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awalkthroughstellis · 8 months

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Playing The Part (I)

Warnings: Spoilers for Luke’s SSR card “Dark Swirl”, mentions of blood and violence, sexual tension and spicy moments (SFW)

Rated 17+ - Lots of sexual tension and heavy spice

Summary (Part One): With Luke away on a mission, Robin heads to a special event to distract herself from the hole in her heart. She had no idea she was walking right into his mission, or that Agent Raven would be on the case.

The first time Raven’s eyes drifted, the man sitting across from him didn’t think anything of it. Raven is a cautious man after, and it wasn’t unlike him to be taking note of those walking in and out the door.

The second time his gaze drifted, it lingered a little longer and it wasn’t in the direction of the door. The subject of his attention was a small group of people chatting by the o’dourves table with drinks in hand. The crowd was a mix of men and woman, and none of them drastically stood out from the others gathered in the event hall. The man took note of their faces and clothing and carried on with the conversation.

The third time Raven focused elsewhere, the man put the puzzle together. Of the small group conversing off to the side of the dessert table, only one figure had been part of the last one. She was a woman of an average height and build, with fair skin and dark hair that matched the feathers on a robin’s back. Her smile reached her chocolate brown eyes and her posture was proper yet welcoming. She wore a long black off the shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline that showed off a scar on her chest and long sleeves. The dress had two slits that ran from the bottom to just before the tops of her thighs. She wore nude open-toe wedges, and her nails and lips were painted a pretty maroon colour. She wore a silver bracelet, a dainty ring on her right ring finger, and a delicate hairpin kept her curls out of her face.

‘So this is the kind of woman Raven likes.’ The man thought as he took a sip of his champagne, pretending not to notice his younger colleague’s fascination. ‘Interesting.’

~~~~~~~~~~

Stepping into the banquet hall was like stepping into another world. The bright lights, the fancy decorations and table arrangements, the wealthy community dressed in their finest garments, and drinks and snacks I’ve never even heard of before. Thank God for Anna and all her experience in accompanying Marius to parties like this, otherwise I would have walked in here very undressed with the personality of a deer in headlights.

“Just do what I do, girl: fake your confidence. No one’s gonna look that hard, trust me.”

I quickly forgot about my worries when I was spotted by a married couple that were regulars at the antique shop. We spoke for a while and they introduced me to a few of their friends, several of which expressed their interest in the shop and said they would come by one day to check it out. But now, as I lingered near the dessert table sipping on my lemon water, watching everyone navigate the social circles, the very thoughts I was trying to get away from came crawling back. Those thoughts were about a chestnut haired lover of mine who hasn’t answered his phone in a little over a week now.

Setting my drink down, I opened my purse and dug for my phone. My heart sank yet again at the lack of response. The only messages that were sent the last few days were all by me.

Me: Good Morning Handsome ❤️ Stay safe today

Me: Good Night Babe, I love you 😘

Me: I’m awake and I took my meds, don’t worry about me and focus on coming home safe ❤️

Me: I’m off to bed. I love you soooooo much, Luke ❤️

Me: Rise and shine my sexy detective! Time to kick more ass today!

I sighed and clicked my phone off, returning it to its place in my purse. I rarely heard from him when his mission’s were high profile, but even so, I liked to let him know I was okay. I’ve gotten much better at waiting for him to come home and I don’t stress about his safety as much as I did in the beginning, but the box that was delivered today… that really spiked my anxiety. The recipient was listed as ‘Luke Pearce’ but the word ‘belongings’ was written on the side of the box in bold red font. I don’t make a habit of opening his mail as it could be related to his line of work, and therefore, confidential. The urge to rip that box open was intense, though. If it’s not Luke’s stuff, then who’s is it?

“Pardon me, Miss.” My head snapped up at the sound of a nearby voice. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you are quite knowledgeable with old and rare items. Is that correct?”

The man standing next to me looked to be in his mid-thirties and was as well dressed as every other guest tonight. He had pale blond hair and dark blue eyes, but something about his eyes made me hesitate. They looked… what word was I looking for? Suspicious.

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I know a fair amount for my line of work.” I said, offering a polite smile.

“Oh, where are my manners? The name is Bright Paddon. I’m a business man who is still trying to find my footing in the business world.” He gave a hardy laugh and handed me a business card. “I would be honoured if you would sit with my colleague and I. I’m interested in discussing future business endeavours with you.”

“Oh, thank you.” I accepted his card and placed it in my purse. “Your offer is rather kind, but I don’t own my place of work so it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to get involved in our business partners. I will pass this along to my boss and perhaps you will hear from him.”

“It’s no rush, but perhaps you can put in a good word for me.” Bright placed a hand on my arm and bend the other out towards the VIP tables. “Please, join us. The show is about to begin, and I assure you we have the best seat in the house.”

A voice in the back of my mind was telling me to turn him down, but an unknown pressure made me cave. I followed him towards his table and, as we got closer, my jaw threatened to drop. Standing around the mini lounge was a group of men dressed in suits - bodyguards, most likely. There was one man sitting, the lack of emotion in his eyes so cold yet so familiar. I knew instantly that I wouldn’t be speaking to my sweet Luke anytime soon.

‘I’m not supposed to be here.’

“Raven, look who I’ve brought over.” Bright spoke, tone full of pride as he presented me. “I’ve noticed you’ve taken an interest in this woman. She’s got an eye for old treasures, it seems. Why don’t we all take this opportunity to get to know each other?”

Luke’s frown ran deep, eyes indifferent as he met my gaze. Still, hidden deep down in those coral depths, I could see a heat. It wasn’t the passionate heat of a lover, though - it was more like a warning. Not that I blamed him; I very well could blow this mission to smithereens if I’m not careful and get him exposed.

“No need, Bright.” Hot and cold collided in his tone. “She’s my woman to begin with. We know each other on a level you could only ever hope to achieve. What need is there to re-familiarize ourselves?”

Bright looked genuinely surprised. “Oh, so you do know each other. Well then, there’s no need for you to sport such a frown in front of your lady.”

Luke stood up from the couch. “What man would be happy seeing their woman that close to someone else?”

Stepping between Bright and I -and practically bumping Bright out of the way as he did so- Luke wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me forward until I was leaning against his chest. My hands naturally found his shoulders, the feel of his muscular body beneath his black suit and the scent of his cologne, a cool, light and elegant scent, sparked something within me.

Luke and Raven are the same person; “Raven” is the persona he takes on when handling undercover missions like whatever must be happening here tonight. Raven is much colder and more openly distrusting, and to be honest, more brutal when it came down to physical altercations. Raven is intense - I can feel it in the air around him whenever Luke showed this side of himself. Because I love Luke, I love Raven, and because I trust Luke, I feel safe leaving my life in Raven’s hands if it came down to it.

But for the sake of not messing this up, it might be best to mentally address him as “Raven” for tonight. It reduces the possibility of a slip up when addressing him.

“Besides… we had a little tiff between us earlier, didn’t we?” Raven asked, giving my waist a subtle squeeze… a request to go along with it.

Something about being in the arms of this man gave me the strength to mirror his confidence, and I responded in a gentle voice with a hint of seduction to it. “We did. You’re developing a bad habit of disappearing on me, Raven. I was getting worried.” Leaning my weight even further into him, I brushed my forehead along the curve of his jaw and batted my eyelashes. “Please don’t be mad. I just don’t want to lose you.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly. “I had no idea you cared for me so much.”

“Would I have come looking for you if I didn’t love you?”

The sigh he let out was barely audible. The smirk dropped from his lips and his eyes shifted to Bright, though he was still talking to me. “Really? Then what were you up to with Bright? You looked rather pleased that he was showing you attention.”

Bright laughed nervously and waved a hand dismissively. “You misunderstand, Raven. As I said earlier, I noticed you were interested in her. A lot of beauties have come your way, but I’ve never seen you take a second glance at any of them. I couldn’t help but be curious about this woman who has caught your fancy. I meant no harm.”

“You know I’m a possessive person, especially about the women I’m with. As for you…” Raven’s arm tightened around me again, dragging a heat out from my depths. “If you love me as much as you claim, don’t you dare betray me.”

“I would never even dream of it.” I replied, staring him right in the eye.

He hummed, sounding unsure as to whether or not he believed me. I didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to my lips as he let me go and returned to where he had been on the couch. “Sit.”

I took up the space next to him, sitting close but not cuddling up to him like I would at home. Raven reclined against the back of the couch, one leg crossed so his ankle was resting on his knee. The arm closest to me was outstretched behind me, laying across the top of couch’s back cushions. He wasn’t touching me, but I felt protected all the same.

The lights dimmed and the show started, and though my eyes were watching the performance my mind wasn’t taking any of it in. I had more important things to focus on, like trying to figure out how to navigate this mess I’ve caused and how to do so without getting Luke, er, Raven, exposed. For starts, it would be best to keep my mouth shut and only give vague responses if I must. I probably shouldn’t touch or consume anything unless Raven directs me to do so, either. The banquet hall has suddenly become full of land mines and I have to be careful not to step on one.

Something moving in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned my head just in time to see Raven place a glass of ice water with a lemon hanging on the rim in front of me. I glanced at his face but he looked indifferent, so I whispered a ‘thank you’ and squeezed the lemon juice in before taking a sip.

“I take it your not much of a drinker, Miss?” Bright suddenly asked, and although it was dark I could feel him staring at the scar on my chest, a mark left behind from several surgeries.

I smiled politely and set the glass back on the table. “I’m not.”

“Her eyes are up here, Bright.” Raven snapped, though I dare say it was almost a growl.

“Ah, forgive me. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just can’t help but be impressed when I encounter a woman who is so confident in beauty that she’s not afraid to show such blemishes.”

It took everything in me not to screw my face up in disgust. At one point in time, I was too embarrassed to let this scar see the light of day. But then I met the man sitting next to me, and he helped me learn to see it as a mark of continuous survival instead of a reminder of my curse. It’s thanks to him that I can wear a dress like this, one that puts my scar on display and feel like the sexiest woman on the planet.

A waiter arrived at the table just then, breaking the tension that was starting to prickle the air. He said nothing, but wore a kind smile as he played several small desserts and appetizers on the table. He even brought a bottle of expensive looking wine with him. The dessert plates contained treats such as fruit tarts, muffins, and bread based pastries. I sampled some items from the dessert table earlier, but these were different. The staff must have reserved these for during the show. I turned my gaze back to the show, not intended to touch anything. They looked delicious, but the stress of potentially ruining things kept me from freely doing anything.

Raven’s huff of a chuckle brought my focus back to him. “Since when are you so modest? Eat.”

I noted how my cheeks warmed as I reached for a blueberry muffin. It didn’t seem like he was going to eat himself, but I’m sure he had his reasons not to other then the food being unsafe. He would never let me touch it if that was the case.

“I’ll admit, I’m very curious about how the two of you met.” Bright said, spreading some butter on his slice of banana bread. “Raven isn’t the type to be captured so easily. You must be one heck of a woman, Miss…?”

I pretended not to notice how he trailed off with a questioning tone. Creating a fake identity isn’t something that can be done properly on the spot. For a common passerby, sure, but someone like Bright Paddon who is on the NSB’s radar? He’d likely bust my lie in a second. Not giving him an identity has to be the safer option, surely.

“I’d say Raven is the one who caught me.” I looked at the man sitting next to me and flashed a quick, lovesick smile before reaching for my water. “He’s not the type of man to be captured by anyone. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, that sounds about right.” One of the bodyguards approached Bright just then, leaning down a little and whispering something to him. “Ah, I see. Excuse me for a moment, friends. An old client of mine wishes to say hello. I’ll return shortly.”

With that, he stood and followed the bodyguard off into the shadows, taking several others with him. Three still lingered from us at a bit of a distance, but not far enough. They were still close enough to notice if we dropped character.

Raven picked up a mini butter tart. “Don’t pretend I haven’t noticed you eyeing this since it was brought out. Go on. Eat it.” I reached for it, but he clicked his tongue and moved it away. “Did I say to use your hands?”

Hopefully the darkness was thick enough to cover my cheeks, which I’m sure were bright red. “You’re teasing me again.”

The smirk that tugged at his lips was dangerous and seductive. “I thought you liked it when I played with you?”

My body was lightly trembling now, but it wasn’t from anger. It was… something else, something I couldn’t name. The air around Raven was so intoxicating it was making my head feel light, much so that my subconscious control took over. My mind was stuck in a daze as I leaned forward and bit into the dessert, a sweet taste exploding on my tongue.

“That’s my good girl.” He said, and I was too late to stop the moan that escaped me. Hopefully, anyone who overheard it would think it was from the taste of the tart. Then, in a lower voice next to my ear, he said, “You’re doing great. Hold on for a little longer. I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can.”

I nodded, taking the rest of the tart between my teeth and leaning back as I chewed. My breath hitched as Raven touched the corner of my bottom lip, wiping something away before bringing his thumb to his mouth and licking it off. The flash of tongue, combined with the heat in his eyes as he watched me, had me squeezing my thighs together. He has to know how he’s affecting me, right?

Bright returned, shattering the tension and I couldn’t decide if I was grateful for it or not. “Apologies, my friends. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

He motioned for the nearest waiter to come and refill Raven’s glass. Luke- darn it, I did it again. Raven, as fierce as he is, doesn’t have the biggest alcohol tolerance. He’s been drinking pretty steadily since I got here, and I had no clue how much he had to drink before that. He seemed to still be sober, or maybe he’s better at hiding it then I thought?

Bright gestured towards the stage, where the performance was continuing as scheduled. Several dancers in sparkling white ballerina costumes were dancing around glass swan sculptures and beneath decorations that looked to be made of pure gold. “See all those flashy things onstage? It’s ironic that my shady goods just came in with them. It took me a lot of effort to get them here, Raven. You can’t be stingy with your offer.”

I was listening while trying to make it look like I wasn’t, keeping my eyes glued to the stage and resisting the urge to glance at the man sitting across from me. Why he felt comfortable bringing it up in my presence, I had no idea. Maybe he’s that full of himself that he thinks nothing can stop him. If only he new the ulterior motives behind the man he was trying to sell them too. Whatever their goods were, it has to be what this mission is about.

Electricity ran across my skin as Raven’s fingers brushed my shoulder. His touch felt incredible on my skin. “Oh? Are you trying to bid up the price?”

“Nothing of the sort, but you can’t blame a man for having caution. Those goods cost me a lot, and I’d hate to be swindled.”

“I can, and would, swindle any man but you, Bright.” I watched him drain his glass of wine all once from the corner of my eye. He tossed the empty glass carelessly onto the dark carpet, then took hold of my chin and turned my face towards him. My breath caught, eyes flickering to his lips. They were so close. “I’m done talking business for now.”

Raven caught my wrists in a tight grip, but wasn’t hurting me at all. He pushed me further into the back of the couch, practically pinning me to it as he leaned in close and started peppering kisses along my jawbone. His breath was tickling my skin, my heart was racing, something in the pit of my stomach was throbbing, and my mind was drawing a complete blank.

“Resist.” He whispered his instruction so quietly I almost missed it.

It took me a second, but his order set my thought process back into motion. I placed my hands, the wrists of which were still caught in his grip, against his chest and pushed. I could feel him pushing back against me, and the heat of his body beneath the suit was making my knees shake. “Now, Raven, this isn’t the time or place for that.”

Bright cleared his throat. “Raven, you’re drawing unwanted attention. Why don’t you and the lady head upstairs so you can rest and sober up a little?”

Raven huffed in annoyance, but withdrew his advances. “I’m not drunk.”

“Right, well, you won’t be missing anything from the show. I’m sure you’ll find something more entertaining to pass the time.”

I tried not to react when Bright’s eyes flickered towards me. Two bodyguards escorted us to the upper floor of the hotel, where several rooms had been rented out to the guests of the event. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief when they left, but before I could break character completely, Raven gave a short, sharp whistle to grab my attention. His eyes were still icy cold.

“Come. Loosen my tie for me.” He ordered, voice stern.

I knew he wasn’t legitimately mad at me, but his acting was so realistic I couldn’t help but swallow a lump in my throat before approaching him. The second I touched his tie he spoke again, but this time, his voice was the tiniest bit softer. Barely enough for anyone who didn’t know the real him to notice, but I did. That little changed released some of my anxiety. He was being as reassuring and gentle as he could be, considering the situation.

“I checked the floor mirror in the corner when we came in. It’s a two-way mirror.”

I fought the urge to scrunch my face up, and responded in just as quiet of a voice. “Those creeps are watching us?”

He hummed, then unexpectedly grunted. “Easy, girl. You’re strangling me.”

“Sorry. This thing’s giving me a hard time. I almost got it.”

And I did. A second later, it finally loosened. I was about to let my arms fall back to my sides but Raven captured one, holding my hand against his chest for a moment before lifting it above my head. The heat in his eyes from earlier was back. “Turn. Slowly.”

My face, neck, shoulders, every part of me flushed at his command. As I spun for him, taking my time and perhaps even dragging it out, I couldn’t help but wonder when the last time I felt this shy in front of him was. I felt like prey beneath the starving gaze of a predator yet I wanted nothing more then to be caught and eaten. ‘God, what has this man done to me?’

“This dress is new.” He stated after I completed my spin. The way his eyes kept travelling was making my heart race.

“The girls helped me pick it out.” I said, purposely not mentioning their names. I didn’t want to get them dragged into this mess.

He hummed again, the sound coming from deep within his chest and making my skin tingle. I gasped as he tugged me closer, his hands finding my hips as he trapped me flush against him. I held onto his shoulders, my lunges going into overdrive to keep from suffocating on his scent. My dress suddenly felt too tight, my organs on fire as he started backing me towards the mirror.

“Do you trust me?” Raven asked. It’s one of the most intimate questions a lover could ask.

“With my life.”

He moved one hand from my hip to the back of my head, protecting it from smacking against the glass as my back finally hit the mirror. I barely had time to register how cool the glass felt against my heated skin before Raven descended upon me, claiming my mouth and taking ownership of my lips. I moaned instantly, overwhelmed by the ferocity of his kiss and the taste of him. I plunged one hand into his hair, grazed the nails of the other along the back of his neck, and he responded by leaning even more into me; not enough to crush me with his weight but enough for me to feel even more of him. I gasped and he took the opportunity to push his tongue past my lips, bringing the faint taste of wine with him. My body separated from my mind, instinct to relieve the building pressure taking over. I shifted my weight to one leg and lifted the other, wanting to hook it around his waist but Raven caught me just below the knee and held me against his hip. Because of the slit in my dress my leg was exposed, and I moaned again as his hand started running up and down my thigh.

I tilted my head away for a break, practically gasping for air but Raven wasn’t ready to call it quits yet. I sighed and closed my eyes as he started working my neck over, using his breath, lips and tongue to keep me going. “R-Ra-Raven…”

“Once the show is over, I’ll find an opportunity to get you out of here.” He said, working his way down to my chest. He pressed a lingering kiss against my scar, then started sucking on the skin above the fabric covering my left breast. “Police will be waiting outside. When you see a cab with the license plate AB065, hail it. It will take you home safely. Can you remember that?”

The gears in my head were turning, but nothing but smoke was coming out. “A…AB…” The image of the box labelled ‘belongings’ suddenly flooded my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, trying to fight my way through the fog and back into sanity. “No, I’m not walking away.”

Something between a gasp and a moan escaped me as his teeth grazed my skin in warning. The feeling sent addicting tingles down my spine. He practically hissed against my chest. “Now’s not the time to be stubborn.”

He kissed me again. They say when two people love each other so deeply, they can send a message through a kiss. Luke’s message was obvious: “go home, please.” Home is safe. The monster he’s dealing with tonight won’t be able to reach me there, but I love this man far more then I love myself. I’d crawl my way through hell to make sure he comes home safely, no matter what enemy stands before us.

Breaking the kiss, I used all my might to turn us to the side and shoved Raven off, sending him falling back into a plush chair that, conveniently, was in a blind spot. I took advantage of his disorientation to straddle him and hold onto the back of the chair on either side of his head. His hands gripped my hips, Adam’s apple bobbing as he started up at me with hazy coral eyes.

When I was sure he wasn’t going to move me off him, I sat back on his thighs and fiddled with his tie. “Bright seems like he’s very wary. He kept trying to dig information out of us earlier, wasn’t he? You were so possessive of me earlier. Sending me off out of the blue is gonna make him question you.”

He wasn’t refuting my statements, so everything I’m saying must be true. Remembering that we still need to be cautious of getting caught, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his neck. Raven’s fingers dug into my hips and I could feel his heart pounding in his chest. I adjusted, shifting a little closer to him as I planted more kisses to his skin.

I made sure to keep my voice down as I continued. “You’ve been gone for days, you haven’t had any contact with me - that means this mission is high profile, right? Use me being here to your advantage. I think it’s safe to say his suspicion has shifted onto me, and if anything goes wrong, you can pin it on me and get out safely.”

I sat up again, my face hovering right above his. He was wearing that signature glare but his face was beat red and his breath was coming out a little harsh.

I smiled and threw his question right back at him. “Do you trust me?”

The door to the room opened before he could answer. “Raven, the guards said- Oh, I see.” Bright tried to hide his smile behind his hand, but I could see the corners of it peeking out. “When the guards said they hadn’t heard a peep, I thought something had happened to you. I never expected you to have a side like this, Mr. Raven.”

If I hadn’t already known we were being watched, I would have been embarrassed to have been walked in on like this.

Raven practically growled as he glared Bright down. “Bright, shut up if you don’t know what to say. Get out.”

“Yes, yes, I’m going. I just came to say that I’ve been notified a rat has snuck in. It’s best we be on our way.”

“Understood.” Playing into character, Raven tapped the bottom of my chin with the side of his index finger. “Later, girl.”

I pouted, waiting for the door to close behind bright before letting it fall. “The things I do for you.”

I was about to get up, but he wrapped an arm around me waist and brought me back so he could kiss me again. This time, it was much softer. “You do what I say, when I say it. Understand?”

I nodded, sealing my promise with another kiss before climbing off him. Raven took my head and started pulling me towards the door, and as I passed the mirror, I caught a glimpse of the faint bruise starting to form on the left side of my chest. A mark of possession.

#tears of themis #x oc #tot luke #luke pearce

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the-princess-of-loki · 1 year

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Under the table

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, graphic description of smut, plot what plot, oral (m receiving)

You were sitting at the table with both the princes, the council and the Allfather. The latter was delivering a speech about Asgard’s new security measures. You were boring yourself to death and a quick look at Loki told you he felt the same, even when he tried to mask it. He caught you looking at him and held your gaze. Just then, an idea crossed your mind that made you smirk. Loki arched an eyebrow at your expression. Quickly, you created an illusion of yourself so nobody would notice that you were gone from your spot. You crawled under the table until you were right in front of Loki’s crossed legs. You tapped his knee and he opened his legs and looked down at you. You smirked again.

“I cast an illusion so nobody would see me. However, you are out in the open, my dear prince. So, let’s make a bet. If you can keep quiet and behave, you can ask me anything in return later,” You offered, licking your lips sensually.

Loki gave you a small nod with a smirk of his own and then opened his legs wide open while resting his back on the chair. You scratched his strong thighs through his black leather trousers, biting down your lower lip. You pulled down the zipper and his semi-hard cock was out of its prison for you to do what you wanted. You grabbed the cockhead and slightly caressed the tip with your thumb. Loki moved his hips upward and then sat again on his seat, not making a sound. You pumped his shaft a few times until it was completely hard. You licked with the tip of your tongue his gland and then let your whole tongue make circles around his cockhead. Loki’s breathing gradually became faster, more so when you scrapped your teeth through his veiny cock, just the way you knew he liked it so much. You heard him inhale sharply but he made no noise.

He wants to win this so badly, you thought with a little smile.

You didn’t want to think about what he had planned for you later for fear that you would come undone just thinking about it. Even when Loki’s cock was the biggest you have ever seen, you tried to fit the most of it in your mouth and compensated the rest with your hand. You sucked him hard to the best of your abilities, but even when he breathed hard, he didn’t make any sound. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Thor’s leg closer to Loki’s.

“Brother, are you alright? You seem…flustered. Even your cheeks are pink…” You couldn’t help but chuckle, even when your mouth was completely full.

“I…” You took the chance and sucked him hard taking the words out of his mouth for a little. “I am completely fine, Thor.”

Loki was grinding his teeth while talking and you kept sucking him off. You hummed while doing so, your core was pulsating with need but you ignored it: your purpose was to drive Loki insane. You moved your head up and down his shaft, working your best on him.

His cock twitched in your mouth and you knew he was close. You caressed one of his thighs with your free hand until you could massage softly his balls. That movement sent him over the edge quickly and even when he cum in your mouth, he didn’t make a sound. You released him and you opened your mouth to him so he could see that you swallowed everything he had given you. After that, you licked him clean while humming, feeling content that you have pleased him exactly as you wanted.

You zipped him up again before returning to your chair and making your illusion disappear. You couldn’t help but look at Loki, who was trying to stabilize his breathing, while his jaw was still tense and his black-painted fingernails were digging holes in his leather-covered forearms. You smirked at him and he returned your smirk with another one of his own. Oh, you sure were in for a treat later on.

When the meeting was over and you were about to leave the room, you felt Loki’s cold hand on your arm. He tugged you aside so nobody could hear you.

“I want you to go right now straight to my chambers, and I want to see you laying in the middle of my bed wearing absolutely nothing, am I clear?” Loki whispered and his sultry voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yes, my prince,” You answered with an innocent smile.

#Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki Friggason #Loki of Asgard #Loki of Jotunheim #MCU #God of Mischief #Loki God of Mischief #Loki Smut #Loki x female reader #Loki x female reader smut #Loki's Day

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squids-comics · 3 months

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It's another wonderful Wednesday, which means it's time for issue three of Creative Curator!! Here's Creative Curator: Dine and Bash!!

Page One:

Panel one, top third of page:

Jade Wilson still stands triumphantly over the body of the defeated Chris Mass. Chris sits on the floor, fake beard pulled down around his neck, revealing black stubble. Jade holds the tube of wrapping paper from the last issue like a sword, resting the tip against Chris's throat. Chris looks a little nervous but mostly tired. The house is still in the same state of disrepair from the last issue, wrapping paper, Chrismass baubles and bricks littering the floor. Hivemind stands in the same place, still completely motionless. The kid and their parents are in the living room now, trying to watch TV, but Jade is in the way.

Chris: "Can I please leave now? It's been thirty days..."

Jade: "Not a chance."

Panel two, middle left ninth of page:

The kid's mom looks angrily at Jade.

Mom: "I think you should listen to him. We were fine with you and your weird friend standing in our living room at Chrismass, but we've been sick of you since New Years. January's almost over. Please leave already."

Panel three, center ninth of page:

Jade looks angrily at the mom, narrowing all three of their eyes. They point at Hivemind.

Jade: "Look lady, I'd love to leave. But I can't. Not till the big beehive in the corner tells me what to do with this clown."

Panel four, middle right ninth of page:

Hivemind's beehive head begins shaking and rattling around.

Jade: "About time!"

Panel five, bottom third of page:

A small bee crawls out of Hivemind's mouth and onto his head.

Bee: "Banish him to the land of holiday movies so that he can wreak havoc on bland white people who's only personally trait is Chrismass."

Page Two:

Panel one, top third of page:

Jade grabs Chris by the arm and pulls him out of the living room.

Chris: "I didn't do anything wrong. It's my holiday! I'm Chris Mass!!"

Jade: "Doesn't matter. Come on."

Panel two, middle left sixth of page:

Without moving in any way, Hivemind slowly begins hovering off the ground.

Panel three, middle right sixth of page:

Hivemind shoots through the roof, leaving a large hole in it.

Panel four, bottom third of page:

the family stares at the destroyed living room and newly formed sky light in shock.

Mom: "Do you think our insurance will cover that?"

Page Three:

Panel one, top left quarter of page:

Jade walks down the street, continuing to pull Chris with him. Chris looks concerned, Jade looks tired.

Chris: "Where are you taking me?"

Jade: "You'll see, we're almost there."

Panel two, top right quarter of page:

Chris and Jade arrive at a large set of gates with a security guard standing in front of them.

Panel three, bottom left quarter of page:

Jade approaches the gates but the security guard stops him.

Guard: "Sorry pal, you missed auditions. We don't need any Chrismass ninjas or mall Santas."

Panel four, bottom right quarter of page:

Jade delivers one quick strike to the security guards jaw, knocking him unconscious.

Page Four:

Panel one, top third of page:

Jade runs at the gate and vaults over the top. Chris stares in amazement.

Panel two, middle third of page:

Jade disappears behind the gate, leaving Chris alone.

Panel three, bottom third of page:

The gate swings open. Jade sticks their head out and gestures for Chris to follow them inside.

Page Five:

Panel one, top quarter of page:

Jade leads Chris inside, gesturing at the things in front of them that are out of frame. Chris stares in wide eyed amazement.

Jade: "Here we are!"

Chris: "It's beautiful!"

Panel two, middle half of page:

The two stand in the bottom of the panel as the reader finally gets to see what they're looking at. They're in a movie studio. In front of them are multiple movies being shot. Scenes include families running and playing in fake snow, couples making out under lampposts in the fake snow, kids building snowmen out of fake snow and a fake interior of a living room with a family setting up a Chrismass tree covered in fake snow.

Chris: "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Panel three, bottom quarter of page:

Chris puts his fake beard back on, his eyes shining with determination.

Chris: "...I have work to do!"

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iheartgracie · 2 years

Text

sad shannon lynch quotes in binding 13

“Don’t you ever get tired of it, Mam?" I asked, voice breaking. Blinking back my tears, I choked out, "Don’t you ever get sick to death of pretending?"

Her expression caved. "Shannon…"

She took a step towards me and I took three more back. I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep living like this. I laid my heart out to my mother. And she was worried about a coat.

"Fuck my coat," I strangled out as I broke into a run towards the bus stop, desperate to put some much-needed distance between me and my family. "Fuck my life!”

“Trembling, I leaned my forearms against the locker and just held my head, desperately trying to get a handle on this ridiculous terror threatening to possess me and stop my body from going into vomit mode. My legs were shaking so bad I knew I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom in time, so my only hope was to calm myself down before I threw up. Too late, I thought to myself just as my legs buckled beneath me. I dropped to the floor on my hands and knees, as my stomach emptied itself right there in the middle of school.”

“Finding her on the floor like that was beyond terrifying. My heart literally seized in my chest when I saw her and only kick started back up when I got to her and realized that she was okay. She was mortified, but she was okay. I didn’t care about puke. Everyone puked. Even girls. Apparently, this girl did it a lot. I remembered exactly what was written in the file. She threw up a lot. That worried me. More than it should. What worried me further was why this happened.”

“My explanation earned me a slap across the face and a fistful of my hair to be yanked so roughly that I staggered forward, feeling weak and powerless.

"I'm going to fucking destroy you," she hissed in my ear before tearing her nails down the side of my cheek. Go for it, I thought to myself. But you can't destroy what's already broken…”

“I couldn’t take anymore.

"Look at me." I didn’t.

"Look at me," he repeated, tone calm and coaxing.

I couldn’t. I felt him shift beside me and then his fingers were on my chin, tipping my face up to his.

"You're safe," he whispered, cupping my cheek in his hand, eyes boring holes straight through my soul. "I promise."

That word. God. That one word broke me. It was all too much.”

“It gave me no comfort watching him leave last night. That wasn’t the first time he had been told to go. And it wasn’t the first time he had beaten me to a pulp. Sooner or later, he would be back, promising heaven and delivering hell. Nothing would change. It never did.”

“It looks worse than it feels."

That was a lie. My face was killing me. Every inch of my body was in agony. I was black and blue from head to toe. Thankfully, the only visible evidence of last night was a small shiner on my cheekbone. It was the rest of my body that had taken the brunt of his fury. My only saving grace was it was cold out and I could hide my bruises with baggy sweatpants and long-sleeved shirts.”

“Crawling up my bed, I shuffled under my duvet and snuggled up, knowing that I would sleep better tonight now that my parents were gone than I had in months. That's how messed up my life was.”

“I had a horrible taste in my mouth. It matched the one in the pit of my stomach. Impending doom, I acknowledged. That's what I was tasting and feeling right now. My father was back. Once I left this house and returned to mine, the vicious, never-ending circle would continue. Suddenly, I never wanted to leave this room. Do not cry, Shannon Lynch, I warned myself. Do not shed another tear! I dropped my head and blinked like crazy, desperately trying to fight back the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks in big, fat drops. It didn’t work. One tear slid down my cheek, followed in quick succession by another and then another.”

“I crawled onto his lap. Johnny's entire frame tensed, and his hands fell away from my body, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. With my knees on either side of his thighs, I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.

"What do you want me to do, Shannon?" Johnny strangled out. "Tell me what to do here."

"Hold me," I sobbed, burying my face in his neck. "Don’t let go."

"Okay." His large hand cupped the back of my head and his other moved to my back as he held me to his chest, slowly rocking me on his lap. "I won't," he whispered, folding me up in his arms.

Trembling, I clung to his body and prayed for him to be my strength in this moment because I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t live like this. I was so alone. All my life. I was so scared.”

“You're not cleaning a bleeding thing on your birthday," he stated, holding a plate in each hand.

"I don’t mind –"

"And your face." He shook his head. "And your Ma. Christ, it's your birthday –"

"You said we could forget it," I strangled out, feeling my voice tremble, as panic set in.

I did not want to think about it. I knew what was coming when I left this house. And I wanted to forget. For a couple of more hours, I wanted to pretend that hell wasn’t waiting for me on the other side of his front door.”

#shannon lynch quotes #shannon lynch #binding 13 #binding13 #boysoftommen

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rottinghouseplants · 4 months

Text

Made For Mercy: Chapter 4: Black Hole Sun

(warning: this story contains sensitive topics)

It had been months since that fateful day. My life had been irreversibly altered. I sat there, gazing into the depths of the glass, and the sound of the San Myshuno bridge reverberating through the city. The muffled hum of the television in the background became a distant hum. My thoughts raced, never lingering for too long, until one thought came to mind. That hazy, neon-soaked memory of that night at the Warble started to creep into my mind, like an old friend that wanted to be reunited. The whiskey burned my throat as I shook my head, relinquishing the memory's grip on me. I could feel the booze coursing through my veins, relaxing my muscles and spreading warmth throughout my chest.

Three booming thuds on the door jolted me from my peaceful slumber. I sprang to my feet, hastily clearing my throat before staggering clumsily down the darkened hallway. My unsteady feet stumbled drunkenly as I moved closer to the door, already knowing who would be awaiting me on the other side. With a heavy heart, I reached out for the doorknob, my mind running wild with emotion. I opened the door to find Lou leaning against the wall, the same way he had done countless times before. His confident stance and penetrating gaze made my skin crawl.

"Well, hello again." His voice was callous and annoyed, with an underlying hint of sarcasm. His eyes were piercing and judging as they raked up and down my body. His lips curled up in disgust as he slinked past me into my apartment. "Been hitting the bottle tonight, or have your eyes always that glossy?" He spat out with disdain. His presence was oppressive, leaving me feeling trapped and uncomfortable.

"It's none of your business, Lou. Let's just get this over with." I hissed, straightening my posture and clenching my fists in an attempt to compose myself. He slowly pulled a crinkled brown package out of his jacket pocket. His eyes glinted with malice as he held it up, taunting me with its contents. I felt my heart rate accelerate and my face flush with rage. I could feel the tension in the air as if it were a living thing, ready to burst forth at any moment.

"Listen closely, Nyx. Feng wants this moved fast." Lou's voice rose with intensity. "I'm talking within the week. High class clients, the elites. They demand the best, and they really like their blow." His words were a whisper, the hushed tone of a man who was used to dealing in secrets.

"Who?" I said, my voice quavering as I averted my eyes, unable to face the intense scrutiny of Lou's gaze. He flipped the package over in his hands, his expression unreadable as he pointed to a note secured to the back.

He tossed the package to me with a mocking force, his cruel laughter ringing in my ears as I drunkenly fumbled to catch it. His gaze pierced me with a menacing intensity, his voice low and threatening as he spoke. "What is this, your first day? The client list is right there, you know the rules. Don't ask questions. The big man gets what he wants. No exceptions." I swallowed hard, feeling the gravity of his words sink into my bones. I knew too well that there was no room for negotiation; I had to deliver, no matter the cost. "If I were you, I'd get moving tonight. I know a few of those clients are in town tonight for a big deal. Cut some of the travel out." He looked me up and down, his sigh loaded with disappointment as he shook his head. I clenched my arms against my chest, feeling his judgemental glare burn into my skin, searing deep into my soul like a branding iron. "I know we don't exactly see eye to eye, but I'm going to say something. When I first started dropping these jobs off to you, you were a completely different person. But now you're going down the tubes faster than I've ever seen. I know this job has its downfalls, but don't let it consume you and take you down even faster than it's supposed to."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, my throat raw as the anger boiled inside of me. Rage burned through me like a wildfire, my fists clenched so tight I could feel my nails digging into my palms. "Fuck you, Lou!" I spat, my voice shaking with fury. He rolled his eyes, turning away from me as though what I had to say was of no importance. "You have no idea what I'm going through." I growled, my chest heaving with emotion. He didn't even flinch.

"Slow down, killer. Word on the street is you may seem tough, but you're a real softie deep down. A real hopeful romantic, stargazing and dreaming of a brighter future. You may try to hide it, but you're not fooling anybody with those guns." He gestured towards my fists and chuckled darkly, sending a chill down my spine. His sinister laughter made my heart skip a beat, as if a warning had been issued. His eyes seemed to pierce my soul, as if he was trying to read my thoughts. My mouth went dry as I processed what he had just said.

What did he just say to me? How did he know that?

"Who told you that?" I muttered, my eyes focused on nothing, like a deer in headlights, my voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. Lou chuckled darkly to himself again, his eyes glinting with a malicious amusement as he put his cold hand on the doorknob.

He scoffed sarcastically before opening the door, his face twisted in a sneer. "I wish I had time to talk, as I do so love our time together," he spat, the words dripping with sarcasm. "But duty calls. See you next time, Nyx." He slammed the door behind him, leaving me in a state of shock. I could still feel his presence lingering in the air, the weight of his words echoing in my mind.

I stood there in the dark hallway, my heart racing as I tried to understand the impossible - how did he know? There were only two of us who knew about that night, and I was certain no one else had found out. Taking a deep breath, I turned towards my bedroom, my steps quickening as I made my way to my closet. I pulled out my coat and a black hoodie and stared at them for a moment, my mind racing. I slipped into them, my fingers shaking as I rummaged through my wardrobe drawers for a hat. I grabbed the brown package out of my back pocket and stuffed it into the inside of my jacket before I made my way down to the street, a feeling of dread washing over me.

I trudged down the stairs, the frigid night air greeting me like a slap in the face. I glanced at the list of clients, my mind instantly recognizing Jenna Akiyama, the CEO of Kuzma Electronics in Mount Komorebi. I had sold to her before and I knew she would be an easy first stop. The thought of dealing with a familiar less-threatening face brought me the strangest sense of comfort after the conversation with Lou. I trudged through the snow, the icy chill biting at my face, the snowflakes feeling like needles against my cheeks. I was on my way to the Spice District, where I knew that the rich and powerful sought to have a good time and roleplay poverty for a night. I couldn't help but smirk to myself, shaking my head in disbelief. If only I knew then, what I knew now. It all started with a cup of chai tea and some curry. Now here I was, walking in the darkness with my head down, keeping my distance from everyone around me. I had enough cocaine in my jacket to catch a felony, and I was on my way to try and make a deal with people who could buy everything I owned and more. My feet felt like lead as I trudged through the snow, feeling like this winter had already lasted an eternity. With a heavy heart, I wondered to myself, Would it ever end?

As I staggered into the Spice District, the alluring and powerful thumping of the Warble's music engulfed me, flooding my senses with a passionate, rose-colored nostalgia. It had already been months since that pivotal weekend and yet I still hadn't managed to recover, struggling to cope with losing someone I had felt an unexplainable connection to from the first time we met. It felt as though fate had conspired to torment me, creating a cosmic unbalance that left me feeling completely destroyed. Iris was gone. The weeks that followed that night in my apartment were a blur and I felt like a stranger in my own skin; unable to sleep, barely eating, and only staying alive out of pure spite and for Pixel. I felt the fire in my veins, a raging fire that was ready to consume me whole. My heart thumped against my chest, pounding in time with the beat of the music that echoed from the clubs. I had reached my boiling point, and there was no going back. There was no escape from my fate, no freedom from the shackles that bound me to Feng and this city. I was just another one of his many pawns now, a nameless face in the crowd that could be replaced at a moment’s notice. I was a slave to him, a slave to the city, and it was all my own doing. I stared up at the neon signs of the clubs, mesmerized by their dazzling beauty, realizing in that moment that the girl who came here for a better life was so naïve, and that her own childish ignorance had killed her. There was only Nyx now.

Just as I looked back down, a drunken Jenna staggered out of the Warble in front of me, teetering on her high heels as she tried to steady herself on the ice-slicked sidewalk. She looked up at me, and through her glassy eyes, a spark of recognition shone through. She smiled warmly, her laughter mingling in hiccups, as she coyly leaned towards me and asked, "Is that Nyx? Did you get my order?" I chuckled uncomfortably, feeling my cheeks flush as I nodded.

"It's good to see you, Jenna! You here on business?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the illicit nature of my arrival. She smiled even wider and stumbled towards me.

"Yeah! The deal went amazingly well! We closed! Seven figures, baby!" She stopped herself, turning a bright, rosy pink with slight embarrassment. "You don't care about all that silly stuff! Come on, walk with me!" She motioned for me to follow, her heels clacking against the pavement as she wobbled haphazardly down the sidewalk. The sound of traffic from the Warble faded away as we distanced ourselves from it.

She then turned to me with a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, my delivery?" She held out a half-closed hand, a wad of hundreds folded tightly within it. I reached out and firmly grasped her hand, sliding the bag of cocaine into it in exchange. Her anticipation and excitement was palpable as she tucked the bag into her pocket. She then looped her arm in mine and we continued strolling down the sidewalk, her warm presence radiating beside me.

"How you holding up, Jenna?" I smiled gently. A wave of somber energy washed over her for a moment as she looked down at the ground below. Her warmth fading away in the moment of clarity.

"You know… Sometimes, I wonder if things would be different if…" She paused, her fingers trembling as they clutched her arm tightly at her side. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now." Her voice quivered with a hint of sadness as she nodded affirmingly, her eyes glinting with a distant sorrow. "The company is doing well, that's all that really matters now." She turned back towards the bar, before her gaze shifted back over her shoulder. "Make sure to take care of yourself, Nyx. You're too good for this line of work." She stumbled back towards the bar, her voice clumsily humming along to the music. As I watched her disappear, her words weighed heavily in my chest for the rest of the night, echoing in my mind as I tried to track down some of the contacts on my list. Eventually, after several hours, I decided it was time to head back home, but her words still lingered in my thoughts.

I was halfway through the Art District, and could see my apartment building in the distance. The bright street lights illuminated the main plaza of the small neighborhood, casting a soft ambient glow over the snow-covered cement. Suddenly, my phone began vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out and stared blankly at the screen as snowflakes whirled around me. Mom? My heart raced as I hovered my finger over the answer button, my nerves tingling with anticipation. I felt as if I was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a completely black void below. What would I say to her, after all these years? We'd been strangers for so long, yet I felt an undeniable connection to her. A part of me still remembered her, all the way down to the core. I closed my eyes, gathering my courage, and clicked answer. I took a deep breath, my heart thumping in my chest like a clock ticking down the seconds. I held the phone to my ear, my fingers trembling.

"Hello? Iris? Are you there?" Her voice was frail and sickly sweet, dripping with sorrow and regret. Every word seemed to be drenched in her anguish, her guilt. I could almost sense her tears flowing through the receiver, and I felt my own throat tighten in response. "It's your mom. I just needed to tell you, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, for everything." Her voice cracked, and I heard the pain etched in those few words. I wanted to say something, but my lips had sealed shut, my tongue paralyzed. "It's been a while, and I don't want to bother you. But I wanted to apologize," she said, her voice shaking slightly. I could feel her heartache radiating through the phone, filling the space between us.

"Um…thanks, mom." The words stumbled and fell from my lips, as if each one was a pebble sinking to the bottom of a deep lake. I felt a thousand pound weight settle on my chest, my heart thudding in anticipation of her response. I could almost hear the silence stretching and growing thicker, like a fog that threatened to swallow me up.

"I know it's a lot to ask, and you don't have to say yes. But I'd love for you to come visit sometime. I live in Evergreen Harbor now." I could hear the despair in her voice, the desperate craving for companionship, the fear of being alone. A voice inside of me boiled with unhealed anger.

An urgent attempt to drag you back into her chaos. You don't owe her anything.

I shut my eyes gently, feeling my heart splintering apart once more, but finding solace in the fact that I still had a heart that could be broken. "I'll see what I can do. Thank you for the apology." I flinched slightly as I heard her let out a quiet noise of anguish. Feeling tears, once again pushing at the brims of my eyes, begging to flow freely.

Her voice cracked as she spoke, her emotions palpable through the phone. "I hope you can. But if not, know that I will always love you. You'll always be my light," she whispered. I could almost feel her tears on the other end of the line. "Goodnight, Iris," she said softly. I looked out towards my apartment building, my heart heavy with emotion.

"Goodnight, Mom." As I hung up the phone, I trudged through the darkness toward my building. All I wanted was to curl up in my bed and hold Pixel. Never had I felt so alone, so utterly isolated in that moment, my heart weighed down by an invisible burden. I had to push through the deep emptiness of my soul, my body feeling older and heavier than ever before. The emptiness slowly shrouded my heart in a heavy fog, but I kept going, one foot in front of the other, until I finally reached the safety of my own home.

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #long post #madeformercy #ts4 storytelling #ts4 story #ts4 stories

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cyberloveza · 1 year

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Tale of the Green Beast | A Shreklock Story

It was a quiet day. I would've loved to chat more with Holmes, but the movie we had just watched left me… off. As if Holmes and I had just cuddled by the fire, him regaling me with his crime novels as he'd come to do often recently, knowing that if I was ever murdered, he would dismember his sole to kill the man responsible… but he was the one that killed me in the first place?

Holmes and I strolled down the hallway, him with his arm around my shoulder, and stopped at our flat.

I dug into my pockets for the key.

Holmes tapped his foot as he waited. His usual impatience. A few moments passed, and he stopped. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze fell into his thoughts. His nose scrunched.

"Is that coffee?" He looked up at the door.

"Coffee?" I sniffed the air. The scent had come from through the door. "Wait- yes. It's coming from inside!"

Holmes grabbed the doorknob and turned it, but it wouldn't budge.

"This doesn't make sense. We don't drink coffee, we drink tea! Watson, unlock the door."

I jammed the key into the hole and pushed open the door. The smell of coffee packed the room and flooded into the hallway. Its potency burned my throat. Along with tears from… onions?

Holmes studied the room, as he could find the most miniscule of things that were displaced. And as always, he saw it. But…his jaw dropped.

I followed his thousand-yard-stare to the couch. My lord…

Lightning shocked my heart as I saw the green, panic-inducing hand pick up his coffee mug and an onion in the other.

"Shrek?!" We said at the same time.

"Gitoud o' me flat, will ya?"

Holmes raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, sir but with all due respect, leave. This isn't your house."

"Yuud messan' wit the wroöng ogre."

My knees shook as my whole body paralyzed in fear. I heaved out every breath, and let not one in. My eyes flickered. A cold shock crawled up my skin. Soon, all I could see was the green in front of me, and as always, black.

My brain was working overtime, making sure I only got the most horrific dreams, like Shrek breaking my fingers one by one and stabbing my head while Holmes wasn’t looking. I didn’t even want to think about what could’ve happened while I was out. In the dark void that was my closed eyes, warm colors began to peak through.

The warm sheets were blurry as they caressed my palm, becoming clear and solid as the static cleared from my sleeping body. I opened my eyes.

Holmes. He leaned over me, looking directly into my eyes.

“Holmes…? Wha…” I said as my lips fruitlessly delivered my words.

“Watson, are you okay?”

I groaned as the side of my neck burned. I must’ve slept in a strange position.

“I’m… I’m fine, Holmes. I just- I dunno…”

“Easy, my friend,” he touched my forehead, as if to check I wasn't running a cold. “Dinner will be done in a few minutes. Lay back until then.”

He touched my arm as I eased again into the warm bed.

I wanted to clear my head of him. That green monstrosity…

The bed weakly rumbled as the sound of heavy footsteps approached the door. The noise that shook my core.

I broke into a sweat.

"Eh Sherlœk, dinne's readi!"

A devil's cry pierced up my skin. It was still here. Not only that. I had to share a table with him.

Dammit. No no no no no no no no…

We already set the plates and forks. Holmes waited calmly as his bowl was being prepared. I… well I couldn't. My mind was lightning. I cringed at the thought of his giant fingers touching anything near my food.

A thud came from the kitchen. I flinched.

Holmes looked over at the kitchen entrance. "What was that?"

"Nuthan!" The monster said back. I hoped he didn't think that was reassuring somehow. I knew what he was doing.

I stood up from my chair.

Holmes impatiently tapped his fork on the cream white plate. He met my gaze.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

The truth grobbled in my throat, but I kept it in.

"The food smells so delicious, Holmes," I said shamelessly. "I just have to see it now."

His face brightened up. "Oh, eggers!"

Eggers? Eggers? That Shrek got to him. Holmes's mind was on its way to a slow, green rot and I had to stop it.

I turned into the kitchen, the savory smell of tomatoes and chicken drowned me in its deliciousness, unfortunately. In front of the stove was the demon himself.

He reached into his pocket. Something clacked inside as he pulled out a small red… salt shaker? Strange red flakes floated into the soup, his big hands still choking the entire bottle.

I stood straight. I couldn't make it obvious that my knees trembled.

He looked at me.

"I jost gõtte put i in de bowls. Be paeshent."

"No worries. Why don't I handle it? I said, holding my hand out as I walked closer to the monster.

"I gott it. If ya wonderin about the shaker, it's only pepper. Not de spicy kind."

Lies.

"Sure. I bet Holmes will love it."

Shrek nodded, and dumped the soup from the ladle into the bowl. Gross. Disgusting. I'd rather die than eat that. My head ached just standing there. Slowly, I stepped back and left the kitchen.

Silence. I didn't dare let a word escape my mouth. I took a sip of my wine as Holmes and the demon talked their hearts out.

"Ur a verrie smaot man, Mr. Holmes." It said.

Holmes playfully extended out his hand, blushing like a teenage girl.

"Awww- I- ha ha" he chuckled over his sentence. "Stop, you're embarrassing me."

Holmes glanced at me, then back at Shrek. He didn't talk to me like that. He never talked to me like that. What the hell is this?

I idly stirred my soup, paying close attention to the broccolis. To the red specks that lay on their heads.

Holmes ate his seconds with the speed of a starving prisoner. I knew all the red specks were in his soup too. A love potion perhaps. Or maybe just poison.

Holmes coughed. His eyes shot wide open.

I looked at him. "Is everything alright?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he held his neck, and coughed his lungs out. I panicked.

"Holmes! Are you okay? Answer me!" I rushed out of my seat and over to him. I held his shoulders.

"Gggghhhhaaaa!" He responded.

Drats! He can't talk.

I tugged at his arm and pulled him out of his seat. Wrapping my arms around his torso, I put my hands under his ribcage and did the proper Heimlich maneuver.

A piece of pepper flake shot from his mouth. Holmes heaved as he loosened his grip from his neck. I cupped his hand in mine.

"Oh my god, are you okay?"

He stared at the bowl, emptiness was behind his eyes.

He laughed.

He roared. "I'm fine, John. It was just a flake of pepper. More soup will wash it down."

What.

I flared hot inside. Not from anger, but from how awkward I felt at the moment. Standing there, my face probably iron red. Yes, I saved his life, but it was still awkward.

I sat back down in my seat, still as a statue, watching Shrek and my partner gossip and chatter for the rest of dinner.

"Yoø drawin li'il pictures?"

I snapped cold. The satanic heat radiated in front of me as I slowly looked up. It wasn't a hallucination. That ogre was still here.

I set my pencil and journal down next to me. Quiet time on the couch was over.

I spoke. "I am. Why?"

He grinned, and from behind his back, pulled out five big books.

"Were we're goin', we don't gætt nou pictures."

My eyes widened.

---

After a few minutes, we successfully moved the table to the front door, leaving a clear spot on the floor for us to sit. I couldn't see the use, but that would hopefully be explained to me in due time.

Holmes's bedroom door opened, with the man himself emerging. He wore his dark red dressing robe and slippers.

He came to the sitting spot.

"This is the activity you've been raving to me about?" He looked at the demon.

"Ye, I gotte de buuks. Sit down."

Shrek patted the spot next to him. Holmes clapped his hands together and sat down next to him.

Five books sat in the center of us: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, The Great Gatsby, The Bible, Moby Dick, and the 1999 original book Can of Worms by Kathy Mackel.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What exactly are we doing?"

Shrek leaned forward and grabbed the Harry Potter book. He opened it.

"Yu pik a böok, and ask eech of us one queschon about it, then we rotate. We only gott three peopl and fyve books, but we'll still rotate the other two."

I blanked. I couldn't for the life of me understand the rules, but Holmes probably knew them well, so I could just copy him.

Holmes grabbed the 1999 original book Can of Worms by Kathy Mackel. I took The Bible.

---

Holmes had asked me to write the scores down in my journal, and I told him I'd do anything for him, so I obliged. Here's how it was looking:

I was dead last, but I took solace in that Holmes was doing so well. Though, my hands burned at the thought that it was only because of that demon's doing. Holmes didn't need him to win, but I couldn't do anything as it was his game.

My stomach roared inside me as I sat there with the Bible in hand. I hadn't eaten dinner. Shrek and Holmes watched me intently as I turned a couple pages.

I cleared my throat.

"This is your question, Holmes. What verse does David find Bath-seed-ba bathing?"

"2 Samuel 11:2!" Holmes declared loudly.

Shrek looked at him. "Again, smaot mann, Sherlock."

Holmes blushed again, the fangirl in him never truly leaving since dinner. Shrek picked up the Harry Potter book. A smile spread across his face, but his eyes… they flickered… with rage. His eyebrows pinched.

Shrek pulled his arm back like a baseball pitcher. Holmes's attention was on the pages of his book. The walls chanted at me, their voices rang in my ear. They knew. I knew. My heart beated in my chest as the smell of blood conjured in my head.

His arm swung forward, launching the book past Holmes's head and crashing it into the wall.

Another book sliced past Holmes's shoulder and banged on the floor behind him, making him fall over. My chest was twenty pounds heavy. Holmes trembled with terror in his eyes.

Shrek smirked.

"I gess gaem tyme's over." he stood up. "Time for bed, doncha think?"

He held a hand out for Holmes. He was reduced to a scared kitten, but he slowly reached out his paw to the demon's.

Shrek helped Holmes up from the floor. He snatched his hand away from the ogre.

"I-I'm going to take a shower now. I'll…" he trailed off, and walked away.

In a few seconds, he locked himself in the bathroom, probably sobbing at the thought of this ogre. Poor Holmes.

My blood boiled. I shot up from my seat.

“What the hell was that?” I shouted.

Shrek looked at me with a knowing stare.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s trying to piss me off.

I raised my fist at him. “You lay a hand on my friend, you’re dead. Dead!”

“I think yu fale too consider, who will really be dead.”

A smirk spread across his face. That evil grin… chilled my bones. I stood my ground and kept a fearless expression. Muffled shower noises leaked from the bathroom. Shrek turned his head towards it.

“Wach ouut, Doctor.”

I whispered angrily. “How did you know I was a doctor?”

He pointed at the door. Why would Holmes tell this beast my occupation? He was probably forced to do so.

Surrounded by near silence, Shrek stepped closer to the bathroom, his thunderous footsteps shaking my core. He knelt down at the door. One could only be so scared for someone else’s life before they should start fearing for theirs. What I’m saying is, I should've prayed that my heart could take whatever might happen next.

The demon pulled something out of his pockets. Something black and squirmy. I squinted at them, and it was awful. They were spiders.

One by one, the spiders crawled down Shrek’s green skin and onto the floor, sneaking under the space of the door and into the bathroom. Holmes had the worst surprise coming. I gasped as I knelt down to view the spiders.

“No.” I mumbled.

“Yez.” The devil replied.

“No!” I said as I leaped forward to the doorknob.

He raised a finger to his mouth and shushed me. The rings of the shower curtains clanged against the bar as they whooshed to the side.

“Watson?” A quite voice said through the showering water. “Watson!”

My heart ached. Holmes was saying my name. He needed me, but I couldn’t respond, less I wanted the ogre to hurt him more.

“Noble False Widows,” he said. “Moste poizunous in Englande. I don’t thank heez gonna mak it.”

“WATSON!!” Holmes screamed. His blood curdling pleads stung my ears.

As I gazed shocked at the door in disbelief, a shadow formed from mine. It was ogre-shaped. And from the side of my head, a baseball bat shape emerged. I froze. I was ice. My vision blotched black as I waited… and waited…

BAM.

Dark.

A dark room, furnished only by silhouettes. That's where I lay. My head burned with pulses against my pillow from the blunt force blow I was dealt sometime earlier.

I groaned. The covers caressed me as I pushed myself up.

What happened…

A creak sounded. I froze and became sober again.

"I was knocked out," I mumbled to myself. My heart blasted, racing on, breaking me into a cold sweat as the thought hit me. "Where's Holmes?"

My eyes widened in panic. My breaths were too quick to be considered breathing. I shakily hopped out of bed and scrambled to the nightstand for the lamp.

With one click, it flicked on. My room was a hurricane's path of debris. Though this time, it wasn't the green beast's fault.

I approached the door, my legs trembling at what could be behind it. I held the cold doorknob and turned it, and as I tugged, it didn't budge.

I tugged again. Nothing.

Was I trapped?

I glanced around the room, at the bed, at the dresser, at the floor. Nothing of note. I held my chest as I cooled down. I had to think:

Who put me here? And why?

The answer to the first one was obvious. It was Shrek. My answer to the second question would be confirmed for sure after I figured out my third question:

How do I get out of here?

Think, John. What did you do with the demon today?

I tapped my foot as I pondered. Shrek had made us dinner with dubiously edible pepper flakes, played a book game with us, and possibly mortally wounded Holmes with a spider. Aha, it was all connected!

I grabbed the 1999 original book Can of Worms by Kathy Mackel off the dresser. Next to where the book was, was a conveniently placed pepper shaker.

A spider crawled on the floor. Perfect. I knew how to get out.

In a few minutes, I sprinkled the pepper onto a blank page in the book, then recited the previous page's text backwards. I shut it immediately. Using the same book, I slammed it on the spider, threw it at the window and finally, unlocked the door.

That's what living with Sherlock Holmes does to your brain. You become smarter from his mere presence.

The door creaked open. I peeked through. No lights were on, leaving the flat in total darkness.

I blindly tiptoed out my bedroom. Despite my probable head injury, I was doing well navigating the few feet I traveled. However…

I touched the couch, and it felt… off. Tiny buzzes filled my ear, colors I shouldn't see in the dark blotted my vision, and dark red plagued my senses. The smell of blood.

I took a finger to a different part of the couch. My fingers dipped into a wet, squishy, warm patch of fabric, the substance leaking onto my hands. I pressed more, and panicked.

My hands shook as my breathing grew louder.

"Blood… blood…" I whispered. I quietly called for my friend. "Holmes… Holmes? Sherlock?"

A thunderous step sounded behind me. A familiar sound. I trembled again.

"Yuu finaly laerned wot I meant. You tők your sweet thyme, Doctor."

Beads of tears loomed around my eyes. My throat scratched on every word.

"Where's… where's Sherlock? Where's my friend?" I cried. I looked hopelessly in the darkness, unable to see the evil green beast.

A ray of light rose from behind and hit the floor beside me. It was from a torch. The light slithered past my feet, illuminating a slipper in front of me.

It kept going, then slowed. A drop of blood glimmered in the light. And more. And lingering, was a pool of dark blood gathering under a man wearing a robe.

"..."

I froze.

The beast came closer, letting his torchlight leak over the rest of the body and his face. The pale face of Sherlock Holmes.

I covered my mouth as I knelt down, his blood soaking my clothes.

"Sherlock? I-..." My voice wobbled. Tears flowed down my face.

I went cold. I knew.

Like a bomb, I exploded. The chaos, my tears and shrieks of fear bursted out of me. Sobbing and pure screams fought each other for my heart. My body went numb as my legs gave out. I coughed on the tears that flooded my face.

"Sherlock! SHERLOCK!" I yelled. The green beast grabbed me from behind. "No! No! You MONSTER! Bring him back! SHERLO-"

I coughed from my torn throat. My breath heightened as I finally ran out of tears to cry.

I stood there, unable to move from his arms. I didn't have it in me. Not anymore.

"Please… bring him back." I said quietly.

The monster squeezed me harder.

"No cann do, Doctor. I'm not-"

"Please… please…" I begged as I lost my voice.

The monster's grip loosened. Silence retook its place as I struggled to make a noise. He let go entirely and I could kneel to my friend one more time. The monster stepped back.

"Comm on, Sherlock. Partyz ovar."

Wh-wha…

Bells tolled far in the distance as I Iooked on at my friend.

Sherlock’s hand twitched. He shook as he pushed himself up off the floor, his eyes opening like a miracle itself had taken him. Was he undead?

The lights flicked on, and my partner stood tall once again. His gaze pierced through me, heating me like a fireplace. My mouth quivered.

"Sh-Sher…"

"Good evening to you too, Watson." He said with a smile.

I snapped cold.

"You're… You're a zombie!" I cried.

He chuckled. "Of course not, Watson. It's just me. I'm very much alive."

All senses flowed from me. I fell into a euphoric haze as I leaped forward to embrace him. Blood smeared across my clothes.

I looked at his wound, though there wasn't anything obvious.

"Sherlock, you're hurt."

"Oh no, this is fake." He took his finger to the blood and held it up at me.

My eyes widened. I slowly let go of Sherlock, and stepped back. It didn't make sense.

"S-so, this was all a prank? A joke?" I asked. The euphoria faded away.

Sherlock crosses his arms, then pointed at the blood-stained carpet.

"Well it's obvious, Watson. There is no trail of blood outside this puddle, suggesting no murder weapon was carried beyond this point, and it's too clean for a supposed surpised attack. Plus, there's no wound." He explained.

Sherlock glanced up at Shrek, smirking. Why?

"It was sloppy. Not a convincing crime scene."

"Yuu wont sum eggs wit that ham?" The demon said.

My relief morphed into confusion. Here I was, standing over a pool of fake blood and, what should've been, a white chalk outline. Sherlock and Shrek stood on either side of me. It was probably past midnight, and I was here instead.

What was happening?

"Why? Why would you do that?" Tears emerged from my eyes again.

Sherlock glared at me.

"It was for a very good reason. When we got back from the cinema, I could tell you were frightened, even more so when we saw our unexpected guest in our home. I was concerned when you passed out, but believed your fear to be unfounded, so me and Shrek decided to humor you. If you thought he was going to kill me, then he would 'kill' me."

"What-"

"I wasn't gonna really kill him. I woz tryin' to proove to you that' I woudn't." The ogre said.

I stared blankly at Shrek. My hands heated up and I turned my attention back to Sherlock. Worry spread across his face as I slowly stepped closer.

Standing in front of him now, I slapped him hard. My need to yell was less than dormant. I grabbed his robe.

"This was the dumbest plan you've ever conceived." I said gravely.

I let go of him and went to Shrek. I slapped him too. It wouldn't sting as bad though. I blame Sherlock for planning this in the first place. Shrek did absolutely nothing wrong.

I walked past the couch, intending to go back to bed. Intentionally this time.

"Watson, comm watch a movie wit us." Shrek said.

I smiled smugly, and turned around to face the green beast.

"Get out of my flat."

~The End~

#shreklock #sherlock holmes #shrek #original sherlock holmes #kind of #johnlock #like my little pictures?#idk #idk even know when this takes place #could be 1889 might be 1989 its timeless

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carelessannie · 2 years

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For everyone who’s been waiting, here’s the companion piece to LFL! It features excerpts from Natasha and Bucky’s developing relationship.

Don’t worry, I haven’t forgot about the LFL epilogue.

lookin for love: always

Bucky x Natasha Rating: T Word Count: 4.6k

He’s not expecting her to move in close, and her closed fist is bouncing off his chest before either of them are fully aware of it.

Natasha huffs in disbelief, “Ya b'yu tebya.”

Taking advantage of her hesitation, the soldier easily whips her around, pinning her in a brutal headlock.

“Sdavat’sya,” he hisses.

And then the world explodes.

Tag list: @starkentrprises @moodyships @peterrparrkerr @purplefreakwolffish @instantsharkskeletonpizza @justslightlycrazy @femmeparker @shippingaddictbaby @momodashii

#LFL #lookin for love #spidershield: LFL #Lookin for love: always #BuckyNat #companion piece #soft #canon compliant #mcu #crawls out of my black hole to deliver this to you #still very much inactive im sorry

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loopout · 3 years

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The First Moon Without You

The aftermath of The Prank

The full moon. It was utterly gorgeous; its borders were so unmistakeably perfect, the yellows of it shining comfortingly, its silver craters forming shapes Sirius once got lost in, imagining all the silly little things they reminded him of.

Now, he felt stupid for the aggressive way he wanted to wave middle fingers in its direction. He knew perfectly well that that wouldn't change anything. Still, the rage that consumed him was grievously unbareable and he had nowhere to go with it. For the most part he was angry with himself, and he couldn't find a way to act upon it but cry and sob and yank and throw his helpless body across the sheets.

The deafening silence of the dorm was ripping his ears. For the first time, he couldn't go to James. James was with Remus, running through the forrest. He felt like screaming, because he should be there as well.

He heard a soft howl in the distance. He recognised it as a playful one rather than one of pain. He wanted to smile softly, imagining Moony running around, entirely free, but every caring thought he had for Remus made him feel so guilty, it stabbed him in the chest and made him ache in all the places he could possibly think of. He knew the wolf better than anyone else, more than anyone ever tried to. And he couldn't be there with him.

He clenched his eyes shut firmly, trying to stop the hot tears spilling from his tired, gory eyes, but it was no use. His head was on the verge of exploding, his pale face that was always so full of life was now swollen, and he hated himself endlessly for being so reckless, so stupid, so horrible of a friend. He'd be lucky if he still had any of his friends.

He felt so painfully alone. And old. So, so old, though he was only fifteen.

He thought how now, he was no different from his family, and he didn't understand how he could ever think that he was. He had friends, he had Remus who gave him everything, and this is the thanks they get.

For the first time, he wanted to go back to Grimmauld place. He wanted to see his mother because, if no one else will, she will make him pay for what he did.

Since then, that was the thing he drifted off to sleep to, because he hadn't the guts to think about his friends. About Remus. He didn't have the right.

#tw destructive thoughts #?#it's the full moon tonight folks #which means that tonight i am crawling out of my little rat hole #and delivering you some fresh angst #enjoy #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #peter pettigrew #marauders era #the marauders

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spooky-ghosts · 2 years

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heavy in your arms

part one

you’re sent to belle reve after serving justice to a well deserved foe. you say goodbye to one lover and meet another when you agree to join Task Force X. when your mother goes missing, Rick Flag joins you back to your hometown of Gotham where you run into your old flame, Bruce Wayne.

word count: 1653

warnings: cursing, violence, mentions of wounds, mentions of torture, mentions of oral sex (m and f receiving), fainting. named reader. if i missed any, please let me know. future warnings: this will be a poly!relationship.

a/n: thank you @a-reader-and-a-writer for reading this over for me. i appreciate you and i love you. kiss kiss. and to my dear @babblydrabbly i’m not sorry for the scene in this that will give you ptsd. and sorry about the cliche song title for the fic, the song fits this brooding trio. oops.

bruce wayne/batman x female reader (Annabeth Arkwright/Anne Arkie) x rick flag

He said it was what was best for you.

“What gives you any right to decide what’s best for me?” You asked him as Gordon stood off a few feet, holding back the accompanying group of the uniforms that were eager to jump on you.

A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, a look of genuine remorse on his face. “You knew the cost of what you did.” You scoffed. “You’ll have to pay, just like everyone else.”

You couldn’t argue with him, you knew he was right. Turning to face the cops, you held out your hands, surrendering. As they slapped the cuffs on you and Lieutenant Gordon put a gentle hand on your back to lead you away, you looked over your shoulder and gave him your best smile. “See ya’ around, Bats.”

That was over three years ago and not once has he come to visit you, not that you expected him to. Still, you thought what the two of you had was something real, not just a passing fling to keep his life more interesting, more dangerous. Not that you were as crazy as The Joker or as brutal as the Penguin, but you and the Batman had different ideas on how to deliver justice.

“Double A,” Boomerang calls out to you, pulling you from your thoughts, “you alright over there?”

You grin. “Doing better than you, apparently.”

His hand clutches his side where a bullet grazed him and he huffs. “Think you can Tinker Bell me all better?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Y’know, mend me. Fix me up. Heal me,” Harkness snaps. “I’ve got a fuckin’ hole in me.”

Rolling your eyes, you crawl across the hallway, well below the firefight being exchanged between Flag and the enemy. “This isn’t a hole, it’s more like a… gash.” Holding your hands over the wound, energy pours out of you, smoky black with small crackles of white lightning, and stitches the thief back together. “And Tinker Bell never healed anyone.”

“Nah, but she did mend shit,” Boomer replies.

“I’m glad that we both agree you are shit.” Your grin returns as the cogs in his head turn over that statement and he shoves you away.

“Can the two of you stop flirting and help?” Rick Flag shouts over the short bursts of his rifle.

“Jealous, Colonel?” You ask teasingly as you put up a light gray transparent barrier, stopping any further bullets. Boomer stands behind you and hurls two of his glowing weapons down the hall, slicing up the small group, ending the fight.

“We make a great team, doll,” he grins, throwing an arm around you. “How’s about we join up whenever we get outta here?”

Rick moves forward, pointedly pushing his way in between you and Boomer, frowning at the Aussie. “You’ve got a triple life sentence, Harkness, you’re not gettin’ out any time soon.”

“Oi, you don’t need to put a damper on the mood, Flag,” the thief pouts. “Just ‘cause your lady isn’t as naughty as the rest of us doesn’t mean we can’t dream of a life of freedom, too.” He leans forward to look around the still frowning Colonel and beams at you. “Close to earnin’ that clean slate, yeah?”

You lift a shoulder and look up at Rick. “I have about five more missions, right? I wouldn’t call that close.”

“I dunno. They’ll go faster than you think,” Boomer cuts in before Flag can speak. “Say, you never told us what you did to earn a spot in this crazy lil’ family.”

Rick tenses between the two of you. “She doesn’t have to tell-“

“I killed my father,” you state simply.

“Why’d you go and do that?”

Your usual smile falls from your face and you turn to look down the hall, waiting for Harley’s signal. “He was a bad man. He deserved everything that happened to him.”

Harkness whistles and clicks his tongue. “How’d you do it?”

“You really don’t have to answer that,” Rick tells you.

Ignoring him, you reply, “I trapped him in a time loop where I had his skin flayed and his limbs chopped off. Just before he died, the loop would start again. He lived for three weeks in that hell, until the Bat came and interrupted. The loop ended and he fell apart right there in his beloved office.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the thief gasps. “What in the hell did he do to deserve something like that?”

There’s three flashing lights at the end of the hall - the signal. “He made me.” You give Rick a spare glance before setting off towards the target.

“You do realize that you’re dating another crazy one, right?” Boomer asks the Colonel. “Granted, this one isn’t tryin’ to end the world.” He pauses, “Yet.”

Rick glares at the Aussie. “She’s not crazy. And what that asshole did to her…” He trails off, watching you. “I can’t pass judgment. No one should. But she’s payin’ for what she did, just like the rest of you.”

“Alright, boss. If you trust her-“

“I do.”

“… then I do, too,” Digger finishes. “She seems like a good egg, as crazy as she is.” Rick opens his mouth to protest. “Mate, she’s as crazy as the rest of us to be doin’ this shit.” And the Colonel couldn’t disagree.

As Boomer said, the five missions go by quickly. You’re released without much fanfare. Waller does her best to intimidate you with the threat of throwing you back into the fray if you happen to ‘mess up again’, which she was sure you would.

Rick takes you back to his place that evening. “Stay as long as you need,” he tells you. You thank him by a blow job in the shower and he returns the favor by staying between your legs, taking you apart until you’re covered in a thin layer of sweat and whining his name.

You stay for two weeks, enjoying your time with Rick and your freedom.

The morning of your third week with him, there’s a knock on the door. You’re in the kitchen making lunch as Rick answers it. The soft rumbling of his voice carries through the house, answered by a second male whose voice you recognize. What they’re saying isn’t audible, not over the sizzling of the chicken that you’re frying.

Then Rick calls for you, telling you that you have a guest. He appears in the threshold of the kitchen. “You’ve got a visitor,” he tells you as his head tilts back towards the front door. He replaces your position at the stove and you find yourself face to face with your family’s lawyer.

“Mr. O’dair,” you greet evenly. “I assume Mother has sent you to fetch me?”

A tall, lanky gray haired man with frameless glasses on his hooked nose frowns at you. “Your mother is missing,” he informs. “You are needed back home immediately.”

The air is sucked out of your lungs and you feel the floor come to meet you as the world goes black.

When you wake, Rick has a cold, wet washcloth pressed to your forehead. He’s clearly worried, exchanging soft words with O’dair until you let out a soft noise and try to get up. “Woah, hey, darlin’, careful.” He helps you sit. “How’re you feelin’?”

“I could be better,” you admit. “Sorry about all the trouble.”

He gives you a disapproving look, “You know you didn’t cause any trouble.” Taking a seat next to you, both turn your attention back to O’dair. “Now, I don’t know what got you all bothered, but if you don’t need anything else, sir, I would like you to come back another time when she’s rested.”

“I’m afraid that I can’t leave without her,” the lawyer insists. “Her mother is missing and as the only heir, there are things that need to be taken care of.”

Rick frowns. “Missin’? When did all of this happen?”

”It’s difficult to pinpoint a time,” O’dair replies. “She was on a business trip to Blüdhaven and was supposed to return yesterday, but she never checked into the hotel.”

“And no one has done anything until now?” Your voice is raised and your skin heated. Rick puts a hand on your knee in an effort to comfort you, but it does little to help.

“We tried to contact you at Belle Reve, but we were informed of your release. Miss Waller was less than cooperative when it came to where you’ve been staying.” Hearing that only makes your blood boil hotter. O’dair continues over your muttered curses. “The Gotham City Police Department has already started their search for her.” When you scoff, the lawyer clears his throat. “As well as a certain masked vigilante.”

When you stiffen, Rick’s frown deepens. “You’re talkin’ about the Batman? The one that put her away?”

O’dair nods. “Miss, shall I call to have the jet ready?”

“Yeah,” you sigh and turn to Rick. “I’m sorry that I-“

He cuts you off with a soft press of his lips to yours. “You don’t need to keep apologizin’, especially since there’s nothin’ to be sorry for. I’ve got a load of vacation time saved up, Imma call Waller right now.”

Taken aback, you stare at him with wide eyes. “Rick, you don’t have to come with me.”

“No, I don’t have to,” he shakes his head. “I want to. Give me a few minutes and we’ll start packin’ up, alright?” He stands up and pulls his phone out, nodding to the both of you before he heads into the next room to make the call.

“Does he know?” O’dair asks.

You shake your head. “It didn’t mean anything anyway,” you reply. “But this,” you motion to yourself and in the direction Rick went, “does, which is all that matters. I’d thank you for not bringing anything up, as well.”

“Of course, Miss.”

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cloudteawrites · 3 years

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chapter: six ( 15.5k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results.

While scent mixing (heretofore referred to as ‘scenting’) is temporary and lasts a maximum of twelve hours if left undisturbed, scent marking (‘marking’ in common parlance) is semi-permanent. A ‘mark’ is created when the pheromones present in a hybrid’s bodily fluids are applied directly to their markee’s skin. When said chemical compounds seep below the epidermis and bond to the sweat glands found within the dermal layer of the skin, the target has been officially ‘marked’. Between domesticated hybrids and their human caretakers, this is most commonly done by applying hybrid saliva to the skin of the neck, where a human’s scent tends to be strongest. While the behavior involved in marking resembles some aspects of human foreplay, it is a non-sexual expression of mutual trust and affection. It is important to note that most hybrids of age are able to mitigate the oral secretion of pheromones and cannot mark accidentally-

“How do I look?”

The sound of Jimin’s voice makes you jump. You fumble with your phone, trying to exit out of the website, shove it in your pocket and look at the leopard hybrid’s outfit at the same time.

“You look great!” You tell him once the device is safely tucked away.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’ve said that about everything I’ve shown you.”

You had, but only because it was true. No matter what the trio of hybrids tried on, they all looked great. You weren’t sure what it was, but seeing them in something other than neutral sweat suits made them look even better than they already had. You were discovering they all had unique senses of fashion too. Taehyung preferred earth tones, soft fabrics and slouchy cardigans, Yoongi tended toward plaid overshirts and dark denim and Jimin had just come out of the dressing room in his sixth button down and second pair of chelsea boots.

When the four of you had arrived at the mall that afternoon, you’d told them to go wild and call you when they were ready to check out. There was an entire section of the shopping center that catered specifically to hybrids and you were certain they’d be able to find everything they needed and more. You’d been all set to sequester yourself in a booth in the food court and indulge your hybrid research habit, but Taehyung had fixed you with a forlorn look the moment you tried to part with them and Jimin had insisted that you personally review every piece of clothing he put on. You wouldn’t deny that you were having fun, but surreptitiously trying to google what every little thing they did meant without getting caught was getting harder and harder.

Jimin breezes past you to the semi-circle of mirrors on the far end of the fitting rooms, brushing his tail against your shins as he passes. That was another thing that had changed. Since the talk you’d had with the boys last night, it seemed like they were always finding some excuse to touch you or brush up against you . You didn’t know if it was a manifestation of their cat genes or them just wanting physical reassurance that you were there, but it seemed like every time you turned around there was a tail curling around your calf or a nose tip against your ear or a shoulder brushing your own. You were practically wreathed in them. Even Yoongi hadn’t seemed to mind when your fingertips had brushed against each other at breakfast when you’d passed him the juice. You didn’t know if you should count that as progress, but you want to.

You’re not entirely used to physical contact and nearly every time Taehyung rubs his cheek on the top of your head or Jimin reaches out to link your fingers together, you jump. It feels strange, to have people be so blatantly physically affectionate with you. It’s not like you dislike it, exactly, it’ll just take some getting used to. Whatever adjustments you need to make, you know you’ll need to make them quickly. You don’t think the hybrids will give up on friendly hugs just because you never initiate them first.

“Y/N-ah,”Jimin calls, catching your attention. He’s twisting this way and that on the platform, trying to catch his reflection in every possible angle. He hums in disappointment as he turns back to the front, tail waving behind him. “This collar,” he says, tugging on the offending band of bright green plastic around his neck, “-is ruining my outfit. We’ll need to get real ones today.”

You feel like a stone has settled in your stomach. Your shoulders sag, but if the leopard hybrid notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, you’re right.” In truth, you’d hoped to put it off for a little while longer. Collaring and leashing a hybrid had always seemed odd to you. After all, weren’t they people too? The law was the law, you knew, but something about publicly and visibly marking someone as property...well, the morality of it was gray at best. The temporary collars had provided you with a stay from the inevitable, but there was no avoiding it any longer, you supposed. They’d have to get collars.

“I saw a store for them a couple shops down,” Taehyung supplies as he steps out of his dressing room in a white linen shirt and cream drawstring pants. “We could go there?”

“That works for me...Taehyung, one of your buttons is in the wrong hole.”

The tiger hybrid squints down at his shirt, feels blindly for the hole he missed, but can’t seem to find it.

“No,” you tell him. “Not that one, the other- do you just want me to fix it?”

He pauses and looks up at you for a solid three seconds before giving a single, slow nod.

You come to stand in front of him and start undoing the buttons from the top. There’s only four of them but each one you pop open reveals more and more of his honey brown skin and prominent collar bones. Your fingers brush his skin accidentally and he chuffs happily, one hand resting on your lower back as you start buttoning him up again. Heat starts crawling up your neck unbidden. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, you can feel the warmth of his palm, how long his fingers are. He presses you closer until your arms are nearly flat against your chest as you try to finish buttoning him up. It’s hard to move squished between the insistent pressure of his hand and the- surprisingly- hard line of his body, but you make do. “There!” You pat him gently on the chest as you finish the last button. “All done.”

He dips forward and rubs his cheek against your forehead, rumbling so deep in his chest that the vibrations pass into you. “Thank you.” He releases you and pulls away, but as he does, his lips brush against your hairline. You try not to read too deep into it.

The tiger hybrid sidles over to his friend in the mirror, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and dipping his head into his neck. Jimin reaches back and scratches behind one of his ears and your heart swells in your chest. It was nice to see them be so openly affectionate with each other. They’re so close in a way you can’t even begin to understand. It’s beautiful.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you thumb the screen to life. An incoming call from Mr. Seo. “You guys keep trying stuff on,” you tell the pair, already standing to make your way out of the dressing room. “I’ve gotta take this.” They both call at you to hurry back and you give them a shout of assent as you rush away.

The second you’re outside the store, you answer. “Hello?”

“Ms. L/N,” Mr. Seo’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “I trust you’ve settled in well.” It isn’t a question and the tone of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t wish to spend what precious time he has exchanging pleasantries with you.

“Yeah, everything’s okay.” Everything had most certainly not been okay when you’d emergency dialed him two days ago about the tiger on your couch. The text he’d sent you back six hours later had told you to figure it out. You had and you knew you weren’t his responsibility, but him tossing you in the deep end was still a sore spot for you.

“There’s been a change of plans.”

You grimace. Straight to it, then. “What’s going on?”

“Black Mountain Canines- the company your uncle purchased two of the hybrids from- changed their pick-up date. They want you to come get them in person today.”

“Pick-up?” You frown. “No, they were supposed to drop them off.”

“They were,” Mr. Seo confirms, “But it’s apparently no longer profitable for them to drive all the way into Seoul to hand-deliver two of their charges. They also claim they’re incurring additional expenses by feeding and housing two hybrids who’ve already been purchased, but we’ll see about that when we arrive.”

Your anxiety spikes and your fingers wrap tighter around your phone. You’d promised the boys a whole day out. All you’d done so far was get them phones of their own and furniture for their room. There was still so much to do, so much to see. “What about Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung?” You blurt out.

Mr. Seo sighs and his breath crackles over the receiver. “Those are the cats, I assume? I suggest you let them know sooner rather than later that they’ll have to share their space.” There’s a flurry of movement on his end of the line, the sound of someone calling his name and papers shuffling. “I have to go; they need me to look over some case files.” He tells you. “I’ll be at Haneul Tower to pick you up in three hours. Be downstairs waiting.”And the line clicks off.

You sigh and hang up. What were you going to tell the boys? Day one of your new friendship and you were already breaking promises.

“Trouble?” Yoongi’s voice right behind you makes you flinch and whirl on him. His ears press back against his head and he takes a step back at your sudden movements.

“Sorry!” You tell him, forcing your spine to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there; I thought you were still shopping. ”

“I can tell,” he snarks, but there’s no heat behind it. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, still tense and flick to the phone in your hand. “I dropped my stuff at the register. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, nerves making your stomach ache. “C’mon,” you tell him, walking back into the store. “Let’s pay and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you when we sit down.” He follows after you a few paces behind, trying not to let worry prick in him at the anxious shift in your scent. Something was about to change, he was sure, and not entirely for the better.

Twenty minutes later, the four of you are sitting in the food court, a mess of shopping bags at your feet and a bowl of tteokbokki between you. Yoongi and Jimin had picked out all the fish cakes first and were bickering good-naturedly over who the last one should go to, but Taehyung seemed content to just gnaw at his rice cakes. You’d hardly touched anything, your eyes flicking back to the time on your phone. 1:20 P.M. Two hours and forty minutes ‘til Mr. Seo would be at your apartment to pick you up and bring you to get two more of the hybrids your uncle had bought. You push a rice cake around on your paper plate with the end of your chopstick. Well, no point delaying the inevitable.

“Hey, guys?” You call softly. Three pairs of ears swivel toward you immediately. The words die in your throat and your tongue feels like lead as they look at you, all their eyes focused and expectant. You clear your throat and force yourself to continue. “So...you know how I…” You search for the right word, but there’s really no other way to say it. “...inherited you guys from my uncle?”

Taehyung’s eyes flick toward Jimin and the leopard hybrid brushes his tail against the tiger’s. Silent communication you couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah,” Yoongi says, tossing his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “I told them.”

That was right. What you’d blurted out at Yoongi yesterday on the street you had yet to disclose to his juniors. “Thanks, Yoongi,” You tell him, meaning every word of it. He’d spared you from yet another uncomfortable conversation.

“...For what it’s worth, we’re glad it’s you,” Taehyung tells you, his tail twining around your ankle under the table. He looks at his hyungs for confirmation and when neither of them deny it, he settles his amber gaze back on you. “We like being here with you, even if you didn’t pick us. It’s...It’s nice.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words. He beams at you, his boxy smile soft despite the sharp incisors poking his bottom lip. “I like having you guys around, too,” you admit, taking the time to meet each of their eyes. Jimin purrs as you look at him, the corners of his mouth curling. When your gaze meets Yoongi’s, his ears twitch but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either, just holds your stare with an intensity that makes heat crawl up your neck. You suddenly remember the warm stretch of his body over your’s, the sensation of his lips against your neck. You snatch your eyes away and cough to cover your lapse in speech. “It would’ve been scary, I think, if I had to deal with all this alone.”

You couldn’t even imagine it.That clinically clean apartment with its blank white walls and its imposing emptiness would have driven you down until you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always had a little pit of loneliness inside you. You didn’t know how long it’d been there. Maybe it always had been, a seed of something sad and dark at the core of your soul. You’d done well keeping it contained. You felt it in your goshiwon, but your room was small. It couldn’t grow beyond your keeping. In Oliver’s penthouse, it would’ve had endless room to sprawl and with no one to clip it back, you would’ve choked to death on vines of doubt.

“There are others,” you tell them, before you can down spiral into the mire of your own thoughts. “He bought other hybrids before he died. They weren’t supposed to be coming until next week but their company wants me to come get them today.”

The mood at the table shifts almost immediately. Taehyung’s ears and tail sag, Jimin’s smile goes sharp at the edges and Yoongi’s lip curls. “How many others?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You notice he does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism, no matter how at ease it makes him seem.

“Four,” you answer and the bobcat hybrid’s ears tilt back in irritation. “Two are coming home today and the other two toward the end of next week.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you see the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’s annoyed. Taehyung drops a hand onto the smaller hybrid’s back and rubs circles in it, trying to soothe him.

“Maybe it’ll be okay?” The tiger hybrid offers. He’s trying his best to be diplomatic, but you hear the strain in the deep timbre of his voice. “Having other cats around again might be nice. We used to live with a lot back at the center…”

You wince. “...they’re canines.” Almost immediately, all of their ears go flat against their skulls and they hiss in unison. Yoongi stifles himself the quickest, setting a hand on Jimin’s knee and squeezing to get the leopard hybrid to get a hold of himself.

“Hybrids of different species don’t play well together,” he explains. “Especially not when our animals are solitary in the wild. The only reason Jimin, Tae and I are able to stand sharing the same territory is because we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve had to do it before.”

Before? A question forms in the back of your mind, but now isn’t the time to ask it.

“We don’t like sharing what’s ours,” Jimin continues for his hyung, interlocking his fingers with yours on the plastic table top. “It’s instinctual.”

“I know, I know.” You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to reassure him. “But the apartment is big; can’t you avoid each other starting out?”

All three of them give you a strange look and Jimin’s lips curl in a way that isn’t quite a smile. “...right,” he purrs, a little delayed. “The apartment.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiety sinking its claws into you. “I’m really sorry to spring this on you guys, I know it’s not great, but…” Your shoulders sag. “I don’t want to have promised someone a home and rip the rug out from under them, you know?” You knew what that felt like. You wouldn’t wish that feeling on your worst enemy. “I’m just...I’m worried that they’re not being treated well.”

“They were up for sale,” Yoongi drawls. “They definitely aren’t.”

The taxi ride back to Haneul Tower is uncomfortably quiet. Jimin still holds your hand and Taehyung still leans on your shoulder, but nobody says a word. You help them carry their bags upstairs and drop them off in the master bedroom. You’d told them they could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they’d insisted on sharing, so you thought it was only fair that they get the largest room in the penthouse. Clothes went onto hangars and into closets and before you knew it, there were only ten minutes until Mr. Seo’s arrival.

“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung huffs. He’s got you wrapped in a bear- well, you suppose a tiger hug and his cheek is mashed against the top of your head. You don’t even think he’s actively scenting you at this point, just keeping you from leaving. “Send your assistant instead and stay here with us.”

You let out a puff of laughter and pat the hybrid on the back in a way you hope is soothing. “Mr. Seo isn’t my assistant, buddy, he’s my uncle’s attorney.” You give a little tug away from him and he lets you go, albeit with a sad little mrow that makes him sound just like a disappointed cat. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. The only reason he’s coming is because they broke the contract. And I can’t drive.”

The look Taehyung gives you is so downtrodden that you toy with the idea of calling the whole day off and staying with them- but no. You can’t bail out now, especially not with what you’d put Mr. Seo through when the first group of hybrids were delivered. “I’ll be back before you know it,” You tell him with a steadfast smile.

“You’d better,” Jimin says, nudging the taller hybrid out of the way. Taehyung gives a half-hearted growl, but settles as Yoongi squeezes his shoulder. “The longer you’re away, the longer you’ll have to sit in the stench of those mutts.”

You frown. “Jimin-”

“Only joking,” He soothes, bringing both of your hands up to his cheeks. You don’t believe him, but you don’t press it. The leopard hybrid nuzzles into your palms, purring happily at the feeling of your skin against his. Your palms nearly burn from how warm he is. You feel a warm puff of air against your fingers and tense as Jimin presses all ten of them against his lips.

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is hard, but his junior’s lips curl up in a satisfied smile, one of his incisors pricking at the pad of your index finger.

“Hurry back,” he murmurs. You try not to shiver at the feeling of his plush lips moving against your oversensitive fingertips.

“I’ll do my best!” You say, a pained smile tugging your lips apart. He hums in response and drops your hands, his fingers trailing across yours as he lets you go.

“Hyung,” he calls over his shoulder. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Y/N-ah?”

“Don’t let them scent you.” Is all Yoongi says as he breezes toward the stairs. “You know better now.”

It’s as much as you were expecting. “I’ll see you guys later,” You tell them as you head out the door. “Finish setting your phones up and text me if you need anything!”

True to his word, Mr. Seo is parked out front at 4 o’clock on the dot. You haven’t seen him in a little over a week and you’d almost forgotten how imposing he was. He cuts a sharp figure against the backdrop of the bustling street, dressed in all black and leaning against a brand new Buick Enclave. The poor valet stationed at the front door looks like he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask to park his car for the past twenty minutes and sags in relief as you start heading over.

The lawyer dips his head in acknowledgement at you and checks his watch. “Miracle of miracles,” he says, popping open the passenger side door for you. “You’re on time.”

“I was late one time,” you huff, sliding past him and into your seat.

“And that was enough,” he snips back, closing your door before you can come up with a retort. You grumble to yourself, but don’t press him. You know he’s right. He’d gone out of his way to help you and you’d put him out.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as he settles into his seat and reaches for his seatbelt. “It won’t happen again; I know you’ve got other things to do.”

He stills and looks at you over the gold frames of his glasses. For a long moment he holds your gaze, unblinking. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Had you done something wrong?

Finally Mr. Seo blinks and finishes buckling himself in. “I apologize for staring, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly.” He push starts his car and pulls away from the curb. “I never thought I’d see the day a L/N would apologize to me.” He edges the car into the steady stream of Seoul traffic and you’re off, zooming toward the freeway.

Silence fills the car again, but as Mr. Seo takes on-ramp, you work up the courage to ask your question. “Did Oliver never apologize to you?”

Mr. Seo snorts and it’s such an undignified sound that you almost can’t believe it comes from him. “You could tell your uncle the sky was blue and he’d argue that it was red until he was. And your grandfather-” He seems to catch himself, reigning back whatever meager bits of his personality had managed to slip through the cracks in his normally flawless veneer. You’re all ears.

Up until a week and a half ago, you hadn’t known you had any family, much less an uncle who owned buildings and bugattis. Now you were finding out that you had a grandfather too. “What about my grandfather?” The word feels strange in your mouth. It’d been years since you’d followed the word ‘my’ up with any type of familial relation.

Mr. Seo cuts his eyes at you, and flicks them back to the front. “Nothing,” he replies, clearly done talking about him. “I spoke out of turn.” He reaches forward and turns on the radio, the sound of national news filling the silence.

You pout and slouch in your seat, disappointment setting in as the promise of new information slipped out of your grasp.

The rest of the drive is easy. Mr. Seo takes the highway out of Seoul and up into the foothills but you’re asleep before he even finds the exit. You’d slept more in the past two days than you had in the previous three weeks, but it seemed like years of bad habits were catching up to you.

Last night, you’d passed out halfway through the second movie snuggled up between Jimin and Taehyung. They’d been so warm and soft and the quiet thrumming of their heartbeats had lulled you to sleep before you knew what was happening.You’d woken up with them still curled around you and -maybe most surprising of all- Yoongi plating breakfast in the kitchen.

Still, it seemed even twelve hours of the best sleep you’d gotten in years and a peaceful morning devoid of stress -for the most part- hadn’t been enough.

You wake up just as the asphalt transitions into gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires and the car’s shaking waking you up. You’re bleary-eyed and confused, but a sign up ahead snaps you to wakefulness. Standing like a guardian over a chain link fence topped with barbed wire is a metal sign, imposing as it is tall: Black Mountain K-9s, written in stark font.

“We’re here,” Mr. Seo says, as if it’s not obvious. He kills the engine and without its purring to distract you, you feel nerves starting to boil in your belly. What kind of place was this? You half expect sinister organ music to kick on and lightning to start flashing from black clouds. Neither of those things happen, though. The sky remains startlingly clear and the only things you can pick up are the sounds of whistles being blown, dozens of people doing call and response, and one voice, louder than all the others screaming for people to ‘Run faster! Get those knees up!’

You pop the door and step out of the car before Mr. Seo can open it for you and head around to the nose of the car, taking in the compound.

“This facility produces some of the highest caliber bodyguards in the country,” He says, coming to stand beside you. The attorney rebuttons his suit jacket and flicks his sleeves up before settling his arms over his chest. “Politicians, celebrities, even a few former presidents all have hybrids from this training center.”

“It looks more like a prison,” You remark, nodding toward the barbed wire. “First big cat hybrids, now this...Why didn’t Oliver just get regular pets if he was lonely? Was he worried someone was after him?”

“Anything I can tell you would be pure speculation,” He replies, walking away from you and heading for the callbox. “Your uncle very rarely confided in me.”

“But you were his attorney.”

For just a second, the tight grip Mr. Seo has on his composure slips. His lips press together and his shoulders sag- but just as quickly as it’d lapsed, his mask is in place again. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I was.” And he presses the button on the call box before you can pester him with any more questions about the dead men he’d known.

The call box crackles to life, speakers squealing with feedback. You flinch and slap your hands over your ears to protect them from the splitting sound. Mr. Seo doesn’t react at all and you’re stunned, wondering how he can stand it.

“Seo Seunghan and Y/N L/N for Lim Hangyeol.”

The person on the other end doesn’t respond. The speaker cuts and a second later, the metal gate before you starts rolling to the side, pushed by invisible hands. It’s like a curtain going up at the theater.

Before you lies a wide, dusty yard, devoid of any plant life. The thick-trunked trees and lush grasses of the surrounding mountainside had been stripped down to the roots here. All that remains are a few weeds poking out around the base of the long metal buildings that ring the fence, and even those seem like an intrusion. People are making use of the space in whatever way they can. A group of people with matching cropped black ears and docked tails run past you in four straight lines, all perfectly in step with each other. Over to your right, there’s a pack of teenagers working in pairs to scale a ten-foot tall sheer wooden wall and in the center of the field, twenty kids are running through taekwondo forms, supervised by a widely smiling instructor.

You’re in awe of it all. Every single person is like a cog in a well-oiled machine, all in the same black tactical pants and compression shirt. You’d never seen so many hybrids in one place before and certainly not all of the same breed.

Mr. Seo places a hand in the center of your back, steering you away from staring and toward a squat cement building.You let him lead you.

“When we get inside,” the lawyer begins, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “Let me speak first. If we can get him to admit to breaching the contract right away, it’ll be much easier to get him to agree to a settlement.”

You frown at that. “Why would we settle?” You ask him. “It’s not like I need the money.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Ms. L/N.” He sighs, pulling open the heavy metal door and ushering you into the building. “He did something wrong, and it’s most easy for him to bear the brunt of atonement financially. Without requiring damages be paid for breaches, contract law would collapse.”

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

Mr. Seo’s mouth twists up like he’s just tasted something unpleasant. “As you attorney, it is my duty to advise you against accepting restitution in the form of an apology. You’ll get a reputation for being a pushover.”

You wanted to be anything but. “Alright, alright,” you concede, “Do whatever you think is best.”

The building you’ve ducked into seems to be an office. Along one wall are a set of metal folding chairs doing their best impression of a waiting room. Along the other is a metal door covered in peeling paint and one suspicious dent bearing a plaque that reads ‘DIRECTOR LIM’. Set between you and it is a desk covered in a mess of paperwork. An old desktop stands among it like an island in the ocean and middle aged hybrid woman in coke bottle glasses is hunched before it, tapping away at the keyboard at a mind-boggling speed. One of her ears twitches as the pair of you approach.

“Take a seat,” she orders in a reedy voice, not bothering to look up from her work. “The Director will be with you shortly.”

“Send them in, Eunjung!” Someone shouts from behind the metal door just as she’s finished. She doesn’t look up or stop typing or even acknowledge you two again. Mr. Seo takes it upon himself to breeze past her desk and open the door for you.

The office is militaristically organized, all right angles and bare metal surfaces. There’s a black leather couch that’d seen better days to your left as you enter, a half empty water cooler to your right. Bookshelves lined with trophies and textbooks dominate the western wall. You scan the titles as you pass: Predatory Instinct: The Teaching and Training Canines, The Utility of Force, On Raising Hybrids, The Art of War, all dangerous and daunting as the man they belonged to.

Lim Hangyeol is the most grizzled man you’ve ever seen and the only other human besides yourself and Mr. Seo in the compound, it seems. He looks like a drill sergeant from an old action movie, his salt and pepper hair buzzed short and his face craggy with frown lines. There’s a semicircle of pockmark scars marring the skin of his right cheek and as you get closer, you realize they’re teeth marks. You shoot a concerned look to Mr. Seo, but he’s more focused on giving the director a shallow bow than allaying any of your fears.

“Director,” He says, straightening back up. “Thank you for having us-”

“Spare me the bullshit,” The older man orders, kicking back his office chair and sinking back into it. “Take a seat. Let’s talk business.”

A cold smile settles on your attorney’s lips and you see a cord twitching in his jaw, but he merely nods and replies in a breezy voice, “Of course.”

The two of you do as you told, settling into two metal chairs in front of his desk. These ones are nicer than the folding ones in the waiting room, but no more comfortable. You try to slide yours forward only to find that it’s bolted to the floor.

“Stops the dogs from throwin’ em when they get bad news,” Director Lim tells you as you uselessly tug at the legs. “Got tired of replacing windows.”

You grimace. If the awards on the bookshelf, what Mr. Seo had told you and the dozens of hybrids running boot camp drills outside were any indication, the man before you must’ve had some idea what he was doing. You didn’t end up providing security for high profile public figures without a smidge of credibility, you knew, but the bite marks on his cheek, the little crack about people throwing chairs at him and the way he’d referred to them as ‘dogs’ didn’t inspire confidence in you.

This was your first time visiting a place that produced hybrids, you realized. You’d never even been into a shelter before and certainly not a breeding center. Were they all like this? Devoid of anything soft or comforting, rigid with rules and regulations? Had Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung come from a place like this? You don’t know and you’re not sure you’d like the answer if you did.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Mr. Seo starts, popping open the hinges on his briefcase and pulling out a few sheaves of paper. “After the sudden cancellation of your company’s contract with Ms. L/N, I was concerned for the state of our business relationship.” He slides one of the packets across the desk to the director.

“If I remember correctly,” Director Lim says, scanning the lines of ink and unintelligible legalese, “Me and your boss signed for delivery, not me and whoever this little girl is you brought.”

Your eyes narrow and your lips curl, but before you can give voice to the nasty thing crawling up your throat, Mr. Seo gives a subtle shake of his head and taps you twice on the knee, out of eyeshot of the director. You grumble, but cage it behind your teeth.

“See?” The man jabs one gnarled finger at the page, right over your late uncle’s flourishing signature. “It says it right there: L/N Oliver. Last I checked, he was dead. I’m not holding on to a dead man’s dogs. ”

That same muscle tenses in Mr. Seo’s jaw. “The contract states that Black Mountain Canines would deliver the hybrids my client purchased to his residence on December the eighteenth and that they would be received by a proxy if he was unavailable. You were made aware of the fact that he was unavailable, as well as the fact that he now has a proxy-

“I’ll pay the goddamn fine!” The Director barks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ above, I don’t know why he wanted those two fuck-ups in the first place, but I don’t want them on my property a second longer.”

You shoot Mr. Seo a look of confusion, but he just watches, blasé, as the Director rifles through his desk drawers. The man finds what he’s looking for and drops two manila folders on top of the contract. “The pair of them are useless. If it weren’t for my reputation, I’d’ve had them both sent to shelters years ago. Or put down, but you know how touchy the law is about that.”

“I don’t.” You say, your voice edging dangerously close to a snarl. It slips out before you can stop it. Mr. Seo shoots you a warning look and you ball your fists up in your sweater sleeves, fingernails biting crescent moons into your palms with the effort of keeping your mouth shut.

You can’t stand this man, you decide. He’s awful. You should’ve known that from the moment you saw elementary school aged hybrids stumbling through taekwondo drills with their ears taped and bandages on their tails. You’re going to take whatever hybrids Oliver bought, get them the fuck out of there and never look back.

If Director Lim had heard you growl at him, he gives no sign of it, just flips open the folders. “To be honest, I should be paying you to take them off my hands. They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since they aged out of training. I told your uncle he could have his pick of the litter for what he was paying, but he wanted a wide-eyed buffoon and a mutt who’d rip your hand off soon as look at you.” Clipped to the insides are photos of two men, staring back at you in black and white.

One has the same black and tan cropped ears as every other hybrid you’ve seen thus far. Unlike them, he’s smiling. His eyes are little upturned crescent moons and he beams at you through the photo paper. There’s so much light in his face it’s nearly blinding.

The other is not nearly as inviting. The photo is taken at an odd angle and it’s blurry at the edges, like whoever took it was much shorter than the subject and had to zoom in to even get the shot. His ears, larger than any of the other hybrids and longer furred, are pinned back against his head. His jaw is clenched and he glowers down into the lens, one eye soot black and the other piercing blue.

There are stats listed on the pages behind their photos: height, weight, shot records and the like. Among them, you see their call signs, highlighted in yellow: Hope and Monster.

“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” the director says, tapping Hope’s photo. “He went through all the training, passed all the tests, but when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t have the instinct.” He gives a single shake of his head, clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “No one wants a guard dog that’d sooner talk an intruder’s ear off than actually guard what he’s supposed to. He’s not good for much but nannying the pups, but he’s too soft on them too.”

A light bulb clicks on and you realize the hybrid in question had been the one instructing the kids outside in the center of the yard, his tail wagging a mile a minute as they completed another form correctly.

“Now this bastard…” the director continues, jamming a finger onto the second photo with so much force, it rattled the cup of pens on his desk. “Is my biggest failure.” He crosses his arms and kicks back in his chair, his dislike of the hybrid in question obvious. “His mother was the cornerstone of this facility for nearly a decade. I sold her pups to assemblymen and actors alike. Centers around the country wanted pups with her genetics. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have grown to this size.” He sounds wistful as he spreads his hands out, gesturing around himself like a king taking in his holdings. “But all good things come to an end,” He sighs. “A pack of wild hybrids settled a little higher up on the mountain.” His face darkens and his lips twist. “Wolves,” he snarls with all the disdain he can muster.

“All that about them being noble and self-sacrificing? Complete and utter bullshit,” He scoffs. “They’re transient lowlifes who’d slit your throat as soon as look at you. At first I didn’t care. They stayed on their side of the mountain and I stayed on mine, but then they started sneaking down here at night to steal my food and fuck my dogs. By the time I managed to get the cops out here, they’d cleared out and my top breeder had gone with them.”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “I tell you, I thought I was ruined. But wouldn’t you know it, she came stumbling back here six months later, barefoot and howling to be let in and heavy with some wild thing’s pup.” Director Lim snaps both the folders shut and slides them to you across the desk. “The thing about breeding hybrids is, the money’s all in the bloodlines. No one wants a dog with mystery genetics. The only way to solve that problem is to cut it off at the root- but it was already too late by the time she got here.”

You feel sick to your stomach. You hope he isn’t implying what you think he is- that hybrid children he hadn’t planned out himself were mistakes in need of correction- but you know he is. Deep in your gut you know.

“And she spoiled him. She let him run roughshod over everyone and everybody in this compound. I tried telling her wild hybrids need a firmer hand- he certainly did if we were gonna break that wolf he’s got inside him, but she wouldn’t hear it. I tried to crop him with the other pups his age, he gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the teeth marks in his cheeks. “We keep him shut up away from the others, now, in the back when he can’t bother anyone. He gets his meals delivered but we don’t ever let him out.” The grizzled man shakes his head. “A drain on resources is what he is.”

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly.

“Eunjung?” he questions. “You met her on the way in.” The director stands and unclips a ring of keys from his belt buckle, making his way around the desk and gesturing for you and Mr. Seo to follow. “I’ve got her doing desk work now. Gotta keep her close so she doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He pushes open the door to his office, barks something at his secretary and steps outside, not looking back to see if you two are following.

You shoot Mr. Seo a look before you stand and he meets it, evenly. “We’ll discuss this in the car,” he says, stuffing papers back into his briefcase and flicking the clasps shut. Oh, you most certainly will discuss ‘it’ in the car.

You don’t really know what it is or where to even begin. The kids with bandaged ears? The fact that Director Lim seemingly decided who was allowed to see the sun and who wasn’t? You think back to the conversation you’d had with Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi last night. Right now, it seems years away, in some unreachable, idyllic past before you knew how breeding centers worked and how security hybrids were made. You feel foolish. Who were you to try to get them to let go of their pain and their hurt? If what they’d been through was even a little like what was going on here, they wouldn’t be able to for a long time. You’re angry. You’re disgusted. You are unquantifiably fucking sad.

You pass Eunjung on your way out. In your time in the director’s office, she’s pulled her ash brown hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Peeking out of the collar of her sweatshirt you can see a faded scar in the shape of a ring, little puncture marks pale and glossy. It looked similar to the one on the director’s cheek, but this one was a complete circle and not ragged at all, like she’d stayed completely still while it was given. Teeth marks.

You swallow. You want to do something, to give her some words of encouragement, but you have no idea what to say. You still don’t as you slow to a stop beside her desk, but you open your mouth to speak anyway. “I’m sorry,” You tell her, with all the sincerity in your heart.

She doesn’t answer, but one cropped ear flicks toward you and her fingers slow in their incessant race across her keyboard.

You turn to go. Mr. Seo was holding the door open for you and you can hear the director barking orders at a group of trainees to run an obstacle course faster. Just as you set foot over the threshold, she speaks. Her voice is so quiet, you have to strain to hear her over the steady clack-click-clack of her nails on the keys.

“He likes green things,” she says, not looking up from her work. “And old books.”

You look over your shoulder at her. Her face is a mask of neutrality, her eyes clear and her mouth set in a relaxed line. She looks fine, but there’s an ocean of meaning behind her words. You see her, just for a moment, as she’d been all those years ago, barefoot in the snow and begging for shelter, her stomach full with one of the moon’s own children. You commit the sight of her to memory. Then you turn and you go.

The director is waiting outside, shielding his eyes from the sun and regaling Mr. Seo with some long-winded explanation on the best way to treat hip dysplasia in Doberman hybrids. “Where to?” you ask, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence.

The man gives you a disgruntled look but despite the anxiety you feel spiking in your belly, you meet it evenly. Once upon a time, anyone in a position of authority looking at you the way he was would’ve sent you into a tailspin of self-doubt and nerves, leaving you shivering as your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, warning you of non-existent danger. If you were honest, it still did- but you didn’t have the luxury of running away and hiding anymore, not when there were people who needed you.

“Hope’s bags are in the barracks. He just needs to grab them, and he can be on his merry way,” The direction grunts. “Monster’s still locked up, so I’ll-”

“I’ll go.” You can feel Mr. Seo stiffen beside you.

“Ms. Y/N-”

“If he’s really that aggressive,” you start, your eyes not leaving the director’s for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to meet him now instead of when we’re packed into a car on a two hour car ride?” Director Lim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t falter. You hold your hand out for the key. Your boldness surprises you. He drops the key ring into your open palm and you wrap your fingers around it, stuffing it in your pocket before he can snatch them back. You turn on your heels and march off in the direction he tilts his head in, nothing but a hiss of your name from Mr. Seo’s lips to accompany you.

You walk quickly, eyes straight and willing your legs to go faster with every stride. It’s a long way across the compound but the less time you spend walking, the less time you have to stew in anxiety. None of the hybrids training in little packs spread across the yard pay you any mind- except for Hope.

Your path takes you directly behind the group of kids he’s working with. You give them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, but you get a little distracted. Your steps slow for just a moment as you drink him in. He’s tall- the same height as Taehyung, if you’re judging it right, but there’s an ease about him the tiger hybrid hasn’t yet mastered. Everything about Taehyung is pulled in. He’s always coiled tight, like he’s preparing to spring forward at any moment, all his energy drawn into the center of his being. Even last night, when you’d been cuddled up with him on the couch, he’d pulled you tight against his side, shifting and rearranging himself til you both fit on one cushion. He’d held you tight through both films, his tail curled around the both of you and his spine tight, like if he let himself relax for a moment, you’d both turn to dust on the wind.

Hope has no such fear. Everything about him is spread wide open, from the heart-shaped smile on his lips to his arms as he demonstrates a series of punches to his little pack of students. They all watch him with rapt attention, ears perked up and bandaged tails wagging. One of them asks him a question and he laughs, ruffles their hair. He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, shoulders shaking like he can’t contain the force of it alone. It makes your heart flip.

His ears twitch, picking up the change in the cadence of your footsteps. He looks up and your eyes meet for the first time. He looks surprised to see you, for a moment, face blank- but then it melts into a soft smile, brimming with affection you’ve done nothing to earn. You snatch your gaze away and fix it to the dirt in front of you, embarrassed at being caught. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him cock his head to the side in confusion, but he doesn’t go after you. All the better, you’re all but running away from him now.

You shuffle across the compound in a blur of scuffed sneakers and frayed nerves. You barely give yourself time to look up at the small cinder block building before you, shoving the key in the padlock before you can lose what unearned confidence you have left. You twist it, yank the rusted thing open, take a deep breath and enter.

You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not what you find. The way Director Lim had spoken about him and this place, you’d been expecting cobwebs on the ceiling, blood spatters on the wall and rusty nails on the floor. What’s before you is almost entirely the opposite.

The room is a veritable Eden.

There are vines climbing every available wall, wrapping around structural posts and digging their way between concrete blocks. Every surface is crammed full of flowering plants in makeshift pots: lilies in old water jugs, violets in a worn out boot, black-eyed susans dripping orange petals from an upturned helmet. The floor is in a similar state, ferns and foxgloves turning what little space around his bed there is into a meadow. It’s beautiful.

“He likes green things,” you marvel, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind you. It seemed every living thing that’d been uprooted to expand the compound had found a second life here, sheltered from the Director’s violence. Maybe the hybrid who lived here had too.

A plant different from all the others catches your eye. It’s set up on the cardboard box serving as his bedside table and it’s the only one in a real pot from what you can tell. It looks just like a miniature tree, complete with knobs on it’s trunk and tiny leaves. You let out a little sound of wonder and crouch in front of it, your fingers reaching out on their own to trail across the delicate branches-

A massive hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you cold. “Don’t touch that.”

You hadn’t heard him approach, but now you knew he was there. You could feel his presence behind you, heavy and warm. He’s looming over you. You swallow and make your arm go limp in his grip. No need to give him a reason. “I won’t,” You tell him. “Will you please let go of my wrist?”

He drops your arm without protest and relief floods your body. You weren’t sure if there was a hybrid version of lockjaw and you certainly weren’t itching to find out. You sit back on your heels and struggle to your feet, still hyper aware of the person behind you, his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. By the time you turn around, he’s back where he came from, standing in the entrance for a bathroom you hadn’t seen, half hidden behind a curtain of vines.

He looks different than the others. You’d been expecting that, but the full-length fluffy tail held stiffly behind his back and the long-furred ears pointed away from you are still a surprise. His fur, instead of being in rigid black and tan points, is marked by whorls of black, brown and gray. Instead of the lean musculature all the other hybrids had -all trim waists and narrow ankles- he’s sturdier, his shoulders broad and the veins in his forearms popping as he clenches his fists. He’s looking at you with that mismatched glare, his chin tilted toward his chest and his eyes shining aquamarine and obsidian.

“If you’re new,” he starts, voice raspy. “They should’ve told you: you’re supposed to knock before you come in.”

“No, I’m not-”

“You can leave the food over there.” He nods toward a little plastic folding table jammed into one corner. It’s the one surface in his room that’s devoid of plants and there’s nothing on it besides a metal cafeteria tray, licked clean. “I won’t move when your back is turned.”

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

He frowns, brows drawing together as his shoulders tense. “Then why are you…?”

You ball your hands up in your sweater sleeves and turn to face him full on. “I’m here to take you home with me.” You tell him. “They didn’t tell you?”

He laughs, but it’s a cold sound, devoid of joy. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Based on the short conversation you’d had with Director Lim, his sudden cancellation of contracts and the way he seemed ready to bulldoze over anything and everyone that didn’t fit his agenda, he didn’t seem the sharing type. Still it was hard to believe he hadn’t told him he’d be leaving the compound that’s been his home for over twenty years.

“You don’t have to come with me,” you add, softly. “If you don’t want to. I know I’m a stranger. But you can leave-”

“I can’t go anywhere.” He taps the collar around his neck. At first, you’d thought it was the same as the ones every other hybrid had been wearing. You can see now that it isn’t. Theirs had all been leather with thin silver buckles holding them in place. His was leather too, but the band was broader and double-layered. There’s a little box on the side with hinges and a small drawing of a lighting bolt. A shock collar.

Your stomach turns.

You take a slow step toward him, but the second you do, his ears go flat against his head and he pulls his lips back, revealing sharp teeth. You freeze, hands held up and the keys dangling from your thumb. “I have the keys,” you say, extending them toward him.

His eyes flick from your face, to the keys in your hand and back again, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening, like he can’t believe you’d actually want him free. The silence drags out into a little eternity before he speaks again. “If I try to unlock it, it’ll shock me.”

You blink up at him and risk another slow step forward, hoping you’ve caught his meaning correctly. This time, he doesn’t growl but his ears stay pinned back as he watches you through narrowed eyes. You close the distance between the two of you.

When you were six, your mom scraped together enough money to take you to Busan for your birthday. You’d spent the day down at the beach, building sand castles with sea shell windows and wading through tide pools. After the sun had set, someone had set off fireworks and you’d watched them cuddled up in your mom’s arms, eyes wide and filled with a riot of colors you had no name for. It’s strange, you know. The ocean is miles away, but that’s what he smells like: the sea and the sand, and the last curls of smoke from homemade bottle rockets. He smells like that day.

You lift your hands to the clasp on his neck and slide the key home. You twist it and the collar falls to the ground, a monster that can’t hurt him anymore. His skin is warm under your fingers, but puckered with scar tissue. There’s a ring of it around his neck, branching with whatever current had run through him in different directions. There’s no way this was legal, no way anyone with half a heart could treat another person like this. Your fingers trail one of the splits over his adam’s apple and he swallows beneath your touch, snatching your wrist again.

“Dont.” His voice is cold. You blink, shaking off whatever spell you’d been under and shuffle back quickly, eager to give him space. He cradles his throat with one long-fingered hand, massaging the skin. He rolls his neck and you look away. You shouldn’t stare; the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” he rasps, answering the question before you can ask it again.

You gape for a second. You really hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Really?” You can’t stop a note of relief from creeping into your voice.

“Anywhere’s better than here.” He answers back. So, you were a means to an end. It doesn’t bother you. You’ll be whatever you need to be to get him away from this place and that man who seemed to only want to drive him down.

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

He gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s nothing from this place I want to keep.” And that’s the end of it. You push open the door and stride back out into the cold mountain air, trying your best to exude the confidence you know you lack. The hybrid slinks behind you, head hunched between his shoulders and every step stiff. He hesitates at the threshold and looks up at you, uncertainty written in the rigid line of his spine. He’s nervous. He has every right to be.

How long had he spent in that little cinderblock room, shut away from every living thing? How long had he spent being told that he was a monster? You didn’t believe it, not for one second. No one who was as violent as the director had painted him out to be could’ve raised that garden.

He leans out of the door frame, sniffs the air and lurches forward, out of the shadow of his room, His shoulders bunch up even higher around his head and he goes stiff like he’s waiting for a shock or a shot or a shout- but none comes. The sun is still shining and he’s barefoot in the sand, standing for the first time in years under the open sky. He exhales in a short puff and it looks like he’s going to walk beside you- but he turns on his heels on goes back inside.

You make a little noise of distress in the back of your throat. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to come with you anymore? You go to call his name out of concern- but realize you don’t know it. All you have is the call sign he’d been given and you sure as fuck aren’t calling him ‘Monster’. You don’t have to flounder for long. He comes back out two seconds later, cradling the bonsai that’d caught your attention to his chest.

“I’ll take this,” he mutters, shuffling into place behind you. You can’t smother the smile that starts tugging at your lips. Yeah, no one hateful would hold a little tree with as much tenderness as an infant.

You give him a little nod. “There’s a terrace where I live,” you tell him, starting your trek across the yard once again. “It’s got a garden and a little greenhouse on it. It’s not very big, and it’s not as pretty as your’s, but you could grow new things there, if you wanted.”

His ears twitch in response, but he keeps his glower firmly focused on the plant in his arms as he shuffles along beside you. It’s then you notice he’s barefoot. “Do you wanna go back and get your shoes?” You ask, trying to make the question sound as innocuous as possible.

“Don’t have any,” he grumbles back. “Don’t need them; I never go outside.”

Alright, that was understandable. Your first stop when you got back into the city would be a shoe store to get him a pair to wear- or maybe not with the way he kept flinching every time a whistle blew and his ears were swivelling like satellites at each new sound that reached them. You chew the inside of your lip. You don’t want to ask, but you know you should. Better to rip the bandaid off now, than get surprised later. “How long were you shut in for?”

“Fourteen.” He bites out.

“...weeks?” You venture. There's a hopeful uptick at the end of your words. Even that would’ve been horrible, even that would be worthy of the litany of profanity you’re mentally lobbing at Director Lim- but it’s still better than the truth.

The hybrid cuts a flat look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Years.”

A wall of your scent hits him like a freight train, vacillating between the thick, cloying odor of sadness and the burn of anger. His nose wrinkles at it, brows drawing together in confusion.

However little you might’ve known about hybrids, however limited your view of them was, you knew they weren’t supposed to be locked up. Domesticated hybrids like hamsters and cats might’ve been fine inside a house all day, assuming they still had regular interaction with people- but dogs weren’t. And he was half wolf. Wild, he’d have had dozens of square miles to roam over, and he’d been limited to a four-by-four yard room for fourteen years. Your goshiwon was a similar size, but it hadn’t been your whole world. All he’d had was one tiny window and what narrow view he’d managed to glimpse in the doorway when his meals were delivered.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’re cut off by a scream of delight and a snarl keying up in the hybrid next to you’s chest. Your jaw snaps shut with a click.

A few yards ahead, there’s a group of kids wrestling in a massive pile. They’re all giggling and rolling over each other, tails wagging a mile a minute as they play bite and make grabs for the person at the center of their puppy pile. A head of black hair and a pair of cropped ears pop up and you see that it’s Hope, smiling bright as the sun as his students try to pin him.

“You can’t leave!” One particularly determined kid yips, adamantly pushing his shoulder back to the sand. “Who’s gonna teach us?”

Hope just laughs.”Lisa is gonna teach you with the older kids-“

A chorus of disappointed barks and howls breaks out. “Ms. Lisa’s classes are too hard!” A little girl complains.

“Yeah!” Someone else chimes in. “And she’s strict!”

The hybrid ruffles both kid’s hair affectionately, careful of their bandaged ears. “Just because she won’t let you get away with skipping night practice doesn’t mean she’s strict,” he laughs. He’s only met with more grumbles and complaints.

It warms your heart to see. Even if these kids were at the mercy of their director -for now, at least- it was good that they had him to rely on. Your eyes meet and the sheer force of light in his face makes your own heat up. You look away, but he’s spotted you. He disentangles himself from the mess of kids and draws himself up to his full height. He’s in the same uniform he was in before, albeit with a black tactical bag now strapped to his back. He takes a step toward you and the wolfdog hybrid's ears go flat against his skull. He’s not deterred. “Joonie?” It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to the hybrid next to you. “Kim Namjoon, is that you?” Hope takes one step forward and the hybrid - Namjoon - takes a step back to counter him. Hope looks like he’s going to advance again, but a small pair of hands wrapped around one of his own stops him.

A little girl is holding on to him. She can’t be more than six years old. Her tail is still long and her ears are still floppy and she looks so small in her child-sized boots and cargo pants. “Mr. Hobi,” she whines, her head craned back to look up at him. “Please don’t go.”

He falters. His eyes flick from the pair of you back down to her, then he crouches, holds both of her hands in his. “I have to, Sowon-ah,” he says softly.

She sniffles pitifully and juts out her lower lip.”But why?”

It’s a fair question. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to come with you if he doesn’t want to, but he beats you to the punch. “Because it’s my job, sweetheart,” he tells her, smiling softly.

“Y-your job is to teach us,” she hiccups back, face growing blotchy as tears well up in her eyes. Hope swipes one of them away with his thumbs.

“I teach you so you can grow up well and protect your person, right?” She nods, little hands balling the fabric of her cargo pants up in her fists. “Right. Well this,” he continues, turning and looking at you with a soft smile. “Is my person. And I’ve gotta go make sure she stays safe.”

You feel your heart jump into your throat. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and you don’t deserve it. You’ve done nothing to warrant that much unearned loyalty. Sowon rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and Hope pulls her into a tight hug.

“Ah, don’t cry, Sowon! You’ve gotta make sure you get stronger so someone takes you home, okay? You don’t wanna get old and still be here like me, right?” He squeezes her and goes to stand, but gets mobbed by his students again, all wanting their own hugs and making him swear to write them letters. It takes another five minutes of tearful goodbyes and Director Lim approaching for them to turn him loose.

“Get back to your training, all of you!” He barks, stomping out of the office and slamming the door, Mr. Seo on his heels. The kids scatter to the four winds almost instantly, not wanting to be underfoot for whatever scolding the director was about to deal out. Hope’s face remains the same but you catch his ears droop just a little as his students leave him. The wolfdog hybrid- Namjoon, you remind yourself- on the other hand has his ears flat against his skull. A growl bubbles up in his chest and rips past his lips. It’s a dark, full bodied thing that has you taking a step back and Hope shrinking with a whine.

“Joonie-” he pleads.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” All the fur on Namjoon’s body is standing on end, from the points of his ears to the tip of his tail. Even his hair has fluffed out. His mismatched eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals his incisors and all that fury, all that rage, is leveled on Director Lim.

To his credit, the grizzled man doesn’t shrink back an inch before the enraged hybrid. His lips twist and he yanks a little remote out of his pocket, mashing a red button in the center. Namjoon flinches, his hands fly to his neck- but nothing happens. The shock collar is gone and the director has no power over him anymore.

The man in question’s eyes widen, flicking between the remote to the column of Namjoon’s throat, now devoid of his one element of control. “Where’s his collar?” He demands. “How the hell did you get your collar off?” He advances on the tall hybrid, his hand in the air and though he doesn’t stop snarling, Namjoon ducks his head, anticipating the blow.

You don’t know what moves you. Maybe it’s Hope pleading for it all to ‘stop, just stop!’. Maybit’s how Namjoon knows exactly how to move when he’s about to get hit. Maybe it’s your own lack of self-preservation. Whatever it is, you blink and you’re in front of Namjoon, your hand up and clutching the director’s forearm, stopping him from striking the hybrid behind you. You’re not strong enough to stop him, not fully. Your elbow buckles in and you stumble back, your back pressing into the wolfdog hybrid’s chest.

The director yells something at you, red flooding his face. You can’t hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You force a dry swallow down your throat, put on your bravest face and glare up at him. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

He reaches out with his free hand to tug you out of the way, but before he can touch you, Hope is there. He presses close to your side and holds the director’s wrist firm, his eyes on the sand and his shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Director Lim looks angry enough to spit. “Hell of a time for you to grow a backbone,” he snarls at Hope, making the doberman hybrid flinch. “I want all four of you off my property now.” He snatched his arms free and you don’t miss the nasty glare he casts at Namjoon. “And if this mutt ever shows his face around here again, I’ll-”

“Director Lim,” Mr. Seo cuts in, his voice cool. “You’ve made yourself clear; we’ll leave. You needn’t make threats.” There’s an underlying warning in the attorney’s voice. The director locks his jaw.

“Get out.” He breathes. Hope ducks around him, his head low and his docked tail pressed close to his back. If he could tuck it, you think he would. You follow after him, eyes fixed straight ahead and your back ramrod straight. He might’ve scared the shit out of you, but you weren’t going to let him see that. Mr. Seo fixes you with a hard look and the second you’re within arms reach, he presses a hand to your back and ushers you toward the gate. The only one who remains is Namjoon.

He looks like his anger has rooted him to the spot. His ears are still flat against his head, his lip still curled.

“Do it, boy,” the director taunts. “Give me a reason-”

“Namjoon.” At the sound of his name, his ears prick up and you turn around. It’d come not from Hope- which you’d expected, seeing as he seemed to be the only one who actually knew his fellow hybrid’s name- but from the open door of the office building where Eunjung stood. She looks at him, her expression unreadable and he stares back. All the tension in his body has shifted and for a moment, you think he’s going to spring toward her and fall into her arms- but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and his face hardens. His arms tighten around his bonsai. You think you know, now, why it was the only plant in his room that had a pot.

“Go,” she says and all the tension leaves him. His shoulders curve in and he drags himself past the director, out from the fence and toward Mr. Seo’s car. There’s something final about the way the gate rolls shut after him. If you hadn’t known better, you’d’ve sworn you heard him whine as it locked.

The car ride down the mountain is...interesting to say the least. Hope insists that the seating arrangements inside the Buick be done to his specifications,( “You’ve gotta sit in the middle,” he tells you, pointing to the narrow center seat. “And Joonie and I will sit on either side of you to protect you in case we crash!” His tail is wagging a mile a minute behind him. You’re surprised it can move that much, given how short it is. Mr. Seo looks affronted at the unintentional jab at his driving and Namjoon just looks irritated. “I told you to stop calling me that.”) and he keeps throwing an arm across your middle everytime the car hits a bump. You’re going down the side of a mountain. There are a lot of bumps. He also keeps pressing his nose against the glass of his window, ears pricked up and trying to take in every tree that passes by. Namjoon, on the other hand, slouches back in his seat, his body curved around his plant and ever so slightly away from you. He still watches the world pass by, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of you or speak- which would be fine if anyone else would. Hope seems to be doing his best to appear stoic and alert every time you look at him and Mr. Seo seems comfortable with the quiet. So, you’re left to ride the two hours back to Seoul in silence.

You almost cry with relief when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. You fish the device out of your pocket, thumb it to life and scan your notifications.

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

You frown. Very few people had your number or any reason to text you. You’re about to chalk it up to a wrong number when the second text rolls in.

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

Now that’s a surprise. When you’d hurriedly told the boys to text you, you’d been expecting Jimin to urge you to hurry or for Taehyung to ask for updates, not for their hyung to check your progress. A little smile pricks at your lips as you rush to reply

You [7:14 PM] We’re on the way back now!

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly nervous. You know there’s no reason to be. After all, you tell yourself, what’s scary about a pair of roommates talking on the phone? You give him the go ahead and not three seconds after the delivered notification pops up, you get a call. You answer it on speaker.

“...Hello?”

“Did you just start driving?” Yoongi’s voice is thick with sleep, like he’s just woken up. It’s different than normal, his usual smooth drawl gone gravelly.

“Y-yeah,” you reply, trying to ignore the way Hope is watching you out of the corner of his eyes and Namjoon’s ears have swiveled back toward you. “It’s gonna be awhile, still. Are Taehyung and Jimin-”

“They’re fine; They ate dinner earlier and they’ll be asleep til you get back.” He yawns and you picture him slouched on the couch, his hair mashed up on one side and his face puffy. “Why do you sound nervous?”

“I’m not,” you counter. It’s a blatant lie and he knows it. He hums in doubt, but doesn’t press you.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Do you want me to text you when we’re close?” It’s an innocuous question. There’s no reason you can see for him to pause as long as he does. For a second you think you’ve lost him- after all, mountains aren’t known for having great reception- but then you hear his breath fan over the receiver.

“...Yeah.”

You give a little nod you know he can’t see. “Okay.” He makes a little noise of assent and then his line clicks off. You hang up. Just as you do, another text comes through.

Yoongi [7:16 PM] don’t let them scent you

“Who was that?” Hope asks in a small voice, pulling you away from your phone screen and Yoongi’s insistence that you remain scent-free. His tone is open, but you can tell by the way his knee is bouncing that he really, really wants to know. “Is that your husband?”

The bark of laughter that rips past your lips is out before you can think to stop it. Namjoon flinches and you wince at him in apology, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Hope is frowning at you in confusion, his head cocked slightly to the side. You force yourself to calm and answer him. “No, Yoongi is not my husband.” You weren’t sure if you even really qualified as friends at this point. “He’s another hybrid that lives with me.”

Hope perks up in his seat. “You have another hybrid? Director Lim always told us that once we left the center, we’d be alone.” Your expression sours at the mention of the ill-tempered man and you shake your head.

“No, there’s a lot of hybrids in Seoul,” you tell him, eager to dispel some of his misconceptions. “The three that live with me are named Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s around your age, I think. Jimin and Taehyung are younger.” The doberman hybrid sits at rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information you give him and waiting eagerly for more. What else could you tell him about them? You remember the boys’ reaction that morning when you told them you’d be bringing dog hybrids home. “...They’re all felines,” you say, slowly, trying to gauge their reactions.

“So that’s why you smell like that.” It’s the first words Namjoon’s spoken since you all piled into the car. You turn to him, but he’s not looking at you.

“What do you-?”

“You smell like other hybrids,” Hope says, covering for him. “But I’ve never smelled any that weren’t other dogs before.” He leans closer, his seatbelt stretching. You tense and lean away from him, but he’s not deterred. The tip of his nose brushes your neck and you have to fight off a shiver as he breathes you in. “They smell the same…” he starts, his breath fanning over your throat. “...but different? And one of them isn’t as strong as the others-” He presses closer, trying to catch the scent that’s eluding him. You make a noise of mild distress and lean further back, pressing into the solid wall that is Namjoon.

“Hoseok, let it go .” Hoseok. That was his real name then. To your surprise, the dog hybrid pulls back as instructed, settling back into his seat without so much as a whine.

“I’ve never met a cat before,” he muses, turning his attention back to the window. “I hope they’re nice.”

You think about the chorus of hisses you’d been met with when you told the boys they’d have to share their space. You hope so too.

It’s 9:30 by the time Mr. Seo drops you off back in front of your building. He wishes you a good night and promises to call later in the week to discuss Black Mountain Canines. You’re not sure if there’s anyone to report him to or anything you can do, but you want to try. What you’d seen at the compound was wrong any way you looked at it. It made you sick to leave anyone there knowing how the director treated Namjoon and Hoseok. No one was useless. No one deserved to be locked away for years at a time for the sheer crime of existing. You’d make them see that.

The moment you step out of the car, Hoseok is all wide smiles and exclamations. “Woah, you live here?” he asks, tilting his head back to take in all fifty-one floors of Haneul Tower in their sparkling, glass-paned glory.

“Yeah,” you tell him, handing him his bag. In his excitement to get out of the car, he’d abandoned it and Mr. Seo had nearly driven away with it. “But I just moved in a couple days ago, so it’s still pretty empty.”

Hoseok nods, scanning the windows like he’ll be able to pick out which one’s your’s. Behind you, Namjoon is lingering on the sidewalk.

He’s still got his bonsai clutched close to his chest and he’s hunched down around it like he’s trying to stop unseen hands from picking at it. His shoulders are bunched up by his ears, and he flinches with every car horn, every siren that comes to you on the wind. He’d grown up in the mountains and spent the better part of his life indoors. It only made sense that he’d be sensitive to the sounds of the city.

“Is there a security system?” Hoseok asks, still enamored with the building. “How many entrances does your apartment have?”

“Just one second,” you tell him, forehead wrinkling as you take in Namjoon. You slide slowly toward the wolfdog, not wanting to startle him. “Namjoon?” He flinches when you call his name, head whipping toward you. “Do you wanna go inside? I know it’s new, but it’ll be quieter, I think.”

His mismatched eyes flick from you, to Hoseok, to the building and back to you before settling firmly on the concrete at his feet. He seems different than he had in the mountains. He’s smaller, quieter, less sure of himself. Was it because this is all new territory for him? Or had the snarling hybrid in the mountains just been a roll he was forced to play, the mythic monster to the director’s tyrant king.

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” you tell him, in a voice you hope is reassuring. “We can wait, if you need to.”

“I’ll wait with you, Joonie,” Hope chimes in, giving the larger hybrid the same soft smile he’d given his students earlier.

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It...it’s fine,” he mutters, “We can go in, I just…” He takes a few hesitant steps forward and huddles closer to you. There’s still an inch between you, but it’s closer than you’d thought he’d come.

You peer up at him. “Okay?” You ask. He gives a single nod and your little group moves through the double doors and into the lobby.

It’s quieter at this time of night. You don’t recognize the woman standing behind the reception desk. There’s no one really around except one man, pacing the width of the lobby looking thoroughly put out. You can’t really see his face, but there’s something familiar about the slant of his body. He whirls around as the glass doors click shut and you catch sight of a fringe of gray hair, pointed ears, narrowed yellow eyes and an all too familiar pout.

Yoongi.

“Fuck.” You’d completely forgotten to text him. Judging by the look on his face as he stalks toward you, he wasn’t happy about it. To his credit, Hoseok does his best to guard you, sliding in front of you and pushing you behind him. You can’t see Yoongi’s ears beneath the hat he’s wearing but if his curled lip and narrowed eyes are any indicator, they’re pinned straight back.

“Move.” He snarls at the doberman hybrid. Hoseok is taller than he is, but the closer Yoongi gets to him, the smaller he seems to shrink. There’s fire in the bobcat hybrid’s eyes. Hope whimpers and slinks out of his way, ears low.

You wince. “Heeeeey, Yoongi. I’m sorry I forg-“ before you can even finish the sentence, he tugs you toward him by the shoulders. His face roves your neck, sniffing in earnest as he tries to pick up the scent of the other hybrids on you. All is well until he reaches the right side of your throat and grazes over the exact spot Hoseok had nosed earlier. He pulls away slowly, his shoulders tight. His head turns slowly to the doberman hybrid, mechanical.

“You.” He hisses at the other hybrid with so much virulence it makes your blood run cold. He takes one step toward him, teeth bared in a snarl, but Namjoon slides in front of him bumping him back. A growl bubbles in the bobcat hybrid’s chest and the wolfdog matches it, both their ears pinned flat against their skulls.

“Hey-” If either of them hear you, they don’t react. They’re too focused on having a staring contest. “Hey!” You push between them, a hand on either of their chests. Namjoon snarls as you touch him and Yoongi looks ready to skin him alive for that alone. He pushes against your hand, trying to get closer to the taller hybrid. You ball your hand up in the fabric of his shirt. “Stop it!” The receptionist already has the lobby phone in her hand. She’s whispering earnestly into it and you’re sure security will be on the way any second. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “Everybody, elevator.”

Yoongi hurls an accusatory finger in Hoseok’s direction. “These fucking-”

“Yoongi, please,” you plead. That gets him to stop. His arm falls to his side and he glowers down at you for a few seconds before stalking over to the elevators and slamming the up button. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to Hoseok and Namjoon. The smaller of the two hybrids is still hunched in on himself and the taller has Yoongi fixed in his mismatched gaze, his lips curled in anger.

This was not the way you wanted this to go. You’d wanted them to have time to settle before you discussed next steps and gave them the same talk you’d given the felines, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards. You don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi. You’d thought the bobcat hybrid was calm, cool and collected, completely unflappable in the face of anything. Apparently not. He seemed upset that some of Hoseok’s scent had gotten on you, but there’d been no way to help that. You’d been packed in a car with him and Namjoon for two hours. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay,” you tell them, wanting them to know you didn’t condone the way Yoongi had acted. “I don’t...I don’t know why he’s acting like this; he doesn’t normally. Do you wanna go up separately?”

It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, we’ll go up together,” he assures you with a small nod. “If...maybe if we get used to each other, it’ll be okay?”

You’re not optimistic, but you give him a pained smile you hope is reassuring. “Yeah, maybe?” You cast a look back over your shoulders. Yoongi is waiting by the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest and his tail flicking in irritation. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Well, there was no avoiding it. “Come on,” you tell them. “Just...keep to the other side, for now. I’ll stand between you and him.”

The four of you pile into the elevator, all tucked into your own corners. It’s strange, you think. It’s never seemed small until now. Hoseok keeps casting worried looks over at you, Namjoon keeps subtly shifting closer and Yoongi is still glowering at the both of them, angry for a reason you can’t quantify.

“If it helps,” Hoseok starts softly, his voice an intrusion in the awkward silence. “I really didn’t mean to, honestly-”

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon counters. “If it bothers him that much, he can speak up”

You don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s too late that you realize the canines aren’t addressing you. Suddenly, Yoongi’s fingers are hooked through one of your belt loops. He yanks you backwards and you stumble, falling against the length of his body. “My bad,” You shoot out, before the hybrid can hiss at you. “I just lost my bala-” The words die on your tongue as Yoongi fixes his mouth to the soft skin of your throat. The elevator goes quiet.

The canine hybrids avert their eyes almost instantaneously, instinct telling them they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be. Yoongi keeps them fixed firmly in his sights, a dark growl bubbling in his throat.

Your fingers flex uselessly at your sides, hands clenching unclenching as the hybrid works over the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ you plead with yourself. ‘This isn’t what it feels like. Don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise-’ Yoongi’s incisors graze over a vein and a little whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. The grip he has on your hips becomes bruising. You feel your legs turning to jelly beneath you. Any more of what he was doing, and they’d have to mop you up off the elevator floor. You force your throat to swallow. “Y-Yoongi, I think that’s enough-” You don’t know if he hears you over the noise he’s making, so you lace your fingers through his and untangle them from your hips. He releases you with a wet pop and you slap a hand over the skin he’d marked. Heat floods your face and a smirk spreads across Yoongi’s, his teeth flashing at the canines. He leans in again to rub his nose against the mark he’d made- but a hand on his chest stops him.

“Can you stop?” You ask in a small voice. Honestly, you’re embarrassed. Regardless of what the articles said about mark-making being platonic, it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels possessive and mean and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you like you asked, but what is with you today?” Yoongi’s expression changes from smug satisfaction to confusion and then surprise, like he hadn’t expected you to protest. “I know what I said about you being ready but…” You rub a hand over the mark, wiping away saliva and your sweat. The bobcat hybrid visibly deflates. The elevator chimes for the fiftieth floor and the doors roll open slowly. You rush out before any of them can and start punching the code in your door with shaky fingers. You don’t know what to say. You’re tired and stressed and you don’t know what’s going on. Was this about the apartment? You knew the felines wouldn’t be happy about sharing their space, but why had Yoongi gone this far?

“Y/N…” He trails after you, his ears drooping. You shake your head, You can’t talk to him right now.

“In the morning,” you tell him as the door swings open. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You can’t deal with everything that’s happened today, and Yoongi flipping out and getting the canines settled. You weren’t that good at juggling.

By the grace of all that’s merciful, Taehyung and Jimin are still asleep when you walk in. You’d need to have an extended meet and greet tomorrow, you decide. Maybe do some icebreakers or team building exercises. If they reacted anything like their hyung did, you were in for one hell of an adjustment period.

Hoseok and Namjoon trail you into the penthouse warily, sniffing the air. You want to give them time to explore and get their bearings, they deserve that, but with the way Yoongi still seems agitated when they venture anywhere but exactly in your steps, that’ll need to be saved until tomorrow morning too. You give them the most spartan tour you can muster up and show them each to a guest room, promising to order them furniture and get them the things they need tomorrow.

By the time you collapse into your own bed, it’s damn near 11. You groan and drag a pillow over your face as you ask the universe for the thousandth time why it had decided to continuously kick your ass. Having three hybrids had been hard enough. Having five of all different species was likely to prove impossible and having seven was going to be a sisyphean task you’d had no training for. You groan and kick your feet in the air, allowing yourself the brief respite of a temper tantrum before crawling under your covers and flicking the lamp off. Maybe in your dreams there’d be no stress and no snarling hybrids with behavior you couldn’t explain.

#thebtswritersclub #hybridbtsnetwork #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader

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fanficimagery · 3 years

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When Enough is Enough pt. II

Imagine being let down one too many times by your best friend, only to end up making some new ones in the process.

Words: 8.5K Author’s Note: Okay so some of you asked to only be added to part 2 of this while others asked to be added everything Bucky.. and a few others weren’t exactly clear. So if you want to be tagged in any future Bucky related imagines please let me know so I can get your blog name written down on my list.

Tags: @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination @mimilh @felicityofbakerstreet @eternalharry @eliwinchester99 @intothesoul @wintershadowkat @b1sexualtonystark @meredeph @miszswan

The Sunday before you are to return to work, you sleep in until nine in the morning. Your thoughts are immediately on Bucky's impending arrival and you couldn't help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach. He's a friend, just as all the others are, but you couldn't help but notice just how attractive this new friend of yours is. But not only does his attractiveness draw you in, his easy-going teasing and protectiveness does too. However, Bucky Barnes is still a man trying to find his footing in this world after all that's been done to him and finally getting his name cleared, and if he finds comfort with you then you're going to try your best and be the friend he needs.

So since you're not dressing to impress, you dress in your favorite lazy outfit after your shower- leggings, sports bra, a faded sleeveless band tee with the arm holes having been cut down to around your ribs, and a pair of socks. Damp hair gets gathered up into a messy bun and you walk around your apartment to pick up some things you had unknowingly left out.

You've skipped breakfast, so when there's a knock on your door and you open up to find Bucky standing there, you groan in relief. He raises both hands with paper bags hanging from each. "I come bearing sushi. Wanda let it slip how much you love it."

"Yesss." You step back, quickly taking in his own comfort outfit of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt under an opened jacket. "Did you bring plenty of wasabi? And you can just kick off your shoes anywhere."

"Of course." He hands you the bags so he can kick off his shoes and strip out of his jacket before hanging it up. You don't know why, but seeing him in a short sleeve shirt makes you happy, knowing full well he was weird about his metal arm being out in the open. "And plenty of dipping sauce as well. Wanda was more than happy to give me advice."

"Wanda, huh?" You chuckle, leading the way to your kitchen. "You actually told her where'd you be?"

"Apparently I looked very pensive this morning. She asked and I figured she was a better confidant than Steve or Sam who would have made a big deal about us hanging out."

"True." Setting the bags down, you let him empty them while you head to the fridge. "Beer?"

"Yeah."

Grabbing him a beer and yourself a can of Cola, you return to the table and your eyes widen at the sight of all the sushi. "Damn, Barnes. That's a lot of sushi."

"Don't act like you won't eat half of it."

You laugh as you take a seat, handing him his beer and pulling a few trays to your side of the table. You take a container of wasabi and dipping sauce for yourself, and grab a pair of chopsticks to start digging in.

You moan in delight at your first taste, happily shimmying in your seat before taking another. Eventually, you ask, "So what are you going to do when I'm back at work and I can't keep you entertained by getting shitfaced?"

Bucky grins around his mouthful of food before chasing it down with a swig of his beer. "We actually got a mission comin' up so I'll be leavin' around mid-week."

"Well that sucks." You sigh. "Now who am I going to send random pictures to when I have downtime at work?"

He grins. "You can still send them to me. I just won't get back to you until after the mission's complete."

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of you continue to eat- Bucky dodging Steve's texts about where he is and when he's coming back, and you sending the middle finger emoji over and over to Wanda who keeps wondering how your date is going. Then once most of the sushi is gone and Bucky puts what little is left into the fridge, the two of you head to the living room. You immediately flop onto the couch as Bucky takes the plush recliner, only for you to hear him moving the chair into its reclined position seconds later.

"Oh. I definitely need to get one of these."

You laugh as he snuggles down and you pick up the remote to bring up your streaming services. "Anything you've been meaning to watch?"

"Not really. Just show me your favorites."

You start off with some humor by playing the Goonies. It's a movie that no matter how many times you've seen it, it always seems to make you laugh. And it seems Bucky is not immune either when they make Chunk to the truffle shuffle. Titanic plays afterwards, but only after making sure Bucky found it somewhat interesting after reading the movie summary to him. He is interested from beginning to end and doesn't even laugh at you when you shed a few tears for the old married couple who opt to stay in their bed as the room floods.

When a break is needed, you head off towards the bathroom as Bucky finishes off the leftover sushi. Both of you check your phones and read each other the missed text messages from Steve and his worrying behavior.

"Wanna tell Steve to fuck off via video message?" Bucky takes a moment to think on it before he grins and nods. "Excellent. Sit in the recliner. I'm gonna crawl up all in your business. That okay?"

"Yeah."

As Bucky gets comfortable in the recliner, you sit on the armrest before sliding down sideways onto his lap. You bring up the camera app on your phone and switch it to video, sliding your right arm behind Bucky's neck while holding your left arm out to capture the two of you on the screen. "Ready?"

"Sure, doll."

You chuckle quietly and then smirk mischievously as Bucky relaxes his expression into his best resting bitch face. After you hit record, you say, "Hey Rogers, stop being a little bitch and sending us text after text. I'm tryin' to fuck your best friend here." Bucky's expression cracks as he barks out a laugh and you turn to face him while grinning. You share a laugh with him before facing the camera once more. "Only joking, but seriously stop buggin' us. I promise to send him back in one piece."

As you prepare to send the text to Steve, Bucky says, "You're terrible."

"Whatever. Admit it, you adore me."

"Occasionally."

You huff another laugh as the video message finally sends. You and Bucky both watch as the delivered status turns to read, and then those three little dots appear as Steve starts typing his reply.

"Tell Bucky to wrap it before he taps it." You burst out laughing at Steve's text, Bucky's rumbling laughter only fueling yours even more. "God I hate your best friend sometimes." And before you climb off Bucky's lap, because honestly you were getting a little too comfortable, you send Steve a few middle finger emojis before deciding on a third movie to watch.

The third movie you choose is one that never fails to make you laugh- Bridesmaids. You had a moment of hesitancy because of the sex scenes, but you figured they were ridiculous enough that it wouldn't be awkward. Thankfully you're correct and you get the added bonus of hearing Bucky's laughter again during Megan's scenes, especially when they get food poisoning and are all fighting for the bathroom.

You and Bucky take yet another break after the film, just stretching and finding something to drink.

"So what's the verdict, Barnes? Are you enjoying the films?"

He grins. "Your taste is all over the place, huh? That last one we watched was raunchy."

"But hilarious! You need to watch the Hangover trilogy, but you definitely need to watch that with Steve and then watch him squirm at the pictures that roll with the credits."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jurassic Park holds his attention and he can't help but comment how stupid one has to be to replicate dinosaur DNA and then open up a park with live dinosaurs. You laugh, but don't bother commenting. You'll tell him later there are more movies involved, with yet another idiotic man who felt he could get the park up and running once more.

It's getting dark, but it's still a little too early for dinner. One more movie and then you'll order or go out and pick something up.

"So this last one for the day is a movie that's directed more towards the female viewers, but you did ask for my favorite films and Practical Magic is my absolute favorite."

"Well put it on, doll."

As you press play on Practical Magic, you quickly grab a throw blanket and snuggle in. Instead of watching Bucky, you watch the film and mumble certain quotes to yourself. The magic scenes always bring a soft smile to your face just as Gary's confession to Sally of I wished for you too breaks your heart, and Sally and Gillian's heartfelt sister moment makes you cry.

Afterwards, Bucky hums in thought. "So that's your favorite?"

"Absolutely." You tell him. He's watching you curiously and you grin. "If I show you something, you promise not to laugh?"

"I'll try."

"Whatever. That's good enough for me." Standing up, you walk towards him and kneel, and tell him to pull your shirt sideways by the armhole next to your left arm. There on the back of your left shoulder and forever etched into your skin is a salt shaker, a rosemary plant, a lavender plant, and a heart. You then rattle off one of your favorite quotes to him. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

Bucky chuckles as you get up, retaking your spot on the sofa. "You really are a fan of the movie."

You nod. "As a little girl, I was fascinated by magic. I thought I'd grow out of it, but I only grew more fond of it. And then I found Practical Magic and it had a bit of everything I adored."

"So what's the one scene that just gets you every time?"

"Ugh. You're making me choose?!" You feign being distraught and he grins. As you think about it, you keep coming back to two scenes in particular. "So there's two," you tell him, "and I'm not choosing between them." Bucky nods, awaiting your answer. "Gillian's possession. When Sally calls together the other mothers who were mean to her in order to make a temporary coven to save her sister, and Gillian begs Sally to just let her ghost ex have her."

Bucky hums. "That was a bit sad, doll. I saw you shedding a few tears over that."

"Mhm. And the other scene is when Sally comes clean to Gary and admits that she did a spell as a child to call forth her perfect love thinking it wouldn't exist, only it did. When Gary tells Sally that he wished for her too, it just breaks my fuckin' heart."

"Let me guess, you were one of the girls who cast her own spell after seeing that scene." You stay quiet for a moment and the second you feel your face heat, Bucky laughs. "What did you wish for?"

You groan quietly. "If I tell you, you can't laugh!" He only smiles in response and you know he won't drop it until you tell him. "Fine. So even though I knew it would never work, I gathered the weirdest objects and wished for a significant other with dark hair and colored eyes. He had to be protective and funny and love me for me. Simple."

For some reason you can't seem to meet Bucky's gaze then and you feel awkward the longer the silence stretches on.

"So dinner?" He asks.

"Oh god, yes please. Pizza and wings?"

"Sounds good."

You have the nearby pizza place on speed dial, so after finding out Bucky's preferences you make the call and place the order. It's going to be about a thirty minute wait, so you fill the time sending Steve pic after pic of Bucky who's none the wiser as he scrolls through his own phone and adding the most asinine comments to each picture. Steve thinks it's absolutely hilarious.

Then when the pizza and wings arrive, you beat Bucky to the door and thrust several bills at the delivery boy. He's more than happy with his tip and you hurriedly wave him off before shutting the door. You laugh at Bucky's disgruntled expression and then place everything on the table while gathering a beer for both you and him.

"Don't let me have more than two," you tell him while handing him his own bottle of beer.

Bucky agrees and the two of you dig into your own personal pizzas and boxes of wings once you're situated around the table. As you're eating, Bucky asks about what other movies you hold near and dear. You fill him in on a few others and he hesitantly puts it out there that he'd be up for another movie marathon when you both have a day off. You agree that that's doable.

Halfway through dinner, as you and Bucky are chuckling over the thought of making Steve sit through Bridesmaids, there's a sound of glass breaking from your living room and a muffled curse. The two of you immediately cease making any type of noise and Bucky is up with a gun in hand.

"Where the hell did that come from?! You hiss.

The telltale sound of a window then sliding shut can be heard.

"Shut up and get behind me."

The authority in his voice makes you freeze and your heart flutter at the same time, and you have to mentally scold yourself before you quickly do as he says. You follow Bucky towards the living, ready to duck at the ready, only to sigh and roll your eyes when you see who it is.

Bucky stands tall and lowers his gun. "Parker." You can practically hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Mr. Barnes?" Peeking around his shoulder, you raise your eyebrow at your best friend who's been too busy for you and is now frowning at Bucky. When he catches sight of you, he asks, "What's going on?"

"Uh, well we were having dinner until we thought someone was breaking in."

"Alone?!"

Your brow furrows at Peter's incredulousness, only for him to realize you're not impressed with his tone. You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, um, yeah." He shifts from foot to foot, gesturing to his face where there's a scrape on his cheekbone. "My ribs took a beating too. Can you patch me up?"

"Sure." You sigh. "Why not."

Before you can leave to go to the bathroom to get the supplies you need, Bucky says, "I'll just get out of your way then."

You stop and face him. "What? But we haven't even finished our food. It won't take me long."

"It's fine, doll." He grins when he realizes you're trying to get him to stay. "You gotta hit the hay early anyway. We'll talk soon."

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, sighing when he won't budge. "Well at least take your food with you. No use in it going to waste."

Bucky nods and heads back to the kitchen, collecting his food. You watch him and then follow him to the door, holding his food while he bends over to lace up his boots. Once he retakes his food and you open the door, he thanks you for the time away from the tower and disappears down the hall.

Shutting the door and then heading back into the living room, you tell Peter to get back into his regular clothes so you can get to his ribs while you go gather your medical supplies.

Meeting Peter back in the living room and setting everything down on the coffee table, he says, "So you and Bucky-"

"Don't." You pick up the peroxide bottle and soak a cotton ball in it. "Bucky and I are friends."

Peter manages to keep his mouth shut as you clean the scrape on his cheek and place a small bandage on it. Then when you've checked his ribs and tell him he just needs to ice them, he mumbles, "Friends who apparently lick each other." You snort and think nothing of his sullen tone, but when you look at his face you see he's actually being quite serious. There's no chuckle or boyish grin and for a moment you're absolutely floored at his attitude. "I don't think I'm comfortable with Bucky being alone with you in your apartment."

"Are you- are you kidding me?" You huff and take a step back from him. When Peter just continues to frown, you shake your head at him. "First of all, I'm an adult woman who can make her own decisions."

"I know, but-"

"I'm not finished!" You snap. Peter's eyes widen, but he smartly ceases talking. "I am allowed to have friends whether you like them or not. We have a pact, Petey, and since I'm still abiding by it I would hope that you would too."

"Yeah, but that's for significant others!"

"Significant others or friends, it doesn't matter. And you should be grateful I've kept my mouth shut when it comes to you and Leslie because let me tell you, I've been biting my tongue a lot these past few weeks. Bucky and the others have stepped up since you've abandoned me, so you have absolutely no room to tell me that you're uncomfortable with him or any of them being around me."

"Leslie isn't that bad and I have not abandoned you." You snort, but don't bother opening that can of worms even further. He finally gets annoyed with your quietness. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you needed a bandage. Tell me, Peter, where are you going after here? Where are you going after making five minutes of small talk and calling it a night?" He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, shrugs, and you shake your head at him once more in disappointment. "Exactly. Just go, Peter. I'm so over this conversation right now and I have work in the morning."

"Wait, but we promised we'd never leave a conversation where we were still annoyed with each other!"

"And we also promised we'd never judge who the other decided to spend time with, but here we are." He frowns at you. "Go to your girlfriend, Peter. We'll talk again in another few days or weeks or whenever. I don't care right now."

Peter stands there, gaping, before he pulls himself together and makes his way back towards the window he had crawled through. He glances at you one last time, but you merely keep staring until his mask encompasses his head once more and he lifts the window before taking his leave.

As the window shuts behind him, you sag in on yourself and your breathing stutters in your chest as your eyes fill with tears. You've never been this angry at Peter and the fact that he thinks it's okay to ignore you until he needs something and then has an opinion about who you hang out with was just too much for you to let slide.

You quickly gather everything from your coffee table and return it to its rightful place in your bathroom, and throw away the trash. Your appetite is long gone, so you put up what's left of your food and then head to your room to gather some clothes so you can shower and get into bed.

By the time you've crawled into bed, you're still a bit annoyed. So grabbing your phone, you pull up your text messages and click on Bucky's thread.

To Bucky: Well that was a shit show. I don't think I've ever made Petey leave my apartment while we were still angry with each other.

From Bucky: I'm sorry, doll. Anything I can do?

To Bucky: If he gives you attitude, get a non-serum individual to punch him. You, Steve, and probably Nat will send him flying into the wall.

From Bucky: If I remember..

To Bucky: Well I mean if you forget, I won't complain. I'll probably laugh when he comes crying to me.

From Bucky: You're a terrible human being.

To Bucky: Whatever. You adore me just the way I am. And now I should get some shut eye. I'll talk to you soon. Night, Sarge.

From Bucky: Night, sweetheart.

For the next couple of weeks, you keep yourself busy with work. Bucky and a few others do go on a mission as he said they would, so you keep your texts to a minimum of three each day- a good morning, a random story from that day, and a good night. They're gone for four days and in those four days you've not heard from Peter. The only reason you know he's not completely done with you is the fact he likes your posts that you put up on social media.

But since you're not currently speaking to your best friend and are too exhausted to hang out with anyone else, you're in a bit of a funk and completely caught off guard one evening when the patient a police officer brings in smacks you right across the face. You had been trying to insert an IV into his arm when he completely lost his shit, and then you were hit so hard that you were strewn across the gurney behind you. And in your vulnerable position, a fistful of your hair had been grabbed and yanked right before the police officer had intervened and pulled the patient off of you.

You had been given a bit of time to ice your cheek before you had to get back to work, but your face and scalp were hurting you the entire time.

On your way home, however, you're surprised to receive a call from Pepper. You're heading towards your apartment complex when she invites you to dinner there at the tower since Darcy is finally back in town, and you hate to do it, but you're not exactly up to be around such a rowdy bunch. So you apologize to Pepper and ask her to apologize to Darcy for you, and take a rain check. Immediately she knows something is wrong, but you only tell her you had a rough night at work and all you want is a hot shower and to crawl into bed. She hesitates but wishes you well, and the call ends moments later.

When you get home, you waste no time in locking the door behind you and heading straight for your bathroom. You strip down and take the hottest shower your body is capable of handling, and let yourself relax in the steam-filled room. Afterwards, as you're drying off, you gently dry your hair since your scalp is still sensitive and then get dressed in some of your comfort clothes.

Then heading out into the kitchen, you find some leftovers in your fridge and heat those up, tiredly sitting at your kitchen table and digging in. Just as you're done with your food and heading towards the living room, someone pounds on your apartment door. You sigh, hoping they go away, and have only plopped down onto the sofa when a familiar gruff voice speaks through the wood.

You quietly groan as Bucky tells you he knows you're there and you get up to open the door for him. He's on the verge of knocking again when you swing the door open. "Hey. Pepper said-" He trails off as he takes in your appearance, expression going slack before his jaw clenches in anger. "Who?"

You shake your head, gesturing him inside as you turn around and walk towards your sofa. You hear your door click shut before the footsteps follow you. "Work got a little hectic. No need to hunt down anyone, Barnes. I'm fine."

"Half your face is bruised, doll. You are not fine."

"It's all part of my job." You shrug and plop down onto the sofa once more. Pulling a blanket over your lap, you stare up at your friend. "There will always be a drunk and disorderly patient. I was just lucky he didn't do more damage."

Bucky frowns, but he doesn't push you on it. Instead, he walks over and sits next to you, angling his body towards yours when gentle fingers grasp your chin to angle your face more towards him. "What exactly happened?" He asks as his eyes dart over every inch of your face.

"Some petty criminal did some damage to his head in the back of a patrol car. Police officer brought him in and he seemed pretty docile up until I jabbed him with the IV. He got the drop on me. It happens." Gentle fingers brush along your cheekbone and you flinch. Tears sting your eyes as you sniffle. "I'm fine."

"Just because you keep sayin' that doesn't mean it's true."

Your bottom lip wobbles at his words and you lose the battle with keeping the tears at bay. The moment they fall, Bucky pulls you into a hug and you cry into his shoulder. "Dammit," you mumble. "See what you started!"

Bucky chuckles and he holds you a few moments longer, rubbing a hand up and your back to offer a semblance of comfort. When he lets you go, you fall back against the sofa cushions and wipe the tears away with your blanket. "So what are we watching?" He asks while settling in next to you and draping an arm behind your head.

"Shouldn't you go back to the tower and have dinner with the rest of them? I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I will drag you back to the tower and let Steve motherhen you."

You sigh. "Low blow, Buckaroo."

"And for that horrendous nickname, you've lost the privilege of choosing what we're going to watch."

You laugh and don't bother arguing with him about it as he leans across you to snag up the remote. When he settles back down and you snuggle into his side, you huff a small laugh when he settles on TLC which is showing 90 Day Fiancé.

"Why this show?" You ask.

"Because it blows my mind that some people are so oblivious and can't see that their chosen partner is only in it for the green card."

As you let his reasoning sink in, you can't help but giggle as you picture Bucky sitting in his own apartment and bad mouthing the TV because he didn't like the decisions the people were making in their love life. You watch along with him, cringing at the more obvious couples that are only headed for future divorce and smiling when one of the couples is actually in it for love.

You manage to almost watch a complete two hour episode when there's a knock on your door, but you're too comfortable to get up and answer it.

"You get it," you say as you nudge Bucky.

He nudges you back. "It's your apartment."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like getting up."

"You could have at least come up with a better excuse."

You grin, finally taking your eyes off the screen and glancing up at Bucky. "M'too tired. Brain's not working fast enough." He continues to give you a deadpan stare until you jut out your bottom lip. "Please?"

The second Bucky's lips twitch, you know you've won. He huffs and roughly pushes himself up off the sofa as if answering the door is a hardship, and you go back to watching TV. At least until you hear a familiar voice stammer, "Uh, h-hey Mr. Barnes. Is Y/N home?"

Your gaze snaps towards the door where Peter is standing out in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he sheepishly stares at Bucky. The man in question turns and raises an eyebrow at you as if saying what do I do and you give him a terse nod to let him know it's okay. Bucky steps aside and Peter readily walks in.

"I should be getting back to the tower," Bucky suddenly says. "You kids have fun."

This time it's your turn to give him a deadpan stare and he smirks right before slipping his boots back on. Then as soon as they're laced up, he's walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Peter, who hadn't stopped staring at the intimidating man, finally turns to look at you. And when he does, his eyes widen.

"What happened to your face?!"

You sigh. "I'm fine. Just had a little incident at work."

"And Mr. Barnes was what? Comforting you?"

"First of all, can you stop calling him Mr. Barnes? You two avenge together and what not. I'm pretty sure that means you're on a first name basis." Peter grins as he takes a seat on the recliner near you, shrugging. "And Bucky was here because when I turned down dinner at the tower, Pepper figured something was wrong. Bucky took it upon himself to check in."

"So are you two like a thing or something?" He wonders.

"We're just.. friends," you say. "For some unknown reason we clicked and we're comfortable in each other's company."

For a moment Peter doesn't say anything, nor will he meet your gaze, but then he's looking at you and sighing. "I'm sorry." You blink at him, surprised to hear the apology. "I shouldn't have freaked out that one night. Who you are friends with and who you decide to date is your business."

You finally smile, even though it's rather small. "Thank you. And don't get me wrong, I know you meant well, but you should have dropped it and just trusted my judgment."

"Yeah. I know," he mumbles.

"Soo.. are we good?" You ask.

"Yeah."

"Good. I was getting tired of you liking my posts and not commenting on them."

Peter snorts. A moment of silence passes and then he says, "So you'll be glad to know that Leslie and I aren't together anymore. I broke it off earlier tonight."

You wince. "Sorry."

"Nah. Don't be. She was totally using me for access to the tower." You're torn between being smug about being right and being sad for your friend who just ended his relationship. "I only realized it earlier when she got upset because Mr. Rogers posted a picture of you and Mr. Barnes together, and she had a few choice words to say about it."

"What? Steve posted a picture of us?" You quickly pull out your phone, checking social media for any notifications. There are none, but as you get on Instagram you check Steve's page and sure enough there's a new pic that shows Bucky staring fondly at you as you laugh at something on your phone. "That little shit didn't tag us!"

As your thumbs move furiously to give Steve a piece of your mind and to comment how adorable you and Bucky look, Peter can't help but say, "You're attracted to him."

Your texting falters and you quickly glance at your friend to gauge his reaction, but when he just looks amused, you shrug. "I mean have you seen him? How could I not be attracted to him?"

"Does he know?"

"I have a feeling he does. Asshole likes to fluster me every now and then."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure he likes you back." You snort and go back to finishing up the comment on Steve's post. "I'm serious. When we stopped talking, he threatened me. He was pissed that I made you cry and said I was lucky. He's actually really scary when you're on his bad side."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you can feel your ears heating up, followed by your cheeks. Peter starts to laugh and you groan in embarrassment. "Why is this so weird? Dating should be easy!"

"Well he is an Avenger.."

"I don't care about that! He's just- he's really, really hot. It's intimidating."

"Wait, what?" Peter huffs. "So you're intimidated by his hotness and not because he's a super-soldier with a metal arm?"

"Well yeah."

Expression melting into one of confusion, your friend eventually shakes his head at you. "You're on your own with that. Good luck."

You hadn't realized how much everyone had known about your and Peter's brief falling out until the two of you were laughing together once again at the tower. It seemed like everyone had sagged in relief now that the two of you were poking fun at one another once more, and you had to apologize for apparently making it awkward for them.

And now that your best friend knew of your crush on a certain super-soldier, there was lots of teasing material. Of course you kept him in line when you could, but there was no stopping the force of Peter, Wanda, and Darcy combined.

It's a random Tuesday night when you've driven over to the Tower, Bucky having called you over for dinner with a few friends. You had the day off so you didn't mind heading on over, but as the elevator doors slide open after having ridden up to the communal floor, you yelp in surprise as the small gathered crows that shout, "Happy birthday!", at you.

Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Peter pop confetti poppers as you step out of the elevator, eyes wide as you glance between each of them. "My birthday is not until tomorrow!" You hiss.

"But you work tomorrow." Wanda frowns.

"Mhm." Your eyes then narrow, glancing behind them at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling. "And how'd you guys even know?"

Everyone glances at Peter and he takes a step back when your gaze slides to him. He chuckles sheepishly. "I might have hid your birthday cupcake here and Steve found it."

"Petey," you groan. "Why couldn't you just hide it at aunt May's like usual? You know I dislike birthday celebrations."

"You don't dislike them. You just dislike all the attention being on you."

"Whatever. Where's Barnes? He's the one who lured me here under false pretenses. I got a bone to pick with him too."

Everyone turns around and Bucky's head appears from around the corner. He smirks and you glare at him. "Not false pretenses. We are having dinner," he says. "It just so happens to be a birthday dinner. And it's running a little bit late, so until the food gets here you get to open presents."

"You guys all suck."

Peter and Wanda each take a hand and drag you further into the room, heading towards the kitchen. Bucky fully steps out from behind the wall and you aim a kick at his shin as you're walking by. He laughs as he easily dodges it and then you're standing by the kitchen island that's been cleared of everything other than birthday presents.

You huff a small laugh and shake your head fondly at them. "I love you guys, but you do know you didn't have to get me anything, right?"

"Shut up and open the presents," Bucky says.

"Open mine first," Sam says, reaching into the small pile and pulling out a white envelope. "Unlike the others, I was literally told within the last thirty minutes we were doing this so yeah. It's not the best present, but I think you'll enjoy it."

You smile at Sam as you open it, chuckling at the plain birthday card and his brief personal message written inside. But it's what else that's inside that makes you meet Sam's gaze once more, smiling fondly at him. "Thank you. I can't get enough of bubble tea and I'm sure I can do some damage with this gift card."

"You're welcome."

"Mine next." Peter reaches in for a medium-sized box and hands it over to you. "I know you're not a fan of presents, so I got you something I actually knew you'd enjoy."

Raising an eyebrow at him, you pull the lid off of the box. Then glancing down, you snort before pulling out a bottle of Patron Silver Tequila. "I knew we were best friends for a reason."

Steve groans. "Please drink responsibly."

"Please. Responsible is my middle name, Rogers." Everyone snorts and instead of trying to remain serious and feign offense, you end up laughing. "Sam and Buck are good babysitters. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's to be determined," he says. "Here. Open mine. I honestly had no idea what to get you, but Peter assured me you'd enjoy this."

Putting the bottle of tequila back in its box, you accept Steve's gift. Pulling off the ribbon, you can't help but laugh when you see what's inside. "Cards Against Humanity." Peter cheers. "We're playing this the next time I have off," you say, grinning at Steve.

"What is Cards Against Humanity?" He wonders. "I just picked it up and boxed it."

"It's possibly one of the most confusing card games or raunchy card games you'll ever play," Sam says. "I, for one, am looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Steve. I seriously can't wait to play it."

"You're welcome."

Wanda claps her hands. "Mine and Darcy's next. She ordered online and I had to pick it up earlier. But, um, I'm not sure you want to open it up in front of everyone."

"Oh god. Don't tell me it's a vibrator."

Sam laughs out loud as both Peter and Steve start blushing. Bucky looks rather amused and intrigued as Wanda slides two boxes over to you. She shakes her head, giggling. "Not quite."

For a brief moment you're relieved, but then her answer sinks in and you're hesitant all over again. You groan. "Is yours safer? I feel like it is. Which one is it?"

Wanda only smirks as she pushes her box towards you. You open it, marvel at its contents, and then put the lid back on much to the boys' displeasure. Trying to keep a straight face, you look at Wanda. "How many sets did you get?"

"There's four. All in colors that will look amazing against your skin tone."

"Thank you. I'll send you pictures when I wear them."

"Yes please! Natasha wants to know how they fit as well. She was the one who suggested them."

"I'll send them to the ladies group chat then."

"Well that's not fair," Sam complains. "First for not showing us what's inside the box and then you guys have a ladies only group chat. I wanna be in the ladies only group chat."

"But then that defeats the purpose of it being a ladies only group chat," you muse.

"Come on," Peter then whines. "What was the present?"

Your gaze slides to Peter, but instead of outright saying what it is, you say, "Think back to that one Halloween night where you wouldn't let me out of the dorm until I switched costumes."

It takes him only a minute to understand and when he does, he snorts. "That wasn't a costume! That was lingerie."

"Whoa, what?" Sam exclaims, grinning.

"Lingerie can be worn as a costume?" Steve wonders.

"I was actually a Victoria's Secret Angel, complete with the most amazing set of wings, and Petey forbade me from leaving the room. It was a sad, sad night."

"As much as I wanna get into that," Sam says, "I wanna know what Barnes got you more."

You chuckle and glance at Bucky, smile faltering when you see him tense. But then he seems to shake himself out of it and offers you a grin. "Open the bigger one first."

Wanda clears away the other presents as Bucky slides his two towards you. You feel giddy as you grab the bigger box, untying the black silk ribbons and lifting the lid. There's tissue paper you open up and you gasp, happily giggling. "You didn't?!"

"Well you did say it was your favorite movie, sweetheart."

"Yes!" You glance up, beaming at Bucky, and your heart swells at his own smile being directed at you. "I really, really love this. I can't wait to hang it up."

"What is it?" Peter wonders, trying to peer across the island.

"It's a quote from Practical Magic," you say and Peter huffs a laugh, knowing full well your love for that movie. You carefully pick it up and turn it around so everyone can see it as you read it off by heart. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

"Aw," Wanda coos. "That's adorable."

"I made Bucky watch this movie a while back," you say. "I need to show it to you one of these days."

"I'm looking forward to it," she says.

With nothing else to say, you place it back in its box and set it aside in favor for the second box. It's a little smaller, but you're excited for it nonetheless. Untying the ribbon and lifting the lid, you immediately laugh at the white petals scattered atop the tissue paper.

"Barnes, you smooth sonuvabitch," Sam mutters.

Steve and Peter laugh, but you're so focused on the notecard that's under some of the petals. Lifting it up, you read the note to yourself because immediately you know it's personal. My better half has to be funny, get along with my friends, won't judge me for my past, and has decent taste in movies.

Heart fluttering, you bite the corner of your lip when it feels like you're smiling way too much.

"Well what does Prince Charming have to say?" Sam asks.

"That's none of your business." You close the note and then tuck into your back pocket, chuckling when Sam and Wanda complain. When you meet Bucky's gaze, you immediately flush and mentally curse yourself when you see him smirk in return.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you center yourself and then part the tissue paper. You look at the second portrait and gasp after you read it.

"What? What is it?" Peter wonders.

This second portrait is of a hand drawn bowl with a tipped over salt shaker, a small bundle of lavender, a small bundle of rosemary, and a heart beneath it. Above the bowl is a swirl of flower petals and inside the swirl of petals, in very pretty cursive writing, are the words I wished for you too.

Did he just- did he confess his own feelings by using a Practical Magic quote? Or was this just you overthinking his present? You glance to meet Bucky's gaze and at his gauging expression your eyes fill with tears.

"What did you do, Barnes?!" Sam scolds him. "You made the poor girl cry at her own birthday celebration!"

But Bucky isn't paying him any attention, instead he's solely focused on you. You set the present aside and walk around the kitchen island on shaky legs, and Bucky readily reaches for your waist as you grab his face and pull him down into a kiss.

You can't believe you're kissing Bucky, but then he squeezes your waist and returns the kiss, and you know you made the right choice.

Someone gasps, but then the following words let you know exactly who it is. "Darcy is going to be so angry she missed this." Wanda. That is Wanda.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam wonders. "What type of present can cause this type of reaction?"

You smile against Bucky's mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before falling flat on your feet after having been on the tips of your toes in order to reach his mouth.

"It's my favorite quote from my favorite movie," you say. You turn around to address your friends, but Bucky doesn't let you go far. He wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you back so you're resting against his chest and tucked beneath his chin. "It's a movie about witches," you explain. "These two little girls are being raised by their aunts and they see them performing love spells for a local woman. Basically, one of the young girls refuses to fall in love after witnessing a love spell gone wrong and she does her own spell to call forward a love that would be impossible to find- a man who's favorite shape would be a star and who had one green eye, one blue. Years down the road, the sisters accidentally murder a man."

Sam snorts. "How the hell does one accidentally murder someone?"

"Shush." Wanda admonishes him. "I want to hear the story behind the gift."

You and Bucky chuckle, and you continue to explain. "Anyway, they send in an US Marshall to investigate the disappearance and the one who had done the love spell at a young age starts to fall for this man. She ends up telling him about the murder, but he doesn't quite believe her. Then they're on the verge of hooking up when she gets a good look at his eyes- one green eye, one blue."

"Oh my god. That's so cute!" Wanda says.

"It gets cuter. And sadder," you say. "So she explains to this man about her family, the murder, and how she can't be with him because he's only attracted to her because of a love spell she did when she was just a little girl. At first he's skeptical about this spell bringing him to her, but then he ends up believing her. And as he's walking away from her, he stops to tell her I wished for you too."

"So you made out with Barnes because of that?" Sam shakes his head, chuckling. "Wow."

"It's fuckin' adorable. Stop ruining the moment, Samuel!" Bucky laughs at your words and pulls you closer to him.

"So while I'm happy for Buck," Steve says, "I'm still really curious about what Darcy's gift is."

Peter nods. "Same."

Wanda giggles, but says nothing as she grabs the box and slides it over to you. You groan because you know it can be nothing good, but you still open it since everyone is watching and waiting. As soon as you part the tissue paper and read the box, alongside taking in the picture on the box, your face flames as you shove the lid back on. Wanda cackles.

"I hate her."

"She said to give the remote to-"

"Don't!" You cut Wanda off, blushing even further. "I know who she means to have control of that."

"They- they make underwear that does that?" Bucky muses and you die a little on the inside in embarrassment. You elbow him as he starts to laugh behind you.

Sam instantly knows what the gift is now and starts to laugh, but Steve and Peter apparently need some help.

"Lewis got you vibrating panties, didn't she?"

"Oh my god, Sam, if you don't shut up I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

Steve is torn between laughing and trying not to make you even more uncomfortable, but his amusement wins out. "Given Y/N's flustered state, I'm assuming Darcy wants Bucky to have the remote."

"I mean this seems like it could make for an interesting night."

Everyone laughs at Bucky's sudden interest in the box you're doing your damnedest to keep shut, but luckily Peter steps in. "As much I love watching Y/N squirm, can we get ready to eat? I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go wait downstairs for it, kid."

Sam and Peter head for the elevator to take them down to the lobby, and you turn around in Bucky's hold. "Help me take this stuff to my car so I don't have to do it later?"

"Sure thing, doll." He grins. But instead of stepping away, he pushes you further into the kitchen island. You smile as he cages you in and then huff a laugh when he reaches for the box behind you. "So exactly how long do we have to be dating before we can test these out?"

You slowly lean upward so your lips brush his as you say, "I'd say very, very soon if you would put your ass into gear and help me move these presents like I asked."

Bucky laughs and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Then let's get to it."

The telltale sound of a phone's camera goes off and you turn your face towards the sound. Wanda is beaming, her phone pointed towards you and Bucky. "Darcy wanted evidence I wasn't lying. She's going to be so happy."

Bucky turns his face to look at her then, his cheek brushing against yours where he's yet to back off from you. "Tell Lewis I said thanks for the present. I'll give her my review of them in a few weeks."

Wanda's eyes widen and you immediately blurt, "Don't you dare!" But she's already texting and you know the group chat full of ladies is going to be full of messages that you'll have to reply to later. Quietly groaning, you slap your hands against Bucky's waist and push him back. Looking up at him, you shake your head but the corner of your lips turn up in amusement. "You're terrible. I would threaten to withhold sex, but I've been looking forward to that for a while. I'd just be punishing us both."

"Just tell me when and where, sweetheart, and I'll be there."

"Oh no. You guys are going to be that couple," Steve complains.

And without missing a beat, you face him and say, "Fuck off, Rogers!" Bucky snorts.

"You're cranky when you haven't gotten laid."

You gasp as Bucky bursts out laughing right in your ear, but he quickly catches you as you try to lunge for his best friend. "You know what, I was going to be discreet when banging your best friend, but now I'm going to tell you all the filthy things Bucky likes to do just to annoy you. I will go into excruciating detail about the look and taste of his dick!"

Steve blanches as it's Wanda's turn to burst out laughing. "You've done it now, Steve."

And as Steve looks to Bucky for help, he merely shrugs. "You brought this on yourself, Stevie. Hope you enjoy the play by plays."

Relaxing in Bucky's hold and moving so you're hip to hip with him, you slide your arm behind his waist and hook your thumb into the belt loop of his jeans. "We're going to have so much fun."

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