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watsittoyah · 1 year ago

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Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, and adult content. Some mentions of multiple dimensions. Some anal play, full nelson, penetration, sad moments...

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 13- And The Truth Comes To Light…

Your whole body felt heavy and your ribs felt like they were on fire every time you inhaled. You feel as if your back was pressed against something solid.

A wall, maybe?

You open your eyes and instantly you remember what happened with Dana in the bathroom and you feel terrified.

Dana was standing there with a pumpkin in her hand. She was studying it for a bit and that’s when you see she’s no longer wearing her lime green dress. Instead she was dressed as the green goblin. You look around and see you’re on a roof of some kind.

Her ghoulish green eyes finally look at you and she places the pumpkin down. “Did you know there are over 150 type of pumpkins in the world. Yet here in this country, they’re mostly used as decorations. A pity watching these precious things rot on a stoop. But I found better use of them. This one…this one is going to be my greatest joy.” She kneels down in front of you an grips your face. “The fear in your eyes right now is pretty. Then again, I like to see fear in the eyes of the people I despise.” She lets go and walks away from you.

“Wh…why are you doing this? If this is all because of Miguel and me-“ She laughed throwing her head back. “Tommie, you are looking at all of this but you’re not really seeing the whole picture. This is all going to make sense once you get those memories back.”

“What are you talking about? Dana we can talk about this pl-” She was suddenly in front of your face causing you to jump. “Miguel hasn’t told you anything? Huh, maybe all of his memories aren’t back either. He has told you that he is Spider-man though right?”

How does she know all of this stuff? You wonder as you glance around trying to see if Miguel was around.

“What are you talking about?” You ask trying to fake being confused. “Lying to me won’t save you Tommie. I’ve been watching you. I know how he touches you. I know how he feels about you and oh god…do you know how hard it is to not cave your skull in right now? I just want to hurt you and laugh at your lifeless body. But I have to wait for the right moment or else my plan won’t fall into place. Then again…maybe I can snap your knee cap out of its socket? Nah that’s not good enough.”

You feel that your hands are tied behind your back and you think maybe you can get them loose if she just keeps talking. You catch movement in the corner of your eye and internally you’re happy because you see Miguel in his spider suit.

You had to keep her distracted long enough to let him do a sneak attack or at least until you could get free.

“You’ve been the green goblin this whole time? Why? why would you hurt those people? You almost killed a child.” Dana shrugs. “I honestly just wanted to get to you. Those people? That child? Were just casualties. This is something you need to understand when it comes to Spider-people lore. They will always have a green goblin in their story because the goblin is their demon they have to kill. I became the green goblin just to haunt Miguel. But I didn’t want to stop there. No, no, I wanted to seep into the back of your mind and make you hate your own existence.”

As she monologues Miguel makes eye contact with you and nods.

“And how were you going to do that?” You ask as she goes to turn but she stops and faces you completely. “By taking your heroes away. Your parents, they died in a car crash back on I-97. You were hmm thirteen at the time…”

How the fuck did she-

“You’re thinking how does this bitch know that? I know because I was there. I won’t get into the complicated details just know that your parents are far too trusting to young girls on the side of the road. They didn’t see it coming. Honestly I was quite impressed with the fight your mother had. Your dad? Oooh one stab to the back of the head and he was gone. And the way they crashed in that shitty car was beautiful. All your mother did was scream. She even screamed your nam-”

You had no clue you had such super human strength, but you dislocated your own wrist and you punched her clean in the nose, causing a huge crunch on contact. From your knuckle or her nose? You don’t know.

But what you did know was you saw red.

“You son of a fucking bitch! I’ll kill you!” You yell as you tackle her to the ground. Dana was laughing as you swung on her. You feel someone rip you away from her.

Everything seemed to be moving fast. One second you’re being ripped away from Dana and the next you’re being pushed out the way. When you blink you see what happened.

Dana had somehow launched a hovering device with spikes in the front and it was aimed for you. However Miguel pushed you out of the way and he was pierced in his shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

“No!” You get up to help him but you get yanked back. Dana was holding you from behind and she was laughing. “Don’t you just love a man in uniform?”

“Get off of her, Dana! I should’ve known you were the green goblin the whole time.” Miguel said as he rips his mask off. “Awe but Miguel I wasn’t don’t playing with her. But now that you’re here, I can show her what you’ve been hiding. Tommie take a deep breathe for me.”

The next second she had thrown a strange black powder in your face. Your reaction was to inhale and as the powder enters your air ways you heard Miguel scream.

Dana lets you and you sway on your feet until your knees give out. You fall on your side and the powder causes a foaming reaction in your throat.

You try to spit it up but your body feels weak. You lay on the ground and you see Miguel had ripped himself away from the wall and he had punched Dana in her face.

You then look up into the sky and that is when you see a strange glowing light…

••••

Earth-957

The lights in the building were oddly bright as you ran to your office. “I’m late, I am so late. Out of all the days for my car to break down.” You mutter as you turn the corner.

You almost collide into Erica and she holds her hands up. “Whoa T, if you run any faster there’s gonna be a collision.” She jokes as you catch your breath. “Sorry! My dad had to give me a ride over. My car had broke down, but he said he would fix it.”

“I could’ve gave you a ride you know.” Erica says as the two of you walk down the hall. “I know but I didn’t want to bother you since you just came back from maternity leave. How is DJ anyways?”

“She is doing great. She’s finally sleeping through the night. Dennis is already scheduling her first dental appointment.” She says rolling her eyes. “I need to come by and see her. I’ll bring a gift. Maybe a stuffed animal?” You suggest. “That would be great. I’m sur…”

You glance at the main room where a few of the scientists are and someone had caught your eye. You didn’t even notice that you had stopped walking and you were just staring.

“E, who is that?” You whisper to her. She turns around and walks back over looking at who you were staring at without shame. “Oh the brooding guy in the corner? That’s Miguel O’Hara. He just started working here a while ago. I hear he keeps to himself though.”

You see by his profile how handsome he is. “He’s cute.” You say as you keep staring. “Alright enough ogling him. If he catches you staring he might get a restraining order on you.” Erica says as she tugs you away from the glass.

Miguel suddenly looks over and you duck down. “Look at you. Get up!” Erica grabs you and pulls you away. But as you do you look back and Miguel was staring back at you…

It was after work and you were on the phone with your mom at the bus stop. It was pouring rain and your mother was trying to come and get you but she was stuck in traffic. “Mom, it’s okay I can wait for the bus it should be here in a few minutes.” You look down the street and see a silver car drive past you.

You had accidentally bumped into your water bottle that you had sitting on the bench beside you. “Mom I’ll call you back.” You slide your phone in your pocket and you go to reach for the bottle but it rolls into the street.

The silver car drives past and you step back. The person inside gets out of the car and picks up the water bottle, handing it to you. When you look up you’re met with a pair of hazel eyes.

“Would you like a ride?” Miguel had asked. You were about to decline but stop yourself. “Sure.” He takes his jacket and puts it over you so you don’t get wet and he leads you into his car. He walks around and gets in as well.

“Thank you. I normally have my car but my dad is fixing it. Hopefully not now because then he would get hurt, you know from the rain and the car parts being exposed. Oh um I hope you don’t think I get into cars with strangers all the time. But I feel like I can trust you.”

“I’m just happy to give you a ride, Tommie.” Your face lights up. “You know my name?” You can see his cheeks redden. “Sí. pero solo porque-I mean.” You stop him. “It’s okay I know Spanish, Miguel. And I know your name because the women in this company talk about you. Nothing bad I promise.”

“Ah, well I know your name because I had seen you in the building and asked a colleague.” You feel your cheeks warm and turn to him, putting your hand out. “Well let me formally introduce myself, my name is Tommie Valentine.” You thought he wasn’t going to shake your hand at first but he gave a firm handshake and smiled.

His smile looked genuine.

“I am Miguel O’Hara. It is nice to formally meet you Tommie Valentine. And now I’m curious. Qué se dijo de mí?”

“Just that you’re broody, and you’re new. Oh and you might be single.” You throw that last part in there but then you notice he’s still holding your hand.

“I wouldn’t say I’m new, I just dropped down in positions.”

I’d like to drop a few positions on him. You think to yourself.

You then give a scoff. “There’s no way you’ve been working at Columbia Tech. I definitely would’ve noticed those pretty hazel eyes sooner. Wait oh no.” You cover your face and Miguel gives a hearty laugh.

“You’re funny, I needed a laugh it’s been a while. Gracias, amor.” When he called you that the blood in your ears just roared. “Happy to put a smile on your face and a laugh in your heart.” You smile at him and he stops laughing. He stares for a moment and you feel as if you did something wrong.

He leans over towards you and you glance at his lips. Is he going to kiss you? Do you want him to kiss you?

You had leaned in as well, closing your eyes waiting for the kiss but he clears his throat. “That seatbelt sticks, so I’d figured I would help you out.” Your eyes open and Miguel was close. But he was also reaching for your seatbelt.

You shrink back from embarrassment and just shut your mouth.

Of course he wasn’t going to kiss you Tommie. You just met this man. He is going to give you a ride home and hopefully you’ll forget about this.

“Thank you.” You mutter as you look out at the rain. After he clicked the seatbelt you notice his scent. You squeeze your thighs together because his scent made you wet. You then inhale deeply. Trying to figure out what he smells like. Cinnamon and sage.

Yeah that’s what he smelled like. You started to wonder then what did he taste like.

You bite your bottom lip and turn to him and he was still close. Which took you by surprise. You go to speak but your mouth felt like it had peanut butter stuck at the roof of it. Instead Miguel reached up and moved one of your wet curls out of your eyes.

“Me gusta tu pelo. Do you always have it up like that?” He asks as he moves back just an inch back. “Yeah, I think I look pretty with my hair up.”

“Se ve hermosa. With it up and down.” He moves back and he puts his car in drive. You can’t help but watch Miguel as he drives. There’s something about him that’s very comforting. Like you’ve been around him all your life.

“So, you’re in the science department. Do you like it?” You ask just to have some small talk. “I do. It helps me with my…after work activities. You’re in tech engineering?”

“Yup, I honestly should thank my best friend, Erica. She told me about the job. I just love to be hands one with the projects there. And if you ever need help…I’m available.” You flirt. “Oh I will take you up on that offer…to help me in the lab I mean.” You can see Miguel’s lip curl into a smile and you two continue with the conversation as you tell him where to go.

When he gets to your place you sit there not wanting to leave and you feel as though he feels the same. “Well this is my stop…” Miguel looks past you and nods. “That’s a nice place you got there.”

“It is, well I should get going.” You say as you continue to sit. “I could walk you inside, you know just to be sure it’s safe.” Miguel offers making your face light up. “Yeah, I would love that. Oh, I wouldn’t suppose I could interest you in coming inside? I made a pretty big tres leches cake, and it’s only going to go to waste.”

“Funny, I actually love tres leches cake.”

“Would you look at that. I can pay you back for the ride with my goodies.” You wince because that sounded terrible out loud. He simply laughs and he leans over unbuckling your seatbelt. “No me importaría probar tus golosinas.”

Oh you couldn’t wait for this man to taste you-your goodies.

You two get out of the car and as you walk up your steps you catch Miguel looking at your ass in the reflection of the door. You smile wide and turn to him. “Now when you eat this cake don’t ask for the recipe, it’s a family secret.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it’s been in my family for years. So if you want the recipe you’re going to have to marry me.” You joke. But Miguel wasn’t laughing, instead he was just staring at you. “I’ll stop talking now, sorry.” You go to open the door but he stops you. “No, amor. Please keep talking. I like your voice it…feels like home.” You smile at him and let him inside of your house…

••

FOUR YEARS LATER…

“I will be home in fifteen minutes, mi corazón.” You were on the phone with your husband and you were feeding your three year old son, Xavier. “Miguel O’Hara, you better not be web slinging while talking on the phone with me.” You scold as you wipe Xavier’s face clean from his dinner. He was laughing as he did an up motion with his hands.

“Qué? I don’t know what you’re talking about, amor. I am walking like a normal person.” You switch your phone to your other ear as you pick up your son from his high chair. “Miguel O’Hara, no me mientas. You and I both know you are not a normal person.” You hear keys jiggling at the door and Xavier points. “Mama mama!”

Miguel opens the door and Xavier claps his hands reaching for his father. “Hola papa. Come here.” Miguel picks him up and gives you a kiss. “You said you’d be home in fifteen minutes, baby. What did you do? Fly?”

“I power walked.” You rolled your eyes at Miguel and he gives Xavier kisses all over his face causing him to laugh. “Mama! No!” Miguel places him down but Xavier clings to his leg. “Mama up!”

“Say papa.” Miguel has been trying to get Xavier to call him papa but so far Xavier just keeps calling everyone mama since you were his first words. “Mama.” Miguel sighs but picks him up. “Un día dirás papá.” Miguel says as he looks at Xavier. Xavier just smiles and looks over at you.

“Mama.” He holds his little hand out to you and you take him from his father. “Let’s get you ready for bed, while papa gets some work done.” You kiss Miguel on the lips and he makes you linger as he plants several more kisses across against your full lips.

“I’ll be in the study doing some reading, amor.” He tells you as he gentle caresses your face. “I’ll check on your later then.”

After Xavier had his bath and was put him to bed, you peek in on your husband and see he was reading. You give a gentle knock and he looks up. “Mind if I interrupt?” You as as you walk into the study. “Nunca podrías interponerme, amor.” You stand behind him and peek at what he’s reading.

“Black holes and other phenomenons?” You question. “It’s just some light reading for when I go to my other job.” Miguel answers as he pulls you over onto his lap. “That’s interesting, other husbands read comics, or mysteries. Mine reads scientific fiction for leisure.” You joke as he snuggles his nose against the back of your neck. He inhaled before answering your joking comment. “You know I’m not like most husbands, amor. Mmm you smell good.”

“That I do know, baby. And thank you, I got a new lotion and body wash set, it’s banana milk with a hint of honey.”

“Bueno, hueles delicioso, solo quiero comerte.” Your lower lips throb as you feel his fangs trace one of the veins in your neck. “Then what’s stopping you, Miguel?” You challenge as you slip your night gown up past your thick thighs.

“Goodness…” Miguel whispered out as he see your pussy between your parted legs. “I really should finish this book…”

“But?” You ask as you feel your husband cup your still clothed breasts. “But I want to satisfy my beautiful wife. Mmm stand up for me, amor.” You do as you’re told and you hear Miguel unzip and shuffle out of his pants. You feel a smirk on your face as he positions you and he whispers for you to sit.

You let out a whimper as you slide down on his dick and you grip the desk in front of you. Once you’re settled down he grips the nape of your hair and he kisses your neck.

“Now I can finish the last chapter while you fuck your self. Doesn’t that sound fun?” Your eyes roll back as you nod and you feel him smirk against your neck. “Go ahead…have fun. I’ll get back to you in a mo…moment.” Miguel moans as he picks his book back up.

You bite your bottom lip and you rock your hips in circles as you feel his dick throb inside of you. “That’s my girl, just like that.” Miguel moans out as you hear him turn a page. You rock your hips a bit faster as you grip the desk with a more firm grasp.

You look back at Miguel and he was no longer reading. He was looking down at your ass and when his gaze met yours, his eyes were blood red.

You see him place the book down and he licks his thumb. You feel as he takes that very thumb and he rubs your perky asshole, causing you to bite your bottom lip. “Should I play with you hear…or here?” He takes his other hand and he placed his index and middle finger on your slick clit.

You go to speak but he leans forward and captures your lips with his fangs. “Mmm, don’t answer that, amor. You know your husband loves to please his little wife.” He plays with your asshole and clit while your rock your hips and you lean your head back, feeling the build up.

“Baby, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You moan out. “Shh, shh, princesa. If you’re too loud you’ll wake up our son. And I’m sorry but I won’t be able to stop at that point. Now take it just like I know you can.” He moves his hand from your asshole and he grabs the small fat connecting your hip and thigh and he pulls you down harder. “Shit.” You say through your teeth as you feel yourself about to come quickly.

Miguel then grabs you fully but placed your legs up, so you’re in a full Nelson position. “Rub that pussy for me while I fuck another baby into you, amor.” Miguel says as he bucks up inside of you.

You give soft moans as you do as you’re told and Miguel fucks you hard, causing the chair to squeak. “Me encanta ver a mi niña bonita ser follada mientras juega consigo misma. Es tan sexy.” He moans as you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

You clench and soon after you both are coming together. You feel several ropes spurt inside of you and you two kiss passionately. “Baby, I want more.” You coo as he lets your legs down. “If you want more I’ll give you more.” Miguel kisses your neck but then you two get interrupted.

Just then Lyla materializes. “Miguel, Tommie I’m sorry to interrupt alone time but you need to turn on the tv.” You both straighten up and Miguel grabs the remote and flick on the tv and across the screen was a this just in banner playing on the bottom of the screen.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been reported that there are strange portals opening in random spots and sucking people in. This is a strange phenom-” A portal opens behind the news anchor and sucks them clean through.

Miguel and you made eye contact. Both of you had a panicked look in your eyes. “Amor, I’ll be back. You go grab Xavier and go to the lab. Please stay there.” He helps you up and you quickly go towards your sons room to go and get him. Before your husband leaves you stop him. “Miguel, be careful.” He gives a fake smile.

“I’ll be careful, mi amor for you and for him.” Miguel kisses Xavier on his head and he kisses you on your lips. “Baby, if…if this doesn’t work. I just want you home with us. I just want you home.” You tell him as you grab his hand. “Amor, I will fix this. Don’t worry. I always save the day.”

He lets your hand go and Lyla tells him that the threat of this situation just spiked. “Come on, papa. Let’s go to the lab so papa can save the day.” Xavier just leans his head on your chest and points to Miguel saying mama in a sleepy tone.

You grab a bag for your son just in case and you head down the hall, and towards a door that lead to the lab Miguel had built the second year after you two had gotten married.

You look back one more time at your husband and he touches his wrist causing his Spider suit to form to his body. He tells Lyla to open a portal to the main source and you close the door behind you…

It wasn’t suppose to be this way. It wasn’t suppose to end up like this. You made sure to keep calm for your son but you were scared.

You watched on the news that the portals were getting more frequent. You look down at your son and he was sleeping in your arms. “I don’t know what to do, but I know that if…if anything happens I will make sure you are safe, that you are loved. I will make sure we stay together because you are my world, Xavier C O’Hara. And I know your father? Your father will find us. Because he is Spider-man, and he had beat the impossible before.” You sniffle back the tears and you tap your wrist.

“Yes Tommie?” You had called up Lyla and you wipe your face. “Lyla, how is he?” Lyla gives a head shake. “He is doing his best, he’s found that the portal source came from Earth-199999. He’s trying to shut it down but it’s with some difficulty.” You look down at your sleeping son and then back at Lyla.

“Lyla, I don’t know when a portal will come for us, but when it does and I know it will. Make sure Miguel finds us.”

“Tommie don’t talk like that. Miguel is going to stop this.” Lyla says in a slight panic. You smile sadly at her. “Miguel said it was unnecessary to create you with feelings but I think that’s your best feature because you care. Now I know my husband has faced the impossible and he’s beat it time after time but I’m not him. I’m not a super being. I’m just a wife and a mother and the best I can do is prepare him. These portals are other dimensions that are spreading across this earth. Make sure…make sure he doesn’t forget us. Make sure he finds us and make sure when he does that he lets me figure it out. I don’t want my other self to freak out and regret him. Because Miguel is the best thing that’s happened in my life and I want him happy.” You smile through the tears and you feel the vibration in the air.

“No! I’ll go get him! I’ll get him here now!” Lyla dematerializes and you look up. You can feel the portal coming for you. Maybe if you’re lucky you can start over with Miguel. You can have a reset and have those happy moments with the man you’ve loved since you seen him brooding in the corner at work all those years ago.

“God I’m so proud of the man he’s become.” You say as you hear Miguel calling you. You stand up and he ran into the lab. As he reached for you you, you feel your molecules vibrating. His hand had passed through you and Xavier.

“You’ve done a good job, I want you to know that, Miguel.” You hold back the tears as your husband keeps trying to reach for you. “No, no, no. I can fix this amor I can fix this.” The panic in his voice was heartbreaking.

“Baby, I know you’ll fix this. But remember what I told you, when you came home covered in blood? That you some times you won’t be able to do it all. You’ll have those days where you’ll have to choose. I want you to save the world.”

“The world means nothing if you and Xavier aren’t in it. Por favor, no te vayas, mi amor. Just stay. I can fix this, everything will be back to normal.” If you could hug your husband you would but a flicker happens above you and you feel the portal about to take you.

“Miguel, I’m still proud of you, you’ve done great things. That angry person you thought you’d be forever? He’s not here in front of me. You make me so proud to be your wife. Now stand up and save the world. When you’re done, my love…come find me. I’ll be waiting in the universe for you.”

And just like that, you and your son were taken by the portal, leaving your husband behind..

••••

(Present Earth-928)

You seen it all. You see every multiverse of yourself meeting Miguel, being together, falling in love and having happiness. You two are cannon lovers in the universe.

But one, one universe, Earth 616, he was with Dana. They were together, they were happy. He was going to marry her until you ran after a baby bottle that belonged to a baby. It fell into the street and a car had almost hit you. Miguel was wearing his Spider Suit when he saved you.

The moment your eyes had locked, it was set in motion that you two were meant to be.

Miguel left her for you and you two were going to be happy. But Dana, because she had a brilliant and dangerous mind she had came up with an idea that would make her life better. And that included having Miguel.

With her inheritance, she had hired the best scientist in Alchemax to create a device that would open up a portal where you didn’t exist. Where she could be happy. But you existed, every single earth, every single dimension you existed and that had twisted Dana’s mind to the point where it snapped.

With the Super Collider, she had decided she was going to ruin your life just like how you ruined hers. She picked a world where you didn’t have anything established yet. That mattered to her. She sent her consciousness to that world where she would became the villain of the story all because you took the life she had.

She figured if you didn’t have the loving parents, the tech engineering career, and Miguel she could easily drive you insanity, just to the point where you would end yourself.

Every bad thing that happened in your youth up to your adult life was planned out for her to hurt you.

Those nightmares? She caused them. Those moments you felt as if you were being watched? She did that. Those nights in your youth where you contemplated on ending it all, she was the reason behind that all because she had a glimpse of happiness and it was snatched away from her.

You lay there on the ground processing everything you know, and you felt bad for Dana but you felt anger because she just took and took from you just to benefit herself.

You turn to the side and you throw up what was in your mouth. You sit up carefully and you see Miguel had Dana pinned to the wall, her mouth bleeding but a smile still in her face.

“…I know you want to do it, Miguel. I know you want to kill me so what are you waiting for? Don’t be the hero, be the man who got his happy ending!” She yells in his face. Miguel had raised his claws to her throat. You can see in his blood red eyes he wanted nothing more than to rip her throat open and watch her bleed out.

“If you think you’re going to get away with what you’ve done to not just me but to her? Then you are mistaken, Dana. Death is too good for you, but I know the perfect place for you to go.” Miguel webs her up tight and drops her on the ground.

“You’re making a mistake! Any chance I get Miguel I will make her life a living hell! You were mine! And you will be mine if you allow me to live. I will never give you a moments rest. I will keep coming and coming until I have snapped that bitches neck! I will hurt your future, I will hurt your children! I will cause you misters because you are mine!” Her eyes were so green they almost looked white.

As Miguel turned his back to her he went to you and you stand on wobbly legs. He reaches out towards you and that’s when you see Dana kicking the pumpkin she had sat down earlier.

A strange smell was coming from it and you knew that smell. You’ve mixed those chemicals by accident in high school and it caused the lab equipment to explode. “Miguel watch out!” You get up, using the last bit of the adrenaline you had left and you launched yourself over the soon to be exploding pumpkin.

“No! Don’t stop! This is the best part!” Dana and flung her self onto you and you both tussle until you both go flying off the roof.

You never known you could see your life flash before your eyes like that. Let alone every single one of them. You see Dana laughing as she falls to her untimely demise. And you look up to see the love of your life launch himself after you.

You reach your hand out, praying to God that he will catch you. You were begging for time to stop so this man would get to you. But as you stare in horror you feel your life slipping from his grasp.

Miguel shoots his web at you and just when you feel as if you’re safe…

You hear a snap…

Previously, Next

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professionalnooneatall · 2 months ago

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Everyone Keeps Saying Make Something New, but When I make Something Aggressively New, I Get "not like that,"

I was talking with an Imam once and I asked him how a Muslim would go about doing the Hajj if they lived on Mars. With zero hesitation he said "Get on a rocket and go back to Earth, there's only one Mecca." The quote stayed with me and for over a decade I've been developing a television show around that sentence:

It's the far future. Humanity and our allies live throughout the Milky Way and there are Muslims on every planet where there are humans, which is to say all of them. Let me introduce you to the characters.

Master Fleet Adm. Achmed Abdul Qadir

Regal, bird like, rather tall with a well-trimmed mustache, salt and pepper hair, Qadir is a devout Muslim with a calm “been there done that” attitude from being Nearly 100 years old. Shrewd but compassionate, Qadir applies Islamic jurisprudence as often as possible, resulting in a high degree of compassion. Because of this Qadir was among the first wave of volunteers to fight under the banner of the Alliance first on Mars under NATO/METO and later as Alliance Forces Earth, and finally just the Alliance. Qadir is unflappable in nearly every respect. If he ever uses foul language, it’s not a good sign.

Command Sergeant Major Maya Abdel-Fattah

Lean, lethal and shorter than most people. Always wearing hijab in public. Cybernetic right arm starting at the shoulder. Maya is the strong, silent type. A full Alliance Marine, qualified planet and space she wears the Galaxy Globe and Anchor. Maya was widowed and lost her whole family in a space transport accident and so she transferred to the recently codified Alliance Marine Corps from Alliance Forces Earth Quartermaster Corps. Maya served with the Black Sword Brigade, a particularly tough unit specializing in deep strikes and decapitation attacks. She serves as the senior enlisted on the ship and if there's fighting to be done she can get it done from 1,000 meters to 1 centimeter.

Command Sergeant Major (ret) Robert W. Leary

Hearty, tough, Irish and Black American. Very American military, Qadir’s best friend, so much so Qadir’s actual wife, Jamila, referred to Leary as “My husband’s work wife” when they worked together under NATO and METO military operations before the Alliance conflict. Father died in Corpo Wars, mother retired from the 1st New York Brigade after the North American Protectorate was codified. Leary met probably his closest friend Achmed Qadir while on R&R leave in Iraq, specifically when he attended the completion ceremony for Al-Rahman Mosque is Baghdad. Leary is deeply atheist but very respectful and knowledgeable of many religions; he’s both street-smart and socially intelligent. Leary is also the Alliance Cultural Preservation, Restoration, and Development (CPRD) Officer, ensuring cultural needs and practices are cataloged and practiced, respected, and continued for and by Alliance personnel.

Lt. Cmdr. Dikembe Emenike

Eminke is the executive officer of the Grand Falcon. All four limbs are cybernetic, an aerospace engineer, a race car driver, and Chief Engineer in the construction of the Grand Falcon, the ship that takes Muslims back to Earth for Hajj. Emenike is an accomplished pilot and like most veteran pilots of the war has an absurd amount of flight hours. He was onboard a ship that had to use its jump drive system without calculation and it jumped into a planet’s atmosphere, subsequently crashed and plunged into that planet's ocean. Emenike was among the survivors and due to his actions - using the ship's propulsion to beach the craft on the nearest landmass - the casualties were low.

Master Chief (ret) Paulina Stevens “Boston” Abdur Razzaq

Boston is an Iranian American, punk rocker, with lots of tattoos, lower jaw is cybernetic, it’s a subtle piece, though, and mostly matches her skin tone. She has close-cropped curly hair and a nose ring. Experienced medic and explosives technician, Boston formed her own contracting company - Iron Pineapple - after the war for “post-war and peacetime operations,” which has an extremely broad definition meaning her team didn't want for work. Boston has been divorced twice, from a man and a woman. She doesn’t do anything by half measures and this extends to her personal relationships. She connects intensely with people and intimate partners are no exception so her command style with her team is often very blunt but compassionate.

Maj. (Dr.) Mohammed Al-Aziz Billah

Dr. Billah, or "just Dr. B," as he would introduce himself, is stocky, bearded, intense, and driven but is kind and has an impeccable bedside manner. Billah is often in a doctor’s coat over his Alliance uniform. He is Qadir’s nephew on Jamila’s side. A devout Ahmadiyya Muslim, Billah saw becoming a doctor as a holy mission. He is a certified physician for both people and earth animals, having studied both sciences concurrently at Penn State. Billah served in Iraqi military as a combat doctor and in between tours he worked with members of the Jain Dharma as a veterinarian. His incredibly wide skill set made him ideal for treating non-human beings and many foundations for combat medical procedures were established by him and other members of The First Medical Fleet which would become Alliance Medical Command. His refrain, "Death Is my Only Enemy," became the official motto of First Medical Fleet, "Death Our Only Enemy"

Special Warrant 2 (ret) Shen She Zhan

Shen underwent sixteen very painful surgical procedures to increase her height and skin grafts to make her skin look like that of the Hiraska aliens whose empire threatened the whole galaxy with facial reconstruction including reshaping her jaws and her eyes were fully replaced. Her cover was blown but she was able to escape however he pod was intercepted by Alliance Forces Earth personnel who didn’t believe she was actually human. Qadir’s ship received the signal and he intervened but not soon enough. Qadir, Leary and Billah were there for her recovery so they are on the very short list of people she trusts, those three serve as kind of her “sounding board” for certain topics and issues. Qadir was furious with the task forces’ treatment of Shen and he disbanded the task force and several senior leaders were relieved of duty. After the war she joined Iron Pineapple and Boston became the fourth person in the galaxy she trusts. This history informs much of Shen's responses and actions. Among strangers, she is very controlled but given the presence of one of the four, she will speak her mind clearly.

Major (ret) Maria Shahid Rodriguez-ChavezMajor (ret) Maria Shahid Rodriguez-Chavez

Latino and Arab Christian. A real technical wiz Chavez can fix anything; hardware or software even if she's unfamiliar with it because she has an intuition about technology overall. Chavez is a trans-woman but presents as masculine in the war flashbacks. She is gradually becoming more and more comfortable with herself but will often retreat into her technological expertise and focus on solving tech problems rather than personal development. She often seeks guidance from Boston, Leary, and Billah. She is estranged from her father but is in touch with her mother and kid brother, who live the Leo City, the domed human settlement on Mars. Her plan settle with them somewhere and open a small business, probably an automotive repair shop and salon.

Senior Command Chief Jamila Qadir

Jamila is a highly experienced nurse with time in ERs, plague zones, and combat zones, and her compassion for humans is matched only by the sheer “lack of fucks,” she gives. Her compassion for people is matched by her husband Achmed, but she will not suffer fools gladly, will not make time for bullshit, and definitely won't stand for your nonsense. She has tried to play matchmaker for Leary on several occasions. It didn’t go well each time. She is often the smartest person in the room as she knows how to apply her knowledge of people learned through being a medical professional in any given situation.

Petty Officer 2nd Class (ret) Akira Shima

Akira was a quantum navigation systems programmer and he is exceptional at that, having served on many task forces and has a mind for science and tactics but he is largely untested due to getting relegated to "IT bullshit" when he was in uniform. He is motivated to prove himself at every opportunity and is often unorthodox in his thoughts and actions but he is effective and when he combines his abilities with Chavez they are unstoppable. He is very intuitive and empathetic. He understands software interacting with organics as he often had to fix cybernetic limbs in the war when no formal technician was present. Shima is “always on,” and will often wake up in the middle of the night having dreamed of a solution to a problem he may have only heard about in passing.

Valerria Vall

Assigned a special advisor to the Grand Falcon, Vall is a member of the Omega, a race of beings who once fought a Terminator-style war between organics and machines. After about seventy years they realized it was pretty stupid and over time they became a “joint race,” the Hiraska saw them as the greatest threat to their empire and released a plague that destroyed all organic life in their home system. They barely survived and are now fully artificial. They founded the Alliance as an anti-colonial and defensive force against the Hiraska to prevent what happened to them from happening to any other beings. As they connect with new extraterrestrial species they send a representative to study and learn from their cultures, altering their whole physical and mental self to mirror that race to create a deep cultural understanding.

Kimi Running Rabbit

Running Rabbit is part of the new generation of humans that grew up off-world and is the youngest member of the crew. She is part of the Alliance Tribal Nations, a recognized part of the Alliance government’s judicial, social and educational systems. Running Rabbit began as an alliance cadet but the war ended and she spent two more years just training with little engagement against real threats. When she saw the Hajj ship needing volunteers she signed on with an individual contract. Like many other personnel who were born off-world, she’s only heard stories about how vicious earthbound humans were to each other but especially horrible to the indigenous peoples and she hates Earth and doesn't want to ever go there. This mission is the first time she has been around a significant population of earth-born humans. Kimi is well educated in languages, histories, and cultures through the Alliance Primary Education system but she has limits as they are "textbook,"

Lt. Cmdr. Jordan Nusholtz

Nusholtz is the youngest pilot of the main ensemble and uses direct interphase to pilot vessels. While Qadir uses zero augmentation and Enemike uses maximum augmentation to pilot starfighters, Nusholtz is the middle ground between those two schools of thought/action and will come up with unique solutions within that content. In fact, he has skills and experience on par with Qadir and Enemike despite being at least a decade younger.. He initially joined under a task force assembled by the Israeli Defense Force but they withdrew from the Alliance after Mars was secured and Nusholtz joined the alliance as a pilot - and accepted a three-step demotion due to the nature of the alliance rank structure at the time - to bring the war to a conclusion and in solidarity with his adopted brother Anthony who is Palestinian.

Master Sergeant (Ret) Anthony Sydnor

A former infantryman turned technical repairman, Sydnor is the Rosencrantz to Cmdr. Jordan Nusholtz’s Guildenstern, with a more absurdist sense of humor and a more practical view of the world. Sydnor is a widower but has three sons who are all in the Majiid initiative. He has a rather dim view of being in space, however, like many humans, he seeks the leave Earth behind and settle on one of the Alliance's home planets or even one of the terraformed planets which could include Venus would be preferable. He is Palestinian American and that informs his cynicism. He runs general supply on the Grand Falcon and if something needs to be acquired, he’s the one to acquire it.

Col. Rashad Ibn-Arai Al-Wali

Col. Al-Wali is the “by the book” type of person who doesn’t care much for individuality. He is an alliance sentience code enforcement officer, meaning he ensures the rights, history and dignity statutes for all living beings are, in fact, assured. Rather like a police officer but personal property isn't the goal. This also makes him the de-facto first contact officer. His personal feelings actually run counter to the sentience codes so in a way the codes are his “check,” to do the right things. The codes were NOT written exclusively by humans so in a way, he seeks guidance from them in much the same way Qadir does with Islam. However, Qadir seeks to justify compassion, kindness and justice whilst Al-Wali tries to justify his personal feelings and gets consistently thwarted.

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moral-autism · 5 years ago

Video

vimeo

I appreciated this video about the [in]famous low-clearance bridge, which interviewed someone from the DoT, showed changes made to reduce accidents, et cetera. It's in the documentary style, but not at the documentary length.

(If you consistently don't like videos, this is IMO not worth overriding your aversion to watch, I just quite liked it.)

#11foot8 #11 foot 8 bridge #videos #car crash cw #(not the type of car crash with casualties though)

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riverstardis · 2 years ago

Text

the dying game:

i’m currently in the car going down to london lol

yup putting a cake with sparkling candles down right next to a load of coats is going to cause a fire

zoe using an e-cigarette

cal saying “i can be interested in anything for about an hour, that’s why i became an ed doctor” sjskdkfkrk mood

lily trying to talk to cal and invites him to look at some x-rays from an interesting patient with her after work and he’s just trying to avoid her

oop and ethan sees them talking from afar

okay well my ipad just decided it can’t play the file type after playing just fine for 10 minutes so i guess i’ll finish this later

it is now 2 days later and i’m now on my way back up from london (i watched cabaret yesterday and amy lennox was it, i wasn’t expecting to see a holby actor in the wild lol but she was incredible! i also saw some of the marathon but i didn’t see george rainsford, not that i was particularly trying to tbh but it would’ve been cool if i had) so let’s see how long my ipad decides it can play this file for this time

a high speed motorbike chase ending in a crash? on casualty? what a surprise

cal telling fletch he owes him £40 because he succeeded in sleeping with lily🤢

and fletch going “lily really should know better”

robyn and charlie giving a patient who’s being difficult to lily because they know she won’t take his shit

“fetch me a pair of pliers, if he wants his tooth removed i’ll do it myself” YES LILY SJSKDKFK

oop rita saying her husband’s dead again

the elderly patient who was turning 100 has his letter from the queen

“i never had you down as a drinker, dr chao” “i’m not, i don’t even like wine gums” sjskdkfj i love her

lily asking cal “are we gonna talk?” “about what?” “about what? about your views on warfarin vs novel oral anticoagulant for atrial fibrillation, what do you think i’m talking about?” “like i said lily, everything in moderation” aand of course ethan walks by and hears them

ethan asking cal what’s going on with him and lily and cal going “nothing. i think that’s her problem” ffs he’s so annoying

aw fletch giving rita some money for food even though he’s basically broke

connie calling guy self down and zoe’s so annoyed and baaarely hiding it sjskdkd

urghhh the patient drinking hand sanitizer because lily took his alcohol

“what did guy want?” “guy? he wanted to share your thoughts on the inadvertent holding pattern that we had in reception earlier” “well i’m sure you see just the one death is a small victory under the circumstances” “it’ll be two before the day’s out” HAHAHA I ACTAULLY LAUGHED OHT LOUD GRT HER ZOE SJSKDKFJF

keller and darwin name drop

ethan trying to talk to lily he’s so awkward sjskdkd i love him

lofty telling noel and big mac that rita used to be married and her husband died😬

casualty hitting me with the old lesbians again🥹🥹🥹🥹

aww tess thinking it was lofty that arranged the cake for the patient and telling connie how he’s the only one who would’ve been thoughtful enough but it was actually connie’s idea but she lets him get the credit

apparently this week they’re not showing classic holby and are doing double casualty instead, idk if it’s just for this week or what

#why did this episode take me like three whole days to watch #it played for about 5 minutes on my way home before it decided the file type was unsupported again #sorry for telling y’all about my weekend lmao #classic casualty #the dying game #bbc casualty #casualty

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guessimwritingficsagain · 4 years ago

Text

Delightful, chapter Two (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing : Javier Peña x reader

Warnings : heavy drinking

Author’s note : This is going to be longer than I expected.

You were both silent in the car, except for the indications you occasionally gave him. Except you hadn’t been lying about the fact that you lived very close to the bar : the whole ride lasted about two minutes.

That didn’t deter Peña, though, who kept showing up when he could, and when he couldn’t he just sent someone else. Steve Murphy (you’d finally learnt his name) looked very happy to have to come here at two in the morning for a two-minute drive.

‘Is he bribing you ?’ You asked him once.

‘He’s doing all my paperwork for three months.’ He answered with good humour.

Which, shit, that wasn’t the answer you’d expected. It’d probably shown, because Steve softened and added :

‘Indulge him. He’s seen some shit, people he knew at the wrong place at the wrong time. He cares a lot.’

You nodded.

Next night was a slow one, and when a costumer, a really good looking one at that, got really flirty with you, you flirted right back - well, to the best of your abilities anyway, you were more than rusty in that department. It seemed to be enough for the guy, who clearly wanted to take you home. You were not opposed to that. Not at all. Except that when you closed shop, Peña was waiting there. You asked the guy to give you a minute and went to him.

‘I have a ride, tonight.’ You explained.

His eyes went to the guy and his eyebrows shot up. His answer was not one you’d expected.

‘Really ? That’s your type ?’

‘My type is not what this is about. He’s taking me home.’

Peña took his time assessing your ‘ride’, and the latter was obviously growing more confused, and, to your frustration, deterred by the situation as the seconds went by.

‘Peña.’ You snapped. That got his attention back to you, a thumb touching his lower lips pensively, a hand on his hip. After a moment of thinking, he conceded :

‘Yeah. Yeah, okay.’

You thought he was going to leave it at that but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

‘Didn’t think you were the missionary type, is all.’

And that, that undid you. Because though Peña had been a pain in the ass from day one, Peña had also been helpful, and caring, and you didn’t know what it was about him that got under your skin like that but one thing was sure : you weren’t friends. Two-minute drives three times a week didn’t count as bonding and him sitting on a stool, silent, until you closed the bar didn’t count as that either. He had no right to get this familiar with you. So you sneered :

‘You’re an asshole.’

He shrugged and lit a cigarette :

‘So I’ve been told.’

You turned around and walked to that guy you didn’t even remember the name of and hated yourself for listening closely to the sound of Peña’s car leaving.

The worst part of it all, though : Peña’d been right. The dude was boring and the sex, mediocre. So, out of spite, you didn’t tell Peña you were on holiday the next week. And holidays meant going out for drinks with friends, in a bar that was not were your worked. So you did just that. And you had a wonderful night, that first day off, and you got really drunk.

You woke up at 12 to someone pounding at your door like they were trying to kick it down. Still in your clothes from last night, a nice dress you didn’t like to wear at work because it drove you some unwanted attention but liked just for yourself, you opened the door to see Javier Peña fuming and angry.

‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were on holiday ?’

Your head was aching, and you weren’t in the mood because you needed some water into your system before you could face anything but he didn’t let you answer anyway and kept going :

‘I fucking showed up and you weren’t there. Drove here and you didn’t answer. Came again this morning and you didn’t answer either. What the fuck are you thinking ?’

You weren’t in the mood. You were hungover, you needed some water and maybe something greasy, and you weren’t in the mood.

‘I don’t need you to baby-sit me, I’m pretty sure that if someone had wanted to kill me they’d have done it in the month and a half you’ve been monitoring everything I do.’ You spat.

Later, you’d recognize you’d been unfair. You’d remember Steve’s words. Later, you’d realized you’d talked with the assurance of someone who doesn’t know what it’s like. Who doesn’t know anything about anything, even though you should know better because what got you there in the first place was seeing a man’s brain all over the concrete.

Peña din’t say a word. He turned back, and left. You didn’t see him for a long time after that.

———

Steve kept picking you up, from time to time, the bags under his eyes heavier every time you saw him. On a Sunday, he showed up in the clothes you’d seen him wear three days before, and he showed up at the beginning of your shift. He asked for a whisky and

‘Keep ‘em coming.’

‘What’s wrong ?’

He didn’t answer right away, instead shooting a hey man without heart at Emil, who answered with a little more energy, even though his little girl had kept him up all night the day before. Okay, the night of the living dead, then. Good thing you liked that movie.

When Emil got to the kitchen and with no costumer in sight, Steve finally asked :

‘You know what I did, on Friday ?’

You shook your head, suddenly on edge because of the tone of his voice. There was something breaking there. Then, with false casualty, he offered :

‘I beat the shit out of a dude just because he was snorting coke in an airport’s bathroom.’

You stopped everything.

‘Why are you telling me this ?’

You didn’t like the way your voice wavered, but the question was genuine. There were supposed to be boundaries.

‘Because Connie’s gone back to the fucking States and I heard bartenders were the best shrinks.’ He answered, downing his drink and motioning for another. You wondered if this was wise, letting him drink. But you figured you weren’t his mother, you figured he needed that. You figured you hadn’t seen your friends in forever, so much that Steve Murphy was starting to look like one.

You found a middle ground and settled, pouring him another whisky :

‘You’re not driving me home, tonight. But you’re crashing on my couch.’

Steve hummed in answer.

Later, when he had his arm around your shoulder to steady himself, laughing way too hard at a joke that really wasn’t that funny, you wondered at the irony of the situation : the state he was in, the man supposedly there to protect you was probably more like to shoot himself in the foot trying to aim at someone. When you voiced the thought, Steve barked a laugh :

‘I don’t even have my fucking gun with me, right now.’

And :

‘That reminds me. You fucked him ? Peña ? That’s why he won’t come anymore ?’

‘Fuck you, Murphy. I didn’t.’

He went silent for a while, let go of your shoulder to turn and look at you, feet unsteady. He would have been a funny looking sight if you hadn’t known what had gotten him in the state in the first place.

‘You know why I do this ?’ He asked, the very picture of seriousness. ‘This, I mean.’ He clarified, a finger waving from him to you.

You shook your head. He stopped walking, raised a finger, and, an air of gravity and wisdom about him that made you laugh because he burped.

‘I do this because it helps Peña sleep at night. So, in the morning, he’s not so grumpy. And he doesn’t drink all of the coffee. Because that coffee is shit, and it makes him grumpier. Seriously, that fucking DEA coffee …’

He started walking again, but you were kind of frozen. You knew you’d been unfair to him, but never stopped to think Peña had cared enough to potentially ask Steve to keep coming to get you. It’d been months, after all, since what you called The Incident just so you didn’t call it The Image you still dreamt about every other night and probably would for the rest of your life or The Image that popped up at random times during the day and reduced you to a shaking mess.

‘You comin’ ?’ Steve asked.

You jogged up to him.

‘That was a long time ago, why do you keep coming ?’

‘We identified the guy. Javi doesn’t wanna stop this until we catch him him or, you know, pull a bullet in him. Never too safe.’

Fuck.

After a beat, Steve added :

‘Though, I am pretty useless right now, right ? Considering I’m completely shit-faced.’

He laughed again and, a few minutes later, dropped on your couch and started snoring.

———

The place was really busy, so you didn’t have time to think about the fact that Javier Peña was sitting in a booth with Murphy, or the fact that maybe you owed him an apology.

Steve had gotten the first round. You were not watching if they needed a new one. No. You weren’t. You had not been wondering if Peña was going to get the second one. No.

He did. He got the second one. And he came straight to you. You gave him the beers, tongue-tied now that you had a chance to speak. You hated yourself, in that moment, but you as he was beginning to turn around, you let yourself go :

‘I’m sorry.’ You mumbled, grabbing his forearm.

He was looking at you, silent.

‘I’m sorry.’ You repeated, more strongly, squeezing his forearm.

He looked at you for a bit, sighed quietly and answered :

‘It’s okay.’

‘But it’s not.’ You shot back immediately. ‘You’re… You’re insufferable. And I felt like I could’t do anything on my own. But you know the risks. I don’t. You were trying to protect me, and I was a bitch about it.’

He put down the beers at that, and sat down.

‘I’ve seen people I care about get fucked because they were here at the wrong place at the wrong time. But here’s one thing I don’t wanna hear.’ He said. ‘I don’t wanna hear that my favorite bartender has been killed because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.’

He’d kept his voice light but you could feel how heavy the words were.

‘I’m sorry.’ You said again. Because that was all you could think of.

———

Peña started showing up at the bar again. When he did, he usually waited until you closed to walk you home. It wasn’t often, once every two weeks, but you liked it.

You were worried, though, because now that you knew what he did for a living, him not showing up could mean something had gone wrong. You’d never called Steve to ask.

One day, he did show up. It was late, you were dealing with some drunk asshole who couldn’t understand the word no. He put an end to the whole thing when he just sat down and asked :

‘Can you get me a shot of that good whiskey, babe ?’

That was enough to get the man off your back, and you were so relieved to see him you didn’t say anything. And then, the babe incident became a thing.

Give me a whisky, but not the crappy one, babe.

Yeah, I had a shitty day. You don’t wanna know about it, babe.

We need to put a second lock on your door. That neighborhood is shit, babe.

And, on one memorable moment,

I heard from Steve that your couch is a delight. I’m jealous I never got to try it. Mind if I use it tonight ? I’m fucking exhausted, and you don’t live exactly close to my place, babe.

You should have said something, but Peña was talking to you more and more, and you found that you kinda liked him, so you let him call you that. You also let him crash on your couch whenever he felt like it.

Which meant, all in all, that your couch was rarely unoccupied. You’d even finally gotten them toothbrushes, as months went by, a green one for Steve and a pink one for Javier. The latter had tensed when you told him, and you knew that wasn’t because of the color.

That man and his fear of commitment to anything.

One evening, as you were making a cocktail, the movements a force of habit, you heard a very familiar voice say :

‘So, this is where you’ve been hiding all this time ?’

You turned to see your friend Nick, standing on the other side of the counter. Nick and you had been friends for a long time, the type of friends that never really lose touch with each other, the type of friends you can call anytime. You finished what you were doing in a hurry (and maybe screwed up a bit on the alcohol but you figured the costumer would be happy to get some more than intended) and circled the counter to hug him.

You spent the evening catching up whenever you had time to spare. Nick was here on a business trip, and had asked your parents where you worked. He had a place to stay, but that didn’t prevent Javier from saying :

‘So, he’s taking you home tonight I guess.’

He was, in a way. You’d both agreed it would be nice to spend the rest of the night at your place to catch up. You answered :

‘Men and women can be just friends, you know.’

‘Not in my opinion.’

His answer stung. So you pushed, because the trashcan of denial was just that big :

‘Yeah, what about us ?’

His eyes were dark, heavy with something, as he answered :

‘Yeah, what about us, babe ?’

You’d known for a while you didn’t quite hate Javier Peña, but what you felt then, that was new.

Chapter one - Chapter three

Tag list :

@pedritobalmando

#javier pena x reader #Javier Pena imagine #narcos #Pedro pascal #delightful

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sleephyjhs · 4 years ago

Text

the ghost of you ; myg

pairing; human!yoongi x ghost!reader

genre; angst , supernatural au , lovers au , ghost au

tw; description of death and accidents, death mentioned throughout, heavy descriptions of grief and loss.

wc; 2.96k

playlist; too much to ask - niall horan

m.list

Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five. And counting. His shoulder must’ve ached by now - there’s no way it couldn’t have done. Why was nobody helping him? Nevermind. If I knew Yoongi, I knew he wouldn’t want to give anybody else the hassle. It hadn’t been that long. Such a prominent trait of his wouldn’t have withered away so soon.

He’d hardly ever ask me for a favour when I was alive. Now that I’m dead, isolation was his only company.

I watched from the balcony landing on the upper floor of his new apartment. Slowly, it had begun to dawn on me that I was nothing more than a phantom - an unfamiliar spirit that haunted his hallways. I wasn’t expecting to leave Yoongi as soon as I did; the guilt hadn’t quite drained from my blood. On the first night, I sat opposite him in the dimly lit living room. A single whisky glass, still coated with the third refill of the night, hugged the black coaster on the coffee table. The phone screen glowed with condolence and devastation, and his cheeks glowed with the numbing sting of grief and alcohol. There was a pizza box too. It still steamed with the anticipation of being eaten - I’m not sure whether he ever did or not.

I sobbed with him. Uncontrollable, I was. He was. He couldn’t hear me - nobody could. It was for the better, I could wallow in my own grief without being disturbed. But I could hear him. God, could I hear him.

“Why her? Why me? It should’ve been me. I need her.”

Vulnerability was far from Yoongi’s regular state. Seldom did I see him so emotionally honest. I’ve had time to reflect. Actually, all I’ve done is reflect - there isn’t much else for me to do. Watching him cry out into the echoes of a now apartment for one reminded me of the times where my echoes were met by his soothing presence; supportive and caring words which may have only been so effective since Yoongi was the one delivering them.

I wondered if he knew I was here. Who am I kidding? Yoongi doesn’t believe in ghosts. Spirits, phantoms - none of it. Why would I be here? Why would I want to stay with him? “Heaven is a better place for her, she belongs in a better place,” is what he reminded himself, verbally, leaning against the bathroom counter. He couldn’t even look himself in the eyes.

Everything happened so quickly. I hate that I remember so much of it. It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault at all, nor was it mine. Engraved in my memory was the image of the approaching car, spinning, pulling up heavy dust from the low grade country road. Clashing headlights blinded us both, and yet somehow I still could see the doom that we were to encounter. I screamed. Yoongi scrambled hurriedly at the wheel, urgently attempting to accelerate past the uncontrollable vehicle.

But it was too late. Instant collision led my passenger window to burst into a thousand rainbow shards. They showered me; it was as though I was being grated. Perhaps if I hadn’t worn short sleeves, the coarse edges of the glass wouldn’t have shaved me as closely as they did. Airbags were past their purpose now. I can’t remember if I was still screaming. Or if it was Yoongi. Maybe a bystander?

With all the reminiscence death brought me, what I believed to be my last thoughts may well have been a lie; a façade to disguise my lack of memory. I hated not being able to remember. If I did find a way to communicate with Yoongi, I could never truthfully tell him he’s the last thing I thought about. I simply didn’t know. I never will.

There are things I’m certain of. He told me over and over again, “We’re okay. We’ll be alright.” That was a lie, I knew it was then, too. I had no choice but to believe it. Believing the alternative was too scary. Too real.

“I love you.” I must’ve said this. Everyone takes the opportunity to confess to their loved ones that they do indeed love them when in such a peril dilemma. They’re almost preprogrammed; do we even mean it when we say it?

I meant it. I loved Yoongi. I love Yoongi. Sequencing the shower of shards came my last thought. A void in my mind; the silhouette of a missing sticker from the book of my life. Grief completed the last gap in the book, and it’s replacement was good enough for me to convince myself it was reality’s choice too.

“I’m so sorry.”

This could’ve been the guilt of grief interrupting my focus. I knew I was going to die, but for all I knew, Yoongi easily could’ve joined me. He was fortunate, always had been. Even if it wasn’t my honest last thought, it was more than valid now. I am sorry.

The short transaction of my spirit from reality into the unknown was short. I lingered at the sight of the crash, watching over Yoongi. I learned quickly that I was now nothing more than an apparition, perhaps one of the imagination only. The glass crumbs that had pierced his skin begged me to remove them, but I couldn’t. Aligning my fingers with his fresh wounds, I persevered with trying to extract the debris from his body. But I couldn’t. My nails scraped through, clean; from my perspective, I was mere steam in the shape of my now lifeless body.

Sirens wailed and beckoned from miles away; at least for as far as I could hear. Thick evergreen trees were unable to filter the swirling sapphire lights from illuminating the crash scene. I counted how long it took a stroke of light to return to Yoongi’s weakened face. Three seconds. One, two, three, and then a strip of blue curtained his forehead. And then again.

I only learned that I was the only casualty after eavesdropping on the attending paramedics. Now that I’d thought about it, I didn’t even turn to my lifeless body. I needed no awakening; I was well aware of the realm I had now entered. Yoongi was alive, he was more important. Checking his pulse was impossible; all the help I could provide was watching him breathe.

Help. What am I talking about? If he had stopped, what was there that I could’ve done? I suppose now that watching him inhale and exhale with shaky breath was for my own sanity rather than his well-being.

His breath was laboured, heavy with shock. He was still talking to me, rocking me, begging me to respond. And I did. I screamed at him, telling him that I was there, I was with him. He didn’t hear me, but that wasn’t enough for me to stop. I cried, howled with shallow pain. Yoongi was then unreachable. He was only sitting next to me.

Since then, I haven’t left his side. Our shared grief is unbalanced, however. I know he’s there. I can see him, smell him, hear him. But he can’t. Of course, there are photos of me in his phone. Even a few of us together. It’s all that was left of my image. And it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t give him any more, and he couldn’t gain any more.

Funnily enough, that there was one of my pet peeves that I’d festered since meeting Yoongi. He took more photos of me than he’d allow himself to feature in. Nothing spectacular would have to occur either. One night, I watched over his shoulder as he scrolled through, what seemed like, the hundreds of photos inhabited his camera roll, ones I hadn’t noticed he’d even taken. In one, I was timidly hiding behind one of the couch pillows as I intensively watched one of the horror films he’d hilariously recommended. In another, I was messing about with Holly on the floor of his parent’s house, ruffling his unshaven winter fur.

He stumbled across one of us together. Finally. Us at his brother’s wedding, under the rice white canopy threaded with the gentle subtleties of wildflowers. I dwelled on how particularly handsome he looked in his suit, with a smaller bouquet of fern sprigs and poppies attached delicately to his breast pocket. My arm was intertwined with his; he held my hand tighter than he ever had before. There was another from the same day; his brother and his bride joined us, and then his family, and then the remainder of the guests. I’ll never forget that day, ever.

My risen cheeks fell as the memories shifted to the back of my mind again. With memories came heartache and remorse. Heartache; I’ve lost the love of my life. Rather, he lost me. But I can no longer touch him or remind him how much I treasured him. That’s the unconventional type of heartbreak. And remorse? I took our time together for granted. Too short, it was. We were together for over 5 years, and he made them feel like minutes. In the end, we really couldn’t have been any closer than we were. But all the memories I had of Yoongi were the tiniest fraction of those that I wanted. I wanted more than that. I still do.

A week after moving into our new apartment, no, his new apartment, Yoongi’s piano arrived. Grand was a shortcoming. Sleek monochrome keys and polished curves competed the modern design of the main hosting room; beautiful was miles from capturing how impeccable it actually looked.

I took my time in exploring its position. The piano and I were familiar; it was the first big purchase after moving into our first home together. Yoongi cared for this piano as if it were his child. He sang to it too, although I’m not sure he always knew I was around to hear. His own songs, those that he’d dedicated to me, ones he played as a young teenager still learning the most complicated chords. One day, I asked him to teach me something. A simple infant lullaby, something easy. Bearing in mind the amount of commitments this man usually had, the act of taking time from his schedule to teach me what really was a useless skill was near enough tear-jerking.

“See? You’re a natural.”

“Some people can play this at three, Yoongi. It’s nothing impressive.”

No matter the skill or talent involved, Yoongi never failed to encourage me. There’s a lot we did together that alone I wouldn’t have even considered. Really, encouragement was an understatement. Neither of us were particularly adventurous, yet together we seemed prepared to try anything. I was never able to thank him for that.

I hovered my fingers over the middle keys, examining for any marks or bruises. Sure enough, there were none. I’m not sure what I expected. Sometimes, I was convinced Yoongi took better care of his piano than himself. I didn’t mind in the slightest. The songs he wrote me for special occasions made me quite glad he did.

There were days when dragging him away from the piano to return back to the real world for a minute or two was near impossible. Instead, I developed a habit of joining him on the stool. Looking at it from the landing made it look small. It was, really. But it didn’t feel like that when I sat beside Yoongi. If it did, I never noticed. That’s the Yoongi effect.

Minutes become hours, hours become days, days become forever.

Today, I haven’t paid much attention to Yoongi’s whereabouts. The glass banister that enclosed the upstairs landing was my usual seat; I watched everything from here. A few people had come to see Yoongi, his parents, the members, a couple old friends, it was the first time I’d seen him smile since I’d gone. He ate without hesitating, he laughed heartily again. He even cracked a joke in response to another.

He looked happy, and that made me happy.

It wasn’t necessarily moving on, though. Each day, something was different about the apartment. I sat on Yoongi’s bed as he set up the wardrobe. His monochrome closet hadn’t lost its ‘Yoongi’ essence. Next to the wardrobe was a spare cupboard of an identical size. Would I have been able to, a tear might have just fallen from my eye. Yoongi filled the rails with my clothes. They still smelled like me; the same perfume with a base note of my regular deodorant. A pair of my best heels which he bought me for attendance of a some grand event or another next to my white canvas converse sheltered in the top cubbyhole on top of smaller garments of mine that he hadn’t quite brought himself to donate.

The day after, I caught him spraying a couch cushion from our old home with my signature perfume. He always did like it. On the nights where we became closer than close, I always made sure to wear it for him; I knew I’d be rewarded for it. My memory now lived on in the form of a staining stench. One that I was certain would one day suffocate him.

Today, there were no changes. Yoongi left the apartment early in the morning - I suspect for work. He needed to get out, desperately. I was around him all the time - both ironically and genuinely - so much so his new apartment had become a smaller trinket of a shrine to me. I’d get sick of it too.

Wherever he went, I let him go. What was I supposed to do to stop him? Ghosts don’t pack much of a punch.

It was the first time I’d gone more than a few hours without seeing him since my death. Usually, Yoongi was never further than the corner of my eye, and if he was I could at least hear him humming to himself

But the silence was still. There was chaos in the calm. This sudden isolation was my first opportunity to mourn Yoongi alone since we lost one another. I didn’t cry though. Instead, I wallowed in the emptiness I felt. Of course, I was empty. I felt as though I were the right side of a friendship bracelet, missing the ‘Best’ side of me.

Somehow, I’d managed to traipse downstairs. Aimless wandering was on track to become my first spiritual habit. I approached the piano - I had meant to do this. I understood now how there could be comfort in music. When Yoongi aligned himself so closely to his piano and his songwriting, it was difficult to now associate one to the other.

The stool was already ajar - I could squeeze in here. Pianos are overwhelmingly daunting the first time you sit at one without somebody who can play. There are more keys - more options - than you first assume. I ran my fingers down from the highest octave down to the lowest. Strangely, I could near enough feel the rumps of the keys against my plushy skin. Pushing down, the melody Yoongi had taught me began to play like an exclusive soundtrack of my 20s.

It was all in my head, but it felt real. Grief has always done strange things to people, and it seemed I was no exception.

For hours, I continued to replay the limited memory of what Yoongi had taught me. After a while, I began adding my own chords or notes, completely oblivious to the overall value they deducted from my solo performance. Eventually, I became lost in my own serenade. Miscellaneous noise blocked itself out; I was alone with my piano.

His piano.

And so, when Yoongi walked back into his home, he seemed quite stunned to hear our song echoing through the marble-accented walls. He stood, utterly speechless, in the archway to where he left his prized possession. I only noticed him after a few seconds.

If Yoongi didn’t believe in ghosts before, he was left with close to no other choice now.

Maybe he thought he was imagining the sound? Until his jaw dropped, that’s what I had believed too. Yoongi’s gummy smile revealed itself to me; it was almost as though I could read his thought procession from his eyes. Scrunching the tip of his nose, I watched as Yoongi fought back what I was positive were tears.

How the melody was audible to us both was far beyond my comprehension; perhaps it was our connection that made the melody viable to us. The keys were real, I could feel them. I shouldn’t have been able to, but I could.

Yoongi stalked up to the piano like a lion stalking his prey. Except Yoongi wasn’t preparing to pounce. He was scared of frightening my melody away.

Nothing could have frightened me away. This was as close as I’d ever dared to return to Yoongi. I knew too well that if I got too close, I’d never be able to separate myself from him again. I wouldn’t put myself through that heartbreak again. Or him, should he even realise that I was there.

The stool that matched the piano was longer than the average, but it still wouldn’t have seated both me and Yoongi. He edged himself to the end of the stool as though he were making room for me. Still, there was no gap between us. My leg overlapped his. He was warm. I was not.

He played my same melody in a lower octave, even adapting to my added chords and adlibs. He smiled to himself, tears finally slipping from his lower eyelid. Some rushed to the cliff of his jaw and fell to their demise on the black keys of the piano. I would’ve given anything to wipe them away. Anything at all.

tag list !!

@mama-m0chi @liriaus @loveyoongles @weltmaya @mrsfortune1306 @janeelizabeth1216

#yoongi #bts angst #yoongi angst #min yoongi #suga #yoongi imagine #yoongi one shot #bts #bangtan #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts drabble #request #bts headcanon #bts mtl #bts fluff

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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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a strange love | yuta (m)

title: a strange love pairing: alien!yuta x black!reader genre: sci-fi/fantasy, fluff, angst, smut request: “I read a good chunk of your NCT work and really liked them. Would I be able to request a fic where a black female reader meets an alien (can be Yuta or Jungwoo) and they're both coming to terms that they're attracted to each other and have to come to terms with being attracted to someone of a different species? Can be smutty and don't be afraid to give the alien a less human biology if you don't mind.” word count: 13.1k warnings: alcohol use, cursing, near drowning experience, lots of mentions of water so this one might not mesh well with people w/ aquaphobia, non-human biology/body horror, extraterrestrial sex, lots of cum, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle dick, unprotected sex, creampie, please heed the warnings because this is an alien smutfic lmao a/n: giving the shape of water teas. i’ve actually never seen that movie 😕 but i will at some point. forgive me in advance for the nerdy references in here.

It’s funny how things happen when you least expect it. You never would’ve thought you’d be sound asleep when your entire world changed.

The night the UFO crashes in your city, you’re awoken by the tremors of its landing. The vibrations feel akin to an earthquake, and they make picture frames and other trinkets fall off your shelves and hit the floor in a clatter of noise. You jump up from your pillow at the racket, your heart pounding. You glance at the things lying on your floor and quickly register that the room—your entire home—is trembling.

There’s not much you can do at this point but ride it out, so you huddle down in your covers and hope the roof doesn’t cave in on your head. To your knowledge, your particular area isn’t known for earthquakes, which makes all of this even stranger. What could be causing one now? Is the world finally ending?

Eventually, the tremors stop. By now, your shelves have been emptied of nearly all their contents, but you’re still alive, which you’re grateful for. You wait a few more minutes to see if the shakes will begin again, but they don’t, so you climb out from the warmth of your covers to clean up your floor.

Police and ambulance sirens start blaring through the city not long after you get out of bed. That’s nothing unusual; there are usually injuries and casualties with natural disasters like these, and you expect many poor souls will be needing rescue tonight. You sigh and look at your closed blinds, watching them be sporadically illuminated by the lights of the emergency vehicles rushing past.

Once you’ve cleaned up your room and gotten back in bed, you think about checking social media for what people have been saying about the quake. There’s no doubt that the city’s residents have taken to Twitter and Instagram to document it. However, your eyelids are already starting to droop, and you’d probably fall asleep in the middle of scrolling, so you decide to tuck in and wait until morning.

Waking up the next day almost seems like a normal Sunday until you look at your blinds again and are suddenly reminded of last night’s flashing lights. Right. The earthquake. Throwing the covers back, you stumble out of bed to turn on your TV. You flip through the channels until you find a news station for your local area. You go to open the blinds, keeping your ears open for reports on the earthquake.

“Last night, we experienced unprecedented seismic activity throughout the majority of the city, caused by what appears to be an unidentified flying object, otherwise known as a UFO—”

Huh?

You turn to the TV, thinking this must be some kind of ridiculous hoax. You get ready to reach for the remote, thinking you must have turned it to one of those parody news channels by accident, but you freeze at what you see. Video footage of the city center—or what used to be the city center—plays on the screen. In place of the large historical monument that used to stand there, there’s a huge...silver and black spaceship. Or at least you think it’s a ship. It apparently sustained major damage in the landing, and now it looks more like a hunk of melted metal. The area around it has been blasted clear in every direction. Instead of green grass and pavement, there’s nothing but dirt.

The area is blocked off with yellow tape, though hundreds of people have gathered at the location to check out the object and take pictures and videos of it.

“What the fuck…” you whisper to yourself.

“We’re currently unsure where this UFO originated from, though we can confirm that it is not affiliated with any aircraft fleets owned by the U.S. military. Researchers and scientists from top universities across the country are being called in to assist in identifying this craft…”

“There’s no just way,” you mutter, grabbing your shower cap and pulling clothes out of your closet for your morning shower. “A UFO...guess that alien invasion is coming sooner than we thought.” You would like to believe it’s all just someone playing a terrible prank, but pulling off this level of theatrics is impossible.

After you get out of the shower and start making breakfast for yourself, you get a text from one of your coworkers, Alex.

10:30 A.M. Alex🍸 You seeing this shit on the news right now?

10:31 A.M. Obviously! It’s fucking wild. Do you really think it’s true? OR some elaborate government hoax? Anything’s possible. I’m betting “true,” but...

10:33 A.M. Alex🍸 I honestly don’t know. that’s why me and some of the others from work are about to head over there now. Wanna come?

10:34 A.M. The hell! I’ll pass. There could be all types of radiation n shit, I’m not tryna turn into the Green Lantern or the Hulk or somebody.

10:35 A.M. Alex🍸 lmFAO. Suit ypurself. If I gain superpowers don’t be surprised if I fly over to your house today.

10:35 A.M. You’re a mess. 💀

You spend breakfast watching more news reports and scrolling through Twitter feeds for firsthand information. People who visited the site, including your coworkers, have uploaded pictures of the UFO from various angles, inciting a frenzy of conspiracy theories and warnings that the world is about to end.

You don’t know what to make of the situation, but it stays on your mind throughout the day as you leave the house and go about completing your usual errands. The city center has been blocked off to all vehicles other than those belonging to people who’ve been called in to help, which means that traffic is sky-high everywhere else—even for a Sunday.

Sitting in a mishmash of cars, you roll down your window and sigh, looking out at the red traffic lights, and beyond that to the horizon. Things are about to get very weird for the next few weeks. Maybe months. You can only hope you’re prepared for it.

You don’t know why, but the air seems strange tonight.

It’s been 2 days since the UFO crashed. There haven’t been many more answers apart from what everyone already knows due to the ship’s destroyed state. The city has professionals out for that sort of thing, but they’re taking their sweet time analyzing the ship—though you can’t really blame them. Jumping straight into unknown alien tech seems like a death wish.

Your life has been pretty much the same as usual, though you know a few people at work who have been more directly affected by the events. One girl, Sooyoung, who lives in the neighborhood near the crash site claims the officials are thinking about having that entire area evacuate, though you don’t know why they’re beating around the bush about it if it’s true. Whatever radiation or chemicals they’re worried about has probably already leached into all the surrounding homes, and now you’re just waiting for someone to walk into your workplace with antlers or purple skin.

Admittedly, you’re morbidly curious about the case and what all of this could mean for Earth’s future, but you keep your fascination lowkey. You don’t need any of your coworkers thinking you’re the next alien-obsessed Mulder from X-Files. But then again, you’re not curious enough to visit the actual scene, so maybe you’re not the crazy one here.

You feel fine when you get home from work that day, but as you get washed up and settle into your usual evening routine, you can’t shake the eeriness gripping your subconscious. It’s not necessarily a bad feeling, either, just...foreign. Like an emotion you’ve never felt before, though you didn’t know there were even still new emotions to discover. Shaking your head, you figure maybe you should lay off the alien stuff for the rest of the week.

Before you head to bed that night, you go around the house making sure all the doors and windows are locked as you normally do. You pause at the backdoor for a reason you can’t explain, and the strange feeling grows stronger. At this point, you’re a bit frightened about what this is all about, but you can’t go to sleep without knowing. Curiosity takes over as you open the blinds and stare into the darkness of your backyard.

You don’t see anything right away. There are trees, bushes, your potted plants, and lawn chairs...everything looks normal. It’s only when you lean closer to the glass to squint that you see a figure lying in the grass. You jump once you catch sight of it, terrified that some monster or murderer has found their way onto your property. There was nothing there earlier when you closed the blinds, so whoever or whatever it is must’ve recently showed up.

You’re about ready to dial 911 when you realize the figure is curled in the fetal position and unmoving...almost like they’re unconscious. Or dead.

This is ridiculous. You feel like one of those people who always dies first in the horror movies because they went into the room the killer was obviously hiding in, but you’re overcome with the strong impulse to step outside. You grip the doorknob tightly, debating whether you should unlock it or not.

“...Fuck. Don’t let me regret this.”

You open the door with your phone in hand, the device serving as your flashlight. There’s still the screen door to get through, which you pause at for a moment. The figure remains unmoving even with the sound of the door opening.

“Hello?!” You call out to the individual, but there’s no response. Your phone’s light can’t reach them from there, which forces you to open the screen door and step out onto the porch. They’re still feet away, but from this closer distance, it seems like they’re wearing a sort of armor or full-body suit...maybe like a cosplay?

“Hope this isn’t some weirdo weeb passed out on my lawn…” you mutter, cautiously stepping onto the grass. As you approach, you can see now that the figure is likely male, though their back is to you so you can’t be totally sure. “Um, hello there? Can you hear me?” No response.

By now, you are only a few feet away from them. The person looks to be an Asian guy, with long blonde hair haloing his face. His features are angular and smooth, and he is indeed wearing some kind of body armor, its color unlike anything you’ve seen. Instead of being all one hue or even a few, it reflects the light from your phone and glows with a rainbow-like phosphorescence. The material itself looks translucent, but you can’t see through it; it creates a mind-bending optical illusion.

Your stomach suddenly drops to your feet. Is this who was in that UFO in the city center? It seems too out-there to be true, but your intuition is telling you otherwise. This can’t be fucking real.

You kneel on the wet grass next to the man and try to look for signs of life. You can hear his breathing, so he’s thankfully not dead. But he doesn’t look to be in good shape, either. He definitely won’t be able to get up on his own; he probably used the last of his energy to drag himself into your yard.

“Damn.” You turn the flashlight off and slip your phone into your sweatpants pocket. It seems like there’s no other options right now. You could call the police, but they’d probably accuse you of being in cahoots with this weird dude and drag you off to jail. Or they could cart him off for government experimentation, which sounds equally terrible. So with those things in mind, you gently maneuver his upper body until you’re able to hook your arms under his armpits and drag him towards your house.

You just really hope none of your nosy neighbors are seeing this right now.

He’s surprisingly light, and you get him inside the house fairly quickly. Once you’ve locked the door again, you pull him over to the living room so he’s propped against your couch. He still isn’t fully conscious, but his head and lips move as if he’s dreaming about something.

“What was that…?” You lean closer, trying to read his lips for some sort of clue. Surprisingly, you can make out the word water, which he mouths over and over again. “Water…” You run into the kitchen to pour a glass and bring it back to him, making sure not to spill any on the way over.

You press it to his lips, unsure if he’ll be able to drink, but to your amazement his muscles respond and he drinks quickly as you tip the glass. Soon, the water is all gone. You set the glass to the side with your palms sweating and watch as his face flutters even more.

“Can you...hear me?”

His eyes open only slightly. This movement seems to cause him some pain, though you aren’t sure why. Maybe he has a headache since he was dehydrated? You scramble to turn the overhead light off, not wanting to make matters worse. He still doesn’t try to open his eyes any wider, though.

“Who are you? Were you...did you crash here?” You feel a little bad about asking so many questions, but you’re dying for answers as to what the hell is going on.

The man licks his lips, and his mouth parts like he’s going to answer. But his throat is still dry, and it hurts to talk.

“...Shit.” You get him another glass of water and let him drink until it’s gone again. He seems a little better after that.

“Th-this...” He clears his throat a couple times and tries again. “This is E-Earth, right?”

Now you’re the one lost for words. Although you already figured he couldn’t be from here, hearing it out loud makes your blood rush and your heart race. “Um, yes...this is Earth. Was...the UFO yours?”

He sighs, and his head falls back against the couch arm. “Yes.”

“It’s destroyed,” you say, and then feel silly about it. “But you already know that.”

He doesn’t answer that. He just slowly glances around your living room instead, looking as if he’s never seen a stranger setup. The quietness is awkward, and you almost feel like he must be judging your taste for interior design. “Do you have a name?”

More silence. You decide he probably won’t answer until he finally says, “You can call me Yuta.”

“Yuta.” You tell him your name too, and he just nods, almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t say much without prompting, which makes it hard for you to know how to approach the situation. You don’t want to overwhelm him with questions, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to speak unless you do. “How did you end up here? I mean, in my—uh, my yard?”

Yuta shakes his head and then winces. “I crashed, and then...I just ran. The ship was melting. I just ran. I hid...I went from place to place, hiding. Don’t know how I got here.”

You wonder how he made it all the way from the city center to your home without being spotted, especially with that armor. You can only conclude that he must be stealth at hiding. Or maybe someone did spot him and the feds are about to bust down your door any minute. You take a shaky breath and try to push that anxious thought to the back of your mind.

Suddenly Yuta fixes you with a suspicious glare. “Will you reveal that I’m here?”

You try not to get offended, because you’d honestly be thinking the same if you were a newly-landed alien in a foreign land. “No. I don’t have any reason to do that. I just want to help. I’m not looking to be on anyone’s 6 o’clock news or cheap tabloid. You probably don’t believe me, but you can have my word for it...if that means anything to you.”

He’s quiet again, though you can tell he’s still skeptical.

“Um, do you need anything? More water?”

He sits up straighter at the mention of that. “Water.” You reach for the glass again, but he frowns. “Not that. I need…something more than that.” He looks around again, but when he doesn't see what he’s searching for, he attempts to stand only to slump down again.

“Slow down there, I don’t think you’re gonna make it like that. Can I help?”

You end up slinging his arm across your shoulder and letting him lean his body against you while you lead him to the bathroom. That’s the biggest source of water in the house, and you assume he must be wanting a bath or shower or something. Even aliens have their hygiene needs, you guess.

You turn the bathroom light on and have Yuta sit on the toilet lid as you turn the bathtub faucet. “Is...this what you meant?” He nods, and you put the plug in and let the tub fill up.

“Just water. Nothing else. I need to recharge,” he says, and before you can ask what he means by that, he starts undressing in front of you.

At first, your reaction is delayed; you’re struck with surprise when you realize the armor isn’t actually a whole bodysuit, but more like...connected panels of material that can be taken off. You don’t understand the material at all, it doesn’t resemble anything on Earth you can think of—but of course, it’s alien tech. It conforms to his body as he’s wearing it but takes on a more rigid form once it’s peeled off, like actual armor.

Then, he gets ready to take the bottoms off and something finally clicks in your brain that oh my God he’s about to get naked in front of me.

“Whoa!” You spin around and cover your eyes for good measure, glad that your brown skin hides the way your face is burning right now. You step towards the open door. “Uh, I’ll just leave, sorry—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, what?”

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Yuta says, pulling the last of his suit off. He steps into the tub and sits down in it, putting his hands underneath the stream of water rushing out of the faucet. The skin on his hands seems to ripple, like it’s readjusting itself, and the hairs stand up on the back of your neck at that. You forget to be embarrassed at his unclothed state as you watch it happen.

“What’s going on with that? And why did you need the water?”

Yuta splashes his face before answering, and he turns to look at you, the droplets of water sliding off the ends of his hair. “I’m part of a Water Race. Water is my home. Our bodies have adapted to be built for living in water, and it’s dangerous to be without it for too long.”

“Adaptation? But you look like a regular human.”

“It’s just a skin.”

“A skin?” You echo in horror, a sudden flashback to Silence of the Lambs popping into your mind. “Someone else’s skin?”

Yuta gives you a look that seems to say he can’t believe you’re asking such a stupid question. “No, it’s my skin. It’s just not my natural form.” To prove his point, he holds his hand out, and right before your eyes his human skin pulls back and morphs into something much more scaly and green. His fingers are actually more like talons, with long black nails on the ends, and there’s translucent webbing between each one.

You gasp and step back, trying to catch your breath at the sight of something so very not human. The skin reforms around his hand—you assume he has to be willing it with his mind somehow, because he doesn’t even move—and his digits look just as human as ever.

“How the hell do you hide your nails under there? Isn’t it just like...wearing a bodysuit?”

Yuta shakes his head. “No. Once the skin is on, it becomes...part of me. My hand becomes a human hand. I’m not hiding anything, it just is. It’s hard to explain.”

“Have you been to Earth before? Is that why you have a human skin, because...adaptation or some shit? This is all so wild.”

“I can shift into different skins if I want, if I gather enough genetic information on certain species’ inhabitants...but there are limitations.” That doesn’t exactly answer your question, but you figure maybe it’s best if you didn’t know. You can at least assume he’s been in contact with humans before.

“I see…” You fidget for a few seconds before speaking what’s on your mind. “Okay, one last thing...you said there are limitations. Does that mean you can’t transform into, like...a dung beetle or something?”

Yuta gives you another are you serious look and you put your hands up. “Just wondering. It was worth a try.”

You feel awkward just standing there, and you feel like maybe you should give him some privacy even if he doesn’t care much, so you leave the bathroom to find something for him to wear.

You’re not sure if you’ll find anything that fits him, so you end up settling on a light pink bathrobe and decide he’ll have to work with that for now. You slip back into the bathroom to leave it on the sink, averting your eyes from his nude form in your bathtub. “Um, here’s something to wear...not sure if anything else will fit, this is all I have for now. Sorry.” You don’t wait for him to respond— he probably won’t anyway—before slipping back out.

It’s nearing 1 A.M. at this point, which is late considering you still have work tomorrow. You sigh and curl yourself up on the couch, hoping you won’t have to stay up for very much longer.

You’re not sure when you drifted off or how long you were out, but you wake up to the sound of footsteps and see Yuta coming out of the bathroom wearing the robe you’ve given him. You have to laugh a little at the sight of him in the light pink material, though you think it suits him in a way.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need some clothes.”

Yuta raises his eyebrow. “I still have my suit.”

“Yeah, but...don’t you want something else to wear? Your ship is pretty much gone, so you’ll probably be on Earth for a while...and if you don’t want anyone realizing you’re not from here, you’ll have to wear regular clothes.”

Yuta visibly upsets at the idea of his ship’s destroyed state, even though he knows there’s not much he can do about it. “I guess. I shared which planet I was heading to before I left, but...Earth is a very big place. And my trackers were destroyed with my ship, so…”

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know how much comfort that can be. “We can look for some clothes tomorrow. It’s probably better for you not to leave the house right now, but...that’s what online shopping is for.”

“Online shopping…?” Yuta seems puzzled by the concept, but he doesn’t ask any further. Then he looks around the room again. “Is there somewhere I can rest?”

“Oh, yeah, follow me.” You get up from the couch to head upstairs where the guest bedroom is. The house isn’t huge—it was your grandmother’s before she passed it on to you—but it’s more than enough for you alone, and it should fit one more just fine. You open the door and turn on the light, illuminating the small room. “It hasn’t been used in a while, so excuse any dust. I can fix that tomorrow, but it’s getting late...” you stifle a yawn, “...so we should probably go to sleep now.”

Yuta looks at you and nods.

“Um, well...goodnight.” You wave at him from the doorway before closing it.

As you make your way down the stairs, a sudden weariness and apprehension comes over you. An alien in your home? Escaped from a recently crashed UFO? Wearing one of your bathrobes? You’re almost positive you haven’t thought this through deeply enough, but you’re in it now. Might as well see where the rabbit hole leads to.

The next morning, you prepare yourself to go to work like you usually do. For a while, the house is so quiet that you almost forget Yuta is there until you see him standing in the kitchen entryway, still wearing his pink robe, and you almost jump through the ceiling.

“Jesus, you came out of nowhere,” you gasp, holding your heart.

“Where are you going?” Yuta asks. He steps into the kitchen and tentatively sits down in one of the dining table chairs.

“To work,” you say, and then pause. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to leave a freshly-landed alien at home alone. “Will you be okay here by yourself? I could come over on my lunch break…”

“What am I supposed to do here the whole time?” Yuta asks, sounding displeased at the thought of being abandoned for hours.

“Well...you could watch TV? There’s the on-demand channel...the fridge is available for you too, just try not to clean out my—wait, do you even eat human food?”

Yuta shrugs, crossing his arms. “Not really. It’s not a big source of nutrients for us.”

You nod awkwardly. “Huh. Well, that’s...interesting.” The stress of the situation is already making your head pound and you haven’t even left for work yet. “Uh, yeah—I think I’ll just come over later and check in...come on, I’ll at least show you how to work the remote before I leave.”

You bid Yuta goodbye once you’re about to go, though you feel more than a little hesitant about leaving him there. There isn’t much other choice, though; you can’t afford to take a day off on such short notice.

The extraterrestrial sighs, sprawling across the couch and looking at the ceiling. The TV is already playing the channel you left it on, and Yuta turns to the screen and watches as a group of humans make weird food dishes he’s never seen before.

“This is stupid.”

The rest of the week with Yuta manages to be an adventure even though he never steps foot outside the house.

Yuta doesn’t take a liking to human food, which means he opts for spending most of his time in the guest bathtub instead, claiming that the water gives him more nourishment than meals can. You don’t know how true that is, but you’re not going to fight him on it. Less food you have to prepare, you reason...although you often end up making extra anyway and getting him to try a few bites. It feels odd to not see him eat.

Living with someone from outer space is not really as weird as you expected it might be, which surprises you. Yuta stays in his human skin whenever he’s around you, and you steer clear of the guest bathroom when it’s occupied lest you walk in on something crazy.

You’ve taught Yuta about new concepts he didn’t know before or wasn’t overly familiar with. He’s particularly intrigued with online shopping, and you ended up buying him a bunch of outfits that you both thought he’d look nice in. He doesn’t seem to be big on technology, which surprises you considering how advanced his UFO looked even its ruined state, but maybe human tech is more primitive than what he’s used to. He’s quite fascinated with the microwave, though, and how it can heat anything up in minutes.

With you uncovering new bits of information each day, you continually wonder how different his homeworld must be from the Earth. You can’t pull much out of him about it, for whatever reasons he has for keeping the information close, but you try to let him talk about it at his pace without pressuring him.

You could probably get used to living like this.

Maybe not your wallet, though. You’re definitely not loving how your water bill is going to look once it comes in the mail.

None of your coworkers or neighbors know—not that it’s any of their business anyway. You don’t know how long Yuta is going to stay, or what the hell you’re going to do when his people finally catch wind of his whereabouts and land a UFO in your backyard, but you figure you’ll get to that part when it comes.

On one Saturday morning, you wake up to the sound of tapping on your door. You try to ignore it, thinking it’s just some woodpecker setting up shop outside your window, but you’re proven wrong when the door swings open.

You pull the covers away from your face for a moment to see Yuta standing there looking at you. You stare at him for a few seconds before sighing.

“Why are you up so early? It’s the weekend,” you groan, pulling the covers back over your head.

“Why do you sleep so late?” Yuta retorts, still standing in your doorway. You don’t know whether he expects you to get up and do a trick, but it’s not happening. You peel the blanket away so it’s just below your eyes and look at him.

“What?”

“It’s not fun being here alone all day, you know,” he says, crossing his arms.

“So...what? Do you want me to play with you or something?” You can’t stop your sudden laugh, but you feel bad about once it’s out. He has just lost his ride home and has no foreseeable way back until someone notices his absence. Plus, needing to stay hidden and cooped up like a criminal can’t be enjoyable.

Yuta rolls his eyes at your response and starts down the hallway again, but you jump out of the bed and follow him. “Wait, Yuta, I’m sorry. That was stupid. I know it can’t be easy living like this. I’m not sure if I can make it better, but I’m willing to try.”

Yuta pauses in the hall and turns back to look at you. “I’m tired of being in here all the time....no offense. But there’s only so much I can take. I know I’m supposed to be in hiding, but it’s not like anyone can tell the difference. Even you couldn’t. Can’t we go out for one day?”

You think about it for a moment and figure he’s right. You both were trying to be overly cautious at first, but there’s no real way anyone would notice anything unless he shifted. “I guess we could...as long as we don’t go anywhere with a lot of water.”

“I have more self-control than that,” Yuta scoffs, though his words trail off as he’s already heading back to his room to get dressed.

You and Yuta walk around downtown for a little while, although you can’t shake the lingering nervousness you feel. You both decided not to head back to the city center any time soon; there’s not much left of the broken ship anyway, with scientists carting off pieces of it for research. Just as you thought. It’s too big to transport all at once, but you’re sure the remaining parts will be gone within the next couple weeks.

Yuta is continually surprised by how many new and unfamiliar things he spots along the way—things he actually gets to see up close and in detail. Kinda hard to focus when you’re running and hiding for your life.

Eventually, Yuta slows down as you walk past a small and colorful restaurant. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing up at the sign. You stop to turn around and see what he’s gesturing to.

“That’s just a hamburger joint...you won’t wanna go in there,” you say, raising your eyebrows. Because you don’t eat food. Despite that, Yuta still seems curious about the restaurant and he hesitates to walk away. Realizing that you aren’t going to get anywhere, you go to stand next to him and peer inside. There are a few people already inside, sitting at scattered tables and eating their food. “Do you want to go in, or…? ‘Cause you have to eat something if we do. This is your idea.”

“I’ll eat, let’s just go,” Yuta says, grasping your hand and pulling you into the restaurant.

You wave at the person behind the counter who greets you as you walk in, while Yuta is busy scanning every inch of the place. You let him look over the menu for a little while, but with so many options available he isn’t sure what to get—especially when he’s not sure if he’ll like any of them—so you end up picking for the both of you.

When you finally get your food, you take it to one of the tables. You watch attentively as Yuta takes the first bite of his hamburger, and you try to stifle your giggles as you watch his face go from nonchalance to bewilderment to shock.

“This is actually...good.”

“Wait, this is really the first meal you’ve liked? Are you saying my cooking is bad? Damn.” You chuckle, shaking your head.

“I’m not answering that.” Yuta laughs along with you, which is probably the first genuinely happy expression he’s shown since he’s been here.

Yuta has a very pretty smile, you realize. You’re a little taken aback by it. You haven’t seen much of it since you met him, but it’s here now and striking in its genuine quality. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside...which you mainly attribute to the satisfaction of doing something nice for someone else. Of course. Who wouldn’t enjoy a nice meal they didn’t have to pay for?

Things go smoothly for a while as you both eat and pretend to make boring small talk since you can’t talk about him being an alien in public. However, you feel sweat on the back of your neck when you see your coworker Alex walk through the door with his boyfriend. This city is too small for its own good sometimes.

You try not to call attention to yourself and Yuta, keeping your gaze on your food, but he spots you anyway and waves enthusiastically. Alex gestures for his partner to go ahead and order while he comes over to your table.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s great to see you! Too bad we missed you at the UFO wreck today, though; we went out again one last time before they take the whole thing away,” he rushes out in one breath. Yuta’s eye twitches at the mention of his ship, and you’re suddenly on edge, hoping the situation doesn’t turn sour.

“Oh, uh, wow, that’s...cool!” you choke out, pinching your straw between your fingers. Before you can think of a way to divert the subject, Alex turns to Yuta.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Alex! Who’s this? Your boyfriend?” The last few words are directed at you. Alex gives you a playful grin, and you toss him an embarrassed smile back.

“Uh, no, he’s my friend! Yuta.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yuta says, though you can recognize his tone is a bit dry.

“Pleasure’s all mine!” Alex’s boyfriend calls him from the other side of the restaurant, and he turns to respond before taking his leave. “Ah well, looks like we’ll have to cut it short, but it was so great to see you guys. Enjoy your lunch!”

You let out the breath you were subconsciously holding once he leaves.

“Boyfriend…” Yuta murmurs.

“What?”

“That would be really weird. Wouldn’t it? We’re not even the same species,” he says, lowering his voice. It’s not like you don’t agree, but you admittedly don’t appreciate the way Yuta screws his face up at the thought. You prickle with embarrassment.

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Well I’m not exactly eager to date an overgrown fish, so…” You almost expect Yuta to fall into another one of his moods at your words, but he actually chuckles a bit, which surprises you.

“Then it’s mutual!” Yuta sticks his tongue out and you roll your eyes.

The warm and fuzzy feeling, you soon find out, is not a one-time thing.

You don’t quite know what to make of that. You wouldn’t like for Yuta to go back to his initial broody state, of course, but you’re starting to believe this feeling can’t just be attributed to your charitable actions. You can’t stop thinking about the more playful side of Yuta you saw at the burger place that day, and the way he’s been gradually more open with you since then.

Yuta usually spends his nights splashing around in the guest bathtub, but one night he wanders into the living room and sees you putting your afro in plaits. He becomes weirdly fascinated with the process, watching you carefully and asking occasional questions. Amused by his interest, you answer all his questions and even offer to let him do one section.

“It’s probably not the same, but I used to braid my friend’s hair often…” he says wistfully as he settles in behind you. “We did a lot of things together.”

Your ears perk up. “Oh? You sound like you were very close,” you say, resting your chin on your knees.

“Really close,” he affirms. His hands are gentle in your hair, as testament to his words. You close your eyes and relax into the sensation, and before you know it, that warmth is spreading through your chest again. You even allow yourself to wonder what it’d be like for him to do this all the time, tending to your hair and telling you about his homeworld, before you open your eyes again and quickly pull yourself out of that reverie. You probably shouldn’t get too used to this, you reason with yourself. “I think she’s what you’d call a mermaid...except the look is a bit...different.”

“Different?” you echo, wondering if you’ll get an explanation.

“They don’t have human arms or anything like that...it’s more like tentacles.”

“Ah,” you try to imagine that, though it’s hard. “That’s certainly unique.”

“Maybe you’d like it...my planet, I mean.”

“You think I would? Why?”

“I dunno, just a feeling…”

“If only I could breathe underwater,” you laugh. “You’d take me back, though? Hypothetically, of course. I’m not too human for you?”

“Will you ever let that one go? It’s probably the least I could do after setting up residence here. Maybe we’ll get you an alien costume, though, so you’ll fit in.”

“How nice of you to think of me in all my humanness. God, the universe is something else…”

You start when Yuta’s hands leave your hair. “I think I’m done?” he says, sitting back on his feet. You grab the mirror from the coffee table and look at the braid you let him do.

“Oh wow, it looks good.” You purse your lips to hide the grin about to break across your face. “Do you wanna do the rest?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“Go ahead then, my hands needed a break anyway.”

You sit back and let Yuta finish the rest of your hair, listening quietly as he tells you more about his friend from his homeworld. Her name is unpronounceable to you, but it sounds pretty all the same. They grew up together, he says, and have been on lots of adventures over the years, though he still keeps that same vagueness he always has when describing his life. He ends up getting you to tell him more about your life, which you do; you figure he probably doesn’t know a whole lot about you, either.

Yuta hands you the mirror when he’s done, and his head pops up next to yours in the reflection. “Good?”

“It’s great!” you say, and you really mean it.

You discover that, strangely enough, Yuta has an affinity for sci-fi movies. Go figure. He especially seems to like the campiness of alien films; then again, everything is campy to him because of how different it is from how extraterrestrials actually live.

You are in the middle of watching The Fly when it comes to one of sex scenes, and you try not to sweat. It’s always a little awkward to watch sex scenes with other people, but doing it with an alien gives the whole thing an extra layer of weirdness.

“Human sex is so funny,” Yuta says out of nowhere. You just barely avoid choking on your drink.

“Uh, o-okay. Do I want to know what that means?”

Yuta only shrugs and leans farther back onto the couch, looking completely unbothered about what he’s just said. “It just is.”

“...I’m sure your people must procreate some kinda way?”

“Yeah, but it’s not quite this. But when I’m in this form, I can do it as humans do.”

That makes you pause, and you’re not sure what to do with that information. Actually, your mind has already decided for itself and is trying to go to a place you don’t want it to, and you’re mildly horrified by that revelation. There’s no real reason why you should be curious about it. And yet...

“Hummm...have you done it before? In this form?” You keep your eyes glued to the screen, which is now showing a shirtless Jeff Goldblum doing acrobatics—but that’s still less awkward than looking over at Yuta right now.

“There was one time.”

There is a twinge of something in your chest. Fascination? Sure. Revulsion? Maybe not that. Dare you call it anything close to jealousy? You immediately throw that one out the door, sink further into your seat, and try not to think about what your life has come to.

“Okay, since you still won’t tell me directly if you’ve been here before, at least tell me this; did it happen here on Earth? With a human?”

Yuta shakes his head. “Some other aliens have weird fetishes. I only did it because she asked and was really adamant about it.”

“Ooookay, you know what…” You get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen, laughing awkwardly all the way. You don’t have any particular reason to go in there, but you have to do something with the nervous energy that’s about to make you jump out of your skin. You pretend to shuffle around in the fridge for a minute so you don’t look too silly getting up for no reason.

After taking a moment to calm down, you turn back to Yuta. “Okay. Hypothetically, if you wanted, could you actually…? With a human? In your natural form? Or would the parts be incompatible, or...”

“Maybe...I’m not sure. It’s not like I’ve ever tried. Why?” Yuta gives you a look that’s partway between curiosity and incredulity, and you wave your hand in dismissal.

“It’s just a question.”

Yuta leans forward on the couch, barely concealing his own amusement at whatever he’s cooking up in his mind. “Are you saying you want to try it with me?”

“You’re not funny,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way your skin is burning at that suggestion. “Remind me not to ask you anything like that again.”

When you get home from work one weeknight, you roll your eyes at the mass text sitting in your inbox, forwarded to you from Alex. Another after-work party, which means another event where someone will run through the sprinklers naked and everyone will pretend like they don’t remember it the next workday.

You don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one, especially with Yuta, who will likely want to go if he finds out, so you decide to just come out and say it and see what happens.

“Hey Yuta…” You slide up behind him where he’s sitting on the couch. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be at home for a few hours on Saturday. I’m going to a party this weekend. It’s a friend’s party, someone from work.”

Yuta looks at you forlornly. “The same person we met at the restaurant?”

“No, but he’s gonna be there too. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I really don’t know if it’s safe for you to go…”

“That’s not fair, the last time at the restaurant went well,” Yuta argues.

“Yes, but this guy has a pool and he’s a dickhead who likes to push people in and what if you get caught off guard and change unexpectedly?”

Yuta’s response is as straightforward as you expected it to be. “Then I’ll punch him in the face.”

You laugh at that and shake your head, coming to sit beside him on the couch. “Ugh. As satisfying as that sounds, I don’t need the extra stress of dealing with the aftermath. I don’t know, Yuta...do you think you’ll be okay? God, I feel like an overprotective mom or some shit.”

“Y/N, it’ll be fine, stop worrying. I can take care of myself,” Yuta insists, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. He’s a little closer than you anticipated, which makes your heart rate increase a little. You chalk that reaction up to his invasion of your personal space and shift away, groaning.

“Fine, I’ll bring you. But if shit goes down, I can’t promise an easy way out. Let’s just keep things lowkey, alright?”

“Of course I can do that! I’ve been doing it so far haven’t I?” he says, but somehow you’re not entirely convinced.

The party is filled with people you know from work and a slew of unfamiliar faces, probably your coworkers’ friends. It’s mostly a backyard party, like you already knew, although there are some people mingling within the house.

There are already a few people lounging in the pool. In any other scenario, it might be inviting to you, but now you just look at all that water with a looming sense of anxiety. Yuta sticks close to your side, saying nothing but studying everyone around him.

“Y/N!” your coworker David shouts from the backdoor of his house. He holds up his beer in salutation and you wave back at him, mildly annoyed that he’s brought everyone’s attention to you both. He hustles over to you and claps you on the back strong enough to make your bones rattle, and you wince. “Hey dude!” He reaches across you to pull Yuta into a handshake, and Yuta also winces when he grips his hand a little too tight. “Make yourselves at home, I’ve got everything you could ever need—including the booze and babes!” You both nod awkwardly before David goes off to greet someone else who’s just pulled up. You roll your eyes once he’s gone.

Yuta’s eyebrows draw together. “That was…”

“Annoying,” you finish for him.

“You don’t seem to like him. Why did you decide to come?”

“Workplace politics, if you’re the only one who doesn’t come it’s awkward, ugh. It’s just bullshit. Let’s not get into it.” You walk towards the house and Yuta follows, and you nod at a few people you know along the way.

You find Alex in the kitchen, where he offers to make drinks for you and Yuta. You cast a glance at Yuta, wondering if he’ll take up the offer; you have no idea how he’ll react to alcohol, or if they drink any equivalent of it on his homeworld.

“Um, I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh okay, straight-edge guy! That’s cool too,” Alex grins, making just the one drink for you. As you and Alex talk, the girl from your department whose neighborhood was about to be evacuated sidles up to your little group.

“I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?”

“Oh...it’s Yuta.”

“Yuta? How cool, I’m Sooyoung.”

Little did you know that that one introduction would expand into them having a half-hour long conversation right there in the kitchen. You really don’t know how Yuta is pulling this off without spilling the beans, but then again, you do; he’s good enough at manipulating the conversation to make it seem like he’s sharing personal info when he’s really not. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he throws in things you taught him every so often.

Alex notices your changing demeanor and follows you as you walk into the living room, finally exhausted with playing third wheel. “Hm, someone seems a little spicy.”

You cough. “I’m fine, it’s just cramped in there, David should really invest in a bigger house..this place could use a remodel.” You throw a glance around the living room, not wanting to see the mischievous look in Alex’s eyes.

“Well, remodel aside, it’s not really my business, but you certainly seem to have a little green monster brewing here.”

You give Alex a long look. “Don’t. He’s my friend. He’s not even—” You have to stop yourself before you expose anything, and you shift nervously on your feet.

“Not even what? Your type? I don’t know, he’s handsome enough to me. You can’t go wrong with a pretty boy. Don’t tell Xavier I said that, though.”

“Lord, let me get the hell out of here…” You leave Alex to cackle to himself while you go out into the backyard again, holding your drink and mulling around the edges of the activity. Too busy wrestling with your own emotions, you don’t realize how close you’ve drifted towards the pool.

“Hey, Y/N?” David says from behind you.

“Yeah?” You go to turn towards him, but before you can, you feel a huge shove from behind and the next thing you know your feet are off the ground and you’re in the pool. It all happens so fast that you can barely catch your bearings, and for a terrifying moment you’re convinced you’re about to drown.

The seconds feel like minutes, and you can’t even open your eyes to tell up from down. The next thing you register is an arm around your waist, and somehow you’re being pulled up even though you’re too panicked to even control your limbs. Your head pops above the water and you cough and sputter loudly, trying to take in air. You try to blink the water out of your eyes, though it drips off your hair and makes it even harder to see.

You’re still not sure what the hell is going on until you’re hauled out of the water and sitting on the ground. Someone hands you a towel, and you hear a female voice saying you’re such an asshole, David.

You wipe the water off of your face and then you’re finally able to see; Yuta is crouching in front of you, just as soaked as you are and staring at you with a worried expression. You look back at him, disoriented and a little dumbfounded at his still-human state.

“You didn’t…”

Even though you’re still trembling with the fear of almost drowning, you’re unable to look anywhere but at Yuta for that moment—at the pure concern on his face.

“Nice going, David,” someone else says sarcastically.

“It was just a bit of a prank! No hard feelings guys, come on. Y/N?” You realize David is standing on your left, and he tries to come closer, his hands open in an apologetic gesture. You jerk away from him, holding the towel to your shaking form.

“Get the fuck away from me. You’re a fucking idiot!” you shout. “All you do is ‘play pranks’ and then you wonder why no one likes you!” That draws a few barely concealed laughs out of the people standing nearby, though you don’t think any of it is funny. David steps back, unsure how to respond and looking truly embarrassed for once in his life.

Filled with anger, you try to get to your feet but you’re still unsteady. Yuta puts his arm around you again, lifting you up and encouraging you to lean your weight on him.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

You don’t have much to say on the way back home. You insist on leaving right away even though Yuta suggests you sit and wait until the tremors subside. He obviously can’t drive you back home, so it’s all he can offer, though it doesn’t make you feel much better.

The silence itself isn’t particularly awkward to Yuta, but he is uncomfortable anyway because he knows it stems from your own discomfort. At a red light, he turns to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, and then he speaks again. “I know you’re mad about the pool, but...it seems like there’s more than that. Did...you not like me spending so much time with Sooyoung?”

You scoff. “You can’t be serious. I don’t care what you and that girl do.”

“You’re not a very good liar.” You’re too worn out to argue, so you merely give him a sidelong glance. Yuta sits back in his seat and watches a few cars zip past, their tail lights looking like clashing stars against the night. He’s not used to so much...manmade stuff. There was his ship and his trackers, of course, but he still has a hard time adjusting to be surrounded by so much iron and steel. His own planet is ruled by nature, by the vast oceans in all their unpolluted original essence, but Earth—or at least this portion of it—is much, much different.

He means to glance back at you, but his eyes linger for a while longer than intended. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because your outfit is a pretty color, or because the coils of your hair look shiny reflecting the light. He’s never put much thought into human beings before, and his limited experiences with them were mostly better left unremembered. Taking a human form was no huge deal for him; just a move that was necessary at the time.

But now, he’s seeing humanity—and most specifically, you—in a different light, and he’s uncertain what to do with this realization. People have feelings, thoughts, and dreams, like his own species, or like any other. He’s beginning to care what you think of him, how you react to him, even though he doesn’t know why this matters.

“You look pretty,” Yuta says. The compliment is the last thing you expected from him. It seems especially random after what happened at the party; here you are, soaking wet and incredibly uncomfortable. You’re a little late to put your foot on the gas pedal once the light turns green, and someone behind you honks.

“Pretty? I thought humans were weird to you.” Your mind goes back to The Fly and the subsequent conversation you had, and your hands tighten minutely around the steering wheel.

“You are. That hasn’t changed.”

“Good to know.” You don’t want to laugh, but this does make you crack a smile. “But...thanks. And...thanks for that, at the pool, you know. I should...probably trust you more.”

The rest of the ride is a little more talkative after that, and Yuta is happy that he could lighten your mood if even a little bit. Although he wouldn’t tell you, he’s becoming accustomed to your smile, and he’s more displeased than he thought he could be when it’s absent.

The thunder booms so loudly that it makes your window frames shake. It almost reminds you of the day Yuta’s ship fell out of the sky. You pull the covers tighter around yourself as if they alone could protect you from the storm’s fierceness. Storm clouds have been brewing all day, but the skies didn’t open until you and Yuta went to bed. Now, the rain and lightning is in full force. The rain pounds against your window, sounding more like hail or even bullets.

You’re startled for a second time when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in?”

The door opens slightly and Yuta appears in the small sliver of space. “Sorry, but...can I sleep here? The storm...” He gestures to the window, where a crack of lightning strikes right after. He’s wearing a sleep shirt and loose pants, and his blonde hair is disheveled.

“Uh, sure.” You shuffle over to make room for him. “I guess this isn’t your type of water, is it?” He huddles underneath the covers with you, facing you with his arm tucked under the unoccupied pillow.

“Not when it’s so intense like this.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “It’s scary. Does rainy weather make you think of your homeworld often?”

“Often,” he repeats. “But...I think I’d be worse off if I weren’t here.”

“Here...on Earth?”

“I mean, here with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can think to say. It’s a surprisingly personal confession, though you are grateful you’ve become someone so important in his life already, even if it’s only because you’ve given him shelter. That familiar warmth spreads through you again.

Warm and fuzzies = gratefulness to a friend, the feeling you get when you pet a cute puppy. Right. It’s not the sensation you get when you think you might have feelings for your extraterrestrial friend, you try to convince yourself. “I’m...glad you’re here. Maybe not under these circumstances, but still.”

Yuta nods without speaking, but he doesn’t take his eyes away from you. You think he must be waiting on you to say something else.

“What?” you ask quietly when he keeps staring at you. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” Your joke does little to clear the air, and the tension keeps rising. You should probably be the first one to look away, to end whatever weird game this is and go to sleep, but you can’t. It’s unexplainable.

Yuta props himself up on his elbow, and you’re about to ask him where he’s going when he slips his hand onto your bare shoulder. You’re already covered by the blankets, but you suddenly feel even hotter with his hand on you, sliding up from your shoulder to the side of your face. “Y-Yuta…?”

You don’t know what to say or do, but you don’t object when he leans closer. Your faces are only inches apart now, like he’s hesitating and wondering if he should cross the line. The thunderstorm is intense, but this moment feels much more suspenseful than that could ever be. And then, it’s suddenly satisfying when his lips are on yours.

The kiss starts gentle. He’s careful as if he’s afraid to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s soft and sweet. Things get more heated when his tongue prods against your lower lip and enters your mouth. You don’t know when his hand made it from your face to your side, but he pulls you close with his fingers pressing into the flesh just below your breasts, and you tremble at the proximity.

When you pull away, both of you are breathing harder and unable to look each other in the eye.

“Should we be doing this?” you whisper.

Yuta shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it feels good.”

At those words, you pause for a moment before moving to kiss him again. His lips respond deftly to yours, his body crowding you in and making you feel hot and enraptured with desire from where you still lie under the covers.

His hair is very soft when you slide your hands through it, though you can’t push away the thought that suddenly manifests in the back of your mind. This isn’t really his hair, or his lips, is it? It’s all a mask to cover whatever is underneath, which is something you still don’t entirely know, yet are increasingly curious about.

Yuta’s hand drifts up just high enough to caress the underside of your breast—all still over the cover of your clothes. Abruptly, that thought forces its way to the front of your mind, making itself unavoidable, and you have no idea how to reconcile it. This is all so...very unfamiliar. And undeniably scary.

You pull away from him, your face creased with conflict, and his hand stills on your body. “S-sorry, I…um...this is...”

Subsequently, he pulls his hand away from you, though some part of you doesn’t really want that to happen. “I-it’s fine.”

You both settle back into the sheets, the tense aura from before replaced with one that’s thick with unease. The storm continues on outside, unknowing and uncaring of anything else but its own nature.

Though you would like to pretend it isn’t so, things become strained after the night of the storm.

You and Yuta don’t talk about the kiss. You expected him to say something about it that morning after, but he didn’t acknowledge it, and so you figured you just forget about it, too. What are you thinking, anyway? You’re literally from two different worlds. You don’t have the first clue about what a connection would look like between you, whether it be just sex or a relationship.

Why couldn’t you just fall for a coworker and have a bit of office drama like everyone else? Even that would be simpler.

Why did you have to let your thoughts get the best of you? You don’t have any answer for that, except for maybe your own need to come to terms with your attraction. People have never been very skilled at accepting others different from themselves, you know that much. But that usually counts for people of different ethnicities or cultural backgrounds, not two entirely different species.

You spend the whole week afterwards tearing your mind up with this monologue and trying to figure out what you should do next, because you’re quickly growing weary of coming home to a tense atmosphere. Alex can only give so much advice—not that you’d really tell him the entire situation—without knowing just how complicated everything is.

Where he used to hang out with you and help you with your hair, Yuta spends more time up in the guest bathroom again. You wonder if he thinks you’re disgusted by him. You’d probably think the same if he reacted the way you did.

Unbeknownst to you, Yuta is facing the situation with a similar amount of inner turmoil as you, wondering if he’s gone too far. He’s done many silly things in his life, but he doesn’t know how to undo this mistake. The mistake of kissing you? The mistake of seeing you as more than just another human? The mistake of knowingly flying in a faulty ship? Maybe all of it.

He feels guilty about freezing you out and pretending as if nothing happened, especially with all you’ve done to make him safe and comfortable in your home. But, at the same time, he is equally frightened to face you and discover the real reasoning for why you pulled away that night. Because you’ll never see him as someone you could like? Or maybe even love?

If that’s your truth, he’d rather leave it unsaid.

There aren’t many choices left but to face it. Whether this idea is smart or not is yet to be seen, but you suppose you don’t have many solutions left. And you are sick of being cooped up in the house.

“You sure this is safe?” Yuta asks as he stares at the scenery whizzing past. “You were all freaked out about me being near water before...now you want to go to a lake?”

You glance over at him. “Yes, it’s my parents’ lake property. It’s private, Yuta. No one will be there but us. I think we could both use a mini vacation this weekend, yeah?”

“I guess, sure.” Yuta shrugs. His demeanor is more closed off than it was before that dreaded kiss, but you can still tell that he’s interested in the idea of getting access to a bigger body of water, even if he doesn’t outwardly express it.

The lake house is two hours out of your city. It hasn’t been used much in the past few years with both you and your parents being busy with work and life, but if there was ever a good time to use it, it’s probably now. You just hope there aren’t any squatters of the furry variety; the last thing you need is to be fighting raccoons or squirrels after stepping through the door.

Luckily, there’s really no one but you two once you reach your destination. The lake is big and pretty like you last remembered it, sparkling under the sun and throwing the rays back in your eyes. Yuta is automatically captivated by it.

“Here it is!” you say, walking along the sand and spreading your arms out towards the body of water. “It might not be much compared to your homeworld, but I hope it’s enough.” You carry your bag up the stairs to the house and turn back to Yuta, who’s still standing by the shore gazing across the water. “You can go in, you know? Get comfortable!”

That seems to snap him out of his trance, and he turns back to you, following you up the steps. “Not right now...I’ll go later.” You’re a little disappointed at that, but you simply nod and open the door to go in.

You spend the day getting increasingly more restless as you and Yuta hang out together. You go on the pier, walk around the entirety of the lake, and even take your dad’s boat out on the water, but he still doesn’t get in.

You eat dinner together later that night, although you’re the one doing most of the eating, and there isn’t much conversation to be had. You’ve both run out of things to say that don’t center around the kiss or why he refuses to get in the water.

Yuta spends a few more moments watching you push your food around your plate before leaning forward. “Why did you bring me here?” he asks.

You sigh heavily. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I do, but…” he hesitates. “Can you answer my question first?

You raise your eyebrows. “Okay, well. I brought you here because...I don’t know. I figure you deserve to have somewhere bigger to swim around in than my guest bathtub.” You laugh nervously.

He seems unconvinced. “Is that it?”

“I’d say so! Why won’t you even take one swim, is the better question? I want you to relax and be yourself.”

He furrows his eyebrows as if he doesn’t know how to reply. “You...aren’t you...repulsed by it? I just figured you wouldn’t want to see me in my natural form. Especially since…” He trails off at the end, and your palms sweat a little.

“No! I know I was weirded out at first, but...I-I guess that was the point of this whole trip, to show you that…” You grapple with your words for a moment, unsure if now is the time to fully confess what you’re feeling. “Look, I want to try, alright? I want to see it at least once. I want to accept you as a whole being, and that means, you know...all of you.”

Yuta smiles gradually at that, and you feel swept up with a sudden wave of affection you weren’t expecting. You are still a bit scared, but you don’t want to turn back now. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reply, clasping your shaking hands together.

Yuta nods and stands up from the dining table, gesturing for you to follow him. It’s late now, with the moon shining brightly and the last vestiges of dark blue sky giving way to black. The air outside is cool, but not uncomfortably so. You follow Yuta to the pier and watch timidly, your stomach flip-flopping, as he sheds his clothes, leaving them on the wooden deck. Then he slips into the water, disappearing underneath its still surface.

You crouch down, looking intently at the rippling water and anticipating whoever is going to resurface. The sounds of croaking frogs and crickets press in from every side, ringing in your ears so loudly that it’s hard to think straight.

You gasp when Yuta lifts from the water, his human skin gone and completely transformed into something that’s more...amphibian, if that’s any accurate way to describe his appearance. His skin is still scaly and green like you saw that first day, but in the moonlight it seems to glitter and reflect a spectrum of colors like his armor did. There are two fins on the either side of his face, translucent and shining a pale green. They slowly move back and forth as he treads on the water, as if they’re conveying an emotion to match whatever he’s thinking, and you watch them in fascination.

Yuta floats on his back in the water, the long gills on either of his sides catching the moonlight. You watch in fascination as they move with his breaths. Using the pier post to keep yourself stable, you reach out to touch them. They’re slick under your fingers, but not in a slimy or gross way. Your hand drifts to the rest of his skin, across his torso and along his sides, and every portion has a strikingly smooth texture. His alien eyes stare at you silently as you do, glittering big in the moonlight.

“What do you think?” his voice is quieter than you expected, as if he’s afraid of your reaction. He doesn’t break his gaze, though, studying your face carefully.

“You’re...amazing,” you say breathlessly. “Incredible.”

His lips, which are green like the rest of him, form a small smile, and then he dives underneath the water. He does a few laps as if he means to impress you, his lithe marine form sparkling just below the surface of the water. You keep your hand suspended over the pier as you watch him, your fingers sliding against his body every time he passes by. You smile at his display, a laugh coming out of you at his impromptu performance.

When he’s finished, Yuta climbs up onto the pier with you and kneels in front of you, much like he did that day he saved you from David’s swimming pool. His feet are webbed like his hands. Droplets of water slide off of them onto the wooden boardwalk while others linger on the clear webbing like tiny jewels. Your hand is magnetized to his face, drawing across the scaly skin and tracing over his lips, which are just as smooth as the rest of him.

Before you can think twice about it, you lean forward and capture his lips with yours. Did you expect it to be fishy? Maybe. But it’s not that at all. He still manages to taste distinctly like Yuta, even though you’re not sure what that taste is. It’s a flavor that makes you feel...held. Yuta is surprised for a moment, but he responds to your kiss, one of his webbed hands inching close to your face. He doesn’t touch you at first, a little reluctant and yet wanting to let you lead the pace so he doesn’t scare you off.

You welcome his touch, carefully brushing your fingertips across his hand and bringing it to make contact with your skin. His own skin is still a bit cold from the water’s temperature, but it doesn’t bother you much.

The kiss soon grows more intense, and a mounting desire makes itself known in you. You won’t pretend like you’re 100% confident about all of this, but you don’t want to shun it anymore, either.

Yuta’s hand drifts to your neck, his long nails pressing into your skin ever so slightly. You dare to explore his body more, sliding your hands across his chest and over his side gills, feeling the way they contract under your hands, and farther down still. You haven’t looked down there yet, and you’re nervous over what you’ll find. But you keep going until your fingers meet something slick and hot and throbbing, seeming vaguely like a regular penis, though you quickly realize it’s more of a tentacle.

Yuta shudders and draws away from the kiss, and you feel alarmed, wondering if you’ve gone too far without thinking.

“If we’re going to do this, I should...probably shift back—”

“Don’t,” you blurt out. Yuta looks at you questioningly. “I...you should if it makes you comfortable. But...I don’t mind.” He’s quiet for a few seconds—seconds that feel much longer than they really are. You’re apprehensive of what he’ll say, but you keep your eyes on his face.

“Okay,” he agrees. “If you’ll accept me like this...okay.”

Neither of you bother with moving to somewhere more comfortable like the lake house or even the sandy shore. Instead, Yuta peels your clothes away right there on the pier, covering every new bit of flesh with his strange and lovely mouth, his head fins ghosting across your collarbones and breasts like moths’ wings.

You tremble and grow wetter under his soft caresses, which are much gentler than you’d initially expect with his sharp black nails. His hands leave streaks of water across your body, which cools your burning hot skin.

Yuta carefully maneuvers your lower body at the same time as he bends his graceful head, bringing your sex close to his mouth and licking deeply into you. Your back presses hard against the pier, the wood scratching your skin as you cry out into the night air.

“Oh God, Yuta!” You soon realize that his tongue is much longer than any human one, and it reaches to a spot deep inside of you that makes you twist around in his grasp, your fingernails scrambling for purchase on the surface below you. He uses his tongue to pleasure that spot continuously, drawing moans and ever more wetness out of you as if he were controlling the waves in the ocean.

You find yourself coming apart on his extraordinarily long tongue, your legs shaking and then going limp with the pleasure flooding through your body. Your breaths come fast and hard. Yuta lifts his head from between your legs and pulls you carefully into his lap so his slick tentacle is pressing against you. It’s not hard like a dick would be, though it is clearly responsive to your body, and you momentarily wonder if it can even go inside you.

“Is this gonna work?” you ask, a tremor in your voice.

“It will work,” Yuta replies, and you’re not sure how, but you decide to trust him on it.

It does, to your surprise. With your legs crossed tightly over his lower back, Yuta presses into you, wet and warm and very unexpectedly soft. It doesn’t feel like anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s not a bad sensation, though—far from it. His tentacle is similar to his tongue in how it flexes and throbs inside you, pressing tight against that spot again and making you shiver in his arms.

You both quickly find a rhythm that works, your bodies moving together in an otherworldly combination of two beings, two species, two souls.

Yuta’s long nails scrape gently against your skin as he holds your back, guiding you on his sex and pushing his hips up into you. You sigh into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, feeling the cool scales underneath your lips. You seek a firm grip on his slick skin, bringing your body as close to his as possible.

“Yuta…” You moan his name. His hand slides to the back of your neck so he can bring your face to his again, kissing you deeply. There’s a wet squelching sound as your bodies connect, Yuta’s tentacle slipping in and out of you and pleasurably stroking your walls.

“Y/N…” Yuta whispers into your soft hair, pushing into your spot repeatedly, his thighs tensing under you as his pace increases. You grip his arms as you feel your orgasm swelling up in your abdomen. You tip your head back and Yuta’s mouth goes to your neck and farther down, his heavy breaths warming your skin and making you overheat from the inside out.

You tighten and cum around him, your voice stuttering out of you in broken gasps as he keeps thrusting into you, drawing your climax out. He pulses inside of you, which sends little shockwaves up your spine; you know he’s probably close, too.

When Yuta comes, there’s a lot more of it than you expected. His cum overflows and drips out of you with a consistency like syrup and a transparent color like precum. It makes the inside of your thighs sticky and shiny.

Yuta pulls out, and more of his cum spills out of you, leaking onto his lap and staining the pier underneath you.

“That’s not gonna get me pregnant, is it?” you say quietly, half-jokingly.

“Probably not,” Yuta chuckles.

“Probably!?”

Yuta carefully gathers you in his arms and stands to his feet, walking you off the pier and back towards the lake house. Your clothes are still on the pier, but you’re quickly getting sleepy and aren’t very worried about it; you’ll get them in the morning.

“What happens now?” Yuta murmurs as he walks up the front steps. You already know he’s referring not just to your relationship in this present moment, but to every event that will make up your future. Does he need to continue hiding, or is it really safe? How long will this last?

You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest. “We stay together.”

Yuta’s arms tighten around you as a silent affirmation of your words.

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phantosm · 3 years ago

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@swcctdreams liked ❤️

As far as entertainment went, soft piano typically wasn’t his scene. The crowd-pleasers of choice at this particular bar on Hat Island happened to be music that sounded more like a car crash than anything- hard metal. The kind of stuff that got villains pumped for... villain things. This was more the type of melody designed to put someone to bed.

Considering Zeke was drinking, he’d be ready for bed no matter what was playing. For a supervillain, his short, lanky frame betrayed him, he was quite the lightweight when it came to alcohol. Zeke was just here to see a couple friends and hit on the cute bartender who’d given him his number last time he was here. It appeared he wasn’t working tonight, oh well.

His attention rose from his beer, over to scan the crowd as he suddenly found himself lost in a sea of ‘boos’ and hisses at the piano lady who he now realized was quite possibly a giant. He might not like the music either, but he hated people being assholes even more. Surely she could take them, right?

Oh... oh no. She seemed genuinely upset. Zeke grimaced. This wasn’t fun at all.

“Hey! Shut the fuck up and let the lady play!” without warning he brandished a ray gun from his pocket and shot it at a nearby wall. The sound alone brought all eyes on him; the reckless heir to the Dark Phantom cloak.

“I can pay for that.” he mumbled, although the workers seemed used to this, running a bar for villains came with structural casualties, it was just the name of the game.

“Go ahead. Piano’s dope, by the way.” he outstretched his hands as though in surrender, both to the woman and the glaring patrons, before backing away and slipping out the door.

#swcctdreams

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snowmanmelting · 3 years ago

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okay so first off WLU is a really incredible story - reminds me of the style and pace of classics I read back in high school. Very intentional and poignant and intraspective. Everyone's characterizations are extremely fetching, and you leave just enough bread crumbs of mystery to make repeat actions and sparse interactions intriguing from chapter to chapter.

But now, questions!!

I unironically love the cousins, they are so cute. My little siblings are also extremely crafty at card games and I do gt drawn on at family gatherings so that was a treat :D Who's side are the family are they from, Iduna or Agnar? Same with Kai and Gerda, who's siblings are those, between the parents?

What did the girls paint on the flower pots outside the window? They were kids I know but I'm kind of curious (even if there's not like, a /real/ answer lol)

Is it relevant to the story HOW Elsa and Anna's parents died? Like is it a secret? I have an assumption that it was a car crash but I just double checked and I don't really have like a REASON to believe that specifically? And if it's a secret: is how they died tied into Elsa's slingshot levels of grief over their deaths?

Why watercolor for Elsa? What made you choose that art form over others?

Anna's tone of voice is so different than Elsa's internal monologue that it sticks out so much when she speaks. I love that. Obviously the story is hardcore from Elsa's POV, but how do you think about Anna's state of mind when writing her speaking and actions?

okay I 😶 now

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Omg omg omg omg omg thank you thank you thank you for being so nice and flattering I'm here like, picture those little puddle dogs jumping up and down. I'm exactly like that right now. Excited like a tiny dog or a little kid with a new toy febwsgstsgdvddnwjwye ay ty 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

→Aaayyy I'm glad you liked them!! Their (mostly mentioned) extended family were those type of characters that appear on their own once you really sit and think about them, but they come already with it's personalities and everything. They went through a few twist on age until I decided they were twins. But they core personalities stayed.

→Also Silly me should have mentioned it but all that family meeting? Their mom's family :^). Iduna was the middle kid. Ingrid the oldest and Gerda the youngest. The little twin cousins are Ingrid's kids.

On that note, Uncle Adrien is also from her mom's side, he's only related to Iduna, though. And uh, from Agnarr they just have his cousin (and I swore I thought I mentioned him along with the rabbit stew but oopsie daise) and the relatives Elsa mentions she doesn't know bc they live in whatever lmao.

→The patterns on the flower pots are the ones mentioned there, clouds, sunflowers and daisies. Basically their mom just sat them down and told them to paint stuff and that's it. Maybe I made it sound like it had this idk a picture or smh. In that case sorry to disappoint :c, it's just Elsa living in previous timelines as always uwu.

→Actually............................nah it isn't. I wrote everything with the idea that they died in a car accident bc they were arguing about something (idk if you can prove this last bit if they're alone in the car so that's why I'm mentioning it) and idk smh smh boom!! the killed-by-the-author lighting striked!! But then idk if you die in a car crash it'll be possible to have an open casket funeral??? Meh. The thing is that you were right, so it isn't a secret, just 100% casualty that they died :^)

→oof. Killed me. I don't remember. I think I just wrote the draft where she's actually painting that last drawing (what I call the oof chapter) and the first thing I thought was that she got some watercolors as a gift. She strikes me as a girl that enjoys doing traditional art and stuff like oil pastels and pens (?) Absolutely not proyecting desires btw

→OMG SHE SOUNDS DIFFERENT??? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 TYSM this is a huge compliment for me bc with ESL I'm always afraid everyone sounds the same bc don't distinguish ways of speaking lmao AAAA I'm so gladddd

Ok but to answer: she just is. Anna literally appears and does whatever the hell she wants and I let her bc she my bb uwu 💚 and (over)analyzing what she does, it just... Idk it makes sense in context. I'm planning on adding an Anna chapter as bonus somewhere but idk where yet ùwú.

Again thank you sosososoo much for the questions Gryfon you've made my night, and probably my entire week 😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm going to sleep now after dancing like this dude for a while bnnnendddhsmqcnsnisx

#anika answers stuff #ABOUT WLU OMG OMG OMG LOOK MOM IVE GOT QUESTIONS ABOUT MY AU #IVE MADE IT!#whats left unsaid #yes yes this wlu

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willow-salix · 5 years ago

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Another work of the genius that is my kid. She wrote this, I'm just sharing it. Revel in the awesomeness of this...

[AU] Four of the Tracy Brothers are all adopted by Jeff after being orphaned when he is unable to save their parents during rescues from the VERY early days of International Rescue (yeah I know the canon but whatever this is an au). Also this is total trash but I'm too lazy to write this proper proper so here ~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

SCOTT: The first of the boys to get adopted by Papa Jeff is originally from Scotland (Scott-Land), and was orphaned after the tail end of a hurricane left his family home as nothing more than a pile of rubble - and since it wasn't anticipated, the extent of the damage done wasn't heard about until later, after a series of rescues in higher risk locations. By that time, it was too late. When J.T. finally got to the scene, he spent a few hours sifting through the debris for any survivors. By the time the sun had set, seven bodies had been discovered and he was giving up hope, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a baby crying. Wading through to where the nursery used to be, as if by some miracle, there was a perfectly in-tact crib and an infant inside, blocked from the destruction by a large ceiling tile that had fallen, and effectively acted as a shield as the rest of the home toppled down around them. Jeff took the baby in his arms and rushed to the basecamp, refusing to let go of the child during his check-up and the search for any living relatives for him to go to; but all of his living relatives were in the same house, and the little boy had nowhere to go. As J-Dog looked down at those big blue goo-goo eyes, he felt an overpowering sense of guilt, before it was replaced by total determination. He couldn't save his family, so the least he could do was give him a new one - and that's exactly what he did.

VIRGIL: The pilot of the mean, green, thicc flying machine gained all of his culture and artistic tendencies from his country of birth, Italy. A heavy rainstorm saw the canals of Venice break their banks and caused floods throughout the city (it would take them three years to get over it entirely). When Jazzy Jeff arrived, it was a matter of evacuating everyone and minimising the amount of accidents/casualties as much as possible. As roads cracked and buildings became submerged more and more with every passing second, the evacuation order soon developed into a time-sensitive rescue mission. By the time he finally reached Virgil's family, their car was teetering on the edge of a broken road, under which was several feet of water. They handed their newborn son over to him, only just in time before the concrete gave way and the car fell into the murky depths. Another member of the crew attempted to rescue them as Jeff held the child, deja-vu hitting him when his teammate came back to the surface and mournfully shook his head. They were unable to get them out in time, and, same as last time, there were no relatives to take the boy. Ever since the mother handed her son over to Jeff, he had felt a sense of responsibility over the welfare of the child. One look at the chonky little thing confirmed what he had been feeling in his heart all along: Scott now had a brother.

JOHN: Irish-born John's adoption was a little different to the other two, but a rescue all the same. Big Daddy J had a conference in the Emerald Isle, and on his way back to his hotel the same night, he came across a car that had crashed into a tree on a fairly deserted road. The only survivor was in the back seat, and was the toddler son of the two adults in the front. The child was old enough to be semi-aware of what was going on around him, so while Jeff attempted to remove him from the wreckage, he told him to "just do one thing" for him - "look at the stars, just look at the stars". The blonde boy did so obediently, and as they waited for the emergency services to arrive, he told the tot about all of his adventures in space. Even though he probably didn't understand what he was saying, tiny John was still absolutely hooked. Once at the hospital, the parents were confirmed deceased and further checks revealed that his grandparents were unable to look after him. Just because he wasn't wanted by his family, however, didn't mean he wasn't wanted by others. After cancelling his flight back the next day, Jeff once again went through all the necessary steps. When he returned back to America, his seven-year-old and his four-year-old were greeted with their new brother, and his wife and mother with a new son and grandson, respectively.

GORDON: Born and raised in Australia, Gordon's parents were adventurers that never seemed the type to settle down and stay in one place for one time. When International Rescue was called for an outback recovery, it seemed like a stupid prank when the campsite the call originated from was found to be empty. The fire had burnt out, several items had just simply been discarded on the floor, and it appeared that the tents were empty at first glance - but on closer inspection, it revealed that the bundle of cloth in the corner was actually a sleeping baby. They waited for any other people to arrive, but after a few hours, decided to take the baby to the hospital. With no records of him, there wasn't much they could do except confirm that he was healthy. All it took was one look into those big, brown, cow-like eyes and Jeffo knew that for the fourth time in ten years he was bringing home another baby.

ALAN: The youngest son, and the only biological one of Jeff and Lucille. When they first learnt of his conception, they were quick to assure the other boys that they weren't any less special than him because they weren't related by blood. The only response they recieved came from an eleven-year-old Scott remarking that yeah, they knew, because they had been chosen, which made it even more special. Each of the boys came from different backgrounds, but thanks to Jeff and his "Batman Syndrome", they were all united as a single family (until Lucille died and shit went down). The End.

BONUS: After rescuing Buddy and Ellie for the umpteenth time, they and Gordon dissolved into small talk as Virgil flew them home in Thunderbird Two. It was the first time they had rescued them in Australia, and the second-youngest Tracy couldn't help but notice that there was something odd about the couple's demeanour this time around. Usually, they were high-spirited after a rescue, talking about their next dangerous adventure or the new season of their show. They still spoke with a certain degree of excitement, but their hands were interlocked on Buddy's knee, and there was something that looked like... sadness? in both of their eyes when they looked at each other. Eventually, he couldn't help himself. "Hey, listen, I know it's not my place to ask, but... are you two alright?" Buddy opened his mouth to respond, but he was quickly interrupted. "I don't mean because of the rescue. I mean that you two are just acting a little - well, different."

Before he could make another comment about it 'not being his place to ask', Ellie gave a wan smile and sighed, ducking her head for a moment. "It's nothing. Only - the last time we were out in that direction, we had to call International Rescue out, too. It was a long time ago, when we were just starting out. I think it was when you were just starting out, too."

Gordon glanced over to Virgil, who reminded him that "International Rescue existed before us, remember?". He nodded before looking back to Ellie; a silent invitation for her to continue her story. Buddy's hand tightened around hers, and she sighed again.

"We had set up camp, had a fire going and was starting to unpack when the wind picked up. It just started latching onto everything, and soon there was this massive dust storm. We tried to stay together, radio'd for help, but we couldn't see anything, we just couldn't. There was no way that International Rescue could have gotten to us, but we didn't care. We just wanted-"

"We wanted them to save our son." Buddy finished for his wife. Gordon nodded, but internally, he was shocked. He had no idea that they had a child. He was about to ask, when Buddy started to talk again. His voice was steady despite the slight waver in it, and his eyes seemed glassy. "He was only young, so - small. We left him in the tent for shelter, tried to find a way to signal for the ship if we could. We didn't even realise we had been walking, until the storm died down and we found that we were nowhere near our camp. And when we got back..."

"Little Stevie was gone." Ellie whispered. "That was our boy, Stevie. Steve. And he was gone."

"What was the year?" Gordon found himself asking, his throat dry. The reply was instant, and it made him swallow heavily to try and remove the lump from his throat. Their dad - Jeff - had never kept anything from them about the way they came to the family. Buddy and Ellie's story, along with the recollection from Jeff and the date... there was only one conclusive answer.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted it out. "I think I'm your son."

#Most awesome teen in the world #Parenting win #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds au #fan fic stuff #fan fic writing #fan fiction #fan fic ideas

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cami-chats · 5 years ago

Text

My Blood Red Heart

Written for @marvelpolyshipbingo

Rating: Teen

Warnings/Triggers: Winter Soldier/Red Room mentions

Pairings: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Bucky recognizes his forgotten soulmate while in the middle of a fight. Natasha saves him, they save the day, and Tony invites them back to the Tower. Falling for her was easy, so why not fall for him too?

Square Filled: B2-Murder Strut

Read on AO3 or below

The Soldier watched her run away, but there was no satisfaction in it, not when she was severely outgunned and still had the time to toss that fucking smirk over her shoulder as she went. She was the bigger threat. The target had gone down. He'd get back up, the Soldier knew that, but she could actually stop them if she wanted. She'd tricked him, and the only thing that had saved him was luck. She'd hit the glasses instead of an inch higher; that wasn't because of anything he'd done.

His eyes followed her. She was taking a fairly straight path which would've been a mistake if she wasn't so obviously trying to prevent civilian casualties. "I have her," he said. If they went after her, they wouldn't even make it a full minute. "Find him." He vaulted over the concrete wall and landed on top of a car with a crash that made his legs ache for a moment.

She ducked between two cars before he could raise his gun, and there were more cars on the other side of an overturned bus-- a miniature maze where the prize was pulling the trigger first. He strode to the other side of the road with sure steps, then slowed, glancing back and forth and listening for the smallest sound. She was too good to have loud steps, but he should be able to- he came to a stop. She was talking quietly, but it was enough. Calling for reinforcements wouldn't be enough to save her, but it could save the two men she'd been in the car with if the team accompanying him felt particularly useless today.

He reached to his back with his left hand, fingers catching on a small bomb. He lowered himself and rolled it towards her, then straightened and raised his gun again; there was no way the bomb alone would kill her as she'd see it and dodge, but that would leave him with an opportunity. There was something familiar about her, more familiar than that shield the target had used on the bridge. His handler would mention it during the debrief, most likely, so he didn't need to think about it. The explosive went off and he tightened the gun to his shoulder, only to be thrown off balance when something hit the side of him and knocked the gun out of his hands.

He didn't have the chance to get his feet under him before he heard the quick whir of a garrote wire, and he shoved his hand up near his neck. It just barely caught the wire in time, grinding against the metal of his hand, and as he tried to find his center again, the familiarity struck him again, more distinct than before. He stumbled backward and she hit a car with a grunt, but her grip didn't loosen. For a moment he tried to get the wire completely away, but the angle was bad and she had too much leverage where she was hanging off his shoulders. With his free hand, he reached up and gripped with the intent of throwing her over his shoulder. He started to, and then he froze, memories hitting him straight in the stomach like a brick.

She fell barely a foot away from his aborted move.

"Natasha," he gasped, and she stopped, half a second from throwing something at him. His eyes were wide, and he didn't know- what the hell was going on? He stumbled back half a step, bumping into the car again, and this time he didn't move.

She got to her feet, still holding that small disc in her hands. Her expression was hopeful but her body language was wary, angled so that she could throw it at him and make a run for it if she needed. Smart, but she'd always been smart. "Yasha," she returned evenly.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, and he didn't even care how desperate it came out.

She glanced over his shoulder nervously, then back at him. "Not now, we need to leave."

He didn't know how to think about where he was or how he'd gotten to this specific point in time, but he could get them out. Leaving was easy. They started to run, moving together like no time had passed since they'd been on the same side. No words were necessary; when Natasha moved one way, he knew it meant they were about to take a hard left, and they moved in tandem. The deafening sound of a mini gun spitting bullets started, but it wasn't at them. She glanced towards the noise, slowly an almost unnoticeable amount.

He grabbed her arm and made her keep pace, gruffly saying, "They'll be fine." The target was up, and without him the others didn't stand a chance. If they took too long, there would be news sites coming to film, and they wouldn't be able to kill him; they would definitely take too long, the idiots.

They made it far enough away, he took off the mask, and she lifted a hoodie for him. In DC, there wasn't really such a thing as 'out of the way'. Where there wasn't video surveillance, there were guards, and most of the time there were both. So when they stopped to try and formulate a plan, it wasn't because they were completely hidden, it was because they were as out of the way as they could be. There weren't any safe houses that would actually be safe. Fury was dead-- god, Bucky had killed him, he hadn't thought about it at the time, but that had been the last major defense against Hydra and he'd shot that chance without a though-- Hill was in the wind likely dead, and Rogers and Wilson were the ones in need of rescue.

Natasha let out a frustrated breath. "We need backup." But there wasn't any.

"What about Stark?"

Natasha looked at him sharply. "We aren't dragging him into this mess."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, staring at her flatly. "Right. Hydra taking over won't effect him at all." He knew it had been a damn long time since he'd known her, but since when did she care about people this way? Stark could more than take care of himself-- the multiple failed assassination attempts by Hydra were proof enough about that-- and if he could take care of himself, there was no reason for her to be worried. No reason that Bucky could think of right now, at least.

"We aren't in New York."

"He has a flying suit," Bucky said drily.

"We have no way of contacting him," she tried.

Bucky held up a phone he'd swiped from someone's bag-- they'd survive, they had another one for some reason. Hoodie pockets were great. He also had a couple snacks in there, but they were for after Natasha made the phone call that would save their asses. He cared about whatever was holding her back, but not more than he cared about their lives.

With a regretful sigh, she snatched the phone from his hand and dialed, the number clearly memorized to perfection even though she couldn't have had much cause to use it.

It was several, long rings before Tony answered, a confused, "Hello?"

"It's Natasha." There was a shy, hesitant quality to her voice, and Bucky wondered when he'd stop being surprised by things now that he was... himself again.

A pause, then, in a tone too casual to be genuine, Tony said, "You know, there was some footage of that epic battle you just got into. I know some drivers can be dumb, but I think you took it a little too hard this time. You gotta learn to take deep breaths and let it go. Maybe we should pencil you in for some meditation time with Bruce. So Steve and that other guy-- you know, the handsome one in the green shirt, he looks kinda familiar, maybe he should drop by when all is said and done-- got taken in by some people in SHIELD uniforms, and you vanished. I'd be offended you didn't call me in to join the party, but I'm guessing that's what this is. Unless you wanted to RSVP for the New Years party. Six months early is a bit much, but you spy types are always on top of things."

Natasha smiled, but her tone was clear of it when she responded. "Not sure about New Years yet, but we could use some support down here."

"Already in the suit. Where are you?"

"What, you can't trace the call?"

"Not while I'm tracking the transport that has Stevie-boy in it. Am I grabbing him or you first?"

"Him. Yasha and I can survive a little longer without you."

"Who the hell is Yasha?"

Natasha's eyes flickered to Bucky. "Long story."

"Okay," Tony said, drawing out the second syllable to show how much he didn't like that brushoff. "This number good to reach you at?"

"We'll hold on to it until we hear from you." Normally she would ditch it right away, but there was no point when they had no other way to contact him.

"I'd tell you when to expect a call except I'm breaking my own safety protocols right now, so maybe I'll die in a fiery twist of metal like my nanny always predicted. Stay safe," he said, then hung up.

"You're close," Bucky noted.

"Not really," she said, but she had to know that he could tell when she was lying. It was probably a soulmate thing that he always knew when she was telling the truth and when she wasn’t, because she'd always been able to fool handlers.

Bucky didn't say anything to that, just pulled a cap from his hoodie pocket and offered it to her.

She put it on and looped her hair through the hole in the back. "I did a profile on him right after Iron Man. We talk, but he doesn't trust me."

"Anyone other than me trust you?" he asked, arm around her shoulders as they started walking again.

"A few people." The one that recruited her to SHIELD. Fury, before he had died, maybe Hill as well. Steve might. He'd seen something about the Avengers before, but they seemed more like individuals with a common goal than a team. The fact that Natasha hadn't automatically called them was proof enough that they weren't a team.

By the time the dust settled, it was obvious that Hydra had counted on Iron Man being out of the way. Bucky could recall some of Hydra talking about the Mandarin and the aftermath keeping Stark busy, but he didn't think that was important to share. Iron Man was there, a hell of a lot more firepower and brainpower than they'd planned for. Fury was alive and Hill was with him, which explained where they'd been at the start of this mess. Well, Fury was barely alive. He'd kind of been shot to hell, and Bucky made eye contact with him exactly once to make sure he wasn't taking it personally. Maybe Fury trusted Natasha, but Bucky was part of the much larger group of 'everyone else' aka 'people he didn't trust'.

It was ridiculously impressive how much everyone trusted Natasha actually. She might think she was untrustworthy, but everyone in the room believed in her. Proof? They'd all given Bucky suspicious looks and Stark had outright asked why they were trusting the guy that had been attacking them a couple hours ago, and all Natasha had to say was, "He's on our side," to shut them up.

"Anyone need a place to stay?" Tony asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, "Of course you do. You-" he pointed at Fury and Hill "-lost your fancy carriers and compromised your entire organization. And you three-" Steve, Natasha, and Sam, but not Bucky since he'd basically been a Hydra attack dog "-lost your homes when they fucked up. C'mon, the tower's great. Pepper won't even be able to get mad at me for inviting all of you back."

"Why would Pepper be mad at you?" Steve asked.

"She doesn't like half of you. Natasha's her buddy, but she doesn't know Sam or Bucky. You SHIELD higher ups though, you're on thin ice. Something about paperwork and an inefficient organization, I don't really know."

As they'd been doing all day, they just listened to Tony and followed after him. It was easy to do that when Tony was constantly proving to make the right decisions. Besides, who else were they going to listen to? Fury? He was the only other one with ideas, but right now he was bedridden, so his usual intimidation tactics didn't work. Plus he had a hell of a lot of work to do to rebuild SHIELD, and none of them needed to be there for that.

Tony decided that instead of flying out to the Tower and grabbing the quinjet to get all of them, they were just going to drive. Bucky wasn't allowed, Sam refused, and Steve was banned from ever driving when Tony was around. Natasha could have, but Tony offered then went off to find a rental. Which meant that none of them got to complain when he showed up in a minivan with a gleeful smile. Of course, that did mean that no one sat in the front seat next to him since Sam and Steve had paired off and Natasha wasn't letting Bucky out of arm's reach.

"This is fun," Tony said. "It's like I'm the mom-friend of the group. Wait until Rhodey hears about this, he'll mock you all silly, normally I'm the one that has to deal with that. And since none of you are in the passenger seat and get to complain, you have to deal with my music." He turned on something with lots of drums and screeching guitars, but after the first song he switched it to only be sounding in the front.

The rest of them were silent for most of the drive. Steve was trying to process the fact that Bucky was alive but was nothing like how he'd used to be. They wouldn't be able to talk about it with everyone here, and that was if they talked about it at all. Bucky was closed off, silent and brooding. Natasha had mentioned the phrase 'tall dark and handsome' before, and he was pretty sure that was the category Bucky fell into now, as opposed to well groomed and a gentleman like he'd been before.

Sam... well Bucky didn't know Sam all that well, but he was probably thinking about how weird it was that one day he'd been having breakfast and the next he was in a minivan with half the Avengers plus a newly retired Hydra assassin. That had to mess with anyone. As for Bucky and Natasha, well, they were used to not talking.

"Sorry I ripped the steering wheel out," Bucky said to Sam.

Sam grunted. He probably wanted an apology for trying to kill him, but Bucky would spend the rest of his life saying that to people if he started now so he didn't care very much.

"He's grumpy because he hasn't had something to eat all day," Natasha said.

"That sounds like an excuse to go to McDonald's," Tony called from the front, opting to yell over the music rather than turn it down. But he did turn it down when he got to the drive thru window because he was a nice guy. And because he was an even nicer guy, he got burgers for everyone, not just himself and Sam. But he was the only one that got a milkshake. Not that Bucky or Natasha minded, but he hadn't even offered. It was the principle of the matter.

"Do they know about you?" Bucky asked her in a low tone. Steve, with his enhanced hearing, would've been able to make out the words if he spoke Russian.

"No."

"You going to tell them?"

"It hasn't come up."

Bucky snorted. Just because no one had directly asked her if she was enhanced didn't mean the topic hadn't come up. She was on a team with other enhanced people, they had definitely talked about it before.

Natasha wrote down a quick summary instead of a full report. "SHIELD has bigger problems than the specifics of how they fell," was her excuse, and Bucky couldn't agree more. Steve, on the other hand, wrote down every little detail. He didn't send it anywhere, so it was likely a way for him to work through what had happened. Not that Bucky was around by the time he finished. Tony went to the kitchen then his workshop, and Sam stuck close to Steve's side. Whether that was because he was nervous or some other-- maybe soulmate related-- reason, he wasn't sure.

Natasha either had a regular room she crashed in, or she just knew which rooms were available for use, because she dragged Bucky off to one of them without checking with Stark. She locked the door as soon as they were both inside, then pointed at a door off to the side. "If you want to get cleaned up."

Bucky didn't, really. He didn't want to do much of anything because that meant dealing with everything he couldn't remember and what he'd missed. But he'd always been able to listen to her, and right now was no exception. He walked towards the bathroom and started stripping off his tac vest. All the knives and guns lined up on a side table by the bed-- less than he should've had, he was running low after the fight-- before he went all the way into the bathroom.

Memories were like sand-- you thought it was all gone until you shifted and found some more. It wasn't much, just the feeling whenever he untied his boots and pulled off his pants; it had been a while since he'd been able to do this in private. After the Red Room, he'd been kept on a damn short leash. Hydra didn't know what to do with him after that. Going on ice had hurt and made it worse for their long term plans for him. Wiping him hurt, but it did help them out temporarily. He'd been a weapon. Not an assassin, not the Fist of Hydra like Pierce had taken to calling him. A weapon, meticulously cleaned and maintained. Slight chinks were overlooked because he had still been the best weapon they had, even dealing with the issues that consistently and continuously cropped up.

The shoes had blood and dirt, and everything had been drenched in water at one point. Air drying was bullshit and made him feel crusty. He didn't really know how good laundry machines were, but the black of his pants covered any bloodstains that were there so it might not matter in the end.

He stepped in the tub and turned on the water. Did he know how to work it? No, but it's not like hot water from a shower faucet could burn him. When the water first came on, it was freezing, but it turned warm quickly. Perks of using a rich fella's shower. He saw Natasha come in, and she closed the bathroom door. Her clothes really were ruined. She hadn't had her suit, so she was in the same clothes that she'd had on the interstate. Civilian clothes couldn't take a pounding for shit. The mud probably wouldn't come out, and the blood definitely wouldn't; as she undressed, she tossed the clothes directly into the trashcan.

There was dirt crusted into her hair. She probably wasn't happy about that, said it reminded her of wading through a sewer-- Bucky never had asked why she knew how that felt when she'd been in the Red Room since she was eight. She joined him in the shower, sliding the distorted glass door across so they were closed off. She leaned her forehead against his back, neither of them moving.

"Do we have any clothes?"

"There are extras in the closet."

She hadn't checked since they entered, so she must have known that from past experience. Bucky sighed, grabbing the soap and rubbing it quickly across his chest and under his arms. It smelled pretty and floral, and it felt far too expensive. In the past fifty years, he'd had the type of soap that his healing factor had to work on. Effective in cleaning, but it stung like hell.

Natasha helpfully moved her head from where she'd been leaning against him, but otherwise she did nothing, enjoying the steam and the company.

A minute later, Bucky tried to move out of the way for her, but she stopped him with a hand on his waist and a raised eyebrow. "You're not getting out with your hair like that."

Like what? His hair was fine.

Natasha rolled her eyes like she'd been able to hear that and grabbed a blue bottle from the shelf. She squirted some of the shampoo-- also floral, dear lord, Bucky was going to smell like a fucking bouquet when he got out-- into her hand and started lathering it into Bucky's hair. He closed his eyes, ostensibly to make sure none of it got in, and leaned into her hands. She spent more time massaging his scalp than was strictly necessary, but he wasn't going to complain and she wasn't going to mention it either.

"Rinse," she said, so Bucky tilted his head back and started to work on getting all the suds out.

And after that, it was only fair to do her hair for her too. They stayed in there for a long time, but the water didn't turn cold-- perks of staying with someone rich. It was a good thing that they had nowhere to go, because now he didn't have to ask Natasha if they could stay; they had to.

Bucky dried off then collapsed on the bed without bothering to look for those clothes Natasha had mentioned. Chances were they wouldn't fit anyways. Natasha got under the covers next to him. Then she sighed. "I left the light on."

Bucky got up before she could do more than start to move, and he turned the light off before going back to bed. The mattress was like a goddamn marshmallow, the sheets a higher thread count than anything he'd touched before, and the blanket was already warming him up. It would be wonderful if it wasn't so different that it threw him off kilter. He didn't bother staying there for long before he got down and laid on the floor.

"Mm Yasha, what're you doing?"

"Sleeping," he grumbled.

She pushed herself up and scooted more towards his side of the bed, peering over the side at him. Enhanced eyesight was a perk of the serums they'd both been given. She couldn't make out his expression or exactly where his nose was, but she could see him. He was on his side, looking just as at ease as he'd ever been. Natasha liked the fluffy bed. What she would like even more, was to be next to Yasha while she slept; she always slept better when she wasn't by herself. So even though she'd been looking forward to an overly comfortable bed after months on SHIELD standard bedding, she got to her feet, pulling the blanket with her.

Bucky lifted his head when he saw her moving, and he snorted when she laid down next to him. She was even nice enough to share the blanket with him. She wrapped an arm around his waist after she got all her hair out of the way. "Get some sleep."

Tony felt like pounding his head against the wall. So he did. He was an absolute, complete, total idiot for falling in love with Natasha. The only interest she'd ever shown in him was when she'd been undercover, and she hadn't trusted him for the longest time after that. He tried so hard to let her know that she could ask him for anything, and he didn't even care that it came off as desperate because he was and she certainly knew that.

The long lost Bucky Barnes and assassin for Hydra was her boyfriend. That was not as big a surprise as the guy being alive in the first place, and he cared more about the first part than the second because he'd already known that he didn't stand a chance with her.

Thankfully, everyone had come back to the Tower with him, so he didn't have to do anything pesky like stalk them to ask what he wanted to know. He was going to make breakfast as a peace offering (and also bring Barnes clothes because he definitely did not have a bag with him, and no way in hell was he going to be able to fit in what Nat had).

The only problem with this plan was that it was nighttime. Tony sighed and headed to the workshop. "J, set an alarm for six thirty tomorrow morning, I need to remember to order breakfast."

"Of course, sir."

"Thanks buddy." Tony walked through the doors, and DUM-E activated from his charging station, wheeling out with a questioning beep. "Don't worry, kiddo, daddy's going to get some work done. Back to sleep with you."

DUM-E, of course, didn't listen, and instead went to finish arranging the spare parts Tony had around for the cars. Since he wasn't going to be in the way doing that, Tony let him have his fun and opened up a few internet windows. Time to get to work on that mess Hydra had made.

The time flew by when JARVIS gave him the set alarm, and even though Tony wasn't anywhere near done, he figured a break to recharge couldn't hurt, especially when the dealings with humans were more time sensitive.

They woke up when someone knocked on the door. Natasha groaned, then yelled, "What!" in the direction of the door.

"It's Tony! I was hoping for a little breakfast, maybe some juice, maybe the explanation about how you know Cap's old buddy!" A pause. "Or how he's alive, that would be good too!"

Natasha groaned, then yelled back, "We'll meet you in the kitchen!" She planted her face against Bucky's chest for a moment, then pushed herself up. "Do you have answers for him?"

"You know as much as I do," Bucky mumbled, rubbing at his face.

"Great," she said, stretching. There were clothes around here somewhere, she just needed to find them and hope they were big enough for Bucky to fit into. If not, well, he'd dealt with far worse than walking around in tight pants. As it turned out, there were only clothes fit to Natasha's size, and he wouldn't be able to squeeze into any of that. "I'll go ask Steve for some extras," she said, opening the door, only to pause. Right outside was a stack of jeans and a t-shirt. "Nevermind." She picked them up and turned back around, kicking the door shut. She tossed them at Bucky and he caught them, then slid them on.

"I don't really remember Steve," he said, zipping up the pants. "I don't remember what I was doing on the bridge."

"What do you remember?"

"The Red Room. Some of our missions afterwards. I... remember they-" he stopped. They'd found out about him and Natasha, and they'd sent him away because both of them were too valuable-- too well trained-- to kill. After that, just shadows of what he'd done. It was like trying to remember the details of a book he'd read years ago. He remembered a chair with jolts of electricity, he remembered the new order of Hydra and how they'd tried to convince him he was one of them, and he remembered ice. Flashes that didn't make sense. He didn't really remember Steve. More like a memory of a story he'd heard once. That wasn't what Steve would want to hear, he knew that much. "I don't remember anything important," he ended up saying.

She looked at him for a minute; she knew he was holding something back, but she didn't press him about it. And that, right there, was why they got along so well. He didn't want to talk about it, and she knew that if she waited long enough, he'd bring it up again. Not that he wanted to admit that he'd bring it up again, but, well, they both knew better. "We might as well go to breakfast before Tony thinks we abandoned him." She opened the door and Bucky followed her automatically.

Tony was munching on toast when they came in, and he pushed the massive jug of orange juice towards them. "I always thought one vintage super soldier was enough for a group, but I guess I'll have to reconsider."

Bucky shrugged as he picked up the jug. Natasha put a glass between him and the orange juice, so he redirected and poured some in the glass. "Hydra experiments," he said nonchalantly. He drained the glass, then refilled it. "Fucks with your mind sometimes." And that's all he was going to say about it.

Tony must have picked that up, because he accepted it. "Yeah, fuck Hydra, I think that's something we can all agree on. Not that I really care," he lied, "but how do you and Natasha know each other? She never worked for Hydra."

"A lot of organizations help Hydra without working for them," Natasha said, and that was all she planned on saying too.

"Do all spies have trouble answering questions like normal people, or is it just the two of you?"

"When was the last time Clint answered a question straight that wasn't about food?" Nat countered.

"You've got a point, but it doesn't match my annoyance with you so I'm going to pretend it's not true."

Bucky snorted. No one bothered to tell him the really good things. Natasha was here, and obviously that was nice, but couldn't she have mentioned that Tony was funny? He'd kinda thought coming here would only lead to avoiding Steve, not actually enjoying anything else.

Tony had ordered in, so he uncovered one of the breakfast platters and took a little for himself, then pushed the rest towards Nat. Then he opened a completely full one for Bucky. He haphazardly tossed forks into the containers, but it didn't look like he'd be surprised if they shoved their faces straight in. Whatever, he was starting with bacon anyways, he didn't need a fork for that.

"Steve's not an easy person to keep out," Tony continued between new bites and half chewed food. "You don't have to talk to him today, and not about anything important, but when he starts cracking heads in, mine will be the first to go. You may not care about that, but I don't have a healing factor so I'd like to avoid all this possible damage."

"He wouldn't hurt you," Natasha said, rolling her eyes.

"That's what you think; he likes you."

"He likes you too."

"Not as much. I think it's the hair, he prefers long and luxurious over well sculpted beards. I think it's a bullshit forties thing."

"It's not," Bucky said. He didn't have any evidence for that, but he was pretty sure Steve had been unable to grow a beard for a while. After the serum that was probably fixed, but he wasn't over it. Or at least, that was his leading theory. Personally, Bucky had always liked a little facial hair.

"Oh yeah? You like the beard?" Tony asked with a wink.

"What's not to like?" he responded, and maybe it was a little too easy for him to say that. Natasha was too good to stare at him straight out for it, but he could tell that it perked her interest.

"You like him," she said as soon as they were alone, back in the relative privacy of their room.

"You love him."

They stared at each other.

"I have a crush," he said softly. "He's handsome and doesn't look at me like he expects something."

More silence. This should be the part where she admitted why she loved him. Bucky had never been the jealous sort, if only because that wasn't the sort of relationship they'd had. It had been intense and all consuming, but when she was working missions there wasn't room for that shit.

"I don't care." It doesn't matter if she loved someone other than him, they were still together. Another bedmate, another partner... they still had each other at the end of the day, and that was the only part he cared about. "You love him," he said again, more gentle than before. Gentle was never something he'd been good at, but it felt like what the situation needed so he tried.

Natasha swallowed. "Love is for children." And she'd never thought she had enough innocence to make it work. She didn't seem to realize that there was more to it than that. Oh when dealing with other people, she knew, but when it came to herself, it's like she forgot all the facts, all the statistics, all the reasons people behaved the way they did-- why she behaved the way she did. He understood it all too well, but that didn't mean he knew how to help.

"Is that what we had?" he mused. "Love?" Like jealousy, they hadn't worked in terms of 'love', but that was a different time for them. Already, he was settling into old patterns. He didn't quite remember why or what those patterns were, but he could feel himself sinking into them.

"Had?"

Bucky shrugged. "Have. You can't tell me you know what we're doing."

"We're... existing."

"Then why would I have a problem with you 'existing' with Tony too?"

"You're not jealous," she snorted.

That didn't even require a response; of course he wasn't. "That's my point."

She looked at him for a long moment, then shook her head.

He didn't bring it up again. Not later that night, not the next day, not the next week, and not at any point in the next month when they stayed at the Tower without really meaning to. It's just that leaving would mean having to figure out what-- if anything-- they wanted to do other than clean up after Shield. Staying meant Natasha could go about her life almost as if nothing had changed, and Bucky was able to catch up with Steve and work out the stupid amount of energy he had; staying on ice and being half starved meant he was never restless, but Tony kept insisting that he eat until he was full and this was the result-- fuck Tony.

So when Bucky finally got an official answer from Natasha, it was over a month after he asked. Bucky was sharpening knives in the living room, all of them spread out on the carpet next to him on the ground. She sat on the couch behind him and said, "You're right."

Of course, he had no fucking idea what that meant, because they hadn't been talking about anything this could apply to today. "About?"

"Tony."

Unfortunately, that didn't clear it up for him. He said a lot about Tony, and he already knew he was right about all of it.

They sat in silence for a minute before she elaborated. "How I feel about him."

"Yeah." A month wasn't that long for an admission. Tony might disagree if they ever got around to telling him, but he was what, forty? Natasha was twice that, and Bucky was maybe older, depending on how you calculated it.

"You like him too."

"Course I do, I already told you that."

"You said it was a crush," she said, and the implication hung heavy in the air. It had only been a crush when he said it, because he was Tony fucking Stark, and he was Iron Man, and he was gorgeous, and he'd seen shit but still grinned every day like it didn't matter. Tony made everything easy but let you pretend it wasn't, and Bucky fell for him in the same way. Cause honestly, who the hell saw the Winter Soldier and decided they could force him to go to a carnival just to hold all the prizes they won? Tony, that's fucking who. Not that Bucky had gone alone, he'd dragged Natasha along, ostensibly so he wasn't suffering by himself but she'd definitely known better and Tony probably had too.

The slight tightness in his chest was completely irrational; Natasha already knew what it had become, and she was just as okay with it as Bucky was with her own feelings. It was a conditioned response to admitting anything he cared about though, so he swallowed past it and said, "Was."

"Are we telling him?"

The knife made a clear sound against the stone as he slid it along the edge. "Why bother?"

"He... might be interested."

Bucky hummed noncommittally. It's not that he thought she was wrong, but he didn't think it would go anywhere good. Tony was... different. He wasn't like them. He was a hero, they were ex-Soviet assassins that did good things mostly by accident-- well, he did, Natasha actually tried. And if he was interested and they did end up with it going towards a future together, Tony was still going to end up dead long before both of them. That wasn't something he wanted to get caught up in. It just... wouldn't be worth it. Tony was worth a whole goddamn lot, but Bucky didn't want to invite that kinda heartbreak.

Sometimes it felt like Natasha could read his mind, because she leaned forward, hair swishing against his ear and pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "You-" another kiss, this time to his cheek "-are so-" a kiss to his jaw "-stupid."

"Thanks?"

"If you don't have a good reason, we're telling him."

"And if I say it makes me uncomfortable?"

She kissed his cheek again before leaning back to her former position. "I would say you're lying and that means I don't have to listen to you. So don't try that."

"Could I say anything to stop this?"

Natasha curled a hand up his next to tangle her fingers in his hair. She scratched lightly at his scalp, and he stopped trying to sharpen his knives to enjoy it. "I'm not trying to force you into this. But I thought it was something we both wanted. I've seen the way you look at him, and there's no reason he wouldn't fit between us."

"Don't say it like that or he'll think you mean sex."

"Is that a yes?"

"You know it is."

Natasha hummed. "I suppose we'll have to plan how to ask him."

He picked his hands back up and went back to work. "You're overthinking it. We ask him to dinner as a date, and that's our answer."

"Tony, would you like to go to Geraldi's tonight?" Natasha asked. Tony was hunched over the shop's table working, Bucky was working on one of his cars, and Natasha was stacking the items in the fridge until Bucky wanted help.

"Sure."

"As a date?"

Tony's head popped up, frowning. He looked at her, then Bucky, then back to her. "Uh. Did I miss something?"

"Not as far as I know," Bucky said from where he was putting a muffler together.

"Okay," Tony said slowly.

"Great! We'll leave here at seven."

Tony opened his mouth to say that that's not what he'd meant, but he closed it a moment later, frowning. "Seven, got it." He'd figure out what was going on later. For now, he was going to finish what he was doing. As for later, he was going to enjoy dinner when it happened because he fucking loved Geraldi's, and he wasn't going to let the impossibility of it being a date ruin the food.

Bucky said something, but it was in Russian, and all Tony knew in Russian was 'more vodka' and 'take me home'; it hadn't really been a problem until now. "That wasn't very clear."

"It was clear enough."

Bucky snorted, and Tony looked over in worry. "Not you, doll. Tricking him into saying yes does not count."

Natasha scowled at him. "I'll make it clear over dinner."

"I thought we didn't want him to misunderstand. He'll think that's sex."

Her scowl deepened.

"Is something wrong?" Tony asked, concerned.

"No," they said together.

That did not make him feel better. He sighed and went back to what he was doing. It wasn't exactly soothing, but it was something to do other than worrying about whatever the hell they were talking about.

Tony drifted off to sleep, and Natasha looked over to see Bucky glaring at her.

"What?" she hissed.

"You said he wouldn't misunderstand," Bucky accused. Quietly, of course, because he didn't want to wake Tony up.

"And he didn't!"

"You're not supposed to have sex on the first date, even I know that."

"Don't be so judgmental, lots of people do that. And we've known him for a while, so it's hardly a first meeting. We went on a date and then we came home and had sex, that's a perfectly reasonable first date when we've been friends for so long!"

Bucky's glare deepened. "Wait and see, tomorrow he'll wake up and try to sneak off."

"No he won't."

"He will. He thinks it was a one night affair, you don't stick around after those."

"We're in his bed!"

"And that won't stop him!"

They stopped having a whispered argument over his body as they switched to just glaring at each other over his body. If he woke up right now, he would get quite the view.

"Go to sleep, Yasha."

"We fucked this up," Bucky grumbled.

"If he tries to leave, lay on top of him."

"What? Why can't you do it?"

"You way a hundred pounds more. Don't be a baby," she said, then laid down so Bucky couldn't argue with her further.

"Hmph." He laid down, curling into Tony's warmth. It was easier to do with Natasha since she knew he wanted that and could accommodate it, but after curving in as much as he could without achieving his goal, he hoped Tony wouldn't mind if Bucky rearranged him a little. Pick up an arm, slide under it, wiggle a leg between his, and Bucky finally felt situated enough to relax.

Unsurprisingly, he was right, and he gave a pointed look to Natasha-- that she rolled her eyes at-- before dragging Tony back down onto the bed. "Where ya goin'," he mumbled.

"Uh," Tony blanked at first, clearly not having expected to be caught, "the 'shop? I've got a couple projects I need to work on-"

"Liar," Natasha muttered. Her voice was low, but still loud enough that Tony could definitely hear. "You were running away for no reason."

"Oh there's a reason, and I think it's pretty obvious what that is. So if you'll just," Tony trailed off, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge Bucky's arm around his waist.

"As the one that got us into this mess Natasha, you have t' fix it." Plus he was tired and words were hard to form. He could totally kill someone right now, but have a heart to heart? That was beyond what he could do this close to waking up.

"If 'fix it' is code for kill me, you really really don't Natasha. We're friends, aren't we? You wouldn't kill one of your friends." Tony's voice was half joking half panicked.

"What the idiot means is that last night was a date. As a precursor to other dates until you're comfortable with letting us call you our partner."

Tony blinked. "What."

"Like dating one person, only instead of one person, there's two of us."

Bucky snorted. "Eloquent."

"If you're not going to do better, shut it."

"Three person relationship instead of two?" he offered, then yawned.

"This isn't a joke, right?" Tony asked. "Cause if it is, it's mean and you should confess right now before I get it into my head that this is actually happening."

"It's happenin' now will you go back to sleep?" Bucky grumbled. He only wanted one more hour, that wasn't so much to ask in his opinion.

"What Bucky means is that no, it's not a joke. It's a serious offer, and you can think about it for as long as you want. If that includes some time alone right now, you can take it. If not, then pull the covers back up because it's getting cold."

Tony did nothing for a long moment, then pulled the blanket up. "You are two very confusing people." Another pause. "I feel like I'm going to regret this, but not as much as you fuckers will."

Natasha smothered her laugh, then spread her hand over Tony's chest. "Noted."

"You can't make me regret anything more than I already do," Bucky claimed, yawning again.

"I was making a joke, and you just break my heart," Tony said.

"I'll try not to."

#marvel #fanfic #winterironwidow #tony stark #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #my writing

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