of two times each round and 99% of the time it’s because you go too fast and fall off the map

you repeat everything she says in her accent because you think it’s cute

“welcome to ze meant streets, kitten!” “can you shut the fuck up” “i hate to cut and run, he-he!”

.

Makoa

you have the plushie skin or the beta skin, otherwise you don’t main and only play casually stop lying to yourself

“attack turtle go brrr”

you’re really good if you get paired with a good healer

otherwise you’re useless

you wish you could get better teammates because you could really thrive with an organized group. but on paladins you won’t get that, i’m sorry-

.

Mal’Damba

i always forget this guy is even in the game

you’re definitely under 6 foot IRL

you have an older sibling you always fight with

you’d love to have a snake irl

you’re really chill outside of the game, but when playing you hella rage

.

Moji

you are so precious

but also such a little shit

you annoy me but i also want to give you a hug

“let’s go guys!! to the point!! wheee!!”

please never change but also get out of my sight

.

Octavia

you always main the new character until the new person drops

somehow always have enough credits to buy the new champion whenever they come out

you don’t like having a stable main cuz you get bored

you like hanging out at the training rage

hate siege and love team death match, you like your games quick

.

Pip

you are the worst and best thing to ever happen to this game

you only pick him to heal yourself and hardly ever heal your team

no one notices you there until you ult

then you get focused

honestly you just seem like you wanna do your thing and i can respect that

.

Raum

you probably go to therapy or desperately need it

“BIG MAN BIG. HE IS BIG. BRRRR”

you always love the demons in media

you like being in charge of the team and wreck the point any time you are there, you like fighting on your own but having a healer nearby is nice too

you probably have daddy issues

.

Ruckus

you think ruckus’ and bolt’s dynamic is cool and that’s one of the main reasons you started playing him

he’s the only tank you can play

you used to main either inara or ying at some point but chose violence instead

really short irl. you physically relate to ruckus and spiritually to bolt.

“funny goblin man :)”

.

Seris

certified girlboss

you can hold an objective all on your own or heal your whole team no problem. either way you are SLAYING

“alright. who’s ass am i kicking today?”

mum energy is inferior to inara but still kind of there

i’m like 50% sure you have a foot fetish

.

Sha Lin

*pointing and chanting* incel, incel, ince-

whether that’s about you or the character you can decide

you like minecraft bedwars on the side

“if i don’t get this headshot i am literally going to spontaneously combust”

really useful when there’s no other long distance people - otherwise a nuisance

.

Skye

AWOOGA *jaw drops to ground, eyes roll out of head* BOOBA BOOBA BOOBA

you bought her for the tiddies, didn’t you?

she’s actually really satisfying to play once you get the hang of her, but can be real tough on rough days

you need a break i think - maybe play some other game for a bit?

*casually gets team kill with ult*

.

Strix

you own at least one pretty knife

you played him when he was unlocked on rotation, fell in love, and spent a whole evening collecting credits to buy him fully

“haha bird man”

i’ve said what i said about snipers. if you’re actually good at him you are hiding a body somewhere. i fear you.

why does everyone ship him with viktor????

.

Talus

little furry child

he reminds me of tommyinnit because he is small and annoying

if you play him you are tall and intimidating 

i’m friends with a tall scary talus main

i can’t say bad things please spare me

.

Terminus

you always ult at the worst time and just get killed again 5 seconds after

“hey losers watch this” *goes on the point, dies, revives, kills one person and dies again*

you’re only a good tank if you cooperate

you don’t

on your own you’re a pretty good player

.

Tiberius

*sigh*

you think the cat is hot, don’t you?

“his accent is kinda cute tho hehe”

you saw that one ending scene in zootopia with the dancing tigers and it CHANGED you

you are probably a furry. if not your awakening is coming. be ready.

.

Torvald

you’ve been playing this game for too long

you’ve seen skins rise and fall. you’ve seen nerfs and buffs. you’ve seen reworks and remakes. you are ancient. older than the dragons and wiser than makoa. respect.

people see you on the opposing team and get really annoyed

“the point is really crowded, we can’t move in” “don’t worry guys, my ult is charged up”

you’re really good at all the characters but you like this guy a lot because you think he’s funky fresh

.

Tyra

you’re either new to the game or have been playing for too long

either way you can KICK ASS but you need to keep behind your team to do the most damage

flanks are the bane of you, especially the fast jumpy ones

you really want one of the cooler skins but you can only ever get the basic ones. such is the curse of maining one of the OG characters.

“bite me”

.

Viktor

you are level 100+ guaranteed, and everyone fears you

“oh shit they got a victor. flank focus him”

you probably play COD and CS:GO normally and wanted to go with something familiar and easy. your skill from the other more advanced games DWARFS everyone else

but why are you playing “guy with gun 132″ in a game with magical elves and fairies. like come on bro.

you don’t have any in-game friends because paladins is your guilty pleasure game you would never admit to

.

Vivian

“step on me” syndrome cranked up to 100%

this woman could spit on you and you’d still respect her more than your own mother. good for you

“i’m not a simp. i’m just tier 3 subbed to pokimane ironically”

you sweat the game hardcore. former victor main or he’s your secondary.

you’ve got her on level 50+ at least

.

Vora

like the maeve mains but somehow worse

bought her out of spite or played her while she was on rotation, now here you are grinding credits for her a day after she became unavailable

honestly you’re really good at the game i have nothing else to say

you enjoy the newer characters more than the OGs - you’re either a former vivian or lian main

you miss the play of the game feature in the game because you’d get all of them with this girl

.

Willo

you seem like the moji mains at first but show your true colors soon after

“fuck you” x50

you are a trash talker on max overdrive. you need to sit down, do some breathing exercises and have a drink.

you hate your own team more than the opposing guys

when you see a willow on the opposing team you make it your sole goal to eliminate her as many times as humanely possible

.

Yagorath

i bet you didn’t know she was canonically female until you read this

you don’t like sweating too much so you pick the tank that leaves you heavily relying on your healers and damages

you can hold a point really well so you like siege and onslaught

“are vora and yagorath connected in the lore somehow and do i really care?”

you have a friend who you always party up with to be your healer, otherwise you might switch to another character

.

Ying

“tanks love me, flanks hate me”

you are too powerful. literally. how are you so strong

you’ve mastered the most difficult healer in the game. the others are really easy for you to play but you have trouble with seris

motivate your team a lot but start shading and trash talking if they don’t cooperate

you’ll gladly play someone else for a long while and like taking breaks from her

.

Zhin

this is your first main after switching over from overwatch. we can smell it on you.

you’re really annoyed with his personality and voice lines but the character is too good to play for you to pass him up for that. you respond to his voice lines aloud very aggressively to let him know he’s an ass

“YES ZHIN HEALERS AREN’T USELESS YOU SELFISH PRICK”

you try your best but you’re not a great team player

infinite trips on a good day, die repeatedly without kills on a bad one and you switch over to vora or skye for a bit.

.

this took me hours to write out pls leave reblog and note thanks uwu

#paladins #paladins champions of the realm #paladins meme #paladins text post #maeve of blades #ying the blossom #skye twilight assassin #paladins viktor #paladins maeve #paladins ying #paladins skye #paladins octavia #paladins khan #paladins vora #paladins zhin #paladins vivian #paladins torvald #paladins makoa #paladins cassie #paladins inara #paladins evie #paladins seris #paladins furia #i tagged all the pretty girls #lets hope this gets around pog #pcotr

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 16/?

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name

I put two days into this chapter<3  I guess the timeline may speedup a bit<3

Warnings: Jail discussion, Victim Shaming, Fighting, Mentions of Injury, Disassociation, Disconnect, Trauma, Swearing, Mentions of alcoholism and drug use, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Family game night was well underway in the Wayne Manor when Y/N got a phone call from the prison that Justine Wong, her high school friend who went to jail protecting her, was incarcerated in until her trial or the man who attempted to assault Y/N dropped the charges. 

She excused herself and went outside in the Autumn weather to take the call.

“Hello.”

“This is an automated call from Gotham County Prison from Inmate ‘Justine Wong’, to accept this call please press 1.”

She did as such.

“Thank you for your cooperation. All inmate calls are recorded. Your account balance is $50.69.”

“Hello?” Justine asked into the phone.

“Hey, it’s me. Why are you calling? Are you alright?” Y/N asked.

“I need you to come here and get me a lawyer.”

“You’re up my ass right now, aren’t you? I thought he was dropping the charges?”

“He isn’t. Christopher, Thomas, Kaitlin and I seriously need your help now.”

“Are you all in the same prison?”

“Yes, they transferred over the boys yesterday because of this. We can all meet in a recorded room while you get us a lawyer.”

“Fuck, dude. Uh,” she thought about game night, but decided this was more important, “Do you need me now?”

“Yes, we can all get into the room and then you can meet us, I think the jail is 10-20 minutes of a walk away from the Manor?”

“Fuck. Okay. I’ll be there.”

Click. She thought about going back inside and asking someone to drive her to the jail, but she was also just not prepared to answer anyone’s questions about it. It was cold outside, but if she ran she could get there in 10 minutes. But that’s when Bruce joined her outside, she assumed Jason sent him because he was crushing his siblings in Monopoly at the moment.

“So, I’m friends with the commissioner of the county, Jim Gordon,” Bruce said, “And I know what your friends are dealing with.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s plastered all over the news or anything,” she said to Bruce, with a slight [massive] amount of sarcasm tinged in her voice.

“Do your parents know?”

“If they did I wouldn’t be in Gotham anymore.”

“Do you need a ride to the jail?”

“Yes.”

“I can do that, no issue.”

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“Anytime,” he said before leading her to one of his cars.

------------------------------------------

In the car, Y/N tried to keep up conversation with Bruce, it was a short drive but the time seemed to slow and he could tell she wasn’t talkative. This was, what he thought was likely, very, very stressful for her. He was used to this, the court dates, the police station, but he knew that her attackers’ court dates were coming up and she was going to need emotional support, since her parents weren’t in the city.

He didn’t know how to support her as the dad of her boyfriend, he’d probably just mention it in passing to Jason and Jason would deal with her. ‘Deal with’ probably was not the way to describe the girl that his son was dating, especially when she’s in as much emotional distress as Y/N clearly was in that moment, but Bruce was terrible with wording. 

She didn’t even want him to bother with her emotions about it all, because she didn't know how she felt. She didn’t know anything about the situation and how it made her feel, she just froze in the sight of this confrontation and hid from it all behind a mask of seeming to know what she was doing.

They pulled up to the prison, and she got out of the car and waved off Bruce before walking to the front desk and saying who she was and why she was there, providing her ID if need be. They led her into the backrooms, and told her that the room was being recorded and that she couldn’t touch them before letting her in the room.

She looked at the 4 of her friends who were all being charged with assault and battery.

“Y/N?” Thomas asked.

“This... this is surreal. Didn’t think we’d ever end up like this,” she said, looking at the floor before crossing her arms.

“What do we do now?” Kaitlin asked.

“Do any of your parents have enough money to pay for a lawyer? I can call them for you,” Y/N said.

“You didn’t already call them?” Christopher asked.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve been pretending this entire thing doesn’t exist, I don’t want it to exist.”

“But we need a lawyer,” Justine snapped.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Well you should have gotten us a lawyer!” Justine snapped again, raising her voice.

“Now is not the time to yell at her, Justine,” Thomas interrupted.

“Shut up, Thomas! You,” she turned to Y/N, “Look at me! Look what you made us do and you can’t even look us in the eyes!”

“I didn’t make you do anything, Justine.”

“You’re the one who’s a fucking alcoholic and can’t handle her drinks so she almost got raped! You’re pathetic.”

“Now is not the time to victim shame me, Justine” Y/N sighed, “What you’re saying is very hurtful and makes me not wish to help you anymore, understood? You can lash out at me to get the anger out, but this isn’t my fault and you know it,” she said, finally locking eyes with Justine.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

They continued talking about what to do for hours, with Y/N ignoring most advances Justine made to prove the point that yes, she was pissed at Justine about what she had said to Y/N.

Y/N wasn’t taking anyone’s shit anymore. Ever since she met Jason, and pissed off the press, she stopped letting people get away with everyone, she stopped telling people what they wanted to hear.

And people were noticing, especially her 4 friends in that room. She was trying to get better, to recover so she wouldn't relapse, and it was obvious. 

“Y/N?” Justine said.

“Justine?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am aware. I’ll be calling your parents when we’re done here.”

“So do you forgive me?”

“I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“You’ve changed.”

“Good,” she turned to the other 3, “Anything you 3 want before I leave?”

“Nope, that’s it,” Thomas said, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“That’s everything yeah,” Kaitlin said, “Thanks, man.”

“What they said,” Christopher joked, “Thanks.”

“Alright, I love you 3, I’ll try to arrange phone calls with you 3,” she said putting emphasis on the word 3. Oh yeah, she was pissed.

She would leave the room without even saying ‘goodbye’ to Justine. She would tell the police she was done with the meeting. They asked who would be handling getting lawyers to the 4 kids, she said she would call their parents. Commissioner Gordon walked up to her and held out his hand, “You must be Jason’s girlfriend. I’ve know that kid all his life basically, I’m Commissioner Jim Gordon,” he said.

“Y/N,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I know these last 2 weeks have been extremely stressful for you, Y/N,” he said.

“I think everyone’s caught onto that.”

“I called Bruce to come get you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

-----------------------------------

Meeting new people filled her with a lot of life after the hell she was pulled through. From stabbing, to head injuries, to friendships crumbling, to court, Y/N was being strewn through the wringer.

She knew it would calm down eventually, she was just being put through a few bad weeks for a lifetime of happiness, and she hoped that happiness was with Jason.

She couldn’t think much longer when Bruce pulled up and she got to the car.

“How was it?” he asked.

“Do you really want to know, Bruce?”

“I do. The justice system can be draining.”

“You could say that again,” she joked, “So, where do I start? Well, I get in there and tensions are high, obviously. I’m sure prison sucks when they shouldn’t really be there, they did the job the vigilantes here do, and we all let them do it. Anyway... my friend I guess, she comes at my throat about my attack,” she paused, trying to swallow her pain, “Starts blaming me for it, uses my alcoholic past against me, you know, the stuff you shouldn’t do. I don’t care if she’s right and I shouldn’t have drank, but she fucking led me to the bar.”

She fumbled with her hands a bit, still trying to not cry, “Anyway, I told her that she can’t talk to me like that, that I won’t let her talk to me like that and she apologized. Guess what? I said ‘You should be.’ and I know that might not mean much to you, Bruce, but I would have never stood up for myself like that had I not met your son, you did something right with that boy, Bruce, I swear,” she joked, “But that was about it, I have to call everyone’s parents to get them lawyers, but that’s it.”

“I figured you had a backbone from the start, kid,” Bruce said in response.

“You kidding? I had to ask Jason if you would hate me for flipping off the press? I’ve never, ever had a backbone.”

“Well maybe, besides the lack of protection,” he joked, “Maybe Jason and you are a good couple.”

“You think so?”

“I think so.”

“Thanks, Bruce. Really. Your kids are a hoot to hang out with and you’re not half-bad yourself, old man.”

“Are you going to start calling me that, too?”

“Maybe jokingly.”

“I’m not that old, kiddo.”

“You just called me kiddo and you think I don’t deserve to say you’re old? Really? Bruce, c’mon, you’re smarter than that.”

“You don’t deserve it. You’re just going to do it.”

She laughed, “About the protection lecture, I wouldn't have done it if I wasn’t on the pill, Bruce. I appreciate the concern, but you were so wrong about us ‘not being prepared’.”

He laughed, “Maybe you should have said something.”

“You never asked me, Bruce.”

“I wouldn't make a good detective, then.”

“That’s why Commissioner Gordon is on the cases I’m involved in, and not you.”

He paused, “Isn’t your head-butting buddy’s trial starting tomorrow?”

“It is.”

“Are you going to watch it?” he asked, off-handedly, “I think Dick might, just to see what the ‘sicko’ looks like.”

“I’m definitely going to watch it,” she laughed, “Might even make it an essay for school.”

“Well that’s one way to handle it.”

“Might as well turn the sick fuck who tried to turn me into a ransom note be turned into a 100% in my classes. Call it; Classy Revenge.”

They pulled into the driveway together, while Bruce was laughing at the comment Y/N made. She laughed, too. It helped heal some of the wounds she experienced over the 2 weeks of knowing Jason, even some of the prior wounds. Bruce told her that the kids were still playing Monopoly, none of them had apparently gone bankrupt yet, it was 12:00am.

To say she was impressed with Jason and his siblings would be an understatement, she remembered playing Monopoly with her family, and they’d all always declare bankruptcy within an hour or so, and thee was never a back-to-back winner when they all played.

Maybe they were bad at managing money, maybe thee Wanes just were too stubborn to declare bankruptcy and they bent the rules of Monopoly a little bit to suit their family, she didn’t know.

They walked into the house and sat back down, Y/N at Jason’s side where she had been the 4, or-so, hours before. Everyone seemed to acknowledge her presence and wished to ask her what happened, but no one knew how to bring it up to her. They knew she wasn’t used to the life of court and trials, the needing to talk to police, it was really one the Waynes and the kids of police officers that were used to tat stuff.

She pretended to not notice them wanting to ask her and opened her phone while Jason tried to negotiate for the 4th railroad from Tim, to see her mother texted her.

How are you, sweetheart? Her mum had asked.

I’m fine, mum. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

I should, but I can’t sleep thinking about the trial of your attacker

Same. It’s such a stressful situation.

I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling through all of this.

She couldn’t put how she felt into words. How the way that the moments she was in the alleyway made her feel. the way that man’s face was burned into her memory to be a constant reminder tat she wasn’t safe wherever she went. It was something she had never experienced before.

Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was pain.

I don’t know how I’m feeling either, Mum.

How’s your nose?

It’s healed basically. No more nosebleeds at random intervals.

You didn’t tell me about the nosebleeds.

I didn’t tell anyone about the nosebleeds, Mum.

Why not?

I don’t need people to worry about me, to feel for me, to make their times and schedules molded to fit me. Good intentions or not, I don’t need charity hand outs.

Then do we stop paying your rent?

Well, I mean you could. I wouldn’t stop you from stopping paying my rent, but the difference is that you giving me money is to keep me at the top of the school, to make myself the best I can be.

How badly would your studies be impacted if we stopped paying your bills?

Probably massively. Don’t worry, mum. It’s a two-year program and then I can get my own job and make enough money. I’ll get you a little house on a hill and you can be the Queen of the Hill.

That’s nice of you honey. We should both try to sleep if we’re trying ot catch the trial today.

Goodnight, Mum.

they were all still glued to the game, when Barbara chose she would  take the risk and ask Y/N about the meeting.

“So, how was it?” she asked, innocently.

“How much time do you have?”

“We have pretty much all night, the others can go at this till the trial tomorrow,” she joked.

“I mean, challenge accepted,” Y/N laughed, “So, we pull up to the county jail, right. I wave off Bruce, no big deal, everything was going to plan, which should have honestly been my first sign that things were going to be fucked, but I digress,” she paused, “I walk in, give the lady my ID and she looks at m funny, like she knew that I had been drinking underage in that moment and was disappointed in me, as she should be.”

She fiddled with her hands, “So they lead me to the back and before they do they tell me the usual, I can’t touch any of them and my conversation with them will be recorded, then they let me in. I greet everyone like the good friend I am but tensions are high and everyone’s on edge, which is understandable, but.”

Jason perked up when she put emphasis on but, knowing the story was about to get real, really quickly.

“My friend Justine, she called me to get me there, she starts going at me about how this is my fault for being an ex-alcoholic and drinking, which, yes, i should not have been drinking. But she lead me to the bar,” she paused, “She starts blaming me for how I almost got raped and putting them all in there, whatever,” she paused again, “I basically told her that if she wanted my help she was going to have to behave and be nice to me, to which, she apologized,” she paused.

“You didn’t accept that apology, right?” Stephanie asked.

“God, no. I said I’d consider forgiving her. Everyone else was fine though. anyway, I have to call their parents and get them in contact with a lawyer soon.”

“You’re still doing that even after that whore victim-shamed you?” Jason said, he seemed in awe that Y/N would be so kind to someone who did her so wrong.

“Jay, I’m borderline legally obligated to do that,” Y/N said, “I wouldn’t do it if she hadn’t saved me.”

“I think you still shouldn’t do it,” Damien said.

“And you seem very vengeful, Damien. But that’s only sometimes me.”

“Look, thou shalt not sin or whatever, love thy neighbor or whatever, but that girl wronged you in that conversation, do you really owe it to her to call her parents?” Tim asked.

“You know, for a family who’s known for being the ‘Nice Billionaires’ you all tend to really hate my choices,” she joked.

“Don’t make dumb ones, and we wouldn’t judge,” Tim retorted.

”Okay, smartass. I hope you go bankrupt.”

-------------------------------------------

Waking up next to Jason on the day of her attacker’s trial was something to her. The comforting aura of the room seemed to be stripped away because the sun hadn’t risen, the blinds didn’t need to be closed, and Jason wasn’t cuddled up next to her.

She would find him already dressed, pacing back and forth in his room. For her 3 back-to-back days of being in Jason’s house without going home, she never saw him this actively distressed about anything. But given the situation they found themselves in, it was understandable.

Someone actively threatened her life for an attempt at a ransom on her name, because she was now tied to Bruce Wayne, and Bruce had money. Of course, for the Wayne household, the kids and Bruce were used to ransom attempts on themselves, with some of them actually being taken hostage before, but Y/N wasn’t.

She defended herself, and since it was, thankfully, caught on camera unlike the attack on her attempted-rapist, she didn’t have to appear in court, she didn’t even need to video her side of the story, she wrote it in a letter and sent it to the District Attorney's office. The District Attorney, being the prosecutor, was obligated to give her statement to the defense, so she was curious as to how her words would be spun to fit their narrative.

Jason and Y/N were both in the criminal psychology major at their college, they both knew what they were in store for, and they both had the ability to tear the defendant into pieces the minute he spoke. If, he spoke, that is.

Jason didn’t seem to notice that she was awake. He was really lost in his own thoughts, his own concerns. He stopped pacing though, and he was just staring at his laptop, possibly zoned out from the situation.

She got up as quietly as she could and went to hug him from, she could hear him let out a little chuckle, so she greeted him, “Good morning, Jay.”

“I thought you were still sleeping,” he turned to look at her.

“I was, but I woke up, that’s how that works,” she joked.

“That’s insane I would have never thought people wake up after they sleep,” he said with heavy sarcasm, “The more you know.”

“Insane, I know,” she said, “I still don’t even have clothes here,” she laughed, “I really need to go home eventually.”

“No you don’t, what?” he said with more sarcasm, “You can just wear my clothes, baby.”

“I don’t think they’ll fit, Jay, I think you forget you are literally massive.”

He laughed, “Listen, being massive is not my fault.”

“How is it not your fault?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

“I am asking questions, I am curious now.”

“Shhh,” he joked, “No need to worry.”

“Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and he’s got rippling abs? But zero cause for concern? Where do you even find the time?”

“Well, when you’re not over it’s during my downtime.”

“Can’t believe you won’t work out in front of me,” she laughed, “That’s just rude.”

“You already have free entertainment here,” he joked.

----------------------------------------------

Somehow she found clothes that somewhat fit her so she could go downstairs and watch the start of the trial. She didn’t know if she could sit through the entire trial, she was victim. No one expected her to be able to sit through the entire thing. It was a lot different from studying trials to actually being a part of the trial.

There was more of an all-seeing-eye presence in the living room of the Wayne Manor that morning before the trial began. The sounds of reporters through the television while everyone sat and waited for it to begin, it was not something many would enjoy.

There would be an ending to this story, to this court case, whether it was a month from that moment on that couch or a year from that moment. There would be justice for that bullshit. 

Part of her didn’t even want the trial. She wanted the man to take a plea deal. She didn’t want to be in the spotlight when murders were happening. But no one would let it go, a beautiful woman being hurt in an attack against her? It was the kind of stuff that the news sources wanted, craved, from every court case.

And that was the thing about it. She didn’t want to be the tabloids newest escapade into being more and more corrupt, broken, deceitful. 

She looked to the television as Jason put his arm around her, bracing for any sort of reaction to the news. No one really knew how she was going to react. And then it started.

Cameras were being let into the courtroom and panning over to him. The man who had attacked her in the alleyway. She subconsciously brought her hand up to her nose and felt it. For a moment, it was like she was back in that alleyway, head-butting that man and then running to the Manor. But she wasn’t there and she knew that, trying to snap herself out o that state brought nothing, though. It took the Judge having to shush the entirety of the courtroom to get her attention back to the real world.

The Judge would introduce himself to the press, but mainly to the court, and then request opening statement. Or at least, Y/N thought that was what he was doing. She didn’t really know what was going on, something pulled her away from the court trial she was witnessing for the man who attacked her.

To the outside, the people surveying her to make sure she was okay, her eyes seemed to glaze over and she seemed to just disconnect from the situation. But they didn’t realize she had disconnected. She just looked to be in thought.

She saw colours fade in and out of her sight, people showing up in front of her, him showing up in her sights, the images dancing in her mind as if she was there in that courtroom.

The time began to slur in her mind. Hours became minutes to her. And before she knew it, court had ceased fro the day. She was snapped out of it by Jason letting her go. He offered to drive her home, she agreed.

-----------------------------------

“Y/N?” Jason asked while they were in the car.

“Uh huh?”

“Are you alright?”

“Good question,” she answered, flatly.

“Are you?” he asked, seeming more concerned.

“Probably not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Is that a no?”

“Mhm.”

He reached to place a hand on her thigh, attempting to comfort her, “That’s okay,” he said, “You don’t need to talk about it.”

“Mhm.”

He sighed, “I’ve decided something,” he said, “I’m going to spend the night at yours, just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay.”

“You still don’t have to talk about it.”

“I know.”

“Okay, here,” he smiled, “Have I told you the full story about the time that we did chair-racing in the halls of Wayne Manor?” he asked.

“No, you haven’t.”

“Well, what happened was we ended up flying down the halls at like 4 in the morning, right? Well,” he paused, “Dick used to be an acrobat, so when he almost went flying off the stairs, he actually caught himself on a handstand on the rails. Chair still went flying,” he said.

She smiled a little bit. He knew he was doing something right.

“We ended up breaking a vase. Bruce was okay with it because it wasn’t his parents, but Alfred was pissed at us for it. Grounded us all for weeks about it.”

“As he should.”

“Look at me go, getting multiple word answers out of you, and I even got you to crack a smile,” he laughed and grabbed her hand to hold it, “I’m just so good at this boyfriend thing.”

She smiled again. The smiles wouldn’t last for long, but they did happen. He knew the trial was traumatic for her. He could tell. Just from the way she drooped after the trial ended, she could normally not shut up when it came to Jason, so this was out of character.

When they got to her house, he would walk, basically lead her, to her house. She was so far disconnected from everything, that he even just let her rest in her bed with his clothes on and her shoes still on, because she wasn’t functioning. 

He would crawl into bed with her and let her rest her head on his chest. 

#dcu #dc #dceu #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood fluff #batfamily #batfam #batbros #batman #bruce wayne #batgirl #oracle #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #spoiler dc #cassandra wayne #cassandra cain #tim drake #red robin #dick grayson

[needtherapy]

The Necromancer’s Apprentice

Xue Yang has seen The Dark House and he’s heard the rumors that a zombie, a witch, and a necromancer live there. It’s stupid, obviously, but...well...maybe he’ll just sneak in one night and find out.

It’s better than doing nothing. It’s better than going back to the group home. It’s better than sleeping on the street.

Aka, three mildly feral twentysomethings are forcibly adopted by one (1) very feral thirteen-year-old Xue Yang.

Read on AO3

Many thanks to @coslyons for co-writing this with me (all the funniest parts belong to them) and @kevinkevinson for beta.

There is a Dark House in Ballard, and people say to avoid it.

It is probably not called the Dark House because evil lurks inside, although there is some debate about that. It is called the Dark House because it is black from threshold to cupola, from shutters to frames, and it looms on a block where whimsical shops of brick and steel are far more common. Unlike the thrift store and the record shop, the hiking outfitter and the vegan patissiere, no ivy reaches toward the roof of the Dark House. Unlike the local yarn store, no dogs sniff the Dark House’s gate, although at least two cats—also black, naturally—are always sitting on the porch.

It may not be fair to judge a house by its color, but the local legends are clear. If you step on the cracks in the sidewalk, the Dark House will steal your soul. The wrought iron gate of twining snakes comes alive under the light of the full moon to snap at unwary joggers. Children who walk alone after dark get eaten, and the yard is full of bones that wail songs of their murders.

Xue Yang sits on a bench, across the street, eating ice cream and admiring the house. He wonders about the sanity of people who mow the lawn and trim the roses, yet painted their pretty little house black, until it occurs to him that he could just go inside and find out.

He waits until dark, not to stay hidden, but because it’s a more terrible idea, and Xue Yang always gives himself permission to do more terrible things whenever he gets the chance. The high iron fence buzzes with a strange kind of energy that crackles in his palms, so Xue Yang wraps his hands tightly in his flannel shirt as he climbs over. His mother always said he was a practical boy, back when she was still around to say things.

Xue Yang lands in the backyard with a quiet thump onto thin and scraggly grass. The center of the yard is dark under the watery moonlight, with the dirt churned up and loose, and for the first time, a tiny twinge of warning pings in the back of his mind.

He ignores it.

With a flick of his wrist, he summons his knife, a long black switchblade that is seven kinds of illegal and which he loves more than anything else he has ever had, not that there is much competition. With nimble and practiced hands, he slides the knife between the door and the frame, twisting just right when he reaches the lock. With a grin of triumph, he turns the handle, shaped like a gaping mouth, and opens the door.

In the center of the room, there is a long sort of table that seems somehow to pull all the darkness of the room toward it. The shadows gather most thickly around a large, human-shaped lump laid out stiffly on top of it. Xue Yang reaches out to poke it and feels something unexpectedly warm give slightly under his finger.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Xue Yang shrieks.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the shadowy lump shrieks back.

“Why the fuck is everyone yelling?” a voice says, and the room is suddenly filled with light.

The shadowy lump rips off the sheet and turns into a guy in his early twenties with a scraggly little beard and wicked bedhead. The voice belongs to a grumpy-looking woman wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe. She squints at him in the oppressive brightness, glaring for a long moment before apparently deciding to deal with the man on the table first.  

“Wei Wuxian, I’ve told you a thousand times that the workshop is not a place for sleeping.”

“Technically—” the man begins, before being abruptly cut off by the woman.

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘yes, Wen Qing,’ then I don’t care. Go to bed.” She rounds on Xue Yang and he takes a tiny, involuntary step back. “You. What are you doing here?”

Before Xue Yang can answer, another guy—this one with long hair, killer tats, and a dedication to the goth look Xue Yang has to admire—runs in with a baseball bat held in his hands like a club.

“Jiejie! Is there something wrong?”

The woman—Wen Qing, she’d said—pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “It’s fine, A-Ning. I’m just trying to figure out what this little hooliganthinks he’s doing breaking into my house and tripping all of my wards while I’m trying to fucking sleep .”

Xue Yang is now convinced that what he’s broken into is some kind of madhouse, and he pastes a charming smile on his face, the one he uses when fists are clenched and the smell of alcohol burns in his nose. The smile whispers words like “anger issues” and “prone to destruction,” and it’s usually weapon enough, but he holds his knife a little tighter too, just in case.

The woman snaps around like she’s felt his fingers grip the handle of the blade and holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”

No. He will not. His chin tips dangerously, his smile grows icy spikes.

Her eyes narrow. “I could just take it.”

They face off for a minute, the tension almost palpable. Actually, Xue Yang thinks, it’s not tension after all. There’s something else in the air. It reminds him of the buzzing fence, and he doesn’t like the way it confuses him.

“Ah, Wen-jie, let him keep her. Can’t you tell? The kid is scared, they’re both scared, and it’s not like he can hurt us.”

Xue Yang is offended. He is not scared, but he’s relieved that Wei Wuxian spoke up all the same, because even though Wen Qing purses her lips and looks annoyed, she drops her hand.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms again. “Wei Wuxian, make sure our little guest leaves. I’m resetting the wards in five minutes and going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wei Wuxian grins and shoots finger guns at Wen Qing. “Sleep well and dream of me.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “Yes, because I love having nightmares.”

“Oh shoo.” Wei Wuxian flicks his hand at the goth man and Wen Qing. “To bed with you both. I can handle it.”

Their footsteps creak on the wooden floors as they walk further into the house. Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian wait in silence until the footsteps quiet, and then Wei Wuxian turns to Xue Yang. The grin he’d been wearing drops off his face and he looks serious, his eyes shaded and dark.

“Look kid, you should know better than to piss off powerful witches. It tends to be bad for the health.” The side of his mouth just barely tilts upwards, more wry than mirthful, and he looks old now. Old and grey and tired. “So, we’ll just call this a learning experience, and you’ll never come here again, right?”

Xue Yang snorts. “Are you kidding? If you’ve got real magic why the fuck would I leave now?”

“Toddlers shouldn’t swear.”

“I’m almost fourteen, fuck you very much.”

“Ah yes, I am now so convinced you are an adult.” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “It’s two in the morning. You want to go home and go to bed. There’s nothing here for you to be curious about at all.”

Something sibilant and musical weaves its way through the words, and Xue Yang has his hand on the door knob before he fights off the slithering compulsion.

Holy fuck that was cool.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” he says, sauntering back casually, pausing to look at a weird painting of a monster facing off with an axe-wielding guy in front of a lighthouse. He feels a very strong sense of camaraderie with it right now.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Sure, maybe you’ve got a little gift. But you’re a kid. Don’t you have parents who are going to, you know, notice you’re missing?”

Xue Yang stares him in the eyes, willing himself not to flinch. Something tells him this is a chance he’s never going to have again, a chance that requires honesty.

“No.” Xue Yang lifts his chin stubbornly. “I don’t.”

Wei Wuxian stares back, and Xue Yang gets the feeling that he sees all the years and all the disappointments that fit into that no. He doesn’t care. No one gives you what you want unless you take it.

This standoff lasts forever, or maybe it’s only a few seconds.

“She’s going to kill me,” Wei Wuxian mutters, and a little louder, “You can sleep on the couch tonight, but I’m locking you in the room and if you touch anything, I will turn you into a mannequin.”

He turns to leave, but looks back with a frown. “Wen Qing builds beautiful, elegant wards that you’ll never feel, never even notice if she doesn’t want you to. Mine will hurt. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Xue Yang decides, in the principle of magnanimity, to agree. “Whatever.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and points a finger at Xue Yang. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”

The words hold Xue Yang’s hand and lead him to the couch, make him lay down, and within minutes, he is asleep.

He opens his eyes to piercing sunlight and a pale face inches from his.

“What the fuck!” he yelps, instinctively grabbing for his knife and snapping it open.

“Mr. Wei, he’s awake and noisy,” the face says, and Xue Yang focuses on its features.

It’s the goth guy. His arms have full-sleeve tattoos, matching patterns of stark black geometric lines and circles, but his neck has weird black veins tattooed on it. His eyes, which are still way too close to Xue Yang’s, are so dark they’re practically black.

“Where’s the witch?” Xue Yang asks, sufficiently recovered to be an asshole.

“Boiling children,” Wei Wuxian retorts. He’s leaning over the table and taking notes in a tattered book, poking something with a tiny screwdriver. “It’s the only reason we let you stay.”

“Really?” Xue Yang can’t decide if that’s cool or terrifying.

“He’s always like that in the morning,” Goth Guy says conspiratorially. “By ten, he’s pretty nice again.”

“I’m never nice,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. “A-Ning, can you take our miscreant home, please? The last thing I need is cops knocking on The House door asking if we’re kidnapping children. Again.” “Okay, Mr. Wei.”

Xue Yang panics. He can’t go back there. Not since they found him alone with the fire. He knows what they’ll do, and he can’t go back. He won’t . He ducks under Goth Guy’s arm and has his knife angled under Wei Wuxian’s chin before he’s even processed the motor function commands “get up” and “don’t let him send you away.”

“No! You have to…” He scrambles though thoughts, desperate ideas, each one crazier than the last before he hits on words that work themselves loose from his mouth. “You said I had a gift, you have to teach me to use it.”

Wei Wuxian frowns, but instead of being afraid or angry, he tips his head and whistles, two notes that almost sound like a name. To his great shock and horror, Xue Yang’s knife vibrates in his hand, and his fingers snap open like a broken trap, dropping the knife onto Wei Wuxian’s waiting palm. He carefully folds the blade back into the handle.

“Jiangzai,” he says, almost affectionately.

It doesn’t mean anything, but then it does , and it hits Xue Yang so hard he collapses to the ground. The knife has a name, and he knows it’s right as soon as Wei Wuxian says it. Xue Yang’s heart pounds, and he hates it. He hates this motherfucker who just took his knife away and he hates the Goth Guy who is helping him back to his feet. He doesn’t want to stay anymore, and he shakes off Goth Guy, wishing he could throw his kindness on the floor and stomp on it.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe you have a little bit more than a little bit of a gift. But you still can’t stay, and I’m not teaching you anything.”

Xue Yang snatches his knife— his Jiangzai—out of Wei Wuxian’s hand and stomps to the door. “Fine. Fuck you.”

He gets as far as yanking the door open and slamming it against the wall before he realizes that there is a person in the way, and she doesn’t look inclined to move.

“Here you go, kiddo,” she says, handing him a bag. “I bought you some clean clothes and a toothbrush. A-Ning will show you where the bathroom is. Come back down for breakfast when you’ve changed.”

This is somehow more terrifying than when she was yelling at him. Yelling he understands. Now she’s just being...creepy. He stares at her belligerently, and she sighs.

“Listen, you little shit,” she says, bending over to look him dead in the eye. She doesn’t have to bend very far, he realizes. She’s actually tiny, even though she seems as big as the Fremont troll. “You will either go willingly with A-Ning, who is very nice, or you can test my patience and get buried in the yard with all the rest of the naughty children who break into my house. Your choice.”

Yeah, that’s more solid ground.

“Fine.” He grabs the bag from her and waves at the Goth Guy. “Lead the way, A-Ning .” He means it to be an insult, but Goth Guy just grins.

Xue Yang hears Wei Wuxian ask, “Wen Qing, what the fuck,” before Goth Guy herds him up the wide staircase, and he doesn’t hear any more of her answer than, “A-Xian, I can’t let him leave. You don’t understand, I did a location…”

This close to the Goth Guy, Xue Yang decides to acknowledge that the pale translucence of his skin is probably not makeup.

“I’m Wen Ning, by the way. I doubt Mr. Wei or jiejie introduced me,” Goth Guy—Wen Ning—says in a casual tone.

“So are you actually dead or what?” he asks Wen Ning, and Wen Ning grins.

“Or what,” he answers enigmatically, and gently shoves Xue Yang in a bathroom with pink tiles and a claw-foot tub.

Once he’s bathed and changed, Xue Yang heads back downstairs. Breakfast is bacon, eggs, and toast, and he doesn’t even pretend it isn’t the best food he’s eaten in a week. It is, in fact, the first food he hasn’t stolen in a week, and that alone is a novelty.

He’s halfway done with his food when Wei Wuxian, who hasn’t touched a bit of his and looks as sullen as an orange, says, “I have been informed that there is some arcane rule about teaching a gift you discover, and my...how did you put it, dear Wen Qing? My immortal soul and earthly being will be in danger if I don’t capitulate to the inevitable?”

He glares at Wen Qing, and she smiles sweetly at him.

“Whatever,” Xue Yang says around a mouthful of eggs. “Are you going to eat that?”

Wei Wuxian passes him the plate of food, and Xue Yang closes his eyes in bliss. Food is amazing.

“There are conditions—don’t look at me like that, Wen-jie. I agreed, okay? I get to set conditions. First of all, you do whatever I tell you. If I tell you to sell turnips on the street corner, you better sell some goddamn turnips. Second, you don’t touch anything unless I say it’s okay. A lot of this stuff,” he waves his hand around the white and yellow room, which looks surprisingly cheerful for a kitchen in a black house, “is priceless and dangerous, so…”

Wen Qing clears her throat and glares at Wei Wuxian.

“Uh...don’t touch anything.” Wei Wuxian finishes, snaking a piece of bacon from Xue Yang’s plate and shoving it into his mouth before disappearing back into his workroom.

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “I promise he’ll actually teach you stuff once he pulls his head—” She visibly checks herself. “Once he stops being an idiot. More bacon?”

The rest is on AO3

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #xue yang #wei wuxian #wen ning #wen qing #Seattle #modern au #modern with magic #found family #the untamed fic #13k words #I just think teenage Xue Yang would have been very different with a family

[mehbzz]

FFXV A/B/O au 18+ includes fingering, yandere, controlling behaviour, alludes to forced breeding, depression, mentions of self harm, low self esteem/weight issues. F!reader/Ignis/Gladio

So this was going to be a pretty dark forced breeding kinda fic but my mood changed and it ended up being half the beginning of a forced breeding fic and half depressed reader suffering from a depressive episode. The change in my mood is very noticeable half way though and probably a little jarring so we shall pretend that the second half happens a month or two after the first half, when the topic of kids has been soothed over and temporarily forgotten! No proofreading, no beta.

EDIT- Just correcting a typo that was annoying me!

“….having children.”

“What??” You’d been spacing out, a mixture of the Eos version of antidepressants you were taking and the fact that this meeting with King Regis was more than a little boring. Or had been at least. The end of Regis’ sentence shocks you back into reality abruptly.

Ignis shushes you quietly and you look at him aghast, but he ignores you, focusing on the King.

“Apologies Your Majesty.” Regis briefly glances at you then back to Ignis, “She is your mate? Bonded?” “Yes Your Majesty, myself and Gladiolus.”

Regis looks back at you “And the nature of your relationship with my son is….?”

Ignis answers before you can, “She is companion to all pack members.”

“Can she speak for herself?” Your gaze flicks to Ignis and he nods. “Yes Your Majesty I can.” You feel foolish and more than a little embarrassed as your voice echoes in the hall.

“Your pack keeps you close, understandably so, although I have heard you do not have much freedom?” The King watches you, waiting for a reply you think but you’re not sure what to say. “She’s very quiet isn’t she?” It feels like a jab, and you look at Ignis for direction who looks uncomfortable. He shakes his head minutely so you bite your tongue. Regis sighs and you feel a little like you just missed an opportunity.

“I believe that as Pack Alpha and as The Prince of Lucis Noctis should have first breeding rights.”

Ignis freezes and you bite your tongue so hard you taste blood. Breeding rights?? “I am unsure if that is something Noctis –“

“It doesn't matter,” The King interrupts with a wave of his hand. “I let my son live as independently as possible, and have allowed him to start his own pack but having an omega is an opportunity to continue the Caelum line. An opportunity we may not see again and one that should not be denied.”

You feel incredibly taken off guard with this whole conversation. “You cannot be – “

Ignis grabs your hand and silences you with a tight squeeze of your fingers. You must be dreaming right? This is not truly happening. The floor feels like its tilting beneath you and you have to look down at your feet to make sure it’s not.

“I will let you discuss it with Noctis and within your pack but I hope you will not forget my opinion or interest in this matter.” Regis gazes at you for a few seconds. “Apologise to Noctis on my behalf, I will not be able to make our dinner this evening.”

Ignis bows and you reluctantly do the same. You feel dazed. Ignis tight grip on your hand doesn’t let up as you leave the throne room. He keeps giving you concerned glances out the corner of his eye as you walk back to your quarters, but it takes you until you’re walking down the corridor to your room that you shake yourself out of your stunned stupor enough to say anything.

“Did we just negotiate over which one of you gets to knock me up?” You ask incredulous. He doesn’t answer you but he frowns at your choice of words.

“Ignis, you – please tell me I just hallucinated that whole meeting.”

He sighs “we will need to discuss it.”

“You are not serious. The answer is no!” “It's an omegas role.” He snaps and you flinch, not used to Ignis’ anger.

“My apologies. If the King has taken an interest we will need to discuss it.” he repeats.

“He cant make me have children.”

Ignis hesitates barely a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a pulse of terror through you that he immediately picks up on. he stops, turning towards you and cradling your face in his hands. “I nor the rest of your pack would force you into anything you didn’t want love.” He lets you go and takes your hands again. “However it is the future of the royal bloodline, it will be something we need to talk about seriously in the future, whether we want to or not.” “We do not! I don’t want kids Ignis!” He flinches and something dark flickers across his face as he looks at you. It’s gone before you can interpret it as he turns away, pulling you after him as he continues walking.

You feel tired. “I thought I was your mate,” you say sullenly “not Noctis’.” “You are, unfortunately it’s more complicated than that.” You think you should be more upset by this than you currently feel. The medication you were on was new and felt a lot stronger than the antidepressants you had been taking back home. It left you feeling a little more numb and placid than you think you would have been otherwise.

He stops outside your room and pulls you into a kiss. Moaning softly when you immediately respond. He’s purring, trying to comfort you and you give in to the calm emotions it provokes, not wanting to feel the disorientated confusion anymore.

He leans closer, pushing you into the wall and his hand tugs up your dress until your thighs are bare. “You did well talking to the King, I was proud of you.” His praise makes you shiver. You thought Gladio was the one with the high sex drive but as his fingers stroke up your thighs you think Ignis is just as bad. Although a little more polite and less aggressive about it perhaps.

You're both quiet as his fingers slip between your thighs and he rubs softly at your clit. He presses harder and increases his pace at your gentle sigh and you turn to bury your face into his neck as the pleasure builds. You’re panting into his neck and he has his face buried in your hair, you’re not sure why you feel like you have to be quiet but you do your best to hold back your moans. He’s saying nothing, breathing hard he slips his hand up, pressing onto your abdomen before dipping into your panties and sliding a gloved finger inside of you. He gives you no time to adjust before he starts fucking you, like he’s desperate to make you cum. His palm grinds against your clit as he adds another finger, your orgasm is building fast, and as he continues his ruthless pace you feel another kind of pressure building slowly low in your stomach. It makes you gasp out his name in mild alarm, “Sl-slow down, I’m gonna pee!” He nuzzles against your ear, his purr increasing in volume. “No you’re not love, just relax,” he nips at your ear, “Let go for me.” He curls his fingers, stroking your walls quickly in just the right way to have your back arching. It’s a quick hard orgasm that takes you by surprise and has your whole body jerking and shaking as you ride out the aftershocks, biting into his shoulder as you try to control your twitching muscles. He seems a little disappointed but he’s still purring quietly and it helps calm your racing pulse. “Good Girl” he slowly withdraws his hand and removes his gloves. Leaning around you to open your door he gives you another quick kiss. “Noctis will be disappointed about this evening, perhaps we should eat together?” Your legs feel shaky as you enter, Prompto is sat on your couch, watching what sounds like a musical and Gladio appears in front of you, pulling you into a kiss before you can even say hello. The kiss Gladio gives you is ravenous, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Both hands squeeze your ass as you try to pull away, conscious of the growing slick between your already wet thighs. “Gladio!” He chuckles at your breathless gasp and pulls away, letting you go. He slaps your ass hard as you walk away, almost crossing the line into genuinely painful but he only grins at your glare. You wince as you sit down next to Prompto and he gives you a sympathetic smile. He pats his knee “Lie down.”

Head resting in Prompto lap you half-heartedly watch the musical as he enthusiastically tells you the plot. You gaze flicks between the TV and Ignis and Gladio talking quietly by the door. You can’t make out what they’re saying but you have no doubt what they’re talking about. You’re still a little shook from your meeting with King Regis but you trust your pack to look after you. --------- “She looked to me for permission.” “hmm?” “When the King spoke to her. She looked to me before answering.” Gladio surprises him with a kiss to his cheek. “We trained her well.” “It’s not the way I wanted this topic brought up.” Ignis says after a few seconds and relaxes a little as Gladio strokes a hand down his back. “I didn’t realise that was what the King wished to discuss.” “Relax babe. We’ll do damage control, it’ll be fine.” Gladio watches Ignis expression closely, “She wasn’t happy with the idea I take it?” “She said No. Emphatically.” They both stand there quietly, watching you as you’re subjected to Prompto’s retelling of the film’s plot. “Accidents happen.” Gladio says quietly. Ignis frowns. “She’s on birth control and heat suppressants.” “You're in charge of her medication Iggy” Ignis finally looks at him, but says nothing. “Who can really tell one little pill from another?” Gladio shrugs. “Just saying.”

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“Noctis said you cancelled your plans with him today.” Ignis stands next to your bed watching you. He frowns slightly when you don’t respond, gently pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You push him away and he sits next to you on the mattress. He sits and waits watching you patiently until you give in and make eye contact with him. He's worried about you, it’s written clearly across his face and it makes you feel ill. You shrug. You're half expecting him to force you to go anyway.

“Bad day?”

You don't answer and snuggle deeper into your duvet.

“Love?”

“I'm fine,” It’s an automatic answer and a lie. “Just tired.” Not quite another lie but close enough. You are tired. Just not the type of tired that's going to be helped by the 12 hour nap you want to take. You try to force a smile but it feels awkward and it’s obviously not convincing from Ignis expression.

He sighs and cautiously shifts a little closer but you flinch away when he goes to stroke your hair. It's a dirty greasy mess and the thought of Ignis touching it fills you with disgust and embarrassment.

“Don’t.” His nostrils flare as he scents you and the surge of hatred for that invasion of privacy makes you feel physically sick. Nothing is ever just yours anymore.

“Talk to me love, I care about you.”

“Why?”

It's a choked sob and you angrily bite your lip in an effort to stop the tears.

“Because I love you.”

“Well you shouldn't.” It’s a snappy angry retort but he doesn’t flinch or pull away.

He reaches forward, gently brushing some of your hair away from your face. “Sit up.” You scowl but you do as he commands. He pulls your hair gently in to a ponytail, combing his finger slowly through it to ease the knots before tying it with a band.

“Have you eaten today?” You shake your head reluctantly. You hadn’t even got out of bed today let alone eaten or drunk anything. “Have you taken your medication?” His questions and attention are starting to irritate you. You just want to be left alone. “Love?” You shrug. You genuinely don’t remember. “I can take care of myself.” “Can you?” You don’t reply, annoyed at his patronizing, but probably correct assumption and instead lie back down and curl up into a tighter ball and try to ignore him. He sighs and entwines his fingers through yours despite your attempt to pull your hand away.

“I will go get you something to eat.”

You don’t want to eat but you want to be left alone so you nod. He looks almost sad, maybe disappointed and it feels you with a surge of guilt.

”Tell Noct I'm sorry”

“You have nothing to be sorry for love, but I will talk to him?”

It's a question and it surprises you for some reason.

You don't want him to know, it makes you feel pathetic. Ignis notices the way your thoughts have gone and links his fingers back through yours. “He'll understand.” He squeezes your hand on the last word and you look up at him. Noctis is the one most likely to understand you know that but it's still embarrassing.

“I won't tell him anything you don't want me to, just enough to ease his concerns.”

You nod reluctantly, but the thought that Noctis could genuinely be worried about you feels absurd. “Will you be safe on your own?” his gaze sweeps down your arm as he stands, you know what he’s looking for, what he’s thinking, and you feel irritated at yourself for having shared so much with him in the past. The frustration at his question is unfair, you know that but you still feel it.

“I’ll stay.” Gladio’s voice interrupts your reply. You watch with increasing exasperation as they talk quietly by the door, wishing they'd just go away before Ignis comes back to you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore his intense gaze. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and entwines his fingers back through yours. You crack open an eye when he doesn’t move away. He looks so concerned about you that you find yourself crying before you can stop yourself. “I’m sorry.” It’s half choked half sobbed from your throat. “You don’t need to be sorry” he repeats. He makes no move to come closer and you feel grateful for that. You don’t think you can handle too much affection without breaking down completely.

“Why do you put up with me?” you whisper, voice cracking. “I don’t do anything, I can’t fight, I can’t help with hunts, I just do nothing. I’m a burden.” “Love.” he sighs. “You are not a burden.” He kisses your palm. “You are a part of our pack. Our omega. Our mate.” He kisses you. “We love you.” “Why?” you sniffle. You can’t wrap your head around it. He wipes away your tears with a sad smile, “Because I do, because it’s you.” You’ve fooled him somehow, tricked him into loving you. Your stomach twists painfully.

“I won’t be long.” “Ok.” It’s a weak feeble reply but he doesn’t pull away from you, instead waits until you let go of his hand. You watch him leave, expecting him to go and not return now he’s seen what you are truly like until Gladio steps in front, blocking your view.

He stands next to your bed, arms crossed as he looks down at you. “Can I?”

You hesitate in answering and he takes that as a yes.

“Move over,” he says expectantly. Pushing his way into your bed and nudging you gently with his elbow when you don’t move.

You feel guilty that he’s having to stay with you, the urge to make it up to him is strong. You hook your leg over his and slide your calf over this crotch. He grunts in surprise and grabs your leg. “Relax baby.”

“You don't want to?” You're not surprised really, you probably don't look or smell very attractive right now but it still hurts. Why would he stay if you can't give him what he wants?

“Always, but we're napping right now.”

You don't believe him, and even though you don't even want to have sex you still feel the sting of rejection. He notices and presses a kiss to your forehead. Grabbing your wrist he tugs your hand to his crotch. “I'm always half hard for you omega.” And he is. You curl your hand around the bulge in his pants and squeeze tightly. His hips jerk forward and he chuckles pulling your hand away to rest on his chest. “No, don’t be naughty.”

You slump down on his chest, somewhat sullenly, still a little sore from his rejection.

You lose yourself in Gladio’s presence for a while, his heart beat strong and steady in your ear. “Wanna talk?”

“No, just cuddle.”

“I can do that.” He tightens his grip around you, pulling you until you are practically on top of him.

The self hatred comes back and you tense. You try to pull back but he tightens his hold.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm –“ Was he really going to make you say it?

“I'm heavy.” You mumble it into his chest.

“What?”

“Aren't I too heavy?”

“No you’re perfect.” he slides his hands down your sides to your ass. “I love every inch of you,” he continues his movements, gripping your thighs. “You know how much Prompto goes on about these thighs? Gets me jealous with the amount of marks he leaves on them.”

You want to cry. He freezes as your breath hitches.

“We can work on it if it's something you really want baby.” He says it hesitantly, quietly, like he's scared of upsetting you further. Linking his fingers with yours he tugs your hand to rest over his heart.

You don’t know if it is something you want, you can’t separate the dark voice in your head from the logical one. But he’s listening to you. He’s not dismissing you, and he’s definitely not ignoring you and it makes the tears run freely again. Youre not worth such care. His free hand is still wandering, soothing strokes that start at the nape of your neck, swirl down your spine to your ass and dip just barely under the hem of your shirt. It’s a soft gentle caress and even when his hands slip a little higher under your shirt there’s nothing but love and tenderness in his touch. “You’re sexy and you’re smart,” he kisses your thumb, “funny, kind,” he makes his way along your fingers with each word, a kiss pressed to the tip of each one. “brave, and my favourite kind of brat.” he nips at your pinky with the last word, before moving onto your other hand. His hands still when he hears you sniff. ”Want me to stop?”

You bury your face into his chest to hide your tears. “Yes,” you hiccup “No.”

He squeezes you tighter and lets your hand drop, resuming his touch down your back.

“and I like you on top of me,” he says his voice dropping to a low whisper “I love watching you ride me.”

His horniness is predictable, and you smile into his neck, and although it doesn't last long it is a genuine smile.

“I felt that.”

You feel him relax underneath you, he’s not purring but you feel grateful for that.

You're still tired, still sad but the heavy dark emptiness in your chest lessens slightly as you lay there and listen to Gladio’s heartbeat. You feel like you can breathe a little easier. You turn on to your side away from him and all though he looks apprehensive he lets you go.

You shift and squirm until you are comfortable on your front and reach behind you to pull Gladio’s arm across your back. He goes willingly, only resisting when you try to drag him on top of you. “The weight feels good. Please? It makes me feel,-“ It’s hard to describe how it makes you feel exactly, “…safe.” You finish quietly. He opens his mouth to reply and you beat him to it. “No talking, just squish.” His amused huff rustles your hair but he does as he’s told, draping himself over you until your half wedged under him and wrapped tight in his arms.

“I lo-“ “Don’t” you interrupt him quickly, with a surge of panic. You can’t hear that right now. “I’m- I cant. Not now.” You’re pretty sure you’re not making sense, that he’s not going to understand. “Ok.” It's murmured against your hair, a simple acknowledgment but it makes you feel better. “Can I touch you?” You nod and he slips his warm hand under your shirt to rest across your ribs just under your breasts, holding you snugly against him. It still doesn't sit quite right. His affection, his obvious care, still feels alien, wrong, like it’s meant for someone else. The feeling that you’ve tricked them into caring about you and your depressed mood still linger, and probably will for a while. But you’ve been through this before, you’ve made it through this before, and with the sound of Gladio’s steady breathing in your ear as he holds you, the heavy emptiness in your chest lessens a little bit more.

#ffxv #fanfiction #a/b/o universe #ffxv ignis #ffxv gladio

[insomniamamma]

Prickle: Ezra x F! Reader

A/n: Okay, so don’t know what the hell this is. I was trying to go to sleep a few days ago and this just kind of popped in there, the idea of Ez giving the reader a weird nickname. I swear I have a more serious, put together fic in the works, but this demanded my attention first. I meant this to be short, but I suck at keeping things short.

warnings: language, angst, mild violence, lil bit of fluff, no beta

______________________________________________________________________

He calls you Artichoke. Since hiring you on, Ezra has thrown a string of nicknames at you, mostly botanical or avian, some referencing things you have never heard of, and this is the one that stuck. Cee is Little Bird most of the time, until she indulges in teen-age surliness and then she's Channel Rat. You are Artichoke. Which would be fine, except you don't have the foggiest idea of what an artichoke is. Nothing about the word triggers anything in your brain.

You are not so well-travelled as Ezra and Cee. You grew up on Falnost, a dusty little fly speck of a moon, only colonized because it orbits a gas giant with lush rings, perfect for ice-mining operations. Falnost has one port city that caters to people who come downworld on leave. The rest is cattle and corn. Nothing to do but pull rocks out of the ground, dig irrigation ditches and spread the sandy dirt with live bacteria concentrates in hopes of convincing the ground to grow something. Not a place for fancy words or much beyond a standard technical education. You scrimped and saved and bought your passage off-world as soon as you could, and you've been drifting ever since. Puggart Bench was the closest you've been to civilization, and even that seemed overwhelming and a bit weird. You suspect artichoke is something from the inner worlds, but you have no idea what it could be. What if it's something bad, or nasty like a channel rat? What if Ezra's been making fun of you, calling you this name?           It started two drops ago on Sammana. You were there to harvest lattice corals. Sammana once had a deep liquid ocean, but now all that was left were vast, glittering salt-flats. It was hot on Sammana. The air, while not toxic, stank like sun-dried shit. The corals themselves were fragile and you had to dig through the salt-pan with hand tools to get to them. By the end of the first day, your hands were raw and sobbing from a hundred salt-burnt cuts. You were hired on as muscle, but Ezra's been teaching you the trade as well. Many hands make light work, he said, and dimpled at his own joke, being down one hand himself.           The dig did not go well. The corals you were finding were few and of mediocre quality at best. Enough to keep you fueled and flying, but little else. There was less than a cycle before you had to catch the slingback and even Ezra's mood was dark.             "I'm callin it," he said, after a small and brittle coral crumbled in his hand. "We got enough to get us onto the next job. Fueled and flying, right?"             "Fueled and flying," you echoed back, grabbing the railgun and taking point. Camp was some ways and the sun overhead felt like a physical weight grinding down on you. The railgun was heavy, sweat ran into your eyes and pooled under your body armor. So much miserable effort for so little reward. Today's pull was a pittance, a little extra fuel, a little extra data bandwidth and that's all. You swiped the sweat from your eyes for the hundredth time today. You were over it. Camp resolved itself out of the heat-glitter rising up from the salt crusted ground, the drop pod sitting in a crater of shattered salt, the tent next to it, hooked up to the pod's RTG by a thick braided cable. The tent's flaps were open. Someone was moving inside.             "Oh, hell no!" You pelted towards camp, railgun raised, the figure paused, and then continued rifling through the tent. He had your trophy case at his feet, what little you've been able to collect over the last cycles and this bastard meant to take all of it.            "Hands in the air motherfucker!" The thief dropped his haul and raised his hands. "The fuck out of the tent, right fucking now!" You felt Ezra and Cee behind you, heard their hard breaths.            "I didn't mean nothin," he says, "I thought this camp was abandoned--" And something snapped in you. Never in your life had you been this angry.            "Bullshit you did! Abandoned with the pod still hot?" You primed the railgun, and aimed through the scope right between this dumbass's eyes, and then you felt Ezra's hand on your arm. He spoke low and close to your ear.            "Ease up on the rails, there, Artichoke, ain't no need for bloodshed yet." And for as angry as you were, you did as he asked, relaxed your stance some. Ezra walked toward the kid, no mercenary, this, just some dumb local.            "My friend here wants to shoot you," Ezra said, "And she is well within her rights to do so. We have toiled long to get what little we could out of this bitter ground."            "I'm sorry!" said the would-be thief, "I didn't mean nothin--"            "What you meant or didn't mean is not the issue here," said Ezra, "What you do next is going to determine whether you walk away or I tell my over-eager associate here to indulge her violent nature. Here's what is going to happen. My partner, Cee, knows every stitch of equipment we own. You  will dump your pack for her, turn out your pockets and give back everything that's ours. One aggressive move and Artichoke here will kill you. Rely on it. You do what I say and you get to walk away with your life. Clear?"           "Clear," he said. He dumped his pack as instructed and Cee picked through the contents, reclaiming several items.           "We're good,"said Cee, and gave the thief a shove, "Get out of here." He turned and started running, you fired a few shots that crackled into the salt-pan at his heels.           Later, as you broke camp, you and Ezra got into the first real argument you'd had. So far you've managed to keep things professional, but the anger was still there, hot and pulsing behind your eyes.           "You should have let me shoot him,"           "It doesn't always have to come down to shooting," said Ezra, "Things turned out right in the end. We kept our harvest and that foolish boy gets to keep on breathing."            "He was trying to steal our whole harvest," your voice rose, "Gods be damned, Ezra, you know what that means. You of all people--"            "He was a kid," Ezra's eyes were wide and dark, "Not much older than our Cee. Would you have that kind of blood on your hands?" There was no good answer. Ezra had all the words, you struggled with them. There was no way to speak back. Ezra sensed something shift in you, something in the slump of your shoulders. He laid his hand on your upper arm, gave a brief squeeze.           "It's alright, Artichoke, We're all safe. It's alright."

          Since that crazy day on Sammana, you've been Artichoke, and you don't know what to make of it. You can't ask Ezra directly. Ezra has ten different words for everything. You don't always understand him. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, but sometimes he makes you feel stupid. You can imagine his self-satisfied smile as he explains the why of your nickname. You're not about to ask him. So you decide to ask Cee.           It's morning and you hand Cee a dented metal cup with fake coffee in it. Ezra shoots you a look and you shoot him one right back. You shouldn't give her coffee, he'd said, it'll stunt her growth, to which you'd said, Kevva's sakes, she was processing Jhata Balu at twelve. I think she can handle a cup of coffee. Ezra is a morning person, one of the things about him that infuriates you. You and Cee have barely joined the land of the living and he's up and about and doing maintenance on his suit. One handed, he struggles, but you've learned not to offer help. You did once and the look he gave you made you want to strap your body armor a little tighter. So you just tune out the string of muttered curses coming from the other end of the tent. You've learned to tell when Ezra is talking to himself.           "Hey, Cee?"           "Mmmh?"           "What's an artichoke?" You pitch your voice low, but there's heat prickling in your neck. Cee sips her coffee and smiles, a slow, one sided grin, like she's been expecting the question.            "It's a Terran plant," she says, and pulls her battered notebook and pen from under her pillow, furrows her brow as she sketches. She turns the notebook so you can see. "It looks kind of like this." And now you are even more confused, presenting with what looks like a scaly ball on a thick stem. What this has to do with you, you can't even guess.

          "Why does he call me that?" You ask, and Cee just stares over her coffee cup like she's staring into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Cee! Why does he call me that?" Cee smirks and jerks her head up. And the fact of the relative silence hits you, Ezra's muttered string of curses is done and you hear him chuckle close and behind. You bow your head, heat rushing to your face. 

          "If you wanted to know the reason for your moniker you could have just asked," says Ezra, you're not looking at him, but you can practically hear him smirk. He's gone and done it again, set a snare of words, and you've bumbled into it. You clench your hands and jaw and turn to face him, best to absorb whatever little humiliation he has planned for you so you can get back to your coffee.           "Fine," you say, and it comes out angrier than intended. It is too early in the morning for this. "Why do you call me Artichoke?" His brows furrow briefly and his smirk softens into a warmer smile, the kind that crinkles his eyes at the corners. He squeezes your upper arm, like on Sammana, but there's no body armor between you.           "I call you Artichoke because I believe that, like an artichoke, you conceal beneath your prickly exterior a tender, delectable heart." He drops you a wink and then jams his helmet on and out the tent flaps into the sticky heat of day.          "Good one, Ez," Cee calls to his retreating back and the purr of the zippers pulled back up, "Real subtle."           "What. The. Utter fuck?" You mutter into your cup of shit fake coffee. You shake your head. You and Cee suck down your coffee in silence for a beat.           "You know he likes you, right?" Says Cee.           "Well, I should hope so," you say, "We're crew." Cee is giving you a look of pity and condescention that somehow only teenagers can manage. Oh.           "Oh. Oh no! No no no no no!" The realization comes pouring out of you and Cee giggles. "Nope! Not in a million years! Hard no!" But part of you thinks this is wrong even as you say it. Part of you likes the idea of being Ezra's artichoke, his tough and prickly thing with soft insides. Part of you wonders what would happen if you let him in beneath your spiky outer layers, just a little.

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect #cee #cee prospect #prospect movie

[anxiousstark]

S1 06 | Co-Captain

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 2091

Warnings: Mentions drugs, child abuse, swearing (always).

A/N: I’m sorry but this is a filler chapter, an IMPORTANT one. Y/N’s past start coming back, her mom’s story is quite significant, and the mention of his dad. NEXT WEEK WE FINISH SEASON 1! THINGS START GETTING FCKING INTERESTING!

Scott had told us last night what happened to him. Peter and Derek had gone to the changing rooms, searching for him. Peter had shown him what happened to the Hale family. It was a truly sad story. Stiles told him what happened in the hospital, including what I did. But he hadn't told him that while Peter was showing him his past, I was shaking in Stiles's bedroom while he searched what creature I could be.

"What's up?" Stiles stopped the jeep next to Jackson and his car. He was accompanied by Chris Argent, someone who looked like an asshole. He was.

"Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Scott. Your friend, here, was having car trouble. We're just taking a look." He replied with a smile on his face. His blue eyes weren't warm, they were cold, transmitting uneasiness.

"There's a shop right down the street. I'm sure they have a tow truck." Scott pointed down the street. I just silently sat on the back of the jeep, observing Chris.

"Yeah. You want a ride?" Scott opened the door while Chris turned his face to look at Jackson. "Hey, come on, Jackson. You're way too pretty to be out here all by yourself." Jackson started walking towards us, and Scott came out of the car to let him in.

"Hey, boys." He turned the engine of the car on, it was working. "Told you I knew a few things about cars." Then, he went back to his car, driving away.

"What, are you following me, now?" Stiles got out of the car while I decided to stay inside, rolling the window down so I could hear them better.

"Yes, you stupid freaking idiot. You almost gave away everything, right there." Scott started screaming. Seems like his 'anger issues' were still there.

"What are you talking about?"

"He thinks you're the second beta."

"What?"

"He thinks you're me!" Scott grunted, punching Stiles's jeep. Uh oh, he touched his baby.

"Dude, my jeep."

Scott ignored his best friend and continued speaking his mind to Jackson. "I can hear your heart beating from a mile away, literally! Now he thinks that there's something wrong, and now I have to keep an eye on you so he doesn't kill you too!"

He turned to the jeep again, to hit it. But Stiles stopped him. "Okay, how about we step away from Stiles's Jeep?"

"This is your problem, not mine, okay? I didn't say anything, which means you're the one that's gonna get me killed. Okay, this is your fault." Jackson couldn't control his temper, pushing Scott against the jeep, making it tumble a little. I decided to go out, standing next to the owner of the said jeep.

"Can we stop hitting my jeep?" Scott pushed Jackson away from him. "Yo, all right, yo, guys, stop. All right?"

"When they come after you, I won't be able to protect you." His gaze landed on his best friend. "I can't protect anyone."

"Why are you looking at me?" I put my hand on his back, rubbing it to help him calm down. He had concluded that Scott couldn't protect him if he didn't have the power.

"You know, now you have to do it. Get me what I want, and I will be fine protecting myself."

"No, you won't! Just trust me. All it does is make things worse." His eyes were desperate, but Jackson didn't seem to care. "Yeah, I can run really fast now. Except half the time, I'm running away from people trying to kill me! And I can hear things like - like my girlfriend telling people that she doesn't trust me anymore right before breaking up with me. I'm not lying to you! It ruins your life."

"It ruined your life." He smiled wickedly. "You had all the power in the world, and you didn't know what to do with it. You know what it's actually like? It's like you turned 16, and someone bought you a Porsche when they should have started you out with a nice little Honda. Me? I drive a Porsche." He turned around, determined to go back to his so-loved car.

"You aren't a werewolf." I decided to speak for the first time that day. Jackson stopped on his track. "You are something. I don't know what, but you are something." I choked, it was Stiles's turn to rub my back. I wasn't human anymore, and I hadn't had enough time to sit down and talk about it with someone. "And I am too." I stepped in front of the other two boys. "You were there that night." I simpered. "Do you remember that day at school? You asked me if my wound was hurting, you told me you felt different, that you weren't the same Jackson anymore." He turned around to look at me, jaw clenched. "I told you that all that was because you were a teenager. The changes a teenager goes through, you know?"

"Are you done?" He interrupted. "Don't wanna be here anymore."

"I lied." His attention was back on me again. "I lied, Jackson. I could smell you. And you smelled like the dead." He got into the car, driving away.

Stiles grabbed the milk from the fridge, deciding to take it with himself to his room, until he saw his dad sitting on a table, documents all over it. "Whatcha doing?"

"Work."

"Anything I can help with?"

"You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that would be awfully nice." He didn't have to think it twice, grabbing a glass and the bottle of whiskey.

"Any leads?" Stiles was going to grab a document when his father slapped his hand away. "Wait. Before we get into that topic. Did you know that Melissa was going to bring Y/N?" He bit his lower lip.

Sheriff Stilinski nodded, drinking his alcohol. "An old workmate had that case. The case of Y/N McCall." Stiles waited for his father to go on. "As you know, Scott grew up without his father but seems like that man wasn't in her life neither. She only saw him a couple of times for what I know." He wrote down some information about Derek Hale. "Her mother was a disaster. My friend carried that case. He freed her from jail one time."

"Jail?" Stiles drank milk again.

"Drugs. An entire criminal record related to drugs; driving under the influence, getting into fights while high..." He coughed. "Then," Noah Stilisnki gazed at his son for the first time that night, ignoring the paper works that were on top of the table. "Child abuse." Stiles dropped the bottle, thankfully it was empty. "Y/N went to court with bruises a couple of times, nothing more than that. But still, abuse."

"Didn't they took her away? What are social services for? Didn't they protect her?" His eyebrows furrowed while he glanced at his dad, who was now looking at the documents on the table.

"They called Y/N's father to court, hoping he would take responsibility for his daughter like any father would do." Stiles's mouth was agape. "But he didn't. The judge decided that the environment wasn't the best one for a child. But, still gave an opportunity to her with the condition of going to rehab."

"Did she?" The teen asked, immersed in the story.

"No, she left Y/N on the front door of one of her friends, who was also into drugs in the past. However, that friend was clean."

"She said her mother died."

"She did." Noah stared at his son. "In jail. She died in jail. She...uhm, ended her life." Stiles was shocked. He had to talk to Scott. She wasn't there to make Scott mad, she was there because she had nobody.

"Why did she end up in jail?"

Noah shook his head. "She was on drugs, and...Uhm, she murdered someone. Then, she took her own life in jail."

Stiles could feel his heart beating loudly. He couldn't imagine how she felt.

Someone knocked on the door, and I came out of my room to see Melissa all dressed up. "Hey." She grinned at me, eyes shining with happiness. "You look beautiful." I offered her a grin, she thanked me, looking back at Scott.

"Scott! Get the door. Scott! For the love of God, please! Hey. What are you doing? Aren't you gonna invite him in?" She was like a teenager on her first date. Not surprised if we remember that she once was married to the man who put his dick on the woman that I should call mom.

I walked down the stairs when I heard Scott talking to her mom's date. He must feel strange, but I was curious to know who he was.

"I'm ready, I'm ready. Sorry again." It was Peter. Peter Hale.

"Mom."

"Yes? Sweetheart?" She was grabbing Peter's arm. I could tell she wanted to go out with him, and have a delightful night. But we all knew why Peter Hale was here. It wasn't because he had fallen in love with Melissa, or because he wanted to get to know her better. It was because of Scott and me.

"Have a good time." The door closed in our faces. "Don't say it."

I did anyway. "Are you going to let your mom go on a date with that demented psychopath?"

"Look, he told me that if I said something-" He sighed. "And what do I tell her? That her son is a teen werewolf, and that dude is-" He had difficulties breathing. "And Allison is upstairs-"

"Scott." I interrupted. "Calm down, okay?" I bit my lower lip, trying to think of something. "Give me your phone." He was confused.

"C'mon!" When he handed me his phone, I called the only person who could help me. "Stiles? Hi! Uhm, I need your help."

I explained the situation to Stiles while we followed Melissa and Peter. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

I grunted. "I wish I was." I tried to get comfortable in the passenger seat. "Here they are." I glanced at him. "What do we do now?"

"We hit."

"Uh?"

Both of us got out of the car. Melissa's face becoming red when she saw Stiles. "Oh, are you kidding me? Stiles!" Her gaze fell on me next. "Y/N?"

"Mrs. McCall?" Great acting, Stiles. "Wow, this is - this is just crazy. What a coincidence, huh?" He looked at me for a second. "I mean - I do not know what happened. You guys just came out of nowhere."

"Came out of nowhere! We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles."

"How crazy is that? I mean, we should probably call the cops, you know, do like an accident report thing." I nodded my head while grabbing Melissa's hand. Please, please.

"I don't think that's necessary." Peter interrupted, looking around.

"Are you sure? I think I'm feeling a little whiplash." He touched his neck.

"Whiplash? You hit us!"

"I don't know - there's something definitely wrong with my neck." Melissa started screaming at him, and Peter went far from us, he was probably communicating with Scott, who had followed us.

I went closer to Peter, hearing him talk about Jackson. "Don't get close to her." He turned around. smirking at me. "Be a man." I glared at him. "Melissa has nothing to do with all this. Be a man, go for the ones who have something to do with this."

He grinned. "What are you going to do, sweetheart?"

"I was not the one held against a wall with a hand on my neck, choking to death." I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look intimidating.

"You don't even know how you did it." He came closer to me. "But I know-how. Don't you want to know? Don't you want to know what you are?" He tried to brush my cheek, but I slapped his hand away. "You, my dear, are very powerful. More than you think. Maybe even more than Scott. When you learn what you are and what you can do, you will be a great weapon."

"I'm a person, not a weapon."

"Aw, sweetheart." He pouted. "You aren't a person anymore, and you know it." He whispered the next thing, but of course, Scott was listening to him. "You could be stronger with me. Be part of my pack."

"She already has a pack." I hear Scott's voice in my head. How did he do that? "She is part of my pack."

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilisnki #stiles fic #stiles stilisnki fanfic #stiles stilisnki x you #stiles stilisnki x reader #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilisnki series #stiles x you #stiles x reader #stiles x y/n #stiles fanfic #stiles x oc #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x you #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x oc #teen wolf imagine #scott mccall #x reader #reader!mccall #stiles x reader!mccall #Melissa McCall #noah stilinski #lydia martin

[missroserose]

if you want it, got to bleed for it, baby

part 1 | part 2 |  part 3

or read on AO3

groove to the playlist

ngl, tax season is eating my face.  but I couldn't go much longer without writing a little more smutty angst for these two.  hope y'all enjoy.

Have I mentioned how amazing @anarchist-billy is? Thanks for betaing, love. <3

*

“Stay with me.”  Billy’s voice is low, urgent, a lifeline.  “Keep the pressure on.”

Steve is there, in the passenger seat of the car, holding a wad of paper towels to the gash in his belly—and Steve is the car, too—he feels the warm gold-red glow of the bonfire, demodog corpses and dead vines disappearing into invisible smoke, fading all too quickly from the rear view mirror.  The bass note of the BMW’s V8 thrums deep in his chest, hurtling towards Hawkins at near-lethal speed.  The cool night air roars in his ears as Billy redlines it—he can feel Billy, too, the atavistic satisfaction of driving this amazing machine, of pressing it to its limits—

The fire disappears, and the outside world is nothing but a dark blur.  No streetlights, no trees, nothing to indicate it even exists. Even their movement fades into a queer sense of unmotion, a bubble of existence floating in the endless void.  The glow of the dashboard lights on Billy’s expression, drawn and set.  The rumble of the car, rearing to meet the challenge.  The just-warm air blasting from the heater.  Van Halen on the radio, staticky signal fading in and out over the road and wind noise.  I been to the edge, and there I stood and looked down—

“We’re nearly there.  Harrington.  Hold on a little longer.”

Billy’s lying through his teeth.  Steve knows he’s lying; he’s driven this road any number of times since he got his license.  Floored the gas, the same way Billy’s doing now, felt his car eat up the thirty-eight miles of two-lane blacktop, straightaway snaking between forest and farmland.  Rolled down the windows and whooped, Tommy in the passenger seat, Carol and whatever girl Steve was seeing that week in the back, all of them chasing the horizon at breakneck speeds.  Not for jubilation, or anger, or any reason in particular; just...because they were bored.  Because they could—because they were young and free and would live forever, would be friends forever—

“What’s the rush?”  Steve has to almost issue a conscious order to make himself smile, like he’s giving his face instructions over a long-distance phone call.  “I’m the King.  They’ll wait for me.”

Billy doesn’t look at him—can’t, at the speeds he’s driving—but his shoulders seem to loosen a fraction.  “Guess that depends,” he says, threadbare bravado thin at the edges.  “You don’t make it, there’s only one king left.  Makes my life awful easy.”

Beer spilled down a bare chest.  Red punch on a white blouse.  Bullshit.  Tea roses and spunk and sweat and blue eyes on his in the bathroom mirror.  “Maybe it does,” Steve says, trying not to let his words run together the way his thoughts are doing.  “But that’s not what you want.”

There’s a gap opening up, a space between the two of them; it takes Steve a moment to notice the knuckles, tense on the steering wheel.  Billy opens his mouth, says something; a moment later, the words unfurl in Steve’s consciousness, time-delayed.  “Like anyone gives a shit about what I want.”

Steve laughs a little, at that.  “That’s the first lesson of being king, Hargrove.”  He swallows, with some difficulty; his throat feels thick.  “You’re not there for you.  Every fool who wants a favor, every damsel in distress, every asshole determined to get a piece of King Billy…” He trails off, seeing a crown amidst those golden curls in a bathroom mirror, set over heated blue eyes, lips parting in a look of mingled awe and desire—

“Hey.  Hey!  Harrington!”  Billy’s slapping at his face, one hand flapping ineffectually against his skin, just hard enough to force his consciousness to surface.  Steve doesn’t particularly want to surface; there’s something looming there, not terror, but a shadow of it, a formless dread.  Like the first time his parents had gone out of town, and he hadn’t been smart enough to put the breakables away before he threw the obligatory kegger.  He’d spent three days waiting for his mother to return and discover one of her Hummel figurines missing, only to have her so preoccupied with his father’s latest fling that she’d left before noticing—

“Don’t you dare.”  Billy’s voice is a growl, but there’s something beneath it that catches Steve’s unmoored attention.  “Steve.  Don’t you fucking dare die on me now.  You ruined my night, you pulled me out here to chase down God knows what those rabid alien dog-things were, you’re going to pull through this and you’re going to give me a fucking explanation—”

Steve gives a small laugh, even though it hurts like a bitch.  “I’m really fucked, aren’t I?”

Billy bites off his rant like a piece of taffy.  “What?”

Steve issues the order to smile again, feels his face sort-of obey.  “You called me Steve.  It must be bad.”

“Not that bad,” Billy says, almost believable, as if he can change the state of the world through sheer stubborn insistence.  “You’re gonna pull through this.  You’ve got to.  When the school hears about how I saved your ass?  It’s gonna be a riot, Harrington.”

Steve could almost laugh again, but it hurts too much.  With an effort, he diverts his reaction, reaches for bitterness instead, bile like he’s swallowing down in the back of his throat.  The school.  Graduation.  The future.  A dark unknown, filled with people whose eyes slide away from his, in respect or in contempt—“You’ve already had my ass.  What do you care about the rest?”  The gap between them is opening up again.  Steve has a mental image for a moment of trying to leap that gap, of hanging in the air over it for a beautiful moment—wonders if people would see him then, shining golden before the inevitable plummet to the nothingness below—

But Billy’s voice is stubborn, penetrating.  “Did you hit your head when that alien tackled you?  Of course I want the rest.  The way you swung that bat? Waded into that fight without a damn hitch?”  Billy’s voice cracks a little, in disbelief, or in awe.  “That’s King Steve.  Not that namby-pamby asshole who haunts the hallways at school.”

And something in that voice pulls Steve towards the looming terror, away from the peaceful dark.  He presses the paper towels harder to his gut, ignores the sharp pain this elicits.  “Didn’t think you were looking for a king, Hargrove.”

A pause, brief and endless.  Steve slips a little, tossed about in stormy waves, uncertain which way to the shore, uncertain which way is up—

Then Billy’s voice comes in, low and smoky, a beam from a lighthouse parting the dark.  “I jerk off at night thinking about your lips on me.”  Steve’s suddenly aware of his lips as they part slightly, but Billy’s continuing, words gushing from him like water from a burst pipe.  “I haven’t bent you over your kitchen counter yet.  Haven’t felt your cock twitch between my lips as you come down my throat—”

The words are gathering somewhere deep in Steve’s hips, insistent warmth, flickering but stubborn in the face of the terror.  The words fall into his mind, and he drops them without thought, uncaring, because who even cares at this point?  “I want to fuck you in my bed.”

A breath sucked between teeth.  A glance, briefly risked, at Steve’s face, as if gauging his seriousness.  “You want it in a bed, pretty boy?”

“I want you.  In my bed.”  The paper towels are growing wet between his fingers.  “Empty house.  Nobody to hear us slam the headboard against the wall.”  He presses a little harder; the lance of pain stabs through him, but the image in his mind is bright as he gives a half-wrecked gasp.

Billy seems to shudder at that gasp.  “Hell yes,” he says, seeming to almost relax for a moment.  “Gonna hear you good and proper as you come—”

“Gonna feel you under me when I do,” Steve says, words tumbling forward heedless, headlong.  “Billy.  You’re gonna feel me inside you as you shake apart.  Gonna walk around the next day still feeling it, and I’m gonna watch you—”

“Fuck—” Billy’s grip is white against the steering wheel now, fingers torqued tight.  “Steve,” he says, his voice rough.  “Promise me something.”

“Sure.”  The words are fading, growing further away, but Steve struggles, holds his head up.  Tries to read Billy’s expression, the hesitation in his voice.  “If I can.”

“Next time we see each other, it’s just you.”  Billy licks his lips.  “Just you and me.  No kids, no party, no—nothing.  We’ll tear the phone out of the wall if we have to.  Just...just us.”

Steve reaches for a careless smile.  Ignores the sudden empty fluttering in his chest.  Isn’t certain if he manages either.  “Gotta settle up who’s king for good and all, huh?”

“Yeah.”  Billy settles back into the seat, though tension still thrums through his body with the engine.  Overhead, the first of the streetlights flashes by, briefly illuminating his face, determined, desperate.  “Yeah, something like that.”

#harringrove #my writing #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #too young to fall in love #lemon

[buckybeardreams]

Unwanted

Chapters: 9/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Knotting

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him. 

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 1,612

"You're not unhappy that we bonded, right?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"If I was I wouldn't be curled up in bed right now after letting you fuck my brains out."

Steve smirked.

"I think you were the one doing the fucking. I just laid there while you rode me."

"Yeah, but next time I'm gonna make you do all the work and I'm just gonna lay there and be the pillow princess. Let my Alpha take care of me," Tony said, his fingers trailing down Steve's chest and a sultry pout on his lips. "You'd do that for me, wouldn't you, Alpha?"

"You know I'd do anything to please you, baby."

"I know, because you're such a good boy," Tony murmured, kissing him. "Mm, as much as I'd love to stick around and let you fuck me on every surface in your apartment, I really have to get going or I'm gonna be late."

"I'll drive you," Steve offered.

"You're sweet, but no, I'm good. If I take you with me I'm just gonna end up fucking you in the break room and then the manager is gonna be an asshole about it."

Steve growled.

"I hate that guy more every time you talk about him."

Tony hummed, kissing him again.

"Yeah, well, I think most bosses disapprove of fucking in the employee's room. Even the not asshole ones.

"No, I don't mean that. We definitely can't do that, no matter how much I like the idea of you bossing me around at your work. I just think this Obie guy sounds like the worst and every time I've run into him just confirms that."

Tony didn't even try to disagree with that assessment.

"Like last week when he gave you shit for having to leave early because of your heat. There are laws in place to protect Omegas from being forced to work while in heat, but you practically had to beg him for the days off and then apologize for not being able to work and he still gave you shit about it. Then he had the audacity to act like he had done you some great favor and made you work extra shifts to make up for it. He didn't even pay you overtime, even though he made you work like sixty hours."

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're getting yourself all worked up about it and I don't want that. I appreciate your concern, I really do, and I love that you're so protective. Which is honestly something I never thought I'd say, but you need to take a deep breath. I've got it all under control."

Steve tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm down like his Omega told him to, but it didn't do much to alleviate his anger.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just wish you didn't have to deal with him."

"Well, I won't have to for much longer."

Steve frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Tony shifted on his lap, looking down at his lap nervously.

"Well, I was actually gonna tell you about this, but we've just been so caught up in our own little bubble and I didn't want to burst it by bringing up legal stuff. Besides, I almost forgot about it with all the newly mated hormones rushing through me," Tony rambled.

"Tony, love, just tell me."

"We tried to get Obie fired, but the owner, Alexander Pierce, was backing him, so we're taking him to court. They've been doing a whole bunch of shady stuff that's totally illegal, from paying people off to pass inspections and dealing drugs out back in the alley, to denying us health insurance, making us work overtime but not paying us overtime, and usually they make the Omegas work during heat. I think Obie only gave in this time, because he thought you might beat his ass if he called me in for work."

There was an amused smile on Tony's face, but he was looking at Steve, worried about his reaction. Steve was furious, but not at Tony. He knew that Obie was an asshole, but he had no idea just how bad it really was.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have let you work for a guy like that. I'm your Alpha. I should have protected you, provided for you so you didn't have to work-"

"Hey, no, stop," Tony told him. "I love you so much, Alpha, but I don't want that. This was my battle to fight and I wasn't about to let you take that away from me. I've been dealing with this bullshit for years and now I'm finally changing things. You have to let me do this."

Steve felt awed by his little Omega. So much strength wrapped up in such a small little package it was unbelievable, and to think he was all Steve's. Steve kissed him, hard and lingering.

"I would never take that away from you, Tony. I wouldn't dream of doing something like that, pretty Omega."

A shy smile crept onto Tony's face and his cheeks turned pink.

"Thank you, Alpha. That means a lot, and I mean, there's no guarantee that the next person who buys the place will be any better than Pierce, or that they will hire us all on again. There's really no guarantee anybody will buy the place anytime soon. Realistically, it'll probably be bulldozed and turned into a parking lot for the diner next door or something like that. We all know that we're probably gonna lose our jobs, but it's worth it to do the right thing and put Pierce behind bars."

Steve nodded, licking his lips and considering how to say what he wanted to say in a way that wouldn't offend Tony.

"You know that I think you're so strong and I'm so proud of you for doing this, right?"

Tony bit his lip, nodding uncertainly.

He wasn't sure where Steve was going with this.

"I think it's amazing that you're gonna do this and that you want to do this and I'll support you in this in any way that I can," Steve told him earnestly. "I know that this is your fight, Tony, and I would never take that away from you, but if you'll let me, I'd love to fight alongside you."

Tony broke out in a grin, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck.

"Yes! Oh my God, yes!" Tony squealed. "Fuck, you scared me there. I thought you were gonna say something awful, but I should have known you'd just say something charming and perfect."

Steve blushed, but he was grinning too.

"Right, well, you see, the thing is Tony that I have a lot of money-"

Tony pulled back, raising a brow at him.

" You have a lot of money. You , the eighteen year old artist and former virgin until I seduced your ass Alpha, has a lot of money?" Tony asked him, clearly amused and not believing him one bit. "Tell me, pretty boy, what do you consider a lot of money? The twenty dollar allowance your mommy gives every Saturday?"

Steve glared at him, but there wasn't any heat in it. If anything he was just really embarrassed and really turned on.

"Sam helped me out a lot when I was a kid. He helped me turn my life around and he helped get my art into some galleries. He's got this friend, an ex of his, Pepper Potts. She's like a brilliant business woman and she runs her own company, but she also has a few major art galleries where she displays art from some of the most prominent artists in the states. I'm talking big shots, well known artists that make hundreds of thousands of dollars selling one painting."

Tony was just staring at him, like he was having a hard time figuring out if this was just some elaborate joke or not.

"Steve... what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that she saw some of my work, loved it, and put it up in her galleries. I've only sold a handful, but I've made a lot of money. Your bar is not that great, no offense, and I don't really spend much of my money other than for, like, rent and groceries, so there's a lot of it just sitting around. We could probably just buy the bar. That is if you want to be an owner of a bar."

Steve swallowed hard and fidgeted nervously with the bottom of Tony's shirt when he didn't respond. Tony was just shocked and pretty sure he was dreaming.

"I'm sorry, what? You're joking, right?" Tony said in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you have hundreds of thousands of dollars just lying around?"

Steve squirmed under Tony.

"I mean, not literally. It's all in the bank. Most of it's in my savings account since it earns more interest that way-"

"Shut up, I don't care about that," Tony said, cutting off his nervous rambling. "Are you for real? You have that kind of money and you'd be willing to let me buy a bar with it?"

Steve bit his lip.

"Yeah, I mean, Tony, I'd do anything for you. So if you want a bar then I'll buy you a bar. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? It's a huge deal!"

Steve wasn't sure if he was upset or excited, but then Tony was wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Fuck, I love you so much. You know that, right?" Tony groaned against his lips.

Steve nodded, whimpering into his mouth when Tony kissed him again.

#marvel #mcu #marvel fic #the avengers #mcu fic #the avengers fic #the avengers fanfiction #stony #stony fanfiction #stony fic #superhusbands #stevetony #steve x tony #steve rogers/tony stark #steve rogers #tony stark #captain america #iron man #ao3 writer #ao3 work #ao3 wip #my fic updates #unwanted #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #avengers a/b/o #a/b/o fic

[jeranasblog]

Caught in the Spider’s Web

Rating: E

Pairing: Peter Parker/ Tony Stark

Summary: Omega Peter is obsessed with famous Alpha Tony Stark since he was a little kid and he does everything to get close to the billionaire. When he finally gets the opportunity to get to know Tony better, Peter starts his manipulation and seduces the Alpha into his bed. Thankfully, everyone around him thinks he's cute and innocent, so it's even easier to catch Tony in his web.

Line Prompt for @twokinkybeans​: "It only takes a blowjob to fall in love." This challenge is amazing, ty beans <3 

Warnings: Slight dubcon? Both of them want it, but Peter is still manipulating Tony. For further warnings (especially smut) check Ao3

Words: 7160

Read on Ao3

Peter Parker had admired Tony Stark since he was a little boy. In the beginning, it had been hero-worshipping. Iron Man was a legend, and the man behind the mask even more. Peter had bought little action figures, had decorated his walls with posters, and watched every single interview on TV. Tony Stark was an impressive Alpha, broad shoulders, protective aura and Peter had never understood why he had wasted his time with Pepper Potts, a plain and boring Beta.

But the older Pete got, the more obsessed he became. He spent his mornings looking at photos of Iron Man online, fingering himself while he pictured the Alpha’s muscular arms caging him in. The day Tony left Pepper was one of the best in Peter’s life and he had imagined for weeks how he would cheer the billionaire up, imagined that he could replace the empty space in Tony Stark’s heart.

During his first heat, Peter refused the help of an Alpha. He had plenty of options, eager young students that wanted to wreck such an innocent-looking Omega, but Peter wanted to save himself for Iron Man. No one else deserved his virginity, so he made do with his own fingers, thinking about himself bouncing on Tony Stark’s cock.

Years passed and Peter’s obsession only grew. He got older, became even more handsome, even more fragile looking and lots of Alphas tripped over their feet to woo Peter Parker, cutest Omega in Queens. But he turned all of them down. There was only one Alpha, only one person good enough for him.

Sadly, Peter had never met Tony Stark before. He had imagined how their first encounter would go, how easily he could enchant the Alpha with his soft looks and innocent eyes. He worked years to get finally close to the other man. Peter invested his entire energy into studying and became soon the best of his class. With fifteen, he graduated high school and applied to MIT. Three years later, he hadn’t only gotten his bachelor’s degree, he also held a letter of Stark Industries in his hands. Soon, he would be the youngest intern in the history of SI, soon he would be close to Mr. Stark.

Peter knew it was very unlikely he would meet the billionaire on his first day of work, but he was disappointed, nevertheless. A boring Alpha had shown him around, drooling over Peter and it took all his willpower to hold back his disdain. Instead, he had smiled sweetly and asked questions to appear interested. He needed a plan to get closer to Mr. Stark and before that, he shouldn’t do anything he could regret later.

His approach to get closer was based on his intelligence. Tony had once said during an interview that he preferred his partners smart and witty, and Peter planned to use the information. He stayed in the lab longer than everyone else, worked harder and harder to get the recognition he needed until one day, he finally got the opportunity he desperately needed.

Everything started when Pepper Potts, still Tony’s CEO, entered the lab, loudly arguing with an unimportant Alpha at her side. Peter had wanted to hate her first, but she was still one of Tony’s closest friends, and there was no way the Alpha would like him if Peter displeased her. After a while, he could even see that Pepper had no more romantic feelings for Tony, and his instincts to fight her were eased a little.

“We don’t need it in a week,” Pepper yelled and the pathetic excuse of an Alpha flinched. “We need it tomorrow. And there’s no way Tony can fix it until tomorrow. The investors are gonna pull back their offers.”

Peter pretended to be busy while he was actually eavesdropping. “I-I’m sorry, M-Mrs. Potts,” the Alpha’s voice was wavering, and Peter suppressed a snort. How could Pepper give responsibilities to such a weakling? “I told him a week ago, but he didn’t listen.”

Pepper was slowly losing her temper. “You told him once while he was tinkering. What did you expect? Him throwing everything aside to listen to you.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter wouldn’t wonder if the Alpha started to cry.

“You’re sorry? You're not the one explaining to the investors why the battery of the Stark Phone explodes occasionally. I have to live with the consequences.” Pepper fumed and Peter had to admit that she was feisty, for a Beta. “When the temperature is above ninety degrees, they sometimes blow up. Do you think the investors will like this?”

Peter froze. He didn’t focus on the Alpha flinching under her harsh words anymore, instead he thought about Pepper’s words. He knew about the problems with the Stark Phone, knew for a long time they would explode if they got too hot. Peter had assumed someone had already eliminated the mistake, but apparently, no one had. Suddenly, his entire body started buzzing. He knew how to get rid of the problem and this was his chance to get what he wanted.

“I know why they explode, and I could help eliminating the issue.” Pepper and the Alpha were staring at him, Pepper with curiosity and the Alpha with disgust.

“I don’t think an Omega could help,” the Alpha belittled him, and Peter clenched his hands to fist to stop his anger from spilling. He had to stay calm and play his cards right.

Thankfully, Pepper took over before Peter did anything he would regret later. “Since you’ve fucked up anyway, I’m willing to try everything to fix this thing.” Peter couldn’t stop himself from smirking at the Alpha. “What’s your name.”

“Peter Parker, Ma’am.”

“Peter, I’ll give you a few minutes with Tony. If you convince him you can fix the mistake, we’ll pay you a bonus.”

Oh, if she knew. A few minutes with Tony Stark were so much more valuable for him than any extra cash. This was everything he had ever dreamed of. Five minutes to convince Tony Stark that he was worth spending time with. Suddenly, Peter felt nervous. The direction of his entire life would depend on the encounter with the billionaire and he would do anything to make a good impression on the Alpha.

He smiled kindly at Pepper and followed her to the elevator. She was tense and stressed out, but he could also see the hope in her eyes. If he did everything right, she would be forever thankful and that’s exactly what he needed from her. Her first impression of him was important.

 Tony Stark’s lab was impressive. It was nothing compared to the intern lab Peter worked in, even though all of SI’s rooms were well equipped. The Omega swallowed when he entered the room and marveled at the expensive equipment that was scattered all over the floor. From a hidden spot in the corner, Peter could hear a loud crash followed by a few curse words.

“Tony, come out for a second,” Pepper called the genius and Peter held his breath when the Alpha approached them.

He was handsome, even more handsome than he was in the million pictures that were all over the internet. Tony was wearing jeans and a black tank top, his muscular arms on display. Peter could barely stop himself from purring and he ogled the oil strains on the billionaire’s forearms. Tony Stark looked like a model from the cover of “Alpha’s Health” and Peter wanted nothing more than to claim the man as his. But there was still a long way to go.

Suppressing his arousal, Peter smiled innocently at the Alpha and ducked his head. The gesture was a submissive one, giving Tony the illusion, he was in control. Peter watched in excitement that Tony was looking him up and down, his pupils dilating a little. He could see a faint gleam in the billionaire’s eyes, making it obvious that the man liked what he saw.

“As much as I like lovely company, Peps, why are you bringing me a young Omega? I have to work on the Stark Phone issue.” The words made Peter heat up in arousal and he covered his body reaction with an innocent blush. He wanted to jump the billionaire, wanted to ride him, claim him and bounce on his knot, but he would be nothing more than an easy fling if he misplayed the situation. Instead, he focused on looking bashfully.

“Tony, this is Peter Parker. He’s one of our new interns,” Pepper explained while she was already halfway leaving the room. “I’m sorry, but he claims he knows the source of the problem with the phones and at the moment, we need any help we could get.”

Before Tony could assume that he was a stupid Omega with attention issues, Peter took the lead. “It was very thoughtful of Miss Potts to bring me here. I’ve actually detected the mistake a few weeks ago and just assumed someone had already fixed it. My apologies.”

“That’s my cue,” Pepper barged in, giving the billionaire no time to complain. “I actually have a call scheduled with the investors. I’ll pick Mr. Parker up in an hour. Don’t kill him, Tony.”

The Alpha grumbled when she left, and Peter took a deep breath to get his nerves back under control. This was it. This was the moment he had always waited for. The Tony Stark stood in front of him and if he made a fool out of himself now, there was no chance for his plan to ever work out. He had to be clever, smart, and irresistible.

Peter gave him another sweet smile and the bobbing of Tony’s throat showed him that he should try the innocent approach further. The billionaire was certainly reacting to him acting bashfully.

“All right, Peter.” The Alpha didn’t even ask if he was allowed to use his first name. “I’m pretty busy, but I’ll give you a chance to show me where the problem is coming from.”

These words coming from any other Alpha would have offended Peter, but since he was talking to Tony Stark, he let the casual use of his first name slip. This was his chance to prove himself and he wouldn’t sabotage his goals because someone was underestimating him. He would show the billionaire what he had worked for.

“Do you have a Stark Phone here?” Tony nodded and led him to the other end of the lab where the billionaire had been before. Peter used the time to get a good look at his ass. It was muscular and round, perfect to dig his nails into when Stark was fucking him through the mattress. The thought made Peter shiver and he took a deep breath, containing himself and focused on the task on hand.

“The solution is pretty simple,” Peter explained while he stepped next to the Alpha in front of the workbench. He came a little too close, so Tony would pick up a hint of his scent. Peter knew Alpha’s went wild for his smell, he had tons of unworthy men going crazy for him, and he always knew how to use his assets right. Out of the corner of his eyes, Peter could see Tony’s nostrils flare, clearly not unaffected from the scent, but otherwise, the Alpha stayed calm.

Before he could lose himself further in the thought, Peter picked up the faulty Stark Phone and opened the case with a small screwdriver. He disconnected a few wires to take out the battery and laid the electronics of the phone open.

“I’ve actually detected it when I was working on increasing the storage capacity. Do you see the solder joint here? First of all, it’s too big and the material was a bad choice. When it gets hot, the solder joint will melt again and possibly cause a short circuit. That’s the reason why the battery can but doesn’t have to blow up when the phone gets too hot.”

Tony stared at him amazed before he threw back his head and started laughing. The sound was deep and full, rushing immediately into Peter’s cock and he had to bite his own lips to stop his hole from slicking up. There was no way the Alpha wouldn’t notice him getting wet and it wasn’t the time for his seduction plan yet.

“That’s pretty embarrassing,” the billionaire chuckled and grinned at him. “Such a rookie mistake. Whoever made the mistake should go back to school immediately.”

Peter swallowed and chose his next words wisely. He had certainly made an impression on the Alpha, but it wasn’t good enough to linger. “Mr. Stark, Sir. If I might suggest an improvement?”

He could see surprise in Tony’s gaze, but also curiosity. “Sure, go along.”

“What if you replace the battery in a few Stark Phones with your arc reactor technology? Obviously not for every model because the price would increase significantly, but there are a lot of rich people who want to contribute a part to the environment. Your clean energy in a phone is an amazing solution. And on top, the board would get accustomed to your invention, as well as the shareholders. It would be an easy possibility to establish the arc technology.”

The Alpha didn’t say anything. He stared at Peter and the Omega could see that he was pondering about it. He had done a lot of research about the billionaire and he knew Tony was fighting with the approval of the board since he had closed the weapon manufacture. Nothing was more important to him than to prove that SI was a valuable company even without the shady business, and Peter had given him a suggestion to strengthen the reputation of his arc technology.

“I’ll consider it,” Tony answered, and Peter smiled bashfully, pleased that he had played his cards right. He wouldn’t hear anything more than that today, but he had proven his first point: Peter was smart enough for Tony Stark. Now there was only one other goal: Show Tony Stark that he was irresistible.

Peter congratulated himself for his subtlety. After the billionaire had made a few calls and yelled at a few people to change the solder point of the phone, there was still half an hour left until Pepper would come back to pick him up. He spent the time chatting with Peter and showing him some of his inventions while the Omega could physically see that Tony reacted to him.

Every time he blushed and batted his eyelids, Stark’s eyes sparkled; every time he played with his curls, Stark’s expression was filled with hunger. Peter made a game out of it, acting all bashful and innocent while he bent over low to pick up the screwdriver he had accidentally dropped. He had years of experience, manipulating Alphas he didn’t even care about, but today was the day it had to work. Today was the day Tony Stark would be enchanted.

They talked about engineering and their studies at MIT. Tony had more experiences, but since Peter had done a ton of research on Tony Stark’s work, he could easily keep up. With each passing minute, the billionaire relaxed further and further in his company and when Pepper picked the Omega up again, Tony had even given him his private number, promising to call Peter when he needed his help again.

Peter felt like a spider and he would do anything to catch Tony Stark in his web. The Alpha was his.

 Now that Tony Stark knew who Peter was, things got easier. He didn’t need to make an effort for the man’s attention anymore since the Alpha was staring at him anyway when they saw each other fleetingly. Instead, Peter focused on riling the man up. He knew a few minutes every day would be enough if the impression lingered.

The most important step was to meet the billionaire overall. Peter worked in the intern lab on the second floor while Tony’s lab was right next to his penthouse, so they wouldn’t see each other accidentally. And since Peter wasn’t even allowed to enter the top floor, he had to think about a plan that forced the Alpha to come down. When he overheard one of the board members complaining about Tony’s mood because his coffee machine was broken, Peter got an idea.

The Omega came to work early, so no one had arrived yet. The lab was empty, the hallways were empty, and even more important, the kitchen was empty as well. He tiptoed to the coffee machine and exhaled relieved when no one was there yet. Quickly, Peter replaced the cheap beans with Hawaiian brew and from now on, he spent his breaks drinking expensive coffee in the kitchen, waiting until the rumors about the amazing coffee spread. Not even a day later, Peter saw Tony again.

“Peter, what are you doing here?” Everyone was looking at the Omega when the Tony Stark addressed him by his first name.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter gave him his sweetest smile that made all the Alphas swoon. “I’m working on this floor.”

Tony looked startled for a second, he had probably forgotten that Peter was only an intern. “Right. What are you working on?” Although the billionaire was talking to Peter, he eyed all the other Alphas in the room. A surge of hot arousal rushed through Peter’s body, but he pushed the feeling away before everyone could smell his slick. Seeing the Alpha already so possessive over him woke the urge to smirk and climb him like a tree.

“Still on the storage capacity of the Stark Phone. I’ve made progress, but it’s slow because I don’t have enough resources.” He batted his eyes innocently, acting as if he wasn’t following a goal. Say it, Alpha. Come on, offer it to me.

“You can use my lab if you want,” Tony offered, and Peter had to suppress a complacent smirk. It was so easy to manipulate Alphas as long as he acted sweet and innocent.

Peter opened his eyes widely and feigned shock. “But Mr. Stark, I can’t accept the offer. I would only distract you.” You want it too. Say it, Alpha.

“Nonsense, it’s spacious enough. Let’s go upstairs.”

Tony led him out of the room, his hand placed on Peter’s back. He could feel the heat through his shirt and enjoyed the first victory of the day, knowing that he had Tony Stark exactly where he wanted him. All eyes followed them, Alphas envious that Tony Stark had snatched the cute looking Omega away, and the rest envious that Peter could leave with Tony Stark. Peter felt euphoric, everything went according to plan and it was only a matter of days until the Alpha was his, until the country's most eligible bachelor was wrapped around his little finger.

 Although Peter wanted nothing more than to throw himself at the man, he took it slowly. Tony might show signs of arousal, ogling Peter, and his scent turned spicier, more masculine, but the time wasn’t right yet. Peter needed him crazy with arousal, so he kept acting innocent while he stepped up the game.

It started with his scent. Every morning Peter would finger himself, spread his slick between his thighs, and clean himself after, but a hint of his arousal was still lingering in his scent, driving the Alpha crazy with lust. Additionally, he changed his clothes, subtly of course. His jeans got tighter, his shirts shorter and he bent over the workbench more often, showing off his plump ass and a stripe of his bare back. He could feel Tony’s eyes on him, could feel that the Alpha got wound up, but he didn’t snap. Yet.

On top of showing off his assets, Peter also controlled their conversations carefully. He demonstrated subtly his intelligence, talked about topics he knew Tony was interested in, and lured the billionaire in by admiring him and his skills. He didn’t even have to act it because there was no one like Tony Stark out there, no other Alpha that clever and strong. Peter had long ago decided that the genius was his.

Every day they spent together in the lab, Tony loosened up more, until he was completely relaxed around Peter, defenseless against the Omega’s attack. He got trapped more and more in Peter’s web, caught in the seduction of his body and mind, until one day, the Omega made his move.

 It started with the first time Tony called him.

“Peter? I have a problem.” His voice was higher than usual, stressed out and Peter’s guts clenched with the thought that his Alpha felt bad. “I know you don’t work today, but I have a board meeting in an hour, and I can’t leave the palladium mixture alone. It has to keep its temperature. Could you help me out? Pretty please?”

No one could blame Peter, really, Tony gave him the perfect excuse. He didn’t need an hour to get there, but the billionaire didn’t have to know. “I’m on my way, but I don’t have time to change. Could you maybe let me in through the back door? I don’t want my colleagues to see me in my free time clothes.”

Either Tony was just naïve, or totally stressed out because he didn’t suspect anything, relieved Peter could jump in. “I owe you one, Peter. See you soon.”

After Tony had hung up, Peter changed into his nicest lingerie, put on his shortest booty shorts, and a tight crop top that showed a glimpse of his stomach below the hem. He was dressed decently enough that Tony wouldn’t get suspicious, but he revealed enough skin to drive the Alpha wild.

Before he left his apartment, Peter grabbed an oversized jean jacket to cover at least a little of his modesty. Then he took the subway to Stark Industries. He knew today was the day. Tony was exhausted and Peter would use it to make his first strike. If today worked out, Tony Stark was his.

 The elevator that brought him to Tony’s lab was at the backside of SI, so none of his co-workers got the chance to see him dressed like this. Peter smiled while JARVIS took him upstairs. Everything worked out exactly how he had planned it, now he only had to lure the billionaire in.

Tony’s gaze traveled immediately to Peter’s bare thighs when the Omega entered the lab. Raw hunger was written on his face, poorly concealed. It took Peter his entire willpower not to smirk, the Alpha was already yearning for him. He turned around, took off his jacket, and laid it folded on the floor in the corner of the lab, making sure to bend low and present his barely covered ass. He could hear the billionaire curse quietly, a sound of pent-up arousal and longing.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter whimpered when he faced the billionaire again, his eyes huge and innocent. “I know I’m not dressed appropriately, but I didn’t have time to change, or I couldn’t have been here on time.”

He could see how Tony swallowed, guilt about his inappropriate feelings bringing him back to reality. The billionaire’s guards were down, stress was taking its toll, and Peter knew persuading would be even easier when the billionaire came back since he was already on the verge of giving in now. And the best, Tony didn’t even know what Peter was doing.

“What can I do for you?” Peter asked a little breathless, but not too much to raise suspicion. He came closer, invading Tony’s personal space to lean over the workbench and inspect what the billionaire was experimenting on.

The Alpha cleared his throat, taking a few seconds to gain back his control. “I’m experimenting with the arch technology and I have to increase the temperature of the palladium by one degree every ten minutes until it starts to melt. If I heat it too fast, it could get brittle and I have to go to the meeting. Could you take care of it? Could you heat it slowly until it starts to melt and decant it into the intended test tube after?”

Peter smiled at him, genuine and stunning. “Of, course, Alpha- I mean, Mr. Stark, Sir.” The slip was intended, and Peter could see with giddy excitement what the word did to the genius. Tony’s pupils enlarged immediately, and a barely audible rumble left his chest.

“I count on you, Peter.” The billionaire gave him a smile, half predatory, and half ashamed while he walked towards the door. “I’m back in two hours.” When the door closed behind him, Peter could finally smirk.

 Taking care of Tony’s experiment didn’t take much effort. JARVIS was increasing the temperature on his own, and Peter only had to decant the palladium into the test tube once the palladium started to melt, so he was basically just sitting around, waiting for the billionaire to come back. As soon as Tony would enter the room, exhausted and relieved that Peter took care of his experiment, the Omega would make his final move. But before, he had to up his game one last time.

Peter walked over to a chair in the back of the lab, close enough to watch the palladium in case something went wrong, but hidden from the door, so Tony wouldn’t see him, even if he came back earlier. Carefully, he took out a towel he had brought from home and placed it on the chair, so he wouldn’t leave traces behind. Then he pulled down his shorts and panties and spread his legs to get better access.

The first finger was barely a tease, nudging his hole and playing with the muscle until it gave way, until it welcomed the intrusion. Peter moaned slightly when he felt the wet heat, slicking up for an Alpha that wasn’t even here. The underlying arousal he had felt for weeks around Tony was flaming up, rushing to the front of his mind, and forcing him to savor the feeling. His instincts were strong, overwhelming, fighting him to use a second finger, to spread himself for his Alpha. But that wasn’t Peter’s plan.

Although the anticipation hurt, although he wanted nothing more but to ride his fingers in Tony Stark’s lab, surrounded by the scent of his Alpha, Peter held back. He couldn’t come all over the floor, there was no way the Alpha wouldn’t notice the heavy smell, and he only wanted to tease. Begrudgingly, Peter pulled out his finger, leaving his hole empty and twitching, begging for an Alpha. A frustrated moan slipped from his lips, but he stood firm.

Carefully not to leave proof of what he had done, Peter opened his bag again and pulled out wet wipes and a plastic bag. He cleaned up all the slick that had leaked out and sealed the plastic bag after he had put the wipes and the towel inside. Now the only smell of his arousal was coming from him, faint enough that no one could suspect he did it on purpose, but strong enough for an Alpha to notice.

JARVIS’ voice interrupted his thoughts, announcing that the palladium had reached the melting point and Peter decanted it into the test tube, careful not to spill a drop. Everything was done and all Peter had left to do was wait. When he heard footsteps on the hallway, the Omega bent over the workbench, seemingly invested into his own notes while he presented his ass for his Alpha’s view. Let the game begin.

 Tony’s steps were heavy on the floor, a sign of his exhaustion, and Peter’s guts clenched in anticipation as he waited for the Alpha to notice him. He scribbled in his notebook; equations that looked difficult but were actually meaningless. Everything to appear busy.

“Peter.” Tony was only saying his name, but his voice was so full of suppressed emotions that it trembled a little. The Omega looked over his shoulder, seeing the Alpha standing behind him, his gaze glued to Peter’s barely covered ass. Desire was so clearly written on his face that Peter smiled in victory. He kept staring at the billionaire until Tony’s gaze wandered slowly up. He looked guilty.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.” Tony still tried to hold himself back, but it got harder and harder the more effort Peter put into seducing him.

Deciding to step up his game even further, Peter propped himself onto his forearms, arching his back into the perfect curve. His expression changed, still innocent, but his eyes became darker, hungrier. He was sick of dancing around the billionaire by now. It was time to make a move.

Tony stepped to the workbench to take a look at the vibranium, but he made sure to keep an appropriate distance between them. Peter couldn’t tolerate this. He shuffled closer, masking his attempts by grabbing a pencil.

The moment Tony got a whiff of his scent was clearly visible. Peter could see his nostrils flare, his hands clenched to fists. Omega arousal took over the billionaire’s mind, his instinct screaming at him to take Peter, to mate and breed him. Tony’s morals crumbled, a fight between what was right and what he wanted, completely unaware that Peter controlled his inner turmoil.

“Are you okay, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked oblivious as he turned around, laying his hand on the billionaire’s biceps while his face was twisted in concern.

“I-I’m o-okay,” the Alpha was stuttering, so unlike the strong man he usually was, and in this moment, Peter realized, Tony was utterly at his mercy. The thought was heady, a surge of arousal rushing through his body and he felt new slick dripping out of him, wetting the panties he had carefully picked out.

The new smell broke the last resolve of the genius. With a roar, he grabbed Peter’s hip, pulling him close to his body until he could bury the nose against Peter’s neck, nipping on the mating glands where his scent was coming from. Peter shivered. He had wanted this for years, his Alpha crazy for him, losing his control for him and he took as much of Tony’s domination as he could get.

But as abruptly as the billionaire had snapped, as abruptly he pulled back as well. “I’m so sorry.” Horror was spread on his face, fear that he had taken advantage of the Omega that was too innocent to want this, too pure. Now it was Peter’s time to change his mind.

“Shh,” Peter calmed the Alpha down, placing his hand gently on the billionaire’s chest. “I want it, too. Just let go of the doubts. Let me take care of you, Alpha.”

The words were like magic and Tony relaxed in a heartbeat, allowing Peter to push him towards the couch in the back of the lab. He was mainly driven by instincts now, the scent of Peter’s slick enough to drive him crazy, and the Omega fully intended to use it.

Peter pressed the Alpha in the cushions and Tony spread his legs automatically, giving the Omega space between. It was too easy, and Peter settled between Tony’s legs, kneeling on the carpet in front of him. As much as he liked the game he was playing, his body still forced him to submit to his Alpha, to care for him, so he opened the zipper and pulled out the billionaire’s cock. There was no protest.

Tony was magnificent. He was big, even for Alpha standards, his cock angrily red and already leaking drops of pre-come. Peter’s mouth watered, he wanted to suck it, bounce on it and worship it, but even though the urge was overwhelming, he took his time to appreciate the view. This was his goal, the moment he had worked towards his entire life, and he would make it special. It only takes a blowjob to fall in love, and Tony Stark was already on the verge of falling for him.

Peter watched the Alpha closely when he tentatively touched the hot flesh for the first time. Tony dug his fingernails into the sofa, his entire body tensing with anticipation. He was gorgeous, a picture of barely restrained strength, someone who could protect Peter, who would kill for him. The reaction was fascinating. As strong as Alphas always seems to be, one Omega was enough to take them down.

His fingers danced over Tony’s cock, caressing him slightly without giving him enough friction to be satisfied. Peter needed him desperately to lose his control, until he would fuck Peter’s mouth and dominate him exactly how the Omega longed for. The thought made him feel powerful, the rush of influencing such a dominant Alpha was fueled his arousal.

Peter’s insides clenched in anticipation when Tony growled frustrated for the first time. “Suck me, Omega.” The Alpha’s voice was deep and firm, his morals crumbling with the need to claim, to dominate.

When Peter’s lips touched Tony’s cock for the first time, the Alpha moaned. He hadn’t even taken him in his mouth, just a slight caress of lips up and down, leaving traces on the thick vein that was pulsing with arousal. Pleasuring the Alpha was everything Peter had ever dreamed of. The smell was musky and addictive, clouding his mind and making him forget his plan. Peter whimpered, his lips still attached to the other man and he caught as much of the scent as possible. He felt calm between the Alpha’s legs, his body and mind in sync. 

It could only be described as a tease, Peter’s lips sucking and stroking him, coating him with salvia and making him shine. The anticipation built and built, Tony was barely holding himself back, his knuckles white from the attempts to keep his control, but Peter was on the verge of losing it himself. The billionaire’s cock was beautiful, every Omega’s dream and he had worked for this since he could remember. There was no way he could wait for even a second longer, driven by the need to be closer.

The moment Peter’s lips parted to engulf the billionaire’s cock, Tony lost it. He reached out, tangled his hands in the Omega’s hair, and forced him down, forced him to swallow the entire length without a break. Peter’s eyes rolled back. He loved the thought that he had riled Tony up enough to make him lose control, he loved the thick weight on his tongue and the huge tip prying open his throat. A moan rumbled through his chest, the vibrations turning on the billionaire even more. 

It was clearly Tony’s breaking point. “That’s it, Omega. Open up.” His voice was dark and gravely, demanding Peter’s obedience and ordering him however he pleased. “Let me in. You don’t know what a tease you are, staring at me with those innocent eyes, dressed in the shortest clothes you could find. Did you do this on purpose?”

Peter shook his head as much as possible, not willing to pull back even an inch. He bobbed his head, tears running down his cheeks while his throat clenched around the billionaire’s length. The cock in his mouth felt like a reward.

“God, so innocent, even with your mouth completely stuffed. Do you know that every Alpha is staring at you? They all want you, want to fuck you, but here you are, between my legs. I think that makes you mine, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

The words were the last straw, everything he had ever wanted. He would have smirked if his mouth hadn’t been stuffed with the billionaire’s cock. He knew all the Alphas were staring at him, knew they wanted him exactly how Tony had him right now, but he had decided Tony Stark was the only one he wanted and he would do anything to keep him close. 

All the skills he had learned through training with a piece of plastic at home were finally useful and Peter took a deep breath before he started to fuck his throat on the billionaire’s cock. It was wet and messy, drool ran down Peter’s chin, mixing with his tears. He gagged around Tony’s length, savored every little noise the Alpha made. It was proof that he was doing it right and he wasn’t even sure anymore if the wetness in his pants was due to the accomplishment of his goal or the way his Alpha lost control. 

Tony wasn’t passive anymore. He fixated Peter’s face, one hand grabbing his chin while the other one was wrapped around his neck, and then he started to thrust. Peter’s eyes fell close in pleasure and he couldn’t hold back anymore, forced to take every inch however his Alpha wanted him to. His fingers wandered between his legs, pulling the fabric of his shorts and his panties to one side, and giving him room to sink one finger in his hole. The whimper he let out couldn’t even be muffled by the thick cock in his mouth.

“God, you’re needy, aren’t you?” Peter could only nod. “A cock in your mouth is making you so horny that you have to fill up your hole yourself? Are you a slut, baby? Tell me, how many Alpha’s have knotted you already?”

The billionaire pulled on Peter’s hair, his cock leaving the wet heat with a plop. Peter felt debauched, kneeling between Tony’s parted legs while drool was running down his chin. He whimpered, his mouth felt empty, hell, even his hole felt empty, but his Alpha needed him to answer a question. 

“No one, Alpha.”

The longing Peter had seen in Tony’s eyes couldn’t be compared to the hunger he was faced with now. “Are you a virgin?”

A bashful smile, a bat of his eyes, and a soft “yes” where enough to coax out the darkest side of Alpha instinct. Not even a second later, Peter’s mouth was stuffed again, and Tony went even deeper with every thrust, taking his throat like an animal. The Omega knew the rough behavior was caused by his teasing and the thought made him preen. His Alpha was losing it for him.

“Such a good Omega,” Tony growled while he was entering Peter’s throat again and again. “Still untouched for me, such a rare treat, such a treasure. I’ve planned to fuck you over the workbench, but we can’t do this now since your first time should be in a bed.” Peter whimpered in protest, he wanted to be filled, he wanted his first time with Tony, but when his Alpha insisted on waiting, the Omega could be content with this for now.

 Tony picked up his thrusts, his hand still holding Peter’s chin in a tight grip. Peter looked him in the eyes, the arousal clearly written all over his face. His mind was blank, shut down so he could just take his Alpha’s cock and he couldn’t even concentrate on the finger in his own hole. 

The closer Tony got to the edge, the louder he became. Obscene words left his mouth, urging Peter to take him deeper, to take him faster. His thighs shook and his cock became even harder until he finally came with a shout. 

Bitter cum was flooding Peter’s mouth and he moaned in pleasure. The taste was heavy, masculine, and although it was the first time the Omega had tasted it, he was already addicted. He made sure to swallow every drop, using his tongue to coax surge after surge out of the Alpha. It was so much more than Peter had ever released, a potent fluid, made to breed. 

Tony twitched in his mouth and Peter sucked him until he was empty, cleaning every inch before he pulled back with a plop. Sitting between the billionaire’s feet was amazing itself, but knowing he was the reason Tony had lost control was even better. Peter smiled dopily at his Alpha, content, although he hadn’t even come himself. 

The first thing Tony did when he got the control of his body back was pulling Peter in his lap. “Such a good Omega, so perfect for me.” His hand wandered down on Peter’s back until he touched his ass, kneading the globes and coaxing a moan out of Peter. The Omega hadn’t been focused on his own arousal, too caught up in fulfilling the urge to pleasure his Alpha, but now that Tony was already done, his own needs came back. 

Suddenly, Peter noticed the slick that drenched his shorts and thighs. He couldn’t remember ever being so wet before and he moaned obscenely when Tony pulled his panties aside to tease his entrance. New slick was dripping out of him, his body was preparing itself for an Alpha’s cock.

“So wet for me, Omega,” Tony cooed and pressed his first finger in the tight heat. Peter cried. He had never felt so good before, never had something else but his own fingers or plastic toys inside of him, but finally his Alpha would take care of his pleasure. The feelings were too much, and Peter knew he couldn’t drag this out, too riled up from the first cock in his mouth. 

Tony was barely moving his finger, only little thrusts that didn’t even require him to pull out more than an inch, but it was still enough for Peter to rush towards the edge. He was bouncing on his Alpha’s finger, taking everything Tony was giving him and wordlessly pleaded for more. The billionaire hit his sweet spot every time, so much more experienced than Peter and as soon as the second finger entered him, the Omega was lost.

His orgasm was overwhelming. It started with a buzzing in his stomach, growing larger and larger until it exploded, leaving him shaking and screaming in Tony’s lap. Wave after wave made him squirm, wetness gushing out of him, ruining the billionaire’s pants. He had never felt anything like this before. Here he was, his Alpha finally where he wanted him and while his mind was shattering under the sensations, Peter knew he had reached his goal. 

He came down slowly, nuzzled against the billionaire’s chest with strong arms that kept him upright. His Alpha pressed light kisses against his temples, told him how beautiful he was, how precious and obedient. Tony even apologized for being so rough, for taking his throat mercilessly during his first time. Peter smiled, too tired to protest while he enjoyed his Alpha’s content scent. 

This was what he had wanted, Tony Stark by his side, losing control in bed, but pampering him after. Saving himself had been worth it, all the struggle and all the work had been worth it because when Tony whispered in his ear that Peter was it, the Omega knew. 

He did it, he won. Tony Stark was his. Peter had caught him in his web. 

#starker #twokinkybeans