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theguyinthemathexamples · 6 months ago

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Guns and... Aeons?

May Aventurine grant his luck upon everyone's Boothill pulls!!!

— C/W : spoilers?, set at the end of the 2.2 quest, boothill is boothill ft. argenti, i forgot what his lore is so take anything i say with a grain of salt, LOTS of yapping, guns and roses sneak, very self-indulgent :3

Boothill never really had much faith in Aeons, much less worshipped any. He already lost it all when he gained the information, that darned rain of fire that destroyed everything, was deployed by a zealot.

Don't get him wrong, he still knew they existed. But he internally wished that maybe, if any Aeon took pity on him on that day, maybe he could have changed the outcome of it all.

Well, that was all in the past now. He'd be a rusted out piece of metal by now if he let himself wallow in bygone events.

A low sigh didn't fail to make itself known, inadvertently catching the attention of the knight just at the other end of the room. Boothill even forgot he was there due to how quiet he was.

"A rose for your thoughts, friend?" The knight inquired, sitting at the other end of the couch. He nearly jumped at the sudden question but was just as quick to regain his composure.

"Nothin' much, just thinkin' and all," he replied, only tilting his head to look at this eccentric friend of his.

Ironic that Argenti was a man quite devoted to an Aeon, especially to a long deceased one, when Boothill was borderline detesting a good amount of them.

"This dadgum pull I've been feelin'... D'you know somethin' about it, knight?"

It was something he'd been feeling for a while now but it's been getting stronger as of late. And the voices... He'll leave those out till Argenti mentions something about it.

To put it frankly, he was worried. Quite more so if nothing else.

"Does it make you feel like wanting to visit the Astral Express, friend?" Argenti inquired shortly after,

Boothill simply nodded, curious as to how this Knight of Beauty knew of such. Sensing his curiosity, said knight certainly wouldn't mind going into the further details.

In fact, he was more than enthusiastic to do so.

"As Idrila's reason to have ascended into Aeonhood, it is only natural that I give high praises to the Aeon of Creation for such magnificence— that THEIR creations have inspired my Goddess to reach THEIR most pinnacle potential."

If this was how he talked about his Aeon and this... well, other Aeon, the two would be here till his batteries run out. And he was just about done recharging to full a few hours ago.

It wasn't till a good amount of minutes into the topic that Boothill kinda got a little impatient. No offense to Argenti, of course.

"And it wasn't till recently that their wondrous consciousness graced the unive—"

"Alright, alright, I get it, knight. Don't mean to offend ya, but can ya get straight to why I felt the pull earlier?" Boothill interjected, looking straight at his companion,

He swore that the way this man shone brightened up even more.

"My apologies if I overwhelmed you, dear friend," Argenti said, giving the cowboy an apologetic bow while he was sitting.

"Simply put, this pull you feel is but the manifestations of the Aeon of Creation! Perhaps your brilliant self captured THEIR attention when you were conversing with the Trailblazer," he continued, yapping up another storm as Boothill thought to himself.

"Seriously? This ol' hunk of metal? Catchin' an Aeon's attention? Colour me fudgin' surprised."

"Ah, this is certainly a moment worth celebrating, don't you think so, friend?" Argenti's voice spoke out, bringing his attention back to the knight.

Yet, before this interstellar cyborg cowboy could even agree or otherwise, a black envelope materialized in front of him, the edges lined with red and gold designs.

One surprise after another, huh?

The knight was quick to encourage him to open it up, taking out a letter opener from who knows where. Well now he's starting to get excited.

A golden Star Rail Pass was the first to get taken out of it, its colour shining in the midst of the room's lights. Next was a neatly folded paper that was probably penned by the Astral Express' Conductor. (Somehow; I mean, look at their itty bitty hands) It reads as follows:

—————————✧—————————

Hello, future Astral Express member, Boothill! This letter has been written by Pom-pom to formally invite you to join the Trailblaze.

By all means, this doesn't mean that you should abandon your faith for any Aeon(s) you may believe in, so long as it doesn't prohibit the other members of the Astral Express from going about their days.

As you may have guessed, yes, the golden ticket provided inside is a very formal way for Pom-pom to ask you to join us, as well as a sign that the Aeon of Creation has taken a liking to you!

To compensate for any forms of distress or trouble their consciousness has caused you, the Astral Express will be willing to offer a living space, electricity, wifi, food, water(gasoline?), as well as any other necessities and wants you may have.

Though if you truly want to seek trouble with the IPC, as the Aeon commented, please leave the Astral Express out of association for any crime you may commit in the future.

If you're ready to take on this journey with the Nameless, as well as many others, please use the ticket once the thought of doing so so much as suggests the notion.

• P.S. : Unfortunately, you don't have much time to mull it over, much less get another letter in this envelope to choose who to cover for you instead.

• The Aeon of Creation awaits your presence. •

—————————✧—————————

As Argenti finished reading the letter aloud, the expectant lilt on his face that he looks at Boothill with catches his attention the most.

"I nearly forgot to mention, dear friend, as a faithful believer of this Aeon, one can assure you that THEY don't mean any harm," he spoke, a smile gracing his lips as he continued. "The blessings THEY give to ones that they favour are quite abundant, and your captivating self truly made its impact on THEM."

"Even THEY couldn't help but praise you endlessly for your courage and demeanor!" Argenti proclaimed, almost making the cowboy in front of him want to tune him out again. ... That last part was a lie.

With a reluctant sigh, finally agreeing with the knight, the golden Star Rail Pass and the envelope in hand, Boothill stood up from his seat and went over to exit his friend's ship— to which Argenti quickly stopped him, hand outstretched for him.

"Need me to lead you there, friend?" He asks, head tilting to his left as his eyes brightened up with that usual glow.

"... Yeah, sure. Ya won't stop botherin' this ol' piece of metal to give ya updates if I said otherwise," Boothill laughed at the end of his reply, taking the knight's hand and letting him lead the way.

Maybe making a decision with a third party beside him won't be so bad.

Note : ong this took WAY TOO LONGGGGG TO MAKEEEEEEE 😭😭

My most sincere apologies to anyone whose patience ran out while waiting for this fic to come out 💔

BUT IT'S OUT NOW SO REJOICE EVERYONE ‼️‼️

Anyways, have a lovely day to all of you !! (disappears for another month)

And yes dw my interp of sahsr/sahsrau will come out maybe around late june once my recognition finally comes to pass

#sparkling wheat ♪#suspiciously shiny mint chocolate ♪#silver lined strawberries ♪#honkai star rail #hsr #sahsrau #sahsr #hsr argenti #hsr boothill #honkai star rail boothill #honkai star rail argenti #this took way longer to make than it should have 💀

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writingchalamet · 4 months ago

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Angels Like You

This is part 1 of my new Bucky series, taking place just after FATWS, Sam and Bucky are visiting Sarah when they meet her neighbour Y/n, who happens to catch Bucky's eye, the rest you'll have to find out...

Slow burn, eventual smut.

2.4k words

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, mentions of graphic physical abuse, fluff, y/n has a child

Please do not read if you find these topics upsetting or triggering, my inbox is always open for any messages 🧡

Chapter 1

Bucky's ears tingled with the sound of Cass and Aj's voices echoing through the house as they played, along with the clatter of feet smacking against the wood floors and laughter. A smile crept its way to Bucky's face as himself and Sam walked down the drive to Sarah's house, upon hearing the chaos that ensued inside. The sun beamed down in golden streams lighting the path towards the house, that's when he saw her, sitting on the front lawn with Sarah, smile on her face, eyes gleaming and laughing along with something Sarah had said to her. He felt it instantly in his chest, his heart stopped for a minute.

"You okay, Cyborg?" Sam nudged his vibranium arm arching his brow in question. "Yeah, yeah sorry, thought I forgot my keys but we're good" Sam side eyed him but continued down the path to the house.

"Sam! Bucky! Hey! Kids your uncle Sam is here!" Sarah called out to the boys, rising from her seated position from the floor, her unknown companion says something about drinks and heads inside, not before turning her head and nodding towards the two men. "Hey baby sis" Sam engulfs her in a hug as the pair reach, her reply about not being a baby is muffled by Sam's chest which gains a laugh from Bucky. "How are you guys doing?" Bucky asks as they split, nodding his head towards the house.

"You know, we're good, busy as ever, the kids miss their uncle though" she nudges Sam. "Hey, not just anyone can be Captain America, think of the street cred those kids will get" Sarah and Bucky both roll their eyes scoffing in unison. "Anyway I have a question, who was your hot friend that was sitting with you?" Sam wiggled his eyebrows smirking looking back towards the house, where you could be seen in the kitchen window making a pitcher of lemonade.

"Sam! That's my friend Y/n, she lives next door, and she has a bakery in town" She sighed as she answered knowing she couldn't avoid the question. "Yeah, yeah okay, but is she single" Sam enquired rather pointedly. "Not for you, she's not, stay away Sam! I'm serious she got out of a real bad relationship and she doesn't want to date!" Bucky couldn't help but feel his own heart break a bit, he didn't know what was wrong with him, he hadn't even met you. Just as Sam was about respond, no doubt some witty comment about being the hero to sweep you off your feet, the sound of the front door opening interrupted them, Cass and AJ came out carrying a pitcher and glasses placing them on the outdoor table before pouncing towards their uncle and his friend. But Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off the front door as you emerged with a little boy attached to your hip, he pointed at the sky and muttered something as your pointed back a smile adorning your face as you approached the group.

"Hey" you breathed out as you reached everyone, standing next to Bucky, you couldn't help but feel judged as you felt his strong gaze unwavering on you and your son. You didn't know much about Bucky, just what Sarah had told you, the former Winter Solder turned good guy, born in 1917, Hydra captive then the Wakandans broke his trigger words or something like that. But why was he staring at you, was it because there was no apparent ring on your ring finger and you had a baby, you knew he was from a different time but surely he didn't think so outdated. "Hi, I'm Bucky" he extends his had to you, you shake it nervously, unwrapping one arm from your child to do so. "Y/n".

"Hi I'm Sam, and who's this little guy?" Sam gives you a wave, then tilts his head smiling at the boy in your arms, who buries his head in your chest at the sudden attention. "Oh this is Forrest, you gonna say hi baby" you tickle the babies belly erupting the sweetest giggle from him as he nuzzles further into your chest, "sorry he's shy around new people" you smile stroking his curls away from his eyes. "Aw just like you Bucky" Sam laughs which earns him a smack from Sarah. "How old is he" Bucky asks quietly, still not looking away from you, "He's one and half" this time you speak directly to Bucky turning more and meeting his eyes, it's then you realise the soft smile he wears across his face as he looks rather intently at you.

As you turn towards him, Bucky takes notice of your face, committing it to memory, he notes every line, freckle, the way your smile curves, the slight indentations in your cheeks as you do, the way your nose crinkles as you look at your son, how your eyes seem to brighten when you talk about him, then he notices a small scar on the side of your face above your eyebrow, how the jagged little line fades into the skin. He spots another faded scar like it on your hand as you continue to brush back the babes hair away from his face. Forrest points up to the sky and excitedly squeaks "bird" as one flies overhead. Bucky again couldn't help but make another mental note, this time of the way the baby who very much resembled his mother, and how his little face lit up at the sight.

"Oh well done Forrest, bird!" Sarah came forwards enthusiastically clapping her hands pointing to the sky. "Bird! Bird! brr brrr brrr-" Forrest continued to babble away to himself, pointing to the sky at the birds. "Bird was his first word, that's pretty much all he says besides mama and bye, he loves birds" you laugh bouncing him on your hip. "Oh Sam he'd love you in your bird costume!" Sarah jokes, Sam however who's eyes seem to pop out of their sockets at the comment does not find it funny, while Bucky laughs. "Costume! it's a suit, a suit that saves the world I'll have you know! bird costume.." he tuts kissing his teeth.

"Well I think your bird costume is cool uncle Sam" AJ pipes in. "Me too" Cass adds though is overlapped by a heavily frustrated Sam "-it's not a bird costume!! you know what, next time any of you guys need saving I'm leaving y'all to fend for yourselves. pfft bird costu-" his rant was cut short by Sarah "Well that's not true and you know it, you love me big brother, kids get in on this" Sam is soon bundled to the floor by Sarah and the kids piling on top of him all of them laughing harmoniously.

"Okay as much as I want to stay I have to get this little angel down for his nap, so I'll head back to mine, thanks for letting us play guys" You shout at the group hearing a faint 'okay love you' from Sarah under all the laughing. You turn to Bucky and smile, "It was nice to meet you Bucky, maybe see you again sometime" this time you extend your hand to him which he took in a heartbeat. Smoothing his thumb over the soft skin as he stands a little taller nodding. "Yeah it was great meeting you guys, bye Forrest" he turns his attention towards the tired toddler in your arms who sleepily lifts his hand giving Bucky a small wave goodbye, making the old mans heart skip a few beats. "Bye Bucky" you gently let your hand slip from his holding eye contact with him for just a few more seconds before daring to tare yourself away.

As you carry yourself down the driveway, one thing you were certain of. Bucky had made your heart melt in just a few small moments.

Bucky and Sam had been staying with Sarah for two nights now. The pair of them loving the 'uncle duties' as Sam liked to call it, playing with the kids while Sarah worked, showing them how to fly Redwing and dangling off Uncle Bucky trying to take him to the ground. Buck wouldn't admit it, but he secretly loved how the kids had taken to him so quickly. the thought of being a part of a family especially one with kids seemed so far out of reach, so he appreciated Sam for letting him join his. However, he did feel a tinge of disappointment over the fact that you had not been over to visit since the first day they had arrived. Sure, he had caught a glance of you cooking in your own kitchen window when they were on their way out yesterday afternoon, and sure you heard a commotion through your open window looking up in an instant hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain blue eyed beauty, eyes meeting for only a second before you had to tear them away to check your toddler wasn’t playing with knives or anything. Bucky again felt the small pang of rejection in his chest as you looked away just as quickly as you looked at him.

Over dinner that evening Bucky was surprised it was Sam that brought you up as a topic of conversation clearly reading the signals that he had wanted to know more about you without seeming nosy. “So, your friend Y/n” Sam suggested the topic after swallowing a mouthful of beer, finding the confidence, Bucky instantly perked up, waiting to see what Sarah would say. She only tilted her head to the side cocking an eyebrow. “What about her Sam” there was a brief pause, Sam looked between Sarah and Bucky, “You know, what’s her deal” he took another swig of his drink feeling slightly under pressure. The man could fight evil and not break a sweat but ask his sister a challenging question and the boy would crack. “Her deal is none of your business Sam” Sarah stated matter of factly. “Oh, common Sarah, we’re just curious” Sarah huffs and sits back in her seat looking between the two men. Bucky gives her a subtle nod letting her know it’s okay.

“If either of you say anything to her, I will beat you both senseless, got it!” she points across the table at both the men sitting next to each other. Bucky and Sam raise their hands in unison, the sight quite comical for Sarah.

“I told you she got out of a bad relationship, but I didn’t say how bad. She moved from Wyoming to get away from him, she was with him for years, he’d keep her locked in the house, put her in the hospital god knows how many times, but she was too terrified to press charges against him. Then she got pregnant and it got worse, she told me he said he was gonna kill her and the baby and she finally left while he was at work one day, got in the car and drove for a day straight until she got here, she didn’t know anyone, she was living out of her car, I let her stay at mine when I met her and found out what happened and got her in contact with her family again and they helped her buy her house and open her store, she used to have a café back in Wyoming before she met Matt, but he made her sell it, asshole. But anyway she has a restraining order against him but he keeps showing up here, we don’t know how he found out she lives down here, but he keeps coming and waiting for her outside her shop across the street and just stares at her, we don’t know if he lives in town now or if he just travels here to shake her down then goes back, but the guy is nuts.” Sarah’s chest felt heavy as she released the intel on her best friend, she couldn’t read the faces of her brother and Bucky, something distinguishable between disgust and regret of asking on Sams face but Bucky she could practically hear the gears turning in his Vibranium arm as he clenched his fist, nostrils flared and jaw tight, the man looked ready to fight.

“Have you guys not called the police about harassment” Bucky all but snarled. “Yeah, but they said they can’t do anything as he has never breached his restraining order, he’s not allowed within one hundred feet of her or Forrest and no contact is to be made, and so far he’s not done that, he’s never even met Forrest, I don’t think he’s ever seen him, he just sits on a wall in town opposite her shop, and the police say that’s not harmful and no means for arrest, or some shit like that I don’t know.” Sarah shook her head again at the thought.

“That’s bullshit” Bucky’s hand hit into the table with force causing the drinks to knock over and spill. Sarah let out a little yelp at the sudden boom of his voice. “Ah sorry” already picking up the classes and reaching for napkins and cleaning the mess. “Maybe we could hire her a bodyguard? What about Torres, I bet he’d love it!” Sam piped up again nodding to Bucky with a grin on his face. “She doesn’t need a baby sitter, what she needs is the police to do their job and arrest the creep who threatened her and her sons life multiple times but is still somehow walking around scott free” Sarah’s words seem to hit a nerve with Bucky, as he rises from the table storming towards the exit.

The thought of you in danger kept Bucky awake all night, not that he ever got much sleep anyway, but you and Forrest were keeping him up more than usual and he found it near maddening. Deciding to take things into his own hands the next day, he asked Sarah if you would be home, after finding out you would be in your Bakery he was very excited to pay you a visit, though that excitement soon turned to dread at the sight of a man having you pressed against the wall with his hands around your neck, while screaming in your face through the window of your shop. Matt had picked the wrong day to break his restraining order, and Bucky sure was happy of his saviour complex.

#bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky x you #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #imagines #bucky series #sebastian stan #bucky fluff #angst

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realititrip · 2 years ago

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my Red Error AU for @dpauzine :D You can also check out the full zine here

The story in this AU follows Valerie after getting suit upgrade from Technus. Of course it's more than that and things start getting out of hand pretty quickly.

First it was the little things, barely noticable, but still there like studying becoming easier or her reaction time to attacks being faster. Valerie brushed it off.

This was going on for around 2 weeks without change until Phantom approached her after a fight where they had to team up to take down a more dangerous ghost. "Um Red? Your eyes glowed red for a second there and i wanted to ask if you were okay?" he said but Val just snaped at him to better mind his own business or else he'll be the one in her thermos next time she sees him. Phantom flew away then but the worry she saw in his eyes was stuck in her brain.

Valerie spent the rest of that night staring at the mirror in her bathroom looking for the red glow but never found it. Until a few days later when she woke up with sore eyes. Went to the mirror and saw red around the edges. It's fine it's FINE don't panic you'll figure it out girl.

After some thinking she figured new suit must be the source of the problem. Since it was fused with her body Val couldn't take it off, but it wasn't causing harm to anyone so she probably overused it or something that's why the red showed up.

And oh honey, you couldn't be more wrong.

Her vision changed. Those are definitely NOT the same eyes she had last week. The iris looks more mechanical, like there's something moving and shifting in it, like a robot or cyborgs, she thought. Everything is clearer, in higher quality, she can even zoom in and out if she so desieres. When she puts the suit on there's just /more/ of everything. Around the edges of her vision Valerie can see health statistics, ghosts in the area and other important information she needs. The familiar green eyes are gone, replaced with red.

The next change was her hair. Problem was they didn't look like hair anymore. Thick and think cables, any kind, running down her back. This really started freaking her out. This is where it started becoming too much and the situation she's in started sinking in. She needed help. But who even could do anything about it? Her dad would just worry even more, Phantom isn't an option, the best tech guy in town doesn't know she's Red Huntress and she's not going to change that.

So Valerie made a plan to wait for Technus to show up and catch him before Phantom. It surprised her the ghost was actually useful and explained what he could. Of course there was the threat that she'll destroy Technus if he won't but. Details.

Apparently her "hair" could be used to connect with any sort of device. She needs camera footage to check out ghost fight details? done. Wes talking about his phone freaking out because of ghost pictures? she can get that easily. The cables act like another pair of arms and do exactly what she wants.

Technus has a theory that the reason behind all of this was because he used too much of his powers on her. Since it was more than a normal human body could handle thus the changes.

He warned that there's a possibility she'll develop something similar to a ghosts core, the thing that stores all her power, the source of it. Since she's still human, Valerie thought it wouldn't happen, but fate seems to hate her, so here we are, with a triangle on her forehead that seems to be slowly growing in size every day. Honestly, it's not so bad, pretty easy to hide. The worst part about it is that if the core got damaged she must go to Technus for help.

But other than that, she's fine, for real this time.

#my art #danny phantom #danny phantom au #danny phantom zine #red error au #reality trip zine #dpauzine #valerie gray

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suzukiblu · 7 months ago

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WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; a pocketful of Kons. ( chrono || non-chrono )

“Uh,” Tim says, staring at the Batcomputer’s main monitor and trying not to look freaked out. “Is that . . . ?”

Stud scowls at the monitor and the picture of the man wearing a red cape and . . . most of Superman’s face displayed on it.

Well. Some of Superman’s face, anyway.

“No one knows who he is,” Bruce says. “He appeared three hours ago in Metropolis claiming to be Superman.”

“The costume doesn’t match,” Dick says, glancing at Stud. “And, you know, the cyborg parts definitely don’t match.”

“Pockets reflect the self-image of their owners,” Bruce reminds him neutrally. “Assistive devices and prosthetics don’t always translate. Especially newer ones.”

Red looks unimpressed. Dick grimaces a little.

“I mean, if he is Superman, they would be pretty recent . . .” he says, then trails off with another grimace.

“I guess,” Tim says, trying not to grimace himself. “But he doesn’t have Laney, does he?”

“Or a Robin,” Dick puts in.

“We don’t know when he last slept or if he might be concealing a Pocket somewhere,” Bruce says, looking back to the screen. “And either way, more minor incidents than being beaten to death have damaged Pockets’ connections to their origin points and soulmates.”

Tim really, really hopes Stud came from Supergirl. Even if she accidentally dated Lex Luthor for a while or whatever. That is just way, way preferable a thing to deal with right now. He doesn’t know who this cyborg version of Superman is, but the guy gives him the creeps. Like–just something about him looks wrong.

Maybe he’s just being an asshole with unconscious biases and it’s all the prosthetics and machinery throwing him off, he half-hopes. It might just be that. He could get over that. Adjust. Work on himself a little and figure it out.

He’s never felt unsettled like this looking at Cyborg, though, and he’s seen him plenty of times. He and Dick work together all the time.

So it’s kind of hard to blame the prosthetics and machinery, considering.

“Okay, fair,” Dick allows, wincing a little. “You really think he could hide a Pocket, though? It’s not like you can get that far from them.”

“He has at least two limbs that are fully or almost fully prosthetic and half his torso and head are metal, and we have no idea what’s actually contained in any of those parts,” Tim points out, scanning the accompanying footage on the opposite side of the screen of the man in action. “He could hide a Pocket in a compartment built into his body no problem. Especially, uh–a smaller one.”

Superman never hid Laney before, just dressed her up in a simple little costume of her own, but if this is Superman . . . well, dying can change a lot of things.

But if Lois Lane hasn’t reported Smallville returning to the Justice League . . .

Then again, they don’t know when she last slept either. Pockets only turn up when their owners sleep, one way or the other, and all of human history hasn’t managed to catch one appearing. Cameras short out or blip or just don’t record anything, witnesses get distracted or drift off, and nothing ever gets figured out.

And a Pocket his size would be . . . well. Not that hard to conceal, probably.

Tim can’t imagine a Pocket of himself wouldn’t understand that request, if whoever this is or isn’t made it of him. He’s very intimately familiar with the need for secrets.

If this is his soulmate, though . . .

He really doesn’t know what to think of that idea.

“Two-day go-bags,” Bruce orders shortly, never taking his eyes off the footage on the screen. “Reconvene in twenty.”

Tim glances at Dick; Dick glances back at him.

“On it,” they both say, and take off.

Neither bothers asking where they’re going.

Stud flies after Tim, grumbling to himself in Pocket-talk, but Tim knows as much about what he’s saying as he does about where they’re all about to end up.

Cassie stares down at her phone in confusion, and Cas peers at the screen from his seat on her shoulder. There’s a jerky, erratically-filmed livestream playing on it on her Twitter feed, and that’s . . . Superman?

There’s footage of Superman on Twitter, she means. Live footage. He looks a little different–there’s black in his costume, and his hair is short and slicked back, and he’s wearing a visor–but he’s definitely Superman, big red cape and all.

At least–she thinks he is.

His face is kind of . . .

There’s something . . . empty in his face.

Cassie resists the weird urge to hide Cas from the sight of him, because–well, that’s him, isn’t it? That’s who he came from. The costume doesn’t exactly match, but it’s got black in it too, and they’ve both got the S-shield and cape. And . . .

Well. It has to be him, doesn’t it?

Who else could it be?

The comments are all losing their minds about the footage, and Cassie feels uneasy watching it. The look on Superman’s face is just . . . it’s just really . . .

She knew Superman was coming back, obviously. She’s got Cas, after all, so it’s not like it’s a surprise to see him. The only surprising thing is that Cas showed up before he did.

So she doesn’t know why she feels . . . off, kind of, seeing Superman alive and well. She’d expect to be nervous or anxious, maybe, but not . . .

She’s unsettled, she thinks. It’s–unsettled.

Yeah.

That’s . . . weird.

Superman darts out of the camera’s view in a blur of speed, and Cassie hears something explode in the distance. Whoever’s recording shrieks, and so do a few people around them.

Cas leans further over her shoulder with a frown.

“Cassie?” a voice calls from downstairs, and Cassie instinctively bristles and tightens her grip on her phone. It’s her mom. “Diana’s back!”

. . . fine. That’s–whatever.

Fine.

#lottie #wip: a pocketful of kons

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darsynia · 2 years ago

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I'm gonna let you pick the Marvel man (just not anyone you've done xReader for, lol - you gotta pick someone out of your comfort zone) and do xReader for: 80. crashing your lips together during an argument

I definitely wrote out of my comfort zone here! Peter Quill/f!Reader

Summary: Ever since Peter Quill and his crew rescued you from your dying ship, the man has been an absolute menace. You wish you could get the upper hand, but somehow he's always one step ahead of you, and ogling you the whole time.

Warnings | Length: Swearing/GotG typical banter | 1,574

Bet Your Ass

“What is your problem, Quill? By the Gods!”

The guy’s been chapping your ass since you were rescued, and you’re completely over it. Sure, he’s got arms, and that face, and those thighs, but by Lumesta, you’re going to need him to shut his mouth pretty soon or you don’t know what you’ll do! It’s been three days, and every time he’s laid eyes on you, he’s made a comment about how he would have rather rescued one of your crewmates.

Your ship had sustained the most unlucky micrometeorite damage ever, and you know you’re lucky to be alive. Two ships showed up to your captain’s distress call, and your three-man crew split up, as the medical ship the other two ended up on was almost at capacity as it was.

To hear Quill bitch about it, he’s brought on a completely useless slave girl, not a mechanic who’s already upped the efficiency of his weird little ship by 4%. It’s all ‘what use does a medical ship have with two renowned fighters’ and ‘we always get stuck with the girls.’ The blue-skinned cyborg woman whose name you struggle with had actually punched him after that one.

Drax has been leaning up against the wall, and after you turn away from snapping at Peter, he nods at you. “He likes your boobs.”

“Oh, here we go!” Quill groans, throwing a food wrapper toward the garbage can. It comes nowhere close.

“I am Groot.”

“I’m getting it, I’m getting it!”

“I am Groot.”

You don’t understand what Groot says, but everyone else does. It’s a disadvantage, but an amusing one, usually. This time, it’s clear the two statements are about very different things-- Quill has straightened in the process of picking up the garbage (which is a shame, because those pants of his hug that ass), so he can look askance at the teenaged tree.

“I am not dignifying that with a response,” he snaps back. “I mean, if we’re going to nitpick, the neckline of her shirt is a little low, but just because it’s eye-catching doesn’t mean--”

You cannot believe this. “Wait, so we went from Drax saying you like my boobs to you objecting to them?”

“Hey! I do not objectify. I’m very respectful!”

“You’re looking at her boobs right now,” Rocket says sardonically from the doorway.

“Weren’t you checking Cleavage Girl’s work? Scram, I’m trying to have an argument here,” Peter says loudly. He actually makes a ‘shoo’ gesture.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling you Tight-ass from now on,” you say, crossing your arms over your breasts. You know from experience (as in, pretty much every time you do it) that Quill won’t be able to pull his eyes away.

You’ve made a calculated error, though. Up until now, you’ve left your appreciation of his physique to yourself, and now the man is laser focused on this discrepancy.

“I knew you were staring at me!” Quill crows, strutting over. “That’s why you’re all sulky sexy, you secretly want me, and it’s killing you!”

“I am GROOT.”

Drax points at Peter with the piece of fried food he’s eating. “He’s right. You’re accusing her of what you are doing.”

“Cleavage Girl is new, why are you all on her side??”

Groot shrugs. “I am groot.”

“Woah, speak for yourself!” Rocket yells, making a grossed-out face.

“He’s not wrong. I would enjoy watching them,” Drax smiles.

“Well, now I’m just horrified,” you say, shoving away images in your mind of what the others might be picturing between the two of you. You spin on your heel and start toward the door, but your forward progress is halted suddenly, like you’ve caught your jacket on something. You yank angrily, but though you get free of whatever it was, you only have a few seconds before you’re pinned boobs-first against the wall of the room, with the familiar bulk of Peter fucking Quill pressed up against you.

“Okay, I take it back. You definitely have muscles,” he says, lips close to your ear.

“Get off,” you say, but your heart rate is up, your skin tingling with the pheromone your people give off when you’re attracted to a potential mate.

“Oh, I’d love to. I didn’t think you were into me,” he says infuriatingly. You hadn’t realized the double meaning of what you’d just said, and you rest your forehead on the bulkhead in frustration.

“I’m not,” you lie, shoving back with your hips. You’ve got enough leverage on the wall that he flies back a ways, so you spin around, dropping to a fighting stance.

“Hey, hey, I’m just responding to the signals you’re giving off,” Peter says, but you can see something in his eye; respect, perhaps? Something has shifted since your display of physical dominance. He’s looking you in the eyes, not the boobs.

“You couldn’t handle me anyway,” you snap back without thinking. Instantly, Quill’s face suffuses with an interested grin, and his eyebrows go up lasciviously.

There’s a loud crinkling noise only feet away, as Drax dumps out the rest of his snack into his open mouth. “Go on, I’m not even here,” he says.

“I am Groot!”

“I do not need tips from you on how to get her to want to kiss me!” Peter shouts, clearly affronted.

“Oh, I’ll kiss you,” you say impulsively. “But you have to promise to always look at my face, not any other part of my body.” You cock your hip and arch your back in an overt challenge.

“What if I’m behind you?” he asks, crossing his own arms. The muscles on his exposed arms look so good you wouldn’t mind trying your teeth on them, for multiple reasons.

“If that happens, you have to turn around,” Rocket says. You’d thought he’d left the room, and so did Peter, because both of you look around until you see that he’s sitting faced away in the captain’s chair, which hides his whole body from behind.

“I am Groot.”

Everyone just looks at Groot, and Peter’s eyes go wide.

Their reactions freak you out. “What?”

He shakes his head.

“What?” you press, walking forward. Quill isn’t answering so you decide to remind him that you do, indeed, have strength he respects, even if it’s not your strength of character. You grab the front of his shirt, but his response is to fist pump.

“He said you want me and you’d prove it by coming over to drag me to my quarters… and--” Quill looks down at his own chest and smirks.

You let go right away and groan. “This ship is infuriating! I give up, I wish I went on the med ship, okay? You win!”

To your complete confusion, everyone, even the cyborg lady who was apparently eavesdropping from the hallway, walks in and shoves handfuls of credits at Quill, who looks incredibly smug.

“What the hell--” you start.

Groot walks over and pats your arm. “I am Groot.” Everyone else in the room starts leaving, and you’re still furious and confused.

“Quill--”

“I bet them I could get you to say you wished you were somewhere else,” he shrugged. “Easiest bet ever. All I had to do was stare at your body and be myself.”

All things considered, the man could have chosen far more miserable ways to win his bet, but you’re still het up and irritated. “Technically I won that bet for you. You should split it with me.”

“No can do, Cleavage Girl.” He folds his hands behind his back, bulging his arm muscles at you.

You step forward to shove him onto his ass, but his arms come down lightning fast, one leg planted behind him to brace himself: he’d known you would do that, and now his lips are on yours, one hand cupping your cheek like you are lovers instead of two people who can barely stand to be in the same room together.

The thrill of contact takes you by surprise. It’s like adrenaline has chemically altered into pleasure with the addition of your anger, and suddenly you can’t get enough. The two of you wrestle across the room to the nearest wall, hands grasping at clothing, lips sucking, teeth biting, tongues swiping as if unable to trust the evidence of your attraction for longer than a few seconds.

Minutes later, he’s tracing the line of your shirt along the edge of your breasts when you finally catch your breath, and you realize what you have to do to best him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your kiss privileges are hereby revoked.”

“What? No!” Peter groans, lifting his head. His lips are red, pupils blown, out of breath, a complete gorgeous wreck of a man.

“What did I say the conditions were?” you say implacably.

He thinks. Peter’s lips twitch to one side, then the other, and then his eyes pop open and he looks horrified. “You don’t mean that. I was kissing you there, that doesn’t--”

“It counts!” you say sadly. “You weren’t looking at my face.”

You have no idea how he’ll react to your bluff (it’s totally a bluff. That kiss was amazing. You have no idea what boring shit you’d have been subjected to on that medical ship, but you definitely won Best Rescue), but what you don’t expect is for him to narrow his eyes and smile.

“This calls for a new wager.”

“You bet your ass it does.”

#peter quill x reader #peter quill imagine #starlord x reader #starlord fanfiction #peter quill fanfiction #peter quill x f!reader #starlord x f!reader #starlord imagine #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy fanfiction #argument fic #banter #kiss fic #ask response

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runariya · 4 months ago

Text

Drive to Survive (JJK) • Chapter 10 “Ride or Die”

pairing: F1driver!Jungkook x female race engineer!reader genre: colleagues2L, formula1!AU, racing!AU, drama, kind of fantasy/cyborg!AU fic rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: fluff, doubt, a bet, bad gut feeling, fluff, they're so in love, fatal racing accident allusion of 2020 crash of Romain Grosjean (link to crash at the end of the chapter for best reading experience), angst, panic, lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 5.410

🎵 Adele - Skyfall 🎵

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to the sport of Formula 1 are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08 • 09 • series masterlist • 11 (Final)

The moment you open your eyes, doubts flood your mind. You can’t decide if last night was the dream come true you’ve been hoping for or the nightmare you feared from the moment you fell for Jungkook.

You lie still, afraid to move and wake him, not wanting to play Reaper for your own happy ending. It's bittersweet, being so close to him, surrounded by his warmth and scent, knowing that any moment could be the end. Panic sets in, quickening your breathing until Jungkook stirs, waking up and searching your face with worried eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong, babe?" he asks, voice still groggy, hair sticking in every direction, making your heart ache even more.

“I... I... I need to get up.” You quickly pull away from him, simultaneously wrapping the duvet tightly around you as you escape the bed. But Jungkook is faster, catching up with you in an instant and blocking your path.

You should have known better than to think you could outrun an athlete, but here you are, embarrassed and unsure. Without your heels, you feel even smaller than usual with him towering before you.

“Nuh uh, what’s wrong? Do you regret last night?” His voice is sure in itself, but there's a hint of hurt in his eyes. “Talk to me. We’re not doing hide and seek.”

Taking a deep breath, you know you have to be honest with him, just as he’s always been with you.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?” He holds your free hand, his eyes locked onto yours, letting his warmth seep into you.

“That it’s over.”

“That what is over?”

“Us.” You whisper the word, hoping to keep the tears at bay.

“Nooo! Why would there be an end to us?” Jungkook says gently, almost with a whine, pulling you into a tight hug, squishing your cheek against his firm chest as he rocks you from side to side.

The motion makes you giggle, and your spirits lift almost immediately.

“Because you’re you, and I’m... me. And you deserve better.” You mumble against his chest, your voice muffled by how closely he holds you.

“And that's perfect. I think you deserve better, and you think I deserve better, so we’re both all in. Isn't it?”

His reasoning might be flawed, as it always is, but you understand what he’s trying to convey. You’re both deeply in love, each wanting the absolute best for the other. Isn't that the foundation of every lasting relationship? Love and respect? You think so. There has to be something to build on.

“Yeah...”

“So, smile that picture-perfect smile for me and give me a good morning kiss.”

Jungkook stands up straight, puckering his still-swollen lips at you. You giggle, loving his positive attitude more than anything, and rise onto your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

“One more.”

You oblige, granting him his every wish. The joy in his eyes after you pull away dispels your last remaining doubts.

“How much time do we have?”

Jungkook walks over to his trousers, pulling out his phone to check the time. “About half an hour until we have to leave.”

“I need like twenty minutes. Should I come fetch you from your room?”

“But I want to get ready with you.” Jungkook pouts slightly, and you're sure he doesn't even realise he's doing it.

“Next time, okay?”

“Fine...”

He quickly puts on his clothes while you watch, wanting to say goodbye properly before he leaves.

As he slips his head through his shirt, he pauses for a moment, arms still not in the sleeves. “We’re a couple now, right?”

You nod, then shrug your shoulders.

“Okay, I take that as a definite yes. I’m not going to hide you, or our relationship. And I hope you don’t either.”

His words momentarily catch you off guard. You hadn’t thought about it since last night. The media, the fact that he's not just a man but Jeon Jungkook, a world champion and public figure. What scares you the most isn't the prospect of being thrust into the spotlight, but that you truly don't care. If he’s as sure of you as he claims, then there shouldn't be any doubt or worry on your part either.

So, with a soft smile, you give him the answer you know he hopes for. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

Once again, his face lights up with happiness at your simple words, capturing you lovestruck.

Jungkook walks towards you, now fully dressed standing in front of you, his eyes lingering on your face as if memorising every detail. He leans in and kisses you goodbye, a warmth radiating off him that makes your heart race.

“See you in twenty,” he rasps against your lips, his voice still carrying the grogginess of early morning while his hand cups your face.

“See you in twenty,” you echo, watching as he turns to leave. But just as he reaches the door, he stops, turns back around, and unfastens the silver chain from around his neck.

“Here,” he says softly, stepping closer to you. The chain catches the morning light as he holds it up with two hands. You’re taken aback when he carefully fastens it around your neck, the cool metal settling against your hot skin, his fingers feathery where they touch you. “It suits you better than me.”

Your hand instinctively moves to the chain, fingers tracing its familiar contours. A smile as bright as the sun spreads across your face, feeling his love in every fibre of your being. You reach up on your tiptoes and kiss him again, a brief but heartfelt kiss that leaves both of you breathless.

With a final soft glance, Jungkook leaves the room, and you set about getting ready for the day. The thrill of the race, or is it Jungkook’s love?…buzzes under your skin as you dress, the excitement and nerves mingling into one electric current you wish never dies.

Precisely twenty minutes later, you make your way down the hotel corridor to Jungkook’s room. Your heart skips a beat as you knock gently on the door. You knock on Jungkook’s hotel room door, and even though you’ve since learned the truth about Trish’s presence being innocent, you still can’t shake the bitter memories that surface.

The door swings open almost immediately, and the moment he sees you, his eyes light up, chasing away the darkness within you.

“Ready?” you ask, extending your hand towards him.

“Always,” he replies, taking your hand in his.

The connection is instant, like it always was meant to be, the warmth of his palm against yours revives you, your love growing with every beat of your heart. Together, you make your way through the hotel lobby and out into the bustling streets leading to the Spa circuit, ignoring prying eyes, cameras and whispers around you.

A slight breeze catches in your hair, carrying the distant sounds of the race track. As you walk hand in hand, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you, the outside world fading into the background.

“You know,” Jungkook says, glancing at you with a playful grin, “I dreamt about this day for so long. Walking to the circuit with my girlfriend.”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “Well, dreams do come true, Mr. Jeon. Especially when you’re this persistent.”

He laughs, the sound rich and carefree. “Persistent? More like hopelessly lovesick.”

“And how do you feel about race day? Ready to claim that podium?”

He nods, his expression shifting to one of determination. “Absolutely. This race is ours. I can feel it.”

You smile, feeling his confidence and energy rub off on you. The two of you walk in a comfortable silence for a moment, the only sounds being the rhythmic clicks of your shoes, moving at double the pace of his against the pavement.

As the circuit comes into view, your excitement grows. Jungkook’s energy, especially after last night, is infectious, leaving you flying in this new high.

“Do you think we’ll be the talk of the day?” Jungkook asks, breaking the silence.

“I hope not,” you reply, shooting him a knowing look. “But with the way things have been going, I wouldn’t be surprised if so.”

Jungkook nods, a serious look crossing his face. “You’re mine. Everyone can fuck off.”

“Jungkook!” You squeeze his hand in warning, scolding him playfully for his bad language as you step foot onto the track.

Dodging reporters is almost second nature now, and you deftly avoid their probing questions as you and Jungkook make your way through the crowd, never detaching your hands.

As you approach the Mercedes paddock, you spot both of your fathers deep in conversation. They greet you with wide smiles, their eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and pride.

“Ah, there they are,” Mr. Jeon exclaims, clapping Jungkook on the back. “Look at you two. Quite the pair.”

Your father gives you a gentle hug, then pulls back to appraise you with a knowing smile. “It’s good to see you both so happy.”

Mr. Jeon nudges your father with a smirk. “You owe me a hundred.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You bet on us?!”

Your father and Mr. Jeon both chuckle, the sound warm and full of mischief.

“And a hundred?” you add, incredulous.

Your father shrugs, trying to keep a straight face. “Thousand.”

You gasp, a laugh escaping your lips. “A hundred thousand?!”

The fathers exchange amused glances, their laughter filling the air. “We knew you two were meant for each other,” Mr. Jeon says, his voice filled with affection. “Just a matter of time.”

Jungkook shakes his head, clearly flabbergasted. “I can’t believe you two. Betting on us like some horse race.”

Your father chuckles, patting Jungkook’s shoulder. “It was a safe bet. And it’s not like we were rushing you. We just had faith.”

The easy banter continues, the two men playfully bickering about who saw the signs first and who had the better odds. Jungkook joins in, his laughter mingling with theirs, and you can’t help but smile at the easy familiarity between them.

The conversation takes a more serious turn when your father clears his throat, his expression growing somber. “Jungkook, how do you feel about Mingyu?”

Before Jungkook can respond, Mingyu strides by in his race gear, his gaze sliding over to you with an unsettling smirk, one eye still red. You feel your heart drop, blindsided by his sudden presence.

Both fathers turn to watch him pass, their expressions darkening. “We heard the FIA lifted his suspension last night,” Mr. Jeon says, his tone tinged with disbelief.

“No one understands why,” your father adds, shaking his head. “It’s baffling, really.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, a flash of anger in his eyes. “This doesn’t make any sense. How could they just let him back like that?”

You place a reassuring hand on his arm, trying to calm the storm brewing beneath the surface. “We’ll figure it out. There has to be an explanation.”

Mr. Jeon nods, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not over yet. Whatever’s happening, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Your father places a steadying hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Focus on the race, son. Don’t let this throw you off.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, nodding as he centres himself. “You’re right. We’ve come too far to let this mess with our heads.”

The fathers exchange glances, their mutual understanding and support evident. “Stay strong, both of you,” Mr. Jeon says, his voice steady. “We’re here if you need anything.”

You nod, feeling bolstered by their words. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”

As the conversation winds down, you share a look with Jungkook, the determination and resolve mirrored in his eyes. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know you’ll face them together not only as colleagues but as a couple.

The chaos of the race briefing still echoes in your mind as you and Jungkook exit the garage. Toto and the rest of the team went berserk about Mingyu, causing the atmosphere to shift into absolute determination to show what you’re made of. It’s a bittersweet relief that Mingyu has to start from the last position, yet it leaves you with an uneasy knot in your stomach about today.

There’s no time to lean into your doubts as you step into the open, reporters finally catch sight of you both. A flood of questions and flashing cameras converge, leaving no room for escape.

One reporter, pushing through the throng, grabs the opportunity. “How are you feeling about Mingyu’s unexpected return? Does it change your strategy for the race?”

You meet Jungkook’s gaze, and he gives a subtle nod. You take a deep breath, ready to address the questions with the poise expected of you. “Our focus remains on our own performance. Mingyu’s return doesn’t alter our strategy.” You try to look as unaffected as possible, but there’s still worry inside you that you can’t quiet place. “We’re concentrating on executing our plan and adapting as needed. We’ve been preparing for every possible scenario, so we’re confident in our approach.”

Jungkook, ever the supportive partner, adds with a calm but determined tone, “We’re ready for whatever comes our way. Our main goal is to stay focused and deliver the best performance possible.”

Another reporter quickly interjects, “With all the attention on Mingyu, how are you managing the pressure leading up to the race?”

“Pressure is part of the game. We’ve trained for this, and we’re used to handling high-stress situations. Our priority is to stay composed and focused, no matter the external factors.” You answer smoothly, professional smile in place.

Jungkook chimes in, “Exactly. We thrive under pressure. It’s about channeling that energy into our performance and ensuring we give it our all.”

The questions shift suddenly. “There’s been a lot of speculation about your relationship. You two seem inseparable these days. Can you comment on that?”

You start to answer professionally, “We’re both committed to our roles and as I stated some days ago, our private lives—”

Jungkook, not missing a beat, interrupts with a grin, “She’s my ride or die. On and off the track.”

The cameras snap furiously as Jungkook pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss. It’s gentle but oh so much more, a clear declaration of his feelings for the world to see. You can’t help but let out a small squeal of surprise. Your heart swells with pride, both for Jungkook’s prowess as a driver and the love you share. You so don’t shy away; instead, you lean into the kiss, embracing the moment with all the confidence and affection you feel.

The kiss lingers for a few seconds before he pulls away, a satisfied and goofy smile on his face which makes you giggle with red cheeks. The reporters’ cameras are still flashing, capturing every detail of the intimate exchange. You meet Jungkook’s eyes, feeling the warmth of his gesture and the genuine pride you both share. The crowd’s excitement intensifies, but you both remain grounded in your unity.

A final reporter calls out, “Any last words before the race?”

You give a confident nod. “We’re excited and ready to give it our best. Thanks for all the support.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand, his gaze never leaving you. “See you at the finish line.”

As the reporters begin to disperse, you and Jungkook walk away hand in hand, your heart still racing from the earlier excitement. The race is just around the corner, and despite the frenzy of the moment, you both feel more prepared and connected than ever.

The roar of the crowd is a loud vibrating presence as you stand in the pit lane, eyes fixed on the track. The Belgian Grand Prix is infamous for its unpredictable weather and treacherous corners, a true test of skill and nerve for all teams. Today, the sky is a patchwork of ominous clouds, promising a dramatic race.

Jungkook sits in the cockpit of his car, lined up at the front of the grid in pole position. He is the perfect picture of focus, every inch the professional athlete as he goes through his pre-race routine after the formation lap. The helmet hides his face, but you can imagine the determined set of his jaw, the intense concentration in his eyes as he zeros in on the lights above. You have seen it countless times before, yet it never fails to quicken your heartbeat. Through the radio, his voice crackles to life, calm and assured. “How are we looking, babe?”

“Everything’s good, Jungkook,” you reply, keeping your tone steady and professional despite the intimate endearment you learned to love overnight. “Track temperature is holding, and the weather looks like it’s going to hold off for now.”

“Copy that,” he says. “Let’s bring it home.”

Your gaze flickers over to the back of the grid, where Mingyu sits in his own car, starting from the last position. There’s a steely determination about him, a hunger for victory that has fuelled Jungkook’s determination to win even more. You’ve seen Mingyu pull off incredible comebacks some races before, and despite the odds, you know he’ll fight his way to the front.

The lights above the starting grid illuminate one by one, the tension mounting with each brilliant red bulb. You hold your breath, waiting for that final moment when they’ll all go out, signalling the start of the race. You can almost hear Jungkook’s heartbeat over the radio, matching your own rapid pulse.

And then, in an explosion of noise and motion, they’re off.

Jungkook gets a clean start, his car leaping forward, while behind him, the rest of the field jostles for position. Tyres squeal and engines roar, the symphony of Formula 1 racing echoing through the hills of Spa-Francorchamps.

“Great start, Jungkook,” you say into the radio, watching as he expertly navigates the first corner. He maintains his lead, the rest of the pack struggling to keep up with his blistering pace.

But your attention is divided, constantly flickering to the back of the field where Mingyu is making his move. He’s aggressive, carving through the slower cars with a relentless drive that’s terrifying regarding his physique. In no time at all, he’s surged past a third of the pack, his car a blur of blue, red and yellow.

“Mingyu’s on the move,” you inform Jungkook, watching the data streaming in on your monitor. “He’s already up to P10.”

“Noted,” Jungkook replies, his voice steady. “Keep me updated.”

The roar of the engines reaches a crescendo as Jungkook approaches the legendary Eau Rouge and Raidillon complex, a brutal test of skill and bravery that every driver must master. The track dips dramatically downhill before launching sharply uphill, creating a blind crest that requires absolute commitment and precision. Your heart pounds as you watch Jungkook navigate this section, the car compressed by the massive g-forces, tyres straining for grip on the asphalt.

From your vantage point, it’s a breathtaking display of skill; any hesitation here could spell disaster, but Jungkook takes it with persistent confidence. He enters the corner perfectly, trusting his instincts and the engineering of his car, balancing speed and control in a dance of motion only the best can master.

As he crests the hill at Raidillon, the car maintains its poise, the perfect evidence of his focus and precision. You can almost feel the rush of adrenaline from his perspective, knowing the risks but trusting in his capabilities to push through unscathed.

The Kemmel Straight is a powerful, exhilarating stretch where Jungkook can unleash the full potential of his car, a true stage for raw speed and engine power. Here, the aerodynamics of the car are pushed to their limits as he accelerates out of Raidillon, heading towards one of the best overtaking zones on the circuit. Your heart races as you watch the speed climb on the telemetry, the car screaming down the straight with relentless momentum, surpassing Lewis Hamilton’s top speed of 2020 with 326 km/h (202 mph) with ease. It's a strategic point in the race, where slipstreaming plays a crucial role, and Jungkook needs to be aware of any threats from behind.

The tension in your shoulders rises, as he barrels down the straight, each millisecond counting, the roar of the engine vibrating through the pit lane. You know that any miscalculation here can lead to disaster in the braking zone at Les Combes, but you trust in Jungkook’s skill to maintain his advantage, utilising every ounce of the car's capabilities to keep Mingyu and the rest at bay.

As Jungkook approaches the intricate series of turns at Les Combes, the race transitions from raw speed to technical finesse. This section, characterised by its tricky right-left-right configuration, demands impeccable braking and cornering precision.

You watch intently as Jungkook prepares to decelerate, trusting his instincts to judge the perfect moment to brake hard as he did in the countless simulation sessions. The car’s balance shifts dramatically as he threads through the sequence, each apex a critical piece of a larger puzzle. It’s a dance of dexterity and control, with Jungkook’s expertise on full display as he maintains his lead, deftly handling the wheel as the live broadcasts on TV show footage of his cockpit.

The ability to maintain speed without compromising control is vital here, and Jungkook executes it flawlessly, his focus like you’ve never seen before. This part of the track separates those who simply drive from those who understand the art of racing, and you feel a swell of pride as Jungkook, your boyfriend, emerges from Les Combes, still in command, ready for the next challenge.

The sweeping double left-hander of Pouhon is next after successfully passing the corners 8 to 11, a fearsome curve that challenges even the most seasoned drivers with its relentless demand for precision and bravery.

As Jungkook enters this high-speed section, your eyes don’t dare to blink, knowing how crucial it is to maintain both speed and stability. The car must cling to the tarmac with every ounce of grip, the lateral forces threatening to push it off-line.

Jungkook's skill is remarkable as he commits to the curve, keeping the throttle pinned as he balances on the knife-edge between speed and control. The data streams across your monitors, confirming his flawless trajectory, and you can almost feel the car responding to his slightest touch. It's truly a mesmerising display of mastery, the car dancing at the very limits of adhesion, and Jungkook holds his nerve, exiting Pouhon better than ever.

At corner 17, Blanchimont looms ahead, an infamous high-speed bend that demands courage as well as technical perfection. And as Jungkook approaches, the car is already pushed to its limits, the engine screaming as he keeps his foot down. This is a corner where only the most courageous drivers maintain full throttle, and Jungkook is one of them.

Your pulse quickens, matching by now his own, as he nears the bend, the car slicing through the air at blistering speed, every decision made in fractions of a second. The car skims perilously close to the edge of the track, tyres gripping fiercely to keep the car from sliding off into disaster.

It’s a breathtaking display of speed and finesse, where Jungkook’s experience and skill shine through, and you can barely breathe until he exits the corner cleanly, having navigated one of the most dangerous parts of the circuit with remarkable control. This daring manoeuvre confirms his dominance and keeps him ahead of the pack, setting up one of the final acts of the lap.

Lap after lap, the race evolves into a gripping spectacle of speed and strategy. Jungkook holds his lead with skill and composure, his car responding beautifully to every twist and turn of the iconic circuit. Each lap he completes feels like a small victory, the gap between him and the rest of the field widening.

Yet, your eyes can’t help but keep drifting to Mingyu’s progress. He is relentless, overtaking car after car with surgical precision. By the halfway point of the race, he’s up to fifth place, his charge through the field nothing short of spectacular. Every overtake he makes feels like a direct challenge, a reminder that he’s not out of the fight yet.

“Jungkook, Mingyu’s in P5 now,” you report, your voice laced with apprehension you hope he doesn’t catch. “He’s gaining on the leaders fast.”

Jungkook’s response is immediate, calculating and cool. “Understood. How’s my pace?”

“You’re looking good,” you reassure him, checking the data. “Just focus on your race. We’ve got this.”

As the laps tick down, the tension in the pit lane rises. You can feel it in the air, the anticipation as the climax of the race approaches. Mingyu is now in third place, bearing down on the second-place driver with relentless determination. His car is a missile, cutting through the air with lethal efficiency.

Your fingers dance over the controls, monitoring Jungkook’s car, ensuring everything is functioning perfectly. Every piece of information you relay is crucial, every decision potentially the difference between victory and defeat.

“Pace is still good, Jungkook,” you say, glancing up as his car roars past the pit wall, letting your hairs sway with his airstream. “Stay focused.”

The battle for second place is fierce, but Mingyu is unstoppable. He takes the position with a daring move that has the crowd gasping, his car inches from his rival’s as they scream through Eau Rouge. Now, there’s only one car between him and victory: Jungkook’s.

You watch the monitors intently, heart in your throat as the two rivals face off.

Jungkook is in the lead, but Mingyu is gaining ground with every corner, his car faster, his resolve unshakeable. It’s a battle of wills, of skill and courage, and neither driver is willing to give an inch.

“Jungkook, Mingyu is closing in,” you warn, your voice tight with tension. “Stay sharp.”

“I see him,” Jungkook replies, a hint of steel in his voice. “I’m not letting him through.”

The final laps are a haze of speed and intensity, the cars pushing their limits, the drivers beyond exhaustion but fuelled by sheer determination. Jungkook, seathing to the bones, defends with all his might, his car a fortress that Mingyu cannot breach.

The track seems to shrink, every corner leaving more nerves behind, every straight a chance for Mingyu to close the gap. You can feel the strain, the pressure weighing heavy on your shoulders as the race reaches its climax.

As you watch the live feed in the garage of the penultimate lap, you see Jungkook’s car moving down the Kemmel straight, Mingyu a breath away. Both drivers accelerate, nearly reaching the records of Kimi Räikönen in 2018 and Sergio Perez in 2019 with 343 km/h (213 mph).

“Jungkook, you’re nearly breaking record. Don’t push too much, it’s not worth it.” Your voice crackles over the radio, also reminding him to keep his head down and stay focused.

“Got it.” But he doesn’t listen, the telemetry data showing his unrelenting push on the throttle.

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins, the tension unbearable even from the safety of the pit wall.

And then, disaster strikes.

Without warning, Mingyu, in a desperate bid to overtake, clips Jungkook’s rear, while a sickening crunch of metal is heard through the radio. It happens in an instant, too fast for you to react or comprehend, but slow enough that the moment etches itself into your mind.

The impact is instantaneous and violent, sending Jungkook’s car spinning off the track at a terrifying speed. Your eyes widen in horror as you watch helplessly, time seeming to slow as his car hurtles toward the barriers.

“FUCK!” Jungkook’s voice booms in your ears.

The screech of tyres and the grinding of metal are deafening, yet everything else around you feels silent, as if the entire world has come to a halt. A high-pitched ringing fills your ears, drowning out everything else, leaving you with nothing but the image of Jungkook's car losing control.

It’s a nightmare scenario, one you’ve feared but never truly believed would happen.

The car smashes into the barriers with a ferocity that defies comprehension, the protective Armco railing tearing open as if made of paper. The force of the impact is catastrophic, the vehicle breaking into half as it collides with the barriers. In the split second before it bursts into flames, you see the twisted remnants of what was once the front of the car.

Red flags wave instantly. There is no way anyone could survive such a catastrophic accident, but the thought is too horrifying to accept. The world seems to hold its breath as the car explodes into a massive fireball upon impact due to it’s raptured fuel cell, flames erupting around the cockpit in a way you never thought possible in todays racing.

The searing heat and blinding brightness of the flames create a scene straight out of your worst fears. You can only see the back part of his car, meters away from the impact point, the front completely obscured by fire and smoke.

The inferno is consuming everything, the fire raging with an intensity that makes it feel alive, a malevolent force intent on destruction. The heat is palpable even from where you sit, and the acrid smell of burning fuel fills the air, mingling with the smoke as it billows upward.

Instinctively, you leap to your feet, a scream of terror clawing its way out of your throat as you watch the inferno engulf the wreckage of what was once a finely-tuned racing machine.

"Jungkook!" you yell, the sound of his name tearing from your lips with raw desperation. The name echoes in your mind, but it feels hollow, futile against the deafening roar of the fire.

The entire paddock is deathly quiet, the usual activity replaced by a stunned silence as everyone on the circuit watches the scene unfold in disbelief. There are certain moments where silence falls on a racing track and you know what that means. It’s as if the world has stopped turning, all eyes transfixed on the fiery wreckage, split in half. The fire burns with an intensity that seems impossible to contain, black thick smoke billowing into the sky as your mind races with fear and disbelief as helicopters capture the scene from above, broadcasting it live on TV.

The seconds stretch into an eternity as you wait for any sign, any movement, that might indicate Jungkook is okay. Your heart hammers in your chest, each beat painful, reminding you of the time slipping away. The team around you shocked, radios crackling with frantic messages, but your world has narrowed to the sight of those flames and the desperate hope that Jungkook can somehow escape. Every second that passes feels like a lifetime, the fear a physical weight pressing down on you.

You try to stay focused, remembering your training, reminding yourself that safety protocols are in place, that the marshals are trained for this. But it’s impossible to shake the fear that grips you, that tightens around your chest with every second that passes. You know the safety measures are extensive, that everything possible has been done to protect the drivers, but in this moment, those thoughts offer little comfort. The knowledge that there’s no way of him surviving such an accident is a persistent shadow in your mind, whispering doubts and fears that you try desperately to silence.

It’s Joongki’s voice beside you that shatters every hope within you “He’s never gonna survive this. It’s been over twenty seconds.”

And then, you break down. “Jungkook, talk to me!” you plead over the radio, your hands shaking, every nerve ending screaming for a response while the tears start to flow down your face.

But there is nothing but static.

Amidst the chaos on the track, your eyes scan the scene frantically, searching for any sign of movement, any indication that he’s fighting his way free. You can barely breathe, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, time stretching into an agonising eternity.

“Jungkook! Please!” You sob uncontrollably into the radio, holding the mic attached to the headset with both hands to your mouth, shaking, begging, praying, as the front chassis of his car burns down to ashes.

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08 • 09 • series masterlist • 11 (Final)

a/n 2: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 Here's also the crash of Romain Grosjean 11/29/2020 linked

a/n 3: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @jksusawife, @alessioayla, @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog

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bisexual-magneto · 7 months ago

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the people who say Magneto was wrong for sending the EMP around the world somehow never provide any alternative solutions? Personally, I would find an obvious alternative solution a lot more convincing than "Magneto was wrong because this is going to kill people" - when he's responding to a situation where a lot of people had already been killed and were being actively killed.

You just witnessed the massacre on Genosha. You've been held prisoner by these butchers for who knows how long now and witnessed the progress their plans are making and know that powerful people around the world are part of it, including humans that you assumed were your allies. You know that droves of humans are being turned into cyborgs that go after your people, your species - which happens to be a pretty disenfranchised minority group.

And then you manage to escape.

What's your alternative plan from here? Fly around the entire planet yourself and try to catch all the Sentinels by hand and stop them, risking your own life every time which means that you will likely never finish this mission? Assuming you can ever find them all? Go back to the mansion and hold a meeting about it (except if you try that, you will find that the place is on fire and your friends are also fighting for their lives)

Lean back and sit it out? Rationalising to yourself that while you have the means to stop this catastrophe, your means are too drastic - so it would be more ethical to sit back and wait while your people are being targetted (which would be so extremely out of character for Magneto that it would be downright laughable to expect this of him). He also doesn't know Charles is coming back or anything.

Remember, Bastion's first literal reaction to hearing about Magneto's escape was: "Too little, too late." In-universe, Bastion considered the most obvious option Magneto has now and he himself confirmed that they would be inefficient to stop him.

I just think that in the wake of extreme trauma, extremely limited time and resources, a foe that outnumbers and overpowers you, no executive or legal authority to appeal to (in fact, governments are in on it) - yeah, turning off the electricity to take down the zombie murder cyborgs is pretty understandable from my point of view. And it definitely is a choice I wouldn't want to make - a choice no one would want to make. And one that Magneto will likely be vilified for - but he still did it. Because that's what he always does and because he's used to people hating him for actual doing something.

#Magneto #This reminds me of First Class when Charles keeps telling Magneto not to kill Schmidt #but never provides any solution for capturing him containing him #not to mention that he is immortal #people keep saying Magneto is wrong - but even if you might disapprove - if you cannot come up with a better solution #then it's still the smallest of all evils #and to compare him to Bastion and Sinister because the EMP will have a death toll #is also pretty ridiculous considering that their attack was unprovoked.#Magneto's was a reaction to an acute situation #fandom

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icycoldninja · 7 months ago

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Terror (Raiden x Reader angst)

Tw: Death, blood, violence, and dark themes. If you are not comfortable with these themes, DNI!

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Heart pounding, you dashed into an alleyway, breath shaky and mind swirling with fear. Just 2 hours ago, you and Raiden had been on a mission, slicing open cyborgs with ease--until someone shot Raiden in the shoulder. It was superficial damage in terms of how easily it could be healed, but it hurt. That was the problem. In seconds, Jack the Ripper had emerged and immediately started massacring everyone in the vicinity, and once he was done with them, he turned his attention to you.

Red eye glowing with an insatiable lust for blood, he stalked towards you, his unhinged laughter echoing in your ears and filling your mind with clouds of terror.

You loved Raiden and would have never run from him, but this thing was not Raiden, at least, not anymore. Before you could even think, your body acted on impulse. You took off, zipping like a lightning bolt through the streets, too afraid to even look back. Behind you, you could hear the loud thumping of metal hitting the streets as Jack the Ripper chased after you, laughing like a maniac.

"Doll, where ya going? Don't you wanna stay and play?" You instantly became aware of something whirring behind you, turned, and saw the fully charged HF blade about to be thrown at you by powerful cyborg arms. You ducked, dropping to the ground and evading the sword, but losing your balance in the process.

That single moment of weakness was all Jack needed to catch up and pin you to the ground, his strong metal legs caging you to the pavement, preventing any movement from the shoulders down. Jack let out a long, horrifying laugh before taking your face firmly in his clawed hands with none of the gentleness Raiden usually exercised.

"God, you're beautiful. So much prettier when you're not running away." More insane laughter. He bent down and licked a long stripe up your cheek, still gripping your jaw firmly while his sharp claws dug into your flesh like little needles, making rivulets of blood trickle down your face and pool into his hand, which only served to delight him further.

"So beautiful..." He roughly tugged you forwards, red eye searching yours with a type of hunger you were unable to identify. You struggled, trying to escape form his impossibly firm grip, but it was impossible.

"Let go of me!" You yelled, even though you knew it was hopeless. Raiden chuckled, yanking you forwards and smashing his metal lips against yours. The kiss was cold and devoid of the warmth and love you were used to. Whimpering softly, you managed to pull away with some difficulty.

"What's wrong, doll?" He sneered, insanity in his eyes. "Don't you love it when I kiss you? Don't you love me?" You trembled, body quivering from head to toe as you tried to summon up the courage to answer.

"I love Raiden," You finally admitted. "Not you."

Raiden growled in response, looking angrier and more disappointed than you'd ever seen him.

"So that's how it is, eh? No one cares about Jack--everybody's after Raiden!" An expression of pure anger on his face, the psychopath got to his feet, raised the HF blade, and rammed it right into his target: your heart.

A stabbing pain shot through your chest, and before you could even register what was happening, the world suddenly went fuzzy and faded to black, with the last thing you ever heard being Jack's maniacal laughter, echoing in your ears like a nightmarish song.

#Raiden #raiden x reader #Jack raiden #Mgr #Mgr raiden #Jack the ripper raiden #Angst #Fanfic #Angst fanfic #mgs #Tw: death #Tw: blood #Tw: violence #Tw: dark themes #Metal gear solid rising raiden #Metal gear solid x reader #Angst with death #Raiden x reader mgr

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thriplerex · 1 month ago

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Hermit Craft Rising AU: Grant "Glen" Collins

“You see, I’ve got this weird brain condition called stupidity…”

With more than a few screws loose, this British biologist turned mercenary sows chaos wherever he goes. One of the founders of Architech Worldwide with Oliver Bancroft and Iyod Samuelsson, rumors are that an unfortunate accident involving an industrial potato sorting machine (the details of which are unspecified, but rumors persist he pushed a button he shouldn’t have) made him a double amputee from the thighs down. Other rumors suggest he underwent the operation to become a cyborg voluntarily. Either way, he used the company’s funds to provide himself with lightweight cyborg legs with localized electromagnetic field generators, enabling him to disconnect them at will and control them independently of his body with great finesse, augmenting his already quick reflexes to superhuman levels. (His arms, though, remain entirely organic.)

This local control of electromagnetism actually extends to being able to manipulate and levitate objects around him, both nonmagnetic and magnetic, although it puts a massive drain on his energy reserves if he manipulates anything other than his body and darts. A winged propulsion pack he wears on his torso allows his main body a high degree of maneuverability equivalent to that of his limbs, making him a menace in the air.

Seemingly unhinged, thrill-seeking and what some might call a gremlin, Grant never turns down an opportunity to show off his flying and combat prowess. He often rushes in without taking time to ponder things, but beneath that adrenaline rush is a sharp, decisive, and calculatingly clever wit - it's very difficult to catch this adaptable Terraformer off guard, for he quite literally thinks on the fly (and in flight.) He arguably would also be the most likable of them - that is, if he wasn't working for the wrong side and if his priorities were better placed. His code name originates from a fault line in northern Scotland.

Age: 36 Hometown: Bexley, UK Signature weapon: A set of (at least) ten “Parakeet” iridescent spearhead-shaped “darts” that are magento-telekinetically controlled. The overall shape is that of a throwing dart, but the tip somewhat resembles a bird’s beak. The tail, however, is notched like that of an arrow and has tiny wings resembling that of a scarlet macaw’s. Made of an extremely dense, unspecified material - CCSC suspects it to be a kind of tungsten carbide or depleted uranium core. At the speeds at which he wields them, they can easily pierce lightly-armored vehicles and are quite the anti-personnel deterrent.

Everyone's favorite button-pusher, Grian! For his design, I decided to hone in more on the magnetokinetic powers of his MGRR counterpart and blend them with those of MCU Falcon, while maintaining a bit of Monsoon's ability to split his body up. Overall, I'm quite pleased with the different take on the bird motifs Grian is frequently drawn with. Again, like with many other characters in Hermit Craft Rising, due to the rather heavy nature of the source material (especially whatnot with Monsoon's sociopathic and pessimistic tendencies,) personality-wise this character substitution is very far removed from their MGRR counterpart.

Theme: V.S. Grant "Glen" Collins (The Stains of Time - Instrumental)

youtube

Hermit Craft Rising AU Masterpost

Art by Winter

#hermitcraft #hermit craft rising #grian #grian fanart #hermitblr #Youtube

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thechaoticplayer · 11 months ago

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hellllllo I am back yet again with another request because that was toooooooooooo good Do you mind doing a smut story about Ukimama and his harem? I feel like it would be fun to read lmao

Totally ok if you don’t feel like taking it up tho 💜 love your work 💜💜💜

Authors note: I got you bruv finally getting to this days later bc I forgot how to write a plot Summary: Uki and his beloved harem decide to hang out at the bar. However, Shoto gets jealous of Fufu-chan because he keeps hogging all of Uki-mama's attention that bitch Contains: tipsy guys flirting, suggestive content, alcohol, is a story that contains some sexual content 🔞 kinda short bc wtf am I doing again Pairing: Top!Uki Violeta x Bottom!Shoto (since I did Psyborg last time and also I want an excuse to make ukimama a top) Minors dni or dont idgaf

Uki laughs, a melodious sound as he props his chin on his hand. Club music plays in the background and chatter is all around them. His eyes sparkle playfully. "Oh? Fufu-chan, you're too cute."

"That may be so, but you're much cuter, Ukiki," Fulgar replies smoothly, a finger tracing the rim of his shot glass. The three sit at the bar, the bartenders whirling around and mixing drinks with ease.

"I feel like I'm third wheeling," Shoto laughs, taking a sip of his drink.

"You are," Fulgar practically chirps, winking at Shoto.

"Don't be a bitch," Uki reprimands gently, slapping Fulgar's arm affectionately. "I enjoy being with you both equally."

"yeah, jackass," Shoto retorts. The two males stop punching each other's arm, honestly just being men and it makes Uki laugh. It was cute how the two of them fight for Uki's attention every time they hang out. He watches them with a smile on his lips.

"Let's settle this. I bet Uki likes being with me more!" Fulgar takes Uki's hand, gently pulling him to his feet. Uki, surprised, lets him. "Let's dance, Ukiki!"

"Dance?" Uki echoes, a bit nervous. "I guess I can drop it down low but-"

Fulgar pulls Uki close, an arm wrapped around Uki's waist. "Oh, I bet you can."

"Hey!" Shoto calls as Fulgar guides the Psychic to the dance floor. The demon slayer grumbles, "This cocksucker." He swigs another drink, slams it down on the table and pushes past the dancing masses to follow them.

Fulgar is dancing like an absolute lunatic and even doing the Robot. Uki relaxes with a giggle, going with the flow of the upbeat music. He looks up at Fulgar who gazes down at him with soft eyes with his shit-eating grin.

It seemed like the world zoomed in on just these two, the Psychic and the Cyborg.

That is, until the Demon Slayer entered the picture.

A hand catches Uki's wrist and drags him elsewhere. Uki glances to see who it, about ready to bitch slap the person who thought I was a good idea to interrupt. He paused, realizing it was Shoto, brows furrowed and a slight pout to his lips.

'Oh?' Uki thinks, a smirk curling. 'Someone's jealous.'

Shoto drags him to a couch and plops down, tugging on Uki's sleeve. Uki obediently sits next to him, crossing his legs and turning to Shoto, eyebrow raised.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Shoto mutters, refusing to look Uki in the eye. "I didn't want to be by myself."

"So you dragged me away from Fulgar?" Uki knew better, since he was a Psychic and all.

"He's not even that cool anyway," Shoto argues, finally looking at Uki. His facial expression screamed 'Jealousy!' Uki found it absolutely adorable, nodding at Shoto with a low 'mhm.' "Motherfucker thinks hes so much better! Smug asshole. I'm a way better-" He shuts himself up.

"You're a way better what?" Uki presses, tilting his head with a smirk.

"Nothing, nothing." He waves Uki away, avoiding his gaze yet again. His cheeks are flushed, Uki noticed. Was it from the alcohol? Or was it from something else?

"You bastard," an accented voice chuckles, separating the two as he sits himself right in the middle. "Stole my Ukiki away from me."

"He's not yours," Shoto counters, wagging a finger at him. "Hes mine."

"Oh my, two hot guys fighting over me. Must be a dream come true," Uki teases.

"It's because you're so beautiful Uki."

"Lay off the compliments, you stupid junk of metal."

"Go back to hunting demons because that's the only thing you're good at."

"Go back to being a fucking microwave."

They're obviously just messing with each other, albeit Uki noted the slight bite in each comment. If he didn't do anything, they'd probably be dancing with each other with a shard of broken glass at the other's throat.

With a exasperated sigh, Uki stands up, a hand on his cocked hip. "We didn't come here to bitch at each other. Let's get a couple more drinks to loosen up."

Shoto nods. "Yeah, you're right Uki."

"I'm always right. And as you are a part of my harem, you should obey what I say."

"Yes sir." Fulgar salutes goofily.

So the trio goes back to the bar, and the bartender welcomes with three small shot glasses. Each order a type of alcohol they desire and she quickly obliges, pouring at the speed of light before serving the next customer.

"Damn, being a bartender seems kind of crazy," Shoto observes, sipping. "So many customers at once."

"Yeah," Uki agrees, eyeing the lines of alcohol behind the bar. "Theres so many options, what if they screw up the order?"

"Serve it to another, perhaps," Fulgar replies. "It doesn't seem all that hard."

"Then why don't you help them out?" Shoto muses with a grin.

"Why don't you, dog boy?"

"I'll say this one more time: I am not a dog boy! Only sometimes."

"But you're my dog boy, aren't you Shoto?" Uki coos, a hand resting on Shoto's thigh. He twitches, a furious blush on his face.

"Only sometimes," Shoto repeats, refusing o admit it fully. What a tsundere. Such a brat to answer a simple question. Not a very good dog.

Uki cups Shoto's face, squishing his cheeks with a smile. "Come on, you can do better than that, handsome. Say it."

"Say you're a good puppy," Fulgar adds with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Shoto flips him off.

"I'm a demon slayer! not a dog!"

"Stop being such a bitch and say it, or I'll put a leash on you right now," Uki threatens, a sly look on his face now.

Shoto glances between Uki and Fulgar, realizing there was no way of escaping this. He groans, embarrassed, because they want him to say this in a public area? They really wanted to humiliate him. For some odd reason, Uki ordering him to do something like that kind of turned him on, which he internally slapped himself for because what the fuck?

He mumbles, "'m your good puppy."

"What?" Fulgar raises his voice, a hand around his ear. "The music is too loud, you'll have to speak up!"

Asshole. He's too much like his LAM brother.

Shoto inhales and locks eyes with Uki. He yells, "I'm your good puppy!" And immediately regrets it. The people near them turn to see, giving strange looks. God, why does this happen to him? His cheeks are literally ablaze right now.

Uki swipes his thumb over Shoto's lip approvingly. "Good boy."

Holy. Shit.

Shoto jerks his face away, positioning himself so his back faced them as they cackled. He cross his legs and yanks down his shirt over the growing bulge in his jeans. If either of them saw, the demon slayer would probably never hear the end of it. Shoto got hard because the Psychic called him a good boy! Breaking news!

Shoto drains his glass before rising to his feet suddenly. Without turning, he rushes his words out, "imma go use the bathroom be right back-" And retreated to the mens' room. Where he could relieve himself because boy the friction from the jeans were not helping. And it wouldn't be so obvious once he... releases. Although when Shoto thought about it, on his way to the restroom, was even more humiliating. Hopefully no one would question? they shouldn't. He was mainly concerned about any of the other guys hearing what he was doing. Shoto would off himself if started hearing word going around about some guy jerking off in the bar's bathroom. And probably even get the manager in there. If the manager was a guy. Or if they even cared because a lot of things happen at bars. Crazy things.

Okay, Shoto just went on a whole ass tangent. Calm down. it isnt that serious.

Shoto maneuvers around some drunk men laying on the floor, probably recovering his guts before wobbling out the door. Surprisingly, there wasn't a lot of men in the bathroom. He figured since everyone was drinking, they'd either be pissing or throwing up. Shoto spied an empty stall and closed the door behind him.

Closing the toilet and avoiding looking in its contents, Shoto sat and sighed heavily. Was he really going to do this? Yes, yes he was. He could feel the buzz underneath his skin as he unzipped his pants and let them fall to his feet along with his underwear, his erection literally straight up. Simple two words got him so worked up.

He wraps a hand around himself and lets out a small noise before biting his lip to silence himself. Sheesh, he was extra sensitive. Probably from the alcohol? The demon slayer could sense no one was left in the restroom at the moment, but he had to hurry.

Pumping his fist up and down his cock, he thought about Uki being the one jerking him off, whispering into his ear how well he was doing for him. That he was being such a good boy. Shoto's head leans back, eyelids fluttering as soft whimpers escape past his lips. His small "a-ah"s echoed throughout the bathroom. He was closing in on his release, going faster and just shamelessly moaning at this point. Shoto cums all over his hand and he pants, hand pausing at the base of his dick for a moment. He collects his breaths, wiping off the semen with a crappy piece of toilet paper, and zipping himself up.

Shoto flushes it down the toilet, regaining his composure and opening the stall door. However, he was not expecting to be shoved back in the stall and was about to punch whoever wanted a fight.

"U-Uki?" Shoto asked, shocked as the Psychic entered the stall with him. Uki locked the door behind them and approached Shoto with lustful eyes. "Hey, w-wait a second-"

"Now now, Shoto, were those pretty moans yours?" Uki purrs, tracing a finger down from Shoto's chest to his stomach. Shoto shivered without meaning to, and he felt the tips of his ears go red. "It sounded like you. I came in here to check up on you, but you were whimpering and moaning like a slut."

Shoto swallows. "I-I can explain-"

Uki smashes his lips with Shoto's. He palms the demon slayer's growing erection (again) and Shoto can't help but moan into the kiss. Unzipping the jeans, Uki pulls out Shoto's cock and starts rubbing the tip, pre-cum leaking out little by little.

"Already so hard for me, mm?" Uki murmurs after breaking the kiss to stare at Shoto's angry red tip. He traces a vein with his nail and Shoto whines in his throat. "Shh, be a good boy and let me make you feel good again, yeah?"

And here the Psychic was, overstimulating the poor man. Shoto had to hold onto Uki's shoulders to hold himself upright as he basically rutted himself into Uki's hand. Beautiful whimpers spilling out of him, Uki kisses down his neck, praising him for doing so great. Shoto came twice already, breathing hard and legs quivering.

"Such a brat," Uki tsks. "If you behave, I'll help you tonight. Is it a deal?"

"Yes," Shoto breathes with an obedient nod.

"Good boy. Let's clean you up, yeah?"

Fulgar watched the two walk towards him, a brow raised in question. "The hell took you two so long? Yall fucking in there or somethin'?"

Shoto awkwardly laughs, like oh yeah Uki totally didn't just play with me like I was his toy as Uki snorted.

"I wish. He just had to throw up a couple drinks," Uki answers smoothly.

"Lightweight," Fulgar chuckles.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Alright you two. Why don't we go back on the dance floor?" Uki suggests, seizing both their wrists and pulling them to the dance floor.

"As you wish, darling," Shoto and Fulgar say in unison. They side eye each other.

"Bitch boy."

"Cunt."

Uki rolls his eyes, a smile painted on his lips. He locks eyes with Shoto for a moment, and it turns into a smirk. Shoto looks elsewhere, face pink.

He was not surviving the night, was he?

#nijisanji en #nijien #nijisanji #nijisanji smut #vtuber #favorite vtuber #Uki violeta #Shxtou #Uki x shxtou #Nijisanji ships #Vtuber smut

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whiskey-bumblebee · 1 year ago

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I'm On Fire (Chapter 8)

Pairing: DBF!Aaron Hotchner/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: the final chapter! finally! thank you everybody for encouraging me to lead the story to an ending I'm more satisfied with.

Warnings: Age gap relationship (older Hotch, younger reader), arguments, deaths of Haley and Jack, breaking and entering

Taglist: @littlepeanut03 @rosaline-black @moonmark98 @yuly @jazzymariexoxoc @frogoko @morgthemagpie @laisy @whoreforhondo @ssamorganhotchner @lex13cm @mrs-ssa-hotch @violetlilites @fairy-alix @mercurysrhapsody @art-and-thoughts @rousethemouse

Five years later

You trace your fingers over the spines of the books.

340.2, 340.54, 340.57... There it is. 340.570942 D07. You slot 340.570942 S04 into the gap to the right of D07. Considering you were surrounded by millions of words, it was incredible how much time you spent counting.

One of your colleagues knocks on the shelf to attract your attention, and offers you a smile.

"You're finished for the day. Have a good weekend."

You sigh with relief. "The weekend... What a wonderful word."

"Do you have any plans?"

You shake your head. "Do you?"

"I'm working," She replies. "Someone has to help the grad students find their books on the history of the cultivation of garlic."

"Really?" You laugh, careful to keep your voice low. Although the library isn't crowded, there are always at least a few students studying down in the stacks.

"Yeah. History of the cultivation of garlic. We did have something on it, but damn, I don't know how you can write a thesis on growing garlic."

You smile and shake your head. "I was seeing someone for a while, a PhD candidate from NYU. His research focus was feminist machinima and the phenomenology of the cyborg body. He was just stringing words together, and I think he didn't like that I could see that."

"God. It sounds like you dodged a bullet."

The word bullet takes you out of it for a second. You stare into space, trying to consider the word from each of its angles. Dodged a bullet. Your father hadn't. Had you?

"You okay?"

You nod. "Yeah. Just thinking about him." You're careful not to specify exactly which him you're talking about.

"Forget about him. Go home. Have fun."

"Okay," You breathe, running your hands over your jeans. "I'll see you Monday."

She nods, patting your shoulder.

After a quick stint on the M and the L, you're home. Your keys clink as you drop them into the bowl by the door, and the smooth wooden floor is cool under your socks.

There's soup on the stove, and to your delight, it's still hot.

____________________________________

Aaron is fucking horrified. He doesn't know what he's doing. He can hardly breathe, but then again, that's becoming normal for him. For the first time since the trial, he feels like a criminal. He feels like the kind of person he's usually trying to catch.

"What the fuck," He breathes, and his words leave a fog that hangs in the air for a second, as if reprimanding his language.

He presses the buzzer before he can change his mind. Number five. How long should he hold the button? He releases it quickly, not wanting to generate a buzz any longer than necessary. He notices that there's no camera in the buzzer.

"Hello?"

It's a man's voice, and Aaron thinks he must have the wrong apartment.

"Hello, sorry, is this number five-" He rattles off the address, pressing his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat.

"Yeah, that's us."

Us?

Aaron says your name into the buzzer, and tries to ignore that it's the first time he's ever said the whole thing out loud. "I'm trying to find her?"

There's some rustling, and an exchange Aaron can't quite make out.

"Who are you?" The man on the other end of the line says.

_____________________________________

You've moved to stand next to the phone so you can hear. Andrew holds the phone tenderly between your two heads.

"My name is Aaron Hotchner-"

You shake your head quickly. No. No, no, no. You've just started your new life. You're happy. You're stable. You have a therapist who's walked you through this possibility, although she told you it was incredibly unlikely.

You walk backwards until your back hits a wall, and you slide to the floor.

"No," You whisper.

"Sorry, man. She's not at this address."

__________________________________________

Aaron knows that's not true. Penelope had found water bills paid in your name for this apartment, just three weeks ago. There was no record of you moving.

"Look, I really need to get ahold of her, if there's any chance- Could I just, could you let me talk to her?"

He's pleading now, and it leaves a pit in his stomach. He's no better than a stalker.

"Aaron," You breathe.

All of the tension drops from his shoulders at that. He says your name back to you.

"Please leave. I don't know how you got this address, but-"

"Please, I need to tell you something. Haley's dead, and-"

"I'm sorry, Aaron, but that has nothing to do with me."

Your reply comes without hesitation.

No, Aaron thinks. He didn't take the time off work, fly all the way to New York in a snowstorm, just to get blown off at your doorway.

Aaron is so caught up in staring at the buzzer, this tiny box containing you, that his heart leaps when he hears the door click open, and he turns quickly on his heel, ready to pour his heart out. The words dry up on his tongue when he sees it's not you, but a man. Long-haired, shorter than Aaron. He looks like someone Sean would be friends with. Aaron thinks he probably shouldn't ask about that.

"Hey, man. Get outta here. She doesn't wanna see you."

"Who are you?"

The words pass Aaron's lips before he can catch them.

"I'm Andrew. Now fuck off before I call the cops."

"I need to see her."

"She's currently sitting on the floor crying just from hearing your name. If you'd seen her reaction, you wouldn't let yourself up there either."

Aaron notices that Andrew has left the front door open, just a crack. If he makes a break for it, he might make it through the door, up the stairs, before Andrew can catch him.

"Alright," Aaron sighs, letting his body slump. "I tried."

Andrew softens slightly. "Alright, man. Get-"

Before Hotch hears the end of Andrew's sentence, he slams the man up against the wall and pushes the main door open. He doesn't immediately see an elevator, so he sprints up the stairs, two at a time.

He yells your name when he sees the number five, and pounds his fists on the door. If he had to break all of the bones in his hands in order to get to you, he'd do it. He can hear Andrew coming up behind him, slow, disoriented.

There's no reply. An elderly woman steps out of number six and frowns at Aaron disapprovingly, then sees Andrew coming up behind him.

"Sorry, Elena," Andrew says.

"Andrew," Elena scolds, walking over to him in her slippers. "What's this?" She tilts her head to the side as she looks at his split eyebrow.

Andrew sighs as the older woman gently runs her hands over his face.

"Hotchner, get the fuck out of here," He breathes. "Elena, I'm fine. But if this guy lays his hands on me again, I want you to call the cops."

Elena's eyes widen. "Okay."

Hotch kicks the door down.

You jump at the sudden intrusion, and Andrew was telling the truth, you are sitting on the floor, your eyes glistening.

"Elena, call the police," Andrew hisses, before grabbing Aaron by the collar. "What the fuck are you doing, man? Have you lost your mind?"

Aaron easily brushes him off and squats down beside you.

"Aaron, please go. It's over. You can't just barge back into my life like this."

"Please, let's just talk. If I ever meant anything to you, please just hear me out."

You look over at Andrew. Elena has gone back into her apartment, but you can hear her on the phone.

"Fine," You breathe. "Just for a minute, and then I never want to see you again."

Andrew starts to argue, but you shake your head and get to your feet. You know that once Aaron makes his mind up about something, there's no swaying him. Your stomach twists, thinking about yourself as a mission objective.

You take a seat on the couch, and Aaron stands. It's a small apartment, and he doesn't think sitting next to you would be the right move: too intimate, too familiar. Andrew takes the spot beside you while Aaron's still thinking about it.

You pick up a paper towel from the small coffee table, and dab at Andrew's eyebrow. It doesn't look that bad. You remember one of the anatomy manuals that you'd read while the library wasn't busy, how it said that facial wounds bleed a lot because the skin is thin.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, quietly.

Andrew nods. Aaron rolls his eyes.

"Say your piece," You say, still focused on Andrew. You tip his chin from side to side, checking for any other injuries. His eyes are sharp, focused. Good.

Now that he's here, Aaron doesn't know what to say. He can't even imagine where to start.

"Haley..."

"How did she die?"

"There was an unsub, he broke into my house, he killed them."

Them? Your heart drops.

"Jack?"

Aaron nods.

Your frown deepens.

"Who's Jack?" Andrew asks.

"Long story," You sigh. "I'll tell you later."

"I'm sorry, Hotch, but what does this have to do with me?"

"She was the reason... She was the reason we couldn't stay together. I was scared, fucking terrified, that she had some evidence, something that would get me locked in prison forever-"

Andrew gently tucks your hands back at your sides so he can look at Aaron.

"I think that we have more than enough to get you locked in prison, pal. Assault, breaking and entering?"

You nod, agreeing. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, Aaron. I've moved on. I've spent years trying to forget you."

Andrew looks at you, clearly needing more information than what you've provided. Aaron's curious what you'll say first. This is my ex-lover? I defended him in court and saved him from a lifetime in prison? This is the love of my life? This is the guy I told you about?

"He killed my father."

That's not what Aaron was expecting.

"What the fuck," Andrew breathes. "Dude, you've gotta get out of here, seriously-"

You shake your head. "He was acquitted."

Andrew looks at you, confused.

Aaron is so quick to jump to your defence that he doesn't take a second to think of the implications.

"I did it," He says quickly. "She's right."

Andrew stands up and takes a deep breath, preparing to tear into Aaron. He's puffing up his chest like some kind of exotic bird, and you know that if it came down to it, he couldn't take Aaron in a fight. You're not sure how exactly Andrew came to be injured, but you don't doubt that Aaron had a hand in it.

"Andrew," You say quietly. "Calm down."

He looks at you with sympathy, but there's an uneasiness in his eyes like that of an unbroken horse.

"Respectfully, you just told me that the man who just broke into our apartment murdered your father. This is all the calm I can give you."

"Valid," You reply. "Okay, so, Aaron? What are you doing here?"

Aaron realizes his grand plan is starting to come apart at the seams. He had a speech, he had a plan, he has a second flight back to D.C. booked and ready, but he hadn't anticipated Andrew. How had Penelope missed that detail?

"NYPD, open-"

A police officer raises his hand to knock, and seeing there's no door, steps into your apartment, careful not to trip over the doorknob.

"What's going on here? We had a call from a concerned neighbor."

You look at Aaron, and then at Andrew, and then at the police officer.

"We had a break in-"

"Everything's fine-"

"I'm an FBI agent-"

The officer holds up a hand. "One at a time. Let's start with, why is your door on the ground?"

Andrew shoots a look at Aaron. The officer notices, and when Andrew turns back to the police officer, he takes in the cut on Andrew's face for the first time.

"Did someone hit you?"

"He did." Andrew points at Hotch.

"And who kicked the door in?"

"He did," Andrew repeats, repeating his gesture for good measure.

"So what's the problem?"

Andrew looks at you, encouraging you to tell the story of the last ten minutes.

"Um," You say, looking around.

"Look, if everything's fine here, there are more important things I could be doing."

You nod and apologize quickly, then see the officer out. Elena comes out of her apartment and pokes her head through your doorway.

"Everything fine, Andrew?"

"Fine, Elena, thank you."

She doesn't look convinced, but she leaves anyway.

"Will one of you please tell me what the hell is going on here?" Andrew sighs, running a hand through his long hair.

"Aaron and I used to..." You trail off, unsure how to categorize it. The case is still recent enough that Andrew could easily find news coverage online, and if you say something that contradicts your sworn statements, you don't doubt that Andrew would do anything to get Aaron in trouble.

"Date," Aaron finishes.

You shake your head, offended by his choice of words. "Not 'date'. We never went out anywhere."

"We went out for coffee-" Aaron argues.

"A fast food drive through doesn't count," You rebut.

"You wore a wedding ring for me."

"It was the ring from your marriage to your wife."

"Ex-wife," Aaron hisses.

"Widow."

Aaron looks taken aback at that. A piece of information you'd only learned a few minutes ago, and already you'd hafted it into a weapon.

Andrew holds up a hand and looks at Hotch.

"Wait, you were married?"

You nod. "Haley was his wife." You turn to Aaron. "I'm sorry. She was a lovely person."

"She wasn't," Aaron says quickly.

"Your wife died, so you came to New York to take back your old mistress?"

"She wasn't-" Aaron starts, but he's quickly interrupted.

"Mistress!" You say, louder than you meant to, astounded at his choice of words.

Andrew shakes his head, then stands up. He walks over to the spot where you keep your house keys and plucks them out of the bowl.

"I'm going for a walk. You guys, talk."

You're a moment too slow in covering your mouth and Andrew hears you laugh.

"What?"

You gesture at the keys, then at the broken-down door.

"You don't need the keys."

Andrew puts the keys back down and walks out, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I'll pay for the door," Aaron says.

You rest your head in your hands, and like your shadow, Aaron follows your movement. He's beside you instantly, a large hand smoothing over your back.

"You know how fucked up it is that I don't even know how to explain you to Andrew?"

"How about you explain Andrew to me?"

That makes you slip Aaron's hand off your back and look at him, confounded.

"What makes you think you have the right to come literally barging back into my life, and then question me about why there's a man in it?"

"You're right, I'm sorry," Aaron breathes, leaning back.

You take a deep breath, fighting all of your instincts not to confess to Aaron that Andrew was great, but he wasn't Aaron, that nobody could ever be him.

"So why did you come here?"

"I thought maybe you'd be waiting for me."

"There's no way we could have worked out. You work with the FBI, for god's sake, you think none of your agents would figure out that you are actually dating the person that you testified under oath, that you had never really met?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking. The whole time that we were together, we were always thinking, planning, strategizing. For once, I just wanted to do something without having to have a battle plan behind it."

"I'm happy here," You say, quietly. "I have a stable job, and I like my coworkers, and we have a great apartment in a great location. I'm starting to make friends. I have a partner who loves me and treats me like an equal, not like..."

"A mistress."

You bite your lip. Aaron looks at you.

"What happened?"

"There was an unsub who was stalking me. He killed Haley and Jack while I was away working on a different case. It was about a year ago."

A deep frown pulls at your mouth.

"Jack was only..."

"He was about to turn four."

"Oh my god," You breathe. "Aaron, I'm so sorry."

Aaron shakes his head. "It was terrible, and I miss him so much. But while I was doing everything, going to grief counselling, planning the funerals... I just kept thinking maybe this was meant to be our second chance."

"You got a second chance. That doesn't mean I have to be a part of it."

"There's nobody else who I'd want to be a part of it."

You turn to face Aaron and take his face in your hand. He turns his face in towards your palm, closing his eyes. His eyelashes are as long and dark as ever, even now that his temples are beginning to grey.

"We could move to Rehoboth Beach. Just you and me. I could work as a lawyer, and you could..."

You shake your head. "You don't even know me. You don't know what I do for work. You don't know what I want."

"That's not fair," Aaron says, his voice taking on a darker tone. "We both know what you want."

You look into his eyes for a long moment.

"So you're trying to tell me that you chose wrong? After I gave you every opportunity to leave her?"

Aaron takes your hand from his face and places it gently back in your lap.

"If you tell me that you don't want me, I'll go. I'll go back to Washington and I'll never contact you again. I'll ask that you do the same. But if there's any part of you that wants me, that's thinking about it... Leave him. He deserves better than being your second choice for the rest of his life."

You glance at the clock on the microwave. Andrew's only been gone for five minutes, and Aaron's been back in your life for less than an hour. You shouldn't be thinking about this. You definitely shouldn't be thinking about the fact that when Andrew goes out for walks, he usually walks past Tompkins Square Park, down to the East River, and it takes him at least twenty-five minutes, which means that if you wanted to, hypothetically, you'd have enough time to-

You kiss Aaron.

He's surprised, but he wraps an arm around you, slowly, like he's not sure if he has the right to.

You press your tongue into his mouth first, flicking the tip of it over his tongue, inviting him to do the same. He takes a deep breath through his nose and pulls you closer. You fall into his lap easily, and his hand slips under your the back of your shirt.

He pulls back slightly and breathes heavily. You do too, but you don't let him stop kissing you. His lips move against yours, and then he bites your lower lip. He still knows you like it. You press down against him.

Aaron breaks the kiss first, and looks around for the door to your bedroom. You can see the moment he realizes that he's in another man's apartment. If he were to take you to the bedroom, he'd be laying you down in another man's bed.

He withdraws completely, pulling his hands from your skin carefully, like he's testing if he'll stick to you.

You look over at the front door, and see Andrew standing there. He only went as far as Tompkins.

Aaron doesn't realize that you're staring at something, someone, that you're frozen in place. He kisses your neck. You don't try to stop him, realizing that Andrew has seen more than enough already. You can't lie your way out of this one.

"Wow. Okay."

Aaron's head whips to the left so quickly that you're worried for his neck. He looks at you, lost for words.

You were going to use the kiss to make up your mind, but now that you're looking at Andrew, the soft press of Aaron's lips seems completely irrelevant. You can't do this to him. You like Andrew. He's nice. You have a good thing with him.

It's with a sudden dread that you realize, now that Andrew's seen you, he has a decision to make too, one that will make your choice for you. Just like that, you've lost all of your agency because of Aaron. Again.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Andrew..."

He shakes his head. "I'm not going to compete. If you want me, want me. I'm just saying it's got to count for something that you were alone with him for a second and-" He gestures to you and Aaron.

Aaron bristles at that, and sensing something like a competition, Andrew holds up his hands. "That's it, then."

You frown at Aaron. This is not how you anticipated tonight going.

"Aaron, get out."

Aaron looks shocked, but when you move from his lap, he stands up and walks out without arguing.

"Andrew," You sigh.

He wraps his arms around you.

"Sucks about our door, huh?"

You huff a laugh. "He'll pay for it."

_______________________________

I love you, and I'll always love the memories we have together, but it just wouldn't have worked out. Thank you for understanding. Please give me privacy and let me move on with my life.

You hesitate, and hesitate, and hesitate, then finally press send and relax into the shoulder of the man beside you. His scent is warm and familiar. He wraps an arm around you casually. When you look up into his eyes, you know that you couldn't have made any other choice. This is Aaron. Your Aaron. He smiles.

THE END

#i'm on fire #my writing #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch/reader #criminal minds #hotch #fanfic #fanfiction

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p-artsypants · 6 months ago

Text

Paint it Black (19) Defaulting

Ao3 | FF.net

Everyone, Bruce included, had expected Robin to continue to improve after the antidote was administered. No one thought he’d be right back up and ready to go, but they hoped there would be an improvement.

Instead, there was a sharp decline.

Within a few days, Robin went from optimistic about his new future, to nearly bedridden and quiet.

“Robin?” Starfire checked on him for the fourth time that day, hoping this time he’d get up and eat dinner with them.

“Star…” he croaked.

She sat at his bedside and pet his hair. “Are you the same or worse from earlier today?”

“Worse,” he cringed. “It’s like my blood is on fire.”

“I am to ask if you have a headache or weakness.”

“Yes, both. And nausea. Could you bring me some water?”

“Absolutely,” she leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Sorry, I was looking forward to spending time with you.”

“Your apologies are not necessary. You are still recovering, and we have plenty of time to catch up.”

Robin closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I shall return momentarily with your water.” She patted his leg and returned to the common room.

“So?” Batman asked, immediately.

“It is as you have said. He appeared to be sweating quite fiercely, though he has several layers of blankets on. And he said he has a headache and muscle weakness, as well as nausea.”

“I could pretty confidently diagnose him with opioid withdrawal,” Bruce frowned. “It’s not surprising since he’s been taking some everyday for a few months. You can’t quit that crap cold turkey.”

“Is poultry also addictive?” Starfire asked.

“It means quitting without weaning off. I can get about a month’s supply of medical fentanyl from some contacts at the local Wayne Tech branch. Robin’s not going to like having to take it, but if we time it right, we should be able to wean him off gradually. Then he won’t need it.”

“That is an excellent plan! I shall be the one to explain it to him. He should accept it better from me.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

—

Beast Boy couldn’t sleep. He was tired, yes, but there was a tingling in the back of his head he couldn’t ignore. A feeling or an instinct that something was wrong. It had to be his animalistic sense. Then again, that little alarm had gone off a few times since Batman and Alfred came to visit. They were both up and about at night and made just enough noise that his advanced hearing could pick it up, even in sleep.

But that instinct had settled down in the last week, finally getting used to their scents and sounds.

But this was different. Something new, but somehow familiar.

Would it hurt to check? If the coast was clear, he could very well pass it off as an effect of the upcoming full moon and go back to sleep.

He got out of bed and moved into the hall, careful to be quiet and not awake the others. No reason to bother them over nothing.

Last thing he needed was Raven making fun of him for literally crying wolf.

His floor was clear, and was the floor below, where the gym was. But the floor after that, where Cyborg’s room was, was where the feeling intensified.

Beast Boy morphed into a dog to sniff around in the dark. Something smelled like BO and pizza grease, but not like his room.

As he rounded the corner, he was suddenly engulfed by a glowing orange orb, suspending him off the ground. He quickly morphed into a gorilla, and then attempted an elephant, but couldn’t actually become big enough. The material of the orb was solid.

“What’d I tell ya?” Gizmo smirked, while holding a strange looking weapon, presumably what shot the orb. “Green Bean would smell your toe jam and pull the alarm on us.”

“Fine, remind me to pay up when we’re done,” said Mammoth.

“The Hive?! What—? How?!” Beast Boy yelled, but his voice was severely muted in his prison.

Gizmo, Mammoth, See-More, Kyd Wykkyd, and Private Hive were all just casually standing in the hall, like they owned the place.

“I promised to behave the first time I came to visit,” said Gizmo. “I didn’t make any promises the second time. Tin Man might be busy in the upcoming weeks writing some new passcodes…since I stole them all.”

Beast Boy banged his fists on his cage. It felt like electrified jelly, and absorbed every hit he gave it.

Gizmo then turned to his team, laser focused. “Alright, Raven’s going to be our next problem. She might be able to sense auras or souls or whatever, so we need to get her next. Kyd Wykkyd, you have that binding spell?”

He nodded.

“Good. Get her to the Ops room on the top floor, and we’ll get her bubbled.”

Again, he nodded, and phased through the floor.

“Mammoth, you’ve got Starfire. Mad Mod was able to hold her for a while with these Xenothium cuffs. Bring her upstairs when you’ve got her.”

He cracked his knuckles. “I’m on it.”

“See-More, you’re going to take Barf Boy up to the ops room while I take care of Cyborg.” He held up a flash drive. “This code will give us control over him until his battery drains.”

See-More engulfed the already trapped Beast Boy in his beams.

“Private, you’re responsible for crazy Robin.”

“What do I capture him with, sir?”

Gizmo shrugged. “If you can lure him up to us, I’ll bubble him, but he’s mostly not going to be a problem. He’s totally banana pants loony.”

Beast Boy bit his lip. Robin was back, but as of bedtime, he was still resting in his room. No doubt, they’d find out soon enough.

But, even at a quarter of his strength, surely Robin could defeat Private Hive…right?

And if Robin couldn’t handle them, there was always Plan B.

Batman.

That is, assuming they didn’t get the drop on him as well.

At the moment, Beast Boy didn’t really have any options except to wait and watch and wish he had been smart enough to grab his communicator when he went to investigate.

He should really think about gluing that thing to his hand or something.

See-More brought him up to the ops room, and released the ball to float about a foot off the ground. No running or pushing would move it.

“Cool place. Never seen it from the inside,” he wandered around the still darkened room to find a light and helped himself to some snacks.

“What are you creeps planning?” Beast Boy asked, nostrils flaring.

See-More scoffed. “Like you could begin to understand.”

Only a moment later, the Ops room door opened and Gizmo entered with Cyborg in tow. Cyborg’s steps were more robotic and clunky, and his human eye was closed in sleep.

“Cy! Hey Cy! Wake up man!”

“Don’t bother, Barf Brains. He’s trapped in his sleep cycle. As far as he knows, he’s dreaming of his stupid car and eating disgusting food.”

A black portal opened from the ceiling before Raven fell, bound by the wrists and ankles with a white aura to the floor. The white aura also appeared as a mask over her nose and lips. Kyd Wykkyd appeared, giving Gizmo a thumbs up.

“That’s three down,” Gizmo smirked as he shot his containment orb at Raven. “Just waiting on the alien…and technically crazy Robin, but I’m not worried about him.”

Raven, just wearing her leotard, rolled around to sit up and look at Beast Boy.

“Yeah, they got me first. Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

She nodded.

“Gizmo hacked Cyborg somehow, and has him under control. Let’s hope Starfire’s a light sleeper.”

Raven gestured her head, silently asking about the others in the tower.

“Not a clue. I’m calling it Plan B. If you know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes, but ultimately nodded in understanding.

Then there came a boom from somewhere below, shaking the tower.

“And…that would be Star,” Beast Boy smirked.

“Kyd Wykkyd, See-More, go back him up,” Gizmo demanded, throwing See-More the strange gun. “I’ll watch these bozos. Not that they’re going anywhere.”

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” See-More asked as they left.

“I’ll ask again,” Beast Boy snarled. “What are you creeps up to?”

“Nunya business, Butts for Brains.”

“I think it is our business, considering you broke into our house!”

“Big talk from you dweebs. I hear someone in this tower is actually a thief. Some heroes you are.”

Beast Boy didn’t have an answer for that. He simply looked over to Raven again.

She shrugged back.

“Thief of what?”

“Not sayin’, just something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Beast Boy remembered the strange white doll again, though he couldn’t believe that was what Gizmo was talking about.

After all, that wasn’t stolen, it was abandoned.

Or maybe not.

“Sir, Gizmo, Sir!” Private Hive arrived, a body clad in plaid pajamas over his shoulder. “There was no one in Robin’s designated room, but I found this old man in the room next door.”

“Unhand me, you brute!” Alfred shouted from his awkward position.

Beast Boy gasped and shouted, “Let go of our grandpa!”

“Your grandpa?” Gizmo smirked. “I would have thought that any family of yours would also be green.”

As Private Hive brought Alfred over to where Raven and Beast Boy were being held, Gizmo looted through the drawers in the kitchen until he found a roll of duct tape. “Here. Tie him up with this. Doubt the old man is any kind of threat.”

Private Hive taped his wrists and ankles and left him on the floor between Raven and Beast Boy.

“You okay, Alfred?”

“I’m mostly fine. A little more bruised than I would like.”

“They’re trying to catch Starfire right now. No sign of Robin, it sounds like.”

“Miss Starfire is quite strong. They have their work cut out for them.”

They waited more time in silence, anxiously waiting for any sign of a battle, while Gizmo impatiently rooted around the ops room.

Maybe ten minutes later, the other Hive members returned with Starfire bubbled. Mammoth was bleeding from the nose and a cut above his eye. Starfire wore a tank top and shorts, though one strap on her tank was ripped. She was dazed and sprawled out in the bubble as they plopped her down by Beast Boy.

“Star?” He asked, concerned.

She clenched her eyes shut a few times, trying to focus. “Beast…Boy…?”

“You’re okay. They’ve got us captured in these bubbles. Raven’s gagged and they infected Cyborg with a virus, so he’s out of commission. And they found Alfred.”

Starfire just laid on her stomach, and pounded a cuffed fist against the orange surface. “I should have fought harder.”

“Please, Miss Starfire, don’t be so hard on yourself. This was a surprise attack.”

“And I went easy on ya,” Mammoth mocked, wiping his face with a dish towel. “Next time, you won’t be getting up.”

Starfire leapt to her feet and began wailing on the orb. Her attacks made the bubble shake violently, but it didn’t break. “THUS VAR Y’KEEM!” She shouted in her native tongue.

“Ohh I’m so scared.” Mammoth rolled his eyes. “What’s next, Pipsqueak?”

Gizmo gave him an annoyed look, but ignored the nickname. “We find the target. We have 24 hours before these bubbles wear down. I wanna be long gone before then. Crazy Robin is in the tower somewhere, but we outnumber, outpower, and out-sanity him. Call for backup if you see him.”

Mammoth stuck a finger in his ear. “What are we looking for again? Some weird doll?”

Gizmo scoffed. “Nice work, Fart Face. Whatever. Yeah, all white doll, made of cloth.”

Beast Boy let out a squeak that was muted by the prison.

“Alright, spread out!”

Kyd Wykkyd disappeared through the floor, but before the others could leave, the lights went out. The Hive members went still.

“He’s here,” said Gizmo, converting his backpack into its spider form. “Get ready for something weird and stupid.”

Instead, the main doors opened, and a cloud of smoke rolled in, making them all cough and choke.

“What the—?” Gizmo exclaimed, but before he could finish, a grapple line wrapped around him and yanked him off his feet.

A Batarang cut through the air and hit See-More right in the eye, making him fall to his knees and cry out in pain.

Private Hive took out his shield and ran into the smoke, ready to fight.

While the sounds of Private Hive getting the crap beaten out of him filled the silence, Mammoth ran at Alfred, swept him off the ground and put him into a painful headlock. “Give up now, or I snap the old man like a twig!”

Private Hive gave a final ‘oof!’ as the wind was knocked out of him.

Mammoth squeezed, and Alfred let out a painful gasp.

There was silence, and then Batman flourished his cape and cleared the smoke. He stood in the doorway, watching intensely.

“One more move, and Grandpa’s toast.”

Batman noticed the bead of sweat that traveled down Mammoth’s forehead, but more importantly, the color draining from Alfred’s face.

It just wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

Batman sighed and put his hands up.

“Stand over by the others.”

Batman did as directed, never showing what he was thinking.

With Alfred still in a headlock, Mammoth recovered the bubble gun from the floor, and shot Batman. Then he dropped Alfred harshly on the ground. “You came in handy, gramps.”

Alfred coughed and choked. “I hope you rot, you thug.”

Mammoth kicked him once before going over to Gizmo and attempting to untangle him.

Private Hive got his wind back and pathetically barked. “You never said Batman was involved! I never signed up to deal with Batman!”

“Aw shut up, I didn’t know he was in town.” Gizmo finished untangling himself and dusted his arms off. “See-More, you good?”

The teen in question just sniveled, presumably not ‘good’.

“Fine. Mammoth, Private, join Wykydd in the search. I’ll look in here and keep an eye on the hostages and See-More. You all have your radios?”

“Hostages?” Beast Boy barked.

“Oh, did I offend you? What would you prefer? Prisoners? Captives? Losers?”

As the team split up, Batman opened the computer on his gauntlet. “Alright, what do you know?”

“Oh, um…Gizmo’s kind of a returning pain in the neck. We actually…recruited him to help on the case. He’s the one that recovered the files from the SD card from Robin. Sounds like he hacked our system the last time he was here.”

“Hm.”

“Mammoth let it slip that they’re looking for some white doll that was allegedly stolen.” He shouted over to where Gizmo was. “Even though we don’t steal!”

“Not according to our sources!” Gizmo chirped back.

“And who are these sources?” Batman demanded.

“Not telling, Bat Barf!”

“Charming child, isn’t he?” Alfred quipped.

Batman scanned the bubble prison, trying to find a weakness. “These cages are made out of an electrified aerogel, composed of silicon and amber. We could dissolve it if we had turpentine and toluene.”

“Oh good. I assume you have those in your utility belt?” Alfred asked, sarcastically.

“Gizmo said they’ll weaken in 24 hours. So we won’t die here at least…”

“And no one has mentioned Robin?”

“Private Hive said he wasn’t in his room.”

Batman shifted his jaw. “Then we might not be totally out of luck.”

“But he could not possibly take out the Hive on his own. He is far too weak right now!” Starfire protested.

“He probably couldn’t win if they teamed up, but if he picked them off one by one…”

Gizmo seemed to overhear that much from his spot across the room, and called out on his radio. “Keep on your toes for Robin. Don’t let him pick you off!”

“I’m in his room right now, sir. Someone was here not too long ago.”

Before Gizmo could respond, there was a long beep that was emitted from the ceiling. Then, music started playing, an acoustic guitar.

“Intercom system activated.” Cyborg said, in an emotionless voice.

“Intercom? Since when did we have an intercom?”

When you were here before…couldn’t look you in the eye…

“Alright, who’s messing with the radio, huh?” Gizmo yelled into his com.

You’re just like an angel…your skin makes me cry.

Beast Boy shuttered. “This is ‘Creep’ by Radiohead.”

“Could that mean…?” Starfire whimpered.

You float like a feather…in this beautiful world.

“That antidote didn’t work.”

I wish I was special…yes so very special.

“Mayday! Mayday!” Private Hive’s panicked whisper over the com. “Crazy Robin spotted! He’s pissed! And I think he has a gun!”

“Where are you?” Gizmo asked.

“I’m in the trophy room. I’m hiding behind a corner.”

“Why the heck are you hiding!? Get out there soldier! He doesn’t have superpowers! And don’t let his weird intimidation tactic get to you.”

But I’m a creep…I’m a weirdo…what the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here…

There was silence on the other end for a while, before Private Hive came back on, screaming. “Help me! He’s going to kill me! Ahh! Make it stop!!”

Mammoth responded. “Private, I’m coming to back you up!”

Gizmo scoffed at the radio. “You can’t find good help these days. Maybe we’ll go with the Hive Four until Billy’s out of jail.”

I don’t care if it hurts…I wanna have control…I want a perfect body. I want a perfect soul.

“Did Private say he had a gun?” Beast Boy asked. “Where did he get a gun?”

“I hope he’s mistaken,” Batman sneered. “Or else this is going to get messy.”

I want you to notice…when I’m not around…you’re so very special…

It was faint, because the tower walls were so insulated, but there was a definitive ‘pop pop’ somewhere in the tower.

“Shit.”

I wish I was special.

“Private! Status!” Gizmo shouted.

There was no answer.

“I’m closing in on his location,” said Mammoth. “There’s no one here but—-ough!”

“I’m making the call, get out of there!”

Mammoth’s radio must have fallen while being turned on, as the sounds from the room were clearly heard. Fists connecting, Mammoth’s cries of pain, and someone singing along with the radio.

But I’m a creep…I’m a weirdo…what the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.

“Hold…still…you little…!”

“Uh oh! Sounds like someone’s full of regretti, upsetti, and spaghetti!”

“You…crazy son of a…”

“Hey! There will be no goddamn swearing!”

She’s…running out the door.

There was another loud ‘pop pop’ before silence.

“Kyd Wykkyd? You still out there?” Gizmo asked with palpable fear in his voice.

“If you let us out of here, we might be able to call him off,” Batman offered. “We might be able to save your friends.”

“Like I believe you!”

She’s run…run…run…

Gizmo sank to his knees in the common room, as there was nothing but silence over the radio, and only a warning over the speakers.

Run! Run!

“Screw this! I’m getting out of here! Sorry See-More!” And Gizmo booked it out of the room.

Whatever makes you happy…whatever you want…you’re so very special…

No one knew what to say. Was this considered a win? At what cost?

Batman hung his head, shaking it in disgust.

I wish I was special.

Starfire sobbed. “Why didn’t it work?”

“What?” Asked Beast Boy.

“The antidote! It was supposed to cure him!”

“I’d like to know too,” Batman growled. “Because either the antidote was faulty, or he got dosed with his poison somehow.”

“But he hasn’t left the tower in days,” said Beast Boy.

“So…who got in?”

But I’m a creep…I’m a weirdo…what the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here…

The door to the ops room opened once again, and Black, wearing his ratty jeans and trench coat, stood in the doorway, gun in hand. “I don’t belong here!” He sang with the radio. “Sorry guys, looks like I made a widdle mess!”

“Get us out of here, now!” Batman roared.

“Damn, okay.” Black grumbled. “God forbid there’s any gratitude around here.” He left the room, and when he returned, he had Gizmo by the collar, his arms bound to his body by a grapple line.

“Scuzz munching, brain barfing psycho.”

“Turn off the orbs,” Black demanded.

“I ain’t doing squat!”

Black pointed his gun at his head. “I really think you ought to,” he sang.

“Okay okay!” Gizmo relented. “Jesus Christ.”

Once he had a hand free, Gizmo simply tapped a button on his suit and the orbs popped.

Beast Boy worked on setting Raven free from her binding spell while Batman picked the locks to Starfire’s cuffs.

Once Raven was free, she disappeared into the floor, off in search of the injured villains.

“You better fix Cy too!” Beast Boy shouted at Gizmo.

“Ugh yeah yeah. Man, this is turning out to be a major failure.”

While Starfire was free to help Alfred, Batman went to Black and held out his hand. “You really shouldn’t have that. Why don’t you give it to me?”

Black screwed up his lips. “What if I need it?”

“You don’t.”

Cyborg let out a yawn and a stretch. “Good morn—hold up. Gizmo?”

“The twerp hacked you, my man!” Beast Boy shouted.

“Several of our adversaries intruded upon our home,” Starfire elaborated.

“Aww man…and I slept through all that? And now I bet I have to reset all the codes, huh?”

Gizmo shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. I’m all done. You gonna take me to the police or what?”

Batman begrudgingly allowed Black to keep the weapon, for now, and approached Gizmo. “We’ll take a little ride in the Batmobile in a minute, but first, I want a word.” He grabbed Gizmo by the shirt and dragged him out of the room.

“I can walk you know!”

Soon after, Raven returned. “I couldn’t find Kyd Wykkyd. Private Hive is stable, but injured. Mammoth was in the worst condition, but if he gets to a hospital soon, he’ll survive.”

The group collectively looked at Black.

“Uh, you’re welcome?!” He sassed.

Mostly, they were just wondering how he was here and not Robin, but no one was sure how to ask the question. Black wasn’t supposed to know that they tried to get rid of him.

Distantly, the group could hear Gizmo screaming as he fell off the tower, but no one minded much.

“What did those knuckleheads break in here for?” Cyborg asked, playing catch up.

“It’s the D-O-L-L again,” said Beast Boy. “I think that’s why Batman is interrogating Gizmo.”

See-More still laid on the floor, in pain due to his broken eye. He spoke up, sniveling. “Joker offered a position as his apprentice if someone brought that thing to him.” He worked on taking his helmet off. “Jynx and I had weird vibes about the situation. It's one thing to be a big time villain, but that guy is not stable.”

“So why did you join the mission?” Raven asked, kneeling to look at his eye.

“Curiosity. I wasn’t going to accept the position, but I thought it’d be a good experience.”

“Yeah, I bet ‘I ran a job for the Joker’ looks great on a villain resumé,” Beast Boy chuckled.

“You joke, but we literally had lessons on it from the guidance counselor at the Hive Academy.”

“That’s wild.”

“As it is, I doubt I’ll be doing anything evil for a while, if I haven’t gone blind from this.”

“Well, make sure you make an appointment with your evil optometrist, and you’ll probably be fine,” Raven concluded her exam. “As it stands, we’ll probably need a few ambulances.”

“My question still stands,” said Beast Boy, walking up to Black. “Where did you get the gun?”

He tucked it away in his waistband. “I’ve had it the whole time.”

“Bull shit!”

“I’m serious. If you go back, it’s mentioned in chapter 6.”

“What are you talking about?!” Beast Boy became frustrated. “You almost killed people today! Robin never used guns, and knew exactly where to hit people to knock them out without killing them. You—…” He shook his head and walked over to the couch. “I thought this was over.”

“Wow,” said Black. “You all are nothing but a bunch of ungrateful brats. Here I thought I’d get a bunch of ‘atta boy’s for rescuing all of you. But nnnoooOOOOoooOoooo. You’re all like ‘people could have died’ and ‘I’m scared for my own life because you have a gun and you’re crazy’.”

Frightening how no one had said the second part aloud.

“Black,” Starfire began, resting her hands on his shoulders. “We are grateful that you saved us. We knew you could do it, and knew you were our only chance. We’re just…concerned about your methods.”

Black looked at Starfire, tilting his head to the side. He glanced away, furrowing his brows, like he was listening to something.

Then he backed away from her. “Glad to know one person is grateful.”

A moment later, Batman returned with a pale and shaking Gizmo. “I have a location.”

“Good,” stated Cyborg, from the computer. “Where are we headed?”

“Tomorrow night,” Batman clarified. “They have a meeting. I’m going to be there instead. The rest of you are going to watch Black.”

“Uh…tomorrow is Halloween,” Beast Boy piped up. “With all the kids trick or treating, Robin likes to have us all on patrol.”

Black perked up.

“Right,” Batman sighed, forgetting the date.

“Sir, could we not put him in the containment unit for the night? I would be more than capable to look after him.”

“That will have to work. In the meantime, we should clean this mess up.”

—-

After all of that, Beast Boy returned to his room, totally pooped. He hadn’t even done any fighting, but the adrenaline of it all kept him wired.

But as soon as he laid down, he got a whiff of an unfamiliar smell. He morphed into a bloodhound and started sniffing around. Someone had been in his room.

When it all clicked, he transformed back into a boy and ran to tell the others.

The doll was gone.

#teen titans #paint it black #starfire #robin #robstar #dick grayson #dickory #fanfiction

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firstelevens · 9 months ago

Note

Hey Zainab! taking this moment for a second to just say I see you around and I think you're cool. Anyways, for the SamBucky ask - either: 👔 Zipping or Buttoning His Jacket for/Putting a Tie on Him or 💥 A Surprise Encounter please

Hi, Mexi! That's so kind of you to say! I think you're super cool, too! Also both of these were such great options that it took FOREVER for me to choose--thanks for sending them in!

👔 Zipping or Buttoning His Jacket for/Putting a Tie on Him

Sam’s been an Avenger for six months, and he’s still not used to the glamor of it all. Yeah, there are days when an EMP fries his wings and he finds himself parachuting straight into a swamp, but then there are nights like this, where they get put up in an opulent hotel and invited to a gala as thanks for foiling a kidnapping plot against the Governor of Gibraltar.

The wind on the water reminds Sam of home, so he’s got the sliding door to the balcony open, the smell of sunshine blowing into his suite along with the breeze. He takes little peeks at the sunset while he gets ready, crisply ironing his shirt and adjusting his cufflinks—little silver crawdads, a present from Sarah on his birthday a few years ago—before contending with his tie.

Normally it would be a snap; a lifetime of doing his tie for church every Sunday meant that a half-Windsor knot had been muscle memory for years now. At some point during today’s rescue mission, though, Sam had managed to hurt his right hand enough that it’s a lot slower going than it should be, and trying to make his left hand do what his right hand should is just making his brain hurt.

He’s distracted, restarting the knot for the third time when he hears a noise on his balcony and whips around. His gun is on the other side of the bedroom, locked up with the rest of his gear, but Sam’s always got a knife within reach, and he’s throwing it at the figure in the doorway before they’ve even resolved into anything more than shadow.

When the person easily catches it, it’s with the sound of metal clinking against metal, and Sam feels the tension immediately leave his body.

“Turning your back on an unlocked door?” asks Bucky, sounding entirely too smug. “What are they even teaching you up at Stark’s fancy compound?”

“How to draw annoying cyborgs to your hotel suite, apparently,” says Sam, and very deliberately turns his back to Bucky as he starts in on his tie again.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted me in your bedroom, all you had to do was ask,” says Bucky. Sam doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know that he’s smirking.

“Apparently, I didn’t even have to do that,” he shoots back. He’s not sure if he imagines the way that Bucky’s neck flushes behind him. Sam means to say something else teasing, in part because it usually seems like Bucky could use the laugh, but then he realizes he’s looped the tie the wrong way around again and yanks it loose for a fourth time, mumbling an expletive as he does.

“The hell are you even doing, Wilson; how’d you get this far without learning to tie a tie?”

Sam holds up his bandaged right hand in response, and Bucky tuts disapprovingly. He’s by Sam’s side in three paces, huffing as he turns Sam by the shoulder.

“Some team leader Rogers is,” Bucky mutters, grabbing the ends of Sam’s tie and smoothing them out. “Doesn’t he know that—”

Bucky cuts himself off, finally seeming to realize that he’s got his hands on Sam, in closer proximity than the two of them have ever been. Sam watches as Bucky’s eyes come up to meet his, then drop back down to his grip on Sam’s tie.

A grimace flickers across his face, and he starts to pull his hands away, but Sam settles his own hands on top of Bucky’s.

“What?” he asks, with a grin that he hopes is encouraging. “You’re gonna let me go out there looking all scruffy? Leave me hanging so Steve can steal the spotlight?”

The tightness in Bucky’s jaw eases just a bit. He breathes in once, twice, thrice before looking up at Sam again. There’s a question in his eyes that Sam hopes is answered when he nods.

Half a beat later, Bucky is smoothing out the ends of the tie again and working on a knot, focused enough on his task that Sam can take the opportunity to study him: the dark fringe of his eyelashes, the slight curl of his hair in the sea air. There’s an almost-healed cut by his lip that Sam wants to ask about, and dark circles like bruises that he knows not to bring up.

He’s so distracted cataloguing the changes on Bucky’s face that he doesn’t realize that the tie has already been tied, not until Bucky smoothes it out one last time.

“There,” he says, bringing his hands back down and stepping away from Sam. “Now you’re not such a disgrace to whoever taught you to tie one of those.”

Sam snorts, shaking his head. “I’m sure my daddy would be thrilled to know you protected his legacy.”

He gets a small smile for that in return, just the barest lift at the corner of Bucky’s mouth, but much more real than the teasing smirk from before. It makes warmth thrum through Sam’s veins.

“Thanks for the help, Barnes.”

“Anytime,” says Bucky, and makes for the balcony again.

Sam knows better than to try to keep him where he is, and this is more of a goodbye than he usually gets, so he’s surprised to hear Bucky say his name from the doorway as he turns to put on his dinner jacket.

“Hey, Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Tie or no tie, nobody else has got a shot at that spotlight with you around.”

Sam feels his jaw drop, but Bucky’s gone before he can even turn around, the balcony door clicking shut behind him.

#sambucky #thatmexisaurusrex #zainab does ask meme things #idk what this is y'all it just happened #'ficlet' is a state of mind okay #my fic

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sketchfanda · 1 year ago

Text

Chestnut Stud Across the Multiverse: Erotic Pilgrimage

Somedays a person couldn’t help but feel a bit self centred when something went wrong. A car crash happens,causing a traffic jam to which you can’t help but think “why does this always happen to me?” A sudden bad shift in the weather? Second verse same as the first but for Krillin this was often the reality of his life and the situations he somehow always found himself in. Such as currrently as he found himself in Briefs laboratory’s quarantine room. It was cozy modest little sterile wing of the complex, sealed in such a way that nothing could get in or out, especially a microbe. The former monk and current police officer of course wasn’t alone inside this bedroom as he was in the company of a rather sensual alluring female figure by the name of Tali. You’d be forgiven for thinking she was a human woman due to the shape of her body, very sensual with its curves and tones all tucked away in a very skin tight bodysuit. Which came with a rather fashionable hooded orb helmet of course, her most alien trait at the moment being her hands and feet each having 3 fingers and toes respectively. Standing over him at only 8 inches of height. With him being five foot even, the compact fighter sat on the edge of the bed,clad in just his boxers as he looked away from the bdsm looking beauty to the mirror in the far side wall of the quarantine wing.

Krillin:*the most deadpan expression imaginable*”Alright Bulma, I know I say this a lot but as far as it goes when it comes to you and 18 setting me up like this. But this is a stretch for sure…..”

Bulma:*sitting beside the aforementioned blonde cyborg behind the now revealed two way mirror,her tone innocent or so it seemed as she and 18 each had a cup of coffee in hand.*”Oh don’t be so melodramatic Krillin,it’s not all as bad as Yiu make it sound. Really you’re doing a very good thing here. Tail’s species have had an issue for years with their immune systems and if my vaccine treatment is to be considered succuessful? Well we just have to be sure….”

Krillin:*still deadpan glancing at her and his wife*”by having sex?” 18:*sips her Java,no shame in her tone*”well it’s the most direct way of exposure to another living being. Besides babe I asked and Yiu said yes,anything for science,right?”

Tali:*watching Krillin sigh as he looked back at her,she waved her hand good natured ot as she reassured him.*”it’s no issue or concern for me, Mr.Krillin. I fully gave permission and consent for this test much like how I volunteered on behalf of my people to be the subject of the treatments. And well,I’ve seen some….examples of your way with women,in a manner of speaking…”*the exotic alien babe giggled playfully at seeing Krillin plus. There was no doubt he knew what she was implying. 18 and Bulma had shown her some videos of her current roommate’s past sexual exploits and encounters and to say she was feeling erotically excited was an understatement.* “So please,relax while I,to coin a phrase…set the mood…”

Soon as she said thst,Bulma played with a few stitches,adjusting the lighting in the quarantine bay to have a more sensual feel to it. The short king unable to look away as Tali grabbed the clasp at the collar of her suit and slowly,sensually unzipped it. The front sliding open to expose the valley and cleavage of her bodacious breasts, the smooth toned abdominal belly and the rich Souter of her violet shaded skin. Feeling her gaze on him from behind the visor of her helm dome as she purred and began to sway erotically. Undoing the clasps and buckles of her outfit as she began to slowly unpeeled it from herself. Soon standing naked before him, posing seductively as her mauve body glistening with a lustrous sheen in the lighting. Giggling as she could see the rising tent being pitched in his boxers as she stood before him with only her hood and helmet remaining on her being. Sensually strutting to him as she reached out to caress his face, catching his attention as he looked at her with dumbfounded blushing awe. Before gasping as with her free hand she grasped and caressed his clothed erection, sensually panting as she felt a sense of his length and girth.

Tali:”It pleases me to know thst in your eyes I can get such a reaction from you. But please mr.Krillin,do more than just look…embrace me…touch me….for this session,do with me as You would your wife…make me feel like your woman…let me experience the skill of a real man…”*the Aquarian spoke,no hesitation or doubt in her voice. But rather lust and awe,as she grabbed the waistband of his boxers,pulling them down to gasp with awe at the sight of his raging stiff hard-on. To see his cock in the fully exposed flesh lik pe this made her arousal skyrocket, before Krillin recaptured her attention by gently grasping and unlocking her hooded helm. Removing it as steam hissed forth, the Aquarian moaned softly as she felt the air on her face and saw her partner with her vision unhindered by the violet tint of the visor. The pair’s eyes locked on one another before they closed in and locked lips. Softly at first but soon deepening the kiss,going from chaste to growing sloppy with passion and sexual thirst. Tongues dancing as they explored and tasted on another.*

18:*grinning like a cat who caught a canary*”Mmm knew having her watch this videos would do the trick. It’s a fact,if seeing my man in action doesn’t wet your appetite,thst prize dick of his alone is a good bribe…l*the cyborg stunner quipped,licking her lips at eyeing her husband and the quarian make out like horny teens. Unbuckling nd undoing the fly of her jeans as as she ski her hand down the front of her thong,a deep moan escaping her lips as she stroked her own clit to the sight if Tali stroking Krillin’s cock while he in turn groped her and probed the quarian pilgrim’s violet mound. Seeing them roll around on the bed as their heavy petting got more erotic, it just really got her going.*

Bulma:*grins her own Minxy grin,nonchalant to the outright voyeurism she and 18 were indulging in or thst the cyborg was playing herself as she sat beside her,simply enjoying her coffee.* “Remind me to update my thesis on the Krillin effect sometime. Also should remember to tell him that the treatment actually has been proven to work. After maybe the usual record of rounds he can go if she can last long enough….”*sensually licking her lips as she began to unbutton her own shirt,eyes drifting to the drawer where she kept her warrior monk toys handy just in case.*

Back in the Quarantine room, Krillin and Tali were becoming intoxicated with lust,as the Quarian babe laid atop the compact stud. The pair in a 69 position s she sat her mauve booty atop his chromedome head. Panting and moaning as she felt his tongue work away at her violet slit and her anal pucker while she looked with erotic awe at his cock. Stroking it in the grasp of her 3 fingers, feeling the pulse of his length snd girth as she proceeded to assault it with licks and kisses. Worshipping his balls as she lubed up his length from base to tip with a generous sheen of her saliva. Bulma had generously offered her that Warrior Monk dildo to practice with but the Quarian pilgrim had insisted she wanted a more virgin experience,as she felt herself guided by primal instincts and the thrill of freedom from sickness just from exposing herself even the slightest from her protective suit. Soon latching her mouth onto his manhood as she began to suck and blow on it, the rush of struggling to deepthroat such a beast of a cock making her pussy gush, causing her juices to flow int his mouth and dazzle the tastebuds of his tongue as he drank them up. The Quarian wasn’t a stranger to sex but to truly be with such a specimen of a man and in a state where she could freely live out of her suit and truly enjoy sex without having to outright use a full body nano fiber condom was sublime in its raw eroticism. The size and thickness of his rod,his pre cum on her tongue,the heat and pulse of his desire, it just made her feel so lewd as she popped her lips off of his shaft,looking over her shoulder at him as she stroked and beat it.

Tali:*her face an expression of raw desire,eyes glowing with lust,indicated by the shape of glowing hearts. She’d gone into full on bitch in heat mode as she panted with need.*”Aahn,forgive my blunt directness mr.Krillin,yiur fire play is amazing…but pleas,I can’t wait any longer. Take this Cock of yours and destroy me. Fill my womb with your hot human seed,you stallion of the stars…..”

Krillin paused in his oral assault on the Quarian’s slit and booty,looking at her as he blushed,eyes wide. Inside his brain several switches began to be flipped off. Switches 18 was more than familiar with and knew how to set them off. One of them was having a hot sexy piece of ass, be they human, furry, alien or what have you,so long as they were a woman, express such desire and sexual thirst for him to a oint hey wanted to bare his children. It just stirred this ancient primal nee and desire to be fruitful and multiply, reminding him how unfair it seemed that in all the time he and 18 had been together, Marron somehow was their only child. Not one brother or sister for her to love,coddle and play with. It just wasn’t fair damnit,did the universe have some vendetta against him? Well screw the universe,was it any wonder 18 went the lengths she did like this for him? Setting him with hot sexy pieces of ass like this? For his wife,he’d give her a show and prove her right in having been the man she married and for their daughter,he’d give her a Universe worth of brothers and sisters!! As he grabbed and squeeze the Quarian’s violet booty,making Tali gasp as she saw the twinkling gleams in his eyes. So she wanted him to destroy her and out buns in her oven? Wish granted as the eternal dragons would so famously say!

Before Tali knew it, she was finding her world,no her very galaxy being rocked and shaken. As Krillin had her pinned down in a mating press, howling cries and moans of desire and ecstasy echoing throughout the quarantine room along with the shaking thuds and creaking springs of the bed they laid together in. Her Quarian booty jigglin,tits rubbing against his chiselled pecs as he held and pinned her 3 toed legs so far back,her ankles were on either side of her head. Their tongues dancing together in a sloppy open air tango as his heavy balls swayed and smacked her loins,their pelvises making the sweet sound of skin slapping sex. Her nectar splashing as he pierced her womb and overwhelmed her brain with a rapid fire onslaught of orgasms and how she was loving every goddamn second of it!!

Tali:”Oooh maker! Aaahn Mr.Krillin you’re a beast!! A brute,it’s amazing!!”*Time flying by as they went and shifted through position after postion,as she found herself riding him cowgirl style,his hands massaging her hips as her own caressed his chest.* “Oh gos,you’ve cum 3 times without pulling out once! I’m really going to become pregnant at this rate!!”*Soon taking it doggy style,biting the bedsheets and grasping them as he’d slap her ass. Her mind clewrly gone full blown slutty for her new alpha male.* “Aahn,ms.Bulma I do believe I have become infected with a fever!! Baby making fever!! Breed me mr.Krillin,my body will have as many of your children as you want!!”

These were just among the many obscene things Tali expressed verbally, that is when she could make words and sentences rather than the cries of a wanton whore. Not that it bothered her or anything, why woildnt and shouldn’t she feel so good with such a stud of a man? As she continued to enact the kama sutra of intimate sexual mating positions with the short king. Oh certainly she’d gotten p,entry of his load anally and orally,but she was finding herself addicted to taking it raw and bareback in her Quarian pussy, as I she truly intended to ensure this encounter would leave her knocked up with a child from him. If not this round,maybe the next session, that is if she could convince Bulma to hold off on telling Krillin the truth about the immunity treatments. There wasn’t any doubt The capsule corp heiress would agree with her as she and 18 were scissoring one another. Naked and sweating as they moaned in the observation room, grinding their pussies together,clothes scattered along with half a dozen warrior monk dildoes among other numerous sex toys. Not their fault Krillin was putting in such effort to give them a show that it got them so horny. It’s just how it always played out for them as they continued to get off on watching Krillin make some hot sweet love to one very eager Quarian babe. Human,alien what have you, any woman needed a hit round of chestnut loving. Good for what ails you.

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