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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Light the Way - Part One

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Angst, date rape/roofies, slight BDSM Word count: ~4k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Starting a new job is never easy, it's even worse when your boss is an arsehole. When he unexpectedly comes to the rescue though, the relationship dynamic changes drastically.

She graduated from university a year ago with a Bachelor’s degree in PR and Marketing, and still has no idea what she wants from life, although the last twelve months of working as a barista have proven to her that a career in hospitality and customer service is definitely not it. Having happened across an online advertisement of a vacancy for the position of a personal assistant at a private law firm, she applied on a whim, never expecting to hear back. It’s not like she was qualified anyway, so she had nothing to lose

Yet, here she is, almost four weeks later, standing in the foyer of Red Keep Legal, preparing to begin her first day. The office building is sleek and modern, minimalist in decor, yet the polish of everything suggests it is incomprehensibly expensive. A handsome, bearded, older man, dressed in a sharp suit collects her from reception. She learns his name is Otto Hightower and he is a partner at the firm. They are high end solicitors and only take on the most exclusive of clients. She turns his business card over in her hands, the thickness of the smooth, matte black cardstock is high quality, with ornate golden lettering and a blood red logo of a three headed dragon. She knows she has seen that logo before, but can’t place where exactly.

“You’ll be a personal assistant to my grandson, Aemond.” Otto tells her. “He’s working on a particularly tricky case at the moment, so you’ll be responsible for ensuring he has everything he needs. I imagine he won’t ask you to do much more than get him coffee.”

So there it was, the reason she’d gotten the job. She was hoping her coffee making days were behind her, but no such luck. She sighs inwardly, the bitter irony is almost comical.

“Anyway, if you have no further questions, I shall introduce you to Aemond.” Otto concludes.

She smiles and nods politely as he turns on his heel and leads her towards the elevator, stopping on the second to last floor. She follows him along a marble floored corridor, before he gently raps his knuckles against the rich mahogany of an office door. After a few moments the door swings open to reveal the most ethereal being she’d ever laid eyes upon. He is impossibly tall without being gangly or awkward; his long, lithe limbs flow like water as he props himself against the doorframe. His silky, silver locks are perfectly coiffed and she feels self conscious as the bright blue of his right eye scans all the way from her feet to the top of her head, analysing every inch. She notices the skin around his left eye is lightly scarred - the only indication that the realistic prosthetic that sits within the socket isn’t something he can actually see out of. The simple long sleeved top and black trousers she’s wearing suddenly feel drab in comparison to the well tailored navy blue suit he wears, and she fights the urge to hide herself.

“Aemond, this is your new personal assistant.” Otto informs him, gesturing towards her. “Your mother and I worked hard to find this one, so perhaps you could try being a little more cordial than last time.”

She doesn’t stop to think about what that could possibly mean, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in and rushing forward, smiling wide and extending a hand.

“Hi Aemond! It’s wonderful to meet you!”

His plush, full lips remain unmoving, as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, not returning the gesture and continuing to study her.

She drops her hand, feeling deflated and laughs nervously.

Clearly not picking up on the awkwardness, or simply not caring, Otto glances between the two of them, before giving a curt nod and striding back towards the elevator.

Aemond watches him go before returning his attention back to her.

“Wonderful to meet me, hm?” he finally says, quirking an eyebrow.

Before she can respond, he continues, “Look, I’ve told my grandfather I don’t need an assistant and I like my own space. I’m looking over some contracts at the moment, so I would prefer it if you could make yourself scarce.” He disappears from view, allowing his office door to close behind him.

She immediately feels miserable. Her shoulders slump as she stands in front of the closed door. The first day of a new job should feel exciting, especially when your boss is so breathtakingly handsome, but this guy is rude and has declared her useless within minutes of meeting her. For a moment she considers just walking out and not returning.

She spends the remainder of the day sitting at her desk that’s positioned to the outer left of Aemond’s door. No one goes in or out, and not once does she catch sight of him. As far as first days go this is undoubtedly the worst she has ever experienced. As tempting as it is to just bail and head home, she desperately needs the cash, so she watches the hours slowly tick by on the off chance her stand-offish boss may suddenly decide he needs something. By the time 6pm rolls around, and she stands to gather her things, her legs have cramped from sitting for so long and she curses herself for only stretching her legs on the few occasions she went to the bathroom.

Arriving home, she finds her flatmate isn’t back yet and breathes a sigh of relief, knowing she’d be bombarded with questions about her first day and not have a positive answer for any of them. She uses the opportunity to pace the flat, rifling through the contact sheet and paperwork she has been given. She sighs when she happens upon the number listed for Aemond - what was the point of having the number of someone who seemingly wanted nothing to do with her? She saves it to her phone anyway, tomorrow was a new day after all. Perhaps she’ll score a few brownie points if she texts and offers to grab him coffee on her way to the office. She still can’t figure out why he’d been so cold towards her. Flopping down on the couch with a glass of wine, she boots up her laptop, deciding to do some research on Aemond Targaryen, as she realises that beyond meeting him today and knowing he works for one of the most prestigious law firms in all of Westeros, she really knows nothing about the man she is supposed to be working for.

She wakes up early the next morning, armed with a plan. Her evening of wine-fuelled research had been fruitful. She’d discovered that Aemond was from a family of famous Valyrian legal, political and business figures. Her recognition of the logo on Otto’s card was because it was regularly splashed across all of the major tabloid and broadsheet newspapers. She’d read through a few old articles regarding family drama, disputes over assets, and the death of his father to get an idea of who he was, before deciding his cold demeanour is likely attributed to the combined stress of his job and seemingly endless rifts between his mother and half-sister. She decides that if she is to break down his walls then she will do so with kindness, but she also wants to look the part - if she is to fit in with such sophisticated people then she needs to start dressing like one. She slips into a pencil skirt so fitted it looks like it has been painted on, alongside a sheer white blouse and a killer pair of black stilettos. She completes the look with perfectly styled hair and a thick coat of blood red lipstick. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t vying for more than Aemond’s professional attention, but she’d try anything at this point just to get him to acknowledge her presence. Giving herself a last once over look in the mirror, she fires off what she considers to be a breezy good morning text to Aemond, before heading to the coffee shop she used to work at. “Good morning Mr. Targaryen! Hope you’re well today. I’ll grab you a coffee on my way to the office. See you soon!”

Arriving exactly thirty minutes later, coffees in hand, she is disappointed to see that she’s been left on read. Nevermind. She has gone all out with the coffee order, asking for the special roast of beans with an extra shot and foamed milk. This was sure to win him over. She knocks timidly at his office door and after a long moment is about to knock again when it swings slowly open with a perfectly poised Aemond on the other side. God, he was breathtaking.

She realises she has gone too long without saying anything when he snaps out an impatient “Yes?” She jumps slightly, stepping forward into his office without an invitation. Aemond cautiously backs away, his brow furrowing with suspicion and confusion.

She thrusts one of the cups towards him, “Umm…I text you. Did you - uh - coffee?” Great, now I’ve lost the fucking power of speech.

Aemond gingerly accepts the cup from her, without saying thank you. “Are you always this articulate?” He says flatly, before taking a sip. His nose instantly wrinkles, “Ugh, does this have milk in it? I’m allergic to dairy."

Her eyes widen in horror, "Oh gods,, I’m so sorry! I should have thought to ask, I can always get you-"

"Forget it.” He cuts her off, “That will be all for the day, before you try to poison me any further. Close the door on your way out.”

Fantastic, another day sat at my desk, except this time I’m dressed like a cheap escort.

The confidence she’d felt when she stepped out of the door this morning had been crushed flat by Aemond in a matter of seconds. She sits with her hands clasped tightly in front of her on the desk, willing her unshed tears away. Did he want her to quit? She’d placed everything on this job and she didn’t want to give it up without a fight. Sje simply couldn’t understand why Aemond seemed to hate her so much.

After a few hours pass by, she notices it is lunch time - he has to take a break some time. She decides that now is when she’ll make her move. Standing purposefully, she sniffs back her tears and checks her make-up in her compact mirror, before strutting back towards Aemond’s door. She’ll give that arsehole a piece of her mind. It was about time he learned to respect her.

She bursts into Aemond’s office without knocking. “Just who in the hell do you think you are?!” she rants, not waiting for his reaction to her sudden intrusion.

He looks up from the documents he has been reading and stares at her, but his expression is unreadable.

He stays silent, so she continues her tirade. “I didn’t have a fucking clue who you were when I accepted this job, despite that I’ve treated you with nothing but respect and you can’t even extend me the same courtesy!” She paces as she yells at him, gesticulating wildly. There’s a part of her telling her to stop, that this behaviour will likely get her fired, but at this point it would have been like attempting to put toothpaste back in the tube. “I know you think you’re hot shit, but that doesn’t exempt you from behaving like a decent human being.” She stops and looks at him then, his face still a mask of neutrality as he gazes up at her from his seat at the desk. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!” She demands.

“Oh, are you done?” He replies sarcastically.

She throws her hands up in exasperation, eliciting a huge sigh at his complete lack of emotion.

Accepting her reaction as affirmation, he diverts his attention back to his paperwork and mutters “Well, if that’s all, you know where the door is.”

It takes all of her willpower not to grab the nearest object and launch it towards his head. She storms outside, slamming the door as she goes. Fuck this. Walking purposefully straight to the elevator, she lets it take her to the ground floor before hastily exiting the office building. There was absolutely no way she was spending another second in this godforsaken building.

Arriving home she throws her keys a little too aggressively onto the kitchen counter and heads straight towards the fridge, grabbing for the can of whipped cream. As she loudly squirts an unhealthy sized swirl of it into her mouth, her flatmate, Rhea, looks up from her laptop with an amused smile and asks “Rough morning?”

She hadn’t noticed her sitting at the dining table, too engrossed in her own foul mood to have any awareness of her surroundings. “Think I lost my job.” She slurs without bothering to swallow.

Rhea closes the lid of her laptop and rushes to pull her into a bear hug. Finally releasing her, she smiles kindly and wipes cream from her chin, before saying “First of all, you’re gross, and second, how has that happened? You’ve been there less than 48 hours!”

“It’s a long story.” She sighs, “The short version is that my boss is an arsehole, so I yelled at him and then left the office.”

“Oh.” Rhea winces, “That’s bad.”

“What the fuck am I going to do?!” She whines, rubbing her temples.

“Well, it might not solve your impending unemployment, but we could go out tonight?”

“Are you high right now, Rhea?! The only thing I’ll be doing tonight is looking at the classifieds!”

“Come on, you were miserable for so long in your last job and don’t seem to be faring much better in this one. You deserve a little fun!”

“I dunno…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer! I’m working from home today, so having a reason to leave the flat later will keep me sane. Plus you don’t even need to get changed - you are wearing that outfit!”

“Fine. I guess one drink couldn’t hurt.”

Rhea squeals with excitement, clapping her hands. “Amazing! Now be a doll and fuck off until 7pm, I have to concentrate.”

Rhea returns to her laptop while she retreats to her room, wondering if there will ever be a point this week where she isn’t being told to go away by someone.

The bar they end up at later that evening is loud and overcrowded. Despite that, she can feel herself relaxing. Perhaps it was the second white wine she was sipping or the steady beat of the music causing her to sway your hips involuntarily, but for the first time in two days she wasn't thinking about Aemond. She sighs contentedly, draining her glass and flashing Rhea a toothy grin as she pushes through the crowd with their next round of drinks.

“Having fun?” Rhea half shouts over the cacophony of noise.

Nodding, she grabs her hand, dragging her towards the dance floor. She chugs her drink as they both move to the rhythm of the song playing. She feels woozy and attributes it to drinking too much wine too fast.

“You want water?” She shouts to Rhea, making a drinking motion with her hand. Rhea nods gratefully and she staggers her way to the bar. She can feel her vision shifting in and out of focus and getting her legs to work the way she wants them to is proving difficult. Changing course, she heads outside, deciding a few lungfuls of fresh air will help set her straight.

As she slides down the brick exterior of the building she barely notices the dark figure that has followed her outside. “Easy.” A gruff male voice says, though in her mind it sounds far away, “Just relax.” Rough hands paw at her as her head flops around on a neck that feels boneless.

“Get the fuck off her.” She hears a familiar voice snarl demandingly. The man is gone in a flash and replaced instead by someone crouching in front of her, cupping her cheeks and coaxing her to look up into a concerned blue eye.

“Aemond?” She slurs.

“Keep looking at me.” Aemond says, cradling her head, “I’m fairly certain that that prick spiked your drink. I’m going to make sure you get home safely, but you need to stay awake, okay?”

Her eyes are glassy and Aemond blurs and duplicates in her vision as he keeps her face tilted up towards him. “Rhea.” She mumbles groggily.

As if summoned by the utterance of her name, her room mate pushes her way out of the bar, phone in hand, looking left and right. When she finally catches sight of her slumped on the ground with a man crouching over her, she shrieks and runs towards her. “What are you doing to her?!”

“Helping her.” Aemond replies flatly, without looking away from her. “Pretty sure she’s been spiked.”

“Jesus!” Rhea squeals, kneeling at her side, before finally looking over at Aemond. “Holy shit! You’re Aemond Targaryen! Your uncle is so hot!”

Aemond rolls his eye, hooking his arms around the body of the semi-conscious woman in front of him and slowly lifting her to her feet.

“Should we call the police?” Rhea asks, slowly realising the gravity of the situation.

Aemond turns to stare at her. “It will take an hour for them to get here.” He explains. “And when they do they’ll just file a report which they’ll never follow up on. Our time is better spent getting her home, so she’s at least safe. I’m assuming you know where she lives?”

Rhea nods. “We’re flatmates.”

Aemond momentarily supports her weight with a single arm as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and passes it to Rhea. “Order an Uber”.

“Thanks for helping her.” Rhea says, as the Uber finally pulls up to the curb. They waited in total silence and any excitement Rhea had felt at having met Aemond was rapidly dissipating into awkward discomfort. “I can look after her from here.” She moves to take her from the supporting hold he has on her.

“Because you’ve done such an incredible job of that so far.” He retorts icily. “I’m coming with you.”

He maneuveres her limp form into the back of the car as Rhea makes her way around to the other side to sit next to her. She is surprised to see Aemond fold his tall frame into the backseat beside her, fully expecting him to ride shotgun. The drive back is tense and uncomfortable. She sits unconscious, sandwiched between the two of them, her heading lolling against Aemond’s shoulder.

“So…” Rhea begins, attempting to break the silence, “You’re the arsehole boss then?”

It was intended as a joke, but Aemond’s humourless chuckle instantly makes her cheeks burn at having said something so rude. “Is it true you’re going to fire her?”

Aemond seems surprised at that. “No,” He says simply. “I won’t expect to see her in the office tomorrow, she’ll need a day to recover, but tell her to be there at 9am sharp on Thursday. And I take my coffee black.”

“Sure.” Rhea smiles meekly. By this point, the Uber has pulled up to its destination. “Would you like to uh…?” She asks, gesturing towards the block of flats.

“No, I think you’ll be fine from here.” He responds, “Goodnight.”

With that, Rhea is left to help her out of the car, which pulls away as soon as she's closed the door.

The next day she awakens with no memory of the evening before, feeling like she has the mother of all hangovers. She swears loudly as she looks at the time and realises it’s almost midday. If she wasn’t fired before, she certainly was now.

Hearing she is awake, Rhea sweeps into the room with a tall glass of water for her. She fills her in on the details of the previous evening and she listens in stunned silence. She spends the rest of the day in bed, struggling to process what has happened to her and the fact that a man she’d assumed hated her had come so valiantly to her rescue.

Thursday morning rolls around quickly and she dresses simply in black trousers and a sensible cardigan. She heads to grab Aemond his morning coffee; black coffee. No sooner had she deposited the cup into his hand had apologies begun tumbling from her lips, saying sorry for how she’d spoken to him, sorry for storming off, sorry for him having to look after her. He cuts her off, sliding a sheet of paper towards her.

“This,” He begins, “Is a list of things I need you to do for me today. Think you can handle it?”

She nods, stunned at finally being asked to help him out.

“Perfect. See you later.”

The day passes in a blur and she struggles. This is the first day she’s actually performing the job she has been hired to do and the busy, demanding nature of a prestigious law firm was worlds apart from the past two days of sitting at her desk and sulking. She gets lost trying to deliver documents to various people’s offices, forgets to seal contracts in confidential envelopes and accidentally hangs up on no less than five clients while trying to transfer their calls. It is a complete disaster.

She sits, highlighting every instance of the word “Harrenhal” in a document, feeling totally overwhelmed. How could anyone manage to be so bad at a relatively simple job?! The truth was, she kept finding herself distracted, thinking about what had happened to her two nights ago. What would have happened if Aemond hadn’t shown up? She caps the highlighter pen, resting her head in her hands and fails to suppress a sob.

Hearing his office door open, she turns to face Aemond as he exits, attempting to compose herself, but knows he has likely already seen her crying. “Sorry.” She whispers. “I’m just having a bad day. Ignore me.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes.

Silently Aemond beckons her into his office, maintaining eye contact as he does so.

She follows obediently, dread gnawing at her insides, certain he’s going to fire her.

“Kneel.” He quietly commands, once the door is closed behind them.

“What?!” Her eyes widen in shock.

“Trust me, you need this. Kneel.” He insists.

She does as she is told, kneeling before him, gazing up at his impossibly tall frame with curiosity.

He slowly reaches out a hand, fingers gently grazing her jawline, before running a thumb over her lips. He pushes gently, parting them and meeting the resistance of her teeth. “Open”.

This time she doesn’t question his request, silently accepting the alien intrusion of Aemond’s thumb into her mouth. Instinctively she feels herself sucking on the digit and gradually relaxes. The sensation sends a throb of arousal straight to her core. She’d never experienced anything like this before, but seeing him tower over her, offering his thumb for her to suck was strangely erotic.

“Better?” He asks.

She simply nods, doe-eyed and staring at him in awe.

“Good.” He smiles slightly, stooping down until his lips are ghosting the shell of her ear. It makes her shiver. “I much preferred Tuesday’s outfit, by the way. Maybe that can make a reappearance tomorrow?”

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thewulf · 1 year

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Take a Risk || Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Summary: You thought you knew how to handle the Top Gun boys. That was until Pete showed up rocking your world. Your simple life as a plane mechanic was coming to an abrupt halt once he entered your hangar.

A/N: Who doesn't love a good Top Gun 1986 Mav??

Pairing: Young Pete "Maverick"Mitchell x Y/N

Word Count: 6,700+

It was a sticky sweet summer morning on North Beach in Miramar, San Diego. Even with your hair tightly slicked back in a knotted bun you couldn’t stop the sweat from dripping down your back as you picked up a wrench from your toolbox. Cursing the Navy for making you wear such thick flight suits as a mechanic you subtly unzipped the top to get some air. You were wearing a tank top anyway.

You turned back to the F-14 you were working on as you read the paperwork on its issues. Lieutenant Pete Mitchell dropped it off yesterday complaining about a weird noise in the left engine when he banked right. You were pretty sure you knew what the problem was. A snapped bolt that seemed to be a common service problem on these planes.

Smiling to yourself when you found the cause of the planes problems you quickly drilled the bolt out replacing it with a larger sturdier one. You fired up the engine making sure that the bold didn’t interfere with anything. When you were satisfied with your work you hopped out of the cockpit and scribbled what you did on the paperwork. Making detailed notes about the sheered bolt.

However, what you didn’t like was the bent frame. Taking a few measurements, you frowned finding the entire wing bending at the wrong angle, a potential terminal angle. After making a few calls you found a repair solution, albeit a lengthy one.

“She’s a beauty isn’t she.” A booming voice took you out of the task you were laser focused on.

Pulling your body out of one of the turbines you snapped your head around spotting the culprit. A handsome, albeit likely cocky as hell, pilot eyed you as you turned towards him. Body still sitting in the turbine you eyed him curiously. It wasn’t often you got any visitors, let alone a pilot, all the way back in the maintenance hangar tucked in the corner of the air base.

“I’ve seen prettier.” Smiling as sweetly as you could you placed your hands on your lap continuing to observe him. You knew the type. Almost all of the naval aviators that came through Top Gun were more arrogant than any civilian man you’d ever meet. Often giving you shit for being their mechanic since you were a woman you opted to simply work in peace in the corner. Out of sight, out of mind.

Feigning hurt the pilot walked closer to you, “You wound me. That’s my pride and joy right there.”

“Try and treat her more kindly then.” Countering, you smirked at the man as you tapped on the inside of the turbine with your wrench, “Her frame is a little fucked.”

“You don’t break barriers if you don’t push them.” He winked clearly waiting on you to join him on the ground.

He was just the type. Rolling your eyes you turned back towards the engine, deciding to ignore him, “Not if you end up snapping it in the air.”

He laughed irking you even further, “You don’t know what I can do in the air.”

“Well,” You dropped the wrench again, the guy clearly wasn’t getting the hint, “I’m certain you can’t defeat physics.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Frustrated you simply ignored the arrogant pilot. You found it was the easiest way to deal with these personalities, simply ignore them and give them nothing.

For a brief moment you forgot he was beneath you as you refocused in on what you were working on. Grabbing your power tools, you unbolted a few panels that needed to be replaced, he had begun to warp the damn frame on the plane. It wasn’t often that you had come across this severe of warpage at a training facility. Sure, when you were working on carriers and planes were coming back from missions you would likely see this damage, when pilots were in life and death situations. Yet this yahoo was doing it at Top Gun.

You tossed the panels down as you normally would hearing the smack of the metal panel hitting the concrete.

“That’s a little loud.” You heard his annoying voice come from below you again.

“It is.” You agreed pulling out a few broken bolts.

“Do you mind?”

The audacity. The sheer audacity of this damn pilot coming into your home and asking you to change the way you do things, “I do.” You threw the last panel maybe a little too close to him.

Jumping back, he looked up at you a little shocked, “Snippy.” He smirked knowing he was getting you worked up after seeing your scowl.

It took everything in you not to jump off the turbine to tell him off. But you knew better, they always sided with their precious Top Gun pilots not the lowly technicians.

Stifling the huff, you wanted to let out you answered him, “Just trying to do my job.”

“And I can’t do mine until your done so.”

You weren’t sure why this stranger was working you up so much, but man was he sure good at it. You thought you knew how to handle these assholes, but he was special. A special asshole.

“And you standing here interrupting me every five minutes sure as hell won’t make it get done faster Lieutenant.”

“Mitchell.”

Rolling your eyes you continued, “Did I ask?”

“No.” He smiled, “But may I know yours?”

“Y/N.” Replying as shortly to him as you could you decided it was a failed effort to try and fix his plane right now. So, you hopped right of the turbine to your ladder meeting him on the ground.

“Well, that’s a pretty name.” He looked all to gleeful he got you out of your perch, your comfort zone.

Nodding you turned away from him to grab your water. It was already far too hot, and this man wasn’t making it any cooler. Rather the opposite. Wiping the glistening sweat from your forehead you set your bottle back down on your tool chest.

“You should tell my mom that then. She’s the one who named me.” You searched for a grinder as you needed to smooth down the edges of the panel inserts.

You heard him chuckle from behind, “Are you always so defensive?”

“Are you always so annoying?” Countering you smiled as kindly as you could muster. You knew you had to put him in his place now or he’d walk all over you.

His smile grew even more only infuriating you further. He seemed to like your attitude. He really seemed to like that you weren’t afraid to speak your mind.

“Afraid so Y/N.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat he made his way over to you as you scavenged your toolbox looking for that damn grinding wheel.

You jumped nearly ten feet in the air once you found it, turned around and he was suddenly inches in front of you, “Jesus Christ, you can’t do that.”

He leaned himself on the toolbox cocking his head to the side, “My actual name is Pete, not Jesus Christ. Flattering though.”

You were simply beside yourself now. This man wasn’t going to stop. He was clever though. You did have to give him that. Clever and quick. A rather menacing combination on top of an already cocky and arrogant attitude? This dude was already too much for you to handle.

“Well Pete.” You gave him the up and down, fully taking him in, “Either make yourself useful and throw me tools or kindly get the fuck out of my hangar.” Batting your eyelashes, you shoved the grinding wheel into his stomach taking him by surprise. You heard the grunt he gave as you shoved it into him. Smiling to yourself you made your way back over to the damaged F-14.

“Tool tosser it is.” He followed you like a puppy, sitting down on the bottom rung of the ladder you were using.

Not sure what came over you that moment you were already regretting your decision to let Pete hang out with you. You weren’t a total loner, but the nature of the job meant you were crawling into tiny, dark places that usually didn’t allow for a partner. So, you learned to love working with yourself. You were very good at it too. Quickly rising through the technician ranks you found yourself at Top Gun only three years into your Naval career.

“How’d you end up here?” He asked after he tossed you the grinding wheel.

You looked over your repair area before answering him, “I’m good at my job.”

“Ha ha.” He gave you a look, one that showed he was starting to get annoyed by your snarky responses.

“My dad and I worked on cars growing up. We restored a ’53 Corvette over a few years and I just kinda fell in love with it. Completely rebuilt the engine with a new V8 instead of the V6 it originally came with.” You answered him as honestly as you felt, giving him more information than you would’ve normally disposed.

“That’s hot as hell.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, the confidence was oozing out of this man.

“Jigsaw.” You opted to shut him down again.

“A jigsaw?” He looked a little flabbergasted as you requested your desired tools.

“Mhmm. Know what tool that is Pete?” Deciding to belittle him you threw that stupid smirk right back in his face.

His flabbergasted look turned to one of shock then realization at your statement then a smile formed across it. He certainly was expressive, “Yes, Y/N. I know what a jigsaw is.”

“Very good.” You clapped waiting for him to retrieve the tool.

“I’m just surprised you need it is all.” He rolled his eyes, returning the favor you so graciously gave him many times throughout the past hour that he had been bothering you.

Shrugging your shoulders, “I didn’t warp the crash bar so badly it needs an entirely new one Pete.”

Raising his eyebrows he turned to you, “Have you ever seen that?”

Groaning you gave him the finger. You felt oddly comfortable conversing with the cocky pilot. It’s not like you didn’t like the Top Gun pilots you saw come in and out of the base but that was just that. They came for a few weeks and then they were off doing crazy shit again. You made sure to have fun but to never get involved.

He snickered before turning around and finding the jigsaw quickly. He tossed it up to you before you responded, “But no Pete, I haven’t seen this one in a while.”

“Bummer. Thought I’d be the first.”

Shaking your head, you returned your focus back to the task at hand. Pulling down your safety visor you began to let it rip, careful not to cut through any electrical components within the aircraft. Sparks began flying earning a grin from your face. You just loved it. It gave you such a sense of pride in yourself that you could do it and you did it better than the other mechanics. You always got the toughest planes to work on.

Once finished you smoothed it out with the grinding wheel. Peeking over the ledge you noticed Pete was still there, leaning against the ladder even though it took you about ten minutes to cut through.

“Still here?” You barked breaking him away from his thoughts. His stupid little smile formed as he took you in now. You were sure you looked like hell. The sticky humidity had your hair matted down on your forehead and neck. Grease streaked across your chin and neck unbeknownst to you. Your flight suit was almost shimmied all the way off of your body leaving you only in your tank top, a major violation. But you couldn’t really care right now, it was too hot to care. You just opted to pray your direct leader didn’t waltz on in like Pete did.

“Like I said, can’t do much without her.” He pointed to the F-14, “And you seem like you just love my company.” He grinned knowing it would egg you on.

“Oh, I just adore it.” You waited for him to look this time before you dropped the crash bar down to him.

“So,” He paused waiting for you to look at him this time, “How are you going to fix her?”

Smiling you hopped back out of the turbine onto the ladder leveling up with him once your feet hit the concrete, “I’m going to go get another crash bar, machine it down to the measurements I took then I’m going to weld it back together. With some new panels she’ll be as good as new.”

Pete’s eyes nearly bugged out of its sockets. He found that insanely attractive. Not like what you were already doing wasn’t attractive but man there was something about a woman that could handle her own.

“There you are!” A third voice interrupted the bickering pair. A lanky blonde haired

“Goose! Meet Y/N.” He pointed to you, “She’s fixing our girl.” He grinned eyeing both you and the plane between glances.

“Hello.” You smiled awkwardly feeling slightly claustrophobic with so many people in your usual solo space.

“Ma’am.” He nodded his head before turning back to Pete.

“We’ve got to get to training.” He attempted to pull Pete by the arm, but the stubborn man refused to budge.

“Relax Goose. I’m a little busy.” He shook off his friend’s arm.

Shaking your head, you clearly disagreed with him, “No, he’s not.”

Pete pouted. Crossing his arms over his chest and all, “I was helping.”

“Key word was. Past tense. Get to training Lieutenant. I really don’t want to hear Viper bitching about something else in the break room.” You gave him a wink, throwing him a bone. You hate to admit it, but you really did enjoy his company. But you had to remember he’d only be here a few weeks. You can have fun, but never can you get attached.

Grinning ear to ear he bowed out, “If the lady commands.” He eyed you.

“She does.”

You heard Goose laugh softly waiting for Pete to leave with him. Pete didn’t drop that damn smirk that never seemed to leave his face, “Will I see you again Y/N?”

“You know where I work.” You left the invitation open for him to come back. The statement left your mouth so fast you didn’t even process it. Mentally cursing yourself it clicked you invited the nuisance back for more and you were sure he was going to be back.

Nodding his head, he eyed you up and down once more before turning away, “See you tomorrow Y/N!” He walked over to Goose ruffling his hair after hitting him on the back. Lord only knows what the two of them were talking about.

Pete kept true to his word and showed up just as you were finishing up on his plane. You were sitting in the cockpit flipping a few switches when you heard the man whistle from below.

“Damn, this might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” The brown-haired pilot smiled as he leaned on your toolbox, yet again.

“Yeah, yeah.” You laughed shutting the engine down, satisfied in your work, “Too bad I can’t fly the damn thing.” Nearly whispering you weren’t sure if Pete heard you as you walked down the ladder.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly hearing you, “And what’s stopping you Y/N?”

The story was old as time now. You dreamed of being a pilot. Quite literally your whole life that’s all you wanted to be. Just like your dad. He was an Air Force pilot, and he was damn good at it. Your dreams were yanked right from you at the age of twelve when your family was in a pretty severe car accident blinding you in one eye completely. You were devastated when the doctors said they tried everything they could, your left eye would never see again.

Your pilot dreams ended that day, so you had to opt for the next best thing. Airplane mechanic. At least you’d get to work on them all day. Plus, your dad supported your dreams. He saw how sad you were after the incident, so he worked with you. The two of you rebuilt three classic cars by the time you turned eighteen. Your favorite being that first year Corvette.

“I’m blind in my left eye Pete.” You smirked waiting on his next comeback. Your smirk grew even further when you saw his eyes widen and his throat bob, seemingly stumping him.

“Well,” He ran his fingers through his hair clearly a little uncomfortable with the information you provided to him, “That’ll stop you.”

Erupting in laughter you weren’t expecting that response, “It sure did.” Grinning at the goofy man you looked back up at his plane, “And she’s as good as new.”

Pete looked between you and the plane chewing on his lip obviously contemplating something in his brain.

“Ever flown in one?”

“Nope.” You shook your head not really grasping what he was getting at.

“How about your first flight, today?”

Snapping your head back around Pete finally got you to pay attention to him, “Absolutely not.”

Frowning he stepped closer to you, “Why not?”

“Uhh, because I like my job?” Looking at him incredulously he was being dead ass serious. This pilot was seriously asking if you wanted to go up with him.

“Is it in the rule book?”

Pausing you thought long and hard trying to recall anything, “No?” Racking your brain, you really couldn’t recall a specific rule that forbade you to go up with the pilots. You’ve just never had the opportunity to. You knew your boss would flip a gasket if he knew what you did but it almost sounded enticing coming out of this near stranger’s mouth.

Sure, you’ve been in lots of cool military aircraft but never an F-14. Flying in one of those sounded like a pipe dream to you. But here was your chance. A cute aviator offering to take you up? Did you really want to pass up on one of your best opportunities to date?

He grinned, “You just need a helmet and then we can go on up.”

“Pete,” You paused trying to find the right words in your head, “I don’t think this is a great idea. Plus, I don’t have a helmet…”

Pete scoffed at you clearly not taking your excuses to heart, “You can borrow Goose’s. He keeps it clean anyway.”

“I don’t want to take something from him…”

He scoffed again, “He won’t mind. Where’s your telephone? Just need to ring him up to have him bring it over.”

“Pete…”

“What?” He took a good long look at your face finally realizing the slight discomfort he was putting on you, “It’ll be fine. Promise.” He squeezed your arm in comfort.

“I’ve just never been in trouble before and,”

“Even more of a reason to go. Take a risk. Live a little.” He placed his hands on your shoulders trying to level set you, “It’s just a little test flight.”

Licking your lips, you thought long and hard. Even if you did get caught Pete was right, it was just a test flight. Odds are your boss wouldn’t have a clue.

“Phone’s over there.” You pointed to the wall where it hung.

“Atta girl.” He ruffled the top of your hair ever so slightly before bounding off to the phone. You were still a bit taken aback by his domineering nature, still trying to get used to it. And the atta girl? That had you weak in your knees. Gripping your toolbox, you took a deep breath trying to recollect your bearings.

Pete walked back over, looking way to happy, “Goose is on the way!”

“Oh great.” You said as sarcastically as possible making your uneasiness of the situation very well known to the man. You wanted to. God, you wanted to. You’ve been waiting on this moment for as long as you could remember. But man were you nervous.

“Hey,” His smile dropped a little seeing you pace back and forth nervously, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” He looked at you with a softness you had yet to see in the man.

Your arms were crossed as you ran your hands nervously up and down, “It’s not that. I just… I just don’t do things like this.” Admitting that to him was harder than you would’ve though. It was almost embarrassing to admit you were a little cowardly when it came to command. You hated getting in trouble. Your eyes almost always watered when you got reprimanded by the big bosses, them yelling in your face always seemed to get to you. Doing everything in your power to not get in trouble was your life motto,up until now. This decision was not going to keep you out of trouble.

“Always a time to start.” Pete grinned stopping close to you. Close enough that you got a nice big whiff of his cologne that sent your mind reeling almost instantly.

“I suppose.” You took a baby step back, feeling all too overwhelmed by his presence suddenly.

He reacted by taking a step closer to you, always seeming to push you out of your own comfort zone, “If you tie your hair back really tight and tuck it under your flight suit, they might even think it’s just Goose back there with me.”

Narrowing your eyes in on him you eyed him suspiciously. Was he being honest? Or was he simply fucking with you, “Really?”

Nodding his head, he inched just a step closer, really breaking down your personal boundary space, “It’s hard to see who’s really in the cockpit once the canopy is down. And you’ll be wearing his helmet. You can be Goose in our test flight.”

“Okay.” You gave him a genuine smile starting to feel slightly better about what you were going to do shortly.

“Oh Maverick!” Hearing a familiar voice both of you jumped out of the trance you were both in with each other. Goose walked in smirking like he just caught the two of you doing the deed right then and there. Walking up to the both of you he wiggled his eyebrows earning a backslap from Pete, “One clean and in perfect condition helmet for the lady.”

You took it from him gingerly observing the outside of it. Sure, you’ve picked up plenty of helmets but never a Top Gun Pilot’s one. These were made specifically for each pilot, hand painted and all, “Thank you Goose.” You smiled up at him.

“Anytime.” He threw you a wink, “Mav taking you up then?”

Nodding your head, you set the helmet down as gently as possible, “That’s the plan.” You laughed nervously feeling like this was a terrible idea now that it was happening.

“Here,” Pete walked over taking the helmet from the work bench, “I’m going to put this on you, okay?”

“Sure.” You felt your cheeks beginning to heat up feeling like a daft idiot. It should’ve been obvious, but you were too nervous you’d mess it up in front of the seasoned veterans.

He took it and slowly slid it over your head, making sure your earrings didn’t catch on any of the lining. Once it was fully seated, he grabbed a few straps tightening the helmet down to your smaller head size. The two of you were standing so close you felt his breath fan over the opening in your helmet onto your face. Your eyes took in his facial features as he was laser focused on getting the helmet to fit you properly.

You noticed the few freckles that had managed to pop out from his complexion. He had a few deeper wrinkles that you were sure were from the stress of his job. His focusing face was downright adorable as well with his lips pulling in one direction and his eyes scrunching just a bit.

He was a handsome man you had concluded. An arrogant one at that, handsome nonetheless. But you always had to remember the rule. You could have fun. You just couldn’t get attached. And this? Pete? He looked fun.

Goose let out a wolf-whistle as Pete stepped back examining his handy work, “She looks phenomenal!”

“Spectacular!” Pete chimed in.

“Stunning as ever!” Goose continued.

“A showstopper!”

“Okay!” You laughed nudging Pete’s side gently, “I get it.” You let out a small giggle beginning to feel more comfortable with the two pilots in front of you. They were nothing but best friends who loved to goof off. You didn’t need to be so intimidated by them.

“Now that you officially look the hottest you ever have, follow me.” Pete threw you a wink earning a hearty chuckle from his RIO. Goose was very used to Pete’s overly aggressive flirting. You however were not used to Pete’s flirting which sent your face from a pale white to a cherry red in almost an instant.

“Have fun up there Y/N.” Goose laughed taking a seat at your work bench.

“I will!” You threw him a thumbs up before following closely behind Pete, not wanting to miss any of his instruction.

“Up you go.” He grinned seeing your small figure in the big helmet.

Obliging you climbed up the internal ladder to the plane plopping yourself in the back seat. What you didn’t see was Pete ogling you from behind as your hips swayed moving you up the ladder. Once he snapped back into reality, he followed you up. Instead of climbing into his seat though he climbed right on top of you sending your brain right back into the tizzy it was in earlier. You were so thankful it wasn’t as hot today or you might just be a puddle on the ground.

You knew there wasn’t much room in the canopy. But when a man straddled you in the second seat you realized just how tight the space was. You were feeling overtly grateful the helmet covered up the majority of your cheeks or else Pete might’ve caught onto your feelings.

“What are you doing?” You asked faintly as he leaned forward bringing his chest so close to your head.

Smirking he grabbed something behind you and pulled back, “Buckling you in.”

“Oh.” Was all that came out. Of course, that’s all he was doing. He was just making sure you were safe and yet here you were thinking some rather unsavory thoughts.

He knocked you out of your own thoughts as he leaned back looking you up and down, “I lied earlier.”

“About what?” You gave him a confused look, stitching your eyebrows together.

“This has got to officially be the hottest you’ve ever looked.”

“Pete!” You laughed punching his arm lightly. He was a character that was for sure. One you really wanted to know more about.

Laughing with you he gave you a new smile, one that oozed with sweetness instead of cockiness, “You good?” He asked you one more time. You knew it was his one last check before taking this up with you.

Giving him a thumbs up and an eager nod you smiled right back at him, “I’m good.”

“Alright.” He nodded as he leaned down to grab a black tube, “This is your oxygen mask. I’m going to put it on you now so you can get a feel for it. You need to have this on whenever we aren’t just flying straight, it’ll help keep your brain filled with oxygen.”

Nodding you let him know you were paying attention to his every word, “If you take this off when I’m diving or climbing you will probably pass out. Got it?”

“Got it boss.” You threw him a thumbs up through the thick gloves you had on.

He snapped it into your mask after bringing your visor down, letting you get a full feel for the increased oxygen that began flowing through your body, “You might feel a little lightheaded at first. It’s a lot of Oxygen all at once.” He smiled as he watched you closely, making sure you were okay.

Taking a deep breath, you realized just how right he was. Feeling immediately lightheaded you took a second to ground yourself again. Blinking rapidly, you looked up at him. He was giving you the sweetest look now too. It might’ve took your breath away if the Oxygen hadn’t already. He was waiting on you to give him a signal that you were good, so you threw up another thumbs up.

After a moment he continued, “This is how you disconnect it.” He pressed a button on the side of the mask, and it popped right off, “Now, you have to have this on or close to your mouth if you want to communicate. All comms pass through this.”

“Rodger that.” You grinned as you started getting excited. You were really about to do this. You’d wanted to do this for forever it didn’t really feel real.

Clicking your oxygen mask back into place he waited for you to signal that you were good. Once you did he hopped to the front walking you through what he was doing. He explained the pre-flight checklist that he had to do every time. Goose helped as you had absolutely no idea what was going on.

“You ready?” Pete’s voice rang through your helmet causing you to jump slightly. This was certainly different. No way you could be a pilot if you had any ounce of claustrophobia.

“Born ready.” Giggling you took in all the sights of the runway around you.

It was crazy being in a taxiing plane. You’d been on those runways thousands if not millions of times, but you had never seen them like this.

“Canopy clear?” He asked waiting for you to respond.

“Clear!” Bouncing up and down you really couldn’t believe it now. Once the canopy locked into place you heard Pete chatting back and forth with the tower. Letting him know when he was cleared for flight. The adrenaline coursing through your body was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Once you heard all clear you sat back in your seat waiting on Pete.

“Taking off in 3… 2… 1.” He punched it sending you flying back into your seat. Eyes wide you watched your surroundings as this little plane took off effortlessly.

“Woah.” Was all you managed to get out once Pete level set the plane. The two of you simply flying in one direction.

“It’s something isn’t it.” He spoke. You could hear the adoration in his voice.

“Something is a word for it.” You couldn’t seem to stop looking around you

Pete looked into his mirror watching you take in everything. He stifled his laugh not wanting to interrupt your moment in the plane for the first time. He swore he could’ve watched you take everything in for the next six hours, but he had things to do. He had to stress the plane out a little. It was a test flight after all. He could’ve warned you, but he really wanted you to go so he opted to spare the details.

“Don’t kill me but…” He had to interrupt you. He was running out of military occupied air space. He didn’t have the authority to go into civilian air space just yet.

“What?” You snapped your attention forward suddenly feeling a little anxious about it all.

“Well, it is a test flight. Got to check your work out and all.”

“Okay…” You let him continue not one hundred percent sure what all his statement entailed.

“So, I’m going to dive and climb a few times and stress her out just a bit.”

“Cool!” Grinning, you felt that giddy feeling again, “Just don’t kill me!” Laughing Pete took that as his sign that you were all good and ready for whatever he had in store for you.

Your breath caught in your throat as he let it rip. A small ‘oh my god’ wanted to escape your lips but your brain wasn’t processing as fast as Pete was maneuvering. You took in a big breath of oxygen just as Pete began to climb. You felt like you were on a roller coaster again only this time with a big ass rock pressing against your chest.

This was insane, in the best way. You couldn’t believe pilots got to do this every single day. You also failed to understand how they did that and shot at enemies at the same time. It simply didn’t compute in your brain.

“You alright back there?” Pete’s voice interrupted you from your thoughts.

“Yes! More than alright.” You coughed slightly still trying to get used to the mask.

“Let’s have some fun then.”

And boy did he. You were flying upside down at one point. Pete said he had nearly perfected it at one point. You thought you’d be a little more frightened by it all, but you weren’t. You felt so utterly safe with Pete in the front fear never really crossed your mind.

“Over already?” You frowned seeing the plane descend towards the base.

“Afraid so.” Pete chuckled. He expected you to be a little more freaked than you were. You fully embraced the entire ordeal.

“Boo.”

Pete landed flawlessly, of course. He couldn’t take it back to your hangar instead taxing it back to its home hangar. The taxi back in was quiet between the two of you as he was getting direction from command. You clicked your oxygen mask off setting it down to the side. Your mind was so blown you couldn’t even think. That was perhaps the coolest thing you’ve ever done, and it wasn’t even close. You felt a little surge of jealousy that pilots got to do this every single day.

Once you parked Pete lifted the canopy before quickly unbuckling himself. He turned to you seeing your shell-shocked face. He tried to stop himself from laughing, he really did. But after seeing your expression he let out a hearty chuckle. Which, of course, resulted in you giggling with him.

After the two of you calmed down Pete again jumped over and straddled you, unbuckling you gently from the seat, “You like it?”

“Did I like it?” You repeated his question softly as you looked up to him. Trying to find the right words you finally responded after a moment, “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done. I more than liked it. Thank you, Pete.”

“My pleasure gorgeous.” He reached down to undo your helmet, slowly sliding it off your head.

Your expression was fully exposed for him to take in now. Your current state was something Pete wanted to lock into his memory . Your previously slicked down hair had gotten messed up by the helmet and was sticking in every which direction. The apples of your cheeks were bright red with all the excitement you had experienced in the last twenty minutes.

The smile that came over your face was a sight he needed to etch in his memory. One of the most genuinely happy expressions he’s ever seen was what you were giving him. He could feel his heart rate pick up as he looked you over. His stomach in small knots as you looked to him.

“That was wow.” You were still searching for words.

He gave you his hand to take, “Right? It never gets old.”

Grabbing his hand he pulled you up, right into his chest, “Sorry.” Your eyes went wide as you attempted to back up, but your boot got caught on the seat sending you backwards.

Luckily Pete was quicker than you, grabbing onto your suit he saved you from toppling backwards in the cockpit, “Sorry!” You gasped wanting to hit yourself right on the forehead for making such a fool of yourself in front of him.

“It’s okay.” He smiled letting your flight suit go, “Are you okay?” He looked you over with concern.

“I’m fine.” Responding to him quickly, you prayed he’d just hop back over to his seat. He either understood that you were terribly flustered and wanted to keep messing with you or he was clueless to your emotions as ever. You had an inkling feeling he was messing with you.

Raising his eyebrows he did another scan over you, “Are you sure? Your face is a little flushed.” He pointed towards your cheeks.

You gulped deciding to let it all out, not sure how much more you could take, “I’m great. You’re just very close to me right now.” Your voice tapered off as you continued to talk to him.

Picking up what you were putting down Pete nodded, while smirking, and jumped back into the front seat. Taking a deep breath, you followed him down to the ground once he turned everything off. What the hell was wrong with you? You’d been working here for a few years and had yet to get so caught up in an aviator so quickly. Let alone one of the cockiest ones you met. But his confidence drew you into him. You couldn’t believe you were finding him as attractive as you were in that moment, he was the annoying pilot that wouldn’t leave you alone yesterday and now? Now… you were doomed. That quickly. A sinking feeling of dread coursed through your body as you realized you would likely not be following your very own rule.

Handing your helmet off to Pete he again raked his eyes over your figure. Surly he wouldn’t be so brazen about it? Yet he was. Unashamed to check you out like he was it sent another blush right to your cheeks. Exposing you yet again.

Biting your lip, you decided to observe what he was doing. Silently you walked up, standing beside him observing the notes he was taking.

“You can’t do that.” He muttered eyeing you from his peripherals.

“What?” Cocking your head to the side you feared you probably looked like a Golden Retriever in that moment.

He let a breath of air out before turning to you while pointing at his lips, “Bite your lip like that.”

“And why not?” Crossing your arms over your chest you decided to play this one up. Leaning towards him you through your mouth into a pout as you batted your eyelashes as dramatically as possible.

Throwing his head back in laughter you couldn’t help but to check him out now. Eyes moving up and down his body you were caught when you looked back up, staring right at you, “Would you like to go up in the plane again?” He asked, ignoring your question.

“Well, hell yeah I would.” Your eyes lit up looking back towards the F-14. You’d go up in the plane everyday if you could.

Smiling he bobbed his head, “Don’t do that then.”

“That’s not fair Mavvvverick.” Drawing out his callsign you knew you exactly what you were doing. Driving him insane.

“Life’s not fair Y/N.” He continued grinning finishing up whatever he was writing.

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him. He was good. You’d give them that. It was usually way too easy to get exactly what you want when you want from these men, “Okay, dad.”

“Oof.” He placed a hand on your shoulder spinning you around back to face him. Not realizing what he was doing until it was already done you looked at him incredulously.

“What was that for?”

Taking a step closer, way too close for your brain to handle, he leaned down whispering into your ear, “I’ll tell you what. Meet me here tomorrow at 7. We need another test flight.”

“What? You don’t have faith in my repairs?” Throwing him back a wink you waited for his response as the gears started turning in his head.

“I’ve got all the faith in the world.”

The perma-smile that laced your face for the last hour had yet to diminish, “7 it is. See you later Pete.”

“You sure will.” He watched longingly as you waved him off and walked back to your hangar.

#pete mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell x y/n #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #maverick x y/n #maverick x you #maverick x oc #maverick

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xomakara · 7 months

Text

The Highlights of Romance

THoR Chap. Masterlist | Previous | Next

Chapter length - 1,867 words

Chapter 004 - Moments That Lead To...

"Yes...right there..." A soft groan escaped your lips.

"Right here?" He asked you, his voice low and husky.

"God yes! Right there!"

If people were to pass by in the hallways, they would have gotten the wrong impression. With a deep sigh and clearly out of words, you were laying on your back on the sofa, your feet propped on one of your neighbor's laps. Mark looked over at you, his hand caressing one of your calves. He watched as your chest rose up and down, as if you were trying to catch your breath.

"Geezes woman," Mark began as his fingers worked their magic to your calf. "What in the world did you do that you ended up with a leg cramp?"

"Johnny made me exercise with him this morning. I haven't worked out in a long time, so my muscles aren't used to it." You covered your eyes with your arm. You then propped yourself up with your elbows. "Why do you guys torture yourself with exercise?"

"To look good and stay healthy?" Mark replied with a question, his eyes darting towards the front door as Renjun made his way in. He gave you a wry smile.

"So any progress on your novel?" Yangyang asked from the dining table, looking up from his phone.

With a grunt, you sat up on the couch and gave Yangyang a glare. "Kind of? I’ll have more inspiration if Mark just gives in. And where's Johnny?"

"Oh, stop whining, Y/N." Johnny strolled into the living room with what looked like clean clothes on. "Not like you did that much exercising anyway. You kept looking at my chest and feeling up my arms."

"Who told you to work out with no shirt on today?" You threw the pillow at Johnny. "When an attractive half-naked man presents himself in front of someone, who wouldn't take the opportunity to look and feel?"

"Just like when a very attractive woman sits in a man's lap and gives him a boner?" Mark exclaimed from next to you. "Are you saying I should have taken advantage of it?"

"I mean you could have." You shrugged, grabbing his hands so that he could continue massaging your calves. "You're just being jealous because you caught me kissing Yangyang last night."

"Who told you guys to make out at the stairwell?" Renjun asked, shaking his head. "There are people who use the stairs you know."

"I couldn't resist!" You frowned. "It's all his fault for wearing a sleeveless shirt and just looking so good."

“That’s what you said when you pulled Renjun into your apartment the other day!” Mark retorted. “The man came out of your apartment with hickies all over his neck.”

“I know he enjoyed it though.” You winked at Renjun. “Didn’t you Renjunnie?”

“I’m happy to be of service.” Renjun nodded, hair falling into his eyes. “But you know we didn’t do anything but kiss, right?”

You weren't like any other women they came across. The more the men hung out with you, they noticed that you were very outspoken and bold.

And very inappropriate on all sorts of levels.

What woman would openly admit to wanting to sleep with them in a few hours of meeting them?

After your proposition from the other week, you would hang out at every chance you got. If the men weren’t busy with work and classes, they would have taken every chance to spend time with you. Renjun would sneak you into his apartment every now and then to eat lunch and dinner with you. Yangyang would be in your apartment under the guise of helping to proofread your manuscripts and help edit. Mark, despite the awkward tension from that first day, let you hang out at his apartment to play with Bunny. And Johnny would often invite you to the gym.

Today, you decided to reconvene to Renjun’s and Yangyang’s apartment after your exhausting activity at the gym. When you got to their unit, Mark and Yangyang were already there since they needed to talk to Renjun about a party they were invited to. Johnny went to get changed and you flopped on the couch next to Mark. Before you knew it, you were suffering from a leg cramp.

“Mark,” you whined, gaining Mark’s attention. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Mark, make this pain go away.”

“Okay, okay.” Mark replied, his fingers continuing to knead and caress your skin. “Feel better?”

"Unbelievable." Renjun shook his head, watching his friend give in to your wants and needs. Renjun wasn't going to admit it, but he did feel a bit jealous of all the attention that Mark was giving you. “She’s got Mark wrapped around her finger.”

“I’m a bit jealous.” Yangyang muttered from the kitchen table, putting his phone down and watching. “Why wasn’t I sitting on the couch? I could have been the one touching her.”

“You’ll get your time, Yangyang.” Johnny chuckled, sitting on the floor in front of you. His back against the cushions, he felt your slender fingers trace circles on his back. “Y/N, if you keep doing that, I’ll take you right here in front of the others.”

“What if that’s what I want, Johnny?” You said, fingers still tracing along his back.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I’m sure our pretty Moonmoon would make lots of beautiful noises…”

“And what noises will you all make?” You asked.

Johnny turned his head to look at you. “I don’t know about the others, but I make noises that will drive you mad with want.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, watching the blatant flirting in front of his eyes. Still massaging your legs, his fingers wandered further up your thigh, almost caressing your hips. “Hey, I’m touching your bare legs here and you want Johnny instead of me?”

You shook your head, sitting up to pout at Mark. You were all too aware that he was touching you in places you wanted to be touched. You cursed all the layers of clothing that blocked their path. “I’ve been wanting you, Mark. Since the first day I met you.”

Mark let out a small sigh of a chuckle before leaning to whisper in your ear. “You’re still saying that stuff? Want me to remedy it?”

Your ears started to turn a shade pink. Biting your lower lip, you let out a small nod. Seeing that this was all the permission he needed, Mark rose from the couch, grabbed your hand, and pulled you softly to the front door.

“Where are you taking her?!” Renjun called out, rising from his seat at the kitchen table.

“Back to her apartment.” Mark responded with mirth. He winked at his friends. “The next time you see her, it won’t be for a few hours.”

“Now what are you planning, Mark Lee?” You asked the man that pulled you out of the college duo’s apartment. With your hand still in his, he pulled you towards your apartment door, asked for the door code and once the door was opened, he ushered you inside. “Mark?”

“Shhh…” Mark hushed you, steering you towards your couch. He sat you down and went straight towards the wall that you shared with the college duo. He pressed his ears against the wall, straining to hear what his friends were saying.

“How the hell is Mark the first one?” Mark heard Renjun mutter. “I thought I was her favorite!”

“I thought I was her favorite.” Yangyang muttered. Even though he couldn’t see him, Mark knew that he was frowning.

“Seems like Mark is her favorite since she stared at him with her sex-craved eyes.” Johnny said. “Seriously, who could resist me?”

“Mark?”

Mark turned to you and gave you a small smile. He gestured to the wall that you shared with the college duo. “Seems like they’re mad that you’ve chosen me instead of them.”

You laughed and patted the seat next to you. “It was always going to be you regardless.”

“Why do you say that?” Mark asked as he sat next to you. “Do you not like the others?”

“It’s not that I don’t like them.” You shrugged. “They’re great guys and I’m attracted to them but…Johnny seems like trouble and I don’t want to distract Renjun and Yangyang from their studies.”

“But you would rather distract me?” Mark frowned.

“You’re different, Mark Lee.” You laid a hand on his arm. “I’ve been drawn to you from the moment you saved me from falling.”

Mark chuckled, a hand coming to run a hand through his hair. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, it’s true.” You gave him a smile. You sighed and laid your head against the back of the couch. “Thank you for saving me, Mark.”

“It’s no problem.” Mark let out a small laugh. He turned to you. “I’m curious about something. Were you always like this? You know, always sexual?”

“In all honesty, I’ve never been this kind of girl. The kind that thinks about sex all the time.” You sighed, your hand coming to cover your eyes. “I guess…it all started when I was trying to break out into the romance genre. It was hard for me to write about love, much less realistic sex scenes.”

Mark gave you a soft look. For the past few days that he’s met you, he’s never met you look so vulnerable, so lost. “How did that change? You became a bestseller with no problem.”

You let out a laugh. “My editor…suggested that I fall in love with someone and sleep with them.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “And did that work?”

“Sex was easy.” You let out a laugh. You gave him a small smile. “Falling in love? Not so much.”

Mark could tell that your smile wasn’t exactly a smile. Behind that smile, was loneliness and he thought perhaps you only seek sexual intimacy not just for research but because you were craving for love. He let out a sigh, a hand coming to reach for yours. “Hey, I have an idea.”

You looked over to him, feeling his hand holding yours. “Hmm?”

“Why…don’t we go on dates first?” Mark suggested. “I’m sure we’d have great sexual chemistry but I’d like to take you out on dates and stuff.”

“Oh?” You muttered, an eyebrow raised. “And why’s that?”

“Well, you said sex was easy.” Mark gave you a small grin. “You said love was hard but maybe you weren’t looking in the right places.”

“And you’ll think I’ll fall in love with you?”

“A man could always bet on it.” Mark chuckled, his laughter surrounding the area. “You don’t have to fall exactly in love with me. But if somehow you’ve gained some sort of feelings, whether it be friendship, love, or a relationship we can’t put into words, then I’d call it a win in my book.”

You thought about it.

It was true that you’ve never had the greatest experience with love. You’ve had sex plenty of times but maybe one day you’d like to experience what everyone in love goes through.

“What do you say?”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “I’d like that, Mark.”

THoR Chap. Masterlist | Previous | Next

#nct #nct stories #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct dream #mark #nct mark smut #mark x reader #nct mark #mark lee

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lounaticm · 2 months

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I'm sick in bed with the rona so naturally the next step is to ask you what Damien would be like taking care of a sick S/O. (Whether it's covid specifically or not is up to you)

Oof, I'm so sorry to hear that. Do take care and get plenty of rest. I hope you feel better soon.

The moment Damien notices anything being off about you, you might as well clear your entire schedule and expectations of getting anything done for the next week at least, because he'll be doing the same and making sure whichever sick loved one gets the proper rest and care.

One of Damien's strongest love languages to give is acts of service, and that comes out all the more when someone he cares for is sick or injured or otherwise even the slightest bit out of commission. He enjoys doing things for his loved ones as it is, even when it's not the least bit necessary, so when there's even the smallest bit of due cause, he's going to be waiting on them hand and foot. There won't be even the slightest complaint because he truly has none. He loves taking care of the people dear to him.

Depending on the severity of the illness, he may not let them so much as get their own glass of water, though such levels of worry would only really come out were his S/O suffering a truly nasty fever or horrible nausea or the like. Even with something as simple as the flu or a cold, he's still going to try to insist on doing it for them anyways, but don't let him do everything, because he will end up neglecting to take care of his own needs. A nudge here and a reminder there should keep him on track with looking after himself to, at least, the bare minimum - and again, it depends on how sick his S/O is.

Even when sick with something simple, they're going to be spending a majority of their time sitting or laying down. Damien will put some quiet music on for them - if that would help - or get them something to read, or simply read to them himself, both in efforts to help with inevitable boredom and to hopefully soothe them into falling asleep. (If applicable to how you view the setting/universe Damien comes from, he'll also turn on a tv or provide them the remote to do so themself, but will insist the volume be kept low.)

If they have a terrible fever - especially one high enough to make them sluggish or delirious - Damien's going to barely be leaving their side, and when he does will only be to swap out any sort of wet hand towel to be placed across their forehead or to get a coldpack for them.

Unless the illness is clearly just the common cold, chances are very nearly 100% that Damien made them go to the doctor and went along with them. Whatever instructions were given for them to follow to get better, Damien will be doing to the letter.

All-in-all, Damien would be doting on his Little Monster quite a lot, unless discomfort with such a thing were expressed. He'd need to keep being reminded and pressed to look after himself as well, but there's no one with better bedside manner than him.

@kiwibubbles5

#lou's writing #voices from the abyss #markiplier #markiplier egos #mayor damien #wkm damien #wkm district attorney #who killed markiplier #wkm #beloved mayor 💙🖤#mirror revenant 🪞

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sorroute · 5 months

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i literally just came across your blog, but i like speed-read through your stuff so far, and you sound so fun?? akdljhfkajshfdsj like genuinely. anyway! so, i’d like to ask to participate? i’m a young adult, female and NSFW are fine if you have any ideas ^^

(this is a warning that this might end up really long ;-;)

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her

Male or female character: straight, so preferably male, but this is for fun, so if you think a female would fit better, go ahead! i really don't mind ^^

Which fandom: BSD

Personality: i guess i should start with the generic MBTI? i’m either an INTP or INFP, depending on my mood – i’ve also been mistaken for an extrovert plenty of times, so there’s that ;w;

when i’m meeting new people, i’m pretty friendly, and i make friends with mANY different types of people. i’m perfectly fine with the idea of talking with strangers on a day to day basis, so i’m fairly confident in that regard. i do get tired easily, tho, in a social settling.

i don’t tend to talk more when i make friends with someone? i make more jokes, sure, and i speak a little more freely, but, in general, i think i talk less when i’m around my friends. not because i feel like i can’t express my thoughts; i just prefer to listen, rather than talk. not to say we don’t have chaotic moments together, i’m just. yeah, a listener XD

i’ve been told that i’m very easy to open up to. i try my best to make whoever it is i’m talking to, comfortable and heard – and i do pride myself on being a nonjudgemental person – so it makes sense.

i’m pretty cheerful! i don’t get upset very easily, and i’m very easy-going. like, i don’t think i’v ever had a fight with friends. i’m very much the mediator, if i’m even involved in any drama (VERY rare). although, i’m a bit more subdued around my family, i’m also the same around them.

i’m VERY empathetic, but i don’t come across as that, because i’m not a very emotional person (usually a stereotype of empathetic people). i feel a lot, but i regulate them well and don’t express much. i worry a lot about other people, probably a little too much, actually, and, in that, i tend to ignore my own problems.

to deal with the stress, i take care of other people? like, i’ll cook dinner, send messages, send care packages, that sort of thing? my love language is CLEARLY acts of service and/or gift giving. i just prefer doing things for people, rather than people having do things for me; i feel very awkward about it (not that i don’t appreciate it!! i just don’t know what to do TwT). i’d love for physical affection to be one of my love languages, tho!! i’m working on it (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

i get stressed really easily, and i don’t cope with it very well. i don’t take it out on others, i just turn inwards, if that makes sense. i hate vulnerability, in myself, so i simply pretend like i’m perfectly fine (not to sound edgy lmao). i believe it, for the most part, tho i am trying to get better at being more open. i am a bit of an anxious person, i admit, and me and my friends joke about it, as all friends do ;w;

i’m creative and analytical! love making things, and love analysing media. tho, i am a bit critical of both my own and others work. i just have high standards, man. i am a bit of a thinker, as in, i contemplate the deep stuff, and i like discussing things like that, in moderate amounts ;w;

i like to think i have a good sense of humour XD i'm witty, and i make my friends laugh a lot, and catch acquaintances off-guard.

i’m also quite brave?? that sounds really weird to say, but i am. maybe it’s a bit of stupidity as well, but if someone needs help, i just? help them? like, even if that requires me scaling up scaling up a dodgy cliff or something.

i feel a bit dull as a person, actually, because i spend a lot of my energy trying to reflect the best of someone back at them, so i feel like i haven’t fully developed, if that makes sense. that’s something i’m working on, too hehe

anyway! now that i’ve spilled my guts in this, i will now apologise for it being so long!!

Any hobbies: creative writing, reading (both fiction and non-fiction), producing (music) and singing (choir heck y e a h – tho on a seriously note, i do really enjoy singing, and i’ve been told by people that i have a very sweet voice (i hold that very close to my heart akjldhfkjashdf)), learning languages (right now trying to increase my Japanese vocab and introducing myself to Korean :D), trying to learn how to dance because i SUCK, cooking (best compliment is being told i’m a great cook), i dabble in art a little, since i’ve always been drawn to art, i love a good day trip outside, anything from hiking to the beach!

Appearance: i’m 175cm and have a pretty slim build. tho, i’m getting back into exercising (after injuring myself and not being able to continue my sport :,) and now i’m too far behind in skill to do it ;-;) because i’ve lost a bit of muscle. i’m half-Japanese, half-Caucasian, so typical dark brown hair (pretty long, my dude), tho my eyes are quite a light brown (i frickin love my eyes you actually don’t understand). my style has gotten progressively more feminine as i get older, and i’m liking it. generally, either i have an art kid style or why are you wearing that that looks horrible. or some light dresses!

Aesthetic: soft or tough, no in between

Any problems you struggle with, whether it be mental or physical: probably have ADHD, but i don’t have the means to get it diagnosed ^^;

i literally wrote so much, and i know you said that the more the better, but!! adfjjsdhf if you did get to the end, thank you so much ;w; i hope you're having or had an amazing day!!

Aaaa hihi!! You seem so cool :3 It took me a while to find someone good to match you with and I was completely forgetting sigma existed .... I feel like you guys are made for eachother

Sigma

Your guy's first meeting was surprisingly not that awkward

At least for Sigma's standards

You guys struck up a conversation pretty easily, and he seemed really chill, but was incredibly anxious on the inside

He was so insecure

"oh my god what if she thinks I'm weird?? Did I say something wrong?? She's so pretty what do I do oh my god help" - His thoughts when you two first met

Although as you two continued talking, he definitely started to warm up a lot more

He was baffled at how kind you were compared to his first impression of you (terrified and anxious)

(He thought you were super intimidating because of how pretty you were and he got all flustered and froze up)

That was probably the most comfortable he's felt while talking to someone before though

Like he genuinely adores you

You're his safe space :3

Loves how cheerful you are, it always makes him feel less stressed out

Sometimes asks you to help mediate fights in the casino

When you start taking care of him and helping him he's so grateful

And confused

Why are you doing this for him? He doesn't deserve it

(he does)

Once he catches on though, he 100% tries to help you too

I mean, he was already trying to do that from the start, but now he's extra worried about you

I feel like you guys would be really similar with coping so when he feels stressed he likes to do stuff for you and when you're stressed you do stuff for him and usually when one of you is stressed the other is too so you guys kind of end up taking care of eachother

This relationship would definitely a good learning experience<3

Both of you struggle with vulnerability, just in different ways

He tries to help you to open up more, and he begins to feel more comfortable doing so as well

He likes your analytical side because it helps him think more rationally rather than a spur of the moment anxious decision he made last minute

Always goes to you for advice, but feels guilty in doing so because he feels like he's being a bother and he should be more independent :(

He's amazed and so touched at how far you'll go to help others

That's probably one of his favorite things about you :3

Although he loves everything about you

He listens to your music all the time, and asks if he can listen to some unreleased stuff because it makes him feel special

Like it was made just for him <333

HE WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT IF YOU EVER SANG HIM TO SLEEP

He would probably cry tbh

Happy tears

Loves your voice so much, it immediately calms him down whenever he's having an anxiety attack or is just feeling down or insecure

Definitely tries to learn Korean with you

I feel like he'd know Greek, so if you were ever open to the idea he would LOVE to teach you :3

You guys both suck at dancing it's okay

He thinks dancing is really romantic (depending on the type of dance) but is also super embarrassed to actually try to learn how to dance

His insecurities get the best of him

But if you ever asked, he would try to learn for you <3333 (/with you)

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

He's either a needy sub or a soft dom

When he doms he's so so so soft

Loves telling you everything he loves about you and how amazing you are

When he subs.... He's still so so so soft

Physically and emotionally

His hair feels like cotton candy

It's almost a guarantee that he will start to cry

LOVES being praised by you

But is too shy to ask :(

He feels like he doesn't deserve it

Be careful if you praise him too much though he might have a breakdown

He's loud, but tries to be quieter so he can hear your noises better <3

Because like I said, he adores your voice

Either way, dom or sub, he just wants to make you feel good and loved <333

A/N

TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMENT<3333 I kept coming back to your ask just to look at it because it made me so happy. Also you seem sosososo cool and amazing??? I know I said this at the beginning of the post but it's true :3 Also it's completely fine that it was long!! I loveloved reading about you!!! ໒꒰ྀི >ヮ<꒱ྀི১ Have a wonderful day/night anon, and I would love to hear any feedback or constructive criticism from you if you have any :3

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs #matchup event #bsd #bsd sigma #sigma x reader #sigma x you #bsd sigma x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

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softsky-daily · 3 months

Text

1/18/2024

It was cold and then cold and wet and then warm and wet and then cold and wet again and then just cold.

Positive thing: I had pizza with friends after class.

We always choose the same pizza place because it's cheap and close by but I've gotten a bit attached to it as a hangout place too. We've been going after class every now and then for about a year now.

My day started off bumpy since I had to stay later after work because my coworker didn't get to her tasks. It would be one thing if she was struggling and genuinely seeking help with stuff, but there's been multiple times she'll interrupt me and say something along the lines of "hey, I really want to be able to get to my homework, so can you do this task for me?" I don't even care she does homework during work hours (I do the same thing, but only after I finish my work stuff) but don't push things onto other people just to suit your own needs. It's annoying to have my boss enable her too and make me and our other coworker do what she can't, although I get that these tasks are time-sensitive and need to be accurate so in the moment she doesn't have much of a choice. But still.

Class ended early at least. I think our professor doesn't really know what's going on because she reads the slides like she's never seen them before but it's fine honestly. I could use a break from classes that expect too much from us.

Oh yeah, at like 10:30pm one of the people from my prac texted and was like, do you want my last client? And I was like uhh. Sure? (I had an empty slot since one of mine canceled.) And she was like okay cool, I'm going to call people to get them to switch now :) and I'm thinking girl at 10:30 at night?? The clinic is closed. She went on to tell me she didn't think she was a good fit for the client and to tell me "ahead of time" that the client is dealing with trauma, which like, yeah duh okay. And she said the client would be "really good for experience" but she didn't want to work with a kid client and she "doesn't need the client hours" and all these other things.

I don't know, I didn't really like her tone about the whole situation. I kept thinking about how she must've really not wanted to work with this client because she's calling in the middle of the night to get her switched, and it's only been a day since she first met her. And I didn't like how she talked as though trying to sell them off to me just for "experience", or for "hours". This is the kind of tone I hear a lot in my counseling program, and I never know how to clearly define my discomfort with it - on one hand, I understand the thought process of if you can't give best services to someone you should give them to someone who can, but on the other, this is the part of your training in this field to learn how to help clients of all sorts. "Difficult" (I say this with very big air quotes) clients can't just get shuffled around forever. They deserve to have someone reach out to them too and say, I will help you.

I don't think my classmate was being hurtful on purpose or anything, and I can't fault anybody for wanting to work with their population of choice. It's just not the line of thinking I really agree with for myself. I see it more like, if you are entering a helping profession, you especially shouldn't be discriminatory with when and who you give your help to. Imagine being told you're too much of a niche case to be helped and then being shuttled along somewhere else, where you may or may not get rejected too. At least where we are in our training, I think it's best to exercise your empathy and stretch your skills as much as possible across as many diverse people as possible while we still have the safety net of our program to catch us if we mess up.

Anyways. I said I would be happy to see that client if she didn't want to. We'll see how that works out.

#thoughtposting #skyposting

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momobani · 1 year

Text

ABOUT TIME

If Your Winter Is Hard - Chapter 8 - 9.6k

medium!minghao x exorcist!reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: exorcism(duh!); discussion of ghosts + death, reference to death of family members, light violence/ fighting, mention of guns, discussion of grief, A N G S T, depiction of murder!! [not very explicit], mention of illness

Sum: it’s true when they say that if you love someone, you should let them go.

Song rec: Letting Go - Vancouver Sleep Clinic

TAGLIST: @sleeplessdawn @aceofvernons @lilactangerine @kyeomsworld

A/N: Guess who’s crying in the club again? You and me, babey! Sorry for the long wait again, I had a lot on with uni, but for the moment I have a little time here and there for now. We’re back to YN’s point of view after the last chapter, so yeah, enjoy <333 Happy holidays y’all!!!

“Hao, do you know where I left the incense?” You call over your shoulder as you grapple with preparing your exorcism bag.

“Well, I don’t think it sprouted legs and ran away from where you left it five minutes ago.” He replies sarcastically, walking past the desk in your office, plucking up the item, and holding it out to you. You purse your lips at how silly you seemed; it was two feet away from you the whole time.

“Thanks.” You say sheepishly and pack the box into your bag. It was half past two in the afternoon and you were running a little late since you’d had lunch with Jeonghan after he begged you to try this restaurant that almost closed a few years ago. You told him you were busy and so was he, but eventually you caved not long after because truthfully, you wanted to try it too.

It had been worth the drive across town and back, seeing how happy Jeonghan was picking out and grilling the meat, even though it put you a few minutes behind schedule for your next exorcism.

“You know, I don’t know why you couldn’t just pass this case on to someone else, maybe even Seungkwan and Vernon, it’s not like we have time for it.” Minghao grumbles as he puts on his long coat and wraps his thick scarf around his neck.

“Will you stop complaining? We had this case on backlog for ages, we need to get it done anyway.” You reply, shoving the salt dispenser into the front pocket harder than you meant to.

You were getting really annoyed for some reason, getting lip service and from Minghao of all people. You weren’t used to it. He’d been grouchy all morning too, clearly something was bothering him but he wouldn’t tell you.

This was possibly the first real disagreement or conflict the two of you had had, the acknowledgement of that fact taking you by surprise. Usually you just focused on the task at hand and got it done quickly and smoothly. Well, relatively of course; there was the time you bonked heads at the museum, the time you almost got caught at the apartment block and oh, how could you forget that time you almost died on the train tracks.

Fine, you got things done more quickly than smoothly but whatever. The point was that you and Minghao worked in harmony.

“I wasn’t complaining, YN, I’m just saying, there was probably an alternative here, so we could focus on the paperwork for the cemetery spirits. That basement ghost can wait.” He continues. You zip the bag and drop your hands on top of it with a thud. You turn your head and zero in on Minghao, who notices the change in air.

“Do you just not want to do the exorcism or something?” You demand, trying not to raise your voice. “Are you overworked or too tired, because if you are, then just say so. That’s fine, I can finish it without you.” You say heatedly. You hadn’t used that tone with him before but it came spilling out from you before you could stop it. Minghao looks back at you just as intensely and you see the hardness in his eyes.

Just as he’s about to say something, Hoshi walks in with a pile of folders, clearly making a trip from the conference room to the storage area in your office. He, Jeonghan, and Seokmin were taking the first shift of the day on analysing the files and trying to narrow down the search for identifying the spirits.

“Hey, gu-”

“See! I can just take Hoshi instead.” You don’t let him finish. Hoshi shudders, eyes wide and startled by the exclamation. Minghao frowns but doesn’t say anything. “Do you want to come do the exorcism, Hosh? It’s been a while.”

For a moment, Hoshi is stuck looking between the two of you, feeling out the tension and trying to gauge what it’s about, a little like kid looking at its parents arguing.

“Um…” He hesitates. “Sure.” He perks up, deciding it would be more dangerous if he refuses.

“Great! Any objections, Hao?” You raise your eyebrows at him, daring him to protest. You think it’s best that you split up for a while before you say anything you don’t mean and later regret.

“None, you guys have fun in that old lady’s basement.” Minghao doesn’t even grace you with another look before unwrapping the scarf and leaving for the conference room.

“Hosh, get your coat, we’re leaving.” You say as you stare at Minghao’s back as he walks away. Was that your first fight? You knew it was normal for friends to fight but could you even call it a fight? For the most part, you felt that you needed to cool down because your frustration was mounting; he didn’t have to take out his grouchiness on you but he’d been annoying all morning, giving you sarcastic reply after sarcastic reply. Most of all you were frustrated that he wouldn’t tell you what was bothering him.

You decided to put your situation with Minghao on the back burner and focus on what you were doing. You’re exiting the office and Hoshi runs ahead of you.

“I call shotgun!” He shouted as he zoomed towards the passenger side of your car. You got in the car, your eyebrows knitted in dubiety.

“Hoshi, there’s no one else in the car.” You pointed out the obvious. He nodded dismissively as he slung on his seatbelt.

“Yeah, but you’ve only been letting Minghao ride shotgun lately so I wanted to stake my claim. I used to ride up front all the time before.” He explains and you almost miss the tiny pout that appears on his lips. “Like I get it if you like him, it’s just that I like sitting in the front too.”

You almost reverse into your trash cans at Hoshi’s words.

“What the hell are you talking about? Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t like Minghao like that, he’s just a friend and co-worker.” You rattle off, unamused by the mere suggestion that you would be unprofessional and spend your time crushing on a colleague than do your job. Hoshi smiles in the periphery of your vision as you drive out on to the main road.

“Hm, alright.” He chimes. You feel the lighthearted teasing in his tone but you clench your jaw; if you get emotional, you lose.

You don’t bother trying to prove your point and drive in silence. You needed to think about what you were going to do for the exorcism since this was one highly likely to be a difficult ghost; you were dealing with a murder victim that hadn’t left the house in at least fifty years. A young woman, who had been the previous tenant in the house before the old lady and her family moved in all those years ago, had been killed by a boyfriend and hidden in the basement. The body hadn’t been discovered for weeks since her housemates were away.

You’d dealt with several murder cases in the past, as well as studied them when your sister was working, but it had been a while since you’d done one. The closest you came to it was the vengeful spirit at the train station and you knew what a disaster that had almost become. To say the least, you felt a little nervous.

The scenery around you changed to the suburbs in no time and you found yourselves just outside of town, barely even on the outskirts of the metropolitan area. It wasn’t a long drive to your client’s house as the afternoon sky started to darken.

The old lady’s house was situated in the middle of a hill, the rising mass of houses looming ahead as you left the car at the bottom of the street and started to hike up the footpath. There was no road leading to it from either side since the residential area was built on a slope over a hundred years ago when parking space wasn’t a concern.

Initially the climb up the hill isn’t so bad, however an unexpected gust of wind sends you reeling backwards, its sheer force knocking you off kilter. You practically have to start running to resist the wind, exerting more energy than you wished to admit so that you don’t get swept away.

When you finally make it to the house’s outside gate, it’s a relief to enter and be sheltered from the wind by the giant oak tree growing in the garden, its browning leaves still intact and rustling above you. You knock on the door and your client, a sweet, demure elderly lady, ushers you in.

“Do you kids want some tea?” She asks immediately, fussing over how cold you and Hoshi both look. “It’s quite horrible outside, we should warm you up.”

“That would be great, thank you.” You tell her, not because you actually feel the need to defrost yourselves, but because she looks like she won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Besides, during the exorcism, your body temperature especially will, as usual, drop significantly.

You sit on the fluffy carpet around the coffee table, a low wooden square that exhibited the tribulations of time - scratches, discolouring, and chips evident when you looked closer. The rest of the living room reminded you of your own house, the ancient furniture resembling your living room as per your grandparents’ vision when they first bought the house almost sixty years ago. You felt right at home.

Hoshi drinks his tea in two gulps, licking his lips with a satisfying smack and grinning widely. Your client smiles back in delight, clearly enamoured by Hoshi’s cuteness and you have a feeling that she’s adopt him as her grandson in a few minutes if you didn’t get moving on the exorcism.

You thank the lady and excuse yourselves to get to work, yanking Hoshi up subtly by the collar, telling her it might be best to go to her neighbour’s house while you worked for her own safety. You had briefly mentioned it to her before but you suspected she might have forgotten about it. She surprises you by telling you that she’d specifically made plans to watch tonight’s drama episode there just to give you guys space.

You smile gratefully and send Hoshi to walk her down the hill while you set up downstairs.

It’s hard to tell whether it’s because you’re alone, but as soon as you open the door to the basement, your skin erupts in goosebumps and a chill runs through your body, pitting conclusively deep in your belly. The cold hits you immediately, whether it’s the lack of insulation on the single window or just how the cold seeps into the room from the outside.

You snap on the light switch to your left and a single tiny bulb in the middle of the staircase turns on, but barely. It’s enough for now, you decide. You descend the wooden steps carefully, watching your feet and keeping an eye out at the shadows cast across the room. The creak of the steps underfoot makes a sound that fills the basement obnoxiously loudly and you scurry down the last few stairs.

In the basement there is a film of dust covering everything; even in the relative darkness you can see the grey covering over each surface as your eyes adjust. There’s a wooden table, the type that’s a slab hanging off the wall with chains, lined with a few abandoned items; a pair of gardening gloves, some plant cutting shears, a wrench or two, which you discern must have come from the toolbox that lays just underneath the table next to a thick pile of old newspapers.

There are a few more tools but hanging up on some hooks stuck to the wall above the table. As far as anything else goes, there’s hardly anything else in the basement except for a small ladder, folded up neatly and laying on its side out of the way. You could imagine that most of these items had been lying there for a long time because the woman living here didn’t seem like the type to do much gardening.

You try not to breathe too much because of the dust, and get to work.

From your backpack, you take out the salt dispenser, the incense pot and strap your gun to one leg and your exorcist blade to the other. Next, you start to draw the salt cage. You were going to keep it as wide as possible and try to seal the whole basement if possible, just so that the spirit would be contained.

You hear the wind howling outside, whistling at you as the last shred of sun dissipates from the sky, the darkness flooding the basement through the window and casting more eerie shadows. You hear a creak of the steps and put an instinctive hand on your gun as you snap towards the noise. Of course, you know it’s Hoshi making his way down the stairs.

“Took you long enough.” You mutter in his general direction. You were almost finished with the salt cage.

“Sorry, Boss. That hill is gnarly.” He explains and shrugs. You nod dismissively from your position hunching over the salt dispenser as the thick streak of powder spills out from the opening.

“We should get started with the incense. Set it up, will you.” You instruct as you seal off the cage, the both of you standing within its parameters.

“Yessir.” Hoshi says with a salute and walks jauntily over to where you’d left the pot. You can’t hold the scoff at ridiculousness that bubbles up in your throat. Hoshi’s inescapable charm was energising whatever he was doing and whoever he was with, and you realised that you’d definitely missed having his silly butt along on exorcisms. Maybe now that he’d recovered, you could really give Minghao some time off and balance the work between your two mediums.

You felt yourself frown at the thought of Minghao. You were still a little mad at how snippy he’d been, yet you were already starting to cool off and question what even that whole thing was about. Had you done something wrong? Sure you’d been snippy back to him before you left, but that was the only thing, right?

You shook your head, trying not to get bogged down in distractions because you were about to get to the really delicate part of today’s job.

Hoshi lit the incense then handed your lighter back as the frail wisp of smoke started to rise from the pot. Almost immediately did you feel the sudden drop in temperature, the small exhale leaving your mouth, frosting in front of your face. Your skin started to prickle at the deep sensation of dread that spread through your core, its grip unbearably strong from the get go.

This felt like a vengeful spirit.

And yet, you looked around for any other tell-tale signs of a vengeful spirit but you spotted none - there was no fog signalling the presence of a ghost, only an increased tension in the air, its energy diffusing throughout the space of the basement.

You grabbed your gun, shooting two consecutive shots to seal off the door and far wall around the staircase. Then you waited because you couldn’t actually see the ghost yet. This was pretty rare. If the spirit was this elusive from the start then you might be in trouble.

An invisible enemy is considerably harder to defeat.

“Should I take my talisman off?” Hoshi whispers from a few feet away.

“Not yet,” You whisper back to him. “I have a bad feeling-” You barely finish your sentence when you hear the rattle of a chain echo across the room. Your eyes land on the slab of wood against the wall and you see the chains in question had moved gently. It must be the work of the spirit.

You watch carefully, not only the table but scanning the room for any other signs of movement, the silence stifling. You see the chain move before you hear it clink again, this time followed by the shake of the tools hanging above the table. You zero in on the movement, straining your eyes in the semi-darkness, trying to spot if the ghost is anywhere nearby.

Instead what you notice is how the tools start to vibrate and you think you’re going crazy until a wrench snaps off and flies off in your direction. You have a split second to react and you do-

“Duck!” You yell and dive toward Hoshi in an attempt to do just that in case his reflexes are slow. He does hear you but it’s a good thing you manage to affectively bring him down with you; down to the dusty and dirt littered floor. Your fall makes a loud thump and causes a tornado of dust to fly up and swirl around you, falling back down like snow.

The wrench had flown across the room and smacked heavily against the nearest wall, sailing through the air at probably several miles an hour. Or at least enough that if it had hit you, you’d have been injured. The two of you inevitable start coughing up a lung as several more instrumentals fly off and follow the first.

“Shit, what was that?” Hoshi splutters, the fear in his voice evident.

“A vengeful spirit.” You reply, sure now that the powerful energies of your current target were within the spectrum of vengeful ghosts; souls of those wronged lingering with exceptionally strong presence. You knew that not all vengeful spirits were accompanied by things like the thick grey fog - there was too much variation in the sorts of signs that counted as evidence of that type of ghost.

“Oh man, I shouldn’t have come with.” Hoshi whines. You’re already up on your feet and you offer him a hand and pull him up off the ground.

“Too late for regret, tiger.” You say. You take a good look around and spot a shadow in one corner of the room, its figure just out of the path of light coming from the window and away from the lightbulb. There’s your ghost.

You were going to have to do this the quickest way possible.

“Take it off, now.” You say, reaching for your blade. You were calculating the possible time it might take for the ghost to possess Hoshi, mind running a million miles per hour, but just as you blinked the shadow disappeared.

Shit.

Unfortunately Hoshi had already processed what you’d asked and his fingers were pulling on the bracelet, tugging it down his wrist and onto the ground. In a moment, you whipped around, looking for the ghost, but it was too late-

You didn’t see it, but you felt the wave of polar energy zip through your body and you gasped out loud at the sensation, your breath coming out like smoke; it was like being thrown into Antarctic waters, the ice flowing into your bloodstream suddenly. The ghost passed through you and slammed into Hoshi’s body, knocking him back down to the ground. You dropped to your knees, the breath literally knocked out of you too.

White noise filled your head, vision blurring for a split second. You felt like you might seize up.

Your brain was still functioning however, even if your body was struggling to move. You knew you had to stab the blade down before the ghost started to move. The time it took to possess a medium was usually around two seconds, so in those two seconds, you willed yourself to move forward, your body falling heavily on the ground next to Hoshi. You threw a leg over him with all your might, your body shivering with stinging cold and looked at his eyes, looking for the silver light that indicated the spiritual presence.

It appeared, its glow unmistakeable in the dark and you dragged the hand holding the blade to Hoshi’s chest and barely stabbed down, your body slack.

“Go peacefully.” You mumbled, voice frail and cracking. Your eyes were too heavy but you fought to keep them at least half-opened as you watched the blade start to incinerate itself. The world was fading away from you fast, but even so, the ghost’s memory ran into you, its force numbing you as you half-rolled, half-fell on your back on the musty floor of the basement.

You were hyperaware of your own body suddenly, aware of how you lay on your back, rigid, but in your mind’s eye, you weren’t in the cold, dark basement, you were upstairs, the smooth wooden floor under you, in the exact same position. There was a warm glow of light above you, its source hidden by the figure that sat on your chest, immobilising you. You knew it wasn’t you, of course not, it was the spirit’s memory you were living through, yet it felt paralysingly real. Every fibre of your body was on high alert but you couldn’t move. The person on top of you moved into your line of sight and you saw his face, a stranger whose hand moved to curl around your neck and hold in place while the glint of a knife shone in his other.

You hear a distant blood curdling screech, its piercing decibels probably coming from your own mouth in the basement but in the vision, it sounded so far away.

You blacked out before you saw what happened next, but you knew deep down what had transpired. You were catapulted back into reality and found yourself still in the basement, frost permeating every part of your being, your throat feelings particularly raw.

Hoshi was coming to, his movements sluggish. He saw you in an instant.

“YN! What happened? Are you okay?” He squeaked in panic. You didn’t have the energy to say anything but you attempted to move your lips.

“Cold…” you mumbled, but your mouth was almost sealed shut so it just sounded like ‘co…’.

And then your eye lids became too heavy to keep open and the world disappeared.

Your consciousness breaks through your sleep and you feel yourself start to wake up.

The first thing you feel is that you’re smothered by something; a warm weight on top of you and you sense there are about ten blankets that are cocooning you into your bed, wound so tightly around you that you feel yourself unable to move.

With all the little energy remaining in your limbs, you struggle to wriggle around and make some room for yourself inside your fluffy prison. There’s a dead weight to every part of your body and you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus or something. You open your eyes and find yourself in semi-darkness in your own room at home. Your head starts to pound immediately in response.

How did you get there?

The shuffling seems to alert of your stirring awake and you see a dark mess of hair bob to your left.

Minghao startles and whips around, searching for movement. From what you saw, he’d been sitting on the floor beside your bed and leaning back on the frame with a book that clutters to the floor.

“YN?” He rasps, his eyes wide, weary, and worried. He appears to be a little wild to you, like he hasn’t slept for a long time and you wonder how long you must have been out.

“I’m okay.” You manage, your voice raw. It feels like the sound get stuck in your throat, where there’s an unexplained ache. Your words seem to reassure Minghao at least a bit and he nods before getting up.

“I’ll get Jeonghan.” He says quietly and strides across the room. You wriggle some more and manage to break one arm out of your cocoon but instead of feeling like a beautiful butterfly, you feel more like a fluffy moth. It takes a lot of effort but you finally get into a semi sitting position and notice the army of heaters that is assembled around your bed like a moat, the only empty spot where Minghao was leaning against the side.

You were lucky you were in this condition. You knew that.

It was kind of rare for ghosts to pass through exorcists but when it happened, it was pretty severe for them. The only time you’d ever seen it happen was to your aunt years ago when you were a kid. You barely remembered the ordeal, having been far too young, but you knew that she’d been quite sick.

“Occupational hazard, huh.” You sigh to yourself. “Could be worse.”

You hear footsteps approaching your room and then Jeonghan marches through the door, Minghao trailing on his tail. Jeonghan practically runs to you, speed walking and dropping down on the outer side of the bed to fuss over you.

“Yah, are you okay? How do you feel?” He asks, his hands smooshing your cheeks as he inspects your face for any signs of illness. You want to reply but it’s kind of difficult with the death grip he has on you.

“Jeonghan?” You quack, the shape of your lips caricatured by his hands. He hums in response. “Need to breath, please.” You finish, words coming out a little strangled. He lets you go immediately with a quiet ‘sorry’. You take a deep, appreciative breath. “I think I’m okay. How long was I unconscious?” You ask tentatively.

Jeonghan thinks for a minute, tilting his head. “Two days?” He says.

“What?” You croak, body bouncing up and down with the exclamation. “No way! Just from the ghost passing through me?” You say.

“You remember that?” Minghao asks. He’d been standing inconspicuously behind Jeonghan, observing the two of you with careful eyes.

“Obviously.” You shrug. It’d be very hard to forget. “It’s the last thing that I do remember though. Fill me in on what’s going with the group exorcism.”

“Oh my god.” Minghao swivels away. He seems ready to pace around, looking up and around the room in disbelief. “You’re really something, YN.” He mutters to himself.

“What was that?” You call over, addressing him. You think he might ignore you and pretend you didn’t ask. Instead, he turns back to you and you find the exasperation on his face.

“You just wake up from a two day coma and two seconds later you’re asking about work?” His eyebrows are raised as close to his hairline as physically possible and you’d find it funny if he wasn’t almost raising his voice at you.

“Yes, Hao. Because that’s my job!” You declare. “In case you forgot.” You add, starting to remember that the two of you had had a bit of a squabble before you and Hoshi had gone to the site of the exorcism.

“Um, I’m going to get you some tea and meds, kiddo. Wait here.” Jeonghan’s eyes travel from you to Minghao and back. You forget that Jeonghan doesn’t like to be in the midst of chaos, unless of course he’s the one who created it.

“Not like I’m going anywhere.” You mutter with a nod to the blanket prison you sit in. Jeonghan weasels out of the room noiselessly, leaving you with a stroppy Minghao. “So it’s been two days; are you ready to tell me who spat in your cereal?” You inquire.

“No one.” He huffs but it’s obvious that the answer should have been a clear and resounding ‘you’.

“Y’know, whatever it is, if you don’t tell me, we can’t resolve it.” You counter immediately. You hated confrontations like this, especially with someone that you always managed to get along with. You supposed there was a silver lining to this because you felt your blood pressure raise and body get heated, which was good if you were going to combat the remaining frost in your system, so there’s that.

“Do you think I haven’t thought about resolving it?” Minghao asks. You’re surprised by the response, suddenly more alert than before. It’s your turn to look at him inquisitively.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you have a problem with me, just say it.” You challenge. You feel all clammy inside and you’re not sure it’s just the blanket sweat finally getting to you.

“I don’t have a problem with you.” Minghao says. You sigh, frustrated with his stubbornness.

“Then what do you have a problem with?” You snap. Minghao pauses to look at you, assessing just how far you want to take this.

“What do I have a problem with?” He echos. “You’re working so fucking much that you collapsed into a coma! Is that not a problem?” He blurts out. You scoff at the ridiculousness of the statement. Did you hear him correctly? What was he talking about?

“That happened because of a ghost, you drama queen!” You retort.

“Oh, did it?” He quips back sarcastically. He doesn’t let you reply. “Jeonghan said that when that happens, you’ll get a cold or hypothermia worst case scenario. But you were so weak from overworking that you almost died!”

You’re struck silent, processing the sound waves that travelled through the air and to your ears. But he’s not done yet.

“We literally had to keep you on an IV drip for two days. We had to call Jihoon and ask for a doctor to check you up and he even estimated your chances of survival.” He lists desperately. And this time you see just how shaken Minghao really is; there are dark circles under his eyes, he’s extremely pale and his mouth looks too dry.

You feel a wave of guilt breaking over you. Clearly, he’d been incredibly stressed and tired over the last couple of days and you wake up and start berating him. You shrink back a little, recognising how serious the situation must have been. You don’t say anything for a moment.

Minghao sighs and his shoulders slump visibly. He takes a few cautious steps and perches on the edge of the bed, looking down at the wall of heaters around you. Most of them were actually turned off at the moment, you notice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so grouchy with you.” He says, softening his voice. “It’s just- ugh - did you never hear me when I say take a break? Or leave it to someone else because you haven’t slept?” He asks.

And the thing is that you know what he’s talking about.

You’d become immune to comments like that over the past few weeks, knowing that you had a burning project to get done and no time to waste. You’d been getting a little control freaky about working on your case but against your better judgment, you’d ignored the way you were treating yourself, like those crazy workaholics that you thought only existed on TV.

“Does that just go in one ear and out the other?” He pauses to search your face. You don’t know what the look on your face must be, but it must be telling. “It seems it does. It’s just so frustrating to see you work yourself like a dog.”

“Do you know how much more frustrating it is to feel like you’re arguing with someone when you’re trying to do that work?” You finally reply.

“We’re not arguing.” He says firmly. As if he believed that.

“You’re right, we’re bickering like children.” You point out.

“I won’t bicker if you just agree to take breaks.”

“Hao, you know how difficult this is.” You meet his eyes and hold them.

“Then ask for help, YN.” He pleads gently. “You have so many people around you, you don’t have to do every single thing. Just promise me you’ll give yourself time to rest.” You don’t know if what he’s saying is taking effect or if it’s just the way he’s looking at you right now, but you don’t even think about fighting back this time. He disarms you completely with the look in his eyes and it strikes you somewhere deep inside. Suddenly you hate yourself for making him worry like that.

“Okay, fine.” You promise. “I’ll be careful, stop nagging, jeez.” You add playfully, the corners of your mouth turning up. It’s contagious and Minghao does the same, succumbing to your tone.

“Alright, but I better see you doing it.” Minghao says, matching your sentiment.

“Pfft, who made you the boss? As far as I know, I’m in charge.” You’d cross your arms, but you were still cocooned in the blanket for the most part.

“Never said you weren’t.” He shrugs.

“Hmm, good. Now get this off me, I gotta go to the bathroom.” You start to struggle against the fluffy fabric of the blankets again and Minghao hurries to help you out.

When you see yourself in the mirror, you almost jump back in horror. You didn’t realise that if you spent so much time with ghosts, you’d start looking like one too. You were so disheveled and your mouth felt awfully stale and your hair was a rat’s nest. (You didn’t know rats could have nests, but if they did, it would definitely be the state of your hair specifically).

Speaking of your hair, the more you tried to brush it out and give it some kind of order, you noticed something strange. There was a number of strands of grey hair that shone in the light of your bathroom. You fought the urge to scream. Those most certainly hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t an alarming amount since you could probably count them on your hands, but it was still startling. It was possible it was your condition after the ghost pass through that had caused it. You just hoped that you wouldn’t get any more of whatever this was.

Maybe Minghao was right; you needed to take it easier and redistribute your work load. You absolutely did not want to see another grey hair, not for at least another ten years.

You have to fight yourself a little bit the next few days because you want to do work but you feel like you need to take several naps a day to feel human. All you end up doing is trying to sneak into the office and Minghao creeps up behind you with a timer and tells you that that’s all you’re allowed to do for now, urging you to take the documents and read them in bed.

The guys make plenty of progress in the mean time, somehow managing to narrow down the number of records significantly and matching five out of the thirteen ghosts to their identities. To the outsider, it might seem like a massive game of Cluedo or something, but the reality was that exorcists very often had to do some detective work in order to be able to do their actual job, which was tending to the dead.

By the end of the next week, after 3 all nighters (though you were forced into a Minghao-mandated 8 hours of sleep unlike everyone else), 20 take-outs, and 50 cups of coffee, you have ten out of thirteen ghosts and over a week until the winter solstice. So you tell everyone to go and take a couple days off. You lose track of time for the most part but you can’t escape the date today.

It’s the third anniversary of your sister’s death.

You wake up and lie in your bed, staring at the ceiling. How did three years go by so quickly and yet it felt like a whole life time ago? You had no idea.

You take your time getting ready today, moving slowly and sluggishly, getting breakfast (more like lunch at this time) and then putting on your coat. You weren’t leaving yet but you still felt waves of cold every once in a while and if you put on your fluffy bathrobe, then you’d never feel like leaving the house. You didn’t have a bathrobe before, but one had mysteriously appeared in your bedroom after you gained consciousness last week and you didn’t have to be a genius to be able to work out that Minghao had got it for you.

You dig out your grandmother’s hairpin and add it to your hair. You wear your earrings and your sister’s ring, and the set would be completed by your aunt’s necklace. Like the rest of your protective talismans, it has a carnelian crystal as the main part of the piece, as all the women in your family wore carnelian and the men wore onyx, which is why your grandfather’s ring was made of that. Minghao wore it now and it occurred to you that you never ended up getting him another talisman. Maybe you should get him something obsidian like Jeonghan wore.

You pack a few things to take with you and call out to see if Minghao is ready. Yesterday you’d told him where you were going to go and he’d insisted he’d come with you so wouldn’t have to worry about driving. You knew he was just saying that and the real reason was so that you wouldn’t be alone. You and Jeonghan had agreed to go separately, mostly because you weren’t sure you could handle being there together, although you suspected he just didn’t want you to see him like that.

Like what? Like you? Distraught and crazy, crying and shaking? Perhaps.

Even though the two of you had made up now and were bonding a little here and there, you still felt like you weren’t back to how you were years ago - that would take time. And grief was an extremely personal thing, and you knew that Jeonghan needed his own time so you didn’t press the matter at all.

Minghao comes out of his room, matching your all black attire, a turtle neck peaking out of his long coat. He walks up to you and pulls a scarf around you wordlessly, adjusting it around your own turtle neck. You hadn’t seen he was carrying one so it surprises you for a split second. You look at him up close, your eyes wandering over his face. You can smell the freshness of his aftershave vaguely, but he steps away just as quickly as he stepped closely.

“Thanks.” You say. He’s not listening though, already walking toward the front door of the basement. You follow him to the car and he’s already in the driver’s seat. For a few weeks now, you’d started keeping the car keys in the living room since you weren’t the only one using it any more. It was too cold for Minghao to ride his motorcycle these days and dangerous with all the frost on the roads.

“Do you know the way?” You ask, after pulling on your seatbelt and clicking it into place.

“Yes.” He says curtly.

“Okay.” You purse your lips, eyes travelling over to the mirrors to watch as Minghao turns your car around, looking carefully behind. He manoeuvres the vehicle smoothly, one hand on the back of your seat’s headrest and the other draped over the wheel. Your eyes land on the black band over his middle finger, its surface smooth despite the years of use.

It fit perfectly against his skin and you’d feel it a shame if you got him a talisman that wasn’t comfortable or as suitable for him as that one. It was then that you officially decided to let Minghao keep it; it was something you’d already thought about doing before but hadn’t voiced to yourself, so now it was settled in your mind.

The car ride was silent and somber and you realised that maybe it was out of politeness that Minghao wasn’t saying anything and giving you space to think to yourself. You appreciated it even though your brain was relatively empty for the moment. Empty may not be the right word; numb might be a better way to describe it.

You arrive at the cemetery after a long drive out of the city and to the outskirts of town. It had stopped raining for now but the sky didn’t look too promising and according to the forecast from yesterday, it’ll probably start up again so you better hurry.

Minghao parks in the lot near the entrance and where there were a few tiny flower shops. You open the glove box in front of you in search of something and Minghao notices.

“We used it up.” He says.

“Huh?” You’re not sure what he’s talking about. You were in search of a tiny flask containing some alcohol (not a safe item to have in your car) however it was an essential in an exorcist’s inventory because it could serve as a heater if what happened to you happens- “Oh, right.”

“Jeonghan told Hoshi what to do over the phone and he knew you had that in your car.” He explains.

“Right, remind me to refill it just in case. Let’s go.” You say. You hop out of the car and shiver from the cold air that hits you right in the face, your cheeks starting to rosey up immediately. “I’ll buy some flowers.” You tell Minghao and he nods.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you over there.” He says. You’d pointed out the path you had to take to your family’s grave as you’d come in, driving past the row, so you knew he’d find it.

Inside the shop it’s warm and lovely and you almost start sweating as you pay for a modest bunch of white chrysanthemums. The lady of the shop smiles softly at you and you return it as you thank her before leaving.

You trudge up the gentle slope leading towards the million rows of graves, all different shapes and sizes. And you spot Minghao from a long distance away. But he’s not at your sister’s grave, he’s further away. You stop. The image somehow burns itself into your eyelids.

You wonder who it is that he’s visiting. He didn’t tell you anything so you guessed he didn’t want to. Maybe he’d thought you’d take longer picking out flowers, which in his defence you had taken like a minute to buy them. You find yourself wanting to wait just a few more moments. Minghao doesn’t seem to see you since he’s so far away but after a minute he turns and walks toward where you’d told him he’d find the grave. You follow suit.

“You got them?” He asks when he hears you approaching, your footsteps moderately quiet.

“Yeah, did you find it easily?” You reply. “The grave I mean. I was pretty vague.”

“Yes, no problem at all.” He says. You watch him, almost wanting him to elaborate and tell you what he’d seen but you feel that he won’t. Minghao was a pretty private person and you don’t want to pry, but it occurs to you that Minghao never mentioned any relatives to you before or anything about his family. You decide not to push it today; he’ll tell you when he’s ready if there’s anything to tell.

You place the flowers on top of the grey marble where a bunch of white lilies lay and you figure that Jeonghan must have stopped by already. You pull a key out of your pocket. The family grave is something like shelves with a closed door and a plaque on top with the names of all the people buried there. You unlock the cabinet and inside there are several white urns, each of them with neat black writing, carrying the ashes of those gone.

You’d packed a few candles and you pull them out of your bag, setting them next to the flowers. You light them and leave the lighter lying beside them. You just wanted to light them as a sign of mourning and respect because you had no intention of attempting to exorcise your sister’s spirit anymore; you’d given up after everything.

The blade with her name on it was inside the cabinet, placed beside her urn and you decided to just keep it there for now. Who knew what her ghost would do today? She probably wouldn’t even show up-

“Um, YN?” You hear Minghao say as you’re busy untying the string around the bunch of flowers.

“Yeah?” You reply, not taking your eyes off the task in your hands.

“Over there.” He nods his head to the right. It’s a minuscule gesture in your periphery but you look up. Your eyes widen at the sight.

She did come.

“That was quick.” You mumble. Minghao clears his throat, pausing.

“YN.” He gets your attention. You turn to face him, thinking he’s about to say something. “Maybe we should try to set her free.” You see he’s trying to be gentle but he’s still very serious.

“There’s no point, Hao. She won’t go.” You shrug, going back to what you were doing. “She’s never possessed anyone.”

Minghao’s hands come to rest on your shoulders before you can turn and he holds you in place. “Let me do this for you.” He pleads. “It won’t hurt to try one more time.”

Deep down, you know he’s right. But you’d been trying for years, since the first time you’d found her as a ghost. You thought you had to let her move on as quickly as possible but she never made the same attempt as you. The seasons changed and you lost hope that she would ever leave and all you could do was wonder why.

You sigh, knowing that if you didn’t try now, you’d regret it. “Fine, let’s do that.”

“Okay.” Minghao takes a good look around but there’s no one within eyesight, just masses of graves. You worry that there might be a stray ghost that would attempt to possess Minghao, which would lead to a disaster but you know that you had your gun in the bottom of your bag; you’d be able to scare it off with salt. You were too cautious to go to a cemetery without any protection.

Your sister’s spirit still hovers a few feet away, just watching you.

Minghao carefully takes the ring off and sets it down next to the candles. You’re holding your breath but for a moment nothing happens. You’re ready to be disappointed again however you see the slow movement of her ghost inching forward and toward Minghao.

You stare in awe, unsure what would happen, the blade in your hand.

The spirit gradually fades, becoming more transparent the closer she got. You can’t see her very well any more and you just have to wait a few seconds. Minghao gasps suddenly, sucking in a great big breath. You turn your head with lightning speed, completely incredulous, as you search for the sign of possession.

Right on cue, his eyes start to shine with the silver light and you take an involuntary step back, hitting the cabinet door.

“Hi.” Minghao says quietly, but his voice doesn’t sound like him. That’s not how he talks.

No way. No freaking way.

Not only had she voluntarily possessed Minghao but somehow mustered enough energy to speak through him.

“Oh my god.” You have no words suddenly, your eyes filling with tears.

Minghao, well, your sister through him, stretches for a second, tilting her head side to side, flexing Minghao’s long neck.

“Gah, why is he so stiff?” She complains. That was definitely the sort of thing your sister would do, you think immediately. She sighs and looks around, eyes landing on the grave. “These are nice, kiddo.” She comments, lifting one hand and undoing the rest of the string holding the stalks together. Before she pulls her hand away she seems to notice the lighter and picks it up. “Give this back to Hannie. It’s his.”

“Huh?” You feel like you’re floating, not really understanding what you’re looking at. You snap back to reality. And in reality your sister was possessing Minghao and talking to you so you’d better pay attention. You were trying to but you were just in too much shock.

“Right, yeah.” You say. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re sure Jeonghan had asked you about the lighter but you couldn’t find the memory. You find the words, finally. “How are you doing this?”

Minghao gives you a half smile. “Hannie came earlier. I thought I was losing energy but I ended up gaining some because of it. But it won’t be for long.”

And it hits you; this is the last time you’ll ever see her and talk to her. Actually the last. For three years you lived with no closure, mourning her in whatever way you could, but saying goodbye had never been an option.

Your throat closes up and you know you’re about to burst into tears.

“I have to go, my dear.” Minghao says sadly, his own eyes welling up. “I wanted to say goodbye if I could.”

You sniffle as a single tear escapes your eye, rolling down your cold cheek. “I know.” You close your eyes, willing yourself to stop crying. You didn’t want that to be the last image your sister saw.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I really am. I wasn’t careful enough and now you have to struggle because of what I did.” You feel a warm thumb on your cheek, Minghao’s hand cradling your face and wiping it away.

Your own hands tighten into fists, words bubbling up in your throat. The words you’d carried inside for three years but couldn’t say.

“Why did you do this?” You ask, opening your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

Minghao’s hand drops from your cheek to your shoulder. “I thought I was protecting you if you didn’t get involved with demons the way that Jeonghan and I were. I didn’t want you to be in danger because you wanted to help out.” She explains.

“I wish you hadn’t done that.” You whisper. “I wish I’d known, that way I wouldn’t have blamed Jeonghan so much.” You say, breathing out shakily.

“I realised it too late. It’s why I didn’t want to leave - I wanted you to know the truth and for you and Jeonghan to be friends again.”

“So that’s why you didn’t leave?” It suddenly makes sense. You’d thought maybe you were holding on to her too much, holding on to the loss of her and trapping her spirit here, but it turns out it was her will keeping her here.

“Yes, but now I can be free. I know you’ll be okay. I need you to know that too. Alright, kiddo?” She asks pointedly. “You will be okay and Jeonghan too. I feel free knowing that. You can let me go too now.”

Your vision is blurring through the tears. “But I can’t let you go. I miss you too much.” You let out a quiet sob, giving into the way your body needs to release the tension in your throat.

“I know, honey, me too. But you have to go on. I told Hannie too, you have to go live and carry on like you’ve been doing.” Minghao’s other hand swipes away another tear and then tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear. Despite the winter cold, his hand is warm. “Promise me you’ll try.”

“I-I promise.” You manage, struggling to keep it together. You knew you didn’t have a lot of time anyway. “I love you.”

Your sister smiled through Minghao. “I love you too, kiddo.” She paused. “I have to go now, I have no energy left to be in this body. One last thing: go visit Mom and Dad, okay? Take Jeonghan and Minghao too, they’ll like him for sure.” You nod, unblinking. “Goodbye, my dear.”

Minghao takes your hand, the one clutching the blade and helps you stab down to his chest. You feel a soft kiss placed on your forehead.

“Go peacefully.” You whisper, then you let the floodgates open. You were the type of person who would cry a lot if at all, which is why you tried not to but you couldn’t stop it.

The blade started to burn up in your hand, Minghao’s on top of yours but going slack until you were just holding it to his chest. You waited for a memory to light up in your mind but found yourself waiting in vain as it never came. You didn’t think about it too much while you cried.

You felt like you lost her all over again for the first time, every fibre of your being shaking with the grief that you thought you buried those years ago, yet it all comes spilling out, like fresh blood erupting from a raw wound. The world around you fades until it’s just the lack of air in your lungs, the hot salty tears running over your cool skin, the wind blowing loudly in your ears as you shook like a leaf, shivering with renewed loss.

Minghao eventually comes back to himself and tucks your head into the crook of his neck, trying his best to keep you steady and warm as you cried your lungs out. There’s a lot of tears streaming down your face but you start to feel drops on top of your head too and you step back and look up.

You expect to see rain, but instead you’re met with snow.

It’s the first snow of this winter.

Precious, tiny snowflakes fall gently from the sky and you hold you hand facing up, trying to catch some. You didn’t know it would snow today, but as it does, you take comfort in the way the each piece of fluff cascades down to the ground. You look at Minghao, a series of snowflakes caught in his hair already, melting slowly.

“Let’s go home.” You say, eyes softening.

You lie on the couch under a blanket, no particular thoughts in your head. It’s getting late but you’re not sure you can sleep what with everything that happened today. Minghao is tinkering away in the kitchen to make you some tea, the possibly tenth cup since you came back from the cemetery. He maintains that you have to keep warm, especially since you were out in the cold for a while today.

You let him convince you to bundle up in warm clothes, big, cozy jumpers and fluffy socks and the blanket on top. Your heating is turned up on high and you were actually warming up for the first time in a couple of weeks.

“Here we go.” Minghao says as he places two cups of tea on the coffee table. You raise your head slightly, enough so that he can slot himself onto the couch too, so you rest your head on his lap and his hand naturally rests on your head, stroking your hair softly. You were grateful that you had Minghao around. He was being a good friend, just staying by your side quietly and patiently as you processed everything. You felt as if you were swaying like a willow in the wind and aimlessly floating down a river.

“Thanks.” You mumble, not reaching for it. You were too comfortable to shift. There’s a sudden thought in your head. “Do we have any ice cream?” You ask without hesitation. Minghao’s fingers pause in your hair.

“Ice cream?” He repeats. “Why?”

“I haven’t had any in a long time.” You sigh. “I haven’t had any since that summer. It was one of me and my sister’s favourites and I didn’t feel like eating any without her.” You explain. You liked it more in all honesty but she ate it with you for your sake and gradually liked it too.

“Ah, I see.” He says. “We don’t have any, but I’ll buy you some tomorrow. Okay?” He pats your head gently and you nod. The gesture is small but it’s kind and it moves you for some reason and you feel tears prickling in your eyes again. You close them, thinking you don’t want to shed any more tears for today but it’s worse when you close your eyes.

Minghao notices your scrunched up face and seems to worry. “Yah, what is it?” He asks quietly. “Does something hurt?”

You sniffle, then exhale. You pause. The image behind your eyes is too vivid. “I see her face when I close my eyes sometimes, Hao.” You sigh; admitting it out loud took some weight off your chest. “I thought I could do this, y’know?” You say. “But I’m not so sure.” Your throat is closing up again.

“Hey, you can do this, okay? I know you can. The pain will lessen with time.” Minghao says, thumb stroking your arm. “You can’t forget her and you won’t, but you’ll learn to live with the memory of her. That’s all you can do. You’re only human after all. Be kind to yourself because it will take time.”

He spoke as if he knew what he was talking about, but it never occurred to you in that moment to wonder or to ask. “Until then, lean on me. Don’t keep that pain to yourself.” He said gently. You felt yourself relax a little under his warm touch, a wave of fatigue washing over you suddenly.

“Okay…” You mumbled as you felt yourself drift off, finally warm enough.

A/N: thanks for reading!! feedback is always appreciated <3 I’m kind of excited to be in the really last home stretch of the fic, it’s been a long time since i started it, i’m just happy with how far it’s come. stay tuned for the last 3 chapters. there’s a chapter 8a that won’t be relevant to the plot but the 9 and 10 will wrap everything up yayyy!! see you later <3

#seventeen #xu minghao #the8 #minghao #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #the8 imagines #the8 scenarios #seventeen fics #momobani.writes

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wolfishcrossing · 2 years

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-Entombed- !Yandere Freya x Reader

On one bright, sunny day on your island, you were called to assist one of the townsfolk there. None other than Ankha has requested your services into helping her with rearranging her backyard. She wants you to dig up a hole in her yard and place one of her sarcophaguses she has displayed on stone-tablet tables, into the hole to bury. Really to just say she has one buried and to also make room for more Egyptian-themed furniture.

You accept her favor not because of an incentive reason but just out of the kindness of your heart. You were always willing to help out with whatever you can with your neighbors. Even with people like Ankha who can be quite rude to you at times, given her snooty personality. You bare it, though. Hoping to eventually see a soft side of her underneath her outwardly, cold, blunt shell.

So, there you are as you just finished digging up the hole she needed. Now time to transfer the tomb to its new home. You pick it up a little and start to slide it off the stone table. As soon as you slid it enough over the edge to let gravity take over, you realized that it was a little bit heavier than you expected. No biggie, though, you can handle it. You may not have as much strength like a jock villager but you were willing to try your hardest. You carefully guide the tomb off the table to place onto the ground. Challenging, given the material it’s made out of but you eventually and successfully place the gold, stony coffin safely on the ground. Now all that’s left is to get it in the hole. However, there was one little problem though...

“What did you do?”

“Hm?” You respond, wondering what the cat was talking about.

“It’s ruined!”

The pharaoh cat kneeled down to see that a piece of the marble trim at the foot end of the sarcophagus has been chipped off. Most likely due from letting that end fall onto the ground when you were trying to stand it up off from the table.

Ankha fiddled with the broken piece for a minute, then looked up at you, giving a hostile glare.

“YOU CHIPPED IT OFF!” She hollered. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE THESE THINGS ARE, ME MEOW?! UGH!”

You were stunned and taken aback by her sudden outburst. You start to take a few steps back from the raging cat. You felt sorry for what you did but at the same time, a little confused on why she’s making such a fuss over a small piece. It’s not like it was the end of the world!

“Ankha, I’m sor-”

“No, SHUT UP you idiot peasant! You were not careful and you clearly don’t know how to handle other people’s belongings! Don’t you have a brain?!”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit insulted. You didn’t mean to break it; you were just trying to help. She was the one overreacting. You try to remain calm and mature in the heat of the moment though.

“I-I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

“I DON’T CARE!” She yelled back. “All I asked of you was to dig and bury this tomb but you couldn’t even do something as simple as THAT right. You just HAD to screw it up! It was in perfect, pristine condition until you manhandled it like an ape. Honestly, me meow, I shouldn’t have entrusted someone as stupid as you to do this... it was perfectly fine and now it’s RUINED!”

The cat screamed as she angrily threw the piece of chipped marble at you. Hitting your chest, it didn’t really hurt but the fact that she threw it at you like a child throwing a temper-tantrum was REALLY testing your patience. You start raise your tone by just a tad as you try to reason with her.

“But it’s gonna be buried anyway! Who’s gonna see it and who’s gonna care seeing a little piece broken off?”

Ankha, without any hesitation, slaps you across your face.

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK BACK TO ME LIKE THAT!” She hollered, disliking how you tried to stand your ground against her. She was never really one to settle losing an argument no matter how much of the wrong she was in. Most people despised her attitude and always tried to avoid as much confrontation with her as they can. And when they do find themselves at the end of her wrath, they would always back down. Giving up and just telling her she’s right no matter what the situation was. She got used to being told she was right, obviously. Used to getting her way without a challenge. But on the rare occasions her arguments were challenged; she was prone to resorting to a little violence to get her opponent back in line. Much like here...

The slap from the rage-induced feline stung like hell and lingered on like a burn. You were shocked. Flabbergasted. Unable to even utter another word out of your mouth before the cat pointed outwards behind her.

“Get out of here you peasant before you ruin any more of my precious belongings!”

You remained silent as you reluctantly strolled out of her yard. You could hear her ranting to herself about you. About how much of an “idiot peasant” you are. As you walk away from her house, you cannot help but feel guilty about the whole thing. Even though you know it was just an honest mistake, you also knew that Ankha was a major drama queen. Always looking to make any small matter a big deal. You still were saddened that your recent interaction with her was quite sour and now will be an unwanted memory you were stuck with.

You strolled around a bit. Head dangling in shame as you sat on a bench to think about what you have done. Not even two minutes alone with your thoughts, you hear a rather familiar voice calling you out of the blue.

“Why, hello there, (Y/N).”

Barely lifting your head up, you eyed to your left to see your new conversation partner. It, of course, was none other than Freya. The tall, pink wolfess who was always so delighted to see you. Anytime she caught a glimpse of you out in the world, she could not help but run up to you, hug you, and have a nice, little chat. She was someone you grew quite fondly of from your time on the island. Even though you could not help but be a little shy around her as she towered over your small body.

Unfortunately, you were obviously not in the best of moods at that moment. You simply and sheepishly let out a small “Hello” before going back to self-loathing.

Freya was quick to pick up on your current mood and sat down next to you.

“Uff da, what’s wrong?”

You steer your head away from her, not exactly wanting to speak of the recent and unpleasant experience you just had. But you knew you had to, especially with people like Freya. She was someone who liked looking out for you. Always wanting to know how you’re doing and feeling and if you had a problem, she would not leave you alone until you opened up. Of course, you appreciated her gesture of being someone you could confide with. Though, on occasions, the wolf can come across as overbearing and even a tad invasive.

“I-it’s nothing...”

Freya tutted.

“No, no, it’s something, dear... tell me.”

You sighed, feeling a little annoyed of being pestered to speak. You just wished to be alone right now but you knew full well that the wolfess would not let up.

“Ankha yelled at me...” You began. “Because I accidently broke a small piece off from her sarcophagus that I was trying to move...”

Freya was immediately struck with what she just heard. An audible but soft gasp escaped her mouth as you continued on.

“She screamed at me... calling me ‘stupid’ and hitting me with that broken piece and slapping me.”

“She did not!” Freya exclaimed, not wanting to believe what she’s being told. You turned your head towards her but still looked down to avoid eye contact while feebly nodding.

“Aww...” Uttered the wolf as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder and held you close for comfort. You continue to explain the ordeal to her.

“I was only trying to help...”

“I know, uff da... I know...” Freya was gently caressing your cheek, the very one that has been assaulted by the Egyptian cat. “You didn’t do anything wrong, dear. Accidents happen. It’s okay...”

“I know...” You respond, feeling a little comforted by the wolfess and her nourishing, Nordic voice. It was always good to have a shoulder to lean on.

Freya continued.

“You have to remember to not listen what Ankha says. You know she grew up being spoiled and materialistic. That’s why she’s always so rude and pretentious.”

“Mhm...” Was the only reply you could respond with. It was not like Freya was entirely wrong.

“And even so, uff da... she still has no right to talk to you like that. And if she’s going to treat you poorly for a little accident, then I suggest you just stay away from her. She’s not worth your time or energy. You are way too good for her. And if she keeps giving you problems, don’t hesitate to let me know because I’ll have a few things to say to that little witch...”

You looked up at the wolfess with a faint smile. You genuinely started to feel better and became thankful for Freya always being there for you.

“Thanks, Freya...”

The wolf gave you a big embrace.

“Anytime, uff da.”

It was the best feeling for the wolf to make you feel better. There was always something about you that she could not help but to be drawn to. She liked you. A lot. And after befriending you and getting to know you, making sure that you were safe and happy were gradually becoming her main priorities as the days went by. And while she felt elated that she was able to make you smile after what you went through, on the inside, her blood was boiling. Seething with anger and disdain towards the cat. She never really cared for Ankha that much and, like most other folks, were turned off by her demeanor.

Throughout the rest of the day, after you two had parted ways, the pink wolfess became more and more enraged. How could she talk to you like that? Was all that was running through her mind. Normally, Freya was rather stoic. Never letting her emotions get the best of her and always tried to maintain a level-head. Even when she would get upset, she would not lash out on others and instead would opt for healthier remedies like breathing exercise, writing down her thoughts, or picking up a book.

However, this time was different. No amount of breathing or reading would settle the rage building up inside of her. The thought of her precious little friend being abused by such an unpleasant little cat was driving her over the edge. Freya could not help but feel extremely protective over you. Like a mother with her children. She could not stand the thought of someone who was always so nice and kind-hearted towards her and everyone else, being treated like dirt. You did not deserve it. You were so caring and thoughtful and most people knew that you did not have a single mean bone in your body.

As the night fell and the wolfess was sat in her home, her thoughts would start to spiral out of control. She started talking out loud to herself.

“How dare that little... she needs to be taught. She needs to learn. She needs to never bother them again... and I am going to make sure of that.”

The following day came and went but Freya did not partake in it. Most of the villagers did not notice however, as Freya usually hangs out in solitude. She spent that day in her house... plotting.

Night came. All the residents of the island have turned in. Not a peep was to be heard from anyone. It was peaceful just like any other night. Except one was still wide awake. Freya.

After spending the whole day inside the wolf finally left her humble abode. Albeit at an ungodly hour in the night. She ventured off in the dark, sporting a rather unusual outfit. Instead of her normal green sweater, she wore a black, leather jacket with a black tank-top underneath and some black skinny jeans. She also had the jackets hood up, making it hard for any bystanders to recognize her from a distance.

The wolf quietly went to another villager’s house and started knocking. As she stood outside, she would take a few glances at her surroundings. The resident of the home finally came and opened up. It was Ankha. She wore a simple black night gown and looked as though she she could barely keep her balance.

“Ugh, Freya, what do you want?” The cat groaned. Irritated that her sleep was being interrupted for seemingly no reason. She almost just wanted to slam the door shut in the wolf’s face.

“Don’t you know it’s three in the morning, me meow?”

“My apologies but I’m here by request, uff da.”

“Request? Request of what?”

The wolfess grabbed for what seemed like a folded piece of paper from inside the jackets pocket. She remained silent and made a notion for Ankha to grab it.

“What’s this?” The feline asked as she unfolded it to see it was some kind of hand-written letter.

“An apology letter to you from (Y/N), for what they did the other day to your tomb. They felt awful about it and wanted to properly express their remorse. They sent me to deliver and they want you to read and sign it, accepting the apology.”

Ankha rolled her eyes back at the mention of your name.

“Couldn’t that idiot peasant do this during the day? Don’t they know that I have to get my much-needed beauty sleep at this time?”

“They just ask for a signature; it’s not like you have to get dressed or anything.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes again. “Let me go grab a pen...” She turned and strolled off in the darkness of her house for the utensil. Freya followed along, lowering her hood as she entered.

The cat glanced back at her, annoyed that she’s entering in uninvited and had left her front door wide open. However, she was too tired to comment and just wanted to sign the letter, hand it back to her, and then go back to bed.

“Oh, yeah, speaking of getting dressed, that is the trashiest outfit I’ve ever seen you wear.”

Freya made no comment to Ankha’s snarky remark. She could not care less on how the cat viewed her fashion sense.

“Good thing no one’s out to see you in that rugged get-up but don’t worry, me meow, I won’t tell anyone~”

The pink canine smirked a little at her statement. No one was out to see her. No one was out to see both of them. They were completely alone and unbothered.

Ankha acquired a pen that had been stashed away in a drawer beneath her counter. She then turned on a single lamp nearby to dimly light the room up, making her actually see what she was going to read.

The feline skimmed the letter silently, gaining a malicious little smirk towards the end.

“Well look at that...” She started. “Not only are they sorry but they’re willing to pay for the damages, too. That’s something I could get used to...”

Freya had to hold herself back with every ounce of her being from clawing the cat’s face off. She felt disgusted that Ankha was immediately thinking of ways to exploit your kindness. That greedy little...

The cat wrote down her signature and gave it back out to Freya.

“There. Signed and apology accepted.”

Freya smiled but her eyes narrowed in on the feline.

“Thank you.” She responded. Grabbing the letter back while her other hand was busy rummaging around in the other pocket of her jacket.

“Now, would you please leave-ACK!”

The cat suddenly felt her entire upper body jolting and leaning forward. Her mind went blank, not being able to register on what had just transpired. Her right hand suddenly had to cover a spot near her stomach. Though, she was unable to. She looked down to see that the wolf had lodged a pocket knife right into her right abdomen. Ankha’s breath and body simultaneously went cold as she looked up at the towering wolfess who seemed to not be showing any signs of remorse on what she had just done. The cat’s eyes were fixated on her piercing, cold demeanor as her breath started to pick up in pacing.

“Oh, I’ll leave, uff da... just as soon as I’m finished with this...” She growled in her tone as she tugged the knife in deeper.

The feline shrieked at the motion and instinctively stumbled back a few feet the second Freya pulled the knife out. Her hand was now covering the wound that was just created, with blood leaking out between her yellow, furry fingers.

“What...” Ankha huffed, finding it difficult to focus on speaking. “...what are you doing...?”

Freya did not give a response and simply started to approach the now wounded feline. The murderous glare from her yellow eyes gave a fright in the cat as she backed up once more, holding out her left arm to keep the distance between her and the ferocious, furry wolfess.

“Wait, wait, WAIT! Just wait-”

Another shank to the cat, right above her previous gash. This one was far swifter than the last two, with the knife already pulled out before Ankha could process it.

But as soon as reality caught up with her, the cat’s immediate decision was flight. She made a break for the wide-open front door. If she could just run outside and try to hide in the dark of night, or make a big enough commotion, she could wake someone else up and have them help her fend off the wolf.

Not much more thought was put into whatever plan she wanted to execute before she bolted for the doorway. Freya, however, caught on in an instant and hastily pursued her. Unfortunately for Ankha, Freya was faster. Only a few feet from the outside world before the wolf caught up to her, pushed her to the floor, and slammed the front door shut and locked it. She then proceeded to take a key that was hanging from the wall right beside it, trapping the cat inside her own home.

Even though the fall was on Ankha’s left side, the impact made the pain from her injured right-half shoot up. She still clung onto her wounds, with the blood now getting all over her egyptian-themed floor. Looking up, she could see her aggressor looming over with a taunting smirk on her face as she jangled her house keys.

“Going somewhere?” Freya said mockingly before placing the key in her pocket.

Ankha laid still frozen in fear.

“W-why...?” She could feel how cold her breath got with every word she uttered.

“Why a-are you doing thi-”

The wolf kicked the pharaoh cat right in the stomach, not even letting her finish her question. Ankha fell on her front, having both of her arms wrapped around herself from the painful kick that she received. For a moment there, it numbed the pain from her stab wounds. Though, now she felt like she was ready throw up.

“Because you’re a pest but before I go on... please excuse me for a moment.”

Freya halted her aggression and walked over to the kitchen. She started rummaging through cabinets before finding a clean glass cup. Ankha looked up to see what her assailant was doing. A little confused on her current actions, another idea went off in her head that she needed to execute immediately as she now found herself caught in a “now or never” situation. Survival mode has kicked in.

She painfully got up on her feet, feeling weak in the legs. She found her balance to be off a little, swaying back and forth before stabilizing. She hastily retreated to her room while Freya was busy filling up the glass with water from her sink. Ankha remembered that her phone was on her bedside table and she needed it to call the police.

The cat’s mind was racing at a million miles per hour. Part of her wanted to believe that this was just a dream and that she was still peacefully asleep in her bed. Though, her rational side suggested that it was mere wishful thinking.

Ankha quickly snatched up her phone, not caring that she was getting it covered in her own blood. Her hands and her brain felt like they were having their own little seizure as it seemed like she was having a hard time navigating through her own device.

Freya was chugging down her glass of water as Ankha finally got onto her keypad. The second she dialed “9”, a loud smash could be heard from the kitchen. This startled the cat, making her mess up on her next input on her phone. Her head spun around, not yet noticing her mistake as she stood frozen, knowing that Freya was the cause of that. Presumably breaking her glass and now she might be on her way to resume the assault.

Ankha forced herself to snap out of her fear-based paralysis to continue dialing the rest of the number. Now seeing her error, she was losing precious seconds by deleting the unwanted number and replacing it with “1”.

The cat finally managed to start an emergency call but not before hearing footsteps coming her way. Her phone rang twice and wished it had just picked up right away.

Before the third ring, the cat felt a sharp pain penetrating the back of her shoulder. She howled as she bent forward a little. Her grip on her phone loosened and was swiftly snatched up by the wolf, who had now continued on her assault by stabbing once again. Ankha did not know if someone had now received her call since Freya hung it up and threw the device against the wall, breaking it.

Ankha held her bloodied shoulder, knife still lodged in it. Seeing how all of her pacifistic attempts at escaping failed, she knew she was left with no choice but to try to fight back.

Adrenaline fueled up in the felines body as she flung herself towards the wolf. She uttered an intense, harsh hiss as she started throwing her now claw-exposed hands at the wolf’s face. Successfully striking both of her cheeks, leaving behind bloodied claw marks.

Freya, while a little stunned to see her victim fighting back so fiercely, quickly and stoically took back control. Catching both of her arms with her hands and tightening her grip. The cat shouted at her, struggling with all of her might but to no avail.

Freya swiftly kneed her in the stomach before letting go of her wrists to deliver a single, south-pawed smack to the cat’s face, making her fall to the floor once again. Groaning from the blows she received; the cat once again admitted a howl from the knife getting violently pulled out of her shoulder-blade. She gripped her wound tightly, looking back she found that Freya is now pressing down on one of her legs with her foot. Preventing the feline from going anywhere at the moment.

“Please... j-just tell me why...”

“What’s happening is the consequences you’re getting from abusing someone’s precious little darling.”

“Wha...what?”

Ankha was genuinely confused at her statement. What on earth was Freya talking about? Darling? Was she on something or-

Freya got off her leg and kneeled in front of the cat’s face.

“You know...(Y/N)? The one you hollered, insulted, and hit, just because they broke a teeny-tiny piece off of a stupid tomb that’s, let’s face it, probably not even authentic. You’re a spoiled little brat who is a threat to what is mine. (Y/N) is mine and it’s my job to protect them from people like you.”

She stood up and walked out of Ankha’s line of sight.

“That’s why you’re gonna die tonight...”

“Wait! No, no, NO, PLEASE!”

Ankha lifted herself up a little in fright about her demise. Hearing those words, she could feel her heart ready to explode outside her chest. She almost felt like she as choking on air. Now she felt desperate. Ready to do whatever it takes to not get herself killed.

“J-just... just...i-it’s okay... you don’t need to do this...”

Freya narrowed her wolfy eyes, annoyed by the constant voice of wailing from the cat. It was becoming like a nails-on-chalkboard type of sound to her.

“I’ll leave them alone! I won’t bother them, or-or ask them for anything... I won’t even look at them if you want!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, uff da.”

“N-no, no, please, I’ll leave! Look, I-I'll pack my things and move away, never to be seen again! Just, don’t kill me, please! I don’t wanna die!”

Freya kept her disappointed glare down at the now sobbing cat.

“Pitiful. Especially right before, you were so eager to exploit them for money.”

“I was just joking! I just talk, okay? Y-you know me, I just talk and put on an act...”

The wolf once again kneeled down in her face.

“Yeah... I know, Ankha... you just talk and lie your way through life. Making everyone else do the work for you like some kind of slave-driver. Now, I’m gonna make sure that you won’t talk anymore...”

Ignoring the feline’s plea’s to not go through with this, Freya stood herself up and got herself into a position to easily and repeatedly stab the cat’s backside.

With the constant overstimulation of jabs, Ankha could not even bring herself to scream out in pain. She was only able to let out soft yelping sounds that only grew softer with each jab, signaling that her lifeforce was draining.

It wasn’t long when Freya switched to those yellow and blue, twitchy legs of hers. She punctured half-a-dozen holes in each leg, making sure there was absolutely no way for the cat to have any capability of getting up and running. Though, Ankha could not even stand up if she tried. She laid there, helplessly. Coughing up her own blood while she let her tears run down her now half-red face. She could not even let out any kind of shrill scream or yelp that could be heard in the next room over. This is it... she thought to herself. She could not believe that this is how it ends, that it’s all because of something so miniscule. She was, whole-heartedly now, regretting her previous actions towards you. If she could just rewind, knowing the events that would transpire, she would have just acted like it was no big deal.

Freya finished, standing up and huffing as she looked down and admired her work. Though, she was a little frustrated that the cat was still alive, however. Nevertheless, the wolf knew she had practically accomplished her goal. Even if she had just left right then and there, Ankha would still die from her injuries not long after. Freya was debating to herself to either go for the head and end it or just watch her bleed to death. While she stood there for a moment, contemplating, something caught her attention in her peripheral.

Sat on the dresser across for the bed, there were a couple rolls of gauze bandages. Most likely used and practiced as mummy wrap by the pharaoh cat. A lightbulb went off in the wolf’s head as she made her way over the dresser to inspect it. Picking up a roll and stretching it out, the wolf liked how adhesive they felt. She turned her attention back to the almost-dead cat, still silently crying to herself.

Freya went back to her, kneeling down as she lifted up her the cat’s feet and started to wrap them.

“The least I can do for you is give you a burial that’s appropriate for you.”

It did not take Ankha long to feel what was happening to her and what it. Her heart sank like a boulder as her blood ran cold. Her “burial” was clear as day and she was not about to be fond of it at all.

With the tiny ounce of strength she had left, the cat squirmed her legs all around, trying her best to wiggle the wraps off or at least loosen them. She whined and pleaded and spoke about how against it she was to have this be done to her.

Freya was not bothered by Ankha’s feeble resistance and merely held down her legs without much effort.

“So fussy...” The wolf remarked.

As the minutes went by which felt like hours to the feline, Freya had completely wrapped Ankha from the waist under. Now she was moving up to her torso. The cat could feel the bandages slowly moving up her body as she kept trying to resist.

Soon after, the Scandinavian wolfess yanked both of Ankha’s arms down to her sides so that she could restrain them in the wraps. And the second that Ankha would resist that notion, Freya would yank them back to her sides again, each time more violently then the other, to the point where she almost pulled them out of her socket.

The cat was more compliant to keep her arms down after that. Though, reluctantly.

The wolfess soon managed to wrap her arms to the point where she did not even need to hold them down anymore. But of course, she was not stopping there. She continued on, mummifying the feline’s body and ignoring her pleas for resignation.

When Freya moved onto her head, from the neck up, Ankha realized that in the next minute or so, her ability to speak might be taken away for good. If she was going to go then at least speak her mind.

“You’re... y-you're going to Hell for this...!”

Freya made no comment and simply kept wrapping. Only a couple layers away until it reaches her mouth.

“I hope you suffer! I hope they arrest you and lock you away in the dark for the rest of your life! A-and if (Y/N) ever finds out about this, then you can be sure they’ll turn you in, in a heartbeat! They won’t ‘love’ you, anymore, me meow. They’ll want you dead, just like you with m- MMPPHHF!”

“That’s a cute story, uff da. But now it’s time to lay you to rest.”

Ankha kept uttering furious, muffled sounds at her while all of her head, say for one eye, was wrapped and mummified completely.

Ankha was now fully trapped, unable to move any limbs. Freya lifted her up and slung her over her shoulder. She strolled out of the room and to the front door with the cat in tow. The wolf took the key out that she stole earlier to unlock it, peering her eyes out to see if any soul was out and about.

Luckily for her, no sign of movement anywhere.

The wolfess stepped outside in the darkness, closing the door and locking it again. She ventured into the squirming, softly sobbing cat’s backyard where she found the hole that you had dug up, still wide open and empty.

“Looks like I’ll have to finish this project for you. Not surprised. You never worked a day in your life, I bet.”

Ankha, while deafened a little from the bandage wraps, was caught a little baffled by what the wolf had said. Why would Freya care about that stuff now?

Then, after a few seconds, realization hit her like a train. Again, the cat’s heart sank even deeper than before and she could swear that time had stopped for a brief moment in the midst of her conclusion. She was about to be buried alive!

Adrenaline ran through her body once more as her struggles and muffled whining instantly became more desperate. Though, of course, no matter how much she fought, the wolf was stronger.

Freya kept ahold her tightly as she flipped open the sarcophagus, the very one that had been chipped off, and promptly placed the frightened-to-death cat inside.

Ankha’s breathing was short and shallow. Already having a hard time breathing as it is with her nose and mouth being covered. It was only made worse when she eyed her surroundings, knowing exactly where she is at and what was about to happen next.

She looked up at the looming, menacing wolfess. So many feelings ran rampant towards her. Frighten, obviously. But also disappointed and a bit saddened at who she thought she was. Initially thought to be just a quiet, classy, and rational wolf lady who never bothered anyone, who is now turning out to be an unhinged, murderous werewolf who did not seem the slightest bit remorseful at taking the lives of others.

There was shock, too, towards the wolf. And, of course, anger. Hatred. Disgust. Anything negative-feeling you could think of is what Ankha felt at this moment. If she had her strength back and was not trapped in the bindings of her own mummy wraps, she would be the one burying the pretty, pink wolf in the ground.

Though, in reality with any situation, Freya would always overpower her small, feline body.

Freya went and wrapped one final bandage around her exposed eye, covering it up and leaving the cat blind. She winced at the darkness forced upon her and her body writhed with fright before hearing the creaking and snapping of the tomb closing.

Freya, annoying could still hear the faint but audible cries from within the tomb. She promptly started to slide the tomb over to the hole where she let it fall.

The pain from all the stab wounds that the cat received resurfaced sharply the moment the impact was made from the sarcophagus.

Without missing a beat, Freya got to work with a shovel at filling up the hole. She quietly started taking dirt from the mound that had built up and placed it back in the hole, stopping to look around for any spectators from time to time.

Ahkha could barely hear the crumbles of dirt, hitting the stone marble material that she found herself trapped in. Every time she heard the dirt hitting the tomb, the more fear built up within in. Blind, restrained, and trapped beneath the surface, she knew full-well that this is where she’s going to rest for eternity. She wondered if anyone is going to find her body. Days? Months? Years? At all? She might turn to bones before that happens. Was her body ever going to see the light of day again? Is there anything after her soon-to-be-experienced death?

While her mind was busy in its final moments, running at a million miles-per-hour, Freya had finished filling up the hole and smoothing out the surface. She huffed and wiped the sweat off her face. Glad that not only does she finally have some peace and quiet but now felt like she successfully removed a threatening thorn from your body.

Freya tossed the shovel aside, putting her hands on her hips as she looked down and smirked maliciously at the now covered grave. Not caring anymore if Ankha was even still alive or not.

“She’s gone, (Y/N) …" She whispered to herself.

“You’re safe now... that Ankha is never going to be a bother again.”

The wolfess turned around and walked out her backyard and towards her own house now. Now sprinkled with speckles of the late cat’s blood all over her.

“Now I would do well with some laundry and a much-needed shower.”

END

#text post #fanfic #tw dark themes #yandere #animal crossing #yandere animal crossing #freya animal crossing #ankha animal crossing #yandere freya #yandere x reader #tw murder #tw stabbing #tw blood #tw home invasion #tw gore #tw buried alive #tw abuse #tw death

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thecryptidcottage · 2 years

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⌠ joseph quinn. 25, bisexual, male, he/him. ⌡ wait a minute, is kelly mcmaster still in town? i thought i saw a flash of ( a recycled jelly jar spilling over with old guitar picks, vintage patches sewn sloppily by hand onto a worn and faded denim jacket, and messy, half-finished pages of sheet music scattered across a hardwood floor ) ! last i heard they were working as a music instructor nearby. when it’s the ( leo )’s birthday on 08/13 i forget that they’re defensive and celebrate that they’re commiserative. i hear estranged by guns n’ roses every time i think of them. @liminalintro

name: kelly halford mcmaster nickname: kel, kells, halford/hal ( anyone who knew him growing up ), mr. k/ mr. mcmaster ( by his students ) pronouns: he/him/his birthday: august 13, 1997 zodiac: ☼ leo ☽ gemini ↑ scorpio orientation: pansexual relationship status: single

BIOGRAPHY ( tw: brief, vague mention of child abuse, alcohol and drug use )

☽ ⋆ kelly definitely did not have the most structured or conventional upbringing. he doesn’t know a whole lot about his parents, only that he was taken away from them by child protective services when he was young for unfit living conditions — later, as an adult, he’d get access to files that detailed their copious drug use in the home and numerous counts of negligence and child abuse, things kelly’s not sure if he doesn’t remember because he’s buried them so deep or because he was just so fucking young — and without any immediate family willing or able to take him on, kelly found himself thrust into the underwhelming columbia county foster care system

☽ ⋆ his parents never came back for him — not that he expected them to or whatever, drop it, okay? — and he spent most of his childhood and adolescence bouncing around from group home to foster home, never really managing to stay anywhere for longer than a few months and it wasn’t that he was a troublemaker. or at least, not at first anyway. maybe he’s a little bit loud, and yeah, he could be a lot to handle sometimes, but he tried to be a good kid, especially given the circumstances. it just... well, it never really worked out. and after a while, kelly couldn’t help but become jaded to it all. what was the point of believing in a system that clearly didn’t want shit to do with him?

☽ ⋆ the christmas of the year kelly turned seven, he was staying in a group home that had a present drive sponsored by one of the local businesses, and one of the older children had shoved an ornament-shaped scrap of paper in his hand and told him to write down just one thing that he wished for — and not to dream too big, he’d been warned explicitly, or the odds of someone picking his ornament were slim — so, after several long moments spent debating, a young kelly took a calculated risk and sloppily scribbled the name of the one thing he’d been dreaming about owning for years. that year, there was an acoustic guitar waiting for him when he woke up on christmas morning, and with it, a strap, a pick, and several books of sheet music and tabs. far more than he’d ever even thought about asking for, ever thought he could ask for. even today, he’d still pinpoint that day — that moment — as one of the happiest of his life. ( and arguably one of the most important when it came to saving it. )

☽ ⋆ kelly thrust his entire focus into teaching himself the instrument, and as he grew older, music became a crutch to help him deal with the instability of his day to day life; he reached a point where it didn’t matter where he’d be laying his head at the end of the night, didn’t matter if it changed every couple of weeks or whether he was in a private bedroom or the bunks of a group home, as long as he had his guitar. it came everywhere with him, always in his hands or slung over his shoulder, and he started filling composition books with messy, hand-written sheet music and lyrics. and eventually, he got better. he got good, even, enough to try and start his own band. or several, actually. it took a while before he found the members that would lead him to form handsome garbage, not until well after high school — and honestly? he’s sure that’s one of the only reasons it’s the only band he’s been in that hasn’t disbanded after a couple of months.

☽ ⋆ graduating high school by the skin of his teeth and aging out of the system both hit kelly the same year, and without any sort of structure to keep him even a little bit on track, kelly floundered. he became homeless and spent the first few years of his life couch-surfing, crashing on park benches and eventually in the back of his shitty old beater of a car once he could afford it. he drank a lot — it wasn’t hard to find a bar or a liquor store in the area not to card him, and kelly spent a good while trying to seek solace at the bottom of every bottle or baggie he came across. he hit rock bottom at 21 with a handful of newfound addictions, an empty stomach, and not a dollar in his pocket, a night when the heat in his car had gone out and, instead of spending his last change on a shitty motel room, he’d spent it on a bottle of whiskey so he could warm himself up and pass out anyway. he woke up covered in his own sick with a cop banging on his driver’s side window and, fuck, he knew he had to clean his act up.

☽ ⋆ so he did. kelly still smokes cigarettes, still occasionally has a drink or a few puffs of a joint, but for the most part, he’s cleaned up his act. he doesn’t touch hard liquor or drugs, and for the first few months after he’d decided to get straight, he didn’t touch any of it. he managed to make himself presentable enough to land a gig teaching music lessons to kids at the community center, and after about two months, he was able to put a deposit down on a small, one-bedrooom apartment in centralia. he spends most of his days with the children at the center, teaching them guitar and piano and how to sight-read, and now, years later, he absolutely adores them. he wouldn’t trade his job for anything in the world. he’s got more students than he can keep track of sometimes and every now and then, he’ll find the keys of the piano sticky with remnants of pb&j, but the chaos is worth it. kelly thrives in it, even. clearly, because it’s kept him in centralia this long, and he doesn’t plan on leaving any time soon.

#liminal:intro #this rly took me so long and it's literally garbage but alkdhslksd #i wanted to get it done before work so i can focus on plotting and drafts when i'm back on

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ghosti02art · 3 months

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Heyyyy luv ur writing for tangerine. Could u do tan x reader reader and ladybug are on a mission together and they bump into the twins and tan just hates ladybug and theres this hilarious tension between reader and tan but lemon and ladybug are just having a great time. Hope it makes sense

I think I understood what you meant! Anyways, I wrote something tension filled, and a little spicy towards the end (implied smut).

This was supposed to be a simple snatch and go.

Yet right now, you and Ladybug are holed up under a counter, waiting on a pair of foot steps to leave. Wait, no. TWO pairs of footsteps. You and your partner were supposed to quietly slip into this office building and swipe a hard drive. You both got in here easily with janitor uniforms, even taking along a cleaning cart to help blend in.

“And why can’t we just mosey on out of here, pretending to be finished cleaning?” You ask, ignoring the slight panicked look of your male companion. The older man shushes you, glancing over the edge of the counter,” Because I may or may not know them. You remember Johannesburg?”

“Oh, the one time I didn’t go with you on a job, and you managed to get shot twice? I e gotta meet these guys now.” You snort, rolling your eyes. You had sick the day Ladybug went on that job, and laughed your ass off when you saw him all bandaged up.

“Then it’s your lucky day then.” says a voice from behind you two. You both tense up, and while Ladybug moves to try and come across non-hostile (meaning, he puts down his gun and puts his hands up like a coward), you don’t. You and Ladybug might be good partners, and might both go to therapy, but I assure you, it’s not for the same reason. Ladybug goes because he wants to ‘find himself’.

You go because you know yourself too well. You know how to push your own buttons- and the button you’re pushing now is a big red nuclear one.

You turn to see the two men behind you. The one who spoke was the curly hair Brit with a mustache, while the darker skinned one was blocking an escape path.

“Awww, I was expecting someone a bit more….what’s the word? Strong? Dominant? You look like a fucking wet dog in a suit.” You sneer, grabbing the mop at your feet, and striking his abdomen.

Clearly that pisses him off, and you two get in nothing short of a wrestling match. Ladybug manages to slip past and is about to argue with Lemon (who was still standing in front of the elevator), when they both notice the light blink. Someone was in the elevator.

And they were coming to this floor.

The two non-fighting men quickly scamper off to hide, but Lemon pauses to try and stop Y/N and his brother. He is unable to get out anything between the vicious insults thrown and fists colliding with skin. Eventually he gives up, and just hides, prepared to shoot whoever gets off the elevator.

The doors open, and it seems that the two fighters have finally paused. Tangerine glances at the elevator, trying to come up with a plan. There’s not enough time to hide properly.

Y/N grabs him by his tie and pulls him to the ground, so they are both crouching behind what little cover is available for the moment. They whisper to him.

“Hey shithead! When they round the corner, kiss me.”

“Why the fuck I do that? I don’t exactly feel like throwing up right now, thanks for the offer.”

Y/N rolls their eyes,”I don’t exactly want whatever disease that’s atrophied your brain, but look. You’re in a suit. Businessmen-Service Staff affairs aren’t uncommon. It’ll make a good excuse to quickly leave. C’mon.”

Lemon and Ladybug are both watching this interaction from across the room, looking off a closet from a crack in the door. While Ladybug is less than pleased to hear how Tangerine talks to his partner, he rather enjoys watching this interaction. And Lemon is just excited that there’s someone out there who can deal with his brothers shit.

Tangerine scoffs, but when the footsteps get closer, he pushes you onto your rear, grabs you by your hip to pull you closer, and kisses you. His mustache tickles your upper lip, but you’re surprised at how much you’re enjoying this kiss. Perhaps if his personality wasn’t so sour, you’d sneak your number into his pocket.

You kiss back, tangling your fingers in his curly locks, intentionally messing up his hair to irritate him. He can tell what you’re doing, and bites your lower lip in retaliation, pulling a moan from your throat.

“Hey! Take it out of the office and go home- or get a hotel room. Out!” yells who appears to be the secretary that was on the elevator. Tangerine pulls away and stands up, grabbing your upper arm and yanking you up with him.

He doesn’t say anything as you two make a beeline for the emergency stairwell, where Ladybug and Lemon had maneuvered to. All four of you quickly make it down the stairs, and once out of the building, Tangerine grabs you by your hair and spins you around, and pushing you up against the wall.

“Now, where’s the hard drive, hmm? I know you have it.”

You look up at him, chuckling a bit,”On my body.”

“Then take it off.”

“Take me to dinner first, Wet Dog.”

He growls, letting go of you and backing away. You think he’s finished, so you relax slightly, but he charges forward, pressing your body against the wall and his body against yours. Your head hits the wall harsh enough to bounce, but the pain is temporary because he kisses you right after. It’s less kissing really, and more ravishing. You’re so caught up in the way he tastes, the way he feels against you, the way his knee has been pushed between your legs and presses against your heat.

You don’t notice his hand slip under the jumpsuit, and snag the hard drive from in your bra.

He pulls away again, this time for good, and storms off the other direction. Lemon is laughing his ass off and following behind him. Ladybug is giving you a look, and walks over.

“Perhaps you have some unresolved trauma-“

“Shut it, I’m not going to see your therapist.” You cut him off, still dazed slightly. You won’t see a therapist, but you might do something worse. You might see that man again.

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discoblocks · 2 years

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Had to finish this before it’s inevitably refuted by canon tomorrow!

#dream smp #ranboo #tubbo #awesamdude #dsmp #dsmp art #dsmp comic #dsmp fanart #ghostboo #I do think I probably got c!Tubbo a bit ooc here but not enough that I’m super pressed about it #it’s more in service of trying to get the moment across more clearly anyways #at the start of working on this comic I was drawing it bc it didn’t seem like we were getting lore for a WHILE #so I was gonna make my own lore #and now look at us #there’s already been three lore streams this week and another planned for tomorrow??#inconceivable literally like a week ago #discodraws

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years

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Welcome to the Show

In which you've been hired as a very special woman for the seven idols- and become even more special down the line.

Tags/Warnings: mentions of Prostitution, mentions of abandonment, escort services, it's really just an introduction to the story, so nothing hard to mention here.

Wordcount: 5.4k

Pairing: eventual OT7 x Reader

Taglist: @hey-youre-appreciated, @fuck-expectations-people; @chienitta (couldn't tag, sorry), @joonie-jheysittinginatree97, @justinetingball, @artisinalkoo, @theestrangeddreamer

Playing a pretty doll was pretty boring to say the least.

You're sitting down, watching people talk and chat away- Yunwoo somewhere close by, before he seems to excuse himself, walking towards you. He tries not to show it- but you can see the exhaustion in the man's face. He's told you in the car on your way to the venue already, that he doesn't really enjoy these gatherings at all. They're just to flex each other's wallets and feed their own egos- something he didn't need, he'd told you. "I don't need to ask if you're enjoying yourself, no?" He chuckles from across you at the small table, smiling a bit pitiful, before he takes a good gulp of his champagne. You're sits still untouched- you don't like getting drunk.

And you're not allowed to be intoxicated on a job anyway.

"I'm not here to enjoy myself." You simply say, the smile on your lips able to fool anyone into thinking it was a mere joke. But Yunwoo's a rather smart person- that's why he was a wealthy man, after all. "I'm here to look pretty." You say, before you take one of the small cheese cubes from the snacks placed fancily on the table, before putting it into your mouth. It's a little funny, how things seem to taste differently depending on how expensive- or free in this moment- it was. Your own cheese at home always seemed to taste the same.

"And you're doing a great job doing that." Yunwoo chuckles, before he leans back in his seat, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. "Would you mind accompanying me?" He asks, and you shake your head.

You're not allowed to mind while on a job anyway.

"You know-" He starts, helping you with your coat before he walks onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. "I wondered how this would work out." He says, as he places the cancer stick between his lips, cupping his hands around the lighter to light it. It works after the second try, and he apologizes under his breath when the first heap of smoke accidentally hits you. You wave it off, however- you're used to it. "But you're very pleasant to have. Honestly." He admits, leading you away from the doors and close to the corner of the balcony, where a small bench is placed. "Someone I know- and trust, might I add- has asked me to tell him how tonight went." He explains, and you nod. People like to know what it's like hiring an escort- they want to know, but they don't want to do it themselves either. So they later on can say things like, 'I'd never do something like that!'. As if your profession was a crime. "Say- your agency stated quite clearly that you don't offer any.. Personal favors, so to say." He starts, and you try not to sigh.

It always ends up here.

"I'm not asking for them, just to be clear." He says. "But I.. a friend of mine, he's in a bit of a predicament as of lately. Needs someone he can trust, someone who will.. treat this matter as delicately as it needs to be." He continues his little rant between drags of his cigarette.

"So your.. 'Friend', he wants a personal prostitute." You bluntly say, and Yunwoo looks at you for a second- before he laughs openly, the first one you've seen that looks utterly genuine.

"It's harsh to say it like this, but in a way, yes." He explains, shrugging. "Not for himself, though." He continues on.

"I don't think I can follow correctly, Yunwoo." You say, involuntarily crossing your arms in front of you, pulling your coat tighter against your body. It's a natural response of rejection- you can simply sense something weird about the whole conversation, and it makes you feel eerie.

"It's not a brothel, or anything close to that, dear." He reassures, seemingly sensing what you're thinking about his words. "It's.. Difficult to explain, however. If you're interested, I'll give you his number. Contact him, tell him you're Yunwoo's darling'. He'll know who you are then." He finishes, flicking the bud of his cigarette off the balcony, before he stands up again, holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

Being an escort had never been a dream job of yours.

Neither was your dream to sit in an empty apartment, boxes all around you packed with your belongings. After your contract had expired, you struggled to find work again. As someone who worked at 'that industry' as its called, you're no desired candidate for any job, really. Wasted potential, the last one had said with a shake of his head, before he had given you your stuff back- not interested in even considering you for hire.

And now, after four months of being unable to pay rent, your apartment had been taken away from you. It was understandable, really, so you weren't mad at your landlord. The guy had a family to feed as well, after all. Checking your wallet for how much money you've had left, a small note catches your eye.

'Yunwoo's darling.'

At this point, you didn't even have anything left to lose, no? Texting the random number wasn't a scary thing as you typed a short message to check if whoever this person was, was still interested. You're at a low point, after all- you needed money. And while you don't really know how to play the part, you did have at least a little experience. And after all, it's not like that guy was still searching. It's been five months, for god’s sake- there's no way whoever Yunwoo's friend was hadn't found what he'd been looking for already. There's plenty of fish in the sea.

And when two hours pass without an answer, that's proof enough for you that you're too late for something yet again.

"Here, miss." The man leads you, and you follow along like a lost puppy.

The place is huge, clean floors almost reflecting your own self like a mirror- people bustling around, dressed casual and high class all the same. Everyone seems familiar with one another, chatting with passing people or standing somewhere at the side. When the elevator closes, it's quiet- something that you technically like, but right now, it's suffocating. It makes you nervous for what's to come- for what you've gotten yourself into. "You're okay. Promise. Seems scarier than it is right now." The man tries to reassure- does he know? Is he pitying you? Or is he maybe the one hiring you, and it's like one of those weird movies? "You like video games?" He asks, before pointing at your shirt, a dragon-like creature on it that no one who didn't play the game would've known. You nod, shyly so, looking at the ground. Those were the only clothes you had that you felt most comfortable in; the shirt with the dragon on it, an oversized zip-hoodie thrown over it, paired with ripped jeans and your favorite boots.

You weren't here to make an impression, after all.

"That's good." He simply says. "They'll like you." He comments, before the elevator opens. They?

You don't get to ask what he means however, as he already steps out, knocking at an office door before opening it. There's a man sitting behind the desk, whoever he was talking to gets up, greets you with a curious glance, before walking past you. He was young, you noticed- casual dark clothes and silver piercings adorning his face. "I'll be out with the guys." The guy who'd walked you in says, before he leaves as well.

"Sit down, dear, don't stand there." The man says with a smile, before he greets you, sitting down as well. "So! I was pretty surprised by your message. I thought you had declined whatever Yunwoo had told you." He explains, leaning back in his seat. He's comfortable in this room, the total opposite of you. You feel weirdly cornered, like an animal trapped. There was no way of getting out of this without seriously embarrassing yourself. "Which leads to my first question; what did he tell you?" He wonders, casually resting his hands over his stomach. If you didn't feel so uncomfortable, he'd look like a very friendly person. But right now, all your mind could see him as, was a predator.

"That you were.. Searching for someone offering sexual favors to, someone you know?" You try and recall his words. "I honestly didn't understand quite what he was trying to tell me. I'm hoping you can elaborate on this." You say, trying to sound as professional as you can. You don't know what exactly the man wanted from you- but you were desperate to know.

"Ah, well, it's right and wrong at the same time." He chuckles to himself. "Did you recognize the young man leaving my office?" He asks, and you cross your legs, trying to force yourself to be more at ease. It works little.

"I'm.. yes, of course." You say, unsure if your assumptions were correct. How could you not know who the young guy was? His and his bandmates faces were all over billboards and subway stations whenever they had their birthdays. It was hard not to know them, really.

"Good, you're honest." The man says, nodding to himself. "I like that. Usually, the girs try and play as if they don't know them." He continues. "I'll be honest as well then." He says, before he opens a drawer, sliding a small stack of papers towards you. "Read it. The first page should be enough to tell you what I'm looking for." He says, and you lean over the table, to read whats written.

Its a contract.

More specifically, a contract between you and the company. It's in a very highly professional language, but you know what its all about as soon as you reach merely the middle of the first page. "So, I apologize for maybe being too blunt but-" You start, putting the papers down again. "You're searching for a private prostitute for your band." You state, and the man across you smiles, before he laughs.

"I'm really starting to like you!" He says. "Smart in the head. Just what I need." He goes on, before he leans forward as well, turning the page. "There's a description of what exactly your contract entails. It does not state you have to provide any sexual favors- just to be clear." He tells you, pointing towards a line of text with his pen, before he goes to the next underneath. "But it also states that it's not prohibited." He says. "What I'm searching for is not a prostitute for them. If I needed that I wouldn't be so careful about who I'd choose. There's plenty of girls out there who'd take that job." He says honestly. You like the way he talks- he's clear with what he is trying to convey.

"What are you searching for then?" You question, slowly growing more relaxed.

"They're young men who crave female company." He explains. "Its normal for them to want to have relationships when everyone they work with already have families of their own." He goes on.

"So instead of taking the risk of girlfriends causing scandals, you want to hire one girl to play the girlfriend for all of them." You finish with a chuckle, making him laugh yet again as he grins, leaning back in his seat with his hands up in defeat.

"You're quite something!" He says. "It may sound very cruel, but its whats best at the moment." He says. "I don't want them to fall apart just for something so fleeting like love." He goes on. "I basically watched them grow up." The man says, looking at the contract.

"So that's your solution?" you ask.

"It is." He nods. "If you look further into the contract, you will be living in their apartment building as well. Its a private apartment reserved for you; you'll have complete control over who enters it, and when you need time for yourself. You won't be able to have visitors, however- I think the reasons for that are quite clear." He chuckles, and you nod.

"So.. when would I start?" You ask, and the man's eyes start to sparkle seemingly.

"When can you start?" He asks instead.

You're unpacking your things when suddenly, a dog comes running through the opened door of your apartment, sniffing around eagerly before it spots you, exciting to see you it seems. It's friendly, and he reminds you of your old dog who'd passed away earlier this year- making you carefully reach to see if he'd accept any pets from you. He immediately does so, accepting any affection you give him as you sit down on the floor, the dog eagerly falling onto his back as you smile at its antics.

"Bam?!" Someone calls out, clearly distressed. "Bam!" He calls again, before he peeks into your apartment, spotting his dog panting happily, clearly uncaring of his commands as he instead hits his head against your thigh, demanding more attention from you. Jungkook himself is more stunned to see you so at ease with the dog if anything- He's never gotten close with the past girls before, but just from the way you simply smile sheepishly while petting his dog, you seem like someone he'd see himself become friends with. "Come on you brat, that's basically tresspassing what you're doing!" He dramatically scolds, as you get up- almost getting knocked down by the excited dog again.

"Go, be a good boy." You say, waving your hand to lead the dog away from you. He des so, seemingly understanding the gesture as he walks back into Jungkooks hands, instantly one of them holding onto the chain around the dog's neck.

"I'm so sorry, he's still learning!" He apologizes, but you wave him off.

"It's fine, young dogs are like that I guess. He's done no harm." You say, petting the dog's head once again. "Y/N. I assume you all have been.. you know, told I'd move in and be around." You say, and Jungkook nods.

"Its always a bit awkward at first, so I apologize in advance." He says, before someone else comes into your apartment.

"Jungkook have you found hi- oh!" The young man says, smiling brightly as he greets you. "I've seen you before! So you really are the new girl." He says, and you shrug, before nodding.

"Guess so. I hope we'll get along well." You say, as Jimin nods at you, leading Jungkook out the apartment.

"I hope we'll get along more than just well." He says before he leaves, chuckling to himself as the door closes.

Huh.

"She's cute." Jimin says at the dinner table. "Not Taehyung's type though." He shrugs, as he picks up some more food for himself.

"Why?" Said singer asks, lazily taking a sip of his soda.

"Pretty short. Wears clothes like me, she seems to be more into comfort than looks." Jungkook explains, pushing his dog to the side to make him stop begging. "Didn't wear makeup either." he says.

"Seemed really chill though. Didn't freak out when Bam attacked her." Jimin comments, making Namjoon perk up as Jungkook instantly defends his pet.

"He did not!" He says.

"Wait, Bam met her?" Taehyung asks. "How'd it go?" He wonders, as Jungkook grins.

"She seemed to be really cool with it." He says. "Bam likes her, don't you?" He asks his dog, playfully holding his head in his hands.

"Doesn't matter much." Yoongi mumbles from the side. "They bag the cash and leave. You know how it goes."

His words seem to cover everyone in a rather gloomy veil of doubt again. With the youngest secretely hoping that this time, it'll be different.

Its the third day, and you've.. well, seen most of them already.

Some of them interact a little bit, but they don't pay much attention to you apart from Jungkook and Jimin, who both seem very much open to getting to know you. Jimin had told you that it's a first for Jungkook to be so eager- he's usually one of the most reserved, not liking the entire idea in the first place. And while he's told you that as well, he doesn't ever mention it either.

They both don't make it feel like you have to befriend them in order to earn money.

"Yoongi-ssi seemed really displeased by me being at practice today." You comment, as Jungkook continues his game at your playstation. You still haven't set up a lot of furniture, just your couch that serves as your bed at the same time, and your TV and gaming equipment. Jungkook had become all starry eyed at your collection of different games, and you couldn't really do anything else than invite him to play here in your apartment, even though you're sure he must have the same if not more games than you could ever own. 'its more fun if someone's there with you' he'd said, and it had strangely pulled at your heartstrings.

He really was a hopeless case wasn't he.

"He tends to be like that." He comments, dodging an attack on screen by moving his body a little, clearly invested in his game. "Trust me, he doesn't hate you- he simply doesn't like the whole contract thing." He explains, and you nod, pulling your legs up to rest on the couch.

"Jimin said you don't like it either." You comment. "Said you usually don't talk much to the girls." You say, leaning back against the softness of your familiar piece of furniture.

"Well yeah." He says, shrugging. "They're usually.. not my type." He explains, leaning back as well as a cutscene plays on your TV. He runs a hand through his hair, before he looks at you. "They typically sign the contract thing, then try to sleep with us, then leave and take the cash." He goes on, looking at you for a second before he stretches his legs. "They pretend they know us just from what they see on screen." He mumbles.

"Well, I can see why they'd do that though." You try and justify. "Most girls in that.. industry, they need the money." You say.

"Like you?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Sorry, oh god I didn't mean it like that-" He hurries, wide eyes staring at you suddenly in shame.

"It's fine Jungkook, relax." You laugh at his reaction. "And yes, sure I need the money." You say. "But... Nah, forget it. You're loosing over there by the way." You say, trying to avert the topic. Your reasons on why you've taken on the contract were yours- and he was still a stranger to you. You weren't ready to share things like that yet.

And while Jungkook didn't seem convinced that it didn't matter- he dropped it, genuinely glad that you were treating them all as strangers.

As what they actually were.

When Jimin had asked you to watch his practice, you didn't think he meant watching him and the rest of the band yet again.

You felt off, as if you shouldn't be there. It was clear that some of the guys seemed on edge with your presence- and its the main reason you're talking to Jimin in that moment. "It's fine- I don't want to force myself onto them. If they don't like me being here, I shouldn't be here." You tried to reason, but Jimin wimply whined, setting down his water bottle.

"But I like having you here!" He complains, as you give him a reassuring smile.

"Thank you." You say. "But you're a group, Jimin. You gotta take everyone's opinion into account." You say, grabbing your jacket as you slip your arms through the sleeves. "It's gonna take time. I can watch you practice alone sometime else." You explain, as another voice chimes up behind you.

"You're leaving?" Hoseok asks, genuinely surprised. "Or are you cold?" he questions.

"No, I'm leaving." You say politely, smiling. "I don't want to intrude." You say.

"You're not, I'm sorry if you thought that way-" He tries to convince you, but you simply chuckle, waving him off.

"No need to force it. I'm not upset over it, honest!" You say, tapping your heart in an almost childish manner to signal a promise. It makes Hoseok grin a little. Maybe Jimin and Jungkook were right about you, he thinks, as said maknae walks up to you with the leader in tow.

"Whats going on?" Jungkook asks, as Namjoon seems to scan everyone's faces- trying to figure out the nature of your little talk. "You're leaving?" He wonders, and you nod, taking your small bag and putting the strap over your shoulder.

"Guys, you're making this into something bigger than it is." You laugh, relaxing Namjoon instantly as he notices you're laughing in a genuine manner, and not just to fool them into thinking it was fine. "You gotta practice, and I'm not helping. I'll go home, it's no big deal." You say.

"Did we make you feel uncomfortable?" Namjoon asks, and you shake your head instantly. "Alright. Then lets get back to work. And you-" He adresses you, a hand on your shoulder. "Take care." He says, before ushering the other guys back into their positions, Hoseok waving at you while Jungkook and Jimin seem more or less unsatisfied with their leader's decision to let you go.

You do however notice Yoongi staring, watching you as you make your way out the practice rom.

A knock at your door wakes you from your nap on the couch.

As you open it, Yoongi stands in front of it, with his hands in his pockets. "Can I come in?" He asks, looking around, as you tilt your head, leaning against the side of your doorframe.

"Do you want to come in?" You ask instead, making him look up as he chuckles.

"You're weird." He says. "No, I technically don't. But I want to apologize and I don't wanna do that standing in front of your door like that." He explains, and you smile.

"Nothing to apologize for though." You say. "You're talking about practice today, no?" You wonder, and he nods. "And there's nothing to apologize for, again. I left because I was making you feel uncomfortable, simple as that." You say.

"Well, then I apologize for being uncomfortable." He says, shrugging.

"Are you listening to yourself, Yoongi-ssi?" You say. "That's ridiculous. You don't like me, nothing wrong with that. Don't apologize for feeling a certain way, at least not to me."

"It's not that I don't like you-" He sighs. "I just don't know you." He admits.

"And I don't know you either." You chuckle.

"You know more about me than I do about you." He says, visibly relaxed now as he finally looks at you while talking.

"Do I?" You ask with raised brows. "I know BTS Suga. I don't know Min Yoongi standing here right now." You say, making him look at you a little strangely. "And you're not obligated to tell me anything about yourself either- just like I don't have to share my whole life with any of you. I'll give what I want to give. I'll take what you give to me. Easy as that." You explain.

"I thought the kids were joking when they said you're quite something else." He chuckles.

"Well, maybe." You say. "Right now I know I don't want you standing there in front of my apartment." You say, he chuckles.

"What're you suggesting?" He says, and you can't help the grin that spreads over your lips.

"Late night ice cream straight out the tub and a trash movie." You tell him in a playfully sultry tone.

"Sounds pretty hot." He says. "Am I invited?" He asks, and you lean back, opening the door further.

"I think there's an open spot on my couch." You say. "And maybe even a spare spoon."

And he shakes his head with a smile to himself, before he enters your apartment with you.

"Ow!" You swear as you notice the small cut on your finger. The wood from your old closet had taken some damage during the move- but then again, the thing was pretty old in itself, so there was no wonder it would give up at some point in its lifetime. Walking out your apartment with your finger in your mouth, you almost run straight into the oldest of the group and Taehyung, who seem to have been talking about something before spotting you, standing still as if caught doing something bad. "Hi." You simply say, waving with your unoccupied hand, before you look down the hall. "Can you tell me which one of those is Yoongis?" You ask, as Seokjin nods.

"Down the hall, last door there." He says simply. "Everything alright?" He asks, clearly talking about your hand.

"Oh yeah, I'm just clumsy. I always hurt myself whenever I try doing something productive." You explain. "Cut myself on my closet. Need a man to do it for me, I guess." You chuckle, before you start walking.

"He's working right now." Taehyung says bluntly, and you nod at that, turning to walk inside your apartment again.

"Can't be helped then. Thanks though!" You say, as Seokjin speaks up.

"We can help, if you'd like." he asks, and you tilt your head.

"Do you want to help?" You ask. "Because you don't have to." You say, and Taehyung smiled suddenly, small, but honest.

"I'll help exactly because of that now." He says, and you nod, inviting him in, as Seokjin stays in his spot. You wait for a second, until you wave.

"I won't keep him for too long, don't worry!" You simply say with a smile, and Jin is a little taken aback by the fact that you really meant that. You're not upset he's not tagging along- you simply take his decision and don't seem to dwell on it much. He can see why Taehyung agreed to help- he enjoys honesty, and had been interested in getting to know you ever since Yoongi had let it slip that he had spent some time with you last week. And also, it's by now well known that you get along very well with the youngest and Jimin, even slowly talking more and more to Hoseok and Namjoon.

Though Jin himself isn't sure of you yet, so he walks his way, interested in how you'll take that rejection.

"So." Taehyung says, as you walk towards your halfway-setup closet, picking up some screws. "Was wondering how you've managed to get a hold of Yoongi so quick. Jimin and Jungkook, too. Though Jiminie.. Well, I wasn't surprised." He says casually, walking up to you.

"Do you think I've had sex with them?" You ask him, struggling with one of the boards as he holds it up for you to push one of the screws through the worn down hole.

"Didn't you?" He wonders, genuinely seeming to be surprised.

"No." You say, and Taehyung stutters in his movements for a second or two, before his voice seems less intimidating than before.

"I'm sorry-" He starts, but you wave him off. He can't help but stare at the carefree look you have on your face, absolutely not offended by his thoughts.

"I mean, that's why the girls prior were usually here for, no?" You say. "Yoongi told me." You say, and Taehyung nods. "That's why you all call me rather weird. Or, wait no- you call me 'something else'." You chuckle, as Taehyung shrugs.

"Guess you are." He admits. "Jin can be.. a bit hard to crack. He usually doesn't interact with the girls hired any more than necessary." He says. "He'll come around."

"And even if he doesn't, that's fine." You say.

"You'll get paid less." He says, and you look at him. "I know the contract. We all know it." He admits.

You simply shrug. "Then I'll get paid less. I won't force any of you to like me or use me." You say.

"Use you.. that sounds.. rather awful-" He starts, but you don't seem fazed.

"It's what I'm here for." You tell him, and he takes over the screw for you, large hand easily able to swallow yours hole as he helps you.

"Maybe." He mumbles. "But you shouldn't talk yourself down like that." He continues.

"I'm simply realistic." You tell him, now holding the board instead- roles reversed. "The contract makes it all sound fancier than it really is. I'm basically a girlfriend for hire for you, all-inclusive." You laugh, making Taehyung crack up as well as he has to put down the tools to laugh himself.

"You really are something else." He says.

And you just shrug. "I'm just me."

----

"Kyung-sook Shin." Namjoon says, as he spots you reading on the floor in front of one of the large windows in the hallway of the building you now called home. "A good book." He comments, and you look up, smiling as you nod, folding a small edge of the page before closing it.

"I've already read it. I'm just reading it again." You say. "You read it too?" You ask, and he nods.

"It's an intriguing story, really." He says.

You simply hum, nodding. "Reminds me of my own mom. I mean, in a way." Before you laugh. "Okay yeah the only thing she's got in common with my mom is that both dissappeared one day." You chuckle, making Namjoon perk up.

You've noticed this already with him. He seems eager to catch any little bite of information about you any time you throw them out. He remembers the smallest bits here and there, and appears to be desperate to make sense of you. "I'm sorry to hear that." He says, and you shrug.

"Not much to it." You say. "And makes sense, no?" You say, looking at him. "I mean, after all, a girl in my shoes gotta have some broken family to feed the stereotype." You chuckle, and Namjoon seems not entirely pleased by your lame attempt at joking around.

"Taehyung already said that you like to take this all rather jokingly." He says. "That you said you're here to be used." He says, and you shrug. "He didn't mean to tell, though. Sometimes things slip his mouth, he doesn't mean it." He tells you, trying to defend his bandmate.

"I figured you'd talk." You say. "So its fine. You have every right to be curious of my intentions."

"We're more curious about you, to be honest." He admits, sitting down across from you as he leans against the cool window- his legs almost touching yours. "You're not what we're used to."

"I know." You say, before you put the book to the side, your hands now in your lap as you look at him. "So." You start, and he parrots it back.

"So."

"What do you want to know?" You ask.

"Why you're here. Why you agreed to this job." He says.

"Because I need the money." You admit easily.

"Why not take on a regular 9 to 5?" He wonders.

"No one want's to hire a former escort." You explain. "Ruins the reputation. Scares away customers." You tell him.

"Why'd you become one in the first place, then?" He wonders.

You smile. "Too much." You simply tell him softly, and he nods, accepting that.

"You're honest." He says- and you shrug, as he slowly starts to get up, a hand on your shoulder before he finally stands to his full height. "Don't lose that." He mumbles out, before he leaves you to yourself.

And for the first time, you really don't want someone to leave just yet.

----

"I've been thinking.." Taehyung starts. "About, you know, requesting her." He says.

"If you want to." Yoongi shrugs. "Thought about the whole thing too. She seems okay to be honest." He says. "You got doubts?" He asks, as Taehyung shrugs.

"Not doubts-" He says. "But I don't know." He says.

"You're making this all weird inside your head." Jimin says, as he leans back in his chair, having finished his meal. "It's just sex, what are you all so scared of suddenly?" He wonders, and Namjoon shrugs.

"I mean, I get it." He admits. "Though I guess you're right as well." He muses.

And through it all, Jin sits quietly.

Unsure.

-----

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not repost, translate, or claim.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jimin imagine #namjoon imagine #hoseok imagine #taehyung imagine #min yoongi imagine #seokjin imagine

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

Note

a remus lupin smut after the full moon where reader takes care of him and it’s just soft and sweet and nice <3

pairing: young remus lupin x reader

warning(s): 18+, handjob, so much fluff

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this one kinda made me sad to write and i couldn’t stop thinking about atyd the whole time. i just wish remus got all the love he deserved.

“Everything hurts,” Remus mumbled into his pillow, laying on his stomach, finally able to lay down after his long trek up to the Gryffindor Tower. The both of you were laying on his bed, curtains pulled with a silencing charm in place so the other boys wouldn’t hear you muffled conversation.

The full moon was last night and, as always, Madam Pomfrey kept him in the Hospital Wing for the day to make sure he was alright. He had slept most of the day, but you could tell your boyfriend was still exhausted and in pain.

It was like this after every full moon since he had told you about his lycanthropy. Just you and him in his tiny twin bed, curtains drawn and just in your own world. It was what he needed, he had told you once. Just you to hold him and be there with him after a terrible night. Even with the boys joining him, it wasn’t an enjoyable experience. You were just happy to be of some comfort to him.

“Maybe a massage would help?” You asked, lightly stroking his arm as you laid with him. Anything you could do after the full moon to help him, you would. It was a promise you had made yourself immediately after he told you about his ‘furry little problem’ as the boys so eloquently named it. You knew it was a major step for him to take with you, and you would do your best to make sure he was okay at all costs.

“That sounds nice, love,” he said, giving you a small smile but you could see the tension he held in his eyes.

“Do you want to take your shirt off or leave it on?” You asked gently, maneuvering your body so you were straddling his waist. You felt him tense underneath you, barely breathing. That was never good. “Re?”

“Ther- There’s another scar,” he said into the pillow. It was muffled but you heard him loud and clear. You took a deep breath bur pressed on.

“Can I lift your shirt so I can see it? I just want to be careful,” you told him softly, trying to keep him as comfortable as possible. You knew he hated his scars, but you always made it a point to give them love. Every last one of them. You saw him nod into the pillow and you slowly dragged his shirt up his back until it was tucked under his armpits.

There was an ugly scar across the bottom of his back, still red and healing. Madam Pomfrey had clearly applied Dittany to it, but it would most likely take the week to heal.

“Thank you,” you said softly and immediately began digging your fingers into his shoulders.

He tensed and relaxed under you whenever you hit a new spot. You worked out knot after knot, slowly trailing down his back as you went. Your own hands were tense by the time you finished, but it was worth it because he was not boneless against the sheets. For a moment his shallow breathing made you believe he was asleep, but he stirred to reach his hand out for you.

You took his hand and fell down on the bed beside him. He was looking at you with a small smile again, but this time the smile reached his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered, shifting his body so you were lying face to face.

“Anytime,” you replied, brushing him off easily. You didn’t want him to make a big deal about your acts of service. He deserved them just like anyone else. Hopefully one day he’d realize it.

You leaned in for a soft kiss which quickly turned heated, but he eventually pulled away, knowing he was in no shape for sex tonight. It didn’t stop you from looking down though, just in case. And just as you suspected, there was a prominent bulge in his sweatpants, just the outline of it making your mouth water. Werewolf or not, he was still just your horny boyfriend at the end of the day.

“I can take care of that for you too if you want,” you said with a small smirk, nodding your head in the direction of his pants.

“You don’t have to. We should probably just go to bed anyways,” he argued lightly, the tips of his ears turning pink at the knowledge that you had noticed his little problem.

“Well I’m certainly not letting you go to bed uncomfortable. So yes or no?” You asked him simply.

He gave you a quick nod, making you smile in return. You brought your lips back to his, locking him in a heated kiss, while you hand trailed down to his bulge. You palmed him for a moment, but shortly moved to pull down the front of his sweatpants only to find out he wasn’t wearing underwear. This man was out to kill you.

You pulled his cock out his pants and gave it a quick stroke, making his hips stutter against your hand. You pulled your hand and lips away from him at the same time, bringing your hand up to lick a strip of spit onto it. He let out a groan watching you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your hand returned to his cock and he quickly pulled you back into a kiss. You started with slow strokes, bringing him to full hardness, before you sped up slightly. You wanted to keep things slow so as to not over excite him, but you also wanted to get him off. You were at the perfect speed to do both with a little bit on time.

He left out a low moan into your mouth when you twisted your hand the way he liked which you swallowed up greedily. You moved your hand the same way again just to hear him make more noise. You loved how vocal he could be when you had your hands on him like this.

You stayed steady like that for a few minutes, slowly moving him along to his release. Finally you felt his body tense and he said, “I’m gonna - fuck, Y/N”.

You felt his cock twitch right before he spilled into your hand. You worked him through it until he was boneless once more on the bed and slowly backing his hips away from you. Once you were content that he was thoroughly finished, you gave him one last peck on the lips before moving for your wand to clean the both of you up.

“I’m sorry I can’t return the favor,” he said once he got his breath back.

“You’ll make it up to me. I know you,” you said, a smile growing on your face.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbled, burying his face into your chest.

“Good thing I’m never leaving, hm?” You replied with a giggle.

You expected him to make some witty response like he normally would, but when his head shot up with a look of concern in his eyes, you paused. “Please don’t,” he begged silently.

Your heart broke just looking at him. This boy who you loved with your entire being, more than words could ever describe, was begging you to never leave him because he was infinitely ashamed of what he was. You never cared what he was, you only ever wanted him. You could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but looking in his eyes again stopped you.

“I’m never leaving. I promise. Even if you try to push me away I won’t leave. You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever. I promise,” you told him, your eyes never leaving his.

You felt the relief fill his body and watched his eyes light up. “I love you,” he said, his voice raw with the emotions that he was trying to hold back.

“I love you too, Re. So much. Now get some rest please. You need it,” you said, giving him a quick kiss to his forehead before you rested your head against his pillows.

He didn’t put up a fight this time. Most of the time he did, trying his best to convince you he was fine until he couldn’t hide it anymore. But tonight he simply put his head back down on your chest and got comfortable, his arms looping their way around your body to hold you close and make sure you stayed there all night.

You stayed awake until you heard his breathing out and his soft snores begin. You fell asleep with a small smile on your face, surrounded by Remus and the scent of him, just knowing tomorrow would be a better day for the both of you.

#harry potter #remus lupin #remus lupin smut #young remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #hp marauders #young marauders #young marauders smut

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sserpente · 4 years

Text

Raw Desire

Synopsis: Something is wrong with him. Something none of the Avengers, including Thor, understand. When Loki turns into his Jötun form unwillingly and begins to act in a very primal and aggressive way, their solution for the problem is to lock him up in a cell below the compound until it’s all over. It’s a disease, perhaps, one which only Frost Giants can develop. Only Loki is not sick. Loki is in heat--and his Jötun body will not rest until his most carnal desires have been satisfied...

Words: 9176 Warnings: Jötun!Loki, smut, fluff, symptoms of addiction

A/N: You wanted some Jötun!Loki, I wanted some Jötun!Loki... so here we go. Enjoy, everyone! 😏

Additional NSFW Warnings: breeding kink (a little bit, anyway), Loki is in heat (kind of, duh), lack of aftercare (at first...)

His antagonising scream tore through the entire compound. You flinched, alarmed. Loki. The heart-breaking sound of pain tugging at your nerves was followed by a loud thump—like a heavy metal door falling shut, locked for good. It had come from the cellar, where the Avengers stored weaponry and ammunition; along with provisory but secure prison cells of Wakandan technology for criminals until they could be handed over to the authorities.

When you reached the source of the rousing noise, you almost knocked straight into Thor. His muscly back resembled a thick fleshy wall that would break your bones if you collided with him with too much force and speed.

“What happened?” Out of breath, you moved around him—facing the culprit of the commotion. The eerie flickering camera right outside the cell door showed Loki knocking his fists repeatedly against the metal door. His knuckles were already bloody from the repeated impact, yet the door would not budge. Much more concerning, however, was his appearance. Loki’s skin—every inch revealed to the naked eye anyway—was blue, his otherwise enchanting blue eyes sparkling with mischief of a deep blood-red. Countless, unique and fleshy lines formed a complex pattern on his arms and the back of his hands, even his face and neck. Your lips parted, both in shock and surprise at what your eyesight had revealed to you.

“He’s losing his fucking mind.” Tony responded for Thor before the Thunderer could even open his mouth in defence. He came tramping into the room as mad as you had never experienced him, tapping away on a tablet in the process. “I told you it was bad idea to bring him back here, Point Break! What were you thinking?”

“Can anybody tell me what is going on?! Why is he… like this? Is he in pain?”

“In pain?! He almost killed Nat. If Wanda hadn’t interfered…” Tony did not finish the sentence—regardless, the threat of what consequences there would have been for the God of Mischief was clearly audible.

“This was unlike him. He had no reason to…”

“No? He pounced on her like a… like a…”

“Beast?” Bruce added matter-of-factly. His hands were in his pocket when he approached the scene and patted Thor on the back in an attempt of providing comfort.

“Maybe… maybe this isn’t his fault, Stark. I know my brother, he’s never acted like this before!” The God of Thunder roared in defence, his arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Tony retorted sarcastically. “You know your brother so well he even tried to kill us all. Three times. No. This man is evil. Look at him!”

Petrified, you risked another peek. Loki was downright animalistic, his fists still working the metal cell door. He was getting weaker, worn out—like the fire in his red eyes was slowly being extinguished to make way for weariness. There was something primal in his behaviour; something raw. You would be ignorant to deny it scared you.

“Tony,” you began, forcing your voice to cease the shaking, “What happened? Why did he attack Natasha? Was he hurt?” Your sudden concern for him was going to give you away. No, not sudden. It had always been there, hidden just beneath the surface of your heart. You had only kept it a secret because… because what?

Loki did not know you had been harbouring romantic feelings for him for a significant amount of time now. Dark, tall and mysterious, he matched not only your type but had hopelessly captured you with his melancholic and lonely nature, the grief in his stunning blue eyes. You refused to believe that Loki was evil, that he had ever truly wanted to harm his brother; and you were desperate to be his friend… and even more than that. But the God of Mischief had hidden his heart behind such a hard shell that you were worried you might never get him to open up to you.

You would by no means describe yourself as an altruistic person—but there was a both enamoured and depraved part of you which desired, longed, for him to like you back.

“Talk to me.” You stated, tilting your head when he flung his dagger at one of the battered punching bags in the training room.

“What?” He sounded almost scornful when he spun around to gift you an incredulous look.

“Talk to me, Loki. I want to know what’s going on in your mind. I thought I was… you are always so distant. You disappear in here every other night, you snap at everyone trying to speak to you. You look nervous, like something is trying to break out of you.” Like you are trying to get rid of monstrous amounts of bottled up energy, you added silently. “You seem so restless. What’s wrong?”

“What concern is that of yours?” He spat.

“See! That is exactly what I meant.”

Loki growled. “What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” You flinched when he used your full name as opposed to the nickname everyone called you by.

“Why? Why are you screaming at me, I’m just trying to help! Don’t you get it, Loki? I care about you. And I care about what you think, even if I am probably the only one in this bloody compound who does.” Now that was unfair. But it was also the truth. “Why are you pushing me away? Let me in…”

Desperately, you moved forward in an attempt to reach up and cup his face, only for him to grab your wrists and pull them away harshly.

“Let you in? All I have ever received in return for ‘letting someone in’ was hurt and hatred. Give me one good reason for why I should open up to you,” he mocked, releasing your hands as if they would burn his fingers if they lingered on your skin for too long. “Tell you about my sorrows.” Sorrows. He had sorrows.

“I am not them.” You simply said. “Not any of them. I am not Odin, not Thor, none of the Avengers.”

Blinking, you snapped out of your memory. You had had this tragic conversation only two nights ago. No matter what you had said, he would not tell you what was on his mind. Now you knew.

“Something is wrong with him.” You interrupted the discussion, one you had not paid any attention to, by silencing them with a loud and determined voice.

“You don’t say?”

“No, Tony, you don’t understand… Loki is… he is Jötun. Thor, has he ever voluntarily turned into his Jötun form?”

The God of Thunder thought about it for a moment—then, he shook his head. “No.” You gave him a meaningful look. “So… you think it has something to do with his species?”

You nodded slowly and swallowed.

“Then we keep him in here until he is better.” He concluded. Your eyes widened.

“What? Thor, no… you can’t keep him locked up in there! What if he doesn’t get better on his own? Are you going to incarcerate him forever?”

“That would be an improvement.” Tony tossed in bitterly.

“We have to help him.”

“We? (Y/N)…” Bruce remarked almost tauntingly.

“You’ll find us upstairs. We need to let the others know about… whatever this is.” Tony added. You gnashed your teeth when he and Bruce turned to leave. For an awkward moment, it was eerily still—right until another one of Loki’s screams tore through the uncomfortable silence. You flinched once more. He was howling in pain.

“You think it might be a disease only Frost Giants can get?” Thor asked with concern in his deep voice at last.

You shrugged apologetically. “Maybe…”

“Loki and I were going to return to Asgard next week. I shall ask around, one of the healers should be familiar with Jötun diseases.”

“Go as soon as you can. Your brother is in pain, Thor, can’t you hear that?”

The God of Thunder nodded absentmindedly. But if no one was going to do something about Loki’s suffering—whatever it was—immediately, you would do it alone. So you did what Loki would do first. You dug up his books.

Loki’s room was neat, tidy. The green bed had been made—there was not a single wrinkle in the fabric and the desk was all clean, not giving thin layers of dust only visible in the direct sunlight a chance. The books he had brought from Asgard, old, thick, yellowed and heavy, he had stored on a bookshelf higher than you could reach.

Sucking in a determined breath, you moved the desk chair in front of it. The polished wooden floor to your feet complained with an ear-piercing shriek as you did. Determined, you climbed up to study the titles. All of them were written in Nordic Runes, making you realise that your research would end up being a lot harder than you had initially assumed. You could not speak a word of Old Norse, let alone read those Runes. Never mind that… you needed answers—and Loki needed your help.

It took you two hours to go through the titles and have them translated via a website you had had to pay for (using Tony’s credit card details—desperate times called for desperate measures) to use its allegedly reliable services.

Then, finally, after what felt like half an eternity, you found a suitable page-turner. It was titled Mythical Creatures and Species across Yggdrasil—at least, that was what the website you used told you.

Eagerly, you opened the book searching frantically for the chapter on Frost Giants and began sucking up all the information you could get. The more you read… and the more you compared Loki’s symptoms to the described behaviour of Jötuns in the book, the more aghast you became. One thing was for sure. Loki was not sick. Loki was aroused.

Terror-stricken, you bookmarked the page, grabbed your phone and jumped to your feet, abandoning the pile of books on Loki’s floor. You needed to speak to Thor right now.

He was about to enter the bathroom when you found him, once again almost knocking into his broad form.

“I… I found something.” You choked out.

“What?”

“I found something… about Loki. Thor… he is not ill, not really, he is…” Biting your lower lip, you pushed the God of Thunder into the bathroom, shut the door behind you and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. “He is… aroused.”

“What?” He roared, blushing. “What do you mean he is aroused?”

“Look… I found this book, I…”

“You speak Old Norse?”

“No! I used… I used a translator. Thor, listen, please. It says here that to ensure their continued existence, male Frost Giants, every one-thousand years, experience the primal urge to copulate with females of their kind. Much like wolves or elves, this ‘heat’ usually begins with restlessness, extremely aggressive and possessive behaviour, unusual amounts of pent-up energy as well as an extreme hunger and loss of appetite at the very same time. Loki hasn’t showed up for lunch, dinner or breakfast and… he has been spending extraordinary times in the training room downstairs in the middle of the night lately. He barely sleeps, it seems.”

“Go on…”

“How old is Loki, Thor?”

“He is a little over one-thousand years… old.” He looked up in shock when he realised.

“That’s why he is in his Jötun form, Thor. He can’t control it, it’s not his fault, it’s… in his nature. God…” You had read it all, yet you were still working on processing it.

“This… it would explain why he tried to attack Nat. So… he is not in danger then?” Thor probed.

“No, not necessarily but—“

“So we can just wait until it is over.”

You frowned. “Until what is over?”

“His heat! If what you are saying is true and Loki’s behaviour derives from his heritage… if he cannot control his reactions, we have to keep him locked up and wait. We can’t have him ravish all the females in the compound.”

“But… he is in pain.”

An urgent knock on the bathroom door interrupted you.

“Hey, are you having a soap party in there? Other people need to use the bathroom too!” Closing the heavy book shut again, you rolled your eyes.

“There are at least three other bathrooms in this compound, Tony!”

“What are you two doing in here anyway?” He asked as he opened the door and leaned against the threshold when he spotted you two sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

“(Y/N) found out that Loki is… uh… in heat.”

“In heat?!” Tony repeated. “Like a cat?”

“No! It… has something to do with the procreation cycle of Jötuns. It… is in his nature.”

“Fuck…”

“Hey… language.” If you hadn’t recognised his voice, you would know it was Steve who joined your heated discussion. “What’s going on here?”

“Loki is in heat, like a cat.” Steve frowned.

“No, he isn’t! Not like a cat, this is…” Thor stood again before you could finish your sentence.

“It’s for the best, (Y/N). Down there, he’ll be save from getting himself into trouble.”

“Thor, wait! Loki is suffering! Soon, he will…”

“We can’t risk it, (Y/N)! He almost raped Natasha!” Tony barked. “And if you go near him, I’ll lock you up too. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, (Y/N). I will not let him hurt you.”

“He… he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.” You chirped. No. Loki would never deliberately take a woman against her will. If he did… no! Loki had in incredible amount of self-control and composure; and you knew how much he despised his own heritage. He would fight this—for as long as he could.

“Besides…” Tony added. “It wouldn’t be so bad if he got a taste of his own medicine.”

“Stop blaming Loki for your PTSD, Tony. That was Thanos’ doing and you know that.” You growled darkly. The billionaire paused for a moment.

“He is staying where he is,” he concluded then. “Until he’s gone back to normal.”

But you did not want to wait. You couldn’t. You had read about the symptoms in detail. In the book it said that moodiness and aggression were only the beginning. If Loki did not act on what his Jötun body demanded from him and… released, then soon, excruciating pain would torment his loins. Masturbation appeared to be out of the picture. You nibbled on your lower lip. This thought of yours invaded his privacy on a truly shameful level, yet you were certain that if sexual arousal had already been plaguing him for a significant amount of time before this outbreak of his, he would have tried to lay hand on himself already and learned it did not provide the necessary relief.

Sooner or later, he would no longer be able to suppress his erection—and it would not disappear until he… sheathed himself inside a female to fill her with his seed. Under different circumstances, the idea of him claiming a woman… you, in such a possessive manner would have aroused you tremendously yourself. As of right now, however, Loki was in agony. The pain, if ignored for too long, would only get worse—it could last up to months and even then the denial of sexual release could result in permanent damage to his loins and even his potency.

But there was no cure either. No potion or spell to contain a male Jötun’s heat which Thor could have forwarded to Asgardian healers.

It was past midnight when you stopped reading and translating—too appalled by how much more Loki would have to suffer if nothing was done about his… condition. The only way to make it stop… was to act on it.

Your lips parted in realisation. You liked him, very much so—and you found Loki incredibly attractive, dreaming of his hands on your body, even. Perhaps you could help him after all. You were not Jötun but… would his body really make a difference? This most primal part of him wished to mate with a female—and although you had never seen a female Jötun, you doubted they looked much different than you did down there.

You had to wait another thirty minutes until the lights in Tony’s lab finally went out and you could sneak through the compound and downstairs to the cells—and once you had made sure that Vision was nowhere to be found, you switched off the security camera for Loki’s cell and approached the thick metal door.

It was quiet. He had stopped screaming. There was no banging against the walls either. Yet when you unlocked the door and slipped inside, his appearance, cowering on the floor and leaning against the cool wall with bare feet, startled you to the core. Loki’s raven hair was completely dishevelled, his knuckles bruised and covered in dry blood. His Jötun appearance was downright intimidating and close up, even more fascinating. He was breathing heavily, the thin shirt he had been wearing underneath all of his armour torn in several places, revealing blue skin and in his dark leather trousers… there was a remarkable bulge.

You shivered slightly when his red eyes met yours. Slowly, he tilted his head. “What are you doing here?” He growled hoarsely but weakly.

“I… I want to help you.”

The God of Mischief snorted. “You cannot help me.”

Mutely, you shook your head. “I can. Loki… I… I know what’s happening with you.”

He snorted once more. “So do I.”

“Let me help you.” Taking a deep breath, you moved closer to him. He reacted immediately. Loki jerked, greedily, as if to grab you and pull you on his lap. He could barely stop himself. Yet you were convinced that he would not hurt you in this state… much. A wave of courage rolled over you—you were doing this for him; and you wouldn’t be doing it if you did not like him in this way. Regardless of what he thought of you after, if he could even imagine being with a mortal like that… you longed to stop his pain.

“Leave.” He said quickly when you kneeled down next to him, timidly resting your palms on his thighs. “No… I said… leave… while you still can.” You did not. In fact, you ignored his rather sincere warning. Slowly, to not tickle the sleeping dragon, you reached for the buttons of his leather trousers and began undoing them until he grabbed a hold of your wrists to stop you. He was ice cold.

“Have you… lost your mind?” Loki was cut off by a loud hiss escaping his lips when your fingertips brushed against his erection. He was large—much larger than he would be in his Aesir form, you presumed, and his cock too was blue and covered in dozens of ridges.

“It won’t go away on its own,” you whispered. “You know it won’t. It’s okay.”

Braver this time, you stroked him again, creating more skin on skin contact. Loki was still holding on to you tightly but made no move to stop you. The touch of a female… it must have been bringing some sort of relief already. Coming here had been the right decision.

“Loki…” You murmured. Finally, your hand closed around his incredibly hard cock entirely and you began to jerk him off—gently at first, only to pick up speed when his breathing grew even heavier than it already was. Defeated, he dropped his head against the wall, revealing his blue neck to you. “Please let me help you.” You repeated. “It’s okay. I trust you.” Upon those words, Loki’s eyes widened barely noticeably. Perhaps it was all he had needed to hear to lose his self-control and composure entirely.

Growling like a wild animal, he suddenly started at you, pushing you back firmly so you lost your balance like a beetle on its back, wrapped his ice cold hands around your ankles and pulled you into him. Your back collided with the floor, knocking all air out of your lungs. You gasped for air all the while Loki busied himself with your clothes. Any layer of fabric was too much. He wanted you naked for him. His sheer strength petrified you when he tore at your pyjamas and ripped them to pieces until they were scattered all over the cell. You trembled—but it wasn’t the icy temperature of his blue skin that made your limbs shake so much. It was, so you realised when your widened eyes fell on his massive erection, now fully springing free from his tight trousers, your own arousal growing into dizzying heights. This, whatever it was, excited you—maybe even way more than it should.

Once more, the God of Mischief grabbed your ankles, forcing your legs open. Your heart skipped a beat when he laid his blood-red eyes upon your bare pussy. Your lower lips must have been glistening with your juices in the artificial light of the cell. Loki growled, his long and cold fingers gripping your ankles so tightly you could already feel the bruises forming. Eagerly, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his hard and ice cold cock teasing your clit. A moan escaped your lips, urging him on. The fire in his eyes had returned, like your body had set his ablaze.

He spread you even further for him, your nails digging into the metal floor beneath you—and then he claimed you for his own. Inch by antagonising inch, he split you apart, sheathing himself so deep inside of you all air was knocked from your lungs yet again. He was ice cold and he was much larger than the average man; and you were beginning to understand that yes, female Jötuns were anatomically different than humans. Human women were not made for taking such long cocks… so why did every single powerful thrust of his feel so good?

Loki pulled out almost completely, with only the tip remaining inside of you, only to plunge back inside only the fraction of a second later, fucking you furiously. Your tight and wet walls appeared to mould around his manhood, gripping him tightly, asking for more despite the almost unbearable coldness against your most intimate parts. No longer were you in control of your arms. They reached up, palms gliding over his bare chest and enjoying the coldness under your fingertips. Fascinated and aroused at the very same time, you traced every single ridge on Loki’s body while he was fucking you senseless, until your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to take the pleasure. His long manhood his spots inside of you which you had never known even existed. He leaned down, at last letting go of your ankles, instead taking a hold of your wrists to pin them both down right above your head and pressing his body so tightly against yours that your clit kept rubbing against his pelvis with every single stroke. You moaned, stricken by ecstasy, and arched your back as you kept moving your hips up to meet his thrusts.

Aroused, you looked down, watching how his blue cock kept sliding in and out of you, spreading your lips as they enveloped him welcomingly.

Loki groaned, his attention steering towards your breasts as they bounced with each of his rough thrusts. Hungrily, he lowered his face, his cold breath ghosting over your mounts, and sucked your right nipple into his mouth—hard. He nibbled, suckled pulled and bit until the already hardened nub was throbbing with pleasure and need and he repeated the same blissful procedure with your left nipple all the while he kept rutting into you uncontrollably.

“Loki…” You wondered if, in his current state, he would be able to speak. As of right now, he indeed reminded you of a wolf who would annihilate anything standing between him and his subject of desire, his prey—you.

Your toes curled, the promising and numbing sensation growing in your lower abdomen having you scream his name over and over again. You could already feel yourself clenching around him, your body urging him on to mark you with his seed and impregnate you and when he finally released himself into you, burying his cock as deep inside of you as was physically possible and coating your walls with his load, he triggered your own release.

You came with a loud moan, feeling him twitch against you as your pussy contracted around him again and again until you collapsed underneath him, spent and tired from his vigorous fucking. Loki, on the other hand, didn’t even think about letting you be. Unceremoniously, he pulled you on his lap so you came to snuggle up against his cold and naked chest, your face hidden in his neck. He supported himself by leaning against the metal wall, his cock still resting deep inside of you.

“How… are you… feeling?” You breathed out, barely able to keep your eyes open. Being taken thoroughly by a Frost Giant had been a lot more exhausting than you had initially assumed.

He was panting, his eyes almost shut. His erection inside you, however, was still very prominent and nowhere near ebbing down.

“Better… soon.” He growled into your ear. Soon? A high-pitched scream escaped your lips when he sank his teeth into your neck and bit down hard enough to make you squirm on his lap. You could still feel his ice cold sperm dribbling out of you and coating his own cock when he grabbed your arse and began moving you up and down his cold rut, forcing you to ride him.

“Oh… fuck…” You choked out. You were tender already, sensitive to the touch. This was too much, too soon. Yet Loki was too caught up in his pleasure and urges to give you a break. He took you several more times that night, eliciting orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from you—until you were on the verge of passing out.

You awoke with a hunger unlike one you had never experienced before. Irritated, you crawled out of bed—using the toilet but skipping your morning routine to get to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. It was only seven. Loki had not… released you until half past six. There was no way your body could have drawn enough rest from this meagre hour of sleep.

Be that as it may—for now, you were hungry. Quietly, you tiptoed into the kitchen, ignoring the sweet ache and tenderness between your legs and resisting the urge to cup yourself through your pyjama bottoms. The white and bright light of the fridge blinded you when you opened it and reached for a package of juice and one of those pre-packed turkey sandwiches Tony kept buying. Unceremoniously, you then closed the fridge with your butt and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. And you kept returning to the fridge until Steve joined you in the kitchen to have a cup of coffee and then go for a run. When had you ever been this hungry before? Was it because of the aggressive sex you had had with Loki? Jesus…

You blushed when Steve asked you how you had slept—and you were rather grateful you had been smart enough to switch off the security cameras before… helping Loki out. He had still been in his Jötun form when you left at long last but he had looked content and… satisfied, in the most carnal manner possible. You would wait until the rest of the Avengers were up to check on him, to not raise any suspicion.

So when Thor staggered into the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face, you nearly jumped from your seat.

“Good morning!” He yelled—clearly in a very good mood. He managed to scarf down an entire package of fruit loops before you couldn’t take it anymore and aggressively scratched your fork over your empty plate until the room went awkwardly quiet.

“Didn’t you forget something?” You asked him heatedly. The God of Thunder frowned.

“No! I did flush the toilet this morning, (Y/N).”

Rolling your eyes, you stood.

“Loki. Loki is still one level below you, locked up in a cell, in pain, while you are enjoying your breakfast.” You hoped though, sincerely, that he was no longer in pain.

“(Y/N)… we spoke about this, there is nothing we can do. Down there, he can’t hurt himself or anyone else. I told you I’m going to Asgard soon, I will speak to—”

It was in this moment that your plate broke in half. You had, subconsciously, used your fork to stab it so forcefully it fell apart like a rotten apple. Eyes widening, you mumbled an apology.

“Sorry… I just… no one should be suffering like this. You all heard him last night.”

Bruce gave you a gentle smile. “You’ve always had a big heart for everyone, huh?” You nodded quickly. They did not need to know about your feelings… or the arousing ache between your legs. Your heart was racing. You took a deep breath, hurrying out of the kitchen without cleaning up behind you. Instead, you immediately locked yourself in the bathroom and turned on the tap to splash some cold water on your face. The icy temperature calmed you once it came in contact with your skin, reminding you of him—if only for a moment.

You were shaking. What on Earth was wrong with you? You took a quick shower to wind down, threw on an oversized sweater and then headed downstairs to the prison cells. A glance at the monitor of the security camera made you let out a relieved breath. Loki had indeed gone back to his Aesir form—and he did no longer seem to be in pain. It was, so you wondered, very unusual, however, to not complain and wreak havoc so the Avengers would let him out but then again… would they truly believe him if he told them he had overcome his heat?

With another deep breath, you opened the cell door and slipped inside.

“You were not supposed to see me like this last night. No one was.” He said quietly before you could even open your mouth, not bothering to make eye contact with you.

“Did you know? What was happening to you?”

“Yes.” He snorted, a bitter smile spreading on his thin lips. “I believed I would be able to control it.” Finally, he looked up, his blue eyes locking with yours. “Did I hurt you?” Your lips parted in surprise. Slowly, you shook your head.

“No… I mean… it was quite pleasurable… for me as well… actually.” You choked out sheepishly.

“Hmm… that I could tell,” Loki gave you a light smirk. “Thank you.” He said then—and for the first time since you had met him, you sensed true honesty and sincerity in his smooth voice.

“I’ll leave the door open.” You returned his smile; the planes in your belly flying loops.

“We are… keeping this between us, are we not?” He hastened to ask when you turned around.

“Of course.” After all, no one needed to know you had let Loki mate with you to regain control over his loins.

It was five days after your intimate encounter with Loki when your constant shaking became worse enough for him to notice—and if that wasn’t bad enough already, your body had begun to sweat; a lot. Day in and out, you had to change your sheets as if your bed was your personal sauna—or your personal hell.

You felt like you had been hit by a bus, like an extremely nasty form of the flu had you in its steel grip tightly, unwilling to let you go. Sleep, however, to get some rest and recover, would not come either. Two hours per night at most, three if you got lucky. And instead of getting better, it became worse.

He had been restless ever since. It could not be. After all, it had also never… or had it? Growling to himself, he locked the door to his room, enjoying the quietness and most of all, utter privacy.

Not a soul in the nine realms was aware he was still in the possession of the Tesseract. So when he produced it out of thin air—his large hand momentarily surrounded by a green mist—he made sure to hurry and quickly teleported himself back to Asgard. Heimdall would never open the Bifrost for him if he wasn’t accompanied by Thor.

He was worried about you and his surprise about these particular circumstances was remarkably low. When he closed his eyes, he could still taste your hard nipples on his tongue from when he had suckled on them. He remembered how warm your body felt against his when he had cradled you in his lap and the thought of your tight cunt around his throbbing cock stirred arousal in his leather trousers if only he indulged in reminiscences for too long. Most of all, however, he was unable to forget the sincere smile on your face when you had freed him from the cell the next day… and the mesmerised gaze you had met him with when he had ravished your sweet quim over and over again.

With another deep breath, he disappeared in an ice cold cloud of smoke.

Sneaking past the guards and into the palace library—the one place he had spent hours on end in growing up here, hiding away from Thor, his friends and the world, reading and hoarding knowledge—was pathetically easy. He knew exactly what to look for, what lecture would confirm his worrying suspicions. Once he found what he had been searching, he sat down on the windowsill—another usual spot he found comfort in—and began his research. He had known about the impact of a male Jötun’s seed on his female counterpart, of course; for even though he despised his own race, he, as opposed to Thor, had paid attention during their private tutoring lessons as children. The heavy book in his hands, however, made him, the God of Mischief and Trickery, hold his breath. What Loki had not known was that the repercussion of a male Jötun’s seed did not just occur in Jötun females. It applied to any species—including humans. However, the chances of survival for weaker lifeforms were alarmingly low.

Abandoning the book, he hurried out of the library and into the city. There was someone he needed to speak to.

“With all due respect, my prince but you are not welcome here.” Loki rolled his eyes. He knew it would not be fun, exactly, to seek out his ex-partners and ask about their well-being long after he had left them. The man opening him when he knocked on Sigyn’s door, a woman he had been engaged with for several years in his youth, was about as tall as Thor—his right hand decorated with a golden ring. Husband. Just great. And, judging by his obvious dismay of finding him on his doorstep, she must have told him about their shared past.

“I need to speak to your wife. Urgently. That is an order.” Sigyn’s husband growled, clenching his fists but stepped aside regardless. Loki made sure not to pay any attention to the furniture and his surroundings. Toys were scattered all across the living room, hinting that Sigyn had become both wife and mother in his absence. Her face fell when she spotted Loki standing in the middle of the small room—truly like he would even have preferred Helheim over being here of all places—as pale as a ghost.

“Loki… I mean… your highness. What… brings you here?”

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Um… by all means. Sit down. Would you like some ale?”

“No.” Sigyn pointed at the rectangular kitchen table and then sat down opposite of him. Her hands were folded on the surface of the polished wood.

“It is good to see you.”

“Likewise… Now this will sound odd,” he began unceremoniously, ignoring her husband towering above him with his arms crossed. “But I have to know how you fared after we separated. Not… emotionally. Physically.” He emphasised.

“Physically? That is indeed odd. Oh, I… um… let me see, it’s been such a long time. I had quite an appetite after you left,” she laughed, clearly uncomfortable with his presence. Loki sighed.

“An appetite. What more than that?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Except… yes, of course! I fell ill a few days after. The healers never found out what my body was rebelling against. It lasted for a few months. Tiredness, insomnia, attacks of sweat and I could not stop shaking. Why do you ask? Did you… did you experience it too?”

“No,” he replied quickly, a nauseous feeling spreading in his guts. You were showing the exact same symptoms. Symptoms of addiction. “You said it lasted for a few months?”

“I am sorry, your highness but is there a point to this interrogation? My wife has to feed the baby.”

“We’re almost done.” He barked, glaring at Sigyn’s husband from the corner of his eye.

“It did,” Sigyn confirmed. “But then it never returned.”

“Thank you. That will be all.” Loki took a deep breath and stood, resisting the urge to massage the bridge of his nose to clear his thoughts. It was only when he turned on his heel to leave this way too harmonic place that he noticed Sigyn’s husband had left the door open for him. He rolled his eyes.

“Loki! I-I mean, your highness…”

“Loki is fine, Sigyn. We have seen each other naked, after all.” Beside him, he could practically hear her husband gnashing his teeth. He smirked.

“I understand you do not wish to share with me what troubles you but whatever it is, I hope everything will turn out to be alright.”

Loki gave her a smile. It was as honest as he could muster in this tense situation. Sigyn had always known when he was being plagued by dark sorrows, even before he learned about his true parentage. Much like you. You too had been able to tell he had been unwell, both physically and mentally. He swallowed thickly.

“Thank you, Sigyn.”

He had to see Amora, too. They had not exactly gone separate ways peacefully but if she had experienced the same symptoms as Sigyn after their break-up, he had to get back to you immediately. And he had to tell you. The truth, a luxury given his nature, was the very least you deserved.

“Where have you been?” Thor roared as soon as he entered the kitchen to pick up one of those cold drinking chocolates you had introduced him to a while back—the ridiculous amount of sugar would help you, if only for a moment. The presence of Tony, Nat, Bucky, Steve and Thor, leaning against the counter or sitting at the kitchen table, he ignored as best as he could. He would have preferred to be alone now.

Loki quirked his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Asgard, given that you were unwilling to get help yourself.”

“How? Heimdall wouldn’t…”

“There is a lot Heimdall does not know, brother.” Thor grumbled something he did not understand but it sounded awfully like a curse word in Old Norse.

“Whatever. Have you seen (Y/N)? Her room is down the same hallways as yours, has she left her room lately?” Tony barked at him.

“As far as I am concerned, she has Vision bring her excessive amounts of food, for she is too weak to come to the kitchen herself. No. I have not seen her around.” He replied nonchalantly, with false disinterest. This time, so it seemed, however, his choice of tone, equalled shooting himself in the foot.

“We need to get her to the hospital. None of the medicines I gave her worked even a little bit—and I contacted the best doctors I know.” Loki suppressed a scoff. As if a hospital full of human ‘doctors’ would be able to help you. The only one who could… was he.

“For Fuck’s sake, she has been feeling ill ever since…” Tony’s face fell. “Ever since we locked up your brother.” Belligerently, his gaze wandered over to Loki again. “Okay, Reindeer Games, what did you do to her and don’t even try to lie to me!”

“You do assume, automatically, that I have something to do with it?” He mocked. Tony clenched his fists.

“Loki,” Thor added calmly. “Do you… know something?” The God of Mischief sighed. If he told them, what little trust they had in his capabilities as an Avenger would vaporise like smoke. It mattered not. In fact, he could not care less if any of those self-proclaimed heroes even liked him. Yet if he spoke the truth… surely they would do anything in their power to keep you away from him—which was exactly what they could not do if they wanted you to survive and feel better again as much as he did. He could just take care of the problem on his own… sooner or later, however, they were bound to find out about their intimate encounters, and he was beyond keeping secrets like that. If he wanted to make love to you, then he would, may the Norns help him.

“It is… my seed.” He choked out reluctantly.

“Your… what!? Your… yeah, no, I can’t say that out loud without throwing up… is making her sick!?”

“The seed of a male Jötun is causing… an addiction. Withdrawal will make her weak and ill.” Loki looked up grimly. “Frost Giants live in strictly monogamous relationships.”

“What, like penguins? How did she even come in contact with… did you… did you rape her? I swear to God, I will kill you.”

“I did not lay a finger on her.” Loki replied darkly.

Tony threw his hands up in the air. “So how did your happy juice get inside of her in the first place then!? How did that happen, I wonder?”

“She came to me voluntarily, Stark!”

“But you knew? If you knew it would make her sick, why didn’t you stop her, you selfish asshole!?”

“How!? How, Stark!? Resisting the urge to mate in heat is like attempting to suppress a sneeze. It’s impossible. Don’t bother your pathetic human mind with things you do not understand.”

“Loki…” Thor began warningly. The God of Mischief ignored him with a hostile growl.

“(Y/N) would never do that.” Tony said then.

“Perhaps you do not know her as well as you thought you do.”

“You little shit, I will…” Tony jumped from his chair as if stung by an adder, prompting Loki to draw one of his daggers seemingly out of nowhere when he started at him. Both Natasha and Steve barely managed to hold him back.

“Leave it, Tony. This is Loki. He is just trying to provoke you.” Nat appeased.

Just this one time, however, they were wrong. Loki did, in fact, care about you. It was just he had not realised that until you had willingly offered your body to him when he had been in pain. Glaring at them darkly, he rose from his chair.

“I am going to fix this.” He spat. It almost sounded like a threat. “Not for you. I could watch you drop dead to my feet without so much as blinking. But for her.” Fuming, he stormed out, his right fist still clutching at his dagger in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. And as of right now, Thor knew better than to stop him.

He needed to see you. Remorse and guilt were eating him up from the inside out—and it wasn’t just the fact you had helped him in spite of everything he had done to Midgard only a few years back. It was… you were… Loki closed his eyes for a brief moment. You were his.

When he knocked on your door, there was no response. Now there was a chance you were asleep, yet he somehow knew better than to leave and try again later as to not startle you. After all… he was going to make you feel better.

He slipped inside, locking the door behind him with magic so you would not be disturbed. The sight of you almost broke his heart. You were trembling, buried under a pile of blankets, pale and weak.

“(Y/N)…” He spoke with a quiet voice, approaching you slowly. Your eyes opened when you heard his voice, your weak body barely managing to turn over to look at him. A cough escaped your lips before you could answer him.

“Hey…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” You tried for a laugh but could only manage another cough. With a straight face, he sat down on the edge of the bed so he was able to bring his palm to your forehead. You were incredibly warm, yet the sweat made your skin cold to the touch. His heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he was worried you only had a few weeks left until your body gave up fighting the withdrawal. He would not, ever let this happen.

“I brought you some cold drinking chocolate.”

“Oh…” You chuckled weakly. “Thank you. Is that the only reason you came?”

“No,” he laughed. “I came to check on you.”

“An eye for an eye, huh?” Your eyes fell shut when you smiled.

“Hmm… I’m afraid it is a little more complicated than that.” He purred. You never noticed how his eyes fell on your crotch, even if it was covered by a bunch of blankets. Slowly but determined, he slid his left hand under the layers of fabric until he found what he was searching for. With skilled fingers, he began to massage your clit until he felt you responding to his attentive touches. You arched your back, your sex growing wetter and wetter fast—like your body knew exactly what would follow. Licking his lips, he scooped some of it up to spread all over your quim and create even more friction. You were squirming by the time he removed the blankets entirely and positioned himself between your legs, careful not to shift all of his body weight onto you.

Was he going to… did he… could he possibly… reciprocate your feelings? Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies awakening in your belly. If only you could…

“Loki… Loki, I… I really want to do this again too but… not now, I’m… I really don’t feel well.”

“Shhh…” He would ponder over your words later. You wanted to do this again too? Had it not just be compassion and pity that had driven you to offer him your most intimate parts for relief? And what if you refused him now? You had to trust him. So he shut you up by pressing his lips against yours, capturing them in a passionate kiss and then, once again slowly but determined, removed the blankets and peeled your pyjama from you until he had you naked—fine, he had helped with magic; and he was certainly too impatient to remove his own clothes, so instead contented himself with freeing his growing erection from his trousers only.

A whimper escaped your lips when you caught sight of his arousal, his tip—not blue but the colour of flesh this time—pressing against your entrance. He slid inside you to the hilt with almost no resistance, your warm pussy welcoming him in. Loki moaned when your walls gripped him tightly; it was like your body already knew his release would make it feel better. Only this time, he was in control. This time, he would take his time and make gentle love to you—right until you began to tremble underneath him for entirely different reasons.

Your eyes fell shut when Loki started moving, retreating almost completely only to plunge back deep inside of you fast and passionately. You were too weak to buck your hips, as much as you would have loved to. And despite your weariness, he felt incredible. You were unable to decide which form of his you liked better.

You kissed him again when his nose brushed against yours and his breath tickled your lips, bathing in the intimacy between you. But when he slid his hand down to where your bodies were united to pamper your clit all the while speeding up, hungry for his release, you stopped him, albeit gently.

“I… I don’t think I can, I’m too… but I… it’s okay.” You murmured. “Cum.”

It was a request he could not resist, not any longer. Thrusting forward a few more times, his release was beginning to overwhelm him. He groaned into your ear, his hot breath brushing against your cheek, and let his climax consume him. He was throbbing against your walls, his seed—surprisingly warm and not as cold as it had been the first time—filling you to the brim and until you could feel it dribbling out of you again. Loki stilled, turning you over so you both rested on the mattress on your sides, with his slowly softening cock still inside of you and one of your legs draped over his hips. One heartbeat passed, then another and another. And just like that… you felt like you had been reborn.

“How… I feel so much better.” Loki kept silent. Remorse was sparkling in his blue eyes. Avoiding your curious gaze, he looked down, with a start fascinated with the blue roses on your bed sheets.

“Loki?”

“You did fail to read all of it, did you not?” He stated quietly.

“What… what do you mean?”

“The book you took from my shelf. I looked it up when you got worse. It wasn’t until I left for Asgard that I realised why our… sexual encounter is making you ill.”

“I… wait… Does that mean you believe it has something to do with you? I mean… what we did? Is it… I’m not pregnant, am I!?”

“No. You are not.” He smirked at you weakly. “That, I would have sensed already. No… I’m afraid it is a little more complicated. Frost Giants live in strictly monogamous relationships. They never… switch their partners once they mated during their first heat. If they do…” Loki took a deep breath. “It appears that the seed of a Frost Giant triggers some sort of… addiction for their female partner. They develop a carnal craving for their seed which forces them to keep returning for… more.”

Biologically speaking, this was a downright bulletproof way of ensuring the survival of a species—the Jötuns’ own bodies turning against them and demanding sex. The gravity of his words, however, hit you only a moment later. So this was why you had been feeling so sick lately. You were showing signs of… addiction. Your body had become addicted to Loki’s seed. You swallowed thickly.

“I-is there… is there a way to stop this?”

“I went to speak to my former partners back on Asgard—which, to be frank, does not just sound like a disaster. But I needed to know if they experienced any symptoms similar to yours when we… separated.” You ignored the painful sting in your heart when he said ‘former partners’. Of course Loki had had sex before, had perhaps even been in love. He did not strike you as the type of Norse God who was unexperienced in the art of love making. After all, he had more than just proved this to you. It mattered not, not now.

“And… did they?” You probed nervously.

Loki nodded seriously. “They were both bedridden for months, plagued by uncontrollable trembling and sweating. Their appetite increased, they ate twice as much than they usually would without ever feeling truly full… and they barely slept anymore, tossing and turning for most of the night. Amora added she became increasingly violent as well. They, of course, believed it was a virus which would pass, eventually.” Terrified, you remembered how you had broken your plate in the kitchen the night after your lovemaking. It all made sense now.

But you did not dare ask what this meant. When dreaming of having a relationship with Loki, you had not imaged a partnership out of physical and sexual necessity which would feel like a chore to him; like an obligation now that you had helped him out, after all.

“But they were Asgardian.” He suddenly said, pausing to let his words sink in. “You are human. You are mortal. I am uncertain you would survive…” If I stopped having sex with you. Is that what he had meant to say before he stopped himself abruptly?

Taking a deep and shaky breath, you gathered all of your courage, as weak as it may be.

“This is all my own fault, Loki.”

“It is not—“

“N-no, let me speak. It’s my fault. You couldn’t help it. And I came to you on my own accord. But…” You swallowed. “Even if I had known, I still would have helped you.”

The God of Mischief frowned when you reached for his hand and held it—but it was a downright vulnerable expression.

“Loki… I’m not going to expect you to keep having sex with me if you don’t… I mean…” It was then he began to smirk cheekily.

“And if I do?” Loki had truthfully speaking always been a puzzle—always keeping his deepest thoughts and feelings all to himself. Until now. So he did reciprocate your feelings.

“Y-you do?” His smirk widened.

“It… does get better after a while, once the pair is more acquainted to each other’s bodies,” he continued. “And they are then able to spend more time apart without any signs of withdrawal showing. Ultimately, however, once the male Jötun claimed her, the female is bound to him… if he decides to keep her.”

Despite your weakness, you raised an eyebrow. “That sounds pretty sexist, Lokes.” Loki looked up. His heart jumped when you gave him a nickname.

“Sexist? No. Dominant? Yes.” He growled darkly.

“You’re right. It’s probably not sexist given that male Frost Giants go into heat.” You giggled in response. Loki tickled your sides for that remark, making you wriggle around on the bed. If your hunch was not deceiving your love-drunken mind, then the God of Mischief had just begun to court you.

“Loki?” You mused, raising your voice in a shy manner.

“Hmm?”

“I think I feel fit enough now to have an orgasm.”

The God of Mischief laughed—as heartily as you had never heard him laugh before. “Do you now?”

Next thing you knew he was already on top of you again, covering your naked body with tender kisses.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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