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imagine-loki · 3 years

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Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 4

TITLE: Tear You To Pieces CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was sent to make up for his deeds by helping out The Avengers at the tower. Everyone thinks he’s changed, but he is just biding his time. He manipulates and uses someone who works there, who has a crush on him, to get exactly what he wants. RATING: M

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: DARK LOKI, RAPE/NON-CON, MANIPULATION, MURDER, VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, KIDNAPPING

The day that Kelly had been waiting for finally arrived just over a week later. She was finally recovered enough from the attack, aside from still a few bruises and superficial cuts.

Stark felt bad for not leaving protection with her on the jet. She kept telling him it was ok. Loki kept telling him he told him so and he was foolish for putting her in danger. Which wasn’t doing Loki any favours in getting in the Avengers good books.

Kelly so wanted to tell Maria that she had a date. But she needed to keep quiet, not wanting to upset Loki. He had asked her not to tell anyone, so she wasn’t going to break her promise to him.

So she got ready on her own, after making an excuse to the others that she was feeling a bit iffy so wanted an early night. Once she was dressed and had her hair and make-up sorted, she sneaked out of her room and made her way down to the back entrance to meet Loki.

He was already there waiting for her. Her heart beat quickened when she saw him. He was so handsome, wearing a suit, black trousers and jacket with a white shirt and a black tie. It wasn’t often he wore mortal clothes but when he did, it was always with such style.

Loki’s smile grew larger as he looked Kelly up and down. She was deliberately wearing a green dress underneath her leather jacket. Her pulse quickened at the look in Loki’s eyes as she approached him.

‘Why, you look absolutely ravishing, my dear.’ Loki purred and picked up her hand to kiss the back of it politely, making her blush.

‘Thank you. You look really handsome.’ She said shyly.

‘Thank you, pet. Had to look my best for you.’ He winked at her, then he offered her his arm and she accepted, slipping her hand around his arm he led her out of the building to an awaiting taxi.

On the drive to the restaurant Loki had picked, casual chat had Kelly at much more ease and she actually forgot she was on a date with the God of lies and mischief, an ex-villain. She felt so relaxed and comfortable around him.

Loki hopped out of the taxi first and rushed round the car to open her door for her when they arrived. He helped her out too, then slipped his arm around her and they headed inside. He’d booked a nice table by the window at the back, looking out to a nice garden.

‘This is so lovely. Thank you, Loki.’ Kelly smiled as she sat down, Loki of course tucked her chair in for her after helping her with her jacket.

‘I only wish I had asked you out sooner.’ Loki said sheepishly.

They got some wine over to the table, then ordered their food. Kelly just hoped she would actually be able to eat something, she felt so nervous and excited, her stomach was all over the place. But the wine did help to settle her a bit.

‘I must ask, are you wearing my colours on purpose or is it a happy coincidence?’ Loki asked, smirking.

Kelly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Uhm… I… on purpose.’ She said shyly, downing a big gulp of wine.

Loki chuckled. ‘Well, I am honoured.’

Loki asked about Kelly’s life, about her upbringing. He shared a little of himself too, about growing up on Asgard with Thor. She was glad he was opening up to her.

‘Did you tell anyone about our date?’ Loki asked in the middle of their meal.

‘No, I didn’t. I wanted to tell Maria, but I kept quiet.’ Kelly said honestly.

Loki nodded and looked at her warmly. ‘Good girl. It’s for the best.’

Kelly’s face went bright red as she suddenly became very flustered. She quickly reached for her wine and took a few sips to try and hide her face. Loki was a little confused at first, but then it clicked.

Good girl… She had a praise kink? He was sure of it.

Grinning slightly while he kept on eating, not wanting to make a big deal of it and spook her, he noted that information away in his mind. That could come in very handy indeed.

Luckily for Kelly, he changed the subject swiftly. Saving her from further embarrassment.

‘Have you had many boyfriends?’ Loki asked. She was a lovely woman, for a mortal. He was surprised she didn’t have a boyfriend currently.

‘I’ve dated a few people over the years, but nothing ever became… official.’ She shrugged after wiping her mouth with her napkin. She had managed to eat more than she thought she would, luckily.

‘I’m surprised no one has snatched you up yet. You’re a wonderful woman, Kelly.’ Loki said, making her smile giddily.

‘I just… I get attached quite easily. I uhm, I learned my lesson from the first guy I dated four years ago. He hurt me pretty bad, so I am trying not to fall so hard so quickly. It’s made me a little more guarded.’

Loki nodded in understanding. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, darling. Love and trust are such fragile things, not something to be taken for granted. I know it has to be earned. Hopefully, I can prove that I might be worthy of at least your time, perhaps more.’

Kelly’s heart melted completely at his words.

He was such a sweet talker. His silver tongue one of his best abilities and one he was always very much thankful for. One that couldn’t be taken away from him.

They didn’t leave straight after finishing their meal. They had a few more glasses of wine first, Kelly was happily tipsy. Loki barely even felt tipsy, mortal alcohol didn’t affect him in the same way. He would need to drink a few bottles of wine before even feeling slightly tipsy.

After the meal when they were ready to leave, there was a car waiting outside to take them home. Loki opened the door for Kelly and helped her in, then he sat in the middle seat so he could be right next to her, their thighs pressed together, making her blush.

Loki turned more towards her on the drive home and he stroked her cheek softly with the back of his hand. ‘You are so beautiful.’ He hummed.

Kelly smiled shyly as he slid his hand down and gently held her chin.

He licked his lips a little as he leaned in, but he paused a moment and looked deep into her eyes. ‘May I kiss you, darling?’ He asked so sweetly.

Kelly felt her heart swelling that he was so sweetly asking permission just to kiss her.

‘Of course! I mean, yes… yes.’ She blushed hard, trying not to seem too over eager. But Loki didn’t seem to mind as he grinned and closed the distance to plant his lips upon hers, his hand slid round to the back of her head to hold her closely. Not that she would want to move away from him, anyway.

She felt like time had stopped as he kissed her gently, his lips were so soft and cool against her. He moved them slowly, moulding with hers. Her entire world was turned upside down, she had dreamed of kissing him for so long now, she never thought it would actually happen. But now it was, it was even better than she had imagined.

Kelly could only hope it was the start of many.

Later that night, Loki decided to pay her another visit in the middle of the night.

She was sound asleep when he manifested in her room. He was silent as he slowly walked towards her sleeping form in bed. It was quite warm so she had the blanket thrown off her, wearing nothing but a night gown and knickers.

He smirked as he reached the side of her bed. He leaned over her and pressed his palm to her forehead, seeping into her dreams. It was easy, considering Loki was already someone she dreamt and thought about a lot. He wasn’t surprised to find some rather naughty dreams and fantasies about him in her mind.

Using that to his advantage, he manipulated her mind. Making sure she would remain asleep, but also so he could have some form of control over her dreams.

She parted her lips and whispered out his name. That’s when he moved his hand down underneath her night gown and he stroked softly over her abdomen before moving downwards into her knickers. She squirmed a little in her sleep, whimpering softly when his large hand just cupped her at first.

Loki kept his movements steady and careful. He knew his powers weren’t as strong as they should be, so he didn’t want to make a mistake.

Going slow, he slid his fingers through her folds and had to bite back a growl when he discovered she was already getting aroused. Using that to his advantage, he trailed some wetness up over her clit and rubbed it in circles. She started moaning more in her sleep, calling out his name again too.

This is far too easy. Loki thought with a wicked grin as he used his thumb on her clit and began inserting a single finger into her. But he was met with quite a bit of resistance at first, until he managed to ease his way into her with more stimulation on her clit.

‘How interesting.’ He whispered, his cock hardening in his trousers at the realisation she was still a virgin. She was so impossibly tight, even around his slender finger.

She squirmed a little, frowning. ‘No, please… feels weird.’ She whined.

Loki rubbed her clit firmer, while wiggling his finger inside her. Whilst it felt weird for her, he could feel her clamping around his digit in arousal. But her movements were becoming a bit more insistent.

Then her eyes suddenly flew open, but Loki had been able to vanish just a mere second before that. He cursed himself for not being able to hold his powers better, he really needed to get them back properly.

Kelly was breathing hard and a bit sweaty as she turned her light on. She had been so sure that someone, Loki, had actually been there and was touching her. But there was no sign of him at all. And her door was locked, so she knew it couldn’t have been him.

‘That was some vivid dream.’ She muttered to herself and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand.

Even though she felt aroused and uncomfortable between her thighs, she kept telling herself she had just dreamt it. Though it took her heart a while to stop racing.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #tear you to pieces #chapter 4 #fanficshiddles

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suwya · 3 years

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Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 4

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

AO3

A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta I could ever ask for . And thank to all of you who are reading this.

Chapter 4 . .

But I, being poor,

have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams

under your feet;

tread softly because

you tread on my dreams.

(W. B. Yeats)

Days passed quietly. Emma and Henry went back to their usual mother-son relationship sooner than Killian had expected and he enjoyed all the domestic moments with them. Especially at night. Not that he didn’t care about the boy, Henry was always a ray of sunshine, and Killian felt he was starting to bond with him deeper than he could have ever imagined. But at night, after Henry had gone to sleep, Emma always spent some time in the main cabin, sitting next to Killian: sometimes just staring silently at the starry sky, other times listening to him explaining all the different constellations they passed through, even though Killian wasn’t sure whether she was interested in his knowledge, or she was too well-mannered to stop his blathering.

Emma Swan. This beautiful and somehow mysterious woman had invaded his life and had fascinated him since their very first meeting.

More exactly, she had tormented his nights and thoughts from that moment on. A bittersweet obsession that had accompanied him for years. He had almost convinced himself that he was over her, during his reckless years with his friend Robin. But that wasn't entirely true, and he couldn't lie to himself. She used to appear in his dreams when he least expected and left a hollowing feeling in his soul for the rest of the following days whenever it happened as if he wasn’t entirely complete without her.

The night he had found her again, thanks to Henry, his heart had skipped a beat and he had known he was in trouble. But it was a cross he was willing to bear. It was not only a physical attraction he felt towards her, even though he couldn’t fool himself, she was a very good-looking woman; but he was also determined to discover every single detail of what she was, no matter the effort. From that moment on, he cherished every minute, every second spent with her.

When they finally arrived at their destination, permission to land on the new planet was easily granted. Nevertheless, the day was coming to an end and they decided it was better to sleep inside the ship in the hangar than to find an available place to spend the night.

The next morning, from one of the lockers in the entrance of the spaceship, Killian retrieved the package that he needed to trade in exchange for the item he had to recover for his client.

It was still early and Killian was surprised to see Henry coming out of his cabin, still wearing pajamas. “Are you already going?” The boy asked him, trying to suppress a yawn.

“Aye, but I will be back soon.” He assured the lad.

Henry threw a glance at the closed door behind him and stepped closed to Killian. “Mom is still in the shower. May I ask you a favor?” He whispered, conspiratorial.

Killian made a great effort not to linger on the thought of a naked Emma under the shower jet, he breathed deeply and concentrated on the boy in front of him. “Sure, lad.”

“Today is my mom’s birthday.”

“Is it, now?” Killian was both surprised and amused by this piece of information.

“Yes. We have this tradition, my mom and I,” the boy explained. “When it's my birthday she tries to celebrate it with a cake... or something… It's not always a big thing, I remember once we just had a couple of biscuits with frozen spicy cream on them.” After a small pause, he added, “mom doesn't want to make me worry, but I can see she’s in some kind of trouble. I’d like to make a little celebration for her this time. But she won't let me wander around an unknown planet all by myself.”

Killian nodded in understatement. “You want me to purchase something sweet for your mother.”

“I know you have your job to do, but if it's not much of a problem, could you look for something?” He asked hopefully.

“Not a problem. At all.”

Henry's grin widened. “Of course mom doesn’t have to know anything about it. And we are going to need a name!”

“Come again?” Killian couldn’t follow the boy’s thoughts.

Henry extended a hand to shake with the man in front of him “Operation Candlelight is on!” He exclaimed.

Killian chuckled and retrieved his hand just in time to see Emma appearing from another door, fully dressed for the day.

She was wearing a pair of stretched dark blue jeans and a thin white v-neck blouse with a skinny light brown leather vest over it. Her hair was still damped and Killian had to swallow a groan when his eyes followed a drop of water running down her cleavage.

“Oh, Henry, you’re already awake.” She said surprised.

“I was just saying to your boy…” Killian came in help to a puzzled Henry, who wasn’t so quick in thinking of a good excuse why he was already out of bed. “I've heard there's a fair in town.”

He turned to Henry “Maybe you and your mother could have a look while I’m attending my duties.” And then back to Emma “What do you say, Swan?”

The boy looked hesitantly at his mother.

"I think it's a good idea," she agreed and was rewarded by a big grin on Henry's face.

~·~·~·~

. The trade went smoothly as predicted, which gave Killian enough time to deal with the assignment that Henry had sent him on.

Finding something sweet to celebrate was more difficult than expected, it took him a few rounds through narrow streets and alleys and after asking a few passers-by for information, he finally found something that in his opinion could serve as dessert. But the hardest part was to discern the right thing to buy as Emma's present. Henry hadn’t mentioned anything about a gift, but Killian thought it could be the right excuse to surprise her.

The problem was that he had no clue what she would like.

Killian tried to think about the time the two of them had spent together. All right, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to linger on the memories of their first encounter. And maybe it wasn’t good either to think about their second one. But since Henry entered his life things had changed. When the boy was in the same room with them, she seemed more relaxed, more condescending, less closed up inside her inner barriers. Killian would say she even seemed happier.

And the moments shared at night in his cabin had been... well, some had been carefree and others had been intense, very intense. In the short amount of days they’d spent together, Killian had already revealed to Emma too much information about his past, something he had never done before with anyone, not even his best friend Robin. And that was alarming. He knew he had a soft spot for her, but to which extent?

Bloody Hell, man, you’re so screwed-up! He said to himself. That Lady Swan is going to be the death of you. Killian sighed and passed a hand through his hair as if that simple gesture could be enough to clear up his mind. Swan. He thought and realized that he never asked her why she chose exactly this surname while changing her identity. He assumed that it had to mean something of significance to her. And there it was: the perfect idea for a gift.

When he went back on his spaceship it was already late evening and he found his guests sitting at the table in the entrance playing hologram chess.

“Who's winning?” He asked, securing the locks of the main gate.

“Henry is a much better player than I am,” Emma admitted.

Killian took a seat next to her and whispered something in her ear. After that Emma studied the board. “Oh. That's an interesting move,” she exclaimed carrying out what Killian had just suggested.

“It's not fair. That's cheating.” Henry complained.

“Come on, lad, your mother is at an evident disadvantage. Let me give her some advice.” But when Henry made an unsure face, “just this time?” Killian added winking at the boy.

“Ok...but only this once.” Henry surrendered.

Emma looked at them perplexed, sensing that something was brewing between them, but didn't ask for further explanations.

Dinner passed by telling how their days had gone. It was clear that Henry had enjoyed the fair quite a lot, especially some storytelling he’d had the opportunity to attend. “Have you ever been to the NTH-Confederates planets, Killian?”

The NTH-Confederates planets belonged to a very far galaxy and they were shrouded in layers of fabulous legends. Killian had always had problems discerning the truth from the myth, but he knew the large hand of The Industry had touched them somehow, and they had succumbed to it, dark times awaited those planets. “I've heard about them but never had the luck to land over there. From what I know, it's a very different place now than what it was in its glorious days.”

“This man, he told us of so many fantastic creatures he saw!”

“I wouldn't believe every word the storyteller said, kid. They are just stories.” Emma tried to rationalize.

“Yeah. I suppose. But it would be cool if a place like that actually existed.”

“One can always dream about marvelous lands and wish they exist, right? Talking about dreams and wishes…” but Killian didn’t finish his sentence, he stood up from the table and went to rummage in some of the kitchenette lockers. When he turned to face his guests, he was holding a sort of a brown whole cupcake with colorful cream and a single lighted candle on top. He deposited it in front of an astonished Emma with a grin on his face, and he sat down again on his chair. “Sorry, it was the only sweet food I’ve found on this planet.” He said apologetically.

“Killian...?” Emma started to say, but Henry was faster: “It's perfect!” The boy was wearing a matching grin to the man in front of her.

“How...? What does it mean?” Was the only thing she was able to put into words.

“Well, some fleeting rumor told me that today is some sort of anniversary. Correct me if I’m wrong.” Killian explained. Before she could answer him, he lifted a hand to stop her. “Before blowing out the candle, don't forget to make a wish!”

She looked up at her son, then at Killian for a brief moment, then she closed her eyes. When she opened them again there was resolution and something Killian identified as hope in them. She blew out and the candle went off.

Cheers and applause rang out. Henry was glowing, hugging his mother fiercely, while Killian smacked his forehead, as if he was suddenly remembering something, and then he retrieved a little package from one of his pockets. He offered it to a puzzled Emma.

She extricated herself from her son's arms and took the wrapped item Killian was giving to her. “What is this?” She asked cautiously.

“Customarily, a surprise is part of the fun of gift-giving.” He answered smiling. “Open it.” He urged her.

Opening the paper wrapping Emma found a small dark swan pendant made of polished meteorite rock. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered with shiny eyes, close to tears.

~·~·~·~

Later that night, Killian was resting on his hammock with his arms behind his head. The door opened and closed and Emma entered his cabin as she had always done the last few nights while they were flying. But tonight was a bit different. He wasn't sitting at the controls, but already lying on his bed.

She approached him with a serious look.

“Everything alright, Swan?” He asked as she stepped closer biting her lower lip.

She seemed to consider the situation for a few seconds before climbing into the hammock and lying next to him: her head on his chest and an arm resting across his torso. “Thank you.” She spoke so quietly that Killian wasn’t even sure he had heard correctly.

He didn’t know how to react, he felt paralyzed. But when it seemed she was feeling comfortable with the proximity, he put his left arm around her back and released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

They spent a few moments like that, neither of them wanted to break the spell of silence. Killian’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Of all the questions he would have liked to make her, to help him solve the puzzle this incredible woman represented, one came out of his mouth without really thinking about it “What happened the day we met? I mean after I left.”

She kept quiet for a few minutes, and he began to believe that she was in no mood to speak, but then she started with a soft voice almost audible: “Just after you left the room, that man, Neal Cassidy, he entered declaring that it was his right to… you know. He just wanted the reward money. I haven’t heard from him since. He’s probably not interested in his son at all. He just used me for his benefits.”

Killian clenched his jaw; if he had that Cassidy guy in front of him right now he would have punched him in the face. “Did he hurt you?” He asked, trying to control his rage.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly an expert in that matter, given that I was raised in strict privacy and all.” She sighed. “I knew I had to relax, but my mind wasn’t on the same path as my good intentions. So I’m not sure it was entirely his fault.”

“Son of a bitch.” Killian couldn't repress a curse.

“If it makes you feel any better, that wasn’t even the worst day of my life.” She stated. “The night you found me on the shore… I was so furious with you. I went back to the Palace to talk with my lawyers, to see if I could banish you from the planet, or put you in jail, or something like that. But it was late and I didn’t find anyone in their office. What I did find were some papers about me, ready to be signed. You were right. The King and Queen of New-Tolemac wanted full authority on my child, they weren’t interested in me or my future.”

“I should apologize for the horrible things I said to you that night.”

“Don’t. At least you were the only one who never lied to me.” Her gaze seemed lost in the memory of those days. “I also found a document, an old one. I discovered I was adopted, or rather, I was sold. My real parents gave me away when I was only a few days old. They probably needed some money and they used me, as so many others did.”

After a small pause, she added: “Henry is the only person in my life that cares about me for who I am.”

“I never intended to use you.” Killian assured, but he soon corrected himself: “All right, maybe I did. But that was before meeting you.”

She seemed to ponder her next words. “I know. This is why I told your name to my son when he first asked me about his father.”

“If there's anything I can do for you…” She had told him the night Henry entered his life.

But Killian dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “No problem.”

“Thank you for bringing him home.” Her tone was genuinely thankful.

“It was the right thing to do.” And when she didn't reply he felt it was the moment to say goodbye.

He started stepping back but suddenly stopped and turned around facing her again. “Uh... now that I think about it. There is a thing you could do for me.” He tilted his head arching an inquiring eyebrow. “I have one question,” he said, emphasizing his words lifting one of his fingers, “why does your boy believe that I'm his father?”

At those words, she lifted her gaze to look straight into his eyes. “I wanted Henry to believe his father was a good man.” Emma had answered, staring at him with sincerity before entering her house and closing the door behind her.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe - science fiction #space au #My writing

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sugasweetsubs · 3 years

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the world is cold and life’s not fair, baby [Yoongi x Reader] pt.3-2

3 | THAT’S THE TRUTH

Demon!Yoongi x Reader - Angst

Rated M (for violence, blood, strong language, mentions of death*)

*more warnings will apply in future chapters

Words: 8k

Pt.3.1 of 4 (previous | next)

Consciousness returns to Y/N like rain to a summer storm: slowly, then all at once. The first thing she notices is that she is in a bed. A large comforter of solid black covers her from feet to shoulders. The room is not cold, but still she feels chilled to her very bones, and the heavy weight of the blanket provides a welcome warmth.

Looking around, her eyes are immediately drawn to her left, where the entire wall is composed of a solid pane of glass. The last light of day has cast the room in a red-gold glow, and she wonders just how long she has been lying here in this bed that isn’t her own. Her head aches, and for a disorienting moment she struggles to remember why. Her thoughts are sluggish and her memories are jumbled. She remembers flashes of being grabbed from the street, being tied to a chair somewhere dark, a man with a mask--but the moments in between and after are lost to her.

It takes longer than she would like to admit to gather the strength to lift herself to a sitting position on the bed. She finds that she keeps sinking too far into the plush mattress and it’s a struggle to detangle herself from the comforter, but she eventually manages to swing her legs over the side of the bed. She realizes too late that the movement is too much, too soon for the fragile state of her head. The sensation of falling as her vision blurs is overwhelming and it is all she can do to breathe through it.

She focuses first on the floor, trying to find something to ground her vision. Her eyes eventually land on her shoes. They sit in front of a bedside table, lined up neatly and in much better condition that she remembers. The shoes become her anchor. She traces the lines of them over and over again with her eyes, until the world steadies and her head clears enough to attempt a more vertical position.

She wobbles a bit upon standing, but her legs hold and allow her to shuffle her way around to explore the room. There isn’t much to see. The room is plain, but tasteful in its arrangement; closer to a magazine spread or hotel room than any apartment she’s ever been in. Maybe it is a hotel, she thinks. The furniture, basic but sturdy and in line with modern tastes, looks like it would fit in at any five star hotel she’d ever been to. Not that there had been many. The door closest to the bed, which is massive and dominates most of the room, leads to a beautiful bathroom. The shower is a masterwork of glass and steel that looks like it costs more than Y/N makes in a year, but as tempting as it is to linger and admire the clean beauty of it all, she doesn’t take more than a cursory glance before moving on.

On her way to the only other door in the room, she hesitates. She has no idea what could be waiting for her on the other side. As hazy as her memories are, she is gripped with the feeling that she wasn’t safe the last time she was conscious. Had that changed? This barebones room seemed too luxurious to inspire the kind of fear that she can still sense at the edges of her senses, but maybe she just couldn’t remember what had happened here.

That last thought is what motivates her to turn back around and scan the room. There were no personal objects, no decorations that could be easily removed from the room or turned into a weapon if needed. Unless--

Y/N walks to the bedside table where a sleek black lamp sits. The lamp itself would be too awkward to use in any attempts at defending herself, but maybe…

She smiles when she sees that it’s possible to unscrew the metal rod connecting the base of the lamp to the shade and bulb. She makes quick work of it, and soon she is holding a foot-long metal stick. In the process of swinging it through the air to test its weight, she wants to laugh at herself. Some part of her hopes that her jumbled memories are the fading remnants of a nightmare, and soon she’ll remember that she’s staying at a hotel with her parents on some business trip. At any moment her mom could walk in and tease her relentlessly about dismantling hotel furniture.

But even the thought of her mom’s face sends a pang of hurt through her heart, and she knows the truth has to be far more sinister. It’s an oddly motivating thought in a messed up sort of way, and it serves to harden her resolve to get to the bottom of this so that she really will have a chance to take a trip with her parents once more. And when she finds her brother, she’ll drag him along too--never again would he get away with excuses to avoid family bonding, not after this ordeal.

The thought of her brother tugs at some foggy memory in her head and for a moment she is dragged back to another time. She is somewhere dark, and damp. Her head hurts and some man she doesn’t know is speaking. It’s just a flash, but she gasps at the words in her mind. That’s right, something happened. She was taken somewhere and beaten in an attempt to get at what she knows about Yoongi.

Not only that, but she had been told that her brother was already dead.

But, no. She shakes her head to help rid herself of the memory. Wishing it back into the hazy past. She doesn’t care what some kidnapping asshole had to say about it. She knows, knows with every part of her, that her brother is still alive.

That thought finally gives her the courage to walk through the last door--metal rod at the ready.

Carefully, she enters into a short hallway. It leads into a larger main room that is split between a kitchen and a living area. Making sure to keep her back to the wall, Y/N inches her way through the rest of the apartment. It isn’t until she has checked every corner and shadow, to confirm that she is the only one in the apartment, that she allows herself to take a full breath.

Much like the bedroom she had woken up in, the rest of the apartment lacks any sort of personal touches--leading her to believe this really is a hotel suite (calling it a simple room is too much of an understatement) or a sorely lacking residence. Her hopes are on it being part of a hotel, because hotels mean people, and people would mean help. She hopes.

It’s with that hope that she heads for the exit door. But those hopes are dashed just as quickly when the handle refuses to turn in her hand. It’s more than locked--both the door and handle refuse to move even a millimeter, and the locks are immovable like they are only for display. When minutes of increasingly frantic attempts have absolutely zero impact, she finally admits defeat and steps back. She releases a pent up sigh.Thinking that this can’t possibly be the only exit, she returns her attention to the rest of the space. There has to be something.

_________________

“Agh, there’s nothing!” The sound of her own voice carrying through the largely empty space sends a chill down Y/N’s back. After what felt like hours of searching and increasingly violent attempts at window breaking, door prying, and a hundred other tries--she has come to the conclusion that this must be a dream. No physical place could possibly be so impervious.

The only positive to come out of the whole ordeal is that she is now all too familiar with the layout of the apartment. Its signature floor-to-ceiling glass windows provide an absolutely stunning view of the skyline outside. And when she says skyline, she means skyline.

Her vantage point from the living room window, the largest in the apartment, puts her at near eye-level with even the tallest of towers, only a handful stretch higher. The effect is dizzying. On a regular day, she might spend hours admiring the sparkling beauty of a night-lit city. But now, it only evokes a bone-deep sense of unease. It’s as she’s staring out over the piercing towers and shining glass buildings that she has the startling realization that she’s not in Chicago anymore.

She may not have lived there long yet, but Y/N is very familiar with the skyline of her new home. And this is very much not it.

“Where the hell am I?” she whispers into the quiet of the room.

Her suddenly racing thoughts are interrupted by a sound from the front door. A pit forms low in her gut as she watches the deadbolt unlock as if it had never been stuck at all. She runs to the kitchen area, where her metal rod still sits on the counter. Grasping it tight, she only has time to duck behind the center island counter before the previously impossible-to-open door glides open with a quiet shik.

Holding her now labored breathing under vicious control, Y/N tries to trace the movements of whoever just entered by sound, not willing to risk peeking out of her cover. It’s hard to glean much past the roaring of her own blood in her ears, but she tracks the new arrival as they make their way around the main room. When the footsteps start to drift closer and then come to a stop just on the other side of where she is crouched, her breathing all but stops.

“You can come out, Y/N. It’s me.” The voice is an all too familiar one. She doesn’t know whether to leap up in joy or try to sneak in a good whack with the metal rod.

She must take too long to respond, because a few moments later she is looking up at an upside down and serious faced Yoongi. He is leaning over the counter, his head coming to hang over the other side to stare down at her.

They stare wordlessly until Yoongi’s eyes drift to the makeshift weapon in her hands. His brows lift in the slightest betrayal of amusement. “I see you’ve been up long enough to start making weapons of the furniture.”

The teasing words in Yoongi’s usual dry tone sets Y/N into motion. She sputters and scrambles to get to her feet. Yoongi straightens to meet her stare.

“What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” She demands. But before he can even open his mouth to respond, she adds, “better yet, what am I doing here? And where are we?”

Silence lingers between them after her outburst, Yoongi obviously waiting for more. When she leaves it at that, he answers. “I was able to get in because I own this apartment. We are here because I thought it would be the safest place to bring you after freeing you from the warehouse you had been tied up in. And, as for your last question,” he walks over to stand before the wall of glass where Y/N had stood just moments before, “we are in Seoul.”

“Seoul.” Y/N can’t imagine what the look on her face must be. “Seoul, as in, other-side-of-the-world Seoul?”

Yoongi nods as if it was a very reasonable thing to wake up unexpectedly in an entirely different country. “Yes. I couldn’t be sure which of my American offices were compromised. Things should be quieter here,” he hesitates, seeming to consider something before he adds, “for now.”

“Yoongi,” Y/N’s step towards the window where he stands is shaky, but her voice remains steady as she asks, “how long has it been since I was kidnapped?”

He turns to her, his eyes searching--for what, she can’t tell. His expression is unreadable as he says, “if you start counting from the time you left my office, roughly twenty-seven hours.”

“That’s impossible,” Y/N insists, even as she struggles to process the loss of so much time, “my memory is still full of holes, but I could swear that I was at that...place for hours, and I’ve already been wandering around this place for probably two or three hours. No to mention the time I spent asleep and the flight time--” she pauses her mental calculations when she spots the odd look on Yoongi’s face. “What, why are you making that face?”

A ghost of a smile appears on Yoongi’s lips, “are you sure you want to hear about how I managed to get you across the world in an impossible amount of time? Last time we spoke, you didn’t seem too keen on hearing more about demons.”

Y/N considers that statement, its implications, and decides some things are better left a mystery.

“Fine then, nevermind.” She returns her metal rod to its spot on the counter and folds her arms across her chest. “I do want to know what’s going on, though. And I don’t mean whatever happened in your office the other day. Why the hell was I snatched off the middle of the street?”

“I’ve been trying to answer that very same question. Though, I can’t help but wonder if it might have something to do with the fact that you’ve been sticking your nose in the business of murderers and you’ve been consorting with a demon on top of it.”

She snorts. “Oh, sure, be sarcastic with me. Not like I’ve been through a traumatic experience or anything.” But the heat of her words is absent in her tone, her mind already elsewhere. She turns and paces to the large couch in the middle of the living area. Taking a careful seat on the edge, she stares out at the skyline. Thousands of lights seem to float in the night sky. Long lines of traffic wrap around the buildings like lights around a holiday tree. Unfamiliar though it is, she can’t deny the beauty of the scene.

A long moment passes like that, and even the silence seems to hold its breath. Then, finally, “we need to talk.”

“Not now.”

Y/N whirls on him. “What do you mean ‘not now;’ I didn’t sit here hurt, alone, and afraid for hours just for you to finally waltz in and brush me aside.” She stands and takes a step towards him in a surge of courage. Finger in his face, she says, “we are talking. Now.”

Yoongi doesn’t react, just stares at her, his face unreadable. After a long, tense moment that leaves Y/N’s palms more than a little sweaty, Yoongi moves without warning. In one fluid movement too fast for her to track, he stands and takes her by the arm. His grip is loose but insistent as he pulls her along behind him. He opens the door to what Y/N now knows is a bathroom and she stumbles into the room alongside him until she is standing in front of the floor length mirror. Yoongi flips a switch from somewhere behind her and before she has a chance to fully process what just happened, she catches sight of her reflection under the harsh white lights of the bathroom.

She can’t help the small gasp that escapes her at the sight.

She hadn’t realized it before, but she is still wearing the clothes she wore to the meeting with Yoongi that seems to have happened a lifetime ago. The difference is now her sweater and jeans are both torn in too many places to count. Dirt and blood in equal amounts seem to coat every inch.

With some indescribable mixture of relief and horror, she realizes that not all of the blood is hers. Her largest wound is an admittedly nasty, jagged gash on her forehead that left a trail of dark, dried-on blood all the way down to her neck where it had been absorbed by her sweater. The rest of her injuries consist of minor scrapes and swollen bruises--nothing that would account for the other dried pools of blood.

In a cruel twist, it seems that her realization of her injuries has reminded her body that it had been through hell. Where before she felt only stiffness and the achy soreness of too much sleep, she now feels the burning and pulsing pains of every inch of her battered frame. She has no idea how she didn’t realize her injuries sooner, but they are more than making up for lost time now.

It’s in the moment when she is in the middle of ghosting her fingers over a particularly ugly bruise on her jaw that she catches Yoongi’s eyes in the mirror. His jaw is set, eyes dark and tense, face seeming to catch shadows that shouldn’t exist in the brightly lit room.

“Not now,” he repeats, his voice slightly strained. “Clean yourself up, take care of your wounds, eat something, rest. There will be time for explanations tomorrow.” He walks out of the room then, leaving no room for argument.

It’s just as well. After seeing the disaster of her reflection, Y/N has no arguments left.

Some time in the minutes it took Y/N to grab a towel from the attached closet and find the hot water handle in the shower, Yoongi had dropped off a set of clothes that were mysteriously her exact size--if that’s a demon perk, Y/N isn’t going to argue when it gives her the chance to toss her dirty and bloodied clothes into the trash never to be seen again. Another surprise is that there, alongside the maybe magic clothes, is her bag. The one she had been carrying when she was kidnapped and assumed was lost forever. A quick inspection reveals a torn strap and it’s absolutely filthy. And her phone, which had been inside, is a lost cause. But there’s still something comforting in having something of hers here in this place where even the sky is unfamiliar.

_________________

Out of the shower, Y/N feels a little bit like a person again. Unfortunately, the water had opened up a few of her wounds, including the one on her forehead, and they are steadily bleeding by the time she makes it back to the kitchen. Yoongi, however, seems to have planned ahead. In front of him sits an incredibly well-stocked medical kit and steaming takeout containers that cause Y/N’s stomach to release an angry rumble. She grabs at her stomach, startled at how hungry she had become without realizing.

Yoongi breathes a soft laugh as he pushes a container closer to the seat next to him. “Go ahead. I should be able to take care of that head wound while you eat.”

There is an unexpected intimacy to sitting freshly showered and shoveling takeout food down your throat while someone treats you for a head wound--but Y/N forgets to be embarrassed as soon as the first bite of food passes her lips.

“Oh my god,” she mumbles, near tears as she tries to pace herself. In this state, Yoongi could have handed her a single cheese cracker and she would have been eternally grateful, but this is so, so much better.

By the time Y/N reaches the point where she feels like she might burst, Yoongi has quite expertly doctored her forehead. She had attempted to ask him some of her most burning questions while she ate and he worked, but he shut her down each time with a pointed look. She would have kept pushing the point--would have stayed up all night if she needed too--but the events of the past few days seem to hit her all at once in that post-meal lull. Finally, when she is half slumped over the counter, fighting heavy eyelids, Yoongi forces her to relocate to the same bed she had woken from before. Oddly, the sheets seem to have been cleaned, though she doesn’t remember seeing Yoongi do so. Luckily she doesn’t have to concern herself over it for long. The second her head hits the pillow she feels the heavy draw of sleep win her over, and for the first time in a long while she slips into a deep and calm sleep.

_________________

The next morning, Y/N wakes up to a full breakfast spread across the kitchen counter. All of it is conveniently still steaming. She hadn’t woken to any alarm that would have alerted Yoongi as to when to set things up, but there he sits, coffee in hand and scrolling through something on his laptop, only looking up when she takes the seat beside him.

They sit in peaceful silence for a long while, only the soft gray light of morning between them. The view of the city is muffled by a haze of morning fog, but it is no less beautiful for it.

Finally, when the dishes are cleared and they have relocated to the living room, Y/N speaks.

“Okay, so, from the beginning: what happened that day?” She had spent most of her time eating trying to organize her thoughts, to get at the heart of what she needed and wanted to know. From the beginning seemed like a good place to start.

“How much do you want to know about what I am and the side of the world I come from?” Yoongi’s voice is as remote as his expression. Any warmth that had broken through the night before was now tightly restrained behind that careful composure of his.

“As much as you think you can tell me without frying my fragile human psyche.”

She had meant it as a joke of sorts, and Yoongi does snort, mumbling something like, “when have you ever been fragile,” but then his eyes catch sight of the thick bandages still covering her forehead and his expression sobers. He seems to consider her statement again carefully before nodding to himself just barely. Y/N swallows hard.

“After you left my office that last time, and while you were unconscious I dug hard into my resources. I was able to uncover some key details of both your brother’s disappearance and the plot against me.

“When you and I first began this search, I had assumed that the people behind this were human. Maybe a disgruntled rival or an ambitious new presence with their sights set high. But after our exploration of the rundown house, I realized that it wasn’t so simple.”

Y/N knows her confusion must be plain on her face, but she stays quiet to let him continue.

“It’s difficult to explain without going into a lot of demon history, but in short: they had weapons that would have done serious damage to demon--even one like me. Daffodil oil, blessed metals--the works. It was then that I realized that there was more going on.”

“Which is why you seemed so much more cooperative after that.” Y/N muses quietly, several things were starting to make more sense. But many more things were not. “Wait, what do you mean ‘one like you’ are you some sort of special demon?” She struggled to say the words with a straight face, still not really having come to terms with his revelation to her.

“Ah,” he says, some understanding reaching his expression, “we never got to that part, did we.” Y/N shifts in her seat at the reminder of that hectic day.

“Yes, I suppose you could say I’m a ‘special’ kind of demon. I am designated as one of the Seven Sins--Wrath, to be more specific.”

Y/N’s brain decided to do a sort of reboot at that information. Feeling a bit like she was buffering she tried to condense her many questions into one. “Seven Sins...like in the bible?” Ah, yes. Very eloquent and definitely captures all of her curiosity. She feels like rolling her eyes at herself.

But Yoongi takes the question seriously. “The christian bible gets some things right, but no, it’s not exactly the same. Essentially, the seven sins--greed, pride, lust, gluttony, envy, sloth, wrath--would exist in human nature even without the presence of demons. Us seven who represent the sins act more as...keepers of a sort. More humans sinning means more business for demons, so the seven of us are charged with encouraging our given sin. We are usually forbidden from most drastic acts, but we move around the world and carefully influence those around us to suit our needs.”

Y/N took a moment to mull over this. It didn’t sound like a great thing, to spread wrath, but as Yoongi said, wrath would exist whether he influenced it or not… Interesting. “Hence the fight club?” She asks at last.

“Hence the fight club.” He confirms. “Fighting opens up all sorts of interesting avenues to influence humans, but it also gives me a connection to the city, making it easier to widen my reach.”

He almost sounds...proud, Y/N thinks, surprised.

“But that’s a bit beside the point. Being one of the seven means I am more powerful than almost any other demon in existence, and it drastically narrows the list of people capable of plotting against me in any way that matters.”

“So you have an idea of who it could be?”

“No, not exactly,” he grumbles. “The narrowed list still includes too many people to immediately single one out. I did, however, come across a company whose name has popped up several times in connection with our search.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He brings up an image and hands it to Y/N. “Patien Corporation. They seem mostly legitimate, dealing mostly with book publication.”

“Mostly?” Y/N asks while examining the logo. A small outline of an owl crowned in small purple flowers. It isn’t a familiar logo, and after a moment of looking she returns the phone to Yoongi with a shake of her head.

“Yes, mostly. It seems that there has been some unusual movement in and out of several of their Chicago warehouses. Too many people coming in and out to be mere workers, unscheduled shipments, a shift in their operating hours--those sorts of things.”

“So you think this corporation could be connected to our troubles?”

“I think it’s very likely given all of the signs.” He leans back and props one elbow on the back of his seat, releasing an uncharacteristically tired sounding sigh. “But if they are involved, I have thus far been unable to figure out exactly how. I’m having someone do a deep dive into their personnel, but it’s a long shot as to whether it will turn up anything.”

“So what do we do now?” Y/N asks, eager to get back to work. Things have gone on for long enough. She was growing weary of the chase, and her kidnapping had only cemented that feeling.

“For now, we wait. The people who kidnapped you have been taken care of. That will likely stir something up with whoever hired them. We follow the trail from there and see where it leads.” He laid it out like it was a simple case of cause and effect. But something he says strikes Y/N with worry, the feeling like ice water in her veins.

“When you say ‘taken care of’ you mean…”

The muscles around his eyes tighten, but he holds her gaze steadily, “I mean I killed them, Y/N.”

Her stomach lurches at the direct admission. She knows he has already killed. Probably killed a lot. But it was one thing to know that in her head, and an entirely different thing to see him admit to it so easily and with such composure.

“You killed again?” Her voice as she asks is small, but not weak. Yoongi’s jaw works as he bristles at the accusation in her tone.

“They took you Y/N, and they would have killed you if it meant they could hurt me.” The words are sharp through angry teeth.

“And would it have? Would me dying have hurt you? Or would I have just become another face you couldn’t remember in a few weeks?” Like my brother, are the words she doesn’t say.

Yoongi’s silence shouldn’t hurt, but it does. It tears through the already threadbare fabric of her heart. She feels herself take a step deeper into that growing fog in her mind. The quiet of it is all too tempting an escape in the face of the bombs that had been dropped on her today.

Feeling like an outsider watching herself move, Y/N sees more than feels herself turn and walk with careful, precise steps towards the bedroom from which she had emerged earlier. “Neverm--” She begins to say over her shoulder, but she is interrupted by a quiet...

“Yes.” The word barely reaches her, but, when it does, it stops her in her tracks. She stands there not turning, not breathing--waiting for more. “It shouldn’t--it really shouldn’t matter--and if I had a choice, it wouldn’t. But...yes. It would hurt me very much if you died, Y/N.”

Air comes back to her in a shuddering breath, but still she doesn’t--can’t--turn around. “Why?” She doesn’t know why it matters. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He is quiet for a long time, the demon at her back. But she waits.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. He seems to realize that she needs more than that this time, because he continues. “It shouldn’t be possible. A being like me isn’t designed to have the capacity to care for the life of a singular human. It’s literally against the code we are created within. But despite the impossibility of it--” he breaks off with a frustrated noise, and Y/N knows without looking that he is pulling a hand through his hair. “I’ve changed somehow. Me, a demon of hell who has walked in this world unchanged for centuries upon centuries,” his voice, which had been building in volume suddenly falls to a near whisper once more, “has changed because of a single human.”

Y/N doesn’t allow herself to react to the words--just turns carefully, her back stiff, and meets Yoongi’s eyes. The deep brown of them is as remote as ever, but Y/N has been around him long enough now to read between the lines. She sees his anger in the tightness of the skin around his eyes, his frustration in the set of his jaw, and--surprisingly--his confusion in the lines of his brows. That is when she decides he must be telling the truth. Because Yoongi takes his composure deadly serious--he simply does not admit things like confusion, not even in the subtle tells of his face. Until now.

“What does that mean, that I’ve ‘changed you’?” Y/N does her best to keep her face neutral, her tone carefully reserved.

He doesn’t respond right away, instead he continues to stare into her eyes. Y/N has the distinct feeling that she is being measured up--but against what standard, she isn’t sure.

“I don’t know the extent or full nature of the change,” he says finally. “I only know that I find myself--” Here he hesitates and breaks their eye contact, somehow seeming very far away despite the mere feet that separate them. “I find myself caring more.” He notes Y/N’s confusion and quickly elaborates. “Brutality now gives me pause--even in the midst of my rage at you having been taken, I paused long enough to think that you would be upset with my killing them; I find myself wondering more about the lives of the humans around me; I concern myself with your wellbeing--things like this,” he shudders just barely as he recites the list. “The speed of my healing has diminished, and when I look at you…” his eyes are suddenly back on her and Y/N catches the slightest of winces. “When I look at you, you shine so brightly that I can hardly bear to look. It drains me.”

Y/N can’t help her snort, the reaction forced out of her by the absurdity of that last statement, the absurdity of it all. “It almost sounds like you’re developing a conscience. And,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself, “if you want to tell me that you hate looking at my face, just say so. No need to beat around the bush.” The words come out sounding more fragile than she intends them to.

Suddenly Yoongi stands from his spot on the couch and--in a move so unexpected that Y/N can only watch it happen--gently takes one of her hands, pulling her arm away from her body and holding it between them. His hold is careful, but the chill of his skin raises the hairs on her arm. “I don’t mean to comment on your physical appearance,” he says quietly, his voice almost gentle, “I mean that you actually emit a sort of light.” He turns her arm over, inspecting it. There is a curious look on his face--pain mixed with wonder and some other emotion that Y/N can’t guess. “It was subtle at first, but the more time we spend together the brighter it becomes. Now, it has reached the point where looking at you has become like staring into the sun, and I fear that I am going to blind myself.”

“You’re serious,” she says after a moment of being stunned into incredulous silence. “Are you sure your eyes were good to begin with, because I think I would have noticed if I was lit up like a flippin’ lightbulb.” She can almost feel her sanity slipping; all of the bombshells lately have been too much.

“As far as I’ve been able to tell, I am the only one who can see it.” He stares at the point where his fingers meet around the circle of her wrist for a moment longer before he releases her and turns back to the couch. She drops her arm awkwardly, not knowing what to do with it now. Her skin feels odd in the place where his hand had been--tingling like a hundred tiny electrical currents were running just beneath the surface.

“Perhaps I should get my eyes checked,” he muses in a detached kind of voice that causes a sliver of unease to unfurl in Y/N’s chest.

She steps forward, arm raised--to do what, she doesn’t know--but she drops it when Yoongi turns around. His face is back in its usual cold mask. “I’ve been tracking legends of humans who ‘shine with a holy light so pure it burns creatures of evil,’ but the stories are all ancient and anecdotal at best.” The sudden return to that cold calculating tone from the quiet vulnerability of the past few minutes threatens to give Y/N whiplash. She hasn’t even started to process the idea that she might glow like some sort of demon-repelling night light, let alone start to wonder at the origins of such a light. Yoongi, on the other hand, appears to have been mulling this over for some time. “The only true lead I’ve come across is still so far-fetched that even I find it difficult to believe.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, still not quite sure she actually woke up earlier. Maybe this is just another strange continuation of her dreams. But she is curious nonetheless.

“In a religious text that was popular several millennia ago, there was a short passage about the blessed children of humans and angels.” Y/N’s eyes widen at the mention of angels, then they narrow in thought. She had never stopped to think about the implications of Yoongi’s existence. If demons exist, what other myths and legends walk the earth? Vampires? Werewolves? Fairies? Angels? It all sounded too ridiculous to be true, but, short of a major mental breakdown, she has no other explanation for Yoongi other than him being what he says he is. If he can exist, it shouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine these other things as real.

Yoongi, oblivious to the major shift happening in Y/N’s understanding of the world, speaks over her thoughts. “The text tells of a family line who had been blessed. Apparently, the matriarch had been the child of a human and an angel. For generations, her family was said to have certain abilities. They varied in expression and strength, but the one constant was a sort of blinding golden glow--visible only to those possessed by evil,” a pointed look at her.

“So, what, you think I’m the descendant of some angel-human hybrid?” She scoffs. “Hate to break it to you, Yoongs, but I’m 100% plain ol’ human.”

“I have heard of the exceptionally rare relations between angels and humans, but I’ve never heard of offspring from such pairings. However,” another thoughtful look at her, “I’m not naive enough to dismiss it totally.”

“But my parents are both human. There’s no way they would keep something as huge as angel blood in our family a secret!” Of that, Y/N is sure. Her parents are many things, but never had they hidden the big stuff from their children. That, and her mother and father love to tell stories about their families--there’s absolutely no way something as big as mythical ancestors got skimmed over.

“It’s possible the parent wouldn’t even know,” Yoongi insists. “According to the text, the gifts become diluted in a sense with each generation. And rarely did they become active at all unless the descendant in question was exposed to an evil being.”

Y/N can’t stand still any longer. She walks to the large glass wall at her side and begins to pace. “You realize you’re calling yourself evil in this hypothetical scenario.”

“Yes,” the response is immediate, “because I am. Maybe not in the sense that humans always mean it, but I am created with the intention of being indifferent to the ‘value’ of life. To live in strict accordance to the will of our betters is the mandate of all demons. And I, specifically, am compelled to spread discord and the thirst for vengeance in mortals. We exist without the training wheels of a moral code--in the eyes of angels and many humans that is a kind of evil.”

Y/N frowns at that statement. She wants to disagree, but she has witnessed first hand the brutality he could deal out without a hint of remorse, his impatience with and raging against even the smallest of slights against him. The human in her wants to find redemption in the small acts of gentleness he has shown to her, but she can’t erase the truth of Yoongi. She changes the subject rather than come to terms with that thought. “So, angels are real?”

Yoongi follows her pacing with calculating eyes, but allows her the question. “Yes, though maybe not the kind of angels you are imagining.”

That gets her to pause. She places her hands on her hips. “Explain.”

“Angels, unlike their biblical counterparts, are not the heavenly servants of some omnipotent God. Much in the same way that demons are not the ravenous minions of a Satan.” He actually laughs at the look on Y/N’s face. Though, the action is only visible in the slight shaking of his shoulders, the almost imperceptible turn of his mouth, the shining look in his eyes. “Though, the stories do get something right. Angels and Demons do stand on opposing sides of an invisible line of fate.” Now his face twists into a scowl. “The angels see themselves as keepers of some cosmic balance. And they view demons as lowly agents of chaos, meant to be kept on tight leashes.”

Y/N tries to process this. And fails. But one question does come to mind. “Have you ever met one? An angel?”

In that moment, Y/N gets a sense of just how other Yoongi is. Even in his human form. The handsome qualities of his face suddenly come into too sharp of focus, and the look in his eyes is so foreign that she doesn’t have a name for it. The closest she can come is fury. Absolute, overwhelming fury burns dark in his eyes--mixed with a hundred other things that speak of a history so long, it would surely be beyond Y/N’s comprehension.

“Yes.” The word is oddly calm, considering the vivid emotions on his face. “As one of the seven, I have met more than one angel. An honor being one that most demons are not afforded.” Though, his tone suggests it is anything but. “The angels have an equivalent to the seven sins, one that most humans forget about, they are called the virtues.” He continues on, answering Y/N’s unspoken question of why. “Their number is also seven, and there exists a virtue counterpart to every sin. They see it as their personal calling to police the lives of the demonic seven.” His expression grows impossibly darker. “More than a few sins have fallen at their hands.” Now his expression shifts, a smile on his face that makes Y/N’s skin crawl in warning. “Though, I can’t say we haven’t returned the favor.”

“Wait,” Y/N interrupts, choosing to ignore the bloody implications of that particular statement, “how is it possible for there to always be seven sins and virtues if some have been killed?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer for a sweat-inducing moment where Y/N fears she has lost him to the darkness. But his face eventually clears and he answers. “The title of sin and virtue is merely that, a title. It is like the human terms of ‘commander’ and ‘general,’ simply terms to denote rank. Should one die, there would soon be another to take its place.” He pauses, seeming to consider something. “The position is one that is coveted, and it isn’t uncommon--for demons at least--for assassination attempts to come from those under our command. But, the title isn’t one that is simply handed to the next strongest demon. One has to have certain...qualities.”

“So, you’re not immortal?” Y/N is beyond trying to rationalize the information coming at her, she is simply collecting it for a later time when she might have the mental capacity to handle information that, surely, no more than a handful of humans have ever been privy to in all of history. Though, she is starting to seriously doubt that a time like that will ever come in this lifetime.

“Not in the sense that it is literally impossible for me to stop existing, but, there is no demon or angel who will die of sickness or old age. Our kind must always meet a violent end, or there would be no end at all. However,” he continues, seeing the questions already building in her eyes, “there is no human or simple angel or devil alive who could kill a sin or virtue. Our power is such that we can only meet our ends at the hands of another of our kind.”

Y/N tries to let that sink in. “So the people who are after you…”

“It is difficult to say for sure. It could be that this is a case of someone mistaking me for a common demon. But, yes, the other possibility remains.” He gestures to where his laptop sits on the counter. “I am currently following up on leads, but I have--”

He is interrupted by the trill of a cellphone ringing. Swiping his finger across the screen, he brings the device to his ear and has a short conversation that Y/N lacks the context to make sense of. She instead notes the odd juxtaposition created by seeing Yoongi handle such a modern device after talk of such ancient things.

When the call ends, Y/N immediately knows something has changed. “What is it?”

“Speaking of leads, that was one now.” He slides his phone back into his pocket. “I have to go.”

Her interest is immediate. “Where are we headed?”

Yoongi doesn’t look at her as he packs up his laptop, sliding it into a sleek black bag. “We are headed nowhere. I am heading out.”

“Uh, have we not established that we’re in this together? I’m not letting you shut me out after coming so far.”

“Y/N, think for just a minute.” He grinds out the words. “You were kidnapped, tortured, and beaten a little over 24 hours ago. And, as invincible as you might think yourself, you’re up against beings that are faster, stronger, and just plain more powerful than you are. If you’re to continue to have any part in this search at all--to have any chance at coming out of it alive--you need to rest. I can’t search for your brother and my would-be assassins while also worrying about keeping you on your feet. Stay, rest, I’ll return with more information we can use.”

She isn’t happy about it, but she can’t argue with his logic. She remembers the hopelessness she felt tied up to that chair, and she can’t say she is eager to put herself back in danger.

Yoongi sees the shift in her demeanor as her mind is changed, so he continues. “I don’t know when exactly I’ll return, but it should be no more than a day.”

At that, Y/N feels an irrational flood of panic. The reminder of her kidnapping had made her realize just how much she didn’t want to be alone right now. “You’re really going to leave me here?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, this entire building is secure. You will be safe. One of my bank cards should be somewhere in the bedroom. Feel free to use it for food or whatever you like.” He slings the bag onto his shoulder and moves for the door. “If anything of concern happens, you have my number. I can be back here in seconds,” he promises. And there is no more time to protest, because he simply walks out the door with those as his parting words.

Y/N spends a long time staring at the door after it sniks shut behind him. So long that her muscles are stiff by the time she finally moves. She tries not to stare at her reflection in the glass as she sits carefully on the arm of a chair. She focuses instead on the view.

The sun has just started peaking over the buildings in the distance, and for the first time since arriving, Y/N gets a real look at the city she now sits in. The buildings are tall--many being skyscrapers that, true to their name, seem to outreach the sun in the sky. It is beautiful. But it isn’t Chicago, it isn’t home.

And just like that, it’s all too much. Left sitting there alone--in clothes that aren’t hers, in an apartment that overlooks a foreign skyline--something inside of her breaks like a dam. The resulting flood spills over her cheeks, down her neck, onto the borrowed clothes.

Her thoughts are spinning so fast in her mind that she can’t land on any one thing she is upset about. She only knows that she has finally reached her limit for the amount of pain and drama and confusion and supernatural bombshells she can bear.

So she sits there, letting it all pour out of her in the form of hiccupping sobs, as a new day dawns.

_________________

*A/N* !!! It's up! This chapter frustrated me, because I knew exactly what it needed to be, but getting there was a rough ride. This chapter is a bit heavy on explanations, so I tried to make it as clear as possible, but let me know if things get confusing at times! (plot feedback is always welcome) We're so close to the end I can't believe it. This story is the one that never leaves my head and I'm so excited and nervous to bring it to a close. I obviously have terrible luck with keeping the deadlines for myself (though I'm shocked I managed to do anything productive in 2020 so I'm not /that/ mad), but I truly think the last parts will be out by mid/late February or early March. I look forward to sharing the end with you all even if it's bittersweet. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story for literal years! I'm so thankful every time I post something that anyone is interested in my stories let alone this many people, so truly, thank you. Hope you enjoy the read!

#bts #suga #yoongi #fanfic #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #demon au #seven sins au #my stuff #the world is cold and life's not fair baby #twicalnfb #sugasweetsubs #feedback welcome!#thank you for reading!!

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diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 4

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Next Morning

“We’re done here, OK?” The Joker shouts and you stomp away, furious at his behavior.

“Of course we are done, who the hell would put up with you?!! You’re horrible!!!”

“It finally clicked? Good!!!! Come on, speed it up and disappear!!!!” he points at the top of the hill where your car is parked.

You walk faster and J is increasingly frustrated with each step you take.

“So what you said was a lie?!” he yells before he can stop himself. “You assured me I’ll get used with being loved and here you are running from me! Hypocrite! Who’s the liar now, huh?”

You turn around, stunned.

How dare he twist your most intimate confessions in such a manner?

Y/N and The Joker glare at each other for a few moments before you voice all the bitterness and resentment building up in your heart loud enough for him to hear:

“I hate you!”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks. “Perfect! I’m used to it!”

You reprise your stroll, determined not to fall into his little traps anymore: this time is over and you have to put as much distance in between the two of you in the next few seconds before he attempts one of his tricks.

Not that you would fall for it again, but you never know…

One last glare while you try to open the car door and you see him flair his arms around loudly screaming at his phone; your fingers keep missing the lock and you kick the metal frame, irritated. Another glance and you spot a vehicle driving in the parking lane towards where The Joker is.

“J?...” you hesitantly call out to him yet The Joker probably has the earbuds in so he can’t hear you. “J!!!” you wave to get his attention without success. “Oh my God!” you rush back in his direction when you realize that SUV will hit him if it continues the present trajectory. “J!!! J!!!!”

The King is too absorbed in his business conversation thus he finally sees Y/N next to him as she violently pushes him out of harm’s way.

The strong impact wakes you up and you gasp for air, panicked. Your troubled mind has difficulty catching up with reality: a damaged brain can’t possibly render any type of comfort in this situation.

“Why are you crying?” J mumbles half asleep. “Did you have a bad dream?”

You seem confused and unresponsive to his questions, no other choice besides waking up to check on you.

“Calm down. You had a nightmare, ok?” he pulls the agitated Y/N in his arms. “ Hey, it’s me!”

You whimper at the pain paralyzing your body and don’t complain when he drags you on top of him; it actually feels soothing having someone close that understands what’s happening to you.

“Don’t hold me so tight, I can’t breathe,” J pecks your forehead where the blood clot pressing on your frontal lobe should be. “Better?” he asks a tearful girlfriend that ultimately begins to understand she wasn’t hit by a car minutes ago: it’s an ordeal she already went through months ago despite the aftermath of the accident still creating problems. “Such an early bird,” The Clown yawns since he won’t be able to doze off after your episode. “Only 7 am Princess…” the grumbled noises make you receptive to his complaint. “What about you give me some sugar in exchange for my services?” J suggests, quite puzzled when you roll off him and stumble out of the bedroom. “Where are you going?!”

You don’t answer because you’re concentrating just on what your neurons were able to translate in such a short notice: your man wants sugar. That’s why you’re in a big hurry to bring him a bag containing the sweet product, happily offering the item to his majesty The King of Gotham.

“For God’s sake, Pumpkin!” he accepts the gift nevertheless and places it on the covers. “That’s not what I meant,” he snatches Y/N in his arms and kisses her.

“No…sugar?...” you inquire out of genuine curiosity.

“I already got it,” he mischievously smirks at your bafflement, deciding to exercise your skills at once. “Say Princess: if I give you two kisses and then I give you two more, how many kisses do you get?”

“Ummm…” you debate on the question,”… not enough?”

“Due to your high standards, certainly,” The Joker huffs at the genuine reply. “Your solution is not wrong, but I’m looking for a number. Two plus two? Come on, you already know this one!”

“Mmmm… Four?...” you blur out and get groped as reward.

“Good girl!” J proudly applauds your abilities at crack of dawn. “Enough algebra for this morning,” he changes topic. “Your doctor appointment is at 10; you should take a shower soon,” and he rambles on until something is clear: the blank expression on your face hints at the outcome.

“You’re not listening, are you?” he suspiciously inquires.

“No.”

Why would you? Your brain’s self-defense mechanism prevailed at all the information flooding your deteriorated synapses and the result was blocking the outpour of sentences.

“That was a 10 minutes speech, Pumpkin!” The Joker grouchily admonishes the carefree Y/N.

“11,” you gesture at the clock on the wall.

“11 what?”

“11 minutes, not 10,” you nonchalantly conclude.

“Oh, so you have the audacity to time me while you don’t bother keeping up?!”

“Yes,” you giggle and hide your face under the pillow.

“That’s preposterous!”

“Hm?...” your nose emerges from under the cushion at the fascinating word you can’t recollect being in your current vocabulary.

“Preposterous, Princess!” J repeats.”… Stop laughing, would you?” he forcefully hijacks your pillow and you snicker because whatever-the-heck- it-means Preposterous Princess sounds like a hilarious nickname. “You wanna play games?” The Clown Prince of Crime sucks on his silver teeth willing to bring a final showdown to this magical day. “Fine, remember you made me with your abominable behavior!” he reaches for the nightstand in order to grab his favorite deck of cards. “Pick a card, any card; I won’t peak,” J watches the captivated woman pluck her choice from the mound. “Now put it in the stack,” he urges and you follow the instructions.

The Joker vigorously shuffles the cards then searches for yours.

“Is this it?” he triumphantly flicks the Joker card out of the bunch.

You nod a yes completely smitten he guessed again and your terrible half steals a kiss, triumphantly growling to himself:

“Who’s laughing now, huh?”

*************

After Your Doctor’s Appointment

J slides the screen on his phone and before he can utter anything you announce:

“Hi, this is Pre… Pro… Mmm… W-wait,” you stammer and gather your thoughts. “This is Preposterous Princess.”

The Joker sighs, definitely unamused at your 5th call in a row to tell him what’s going on at your routine consultation: he barely finished counting the ammo boxes he received with the shipment after you left and going over the heist scheme for next week it’s made impossible by Y/N.

“Pumpkin, I will remind you that’s not what I meant when I said that word. It was Preposterous COMA Princess!! Two separate entities, alright? We need to have a serious discussion after you get home.”

“I have to go, Pro… Ummm… Preposterous Princess is at…at the gates,” you say it very fast and hang up, excited to share news with him.

Yet The Clown is already acquainted with the whole development on your condition: the doctor’s office contacted him after your departure in order to brief him on Y/N health. The blood clot is a bit smaller since it keeps reabsorbing; the cognitive issues are there, tests ended up pretty much within normal range except one, thus it’s necessary for the two of you to have the dialogue he mentioned about.

Five more minutes and you barge in his office holding your yellow teddy bear and for the first time in his life The Joker can’t help regretting he’s about to burst someone’s bubble.

You approach the desk and set the ultrasound picture in front of him waiting for his reaction; your bright smile doesn’t go well with how gloomy he appears, literally an understatement anyway.

“Baby,” you tap the image just in case he didn’t realize what he’s staring at.

“I know, Pumpkin. We can’t keep it.”

“Hm…?” your smile gradually dies out as you comprehend he’s not on the same page with your wishes.

“We can’t keep the baby, it’s very dangerous given you merely survived a severe trauma. I was told it’s nearly impossible for you to have kids, that’s why I didn’t use… Anyway… I admit this one’s on me and the conclusion is… … we can’t keep the baby.”

“No baby?” you sniffle.

“Nope, it would be too harsh on your body. Plus, you won’t be able to use your anti-inflammatory medication if you’re pregnant.”

“I want baby!��

“Are you deaf??!” J slams the desk with his fist, annoyed. “You can’t have a child, it could kill you. Do you want to perish?!” he rises from his chair.

“No… I want you and baby.”

“No way in hell!” he snarls at your defiance.

“Why can’t I h-have baby? Because… because I’m stupid?” you cuddle with your plush toy, heartbroken at his approach.

“You’re not stupid, but I’m beginning to have doubts if what I told you doesn’t make sense!”

“I want baby!” you whisper on the verge of crying.

“I want baby,” The Joker mocks and watches your demeanor change: it doesn’t take a genius to detangle the mystery of how hurt you seem.

“Are…are you making fun of me?!”

The King is a jerk, no doubt about it. Despite his obvious flaws he never ridiculed someone’s disability; it’s simply beneath him. One could say this is a new low for him and he cannot erase it: Y/N’s cognitive impairment is clearly sacred ground he trespassed on a whim when he shouldn’t have.

“If…if you were like me… I wouldn’t laugh at… at you,” you wipe your tears, sobbing. “I’m not smart… anymore but I can m-make decisions, ok? I want baby!”

“I said no!” J yells, fired up you won’t listen to reason.

“I don… I don’t care!” you storm out of the office and trip on the carpet, almost falling to the ground. “It’s my baby!”

“It’s mine also unless you have another boyfriend!!”

**************

You’ve been gone for the last hour; it’s a big place yet it shouldn’t be so difficult to find one’s partner.

The Joker dials your number and inquires as soon as you blow your nose on the other side of the line.

“Is this The Preposterous Princess?”

Dead air again; Y/N isn’t in the mood to speak to the man she can’t forgive for his transgression. In addition to him disregarding her intention of keeping the offspring, he made her feel dumb and that’s unforgivable.

“Y/N, where are you?!” J descends the steps leading to the basement, the last area he didn’t searched for his missing woman. He opens the boiler room, nothing. The pantry reveals zero clues either. The janitorial supplies closet is a different story; a box of sponges flies by his ear, immediately accompanied by a hateful tone:

“Go away!”

“You almost broke my nose,” he over exaggerates. “What are you doing here anyway? I’ve been looking all over the house!” “I’m hiding baby from you,” you clearly enunciate without stammering.

“Give me a break,” he drops on his knees in front of you. “I don’t want you to kick the bucket, why is that a bad thing?”

“I want baby!”

“Stubborn mule, you sound like a scratched CD that skips and skips and skips,” he barks at your persistence.

“Hm?” you crinkle your nose.

“Scratched CD!” he brings his face close to yours, pleased an opportunity for his plan has arisen. “First of all, if you want to keep the kid you have to promise not to die; second, I have no desire to become a father and third of all pick a card!” he shoves them in your fingers, perfectly aware that if you can’t process all the stuff he’s yapping at an amazing speed, you’ll get distracted and forget you’re mad at him; including one of your favorite games to the equation should seal the outcome.

“Hm?”

“Chop, chop, pick a card Pumpkin!”

You suspiciously pluck your item and then shove it back in the bundle.

The Joker steals a kiss while figuring out your card and you protest:

“I don’t… I don’t want your four kisses!”

“That’s too bad, I do come with four kisses, it’s a bundle deal!” J dismisses your logic connected to this morning’s algebra lesson. “Is this your card?” he shows you the Jester card and your mouth opens in amazement.

“A-ha!”

He fights with himself if he should disclose the secret: you don’t seem totally diverted and his plot could misfire due to inaction.

It’s not worth it.

“Do you know how I select the correct card?”

“No.”

“Each single time Pumpkin you invariably pick The Joker card.”

You sulk at the revelation since it’s true: you don’t recall sorting another card from the deck.

“I do… I always choose you…”

He doesn’t have a response and the chat is taking a strange turn, not precisely what he was aiming for.

“Yeah, well… good for you, Princess…” he stands and offers his hand to help you up.

Another smooch as bonus for his assistance whilst The Queen pouts at his impertinence: he has such a nerve!

Perhaps because he comes with four kisses.

It’s a bundle deal.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker #the joker suicide squad #jokerleto #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #joker suicide squad #mister j #mr. j #dc #dcu

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softlysugas · 4 years

Text

HAPPY LITTLE PILL ➣ Jung Hoseok x Reader

↳ Part Six: Saturn

Jung Hoseok is 1/3 of the incredibly popular idol group known as DNA; the group is coming upon their second album release. They are known to have a spotless reputation and truly care for their fans. You are a popular YouTuber known for your rebellious social media content and celebrity connections. What will happen when two direct opposite worlds collide and deeply kept secrets begin to rise to the surface?

HLP Masterlist Softlysugas Masterlist

I’ve never felt so connected to an AU before and the fact that you guys feel the same warms my heart uwu! BUT I would love to know if there are any theories, ships, or wants that have been weighing on your mind :3

If you would like to be tagged in future parts please let me know!

The soft hum from the vent vibrated throughout the silent flat; shallow breathing of those who fell into an induced slumber filling the space. Soft footsteps fought against the cool breeze flowing down the hallway, the smallest of knock being the only sign of consciousness. When no reply came he fought with himself, perhaps he should go back to his makeshift bed? Luckily, a soft chime echoed from his pocket and permitted him to enter.

A cold chill ran along his spine as he stepped past the barrier, gaze shifting until landing upon the open window. The faint glow of a screen leading him through the dim room and ducked his head out the empty frame. Your attention turned to him instantly, a soft laugh breaking past your lips before they wrapped around the blunt. “Welcome to the freak show.” You mused, arms waving at the broken fire escape.

It’s safe, you assured him with your gaze.

It was because of the broken balcony that you had rushed to move into the two-bedroom apartment. Your friends had teased you for the size being as you wished to live alone. Despite your excitement, it was rare that you allowed anyone other than yourself to set foot near the throw pillows and hanging plants; then there was Jung Hoseok.

From the moment he had walked into the dance studio he made a lasting impact. His bright smile holding so much joy it was almost overwhelming, greeting everyone with open arms as if they had been lifelong friends. That was his reputation, of course, the cheerful idol embracing the world with kindness and excitement; however, you had never bought into it.

His glistening eyes dragged over your frame before he pulled his head back into the room, shifting to sling a leg through the frame and step out onto the fire escape. The metal creaked as he rose to his full height, only reaching back through the window in order to grab the snacks you had requested before settling beside you on the outdoor pillows.

“Do you want this?” You asked, lazily offering him the rolled cannabis.

Hoseok's eyes widened as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “I haven’t smoke in a long time.”

“You don’t have to, I was just being polite.” You teased before turning your attention back out to the flickering stars. It was rare that you could catch a glimpse of the burning masses through the light pollution of the city, but it seemed some nights they aligned just right. “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower.”

From the corner of your eye, you were able to see the way his brow furrowed in momentary confusion, his gaze shifting to take in the wonders of the open sky. Your body lulled with hazy pleasure as the bud began sprouting from your lungs and flowing through you. With shortness of breath, you lost yourself, thoughtlessly speaking aloud.

“The ones passing through- they’re so rare, the only record on them is old literature. It’s the first time anyone is going to see them in years, I thought I’d miss them because of the light pollution.” You paused to inhale deeply, eyes widening as the first meteor shot through the sky. “The universe was made to be seen by you.”

Had your attention been turned on the male who sat a foot away you would have noticed the way his gaze lingered on your face as you spoke; glossy eyes flickering over your features as if he were mapping every detail as light streaked above you. His breath caught in his throat for the briefest of moments before he forced his stare toward the sky.

Your hands began fiddling with the countless pillows piled around you, eyes still locked on the stars as you shifted to lay on your back. “How rare and beautiful is it that we even exist?” You asked softly, finally allowing your gaze to meet his as he stared down at you.

“You’re high.” He deadpanned, though the playful glint in his eye was enough to send you into a fit of giggles. “I thought you were supposed to be some tough grunge girl?”

An amused scoff slid past your lips, “I am some tough grunge girl, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the spiritual things in life.”

There was a creak of metal and a swish of fabric. His head grazed the top of your shoulder as he laid upside-down compared to you. A comfortable silence fell between you as the shower began to pick up, streaks of colorful light painting the blackened sky as you both stared in wonder. You took another long drag from the blunt; however, as you pulled it away from your lips it was plucked from your grasp.

Hoseok paused at your questioning gaze, mumbling something about the experience before shrugging his shoulders and taking a hit of his own. Laughter consumed you as he choked on the thick smoke, happy tears blurring your vision as he caught his breath, only to lose it again to his chuckles.

“Did you get the stuff figured out?” You asked after you had both settled down, only to be met with a questioning gaze. “The stuff Jin needed you to do?”

His eyes widened in realization before he adverted his gaze, giving a single nod of his head. “Yeah! You were right, it wasn’t that important.”

You could feel the way your throat tightened at his words, the way his tone shifted and his words became calculated leading you to believe he wasn’t necessarily being honest. However, the look on his face was enough to keep you from questioning him further.

“What’s your favorite color?” You asked suddenly, desperate to relieve the tension in your influenced state.

“Green.” He said, brows furrowed in thought before he continued, “what’s your favorite movie?”

“Don’t judge me, but it’s gonna have to be Y/F/M.” When you got no reaction from him you couldn’t stop the small gasp that tore past your lips. “You’ve never seen it, have you?”

A high pitched cackle was his only response, hands raising in surrender as you began to playfully berate him. “I’m a busy man!” He shouted in his defense. “What’s it about?”

The question sent you into a rant, recalling the events of the movie in great detail as you waving your hands around to emphasize your words. He took in every syllable that slipped passed your lips, eyes wide with excitement as each word enticed his unclear mind. Time seemed to slow as your discussion continued and traveled between different subjects.

Whispers of strawberries and cigarettes floated between you. Fits of giggles enveloping the two of you as you reminisced on first crushes and first betrayals; silence taking over in moments of great sadness or nostalgia. It wasn’t until the sun was peaking out over the city that sleep began to wash over you both in waves. Heads knocking softly as you fluttered out of consciousness and into a peaceful sleep.

It was the incessant dinging of a mobile device that eventually pulled you from your slumber. A rough groan vibrated your chest as your hand smacked at your surroundings, but it was useless. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, one eye closed as you glanced around your surroundings. Once you had found the object you flicked the sound off, but a glance at the time confirmed that you wouldn’t be getting anymore rest.

Hoseok was no longer present on the fire escape, but the blanket that had been draped over you was as good as a goodbye. The night was slow to come back to relevance in your mind, every detail pulling your lips into a smirk or grin as you began your day.

TAGS: If your @ is in bold that means it wouldn’t show up for me, but I’ll try to be sure to remember to send the update to you.

@unlessksj , @xxxanimangxxx , @em1joon

#jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #bts social media #bts social media au #jhope x reader #hobi x reader #bts au #bts text

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the-delta-42 · 4 years

Text

An Unexpected Turn

Inspired by [this post] by @lenoreofraven

Warning: This oneshot mentions violence, child molesting and murder. if anyone of those may upset you DO NOT READ

An unexpected turn

Ladybug watched as Hawkmoth tore the ring off Chat Noir’s finger, before carelessly tossing him aside. Adrien skidded along the floor until he hit a desk and came to a sudden halt. He was vaguely aware of Nino rushing over to check on him. Adrien opened his eyes and spotted Mayura standing frozen, staring at him.

The sound of breaking glass made everyone look over towards Ladybug and Hawkmoth. Ladybug had managed to gain the upper hand, until Lila hit her with a chair. Ladybug was stunned for a total of two seconds, but given her close proximity to Hawkmoth, that was long enough for him to grab the earrings and forcibly tear them off her.

Ladybug fell to the floor, blood coming from her ear, the other held in Hawkmoth’s grip. Marinette tried to stem the flow of blood from her ears, until Alya rushed over, tossing Lila to the side, before pressing a bunched-up shirt against the bleeding wound.

Hawkmoth only grinned maniacally, before dropping his transformation. He ripped the Butterfly Miraculous from his chest and tossed it to the side. Marinette spotted it and quickly grabbed it, Alya violently jerking when Marinette grabbed the Miraculous. Gabriel slipped the ring on his finger and shove the earrings into his ears.

“Take that off you waste of breath.” Plagg all but snarled, his green eyes narrowed. Tikki screamed and dashed towards Gabriel, who knocked her aside.

“Be silent.” Gabriel snapped, before summoning both Kwami into the ring and earrings.

Gabriel still had the sick, twisted grin on his face, before a fan knocked his head to the side. Mayura glared, drawing her hand back to strike Gabriel again. Gabriel grabbed her hand, removed the Peacock miraculous from her and tossed her aside.

“You won’t need to turn up for work tomorrow, Nathalie.” Said Gabriel, his voice cold.

Adrien was internally screaming, his father was Hawkmoth, who had torn his lady’s ears off, revealing her to be Marinette, Lila was working with him and Nathalie, the woman who had become similar to a mother to him was Mayura. A little voice that sounded like Plagg spoke in his mind, ‘At least she tried to do the right thing.’

“Now, no one can stop me.” Gabriel gloated, holding his hand up and then snapping his fingers.

“NO!” Scream Marinette, jumping up to rush at Gabriel, only for a shockwave to pass through the city, knocking her off her feet.

Everyone was disorientated, Gabriel dropping the transformation, before quietly walking over to Adrien.

“Get up, we’re going home.” Said Gabriel, his voice the signature coldness of his personality.

“Fuck off.” Adrien grunted, glaring up at the man.

Gabriel was dumbstruck by Adrien’s response, before glaring at the boy.

“I am your father and you will do as I say.” Said Gabriel, his glare intensifying, before he turned and looked at Nathalie, “Nathalie, get up-”

“Do I work for you?” The short, curt response from her actually made him freeze, “Last I checked, you still had a restraining order to stop you from going anywhere near Emilie or her son.”

Gabriel could only stare at the woman, saying nothing, giving Marinette ample opportunity to knock Gabriel down with a chair, grab the Ring, which she passed to Adrien, the earrings and the Peacock broach.

Quietly slipping the Peacock and Butterfly in her pocket, Marinette quietly put the Miraculous back on, Adrien doing the same. Tikki and Plagg zipped out of their respective Miraculouses and unceremoniously flopped into the hands of their chosen.

“I don’t get it.” Said Alya, getting to her feet, “He had them both, so why didn’t he use them?”

“That’s a good question.” Said Marinette, vaguely aware of the fabric in Alya’s hand, “The only thing that’s changed, for me at least, is I still have both my ears attached.”

True to form, both of Marinette’s ears were on either side of her head, any blood that had been there a few minutes ago was gone.

“What happened?” Gabriel snarled, whipping around and facing Marinette, who just looked down at Tikki.

Tikki gave a shuddering sigh, before forcing herself to sit up.

“You tried to make two wishes simultaneously,” Said Tikki, looking tired, “we can only do one wish per person and even then, it’s at a cost.”

“But it didn’t cost him anything.” Said Kim, before the penny dropped for Marinette, who started laughing.

“Yes, it did.” The girl continued laughing, “Tell me, tell me, how big was your fashion empire? Reaching across the globe, stocks in everything, raking in millions every day?”

“Obviously.” Gabriel grit out, before Adrien got it and started laughing as well.

“I-I think you should look yourself up,” Said Adrien, leaning back against the desk, “You’d be surprised.”

Gabriel only continued to grit his teeth, before Ms. Bustier walked into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Said Ms. Bustier, frowning down at her paperwork, “But last week’s incident report came in and-”

Ms. Bustier looked up and her eyes clocked Gabriel Agreste standing in her classroom. Ms. Bustier and Gabriel held eye contact for a total of thirty seconds, before she turned to the class.

“Everyone, go out to the courtyard.” All the students followed her command, Nathalie escorting them out. Ms. Bustier was the last one to leave, locking the door, leaving Gabriel alone in the classroom.

“Nooroo, Dark Wings Rise!” Gabriel snarled, but got no response. Gabriel spun and stared at the spot the Butterfly Miraculous had landed, only to find it wasn’t there. Gabriel snarled, his eyes going to his left hand, expecting to see the Peacock in his grip. Gabriel fumed, as he realised that he had no Miraculous at his disposal. Then he froze, that Marinette girl was Ladybug, and Ladybug was the new Guardian. All he had to do was wait for the police to come and release him and he could go over to the bakery and grab the miracle box, and perhaps he could have a little fun while he was there.

The last thought made him freeze. Gabriel quickly rushed over to the computer and hastily typed his name into the first search engine he could find. The results flashed across the screen.

Fashion Mogul found to be The Collector

Child rapist and murderer The Collector found to be missing from his Cell

Hawkmoth believed to be Collector under a new name

Gabriel Agreste spotted near ex-wife and son’s home

Ladybug and Chat Noir confirm suspicions

Emilie Graham de Vanily marries partner of seven years

Gabriel slowly clicked on each of the articles and slowly read them. Everything he had, that he had built, was gone. He and Emilie were separated since Adrien had been two, after she reported him to the police, he’d been arrested two years later after police found DNA evidence on one of the Collector’s victims. A sudden kick in the stomach jolted Gabriel. In trying to get his wife back, he’d lost everything.

AUT

Adrien quietly focussed on Marinette’s breathing, he could vaguely hear Lila making strange noises whenever Chloe moved, as well as Alya rapidly typing on her phone. Marinette’s sister had been one of the Collector’s victims, ironically the one that lead to his arrest.

“What do you think life was like before he screwed up?” Asked Lila, her head dangling upside down, “I mean, we know he had sleeper Akuma’s-” “Don’t we know it.” Alya muttered. “myself included, but, seriously, if his life was so great in that other world, why would he look for magical jewellery?”

Marinette dug around in her pocket and pulled the Peacock and the Butterfly. Carefully pinning the Butterfly to her jacket, she tapped it twice.

A purple Kwami fell into her hands and just laid there, trembling and crying.

“Pl-please, m-master.” The Kwami sobbed, “N-no more.”

Tikki rushed over to the Kwami, Plagg unceremoniously flopped and flailed, acting like water in a balloon. Plagg eventually made it to Tikki and the other Kwami.

“It’s okay, Nooroo,” Tikki soothed, stroking Nooroo’s head, “he no longer has the miraculous, you’re free.”

Nooroo, only continued to quietly sniffle, while Plagg flopped around.

“To answer your question, Sausage hair,” Lila pulled an insulted face, “his wife was missing, or dead, one or the other. He felt he had lost everything in his life and took to manipulating people to try and get what wanted.”

“So, he ruined his own life, while making Adrien’s better?” Asked Alix, leaning forwards.

“Not just Adrien’s,” Said Tikki, “In that world Lila had taken to lying about everything and everyone, Chloe was a nightmare and any adults were complacent and did nothing.”

“Wait, so I was a Psychopath, Chloe was a Sociopath and everyone else were doormats?” Said Lila, rolling off the table.

“Yup.” Said Plagg, before looking up at Adrien, “I know you hate me complaining-”

Adrien pulled a piece of camembert out of his pocket and shoved it in Plagg’s mouth, while Marinette gave Tikki a Macaron.

“Why would their lives change?” Asked Marinette, frowning slightly.

“They were Hawkmoth’s primary tools in Akumatizing people, since he no longer needed them, the Universe accommodated their lives.” Said Plagg, swallowing his cheese, “He had no reason to use either of them this time around and, as a result, never manipulated them into his tools.”

Everyone was quiet, before Alix exhaled, “So what else has changed?”

The Kwami all exchanged glances, before the attention of the class was drawn over to the entrance.

“I don’t care if you need to question them, Roger, I need to get to my son!”

Adrien winced as His mother stormed in, closely followed by Officer Raincomprix. Marinette quickly hid the Kwami in her jacket pocket, making sure Sabrina’s dad didn’t see them.

Emilie crossed the courtyard and yanked Adrien into an embrace.

“Thank god, you’re safe.” Emilie whispered, holding her son tightly.

“I’m fine, maman.” Said Adrien, trying to save his lungs.

Emile then held Adrien at arm’s length and looked him in the eyes, “Adrien Raphael Sancoeur-Graham de Vanily, when that monster is involved, nothing is ever fine. How did he even get into the premises? I thought this school was safe.”

“That’s what we’re trying to investigate, ma’am.” Said Raincomprix, trying not to flinch when she glared at him, “We have reason to believe he had help from a staff member.”

“He didn’t.” Said Marinette, getting the eyes of everyone.

Emilie softened at the sight of the girl.

“Okay.” Said Raincomprix, folding his arms and scowling, “How did he get in?”

Marinette fished Nooroo out of her pocket and pointed to the brooch.

“He got in because he was Hawkmoth,” Said Marinette, “Don’t ask how we got the Miraculous from him and don’t ask us to hand it over.”

Roger opened his mouth, before Emilie cut in, “Where is he now?”

“He’s been locked in the classroom.” Said Lila, before Emilie spun on her heel and stalked off.

“No. Wait. Come back.” Said Adrien, as slowly as possible, “Oh dear, she can’t hear me.”

Everyone was quiet, before Marinette looked at Adrien, while stroking Nooroo, and said, “What’s the chances of your mother committing murder?”

Adrien just shrugged.

AUT

Gabriel looked up as the door unlocked and opened. Emilie stormed in and, before Gabriel could react, punched him so hard that he fell to the floor. Emilie then stood on Gabriel’s chest and glared down at him.

“You have no right, being here.” Said Emilie, her voice cold and face hard.

“Emilie-” Gabriel was kicked in the face, blood spewing from his nose.

“Do. Not. Speak.” Emilie grit out, “You brought this on yourself, all those children you harmed a slaughtered and you always wondered why I would never let you near my son. I’m amazed that Marinette didn’t try to kill you herself, given what you did to her sister.”

Gabriel only stared up at her, desperately, only for Emilie to press her foot down harder, “Where did you get the Miraculous?”

“I found them.” Said Gabriel, weakly.

“You mean you stole them from the Guardian you murdered, then you killed the others until the Miracle Box was given to Ladybug.” Snapped Emilie, her foot pressing down harder.

“We need him alive for the trial.” Said an unfamiliar voice, making Emilie turn around.

“Skye, how long have you been standing there?” Asked Emilie, looking at Marinette’s oldest sister.

“Long enough,” Said Skye, looking at her nails, “Michael is trying to get the media to clear off, to give you and Adrien some peace.”

Emilie got off Gabriel and started to head out of the room, before she looked back, “Make sure he doesn’t get off easy.”

“Don’t worry.” Said Skye, her eyes and voice cold, “He won’t.”

Gabriel watched at Emilie walked away, his heart sinking further into the bottomless abyss of loss.

Everything was gone for him.

AUT

Marinette quietly dozed next to Adrien, who rested his cheek on her head.

“Macarons are dancing.” Marinette mumbled, as she cuddled into Adrien.

Adrien smiled as the News announced the Gabriel had been confined to a lifetime sentence with no chance of getting out.

For some reason, Adrien felt as if he had everything he wanted.

Although, he thinks his mother was right about one of his thoughts, it would be best to finish school before marrying Marinette.

Adrien just hoped the ring he chose would still fit her finger in ten years’ time.

133 notes · View notes

theoeclipse · 5 years

Text

Les Roses

Pairing: Lena Oxton x Amelie Lacroix

Disclaimer: Characters are the intellectual property of Blizzard.

Summary: Lena has been mysteriously receiving roses at the fashion magazine where she works. When she discovers who is sending them, however, her life is turned upside down.

Note: This started off as a little prompt that was supposed to be short. It quickly turned into almost 7k words. Sorry not sorry.

You can also read this on AO3 here.

Lena exhaled as she looked at the monitor in front of her. She had just finished editing the last article for this week’s edition of Couture, five minutes ahead of schedule even. Which meant-

“Home time!” she chippered to herself, cracking her knuckles and standing from her stiff office chair. She pressed her hands into her lower back, bending until she felt it crack and let out a little grunt of relief.

Just as she was about to leave her office however, hand poised over the door handle, her desk phone rang.

Eyes narrowing, she considered it briefly. If she answered it and it was the boss, she could probably expect to be staying late with no way to get out of it. However there was always the possibility it could be a serious request that could cost her arse if she ducked out before answering it.

Resigning herself to this fate, she walked back to her desk and picked it up.

“Yello?”

“Good afternoon Lena, it’s Sandra from front desk. I wanted to let you know there’s a delivery down here for you to pick up on your way out.”

Brow crinkling, she wondered if it was the same person that had been sending her roses for the past few weeks.

“Righto, I’m on my way down now anyway, thanks.” She placed the phone down and turned, making her way out.

No one from the floor noticed as she left. Not that it was really any of their business what she did or where she went, this whole magazine would be stuffed without her writing and editing for the company. Her articles alone were 40% of the readership, probably more.

So yeah, definitely wasn’t a secret admirer here at the office, that she was sure of. But that just made it even more of a mystery. She didn’t really have many friends, at least no gay ones. And she was fairly certain her mum wouldn’t go setting her up with a mystery woman.

Still, she’d figure it out eventually, that much she was sure of.

As she stepped off the elevator and approached the front desk, Sandra met her with a bright smile. She could see the roses just sitting there in a little black bucket, a note tucked neatly into them.

“Nother one huh?” she asked, approaching where they sat on the counter and reaching out, cupping one of the red roses and bringing it to her nose. It smelled soft, floral and delicious. Whoever bought these- and there was at least two dozen- had money to spare. And then some.

“Someone likes you,” Sandra replied, tilting her head at the roses and wiggling her eyebrows.

Lena scoffed.

“And lemme guess, you got no clue who they are either?” Lena asked, plucking the note from the stems and unfolding it.

Sandra looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“Whoever it is they’re bringing them in themselves. And let me tell you, she is probably the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. And I'm straight.”

That piqued Lena’s interest, an eyebrow cocking.

“Gorgeous woman you say?”

“Mhmm.” Sandra nodded, holding up a finger as the phone beside her rang and she went into customer service mode.

Lena turned away, bringing the note up to read it.

“Two lovers adrift- cast from their caste- find their own way back to land.”

She peered at it in confusion. The words seemed oddly familiar.

Grabbing the pot of roses, she gave a small wave to Sandra and left the building. She had at least a five block walk home to ponder over the message, but it wasn’t until she placed the flowers down gently on her coffee table that a light bulb went off in her head.

“Bollocks!”

It was actually a line from a page she edited- the reader’s submitted poetry- that came out on the shelves last week. She’d liked that line, particularly so. She’d put that poem at the top of the column and even bolded that first sentence.

So, whoever it was sending her these gifts most certainly also read the magazine she worked on.

Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she paced back and forth. Still, no one she could think of. But maybe.... maybe if she just asked Sandra to hold them up the next time they brought flowers, call her with a code word or something, then she could run down and catch the ‘hot delivery girl’ in action.

She grinned to herself. It was a brilliant idea, if she said so herself.

And so planned the ambush with Sandra. She’d give her a call pretending to ‘need to call her boss about something’ and stay on the phone until Lena got down there. After all, she couldn’t accept the delivery until she got off the phone, and the ‘hot delivery girl’ would be none the wiser. It was perfect.

So another week went by, every day Lena waiting anxiously for the end of the day to come and for her mysterious rose girl to show up. Of course it was silly to expect her so soon, but she couldn’t help it. It was keeping her on edge and she needed to know.

When that call finally came however, she could barely contain her excitement. She practically ran through the office to the elevator, much to the other employees disdain. Not that it bothered her, she was about to meet her mystery woman, caught red handed. This is definitely the most interesting thing that had happened to her all year.

Her expression dropped as the elevator doors opened at the ground floor, every part of her body tensing up as she spotted the very CEO of the competing fashion magazine to the company she worked for standing in the foyer. She had been following her on her social media for a long time now, and had always admired her passion and determination in a cut-throat industry.

Did she also mention she was bloody gorgeous? Like, fall over your own feet and walk into a street pole at the sight of her gorgeous? Because well... she was.

Their eyes met and there was a moment of panic she saw in the taller woman’s features. That was when she noticed what she was holding.

“Nice roses,” Lena managed to whimper out without sounding like too much of an awe struck teenager. As the French woman’s eyes bore into hers and a shade of pink touched her cheeks, Lena cleared her throat.

“Sorry, ‘m Lena. Lena Oxton. I’m editor in chief for Couture magazine, you’re Ms. Lacroix right?” she queried, straightening her posture and forcing herself to act at least a little bit professional. She looked over and noticed Sandra behind the desk making a frantic pointing motion in the direction of Ms. Lacroix as she stood there holding the roses. No. There’s no way.

“I know who you are, Miss Oxton,” her voice came out like silk, her gorgeous amber eyes sparkling with just a hint of mischief. “I am a fan of your work, it is written with passion and ferocity.”

A smile crept over Ms. Lacroix’s face, causing a flush to reach Lena’s cheekbones.

“I also enjoy reading your lifestyle blog online. It is... interesting, to say the least.”

Oh god, she read her lifestyle blog. Of all the bloody things. That website was nothing but a big mess of mostly lesbian content, a few fiction romance stories, interviews and reviews on LGBT+ media. Generally it was something that only really appealed to people from her own community, why would she be reading it?

“Gee, thank you so much Ms. Lacroix, I’m flattered, truly,” Lena paused, scratching at the nape of her neck as she tried to avoid those intense eyes. “Who’s the roses for anyways? Y’got someone ya meeting up with here or-”

At that, the French woman stepped forwards, holding the bucket out towards her.

“Apologies, these are for you,” Ms. Lacroix spoke rapidly, suddenly seeming self conscious in the moment, keeping her gaze locked onto the flowers in question.

Lena stared at them for a few moments, truly baffled and simultaneously very flattered and very very gay. She stammered.

“For me? But I don’t-”

“I was having your receptionist take the delivery, I’m sorry I wasn’t more forward Miss Oxton. I-” The French woman looked away, inhaling a deep breath before turning her head back and giving Lena a soft, wonderful smile.

Oh, that’s nice.

“I wanted to ask you to allow me to take you out for dinner some time.”

Lena almost dropped the flowers at that, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as she looked for any hint that she was being taken for a ride.

“D-dinner? Like... like dinner dinner? Like a date dinner? Not like... just business dinner?” her hope was welling up in her chest and she didn’t want it to die, not when this gorgeous woman was looking at her like that; looking at her like she was the most interesting person in the world and then some.

A soft chuckle that sounded very French indeed- if that was even possible- escaped Ms. Lacroix’s lips and it was a most heavenly sound indeed.

“Oui, like a date dinner. Perhaps with just a side of business, if that suits you.”

Lena couldn’t help herself from erupting into a hopeful giggle; she was all too aware of the stupid, love struck grin now blossoming on her lips.

“Suits me just fine love,” she paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Speaking of, do I wear a suit or...”

Her voice trailed off, and there was another one of those heavenly laughs.

“Non, nothing so formal. You could just wear a blouse and jeans if it’s what you wish,” she waved a dismissive hand, even that motion being elegant.

She was liking this woman more and more by the minute, and she’d already liked her to begin with.

At that, Ms. Lacroix reached into the inner pocket of her suit, a subtle dark grey tone that was cropped just along the bottom of her rib cage. She pulled out her phone, handing it to Lena.

Juggling the roses so that she could hold them with one arm, she took the phone and gave the French woman an inquisitive look. All she got was a cheeky smile in return.

“Your number, if you’d be so kind,” she elaborated, and Lena proceeded to enter herself into the woman’s contacts. “Thursday evening, 7pm. I will text you the address beforehand.”

Lena nodded and handed her the phone back, appreciating the small smile Ms. Lacroix had as she made sure the details were all there.

“Right, Thursday. 7pm,” Lena repeated, shrugging her shoulders. “Thanks for the roses by the way, they’re gorgeous.”

Ms. Lacroix made a small humming noise, obviously pleased that her gift was suitable.

“I’m glad you like them,” she replied, lifting her arm she pulled her sleeve back and looked at her watch. Lena couldn’t help but notice it was what appeared to be gold with many little encrusted diamonds around the face. Bloody ‘ell was this woman well off. “I have a meeting I must get to, but I look forward to dinner with you, Miss Oxton.”

“Lena,” she corrected her quickly, in one sharp breath. “Please, just Lena’s fine.”

The French woman smiled, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Very well, Lena,” and the name practically rolled off her tongue. “Then please, call me Amelie.”

“Amelie,” Lena repeated, a little quietly in fear of stuffing up the pronunciation, but Amelie nodded appreciatively in return.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Lena,” Ms. Lacroix spoke, also giving a small nod of farewell to the receptionist before turning on her heel to leave.

“You too!” Lena called out after her, smiling to herself. She must have stayed that way for some time even after Amelie had left, as it took Sandra calling her name twice before she turned to her.

“Really Lena? The CEO of our competing company?” she looked both a combination of exasperated and amused.

Lena could only rub at her neck sheepishly, then pretending to look at her wrist despite not even wearing a watch at all.

“Gee will you look at the time? Gotta fly! Later Sandra!”

And with that she left the building before she could get in any more trouble.

Thursday couldn't come fast enough, yet when the time actually came, Lena couldn't help but suddenly wish she had more time.

Yes, Amelie said she could dress casual, but she hardly felt that would be fitting, especially considering that once she'd been texted the name of the restaurant she knew instantly she should at least try to dress up.

Of course it was a French restaurant. Of course it was fine dining. Jesus bloody hell this woman was rich, it wasn't like she was going to take her out for a luke warm cheeseburger.

The pile of clothes on her bed was growing, and as she stood in wearing black dress pants and a bra in front of her closet she finally decided that a simple blouse would have to do. It was form fitting, white and plain with three-quarter sleeves. Nothing fancy, but acceptable attire nonetheless.

She'd spent too much time fussing over clothes already so she decided to forgo the makeup except for a little touch of eyeliner and some neutral eye shadow. With that settled, she checked the time.

“Bugger!” noticing she only had 30 minutes to be at the restaurant, she hurried to grab her handbag, tucking her phone into it and heading out the door. She was lucky enough to be down the road from the metro, and if she jogged down to the station she'd just make it in time for the train and would- according to the timetable- reach her destination with a few minutes to spare.

And she did, her phone reading 6:58pm as she reached the door of the restaurant and made her way in. A man in suit and tie immediately greeted her with a charming smile and a soft 'bonjour', asking her for her reservation. She totally didn't feel nerves well up in the pit of her stomach, nope, none at all.

“Lena Oxton, I'm here for dinner with Ms. Amelie Lacroix.”

His eyes widened at the name and he began beaming, bowing and motioning with his hand for her to follow him.

“Ah yes, Miss Oxton, of course! Ms. Lacroix is waiting for you in the private dining room. Please, if you will follow me,” he spoke in the most formal of tones, his French accent just making him sound all the more posh.

Lena couldn't help but look around her at all the rich and well dressed people sitting at their tables, holding crystal glasses filled with red wine and dining on what she could only describe as Gordon Ramsay level cooking. If this was the 'public' dining area, she could only imagine what the 'private' dining area was like.

Following him through, he led her to a wide hallway curtained off from the public. He lifted the curtain back for her and motioned for her to walk through. She did so, nervous trepidation now rising into her throat. The hall was lined with oil paintings that looked both very old and very expensive. She could see the textures of the paint and the strokes from the paintbrushes. They were not prints.

At the end of the hall was a set of swinging double doors with curtains hung over their windows. For added privacy, Lena assumed.

He swung one of the doors open, smiling at her and motioning for her to enter.

“Have a lovely evening, madam,” he spoke politely, leaving and letting the door swing shut behind him.

As she turned back around, Lena couldn't help but gape at the room. It was massive, unnecessarily so. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, speakers in each corner of the room emitting relaxing, hypnotic electronic music. The table was lined with a gorgeous purple satin tablecloth and set with every piece of cutlery and glass type you could think of.

There was also a gas powered fireplace that stretched almost six-feet wide along the back wall, emitting a comfortable amount of heat.

But perhaps the most beautiful thing in the room by far was the radiant woman sitting on the left of the table, reclining with her legs crossed and a sly smile on her face. Her eyes popped even more in this lighting, surrounded by an immaculate smokey eye and winged eyeliner. Her lips were coated in a shimmering lipstick a dark shade of purple that almost appeared black, glistening in the overhead light.

She was wearing a black dress that cut low through the middle, revealing the inner curve of her breasts and just about touching her belly button. A slice down the right side of the dress revealed her thighs almost all the way up to her panty line.

Oh, she was staring. She was definitely staring.

“See something you like?” Amelie teased, quite obviously aware of the effect she was having on her guest.

“I uh... um. That is-” Lena suddenly felt incredibly warm, and her clothing felt far too tight. She reached up and pulled at the collar of her blouse, attempting to loosen it. Amelie laughed, her eyes lighting up.

“Please, relax. I don't bite,” Amelie spoke, motioning to the chair that was beside her, but about two feet away. It certainly seemed more intimate of a dining arrangement than your regular setup.

Lena let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, moving around the table and seating herself to Amelie's left. She gave the French woman an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, 'aven't been on a date in a long time. I'm a little rusty at this.”

Amelie shook her head, her long black hair like tresses of silk tied up into a professional bun.

“I find it hard to believe someone such as yourself has trouble finding dates,” Amelie argued, taking a moment to eye her up and down, humming softly as though in approval. Lena felt her cheeks redden.

“Don't really get the time. I work at the office and I work when I get home. Sometimes I'm up 'til the early hours of the morning, don't get much sleep.”

Her dining partner clicked her tongue disapprovingly at this, her smile fading to be replaced by the most adorable crinkled brow Lena had ever seen.

“That is unacceptable, non that will not do at all,” she spoke tersely, shaking her head as she plucked her phone from the table and started typing something into it. Lena wasn't sure if she was texting someone or taking notes, but after a few moments, she placed her phone back down and looked at her with a very serious expression.

“Lena, I will not lie to you. There is another reason I brought you here tonight,” Amelie paused, taking a deep breath. Lena suddenly felt her nerves rattle. “I wanted to ask you to come and work for me. Be my second in command. Everything would have to be approved by you on my behalf, and all editing work would be done by those of your choosing. No more late nights, no weekend work, you would get to attend all the fashion events by my side or in my place.”

The amount of information being thrown at her almost knocked her for six, and she felt herself staring back at Amelie like a fish out of water. A smile crept onto Amelie's features.

“And of course, I would pay you handsomely. It would make your current paycheck look like mere pocket money.”

Okay, this all sounded far too good to be true. Yet she knew this industry was cut throat and those that had the skill and potential to go far were worth their weight in gold. Amelie had obviously been scouting her for some time, but did that mean that the date was all a ruse?

Shifting uncomfortably, she chewed on her lower lip. The woman beside her looked at her expectantly.

“So does that mean this isn't a date then?”

She could already feel the disappointment, the let down, that gaping maw opening up in her stomach and preparing to swallow her whole. The offer was amazing, and she'd be a fool to not accept it, but she'd truly been hoping to just enjoy a wonderful date and maybe something more with this mysterious woman.

Realising what she must have sounded like, Amelie instantly looked apologetic, leaning closer to her and resting her hand on Lena's thighs.

“Cherie, I brought you here for a date, that I promise you,” she squeezed Lena's thigh, giving her a reassuring smile. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, I just thought it best to get business out of the way first before pleasure. Wouldn't you agree?”

Ahh, there was her nerves from earlier making a second appearance. Lena chuckled softly, feeling adventurous enough to reach down and let her hand rest atop Amelie's. It was a bit cooler to the touch than she'd expected, but still pleasant. Her skin was so soft and she just couldn't help herself but to run her thumb over the back of her knuckles.

This little moment of tenderness seemed to catch the French woman off-guard, her cheeks darkening and a hint of something else behind her eyes.

“Yes, I agree,” Lena spoke with all the bravery she could muster. She took a deep breath before continuing. “And I'd love to come and work for ya', Amelie.”

“With me,” Amelie corrected, giving her thigh one last squeeze before taking her hand back and returning to her relaxed posture. “You will be working with me, and I promise you cherie you will enjoy every minute of it.”

That she didn't doubt for a second. A pleased smile crossed Amelie's face as she adjusted her dress, somehow managing to reveal even more of her thighs.

“Now, are you hungry?”

She was hungry, but not just for food, that was for sure. Instead of making a fool out of her love starved self however, she settled for nodding in reply.

Amelie called for the waiter and they ordered their meals.

It was a comfortable atmosphere, the two of them talking light business while waiting and then while eating. Amelie seemed especially interested in Lena's lifestyle blog and suggested she could even have a similar article running weekly in her own magazine. Of course she agreed to it, more positive LGBT+ representation in the mainstream media could go a long way.

They talked about themselves. Lena learned that Amelie's prior marriage had been loveless and purely for business; the two had separated amicably once she had established herself in the industry with his help. It had been a well kept secret- the French woman's sexuality- but being the fashion giant that she was now she no longer felt the need to hide who she was.

It was something Lena understood, having herself dated men off and on when she was younger and in college. Even once she discovered that her lack of excitement in those relationships was due to the fact that they were men and not women, she still approached her love life with trepidation. A secret girlfriend here, a fling there. Nothing substantial. Work had ended up taking priority in her life, something she absolutely didn't regret having gotten to where she had in that time.

Now here she was, enjoying a wonderful date with an equally as wonderful woman. One who laughed at her jokes or listened to her intently when she shared a story. They finished their meals and the waiter brought out a bottle of wine for them, pouring two glasses and leaving the bottle behind.

Usually Lena wasn't big on drinking wine, but in good company it wasn't so bad, and she found herself loosening up the more she sipped at the crimson liquid. At some point Amelie had shifted her chair closer, almost touching, swishing her wine delicately in its glass while listening to Lena babble on about a movie she'd seen a few weeks ago.

It was as her head started to buzz that she looked over at her companions wrist watch, just barely making out that the hour hand was touching on the 10, the minute hand a little bit past the 12.

“Oh bollocks, is it that late already? I'm sorry I musta' been babbling on for ages, you must be bored outta' ya mind,” she started to panic, feeling self conscious of herself and her ability to prattle on about just about anything.

Amelie however only smiled at her, eyebrows lowering and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, propped up by the arm of her chair.

“Bored? Oh my darling, I've sit through more arduous meetings than I care to count. You are a breath of fresh air, though it is wonderfully sweet of you to be concerned.”

Darling? That was new. And... nice.

She took another mouthful of wine. Amelie noticed.

“If you wish to head home I would be more than glad to have my driver escort you there. I would hate for you to be out there alone at this time of night,” one of her eyebrows cocked playfully, earning a swarm of butterflies in Lena's stomach. “Or we could return to my home. I would so love to enjoy your company further.”

I'm bloody sure you would too, you French seductress. There was a part of her that was tempted to pass her up on that offer, if only because she was well aware of what they could get up to. But the part of her inhibition that had been loosened up from the alcohol would not let her turn it down in a million years.

“Y'know, think I'll take ya up on that, if only so that you can show me 'round your fancy digs,” Lena replied, looking thoughtful. This seemed to please Amelie greatly, a musical laugh escaping her lips and sending a warmth throughout her. Or maybe that was the alcohol at this point.

“Whatever you wish, cherie,” she replied, reaching for her handbag and pulling out what appeared to be a chequebook and pen. Lena watched with mild interest as Amelie filled out a cheque; she couldn't quite make out the numbers, but there was most definitely several zeros.

The cheque was placed in a small dish in the centre of the table and she tucked the book back into her handbag, beginning to push her chair from the table. Okay, Lena could at least do this one little to thing to prove she had at least a little bit of culture.

“Oh, here let me,” she rushed, jumping out of her own chair to her companion's surprise, standing off to the side and offering her hand in assistance. Amelie smiled, taking the hand and allowing herself to be helped out of her chair.

“Mmm, how chivalrous of you, cherie.”

Lena grinned, now offering her elbow. “Shall we?”

Amelie gave her an admiring smile before looping her arm through the offered elbow, allowing herself to be escorted out.

“Lead the way.”

They got quite a few intrigued stares on their way out, but Lena was blissfully happy enough that she didn't care to notice them. If anything she stood straighter, giving that one balding, grey haired dude the 'yeah, this is my date, what are you gonna do about it?' glare when he looked like he'd swallowed a bag of marbles at the sight of her arm in arm with another woman.

Once outside a cool breeze touched her skin, ruffling her brown tresses of hair that she had styled almost immaculately. The valet nodded to her, assuring her their ride was on its way.

No more than three minutes later, a limousine pulled up. It was the darkest of blacks, tinted windows, shined so thoroughly that Lena could almost make out her reflection in it. The valet stepped forwards, opening the rear door and bowing graciously to them as Amelie tugged her towards the vehicle.

This was all... quite a lot. Even as she buckled in and admired the spacious cabin around her, she couldn't help but wonder what the point of all this was, other than making a grand impression. They engaged in quiet conversation, Lena mostly just enjoying the scenic route they took through the city, lights flashing as they drove past, over the bridge freeway where a few boats were spotted around the harbour. She barely even noticed the time passing until she felt the limo slowing to a stop, peering outside to see they'd pulled up in front of a mansion sized beach house.

The driver got out, opening the door for them. Lena thanked him, standing and looking up at the size of the building. It had to be at least three stories, with huge open plan windows looking out over the harbour and the shoreline.

“I promise you, it's much more beautiful inside,” Amelie teased, her voice a warm whisper against her ear that took her by surprise. She turned her head, meeting the taller woman's gaze, her amber eyes burning playfully and a smile pulling at her lips.

“Right, sorry. It's just so...” Lena paused, looking back up at the building before formulating her response. “Big.”

A finger played at the collar of her blouse, tracing over the fabric. She swallowed.

“Size is not everything, I assure you,” came the warm response, the French woman's voice just a little lower, and not so much playful as it was making promises she intended to keep.

Lena laughed awkwardly, scrubbing at the back of her hair and not able to make eye contact. She could already feel her stupid ears burning with a blush, but she was grateful for the dim lighting for hopefully hiding it.

“Come, let me show you around,” Amelie spoke, her voice a more normal tone now as she took Lena by the hand and guided her up the steps and into her home.

Amelie pressed a key card against a scanner, the locks on her front door clicking and sliding open. On entering, Lena looked around her in awe. She vaguely heard Amelie telling her it was the foyer, pointing to various items she had on display including a statue of an elegant naked woman that seemed to be calling the viewer towards her.

In a stupor she merely followed her guide around, being shown a music room, a theatre, living room, kitchen and bathrooms. She allowed herself to be guided upstairs, all the way to the third floor. Apparently the second floor was mainly guest rooms and a second entertaining area.

When they reached the third floor landing it opened up into an expansive living area. Another one of those gas powered fire places was set into the far wall lined with cobblestones. There was a steel grey faux rug sprawled in front of it, a few mauve recliners with thick feet that were probably carved out of very expensive wood. Off to the side was a bar, not too dissimilar to the kind found in clubs, just a little smaller.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Amelie offered, turning to face her guest with enquiring eyes. Lena nodded in reply, her head still spinning as she tried to take in the fact that she was in what she could only imagine was a multi-million dollar mansion overlooking the beach, with a very rich, very charming, very gorgeous and very French woman. One- she noted- that seemed to be the most unlikely thing of all; interested in her.

The French woman walked behind the bar, pulling out two scotch glasses. Looking up, she caught Lena's attention.

“Liquor?” she inquired.

“I'd love to-” Lena mumbled, realising at that second she'd said 'liquor' and not 'lick her'. She shook her head, rubbing at her arms. “Rum. I'd love a rum thanks.”

Amelie nodded appreciatively, turning to look at her shelves and running her fingers along all the bottles she had until it came to rest on one. Like everything else around here, it looked expensive.

She popped the cork and poured out two glasses, adding some ice to both drinks. Grabbing the glasses, she motioned towards the love seat that sat adjacent to the fireplace.

“Come, sit with me,” she offered, giving a warm smile.

Lena obliged, following her over. She sat first, watching as Amelie sat right beside her and close enough that their thighs were almost touching. The dark-haired woman handed her her drink, and Lena was all too ready to accept, drinking down several mouthfuls of the liquid courage right there and then. Amelie quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything about it.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, looking at Lena with expectant eyes.

A few moments passed, with her chewing on her lip as she tried to formulate a reply.

“It's...” Lena looked around again, trying to really take in everything now. It smelled feminine, soft, a little bit floral. “A lot, not gonna' lie love.”

Amelie tilted her head, eyeing Lena over her glass of rum as she brought it to her lips. “How so?”

Struggling for the right words, the brunette shuffled around a bit, took another swig of the rum. She savoured the way it burned down the back of her throat, but much smoother than the stuff she usually drank. It was good. She stared into her lap.

“Look, you're bloody amazing. I can't believe someone like you would even want someone like me, but we're here. You're here. This place... it's amazing. But it's a world away from what I'm used to. I live in a tiny one bedroom apartment, I eat leftover Chinese and pizza,” Lena paused briefly, starting to feel a little more warm from the rum. Growing a little courage, she met Amelie's eyes. “My bloody toaster broke the other day y'know. I only bought the damn thing a few months ago. How does a toaster even break? I don't just have money to throw around at toasters!”

The woman beside her laughed softly, taking a sip of her drink as she waited for her guest to continue.

“And some kid spilled his juice on me on the train Monday morning. On the way to work, o'course,” she huffed at the memory and having to excuse the big orange patch on her white jeans when she got into the office. She shook her head. “I'm not used to this rich lifestyle, or being pampered in any way really.”

Raising an eyebrow, Amelie placed her free arm along the back of the love seat, her fingers tentatively teasing at the base of Lena's hair.

“And you don't think someone like me would want someone like you?” the French woman enquired, her voice low but warm. The brunette shivered at the light touch playing with her hair.

“Why would ya?”

The fingers slipped from her hair and she suddenly missed the sensation, but watched as Amelie took her drink from her hand, placing it with her own on the small table in front of them. Turning back, the French woman took both her hands in her own, squeezing them gently.

“Cherie, you are more amazing than you know. You are smart, talented, funny. You have a true eye for fashion, but you are not like everyone else in this industry, non. You have a heart, I've seen it in your writing, your articles and your blogs,” she paused, her fiery eyes boring into hers with a strength of passion. “You have a way about everything you publish that shows the world your compassion, your truth.”

Lena couldn't hold the gaze, the intensity burning inside of her chest as she took in every word. Looking down, she admired how their hands looked together; at some point they had become intertwined, locked together.

“It gets awfully lonely at the top, Lena. No amount of money can change that,” Amelie spoke softly, a hint of sadness in her voice, a sadness that made her look up again. There was a small smile, a wistful one, and a soft laugh.

“You know, when I was a child, I always thought it was so strange when the Princesses in movies always ended up with the Prince. How could they want to be with such a man when there is a gorgeous woman in front of her?”

A laugh escaped Lena at that, memories of her own returning to when she was a clueless young girl with pictures of female pop stars on her wall while all her female friends had men on theirs.

“We all start off as clueless baby gays, then we grow up inta' adult gays who got no clue how to flirt with ladies,” Lena added, nodding her head as she thought about it. Amelie hummed in agreement.

“Or business gets in the way of what we truly want. What we need.”

The French woman squeezed her hands, shuffling closer. Lena met her eyes, glad to see the sadness from before had dissipated but noting there was something else there. There was trepidation, nervousness. Was she... afraid?

“Love, if there's something you wanna ask me I'm all ears.”

Taking the encouragement, Amelie sat up a little straighter, her eyes flitting back and forth as she tried to gauge the situation.

“Lena I-” she stopped, her mouth poised as though to say something else before thinking better of it, taking a steadying breath, then continuing. “I'd very much like to get to know you further in person. To... date you. If you would have me?”

It was such a soft, genuine question that all Lena could do was start grinning like an idiot, a giggle erupting from her throat without her permission.

“Ya' askin' me to be ya' girlfriend?”

Amelie's lips turned up into a shy smile, her cheeks colouring scarlet as she now looked down at their hands as Lena had before. She found it so endearing that someone so powerful, so strong and terrifying in the fashion industry was turning into an unsure, nervous school girl before her.

“Oui,” there was a moment of silence, the dark-haired woman finally gaining a little courage to look up again as her blush subsided. There was a subtle happiness on her face now, and it just made her look even more radiant than she already did.

“I'd like the chance to show you what you've been missing out on all these years,” she added, the corner of her lip turning up into a cheeky smile. Lena caught the teasing, wiggling her eyebrows in response and daring to lean forward a few inches.

“Oh yeah? Why don't ya' show me then.”

Amelie let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a scoff, slowly moving in towards Lena, drawn in like a magnet until the very heat of her lips was against her own.

It was such a simple motion, but it sent her head spinning. All her fears and emotions that might have been left over in the back of her mind that Amelie didn't want her seemed to drift away as their mouths pressed against each other more insistently. They were both tentative but eager to explore, equal measures of gentle and firm. Her hands were already roaming the expanse of Amelie's waistline, much to the taller woman's delight, soft airy moans singing from her throat while her body leant into the touch.

She let out a sound of displeasure as her partner moved away from her, but a soothing hand ran through her short hair in a promise that she wasn't going anywhere.

“Stay the night?” Amelie inquired, her voice low and husky, her pupils dilated and her lips full and shimmering from their kissing. Lena had to stop herself from grinning like the cat who got the canary.

“Sure, but I gotta' warn ya', I'm a blanket hog.”

A chuckle escaped the French woman's lips, and she leant in to press another kiss to Lena's mouth.

“Then you'll just have to make sure you keep me warm, hmm?” Amelie ran her thumb across Lena's lower lip, pleased when the smaller woman kissed her digit.

“I think I can manage that,” Lena took a few moments to just enjoy this closeness, bumping their noses together before claiming her lips again in a delicious kiss.

She kept her promise, not once did Amelie go cold throughout the night.

#writing #femslash #f/f #widowmaker #tracer #amelie lacroix #lena oxton #widowtracer #tracemaker #widowmaker x tracer #overwatch #fanfic #fanfiction #write-it-motherfuckers #fashion AU #AU

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zerot0all · 5 years

Text

[06:45 am] M

(Part 4 of New Boys in Town)

•••••

-TWILIGHT-

Sweet snores and constant cuddles is what your chill mornings consisted of. A tangled mess as your eyes flutter open to Yunho’s head on your chest, his breathing soft but deep making you smile. While Mingi lay around your middle , arms wrapped around your warm body like another blanket. Both bodies , keeping you close. Breathing in your scent as you took in their early morning beauty. The sun was barely rising , the tiny particles of light making your vision clear of the clutter the room was.

Clothes thrown everywhere , after ending your session with Mingi last night ... or what seemed to be a few hours ago, Yunho then joined. Needing you close to him like always. It became a rougher session. Yunho filled you up from behind as Mingi watched and stroked himself to your sexual desires. Your body bruised with the gentle passion you encountered with these men. You could feel the tenderness between your legs , just a small reminder that you belonged to eight of the most desirable men to be alive.

As Yunho snuggles deeper into your chest , you could feel Mingi’s mouth begin to place soft kisses absentmindedly on your bare belly. You didn’t wish to wake them... it was a nice feeling having them wrapped around you. Like they needed to feel you to have some sort of calmness come over them. Like as if you were the only one to silence their demons , little did they know , they silenced yours almost instantly.

A sudden knock sounds on Mingi’s bedroom door, making the guys shuffle in bed. You watch as it slowly opens and Hongjoong makes an appearance, making his way quickly to the bed. Smiling brightly at you, then swatting both boys on their back to wake them.

“Manager is on his way... get up.” He said rather rushed , making Yunho and Mingi sprint from the bed. Their manager only knows you as their friend .,, nothing more and nothing less. So the scene of being in bed with two of the boys was a bad sign , at least only when the manager checks in on them. As both guys head to the showers , Hongjoong crawls into bed towards you. Your naked frame now covered by the blanket, but still giving Hongjoong the view of your perky breast the closer he got. His smile was wide , his eyes shimmered with the light that had surpassed the thin window curtains . You reached for his face, both mouths meeting for what you thought was a morning peck , instead, Hongjoong took your lips in a needy kiss.

“I’ve missed your touch, Princess.” His words were hushed as he carefully pushed you back into bed , his body hovering over yours making you admire the way he easily slipped the blanket off of you. He made himself comfortable between your thighs, the soreness seeming nonexistent. You hummed into his lips , letting him devour your raw mouth. After a night of passion , one would easily take rest , but in a home with eight men who craved you at every moment- it was only fair to have your adrenaline always running through your body. The kiss didn’t last long though ... his mouth came to a sudden stop as he separated from you. Your chest rose , needing to breath him in. Your eyes met his in a heated glare, you haven’t been with Hongjoong since the first time a while ago. He took you once , turned your world upside down and then never touched you in the same manner again.

He said , he didn’t wish to be selfish.

He said, you deserved to explore the boys and see what you like more.

He said a bunch of nonsense but in all honesty, you like the way they all touched you. You’ve become so obsessed with their wants and needs , it’s not hard to know who can do what. They are all so different, yet they serve the same purpose. To love and care for you ... to please you like no other.

“We actually need to talk ,” Hongjoong said slowly, going to the edge of the bed to sit. Like a good girl, you follow, reaching for Yunho’s shirt to throw it on. Going to sit next to Hongjoong, he gently placed a kiss to your forehead before continuing. Hongjoong needing to talk could either be really good news or really bad news. You never really knew with him, since his attitude is always so vague.

“Yes?” You whisper, needing him to proceed.

“The manager has picked up on your ‘visits’ and thinks it’s strange , he even brought it up to the CEO.” He says cautiously , his eyes are locked on yours. He watched as your eyes wavered a bit, a sudden shock crawling up your spine the more the news settled. You say nothing.

“I’ve talked to the guys and we’ve come up with an idea, not sure if you’re going to agree but we think it’s best if you choose someone.” He spoke , his lips moving and yet all you could do was filter out the bad ... ‘choose someone’!

You can’t. You couldn’t. How?

Your mouth opened then closed , you were trying your best not to cry but it was hard.

“B-But you know I could never ...” you worried some more, all sorts of emotions coming into view making your chest ache. Hongjoong saw the turmoil and held you near him, your head in his neck , breathing in his clean washed scent.

“For the time being ... you could be mine? We will talk to our manager and let him know that all your visits have been because of me? Yes?” He reassured you, his words meaning more to you now than before. You knew it was for the best , and even if the rest of the guys agreed... you couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt in this decision.

You nodded, making Hongjoong smile once more , only now, it was a bit saddened. He leaned into your face and set a quick kiss on your nose before going to stand.

“Go ahead and wash up princess , Yeosang and Seonghwa are making breakfast. We will tell our manger once he arrives ...” he assured you once more before he began to walk to the door, before turning the knob he turned to you again.

“This will only be a front so our manager can leave us alone and I know I said I wouldn’t be selfish ... but tonight , I would very much like you in my bed.” His tone was calm, but something behind his words held such a power it made your skin come alive. Vibrating from deep within for what could happen.

Hongjoong hasn’t touched you since that one night ... but it may seem, he’s been holding back.

•••••

[MS]

Go back to Part 1 for the rest of the links...

Part One

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nevergiveupneverrun · 5 years

Text

Bodyguard - Chapter Thirsty “The misty eyes...”

Hello, I hope you’re all doing great. Here is chapter thirsty of my story Bodyguard. I’m sorry for not posting recently, I had my finals but now I’m free. I’m sorry by advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link of the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

The hubbub of the airport hall invades my ears. We are posted in the Sea-Tac baggage delivery section, waiting for our suitcases to arrive on the conveyor belt. Amelia sits on a plastic chair, iPod glued to her ears and eyes focuses on her phone. No eye contact. No word in my direction. An indifference she sent me back from our departure from Campeche and this lively discussion that marked the end of our stay. I had the entire flight time to think and I tried to take the situation rationally. I was clearly destabilized by this new attitude. That was probably what I needed to carry out my mission and put an end to this evolution of our relationships that I no longer controlled. Amelia was still under the blow of disappointment and anger: I persuaded myself that after a few hours or days, her behavior would soften a little. But I knew that things were inevitably broken between us: I had disappointed her almost hurt and she would not be ready soon to trust me blindly as before. I did not have to regret my actions: the context was perhaps an opportunity for me. The chance that I had to seize to concentrate exclusively on my mission… to stop as quickly as possible this crazy one and to give again to Amelia her freedom… on all the aspects of her life.

The conveyor belt starts suddenly and I approach to distinguish the suitcases pass. After a few minutes, I notice our two suitcases and I seize them successively. I take each of the handles of our suitcases by hand. Amelia is already standing away from me. Too far from me. I speed up, come back to her and stop in front of her. I waved her to her headphones, asking her to remove them. - Please remove them and stay close to me. There are a lot of people in airports… - Okay… She smiles me slightly. A tiny smile that relieves me almost. The first for many hours… We resume our walk in the congested alleyways of the airport. I guide Amelia to a nearby exit to get away from the crows as soon as possible, one of my biggest fears in my job. My cell phone vibrates in my pants pocket: I motion for Amelia to pick up one of the two suitcases handles to release one of my hands. I am acquainted with a text from Jackson telling me the exit of parking where he was waiting for us. We are still walking for a few minutes in the maze of the building before finally reaching the destination, at the parking indicated by Jackson. I quickly spot our car and my faithful teammate against the vehicle. He smiles at us instantly as he saw us approaching and comes to meet us, seizing the suitcase pull by Amelia. - Hello, have you had a good trip? - Yes, very good, thank you, Jackson, Amelia responds without any particular emotion, but in a tone that makes it clear that she doesn’t wish to exchange more. My long-time accomplice is loading the suitcases into the trunk with an inquisitive glance. Amelia sits in the back of the car as usual and I sit in the passenger seat. - I suppose you are tired? Jackson asks with a brief look in my direction, then more insistent in the rearview mirror towards Amelia. - Yes, effectively… - Well, in this case, I will take you directly to your home. Nathan called me because he wanted you to go but I’ll take care of it. - Nathan wanted to see us? - I think you have some things to give back to him… Jackson answers with a look towards my left hand. - Yes, of course… - I’m going to hand him over, just give it to me. - Hold Jackson… I remove the ring on my finger while watching Amelia tender her two rings to Jackson who takes them in the palm of his hand. She puts back herself in her seat at the back and immediately equips herself with her iPod, taking refuge again in her bubble. I imitate Amelia’s gesture while noting that Jackson kept his eyes down on the palm of his hand, looking at the three rings… or rather one of them. - We can go, Jackson, I think Amelia wants to get back as soon as possible… He finds my eyes after my request, stares at me a few moments then places the rings in the inside pocket of his jacket, before turning the key.

We leave the parking environment. We are moving away at a brisk pace from the airport to Seattle, in silence. A silence that lasts long minutes. A look in the mirror reveals Amelia, with an expressionless face, in the vague landscape around us. - What is happening O’? Jackson’s voice rises suddenly in the middle of the cockpit. - Nothing particular. - Stop, I can see that something is different. Amelia is different. - It’s the tiredness, Jackson… I didn’t want to tell him what happened in Mexico. My clumsy attempt to reframe things. And the discovery of this letter by Amelia which Jackson didn’t even know existed. - I don’t believe you… but I don’t insist. I let Jackson’s implicit hover without replicating. - Can you at least explain to me the ring? - You know… we had to travel under the cover we were married… - Yes, I know that. What I did not know, however, was that she wore this ring. You told me in Baghdad… - I didn’t know too, Jackson. For me, this ring was no longer. I didn’t know she had been recovered, that’s not what I asked for. - It’s probably Nathan’s attention. And he did well, I think… - I don’t think so… I don’t need it… and she reminds me of too much. Things I want to forget. What I forgot. - O’… I’m not talking about this episode… I’m talking about the fact that it’s a memory of your family, you should keep it for that... - Make it to Nathan… - O’… - Jackson, I beg you, I don’t want to talk about it… - As you want… These three words will mark the last words spoken during the journey. The twenty minutes that follow will take place in the most complete silence, even though I felt Jackson’s heavy and questioning look at me or at Amelia through the rearview mirror.

I soon recognize the surroundings of our neighborhood and the vehicle parks at the entrance of the house. Jackson and I come out of the car. I open the door to Amelia while Jackson unloads the trunk of our suitcases. - Do you want me to give you a hand? - No, thanks, Jackson. I take both… and you still have to go to see Nathan. - Ok, good evening to you both. Rest yourself, Amelia. Amelia, motionless next to the car, just smiles at Jackson. I grabbed the two suitcases that I lifted to commit myself to the steps, Amelia preceding me. I can hear the roar of an engine rise behind us as Jackson moves away already. We arrive at the top of the steps in a few strides. I put the suitcases on the ground and slide my key into the lock. But one thing instantly surprises me: I don’t need to turn the key to open the door. - Do you know if Richard was to pass in our absence? - I don’t know. He was very busy on his side. He told me he would spend this afternoon though. I’m not telling Amelia the real reason for my question… this door that strangely is not locked when I always close it double-turn. I lightly open the door and advance cautiously while putting the suitcases inside. Amelia doesn’t take the trouble to wait for the green light: she returns immediately and takes the stairs. I discern her movement but it’s something else that disturbs me. When I came back, a very specific sound attracted my attention. Like a click that was triggered after we entered the house. And what disturbs me, even more, is that an unusual smell is present in the entrance. Instead of the coconut notes so specific to the house of Amelia, I perceive a different smell… stronger, more masculine… like the mark of the passage of an individual who is unknown to me. I mobilize all my senses, immediately alerted by the sound and smell that call me. I look at the entrance and the living room but everything seems in order. All in order… until my ears detect a new sound. A very weak sound that I have trouble identifying. I let myself be guided by my hearing and thus directs me to the storage room below the stairs, at the bottom of the entrance. As my step get closer to the source, the sound gets stronger. And my fears come to fruition. Because what I hear sounds strangely like a timer. I arrive feverishly in front of the door of the storage room and I open it carefully. What I discover there ice my blood instantly. A timer is well in front of my eyes showing 3:50. It is connected by brightly colored threads to sticks of dynamite… ten sticks of dynamite. Far enough to blow the house… The count flashes a red light in front of me, having already moved to 3:49… I had too little time to defuse this bomb… and it was too risky with Amelia in the house. So I only had one thing left to do. I leave this dangerous discovery of the eyes just when a scream rises from the floor. I go up the stairs hastily, in four to four. - Amelia? I asked worriedly. - Owen… Her voice is panicked, trembling. I go in her direction, towards the room whose door is ajar.

I sigh internally to find Amelia as I had left her a few moments earlier. But my gaze turns away quickly as I discover the scene in front of me. A room upside down. A broken mirror and those shards of glass that litter the floor of the room. A set of bed linen stained with red ink, reminiscent of blood. But the most striking are words present all along the wall. Words tagged in red… « You made fun of me. Pay now for that ». Amelia turns to me, just as I sweep the message from the eyes. I notice her terrified face, her eyes shining with tears, her trembling hands in front of me. - Amelia, we have to leave… I hold out my hand, but she remains motionless, her eyes again focused on the message. - He came here… Her weak, almost flickering voice reveals this fear that wins her. I don’t know how much time has passed, but time is running out. The countdown was still slipping below us. I immediately approach Amelia and gently take one of her hands. I knew that in those moments, with people already shocked, it was necessary to proceed gently without rushing them. But I had to explain to her the situation… and I speak again in the calmest voice possible. - Amelia, listen to me. We are not safe here. And time is running out: there is a bomb on the ground floor… Her eyes widen as a result of this information, I seize her second hand to prevent her from panicking and addresses me again to her gently. - It will go off in less than four minutes. We will leave the house now. Everything is going to be ok and we’ll go outside. You just follow my instructions, okay? She nods but I realize she doesn’t listen to what I tell her anymore.

I keep one of her hands firmly in mine and drag her down the stairs with a quick step. I guide her to the kitchen. I did not want to go out the front door… I had the impression that a mechanism connected to the bomb… and maybe this access was observed. I open the window and take a look outside. The house was slightly elevated so that even being on the ground floor there was a significant heigh with the floor. I decided to jump first: I received without much harm in the grass, finding the small land adjacent to the house. I get up without losing a second and turn to the window towards Amelia. - Ok, Amelia, sit on the window sill. She stares at me and I read precisely the terror that assails her at this moment. - It’s high… I’m dizzy… - I’m catching up with you… go sit down… I see her hesitate and I cannot help but think of the seconds that pass by. - I am here Amelia, trust me… I extend my arms towards her as if to support my words. I note with relief that she actually sits on the windowsill after exchanging an intense look with me. I approach the wall of the house and extend my arms as mus as I can to her, barely touching her feet. - Let yourself slip… I don’t have time to finish my sentence that I can see her body gradually falling towards me. I find her waist immediately while her arms grip my neck firmly. I hold her for a few moments, relieved to have her with me, outside this house, then detach me to find her hand. I take her quickly to the park near her home. We had to go as far as we could… After a minute and after walking a few hundred meters, I put an end to our escape. We observe ourselves for a few seconds until a sound comes to disturb the silence that surrounds us. The vibration of a phone. Amelia takes her iPhone out of her jacket and takes the call looking at me. - Richard, I am so… I watch with concern Amelia’s face decay. - What, you’re in the house? I immediately found Amelia’s eyes and grabbed her phone. - … I see your suitcases, but where are you? - Richard, you must leave the house as soon as possible. - What’s happening? - Get out of the house! There is a bomb! I hear a rub on the other side of the line as I guess he’s moving. But a shrill sound suddenly rises in front of us as we look at the house. A dull bang sounds, accompanied by a warm breath that reaches us. Like a blow in my heart. I hear a cry on my left. Amelia’s silhouette passes in my field of vision, but I hold her by grabbing her waist as she runs towards the house. She struggles a few moments then her hands cling to my arms… as if she clung to me. And a new cry mingled with sobs escapes her and almost vibrates inside me, while I hold her in my arms. A call of despair that vanishes before the vision of horror that is being built before our eyes.

Flames that dance and dominate the landscape quickly. Then a thick smoke that covers the silhouette of the house, hiding its contours… and depriving us of any color. To leave only one that reigns and mist our eyes.

Like a night falling on us in broad daylight…

Thank you for reading 💛

#greysanatomy #omelia #omelia fanfiction #omeliafics #amelia shepherd #owen x amelia #amelia x owen #Owen Hunt #jackson avery #richard webber #fanfic #bodyguard

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urbigbiddygothgf · 6 years

Text

Deranged pt. 3

Stephen pouted as the elevator closed, and he stood up to stretch his back. He was bored. And he hated waiting.

"Now what the fuck do I do..?" He mumbled to himself as he jumped towards the hoop, gripping it and throwing a leg over inside. The elevator opened and he turned over to see a brown haired girl with a black jumpsuit and heels. She looked like a bitch to Stephen.

"Mr. Strange, I presume?" She asked. She sounded less confident then she looked. It was truly upsetting to Stephen but he put on a psychotic smile. He knew he should behave, but he was bored and he was ready to play.

"The one and only. How may I help a bitch like you?" He deadpanned, hanging upside down and twirling a bit to show off.

"There is no need for that language. I'm simply here until your normal therapist is done with a task." She said, sitting in a chair on the other side of the glass.

"You mean Dr. Stark? He's a peach, ain't he!" Stephen giggled. "Have you met him?"

"I have, actually. He's.. quite a man, may I say." She smiled. Stephen's expression dropped into a glare. He lowered himself and rolled til he was sat in the middle of the cell. He sat like a dog, his hand between his thighs and his legs on either side of him. He tilted his head as well to mimic the animal.

"No, you may not." He growled. She gulped and fixed her glasses. "What's your name?"

"Dr. M-Matthew." She said.

"Well, don't just sit there and be a pussy!" Stephen giggled, his eyes suddenly going dark.

"Let's start, huh Dr. Matthews?"

***

"Dr. Stark, there is a new patient who just came to this facility. Young kid. Fifteen and scared. Name; Peter Benjamin Parker." The guard said, leading Tony towards a cell.

"That young..?" Tony whispered, mostly to himself.

"He's the younger one here." The guard said, opening up the cell. "Have fun, Doc." He said. Tony walked inside, and saw a boy in the corner, shaking and sobbing. He gulped.

"Hello..?" Tony said softly. The boy stopped, like he's been frozen in time.

"My name is-"

"Dr. Anthony Edward Stark." The boy whispered.

"How.. How did you-"

"I know, everything.." The boy sobbed. "Y-Your mind field, I can read it like a book. All your th-thoughts are in my head.."

"I can hurt people.. just from a blink of my eye.." Peter said, showing his blood stained face. Splashes of blood coated the right side of his face. "I-I killed someone.."

"Who..?" Tony said, slowly moving his way closer.

Peter choked out a sob. "My.."

"My aunt. I-I killed her and I don't know why-.." Peter covered his face, his hands shaking.

"Hey.. it's okay. You didn't mean too. Right?" He nodded. "You didnt mean it." Tony reassured. Peter sobbed into his palms as he shook violently.

Tony knew he wouldn't be able to stop the kid from crying, how could he be able too? He's killed someone clearly important to him. The kid will never heal, it's obvious.

"Peter, I know you are hurting, but you need to talk to me. Is there something you have to calm you down during high periods of stress?" He asked. Peter nodded, and pulled out a folded slip of paper. Tony looked at him confused, but unfolded it anyway.

They were breathing exercises.

"Okay.. Okay, this is fine." He cleared his throat. "Peter, breathe in for four seconds." The kid choked a bit as he followed the orders.

"Hold for eight seconds." Peter did as told, wiping away his tears as he kept the air in. "Good.. now let out for five. You're doing great."

It took four more times before Peter's breath evened out. He sniffled a bit, but that was fine.

"Peter, besides the events that have occurred in the last twenty four hours, how do you feel?" Tony asked.

Peter didn't answer for a long while. "I-I feel horrible, I'm scared of myself.." He whispered. Tony nodded, taking mental notes.

"Is there anything you need at the moment, because this session will continue for atleast an hour." He spoke. Peter looked at him, his eyes bloodshot.

"C-Can I have a blanket..?"

Tony called for a guard and sent them out for a blanket, which arrived slowly after. He handed it to Tony and he slowly approached the trembling boy. He kneeled, and held out the blanket. The boy reached out his blood stained hand, and took it slowly, wrapping himself up.

"Let's just.. talk, is that alright?" Tony asked.

"Yes.."

***

Stephen's eyes rolled as Dr. Matthew tried to speak with him. He was currently hanging from a rope, blood rushing to his head, and if he was lucky, he'd pass out and get out of this stupid conversation.

"Mr. Strange, I insist you get down." She said firmly. Stephen froze, and turned his head so he was facing her. His eyes went dark, and he hopped down, landing on his knees smoothly.

"Say that.. again." He whispered.

"I will not play your-."

"Say it!" He yelled, pounding his fist on the ground beneath him. She screamed and covered her face, her hands shaking. He snickered and stuck out his tongue, flipping her off.

"I'm just so fun, ain't I?" He laughed, getting up and dusting off. Dr. Matthew nodded frequently, terrified to say anything.

"I can play dirty, Doctor. I can fuck with your head, make you wanna kill yourself, I have no problem with that!" He clapped happily. His psychotic laughs escaping past his lips. She sighed wobbly.

"Dear God, you just have such chubby cheeks, I just wanna pinch them!" He giggled, his eyes going dark and his smile more sinister. "And I wanna wrap my hands around your throat, and squeeze. Til your eyes, pop-." He popped the p and wrapped his hands around his own neck, tightening his grip.

"Wouldn't that just be the best feeling, ever?" He practically moaned. He threw his head back and smiled, dirty thoughts coming to mind.

"Mr. Strange, please. I am not here for your childish behaviour and.. choking kink. I am here to help you. Let me help you." She said, pleading. Stephen's eyes rolled into the back of his head as as he made an annoyed sound.

"You can.. help me, with one little thing." He whispered. Matthews gulped and got out of her seat, walking towards the glass and seating herself.

"What..?" She whispered. Stephen crawled closer, and sat.

"Come inside." He growled. "Open the doors, and come in, and play with me."

"You're fucking insane." Dr. Matthews gasped.

"Oh sweetheart," Stephen's made his hand look as if it were a gun, and pointed it to his head. "I've heard, way, way worse. Come.. inside, with me.. I won't hurt you.." He placed his shaking hand on the glass.

"I just need you to make, alot.. of noise."

***

"You know you're safe right?" Tony asked, sitting back against the stone wall. Peter looked up from the floor, the blanket hugging him tightly.

"I wish I could believe that." He mumbled.

"You can, no one's gonna hurt you."

"But they should.. I should be dead." Peter sighed.

"But you're not. Why?" Peter gripped the blanket, and curled up.

"Because they want to test me.. I'm just an experiment they need to keep alive. All they care about is their mission, their stupid experiments.." Peter laid his head against the wall, taking in deep breaths.

Tony didn't reply. He knew the kid would be tested. It was hard to think about ofcourse, but Tony had no power to change it. Peter is so young.. Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Peter-"

An alarm went off, and Tony shot up, looking towards the guards that were off down the west wing. He took in a deep breath and walked towards the cell door, yelling for a guard to open up. They all ran past him.

"Shit." He cursed, watching as a guard was coming up, and he reacted quickly by sticking his leg between the bars and tripping the guard. Tony doubled over grabbed the keys, opening the door from the outside. The guard groaned, and Tony applied pressure at the back of his neck, causing him to choke up and pass out.

"Holy shit!" Peter gasped as Tony locked it back up.

"Hey! Open it up!" Peter yelled, grabbing the bars. Tony cursed himself as the intercom came on, yelling for back up in sector 12. He stopped moving when those words left the man's mouth.

That was Stephen's cell.

"Oh my god.." He whispered before running down the hallway, ignoring a yelling Peter.

Tony took off down the halls, running past concerned people in the compound.

The elevator was blocked by guards, and he tried to reason, but gasped when a shot was heard.

"Dr. Stark-" Tony groaned and shoved him away, stepping in before it closed up. He cursed himself as yelling and screaming was heard from the bottom, and the doors opened.

He gasped when the sight of Stephen with a gun in his hand aiming for two guards came into view.

"STOP." He yelled, running out of the elevator and seeing Stephen avert his gaze to Tony.

"OH! You're finally here." Stephen quipped, taking the safety off and aiming for Tony. "Took you long enough sweetheart."

"Stephen.. what is this- what are you-.." Tony trailed off as he pieced everything together, a smile coming to his face.

"... You son of a bitch.." Tony whispered. Stephen smiled, and tightened his grip around the gun.

"Suprise..!" Stephen chimed, a laugh escaping his lips. Tony teared up.

"You tricked me so you could escape.. you planned this." He whispered.

"Tones, what are you talking about? What the hell-" Steve was cut off by a shushing sound.

"Shut up, pretty boy. Let Dr. Stark speak for one damn minute." Stephen walked over, and placed the gun to Tony's forehead, a smirk on his face. "Speak, sexy."

"Fuck. You." Tony whispered.

"You would want that, won't you?" Stephen giggled. "Talk!"

Steve growled and aimed higher at Stephen, his finger hovering over the trigger.

"You know I never loved you, right?" Stephen said, pressing the gun harder to Tony's forehead. "It was all an act just to get here."

"I figured.. but there was one flaw in your plan." The doctor said. "Steve, aim your gun at me."

"What?" The two said at the same time.

"Just do it, Steve. Aim, and shoot. Don't hesitate just do it when I say." Tony said. Steve gulped, and slowly raised his gun to Tony, visibly shaking. "You do love me. That's where it went wrong. If you wanted me dead.." Tony looked through his eyelashes at a stunned Stephen. "You would've shot me a long time ago. You're stalling to keep me breathing just by keeping that gun to my head. You don't wanna kill me.. you can't. And you know why..?"

"Because you grew feelings for me. Every touch, every kiss, every hug- your pulse. It grew when I made any contact with you. Your plan is flawed." Tony said mockingly. "So do us both a favor," He pushed himself into the gun. "Pull the trigger, pussy."

"I fucking will. Watch me." Stephen growled. Tony glared.

"Steve shoot upwards!" A shot rang out and Tony ducked under, kicking his leg under Stephen and causing him to fall back, the gun dropping. He leaned for it, grabbing it and aiming at Stephen as he stood straight. Stephen smirked devilishly. A laugh escaping past his lips.

"You can't do it, sweetheart. Pull the trigger. You can't."

"Stephen please.. don't make me do this.." Tears stung at Tony's eyes, his hands starting to shake.

"Pull. The trigger, baby boy. Go ahead," Stephen lunged forward and pressed his forehead against the gun. Tony sobbed quietly as his hands shook violently due to the gun's weight.

"I-.. I can't-"

"PULL THE TRIGG-!"

A shot rang out, and all was silent.

@ptx-zelda392 @easnowpw @staryjoy @criminalminds-music1988 @sineadhdz @haleighgannon

#ironstrange #my writing #deranged!au #tw cursing #tw violence #tw death

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

The last one blooming, Chapter 15

TITLE: The last one blooming

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 15

AUTHOR: fanficshiddles

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that there is an omegaverse where Alphas and omegas can only bond with their true mate. Loki is an Alpha and he one day meets his omega. But she is a young Midgardian child, who is terrified of Alphas. So he has to work hard to gain her trust, to allow the bond to grow between the two.

RATING: M

Citizens of Asgard were confused as they watched the two omega girls run through the city towards the palace. Rose and Freya couldn’t get out of school quick enough. That was them finally finished with school, forever, and they were going to see their Alphas train in the training ring.

When they got there, it was just in time. They watched from the stands to start with as Loki and Baldur were practicing with some Asgardian soldiers.

Baldur was good with his sword and quick at dodging them. Loki was using his two daggers and was very swift and agile as he moved. Rose couldn’t take her eyes off him. She was really impressed when he used his illusions and teleporting to help him with his attacks.

‘Gods, Rose get a bucket. You’re nearly drooling!’ Freya laughed as she elbowed her.

‘I am not! He’s just so… Graceful.’ Rose sighed dreamily as she continued to watch Loki fight.

He was wearing his full armour, helmet and his cape. She finally realised exactly why he was an Alpha. She enjoyed the way his nose scrunched up each time he went in for an attack.

When they were finished training, they went straight over to see Rose and Freya. Rose ran straight to Loki and jumped up into his arms. She wrapped herself around him like a monkey.

‘Why hello to you too.’ He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her.

‘You’re really good at fighting. Your Seidr too.’ Rose smiled at him.

‘Why thank you, Princess. How was your last day of school? You’re a free woman now.’ Loki winked at her.

‘I know. Can we go riding?’

‘Of course. Let me change first.’ Loki slid Rose down to her feet.

‘Can you… Just stay like that for a while?’ Rose asked as she tilted her head to the side and looked up at him.

‘Do you like the armour, huh?’ Loki raised an eyebrow up at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

‘Maybe.’ Rose shrugged with a blush.

‘You are adorable when you blush.’ Loki reached out and brushed his thumb over her cheek. His words making her blush even more than she already was.

‘Come on, let’s go riding.’ Rose said to try and change the subject as she grabbed his hand and started dragging him along with her.

They got their horses tacked up and then made their way to the forest. They were charging around, racing one another and laughing. Then they went into the mountains and to their usual spot by the waterfall.

They sat down for a while to chat.

‘So, what all can you do exactly with your seidr?’ Rose asked him as she sat down between his legs, her head resting back on his chest.

‘You’ve seen most of it. I think. The illusions, teleportation. Though that has become stronger and more refined of late. Energy control, mind control and memory reading. The usual sort of stuff.’ Loki shrugged as he buried his face into her hair.

‘Mind control and memory reading? Like, you can read minds?’ Rose asked as she tilted her head right back to look at him upside down.

‘Well. It’s not as simple as it sounds. I can pull memories from people’s minds, see into their mind. I can tell when people are lying as well. Which is why you never get away with lying to me.’ Loki smirked and tapped her nose playfully. ‘If I concentrate hard enough, I can kind of read into minds and influence it.’

‘That’s so cool. Why didn’t I know this before?’

‘I didn’t think it was something you needed to know and you never asked.’ Loki said as he smoothed his hands down her hair and rubbed her shoulders.

‘So. If you can do that… Why didn’t you just look into my mind when I was younger, to find out about my past? Instead of waiting for me to tell you? I know I wasn’t exactly an open book.’

‘Hey. It’s normal, you were young and had been through a lot.’ Loki assured her and kissed the top of her head. ‘Because pulling memories is a rather intimate thing to do, or rather more a violation, I would never do that to you. Unless you were in immediate danger and I had to.’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘What?’

‘When you poke into people’s minds?’ Rose asked as she twisted around to face him.

‘Not really. It more depends on the memories I am tapping into. If it’s something they’d rather forget. But physically, nothing more than a tickle in the brain.’ Loki shrugged.

‘Can you read my mind now?’ Rose asked and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

‘I am not going to do that to you.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Why not? Just, see what number I am thinking of?’ Rose suggested.

‘No, little one. It’s not something I want to do to you. I don’t need to read your mind to know what you’re thinking or feeling.’ Loki said as he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers.

‘Aww. Are you scared of what you might find in there?’ Rose smiled.

‘Yes. Very scared. It’s never good to go wandering into a young woman’s mind.’ Loki grinned.

‘It’s just lots of glitter and horses in there really.’ Rose giggled.

‘I should’ve guessed.’ Loki laughed.

Rose felt her stomach twist from the way Loki was looking at her. Being so close and feeling his breath over her lips. It was causing so many different emotions and feelings inside of her to awaken. Plus the thought about getting intimate with Loki was high on her mind lately.

She wasn’t sure what came over her, but she leaned in closer and kissed him on the lips. But the feeling of his lips on hers made her jerk backwards just as quickly as she had kissed him.

‘Oh my god. I… I’m sorry.’ She said shyly and attempted to scramble away, but Loki wound his arms around her and held her in place.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ He purred.

‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’ Rose blushed and looked down.

Loki hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up.

‘Do not be sorry, Rose.’ Loki whispered as his hand slid around to hold the back of her head as he closed the distance between them to kiss her again.

This time, their lips were locked together for longer. Rose had no idea what she was doing. But she was happy that Loki took the lead with the kiss as their lips moulded together. But she hadn’t been expecting it when she felt his tongue slide across her lower lip.

She let out a squeak and pulled back from the shock.

‘What’s wrong?’ Loki chuckled.

‘I… Nothing.’ Rose giggled and hid her face into his neck, a little embarrassed.

Loki hugged her close and smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Rose wasn’t sure why she freaked a bit when he started to use his tongue. She was starting to doubt whether she would be brave enough or not to try and get him to go all the way with her before their wedding night. Or ever.

‘What’s wrong with your face?’ Freya asked Rose as she found her in the garden.

‘Nothing. Just… Thinking.’ Rose shrugged.

‘About what? You and Loki haven’t done it yet, have you?’ Freya teased.

‘No… We did kiss though. But um, he used his tongue and I sort of freaked out.’ Rose said nervously.

‘Oooo. At least you’re at the kissing stage now though.’ Freya smiled.

‘Yeah. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to go further. I’m a bit scared actually. Well, I am one minute and then not the next. My feelings are all over the place.’

‘Speak to Loki about it. I know we’ve said about this silly bet thing. But realistically, if you’re anxious about being intimate you should just tell him. Perhaps it will be you that is the one who needs the coaxing.’

‘Yeah. I know…’

‘There you two are. Come on, we have to get you both fitted for dresses for the wedding.’ Frigga said as she appeared in the gardens.

Rose and Freya looked at each other and squealed excitedly as they followed Frigga.

When Rose walked out of the changing room with her wedding dress on, Frigga and Freya gasped.

‘Oh my gods. You look incredibly beautiful!’ Freya squealed excitedly.

‘Loki will probably faint when he sees you.’ Frigga smiled as she walked over to her.

The dress was a long flowing wedding dress, but it was green for Loki’s colours with a gold hem around the neck line.

‘It’s such a beautiful dress. I can’t wait.’ Rose said excitedly as she spun around and laughed.

Rose waltzed into Loki’s quarters after the dress fitting. She found him in his usual spot by the fireplace in the living room area, with his nose stuck in a book.

‘What have you been up to?’ Loki asked without even looking up from his book, Rose loved how he could do that.

Rose walked over to him and plopped herself down on his lap, making him put the book down to wrap his arms around her.

‘I was trying on the wedding dress.’ She blushed and put her head against his shoulder.

‘Oh, does it fit well? I so wish I could see you with it. I know you must look beautiful with it on. You always do.’ Loki said softly as he ran a hand through her hair.

‘Stop.’ Rose giggled.

‘Are you blushing again?’ Loki teased as he tried to see her face, but she kept hiding against him.

‘Let me see your face!’ Loki started tickling her, making her squeal and laugh as she wriggled around. He managed to get her lying across his lap on her back, his arm around her so she wouldn’t fall.

‘There’s that beautiful, blushing face.’ Loki smiled triumphantly as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

‘Aaagh. You’re so evil.’ Rose said as she scrambled to sit up again.

‘I may be evil, but that’s why you love me.’ Loki grinned.

‘Yep. You’re the evilest, bossiest boots ever.’ Rose said cheekily.

‘Are you asking to be tickled again, huh?’ Loki teased as he gave her a quick tickle again, making her laugh and grab his hands.

‘Stoooop. You’re only proving your evilness.’ Rose laughed.

She kept a hold of his hands and gazed down at them. She thought back to when she used to nibble on his fingers. Now looking at them, she thought about when he would touch her. His long dexterous fingers…

‘What are you thinking about, little one?’ He asked as he nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

‘I um… I don’t know. I was kind of thinking, well… I was wondering if we could try kissing again?’ Rose asked shyly.

‘You don’t need to ask, Rose. You’re my omega, you can kiss me whenever you want to.’ Loki smiled and stroked her cheek.

‘I… I’m really yours, aren’t I?’ Rose asked as she bit her lower lip.

‘Yes, you are. You always have been and you always will be.’ Loki purred and leaned in closer to her.

He cradled the back of her head as they moved in and pressed their lips together. Rose felt butterflies in her stomach as his lips moved slowly against hers. She couldn’t stop trembling as Loki’s hand massaged through her hair at the same time.

Loki carefully and slowly slid his tongue against Rose’s lips. He felt her falter ever so slightly, but she didn’t pull back this time. So he continued. When his tongue touched her own, she felt a new kind of spark shoot through her body. She melted against him as he continued to take control.

When they eventually pulled back, Rose gasped and her face was bright red. She laughed shyly and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

‘That wasn’t as scary as I thought.’ She said quietly.

‘Nothing with me is scary.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Well, apart from you yourself. You are terrifying.’ Rose teased.

‘Oh, really? I’m just a big scary monster, huh?’ Loki laughed and leaned back to look at her.

‘Yep. The scariest.’ Rose giggled.

Loki took Rose into the city for the Midgardian market the following day. Word about the wedding had spread by that time. So people weren’t just bowing to Loki, they were also curtsying to Rose. Which she found a bit weird, but Loki assured her that she would get used to it.

Loki kept a tight hold of Rose’s hand as they walked through the stalls. It brought back some memories for Rose, of when she was on Midgard.

‘Are you alright, Rose?’ Loki asked.

‘Yeah… Just bringing back some memories.’ Rose shrugged.

‘We can leave if you want to.’

‘Yeah. Could we maybe go riding?’ Rose asked.

‘Of course. Let’s go.’ Loki smiled.

They turned around and were heading away when suddenly Rose stopped in her tracks, pulling Loki to a halt too as he still had a hold of her hand.

‘What’s wrong?’ Loki asked as he looked to Rose.

He saw she was staring at something on a stall, so he followed the direction she was looking in and spotted a small music box. The corners were a bit chipped, so it was obviously used.

Loki followed Rose as she walked over to the stall it was on. Her eyes were completely fixed on the box. Loki was pretty confused as he put his arm around her.

‘Rose?’ He asked softly.

‘I… I remember this, when I was a baby. My father gave it to me. He would play it every night for me before I went to sleep. That was all before… Before they did the test for me.’ Rose said sadly as she tried not to let the bad memories flood her mind.

‘Come here, love.’ Loki pulled Rose into a hug. She buried her face into him, breathing in his scent to calm her down.

‘Would you like it?’ Loki asked when she pulled back slightly.

‘I… I don’t know. How did it even end up here?’ Rose said as she looked to Loki and then back at the box.

‘How did you come across this?’ Loki asked the stall holder.

‘There was a traveler here the other day. Had a box of stuff that I bought from him. You can have it for a half piece of gold.’ The stall holder shrugged.

‘Would you like it?’ Loki asked again as he looked at Rose.

Rose let out a breath, not sure whether she wanted it or not.

‘I… Think I’d rather not.’ She said as she shook her head and started to walk away.

Loki sighed and looked to the stall holder, who shrugged and carried on with what he was doing. Loki looked after Rose as she made her way back towards the palace.

When Loki caught up with her, he could tell that she was upset. So he took her back to his quarters.

‘Hey, it’s alright, little one. Come here.’ He sat down and pulled her onto his lap.

‘You know you can speak to me if you want to. About anything at all.’ He whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

‘I just… It just brought back memories for me. I still don’t get how it’s actually here on Asgard though. What if my mother is trying to find me? What if she knows I’m here and is coming after me?’ Rose said in a panic.

‘Shh, shh. She won’t be here, she can’t hurt you again, Rose.’ Loki soothed her.

‘How do you know? What if she does? What if she tries to take me away from you?’ She cried.

‘That will not happen, little one. I give you my word, you will not see her again. She can’t ever hurt you.’ Loki promised her.

‘How can you be sure?’

‘I never lie to you, Rose. You are safe and always will be.’ Loki told her again and then he started crooning deep in his chest.

She instantly relaxed more against him and felt her body calming down. She turned her face into his neck as her breathing evened out. His hand rubbed up and down her back, helping too.

‘I promise you.’ Loki whispered.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 15 #The last one blooming #fanficshiddles #Omegaverse #alphas #omegas #bond #young #true mates #midgardian child #gain #trust

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vexley · 7 years

Text

Just Things About Riverdale, Chapter Ten: The Lost Weekend

Well, here we fucking go.

Oh god.

“I barely acknowledge my own birthday.”

Same, dude. Same.

Gasp.

We’re finally talking about Archie “mysterious” mother.

Official divorce. Damn. What went down, seriously?

Two years, holy shit.

Ah, Fred is leaving. The whole scene-jumping sequences involving dumb high-schoolers partying is starting to make sense, unfortunately.

“Friendervention.” I don’t know why I’m laughing, but I’m laughing.

Archie & Betty?

“Three musketeers!” Aw.

Aw.

“I thought maybe I’d surprise him.”

Yeah, that sounds like a bad idea.

“I think the best gift that I could give to Jughead would be to stay away.”

I hurt in places that don’t exist.

Hostile eye-contact with the Pussy Cats.

I hope they fuck Archie UP.

Sorry, it’s been a long day, I’m feeling a little hostile.

“Jughead’s never had a Birthday party!”

Archie’s head-nod.

Jughead and Betty clearly weren’t super close before the start of the school year, if she’s had no idea about that. How do you not know something like that about a friend?

Am I actually, like, sort of--maybe--classifying Archie as the Better Friend during this episode?

I’m not sure how to deal with this?

“A low-key surprise party!”

Archie’s anxious head shake.

DANGER WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“NO.”

“Jughead doesn’t like his birthday!”

Okay, guys, fine.

Jughead&Archie.

“Jughead is a lone wolf.” He fucking sounds like he’s quoting Jughead.

What part of “Don’t turn around” do they not understand???

“Not that I care because he’s evil incarnate.”

“You don’t have to go Dark Betty on me.”

Betty has so many fucking rage issues, and I find it alarmingly relatable.

I really want her to punch him in his smug little FACE.

“But I can damn well make sure my boyfriend has the best Birthday of his life.”

I’m having flashbacks to that stupid fucking baby shower.

“Screw it, I’m with Betty.”

Archie.

I was fucking rooting for you, man.

“It’s going to be epic.”

It’s going to be catastrophic, calling it now.

“I didn’t mean to ambush you.”

Are you sure? Because it looks to me like you meant to ambush him.

“You’re really falling for this Jones boy, aren’t you?”

I really just love the fact that there’s no judgement. Alice is straight up supporting her daughter; it’s such a violent turn-around from the Alice we knew Before.

Excuse me for a moment, I just need to go into another room and spend 5 to 10 minutes squealing over the fact that Jughead apparently comes with his own sound-effects.

This episode is uncomfortably relatable.

75 years? Holy shit.

This whole HBIC face-off just feels really...superfluous?

Also, I’m really disappointed that Cheryl and Veronica’s friendship just went up in flames, before my very eyes.

I have no fucking words for how angry I am.

Like, is Chuck really supposed to be some kind of threat?

Because, honestly? Who fucking gives a shit?

There is absolutely nothing threatening about that fucking toad.

Emotional blackmail, signed with love by Daddy. Nice.

THAT FUCKING SHIRT.

“Do I look like Jughead to you?”

Maybe in the right lighting.

“You really shouldn’t have.”

“...Are you drunk?”

Wow, yeah, just kinda hit me that Jughead would automatically know. How could he not?

A Spanish Happy Birthday! <3

I love the fact that they incorporate Veronica’s heritage into the show with little things like that.

“Thanks everyone,” he says with no sincerity, at all.

“Oh, it’s Kevin.”

Wow, hot damn, what a voice.

“That was..haunting, Betty.”

LMAO, yeah it was.

Wow, I paused the episode to type out my thoughts, and Betty is right in the middle of kissing Jughead’s cheek. In the other Just Things About posts that I’ve written, I know that I’ve mentioned the expression on Jughead’s face when Betty kisses him. The only way I can think to describe him in those moments is warm.

Right here, though, as Jughead stares down at that (honestly) weird-ass cake, and Betty pecks him on the cheek, Jughead reminds me of the cold. There is no warmth in his expression; there’s no happiness there.

I suppose that, essentially, Jughead looks the way that he currently feels.

(That feeling that he described to Archie over an entire pan of pizza in the Andrews’ kitchen.)

Jughead looks overwhelmingly, achingly alone, and it’s an unsettling thing to see when he is surrounded by people who claim to be his friends.

“I wish it were just the two of us right now.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Why the hell is everything so doom and gloom with you, Jug?”

It’s a real fucking mystery.

“I’m not normal. I’m not wired to be normal.”

“Did you really think you could throw a party without inviting moi?”

Why don’t these people lock their doors? It’s like they want to be robbed.

“Screw it, one in the kitchen, one in the backyard!”

I vote that we take Jughead and give him to some better friends, who’s with me?

“Valerie’s here, and I think she wants me back.”

LMFAO

IN YOUR FUCKING DREAMS.

“Now we’re here, in the middle of a Seth Rogan movie.”

I don’t even know why I’m laughing.

Joaquin&Kevin.

Why does this keep happening?

Oh shit.

“I’m sorry that, after you sexually harassed those girls, there were actual consequences, Chuck.”

“These kids are more on-the-ball than the Sheriff.”

You have no fucking clue.

LMAO

Alice Cooper, with the fucking binoculars. I can’t even.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t fit in.”

I’m okay. I am so okay. I am, like, the most okay ever.

I don’t feel SAD. Like, what even are emotions, you know? I don’t fucking know.

“Why are you getting so upset?”

Hmm, maybe it’s because you did the complete opposite of what he wanted on a day that he clearly can’t stand.

“I hate that word.”

“We’re on borrowed time.”

“Or until Archie changes his mind and says he wants to be with you?”

I, uh

“You shut me out, remember? It’s too late.”

Melody, being there for her girl.

Ugh. Archie, you dumbass.

On today’s episode of Archie Makes Bad Decisions.

“This whole night is bad luck.”

FP’s Concerned Dad(tm) expression.

Cheryl and Chuck are, like, the worst tag-team in the history of ever.

“But did you love him, maybe, in ways that a sister shouldn’t?”

Holy hell on ice.

“I want you to go back inside and talk to your girl.”

“Don’t run away! You’ve got something good here, with her, with your friends! Something that--something that we could never give you.”

I”M NOT CRYING, YOU’RE CRYING!

“Snakes don’t shed their skin so easily.”

Omg, Alice Cooper makes so much more sense, now.

Does she have the tattoo? I really hope she has the tattoo.

“And all this time, I thought you were a lover, not a fighter.” “I’m both; I’ve got layers.”

Like an onion?

“Maybe I’m not used to it, maybe I’m scared.”

Oh, Betty.

</3

Jughead’s expression when he sees Betty’s palms.

His hands around hers, his lips pressed to her knuckles.

The way Betty looks at Jughead while he’s looking down at their hands, like he’s something special, and she doesn’t understand how she got so lucky.

“By Monday, this will all be but a dream. Trust me, no one will remember anything.”

Pfffffffffttt. Okay, sweetie, if you say so.

“Why do I keep doing this?”

I’ve been wondering the same thing. Only, like, along the lines of, “Why does he keep doing this?”

“I keep wrecking things.”

Again, except, “He keeps wrecking things.”

“Welcome to my life.”

Please don’t start.

There she goes.

“Everyday I wonder, what if I had left Riverdale with my mom?”

It’s like the writer’s are handing out prompts to fanfic authors.

“We all are, Archie, and honestly? You less than most.”

...What??

Archie&Veronica???????????

He took the mattress on the floor, that is so cute.

“Dont worry, my lips are sealed.”

Damnit all, can’t you guys be friends already?

“I believe in you, Mom.”

Aw.

OMG.

IT WAS A BURGER.

BETTY MADE HIM A CAKE THAT LOOKS LIKE A BURGER.

THAT’S FUCKING ADORABLE.

I need glasses.

“So, you and Veronica?”

Pinky out when he takes a drink.

“This is a small town, but it’s not that small.”

Shit is about to go doooooown.

Betty&Veronica.

Some much needed Beronica.

“The last time you brought me baked goods was because you kissed Archie.”

Betty&Veronica.

Betty&Veronica holding hands.

Oh, fuck off, you Actual Five Headed Dragon.

“We’re home.”

Oh shit.

I wasn’t going to do this tonight, because I just got off work, I’ve got the mother of all migraines, and I wasn’t sure I’d be coherent enough to take everything in and then spit out proper notes. So, I may come back to this episode at a later date, when I’m a little more awake, and add to it, like I did with Chapter Eight (?).

No, scratch that, I will definitely revisit and add a part two, because there was so much that I didn’t address, because I just??? I can’t even properly express the way I felt about some of these scenes right now, I’m really drained from work, and there’s a lot that I really do want to talk about.

On the upside, this time Jughead’s birthday was just as shitty as every other day of the year.

LOL

Okay, sorry, I’m going.

#riverdale spoilers #riverdale #spoilers #ash watches riverdale #chapter ten #the lost weekend #your lack of beronica is disturbing #anyone else catch the last jedi teaser trailer?#so good #night vale references #ash watches archie makes bad decisions #ash watches betty makes bad decisions #ash watches the whole of riverdale makes bad decisions #it's 2.31 #i'm fuckin going to bed

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