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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years

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easy on the eyes (three fateful midnights) - midnight one

Corinthian x f!Reader

Story Masterlist

a mini prequel to 'easy on the eyes', chronicling the start of the romance between Corinthian and the Reader, across three fateful midnights.

Warnings: smut (18+), cursing, brief mention of violence

Word count: 5.3k

midnight one - "you look like you might need me"

midnight two - "this can be as real as we want it to be"

midnight three - "darling, i'm not ready to let you go"

midnight one

I don't want to be here. Here in a loud, sweaty club, surrounded by inebriated and probably horny 20-somethings.

This is not my perfect Friday night. At all.

But one of my best friends had plucked me out of the safety of my bedroom, using the excuse "It's my birthday in a week, so the celebration starts now!"

I didn't want to let him down, and I thought, maybe he's right. I haven't gone out in a long time, so perhaps I need a change of scenery.

Boy, was I wrong. It's not that I don't enjoy music or drinking or dancing, and I quite like spending nights out with my friend, too. But, I just don't enjoy this particular kind of club - covered in sticky floors, rancid bathrooms, and packed with people of looser morals, even just for a night.

We stand in front of a poseur table, our second drinks propped atop, and I try not to get too irritated at those who hurriedly brush up behind me, causing my side to hit the cold metal.

"Don't look so sour, y/n!" he nearly shouts at me to be heard above the noise, "It's fun! You like this music, right?"

My ear catches a remix of Blue Monday and I yell back, "Yeah, I do!" I sway my body a little, in time with the music, and down the rest of my gin and tonic.

I'll need a whole lot more of that to last through tonight.

He scans the crowd, potentially looking for a catch, and I lean over, "Not a lot of choices tonight, huh."

"Nah," he sips his drink with a shrug, "for now at least."

If either one of us is going to have that kind of fun tonight, it won't be me. My friend is more of the carefree, happy-go-lucky, dating app regular, whereas I tend to be wary of attraction that tends to be rushed or fleeting.

Being the good friend that I am, I want him to truly enjoy tonight if he so wishes. After that last fling of his that ended quite messily, I'd like to help him choose a guy that won't recklessly string him along this time. That was also another reason why he wanted to go out so badly – finding a good distraction.

I know his type - tall, blonde and impeccably dressed. But nobody here seems up to the standard.

Another, more bass-heavy track starts to play. "I'll go get another drink! Do you want one?" I tell him, and he’s obviously liking this song a lot more, his head bouncing up and down to the beat.

He shakes his head, and gestures to his still halfway empty glass. I start to move away, but then he suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“Woah there,” I try to get my bearings. Was I about to collide with someone? Then again, that’s pretty much inevitable given our current environment, “what is it?”

“Look,” he whispers in my ear, excitement lacing his voice, “There, at the bar.”

“There’s about a hundred people at the bar.” I respond dryly.

“You’ll know when you see him,” he seems electrified, nearly giddy, and I look harder for his mystery man.

Of course. There he stands.

Tall, blonde, and impeccably dressed. Eyes obscured by dark eyeglasses in an already dark club, but that only added to his allure. The perfect package, and I know that my friend’s search for a rebound has determinedly ended. He’s got a small flock of admirers around him, and it’s not hard to see that he’s full of confidence. A kind of magnetism. Standing tall and smiling freely, he seems like the type of person who would be the focus of every room, as he seems to be now.

“You headed to the bar, right?” he asks, smirking coyly, and I already know what he wants me to do.

“I’m on it.” I salute him jokingly, which he does in return, “One hot blonde’s number coming right up.”

I have to push through several warm bodies to get to my destination, and I’m so relieved when I reach it that I slam my hand loudly on the counter.

The blonde Casanova and his little group are to my right, and I steal a glance at him. I probably look too long, because he seems to realize and slowly turns his head, dark eyeglasses boring directly into me.

I tear my eyes away hurriedly. Normally, I wouldn't get nervous if I have no stake in the situation, like right now, because this is all for my friend.

But there's an air about him that feels so intimidating. In an attempt to calm my nerves, I raise my voice, and ask, "Another gin and tonic, please!"

The bartender barely glances my way, occupied with a gaggle of younger girls in the corner.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I see him inch closer until he's leaning on the space right next to me.

He slants himself in a way that I can feel his breath in my ear, but not too close, and whispers, “You look like you might need me.” I wonder how I can hear his words all too clearly, with the bass thumping in the background. His words settle, and all I can think is, the audacity.

“Need you?” I ask incredulously, my words having a distinct edge now. I put on a sarcastic smile, and add, “well, you must think of yourself a great deal.”

“I do, actually.” Of course he does. He smiles sweetly, “That’s why I’m letting myself have all this,” he gestures around, “all this freedom, all this fun.”

“I think you might be too old to consider simply going to the club, freedom. Besides, I have to ask again, why would I need you?”

“This is not all that I meant,” he hovers close to me, and I have to remind myself to avoid becoming intoxicated with his presence, with the attention he gives me. He's a disarming kind of attractive, but men like him are the dangerous kind - they know how exactly to reel you in. “You need me because… you need something more than all this. You look sullen, yet you're surrounded by all these people. I'd say that all this is not your thing, darling."

“You’re here, and you look like you belong, I have to say. So that means you’re not my thing as well, doesn’t it?” I counter, internally patting myself on the back. Does flirting come as easy to him as breathing? That’s what it looks like.

He beams widely, as if pleased with my retort, “Well, why are you here if you’re not having any fun?”

Oh, right. “My friend, actually, who also might be the reason why I headed over here… is interested in you, to say the least.”

“Really? Which one?”

“Well, he… “ I start to say, gauging his reaction.

He senses my hesitance, and assuredly drawls, “Oh, I like all kinds.”

“…is standing over there. The lone guy by the poseur table in the corner.” I wave at my friend, who immediately waves back, a smile growing on his face.

They make eye contact, and blondie here sizes him up. "Handsome."

"Yeah, he's a catch. And you better be nice, or else..."

"Or else what?" He responds right away, amusement lacing his voice.

"He's my good friend, so I'm rightfully protective. If you mess up, I'll come for you."

He holds my gaze, mischievous expression growing. He must be thinking, Really? I know I don't look like much of a threat, but I don't look away. I realize I haven't asked his name. He looks like a Dean? Boyd? Steve?

Our staredown continues, until an arm shoots in between us to land on the counter, connected to a very drunk frat boy looking type. "Can y'all get a room or som'ing? ... need to get a drink."

Blondie maneuvers me a few feet away, smirking, "Truthfully, I don't think he needs another drink."

A giggle bubbles out of my throat. I can't help it, and another one follows. This whole thing seems ridiculous, but the expression on his face makes me giggle even harder, as if he's trying to determine whether I've lost my mind. I still feel his hands on my shoulders, steadying me, and I have to ask, "What's your name?"

"What's yours?"

"Oh, c'mon." The effects of the gin are setting in. Maybe I should complete my task before I say anything too forward. "Anyway, I won't pry. Would you please be a doll and give my friend your number?"

"What about you?" he asks.

"What about me?"

"You're not interested?" His curiosity seems genuine, but I'm not biting.

"This isn't about me, so stop trying." A pair of girls linger close to us, in an attempt to get his attention, but his focus is on me.

"Humor me," he takes my hand, and before I can protest, we walk over to a relatively quieter area near the coat check. He smiles again, "So?"

I cave in, "If you were a romantic prospect, and I'm not saying that you are," I add hurriedly, when he raised his eyebrows, "we wouldn't be meeting at a nightclub, of all places. It's just not the perfect image I have in my head, as weird as that may sound."

"So you're a romantic," he drawls, and I still can't place his accent, but there's a pleasant Southern lilt to it. Which is growing on me, as much as I'd hate to admit.

I shrug, not wanting to divulge anything more about myself.

"If I was your type of person, and if this were the perfect setup, where would we be? A museum? A park? By the ocean maybe?" I sense amusement in his voice.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling. I just really am interested."

I study him, and as hard as he may be to read, I can see that he's being sincere. Or maybe he's just that charming.

"Look, I know it's about the person that you meet, not so much the place, but... I don't know. I love quaint bookstores, libraries. Hidden, quiet places, or maybe even crowded ones that all the more emphasize how the other person simply stands out for you. A light among all else. An unexpected brush with another. When you're not really looking to find someone, but you do, and it catches you off guard. But in a good way." The words rush out of me, and I have to stop myself. What happened to not divulging anything more? I would blame the gin, but heaven forbid, what if I am attracted to him?

"Hmm," is all he responds with. He takes a deep breath, and I feel the urge to find his eyes behind his dark glasses. What color might they be?

"Take your glasses off," I say, bravery kicking in. Or stupidity. Either one.

"Why?" he leans even closer, tilting his head.

"I want to," I pause, my throat constricting, "see your eyes."

He says nothing. Does nothing. We stand face to face in this dark corner, and I suddenly remember my friend waiting for me. Not wanting to waste any more time, I reach up tentatively, my hand inching towards his round, black-out glasses.

Just when my fingers graze the rim, his hand shoots up, effectively halting my attempt.

A long pause follows, with my hand enveloped in his, until he says, "You're dangerous, darling," I feel his words reverberate within me, warming the pit of my stomach.

I tentatively smile back, challenging him, finally settling into our shared rhythm.

But in a split second, he breaks the spell, dropping my hand, "Weren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh," my stomach sinks, and I don't like how disappointed I feel, since I'm not here for me after all, "Right."

I take one final look at him, before the haze subsides. Before he sets his eyes on someone else, and I lose him entirely. He was not at all what I expected, but that doesn't matter now.

"Follow me," I gesture with one hand, and I feel him close behind me, as we find our way through the bustling crowd. He places one hand on my waist, while the other shields me from any flailing, dancing limbs. Someone drunkenly sways a bit too close, and I feel myself being pulled back against his chest.

"Easy," I hear his voice low in my ear, making the hairs on the back of my neck tingle.

I regain composure, "I'm okay," and I walk on with more determination. He is not for me, I think to myself, this is not what I think it is. It's just another drunken midnight, and he's just another brazen flirt at a nightclub.

Then again, I don't really want to believe that. But anyway.

When we reach my friend, he gives a relieved grin, "There you are! I thought you two ran off with each other already."

I immediately feel guilty. I must be breaking some cardinal friendship rule by even thinking of stepping in with this charming stranger.

They fall into conversation right away, and the stranger might have given his name in introduction, but I've already forced myself to turn my attention to something else. Luckily, given where we are, the music blares, deafening and persistent. My friend winks at me, and I take it as a sign that they're really hitting it off. I give him a subtle thumbs up, and face the other way, as if to give them privacy. But also to fend off the jealousy creeping in my chest.

Perhaps it's best if I just head home.

"Hey," I intervene half-heartedly, "I'm really tired, so I'll just head back."

"Aww, really?" my friend says, then turns to blondie adding, "Poor thing. She's not that into places like these."

"Yeah, I'm really not," I smile, "I'm just about ready to change into pajamas and jump into bed."

The handsome stranger smiles crookedly, "I'll accompany you out, and make sure you get a ride safely."

"Oh, that's-," I start to protest, but my friend says, "Good idea! That's nice of you to offer. Make sure my girl here doesn't get bothered outside."

My friend then drags a hand flirtatiously down blondie's arm, "I'll be waiting here for you."

"Alright," blondie makes a gesture for me, to which I say, "One second."

He steps away from us, leaning casually by a wall. He looks too perfect to be here, too refined. As if he shines too brightly among all the others, standing out like a sore thumb.

"So, what do we think of him?" I question.

"Quite the charmer," my friend says, "Very polite, very well-mannered, too."

"Yeah, he is," I echoed, "but there's an edge to him. I can't pinpoint it exactly."

"You two disappeared for a while there. Is there something-"

"No," I blurt out, perhaps too hurriedly, "I mean, he seems nice and everything, but I'm not looking for that right now."

"Are you sure? Because it's completely fine if you like him. I won't get in the way of this connection." he says assuringly, and I slightly feel bad again for all that I've been thinking. He's always been considerate, and this was supposed to be his night. Blondie's supposed to be his guy.

"I am," I smile weakly, and I can tell he's not convinced, "Look, just message me later whenever you can, okay? Let me know how it goes. He may be charming as all hell, but most serial killers often are." I wag my eyebrows at him, half in jest, and he laughs.

"Okay," he draws me in for a hug, "Get home safe."

I walk over to blondie, and we make our way out of the nightclub. I feel the cool, brisk air and immediately feel relieved. With my hands on my waist, I turn my face to the night sky with eyes closed, and just focus on breathing.

Then, I remember just who is standing next to me. When I open my eyes, he is staring at me, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

"I just really needed the fresh air."

"Hmm," is all he says again. Maybe he's irked at having to wait with me, and just wants to get back to my friend.

"You know," he starts to say, but nothing could have prepared me for what comes after, "You're quite beautiful."

"What?" I manage to spit out. I've dealt with men like this before, those who tend to dole out compliments so easily, that it becomes hard to find truth in them. But I can't fight the blush that I feel spreading across my face.

"You are somethin' else." he drawls in his own way.

Is he just messing with me? Maybe he's naturally this forward, with a voice like honey, dripping saccharine, "You've only known me for around half an hour. I doubt you're making a worthy assumption."

"I know, but I mean them."

I turn away, looking out onto the street. If he does mean what he said, then I need to get out of here before I do or say something I'll probably regret, and he needs to get back to my friend. He's not for me.

"Best get you home then, darling." he raises an arm, and hails a cab that lingers on the street corner.

I have to know, so I ask, "Tell me your name? I've been calling you blondie in my head all this time, and it doesn't do you justice."

"You'll know soon enough," the cab appears before us, and he holds the door open for me. Damn gentleman. "Sweet dreams, y/n."

I am halfway in the cab, when I realize that I never actually told him my name. I turn around to confront him, but he's gone.

So he knows my name but I don't know his? I decide to let it go when the cab driver calls out, "Where are we headed?"

I give him my address, and shut the cab door. Feeling a strange mix of disappointment and guilt and longing, I am determined to completely push blondie out of my head.

This is just another midnight, and he's just another guy.

How I wish I believed that.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The knife hovers above the slumbering form, moonlight glinting off its smooth surface. This young man, while very appealing in his own right, did nothing to keep Corinthian's thoughts from straying back to you.

After you had left, they had engaged in every degree of flirtation one can think of, before the young man whispered the predictable invitation in his ear. He obliged. Wasn't his plan simply falling into place?

Nightclubs were not among Corinthian's favored haunts, but now and again, he deigns to visit them. To see people engaged in various delights, influenced by substances and coercions. Raw and wild, and yet most were hiding behind masks, behind pretenses. An added benefit, they provided him with an easy selection for his... hobby.

He found that people tend to already be naturally drawn to him, so places like this only provided an additional thrill.

He had actually found you before you found him. He saw your fatigued expression in the crowd, in contrast to your friend who seemed to be thriving in that atmosphere. And when the both of you eventually drew your attention to him, he felt a sort of smugness.

Of course, as always.

You walked over, and he approached you, but you acted like you'd rather be anywhere else. Corinthian was used to people either wanting to be him or be with him. They may be intimidated, or provocative, or simply curious. He was aware of the effect that he had, and it didn't seem to be evident with you.

You were prepared to rebuke his advances, and you were setting him up for your friend instead. Your friend, who is now sleeping here half-nude, while Corinthian deliberates his next move.

They hadn't gone all the way, although that was the intention. Corinthian and your friend were lost in a flurry of kisses upon entering your friend's apartment. Most of their clothes quickly discarded, until Corinthian motioned for them to pause, as if to catch his breath.

"Got a drink?" he asked, sitting down on the bed.

"Sure thing, handsome," your friend smiled, making his way to the kitchen.

Corinthian sat there, deep in thought, as he is now. He had a vision of how this night would turn out to be. Venture to that nightclub, find his prey, indulge in the usual humanly pleasures, and then indulge in pleasure of another kind.

When your friend returned with his drink, Corinthian thanked him and sipped it slowly. Your friend started to pepper his back with soft kisses, muttering affectionate phrases, and the occasional racy remark. They kissed again, bodies colliding on the bed. Until a while later, when your friend stopped to say, "You're not into this, are you?"

Corinthian replied nonchalantly, "Just got something on my mind."

"Does that something happen to be y/n?" Your friend was the one who slipped Corinthian your name earlier, and he didn't even have to ask.

Corinthian huffed, not confirming your friend's thought, but not denying it either.

"You know, it's okay. You were a good distraction for a while, pretty boy. That's all I needed. We can just go to sleep, if you'd like to stay?"

"Alright," Corinthian agreed, "This was a real pleasure, doll."

"Sure," your friend smiled, "and by the way, don't waste any time. She's amazing. If you want y/n, tell her. I can give you her number? But tomorrow, I'm kinda exhausted now."

Corinthian doesn't respond, but your friend took that as an agreement. They spoke for a short while, until your friend rolled over to his side of the bed, mumbled good night, and quickly fell asleep thanks to several daiquiris and a long, tiring night.

Corinthian sits on the bed, feeling something he hasn't felt in a long time. He feels lost. It's as if he's not where he's supposed to be, not doing what he's supposed to. Ever since Dream got captured, he was free to roam the Waking World as he pleased. He knew just what he wanted, and he took it. People became his thing. Their emotions, their habits, their fears.

He relished all of it. Their pleasures and pains gave him a rush. Every eye devoured unleashed a cascade of memories within him. A collection of moments, and sentiments. Not his, of course, but it feels that way nonetheless. It feels human.

And Corinthian knew, this was the closest that he would get. To being human. To having a soul. He knew exactly just what he was and what he was made to do, and he didn't fight it.

A nightmare he shall be. Nightmares he shall unleash.

He stands, prepared to take this young man's eyes. Although asleep, there will be resistance upon the initial strike, but no matter. His end will swiftly follow.

But why wasn't he sure? This is what he does, this is who he is.

His mind travels back to you, "If you mess up, I'll come for you." Adorable.

He could easily disappear after tonight, no one would ever find him. Only you would suspect him, but that wouldn't matter. This would just be another nightmare under his roster.

But you would be in pain. You would carry the guilt, having been the one to introduce your friend to a serial killer. Standing there, Corinthian couldn't, for the life of him, understand why he cared.

You're nobody.

But he still hears your giggle from his memory, sees you smiling up at him.

It eats at him, and makes him feel something else entirely. Something unfamiliar.

He puts his knife back in its sheath.

Maybe this was just a passing fancy, and he plans to just let it run its course. He'll forget about you soon enough. But this could be fun, and if you're here for the taking, then take he shall.

As Corinthian leaves the apartment, a twisted sense of regret passes through him. If he had devoured your friend's eyes, he would have seen you in an infinite array of moments, in the perspective of someone close to you. He would have seen your laugh again and again, heard your sweet voice whispering things in confidence, felt you walking right beside him. So close.

He turns resolute - why not have all that in actuality. Maybe it's time to slip back into the Dreaming, just for tonight.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

My fingers graze the titles on the shelf. I want to read nearly all of them. It's strange how they consist of books that I have yet to read, but have written down on my list.

I am surrounded by wooden bookshelves, designed as if they were molded out of the woods themselves, smooth brown roots running up the sides, golden and green leaves sticking out in a faint pattern. I remember wanting to decorate the bookshelves in my bedroom in the same way. But where am I now?

It seems to be a quaint bookshop, beautiful, with a tall stained glass window in an alcove on one side of the room. I seem to be the only one here, free to read to my heart's delight.

I pull out one of the volumes from the shelf, but I must have miscalculated its weight, because it started to fall out of my hands.

I wait to hear the thud, but instead I hear a voice.

"Oh," he says, "careful there."

He stands next to me with the book in one hand, outstretched in offering. Where did he come from?

"Thanks," I reply shyly, not knowing what to say next.

"You have good taste," he points to the book, "I've read this one myself, and let me tell you, the plot is certainly gripping. The characters were well-written, especially the villain, but you might not like him, of course."

"I quite like villains," I explain, "I've always been drawn to them in books, films, anywhere really. Just any darkly delightful, complex villain, with their own share of inner conflict and turmoil. Fascinating."

"Really?" A slow smile spreads across his face.

"Yeah," I smile in return, "Mind you, most villains wouldn't even consider themselves as such. They're just doing what they think is right."

"But what if," he implores, "the villain is just purely wretched? Downright evil, with nothing to redeem them?"

I think carefully before responding, "Maybe there are some who are like that. But," I pause, and he seems keen to hear my next words, "I like to think there's hope for everyone. Even those with the darkest of hearts."

A comfortable silence follows, and I let my eyes wander on the titles, until he says in a familiar drawl, "You really are somethin' else, darling."

Where did I hear that before?

"I'm y/n," I finally say, holding out my hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, y/n," he takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles, "I'm Corinthian."

When I feel him, a memory rushes through my mind. Loud music, cramped bodies, neon lights dancing on his skin. The same dark glasses shielding his eyes.

"You," I mumble, "I know you."

"Do you now?" he laughs, amused by my confusion, turning away to skim another bookshelf.

"Yes," I follow him, "You don't remember?"

"Well, I don't know, but I'll just take your word for it," he turns a book in his hands, "Besides, where do you think we are?"

I look around, and everything appears so polished. Almost too perfect. I realize that it resembles a library, more than a bookshop, with everything arranged and decorated to my liking, as if all of this was a product of my subconscious. One side of the room was completely open, facing a garden, lush and inviting. A warm sheen can be seen all around, as if everything is covered in a layer of fairy dust. I don't hear the usual siren song of the big city, which is replaced by the calming sounds of nature.

The stuff of dreams.

"I'm dreaming?" I breathe out, unsure.

"Do you like it?" I hear him, feeling his warm body behind me.

I hum in confirmation. A shiver rushes through me when I feel his lips on the nape on my neck. I feel him inhale deeply, as if savouring my scent.

"Beautiful," he says in that voice.

I turn around slowly. He looks beautiful, ethereal almost, in this light. This is my dream, so what do I want to happen next?

Kiss me, Corinthian, I think.

He caresses my face and asks, "Can I kiss you, darling?" as if he was privy to my thoughts.

"Yes," I manage to say. I vaguely remember wanting to kiss him in real life, as I do now.

Our lips touch, softly at first, dancing sensually with one another. Then he wraps an arm firmly around me, body flush against mine, and I can feel all of him.

My back arches in pleasure, and I feel him groan into my mouth. Suddenly, he bites down on my lip hard.

I pull away, and I run my tongue over my lip, a faint tanginess lingering in my mouth. I kiss him again, and he sucks my bottom lip, caressing the love bite.

He lifts me up and wraps my legs around his waist, then pushes me back onto a bookshelf. My face hovers inches higher above his, and he looks up at me, dazed and eager.

"Corinthian," I whisper his name for the first time, and it feels like a prayer on my lips. How could I have come up with this name in my dream? It's unusual, and yet fits him perfectly.

We gaze at each other for a while, lost in the moment. He curses softly, "Fuck."

"What?"

"I want you," he purrs.

I want him too. I want all of this to be real. "Then take me."

He drags his lips across my collarbone, my chest. Keeping me propped up against the shelf, he takes my shirt off. He takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue, and I feel a wetness start to pool below. He positions a finger in my entrance, and he looks up at me for permission.

I bite my lip, running my fingers over his chiseled face, and nod urgently.

He pushes my underwear to one side, and thrusts a finger in. I feel his middle finger move in and out, while his thumb strokes my clit rapidly. He slides another finger in, picking up the pace.

A series of moans escape my lips, and he's leaning back, as if admiring the view. Suddenly, I don't feel his fingers anymore, and I open my eyes.

He's smirking at me, and he almost looks dangerous. Carnal.

"I want to make you scream."

He gingerly lowers me back on my feet, slides my underwear down my ankles, and I lift each one to take it off.

Then he lifts me up even higher, until my thighs settle on his shoulders, straddling him. He breathes out, and I feel it directly in front of my throbbing opening. He blows into it, teasing me, then without warning, slides his tongue inside.

My arms fly to the side, feeling the hardness of this exquisite bookshelf, in an attempt to keep myself steady. But I can't help but tremble, and writhe in ecstasy, as his lips move frenzied against me.

Moments later, his prediction rings true, and I scream.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

My eyes fly open. I feel warm all over, a sheen of sweat nearly everywhere. What the-

One name rests on my lips, resounding clear, "Corinthian."

And another word bubbles out, when my dream comes rushing back.

"Fuck."

end of midnight one.

(ahhhh) help, I just love writing about Corinthian, that little shit.

This was late yet again, but I had to change up several parts. Apologies if there are any errors, I'll be checking this through later.

And I did mean to write all three midnights in one chapter, but it got too long, so keep a lookout for midnight two and midnight three - they'll be out eventually 😉

Let me know what you think about Corinthian and the Reader here!

P.S. midnights? Is it obvious that I love Taylor Swift?

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park-jimin-isnt-real · 1 year

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YOOOOOOO

TWILIGHT SAGA IS BACK ON HULU

TIME FOR A WATCH PARTY BITCHES WHO'S IN

i can finally start really planning for dusk now

#dusk is the next fic imma do after eot #it's basically a kpop retelling of the twilight saga #bts are the cullens #yoongi x reader #it's gonna be great #just gotta finish eot first tho #but now that the movies are back on a streaming service i can binge them endlessly #both for plotting purposes and for entertainment #it's been years since my twilight craze died down and i can't wait to see what adult me thinks of the series teenage me swore by #i bet instead of being ~super dramatic~ everything is fucking hilarious #oh man this is gonna be fun #jay screams into the void

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hoshigray · 11 months

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Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

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hauntingcryptids · 2 years

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Borrowed Black Hoodie

Simm!Master x Reader

Summary - The reader finds The Master’s hoodie and he doesn’t have the heart to ask for it back.

Warnings - nothing, just fluff

Word Count - 957

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. Not Requested. I’m making this a fic about my personal AU where The Doctor didn’t regenerate, and he and The Master travelled together post-EOT. This is just my maladaptive daydream since I was ten and I need it.

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The Master grumbled under his breath as he sauntered into the library. The Doctor had just taunted him about his crush on you, said crush which The Master always denied having. Yet, the old Time Lord found himself seeking you out whenever The Doctor got like this The Master could complain about his old friend to you. Today was no different. The Master knew that you would be in the library, because you often lounged there, and he was so excited to rant to you. However, when he found you in a comfy chair by the roaring fire you were fast asleep.

Initially, upon seeing you, The Master wished to wake you up. His rant about The Doctor’s crazy theories needs to be heard after all. But when he looked at you, so comfy and unaware and innocent. The Master couldn’t bring himself to wake you up just because of his own selfish reasons. So, instead, he did everything he could to make you more comfortable.

The Master searched for a blanket within the vast library and finally, he saw one. The Master brought it back to where you were and placed it over you. The Master stood back and looked at you. You still didn’t look as comfortable as you could. So he fetched yet another blanket and tucked you snuggly into both.

The Master, then, was about to leave, but that still didn’t feel just right. He felt a growing warmth of sentimentality flow through him. He knew what he would have to do, not just because the Time Lord wanted to be possessive over you, but because he had to make sure that his, hopefully, future partner was warm. The Master sighed dramatically and shuffled out of his old and well-worn hoodie. He placed the item of clothing over the blankets. In your sleep-filled state, you unknowing cuddled the hoodie closer to yourself. The Master stared at you longingly for a moment as another warm feeling spread through his hearts. Upon realizing how real his feelings for you were, however, The Master rushed out of the library to deal with his feelings alone.

------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up randomly. Fragments of a dream about The Master floated through your head as you tried to place your surroundings. The library. That’s where you were. Yes, you remembered reading a new book a couple of hours ago. You had known that you should have gone back to your room, given how tired you were, but you were so enraptured by the story you were consuming that you just couldn’t stop. At least, The TARDIS lit a fire for you in your sleep.

You then noticed the blankets on top of you and the black hoodie you were cuddling. You didn’t remember those being here with you when you had fallen asleep. When did those get here? Despite your initial confusion, you shrugged the well-loved hoodie, that mostly smelled of smoke, over your head and made your way out of the library. You stumbled from the library toward your room. However, in your tiredness, you were unaware of The TARDIS changing the halls around. You were confused again when you walked into the console room, but you tried to just focus on your cosy awaiting bed and not the curious eyes of your two alien travelling companions.

“Y/n, is everything alright?” The Doctor asked from the far side of the console. The Master glared at this interaction, mostly because The Doctor forced his old friend to stay in the console room with him while he did some research, but also just general jealousy over your friendship with The Doctor.

“Yes, I just fell asleep in the library. So, I was going to head to my room.”

“Well, have a good night.” The Doctor smiled at you before catching a jealous look from The Master

“Goodnight, Master. Goodnight, Doctor.” This caught The Master’s attention. You said goodnight to him first despite him not saying a word to you. Maybe The Doctor’s teasing was telling the truth when he said that you indeed like The Master.

He waved a sweet goodnight to you and then watched as you sleepily stumbled through the halls toward your room. He wondered if he should run up behind you and carry you the rest of the way. The Master didn’t want you stumbling, falling, or hurting yourself in your tired state.

“Isn’t that your hoodie?” The Doctor commented once you were far enough away from the console room. The Master nodded.

“Then why didn’t you ask for it back?” The Master missed The Doctor’s knowing smirk as he continued to watch over you protectively.

“They’re barely awake. Why would I want to make them uncomfortable when they are hardly even conscious?” The Master turned and glared at his old friend. He was getting incredibly close to throwing a shoe at the Doctor’s head.

“You just want to see them in something of yours.”

“Do not!”

“Don’t lie! You’re the most possessive Time Lord I know!”

“And you are the most possessive Time Lord I know!”

The Doctor huffed and rolled his eyes; fighting back would have been nonsensical given how argumentative the two of them usually were, and The Doctor sensed that things seemed to be clearer in The Master’s mind now.

The Doctor moved around the console and plotted out some coordinates. However, he couldn’t help but sneak a couple of glances at the clearly lovesick Master staring protectively at you as you finally made it to your room. The Doctor really needed to get the two of you together before his head exploded. He couldn’t stand to watch this oblivious back-and-forth mutual pining game you and The Master played with each other.

#ghost's posts #my writing #fanfiction #doctor who x reader #doctor who #the master #the master x reader #simm!master #simm!master x reader

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imperialsiyo · 7 months

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# 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐈𝐘𝐎. ᴄʀᴏᴡɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴏᴇ.

⊹ a character study in : soulmates, defying fate, dark and troubled past, the chosen one, the outsider protag, etc.

an independent and selective writing blog for BAYAN from the manhwa, ELIXIR OF THE SUN. sideblog: hwadam-stories -- canon divergent / oc friendly.

INTRODUCTION.

Welcome to my blog, my name is Moe (she/her) and I'm twenty-four years old (Black and Cherokee Indian). Minors and personals will be blocked.

This blog highly encourages multi-shipping and welcomes pre-established and platonic relationships.

my current icon border was made by rphbydior

my sideblogs: hwadam-stories (fic blog) jeungwha (rp blog), hwanghae (rp blog)

This blog may become an "canon character x reader" since I'm the only EOTS roleplayer here on Tumblr. I'll definitely write most of the main cast and will make a proper list in the future.

This blog contains dark and triggering themes revolving around sexual violence (mentioned for canon only), death, murder, politics, misogyny, starvation, child abuse, harassment, fire, miscarriages, pregnancy, child birth, kidnapping, cannibalism, poverty, etc. Please do not follow this blog if these themes are a trigger for you as they will be a talking piece on this blog.

"ELIXIR OF THE SUN" is a Korean manwha written by Solddam. The Manwha is a light novel adaptation with a total of seven books that can be purchased on ridibooks.com (you'll have to translate them on your own) and I've already bought them for fifteen dollars.

LAWS OF THE PALACE.

Common and respectful roleplay etiquette.

Reblog memes from the source, please and thanks. Also please ask before turning a meme into a thread.

Regarding fanfiction requests, I have a right to refuse any that I don't like / are on my blacklist (pedophilia, beastiality, incest, non-con, etc) I don't mind writing darker and mature themes but I also appreciate the lighthearted stuff just as much. Smut is a 50/50 for me, depending on my mood.

CANON DIVERGENCY.

coming soon...

EXTRA NOTES & CLOSING THOUGHTS...

coming soon ...

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hanjizung · 3 years

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✰ End of the Earth; teaser ✰

Yokai Jisung x afab Reader.

Summary: Love at first sight, two foreigners living in a beautiful paradise until a tragic event takes place and changes their lives forever. How badly do you have to love someone to do unthinkable things and become the town's mad man? Are the consequences worth shaking a shady guy's hand, even if he's not certain it'll work? The strength of his love for you is tested, just like his patience. How long will it take for things to go back to normal? Would you two even go back to how you used to be?

Genre: supernatural, angst, romance, smut.

Rating: M (+18)

Warnings: crime scene description, mentioned intended murder, gore (descriptions of blood and wounds) obsession, mentions of death, amnesia. Smut; unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, possession kink.

Word count: 7k

Release date: October 31st, 3:10 am PST.

A/N: This is just a teaser for my part in bearseungmin's strange devotion's halloween collab. Please check it out and happy spooky season everyone!

Jisung blinked, and the figure was gone, and he supposed that he would have to wait.

He would do it, happily, if all the time in the world flying meant that he would get to see you again, of course he would wait.

Patience was not one of Jisung's biggest virtues. He was excited, expectating, and he stayed in that spot, his back facing the tranquil river and eyes looking in the direction where you always walked when you and him went there to have a picnic. Nothing mattered to him, a normal person would've left after a few minutes, maybe even hours, but he didn't.

No, he stayed there, static after a few seconds, then the accumulated minutes became hours, then the sun shone above him hurting his eyes, but he still stayed there. He witnessed the passing of the sun through days, then months, and lastly, years even.

There was a moment where he questioned his sanity, but he felt guilty about it, you were worth losing it if that meant he would have you again.

#strange devotion skz collab #EotE; teaser #skz fanfic #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #han smut #han x reader #han x y/n #han x you #han jisung x you #han jisung smut #mine #original content #fanfiction #fic; teaser #original

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iwouldfuckthemaster · 4 years

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is it just me or is post-revival Simm!Master hotter than Harold Saxon

Harold Saxon was a stale piece of white bread that looked like he was about to either play the devil’s advocate in debate class or ask me to hear about our Lord and Savior

End of Time Master was a bleach-blond, Hot Topic-shopping Feral Bastard™ that would fuck and then murder (and possibly eat) you behind a Denny’s dumpster at 3 AM

Take your pick.

#Yes you're right though EoT is hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhot #I just also have a Office Sex kink so like #Saxon gets points there #thenerdy1 #Mod L #lemonish #confessions #The Master confessions #The Master #The Master Doctor Who #The Master/Reader #The Master x Reader #Simm!Master #Simm!Master x Reader #Simm!Master/Reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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My Left Hand

Warnings: this will contain dark elements such as noncon and rape, fisting, mentions of oral.

This is dark! and explicit. 18+ only. It features Edge of Time!Bucky x reader. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Note: This is a small drabble/preview/spin-off for Edge of Time. As well, this is not the reader I have planned for my EoT Bucky series, however this is a preview of what Bucky’s been up to on Parker Row.

As usual, let me know what you think. I always love to hear your comments on this. Reblog please! It helps it get seen :)

I love you, thank you, and I appreciate all of you so much. <3

The needle pokes in and out, pulling tight the split seam of the boot. Sometimes, it hardly feels like your own hand guiding the point. Your whole life feels like someone else is living it. Often times, it’s like you're watching another going through the motions, that helps you through it. It helps you forget the looming sense of claustrophobia between the bars and brick.

Your name brings your head up as you set the repairs boot beside its partner. Claudia stands in the doorway, her curly grey hair shoots out like some mad bush.

“He’s asking for you,” she says curtly.

“I didn’t know they were coming,” you stand and carry the boots to the crate of garments to be redistributed.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” she scoffs and dismisses you with a shrug.

You sidle past her and let out a breath. You steady your nerves. Just another task you detach from. This one is harder and you can never quite escape your body during it. You go up stairs, the winding, rigid steps hard against your soles.

You let yourself into your room and go to the small cabinet under the barred window. You pull out the drawer and fumble with the flask. It’s been a while since he came. You almost believed he wouldn’t come back at all. That if he did, he would forget you.

You drink the stringent vodka, the sour juice distilled from rotting potatoes. You choke it down and it quells the bloom of panic as you hear the steps without. You cap it hide it away, quickly swish around the stale mouthwash to hide the scent and closing the drawer.

You swipe your sweater over your head and push down your jeans, stumbling to wiggle out of your boots as you tear them past your ankles. You shove the heap of clothing into the corner and stand in only the thin tank top and your panties. The knock comes and you brace yourself.

You lower your chin and go to the door. You open it.

“Sergeant,” you greet, a pathetic croak.

“There you are,” Bucky, rather Sergeant Barnes, chimes as he enters. You close the door behind him as he struts in, “kept me waiting, huh?”

“I came as fast as I could, sir,” you appease, “I was working--”

“And what’s your most important job?” he asks as he turns on his heel.

You gulp, “you, sir.”

“Exactly right,” he says and you dare to peek at his smirk. His eyes flicker as they meet yours and you avert them swiftly.

You go to him, he’s left his weapons outside, with the second man you hear loitering outside. He’s smart, not that you have the skill or will to challenge him. You unbuckle the harness from around his shoulders and the empty holster around his waist. He lets you, patiently, watching you as you avoid looking up.

You pile each piece of his attire on your only chair; jacket, boots, pants, socks, vest, sweater, shirt, underclothes, and finally, you touch the top of his briefs. He twitches with anticipation and grabs your hand, pressing it against his hard bulge. You know you squeeze him, to act like you’re just as eager.

He hums and backs away, letting your hand fall as he sits on the end of your bed. You follow and climb up behind him. There’s a routine, he’s a soldier after all. You start gently kneading along his shoulders and neck, tracing the knots and dimples of his muscled back. He leans into your tough and grunts.

Then, the next step. You crawl to his side and place your lips along the scars that trim the joining of flesh and metal. He hums as you drag your mouth over the rigs lines and kiss all the way along the scar tissue. Then you follow down the plates, and he flexes, nearly pinching you as he exhales. He always liked that.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he asks as you continue your careful tending.

“Yes, sir,” you utter against the vibranium lines.

He’s silent as you get lower and suddenly, his hand snaps up and he turns as he grips your chin. He makes you look him in the face and your eyes round. An itch runs along the top of your cheek, that long-healed scar that notes your former defiance.

“Which you do like better?” he asks.

“Pardon, sir?” you swallow and his eyes flick to your throat briefly.

“Which arm? You like this one?” he squeezes your jaw,

“I… do, sir,” you answer, almost convinced yourself.

“Oh yeah,” he purrs and pushes two fingers over your bottom lip and hooks them inside your mouth, “when I was… out there, keeping all this standing,” he glances around the room emphatically, “I had an idea.”

“Sir,” you say plaintively.

He stands and takes you with him. His hand slips down your neck and his other goes to your shoulder, he turns you to face the bed. He urges you forward and you lift your knees onto the mattress. You know how this goes but at least this way is quick. Sometimes he can hardly last when he fucks you like that.

“Ass up,” he orders, “you know how I like it.”

You shimmy your panties down and dispose of them over the side of the bed and get back to your knees. You bend and fold your arms beneath you. He slaps your ass and you exclaim. He does it again and your skin turns fiery.

“You miss me?” he asks, “course you did, huh?”

You say nothing as you sense him lower himself behind you, knees to the floor. You try to peek back at him and he spanks you again.

“Now, let’s not spoil the surprise,” he says and his fingers wander down to your thigh, “I think you’ll like my little idea.”

His hand crawls beneath you and he explores your folds. You hold in a breath as he rolls his metal fingertips over your clit. He lingers on it, swirling and teasing until your cunt quivers, slickening even as you squeeze your eyes shut and try not to feel it.

He drags his fingers up and down and presses against your entrance. One finger first, curious almost. He rarely puts much effort into foreplay, if anything, he has his dick down your throat within seconds. Another finger and you flinch.

He grabs your ass to still you and his hand slips down to grasp your thigh. He pulls his fingers in and out and adds a third. You moan as you feel the strain. Your body is never quite ready for him. You hold your breath and feel his pink poking around.

He slides out and lines his hand up. He stretches you around four fingers and you ball your hands, your arms starting to tingle beneath your chest. You exhale as he works his hand deeper and starts to fuck you, the noise of it sickening as you try to block it out of your ears.

He groans and his thumb brushes against the back of your entrance. He urges it in and your breath picks up as the pain ripples through your walls and tears at your cunt. You can’t quite fathom what he’s doing but it’s all too clear. He grunts and jerks his hand, forcing past the last strand of resistance.

You gasp and it drones out into a startled wail. You turn your face against the bed and puff as he pushes as deep as he can go. Your cunt sucks at his wrist as he starts to fuck you with his hand and you whine and the flurry of sensations competing; pain, pleasure, surprise, horror, shame.

“Fuck, I didn’t think you could take it all,” he snickers, “the way you squeeze my dick, I wasn’t sure you could handle it.”

“Ow,” you let out the pathetic mewl as your thighs quake violently.

“Look at you,” he caress your thigh, “you fucking shaking. You’re doing it. You got the whole thing in there, huh.”

He stands slowly and he puts a knee on the bed and runs his other hand over your back. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes your head deeper into the mattress. He works his metal arm faster and you cry out, your hand flying back as you try to stop him. That was a mistake.

“You’re being so good,” he pinches your neck sharply, “don’t make me try your ass.”

You grit your teeth, the sound rising from your lungs nothing short of agonized. His arm pounds into you, harder, harder, and you feel as if you’ll break.

“Here’s another idea,” he snarls, “why don’t you touch yourself?”

“Wha--”

“You have my permission. This one time,” he says.

“S-s-sir,” you sputter and stretch your arm beneath your stomach.

You wince as you touch your clit and squeak in surprise at the sheer and sudden delight. Your fingers press firmer and move of their own accord, led by the building pressure inside of you. The pain remains but dulls as your body succumbs to the pleasant fullness.

“That’s it,” he taunts as every part of you shakes, “come on…”

Your lips form a mute O as you turn your face out. Your eyes roll back as your core erupts and your climax crashes down.

“Shit,” he says as he keeps fucking you, even harder than before, “you should be thanking me.”

The release of pressure is overwhelming and you almost shriek as you orgasm, fingers frantically welcoming it. You hear and feel the way you gush around his wrist. He chuckles and tuts as he watches your body surrender to him.

“Oh, yeah, you definitely should be thanking me,” he says as he slows his hand, “making you cum before me, “don’t worry, I can stay a little late so you have lots of time for that.”

“S-sir,” you huff as your hand drops away from your cunt.

“Did I tell you to stop?” he takes his hand from your neck and slaps your cheek lightly with his knuckles, “I kinda like how you feel around my hand. Don’t you like it?” He wiggles his hand so you twitch and you press your fingers back to your clit.

“I do, sir,” you say, “very much.”

“Mmmmm,” he hums and eases his hand out of you, so carefully that you moan. When you’re entirely empty, he nudges you onto your back, “you gotta clean up your mess.”

He holds his hand to your mouth, you smell the sweet scent of your cum as it glistens on the metal. You drag your tongue along his middle fingers as he smirks down at you, his other hand takes yours and guides it down to his dick. He wraps your fingers around him and leads your steady strokes.

“That’s it,” he coos, “gonna have a lot more to clean up.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #end of time #drabble #spin off #bucky barnes x reader #au #apocalypse au #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #mcu

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summerstardust · 4 years

Text

Announcement!

I am going to be trying my hand at writing fanfiction to try and cheer me up after some life circumstances. Sooo...

Requests are officially open!

I am primarily going to be writing for NuWho and The Great at the moment because that’s what has been occupying my mind of late. But I can also do other characters played by NuWho actors, I just don’t know if anyone would be interested.

Character List

-The Doctor

-9 - 13

-Alternate universe Doctors

-Companions

-Any NuWho companion

-The Master

-Saxon!, EOT!, and Silver!Simm

-Missy

-O and Dhawan!Master

-Alternate universe Masters

-Other Sacha Dhawan Characters

-Orlo (The Great)

-Manmeet (Outsourced)

-William Garrett (from Tractate Middoth)

-Him (from Girl Shaped Love Drug)

-I can probably do Davos x Readers, but I will need to do some research.

-Any other character played by Sacha because we stan

I have some fics in the works at the moment, but I would also like to hear what others would be interested in reading.

So, please, feel free to message me at any time!!! :)

#count orlo #count orlo x reader #doctor who x reader #dhawan!doctor x reader #dhawan!master x reader #13 x reader #whittaker!master x reader #dhawan!doctor #dhawan!master #the great #missy x reader #manmeet #manmeet x reader #personal post #fanfiction

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cali-holland · 7 years

Text

Tangled- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: You don’t recognize your childhood best friend after six years apart.

Word Count: 2500

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

2011

“I’m not that excited about leaving, mum. I’ve told you all of this before- I’ve got friends here.” You sighed as you helped her unload empty boxes from her car.

“Why don’t you go inside? I’ll move these.” She said and you nodded. Following her directions, you walked up your driveway to your door. You opened it and were stunned instantly.

“Surprise!” All of your friends cheered, standing inside your entryway.

“What-” You started in confusion, but your best friend cut you off.

“We couldn’t let you leave without a proper farewell party.” Tom stated, giving you a tight hug.

“You shouldn’t have.” You said, looking around at all of your other friends with a smile on your face.

The party was the most fun you had had in months. Ever since the news of you leaving London for Los Angeles was announced, solemness seemed to take over all of your hang outs. Tom was the last one to leave for the night, as usual. You two stood on your front porch talking under the light from the moon.

“I hope you like Los Angeles.” He said.

“Me too.” You replied.

“And you promise not to forget us- forget me?” Tom asked.

“How could I forget you? You’re my best friend, Tom, and you did all of this for me.”

“That’s the thing, Y/N.” He took a deep breath before continuing his thought, “I did all of this for you because I wanted to be more than that.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes. I know this is terrible timing and that we’re young, but, Y/N, I love you.” Tom said. You inhaled a sharp breath at his confession. Sure, you loved Tom, but it felt more like a platonic love than a romantic love. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Enjoy California, Y/N. I’ll miss you. Farewell.” He smiled at you, before he left your house forever.

You stood on your porch for another moment, taking in everything you had just heard. Your best friend confessed his true feelings for you and you stayed silent, letting him walk away from you forever. Sighing, you stepped back inside your house.

~~~

2017

“21 year-old Y/N Y/L/N stunned the D23 Expo red carpet as she promoted her latest work, Star Wars: The Last Jedi. In an interview with Extra, the Oscar winner discussed her excitement about the expo as well as her future films. When asked if she would portray the beloved Princess Rapunzel in Disney’s planned live-action film, the actress simply stated that she loved the character and would be open to play her. Do you think this rising star will be a good choice for the film? If so, who would you chose to be her Flynn Rider?”

“Can we shut this off?” You asked your hairstylist.

“Why? You don’t like watching media outlets talk about you?” She laughed, but doing as you had requested.

“Oh yes, I really enjoy watching them discuss ‘rumors’.” You said sarcastically, using quotation marks around rumors. Both you and your stylist knew you would be Rapunzel. You had landed the role right before the expo and Disney was keeping the news a secret, until they found their Flynn Rider. The casting team had finally gotten the list of possible actors down to nine and you were to do screen tests with them to see if they had any on-screen chemistry with you.

After going through eight of the actors and only somewhat liking one, you were exhausted.

“You can’t give up now. You’ve got one more.” Your manager said as you got some water.

“I know. I just hope this one isn’t as dry. I mean, they can all act and they all resemble Flynn in a way, but I just don’t feel like I could work with any of them for a few months. There was one, but even then I could imagine us being distant costars.” You replied and she rolled her eyes at you in a playful manner.

“Y/N, the last actor is here.” The director called for you. You headed back over to the new actor in the room.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I play Rapunzel.” You said, holding your hand out to him.

“I’m Tom, auditioning for Flynn.” He replied. As he shook your head, you felt him tense up.

“Don’t be nervous. You’ll do fine, Tom.” You stated, taking your seat in front of the camera.

“Right.” Tom said with a shaky voice as he sat down.

“And, action.” The director called.

“I know why you’re here, and I’m not afraid of you.” You said in a stern tone.

“What?” Tom asked in shock.

“I’m not afraid of you. How did you find me?” You questioned, sending him a faux intimidating look. He gulped, but didn’t reply as scripted. In an even more serious tone, you repeated it.

“I know not who you are nor how I cam eot find you but I may I just say,” He said in a sultry voice, before shifting to a more casual tone, “hi, how ya doin’? Name’s Flynn Rider. How’s your day going?”

“Who else knows my location, Flynn Rider?” You asked, unamused.

“Alright, Blondie-” He started.

“Rapunzel.”

“Gesundheit. Here’s the situation: I was galvanizing through the forest and I came across your tower and I-I- oh no, where is my satchel?” Tom asked, frantically.

“Somewhere you’ll never find it.” You answered smugly.

“It’s in that pot, isn’t it?”

“Cut!” The director said and the two of you stood from your seats.

“Good job, Tom.” You informed him, honestly enjoying his performance.

“Thank you. You too, Y/N.” Tom replied. You froze at his use of your name and he simply looked at you expectantly.

“Y/N-” Your manager called you over to her. She pulled you off to the side to discuss your schedule as the director spoke with Tom. Your eyes remained fixed on Tom as you tried desperately to place him, for you believed you had seen him before.

“Well done. I think you have a safe shot on getting this role.” You heard the director say.

“Really?” Tom asked in surprise and the director nodded.

“Alright, well, you best be going. Good work, Mr. Holland.” You jolted up immediately as you connected the dots. Your chair crashed to the ground and everyone looked at you, but your eyes remained fixed on Tom.

“Y/N, what is it?” Your manager asked, but you didn’t hear her as you made your way over to Tom.

“It’s you.” You said and he smiled.

“I was hoping you’d remember me.” He laughed lightly and you hugged him tightly in reply.

“I’m so sorry.” You pulled away from the hug and placed a hand on his cheek, “You look so different.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Tom asked.

“Good.” You replied, making both of you laugh.

“Y/N,” Your manager cleared her throat. You two returned to earth and pulled away from one another, “You two know each other?”

“Yeah, we were friends before I moved to L.A..” You explained. The director and the casting director gave each other a look and then silently nodded.

“Mr. Holland,” The director said.

“Yes?” He answered.

“You got the part.”

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise as Tom stood silently shocked.

“Of course. You two have history together and your on-screen chemistry was fantastic- definitely the most convincing Flynn we’ve seen all day.”

“Thank you so much.” Tom said, shaking the director’s hand politely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Y/N, your interview.” Your manager reminded you.

“Oh right.” You nodded and then turned to Tom, “I have to go, but would you like to meet up later?” You asked and he raised his eyebrows at you in shock, so you clarified, “You know, to catch up?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Tom replied, taking out his phone and handing it to you. You did the same and the both of you put your numbers in the phone, before switching.

“Alright, well I’ll see you later.” You stated.

“Farewell, Y/N.” He answered, making you subconsciously blush. He left the room with a smile and you were rushed off to your interview, where you would confirm your involvement in the live-action version of Tangled.

~~~

In between breaks, you had set up a time with Tom for him to come over to your place in Beverly Hills. Right on time, he arrived and, a few moments later, the pizza replied.

“So, you left London and made it big in Hollywood?” Tom asked before he took a bite of his pizza. Tangled played on the TV in the background; the both of you decided to watch it together to better your understanding of the characters.

“It wasn’t intentional, but I found out that a lot of my friends at my high school were auditioning for this one role and I decided to try it out. It was the Fault in Our Stars and I somehow landed the role of Hazel Grace. I discovered that I actually loved doing it; it was fun, so I kept doing it. Now, I’m in Star Wars and I’m going to be a Disney princess.” You laughed with a shrug as if the outcome of your random idea was normal. “You were made for the spotlight- I wasn’t.”

“You were, you just didn’t plan on it like me.”

“Come on, Tom, you were Billy Elliot and I was that person in the crowd cheering you on.”

“Agree to disagree?” Tom suggested and you nodded with a laugh. “You really didn’t recognize me? You honestly had no idea I was famous?”

“Whoa, Tom, don’t sound too cocky there.” You teased.

“You know what I meant.”

“I knew that there was a new Spider-Man and that was it.” You said in all seriousness, “You know me, I’ve never been a fan of superhero movies. And I’ve been too busy with my career to see a Spider-Man ad and recognize it as my childhood best friend.”

“I feel like I should be offended by all of this.” He stated.

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t watched any Spider-Man movies, but I’d still say you’re the best one.”

“That’s it! After this movie, we’re watching Spider-Man.” Tom said.

“Which one?” You asked.

“All of them.”

“There’s like ten!”

“There’s only six, including mine.”

“I’m not watching six movies in a night.”

“Of course not in a night. Some will be in the early hours of the morning.” Tom laughed and you groaned.

“Fine, let me get comfortable on the couch.” You said, moving from the table to the couch with Tom following you. He sat down and you sat beside him with your head on his shoulder, just like old times.

You two remained like that for most of the movie. You did shift around to get more comfortable, but you still ended up with your head leaning on him, cozily snuggling up to him.

“You know you’re going to have to go through singing lessons, right?” You asked.

“Yeah. They made me sing for an audition and figured I was good enough to continue through the ranks and sing with you.” He replied as the lantern scene began.

“We should sing this, just because it’s the big duet.” You said.

“You really want me to?” He asked.

“You don’t have a choice.” You stated, making him chuckle. You begna to sing along with Rapunzel in the film, “All those days watching from the windows, all those years outside looking in, all that time never even knowing just how blind I’ve been,” You finished Rapunzel’s part and Tom took over for Flynn’s.

“All those days chasing down a daydream, all those years living in a blur, all that time never truly seeing things the way they were,”

You both finished off the song, and you smiled over at Tom.

“You’ve got a lovely voice.” He said.

“Thanks. You too.” You replied. His phone buzzed and he looked down at the text with a laugh, “What is it?”

“You remember Harrison Osterfield? My buddy from Brit school?” Tom asked and you nodded, vaguely remembering him, “He just texted me saying 'How’d your audition go? Did you meet Y/N? She’s Rapunzel- I can’t believe our friend is Rapunzel’.”

“Aw, so Harrison’s happy I’m a Disney princess now.” You laughed.

“Here, let me take a pic of you to send him. He’s gone piss himself.” Tom said, switching his phone to the camera setting. You smiled as he took a picture of you to send to Harrison.

“I’m glad you and Harrison are still friends.” You said, “I really missed both of you. I’m sorry, again, for not recognizing you.”

“Quit apologizing. If you hadn’t been on TV so much, I wouldn’t have recognized you.” Tom replied.

“You’ve watched my movies?” You asked.

“Who hasn’t seen Star Wars? And Harrison’s sister made him watch the Fault in Our Stars, so naturally he made me watch it with him.”

~~~

2019

“Are you ready?” Your driver asked you as he prepared to open his door.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You replied and he nodded, stepping out of the car. He came around to your door and opened it for you. The screams increased in volume as you stepped out onto the red carpet. Your eyes stung already as flashes went off from every direction. You looked up down the carpet and saw Tom finishing up his photos. He smiled and waved at you, which you did back to him. You posed in front of the purple and pink background, reading Tangled in large gold letters.

“Y/N, is it true that you and Tom knew each other before filming?” An interviewer asked and you nodded.

“Yes, we were friends, but I moved away and then we ended up meeting again when he was cast as Flynn.” You explained. You were about to add more, but you were stopped when someone kissed your cheek. You turned to find Tom standing beside you with a large smirk on his face.

“You look beautiful.” He said.

“Tom, I’m trying to do an interview.” You laughed.

“What? I can’t admire my girlfriend?” Tom asked as if he had done nothing wrong and you playfully rolled your eyes at him. He kissed you properly on the lips this time. “I’ll see you inside, darling.” He took off towards the entrance to meet up with his family and Harrison.

“I’m so sorry about that. He’s clingy.” You joked, despite being flustered.

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland headcanon #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader

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park-jimin-isnt-real · 1 year

Text

"edge of tonight" part thirteen ~ the call

pairing: namjoon x reader (lots of platonic ot7 x reader) rating: T 16+ genre: mafia au, angst this part: You finally call Jackson back. tw: mafia au!, angst, swearing, emotional manipulation/abuse, panic attack, jimin is still a little shit word count: ~6.2k track #16: Birdie ~ Avril Lavigne: “Like a bird locked up in a cage.” the edge of tonight masterlist an: did yall know that with this chapter we are officially halfway through eot?? crazy, right?? and finally, this is our first main chapter with Jackson! i can't wait to hear what you guys think of it!! thank you so so so much to @cui-nisi for beta-ing this for me!! she's my new beta so you'll be seeing her around going forward. and as always, the lovely moodboard at the bottom was made by the fantastic @mirahuyooo

The worst part about waking up from drug-induced sleep was the panic that raced through you before anything else. An unfamiliar room, a stiff bed, a sharp pain in your side—it was a recipe that skyrocketed your heart rate and made breathing near impossible. You were in pain, so you weren't dreaming; this was real, and it was far too familiar an experience.

Your eyes squinted against the light of the room, although it was far dimmer than what you remembered falling asleep to. Your limbs still felt heavy as you tried to move them, and you groaned at the stretch of your injured side. You were still entirely dressed, that was a first, but that didn't do much to quell your growing fear.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," a voice filtered in from somewhere next to you. "How are you feeling?

Your answer didn't matter, while you were here they were in charge of you. You needed to get out. You kept fighting to get your eyes open against the last of the drug, kept working to get your arms and legs moving properly.

A fast-paced beeping came from behind you. The person started moving faster than you were, probably going to check on whatever the beep was. "Whoa, hey, Y/N, calm down. Don't hurt yourself." You wouldn't calm down. You wouldn't let yourself stay here, injured and waiting for the next injury.

You managed to get your eyes open. Looking down, you saw an IV still in your arm and could feel the bandages wrapped around your torso. Your hand went to your injured side, grabbing at the scar over your ribs, just above the bandaged wound. Then you yanked the IV out, and rolled off the bed.

"Y/N!"

You ran.

You weren't fully sure where you were, but there was a staircase. Up was better than down, so you headed for that when a hand caught your shoulder and pulled you to a stop.

"Let me go!"

"Y/N, stop!"

"What's going on?" Another voice joined in from somewhere else. They were everywhere, there were so many of them. You couldn't stay here, you couldn't get trapped again, you had to get out.

You ripped yourself away again, feeling something in your side pull painfully, but it wasn't enough to stop you. You threw yourself up the stairs, trying to take them two at a time but not having the energy for it. The adrenaline was the only thing keeping you going. You just had to keep going.

A door at the top of the staircase opened up before you could reach it, a dark silhouette looking down at you. You squinted at the sudden light and stumbled on one of the steps, causing you to fall forward.

"The fuck is going on?"

"Runaway patient," the first voice said. Apparently he wasn't as far behind you as you thought.

Then there were hands on you, turning you over, pulling at your shirt. "NO!" You tried pushing them away, tried getting back up, but it was no use. Tears pricked at your eyes, you couldn't be there again, this couldn't be happening again.

"Hyung, stop! You're scaring her!"

"I gotta check—"

"Get off me!"

"Hyung, seriously, back off."

"HEY." There was a loud clap right in front of your face. "Look at me."

You did as instructed, stilling and looking up from the assault. Your eyes met soft brown ones, ones you had seen before, but not in a dangerous way. You blinked, recognition flooding through you. "Park?"

Jimin smirked. "Hey there, beautiful. You back with us?"

You looked back down, this time realizing it was Jin's hands on you. He was checking the wound he had bandaged, from the gunshot you took saving his girlfriend. Probably making sure you hadn't reopened it in your escape attempt. Looking over your shoulder you saw Yoongi, who was watching Jin with a look that said he wanted to punch the elder.

You weren't going to oppose if he did. You still wanted to punch Jin yourself.

"Okay, so you managed to not rip any of the stitches, somehow," Jin said, having finished his little check-up. He quickly moved your shirt back down, covering you back up, before meeting your eyes. "Care to explain?" He asked you, annoyance firm in his voice.

You clamped your jaw shut, anger replacing the shock. "Ask me how many times I've been knocked out only to wake up in an unfamiliar room in pain." You watched as guilt filled his eyes, and Jin looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said, offering you a hand to help you stand. "I didn't mean to scare you." You ignored his hand, still beyond upset at him, and pushed yourself up on your own despite the pain.

"Scare?" Jimin snickered. "Hyung, I'm pretty sure you flat-out triggered her." He turned back to you, features softening. "You okay?"

"Peachy." Your voice was hard. You turned on your heel and finished going up the last few steps, brushing past Yoongi, hand firm over your wound. You squinted against the light coming in through the windows now that you were out of the darkness of the basement, and headed towards the kitchen.

Taehyung was munching away on some kind of takeout at the table, flipping through a magazine. He looked up as you walked in and offered you a smile around his food. The others were right behind you, always following, never giving you space to breathe. You tried your best to ignore them as you went to the fridge.

"I cooked up some kimchi fried rice last night," Yoongi said. "There should be leftovers."

"As long as Kookie didn't get to it first," Tae interjected.

You searched around for the said fried rice. "Looks like he did." You closed the door and leaned onto the island, hiding the grimace of pain. "How long was I out?" You glanced at the clock on the microwave and saw it read half past three in the afternoon.

Jin sat down across from where you were standing. "A whole day," he said. "I wasn't expecting you to be out that long. I didn't use that much on you, you should've only been out for a few hours." He pulled out a cotton ball and some bandage wrap out of his pocket. It was only then you noticed you were still bleeding from where you pulled the IV out.

"Yeah, I respond really badly to drugs like that, both physically and mentally." You glared at the elder, but still offered your arm to him so he could wrap it. "Maybe ask next time." Jin rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't respond to you. "Where is everyone? Usually you're all watching me."

"Jungkook's at his gym," Jimin answered, "and Hoseok-hyung and Namjoon-hyung are checking on a lead or something?"

"Jin and I stayed here to watch over you," Yoongi added. He started digging through the fridge, probably looking for something you could eat. You were hungry after having been unconscious for a whole day. "It was quite the push to get Namjoon out of the house while you were out."

"Is Coffee Girl okay?" you asked Jin. You needed to know that everything you'd just gone through wasn't for nothing.

Jin sighed, "She's still a little shaken, but yeah, she'll be fine." He looked at you, softer than he had since you'd woken up. "Thank you for saving her. I don't know what I would've done if…"

"Did you tell her the truth?" You pressed. If Jin didn't, you were going to. She deserved to know, especially after this

Jin nodded, "She said she needed some time to process things, but I promised that we would keep her safe and protected no matter what she decided." You finally relaxed a bit at that. Looked like there would be another girl kept safe by the Y/N Initiative. The name was pretty ridiculous, in your opinion, but at least they got things done.

"Should I dye my hair?"

Jimin's voice broke the solemn atmosphere that had settled. You rolled your eyes at his antics.

"What's wrong with the blond?" Tae asked, turning another page.

"I just wanna change it up, you know? I've been blond for a while, maybe it's time to try something else."

"You sure you're not trying to impress a certain someone?"

"Tae, I will throw you off the roof."

"A fall from that height won't kill him," Yoongi interjected, cutting up various vegetables on the counter.

"Anyway," Jin stood, "I have to get to the hospital. Yoongi offered to stay in today to make sure that you're okay, since he seems to be your favorite now."

"I was always her favorite." You hit his shoulder at the comment. You didn't have favorites. Well, you did back then, and it was pretty obvious which one it was (and it wasn't Yoongi).

"See you later hyung!" Tae called as Jin walked out. You turned to Yoongi, still working at making food for you. You weren't sure exactly what he was making, but you knew it was going to be good.

"Can I have the keys to the car we drove in the other day?" you asked, causing Yoongi to raise an eyebrow. You couldn't drive, so why were you asking for car keys? "I wanna see if my phone fell out of my pocket after I got shot. I need to call Jackson."

"Oh, the phone," Yoongi said. "Um, about that? It's gone."

You pulled on Yoongi's shoulder until he was facing you. "What do you mean, ‘it's gone’?"

"I checked the car after Jin started working on you, trying to find it for you. It wasn't there, so Hoseok and Jungkook drove back to Beanie's to see if it fell out anywhere there. Jungkook retraced the alleyways and Hoseok checked all the cameras, but they couldn't find anything. So your phone's gone."

You were sure your panic was only quelled by the fact that you had Jackson's phone number memorized.

"So," Yoongi continued, turning back to the cooking, "Namjoon had Hoseok get a replacement for you." He reached into his back pocket, where his phone usually was, and pulled a device out. "It's got all the encryptions and safeties that we use, plus all of our numbers in it, just in case."

You carefully took the smart phone from him. It was a little heavier than what you were used to, and bigger, and thinner. The screen was the whole side of the phone, and the only buttons were on the side. You'd seen a smart phone before—Jackson had one, along with some of the other people you worked with in Busan—but you had never used one. Jackson had only given you the flip phone.

"Jungkook also downloaded some games he thought you might like, but if you don't, or you want different ones, he can help you out with that." Yoongi only rambled when he was being affectionate but didn't know how to express it. It gave you a small feeling of fondness, something that hadn't changed after so many years.

You simply nodded, not sure how else to respond. "Thanks." You turned the phone around in your hand once more before putting it into your back pocket. Looking down, you noticed you were still in the same clothes from yesterday, and your shirt was covered in dried blood. "Hey, can I change somewhere?"

"You can change in here if you want?" Jimin suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Tae smacked him with his magazine before you could throw the nearest object at him.

"We moved your stuff into the guest room," Yoongi told you. "There's a bed in there, but also one of the more comfortable couches we own. You can use that room for as long as you want." The 'to stay here' was implied, but you were grateful he left it implied. "Will one of you show her?"

"I will," Taehyung said as he stood up. He left the magazine open on the table, and made a follow me gesture.

"I'll bring your food up once it's done," Yoongi called as you followed Taehyung, which meant that the footsteps behind you belonged to your current least favorite member of this gang. You chose to ignore him; he wasn't really doing anything to warrant any response anyway.

Jin came out of a room from somewhere else (you really needed to memorize the layout of this place) dressed in hospital scrubs, checking his watch and carrying a briefcase. He only glanced up at you for a moment as he power-walked past. "Yoongi has the pain meds you can take and knows when to give them to you. Please don't be like Jungkook and try to power through. Life is more comfortable with medication. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Bye hyung!" Jimin and Taehyung said in sync, before returning to the semi-awkward silence.

Taehyung led you up the stairs to the second floor, then down the long corridor. The room you recognized as Namjoon's office had its door left wide open. You glanced in as you walked past it, only to see it currently void of life. You only got a quick glimpse of the wall, the one with the ancient picture hanging on it, before you were past it and it was out of your sight again.

You often broke into the offices and studies of businessmen, CEOs, gang bosses—always looking for information to use against them, to seal their fate. Breaking into Namjoon's office would probably be a walk in the park in comparison, but the only thing you want was to look at that picture again, to try and imagine the life you could've had, had you not gone to the fair that day.

The guest room was at the very end of the corridor. Taehyung opened the door and walked in, then turned to watch you. You looked around, taking everything in. It wasn't anything special, just another room in an estate, but it was at least four times larger than the basement hole you had been living in the past four months, and twice as big as the bedroom you lived in in your Busan apartment with Jackson.

There was a large bed in the center of the room, pushed up against the wall, with a nice-looking couch sitting underneath the windows. There was one open door that lead to a bathroom, and a closed one that was probably the closet. You had kind of forgotten what living in this kind of luxury was like. You almost felt nostalgic for the life you ran away from at sixteen.

"This is your room, for however long you want it to be," Taehyung said, breaking the silence and looking around the room. "I believe Jungkook put everything in the closet?" It sounded more like a question as he pointed to the closed door. "But you can do pretty much whatever you want in here."

"And we do mean, anything," Jimin added with that fucking suggestive tone layered in his voice that grated on your ears.

Just ignore him.

You headed towards the closet, pulling the door open and stopping at the sight of so many white dress shirts and dress slacks hanging up. "What, is this your storage closet?"

"Oh! Right, we call it the guest room, but it's actually Namjoon-hyung's room." Jimin explained. "He just never fucking uses it, so Jin-hyung decided to let you make use of it."

Namjoon's room. Great. You weren't going to think about that right now. Right now you wanted a change of clothes. The two duffle bags—one containing your meager belongings from the basement apartment and the other still containing nearly 8 billion won—were placed side by side on the floor, your red hat sitting on top of one. Against the wall was a small hamper that your dress from the ball and the clothes you had slept in afterwards. Jungkook must've done that too, and you tried not to think about that either. Then you noticed what was missing.

"Hey, wear's my jacket?" you asked as you pulled the clothing duffle from the closet and placed it on the bed, beginning to go through it for something comfy to change into.

"Gone." Was the only answer Taehyung gave you. You froze.

"What?"

"It was years out of season, covered in blood, and had been patched up way too many time," he explained with a tone of disdain that made what blood was left in you boil. "I can get you a much better jacket, one that'll actually look good and keep you warm."

You took a deep breath, once again trying to quell the rising panic. "Taehyung. Where is my jacket."

You could sense his confusion, even though neither of you looked at the other. "It's gone. I threw it away. It's just a jacket, I'll get you a new one."

You had had that specific jacket for 8 years. You had washed it, patched it, survived in it. It was not just a jacket. Your voice resembled the same dark tone Jackson sometimes had when talking with you. "Kim Taehyung." You turned to look at him. "Look at me."

He hesitated at your words. Slowly, the man turned to comply. "Holy shit."

Murder, clear as day, was what he saw in your glare. The ice looking him directly in the eye was enough to easily surpass Namjoon's and Yoongi's—even Jin's. Jimin behind him glanced up from his phone and even jumped back in shock. "Goddamn Tae, did you throw her teddy bear away?"

"Get. It. Back." You told him. His hair bounced as he nodded and retreated.

"Yes ma'am. Absolutely. So sorry." He grabbed Jimin's hand as he turned and ran away. You exhaled, then went to close the door until it was just cracked. Surely they would knock before entering into your new room. You hoped so.

It wasn't just a jacket.

You shook your head, trying to clear it. Taehyung said he'd get your jacket back, and if he didn't, the promise of hell raining down on him should've been enough to make sure he did. In your solitude, you finally dropped the act of not being in pain. Your side was actually killing you, and you couldn't wait for Yoongi to bring you those meds. He probably would when he brought you food.

You sat on the edge of the bed, one hand clinging to your side and your free one digging through the clothes. Changing clothes was going to hurt, and you all knew it, but you were glad Yoongi let you make the decision yourself. Soon you came across another pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. That would work.

Changing hurt.

You felt better once you were in different—clean—clothes, and you walked the small distance to the couch. It was a bit colder here, probably because of its proximity to the windows. You made a mental note to ask Jungkook if he'd move the couch away from the wall for you.

You took as deep a breath as your injury would let you. It was time to make the call.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, favoring your injured side more than you would've liked. With a deep breath, you dialed Jackson's phone number. The call would be coming from an unknown number, so you weren't surprised when it was almost immediately rejected. It didn't deter you, you simply hit the redial button. This time hit rang long enough to go to voicemail naturally. You redialed the number one more time.

He picked up on the third ring. "How did you get this number?" Jackson's voice was deeper than it usually was when talking to you; he was probably trying to mask it, to make it more intimidating than normal. You silently inhaled again.

"The bird is in the cage."

There was a beat of silence, and you could practically feel the rage radiating off him through the receiver. "Oh, is she?"

"Jackson—"

"Because I'm currently in the cage, and what do you know, the cage seems to be birdless."

You squeezed your eyes shut in a meager attempt to block everything out. You knew it was going to be difficult finally calling and talking to him, and you knew he was going to be angry with you. You hated it when he was angry with you though, something about it made you feel small, insignificant. Unimportant.

"Where the hell have you been, huh?" He kept going. "I haven't heard from you in nearly three days—and who's number is this you're calling me on?"

"I lost my phone," you mumbled into the receiver. You were still beating yourself up for that.

"The fuck you mean, you lost your phone? What the hell happened, Y/N?"

You took another deep breath. "I got in a fight, and during the escape, I lost my phone." You paused. "And then I got shot."

Jackson didn't respond for a long time, so long you wondered if he hung up on you. "Y/N, where are you?" His voice was steady now, stable.

He was furious.

"I told you, I'm somewhere safe, bird is in the cage and all that." You couldn't tell him you were with Bangtan.

"No, somewhere safe would be back in this apartment where I can see you and watch after you myself. Where. Are. You."

"Somewhere safe." You weren't going to budge on this. Jackson could wear you down on a thousand other things, but not this. You weren't going to sell Namjoon out.

"Oh my fucking—fine, don't tell me. Why don't you tell me about this gunshot wound you have instead? What fucking fight did you get into?"

You let out a small breath of relief. This you were more comfortable talking about. "Yeah, okay, so, Song lied to me about this job, and I went to meet with Wang yesterday about it and confront him, and then he tried taking me. So I fought back and saved another girl along the way, and in the escape I got shot."

"Wait, slow down—what do you mean, Song lied to you about the job?" Jackson asked, nearly interrupting you. "This is why I clear all jobs before you go through with them."

"You wouldn't have let me go!"

"Yeah, no shit! You belong here in Busan with me, not galivanting through the streets of Seoul getting shot!"

"There's more," you ignored him, trying to keep yourself calm. "Song knows who I am—who I really am."

The pause Jackson had this time was less anger and more concern, finally. "How the fuck—"

"I don't know, but he knows who I am and he knew the alias I was going by and he knew where I was in Busan and he knew enough about what I've been through to sell me the job." You started talking faster to keep Jackson from cutting you off. "Song didn't send Wang down to hire Lee Anna to hunt down and kill a rival gang doing unspeakable things to women. He sent him to find L/N Y/N and get me back to Seoul, and I think it has something to do with—"

"Okay, now you're thinking too much," Jackson's voice sliced through your small speech, that same phrase he always used with you. It shut you up quickly, just as it always did. "You don't actually know any of this, and if it is this serious then you need to get back down here. I don't want anything else to happen to you."

A small warmth went through you at his words. His tone of voice hadn't changed at all, he was still being pretty harsh, but ultimately it was because he cared about you. You started to feel guilty about having ghosted him for the past few days, about not answering his calls sooner.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you back sooner," you said, voice quiet. "I just—a lot of things happened all at once, and I needed time to process everything."

Jackson sighed, and it sounded like he was finally calming down a bit. "You know you don't make the best choices when I'm not around, and this was just another example of that. You need to come back to Busan so we can sort everything out. If Song knows who you are, then you aren't safe anywhere in Seoul."

You bit your lip. Maybe he was right, maybe you should go back, but... "Jackson, I don't know if going back will be any safer either. They found me there once, didn't they? As Lee Anna."

"Once you're in my sight again, I can figure out what to do next. No matter what, you're safest when you're with me, you know that."

Going back to Busan had always been in the back of your mind, an endlessly nagging thought tossing and turning, never truly allowing you to relax. You knew you were safe with Jackson, and Jackson was in Busan. But, that was before you met Namjoon again, before the better parts of your past had come face to face with you. Even after all this time, you knew you would be safe with them, too.

And, despite everything, you weren't quite ready to leave them yet.

"Jackson." You took a shaky breath in. "I think I need to stay in Seoul for now." You paused, knowing he would try to say something, but to your shock, he was silent. You swallowed and continued, your heart rate picking up. "This is big. Song has one of the largest gangs in the North, and if he knows my real identity and my fake one, then he might have answers that I need. And I don't want to leave before I can get them."

"Y/N." He was angry again, even though his tone matched yours: quiet and determined. You had hoped the calm would last longer, but you used words that you knew Jackson didn't like, words like think and want. Of course he was bound to explode on you again. "You just got shot a day or two ago, right? You're probably in a lot of pain, or you're high on pain meds. Either way, you're thinking too much, when you can't even think straight right now. Listen to me: I will take care of everything. You need to come back."

You're thinking too much. Those words echoed around your mind the way you hated. Constant, overlapping, sometimes whispered, sometimes yelled, always in Jackson's voice. Maybe you were thinking about all this too much. Jackson could take care of it. That's why he was your handler. He took care of all the details, simply told you where to go and who to kill. Your life was easier when you listened to him.

"Just come back, Y/N," Jackson said. His voice was finally filled with the care and concern you were looking for. "I won't be mad at you, I'll let all of this go, just come back home to me."

You squeezed your eyes shut. You should just go back to him. Busan wasn't terrible, it wasn't really that different from Seoul. And you were injured, so Jackson would go easier on the jobs he took for you until you were healed. And you could finally return to him the (almost) 8 billion won—the whole reason you even took this job. Everything would go back to normal.

You should just go back.

There was a soft knock just outside the door. "Jagiya." Your eyes snapped open and you turned. Through the crack you could see Yoongi looking at you. Did he just get there, or had he been listening in? You supposed the answer didn't really matter. You met his eyes, and saw something in them that stopped your whirlwind of thought.

They would let you go, if it's truly what you wanted. Some of them would try to stop you, but would ultimately let you make your choice. And others, like Yoongi, wouldn't question it. If it was what you wanted.

But it wasn't. It wasn't what you wanted. You didn't want to leave Seoul. You had fought for years to get back here. Busan wasn't home. And maybe Seoul wasn't home either, but it was closer. Busan was just as dangerous as Seoul was for you, maybe even more so. Seoul at least had people you knew were allies, who would help you and keep you safe. Seoul had the answers you were looking for and the secrets you needed to uncover.

Jackson wanted you back in Busan, back with him. You wanted to stay in Seoul, to stay with them.

You looked away from Yoongi. "No."

A pause.

"What?"

Another.

"No, Jackson." Your free hand shook from nerves, and you pressed it up against your side in an attempt to keep it still. This was always the part when you broke down and gave into him. It had been years since you stood up to him like this, since you doubled down on yourself instead of giving into him. "I—I'm not going back. Not yet."

"Excuse me?"

"Once I get this solved, as soon as I have my answers, I'll go back to Busan. But not right now."

You glanced over at Yoongi again. You could see his smirk through the crack. He didn't realize just how much he was doing for you in this moment, and you hoped he wouldn't leave you alone quite yet.

Jackson still hadn't said anything. The silence dragged on until you couldn't handle it anymore. "Please, Jackson, just trust me, just this once. I can do this, please."

He let out a breath. "So this is it?" His voice was hard again, unfeeling, with that edge of something that always scared you. "This is what you wanna do?"

"Jackson—"

"Okay." His agreement shocked you. You thought for sure you'd have to fight for longer before he eventually gave in—if he ever gave in. "You wanna do this on your own? Wanna be independent? Fine." You released a breath too soon. "But you don't get to come crying to me the next time you have a nightmare."

The line disconnected. It took you a moment to realize he had hung up on you. You were so caught off guard by his words, still trying to process them. You slowly pulled the phone away from your head, looking down at the call time blinking up at you.

You heard the door creak open. "Is it safe to come in?" Yoongi asked from outside the room. You didn't respond, still too caught up in Jackson's… tantrum? He stormed off every now and again when you didn't listen to him. This must've been a version of that. You hit the redial button. It went straight to voicemail.

Call rejected.

You tried again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. He would have to answer you eventually, right? He wasn't petty enough to ignore you for three days like you did him.

Again. Voicemail.

"Y/N?"

Maybe a text would work. You quickly typed up a simple I'm sorry message, something that should get his attention, that should get a response. You hit send and watched as a message came back immediately:

Service Error 409: You have been blocked by the intended recipient of your message.

Your eyes went wide. He blocked you. Jackson blocked you. What kind of tantrum was this? How were you supposed to contact him now? You needed to be able to call him with updates and ask him questions and—

Talk to him when you had nightmares.

You don't get to come crying to me the next time you have a nightmare.

He did the one thing you never thought he would. Jackson cut you off from him. That was Jackson's punishment for you standing up to him, for staying in Seoul.

For not choosing him.

But… but he couldn't do that to you. Jackson himself threw a fit whenever you two were separated for too long, and he knew how badly you needed him when things started getting bad for you again.

You needed Jackson. He was the only one who could make it all stop, when your mind betrayed you and things became too much. Being this far away, you settled for phone calls but that only helped so much. You weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to last without him. And he knew that.

He knew you needed him. He couldn't leave you alone like this, not when you both knew you needed him.

"Y/N! Breathe!"

Yoongi's voice broke through your building hysteria. He was standing in front of you now, a steaming plate of food in one hand and a glass of water in the other. You looked up at him and took a deep breath in, wincing at the pull in your side. You took a few more, ignoring the pain, as Yoongi watched.

"Everything okay?" he finally asked, sitting down next to you on the couch. You didn't look at him, your gaze still locked straight ahead. "That didn't sound like a great phone call."

You let out another strained breath before answering. "It wasn't, but things will be fine." You weren't sure if you were trying to convince Yoongi or yourself. "Jackson is… he just… he cares about me a lot and so he says a lot of stupid shit when he gets upset. It's nothing. He doesn't mean it."

He doesn't mean it. He'll get over this soon, he has to. Eventually his overprotective need will outweigh his anger at you and then he'll unblock you and call you back and everything will be okay.

"Sounds like a real outstanding guy," Yoongi grumbled, making a mental note to relay this information back to the guys. He moved the plate of food closer to you. "Here, get some food in you, then you can take your first round of pain meds."

"I'm not hungry," you lied out of habit. Jackson didn't like it when you ate too much, and you needed to be good right now. If you were good during his punishments then he would come back to you sooner.

And you needed him back as soon as you could get him back.

Maybe you should just go back.

"Bullshit." Yoongi put the plate on your lap. "You haven't eaten in over 24 hours and you have to take the medication with food. You're eating something if I have to force-feed you."

Jackson didn't like it when you hurt yourself either. Maybe a few bites wouldn't hurt, just enough to take the medication. You nodded, not trusting your voice, and picked up the fork to take a bite. Flavor exploded on your tongue, and you realized just how hungry you truly were. Within a few minutes, the plate was empty.

Yoongi took the dish from you and handed you the glass of water, then reached into his pocket for a bright orange bottle, transparent enough for you to see all the white pills inside. He handed the bottle to you. "Jin said you can have up to two pills every four hours. In between that, you can do whatever you want. Play games, watch movies, read books. Just ask."

You nodded then watched as Yoongi left you alone, closing the door but leaving it open just a crack, the way it was before he came in. You balanced the glass between your legs as you opened the bottle and shook out the two allotted pills into your palm. You stared at the rest of the pills, tempted to take more, but decided against it for the time being.

You needed to be good. Jackson would come back sooner if you were good. You capped the bottle and tossed it onto the bed, then popped the pain meds into your mouth and downed the glass of water. You put the glass on the window sill behind you, then laid down on the couch.

You usually weren't allowed to do those things Yoongi suggested. You usually trained, or worked with Jackson on the next job he had accepted for you. Neither of those were options right now, however, with your fresh wound needing to heal. So you decided to lay still on the couch, to keep the stress on your side down, and be good.

If you were good, Jackson would come back to you sooner.

Soon you felt the emotional exhaustion come crashing down on you, and you let your eyes flutter close. A small nap would do you good, and you hoped it would be dream- and nightmare-free. It was always a toss-up with naps. At least with your subconscious, you would know whatever your brain would throw at you would be temporary. If you stayed awake, your spiral downward would go on until someone stopped it for you.

Jackson stopped it for you. He was the only one who could. You needed him.

Maybe you should just go back.

sooooo how we all feeling about jackson?? thank you again for reading!! please comment and reblog and let me know what you think. hopefully the next chapter will be up soon!! and a super special thank you to my taglist peeps, lemme know if you want to be added to list and subsequently become a Cool Kid™️ (if you arent listed below, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you, idk why but i'm sorry) @illnevertrustmyselfagain @misschino @dany-but-not-targaryen @nyx-goddess-of-choas @fangirl125reader @clowdyblue @tutnotmytea @scentedsope @hope122598 @veronawrites @myooniverse @jiminrings @mirahuyooo @elyte @hyungieyoongi @singukieee @hello-neema @thebadassmotherofmyshotas @kawaii-bear @notsooperfect @mintyoonjisworld @glams00 @thisisnotangel @fangirl-and-stuff @dprssdgal @irony-of-living @hobateas @remmykinsff @gukieater @lovra974 @whatsakilo @yoursoontobestepmom @juju-227592 @xyahrinx @belladaises @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lookhere-2seok @imnotokayfuckup @rjsmochii @mintsugarmy @smol-grandpa @maximofftrash @diamonddia-mond @soliloquyboopboop @stellauniverse @main-koi-aisa-geet-gaun @aclp-jb1d @snoozeagustd

#bts #bts mafia #bts mafia au #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts writing #bts angst #jackson x reader #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #edge of tonight #part thirteen #thebtswritersclub

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