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rebeccccccaaa · 4 years ago

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𝔻𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕖𝕤

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ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen. (this was requested)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Dub-Con/Non-Con as per usual with sex pollens fics (although i try to write them as consensual as possible :T) Smut obvi (18+ minors dni), slight daddy kink, age gap?, public male masturbation; it's brief but still

TW: very brief mention of possible suicide

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hot

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“Where are those daisies we collected from the last mission?” Tony asked you, eyes staying glued to the hologram in front of him.

“I left them on the quinjet. Fury said to wait for transportation until Shield confirms safety. It’s literally in a glass case, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes, making the older man laugh.

“Just protocol, kid,” he snickered.

Meanwhile Bucky sat with Steve eating lunch, chatting it up like old men do.

“So what did you bring back from the last mission? I saw a bunch of agents in hazmat suits,” Steve said sipping his coffee.

“Uh, well Thor said we should bring some plants back for research, but it seems like a bunch of normal lookin’ daisies,” Bucky shrugged.

“Y/n loves daisies,” Steve smirked.

“Ok?”

“And you love Y/n,” Steve teased.

“No I don’t-”

“Hey boys!” you skipped past the kitchen.

“Y/n,” Bucky said standing up with a big goofy smile on his face.

“Where ‘ya going?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Quinjet. Fury gave us the go to start doing tests on that plant you brought the other day,” you smiled lightly jogging to the runway.

“Why don't you ask her on a date, Buck,” Steve nudged.

“Come on, she’s way too smart to go out with a dumbass like me,” Bucky joked.

“Seriously.”

“I don’t know. It’s been years since I’ve talked to another woman. It doesn’t come naturally anymore. Wha- what’s even the first I’d say to her?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m on the same boat with you. Just… Tell how nice she looks today when she comes back.”

“Really?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Yeah, be nice to her.”

“I am nice to her.”

“I mean be extra nice. Flatter her,” Steve told him, “Go wait in the lab until she comes back and tell her she looks pretty today.”

“Isn’t Tony in the lab?” Bucky asked.

“Ha ha, yeah,” Steve teased, patting his back before leaving to his room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony mumbled seeing Bucky waltzing in the room awkwardly.

“Nothing,” he mumbled back.

Tony dropped his hands and stared at Bucky with an unimpressed look on his face. Everyone but you knew about Barnes’ little boy crush on you but he’s never had the balls to say anything. You were close to Tony and seeing as though he doesn’t particularly like Bucky, he didn’t want you hanging around him. But you were an adult so of course you hung out with whoever you wanted.

He was sure you liked him back too which never ceased to make him roll his eyes.

You walked back from the quinjet with the glass container of daisies. You weren’t exactly a plant expert but it was apparent that these daisies were mutated seeing as though the pollen swirled around the flowers gracefully. It was beautiful but then again they might be extremely dangerous considering it was a Hydra experiment.

“Hey Y/n, off to the lab again?” Steve smiled.

“Yup, gotta check these babies out according to Thor; said they might be dangerous if they’re what he thinks they are,” you said, still walking.

“And what’s that?” you just shrugged at his question unsure of the answer yourself.

“Well, Bucky’s waiting for you in the lab,” he slipped in the conversation.

“Really? Why’s-” Crash!

“Oh no,” Tony mumbled, seeing the collision in action.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you stuttered.

“No, no. I should be sorry. Here let me help,” bucky knelt to the ground grabbed the fallen daisies with his bare hands.

“No! Don’t touch-” Tony shouted practically sprinting towards you two.

The golden pollen swirled in a misty manner engulfing Bucky completely. You stared with furrowed brows confused at the sight before you and what was going on. Bucky’s skin began to burn and his senses were being overloaded. All he could smell in that moment was you; the same scent that he got a whiff of this morning when he hugged you, the perfume and the shampoo that filled his senses when you walked passed him.

Tony pushed you out of the lab roughly throwing you in Steve’s arms who was just as confused.

“FRIDAY,” Tony called out.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” the familiar voice answered.

“Lock all the doors to the lab and maybe turn on the a/c,” he commanded.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

All the glass walls and doors instantly shut and locked, locking Bucky inside. Bucky’s eyes found your and slammed his body against the glass desperately trying to reach you. You too ran up to the glass wall trying to understand what had happened to him. Everything was happening so suddenly.

Your forehead was pressed against the glass as was Bucky’s; both of you staring into each other’s eyes momentarily. In that moment, you could see his eyes turn golden for a quick second before his pupils dilated ridiculously before your eyes.

“Is he going to be ok?” you turned away.

“Y/n! Please!” Bucky’s muffled screams shocked you.

“Uh… where’s Thor?” Tony panicked.

“What the hell is happening?” Nat asked; Sam, Wanda, and Vision trailing behind closely.

“Nat,” you ran to her.

“What happened to Bucky?” Same asked.

“He- I ran- I ran into him by a-accident and the box dropped. There was mist everywhere and Bucky's eyes. His eyes,” you stammered breathlessly.

“Please! I need her!” Bucky hit the glass in an attempt to break it.

“Oh my goodness,” Wanda gasped at the sweaty Bucky hitting and practically going feral.

“Oh god, is he gonna be ok?” you teared up. This is your fault, dammit.

“I can asure he will experience no physical harm,” Thor’s voice made all of you turn around.

“Just physically? What the hell does that mean?” Sam argued.

“Well, uh… I’ve never actually seen it’s effects in person. Especially not on a Midguardian…” his voice trailed off and his eyes grew big.

Nat snapped her head, eyes widening as well. Bucky with absolutely no shame held his hard dick in his hands pumping it with his eyes trained on you. You went to turn around seeing nat’s expression but she covered you eyes before you could actually see the lewd behavior Bucky indulged in.

“What’s happening?” you asked holding onto Nat as she led across the room.

“Nothing, they’re gonna take care of Buck. Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly.

You sat in your room bouncing your leg as the movie on your TV played. Every now and then Bucky would moan and cry particularly loud making all of you wince and cringe. But your mind felt foggy simply thinking about Bucky and his safety; especially that moment when his eyes went from confusion to you don’t even know what. Hunger? Desire? Lust?

Whatever it was, it made your tummy flutter.

“Steve, any news on Bucky?” Steve stood at the doorway with a worrisome face that did nothing to ease your already panicked nerves.

“Well, as far as Thor knows the plant that was mutated with the daisies was pollen extracted from a breeding plant common among other galaxies; for species that can’t… reproduce like we do. The pollen enters the system and targets the nociceptors causing excruciating pain without physical harm. If untreated the victim can reach a traumatic state and truthfully, they will do anything to stop the pain; even kill themselves.”

“What the hell does any of that mean?” Sam grunted.

“It means the tin man is painfully horny,” Tony interrupted.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sam said in disbelief.

“What’s the cure?” Nat said.

“Oxytocin, of course,” Tony said.

“The cuddle hormone,” you whispered.

“Yup. Banner and I are already working on a serum containing artificial oxytocin in hopes to minimize the pain or even better cure him completely. We-”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit more complicated than that,” Thor interrupted Tony.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see the pollen, it’s a little tricky. The oxyputin-thingy you mentioned…”

“Oxytocin,” Tony clarified but Thor didn’t care too much.

“I don't think artificial love is going to cure the boy. If you want results, he needs to be the one he desires most. That’s where you’ll get your oxy-pudding.”

“Oxy- You know what, we can figure this out without anyone needing to have sex,” Tony groaned.

“Tony, maybe we shouldn’t-” you started.

“Nope, we can do this. We’re science bros,” Tony stormed away like a child.

“Isn’t your lab being ‘occupied’,” Nat called out.

“Shit!”

Hours went by and the oxytocin experiments were clearly a fail. The first dose did nothing. The second also nothing. The third relieved him for only ten seconds before he went back to his painful state. Since then, they haven’t been able to help or relieve Bucky’s circumstance any longer.

You thought about Thor’s words, about how the one he desires most could cure him. A ping of jealousy struck your heart but you knew you to find the woman Bucky loved and just pray that she'd help him. You made your way back to the lad area where Tony and Bruce had their new makeshift set up while the lab was locked down.

“Tony, this is ridiculous. It’s been going on for too long. You heard what Thor said about what happens when it gets too much,” you begged.

“And what do you suggest we do?” Tony said angrily.

“We need to find the woman that Bucky loves so she can help him,” you argued back.

“It's not just some woman, Y/n! He wants you.”

“What?”

“All the bastard’s been doing for the past eight hours has been masterbating while moaning your name. I’m not putting you in that situation,” Tony yelled.

You couldn’t speak. Was he telling you the truth? Did Bucky want you like that? The same way you secretly wanted him? It’s not like you haven't thought about what being with Bucky would be like before. He was perfect; so handsome and charming.

You ran back to your room where the rest of the guys still were practically out of breath; your heart hammering out of your chest and your stomach fluttering like it does whenever you think about Bucky.

“I need to get to Bucky,” you panted out.

“What?”

“Please you guys need to help me. Tony said that Bucky wants me; I mean can you believe. A guy like him wanting me? I’m just… nobody. He’s way too out of my league and-”

“Y/n, focus,” Nat said.

“Right. I- I want to help him. I know I can.”

“Y/n, we don’t know how dangerous this is. I mean, it came from Hydra, this could be weaponized and you could get hurt,” Steve argued.

“Bucky could never hurt me,” you whispered; Nat looked at you softly, understanding the situation better realizing you were probably Bucky’s only chance of a cure.

“You’re not actually considering letting her do this are you?” Steve scolded Nat.

"Are Tony and Bruce making any progress?" she sighed.

"They haven't been to even relieve his pain for longer than ten seconds," you whispered.

"Steve, this is Bucky we're talking about. Hasn't he endure enough torture in his life?" Nat said softly.

That seemed to convince him. Seeing Bucky in so much pain like he had been only years ago was unfair, especially when they technically already knew a cure. Waiting this out was pure evil at this point.

"How do you suppose we go about this?" he asked.

You devised a plan in order to let Bucky from the lab; he'd find his way to you on his own. Wanda stood from afar using her powers to tamper with the equipment. Tony frustratingly would have to run across the compound to the conference rooms to grab new devices in order to continue with his notes and tests.

On his way back, Steve and his convincing and charming ways would stall Tony's return asking him all sorts of questions about Bucky's state. Meanwhile, Thor made up some excuse to lure Banner away just for a minute so Nat and Sam could override the lockdown through Friday and free Bucky.

All the while you sat in your room waiting anxiously for Bucky to barge through the door and have his way with you.

A few minutes went by and no sign of a ruckus you'd assume would accompany the escape plan. You fiddled with the hem of your skirt biting your lip in anticipation. Still no sign after a couple more minutes. Wanting to make sure you still looked alright for Buck, although he'd probably not even acknowledge your appearance, you stood up to walk to your bathroom.

Just as you stood up, Bucky in all his muscle and broad glory slammed the door behind him staring at you with nothing but desperate hunger. Your stomach flipped when you saw him lock the door, pushing a small chair you had just next to it in front of the door under the handle.

He stalked towards practically panting and you took in his appearance. His hair was quite disheveled and sweat lined his forehead and slightly down his neck. Despite that, he still looked so handsome and sexy.

"маленький, all dressed up for me to ruin," he growled crawling up the bed as you crawled back.

"Buck, are you ok? I want to help you," you whispered.

"I'm more than ok now, beautiful," he whispered leaning into you, his nose brushing against yours, chuckling when you visibly trembled.

"Is my красивый маленький ангел gonna let me use her?" he whispered, huskily.

"Bucky, I don't understand what you're saying."

"так драгоценно," he whispered against your lips before pressing himself completely against you.

His hands, contrast between hot and cold, crept under your shirt brushing lightly over your delicate skin. You had somewhat expected Bucky to have no control and use you relentlessly, of which you wouldn't have minded, but this soft ginger foreplay was really making your panties wet.

Bucky slowly lifted the shirt from your body before tossing it to the side and removing his own. His hands cupped your breasts squeezing the soft flesh quite roughly making you sigh and moan at the feeling.

His lips attached themselves to your neck biting and sucking harshly littering your skin with dark purple marks. He nibbled on your ear as he grinding his pelvis against yours, his large erection poking your center making you even more aroused.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. It smelled just like you," he whispered.

"T- The daisies?"

"I've been craving you, aching for you. Thinking about how good you're gonna feel wrapped around my cock," he panted speeding up his grinding thrusts.

"Buck," you breathed out.

Bucky shuddered over you before stilling for a moment. He couldn't help it, your scent, your warm skin pressed against his, he couldn't hold back anymore coming straight away in his pants.

You brushed his hair softly soothing him from his high. You thought it was over, that he felt better and was finally cured but almost instantly you felt Bucky harden under you, poking between your thighs and you gasped knowing very well it was going to be a long night.

Bucky stood on his knees and pulled your bottoms down your legs nearly ripping the material. He too rid his bottoms throwing them god knows where before climbing back on top of you. You stared adorably up at him and Bucky almost came again. He smiled softly at you before kissing you once more.

Suddenly, loud bangs on your door startled you but not Bucky.

"What the hell are you doing!" Tony screamed.

"Tony, you gotta stop! This is the only way! It's not fair to him to let him keep suffering. He's done enough of that, ok?" Nat shouted.

"She's gonna get hurt," Tony sighed.

"No she won't. This was her idea."

Tony looked back teary eyed. He really cared for you as his own and putting you in a situation like this wasn't fair to you either. He really tried to help but this was just too complicated and too advanced to solve in only a few hours. They were right, Bucky needed you as much as he didn't like that idea too much.

"Fine."

Bucky lined his cock with your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist. Slowly he pushed in pulling moans from you both. You've only had a couple lovers previous to Bucky but neither of them ever filled you so perfectly. Bucky stretched you out like none other and admittedly he wanted to use his fingers on you first but he'd been away for too long it was too painful to go another second without being inside you.

"So tight and warm, little one. Feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

"Buck," you moaned.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer to you as you kissed along his neck and jaw. Bucky moaned breathlessly in your ear and you couldn't help the clenching around him from arousal.

"Fuck, keep doing that, little one," he groaned.

Toy squeezed your thighs together and clenched around him again making him groan louder this time. His thrusts became sporadic and you moved against like a ragdoll unable to keep up with his relentless pace.

Your legs began to shake and your back arched into his chest reaching you first high of the night, gushing all over his cock. You realize he hasn't come and gently push him off you before flipping over to let him take you again from behind.

As expected, Bucky pushed into once again deeper this time and you shuddered under his hand that rested atop your arched back. Bucky smacked and kneaded your ass thrusting in and out. The lewd squelching sound of his thrust mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other echoed in the room.

"Shit, little one. Taking my cock so fucking well," he reached forward and bunch up your hair pulling your head back harshly.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sheets as hard as you could. You were approaching your orgasm quickly and you weren't going to be able to hold back any longer. Your pussy clenched around Bucky's cock making him throw his head back in pleasure.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"You wanna come, darling. You wanna cream all over daddy's cock?"

"Yes! Fuck!" your arms shook before giving out completely; your head buried in the sheets as Bucky continued that same wild and rough pace.

"Please let me come, daddy!"

Your body felt on fire. No one has ever made you feel this good before, it was almost too much, too overwhelming. Tears brimmed your eyes from trying to desperately hold back. You wanted to come with Bucky but seeing as his pace had yet to slow down you were beginning to think he wasn't even close.

"Let go, doll."

Your body squirmed beneath him as you released all over his dick. You came with a near shout, your body violently trembling from the intensity of your high. Bucky slowed his pace for your comfort, gently riding your orgasm slowly down despite his still aching erection.

He languidly rolled you over to your back, his hands softly rubbing your sides up to your breasts. You breathed heavily, eyes feeling droopy, all you could feel in that moment was his cum dripping from you onto the sheets.

Bucky, still knelt on the bed and still chasing his release, lifted your legs over his thighs gripping your hip with one hand and his cock with the other. You squeezed your thighs together when you felt his tip poking at your entrance once again, soft whimpers emitting from you shakily.

"Such a good girl. Gonna let me take you again? Gonna let me keep using you?" he moaned.

"Use me, Buck. I'm all yours," you breathed out.

Bucky pushed himself past your folds once again, your cum easily letting him slide in. Both his hands made home on your hips gripping hardly surely to leave marks for you to remember this very moment. You looked at Bucky as his thrusts slowly began to pick up, bringing your own hands to your breasts to play with your nipples. You twisted the perked buds, moaning softly at the feeling as well as Bucky filling you perfectly once again.

"Filling me up so good, baby," you moaned, arching your back slightly allowing Bucky to hit a newer and deeper angle inside you.

"Pussy was fucking made for me," he growled.

His hand moved from its home on your hip right over your lower belly where he could feel his cock so deep poking his own hand through your tummy.

"Feel how fucking deep I am?"

You moved your hand and he pressed yours in the same spot under his and you moaned loudly, shuddering under him.

His pace quickened and for a moment he thought he was going to finally reach his high, that release he'd been thinking about for hours today, but when he felt you clench again, squeezing his cock tightly and he didn't cum, he knew it was gonna be chase that he didn't know you'd be up for. You gushed all over his dick, back arching and your legs pressing tight around his torso, coming with a loud scream of his name.

Bucky fell forward with tears in his eyes. His skin still felt hot and sticky. His sense felt dialed up to an eleven. It was all so overwhelming and all he wanted was to cum in you and hold you closer whispering how he really loved you. He pressed faint kisses to you equally sticky and warm skin and when you felt warm liquid dripping onto your skin to lift Bucky's head to find him crying.

"What's wrong, baby?"

“I can’t cum. I just wanna cum,” he whined.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I can go as many times as you need me to. I want to help you, let me do that.”

“Can- Can you uh… use your mouth please? I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock so bad,” he moaned.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything for you,” you smirked before pushing him and crawling over him holding his dick in your hand.

Hours and literally hours had passed until Bucky was finally tired out only having cum three times compared to the fifteen-plus times you had. Your bed laid on the ground; the wooden stands snapped about two hours ago. Most of your sheets were torn to shreds and marks littered your body from your neck down to your hips and your knees from, well you know.

Your body shook as you laid in a fetal position. You burned between your thighs; the soreness overwhelming but pleasant at the same time. Sweat made what was left of the sheets stick to your body until Bucky pulled them from you to clean you. He used a warm towel all over your body with tears in his eyes whispering how sorry he was about everything.

“I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m so sorry. I understand if you hate me now; if you never want to see me again. Just know that I’m so sorry about your bed, the blankets, if I hurt you, everything,” he sniffled, eyes and nose red and puffy.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice raspy and croaky from your moaning and screaming all night.

“Y/n,” he whispered back. You pulled him by the back of his neck into a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out when you pulled away. You cupped his face with shaky hands but a smile on your face.

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’ve dreamt about holding you far too many times, more than I’d like to admit. I should’ve told you sooner but like everyone else, I was scared you didn’t like me back; at least not this way,” he rubbed your legs indicating the intimate love he had for you.

“Buck, it’s virtually impossible for anyone not to fall in love with you. Unless they’re Tony,” you giggled as did he.

“Can you say it?” he asked softly.

“That I love you?” you smiled brushing your nose against his; Bucky practically purred as he nodded.

“I love you, James,” you whispered.

“Fuck, I love you too.”

He laid you down softly again on the broken bed pressing light kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. You brushed his hair with your fingers as he clung onto you ready to sleep.

“Thank you again, doll. For helping me today,” he said after a couple minutes of silence.

“Of course, my love. Besides I’m the one who ran into you with those damn daisies.”

“Thank god for them then. And for your clumsiness,” Bucky chuckled.

“Meanie,” you snorted, making Bucky laugh even more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison

@buckybarnes101

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

@stefans-wife

@cordeliaswhore

@fleurlovesbucky

@wandanatasha0720

Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@stolenxkissess

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes smut #marvel smut #marvel fics #bucky barnes x you #sex pollen

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btsqualityy · 3 years ago

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Fools Rush In: Chapter 3

Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Strangers-to-lovers, age gap!AU (reader is 30, Jungkook is 23), Angst, smut, fluff

Summary: You deliver the news to Jungkook and he makes his own decision.

Warnings: None to note.

WC: 2.1K

Two weeks later, you found yourself staring blankly at the large number “25″ that was on the front door of what you had recently found out was Jungkook’s apartment.

You had come to Seoul to compete in the Korea Open so you decided to try and look Jungkook up. You had Yoongi get in touch with some of the organizers of the French Open in order to get his information and luckily, he lived in an apartment right in the city.

Even though you had made the decision to keep the baby and raise them alone if you had to, you did feel as though Jungkook deserved to at least know so that he could make his own decision. That’s why you had been standing in front of his door for the better part of 10 minutes, trying to work up the courage to knock on the damn door.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the front door flew open, almost making your heart beat out of your chest.

“Are you the delivery woman?” A tall, broad shoulder man asked and you shook your head as you lowered your hand.

“No. I’m actually looking for Jeon Jungkook,” you replied.

“Ah, he’s inside,” the man told you. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled, waiting until the man had stepped aside before you walked inside and slipped off your sandals.

“I’m Jin, Jungkook’s roommate,” Jin introduced himself as he shut the front door.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you said.

“Wait, you play tennis right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you nodded.

“I though you looked familiar!” Jin exclaimed, making you laugh. “What are you doing here to see Jungkookie?”

“Uh, I’m just,-”

“Hey hyung, was that the food?” Jungkook asked as he strolled out of his bedroom, walking over to the front door before freezing in his spot when he saw you. “Y/N, hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled, lifting your hand and waving a little.

“What are you doing here?” He wondered as he paced over to you.

“I’m sorry for just popping up like this but I needed to talk to you,” you stated seriously as you looked at him and although you could tell from the raising of his brow that he was confused, he turned to look at Jin.

“Can you give us a second hyung?” Jungkook requested and Jin nodded.

“It was nice meeting you Y/N,” Jin smiled and you nodded to him before he walked away and stepped into another room next to the one that Jungkook had come out of. Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook looked at you again.

“Do you want to come sit down?” He offered, gesturing to the couch.

“Sure, thanks,” you murmured as you walked over to the couch, sitting down on the edge and Jungkook sat himself down next to you.

“So, how have you been?” He wondered. “It’s been like three months since the French Open right?”

“Yeah, and I’ve been ok,” you shrugged. “Just getting ready for the Korea Open.”

“Oh, you’re competing in that?”

“Yep.”

“You’re gonna kill it,” he smiled and you couldn’t help the way that your cheeks warmed up at the praise.

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “What about you, how have you been?”

“Good, good, can’t complain,” he said. “Just been working a lot but that’s it really.”

“Still doing photography?”

“Yeah, that’s what helps pay my half of the bills,” Jungkook laughed. “I’m sure you didn’t come here just to ask me about photography though.”

“I didn’t,” you giggled awkwardly. “So, do you remember the night of the French Open, when we spent the night together?”

“Don’t I?” He smirked. “I was a little miffed that you left without saying goodbye but I figured that the whole “drunken one night stand” thing wasn’t typical for you.”

“It’s not and I’m sorry for that, by the way,” you apologized. “I kind of panicked when I woke up.”

“I get it, don’t worry about it,” he waved his hand dismissively. “But why are you asking if I remember that night?”

“Well, um, I kind of...maybe....might’ve gotten pregnant that night,” you revealed.

“Yeah right,” he laughed loudly. “Be serious Y/N.”

“That’s the terrifying thing Jungkook, I am being serious,” you insisted. “I’m pregnant.” The smile slowly slipped off of Jungkook’s face as he realized that you weren’t joking, and you watched as he abruptly stood up from the couch and began to pace the length of the living room.

“What the fuck?” He muttered. “We used a condom.”

“It had to have broken.”

“You’re a woman that plays sports, wouldn’t you be on birth control?”

“I haven’t been in a committed relationship in two years and I don’t do the whole “one night stand” thing, remember?” You explained.

“You literally disappeared on me and had me wondering if the whole night that we spent together even fucking happened and then suddenly, you show up and tell me that you’re pregnant,” he huffed, pausing his pacing in order to look at you. “I’m just supposed to accept this?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in and it’s out of nowhere,” you began. “It only takes one time though. So yes, I am pregnant and you’re the father. I thought you deserved to know.”

“So does that mean you’re going to keep it?” He questioned and you nodded your head.

“Yes, I am.”

“I don’t think I can be a father right now Y/N,” he sighed, resuming his pacing. “I just graduated from university and I’m up to my eyeballs in fucking debt that I only just started paying back and I’m only 23! I can’t be anyone’s father at 23!”

“Look, you don’t have to be involved,” you said and he stopped in his tracks. “I only came here to tell you. I can raise the baby on my own if I have to.”

“And what, I’m left to be the big bad guy who isn’t in his own kid’s life?”

“Any decision that you make going forward is your own,” you told him. “I didn’t want you to find out somewhere else because I am going to have to go public with my pregnancy eventually, and I didn’t want to keep the baby from you if you did want to be involved. I just wanted to tell you so that you could make an informed decision, that’s all.”

Just then, a door opened and Jin walked back into the living room.

“Hey Jungkook-ah, Taehyung said that he wants to go out for dinner so I canceled takeout, that ok?” Jin asked and it took Jungkook a few seconds to focus before he looked over at his hyung.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jungkook agreed easily.

“I should get going,” you suddenly said, getting up from the couch and reaching into your purse, pulling out a card before walking over to Jungkook and handing it to him. “This has my number and the address of where I’m staying for the next few weeks on it. Take all of the time that you need to think things through and then let me know.”

“Alright,” he replied and you gave him a small, closed mouthed smile before walking to the front door and letting yourself out.

......................................

“Y/N’s pregnant,” Jungkook confessed, two bottles of soju deep into dinner, which caused both Jin’s and Taehyung’s eyes to widen. “And I’m the father.”

“Tennis legend Y/N L/N?” Taehyung asked for confirmation and Jungkook nodded.

“That one.”

“How the hell did you hook up with her?” Jin laughed.

“Met her at the French Open, we talked for a little bit, and then went back to my hotel room,” Jungkook replied. “I woke up the next morning and she was gone so I didn’t think much of it. It was just a one night stand, you know?”

“Is that why she showed up and why you’ve had a bottle of soju in your hands since we got here?” Jin wondered and Jungkook nodded again.

“Yep.”

“Well, are you gonna be involved?” Jin asked.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, yelping when Jin reached over and smacked the back of his head.

“What the hell do you mean, you’re not sure?” Jin scoffed. “You can’t just have a child out in the world that you don’t know.”

“Wait hyung, just because Jungkook consented to sex doesn’t mean that he consented to having a baby,” Taehyung pointed out.

“He consented to the possibility of having a baby when he didn’t protect himself and wrap his dick up,” Jin shot back.

“Actually, I did but it broke,” Jungkook muttered before taking another gulp of soju. “It’s not like I don’t want to be there though. In fact, my first instinct is to call her and tell her that I’ll be there for whatever she needs.”

“What’s stopping you then?” Taehyung questioned.

“She’s just...she’s one of the biggest athletes in the world and she’s gonna go down in history as one of the greats while I’m just a 23 kid who doesn’t even know where my life is going. She has it all together and she doesn’t really need me. Hell, she might even be better off without me.”

“It’s not about if she needs you or not though, it’s about you being there for your child,” Jin told him.

“She said that she could raise the baby alone if she had to,” Jungkook mentioned.

“Just because she can, it doesn’t mean that she should have to,” Jin stated and for some reason, that sentence stuck with Jungkook as he swallowed down the rest of the soju that was in the bottle.

......................................

A few days after you showed up to his apartment, Jungkook couldn’t get you or the baby out of his mind. He never expected to be in this situation at only 23 years old but the more that he thought about it, he realized that he wasn’t completely...afraid of it like he first thought he was.

Sure, he somewhat freaked out when you first told him and then went into catatonic shock afterwards but the more that he thought about it, the easier it became for him to warm up to the idea.

Jungkook always wanted kids and even though the two of you weren’t married and weren’t a traditional couple by any means, he knew that you could be a good mother. You were determined, hardworking, and passionate and those were all qualities that he admired in a person. He figured that if he were going to have an unexpected baby with anyone, then why not it be you?

He was also a person that believed in fate and destiny. If he managed to get you pregnant despite the two of you using protection and you still chose the keep the baby even before knowing if Jungkook was going to be involved or not, it all had to be a part of some larger plan that neither of you were privy to.

In the end, that was the thought that he decided to put trust in and that led to him finding the card that you had given him, dialing your number.

“Hello?” You answered a little breathlessly.

“Y/N, it’s Jungkook,” he said. “Did I call at a bad time?”

“Not at all, I was hitting the ball around with my coach,” you chuckled. “That’s why I’m out of breath.”

“Ah ok,” he nodded. “Well, I just wanted to call you because I’ve been thinking a lot about you and the baby, and I’ve decided that I want to be involved in their life.”

“Really?” You gasped softly.

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t just let you raise them by yourself when you didn’t create them by yourself,” he sighed.

“I don’t want you to feel forced though, Jungkook,” you explained. “I know that this is a weird situation but I don’t want you to resent me or worse, the baby. I meant it when I said that I can do this own my own if need be.”

“Just because you can do it on your own, doesn’t mean that you should,” Jungkook pointed out, echoing what Jin had told him and you just smiled softly to yourself. “You’re gonna have to be patient with me though, because I don’t have the slightest idea of how this whole parenting thing goes.”

“That makes two of us,” you giggled. “But we’ll figure it out together, ok?”

“Alright,” he agreed.

“I have my first doctor’s appointment in three days, on Thursday and you are welcome to come if you want,” you offered.

“You haven’t had a doctor’s appointment yet?”

“I couldn’t get one in the States before I had to leave to come here for the Open so I just figured that I’d wait,” you told him.

“Oh ok. Well, yeah,” he replied. “I’d love to come.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details, ok?”

“Ok. Bye Y/N,” he said.

“Bye Jungkook,” you smiled before hanging up the phone. As Jungkook pulled his phone away from his ear, he couldn’t help but to feel oddly at ease about the whole situation. He felt deep down that everything would be ok, and he just hoped that it actually turned out that way as well.

......................................

Tag List: @mwitsmejk @hey-youre-appreciated @bettyschwallocksyee @jaiuneamesolitaiire @knowlestaehyung @missseoulite @afangirllikeme-blog @fan-ati--c @d-noona @bang-bang-bangtxn @claricedelune @daydreambrliever @dunixxd @unicornbabylover @paperpurple @addictedtohobi @bbtsficrecs @bts-junseagull @eltrain80

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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itsmeevie01 · 4 years ago

Text

A Moment in Time

ok, so. a little disclaimer before we get into the good stuff. Cannon is in no way whatsoever being followed in this. honestly? im not even sure that i REMEBER cannon at this point. that said, cannon is non applicable. at. all.

moving on. YES, i WILL finish B!DBWM stuff eventually. but uh...not today. i just mentally cant. it. will. come. when. my. brain. can. handle. the. world. that. i. had. tailored. for. it.

ALSO this is going to be kinda sporatic, but the goal (not end all be all but) is to have this wrapped in a pretty little package and finished (at least on my end) by the end of february.

and now....onto the stuff you came here for!

---

Marinette was running late to school when she met him. She ran into the boy and stumbled back, flailing to catch herself before she fell. He looked down at her owlishly, before looking around. By the time he had returned his gaze to her, the teen had pulled herself back together. He smiled and nodded at her, before moving to go around. When Marinette had pulled herself together enough to call a short “sorry!”, He was already gone.

That was three weeks ago. Now, she was looking at a picture of their interaction, where it blared on the front page of the newspaper that Jagged had sent her. When Marinette had received the package, she had been confused. Jagged wasn’t supposed to send her another demo for a few weeks. They were still working on singles. When she had opened the box and found five different American publications with her on their front page, the teen designer had shrieked. With shaking hands, she picked up the top one and studied the headline.

HAS BRUCE WAYNE’S WARD FOUND PARISIAN LOVE?

The bold text was catching, sure, but Marinette was caught on WHO it was placing her with. Someone she had never met. The second one had a picture of her next to Jagged at an event, and a picture of the boy next to a blonde girl. The headline wasn’t much better than the first.

TIMELINE OF THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MDC AND THE HEIR TO WAYNE INERPRISES.

The teen snorted. She was starting to see the pattern. Putting the tabloid down the girl moved onto the next one. This one had, once again, a zoomed in picture of the five second interaction between her and a stranger. The title, however, was different than the first two.

ALL OF BRUCE WAYNE’S CHILDREN, AND THE INSIDE SCOOP ON HIS NEWEST DAUGHTER

She squinted, laughter bubbling up a little as she observed the piece of fiction. Whoever the Bruce Wayne was, Marinette hopped that he was able to combat this, because she had no intention of letting this fly.

Tim and Bruce were staring at the pile of papers in mild shock. When Jared had reached out to them in mild panic, they had been confused. His panic had been explained when the rocker had arrived carrying a stack of tabloid literature a foot thick. When he had thunk’d the stack down on Bruce’s desk, the businessman’s shock had been more than notable. When Tim had picked up the first few publications the initial look on his face was mirth, but it quickly morphed into shock, then panic. When he handed the top item to Bruce, the older man frowned. When the second pamphlet made its way to his hands, Bruce paused. His next move was to call the Wayne family lawyers. when he turned back to his old friend, all the faces in the room told the same grim tale of what was to come.

When Tim found out that it was Jared’s niece that he had accidentally run into in the brief moment in Paris, he wasn’t sure whether he should be more stressed by it, or if it was by pure luck. When Bruce’s friend went on to explain that the girl would probably already suing the reports and papers that had published the rumor, the young CEO was impressed. To have a lawyer on hand like that was…surprising, considering that she couldn’t be older than 18.

When he asked the rocker if he thought the girl would let anyone go after her, he laughed. Then, Jared Stone explained that the girl was known in Paris for squishing rumors with surprising efficiency.

That evening, Bruce invited his childhood friend home for dinner, and the star spent the evening telling stories of their capers as children, with Alfred grimacing in agreement with the stories. Partway through dinner, Jared’s phone went off. While the rest of the family tensed, glancing to Alfred, their guest frowned at his phone before rushing to answering. “Hey Little Rocker! How’s Pari- oh. So, Penny was more efficient then I thought she’d be. I- yes I figured that you may want to hear. Do- No! Marinette, what!” here, the man paused, his head cocked to the side, his eyes screwed up in thought. “No luv! Sue them within an inch of their lives! You more then have that right.” Here, the rocker paused before he laughed. “Tell that buzzing bee of yours that she’s a good friend. Alright, Miss Mari. I’ll ring you when I’m back on that side of the Atlantic.” He laughed again, “See you soon, Marinette.” The table stayed quiet, waiting for the man to give an indication on the status of the conversation. “Well, Brucie, expect to hear from my niece in the next few day, or at least, her team of lawyers.” the Wayne patriarch blinked before nodding in hidden surprise.

When the family was talking during patrol that evening, Tim grumbled. The 18-year-old was still taken aback that the press had even seen the momentary interaction almost a month ago. As his brothers listened in, many of them started to make fun of the teen. When Jason tuned in, he dropped in the middle of tale. At his confusion, Tim sighed and started over, again. While the family was laughing over his run-in with the press, the former Robin shook his head and silenced his family. He had a feeling he wouldn’t live this one down for a while.

Originally, Jason had found Tim’s predicament hilarious. Of course, the kid had to have the worst run-ins with the press. Then, he had picked up one of the many tabloids with the story. When he had seen the pictures, all mirth left the resurrected vigilante. The noirette that was looking up at him from the page? Yeah. He knew her. Better than anyone else, actually. With shaking hands, the young man paged to the story. What he found was…illuminating. So. She had been adopted. In France. In Paris. After forcing his lungs to draw breath, Jason pulled out his phone. He had arrangements to make.

The day after Jagged had sent her the gossip rags that were considered journalism, Marinette strode into school with a scowl so ingrained in in her features that anyone who didn’t know her would think the expression was permanent. When she stalked into the Lycée classroom, Chloé grinned at her from where she had settled in the front row. Marinette nodded at her friend as she slid in next to her. Lila came skipping in moments later, a cruel smile playing on her lips, before falling when she saw the bone quaking scowl resting on her nemesis’ face. “oh Marinette! Did something happen? Did…did you anger your parents? Did they find out about all those men?” the other girl huffed before turning to her. Lila froze as she was met with the iciest glare that she had seen in years.

“oh Lila. That’s so cute. It almost sounds like you still think that your little stories affect me at all. That’s…adorable.” The Italian girl shrunk under the younger girl’s stare. Suddenly, she understood why people had been warning her to leave the teen alone. this girl, she was brutal. “lucky for you, you’re not the one I’m after, this time. My lawyers have bigger fish to fry.” The newer addition to the classroom gulped, her throat suddenly very dry. It occurred to her that maybe Marinette had let her take control of the class. After all, if they turn that easily, why would she want them for friends. The smaller girl nodded as she watched the realization run over Lila’s face. Raising her eyebrows, the Eurasian girl motioned her classmate along, sending a cruel smile after her.

Chloé waited until the little liar was gone before giggling at her friend’s reaction to the girl who had become their daily annoyance. “I’m guessing you saw what’s been running in the American news? I thought it wouldn’t take long for you to respond. Are a plethora of lawsuits on the way?” Marinette giggled slightly as her severe demander giving way to the internal glee that was consuming the teen over the sheer chaos that was to come.

When Jason touched down in Paris, he tensed. The atmosphere in the city was less carefree than he remembered. There was an air that actually reminded him of Gotham. Tense. Waiting or the other shoe to drop. The expectation that your day was going to go wrong set from the moment one woke up. Pulling out his phone, the Gotamite looked up the address to the bakery that he had found when digging online. If today went the way he was hoping it would, the bakery would be his only stop for the day. Of course, he didn’t count on Gina.

When she called him over from where she was standing by her bike, Jason had to smile. The woman was part of the reason that he wasn’t still camping out in Gotham, waiting to kill a certain billionaire. Once the spry biker had latched onto his arm, the young man knew that his mission would have to wait just a bit. After all, he owed Gina almost everything he had.

#maribat #sibling!jasonette #platonic jasonette #timari #ml x dc #mlb #bamf marinette #chaotic marinette #oh shit i did a thing #theres more to come #my writing #a moment in time fic

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raindropsbarzy · 5 years ago

Text

motivation*

summary: he always wants you all the time. he just needs a bit motivation to eventually give in

word count: 1973

warning: just a lot of 18+

“stay with me longer, maty”

Mat smiles tenderly at the name you call him as you pepper soft kisses across his jawline and up to his cheekbone. large palm grazing on your naked back, feeling the gentle skin under his fingertips. your thigh drapes over his naked torso, humming a deep sigh of relief when your lips keep touching his skin.

“I can’t baby. I’ve got practice, don’t i?” he replies, feeling your mouth forms into a pout and hears you huff out a disappointed sigh. “but I’ll be back at 4 and give my girl anything she wants. Sounds good?”

he moves his head and looks down at you, kissing the top of your head. Your eyes find their way to meet up with his beautiful ones, melting at the sight of his messy chocolate hair and naked chest on display just for you to see.

“I think i may have gripped your hair way too tight, last night” you decide to ignore his last question and open up another conversation.

with a deep chuckle, his hand moves to place it on your leg, a little bit under the curve of your ass. “I didn’t mind it last night and sure as hell don’t mind it right now.”

your lips curve into an exciting smile as you sit up straight, setting your elbow on the soft mattress to support your weight. “What do you say we recreate of what went down last night?” wiggling your eyebrows at him,

this time he lets out the loud laugh that you adore, shaking his head at how needy you are for him. “Not going to work, y/n. Coach is gonna kill me if I’m running late. Plus, don’t you have work today?”

“Pole dancing class doesn’t start in another four hours. I gave my students a bit more free time, they’re extremely exhausted from the last week’s practice. And i’ll be watching over my bar at around six. No longer than thirty minutes. Luna is coming with me.” You explain it to him, moving your long dark hair to the back as you shuffle under the blanket, watching him smiling at you as he bites his lip.

You smile back at him, “what?”

He gives you a shrug. “My girlfriend is a pole dancer slash pole dancing teacher, and manage one of the most successful bars in New York. Couldn’t ask for a sexier woman.” planting a wet kiss on your exposed neck. “Not to mention, you’re smart as fuck and play volleyball. I hit the jackpot, eh?”

You giggle at him, moving his head away from your skin and grabs the back of his hair. “I hit the jackpot too, baby. Got one of the sexiest men in the NHL who won the Calder trophy and skate like the fucking ‘Flash’.”

“Mhmm, that’s me” he smirks,

“Sooo” you trail off, reaching up to give his shoulders a firm grip, feeling them tense. “I wanna show my boyfriend a little appreciation--”

“Sweetheart, again. as much as i want you to, i can--”

“By giving you a blowjob”

He chokes mid-air after hearing you. Looking up into your eyes and realizing that you’re not playing around. With your naughty smile and seductively licking your upper lip, showing him that you’re not letting him go before he says yes.

As horny as this sounds, he wouldn’t mind being late to the practice because he cannot refuse his girlfriend to suck him.

He stammers a bit, your eyebrow raises at his attempt to say something. Large palms grabbing onto your naked waist as he pulls you closer to him.

“I guess i can tell the team that i overslept this morning.”

That makes you giggle as you slide yourself down to his pants, eyes never looking away from his. Dipping your fingers underneath the waistband of his boxer brief, listening to the sharp breath he takes before closing his eyes to calm himself.

“Good choice, baby.”

you and mat are sitting at the VIP’s booth, celebrating Lee’s birthday party. Few of the boys come with their girlfriends, drinks in their hands as they shamelessly make out with drunk giggles spill out of their mouths, causing a few cheers to erupt from the crowd. You cuddle with mat as he brings both of your legs and places them across his lap. His palm feels warm when he rubs your bare thigh.

“Sooo Y/N” Your eyes snap towards Grace, who has Ander’s arms around her waist pulling her close. “How’s work?”

“Pretty good. My legs are killing me right now actually due to this morning class” You chuckle, unaware of Mat looking at you as you speak. “The students are doing great. They followed my instructions pretty well. None of them break any pole... yet”

The whole table laughs at your statement as you sip your drink. Smiling and lean your temple against the couch, catching Mat’s inflated pupils looking at you adoringly.

“Ever thought about becoming a stripper though, babe?”

Grace’s question--which a joke--quickly pulls Mat out of his thoughts, tearing his eyes away from you and furrows his eyebrows. You, on the other hand, laugh hysterically.

“Grace come on, stop giving my girl crazy ideas! Her man is sitting here, for crying out loud!”

She shrugs her shoulders and gives an innocent smile. “Why not? Strippers make a lot of money”

“That’s true” You agree, wanting to see how he’ll react more.

He looks over at you, not noticing your playful smile as he points a finger. “Hey now missy, stop that.” And looks back at Grace. “Again, she’s my girl. There is no way i’m letting other men seeing her half-naked and shaking her ass in front of anyone” He snakes his arm around you, pulling you even closer.

His best friend, Tito laughs and shakes his head then say “Such a whipped motherfucker.” causing others to agree and laugh,

But Mat doesn’t care. yeah, so what if he’s whipped for you? He loves his girl so much and there is no fucking way he’s okay with old bald men touching his naked girlfriend. Would probably beat them to pulp one by one.

“Down, boy” you giggle, planting a quick kiss on his exposed neck making him shiver. “Let’s get you to relax, yeah? Come with me, baby.”

you swing your legs off of him and get up from the seat, intertwining his hands as he stands as well. Setting his empty glass on the wooden table.

“Be right back, guys. Need to loosen this one up.”

“If by loosen do you mean ‘fucking in public bathroom’?”

Honestly, you don’t know who says it but it makes you cackle. As a response, you throw a middle finger and hear the table cheer for it.

“Go get some, Barz!”

He laughs, slapping Tito’s shoulder. “i always do, man.”

And with that, you guide him to the restroom through a sea of dancing sweaty bodies. His eyes glued to your ass the whole time you walk in front of him. the small tight black dress compliments your figure, especially from this view. His teeth catch his bottom lip, chewing on it.

��Damn” He lets out, not having any more self-control he pulls you in so your back hits his chest, hearing you yelp.

“Easy, tiger. we almost made it.”

He hums, placing both of his hands on your stomach. Feeling himself growing hard as your plump ass brushing against the material of his jeans. “Can’t. You’re looking so hot tonight, i can’t control it.”

A soft giggle sputters from your lip as he attaches his mouth on your neck. Pushing the bathroom door open and quickly lock it so no one can get it.

“We have to be quick, okay?”

Mat spins you around and lifts you from the ground, placing you on the bathroom sink. Moving his mouth to yours, making out with you sloppily “Quick? I can be quick” He mumbles against your soft red lips, long fingers digging the inside of your thighs and spreading them open.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, feeling eager for his touch. He hikes your dress up, just enough for him to pull your panties down. removing his mouth from you and shift his eyes down. Groaning softly at the sight of your glistening pussy.

“Fuck you’re so wet. Trying to kill me are you?” He breathes out a laugh and a smile plaster on his face.

“Maybe so” You tease, biting your lip as you lean back a little. Watching your boyfriend unbuckling his belt and pull his hard shaft out of the briefs, pumping it fast while you tease him more by circling your clit at a soft pace.

His other hand grips onto your waist and stepping closer. “Move your hand baby”

You oblige and extract your hand from your wet mound. Getting wetter at the view of your boyfriend pumping his long hard cock, grunting deeply before slipping the tip inside you.

The two of you sigh in pleasure, your eyes fall shut as he thrust in the entire length inside you. “Holy fuck you’re so tight.”

When he’s fully inside you, both his hands firmly grip your waist and start thrusting in and out, causing moans to keep falling out of your mouth. His eyes move to look at you. Tapping his thumb against your chin,

“Look at me, baby”

Though it’s a struggle, you manage to open your eyes and find him already staring back at yours. Hissing and moaning every time he thrusts faster into your pussy, the sound of skin slapping fill the entire bathroom.

“That’s it. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you baby?” He praises with a smirk, a loose curl falling over his forehead as he watches you tremble. “Taking me so good tonight. Know exactly how to make me happy.”

“Oh fuck, Mat” you moan out his name, throwing your head back in pleasure. That encourages him to go even faster on pounding your pussy, grunting loudly. “Fuck me so good.”

“Yeah?” He removes a strand of hair from your face and his hand moves down to pull your tits out of the dress, quickly latching his mouth around your nipple. Sucking and gently biting the sensitive area.

“Right there, baby. Don’t stop, fuck!” You beg. Grabbing onto one of his broad shoulders, holding tight to it as he keeps going hard.

His eyes look up to you, keeping your head fall back and jaw drops open due to the ultimate pleasures he’s giving you. Makes him so cocky and burst out in pride seeing his girl writhing under his touch. “Gonna cum baby?”

You can only nod your head and mutters out ‘uh-huh’ as you ball your fists tightly, feeling your legs beginning to be sore and about to reach your high.

“Me too.” He hums out, standing back straight and watches your entire body responding perfectly to the thrusts he’s giving you. “i-i’m cumming”

After a few thrusts, he then groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and release his warm load inside of you, knowing you on the pill he feels relieved,

You follow soon after, clenching your stomach as you explode all over his cock. coating it with your cum.

He pants heavily, slowly pulling away from you as he sees you trying to recover from everything. Chest glisten with drops of sweat and breasts still out, noticing the few red marks around the areola,

Chuckling deeply soon as you open your eyes look at him. Giving him a tired yet satisfied smirk, making him lean down and give you a wet sloppy kiss before pulling away completely to help you clean yourself and tuck himself back into his pants.

“I’m one lucky, whipped motherfucker, all right.”

omg this suck i apologize, it’s 2 am from where i live lmao

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #nhl imagine #hockey players #hockey imagine #ny islanders #new york islanders imagine #barzy

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wickedmilo · 4 years ago

Photo

HYPOTHETICALLY | MILO & MORGAN

PLACE: Outside White Crest University TIMING: 10:05 PM SUMMARY: Milo approaches his old professor to ask her some suspiciously specific but definitely ‘hypothetical’ questions WRITING PARTNER: @mor-beck-more-problems CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug mentions, addiction mentions, mild references to PTSD

Milo felt a little ridiculous. It was beyond stupid to assume any professor had knowledge of the supernatural beyond what was taught on the curriculum, but he had been spending a lot of time around the university building due to his newfound friendship with Orion. And so many memories were resurfacing, memories of lectures on vampires, and discussions on werewolves. Presentations on witches, and how their representation in mainstream media was problematic. It was highly unlikely this focus meant anything more than Professor Beck had a secret love of Twilight. Honestly, absolutely nothing would surprise him at this point. But he had to try, he needed to try. Every day his control was growing stronger, albeit in incredibly small increments. But the work had to count for something, and settling into his new life was leaving him with far too much time to think. He still couldn’t remember very much of his death, and certainly no incriminating details that might lead him to discover the identity of his killer. But he did know the club had been crowded, he did know the nightlife was often frequented by students.

It had been burning at the back of his mind, leaving him restless, and uncomfortable. With no culprit, with no sire to name, he couldn’t blame anybody but himself for his situation. Maybe if he could look into the eyes of the person who had taken his life, if he could ask them why they had decided to turn him, he could lift the weight from his shoulders, he could finally stop feeling responsible in some twisted, and soul destroying way. Sure, he had made a dumb, and reckless decision. His entire life had been composed of them for years. But that didn’t mean he deserved to die. That didn’t mean he deserved to be broken, and abandoned. Left to figure things out on his own. Night had only just fallen, and he didn’t trust himself to slip into the school building unnoticed when there were still so many people around. So he waited outside like some crazy stalker. He probably counted as one, who was he kidding? He had looked up the schedule for Beck’s classes online in the hope of catching her on her way to the parking lot. She had technically finished her final lecture but part of him was worried she might end up working overtime. Wasn’t that something professors liked to do? The last thing he wanted was to stand for hours, staring at the patch of grass where Dani had last attacked him.

But for the first time in a long time, something seemed to go right. Dropping his cigarette to the floor, he recognised Beck as she hurried down the stone steps, and immediately began to make his way towards her. He wasn’t sure whether she would recognise him from her classes. He had graduated a year ago, and even then his attendance had been unreliable. When he did decide to make an appearance it was always smelling of pot, or coming down from the previous night’s substance of choice. “Professor Beck!” He called. “Uh, Morgan Beck?” Could he call her that? It felt weird, even though he was no longer one of her students. “Hey- I’m sorry, it’s- it’s Milo… Summers. You probably don’t remember me, but I was in your class a while back and I was wondering if I could maybe ask you some questions?”

Morgan didn’t like to stay late on campus anymore. She thanked the mother of earth for longer days, but time still got away from her now and then. When Morgan noticed the darkening sky this time, she thought she heard the hunter child stepping out of a room, knife raised. Quickly, she threw her things into her bag and started hurrying out the building. She couldn’t figure out if she would be safer going down the service stairs or trying to chase some straggler students to walk with for safety and so zig zagged through each. As she came out on the main floor, she saw a group of boys outside the big lecture hall. They looked like they were about to leave, and maybe she could walk close enough behind them but it would only be safe if they really were just students. Hunters didn’t go in packs on campus, did they? If she found any like that, would she even stand a chance? How far would she get before they pinned her down? How loud would she have to scream for anyone to come running? Morgan tripped on the stone steps out the building as she rushed past them.

She was moving so fast she didn’t see the other boy loitering nearby and when he called her name she screamed, backing away. But she knew this face. “M-milo,” she wheezed, trying to force air back into her lungs. “You startled me. I’m sorry.” She winced. “It’s good to see you again. I thought you graduated, though?” That wasn’t relevant. Morgan waved away the rest with her hand. “What is it that I can help you with, exactly? I’m heading home right now, to my family. They’re already expecting me. So, we can walk and talk, huh?” She looked briefly at the walkways that cut through the arts quad and set her sights on the one crowded with the most people. Not closest to the parking lot, but she could worry about that part later. “Scenic route sound good?”

Milo flinched, almost stumbling backwards at the sheer force of the sound. Morgan’s scream seemed to echo in his ears and for a moment he took the time to curse his new heightened senses. “Fuck-” He breathed, staring at his old professor with a look of shock of his face. If he still needed oxygen he knew he would be catching his breath right about now. He shouldn’t judge really, there could be any number of reasons she was so easily scared. But it was the last reaction he had been expecting from her, and therefore the last reaction he had been prepared for. “No shit, I startled you.” He laughed, calming down after such a jarring response to his presence. In a way, it almost worked out. The distraction was making it far too easy not to dwell on why he was here, on what he was about to ask. “Yeah, last year.” He agreed, weirdly flattered that she remembered him although he doubted she didn’t have fond memories.

At the mention of her family, he felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Maybe it wasn’t fair to approach her after work. If there had been any other way to do this, he liked to think he would have made the effort to find it. “I’m sorry,” he insisted. “We can walk and talk, it won’t take long.” He wasn’t sure why he was promising that when he couldn’t possibly know, but it felt like the right thing to say. “Uh…” A frown creased his brow as he eyed the route she was choosing to the parking lot. Something was definitely bothering her, but it wasn’t exactly his place to try and figure out what. “Sure?” He said, unable to hide the fact that he was a little confused by her behaviour. Brushing off any concern, he pushed down every part of himself not entirely convinced this was a good idea. He needed to find who had done this to him. Letting it go simply wasn’t an option, and Morgan Beck was his first lead. “I have some questions about- well, about the supernatural.”

Morgan tried to cover her fright with a knowing laugh. This is fine! I’m definitely not freshly traumatized! The important thing was that Milo had agreed to walk with her along a nice, busy, public route with lots of witnesses. She made a point of waving to a faculty member as they walked. She didn’t know the woman, but she waved back awkwardly, trying to place Morgan in her head, and would therefore maybe remember her and who she was last seen with. She was so busy looking for someone else to spot her, someone she actually knew who might care a little bit, she almost missed Milo’s question. “The--supernatural? Like, um, one of the texts we studied? Or a project you’re doing on your own? Or--” Or the real thing. Including who and what she was. “Maybe if you could, uh, be more specific, I’ll know if I can help.”

Unable to tear his gaze away from Morgan, her odd behaviour was becoming increasingly obvious to Milo. But he wasn’t sure pushing her to explain what was wrong would help either of them. If anything, it would probably result in her running from him, and he was so desperate for answers to his questions he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. If she continued to look so genuinely frightened, he would ask her before he left. Until then, he decided he would do his best to ignore the waves, the long routes, and the stumbling over her words. “Uh, no… not really.” He admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “More like… whether you believe in it?” He mentally prepared himself for any number of reactions, namely laughter, or claims of his insanity. If there was a more subtle way of asking, one that didn’t make him sound like a conspiracy theorist, he would jump on it. But as far as he could tell, this was the only real way of being direct. “Look, I know it sounds…” Crazy, ridiculous, insane, like a terrible fucking joke. “I know it does- I’m only curious. You focused on it a lot in your lectures, you know?”

He didn’t sound like he was goading her, Morgan had to admit. If he was a hunter, he sounded a lot more nervous than he had any reason to be. At last she slowed and turned to look at him beside her. She had killed too many people to believe she could tell what a murderer looked like. But he didn’t look like he was cutting her open in his mind. He looked sad, maybe even desperate.

“I did, yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I believe in a lot of things most people don’t. Including a lot of the things I talked about in class. Not in the way, exactly, they’re portrayed in books. But those...ideas, those figures, those people…” She looked sidelong at Milo again. “I know of a lot more resources than novels written by humans. What is it that you’re afraid of telling me, Milo?”

Slowing to Morgan’s pace, Milo continued to watch her, almost analysing her to determine what was causing her so much stress. It was impossible to know, not without her telling him, but this town had thrown an impossible amount of shit his way, and he was beginning to realise he wasn’t the only person to fall victim to the Weird of White Crest. Was Morgan Beck stressed? Or had she seen something? Maybe something she wasn’t supposed to see? Surprised by her sudden shift in demeanour, her voice was quiet when she spoke again, and it forced him to focus. The panic of before seemed to fade away, replaced by a genuine softness that he remembered from her lectures. He hadn’t been expecting an immediate yes, and he couldn’t hide the fact that it had taken him by surprise, but he was immensely relieved to realise they might be on the same page... sort of. “Wait- you do?” He echoed, as though he needed confirmation before being able to accept what he was hearing. “You believe in the supernatural? You’re not fucking with me?” If he had been unsure of this meeting before, he was finally convinced he had approached the right person. She clearly wasn’t going to judge him, and she was willing to answer him honestly. That was good.

People. The word was emphasised in a way that only furthered his suspicion. It almost sounded as though she had argued with others in the past, debated whether supernatural creatures counted as people, or whether they should be written off as monsters. Nearly getting lost in thought, it took him a few seconds to register Morgan’s own question, and he came to a sudden halt, eyes wide as he was hit by the implications of what she was asking him. How did she know there was more to this conversation? How did she know there was more to who he was now? Reaching absentmindedly to rub at the base of his neck, the scars there were incredibly faint, barely noticeable to anybody who wouldn’t be able to recognise them for what they were. They were evidence of his struggle, of his change, a reminder of everything he had lost. Feeling them beneath his fingertips encouraged him to stay. If he left then he wasn’t going to learn anything, and he would be no closer to finding the person responsible for taking his life. “Nothing.” He insisted, a breathless laugh escaping him as he did everything he could to sound casual. “I mean- I just wanted to ask, you know? It doesn’t- it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t have anything to hide- I mean, I’m not hiding anything. This is all… strictly hypothetical.”

Morgan didn’t miss the way Milo changed as soon as he heard her answer. She winced with guilt, remembering how upset Bex had been when she’d tried to deny the whole zombie regeneration thing. “I...do. Yes. I’m not fucking with you.” In a fairer world, this wouldn’t have to be such a fraught conversation, or a secret one. She wouldn’t have to wonder if one of her students was about to hurt her, or if she was walking into some sort of normie joke, or something else equally dangerous and stupid.

Milo must have been making the same calculations in his head, because no sooner did she do that than did he backpedal away from her follow up questions.

“I appreciate the whole ‘hypothetical’ thing, Milo, I do. But if you know something or saw something, if something happened to you…” She let out a long, stiff breath. “I’m not going to give you any shit if it happens to be something I’ve never heard of before. But I’ve had a year into the weird side of this town, so I’m pretty hard to surprise. Actually, you know what, I dare you to surprise me, hypothetically or not.”

Milo fell silent, too curious to know what his old professor wanted to say, but also too anxious to trust himself to speak without taking any time to filter his thoughts. It was uncomfortable, navigating such a strange conversation. He felt a little like he was walking on a tightrope. If he fell too far one way, he might never get the answer he was looking for. If he fell too far the other way, he might out himself as a vampire and potentially put himself in danger. A smile tugging at his lips, despite everything, he couldn’t help feeling amused by hearing a member of staff swear so openly. The humour very rapidly faded though, when he was reminded of why they were talking. If something happened to you… He wanted to ask whether something had happened to her, but he couldn’t seem to form the words. That wasn’t why he was here. He didn’t want to talk about what he was, he didn’t want to be asked about what he was. “Nothing happened to me.” He insisted, sounding more confident in the statement than he previously had, but answering too quickly to be convincing. “I told you, it’s hypothetical.”

He wasn’t sure his company was going to believe him, but so long as he didn’t prove anything, so long as he didn’t outright admit anything to Morgan, then he was safe, right? She would write him off as weird, or overly curious, and nothing more. At least, that’s what he told himself in order to force out what he really wanted to discuss. “Okay… hypothetically,” he started, his voice slow as he attempted to gauge her reaction to his words. “Do you think there might be vampires at this college, and hypothetically, do you think these vampires maybe sometimes go to the bars and clubs downtown?”

Whatever lingering fears Morgan had about Milo being a hunter or hunter-adjacent fell away as he stumbled through his question. When he finally came out with it, she had to stop herself from smirking with how banal it turned out to be. “Hypothetically, yes,” she said. “Easily. I would be more surprised if there weren’t any, with how reckless and vulnerable undergrads are. And, hypothetically, vampires would just be people with an unfortunately limited appetite and sunlight aversion, so of course they’d do all the normal things people do. Maybe even be a part of night life even more. I mean, unless, you know, they hypothetically popped out of the grave as grr-argh spawn-y times. Because that’s, you know...possibly a thing.” Stars above, she hated this.

At last Morgan stopped and turned to face Milo head on. “Milo, are you trying to say you maybe met a vampire at a club? Because if you met a vampire at a club and you like them and want to keep talking to them, there’s nothing wrong with that, you just need to have really clear communication and honesty to make you’re being careful with each other.”

The sense of satisfaction Milo felt when Morgan said yes was short lived. He had somebody who was telling him it was very possible the vampire who attacked him was attending the uni, or otherwise, might be an alumni. But he had been so focused on this step, he wasn’t sure how to move forward. What did he do with this now? Where did he go from here? Spawn-y. Huh. It wasn’t a term he had stumbled across and he was itching to ask what she meant, but sounding too eager would be counterproductive. He made a mental note to ask Harsh instead, adding it to the list already forming in his head. He really should start writing down his questions. No doubt the older vampire wouldn’t mind taking the time to answer them. Glancing up at the stars too, he frowned, unable to help himself. ‘Normal people’ because he was no longer normal. Because being supernatural wasn’t normal.

It was only when she spoke again that he was pulled back out of his thoughts, and he turned to look at Morgan with outright disbelief. She was being so casual, she didn’t seem worried about sounding insane, or obsessed like some desperate Twilight fangirl. She was talking about vampires like she knew they existed, like they were unquestionably real, a part of every day life, and it was just that simple. She seemed to be relaxing somewhat, which was why he allowed a laugh to escape him. Jeez, how much easier would his life be right now if she was right? If his biggest problem was knowing a vampire... “Why do you talk like that?” He asked finally, unable to help himself. “Like you’re so sure it all exists? I haven’t met a vampire, because they aren’t real… right? Like, nobody has met a vampire.” She wasn’t going to agree with him after so readily admitting she believed in their existence, but he was trying to avoid any further suspicion. “I’m just… I just wanted to know what you thought. So, hypothetically… and not for- not for like, malicious reasons, if somebody wanted to find a vampire, do you know how would they go about doing that?”

Morgan looked at Milo, unimpressed with his two steps forward, one step back pace. “You asked me what I thought and I told you I believe in a lot of weird shit. Why are you so surprised when I follow up with the truth? And I know it’s a struggle, working through your pride and your fear on one side and how much you want this information on the other side. Because people are rude and awful and having what you know about the world turned upside down is one heck of a process. But I don’t like talking about this stuff in detail until I know what it’s for. Or if, you know, hypothetically, it’s someone’s elaborate attempt to get something for their Tiktok feed. But, hypothetically, continuing from the premise that vampires are like people but dead and with blood and sun problems, finding one would probably depend on the vampire, wouldn’t it?” She looked at him archly, daring him to come clean.

Milo frowned, realising his bullshit was apparently transparent. He had never been a terrible liar, usually his lack of sobriety depended on being able to lie. But maybe things were different now, maybe too much was riding on this particular conversation. “I don’t have any pride.” He countered. “Or fear.” He added hurriedly, not wanting Morgan to assume he might be afraid. He wasn’t afraid, he refused to be afraid. As far as he was concerned, the person he was trying to find had already done their worst. Setting his jaw, he listened to her assurances, too frustrated by the fact that she was onto him to really appreciate her words.

“Why would you care what it’s for?” He asked, wondering whether she knew more than he had first assumed. For a while, he had been under the impression she had seen something. Something to make her suspect, something to make her believe. Nothing more than that. But what if it was more than that? What if she knew someone? Or what if she wasn’t human herself? He had so many burning questions, but he knew it would be stupid to ask them. “Can we hypothetically say it’s for a book I’m writing?”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Because the right information in the wrong hands can get people killed,” she replied evenly. “And no, a book isn’t good enough. I’m sorry. I get that you’re not ready to trust me. You weren’t exactly up in my office hours all the time. But I can’t talk about something like this in detail on a hypothetical that vague and tired. I’ve even used that one before.” She came close and squeezed his shoulder gently, softening again. “When you’re ready to talk, know I’m going to probably believe you, or at least listen attentively in good faith to what you have to say.” She winced, another obvious idea coming to her. “Unless you really are writing a book. In which case I fully support your writing endeavours, but I can’t ethically disclose certain information for your research. But I’ll read your drafts or whatever else you might want my help with!” She looked into his eyes, searching. She had no idea what was wrong with this kid, why he was so worked up about this that he’d come back to campus to find her, but she had a feeling it wasn’t anything nice or happy. “Are you taking good care of yourself, this stuff aside?”

Realistically, Milo knew he should appreciate Morgan’s discretion. In withholding the information, she was stopping people from getting to it who might genuinely be trying to harm vampires, to seek them out and hurt them. She was essentially protecting him, although hopefully she didn’t know that. Still, all he could feel was annoyance, and anger. He was so close to somebody who might be able to help him, who probably could help him, but he couldn’t tell her what he was. It didn’t feel right to be so outwardly open. The few people who knew had found out through means of their own. They were supernatural themselves, or they were Hunters, and Slayers. He had yet to volunteer the information, and doing so with somebody he barely knew felt like a ridiculous risk to take. It went against everything Harsh had told him about how to stay out of trouble. Glaring at her when she rested a hand on his shoulder, he begrudgingly took a breath so that she wouldn’t be able to feel the unnatural stillness of his chest.

“I know you’re going to believe me, that’s the fucking problem.” He muttered, shrugging off her contact. “Fuck the ethics.” He continued, growing more frustrated with each passing second. “I already told you this isn’t malicious, what more do you want from me? It isn’t like I’m asking for a step by step guide on how to kill vampires, that isn’t why I’m here.” A bitter laugh escaping him when she asked him if he was taking care of himself, he wasn’t sure why it mattered. She wasn’t willing to help him, why should she give a shit about his wellbeing? “No.” He admitted, a petulant edge to his voice. “Self care isn’t really my thing.”

“The fucking ethics are how we survive!” Morgan hissed. Then, realizing what she’d done, she added quickly, “All of us. Normie, not-normie, living, undead, everyone. And other people’s lives aren’t fodder for morbid fascination, just because they’re undead. There’s lots of ways to hurt people, Milo. I’d rather have the truth. I’ll take some proof that you aren’t being reckless, with yourself or this vampire person you’re looking for.” And Milo’s admission of not doing self care wasn’t helping her worry. Stars above, was this kid looking to get turned? On purpose?

“That’s not really encouraging, Milo,” she said softly. “This world you’re asking about isn’t Teen Wolf and Vampire Diaries bullshit. It’s not a game. Where are you staying right now, do you need a ride home?”

Milo stared at Morgan, stunned into silence by her words before she hurriedly corrected herself, adding to her statement in an attempt to alter the meaning. Surely, he was being paranoid. Surely, he was imagining things. It didn’t make any sense. “Uh huh…” He said, his voice slow, and deliberate. Making it clear he didn’t believe she was saying what she really meant. She had done the very same thing to him. If they were going to incessantly dance around the subject, he was going to make her work equally as hard. “Sure.” He continued to glare, his annoyance incredibly evident in his expression. I’d rather have the truth. He wanted to bite back, to tell her she hadn’t earned it, he wasn’t going to give it away quite so easily. But he forced himself to hold his tongue. “Reckless how?” He demanded. “Honestly, look at me.” He gestured to his slim frame, knowing his body appeared far weaker than it actually was. “What do you think I’m going to do? Go on some mad vampire killing spree? I don’t get it, I’m not exactly asking for sensitive information.” He didn’t care about how to kill, or how to trap. He only wanted to find someone. That felt innocent enough.

He let a bitter laugh escape him, feigning derision at the mention of the two CW shows. “I don’t know whether to be more offended by the fact that you think I watch those shows, or the fact that you think I take them as fucking truth.” He snapped. Half being serious as he realised she clearly did think he believed those shows were accurate representations of supernatural life. Jeez, he must have given a really bad impression during the time he spent in her classes. “Don’t pretend you care.” He let out a huff of breath, pushing his hair back away from his face. He was already desperate for another cigarette, for a way to dispel the anger settling in his chest. “If you gave a shit you’d help me, I don’t need a ride home.”

“There are lots of ways to be reckless, Milo!” Morgan said. “If you really think vampire-murder is the only stupid thing you could try to do, you are way too human for what you are looking into. The fact that you think there’s some generic catch-all method for finding one, that you don’t see how telling you how to stalk them without any context--” She shook her head, baffled, then took a breath. Milo was in over his head. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he had to be horribly, painfully desperate to be going after something like this so hard.

After a slow exhale, she said more softly, “I do give a shit. Many, actually. But I am not going to help you destroy yourself. Whatever is really making you this miserable and desperate, yes, I will help you with, however I can. But there is nothing good down this road. I can promise you that much. I know this isn’t what you were hoping for, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry it hurts. I know it has to hurt so badly right now, but going after this isn’t the way.” She reached into her bag and wrote her number and social media info on a post-it. “Will you take this, please? I really do want to help, Milo. Just not in a way that will make things worse for you later.”

Milo allowed a bitter laugh to escape him, unable to believe he was being called too human. He played off his amusement, directing it towards the former half of Morgan’s statement. “I’ve been plenty stupid in the past, and I’m still here.” He countered. “I don’t think there’s some generic method, that’s literally why I’m asking you for help. But whatever- it’s pretty clear I’m not about to get any.” Continuing to glare at his old professor, raising his eyebrows to show her he didn’t believe a word she was telling him, he crossed his arms over his chest. It felt good to put a barrier between them both, as though he could protect himself from the hurt and frustration of getting absolutely nowhere. But it also allowed him to hide his clenched fists, hide just how angry he actually was. “Why does everybody think I’m out to destroy myself?” He demanded, although he already knew the answer. It was painfully obvious, after all. He had given people so many reasons to be concerned for his well being, obviously they were going to take notice.

Setting his jaw as Morgan attempted to assure him, the speech was dangerously close to the one his mom used to give him when she found him curled up on the bathroom floor, or shivering in his bed after a difficult comedown. The sentiment hadn’t worked back then, and it wasn’t about to work now. “You don’t know shit.” He snapped, annoyed she was presuming to understand what he was going through. “But thanks,” he snatched the number, resisting the urge to tear it to shreds. It might be useful in the future, he had no way of knowing, and he didn’t want to take that kind of risk. “I guess I’ll call you if I ever need someone to make me feel like an idiot.” He muttered, crumpling the paper, forcing it into the pocket of his hoodie. “Have a good night- or don’t. I’m not going to pretend to care.” Turning on his heel before Morgan could comment, he found a spiteful sense of satisfaction in leaving her alone when she was so obviously feeling nervous. Maybe later that satisfaction would turn to guilt, but for now he allowed himself to revel in it. He was going to find this vampire, with or without her help. And if he got himself into trouble doing so, well, she would just have to deal with being partially responsible.

#milo and morgan #c:morgan #addiction tw #drug mention tw #drug manipulation tw #ptsd mention tw

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fantasticstoryteller · 4 years ago

Text

Adopt Me

“Because you’re pathetic!” roared the man.

Wade blinked rapidly at his (former) boyfriend.

{I told you we should have killed him.}

[We still can.]

No. Wade had fought the voices for a long time. There were only a few people he refused, no matter what, to kill. The voices didn’t like that; they didn’t like restrictions.

But he had to draw the line somewhere. It was his body, and they were just sharing it with him. He had the final say—even if he did, sometimes, wonder if they were right.

{Ha!}

Wade had apparently been silent for too long. He looked up into the rage filled face of the man in front of him before he was grabbed, towed to the door, and flung outside. “You useless piece of shit,” snarled the man. “Get out! See if you can find someone else to take care of you.” He slammed the door.

{Now can we kill him?}

[Forget that. We need a place to stay. A base. Those pretty little weapons of yours that are still in the bottom of that bastard’s closet.]

White had a point. Whatever happened in the future, Wade was going to need those babies—they were how he earned a living, after all. So Wade, ignoring the boxes, waited for his (former) boyfriend to leave the house before slipping in, grabbing his gear and some clothes (not a lot of clothes; he had a lot of gear), and slipping out again.

{So…where are we going to go? Weasel’s?}

[The fucker does still owe us.]

He did—but he wouldn't be happy to see Wade. He always knew that Wade coming around was a bother. In fact—in fact Wade couldn't think of a single person who would actually be happy to see him.

[Why would anyone be happy to see you? Everyone knows what you do for a living.]

{And you’re hideous. Seriously—think about all those poor people who recoil at the sight of you. It’s sad.}

Wade sniffed. It was sad. It wasn’t like he’d asked for this (well, certainly not the fucked up appearance part). Was it wrong to want someone to just—want him around? An image flashed briefly in his mind.

[I didn’t quite catch that.]

Wade ignored White as he scrambled to find some cardboard. And a marker. Definitely a marker.

[This is a bad idea…]

***

Peter fought to keep a blandly amiable expression on his face as the host of the show apologized—to the other guest. Not a word of apology to him, and he was the one who’d been insulted. Of course, he was merely an author on this week’s top-selling list. (Actually, every top-selling list for the last two years, but that would require admitting to his other pen names.) The other guest was the lead of whatever the parent-group-of-the-week was called now, and had gotten four shows canceled in the last month. Of course she was fawned over.

And Peter was very, very careful not to take his temper out on the poor people who were responsible for actually getting the talk show to run. None of this was their fault, and he cordially said his goodbyes (to them, and not the host) before he left. Without the “security” that the studio thought he needed (honestly, did they think he was five?).

Peter was smart enough to realize that most of his irritation came from his loneliness. Sure, moving had seemed a good idea at the time—he was closer to the publishing agency, had a more central base for these stupid publicity rounds his agency forced him to do to “brand” his image. (Seriously, most of his books didn’t even have his name on them, and they were selling perfectly well. Why was the “brand” so important?) So, in the interest of having a much shorter commute, he’d moved to a condo (soundproofed which—actually hadn’t been needed, but he was forever hopeful), and left his home behind him. Not entirely behind him; he still had video chats with Aunt May every weekend, and got phone calls—occasionally—from his old friend MJ (who was now in Paris managing her own brand)—but he had no one here. He couldn't even have a pet; the condo didn’t allow it.

He passed the usual bunch of people on the street with cardboard signs—begging, playing music, the usual—when a new one made him stop. He backtracked and read the sign again. In bright, shiny letters (not sure what it was written with), were the words, “Adopt me.” His eyes tracked from the sign to the large, scarred man behind it.

“All right,” said Peter looking at the sign as wheels turned in his head. “What does it mean to adopt you?”

“Well, you take me to your home, and we spend time together, and you’re happy to see me,” the scarred man said. A pause. “Well,” he growled, “it’s not like you had a better plan!”

Someone else might have cut and run—but no one had ever accused Peter of making smart life decisions. Not twice anyway. “Are you talking to yourself?” he asked curiously.

“Just the boxes,” the scarred man said cheerfully. “I have two,” he admitted. “One’s white and one’s yellow, so I call them White and Yellow.”

Not the strangest thing he’d ever heard. Back in high school MJ had sworn that Peter had a soft, silky voice, so he figured that assigning a color to a voice wasn’t that strange. And the guy was entertaining. “My name’s Peter,” he said. “Peter Parker,” he added as he picked up the cardboard sign.

“Wade Wilson,” introduced the strange, intriguing man. “Eee! We’re alliteration buddies!”

Peter gave the happy man a lopsided grin. “Is that a good thing?” he asked.

“It’s a great thing!” enthused the man—Wade.

“Great! Grab your bag,” Peter said as he noticed the duffel bag behind the man, “and let’s go.”

“Go?”

“I’m adopting you,” said Peter with a smile. He couldn't have a pet—but there was nothing that said he couldn't have a human.

The large man scrambled to his feet with surprising agility as he slung his duffel over his shoulder. “You’re taking me home?” he asked with an odd, pained hopefulness in his voice.

“First I was going to take you for something to eat,” Peter admitted as the large man (almost twice his size) fell into step beside him. “I don’t have a lot of food at home,” he admitted.

“I can make pancakes,” Wade offered.

Peter felt a grin stretch his face. He was not going to be lonely, and his new roommate (adoptee?) was offering to make pancakes. Life was good.

***

[I still think this is a mistake.]

{Yeah, why’d he choose you? You’re not exactly cuddly.}

Wade tried his best to drown out the voices by talking. True to his word, the guy (Peter) had taken him to a diner. It was a strange, hole-in-the-wall place, but Wade was not complaining. The food was good. “And you would not believe how many people just glare, or kick at, or pretend they don’t see someone on the street—holy cow! These are great! What nut got the bright idea of putting eggs on nachos? They don’t even sound like they should go together, but holy fuck these are good!”

Instead of being grossed out, or complaining about his terrible table manners, Peter just smiles. “I know,” he said. “I asked Mary Anne, the woman who owns this restaurant about it the first time I had them and she told me she first had them Down South.”

The waitress, a blond young woman about the same age, came over and refilled both their drinks. “Yes,” she said. She turned to Wade who froze mid-bite, wondering if he was going to be thrown out of the restaurant. It had happened before. A lot. Instead the woman simply jerked a thumb towards Peter. “First two weeks we were open he was here every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Worked his way right through the whole menu.” She snorted. “Had questions about every dish. ‘What made you decide to make this?’ ‘What was your inspiration for that?’ ‘Can I please have some tea that doesn’t taste like someone dropped half a gallon of sugar into it?’ Drove us all crazy.”

Peter simply smiled. “What can I say? I used to work for Foodies Unite.”

Wade gave a low, appreciative whistle. “That magazine that tracks the best food across the city?” he asked impressed.

Peter flashed a grin. “I put the really good ones,” he said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, “on my blog.”

Wade burst out laughing as the waitress gave him a friendly swat. “You,” he said waving an egg-crusted fork at his dining buddy, “are an absolute trip.” Peter simply grinned and sipped his coffee.

[Careful Wade. You’re going to make him run.]

{We could kill him first. Then we won’t have to see the disgust later.}

No, thought Wade firmly, desperately. No killing.

{Not yet…}

Wade shoved the voices back as he realized that Peter was speaking. “… so there should be plenty of room in the closet for your clothes,” Peter said.

“I—uh, don’t really have clothes,” admitted Wade sheepishly. He had what he was wearing and his work suit—but nothing else. Peter’s gaze drifted to the huge duffel on the seat beside Wade.

[Still can’t do anything right. He’s going to ask, be horrified, and then what?]

{Out on the streets again!}

Yellow sounds obnoxiously cheerful about that. To his surprise Peter—doesn’t ask. Instead he simply nods. “Then,” he said with a sly smile, “it’s my job to get you clothes.” He paid for the food and the next thing Wade knew he was in a store with lots of mirrors, a plush couch that Peter was reclining on (with the duffel bag to his left) wearing a small smile as Wade was swarmed by what he swore were midgets.

[I don’t think that term’s politically correct.]

{Can we call them Munchkins? I mean, they’re about the same size.}

“I think the deep azure,” one Munchkin said to another.

“Violet,” argued the other.

“Azure will bring out the eyes.”

“Hmm.” Both little people turned to stare at him with a clinical expression Wade was more used to seeing on the other end of a scalpel as more of the little people swarmed around him getting measurements.

“Peter,” said Wade anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” reassured the other man. “You’re doing great.”

The first little person smacked Wade on the arm. “Come,” he ordered. “Time to try on clothes.” The tiny humans lead him off to a room, shove clothes at him, and leave him to change. He does, shakily, and then looks at his reflection in the mirror.

The deep blue shirt does bring out his eyes—and stands as a stark contrast to his mottled skin.

{Ask for a mask. A mask might help.}

[Oh, he’s beyond help.]

Shaking slightly he walks out to see Peter standing, pacing, and talking on the phone. “I just told the truth.” A pause and Peter sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony Stark,” he said viciously, “is an alcoholic womanizing vampire having issues with his sexual identity. There is no part of that description that says, ‘Hey, I’m safe for kids, bring the whole family!’” Another pause. “Well, maybe it’s high time someone did.” He hung up, turned, saw Wade and—unbelievably—smiled. “You look good,” he said approvingly.

[He’s lying!]

{Aw! He cares enough to lie!]

Peter turned to the dwarf in charge. “I want four of those, another two in short sleeves, and—”

“And the dress suit will be ready in three weeks,” finished the dwarf, “all billed to your account.”

Peter grinned. “You know me well,” he said. The dwarf snorted as another one of its kind handed Peter a series of bags. Peter took the bags, slung them over his shoulder, and then hoisted the duffel in the air and towards Wade.

[Holy—twig-boy here is stronger than he looks!]

Peter smiled at Wade. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

***

Peter couldn't help but grin at how enthusiastically Wade ran around the condo, poking his head into almost every nook and cranny as he almost knocked the flat screen off the wall. “Baby Boy, you’ve got everything here!” the large man rambled as he wandered. “TV, state-of-the-art kitchen, bookcases and The Spider!” he exclaimed suddenly as he grabbed a book off the shelf. “You’ve got The Spider series!”

Peter chuckled as he pulled up and booted his laptop. It was an older model without internet capabilities, but it worked and he didn’t have to worry too much about hackers. “I have the whole series,” he said to Wade’s obvious delight as he settled down to work.

Wade gasped as he pressed the book to his chest. “Even the first three? No one has the first three!”

That was because no one had believed The Spider would be popular. Peter chuckled at the irony. “The early issues on the shelf to your left,” Peter said as he brought up the relevant file. Nothing soothed Ned like a new chapter.

Wade slammed himself down on the couch, hooking his legs over Peter’s lap. He managed to get his laptop out of the way just in time. “Oh, man, I’ve loved these since they came out,” Wade babbled. “There’s just something so wholesome about a guy working among killers and not killing anyone, you know?”

Peter smiled as he got to typing, words coming faster now that they weren’t stifled by loneliness. “Glad to hear it,” he said absently working on the newest chapter of his Stark novels. Wade’s constant commentary was soothing to hear in the formerly empty apartment.

The knocking came a shock. Even more shocking, was the way Wade was suddenly tense, in front of Peter, and pointing a gun at the door. Peter saved his work, printed the latest chapter (he was well into the next one), and gently pat Wade’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s probably just my agent.”

“Okay,” said Wade, gun not wavering in the slightest.

“That I should probably let in now,” hinted Peter.

“Sure.”

“Wade? Put the gun away.” The man blinked and obeyed and only then did Peter get up to let Ned in.

“You’ve really done it now,” Ned said as he came into the apartment. He fiddled with the edges of his scarf in agitation. “You’ve gone and upset the entire group! They’re calling for your head Peter!”

“And in doing so bring my books to the attention of whomever hasn’t heard of them yet,” Peter said as he walked over to the printer. He picked up the chapter and then walked back.

Ned came to a stop as he saw Wade, leaning against the couch with a book in his lap and the gun to his right. “Who are you?” he asked with a little trepidation.

“Ned, this is Wade, my new roommate. Wade this is Ned, my agent.”

Wade waved a single finger. “Hiyas,” he said cheerfully.

“Um. Hi.” Ned turned to Peter. “Where’d he come from?” he demanded.

Peter sighed. “I adopted him.”

“What?”

“Well, he was on the side of the road with a sign that said, ‘Adopt Me,’ so I did,” Peter explained.

“Peter,” sighed Ned as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses, “you can’t just take random people home. It’s irresponsible. It’s—what’s this?”

Peter grinned as Ned finally took notice of the typing paper. “My latest chapter,” he said smugly. “Unless, you don’t want it?”

Ned glared at him before snatching the paper and beginning to read. His expression quickly changed as he flipped through the pages. “Ugh! What? Oh…” The muttering sounded almost similar to Wade’s muttering as he flipped through The Spider books. “Holy shit!” Ned whirled to look at Peter. “For real?”

Peter smiled. “See what happens when I’m not lonely?” he asked mildly.

Ned turned to Wade. “I’m sorry for every bad thing I thought about you,” he said earnestly.

“Uh—”

“I see you have a gun, do you know how to use it?”

Wade was clearly on firmer ground. “Guns, knives, swords—if it can kill people I can use it.”

“Excellent,” said Ned with satisfaction before jerking a thumb towards Peter. “That idiot pissed off the head of Parents First this morning.”

Wade, to Peter’s surprise, winced. “That bitch?” he asked.

Ned reached over and pat Wade’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you to keep him alive. The new book must be published.”

“Hey!” protested Peter.

“I will do my best,” said Wade. “What? No, I wouldn't do that!”

Ned sighed. “Only you, Pete. Only you.”

***

After Peter left to go do Author things (it’s just an interview—they’re not going to tie me to a stake and watch me burn on live television unless the stake and flames are metaphorical Wade, and I can handle that) Wade decided to take it upon himself to make sure that his new bestie didn’t get killed.

[I’m not sure you can call the two of you “besties.”]

{He certainly doesn’t seem to have a lot of self-preservation. In one day he pissed off one of the most dangerous fanatical non-religious groups in the world and took us home with him. It’s almost like he wants to die.}

Wade frowned as he paused outside his old haunt, back in gear. Did Peter have a death wish? No, the guy was too happy for that—but he did seem rather lonely. Wade shrugged. He was just going to have to make sure that Peter wasn’t lonely, that was all. He waltzed into the bar and ducked as several knives were thrown at him. “Oh! Mean!” he complained as he made his way to the bar. “Gosh,” he said as he levered himself into a stool, “you’d think that people wanted to kill me!”

Weasel, the bartender, snorted. “Everyone wants to kill you Wade,” he said calmly as he filled someone’s liquor order before putting the glass on a tray for the waiter to take to a table. “It’s just that no one can.”

Wade nodded. “True that,” he agreed as Weasel slapped a beer in front of him.

“New micro-brewer,” he said. “I’m thinking of signing a contract with ‘em.” Wade made a show of tasting the beer by taking a sip and swishing it from cheek to cheek, even going so far as to gargle with it. “And?” asked Weasel.

Wade burped. “Tastes like beer.”

“Fuck you Wade.” Weasel calmly continued to make drinks. “Heard Nate threw you out. Surprised you didn’t come crash on my couch like usual.”

[I know I keep saying the whole thing with Peter is a bad idea, but not crashing with Weasel was a good one.]

{Why didn’t we kill the ex again?}

[Because Wade has limits, and he’s one of them.]

Wade ignored the voices as he glanced up at the bounty board. Most places had a digital website. Weasel insisted that was too easy to hack, hence the blackboard. (Everyone else called him cheap.) There, at the top of the list, was the name Peter Parker. The bounty was, of course, insanely huge.

Wade hummed before he grinned at Weasel. “Well,” he said brightly, “I got tired of people not wanting to see me, so I got a cardboard box and wrote ‘adopt me’ on it!”

“Sounds like the crazy kind of shit you’d do,” admitted Weasel calmly. “Then what?”

“Then someone did!” said Wade cheerfully. “A sweet, innocent little guy named Peter.”

Weasel paused in what he was doing. “Wade—” he said half in warning, half in fear.

“Peter Parker,” continued Wade. The bar was suddenly silent as he kept talking. “And if anyone,” he sang, “tries to lay a hand on that sweet, naive piece of ass, I will destroy theirs with a cheese grater.” A soft snort got his attention and he turned to look at the young woman at the bar next to him.

[Oh. My. God. Is that who I think it is?]

{Kill her! She’s after Peter!}

Karen Wishstone. The weirdest, strangest person he’d ever met. She was almost invisible—until she wasn’t. Her skill set would have made her a good assassin if she hadn’t made it a point not to kill.

{Oh! You think The Spider was based on her?}

Weasel sighed. “What are you doing here, Karen?” he asked warily.

Karen rolled her eyes as she swished the liquid in her bottle around lazily. “Relax Weasel,” she ordered. “I’m just in town to visit friends, and I thought I’d take a look at the bounty board while I’m here. See if there’s anything small to Stalk while I’m in town.”

“And?” demanded Weasel warily.

She held out placating hands. “It’s all too grand for me. This isn’t my town.”

[She could be lying. You know what they say about her. The first you know she’s there is when you wake up in Retrieval.]

{Kill her!}

Wade paused. Everyone knew that Karen was so good at what she did because no one saw her coming. If someone knew she was in town, that person was safe. “How do you feel about meeting my roomie?” he asked.

“Peter Parker?” she asked. He nodded. “The writer?” He nodded again. She sighed. “I’m not sure he’d want to see me,” she told him. “Last time I was in town we didn’t—exactly part on the best of terms.”

[Wait. She knows Peter?]

{I don’t like that she doesn’t want to see him. Can we kill her now? Please?}

“Why don’t I ask?” Wade thought the request was reasonable, but was checking to see how she took it.

To his surprise she seemed to mull it over. Then she smiled. “Okay,” she said. “Let me know what he says. I’m sure Weasel here’s already found out what hotel I’m at, how long I’m booked to stay, and where my dog is.”

Weasel doesn’t deny it. “I still haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you were in town,” he growled.

“And if you had proof that was my fault; I would be banned,” said Karen with a grin and a salute of her bottle.

***

Peter tried not wince as Wade mentioned Karen. He remembered the last time the two of them met. It certainly could have gone worse—but not by much. He looked over where Wade was shredding lettuce for their tacos. “I remember Karen,” he said evenly.

Wade chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “that’s how she said you’d react, but I thought you’d want to see the person who inspired you to write The Spider.”

Peter paused. “You know I wrote that?” he asked looking at Wade in surprise. His name wasn’t the one on the spine of the books.

Wade instantly looked bashful. “Well—it fits,” he said nervously.

Peter grinned. “I’m shocked,” he said. He gave a low, happy hum as he sliced the olives. “You’re the first one to figure I wrote them,” he said. “I don’t think Ned even knows.”

“Who publishes them?” asked Wade as he grabbed a block of cheese and began to scrape it against the grater.

“Same people,” admitted Peter. “They’ve just never met me, as the author of The Spider. As far as they know the author of those books is a weirdo freak that always mails in his manuscripts.” He paused. “Actually, from listening to the gossip opinions seem pretty split on whether the author is male or female.” He reached over for some of the cheese and his hand brushed Wade’s.

Peter wasn’t sure what he was expecting—but it wasn’t Wade’s reaction. The man paled between his scars and then flung himself in a corner as he tried to use his shirt to cover all his exposed bits of skin. “Wade?” he asked as he looked at the shivering figure in confusion.

“—rry. Sorry,” whimpered Wade.

“What?” asked Peter. He gentled his voice as he turned off the stove burner before going over to Wade and crouching by him. “For what?” he asked softly, gently.

“Know it’s bad,” Wade whispered.

“Wade?” Peter reached out and the other man flinched. He paused, not certain of what the best thing to do was. His instincts told him to comfort the man—but how? He reached out a little further and rested his palm—gently—on Wade’s scarred cheek. “Wade? Are you okay?” Wide, frightened eyes looked up at him. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, Wade.”

Wade blinked as tears began to roll down his cheeks. Suddenly he threw himself into Peter’s lap, gripping the smaller man as though he was about to disappear. Peter, hoping he was doing the right thing, gently rubbed Wade’s back. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “See? Everything is all right.”

“…not,” Wade’s voice was soft, fragile—hurting.

The change in attitude bothered Peter more than he let on. He kept rubbing Wade’s back as Wade pressed his face into Peter’s stomach. “Everything is all right.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” said Wade a little more clearly. He held Peter just a little tighter.

“For what?” asked Peter. Wade mumbled something. Peter could only make out a single word. “Wade? What’s disgusting?”

“Me,” whined the man.

If Peter hadn’t been on the floor already, if he hadn’t been holding Wade, he would have stumbled in shock. What had happened to make this cheerful, happy man think so little of himself? Peter’s mind flashed back to finding Wade on the street with the cardboard sign. He should have asked more.

“Wade,” said Peter gently, “you’re not disgusting.”

“I am,” cried Wade. Peter was startled to see that the larger man was actually crying. “Disgusting, revolting, horrifying.”

“No,” protested Peter. He stroked the back of Wade’s head, fingers running along the scarred tissue. Wade didn’t even look up. “You’re not,” Peter said again.

Wade gave a dry, broken laugh. “I know what I look like,” he said bitterly.

Peter’s heart broke for the man. “Hey, Wade. Look at me. Hey,” he said as he pushed Wade’s head up to force the man to look at him. “Look at me. I don’t think you’re disgusting. I don’t think you’re revolting.” He snagged one of Wade’s hands and interlaced their fingers together. “You’re wonderful just the way you are,” he said firmly.

Wade looked into Peter’s eyes and the smaller man would swear he was trying to find the lie in the words. Suddenly he chuckled—but it sounded at lot less broken. “You must be blind,” he said wearily.

“No,” argued Peter firmly. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Wade’s head. “I just see better than other people,” he said. As Wade slowly calmed down Peter wondered: just who had taught the man to hate himself so badly?

He also wondered if he had enough to put a hit out on the person responsible.

***

“So this is where you get off to.” Peter turned, not particularly surprised to see Karen behind him. She shrugged. “Between books.”

“Karen,” he said warily as he faced one of two people who knew all his secrets. He wasn’t worried about it; Karen probably knew everyone’s secrets. She didn’t talk much.

Karen pat the seat of the bench next to her. “Have a seat. Jogging isn’t going to help,” she added knowingly.

About to ask how she knew he was trying to jog some sense into what happened with Wade, Peter sighed. She’d never tell. And she might not even be talking about Wade. “What brings you to New York?” he asked as he took a seat.

“Seeing old friends. Meeting new ones. Watching a familiar idiot get a bounty of almost four million put on his head.”

Peter didn’t assume the sentences were unconnected. “No one’s going to Stalk me, Karen,” he said wearily.

She watched him from the corner of her eye. “No, they’re not. Wade got in front of the whole bar and told them all they’d have to go through him to get you.” She chuckled. “No one can get past Wade, so it doesn’t matter how big the bounty gets; no one will be willing to try.”

“Wade did?” asked Peter. He felt a confusing combination of flattered and worried.

“Wade has his own secrets,” Karen said simply. She looked at him. “You might consider sharing some of yours. He’s one of three people who won’t judge you about what happened, Peter.”

Peter snorted. “You don’t judge me.”

“I don’t count.” When Peter opened his mouth to protest she added, “I don’t count, because you don’t care what I think.” She smiled—small, knowing. “You care what he does.” She stood up. “Keep it in mind,” she advised before walking off.

Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. There was really no point in asking more questions of Karen. Not only was she gone, but she wouldn't answer. He’d have to figure out what she meant on his own.

***

Wade was worried. It was one thing for Peter to be okay with seeing his skin on a daily basis—

[The horror show that it is.]

—but it was another for the guy to actually have to touch it.

{Why do you think he was apologizing? It wasn’t his fault our hands touched.}

[Because Peter’s a nice guy and we were upset. That’s the only reason he said we weren’t disgusting to touch.]

{How far do you think that niceness goes? I mean, he did kiss us.}

[On the FOREHEAD Yellow. The same place parents use to check if their kids are running a fever.]

“Yo, Wade!” impact to the back of the head made it impossible to ignore. He turned to see—Karen?

“What’s up duck?” asked Wade curiously.

She rolled her eyes. “You wanted to introduce me to your author friend,” she reminded him.

[Didn’t she say that wouldn't go well?]

“I thought you said he wouldn't want to see you,” said Wade.

“One way to find out,” said Karen as she poked him again. “So? Where do the two of you lovebirds live?” she asked.

Wade and the boxes sputtered. “They’re—we’re not lovers!” he protested.

“And I’m not a spine,” said Karen agreeably.

{… Was that supposed to make sense?}

“I don’t understand,” complained Wade as he walked towards the condo building.

“Clearly. Have you told Author Boy what you do for a living yet?”

{Tell the writer of those sweet little books that we kill people for a living? I don’t think that would go over well.}

[I hate to agree with Yellow, but why don’t we kill this bitch?]

“Because I’d kill you and then disappear while you were fixing yourself,” she said calmly.

Wade paused. That was new. “You didn’t use to be able to hear the boxes,” he said slowly.

She shrugged. “I didn’t used to be able to do a lot of things. Now hurry up; my time in New York is coming to an end and I want to get this done.”

“You’re not Stalking Peter, are you?” asked Wade nervously as they entered the building.

“No, I’m applying the Hammer.”

“What?” They reached the condo and went inside.

Karen ignored him. “Hi, Peter,” she said calmly. She shut the door behind them, pulled a gun and blew Wade’s brains out.

***

Peter stared in shock before staring at her. “You don’t kill people!” he hissed shrilly.

She shrugged as she pocketed the gun again. “And I didn’t,” she replied calmly. “But this was taking too long.” She met his eyes as wet noises began to emanate from Wade’s prone body. “Both of you have secrets, Peter. It’s time to tell them.”

“Holy fucking shit-turds!” snarled Wade as his head visibly knit back together. “That hurt.”

Karen gave him a nudge with her foot. “Stop whining,” she advised him. “We both know you’ll be fine.”

“That hurt!”

“And you were dithering. I don’t have much time left in New York. And now,” she added firmly, “that the Hammer has been properly applied, I have a woman to see about a dog. Oh,” she said pausing before she opened the door, “there’s a chance the woman responsible for the bounty on your head might be dead tomorrow. Do with that what you will.” She turned and left.

Peter, watching the man he had just watched die get up from the floor and start muttering about bloodstains, collapsed to the couch. “What?” he asked, confused.

Wade began pacing. When Peter could see his back he could see that the back of the other man’s head was literally knitting itself together before his eyes. “No, that’s a terrible idea!” Wade complained as he rubbed hands over his head in agitation. “He’ll hate us!”

And again, Peter’s heart broke for the man. He got up, got into Wade’s way, and hugged the larger man. “I won’t hate you,” he promised.

“Peter, you can’t say that,” Wade protested. Despite his words his arms went around the smaller man and Peter quickly hugged him back. “You don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” Peter challenged. “Tell me everything.”

Wade took a deep breath. “After the Dark War,” he began, “my unit was called for some—some experiments.”

Peter could feel how Wade was shaking. “What kind of experiments?” he asked.

“They said they could make me unkillable. Impossible to defeat. Immortal.” He clutched Peter tighter. “I was young and stupid and didn’t ask—” He took several deep breaths as Peter began rubbing the man’s back, trying to soothe him. “It was—I’ll just say it was Hell. Every step of the way and when it ended—when it ended I looked like this.” Suddenly Wade gave a dry, broken laugh, eerily similar to the one he’d voiced before. “I killed them all,” he admitted flatly, no emotion coloring his voice. “But—I was trapped like this. Forever.”

“Oh, Wade.” Peter pressed his face into the man’s chest, feeling the rough scars beneath the thin fabric of the shirt. “I’m sorry you feel trapped,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re here,” he added.

Wade hugged him tighter and pressed his face into the crook of Peter’s neck. “You’re the only one who’s ever said that,” he admitted.

***

[I can’t believe he’s still here.]

{I can’t believe we’re still here. The stick boy didn’t kick us out! We don’t have to crash with Weasel and hope the bastard forgives us!}

[We should kill him.]

{That’s what I’ve been saying!}

No, Wade thought firmly, careful not to speak. Peter had (miraculously) fallen asleep in Wade’s arms. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had. Peter was a lot of firsts for Wade. The first to purely enjoy his company, without any monetary incentives. (Even the ex had demanded partial payment of Wade’s bounties—but Peter didn’t care.) The first to make someone else happy to see him. (He still remembered the happy, accepting look on the agent’s face after thinking that Wade was a danger to Peter to realizing he would protect Peter.

{The first not to think we’re disgusting.}

Yellow seemed to be coming to like Peter just as much as Wade was. As much as Wade did.

[There is something seriously wrong with this man. We should never leave.]

Wade blinked. Those two statements didn’t seem to mesh. Before he could try to interrogate White, Peter stirred gently. “I’ve got an idea,” the smaller man said.

“What is it?” asked Wade curiously.

“Wade, exactly what happens when a bounty is brought in to Retrieval?”

[I take it back. Ditch him. Ditch him now. This is a bad idea!]

“Why?” asked Wade curiously.

Peter shifted his head so that he could grin up at Wade. “Because I’ve got an idea,” he said smugly.

***

Peter grinned as he looked around the noisy, messy room. There was a high number of corpses, but that was to be expected. People were watching the two of them warily, but that was also to be expected. After all, it wasn’t every day that the most famous (notorious) Stalker in New York brought a living bounty into Retrieval. Even rarer that the bounty and the Stalker were flirting.

The woman working the desk sighed. “Deadpool,” she said wearily, “what are you doing?”

Peter looked at the costumed man next to him with curiosity, which was fairly normal, and no fear—which, given people’s reactions, was not normal. “Deadpool?” he asked his red leather-clad friend.

“Aw it’s—it’s just a nickname,” Wade said bashfully.

The woman at the desk snorted. “He,” she said pointing at the Stalker, “once filled a pool with dead bodies. Claimed he wanted to see if it really was possible to fill a pool with blood.”

“They deserved it!” protested Wade as he remembered the incident.

“What happened?” asked Peter curiously.

Wade stilled completely for a moment. “Something bad,” he said grimly. “Trust me—death was the least they deserved.”

“They were traffickers,” the woman at the desk explained. “I don’t know the full details, but Deadpool here killed them all, piled them into the dry pool at one of their homes, and got his moniker.”

Peter nudged Wade with his shoulder. “So you were protecting people,” he said.

“Kind of. Maybe. Almost?” said Wade. “They just—all three of us were really pissed off.”

All three of them. Wade and the two voices in his head, White and Yellow. Peter leaned against his friend again. He couldn't see through the mask that the other man was wearing, but he was willing to bet that he was nervous. He wanted Wade to know that it was okay, that Peter wasn’t going to abandon him.

And, once again, Peter felt a surge of rage at whomever had.

His musings were interrupted as a woman, the woman, sauntered over to where they were. He could tell, from the smug look on her face, that she was expecting to be identifying his corpse. She was about to be in for a big shock; it was high time she learned that the world wasn’t hers to run. Peter was more than happy to be instrument teaching that particular lesson.

The woman came to a shocked stop as she looked at Peter, still breathing, sitting on the bench next to one of the most infamous Stalkers in the city—maybe, if what the woman at the desk had been hinting at all afternoon was correct, the world. Her eyes began to narrow and she opened her mouth to speak.

Peter spoke first. “Hi,” he said brightly, in the over-the-top tone that most people (stupid people) used on small children and animals. “I’m Peter. This is my boyfriend, Wade,” he said gesturing to the costumed man to his right. Wade froze again. Calling him a boyfriend hadn’t been part of the plan, and Peter would figure out if he’d offended the man later. Right now the problem was that he had to do something about this woman. Peter stood up and put his hands in his pockets as he rocked from the balls to the heels of his feet. “You know, he told me that someone had put my name on the Bounty Board and you know what I said? I said, ‘Why don’t you collect it, Wade?’ And here we are.” Peter gestured to the Retrieval warehouse that they were in. “And you know what? Each and every single time that someone puts my name on that board, we’ll be here. So he can collect his payment.”

He knew; of course he knew, that it was impossible to insist that the person on the board being brought in be dead when they arrived. She knew, and he knew that she knew, that he now had a plan in place for when that happened to him. She couldn't use the Bounty Board to kill him.

She paled, paid, and left.

Wade and Peter left shortly after, giving her a little bit of a head start on them (they didn’t want to risk running into her). Wade walked in uncharacteristic silence for a moment. “You called me your boyfriend,” he said softly.

Peter peered up at him. He wished that Wade wasn’t wearing his mask; he would like to see the expression on his face. “Do you mind?” he asked anxiously. “If you do, we don’t have to—”

“Mind?” asked Wade. He hugged Peter close. “Of course I don’t mind! I’d love to be your boyfriend!”

Peter grinned and hugged back. A slight tingle of his spine had him throwing the two of them to the side as a large fist slammed into the ground where they’d been. Wade leaped away and pulled one of his swords (was that one of the things that had been in the duffel bag?) as Peter ducked another punch and landed on a tree.

The man glared at Wade. “I see you’re keeping busy,” he snarled.

“Had to leave,” said Wade.

Peter frowned. Wade didn’t sound happy, or quippy, or sarcastic—but defeated. He glared at the large man. Was this the reason why Wade had been on the street in the first place? Why he’d been so terrified of being touched?

The man opened his mouth to growl something—and his face went slack as he suddenly toppled over. Karen popped out of the bushes behind him and pulled a dart out of the man’s butt. “You still don’t have any survival sense,” she said calmly as she tied the large man up. A puppy, it looked young but came up to her knees, danced out of the bushes and towards them, yapping. “He’s been following the two of you since you left the condo this morning. Probably thought now would be a good time to make a move.” She tightened the leather restraints.

Peter looked at her. “Being a hammer again, Karen?” he asked. He still wasn’t entirely certain what she’d meant by that.

“No,” she said absently as the puppy danced around the man as if it was showing off a kill. “If I was, I’d point out to your shiny new boyfriend there how you’re sticking to the side of an oak tree by your hands and feet.”

A chill rushed through Peter’s veins as he realized that she was right. The danger had been familiar and the move so natural that he hadn’t even thought twice about it. Of course not. Why would he? He hadn’t been in that position for a long time now. He turned wide eyes to Wade to see the whites of the mask staring at him. He assumed Wade was looking at him behind the mask, but he wasn’t sure.

Especially since Wade addressed Karen. “So—are you taking him to Retrieval? What do you get out of it?”

Karen turned to grin at the two of them as the dog lifted a leg and peed on the unconscious man’s face. “Bragging rights,” she said smugly. “I was in the bar last night, trading verbal spars with Weasel, when this idiot came in bragging about how no quote, ‘prissy little bitch who can’t even properly kill’ could get him.” She wrapped the man’s legs with another leather strip. “Best part is, I won’t even have to stay in town. No one in that bar will let him forget it—he might even end up infamous on the ‘net if he’s not lucky.”

“And you hope he’s not lucky,” said Wade with insight.

Karen looked up at them again and Peter could see the amusement glinting in her eyes. “He’s an ass,” she said bluntly before pulling something from her pocket. It unrolled into a contraption with wheels and she maneuvered the large man (almost twice her size) onto it. The puppy jumped onto the body and sat, wagging its tail.

“Who’s the dog?” asked Peter as he climbed down from the side of the tree.

“Brucie. I’m training him to replace Brutus.”

“Ah—”

“He retired.” She grabbed a handle of the folding wagon and then waved at the two of them. “Nice to see you got your relationship stuff sorted out. Have fun you crazy kids.” She pulled the wagon and left.

Wade waved back and, without turning to look at Peter again, asked, “You—do you want to talk about it?” The words were tentative.

Peter sighed. It looked like it was his turn to talk about his past. “Wade I—you know The Spider?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he wasn’t based on Karen.” There was a moment of silence and Peter sighed again. He wondered if Wade would decide to leave after this revelation. Not that Peter could blame him. “Everything in the books are true.”

“So, there really was an evil scientist trying to recreate the Dark War?”

Peter winced. He’d looked up to Norman as a father for years and it still hurt to hear the man called that. Norman hadn’t been evil—but he had been insane. “Yeah,” he said wearily. “When—when it all happened I had to write it down. I changed the names,” he added. He hadn’t thought changing the names would be enough to fool people—but he’d been wrong. “And I wanted everyone to know what had happened so I pulled three jobs and paid to get the first three volumes published. Everything after that was older stuff, remembered stuff.”

“Oh.” Wade sidled a little closer to Peter. “Are we—are we still boyfriends?” he asked.

Peter looked at the larger man and then smiled. “Only if you want to be,” he said with a smile.

***

No one knew why Deadpool suddenly joined The Spider on his adventures in the world of fiction. And, unlike his Stark novels and despite Deadpool’s attitude, they were still made for children. They were also, to no one’s surprise, popular.

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #Stalkers

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sierraraeck · 4 years ago

Text

Betrayal (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Partially inspired by 8x4 God Complex. Aundreya finally figures out who Spencer has been calling on the payphone. Story ten.

Category: Fluff at the beginning, then angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Normal CM stuff. Mentions of drugs. An internal identity crisis.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Please welcome Tara Lewis everyone. I know that she was never a part of this particular team, but she now has a guest appearance because I wanted her to have one.

“You have zero manners,” Morgan said.

“That is not true!” I snapped back.

“Yes. It is. You literally inhale your food in under ten seconds and just now you walked in here and basically yelled ‘I’m back, baby’ to the entire bullpen,” he pointed out.

“Okay, sure, but that doesn’t mean I lack all manners completely. I just have unconventional ones,” I countered.

“Unconventional?” Prentiss snorted. “You are one of the most uncivilized people I have ever met.”

“Fuck you, I’m civilized!” I said, flabbergasted. They both just stared at me with a knowing look and I wanted to hit myself. I slowly nodded my head, and clicked my tongue. “Yeah. I hear it now.”

Morgan gave a single laugh shaking his head and Prentiss just rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Ah, who cares? At least you keep things interesting,” a voice behind me said. I turned around to see a tall, gorgeous woman I didn’t recognize standing behind me.

Prentiss jumped up and hugged her, “Tara! It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you could join us for this case.”

“I’m happy to be here,” she said.

“Derek Morgan,” he introduced, holding his hand out. She shook it and then turned to me.

“Aundreya Chambers.”

“I know,” Tara said, extending her hand. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered, but I just brushed it off.

I was about to reach for her hand when Morgan interrupted, “Woah, woah, woah. You might not want to do that.”

I turned to glare at him, knowing he was going to make some dumbass joke about me ‘rubbing off on people’. But then I decided I’d not only go along with it, but I’d take control of it.

“Wait, why?” Tara asked, hand still floating in mid air.

“It’s because I have a highly contagious, chronic disease. I hope you have all of your vaccines,” I said before Morgan could jump in. He gave me a wide-eyed look, but shortly after, I saw him suppress a smile.

“Oh, really?” Tara’s expression was a mix between confusion and worry.

“Yeah, I’ve been battling it for pretty much my entire life. It’s gotten worse over these past couple of years, though,” I said. Emily frowned at me, but Derek was definitely enjoying himself.

“What disease?”

“It’s uh … It’s called uh,” I started, snapping my fingers like I was trying to recall the word. “Derek, what’s it called?”

“Being a bitch?” he offered, eyebrows raised.

“Ah! That’s the one!” I said, pointing my finger over at him like I’d just had a revelation. I winked at him and he couldn’t hold back his grin any longer.

Tara started laughing, but then quickly composed herself. “That sounds really serious, I’m so sorry to hear that. How are you doing?”

“You know, I manage,” I said, smiling at her.

She nodded, returning my smile. “Well, I actually lived with someone fighting that very same disease, so I’ve built up the antibodies. I don’t think one handshake will hurt.”

“Few. That’s a relief,” I said, finally shaking her hand.

“You will have to excuse her and her occasional antics,” JJ said walking by.

Spencer was right behind her, gesturing toward Morgan. “Yeah, and his. He’s not much better.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Morgan was quick to defend.

“Sure it is,” Emily said sarcastically.

Rossi walked into the room, already knowing that we were being unprofessional. “Guys, behave. Agent Lewis, I apologize for anything they may have already said or done.” He looked pointedly at Morgan and I. We both put our hands up in defense.

Tara still had a smile plastered on her face. “Don’t worry. I already like your team. I’m going to have no problem working with you all on this case.”

“And we already like you,” I told her. “I’m glad you have a good sense of humor.”

“What can I say? I enjoy trying to keep the mood as light as possible. Gotta have some sort of balance working a job like this,” she said. We all nodded profusely at her words.

When we arrived at the round table, Hotch was already there.

“So I see you’ve met Doctor Lewis,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Ooh. Doctor. Be careful Spencer, she’s coming for your title,” I joked.

“Oh, no! Definitely not. Under no circumstances do I want to compete against the genius,” she quickly corrected. Reid just shyly smiled.

“I think you should at least try and give him a run for his money,” I entertained.

“Aundreya?” Aaron intervened.

“Yeah?”

“Focus.”

“What is it with you people today, coming at me like this,” I let my hands slap against my thighs.

“Aundreya.”

“Yes, okay, I’m focused, god.”

He gave me that signature stone face and I gestured for him to continue. I saw Derek smirk out of the corner of my eye, so I swiftly made eye contact with him, scratching my temple with only my middle finger. He blew air out of his nose in a small laugh.

“We are going to be flying to Phoenix to revisit the Ken Keith case. As you all know, he was one of Phoenix’s most prolific serial killers and at some point we thought he had a partner, but the killings stopped after he was incarcerated, so we figured we had it wrong. Last night, there was another killing that partially matched Keith’s MO and signature,” Aaron explained.

“Partially matched?” Prentiss asked.

“When the body was found, they had all of their limbs, except their leg had been amputated and replaced.”

“Okay, so a copycat?” JJ asked.

“That’s what the local PD initially thought, but the victim had traces of tomato soup in her stomach, a ritual that was never released to the public,” Hotch said. “Doctor Lewis will be aiding us in speaking with Keith considering that is her area of expertise.”

I leaned over and whispered, “Have fun with that.”

“I always do,” Tara replied.

“If this partner is anything like Keith, we need to catch him as quickly as possible. Wheels up in 30.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Ken Keith is what you would call a mad scientist. He spent five years amputating one of his victim’s legs, and then trying to replace it with someone else’s. When it didn’t work, he would cut off all of their limbs and dump their torso with their head. We never knew what he did with the rest of the limbs. After he got arrested, he refused to tell us why he did any of it. Hopefully Tara could change that, but if not, the rest of us basically started over with the profile.

On the plane after we had already discussed all of the information we had, I saw Rossi fumbling around with a Rubik’s cube.

“I didn’t take you for a Rubik’s cube person,” I commented.

He set the cube down in front of him with a frustrated sigh. “That’s because I’m not. I had an old friend give me this, challenging me to figure out how to solve it before he could. As you can see, it is not working out so well for me.”

I laughed. “I can help you.”

“You know how to solve a Rubik’s cube?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I have a variety of odd skills.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, relinquishing the cube to me. “Have at it.”

Within the next thirty or so seconds, I set the cube back down, completely solved.

“I have to say I’m impressed,” Rossi admitted, picking up the cube to evaluate it, “I don’t know how you do that.”

“It’s really just all math,” Reid said, sitting down next to us, “See, there are a variety of algorithms that are used at various steps in the process, and many people have come up with numerous different ways that work. For example, there is one that solves for the entire first and second layer, then moves on to completing the top before the corners, and then there are others that do the reverse, completing the corners before the top.”

Rossi just stared at him, and if I had to guess what was going through his head, it was somewhere between ‘I have no idea what the hell you just said’ and ‘I’m not quite sure I care’.

“In other words, there are patterns you can learn that will help you solve it. We can teach you, if you want,” I offered.

“I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep up,” Rossi said. He slid the cube back over mine and Reid’s way.

Reid scooped it up and started fidgeting with it. “I didn’t know you could solve a Rubik’s cube.”

“I can. Not only that, but I can solve a two-by-two, and a four-by-four,” I said, content with my answer.

He looked at me with furrowed brows. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Tara. “Prove it.”

I looked up at her. “Gladly. When we get back, I will show off my cube-solving skills.”

She smiled, “I look forward to it.”

“Or she can just prove it now,” Spencer said, retrieving three cubes from his bag.

“Of course you would have those in your bag,” I chuckled. “Go ahead, then. Mix them up for me.”

“Okay, now I have to get in on the action,” Morgan said, reaching over Reid from the seat behind him and grabbing the biggest cube. I rolled my eyes.

Once the three of them thought that the cubes were sufficiently mixed up, I started solving. I solved the two-by-two first, then the three-by-three, then the four-by-four. I set them down in a row next to each other.

“I’ll be damned,” Morgan said, shaking his head.

“What? Did you ever doubt me?” I feigned offense.

“Definitely not,” he said with a wink.

“Well, it looks to me that you are now the one giving the genius a run for his money,” Tara said.

I scoffed. “Nope. I’m sure he could still kick my ass.”

“Willing to test that theory?” Derek asked.

“Absolutely,” I said, looking at Spencer expectantly.

“Sure.”

Tara messed up one of the three-by-three cubes for me, and Derek messed up the other for Spencer.

“Okay, I want you both to start at the same time when I say go,” Tara said. She teased us, making us wait on the edge of our seats in silence before finally saying, “Go.”

We both started solving and according to the lovely commentary provided by Derek, I was in the lead. Soon though, too soon, that started to change.

“Oh no. He’s catching up,” I said.

“How do you know that? You haven’t taken your eyes off of your own,” Emily asked. To her point, I hadn’t even realized she was there.

“I can hear it.”

“You can he-” Morgan started, cutting himself off. “Of course you can. Naturally.”

A few seconds later, I put my cube down, just moments before Spencer put his down.

“That’s unbelievable,” Rossi teased. He was resting his chin on his hand, an amused smirk on his face as he watched Spencer and I compete. All he was missing was a bowl of popcorn.

“I almost had you!” Reid exclaimed.

“You’re outta practice. Maybe next time, champ,” I said, patting his shoulder.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Three days into our investigation, we had a possible partner’s name and body language confirmation from Keith. Garcia sent us his work and home addresses like the lovely queen she is, and we split up into two groups. Spencer, Emily, Rossi, and myself went to his work address while Hotch, Morgan, JJ, and Tara went to his home address.

“Can I help you?” asked a tall, black haired man.

“Yes, we are looking for Caleb Wheelan,” Prentiss said, holding out her badge.

“He’s not in today,” the man responded. “Is there a problem?”

“We just need to ask him a few questions. Do you know where he would be?”

“I’d assume at his house because he called in sick this morning,” the man told us.

We asked him a variety of other questions about his co-worker and even searched his cubicle and computer and found nothing.

“Thank you. Please give us a call if he turns up,” Prentiss concluded, handing the man her business card. The man nodded and we walked away, Reid already on the phone with Aaron.

“He wasn’t at his house, but there is nothing there that points to him being our unsub,” he said once he got off the phone.

“Okay, so we keep digging, and hopefully we’ll be able to find him and ask him some questions,” Rossi said, and we headed back to the precinct.

The next day, Caleb Wheelan called us.

“I just got off the phone with Wheelan, and he claims that he knew Keith before he had his psychotic break. They worked together and Keith tried to rope Wheelan into his experiments, but once Wheelan realized what was actually going on, he backed out,” Emily said, walking into the conference room.

“Do you believe him?” I asked.

“Yeah. The rest of the details he gave me, the fact that we found nothing at his home or work, and he only fits portions of the profile, suggest that he’s telling the truth,” Emily stated.

“Okay, great. What now?” JJ asked.

“Now we revisit the profile. Lewis is still having trouble getting Keith to tell us anything, so we should start coming up with ideas as to why he did this, and why this new unsub hasn’t escalated as much as Keith, only removing their leg not the rest of their limbs,” Hotch said.

We didn’t have much time to brainstorm because the deputy came in, informing us that there was another body.

We raced to the crime scene, a small, trashed alley, immediately noticing the change in MO.

“The victim’s name is Maria Rodriguez,” Morgan said.

“First time he’s operated on a woman,” Reid pointed out.

“And he transplanted the left leg this time,” Morgan said.

“She died from blood loss, there’s no gangrene on the transplanted leg which means the surgery’s fresh.”

“You think he still has the other woman?”

“It justifies his haste in dumping her here. Why didn’t he go to the desert or a hospital?” Spencer’s voice slowed on the last word, realization taking over his face.

“It also means he’s speeding up his surgeries,” Derek deduced. Without another word, Spencer walked away from us, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “Reid, where are you going?”

When he didn’t answer I called after him, “Reid!”

I turned back to look at Morgan, puzzled.

He shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s going on with him?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been trying to ask him about it, but I keep getting a bunch of nothing.”

“You don’t think he’s back on drugs do you?”

“No. This is a whole different kind of strange,” I said. Derek just sighed and turned his attention back to the victim.

I glanced back at Spencer right as he hung up, making eye contact with me for only a second before turning away. “Tara! Lewis, wait. Where are you going?”

This caught Derek’s attention and he looked back over to where Reid was now jogging toward Lewis.

“Hotch called. He wants us back at the station ASAP,” Tara said. I checked my own phone, realizing I had just received a text as well.

“Can you give me a ride to 5th and Main? It’s on the way,” Spencer asked.

What the hell?

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Tara started wearily. “What’s at 5th and Main?”

That’s what I’d like to know.

“I need to talk to somebody,” Reid said, walking around to open the passenger-side door before any one of us could protest. Derek and I looked at Lewis, eyes wide, but she just shrugged.

“Oh, okay, sure.”

Not even concerned with personal privacy, I called Garcia.

“Hey Queen P. What’s at 5th and Main?”

“It’s a payphone. I don’t know why he asked for it either,” she responded.

A payphone? So he is back on drugs?

“Okay, thanks, girl,” I said, hanging up.

Derek and I got into the car and drove back to the precinct. The nice thing was that Spencer was right: 5th and Main was on the way. Once we got there, I decided I’d take a ‘bathroom break’. When I was out of sight of the rest of the team, I hauled ass to 5th and Main. I didn’t want to take any chances in case he was going to meet another dealer, considering how well that ended last time.

When I got there, I easily spotted him. I crept up the side of brick building just behind the payphone, getting as close as I could without being seen.

“Yes, thank you, exactly! That’s not an accident. He’s obviously using it as a cover to screen for something and that’s why I’m calling you. I’m hoping that you can help me figure out what he’s screening for,” I heard Spencer say.

What? Why is he discussing the case with this person? Clearly he’s comfortable with them because of how he’s addressing them.

My mind was racing.

“Yeah we worked doubling into the profile … I don’t know, actually … So you think this guy’s pursuing his own impossible cause …”

Who is this person? Who’s smart enough that Spencer’s going to them for help on a case? Not to mention close enough to him?

“Before he transplants, he turns them into amputees. That’s part of his experiment. What if there’s a condition the victim shares, something involving amputation?” he asked.

He’s calling them from a payphone like he did with his dealer, but this person isn’t a dealer. Could this be that friend I never followed up on that was being threatened?

“Unless it’s congenital, something that caused the amputation in utero?” A pause. “Exactly. So I guess the question is, what else causes birth defects?”

Okay, focus. He’s been calling someone on a payphone for at least a month, that I know of, so probably a bit longer. He has a secret friend that he really wants to protect. He was acting weird around Derek and I earlier tonight and asked Tara, the temporary member, to drive him instead of one of us. He’s showing no signs of relapse drug abuse.

I was racking my brain, trying to make sense of all of this.

Wait. If he’s calling this person on payphones, was he calling them right before we went to meet his dealer?

“What if we focused on what causes limb deformities specifically?” he asked.

This person is knowledgeable in the medical field. Surgeon, nurse, pediatrics, geneticist, epidemiologist, immunologist, infectious disease specialist…

“But there are a lot of different strains of herpes. You know, chicken pox, for instance. If a mother isn’t inoculated and she passes the virus in utero, can’t that cause birth defects?”

He’s literally solving this case with whoever the hell this is and the rest of us aren’t even included. He‘s talking with such passion and intrigue, his mind and mouth moving a million miles an hour, something he usually only did when he was bouncing ideas off of me or talking with me on the jet.

I checked my watch.

Shit. I’ve been out for five minutes.

I had to get back to the precinct and soon. The team was going to ask questions, and I couldn’t risk Reid getting back before me. I couldn’t wait to hear what else he had to say, quickly moving away from the side of the building, bursting into a full on sprint. I reached the precinct doors, somewhat out of breath, knowing the pink tint on my face was going to betray me.

I entered the conference room as casually as possible. Luckily, they were all deep in thought, wondering what we’d missed. I would’ve loved to jump in and offer what little information I heard from a one-sided phone call, but I knew I wouldn’t be helpful and all it would do would just let them know that I was eavesdropping. We’d just have to wait until Spencer got back.

When he did, he had the key information that we needed to narrow down our search. Apparently, we were looking for a man who married a woman that had limb deformities caused by chicken pox. The only one that showed up in Garcia’s search was a John Nelson. Rossi, JJ, and Reid headed over to his house to bring him in for questioning.

“What was that about?” Emily wondered aloud.

“I’d love to know,” I agreed.

“No, not that. Well yes, that, but I was more wondering about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah. Is everything okay? You look stressed,” she pointed out.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I replied.

“You sure? You look a little flushed.”

“I’m good, I promise.”

“Alright. Let me know if that changes,” she said with a quick eyebrow raise.

“Will do,” I said. We both knew that was a lie.

Part 2

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

@kris-stuff

@wooya1224

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years ago

Text

The Real Ghostbusters: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,056

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

After the conference was over, everyone shuffled into the main room to chat and have a good time until the event was supposed to start soon. Chuck and Becky were sitting at a table drinking cocktails in tall glasses with many straws and slices of lime. Seeing him sitting there with a smug smile on his face bothered you so much that you decided to talk to him about this. When he saw you coming, he grew worried about what you were going to do to him. Grabbing the front of his jacket, you pulled him close to you, but none of the threatening glares were there. They were all painful.

“What the fuck, Shurley,” you growled.

“Excuse us,” Dean smiled at Becky who only nodded. He turned to Chuck, and he removed your hand away from his jacket. “In case you haven't noticed, our plates are kind of full, okay? Finding the Colt, hunting the devil, you know the usual stuff. We don't have time for this shit.”

“Hey, I didn't call you!” Chuck defended himself.

Becky was giving Sam “come hither” looks, and he tried to ignore her advances.

“He means the books, Chuck. Why are you publishing more books?” Sam asked.

“Um... for food and shelter?”

“Who gave you the rights to our life story?” you asked, leaning in real close to try and intimidate him. You weren’t at your best, but he was clearly scared. “Because last time I checked, it wasn’t us.”

“An Archangel, and I didn't want it!”

“Well, deal's off, okay? No more books. Our lives are not for sale.”

“Becky, would you excuse us for a moment?” Chuck asked his number one fan who could only nod quickly and excitedly.

“Uh-huh!” Chuck lead you three into the hallway where there were much less people to overhear your conversation.

“Do you guys know what I do for a living?” the writer asked.

“Yeah, Chuck, we know,” you sighed, holding two fingers to your temples.

“Then could you tell me? Cause I don't, alright? I'm not a good writer. I've got no marketable skills. I'm not some hero who can just hit the road and fight monsters, okay? Until the world ends, I gotta live, alright? The Supernatural books are all I've got. What else do you want me to do?”

No one had time to answer because a woman screamed from the second floor, and you three wasted no time rushing up the stairs to see if she was okay. Chuck reached out to grab you to stop you, but he couldn’t get a grasp.

“No, guys, wait!”

Running up the stairs, you saw a man crouched in the corner of the hallway over a woman who seemed to have fainted. Thinking this was real, you leaned over the woman dressed in a maid’s outfit and helped her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“I think so.”

“What happened?”

“I saw a ghost,” she shivered.

A group of people dressed as you, Sam, and Dean gathered behind you. The skinny guy from the conference, and the larger man that greeted Dean when he first walked in were right in the front. This time, they had a woman with them who looked just like you.

“A ghost? Could you tell us what it looked like?” the tall skinny guy said in a fake deep voice.

“Why don't you leave this to the grownups pal,” Dean shrugged him off.

“A woman. She was in an old-fashioned dress. Really old. Like a school marm, or something?” the maid explained.

“Did she say something to you?” the woman who looked like you said.

“Okay,” the maid grinned, raising her voice so that everyone could hear her, “gather close everybody, for a terrifying tale of terror. I saw, a ghost!”

“For fucks sake,” you sighed, walking away from the group when you figured out this wasn’t real at all.

Dean watched you go off to a secluded area where there wasn’t anyone around, and he grew worried for your emotional state.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked when he approached you.

Sam followed behind him. Looking up, you noticed a woman standing on the far end of the hallway just staring at you. She looked exactly like Amara, but Chuck never wrote her in so why would anyone dress like her? Then, you realized it was her, and you were just seeing what she wanted you to see. Blinking, she disappeared in a split second, and you sighed deeply.

“No, I’m not.”

“Oooo, the LARPing's started!” Becky interrupted with a screech.

Dean wanted to know more, but he could tell you weren’t up to talk about it.

“The... what is that again?” he asked.

“Live Action Role Playing? It's a game. The convention puts it on,” she said, handing Sam a piece of paper. He opened it and began to read it out loud.

“Dad's Journal. Dear Sam, Dean, and Y/N, this hotel is haunted. You must hunt down the ghost. Interview witnesses, discover clues, and find the bones. First team to do so wins a $50 gift card to Sizzler. Love Dad.”

“You guys are soooo gunna win,” Becky grinned.

“Yay, can’t wait,” you sighed.

All the people who were participating in this game were gathering around the fake manager who was hired to play the role. They were all wearing suits with fake-fake FBI badges as they gathered the clues.

“Well yes Agents Lennon and McCartney, as manager of this fine establishment I can assure you that it is indeed haunted. This building was once an orphanage, run by mean old Leticia Gore. 100 years ago, this very night, Miss Gore went insane, and butchered four little boys before killing herself. Now folks say that the souls of those poor little boys are trapped here and the evil spirit of Miss Gore punishes them to this very day.”

“Well that's just about all the community theatre I can take,” Dean shivered.

“Yeah, this cannot get any weirder,” Sam agreed.

The tall skinny guy, the larger guy, and the woman all began passing by you three as they spoke.

“Barnes, we have to stay in character. You’re ruining it,” the larger guy said to the tall man.

“He’s right. We need to win this,” the woman nodded.

“Tasha is right. I’m sorry, Demian,” Barnes apologized to the larger man and Tasha.

He got into character before Demian spoke in a much lower voice.

“Dad said... he said I may have to kill you.”

“Kill me? What the hell does that mean?” Barnes asked, in character.

“I have no idea what the hell is going on or what I’m supposed to think of it,” Tasha sighed, in character of, well, you.

“How could you two not have told me this?” Barnes asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

They trio walked off so you couldn’t hear what their answer was, but you had a guess on what it could be. After all, you lived through it.

“I need a drink,” you, Sam, and Dean said at the exact same time.

Without waiting for them, you walked to the bar, took a seat, and ordered the strongest whiskey they had. Sam and Dean joined you, and Dean ordered shots and Sam just had a beer.

“Want to tell us what’s wrong?” Dean asked when he saw you downing the whole glass of whiskey when it was only meant to be sipped.

The alcohol helped your headache just a little bit, but not by much. This was a magical headache, so there wasn’t really any cure for it. Maybe you just had to let it pass or sleep so you can dream it away. Ignoring Dean’s comment, you ordered another round when Sam hasn’t even touched his beer. Dean drank his shots, but he decided it was enough for him.

“Come on, sweetheart. We want to try and help you.”

“You look like you’re in a lot of pain,” Sam commented.

“For the last time, I'm not making this up, okay? She's upstairs, a real live dead ghost,” a man playing the game panicked to his friend.

That caught your attention, and to try and shift your focus off the headache, you got up and decided to investigate what this man was trying to say.

“This is frustrating,” Dean groaned.

“Now you know how I feel when you do it,” Sam muttered.

Both brothers got up and followed your lead.

“I'm sure it was just one of the ghost actors,” the guy’s friend shrugged it off.

“Who beat the hell out of me and then vanished?”

“You saw something?” you asked.

“This isn't part of the game jerk,” he scoffed, turning back to his friend. “Look, I'm getting out of here and you should do the same.”

“Alex, wait. Hey, come back!” his friend urged when Alex stormed off.

“What do you think?” Sam asked.

“I don't think that guy's a good enough an actor to be acting,” you sighed, leaving their side to approach the real manager of the place.

Maybe he might be able to tell you something that the game wouldn’t. As you passed by the fake hotel manager, he was giving off the same speech you heard the first time. Ignoring him, you walked to the front desk where the real manager was.

“Excuse us, mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Look, I don't have time to play Star Wars guys. Go ask the guy in the ascot,” he rolled his eyes. Reaching into your wallet, you produced a $50 bill and slid it across the desk.

“Actually, we really want to talk to you.”

“Okay. You guys are really into this,” the manager nodded, but accepted the money.

“You have no idea,” Sam chuckled.

“What do you want to know?”

“All this stuff they're saying about this place being haunted and Leticia Gore. Any truth to it?”

“We generally don't like to publicize this to... normal people... but yeah. In 1909, this place was called 'Gore Orphanage'. Miss Gore killed four boys with a butcher’s knife, then offed herself.”

“And is tonight really her anniversary?” Dean wondered.

“Yep, guess your convention folks want authenticity.”

“There been any sightings?”

“Yep, over the years. A few maids have quit saying they heard the boys or saw them. A janitor even saw Miss Gore once.”

“Where did Miss Gore carve up the kids?” you asked.

“Look, I don't want you stomping all over the joint. A lot of this place is off limits to nerds,” he groaned. Taking another $50 bill, you slid it to the man which seemed to influence him enough. He grabbed the money and leaned in so that no one else could hear him. “The attic.”

“You’re a good man,” you smiled tightly, leaving the counter.

Sam and Dean followed you, but neither of you noticed Barnes, Demian, and Tasha listening from behind. The hotel has three floors, so it didn’t take long to get to the attic which was covered in dust and spiderwebs. Sam had the EMF and a flashlight out, Dean has his flashlight out, and you illuminated your way with your magic. As soon as you entered the attic through the crawl space, the EMF started going off like crazy.

“The EMF's going nuts.”

“Great. We got a real ghost, and we got a bunch of dudes and gals pretending to be us poking at it,” Dean sighed.

“No way this ends well,” you muttered.

“Yeah well serves them right.”

“Dean…”

“I'm just saying,” he shrugged, continuing his search.

The light reached every nook and cranny the attic has to offer, but you weren’t finding anything that might tell you what was going on.

“My mommy loves me,” a young child said. Turning around, you noticed a really small boy about the age of six or seven crouching in the corner of the room, his hands holding his head. Sam and Dean approached your side to look at the little boy. “I said my mommy loves me.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“My mommy loves me this much!” the little boy removed his hands, revealing he has been partially scalped, then disappears much like spirits do.

“How many children are there?”

“The manager said four,” Sam answered you.

“Okay, one down, three to go.”

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honeydewday · 6 years ago

Text

2 Weeks ( Prologue )

Summary: the beginning of summertime means the livings easy

Pairing: Peter Parker! x Stark!Reader

A/N: I’m gonna look on the positive side and hope this turns out really good. I just wanna say a quick thank you if you read and plan to continue reading :) Also! In future chapters I’ll be mixing up the mcu timeline for the story to fit in. Enjoy!! :)

Warnings: just yelling

---

“You got your phone? Remember if you don’t like it you can call Happy and he’ll pick you up right away”

You were being bombarded with questions when Tony woke you up, while he attempted to make breakfast, during the elevator ride, and now the lobby.

“Tony! It's just the orientation! I’ll be fine!” you exclaimed stopping in front of him

He shook his head and let out a sigh “They already know your situation. They won’t use Stark they’ll use your actual stupid last name”

You smiled and nodded then followed Happy to the car. Today is the day for Midtown Tech School orientation for the freshmen. Honestly, this wasn’t the school of your choice but, you made a deal with your old man saying that if you finished developing new tech for his suit he would let you go to public school. There were way too many long sleepless nights just to figure out the basics but finally, you learned everything there was to learn about his suit, thanks to FRIDAY, and updated his suit three times.

He looked at you with a little sadness in his eyes and smiled “Get outta here, I’ll see you later” and with that, he turned around leaving you to rush out the building and into the car.

Eventually, you pulled up in front of the building, watching kids get out of their parent’s car and walking with their friends in the building. Your breath hitched as you grabbed the handle to the car door and opened it. You could hear Happy say what's already been said but at this point, it was just static in the background. You shut the door behind you and rushed inside. Nothing really started until you got there right? Well, it seemed like orientation was already in progress. Groups of teens had started to follow their teacher for the tour, friends were talking to each other as if they just hadn’t seen them a few weeks ago. You felt uncomfortable, you knew you didn’t belong there but it’s what you wanted. Plus, you had to prove Tony wrong because he knows at the end of the day you won’t like Midtown.

You found your assigned group for the tour but seeing how boring each stop would start to get you wandered off. You toured some of the interesting looking classrooms, the gym, cafeteria. You were started to grow tired of the same colored walls, the same classrooms, and every motivational poster that was plastered everywhere.

“Uh h-hi? Are you lost?” a brunette nerdy looking boy questioned

You panicked looking back down the hallway you just walked from then back to him nodding.

He just gave you a nervous look with the urge to say something, anything that could kill the awkwardness.

What the hell

“My name’s Y/N,” you stuck your hand out “I’m new, d-do you mind showing me around?”

He looked at your hand but took it and oh boy, once he took it, you could feel your heart beating a million miles a minute. Not only that but you knew something was going to happen to this boy. Something he couldn’t come back from.

“P-Peter Parker” he smiled as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

You had spent the rest of the orientation with each other. The two of you practically talked each other’s ears off, well more like he talked your ear off but you were happy listening to the pretty boy rant. However, all good things must come to an end.

“So where’s your car?” he asked as the two of you walked out the door.

You did notice your car but you also noticed Happy thus leading your new friendship going downhill from there.

Before peter could anything a car pulled up honking “Peter! Come on!” A pretty woman shouted from the window “Is that a girl? Oh my god! You met a girl!” She continued. Peter’s looked down and back at the woman “I-I- that’s my aunt, um, I better go” he says flustered. “Wait! M-maybe we could hang out during the summer or-or you could show me around” you asked nervously.

—-

To say the least, freshmen year was a breeze.

The food wasn’t all that great, the teachers seemed decent, but having Peter and meeting Ned and MJ made the year unbelievably fun for you.

You were in your final class of the day when you heard the bells of freedom. You gathered your things and waited for Peter outside the room. He jogged up to you finally able to leave this place.

“So....what’re you up to this summer?” He asked as the two of you continued walking

You thought about it for a moment, “Probably nothing, my parents are super busy do to anything anyways. What about you?” You asked bumping his shoulder

He smiled nervously at the gesture and put his hands in his pocket “s-same”

You two walked and made small talk till you reached the parking lot. He looked around for his aunt while you looked around for your dad. You were surprised when you left for school that morning especially when Happy told you that Tony would pick you up.

You spotted the Audi and immediately went into a panic mode. How were you suppose to just tell peter bye and then get into a sports car? Granted, your parents and your house where very mysterious to your little group. You always told them you wouldn’t be able to have a game night at your house or asking for a ride from either Ned or Peter but at a random apartment that was only a few blocks away from the Tower.

You cleared your throat “Well, I see my dad. Maybe we can hang out really s-“ you started but Peter suddenly turned towards you with a nervous look

“I-I really-“ he gulped, then mentally slapped himself and repeated what he’s been saying for six months

“You’ve been meaning to tell her since December so tell her!!”

“I really want to hang out with you too” he awkwardly laughed “my aunt’s here, I’ll see you soon,” he said then quickly made his way to the car

You stood there in confusion until Tony started honking. You sighed and shook your head as you sped to your car.

—-

Peter opened the car door quickly, threw his backpack in the back and shut the door in frustration.

“Ouch,” Ned said from the back shoving Peter’s backpack to the side

“So I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” May asked looking at her poor nephew

“I-I chickened out,” he said softly

“Dude, you’ve been trying to tell her since December! Did you see how disappointed she looked when she got into her car?!” Ned exclaimed “I don’t know if you’re too sad to notice but she just got into a really sick car”

“She was waiting for it, Pete. You gotta shoot your shot.” May said finally taking off

“I know! It’s just, I- it’s her first year and I didn’t want anybody to think she was stuck up or-or I was keeping her from making new friends” Peter explained “besides, who wants a nerd like me”

“Peter, we’re not nerds. We’re just highly knowledgeable of mainstream topics” Ned smiled proudly

“Yeah, highly knowledgeable of legos at 15” Peter mumbled

—-

“So, sweet child of mine, can you describe your first year of school?” Your father asked looking over as you settle in your seat

“It was...interesting,” you say buckling up

He nodded, shifted gears, and peeled out of the parking lot. You were still a bit sad that Peter didn’t ask you anything else. Maybe you were just overthinking it? Maybe you should tell him how you feel? Now you had to deal with your feelings all summer. Alone. Since, your father obviously being Tony Stark, who knew when you would see him. He would either be in his lab or with Pepper. Now your mom, she absolutely tried to make time for you. You girls would at least have a girls' days once a week but after she became CEO it turned into once a month if you were lucky.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat?” Tony asked looking over at you but noticed you were deep in thought.

“We’re moving to South America.”

“What?!” You shouted looking at his smug face

“Gotcha kid” he smiled “what’s on your mind? Is it that boy, uh, Patrick? Paul? The one you were talking to before you left?

“You mean Peter?”

He nodded “your mother said you talked quite a bit about him during your latest shopping trip”

“He’s a really good friend...I guess” you shrugged

Tony’s eyebrow raised “listen here missy, no dating. We already had this agreement with the school-“

“B-but I’m worried about him” you cut him off

Tony looked over at you concern “Why? Does he do drugs? Sell them? Make-“

“I...I had one of my dreams about him and I know it sounds crazy but hear me out!” You pleaded

“Y/N. We’ve talked about this” Tony said in annoyance

“I know! But somethings going to happen to him and-and he’s gonna be different! Not like going through...puberty different” you whispered the last part

“Enough.” Tony demanded, “I don’t know what you kids watch or read nowadays but you better stop because now you’re dreaming about it!”

“Dad! It’s-it’s real!! Remember when you guys first got me, w-we had that huge fight about a dream I had describing your kidnapping” you explained started to become frustrated with him “then when you started creating Ultron!”

Tony continued to drive through traffic in silence.

“You never believe me when it happens and you don’t believe me when it does.” you huffed

“Enough,” Tony said “I don’t know what’s what kind of trend you’re following but it stops now. It’s suppose to be summer and I’m trying to take an easy. Hand over the phone.” Tony said extending his small arm right in front of you making a little grabby motion.

You groaned and slammed the phone into his hand.

After a few moments of silence,

“Shawarma for dinner?”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #fanfiction #tony stark #spiderman x reader #tom holland #marvel imagine #spiderman #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #mcu imagine #spiderman homecoming

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thecoleopterawithana · 5 years ago

Text

Hey there, anon.

First, let me start by saying that I truly appreciate exchanging ideas and debating topics; I believe that’s one of the best ways to reach a deeper understanding, having a lot of different perspectives brought into it. But I’ll only do it if we keep it respectful. And if there’s interest in discussing this issue (and I’m assuming there is because you did send me this ask) we’ll need to first examine our own emotional reactions to it and see if we’re ready to be clear-minded about it. It is only possible to discuss ideas if we’re open to different ones in the first place.

Second, I want to make clear that I won’t try to convince you of anything nor, frankly, is that the point. All that I can do is present the information that we have and then offer my personal reading of it. What your takeaway is, concerns only you. But it is also wise to examine our own motives approaching this exchange; mine is to reach a deeper understanding of these people. If it was only a battle of wills, or each trying to “win” the argument by conquering the other with their strong pre-conceived notions, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be half as enlightening. I’ll proceed in the good faith that we’re all here seeking a greater awareness of other human beings’ inner lives.

And lastly, if we do want to get a look at those inner worlds and emotional landscapes, we have to actually look inside. This means we can’t take every word at face value and realise that every intervenient is dealing with their own complicated feelings, motives and biases; that means the initial subject, the surrounding associates, and finally, even ourselves. The best we can do is develop the critical sense and emotional intelligence necessary to be aware of all these different factors.

So, all preparations done with and guidelines established, let’s actually address your points.

I’ll start providing an excerpt of the Yoko Ono interview you’re referring to:

I ask if she has ever had sex with a woman, or been attracted to them.

“Well, that’s another thing. John and I had a big talk about it, saying, basically, all of us must be bisexual. And we were sort of in a situation of thinking that we’re not [bisexual] because of society. So we are hiding the other side of ourselves, which is less acceptable. But I don’t have a strong sexual desire towards another woman.”

Have you ever? “Not really, not sexually.”

One online satire imagined an affair between Ono and Hillary Clinton.

“It’s great,” Ono laughs. “I mean, both John and I thought it was good that people think we were bisexual, or homosexual.” She laughs again.

What about that old rumor that Lennon had sex with Beatles manager Brian Epstein (which was also the subject of the 1991 film, The Hours and The Times)?

Lennon himself said: “Well, it was almost a love affair, but not quite. It was never consummated. But it was a pretty intense relationship.” Later, Lennon’s friend Pete Shotton said Lennon had told him that he had allowed Epstein to “toss [wank] him off.”

“Uh, well, the story I was told was a very explicit story, and from that I think they didn’t have it [sex],” Ono tells me. “But they went to Spain, and when they came back, tons of reporters were asking, ‘Did you do it, did you do it?’ So he said, ‘I did it.’ Isn’t that amazing? But of course he would say that. I’m sure Brian Epstein made a move, yeah.”

And Lennon said no to Epstein?

“He just didn’t want to do it, I think.”

Did Lennon have sex with other men?

“I think he had a desire to, but I think he was too inhibited,” says Ono.

“No, not inhibited. He said, ‘I don’t mind if there’s an incredibly attractive guy.’ It’s very difficult: They would have to be not just physically attractive, but mentally very advanced too. And you can’t find people like that.”

So did Lennon ever have sex with men?

“No, I don’t think so,” says Ono. “The beginning of the year he was killed, he said to me, ‘I could have done it, but I can’t because I just never found somebody that was that attractive.’ Both John and I were into attractiveness—you know—beauty.”

I ask what she makes of the people outside the building, the crowds still at Strawberry Fields.

Ono misunderstands, or mishears (or is simply focused on the last strand of our conversation), and continues to talk about sex.

“I don’t make anything out of it. When you’re not really interested in that sort of sex, you don’t think about it. Both John and I surprisingly were very passive people. Unless somebody made a thing out of it, if they made a move, I wouldn’t even think about it.”

— in Yoko Ono: I Still Fear John’s Killer by Tim Teeman for the Daily Beast (13 October 2015).

You may not believe Yoko. But it is also important to understand if it’s because of her unreliableness as a witness (Yoko is excellent at PR and marketing, and John Lennon is the brand she’s built her life upon) or because of what she’s saying (John Lennon being interested in men). If it’s the first, that’s a reasonable worry, but like I said, you just have to possess the critical sense to be aware that that’s a motivation that is there and examine what she says with that in mind. If it’s the second, there’s a lot more testimony available from people other than Yoko that may help illuminate the matter. One of my favourite sources is John himself. But more on that in a minute.

But let’s go with the first one, for a second. That Yoko is someone with personal feelings, biases and motivations, one of them being that her livelihood depends on the maintenance of her continued association with the John Lennon brand and the fairytale JohnandYoko narrative she’s been promoting since 1968. Why then would she be one of the main voices claiming John’s bisexuality? And she gives us the answer in this interview: “both John and I thought it was good that people think we were bisexual, or homosexual.”

Consider that their image was that of the avant-garde, anti-establishment, bohemian couple. Like Yoko said, it not only generated press but was also very in-brand for people to think they were bisexual. John himself put it on similar terms when he asks himself, on November 1974, “It is trendy to be bisexual and you’re usually ‘keeping up with the Jones’, haven’t you ever… there was talk about you and PAUL…”.

As singer Chuckie Starr told Christopher Andersen [author of Mick: The Wild Life and Mad Genius of Jagger]: “[1973] was the glitter era, and everybody wanted to be part of the bisexual revolution.” It’s relevant then to remember that the rock world was full of stars coming out as bisexual during this period: Elton John, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Lou Reed, etc. All four ended up somewhat retracting their statements: Elton John officially came out as gay in 1992, and the other three simply renounced their bisexuality in the 1980s, in the wake of an increasingly conservative culture and public panic over the AIDS crisis.

Now, this is an entirely too complex a matter for me to get into in this post: trying to figure out what was the “truth”, to separate one’s genuine interests from the context of the times. Did the “bisexual chic” being a fad during the 1970s and good publicity for those involved make the experimentations undertaken any less true? Were they faking it for the press or liberated enough to try? Are the take-backs fruit of them having decided that just wasn’t it for them or are they a reflection of what was socially acceptable at each moment? Is it like John and Yoko decided that “all of us must be bisexual. And we were sort of in a situation of thinking that we’re not because of society” or was that just the free-love idealism of the times?

I feel like Yoko’s statements come from that perspective that it’s all about experimentation. Bringing up the famous Norman quote, “From chance remarks [John] had made, [Yoko] gathered there had even been a moment when—on the principle that bohemians should try everything—he had contemplated an affair with Paul, but had been deterred by Paul’s immovable heterosexuality.”

I don’t know if the bohemian ideology was offered by John as a justification, but I suspect these were Yoko’s own rationalizations coming into play, perhaps in an attempt to create an emotional distance in John’s interest in Paul, claiming it was all about the experience and the physicality.

(It also remains frustratingly unclear if the “[John] had been deterred by Paul’s immovable heterosexuality” was part of Norman’s readings, Yoko’s gatherings or of John’s chance remarks.)

Another informative bit is this: “I think [John] had a desire to [have sex with other men], but I think he was too inhibited. No, not inhibited. He said, ‘I don’t mind if there’s an incredibly attractive guy.’ It’s very difficult: They would have to be not just physically attractive, but mentally very advanced too. And you can’t find people like that.”

First, I’d like to point out that while in this interview Yoko says that John never found anyone both physically attractive and emotionally advanced enough to consider having sex with, she did tell Norman that he’d considered having an affair with Paul. So John did find someone like that.

Secondly, I find it extremely revealing of John’s view of sex that he doesn’t consider it enough to be physically attractive, but he’s also seeking mental compatibility and stimulation. This tells me that John wasn’t interested in it merely as bohemian experimentation or just the physical release of a one-off thing. He was actually searching for the qualities necessary to maintain a longer relationship.

I personally think that for John, ideal sex was personal, and an epitomization of intimacy and closeness. (He always was a romantic.)

In interview with Sandra Shevey (June 1972):

JOHN: It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?

SHEVEY: But Yoko is a very independent person. Isn’t it— [inaudible]

JOHN: Sure, and so were the men I worked with. The only difference is she’s female.

SHEVEY: But you didn’t find it difficult to make that transition?

JOHN: Oh yeah. I mean, it took me four years. I’m still not – I’m still only coming through it, you know.

See how for John sex is just an extension of all the other ways to show physical affection, that he had craved while “working with other male artists”? “The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without…”; “it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?”

And I don’t know of many outright negations of John being homosexual or having interest in men, but this one, “I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists” sounds more like an admission to me. Of course he had to throw that “disclaimer” in there after saying “The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without…” Without what, prosecution? Because you’re both men? John had to save face; he would have been practically both coming out and declaring his longing for his recently divorced male best friend.

“We could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it…” Satisfied what? Satisfied whom? Paul was satisfied. The declaredly unsatisfied one was John.

As for your point that John couldn’t be open to the subject because he was a homophobe, there is the likelihood of internalized homophobia.

Defined by Meyer and Dean in 1998 as “the gay person’s direction of negative social attitudes toward the self, leading to a devaluation of the self and resultant internal conflicts and poor self-regard” and by Locke in that same year as “the self-hatred that occurs as a result of being a socially stigmatized person”, internalized homophobia can make a queer person both hateful of themselves and other LGBQ people.

John himself realised and admitted that his violent conduct when accused of being gay as a young man, was born out of his insecurities about his own sexuality: “And obviously, I must have been un– uh, f– frightened of the fag in me to get so angry at that. You know, when you’re twenty-one, you want to be a man, and all that.”; “I must have had a fear that maybe I was homosexual to attack [Bob Wooler] like that and it’s very complicated reasoning.”

And it soon became apparent that his instances of homophobia, like the rest of his outwards aggressive demeanour, were only posturing.

If you’d like to read more about the topic of John dealing with his sexuality, I’ve recently answered two more asks about it: on the Bob Wooler incident and on the Tony Manero story. For more examples and anecdotes you can always consult the tag.

There are really too numerous examples of John expressing his openness and sympathy with the LGBQ struggle, sometimes including himself in that pain. Some examples are more subtle than others, but it’s there if we ourselves are open to that possibility.

Now, let’s focus on your last point: the people in his life that defended his heterosexuality. We’ll have to afford them the same depth and critical eye, in examining their statements that we’ve been giving Yoko and John.

For Cynthia, I apologize, but I couldn’t find any statement on John being straight, but if one is provided I’d be happy to comment.

As for John’s half-sister, Julia Baird, I do have a quote:

“Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ manager, was a known homosexual. Epstein was always polite and charming. It has been insinuated that John was drawn to Epstein. I believe there was no such relationship between them. John was macho. But if John was a homosexual, it would have made no difference to me. I’ve asked Paul McCartney, who laughed and said: ‘Why not me? I’m handsome.’ Then he said: ‘I was holed up with John in hotel rooms everywhere. There was never a suggestion of anything like that.’ I believe him.”

— Julia Baird, in Boston Globe: Lennon’s half-sister remembers… (2 October 1988).

Again, we have to put ourselves in her perspective. This is a person who contacted with John for some years as a young girl and he obviously made an impression on her; the teddy boy, her cool big brother. It is understandable that she would not want her memory of him threatened. People often cling quite strongly to the idealised image they have of someone.

But her statement that John was macho (and therefore couldn’t be attracted to men), shows how far her understanding goes both of homosexuality and John himself.

So if her image of John reflects only his surface-level projections of a macho tough guy, is fixed on the teenager she knew as a child, and doesn’t go deep enough to realise how soft and insecure he really was, then what can we expect from her assessments on his sexuality (especially considering her view that homosexuality seems to threaten the masculinity of a man?)

And finally, we have Paul.

Paul’s relationship with the subject of John’s sexuality almost deserves a post of its own. [And I had in fact written quite a lot about it in this post before it suddenly closed without saving.] But the multitudes of emotional dynamics and levels of perception going on in there are so numerous that I think a new post really is better suited. I hope to get to it soon.

But let me just say here that there are a myriad of reasons why Paul would state that to his knowledge John was never gay, and none of them invalidates John actually being attracted to men. If he was or wasn’t is completely up to him, and from his own statements about it and his behaviour that was certainly something that he seemed to be exploring about himself.

Or at least, this is my reading of it. I only can guarantee you that I’ve certainly made the effort to examine all the possible motivations present, including my own. But what you take from here anon is, similarly to John’s sexuality, up to you entirely.

[Note: I’ve answered this ask despite feeling a certain defensiveness from the sender, that I feel translated in a kind of hostility in the language. Maybe this wasn’t the original intention but it was what it felt like to me. Hence the introductory disclaimer that it only makes sense to send an ask if one wants to discuss ideas and hear my opinion on a subject. If there is no openness to have this discussion in the first place, I’ll reserve the right not to respond either. Thank you, and please keep the exchanges ongoing but respectful.]

#John Lennon #yoko ono #paul mccartney #the beatles #cynthia #julia baird #asks me why #I'm not a homosexual or we could have had a homosexual relationship #the person I actually picked as my partner #johnny #macca #3rd verse #solo #meta #my stuff #(I feel kind of underwhelmed by this post because I wanted to get to Paul's part.#(But having written it all and then losing it just made me feel like not writing it now. Maybe soon. I hope this is enough.)#(Also Tumblr censured the original draft for some reason? An only text post was against their guidelines? That's why the ask is a screenshot

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roseprincesskristina · 5 years ago

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Axl's First Exciting Mission

((Hey guys. Today, in going to create a new fan fic today that an idea has flown towards my face. It's about a teenage prototype named Axl, who's very thrilled about the new mission that awaits him, but doesn't really know yet due to the mysterious yet similar maverick hidden within the underground basement of Maverick Hunter HQ that X has warned him about. So again, this story contains yaoi and I understand that it made you uncomfortable. However, if you're a fan, then welcome aboard. Without further ado, please enjoy this fiction. 😊))

Abel City. One of the most clearest town state of all, home of the inhabitants of Earth filled with humans and reploids altogether with meek, sided along of peace. No matter the differences, negligence or other, everyone who is new to the city are freshly more than welcome to live alongside all individuals. Before the roaring stampede of Mavericks would attempt to ruin tranquility, commanded by the gruesome but merciless overlord formerly known as the commander of the Maverick Hunters created by Dr. Cain, Sigma. During the reconnaissance given by his creator to locate the dangerous red maverick, the unstoppable Wily Virus have taken control or finds its way within his core, reestablish the morality. Forcing him to surrender to its power succumbing everything belonging to him, erased right quickly. The growling aura shouts, unleashing the new and improved villain to all who have feared more than their own weaknesses. Gathered up several more irregulars to make an army, destroying the town, killing a few humans, painting the whole planet with his dreams bursting into reality of rearranging a new world for only the strong and powerful reploids to rule. However, it was interrupted by the dynamic duo, X and Zero, shutting down the false fantasy by defeating 8 bosses including the crazed menace. Time and time again. No matter how he would return with more of his invincible forms due to his manipulation of other reploids such Dr. Doppler, Repliforce, Gate, and the rest, the irregular busting crime stoppers will always put an end to his wretched schemes for a new life. After his defeat, tranquility has regain its colors once more, the meaningless conflict between robots and humanity have been silenced. All thanks to the hopeful hunters that every civilization will always look up to.

Not only if there were two that could battle against more threats other than the malicious maverick king, but another hero that arrives to the scene. One that possesses such a great ability like no other being. A compassionate soul so young, lacking maturity yet not the interest of helping those in need when it comes to danger. His name is Axl. Armor themed of the navy blue color striped of red lines, detailed with an X shaped scar across the face by an unknown accident, spiky upward hair and helmet design with a camera lens type inside the crystal. Left the group called Red Alert by his decision on his own to become a hunter due to the view of his friends and scythe wielding leader Red changing their desires of using the briefcase full of chips stolen from Sheeda and the boss for power. Chased by a large mechaniloid, met and teamed up with the crimson sword slasher by taking it down, mistakenly arrested, refused by the indigo pacifist of being or becoming a full pledged hunter, facing off his old colleagues and Red, dueling with the previous mastermind from the beginning and saved the earth again. Still refused, an emergency has been briefed by the blonde navigator, calling to the young gun shooter to race into action.

A new generation built by a blue print, enhanced with the special kind of item known as the Copy Chip. With it, it access the DNA of all reploids even to resist various types of pestilence from every corner. Sadly, the least have chosen to become corrupted as a maverick, including the flesh hating ex commander, at will. None of them have ever experienced such a miracle bestowed upon them. But it doesn't mean that they're immortal. The generation have the same mortality as a few reploids and human alike, making them quite special within their own way possible. Posing them, including the youngster, as hopes of the future as well as protectors. For the land will relax in meekfulness while the heroes do the rest.

Somewhere at Hunter Base, a secret government domain of skilled hunters, the autumn hair youngling rests around the table with legs crossed, seating into the chair slightly bored after the war has ended. Blowing a mist of a sigh. Sure there are no crimes of fire that would be happening right now, but nothing very exciting could ever seek for his attention. For he is lingering in his own boredom by daydreaming.

"Man... This is so boring... Couldn't there be anything fun around here for me do so I wouldn't die in my own sleep?" Groaned the teenage prototype, tilting the side of his head against the hand. Slowly collapsing into a tired state until the Class A expert would arrive at his direction, folding his arms.

"Listen, Axl. I know that you're furiously bored cause of no casualties or invading threats coming to screw up everyone's day, but you have to learn to be patient and let disaster come to us first when duty calls." He explained.

"I know... But it's just no fun sitting around the base to do ABSOLUTELY nothing. Sigh... This is lame..." He griped silently.

"We get it, kiddo. There isn't a speck of villainy around these parts, but It's not the end of the world that quickly, ya know."

"Well.... I guess you're right, Zero. Don't know why I was whining about since we took care of that maverick jerkface. I mean, the three of us, taking the toll on him."

"Heh. I know, and you even single handedly knocked out Sigma with your special copy ability to save our asses. "

"Darn right! Heh. He didn't know what hit him! Thanks to you guys, the legendary Maverick Hunters!"

"No, kid. Thank YOU. Without your help, we would've been dead right now. You're the real hero that the world needs."

"You think so?"

"I know so. But you still got a lot to learn when you're a hunter. Facing with tougher baddies, saving the innocents and all that."

"You got it, boss! Thanks again." Grinned Axl.

"Anytime."

Both of them stare into their peers for just a moment until the reploid teen would lean closer, accidentally deepens the long haired senior with a longing kiss. Laying his hands onto his cheek when he blush with surprised.

"Mmmph?!"

"Mmmm... Mmmmm..."

"Mmmmmph...!"

"Mmmm... Hmm?! Oh shoot! Sorry Zero!" He pulled himself away.

"Axl! What the hell are you doing?! We're not supposed to be doing something inappropriate in public!" He angrily flustered.

"Oops... He he... My bad... Didn't know what got over me."

"Ugh... Look, just try to control yourself, OK? Cause it's getting too weird. And by the way, X told me about an unknown maverick yesterday."

"Really? There's a new bad guy?"

"Mhmm. He was incredibly dangerous. Not to mention as a vampiric version."

"A vampire?"

"Yes. The creature of the night that drinks the blood of mortals to survive, like in the movies. But this baddie is different. He possess as an incubus of some sort. Flirting with woman both reploid and human at once. Or perhaps secretly someone else... Acted very sultry as his personality, but enhanced with an elemental use. Like ice for starters."

"Whoa... Is he really dangerous?"

"Precisely. He had both vampire and incubus personas. But a calming expression. Also with sneaky eyes."

"Wow.... "

Furthermore, he continuously explains more of the mysterious figure's tricks and powerful elements aiding his claws, warning the rookie about what he could do anyone with the unavoidable "secret weapon" that he tells X and crew. Unlike the young gun slinger, everyone is quite aware of this deadly strategy.

"Is that so?" He asked.

"Yes. It's something that no other reploid would escape from. Once being controlled, there's no chance of resisting against it before the..." Unable to say the rest of the sentence it out loud, he finish it by speaking into the kid's earport. Then made him jump of shock.I

"NO WAY! He seduces them?!"

"Not so loud. But yes. He performs a sexual lip locking with females of all kinds. Endlessly."

"Holy crap.... And I thought that a succubus would do the same thing to a guy."

"Yeah. Plus, he would even get a taste of their bodies if necessary..."

"Ewww..."

"But anyway, there's nothing to worry about it now. We've already sealed him underneath the containment basement built with preventable locks." He assured to the wild child, patting his shoulder. "So all is well."

"Heh. Guess so. I was getting a little frantic there. Say, what if he would do the same to me?" He said curiously. But on the inside, quite scared.

"Come on, Axl. There's no way that he would get to you. Or is there?* Smirked the golden headed saber wielder, teasing him.

"Uh oh...."

"Oh, I'm just yanking your chains. So long as you stay put, far away from that containment cell. I'm counting you to remain on your post. Understood?"

"Yes sir! I'll try my best!" He saluted.

"Good. I'll be in the meeting room. Do your best, Axl." Ordered Zero as he nodded.

"You got it!"

"One more thing... If anything happens when you're in danger, be sure to contact me or X by the earport."

"Roger that!"

"Oh. And one last thing..." He went up to the energetic teen boy, grabs him by the head to return the sinking kiss aggressively.

"Mmmph!!"

"Mmmmmmmmmwah. There. Now we're even."

"Ack! *Cough cough* Geez, Zero! Guess that'll teach me a lesson!"

"Just giving back the favor. Try to continue your duty, got that?" He chuckled teasingly, before leaving for a meeting.

"Yes sir...." Spat the young begginer.

With the examination talk aside, he walked off to attend a meeting with other hunters and navigators. But, then stopped for a pondering solution just for the lad in dark blue due to the kiss. Stood there into the middle of the hall, he felt the affected warmth melting away the coldness by touching his lips. Even though he haven't experienced nor practice empathy towards anyone but to his friends that he deeply trusts before.

"Huh... What is this weird tingling that I'm getting? Sure it was an accident, but... it feels so soft... And tense..." He imagined. "Hmm... Maybe the kiss wasn't such a bad accident after all. Actually, it's kinda hot too... Mmmm... Axl... He really is a good kid, even though his immaturity annoys the hell outta me a little." Smiling slowly from the straight stern written on his face, the idea has driven to his mind for a moment. Granting him the opportunity to pose as dangerous yet sexy winged maverick for his young friend to "fight off" with. He quickly walks into the room while no one is looking, morphing his original armor into an Absolute transformation to act as the unknown maverick.

"He he he... Perhaps I'll give the brave little hunter a special solo mission he'll never forget~ A chilling "battle", that is~" He plotted. Cycling his tongue around the pale lips, tasting the smooching marks led by the novice hunter from the former organization of assassins. For a surprise trick will never fail to get the jump on him.

Meanwhile, outside into the garden fields behind HQ during midnight, the emerald eyed gun blaster is relaxing his butt off from all the boring worriness dancing across his head all cheered up from the conversation he had with the die hard blonde, arms at the back of his head and boots crossed. Watching above the glittering stars of the night skies, so beautiful and sparkly to his pupils.

"Ahhh... What a beautiful nightfall... No wars, criminals or intruding crooks around at bay... Just some all out peace at last...." Sighed the dual wielding lad, succumbed by the wonders of the brighten dots as well as the graceful moon. The decent opposite of daytime for every or less generations to witness, secondly to lay back and watch. Everything that the red violet ex maverick have said about peace is very true, no worries, miscreants or anything too risky for that matter. It is a cesspool of non violent freedom to swim about all the time without ever getting out.

"I really miss Red... He's like the true father I never had, before going bonkers from those stupid case loaded with corny chips that changed him... Sigh.... But, his DNA will always be carried within my mimic enhancement... And in my memories too..." Tears have descended from his eyes, remembering of his foster father that caused him to grieve. However, as the new recruited hunter, he wiped them off by fist to get his spirit together.

"*Sniff...* What am I sobbing for...? Big boys don't cry. They would stay valiant and kick the crap outta fear! Heck, I'm a brave man now, in fact, I'm a Maverick Hunter! Yeah! Those creeps are gonna be very sorry if they first took a gander of me!" Cheering himself up with self encouragement, he would practice his kicks into the middle of the garden, fantasizing of him shooting multiple enemies who are robbing banks, abusing civilians and more. Hearing the applause washing all over him, women admire his fearlessness by delicate smooches. It will be his wonderful dream come true.

"Yeah.... That's right, ladies... Plenty of me to go around... He he he..." He imagines of himself surrounded by women giving him kisses by gently stroking his body all over. Until suddenly, a ringing has disturbed his daydreaming sequence. Must be an emergency or some sort. Or worse, he might have done anything disrespectful by switching the report papers. He then respond by the ear port.

"This is Axl."

"He he he he.... Hello there, Maverick Hunter Axl...." Then, a sudden deep voice has reached to him with a comely yet seductive vibe.

"Who is this?! Where's Zero?!" Replied Axl, demanding for a certain answer.

"There's no need to be angry, boy... I'm sure that he's perfectly safe with me... For now... He he he..." He replied.

"You bastard!"

"Mmm... Aren't we fueled with anger? I like that in a boy~ Truly that I would admire a woman, but never mind them... For I already found someone right in front of me~"

"Found who!?"

"You~"

What the young pistol user didn't really know, despite of a mysterious call, is that a dangerous "maverick" was quietly behind him the entire time. He have felt his chilling presence speaking to his ears until he jumped back from the "enemy".

"What the?! Who are you?!"

"He he he... Haven't your precious red friend ever warned you about me~?"

"So you're that scary looking maverick jerk that he told me about!"

"Precisely~ But enough of the meaningless introductions~ I've come here to have fun with you~" Approaching the incubus themed reploid, making his way to the youthful ward of the hunters.

"W...What are you doing?! Step off from me!" He quivered slightly, reversing himself from his opponent while trying to gulp his pride whole. "Y..You're suppose to seduce women, not men!"

"You're correct, my young plaything~ But...." He teleported for moment. Seeing as kind of a magic trick, the former member of Red Alert was infuriated by that. But, giving him a chance to draw out his trusty Axl Bullets just in case the malicious "intruder" reveals himself again.

"All right. This is it. Time to take out some maverick tr-" Then, something very impossible has happened to him. He was interrupted by the disappearing individual, now visible, by placing his clawed hand upon his innocent cheeks. Rubbing them for a quick second until the touch has intrigued his interests.

"Ohh yes~ Your flawless face is so passionate, along with your delicious figure~ So hot~" He examined, circling his palms very slowly.

"H...Huh...?!" He frozed.

"Not only do I desire for females, but in secret, I love males as well~ That's why I found you, little boy~ Now, how about a little privacy to shield ourselves from this world~?

"Are you insane?! Why would I wanna date a-" Stopped once more with a hungry kiss had made the adolescent reploid dropped his weapons. Defeated by something very consensual that he had never seen before.

"Mmmmph! Mmmph!"

"Mmmmmm~ Just try to relax~ And let go of your unwanted fury you've kept for so long~" Repelled the goth colored vampire, staring at his leaf colored eyes to hypnotize him.

"Mmmmm...." At last, he was fully compelled to the deadly spell that Zero mentioned earlier. He tried to fight it off, but it too late.

"Good boy~ Now, let's retreat into a secret place to have our little mission together~ Forever~"

"Yes, master..."

Teleporting both him, along with his mind controlled captive to a darker basement cell underneath the base to continue their "battle" in peace, they can finally have a much more privacy zone to make some love. Setting the youngling onto the bed gently while pinning him down softly, he began to sip his longing kiss once again into a seductive way.

"Mmm~ Mmmmm~ God, your lips are very tasty, but yet beautiful~ I love it when it shines brightly than a diamond~" He was fascinated by his pure and polished lips.

"Mmmm..." The future hunter would conduct the same while hugging around his master's neck, giving into the lip mashing. Connecting both of their armored bodies with approach to began the intensive grinding. Gripped tightly of their embrace to never release each other or to be separated. Finally alone together, into the dark underground area filled with nothing but lights which will be activated automatically by clapping. But it's probably best to have them off for a special night just for two.

Their anatomy would polish one another into a normal pace, meeting face to face. Or perhaps chest to chest. Jointed into a pleasurable condition as the demonic ice maverick tilted his head towards the thinly neck of the rambunctious prototype, running up and down of his snake like tongue to please him.

"U...Unh~..."

"He he he... You like that~? How about this~?" He downward his tongue a little further, all over his body, and mostly, his little private briefs.

"Unh... Unh....!" The flustered expression has appeared in his face.

"That's it, little man~ Let it all out~"

"Unh.... Unh... Unh.... Oh man.... It's so good... Unh..."

He continued to taste more of the youthful newbie, onto the legs, even the chest and mouth. Then returns for a thirsty tongue on tongue action to juice up the peacefully mood.

"Mmmph...." Moaned the pea shooting individual.

"Mmmmm~"

Their tongues were performing a tango during a kiss. Enjoying a perfectly evening at meek for a desirable dance. Dipping one of them after a dazzling twirl. Outside, the incubus would place his clawed hand upon the dual wielding lad's cute little buttocks for a casual spanking.

"Ahh....!"

"Well, you have been a very naughty boy, Axl~" He said playfully, gripping it very hungrily.

"Ahh...! Yes, I'm a very bad boy, master..." He moaned again, but with an enjoyable act.

"You know what happens to bad little boys~? They deserved a good spanking~"

He then gives him a very good slap to the ass, not too hard but lightly. Patting it like a beloved pet.

"Mmm... More master..." Begged Axl.

"That's more like it~ Yes, you may have another~" He rapidly punishes the tiny little rump. Just to give him more.

This was his first special mission he had with the shadowed themed hunter unlike any kind. Thrilling and exciting for a boat load of duels awaiting for his call when it comes to danger. He asked for something dangerous, now it arrives to him and was purposely delivered. Endlessly lingering by his ice user's grasp, but an a lustful way. Flushing away his tired boredom along with the annoyed whining down the toilet for good. For the new memories of his new friends have replaced the previous one from his mind, straighteningly stored to inherit it forever.

And finally, the true feud shall finally commenced.

"Now then~ Are you ready~?" Questioned the winged hunter.

"Ready when you are, master." He replied, lending his neck closely to him with his dipped head.

"Yeeeeeesssss~ I'm going to enjoy this more like I admire you~" He grinned, revealing his white diamond fangs for a scrumptious dinner. Axl was a little nervous, but not afraid to allow his mentor to seduce his sexy neck. Hissing very quietly with a purr, he gently bit it, inserting his fangs into the synthetic flesh.

"A...Ahhh...."

"Mmmmm~"

Like any other vampire whose patiently desperate for blood in order to survive, he is interest into necks. One of his favorite sexual parts of the body that will never cease to amaze him by the slightest. It really inspired his needs even more than talon his enemies with one strike. Plus, he even dreams in his slumber. And now, he finally had a chance to permanently suck on the thin yet strongly part of the new gen teenager.

"Mmmmmmmm~ So sexy~" He moaned comely, wiggling the tongue to clean off the blood from the marks on his disciple's neck.

"Ahhh..." He moaned yet again, puffing out a warm steam from his mouth. Enjoying his solo mission to the fullest than just lounging around at his post.

"Mmm~ Your blood is so hyper and sweet~ I really appreciate it so much, Axl~" Licked the unknown maverick, who later showed his true identity by removing his helmet. The rookie gunner gasped, knowing it was...

"Zero!?"

"Hey, kiddo~ Liking your new mission~?" Said the pale blonde upperclassmen. The plot twist has shocked the scarred youth.

"You're the unnamed maverick?!"

"That's right~ Just giving you a new lesson when this is all over~"

"No freaking way! I...I'm really sorry for kissing like that! It's not like me at all! I..." He was silenced by his friend's deep smooch as his forgiveness for the accident that occurred from the start.

"Heh. Don't worry about it, you cute little runt~ Accidents happen sometimes when you're new~ So there's no need to get all apologetic about it~"

"Well... You're right, Zero. Thanks for understanding." He cheered up.

"So~ Ready to continue our little private mission together, partner?"

"You know it, boss~"

And so, two hunters have resume their reconnaissance by kissing into the lips once more, making out in peace with the saber wielding senior's wings folded across them for a more comfortable terms.

"Oh Zero~"

"Axl~"

"Zero~...."

"Axl~....."

"Zero~...." He whispered.

"Axl~...." Same with the black crimson blond.

Tranquillity has comfort the town of Abel City during the return, free from the dreaded master and his army of mavericks pillaging amok by trying to scare humanity from the face of existence, all dealt with by the fearless Maverick Hunters. And not to mention Axl as well, the third hero that the world will look up to and will always count on. He may have lack immaturity unlike X and Zero, but has the potential will for caring about his trustworthy friends and saving everyone from certain devastation invading the earth. But for now, all is peace once again. And their thinks belong to the true hero for his bravery to protect mankind at all cost and his pure of heart. Thank you, Maverick Hunter Axl, for your limitless generosity and protection of all humans and reploids living in equality, as well as in harmony.

The End

#megaman #zero #axl #yaoi #absolute zero #fan fic #2020 #story

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thewhumperinwhite · 5 years ago

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Café Interlude: Police Station

Reasonable Question: Why Are There No Ladies In Café?

Answer: There are, they’re just too competent to make decent whumpees.

Andrea Santos appears in Hospital/Squad Car and No More Squad Car. Medea is introduced briefly in Used Car Lot 2. Sophia is mentioned in this ask.

TW for: cops, poor gun safety practices, city-wide crisis with patterns of contagion that reads different in April 2020 than it does when I planned this story fuckin’ six years ago.

OH ALSO. Original concepts for everyone except Sophia come from the inimitable @sweetheartblue, A Queen.

@whumpitywhumpwhump

Day 1

Officer Andrea Santos listens to the steady beat of the heart rate monitor and tries to slow her own heart to match it. On the bright side, she no longer feels close to tears. She’s going to consider that a victory. There have been few enough of those today.

Andrea pulls at a few loose strands of her hair—at some point during this long, awful day, it came halfway out of its braid, and now it’s matted with sweat and blood. She’s had a chance to wash her face and tape over her more obvious cuts and scrapes, but not to actually shower. The force is stretched far too thin for her to go home now, even if she had a cruiser to go home in.

“So you’d better get on your feet fast,” she says softly, giving Ben’s hand a squeeze. “No excuse for sleeping on the job, partner.”

At the sound of a very awkward throat-clearing form the doorway, Andrea straightens hastily and snatches her hand away.

Monique looks honestly sympathetic for a second before her face settles into a more familiar deadpan expression. “You god in here, Drea? We could use you in the briefing room.”

Andrea stands, trying to brush off some of the dirt clinging to her uniform. It doesn’t really work. She tosses her head. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Her boss is seated at one of the briefing room desks with a map of the city in front of him and probably his seventh cup of coffee in his hand. He looks up at her as she enters, his worry-creased face immediately softening.

That’s--bad. She can handle Monique’s guarded pity, if only because it looks so strange and uncomfortable on her face that it’s almost funny. But any show of sympathy from Greg Halstrom is going to crumble her resolve immediately and they don’t have time for her to cry on him.

“I’m sorry, Andrea,” Halstrom says, and he sounds like he means it, goddammit. “I wish we had more time to give you space.”

“Well, we don’t,” she snaps, and plops down across from him. “Did I miss any game-changing revelations?”

Monique huffs. “You wish. We still don’t know a goddamn thing.”

Halstrom turns his map so she can read it. “Here’s the best we can figure so far. There were six initial points of attack, that we know of.” He taps the map. Six locations throughout the city have been circled in red ink. She spots the café, near the center, and glares at it. “Two resulted in no survivors at all, so once the original assailants were killed, those were pretty much dealt with.” Halstrom leans forward, a green pen in his hand, and crosses out an antiques store on fourth street and a Subway on ninth. “The attacks on more crowded places—” Two of the remaining circles mark the public library and a major city park, and Andrea doesn’t want to think about how many people must’ve been involved in those. “Well, there was basically no way for us to have kept track of all the survivors,” Halstrom concludes, frowning down at the map. “We’re stretched thin as it is. The hospital is pretty much a lost cause— too many of them ended up there.”

Andrea clenches her fists and doesn’t think of Ben, in his makeshift hospital bed, kept alive by contraband equipment. “Yeah,” she says grimly, “I caught that. Hold on, though.” She frowns up at Halstrom. “You keep saying ‘attack,’ ‘attack point.’ Do we think these were—coordinated, somehow?”

Halstrom and Monique exchange an uncomfortable look.

“That’s hard to say,” Halstrom hedges.

“It’d be a hell of a coincidence for six of these crazies to show up at once, though,” Monique says, and she’s right. Andrea’s stomach turns. What does that mean?

“Goddammit,” Andrea mutters, slamming one of her hands down on the table. “Somebody knows what’s going on in this city.”

Halstrom frowns at her, his face going soft and sympathetic again, and then he frowns down at the map. There are deep dark circles around his eyes— she wonders how long it’s been since he last slept. Since any of them have.

“We don’t know that, Andrea,” he says in a low, frustrated voice. “Who knows if all this is what anybody wanted, even if the initial attacks were planned. Even if somebody meant for this to happen, they’d have to be idiots to be in the city when it did, and we can’t leave now.” He looks at her, and then drops a big warm hand onto her shoulder. He’s probably trying to give her a reassuring look; she glares down at the map because she has to. “The best we can do now is try to keep as many people alive as we can.”

Melody clenches and unclenches her hands on the edge of the table. Of course she wants to keep people alive—but at the moment, she thinks she’ll settle for killing some fucking bleeders.

——

Day 2

She shifts Harrison Krieger’s weight on her shoulders, and growls at the necessity. He’s bleeding badly from under his hairline, but he’s also breathing, so his master probably won’t be happy with her if she leaves him to die.

At the moment she would love almost literally nothing more than to do just that.

The old man will be unhappy enough as it is—he never fully trusted Paxon Field, but there’s no denying that they were a very useful asset, and it’ll be tricky to explain why she let them wander off without trying harder to stop them. Hopefully she’ll be able to make it Harri’s fault. Which it is, come to that.

She shifts his weight again, shaking her hair out of her face. Best case she’ll get the call soon, and be able to give up this whole nasty business. It had better be soon, before she goes fucking feral and joins God’s Hammer for real.

“Hold it!” a girl’s voice calls suddenly. She freezes. “You stay right where you are, lady!”

This seems like as good an excuse as any— she drops Harrison like a sack of potatoes and sprints across the street, sliding in through the broken front window of an antique store and crouching under the window ledge to draw her gun, fleet-footed as a fox.

She hears three gunshots while she runs, but she must move faster than her pursuers expect, because all three fly hopelessly wide.

Under the window ledge, she waits.

“Andrea!” a man’s voice shouts from just outside her field of vision. “For god’s sake, you can’t just run around shooting at people, okay?”

She shifts sideways, so she can see her pursuers: a middle-aged blonde man and a young woman. The woman has bandages wrapped around her head; she marks this down in her mental assets column.

They’re both in dark blue uniforms she recognizes belatedly—it has been a very long day—as those worn by the city police.

Oh. Hmm.

The man pokes at Harrison’s body with the toe of his boot. “She just dropped him,” he says, sounding bewildered. He isn’t shouting anymore, but with no car noise for blocks, she doesn’t have to strain much to hear him.

“Is he dead?” the woman says, sounding alarmed. Sounds like the police have at least some knowledge of the bleeders, then. That’s— good, she guesses.

“I, uh, don’t think so.” The man hesitates, then squares his shoulders and kneels to check Harri’s pulse, his hand on his gun.

She rolls her eyes. Good thing Harri isn’t bit— there’s no way the man is fast enough to avoid him if he’s just playing dead.

“No, his pulse seems normal,” the man says, sounding relieved. He straightens, frowning down at Harri, and then around at the surrounding buildings. His eyes pass over her storefront without so much as a second glance, so she thanks god for his apparently shitty vision. It seems like too much to hope that the woman didn’t see her enter this store, though. She wonders if there’s a back exit.

“Should we— take him in, then?” the woman asks uncertainly.

Shit.

“I guess so— for his own safety, if nothing else. Think we can carry him, between the two of us?”

Shit. It’s probably too late to try and kill Harri now, but she really can’t let him get taken alive, then his master will really think she’s incompetent or a traitor, and all her months of hard work will be for nothing.

“Not without making ourselves vulnerable,” the woman is saying, tugging at her long braid thoughtfully, and at that point she stands from her crouch and steps carefully over the window ledge, her pistol drawn.

“Don’t move, either of you,” she says flatly, and while the man obeys her orders, only laying a hand on his gun, the woman draws her gun and trains it on the center of her forehead. Under other circumstances she might be impressed by the girl’s speed, but at the moment she’s just annoyed. “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” she hisses. “I didn’t want to do it this way, dammit.” Reluctantly, she puts her gun back in its holster on her thigh.

The man and the woman both stare at her.

“Look,” she says, planting a hand on her hip, and points at Harri’s prone form. “Will you just give him back to me, please? I need him.”

The officers blink again, in unison.

The man recovers first. “Uh,” he says, a confused smile finding its way onto his handsome face. “What? Why would we do that?”

She sighs. “Because we’re on the same side.” Shaking her hair out of her face, she takes two steps forward— the woman conspicuously follows her progress with her gun— to offer the man her hand, since he seems to be the one in charge. Or she hopes he is, anyway. “My name is Medea,” she says, lifting her chin. “I’m with Interpol. I’m an agent.”

The man blinks at her hand, and then takes it in his and shakes once, though the woman makes a disbelieving squawking noise. “Greg Halstrom, Police Captain. I— would like to believe you,” he says, and while his voice is polite it is also very clear that he doesn’t.

“Well, you should,” Medea says, a trifle coldly. She misses her badge. This undercover bullshit is more trouble than it’s worth. “It’s the truth. I have been infiltrating the terrorist organization known as God’s Hammer for almost six months now, and that man—” Releasing Greg Halstrom’s hand, she points at where Harri is still lying face-down on the asphalt— “is crucial to maintaining my cover. As an agent of the International Criminal Police Organization, my authority exceeds yours, and I order you to relinquish custody of this criminal to me.”

Crossing her arms, she waits and hopes they’re dumb enough to believe her. It’s the truth, much as she wishes it wasn’t, but she doesn’t, she’s painfully aware, actually have any proof.

“Um,” says Captain Halstrom, looking very uncomfortable.

“What are you looking so conflicted for, old man?” the woman snaps. “Of course we won’t do that!”

Medea glares at her. Her gun still drawn, the woman stands her ground and glares back.

“Ah— she’s right, I’m afraid, ma’am,” Halstrom says, looking, if possible, even more uncomfortable. “We can’t let you run off with this man if we don’t know what your intentions are. But— you’re welcome to come down to the station with us.” He puts a little extra weight on the word ‘welcome,’ and Medea is well aware that he’s only framing his order as a request for courtesy’s sake.

Medea pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. On the downside, this is a hell of a setback. On the up, there might be showers at the police station.

Straightening, she tosses her head. “Alright, that sounds like a fair deal,” she says, just a few slivers of ice in her voice, and the look of disappointment on the woman’s face is almost as rewarding as the man’s relieved smile.

——

Day 3

“You can’t be fucking serious,” Andrea snaps, gesturing at the mess of red on the map. “If he has a brain, the leader of God’s Hammer’d kill you on sight by now!”

Medea glares at her. “Has it occurred that maybe I, an expert, know what to expect from a gang leader than an untrained twenty-something who—”

“Uh, guys?” Monique says from the doorway, and quails slightly when everyone snaps their heads around to look at her—Andrea furious, Medea impatient, and Halstrom deeply relieved. “There’s, um—there’s somebody here to see us?”

Andrea exchanges a baffled look with Halstrom— after two days of phone calls ending in screaming, the neighborhood hasn’t been calling the police, let alone coming to the station. Andrea gets to her feet, and they all follow Monique back to the front desk.

Andrea doesn’t know what she’s expecting. It isn’t—fucking—Gossip Girl.

The girl is looking out the doors at the empty street when they crowd back into the reception area, and then she turns, and Andrea half expects to see cameras flashing. She looks like she should come with her own paparazzi. As it is she’s flanked by two big out of breath men in suits, holding guns, and they take up positions on either side of the door like trained dogs.

Andrea watches the girl look Halstrom up and down, and then she strides up to the desk. Andrea can’t see her feet, but she can hear that she’s wearing stilettos, and the collar of her coat looks like actual fur.

“I’m here to report a missing person,” Gossip Girl says, and Andrea is surprised when she sees her eyes— they’re narrowed in determination, sharp as flint.

Halstrom is staring at the girl like she’s got two heads—or like she’s got perfectly straightened hair during the apocalypse, possibly—so Andrea’s the one who speaks up. “You fucking what?” she says, eloquently, and Gossip Girl narrows her eyes further.

“My fiancé,” Gossip Girl says, with all the confidence of a person who can afford bodyguards in the apocalypse. “He was downtown with his father on April tenth, two days ago, and he was left there.” She says this last part with her perfect white teeth bared, anger directed somewhere outside the room. “I haven’t heard from him since. I want to know where he is.”

Halstrom is still staring at her, eyebrows raised. Medea has a strange look on her face, and is hovering in the doorway like she doesn’t want to be seen. Andrea takes the initiative again.

“He’s a fucking zombie, lady,” she says, too confused and annoyed to sound sympathetic. Gossip Girl turns her ice-shard eyes on Andrea, and Andrea almost takes a step back.

“I’m aware of the possibility,” Gossip Girl says, standing there in her fur coat, with her unstained unwrinkled dress and her stilettos. “I still want him found. If he’s fallen ill, I’ll take him to my father’s doctors, and he’ll no longer be your responsibility.”

“He isn’t our responsibility now,” Andrea snarls. “Listen, lady, we don’t have time or bodies to run around after some rich asshole during the end of the—”

“I thought you might say that,” Gossip Girl interrupts. “Therefore, I’m prepared to offer you access to my father’s resources and laboratories in exchange for finding my fiancé.”

“Your, uh,” Halstrom says, sounding very lost. “Who exactly is your...”

“I can answer that,” Medea says with apparent reluctance. Gossip Girl looks over Andrea’s shoulder and spots Medea, and does a serious double take. “Captain, this is Sophia Rinaldi, only daughter of Albrecht Rinaldi.” Andrea stares over her shoulder at Medea, who is leaning in the doorway looking slightly uncomfortable. “Leader of God’s Hammer.”

All three officers stare at Gossip Girl. The buzz of the fluorescent lights is the only sound in the station for about two minutes.

“Hello, Media,” Sophia Rinaldi says acidly at Medea, who waves ironically at her. “Actually I think you’ll find my father is a respected entrepreneur and philanthropist.”

“Who funds every violent crime in the city,” Halstrom offers with a bewildered smile. “I’m not sure we want the kind of help your father is offering, Miss Rinaldi.”

“My father isn’t offering it,” Sophia says, and she looks at Halstrom, beautiful and apparently sincere; Andrea pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “Listen to me, officer. His father just— just left him out there, during all of this. I’m not going to do the same. If he’s alive, I want him safe. If he’s— unwell, my father has the best labs in the city. If he’s—” she falters for the first time, her hand tightening into a fist on the fur collar of her coat, but then she swallows and raises her perfect pointed chin. “If he’s dead, I will recover his body. I am willing to assist your officers in exchange for their expertise. That’s the deal, sir.”

She holds Halstrom’s gaze, which means Andrea gets to watch him crumble in real time. The old man sighs, running a hand through his hair, which has gone more gray at the temples in the past three days than in the five years he’s been her captain.

“God. Who exactly are we looking for?” he says finally, defeated, and Sophia Rinaldi blazes with triumph, reaching into her fur coat for a glossy photograph which she slams on the counter.

Andrea looks at the guileless blue eyes and the overlong, neatly styled blonde hair.

“Oh, what the fuck,” she says, and hears Medea saying the same thing beside her.

#the café at the end of the world #comatose #state of emergency #apocalypse tw #pandemic tw #zombie apocalypse #distance caretaking

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monochromemedic · 5 years ago

Text

Writing oc exercise context it’s a murder mystery game that actually turns out to be real

Dominic paced around the room, unbuttoning a few of the buttons of his shirt and pulling his shirt away, and throwing it across the room. He slicked his hair back, sweat rolling down his face as he tried to think. That was a body. A real body. No jokes, no fake blood, no special effects. And now this little game was real, and there was a murderer among them. The door he had closed behind him opened, and in walked the other two, finely dressed but looking stressed as all hell. “Hey uh... that was a fucking body yeah? Or am I just doing the thing again?” Silas asked as he shut the door again, leaving the three of them secluded from the other guests. “Because that was really convincing! That’s really good special effects I could really smell the... insides.” Fallon shook his head as he dry heaved, putting a hand to his mouth as he moved to a potted plant and crouched over it. “No that was ... real. That was really... real, and if you talk about smell one more fucking time i’ll blow up chunks so PLEASE. STOP.” He begged, before gagging again and pushing his face into the carpet to try to stop his heaving. “Yeah that was a real body and we should all go to the cops and LEAVE THIS PLACE. As much as I hate the both of you at times, and for the love of GOD can’t understand why I hang out with you two children. But I KNOW, you wouldn’t KILL a man. Least not on purpose.” Dom hissed, going to grab his phone out of his pocket to find nothing. He closed his eyes in frustration, fist closing as he slapped his thigh. “Damn... game. All of the phones are in that damn... confiscated box that’s god knows where! If we make it out of here I am... NEVER doing anything like this again.” “I mean the chances of this happening again is VERY slim you have to admit Dom, I mean how many people get their brains blown out at a public game? Very slim. I mean you only hear about that stuff in movies and stories.” Silas noted only to have Fallon yell from the corner “YEAH AND LOOK AT US RIGHT NOW.” Silas paused, rubbed the sides of his nose and looked away, nodding his head a little as he began to mutter something softly under his breath as he took a seat on the bed. The young man slowly got up from the floor as he rubbed a few tears away, holding back the bile in his stomach. He leaned against the wall, pushing the hair from his face as he looked at his two friends. “Ok so... horror movie tropes. We stay together uh... we fucked that up so lets just stay as a group just... us. And- and we hear a noise we-” “Fallon you shut your mouth. This is not a horror movie, there is no tropes, this is REAL LIFE. And if you say any of your idiotic little babble I swear to GOD I will choke you out and lock you in a CLOSET UNTIL THE COPS COME.” Dom began to scream, hair falling back in front of his face as he desperately tried to push it back only to just give up in any chance to look slightly put together. “Oh and what’s your idea for this. PLEASE LET ME KNOW. Because obviously, big boss man knows what the hell to do when someone gets shot in the head. Oh they cover that in ... fucking.... company meetings I see. What’s you idea?” “I... I suppose we either stay in this room until the police come or... we try to leave. But going outside the room where he others are is idiotic at best if the murderer is willing to kill at a place like this with people around knew that people didn’t have their phones they probably would want a whole massacre. And even if that’s not the case everyone going mad and wanting to place blames on others could just start another murder. So... stay away from others. and get out. That’s our best bet.” “Yeah i’m sure that the others are gonna really love the idea of 3 guys alone in a room as there’s a rotting corpse that’s not suspicious at all.” “Look unless they come banging on the door, we’ll be ok. I mean for all we know they won’t even know we’re gone.” Silas chimed in with a smile. Dom glared at him before giving a sweeping gesture over at Fallon with his bright mint hair that was half gelled back, a pair of sunglasses that was his ‘fancy pair’ but really looked more like cheap gimmicky shit. Not to mention his ‘outfit’ which clashed with everyone else there, with it’s odd pattern jacket and not even properly tied tie that hanged around his neck as if he were a 10 year old trying on his dad’s clothes. Silas just stared back at Dom, eyebrows raised. “Are you pointing to the plant... the table or... that gesture was pretty ...vague.” Dom opened his mouth yell at Silas only to be interrupted by another loud gunshot that rang throughout the house, causing all of the men to shutter and scramble to the far sides of the room, fear on all of their faces. Silas was panting, hand on his chest as he fell off the side of the bed. Dom was reaching for the closet door, already half in it as he searched the room for any bullet holes. Fallon was under the table on the side of the room, hands over his ears as he pushed his face into his knees. “OK OK LET’S JUST BAIL. FUCK THE OTHERS. SELF PRESERVATION IS ALL THAT MATTERS.” He screamed, his voice shrill as Dom raced over and slapped his hand over his mouth. Dom looked over to the window in the room, breath shaky as he slowly pulled the younger man over, checking the height. 3 floors. Even if they jumped they could be seriously hurt. And if they were seriously hurt they’d make noise, be even more suspicious if they were found out. It’s entirely possible to make a blanket rope with the sheets in the room- Dom’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Silas’s exiting the room, causing Fallon and him both to turn. “What is he doing, what is that fucking dumb ass doing what is that fucking asshole doing I can’t have a corpse on my hands...” Fallon began to blather as he too ran after Silas, leaving Dom alone. He pondered for a moment, the other two were pretty spry, maybe they could leave faster then he could. I mean they were fucking idiots but... “God... damn it.” He whimpered under his breath as he followed after the two, only to see Silas pressed against the wall outside of the hallway, shotgun pressed against his chest by a well dressed woman. Fallon wasn’t fairing much better, as a man bashed his elbow against his face, causing a sickening splatter of blood to erupt from his nose as he fell against the wall, beginning to cough. The man then turned to Dom, taking out a knife and pointing it towards him. “Everyone in the lobby. No one... hiding or plotting, we’re figuring this shit out.” Dom sighed, watching his friends struggle and squirm as he raised his hands nervously in the air and closing his eyes. “Alright... just point the weapons down and we’ll follow. We only wanted to get away from the others. I’m sure you’d understand with a... killer in the group.” “Yeah that’s what they all say just get into the lobby or we will assume the worst from your little group.” The woman barked, moving her gun down and pushing Silas along, towards the main lobby, where a few of the others stood, the body of the dead man covered in a white sheet stained red.

#dom's tag #fallon's tag #silas' tag #trying to write them is hard but practice makes perfect i guess

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diegoh4rgreeves · 6 years ago

Text

Fitting Room

Story Summary: Diego and reader go shopping for a publicity event of The Umbrella Academy. They decide to go into one ridiculous high-end store as a joke. Reader deals with fatphobic implications from someone working floor there. Diego tries defending her, and reader ends up taking care of it herself. Diego joins reader in the fitting room to zip her gown for her, and they end up having some fun…

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Plus Size Female Reader

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 2,158 words

Warning(s): Fluff, smut, fatphobic minor character, cussing

A/N: This took me 5 days to write and rewrite, and bothering a friend about for more ideas. I came up with COMPLETELY new ideas, and I had breakdowns of wondering if I should even continue doing this or not. Finally, I kept my original idea and I wanted to make reader a happy, confident, and self-assured gal. Let me know if this is good representation! I hope you all enjoy this!

Taglist:

@reblogserpent @whistlingwindtree @lostinwonderland314

It’s nearly sunrise when you sit up in bed and notice that your boyfriend Diego is still absent. The mattress is hard, the room is hot from the lack of air conditioning in the old mansion, and the walls have a dull dark green colour. There are flashcards of action moves and posters of The Kraken posted to the walls. You wonder how your boyfriend can come back to his childhood home. Not only does the mansion look like it’s falling apart, but also Diego has told you stories of his traumatic childhood. Then again, his current place is the boiler room of the gym he works and boxes at. It was either the traumatising and somewhat clean mansion or the dusty boiler room.

You hear the bedroom door creak open. A tall and built figure appears. He has a square-shaped face with big brown eyes, plump lips, a mustache, and a goatee. He’s in full leather clad with knives strapped to the torso.

As relieved as you are that Diego’s home, you feign being asleep. Even after all these years of being with your vigilante boyfriend, you worry about him and his night missions. You just didn’t see the point of waking up and scolding him anymore.

He gets into the bed and snakes one of his arms on your waist. He nuzzles you. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he whispers as if he’s sending you a voicemail. He pecks your head and falls asleep.

The silence is worth his affections.

It’s about noon when Diego and you enter a fancy clothing store at the mall. The store is grand with its open concept and minimal amount of clothing. A store with such an elegant exterior would not typically have such comical looking clothes. This one, however, did.

Diego and you were originally going to pick up clothes for a grand event this weekend. It’s a public appearance from The Umbrella Academy after the death of Diego’s father, Reginald Hargreeves. Normally Diego would decline something like this, had it not been for Pogo insisting that his siblings and he give it a chance. Pogo is the family’s chimpanzee servant who can talk and is practically Diego’s second father.

Diego and you went inside this particular store as a joke. You see poofy gowns and 70s style tuxedos. You dare each other to try something on.

“Try this on,” Diego hands you a multicoloured gown with ruffled collars on it. It looks like a sheet of cloth with a handkerchief placed on each side.

You take the gown and you feel your lips tense up as you try to fight laughter. A tall and leggy woman working floor passes by. You turn around and see a black blazer with rhinestones on it and matching pants. You pick up this outfit and hand it to Diego. “You try this on.”

He turns to you and checks what you’re holding. He scoffs. “Really?”

You smile at him and nod.

Diego reluctantly takes the blazer from you. His face falls when he sees the dress you’re holding. “Oh shit…” He takes the dress from you and hands you one a size bigger.

You take the dress from Diego and thank him. Suddenly you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around to see the same tall and leggy woman looking at you. “Hello,” you say to the woman.

“We have a maternity section. It’s over there.” She points further down the store.

You look at her in bewilderment.

Diego looks at her with flames in his eyes. “Excuse me, miss, but she is not pregnant… Who are you to assume that?” Diego tilts his head and smirks. “Did you remember to have breakfast today?”

The woman’s jaw drops.

“Diego…” You grit your teeth and grab his arm. “I got this, babe. I got this.”

He looks at you with flared nostrils, and then he glares at the woman. He respects your wishes by keeping quiet. He stays with you and watches how you handle this.

“He’s right,” you say to the woman. “I’m not pregnant, and this has my size on it.” You lift the dress and gesture it to her. “See? Do I look like something bigger than that?”

The lady smirks. “Alright. As you were. Would you like to try this on?”

You beam up. “Why yes, I would, actually! Thank you so much.” You’ve come a long way in learning that killing people with kindness does the job. “May my boyfriend have a room too?”

The lady’s jaw drops again. “B-boyfriend?”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Diego takes a step toward her, seemingly ready to pull his knife out. You’re praying to God he didn’t actually pack any of his knives to the mall!

You block him with your arm. “Yes, going strong 2 years now.” You look at him and smile.

He wraps his arms around your neck from behind and pecks your cheek.

“Uh…” The lady clears her throat once more. “Alright… Right this way then.” She walks up ahead of you. Diego takes your hand as you both follow the lady. She takes out some tags and hands one each to you. “Feel free to call for another size.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to…” Diego retorts.

The lady widens her eyes with fear and nods. Then she walks out.

You’re ready to walk over to your stall until Diego approaches you. “How can you let anyone talk to you like that?” Diego loudly whispers.

“Diego… It’s something I’ve dealt with my whole life. I’m fine.”

“But you don’t deserve that. If only everyone else could see the strong, independent, kind, and beautiful woman you are!”

You shake your head. “I like weeding out the jerks. If I’m honest… I used to think you’d be a jerk.”

He looks at you in amazement. “What, why? How?”

You shrug. “You’re tall, you’re built, you’re a boxer, and you’re a fucking superhero! You’re a handsome and famous person, Diego.”

He blows raspberries. “I ain’t shit compared to your genuine self.”

You giggle. “You’re cute. I like you.” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Holler when you’re done trying on your dumb outfit.”

He smiles. “You do the same.”

You look back at him over your shoulders and wink. “Oh, I can do more than a holler.”

He smirks and takes in how smooth and sexy you are. Then he walks into his stall, as do you.

The fitting room is spacious and pretty with its cream coloured walls and Astoria Grand Beaston Leaner full-length mirror.

You slip off your clothes and slide on the gown. As you fiddle with the zipper at the back, you remember how the fitting room used to make you feel.

The fitting room was where you’d cry when you were younger because you were bigger than your cousins. The fitting room was where your mother told you to lose weight before the prom or no one will ask you to it. The fitting room was what made you think dates never called you back no matter how beautiful the next dress you bought would be. Now, you’ve come to terms with your size, and how it’s made you the person you are today. Getting a sexy, strong, kind, and loving boyfriend is a bonus.

As you remember him and smile, you call him over.

You attempt zipping yourself up even though it’s useless. “Yeah?” Diego appears at the door.

“Can you zip me up?” You turn away from him and hold up your hair.

He zips you up and notices the mirror in front of the both of you. He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist.

You take notice of the mirror and let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God!”

“What?” He asks.

“I look like a cupcake!” This rainbow dress is unflattering, but at least it has nothing to do with your body.

He takes a moment before he speaks again. “I think you look perfect.” He pecks your cheek.

You hold his hands and turn to face him. You give him a soft smile and blush. “Why are you so good to me?”

He doesn’t say anything. He only keeps his smile on. “Did you notice my outfit?”

You let go of his grip so that you can see the outfit. You let out a screech from your disbelieved laugh. “You look like a magician!”

He smirks. “Yeah yeah yeah… I’m better off with my knives.”

“Yes, you’re a bad boy.” You pull him in for a kiss by tugging the collar of his white dress shirt. “Let’s get out of these clothes.”

He smirks. “Haha and then what?”

You playfully punch his arm. “Diego! This is a public place.”

“Not with closed doors, is it…” He grabs your hips and leans his head on yours.

You grin and wrap your arms around his neck. “Here? Right now?”

He nods.

You giggle. “Okay! What the hell. Why no—”

He leans in and presses a hard kiss to your lips. You beam up as you drown your lips with his. He slides the gown down and it instantly falls off you. Neither of you pay any mind to accidentally stepping on it. In this passionate kiss, he slides his hands underneath both cups of your bra. You unclasp the hook of it and it dangles off your shoulders. You rush sliding your panties down and scoff as you kick the poofy and rainbow gown away from both your feet.

He tosses his blazer to the floor and releases the kiss to quickly take his pants and boxers off. You unbutton his shirt which exposes his big and hairy chest. He sits on the bench and you place your legs in between him. He keeps full concentration on you and rubs your back up and down as you hungrily kiss.

You stay on his lap and simultaneously bend down to pick up your purse. You sigh with relief when you see that you kept the pack of condoms there from the other night. “Thought I was going to actually get pregnant today.” You chuckle.

Diego rolls his eyes. “That floor bitch doesn’t know what’s coming!” He presses another hard kiss to you and whispers to you in a hot breath. “You’re perfect.”

You moan after you hear that sweet nothing. He smiles and lifts you off his lap for a dreaded minute. He takes the condom from you and slips it on. He shifts you back to him and gives you a slow and sloppy kiss as you place yourself on top of him. He moans and closes his eyes. “Yeah. Ride me, you bad girl.”

You stare at him deeply and slowly hop on him. He spanks you and looks over to watch your ass jiggle. You gasp and thrust faster. He spanks you harder this time. You feel a burn on you and thrust faster. He grabs your hips and slides you off him. “Turn around and bend over.”

You do as you’re told, and you assume getting back in charge. You go up and down him and he keeps hitting your cute bottom. He revels in the view of your ass jiggling. You go faster and harder and you moan as he manages to reach his cock to your clit. You reach two fingers to your clit and rub them as he starts taking the lead now. After a few more strokes, you moan louder and forget where you are.

He smiles and looks out to check if anyone’s coming in. “He leans in and whispers. “Come for me, babe. Come.” He grabs both your breasts and twists your nipples with his index finger and thumb. It doesn’t do much to your genitals, though it puts you back in the driver’s seat. You rise in reverse cowgirl position and he holds your hair back. “That’s it…” He encourages you. “Keep going.” He can’t help but to thrust along with you. He is also getting close.

You feel yourself clench up and roll your eyes back to what feels like your skull. You call out a long fuck and tell Diego you love him. You fall back on his lap as your knees weaken. You turn around and see him smirking at you. “Did you cum?”

He nods.

“Are you sure?”

He lifts you off him and holds up his messy condom.

You guffaw. “Holy shit…” You eye the door to see how no one walked in on you and your kinky boyfriend. You whisper to him. “How the fuck did we get away with that, Diego!?”

He shrugs. You notice that he gets quiet after sex. Little did you know, he gets into trances after making love to you.

You smirk. “Thank you.” You lean in and kiss the tip of his nose.

He smiles and whispers. “I love you too.”

The fitting room is no longer your enemy.

116 notes · View notes

arcanesupern0va · 5 years ago

Text

Down With The Rickness; Ch2: Silhouettes

Summary: We confront Nova's parents, Nova gets drunk and then a certain group of guardians show up. Should be fun stuff.

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long! I kinda wrote myself into a corner and it took me three completely different versions of this chapter to find something I was actually happy with. Next chapter will absolutely feature Drunk!Rick (because I mean, obviously. I'm using the Vindicators) and I'm absolutely going to write Drunk!Rick as the sappiest fucking asshole in the world.

CW: Vaguely suicidal tones in this chapter Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 6542

My ao3

Masterlist

~Rick In The Water~

|Ch1: Such Small Hands|

+Nova+

“Fuck this Rick, I’m not going,” I declared for the third time that night. Rick sighed again, flopping down into his workshop chair as he rested his head in his hands.

“Fine, we won’t go,” he sighed, leaning back to look up me, his frustration apparent in every tired wrinkle.

“Seriously? This was your idea in the first place!” I fumed, pacing back and forth. It was supposed to be an easy plan. We meet up with them in a public place, I tell them politely but firmly that I wouldn’t be contacting them after tonight. If my father decided to act out, Rick would be there to drive the point home. It was supposed to be so easy and still, I was absolutely terrified to the core.

“Nova, my ability to care about any of this is about to run out.”

“You were the one that seemed so adamant about this being the way we deal with them!”

“Yeah, that was before five wardrobe changes and two emotional breakdowns,” he snarled. “I want you to get over it but at this point, seeing you like this isn’t fucking worth it.”

“This was your fucking idea!” I repeated, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration.

“I can change my goddamn mind, Nova. I thought it would work out fine to just confront them, but you are losing your goddamn mind. This isn’t worth it,” he told me firmly, standing up to grab my shoulders and stop me pacing. I froze in place, trembling under his touch as echoes of shattering glass and dull screaming played on repeat. He pulled away quickly, cursing under his breath and sinking back into his chair.

“I-I’m sorry, Rick. I’ll just go,” I murmured, furious with myself above all else. He didn’t respond as I willed my legs to take me anywhere else, anywhere but right here.

I walked into the main house to sounds of mirth in the living room. Jerry had bought the kids some kind of cheap VR headset and from the sound of it, Madi, Summer and Morty were enjoying the misguided purchase. I stopped just short of the archway, unable to face Madi in such an unstable mindset so I headed for the front door instead, yanking it open and heading down the street.

It was weird to fight with Rick like that but arguments had become far more frequent ever since he delved into my dreams. He’d become cold and distant. It wasn’t unlike he was when he first came back, the difference being even back then he always looked happy to see me but now he just wore a constant look of regret at the sight of me. Beth explained everything they saw in my head but nothing stood out as something that could’ve upset him. It was like he just didn’t care anymore.

“My ability to care about any of this is about to run out.”

I walked aimlessly, turning down random streets in an attempt to get good and truly lost for a little while. I turned a corner, finding myself on a dark street where my usual fear would kick in to send me in the other direction but instead I just I felt numb to it. I had gotten lost but it was in my own head. I couldn’t stop replaying every brief interaction I’d had with Rick trying to figure out what I could’ve done wrong. I was so lost in thought, in fact, that it wasn’t until it was too late when I started realizing everything looked all too familiar. Nauseating memories haunted me from every turn as I found myself on the street I grew up on. It looked eerily the same as the last time I’d seen it, the lawn decorations and landscaping were different, sure, and most of the cars were upgraded but there was no mistaking where I was. I was home.

“Goddammit Lainie!” an angry voice called from down the street, “Let’s just fucking go, alright? We’re going to be late.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” a mousy voice called after him, sounding about as horrified as I felt. As I neared my childhood home, I watched my mother shoot down the front steps toward my father’s truck. I couldn’t stop myself as I walked closer to them, coming into the light of a streetlight. My mom looked up at the movement, narrowing her eyes to try to discern the figure before her.

“(Y/N)?” she whispered, inching toward me. My father passed a glance over his shoulder as he started climbing into his truck, his nose turning up at the sight of me.

“H-Hi Mom,” I greeted her timidly, twisting my hands over and over as she rushed toward me.

“Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re okay. What are you doing out here? I thought we were meeting you at Shoney’s?” she asked, wrapping her arms around me and looking relieved to see me.

“I-I was nervous,” I admitted, “I went for a walk and I- I just kinda ended up here.”

“Charlie, Charlie look. It’s our baby girl,” my mom cried out to my dad, tears streaming down her face. My father grunted in response, cautiously watching our reunion in his rear view mirror.

“H-How are you, Mom?” I asked nervously, unsure of what to expect from the weeping woman in front of me. Of all the ways this scenario played out in my head, it never resulted in either of them being exactly happy to see me. I was half right, Dad was going to be distant and cold no matter what, but my mother’s reaction floored me.

“Oh, I’m great, baby,” she wept, stepping back to take in my appearance entirely. “Sweetheart, have you been taking care of yourself? I know your husband just died and all, but you’ll need to find someone who can take care of you and your daughter.”

“M-Mom, I can take care of myself,” I told her nervously, stepping away and crossing my arms across my chest. There it was, the same obsession with appearances that I remembered from my youth on painful display.

“I know you can, sweetheart,” she chastised me, taking another step closer, “but you have another person to think about. Do you have a job? Are you financially stable? Did he have a life insurance policy on him?”

“Mom, I’m fine,” I assured her firmly, recoiling away from her. “My daughter will be well taken care of. I don’t need someone else to do it for me.”

“Where is she right now? Is someone keeping an eye on her?” Mom grilled me, peeking around me as though Madison would jump out at any second. When I didn’t answer, a smug smile curled over her features, “See, you have someone taking care of her right now, don’t you?”

“Sh-She’s home alone,” I lied, “She’s old enough that I can go for a goddamn walk without having to have her with me.”

“No need to be hostile, (Y/N),” she reprimanded me, wagging her finger in my face. “You may have run out on us, but we’re still your parents and you will respect us.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Where are you living? Obviously in walking distance,” she barreled over me, looking over my shoulder for a house that didn’t exist.

“Don’t worry about where I live. I came here to tell you-”

“We do have rights, you know. We deserve to see our granddaughter.”

“Mom! Stop!” I snapped, “I don’t want you to contact me anymore. I don’t know why you did in the first place but my life has been a lot easier without you and Dad in it and I prefer to keep it that way.”

“(Y/N), don’t you dare talk to your mother like that,” my father growled, finally climbing out of his truck and slamming the door. “If you try to stop her from seeing our grandchild, we will get lawyers involved.”

“Just leave me alone,” I snarled, backing away slowly from them. A firm figure behind me stopped me in my tracks as warm, calloused hands pushed me behind him. Rick towered ominously over my mother, glaring down as she stared up at him, unthreatened.

“Who in the hell are you?” she asked, squinting up at him before returning her gaze to me.

“I’m a friend of (Y/N)’s,” he growled at her, “and you’re going to leave her and her family the fuck alone if you know what’s good for you.”

“Look buddy,” my dad started, crossing the yard to come to my mother’s defense. “I don’t know who you think you are-”

“N-Not your buddy, guy,” Rick stopped him with a shrug. “(Y/N) wants you to leave her alone, I suggest you do that. Continuing to harass her doesn’t end well for you.”

“Listen here, you scrawny old fuck. I haven’t been in a fight in years but if you keep talking to my wife that way, I will take you to task.”

“D-Dad, don’t-”

“I’d listen to your daughter there, Charlie,” Rick sneered, flicking the nametag on my father’s chest.

“Look here you piece of shit-”

“I’d say, out of respect for (Y/N), you get one more of those,” Rick interrupted again, relishing in the fury he was inciting in my father. I could see the veins bulging in his face at Rick’s disrespect and it was all I could do to resist the urge to giggle nervously.

“C-Come on, let’s just go,” I murmured softly to Rick, grabbing his hand and interlocking our fingers. He met my gaze, a soft look flashing over his features before it distorted in anger as my father reared back, sucker punching Rick right in his gut.

“H-Hey, that’s the hardest working liver in the galaxy,” Rick swore, recovering far quicker than my father had expected.

“Charlie, stop!” my mom screamed, grabbing my dad’s arm in an attempt to pull him away only to earn a backhanded slap for her troubles. Rick sighed, lifting his arm up as his hand shifted into the large gun it held within. My father froze in his tracks, staring up at the large weapon pointed directly at his head.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do it,” Rick asked me, his boredom oozing into every syllable.

“R-Rick, I- Uh,” I stammered. I could think of all the moral reasons not to kill him but I knew telling Rick to spare him because it was ‘wrong’ to kill him would just earn me a hearty chuckle. I watched my father, cowering on the ground with his hands over his head as his only defense. Seeing him like this was invigorating in a way I never thought possible. His eyes broke from Rick’s feet and up to me, all consuming fear overwhelming him as a damp spot formed on his jeans.

“Please, (Y/N),” he pleaded, “I know I wasn’t the greatest father but-”

“Ah, ah. I asked Nova, not you,” Rick glared at him, swearing inwardly at the use of my nickname.

“N-Nova?” my mother whimpered, her eyes darting between the three of us. “I-Isn’t that what that Beth Sanchez girl called you?”

“Don’t bother with them, Rick,” I murmured, pulling him away from them. “They’re not worth it. You made your point. Let’s go home.”

“R-Rick? Rick Sanchez?” my mother spoke up again, this time with more determination in her voice. “You’re shacking up with your best friend’s father?”

“Nova, they're not going to stop, you know that right? Th-They contacted you in the first place because they think they can weasel back into your life now that you’re vulnerable,” Rick reasoned with me, facing them again. “Let me help you, Nova. Let me keep you safe.”

“You can’t, Rick,” I smiled sadly at him, “I just want to go.”

“I’m going to keep you safe, goddammit. I’ve gotta be able to do one fucking thing right. I wanted to kill Ryan from the get go, but you wouldn’t let me. Now you’re going to let them live because- What? They’re your family?”

“They’re not my family,” I hissed, glaring up at Rick stubbornly.

“So let me do this, let me take care of you.”

My eyes flicked back to my parents one last time before turning to walk away. “Do whatever you have to do Rick, I don’t want to know anything about it,” I relented, walking away from the house for what I could only hope to be the last time.

Rick didn’t answer but he also didn’t follow me. I was a couple blocks away when he finally caught up with me again, keeping his distance as he followed behind me silently. When we got home, I climbed into Rick’s ship wordlessly, desperate to avoid any human interaction that would require me to explain anything that just happened. Rick had probably killed them and I couldn’t quite reconcile just how okay I was with that possibility. He didn’t immediately follow me into the ship, disappearing into the house before returning with a large bottle of vodka. He climbed into the ship with me, starting it and flying out into the vacuum of space without a word.

He flew us to a large, mostly vacant planet, landing next to a large lake. He climbed out of the ship, grabbing the bottle of vodka before making his way down to the shore. I watched as he kicked off his shoes, tossing them to the side and pulling his pant legs up to allow the small waves to wash over his feet. He opened the bottle, pulling out two plastic cups from his lab coat and filling them both in a silent offering to join him. I considered a moment before wrenching the door open and stripping down to my underwear as I followed him down to the shore.

I picked up the plastic cup and breezed past him, making my way out into the open water. I let the cool water swirl around me, taking a long drink from the cup as I waded out further into the open expanse. A small voice in my head was pleading with me to turn around, to consider the danger of going out into open water I knew nothing about but I couldn’t bring myself to care about the danger. What was the worst that was going to happen? I stop having to deal with all of these extremely traumatic issues? Oh boy, wouldn’t that suck.

“Nova, here-”

I finished the last of my cup off, hesitantly turning to face him only to find him extending the bottle out to me. I waded back over to him, allowing him to fill the cup up before heading back out into the open water. He watched me carefully but said nothing else as I ventured out further, going in so deep I had to hold the cup above my head as I submerged myself completely in the water. I held my breath, allowing the suffocating feeling to chip away at the pain I had buried down inside. Eventually I wasn’t able to hold it any longer, letting out a long breath that bubbled around me. I resurfaced only to finish off the remnants of the cup before tossing it aside and submerging myself again. I swam deeper under the water, ignoring the burning in my lungs. The pain soothed me in a demented way so I swam deeper and deeper to allow it to incapsulate me. My body wouldn’t allow it however and despite my desires to stay, my legs kicked me back to the surface.

“Nova, what in the fuck are you doing?” Rick called from the shore. To my surprise, he was much further away then when I went under. I started reluctantly swimming back but my head was spinning from the alcohol and my limbs were tired. I barely made it back to the shore line, coughing up water as I crawled up on the beach.

“I was fine,” I slurred at Rick coldly, grabbing the plastic cup he was holding out of his hand and refilling it.

“The fuck are you doing, Nova? Are you trying to drown yourself out there?” he demanded, glaring furiously at me.

“No, Rick. I’m not a fucking idiot. I was just swimming,” I told him dismissively. What did he care anyway? He was doing everything he possibly could to distance himself from me anyway. I drank deeply from Rick’s cup, finishing it off before handing it back to him before heading back out into the water.

“Nova- Stop!” he bellowed, grabbing my arm. I glared at him as I pulled my arm away from him, heading back into the water despite his concerns.

“Leave me alone, Rick,” I murmured coldly, stumbling back out into the water.

“The fuck, Nova?” he demanded again, reaching for my arm again. I dodged clumsily, falling into the water as he sighed in exasperation. “Do you seriously want to die, Nova? Because it sure as fuck seems like it.”

“The fuck do you care?” I spat at him, my speech slurred.

“Wh-What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, infuriated. “Everything we’ve been through- You think I don’t fucking care if you fucking die all of a sudden?”

“I-It’s not all of a sudden,” I mumbled stubbornly, “Y-You’re the one being fucking weird.”

“Oh, I’m the weird one,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes. “J-J-Just get out of the fucking water and tell me what the fuck’s going on with you.”

“You wanna know what’s going on with me?” I asked, unsuccessfully attempting to pull myself back to my feet only to fall back down with a splash. “My fucking husband is dead, my parents found me because of it and they’re probably dead too, not that I want you to confirm or deny that, mainly because I was too much of a bitch to just fucking tell you to do it.”

“A-A-Alright, why don’t you come back up here,” he sighed, wading out into the water to pull me over his shoulder and carry me back to the beach. His touch was surprisingly gentle and my chest ached when he rested me back down on the shore and moved away.

“Why don’t you want me anymore?” I asked, eyes brimming with tears. His eyes bulged at the question, looking at me incredulously.

“Okay, so you are clearly fucking trashed if that’s what you think,” he said flatly.

“You don’t want anything to do with me anymore,” I sobbed, unable to look at him. “ E-Ever since everything happened and my nightmares stopped you’ve been so distant. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me.” Rick opened his mouth to answer when a large spotlight opened over us. Rick and I covered our eyes against the harsh light as it grew closer, landing next to us. A hodgepodge group exited a flashy ship and Rick groaned as realization dawned over his face.

“Rick Sanchez?” a deep feminine voice called out. A female form made up of an actual galaxy hovered toward us, the disdain on her face at the sight of Rick mirrored on the faces of her companions.

“A-Are you fucking kidding me?” Rick growled as the woman came to a stop in front of him. “What in the hell do you assholes want? I’m a little fucking busy right now.”

“H-Hey buddy, who’s this?” a charming voice called from behind the galaxy woman, as a man watched me cautiously.

“R-Rick, who are they?” I asked nervously, my head spinning from the bright lights and alcohol. I clung to Rick’s arm desperately and he pulled me closer into him, gently massaging my arm in an attempt to soothe me.

“Th-They’re the Vindicators,” Rick explained, his irritation evident in every syllable. “They’re a team of ‘superheroes’ that Morty and I helped out a while back.”

“Hello,” the galaxy woman greeted me cordially, “What is your name?”

“I-I-I’m N-Nova,” I stammered, feeling miniscule under her piercing gaze.

“Ah, that’s interesting,” she smirked, looking around at her companions. Rick groaned again, shaking his head in disgust as she continued, “My name is Supernova and as Rick said, we are a team of superheroes.”

“Wh-What?” I sputtered, looking to Rick again to make sure this wasn’t some elaborate joke. He met my gaze briefly, shrugging in response to my wordless confusion. “D-Did my nickname-”

“N-No, I didn’t even know her when you got that nickname,” Rick explained quickly, “It’s just a really annoying coincidence.”

“I’m Vance Maximus,” the charming man introduced himself with a suave grin, his wandering gaze making me all too aware of how exposed I was. Rick quickly took notice, offering me his lab coat to return some semblance of dignity to me while shooting daggers at Vance.

“This is Million Ants, Alan Rails, and Crocubot,” Supernova continued, naming off the final three people surrounding her. I nodded in acknowledgement, recoiling into Rick as the large ghost man called Alan approached us.

“Look Rick, Worldender’s back. We need your help,” he explained reluctantly.

“Why the fuck do I care? You were the ones that didn’t like my methods,” Rick shot back, “Y-Y-You really upset my grandson you know, he really liked you guys.”

“Oh, I remember that kid,” Vance remarked looking around at the other Vindicators, “Wh-Why don’t you bring him then. I’m sure he’d like that.”

“I’m not helping you assholes,” Rick told them flatly, opening a portal into Morty’s bedroom and withdrawing the boy desperately trying to pull his pants up.

“H-Hey Rick, y-y-you can’t just do that, okay?” he chastised his grandfather through beet red cheeks. “I-I-I’m fourteen, y-y-ya know? I have things I have to take care of-”

“Morty, for the love of me, shut the fuck up,” Rick swore. Morty finally noticed the Vindicators standing behind Rick, his eyes going wide as all of the color drained from his face.

“H-Hey kid,” Vance waved awkwardly, not meeting Morty’s gaze. “You, uh, you wanna go on an adventure with us to put an end to Worldender?”

“O-Oh shit, go on another adventure with the Vindicators? O-O-Of course, Vance,” Morty gushed, his hero worship washing away his embarrassment, much to Rick’s disgust.

“Go ahead and go with them Morty, get them off my back,” Rick scowled, turning to walk back to his ship.

“Rick, we need your help more than we need Morty,” Supernova pressed, hovering in front of Rick to stop him. “No offense kid.”

“Look, I’ve got way better things to do than to hang around you cliches. Sanchez, out.” Rick pushed past her pulling his ship door open with one last look over his shoulder at me.

“Rick, m-maybe we should help them?” I suggested hesitantly, earning a growl. “We haven’t done any adventuring for a long time.”

“L-Look, Nova, you wanna go with them, fine, but I’m not putting up their paper thin personalities and one dimensional ‘problems.’ I’d tell you to have fun but you won’t. Oh, and watch out for Vance.” He slammed his door, turning over his engine and shooting off into space, leaving Morty and I to watch until he disappeared in the horizon.

“H-H-He just left us?” I murmured, wrapping his coat around me tightly. He had to be coming back, right?

“He does that Aunt Nova, you’ll get used to it,” Morty grumbled, turning back to the Vindicators.

“H-He just left me here?” I whimpered again, tears filling my eyes as I stared up into the dark sky in disbelief, expecting him to reappear any second.

“Come on, Aunt Nova. Let’s just get out of here.”

They led us onto their ship, taking us back to an admittedly luxurious commandship. We were offered seperate rooms and allowed to get acclimated. I took the opportunity to change into new clothes, a clean white tee shirt and loose shorts before we were led to their conference room to be briefed on the mission at hand. I kept Rick’s lab coat on, clinging to it desperately as though it would miraculously make Rick appear the tighter I tucked it around my body.

A new hero, introduced to us as Noob Noob, gushed about finally being invited on an adventure and was surprisingly eager to learn about Morty and I. They offered us a wide spread of food, though only Morty and Vance dug in. The rest of the Vindicators weren’t much for human food, with Million Ants being a colony of ants and Crocobot being, well, a robot crocodile. My head was still reeling from the alcohol sloshing around in my stomach and just the smell of the food sent me running for the toilet.

“Aunt Nova?” Morty called from behind me hesitantly as I wiped the leftover vodka away and pushed myself away from the no longer pristine toilet bowl. I turned to face him weakly, flushing away the contents of my stomach as I pulled myself off the floor and stumbled over the sink to clean myself up.

“What’s up, Morty?”

“Aww, jeez, are you okay? You don’t look so good,” he asked, inching further into the bathroom to get a better look at me. “Look, Rick probably won’t come back for us until later. He really hates the Vindicators, especially Vance.”

“I’m not worried about Rick, Morty. I could give a shit less what he does,” I lied, staring into the mirror trying to convince myself it was the truth.

“Good, Rick’s not worth it. After everything that you’ve been through, you don’t need more piled on from him,” Morty fumed, “Rick doesn’t care about anyone. I hate to say it, but it was only a matter of time until you stopped being new and shiny to him.” I turned to face him, tears burning in my eyes at his words.

“I know you and your grandpa have a tough history but you don’t know shit about our relationship,” I shot back at him. “He’s done a lot for you and me, whether you realize it or not.”

“He left you and my mom before and he’s doing it again right now. Rick doesn’t care about anyone but himself,” he repeated, driving his point home. I stared at him blankly, my mouth agape as I tried to formulate some kind of retort but nothing came out. “I-I’m sorry, Aunt Nova, but you needed to know. I don’t want you to get hurt any more than you already have.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about Morty,” I glared at him. “I’m going to go sleep this shit off, I’ll see you in the morning.” I pushed past him, ignoring his continued arguments as I stumbled into my room, slamming the door in his face.

I collapsed onto the bed, covering myself Rick’s lab coat in a sad attempt at comforting myself. His scent encapsulated me, making it almost impossible to ignore the constant replays of my argument with Rick that my brain was insistent on focusing on. Rick wasn’t good with his feelings but how hard was it to offer any kind of reassurance? And for him to try to say I was the one being weird, only to disappear on me yet again was just the worst kind of joke imaginable. Maybe it was only fun for him while he had an enemy to fight against in the form of Ryan and now that there was no immediate danger his interest was waning. Tears sprung out in earnest at the thought and I threw the coat away from me in disgust, turning away from it only to end up crying myself to sleep for what felt like the hundredth night in a row.

*+*

“Rick! What are you doing here?!” Morty shrill voice woke me up. I shot up in my bed, my entire body aching from the little bit of sleep I had managed. “Y-Y-You need to go, you really upset Aunt Nova, you know.”

“Why in the hell do you think I came back,” the gruff voice I was so desperate to hear growled. “Which room is she in?” His voice grew louder as he got closer to my room, much to Morty’s ire.

“Just go home, Rick,” Morty scolded his grandfather from outside of my door.

“I’m going to apologize to her, then I’m going to solve this Worldender shit and then I’m going home. I wasn’t going to just leave her here with these assholes, y-y-you idiot.”

“Leave Aunt Nova alone. She doesn’t need any more of your shit. She spent the entire night crying, y-y-you know? Why can’t you just go ahead and leave her for good so she can move on with her life.” It was now or never, Morty was close to hitting a nerve in Rick. I stood up quickly, heading straight for the door to break up the fight. My hand hovered over the button to open it when Rick spoke again.

“Look, Morty, you don’t know shit about what Nova needs,” Rick sneered, “You’re out here doing all this talking for her, why don’t we just ask her what she wants.”

I pressed the button, finding Morty wearing a vest with the Vindicator’s logo and Rick looking like his head was going to explode from all of his contained rage. Morty looked up at me, his anger painted over his features as I gestured for Rick to come in. Rick grinned smugly at the boy, pushing past him and pulling me into the room with him. He closed the door in Morty’s face, his facade dropping as he pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly.

“R-Rick, I can’t- I can’t breathe,” I sputtered, trying to gently free myself from his grasp.

“Nova, are you okay? I shouldn’t have left, I just-”

“Your lab coat is over there, you can take it and go,” I interrupted, not interested in whatever excuse he had lined up. He stiffened, not meeting my gaze as he grabbed it, sliding it on before sitting down on the bed.

“Y-You know, I couldn’t just leave you here with these assholes. I was really upset but if you need me to be there for you then, well, here I am.”

“That’s nice and all Rick, but don’t do me any favors,” I rolled my eyes, heading into my bathroom to get ready to face the rest of the ship’s inhabitants. Everyone had heard me crying, but I didn’t need to go out there and make it so blatantly obvious.

“I-It’s not a favor. I fucked up but I’m here now,” he insisted, standing up and moving closer to me. I rebuffed, moving out of his reach for a towel as his hand grazed my elbow. As desperately as I wanted to see him, having him here in front of me right now trying to apologize was just infuriating.

“I see that,” I murmured coldly, pushing past him and out of the room entirely. I wanted to forgive him, I knew he hadn’t meant it as a slight against me personally but every ache in my body reminded me that I just spent the entire night sobbing my eyes out over him. I pushed past him, making my way out into the conference room to find Morty talking to Vance as the rest of the Vindicators poured over a map.

“A-Aunt Nova,” Morty blurted as I walked into the room, “A-Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Morty, just hungry. Is there anything to eat?” I mumbled groggily, looking around the room blankly.

“I think I can help you out there little missy,” Vance interjected, extending a hand to lead me into the dining hall. “We’ve already eaten but there should be some pancakes left.”

“I don’t care what I eat, I’m just starving,” I assured him, following him into the kitchen.

“You know, if you ever need anyone to talk to who isn’t a psychotic scientist, you can always call me up,” he told me with a smile as he pulled out the leftovers from breakfast.

“I’m good, thanks,” I assured him flatly. He gave me a ‘you don’t know what you’re missing’ smile as he microwaved some sausages and pulled out a pan to start a fresh plate of pancakes.

“I’m just saying, you’re a pretty girl. You don’t need to put up with that crazy old coot if you want someone to make you feel good,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at me lecherously. I stared at him for a moment, wondering what kind of death wish he had before turning on my heel to search for the gallon of coffee it would take for me to know how to process this conversation.

“Vance, you’re needed out here.” Alan Rails appeared in the doorway, waving to Vance as he plated my pancakes and slid them over to me on the counter.

“Think about it,” he winked before following Alan back out into the meeting room. Under the plate, I found a holographic card with his contact information. I groaned at it, tossing it in the trash before plating the rest of my breakfast and grabbing my coffee. I opted to just eat in the kitchen, not wanting to subject myself to more of Vance’s misguided flirting. Shouting erupted from the adjacent room, Rick storming into the kitchen to find me looking less than amused as he fumed.

“These fucking assholes, and Morty- Can you believe he buys into their crap?” he ranted, glaring at the door behind him. “H-H-He used to think the shit I did was incredible. These paper mache personalities show up and suddenly I’m chopped fucking liver. Ungrateful little shit.”

“Maybe if you weren’t constantly yelling at him and telling him you thought he was worthless, maybe he would be more akin to you,” I mused flatly, taking a pointed bite out of my sausage.

“Oh, not you too,” he groaned. “You like these assholes? You think they’re super fucking fascinating or something too? They share the same five fucking personality traits in different shiny exteriors. They’re about as deep as a shower.”

“I don’t care about them either way,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “You seem to get really worked up about them though, you ever thought of working through that or something?”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk about working through anything,” Rick shot back clumsily. I stared at him for a moment, allowing him to find the flaw in his own logic. “Whatever Nova, these guys aren’t shit. Six of them and they can’t even kill a garbage villain like Worldender by themselves.”

“I don’t see you taking care of him either, Rick.”

“You’re just full of wise hangover wisdom today, aren’t you?” Rick fumed, storming out of the kitchen to leave me in peace to finish my breakfast. It was easier just to antagonize him while he was angry, a trick I’d learned watching him work on his gadgets. If he got mad enough, his stubborn determination would overcome his self doubt and he would end up victorious over whatever insignificant detail holding him back.

“Nova, will you be joining us tomorrow?” Supernova asked, hovering through the door.

Would I get no peace this morning?

“Y-Y-Yea, I don’t see what not,” I sputtered, finding myself enamoured by all of the beautiful colors she was made up of.

“Is that because you are able to help us, or because you are going with Rick?” she asked coolly, watching my face carefully.

“Why is everyone so interested in my relationship with Rick?” I snapped, “I was here before Rick decided to show up, if I’m going with anyone, I’m going with Morty.” Supernova nodded, ignoring my outburst as she considered a moment.

“I was just concerned, as you do not show any outward abilities that would come to our aide.”

“Neither does Morty.”

“This is not a babysitting mission,” she asserted, “We cannot guarantee your safety.”

“I don’t need your guarantees,” I shrugged. “Rick will be there, he’s got a knack for keeping me safe.”

“Alright, if you are aware of the dangers,” Supernova conceded, turning to leave.

“Thanks for the concern,” I grumbled, returning to my coffee. The door swung rhythmically as she exited and I knew if I wanted any peace and quiet I was going to have to hide. I slunk down against the metal cabinets, sipping my coffee slowly as my head throbbed. The silence lulled me into a stupor, and combined with my now full stomach, my eyes drifted shut for a moment until I had completely drifted off.

*+*

“H-Hey, time to wake up,” Noob Noob said, shaking me awake. At some point I had allowed myself to splay out on the floor, spreading out in the most comfortable possible position. I straightened up quickly, my eyes bleary as they tried to focus in on Noob Noob. “We’ve been looking all over for you. You know that floor is filthy, right?”

“I was just really tired,” I told him sleepily, “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“We heard,” he assured me bluntly, my cheeks flushing. “Do you need a change of clothes? Or a shower? I can accommodate with whatever you need.”

“I think I’ll just head back to my room,” I assured him, shaking my head. “Do you know where Rick is? Or more importantly, can you help me get back to my room without him following me?”

“Rick? Oh, he’s been drinking all morning. I think he’s passed out in the conference room.” Noob Noob grabbed my hand, pulling me up off the floor and leading me out into the kitchen. “Follow me, I’ll get you back.”

Noob Noob led me through the dining area, motioning for me to stop as we came up to the conference room. He peered in, looking around before grabbing my hand again and pulling me through the room swiftly. I spotted Rick drunkenly rambling at the TV in front of him, fortunately not noticing when we passed. Noob Noob stopped at my door, smiling as I thanked him for his assistance. I was grateful when he departed quickly, disappearing down the hall as I closed the door. I could feel the filth he’d mentioned, climbing into the shower to rinse it off along with the lake water that had saturated my hair last night.

The shower helped me feel a little better, revitalizing me as I climbed out only to find my clothes missing. They had been replaced with a Vindicators uniform and a small note from Noob Noob explaining that he had taken them to be washed. I pulled on the spandex uniform, surprised at how comfortable it was, even if it did put every single one of my curves on full display. I climbed back into bed, closing my eyes as I forced myself to just go to sleep.

+Ch3: Scene Of The Crime+

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick and morty fanfiction #Rick Sanchez/reader

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