#HELL if you added a hover chair for him you can hook that thing up with whatever weapons you want | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help.

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word.

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose.

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder.

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down.

He started.

Pushing.

Them.

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you.

You don't have think.

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain.

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away.

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change.

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder.

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

Kim Seokjin was furious.

Furious!

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling.

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you.

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly.

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high.

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again.

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles.

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that.

You thinned your mouth into a line.

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate.

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on.

He was a cat.

(Man.)

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste.

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well.

Not your preferred thick white drink.

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you.

"Show me how to sew."

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following.

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man.

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So.

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety.

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that?

No. You were too busy thinking about dick.

His dick.

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now.

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor.

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you.

Fuck.

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive.

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time.

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything.

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea.

Jungkook laughed to himself.

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept.

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body.

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look.

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat.

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm.

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor.

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction.

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well.

Yoongi looked into your eyes.

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic.

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well.

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity.

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it.

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look.

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears.

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help.

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

part v

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years ago

Text

fine line - p.p

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

When your dad told you he had recruited a boy your age to the Avengers, you felt a little flame of jealousy bubble inside you. Without any superpowers of your own, you were often left out of the heroic and dangerous missions the Avengers went on. Your dad did his best to include you by letting you help out in the lab and tag along on lowkey missions, but that all changed when Peter started coming around.

A lot of things changed when Peter started coming around.

The way he seemed to replace you, and so effortlessly at that, boiled into a deep resentment for the young hero. He was always there, occupying the spaces you once did, and you resented it. You resented him.

Just not as much as you resented the way he made your heart flutter when he looked at you.

“What are you guys doing?” You asked as you walked into the lab to see your dad. Peter was by his side, as he always was, making you roll your eyes. Peter smiled brightly at you as you sat down, and you gave him a tight lipped smile back.

“Hey, Princess.” Your dad greeted. “We’re adding back up back up jets in the butt of Rhodey’s suit in case the back up jets in his legs fail.”

“I call them the weapons of ass destruction.” Peter said gleefully as he held up the jets.

“Yeah, hilarious.” You said sarcastically and turned to your dad. “Um, daddy, I thought we were gonna do that.”

“Sorry sugar plum. I needed to get this done before the trip later and sticky fingers said I shouldn’t wake you.” Tony apologized to you and a familiar feeling of anger filled your tummy. This wasn’t the first time you’d found Peter doing something with your dad that you were originally supposed to do. It seemed like every plan you made, Peter weaseled his way in and took your place. You looked at Peter with narrowed eyes, to which he responded with a sympathetic smile.

“Did he now?” You said, just a little bitterly.

“Maybe you can help us next time. Did you sleep well?” Peter asked politely, and you just rolled your eyes.

“Did I sleep well? What are you, my Fitbit?” You snorted and looked away from him. Peter’s heart sank at yet another rejection from you, but he kept his mouth shut and continued working. Your eyes shifted back to him once he went back to his work, feeling a pang of guilt for being short with him.

“What trip are we going on later?” You directed your question only to your father, acting like Peter wasn’t there.

“Cap got a hit on where Bucky might be. We’re heading to Canada to check it out.” Your dad explained as he twisted a screwdriver.

“Okay. I’ll pack my stuff.” You got out of your chair and went to leave before you heard your dad sigh.

“Sorry Princess, but this is just gonna be an avengers thing.” He said with apologetic eyes. “We only have room in the jet for four and I promised Peter-“

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, not wanting to hear about Peter again. “I’ll just hang out with mom.”

“It’s really cold in Canada anyway. It’ll probably be a bad trip.” Peter offered to make you feel better.

“Yeah, thanks weather boy.” You teased and looked at your dad again. “Can we hang out tomorrow then?”

“Of course. Mall and a smoothie?” He asked, making you smile as he suggested your signature thing to do together.

“Mall and a smoothie.” You nodded, happy that he was finally making time for you. You rested your chin in your hands and watched them work, feeling slightly better now that you made plans with your dad that Peter couldn’t infiltrate.

You tripped over a cardboard box the next day, stumbling right into Peters arms as he caught you. You looked down and saw a bunch of boxes outside your old playroom, boxes with Peters handwriting on them.

“What is all this? You’re blocking the hallway.” You snipped at Peter as you stepped out of his arms.

“Sorry, Y/n. I’m almost done.” Peter apologized as he picked up another box. “Hey, I like your shirt.”

“Almost done with what?” You ignored his compliment, despite it making your face flush.

“Moving in. Mr. Stark gave me this room so I wouldn’t have to commute here everyday.” Peter explained. Your eyes widened up upon hearing this, not believing your dad would let Peter move in without asking you.

“You’re moving in?” You nearly yelled, making Peter clutch his box in fear that he did something wrong.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “Maybe we can hang out more now that-“

“Sorry, I’ll be right back.” You cut him off and rushed to the kitchen, finding your dad rummaging through the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” You demanded.

“Making a smoothie. Want one?” He offered as he shut the refrigerator with his butt.

“No thank you.” You shook your head. “And I’m talking about Peter. Why did he tell me he’s moving in?”

“Oh, cause he is. Now, do I want straw-bana or kale-berry?” Your dad pondered as he tapped his chin.

“Why does he have to live here? He has a house.” You reminded him.

“He has an apartment smaller than the first dollhouse I bought you. Princess, he was basically living in a cardboard box and sleeping under newspapers.”

“This isn’t an dog pound, daddy. We can’t just take in strays.” You whined, wishing he could take your side for once.

“He’s not a stray. He’s my son.” Tony quipped as he booped your nose and crossed the kitchen. Your heart sank to your stomach at his words and you felt your face fall.

“No he…no he isn’t.” You sputtered in a weak voice.

“Cheer up, sour patch. Think of it this way, now you have a brother.” Tony shrugged and dropped some blueberries in the blender.

“I don’t want a brother. Our family is fine the way it is.” You insisted, feeling the jealousy come back in a wave when your dad called Peter his son.

“He’s a good kid, Princess.” Tony said in a tone that told you the conversation was over. “Give him a chance. He’ll surprise you. Hell, he surprised me.”

Before you could respond, Peter entered the kitchen with a happy smile.

“Hey Mr. Stark. Hi Y/n.” He waved at you and put some bowls in the cabinet.

“Yeah, hi Parker.” You said dismissively, wanting him to leave so you could finish talking to your dad.

“You ready?” Tony asked Peter as he poured the smoothie into two cups, handing one to Peter.

“Yep. I’ll see you in the theater.” Peter nodded as he clicked his glass against your dads.

“What are you guys doing?” You wondered, watching them interact with disgust.

“He’s got me hooked on this show about teenagers in a glee club. The writing is horrible, I love it.” Tony beamed as he took a sip form his cup.

“I thought we were gonna hang out today. You know, mall and a smoothie?” You reminded him, feeling a bubble of hurt that he didn’t remember.

“Oh, sorry buttercup.” Tony realized he forgot. “I promised Pete the treat I’d watch the show with him. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded sadly as your dad cupped your chin and left the room.

“You could watch with us if you’d like. They sing a lot of the songs you like.” Peter extended an invitation to you when he saw your disappointment.

“Thanks for the sales pitch, but I’m good.” You mumbled at him and left the kitchen, missing the solemn look on Peters face as you went.

“She doesn’t like me.” Peter sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at his smoothie.

“No, she does not.” Tony laughed, cutting it short when Peter looked at him in dispare. “Oh, not funny. Don’t sweat it, kid. It took me a long time to like you too. She’ll come around.”

“Okay, good.” Peter nodded, content with the answer. “Wait, what?”

“FRIDAY, what’s my assignment?” You asked the screen outside the lab as you reported for your job the following day.

“Good morning, Y/n.” FRIDAY greeted. “Mr. Stark asks that you repair bullet holes in one of the suits.”

“Cool. Let me in.”

“Access granted.” FRIDAY chirped as the doors opened. You only got a few paces into the lab when you saw Peter sitting at a table, sighing in annoyance at the sight of him.

“Hello.” He said weakly, knowing you wouldn’t thrilled to see him.

“What are you doing in here?” You eyed him skeptically as you got some tools off a shelf.

“Not much at the moment.” Peter shrugged, trying to make a light hearted joke.

“Well you can’t stay. I have an assignment.” You told him, a little proudly at that. You were finally given a task after being idle for months.

“Actually, I have to stay.” Peter said, looking a little weary of you as you neared him.

“Why?”

“I am your assignment.” He grimaced, anticipating your reaction to be bad.

“You have bullet holes?” You folded your arms and eyed his body.

“Canadians aren’t as friendly as I thought.” Peter chuckled.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Where’s the suit?”

“Right here.” Peter pulled it out of his backpack. “Theres three of them. The holes are in the front. And the back. They sorta went through.”

“Went through?” Your eyes widened as you worried for him. “As in went through your body?”

“Canadians really aren’t as friendly as I thought.”

“You said that already.” You stated as you laid his suit out on the table.

“Sometimes jokes are funnier when you say them twice.” Peter explained, coming to stand by your side.

“I don’t need you to explain humor to me.” You grumbled as you began working on the holes.

“Feels like I do.” Peter muttered, adverting his eyes from you.

“Excuse me?” You snapped your head up to glare at him.

“Nothing.” He gave you an obviously fake smile. “Nothing at all.”

Doing your best to ignore him, you got back to your work. He was close enough that you could feel his breath in your neck, your elbows touching every-time you pulled on the thread.

“Is there a reason you’re hovering?” You said suddenly, losing your ability to focus with him that near.

“I just want to make sure you’re doing it correctly.” He shrugged, leaning down to check your work. Your jaw dropped a little, feeling offended that he didn’t have faith in your to do it correctly.

“So what, you think I can’t patch a bullet hole on my own?” You laughed shortly as you raised as eyebrow at him.

“Well I know the suit better than you do.” He said simply, taking pleasure in getting a rise out of you.

“I helped design it, Parker.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I know it just as well.”

“Then you won’t mind me making sure of that.” Peter shot back, running his finger over the newly patched hole.

“Whatever.” You scoffed and went back to work. “Just because you’re my dads lab rat doesn’t mean you’re mine.”

“I didn’t say I was.” Peter leaned again, watching your work closely.

“And yet.” You looked up with a sarcastic smirk, your nose nearly touching his from how close he was. “Hovering.”

“Sorry.” Peter mumbled and took a step back.

“You said there were three holes. I only see two.” You realized as you held the suit up.

“That’s weird. I definitely got shot three times.” Peter tilted his head as he stared at it.

“Did you find three bullets?” You asked him, a rare moment of civility.

“No. Just two. Oh…” He trailed off when he realized where the third bullet was.

“Yeah. Oh.” You mocked him. “Take your shirt off.”

“What?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows at your request as you went to a different shelf in the lab.

“You can’t leave the bullet in there, you’ll get an infection.” You reminded him as you set medical supplies on the table. “Take your shirt off.”

Peter hesitantly pulled his shirt over his head once you turned around to disinfect the table. You turned around, needle in hand, and turned a deep red at the sight of him.

“Good.” You swallowed thickly. “Just leave it on the counter.”

“Are you trained to do this?” Peter worried as he folded his t shirt. You did your best to hold eye contact, but your eyes slipped every now and then.

“I’ve read about how to do it.” You said quietly, not trusting your voice to be steady.

“Have you ever done it before?” Peter wondered as he stared at the large needle.

“I’ve read about how to do it.” You repeated to avoid the question.

“See? You said the joke twice. That makes it funny.” He smiled smugly at you and you made a face.

“Shut up and get on the table.” You groaned and he complied, laying on his side to let you work. You rounded the table to work on his back where the exit wound was located.

“Oh good.” You commented as you rested a hand on his bare rib cage. “It’s right at the surface.”

“Okay. Try not to kill me while you’re back there.” Peter looked at you over his shoulder so you stuck your tongue out at him.

“I won’t.” You grumbled, hesitating a little as your stared at his wound. “Um, this is gonna hurt.”

You felt a moment of sympathy for him, knowing he was in for a lot of pain. His skin was hot, even under your surgical glove you could feel it. In a brief lack of judgment, you squeezed his arm to comfort him.

“I’m Spiderman. Nothing hurts - SON OF A BITCH.” Peter screamed as you pressed a hydrogen peroxide soaked gauze pad to his wound. You quickly took out the tweezer and fished out the bullet, all while Peter hissed in pain.

“Sorry sorry sorry.” You stammered and threw the bullet into a dish. “It’s out.”

“Oh my God. I feel like a pencil sharpener.” Peter whined as he rubbed his back near the area.

“Sit up. I’ll patch you up.” You said in a kinder tone then he was used to hearing.

“You don’t have to.” Peter looked at you as he sat up straight.

“Yes I do. You’re my assignment.” You shrugged, trying to portray that you couldn’t care less when in reality, you did. As much as he got under your skin, you didn’t want to see him hurt.

You poured more hydrogen peroxide on a gauze pad as you cleaned his wound, feeling his body retract at first contact.

“That’s cold.” He winced, twisting his body around to avoid the pad.

“It’s also gonna save your life.” You grumbled. “Hold still.”

“Ow.” Peter jolted when you applied numbing cream to the wounds. “Cold again.”

“Can you stop whining?” You yourself whines as you blew on his cuts.

“Can you be a little more gentle?” He retorted. “Just try to be nice to me for five minutes. It can’t be that hard.”

“I am nice to you.” You hissed as you started your sutures. “I sewed up your dumb suit and I’m cleaning your stupid cuts so you don’t get an infection in your dumb ass body. I am nice.”

“Said the joke twice.” Peter quipped, grinning at you over his shoulder to rub it in.

“Shut up.” You sneered. “Stop fidgeting.”

“You think I’m funny.” He said in a sing song voice. “That’s fine. I get it all the time.”

“Oh my God. Could you be anymore irritating?” You groaned as you put the last bandaid on his back. You walked around the table to patch the front, looking up at him shyly as his bare chest rose and fell.

“Easily.” He snickered. “Wanna see?”

“I’ve seen plenty, trust me.” You rolled your eyes, meaning more than one thing with your words. Peter smirked a little, able to heart your rapid heartbeat with his advanced hearing. You rested a hand in his shoulder as you cleaned his chest, the wounds in the front stinging less as they already began to heal. Peter watched you intently as you worked, admiring the way you bit your lip when you concentrated.

“You know, if you stopped acting like I was the devils spawn for a minute, you might actually like me. We’d get along.” He laughed softly, making you look up at him. Your eyes locked and for a moment, he saw kindness in them. It quickly retreated as your face hardened, looking down to avoid his gaze.”

“Thanks for the life advice but I think I’ll pass.” You replied sarcastically as you opened a bandage.

“Is there a reason you don’t like me?” Peter honestly wondered. “Is it something I did?”

“No.” You grumbled, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “Be quiet, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Oh, I get it.” Peter nodded like he knew something you didn’t.

“You get what?” You took the bait, looked up at him in angry confusion.

“You like me.” Peter smirked, making your whole body ignite. Your face twisted in shock, followed by anger as you stumbled over the right words to say.

“What?” You sputtered. “What could possibly lead you to believe I like you?”

“That’s the most obvious answer.” Peter pretended to yawn, making you even angrier. “You’re mean to me because I you like me. Classic playground logic. It’s cute if you think about it.”

“I do not!” You stamped your foot, feeling frustrated that you couldn’t come up with a better argument. He had caught you red handed and you didn’t see a way out.

“Okay.” Peter’s voice was dripping with false innocence. “I believe you.”

“Listen Parker.” You growled, leaning your hands on either side him and gripping the table. “Let me make this clear, I do not, nor will I ever, like you. I don’t even tolerate you.” You shook your head slowly while holding his gaze. “I don’t want you here, okay? My life was a whole lot better before you came around and ruined it. If it were up to me, you’d be thrown out on your ass before lunch. I do not like you.”

“And yet,” Peter leaned forward, tilting his head a little, “your heartbeat says something entirely different. You know what they say, there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“You’re all done.” You ripped off your gloves with a loud snap. “Put your shirt back on.”

Peter smirked as he tugged his shirt over his head, loving the angry flush he left on your face. You gave him one last glare before storming out of the lab, your footsteps echoing loudly as you went.

“See you later!” Peter called cheerfully, laughing when you let out an angry huff.

To be continued…

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort @foreverxholland @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @purefluffykiwi @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258 @maybemona @young-romanoff @alexxcorona113 @spidey-reids-2003 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @spideydreamers @parkerpeter24

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker angst #peter parker enemies to lovers #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader

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themonotonysyndrome · 4 years ago

Text

REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest

Summary: Everyone in D.A.M.N simp for the power couple at least a little bit - the Vampire Prince of Dahlia and the Electro Energetic. Gavin and the Freelancer would be lying if they said they haven't been watching them... respectfully.

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Explicit implications courtesy of Gavin, of course] & [Oblivious narrators]

Apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors because I wrote this the whole night and only edited it once. I’ll do the editing process again tomorrow morning.

Life as a student in D.A.M.N is nothing like regular colleges or universities. While the environment is hectic with exams, assignments and teachers with sticks up their asses - there's also a hint of craziness thrown into the mix. You can never really predict how your day would go here in the academy, and to most of the students, it's the typical college experience you'll get everywhere. Just... taken to the next level.

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all.

An Air Elemental would accidentally shatter the windows in a classroom with a powerful gust of wind on a random ass Tuesday because she was laughing too hard. A Graviton Energetic would sneeze, and suddenly, the gravity in the music room would stick the instruments on the ceilings. The entire soccer team would fall flat on the grassy field, snoozing because the Serenity Daemon playing as the Goalkeeper uses too much magic to calm their anxious Sweeper during his first play with the team.

With so many Empowered creatures of all kinds attending D.A.M.N, there's never a dull moment. You learned that the moment a loud growl came from the Debate Club on your second week as a student. A Wolf Shifter had gotten into a heated argument with a Vampire about the toppings that should and shouldn't be on a pizza.

So yeah, typical college life with magic thrown into your daily shenanigans.

Today, you can't help but wonder what sort of excitement would occur as the large clock above the lecture hall ticks by, counting down the second before the class is over.

You check the clock and sigh. Just ten more minutes to go, but it feels like time is creeping forward at such a snail-like pace. Tapping your pen on the open notebook laid before you rather irritability, you just want the lecturer to stop yammering already so you can grab lunch at the food truck parked outside of campus.

Something gently knocks against your knuckle. You tilt your head to the side and meet with Damien's unamused stare; it looks like this is the third time he caught you losing focus in class.

"I told you to grab a snack before class started." Damien whispers, mindful to keep his voice even so the lecturer won't catch them chatting. Sadism Daemons are scary when you piss them off, and the way the lecturer's eyes sweep through the students is more than enough to have them all shut the hell up the moment he begins their topic of the day.

"I was meeting up with Lasko and we lost track of time." You hiss back. Yesterday you made a promise to catch up with the Air Elemental before your first class started to organise the date and invitations for the next game night. Once Lasko starts talking about the things he's comfortable with, he loses his stutter and launches into an animated one-sided conversation. You didn't have the heart to stop him, not when he looks so happy and cute.

Buying that Arkham Horror board game was the right purchase to surprise him with.

While your mind replays the morning you spend with Lasko, Damien rolls his eyes. "Of course you did. Here." He pushes his coffee cup towards you. His fingers linger on the cup for a few seconds to make sure that the coffee remains hot enough to drink.

You grab the cup, grateful for his consideration, and take a big swing. The coffee settles pleasantly in your stomach as warmth spreads within your body.

You're more a tea drinker - the classic Early Grey and Gunpowder Green - but at this instance, coffee would hopefully kick your focus back into gear.

"Thanks, Damien." You said before passing the cup back to him. You peeked at his notebook and wasn't surprised to find that it's packed with notes written in different coloured pens. "Hey, want to grab lunch together after this?"

Damien switched the yellow pen for a red one when the lecturer mentioned something about a topic for the upcoming test. You absentmindedly wondered if it's worth your life stealing his notebook. "Sure. What are you in the mood for?" He asked.

Finally, the lecturer dismisses the class. Chatters erupt as students pack up while some scurry over to the podium to ask a few questions.

You lean against your seat to stretch your back; your notebooks and stationery are already in your school backpack. You're just waiting for Damien now. "I'm craving for a burger and some cheesy loaded fries with a boba tea." God, just thinking about it is already enough to make your mouth watered.

Being a health nut, Damien throws you a judgemental look at your food choice as you two made your way towards the main campus entrance. He easily follows your lead through a crowd of students, and Damien even gently pulls you closer to his side when a student whizzes by on her skateboard.

With so many people talking and laughing around you and Damien, you can't help but hear the conversations hovering around you.

"...had class with them yesterday? Dude, you're so lucky! Did you sit beside them!?"

"Are you fucking crazy? No! I sat two rows behind them, but it was enough to smell their perfume. God, they're so gorgeous - I couldn't focus the entire time!"

"I've heard a few players from the Earth Elemental team tried to invite them to their party this weekend, but they were shot down. Apply cold water on burned area."

"Well, duh. You can't just walk up to them like that! They're one of the hottest people in this academy."

"Yeah, but those players are in one of the most well-respected sports teams in all of Dahlia, and even they can't stand a chance against them!"

Students parted ways as you and Damien approached the gates. Rows of food trucks parked across the street with tables and chairs placed about. The conversations tapered off behind you, along with the hubbub of the academy. You have a pretty good idea of whom those students were talking about. It's been a topic surrounding the academy ever since the start of the new academic year.

Even as an introvert who prefers to hover to your few but close group of friends, you couldn't escape the latest academy gossip.

"Finally, I thought my ears would've fallen off before we could escape," Damien mutters. It's a cloudy Wednesday; dark clouds are rolling above them with an occasional burst of strong breeze cutting through. "You'd think they would just give it a rest already."

The food truck you and Damien stop by displays a menu with a wide variety of food and drinks. From burgers to pasta and desserts ranging from ice-creams to Thai banana pancakes, your stomach begins to growl. You place your order in a hurry, whereas Damien selects a hearty sandwich stuffed with juicy and tender slices of slow-smoked beef brisket with veggies of his choice and chipotle mayo in between two crusty loaves with a bottle of water.

You and Damien grab your meals to sit at one of the vacant tables and enjoy lunch together. Good food and good company - what more could you ask for? Well, other than Damien's tsk-ing and wiping the barbecue sauce that smudged the corner of your cheek like the mother hen he constantly denies to be.

"Can't you eat your food properly, Freelancer? You're getting your fingers dirty too. Give me your hand." Damien demanded halfway through his sandwich. You grin impishly and offer your left hand for Damien to wipe with some tissue while the other is holding a burger. The thick sauce begins to drip.

Soon enough, a familiar voice shouts at them from across the street.

"Yo, Damien! Freelancer! Are you guys, like, having lunch? Can I join!?"

You can't help but beam and wave your hand (that was still holding the burger) high up when Huxley crosses over. Damien squawked with eyes wide in horror when the barbecue sauce got all over the table. He hurried to wipe the table clean while you greeted Huxley.

"Hi, Huxley! Are you grabbing lunch too? Take a seat, man!"

"Thanks a bunch, dude. It's been a while since I hung out with you two."

"We literally had a class together two days ago."

"Two days too long, Damien. I miss you guys."

"Aww, that's super sweet of you, Hux!"

"Oh, for the love of - just go buy something already before the next class starts."

Huxley happily gives Damien two thumbs up before grabbing his food and drink. When he returned to their table, he brought a tray of smoothie consisting of kale, spinach, banana, orange, and vanilla blended into green mush in a plastic cup and a plate of vegan quesadillas.

The moment Huxley sat down, you took a sip of his drink and made a face.

"Yeah, I ask them to hold back on the honey because I like the vanilla more," Huxley explains before tucking in. "Oh! But I can ask them to add more honey if you want. That’s like, totally cool."

You quickly shake your head and clean your palate with your sweet boba tea. "It's cool, Hux. Just wanted to try a sip. You're really into these crazy healthy smoothies."

"They're the bomb, dude. My Mums introduced a few recipes to me when I was a kid, and I basically hooked ever since." The Earth Elemental explains after gulping down a good chunk of the green goo.

"Yeah, well, with the calories you burned up during practice, I guess you can't go wrong with smoothies," Damien added thoughtfully. His sandwich is all gone. He props an elbow on the table and cradles his face in one open palm. "Anyway, what's up, Huxley? Anything new happened?"

"Nah, it's been nothing but the same shit lately. Classes, assignments and practices for the upcoming Elemental & Energetic Games - normal stuff. What about you guys?"

"More or less the same." Damien replies, soundly ignoring your "We're hitting the tournament arc!" outburst. "Planning to organise a study group for the upcoming tests. I expect the two of you will be joining, by the way."

At Damien's words, Huxley beams brighter. Any brighter, you'd need a pair of sunglasses. "For real, dude!? You're like, the best friend ever, Damien! C'mere - lemme give you a hug!"

You snicker when despite Damien's frantic protest, Huxley shoot up from his chair and quickly hugs the Fire Elemental tightly before he has the chance to weasel away.

Also, you didn't miss the chance to snap a quick picture of them to show Gavin tonight.

Unaware of your phone, Damien grumbled when Huxley finally released him, and they sat down again. The three of you continue to chat about everything and anything. Soon, the topic shifts from tests to plans for the weekend.

Huxley snapped his fingers when you mentioned Lasko's gaming night and the tabletop game you recently bought for him so they could all play together.

"I totally forgot about the party! A few guys in my team are having a party this Saturday, and I want to invite you guys and Lasko. Oh! Gavin too! It's going to be a blast, and on Sunday, we can play that new board game."

You and Damien exchange a glance. "Sounds fun. Actually, we've heard about the party just now. How many people are your team members inviting?" You asked, curious.

Huxley takes a moment to ponder before shrugging. He's nearly done with this food. "It's supposed to be just with a few close friends. Nothing too crazy, you know? After the last party that ended with fireworks exploding in someone's bedroom, they want to keep it lowkey."

"Huh. Close friends, but they tried to invite a certain Energetic," Damien interjects. "What's up with that?"

"You heard about that too?" Huxley replied, surprise coloured his tone. "Word travel like, super-fast around campus! It happened, like, yesterday morning!"

Damien let out an annoyed groan and ran a palm down his face. "I think it's safe to say that everyone in this fucking academy is talking about it and nothing else. God, no matter where you go, you can't escape it."

You pat Damien's arm in a comforting manner. "They're hot and popular; people will be talking about them until we all graduate."

"And if it isn't them, people would be talking about their boyfriend," Huxley pointed out, stirring his smoothie languidly. Huxley smiles and offers it to you when you critically stare at it for a tad too long. Against your better judgement, you try again.

Blek! It still tastes the same! Huxley just chuckles and finishes the rest of the smoothie while you seek solace with your boba tea again.

"Besides, it's not often you see an Energetic and Vampire couple walking around," Huxley continued. "I think they're living together too. I mean, that's what I heard."

"Don't tell me you also have a crush on them."

Before Huxley could say anything, you tentatively raise your hand as if you guys are in class. Now you bear Damien's annoyed glance. "I was kinda hardcore crushing on them and their boyfriend before Gavin and I officially got together. They keep to themselves and their boyfriend most of the time, but they're super nice in classes."

The Elemental and Energetic courses often have classes that intermingle every week. However, they're primarily compulsory lessons like magical history, laws regarding coverts and taxonomy of various Empowered creatures.

So you're practically classmates with the hottest Electro Energetic in the academy and had even sat beside them a few times during class. Unlike many of the students who simp for them at a distance.

The power couple of D.A.M.N is certainly interesting, to say the least.

You narrowed your eyes at Damien when he refused to let up his disappointed stare. "Don't lie to me. You simp for them too."

Damien huffs and crosses his arms. "Both of them look good, alright. Anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell from a mile away. They're gorgeous, and the Vampire is hot - so what?"

"They're both super strong too." Huxley unknowingly throws more wood into the fire.

By the time their lunch ended, Damien had demanded they talk about something else, so you jump into plans for the weekend. Party on Saturday and a gaming session on Sunday.

Typical college life.

When the time on your phone displays 10.30 PM in glaring bright light and you're still on campus, you know what death feels like.

It's quiet in the cafeteria, save for a small group of students huddled together around tables scattered in various places. Their heads are hunched down as they go over textbooks and assignments. One of the students happens to be a Vampire judging from the blood bag beside his laptop.

A red swirly straw juts out of the bag, and for a brief moment of exhaustion, you entertain the image of the student sipping the blood bag as if it was a Capri Sun.

Just like those students, the reason why you've stayed late in the academy's cafeteria is because of assignments. You know that if you bring your homework back home with you, you won't get any of it done. It's better to stay here and slough through them instead.

Damien would scold and drag you home if he knew. Huxley would be sad and plead for you to rest, and Lasko would put on his guidance counsellor voice and advise you that a good night's sleep would help you think better.

The boys mean well, and you love them for it, but you know yourself better than anyone. If you don't finish these assignments tonight, you would just procrastinate until the deadline punches you right in the face.

You sigh and rub your temple in frustration. You've made good progress so far, but there's still a few left and you want to complete them all before going home. So you resume writing down the essay about the importance of convert and the Department on your laptop, fingers deftly flying all over the keyboard.

Nighttime at D.A.M.N is not as busy as it is in the morning. The students that are going in and out of classes are mostly Vampires and nocturnal animal Shifters. The academy's faculties are also lesser in terms of numbers compared to their morning counterpart.

Twice you've experienced the nightlife at D.A.M.N, and tonight would be your third. You wondered if Gavin is at home already. Hopefully, you can return to the apartment before him. Better wrap this up, then.

The steady rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard and quiet discussion from the group of students slowly lull you to sleep. Hang in there just a little more!

The sound of a Daemon Rifting into this world startles you awake.

"Here you are, Deviant," Gavin said, his ordinarily seductive voice laced with conceal anger. Oh shit, you're in trouble now. "I thought we talked about this."

You have no choice but to face him. Gavin looks devastatingly as sexy as ever; his black t-shirt snugly fits his body to the point that it showcases his biceps tastefully. A pair of dark blue jeans that he just so happens knows will get your heart racing and accompanied by a pair of shiny black Doc Martens boots. A rainbow-coloured bead bracelet is on his right wrist; a gift from Caelum.

You would've swoon at the sight of him if you weren't seconds away from face planting on your laptop.

So instead, you greet him with a, "Whaaa... Gavin?" You rub your eyes and blink at him. "W-What are you doing here? I thought you'd be - " You break out a yawn before sighing. "At home by now."

"Funny. I thought the same thing about you but colour me surprised when Caelum reached out to me while I was grocery shopping — saying that you aren't home even when it's close to midnight." Gavin explains and tilts his head to the spread of books you have before you. "So, want to explain why you're at the campus cafeteria right now instead of in our bed?"

The gears in your head are scrambling to come up with an excuse that's good enough to appease Gavin. So lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear the whispers coming from the nearby students.

"That's the main boyfriend..."

"Holy fuck, an Incubus? Damn, they're insatiable!"

"How often do you think they have orgies? Twice a week?"

" - collecting them like Pokemon!"

Oh fuck it, you can't come up with anything decent. "I'm nearly done with my assignments, Gavin." You assured the worried Incubus. "Just need to write down a few more paragraphs..."

Gavin is undeterred. "Freelancer, we talked about this. It's not healthy that you're making a habit of staying over at campus late at night because of assignments. You're going to burn out like this."

Well yeah, you could feel your body is already seconds away from collapsing but like hell would you admit that to your boyfriend. It's been a long day and an even longer evening. It's a good thing that tomorrow's the weekend.

Gavin startles you once more by leaning against the table and cupping your face in his large hands, so you're forced to look straight into his eyes. He's many things, but to those he deeply trusts and loves, his eyes would always betray the worry and concern he has for you and Caelum; even if his words aren't as forthcoming at times. "My stubborn, enticing Deviant... Are you being a brat again? Not listening to your Dom like you should be?" He purrs.

All of a sudden, your throat suddenly feels like sandpaper, and your heart skips a beat at Gavin's tone. You're very familiar with that tone - it always promises punishment and pleasure mixed together until nothing else exists except for your boyfriend.

But the question now is, how far can you actually push him. So with Gavin still refusing to release your face, you swallow and reply as nonchalantly as you can, "Oh, I don't know about enticing, Gavin. I-I mean, I've been running around campus the whole day. Probably have some barbecue sauce stain on my jacket and - Ow!"

You puff out your cheeks when Gavin pinched them.

"Are you purposely trying to test me, Freelancer? You know that just means more fun for me, and you tie up and helpless on the bed, right?" Gavin is all too happy to remind you, cocking one eyebrow at your impertinence. No doubt he already has your punishment in mind when the two of you are home.

But you're not going to budge that easily. Sensing your stubbornness, Gavin lets you go and unleashes his ultimate move with a sigh.

"I can see the Knots on you, Freelancer, and if I can see them, Caelum can too. I'm not covering your ass when he comes over for breakfast tomorrow and starts crying."

You gasp and immediately recoil. "Low blow Gavin!" You counter, but you know that he speaks the truth. Your heart will literally break if you're the reason that Caelum cries.

Gavin smirks when you switch off your laptop. He helps put your things away and offers a hand to you. With a small smile, you let yourself be gently pulled up by him and sling your backpack over a shoulder.

"Are you hungry?" Gavin asked as the two of you stepped into the large hallway, hand-in-hand. "I didn't manage to make anything when I put the groceries away, but I can whip something up real quick when we get home."

It's a sweet gesture, and you made sure that he knows how much you appreciate it by squeezing his hand. Ever since you two started living together, Gavin is determined to feed you properly. According to him, it's only fitting since you've constantly been feeding him too. "I'm more sleepy than hungry." You reply after a yawn. "I'll just eat a big breakfast tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to it. Also, look alive, Deviant. Hottie approaching at 12 O'clock."

That got your attention immediately, and snapped your eyes forward. Your jaw would've dropped if it weren't for Gavin lightly nudging your side when you saw who was walking towards the two of you.

It's them — the Electro Energetic that became the talk around campus.

They're as breathtaking as ever, even after a whole day of classes and club activities. Not a single hair out of place and clothes unruffled. Their body language stood out to you; their gait is a little hesitant but friendly, while their eyes are kind.

It's easy to see why so many people harbour crushes on them, and you've always been a sucker for cute faces.

When they finally approach you, they pull out a pair of wireless white earbuds from their ears. That's when you hear intense music playing:

It's the Pumpkin Patch King

With the corpse with the ring

And she'd fuck my best friend if I die here today...

"Um, hi. Good evening. I'm sorry for bothering you guys so late like this. Are you heading home?" They inquire tentatively.

Gavin waits for you to take the lead. "Hey, man. Yeah, we kind of are, actually. Want us to walk you home?" You could feel how pleased Gavin is beside you. The offer just crosses your mind, and besides, it's not nice to walk alone this late at night.

That's what you're telling yourself despite the small part in your brain whispered that walking them home would be a great step of getting to know them better. It's just a harmless crush anyway.

Unfortunately, they decline the offer. "I'm waiting for someone, actually, but when I saw you, I wanted to talk for a bit."

Your heart skips a beat for a second time tonight. They specifically sought you out? You? When they've never done so towards anyone before?

"O-Oh," You embarrassingly squeak, clutching Gavin's hand tighter.

The Electro Energetic nod. They tilt their head like an indulged, curious cat and god, that simple gesture shouldn't look so hot. "I don't know if you notice me, but we share Covert Laws - "

If you notice them? If you notice them!? They have a stronger presence than the lecturers themselves! They radiate magic like thunderstorms - intimidating, powerful and commanding that you have no choice but to submit to it.

Sitting beside them was an experience and a half! There's no way an Empowered creature could ignore them despite their quiet demeanour!

" - and I was wondering if you would like to be partners for the final project this year? Um, I heard that you're really good in that class, and I promise to pull my weight with the research and - "

You don't know how to react. Is this really happening? One of the most popular students in the academy wanted to be your project partner? You thought this sort of situation only occurs in animes!

"They'd love to." Gavin smoothly answers when you're too shocked to say anything. "It's always nice to make new friends after all. Especially with a walking wet dream such as yourself." Here, he purposely pauses to appraise the Electro Energetic.

Just like his Freelancer, Gavin has heard all about this Empowered human and even basks in the delicious energy coming from the thoughts and emotions his partner has for them. As an Incubus and their boyfriend, it's hilarious that his Deviant thought he's not aware of their crush. It's cute.

Hmm... it'll be nice if he and the Freelancer could invite the Energetic and their Vampire lover into their bed one of these days. Regardless if they've been Marked; honestly, that just made the couple as appealing as the biblical Forbidden Fruit.

And besides, Gavin has a strong feeling that the Freelancer wouldn't oppose the idea. It'll be the perfect anniversary present for his Deviant.

"...Was that supposed to be a compliment?" They ask warily. Oops, looks like he's coming on a little too strongly. Time to take it down a notch.

"It's whatever you want it to be. Anyway, now that you guys are... partners, what say you get to know us better, hmm? My lover has been eager to be friends with you." Gavin explains. You whip your head at him incredulously. Is he seriously doing what you think he's doing!? "I'm Gavin, by the way. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The Energetic look confused, and you can't blame them. You need to save them before Gavin proposes something as crazy as an orgy on your behalf!

You laugh awkwardly, bringing their attention to you. "Right! Partners! I'd love to be yours - I-I mean, uh, for school stuff! Yeah! Can we exchange numbers?"

"Smooth, Deviant." Gavin teases. Something caught his interest, not that you notice as you and the Energetic trade contact information. They compliment the cute picture you have as your Home Screen (it's a selfie shot of you and Gavin, Lasko, Damien and Huxley during the previous game night. It's a shame that Caelum couldn't appear), and in return, you ask where did they buy their sick phone cover.

While they still feel like the human embodiment of a fierce thunderstorm, it's nice to have a casual conversation with them. They're thoughtful, kind and fun that you soon find yourself calming down a little.

"Not to cut this riveting conversation short, but are you sure that you don't want us to walk you home? It's getting really late, and we're more than happy to have you crash at our place for the night." Gavin interjects with a seductive grin, eyes half-lidded.

"Umm..."

Whoa, what happened to being friendly, Gavin!? You shoot him a look; he's going to drive them away!

"We have an extra guest room at our apartment." You hurried to explain. "So it's totally cool if your place is far away or something."

Their hesitation melts to understanding. The last thing that you want is a misunderstanding between you two.

"You guys are sweet, but I'll be alright. Actually, I'm about to leave the campus too. I'm just going to hang out at the cafeteria until he arrives." They said. You have a pretty good idea who 'he' is judging by their soft smile.

Gavin, for some reason, amp up his game. With a smirk, he cajoles, "Since he hasn't shown up yet, how about you hang out with us for a bit? There's a bar not too far from here - "

You flinched, and Gavin automatically shuts up and pulls you close to his side when a Vampire appears behind the Electro Energetic. It was so sudden that his appearance was a blur at first.

"Vincent? You're done with class already?" They blink. An arm snaked around their waist as the Vampire pulled his Mate close to his chest. The Energetic had to crane their head up slightly to look at him.

He's as tall as Gavin. Dressed in a casual black coat that screams money with a dark grey shirt accompanied by a pair of black jeans and boots. His silver studs, rings and watch glimmer underneath the fluorescent lights. Everything about this man reminds you of a panther sizing up its prey.

You gulped. He's currently glaring daggers at you and your boyfriend. You're itching to stutter out a, "This isn't what it looks like!" for some reason.

Now, ever since you learned about the existence of magic and Empowered creatures, you did your best to be open-minded. Even that whole ordeal with Vega didn't stop you from reaching out to the various Daemons attending the academy.

However, you haven't managed to befriend a Vampire due to their night classes, and even the few times you stay back like today, most of them are running back and forth through the hallways to catch their next lesson.

So to be the target of a pissed off Vampire made you uncomfortable. You want to fidget, but Gavin's arm secured around you ease some of that tension.

"Mm-hmm. I'm on break right now, so I can drive you back home. You done with that talk with your guidance counsellor?" The Vampire inquired, eyes still glued at you and Gavin.

"All done. We lost track of time when we discussed next semester's timetable for the Energetic course and potential careers once we graduate." His lover explains, unaware of the displeasure rolling off like waves from their boyfriend. "I think I need some time to go over them again. It's a bit much to take in."

The Vampire hums in acknowledgement. "We can go through them together this weekend if you like, Lovely. Maybe we can ask Will for help since he's coming over on Saturday for dinner too."

Oh, you suppose that's why they reject the Earth Elemental players' invitation to the party.

But the Vampire wasn't done. He assesses you and Gavin with narrowed eyes as if you were stains on the bottom of his boots. What the hell? "By the way, are these guys bothering you?"

A chill sweeps through you, sending goosebumps crawling on your skin at the sudden shift of tone. He was warm and affectionate when speaking to his lover, but now? It's colder than ice.

Gavin, whose smirk turns into a shit-eating grin, is utterly unfazed at the Vampire's hostility. In fact, you would go as far as to say that he's relishing it. "We're just keeping your gorgeous Mate company while they're waiting for you. I was just about to propose that we move the conversation to a bar so we could all get to know one another a lot more... intimately."

Oh god, they're so fucked. You have no idea why your boyfriend is trying to start shit up, but you're too tired to deal with this drama. So again, you try to salvage the situation.

"Just as friends!" You quickly butt in. "We decide to be partners for an assignment in Covert Laws, so hanging out at a bar sounds like a good idea as friends." You're sprouting bullshits at this point, but you hope it's enough to save both of your asses. You also made sure to emphasise the word 'friends'.

The Vampire quickly looks at the Energetic for confirmation, and they readily nod. His aggressive body posture relaxes somewhat, but he's still wary of you and Gavin.

Maybe this is the best time to introduce yourself to him.

"Uh, it's a little silly that we didn't introduce ourselves right away, but I'm a Freelancer." You mutter out rather awkwardly. Should you offer a hand to him?

Gavin saves you from doing so. "And I’m their boyfriend, Gavin. An Incubus."

"...Vincent Solaire." The Vampire - Vincent - reluctantly replies.

Wait - his surname sounds familiar, though. You think you heard it in one of the classes about the supernatural factions in Dahlia... It's on the tip of your tongue...

"Oh, we've heard all about you, Your Highness." Gavin slyly quips. "You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here."

Holy shit. Solaire! The most powerful Vampire clan in the city! You remember now; the King has two progeny - A Vampire Princess & Prince. You didn't expect the Energetic boyfriend to be the Prince himself! What a twist!

"Celebrities?" The Energetic - Lovely, as Vincent calls them - pipes up in confusion. The way their eyebrows furrow is adorable, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

They really are a mesmerising couple. You detect the perfume that lingers around Lovely is sweet and misty. It's calming yet so light that it dances just out of your reach; like a coy lover. Slowly driving you mad with desire. Vincent's cologne reminds you of husk and cedar. Subtle, but once you catch a whiff of it, it'll stay within your mind for hours on end. Wondering if that particular scent will ever return - like the perfect one night stand.

It says a lot about the couple.

"We haven't done anything wrong." Vincent Solaire stated, voice as hard as steel. "I don't know why you're trying to rile us up, Incubus, but I don't appreciate you and your lover hitting on my Mate when I made it clear that I Mark them."

Ooooh, he's jealous! Wait - did you come across as flirty to him!? Did Gavin purposely flirt with Lovely to make Vincent jealous? You've completely lost the plot.

"Consider it as an act of public service," Gavin answers, easily brushing off the Vampire Prince's irritability. "Besides, how can I not when you both are half of the student body's recent fantasies."

Lovely 'eeped' when Vincent bare his fangs at your boyfriend. "Back off, Gavin. Lovely is mine. Not yours or the Freelancer's."

Whoa, whoa! A severe misunderstanding is boiling here! No one is stealing Lovely away from him!

Fortunately, Lovely has gotten tired of the conversation. With a put-out sigh, they pat the arm around their waist to capture Vincent's attention. It worked. "No one is stealing the other's partner, Vince. It's all good; chill. You know you're the only one for me, right?" Here, they peck his cheek. "When did you get so possessive?"

Vincent grumbled but didn't explain himself, so Lovely just shook their head.

"Anyway, we better get going before Vincent's next class starts. It was nice meeting you two. I'll text you soon so we can plan on how to tackle that project."

You give a shaky smile and a thumbs up. "Looking forward to it."

Immediately after you said that, Vincent bares his fangs to you next. Oh my god, this guy needs to fucking relax!

"We're going! We're going! C'mon, Vincent. You're driving me home. Now."

And with that, you watch as Lovely drags the Vampire Prince to the parking lot. It's a strange yet comical sight. You only sigh in relief when they're out of your view.

"I thought I saw my life flashing before my eyes!" You complain. Those were the single most stressful moments that you’ve encountered— second to Vega invading your home.

"I think that went well, Deviant." Gavin objected, very pleased with himself. "He's pissed now, but he and his Mate will be thanking us soon."

So you were right; Gavin purposely flirted with Lovely just to rile Vincent up, and for what? Possessive, sexy time later tonight? Oh, whatever. That's enough drama for one night; you seriously just need to pass out now.

And with that, the two of you head home without realising your interactions with the power couple of D.A.M.N didn't go by unnoticed by the several students who were hovering close.

"Are you hurting anywhere, Lovely?"

"I'm alright, Vincent. The hickeys and bruises are healing nicely; my body still feels a bit sore but not enough to cripple me, so stop hovering near the door."

Vincent guilty did as he’s told and takes a seat on the corner of the bed. He watches you apply some light makeup on your face and neck in front of the vanity table as you're getting ready to head out to the academy. Your outfit compliments your look and, most importantly, hides any patches of skin except for your hands.

Vincent really went all out last weekend after his night classes ended. It's obvious that Gavin unleashed something within your lover, and you will freely admit that an unrestrained Vincent makes for a very fun and wild night.

The moment Will came over and realised that Vincent re-Mark you an hour before he arrives, he graciously decided to take a rain check and promise to have dinner with the two of you some other time.

Once Vincent gets it out of his system, he teased before leaving you gobsmacked and Vincent a blushing mess.

"You know, your guidance counsellor wouldn't mind if you're absent from classes today, Lovely. Probably." Vincent tries; a part of him doesn't want his Lovely to attend their lessons while their body is still healing. Then again, that part also whispers that the Incubus and his lover would be around them without his supervision.

Nope. No. Bad Vincent. Lovely is more than capable of taking care of themselves. They don't need him acting like a jealous, clingy boyfriend.

However, something that the Incubus bothered him.

"You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here."

What did he mean by that? He and Lovely had been playing good students the entire time they've been on campus! Their assignments are always delivered on time, grades nothing but above average, and they keep to themselves to avoid any typical college dramas.

Is it because of his status? For some reason, Vincent feels like it's more complicated than that. What a headache.

"Maybe, but I did promise the Freelancer that I’ll catch up with them to discuss our project," You commented and spritz your favourite perfume on your wrists and neck. You love this scent, despite it being cheap and common. "Vincent, honey, you're making that face again."

"It's my face, Lovely."

"Yeah, well, you have your happy-snappy-neck face again, Vincent." You dryly point out before sitting beside the Vampire. "Did that Incubus really rub you the wrong way?" Your voice is gentle. You didn't get any bad vibes coming from Gavin and the Freelancer - just genuine, harmless, friendly flirting. In a way, you welcome it as their attempts helped you drive your anxiety away.

God, walking up to them was hard enough. You always feel a little intimidated whenever you're around charismatic people.

"I don't know... I thought they were making you nervous, and the words that kept coming out of that Daemon's mouth? He knew what he was doing; I just can't figure out what or why." Vincent admits, frustrated.

Seeing him look so frustrated saddens you, so you propose a suggestion. "How about this, I'll ask the Freelancer what that whole thing on Friday was all about, and if it's anything gross, I'll give you a call so you can deal with them. How's that?"

It assured Vincent. Seeing his tiny smile urge you to peppered his face with kisses until he laughs. With your boyfriend now properly appeased, you leave the apartment for D.A.M.N.

It's a bright Monday morning. You hope that this week will be a little kinder to you than the previous one. However, the moment you arrived on campus, everyone was glancing at you curiously. When you made eye contact with the stares, the students couldn't walk away fast enough.

Weird.

Your first class of the day is on the second floor, so you didn't waste any time heading for the stairs. Students mingle around as they go about their day; some grab breakfast at the convenient store, while others chat with their friends at the cafeteria and lounge room. A Water Elemental is performing simple tricks at the marble fountain to an adoring crowd.

Just as you rounded a corner, the crowd parted ways with a subtlety of a serial killer in slasher movies, which is to say, absolutely none whatsoever to reveal your new friend. The Freelancer is flanked by their boyfriend, Gavin, on the left and on their right, the famous player in the Earth Elemental team Huxley and one of the academy's guidance counsellors, Lasko.

You couldn't help but notice that everyone is giving them a wide berth. Not that it matters when Gavin's body is positioned to shield the Freelancer from bumping into any of the passing students. Huxley passes a bottle of orange juice to them while Lasko is staring at something behind the Freelancer. He mutters something under his breath.

A loud voice suddenly bounces off the walls. "What happened to my water tumbler, Freelancer!?"

You and every other student in the area watch as the Freelancer turns around and loudly replies, "Don't worry! I already got you a new tumbler, Damien! It looks exactly like your old one. Except it's pastel pink with kittens on it, and the shape looks like a really fat snowman with bunny ears for straws." To make a point, the Freelancer rummage inside of their backpack and proudly present the weirdest looking water tumbler you had ever seen in your life to their boys.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

"You know you could at least see it before you judge it, Damien." The Freelancer grumbled and shoved the tumbler back. Huxley gently pats their shoulder in a comforting manner. Lasko laughs nervously while Gavin continues to protect his lover silently, all the while looking at ease.

Everyone knows of the Freelancer and their boyfriends. They're the most popular group in D.A.M.N for a reason. Friendly, yet no one can be a part of their group due to the tight bond they have with one another.

The Freelancer is quickly shaping up to be a remarkable magical individual in their own right, marching to the beat of their own drums rather than the world's. Unwaveringly kind and friendly, constantly making sure the people around them are comfortable and safe.

In terms of academic performance, Damien remains unchallenged among his peers. Everyone could tell that he would undoubtedly change their world for the better the moment he graduates, especially in governing. He's also known for his fiery temper, yet that fire becomes a hearth when it comes to the Freelancer. More than once, students have stumbled upon them huddled close in the library, softly discussing the future they wanted.

If Damien is known for his academic excellence, then Huxley is famous for his prowess in the field. His mastery over his element made the younger Earth Elementals look up to him as their role model while his teammates view him as their ace. Charming, cheerful yet a bit absentminded at times, and even then, you can't help but be fond of him. You can find the Freelancer cheering him from the bleachers during his matches, and once Huxley won the game, he would immediately launch himself at them. Sweats, dirt and grass all over him, but the Freelancer would laugh as he hoisted them up in his embrace.

Lasko is an odd addition to their group, but once he drops his stuttering, he shows just how capable he is as one of the academy's guidance counsellors. Acknowledged as one of the most powerful Air Elemental of his generation, Lasko is well on track to graduate D.A.M.N with honours, and while the future might be uncertain, students like to speculate that he will remain with the Freelancer and the others no matter what. Sometimes you can even catch a glimpse of them hanging out at one of the local cafes and see how bright and alive Lasko can be when around the Freelancer.

Gavin came with a mystery trailing his saunter. See, no one knew how exactly he and the Freelancer first met. Speculations range from a cute, accidental meet up in a random convenience store to the Incubus boldly inviting them into a threesome when the Freelancer stumbled upon him mid-feeding. Lovely wonders if there's a betting pool going around the academy. The seniors would recognise Gavin, for he was their peer before he suddenly dropped out and vanished for a while. But judging by his frequent presence around the Freelancer, some say that he's looking forward to retaking his previous course. But whatever the reason may be, no one can deny the chemistry he has with the Freelancer. How fiercely protective he is of them when the Freelancer isn't looking.

They're certainly an intriguing group, that's for sure.

And when Gavin notices you were watching them, he winks at you. No doubt as an Incubus, he could scent what you and Vincent had been up to the entire weekend.

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all.

PS: Everyone in D.A.M.N (including Lovely & Vincent) hilariously assumes that the Freelancer is in a poly relationship with Gavin, Damien, Lasko & Huxley when in reality, they're just with Gavin. BBBBuuuttt... Gavin could detect the romantic/lustful feelings the other bois harbour for the Freelancer but kept it to himself for now. He's just waiting for the Freelancer to feel the same way so he could give them all The Talk™ and then go buy a bigger bed!

Anyway, I seriously had a lot of fun writing for this oneshot! It's been a while since I had that writing fever again so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #lovely (listener)#freelancer (listener)#vincent solaire #game #damien #huxley #will and caelum are mentioned

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diaco1968 · 5 years ago

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Payback is as cold as Steel 2

Mini nsfw stories where you take your revenge on the boys (Hawks, Dabi, Overhaul and Shigaraki), for this.

WARNING! Nsfw, smut, a bunch of kinks like choking, bondage, mentions of being drugged.

Everyone is aged up and are adults.

Hawks/ Takami Keigo

He had walked past the bedroom, catching a glance of you on the ladder fixing something to the ceiling, looking very serious. He had smirked and leaned on the door frame admiring how the delicate you could turn into a crafty handy woman when need be "I love it when you get down and dirty all by yourself, you know? So fucking sexy." He had chirpped catching your attention and missing the fleeting predatory aura around you. You had smiled at him, oh so sweetly.

"Well even I might need a hand sometimes, care to lend me one?"

He pushed himself off the door frame and walked over to you, only now realising the peculiarity of your 'handy work', the brand new hook, screwed deep in the ceiling just a few steps away from the bed. His smirk turned into a gleeful grin "oh shit, is that what I think it is?"

You rolled your eyes with a playful smile of your own reaching a hand over to him from your place over the ladder "belt, please." He didn't waste a second complying "getting right down to it, huh?" You took the belt, which he had made a show of pulling off, and hooked it on before looking at him "now, hands up." He had looked doubtful, hesitating and arching an eyebrow. "If this thing is going to stand my weight or not, I sure as hell won't be the first test subject for it. If it endures yours it will stand mine right?" He was convinced as he raised his hands and grabbed the loop you've created. "No, Kei. Like this." You bound his wrists together tightly and pulled on ths other end of the belt, making his arms stretch over his head with a light yelp as you hopped off the ladder with a cat like grace.

In retrospect he should've given it more thought before falling into your obvious trap.

"Babe, come on-Ngh!" He hissed through his teeth and leaned his damp forehead on the side of his outstretched arm in desperation, feathers fluttering violently as you sunk your teeth in his chest exposed by the unbuttoned shirt, making a little red ring around the perked bud. "What did you think I set that hook up there for, Kei? What a dirty little bird." You hummed, kissing him when he whined and leaned down, palming his erection through his unzipped pants. Pulling back you stepped behind him, him making an effort to keep you in his line of sight, but failed. You raked your nails over his back, in between his wings and he gasped, jerking forward, but was pulled back by the hook. "How hard did you screw that shitty thing!" He complained, trying to distract you.

And for a second he thought he did, when you wrapped your arms around him from behind.

"Hard enough." You hummed burying your face in between his soft wings and nuzzling the skin of his back. He paled ever so slightly "No! ...no, (y/n), listen! We can talk abou- AH!" He mewled as you sunk your teeth into his tender skin.

Dabi

Dabi was still in shock. The nerve of you to bind his hands behind his back. In his sleep. In his own fucking bed.

"You surely have thought this through, right? Cause unless you're planning to kill me afterwards, there will be severe consequences, doll."

You rolled your eyes as you ripped off his shirt, Dabi's eyes glued on yours "never miss the chance to enjoy the view either, I see." You smirked, turning around and teasingly stripping off your own pants, adding a few too many sways of your hips, his eyes raking over your curves.

When you were done you crawled back over him slowly, pausing and mouthing at his clothed cock while smirking at his annoyed face as he tried wriggling out of his metal binds, trying to get on your nerves by shit talking "you want my cock, huh? Can't go even a day without having it in your dirty little mouth?"

You only hummed on his length making a shaky sigh leave his lips. When he was hard and twitching impatiently, you continued trailing wet open mouthed kisses on his abdomen and chest, along his neck, over his jaw, behind his ear.

By the time you were done with your kisses, he was panting and groaning lightly under you, lips parted and eyes glazed over with need. He knew exactly what was going to happen after this little demonstration. "Fuck... hah... just let me taste you already."

Putting each of your knees on the bed on either side of his head and staring down at him as he tilted his head willingly to accommodate the space between your legs, the sweet scent of your own arousal making him growl impatiently when your fingers fisted in his hair and tugged his head back roughly, groaning in his deep voice as his eyes moved back on yours. "Remember Dabs, this is a punishment." He snarled "bitch!" But your fingers tightening in his hair almost painfully as you started to get off of his face made him nod his head "okay okay, sorry princess. Shit, I'll do as you want..." he huffed annoyed at having to verbally submit to you like this, but his annoyance was soon forgotten when you lightly pulled his head forward, finally sitting on his face. His tongue darting out, lapping at your heat and humming in delight.

"Good boy."

Overhaul

He woke up feeling hot and light headed. In fact his head was spinning when he opened his eyes to the dimly lit room. He went to rub his temple and soothe the throbbing in his head but he found out he couldn't move his hands. Or legs.

He looked over and sure enough he was tied to the bed posts, limbs spreading to each corner.

It was his own bed though so that could be a good sign. Ignoring the fact he was stark naked. Which usually didn't come off as a good sign.

You were seated next to him on the bed, in some flimsy silk gown smiling down at him like he was your prey. Reaching over and dragging your fingers lightly down towards his cock before giving him a light squeeze.

The surge of pleasure that ran through him was unusual, his mouth falling open to a breathy sigh.

"I drugged you."

He knew, his eyes immediately tunring to you. "you could pay for this with your life." He growled trying and succeeding to sound terrifying. But you called his bluff "no, I won't, you like me too much for that." He blinked, narrowing his eyes at you as he fell silent again, defeated.

You leaned over him, kissing him roughly before moving your lips down his neck, licking his skin. Now his usual self hated it, he would never let you do this in any normal state. But right now he would take any kind of physical contact with you. He squirmed under your touch, gasping and groaning, yet you never seemed to touch where he wanted you most. Which was everywhere.

"(Y/n)..."

he pleaded and much to his surprise, your lips moved down on him, mouth hovering only inches away from his cock as you looked up straight in his eyes with an evil smirk.

"How does it feel to be on the receiving end of this Kai."

Shigaraki Tomura

He was seething with rage. Not only had he lost but he had also agreed to 'grow a pair Shiggy' and go through with the punishment. He yanked his hand to relieve his nerves by scratching at his neck. But the rope around his torso didn't budge.

"Now, now, Tomu. Behave yourself." You said smoothing out his hair. He growled in reply and tried moving his hips. But still the rope binding his ankles to the chair didn't budge. You were sitting on his lap. So close. Yet he couldn't touch you.

"It's just another hour if you manage to behave yourself." You chuckled, throwing your leg over his so you were straddling him now, dropping your arms lightly on his shoulders, stroking the back of his neck as you watched his narrowed annoyed crimson eyes. "There is no if. Either way you only have one hour." He spat trying to lean in and capture your lips. Your hand moved and your fingers lightly wrapped around his throat, stopping him. A shy soft gasp escaped him and his eyes widened when you actually started to squeeze his airways hard enough to restrict the airflow. You raised your free hand to trace your fingers lightly over his face, stroked over his chapped lips and smiled at his shocked expression. A strangled moan left his lips when you squeezed your fingers tighter around his throat while grinding yourself down on his crotch roughly, moving closer to kiss him on the corner of his mouth and whisper by his ear "are you in a position to give orders to me, love?"

Oh you loved the way he shuddered underneath your touch.

#Hawks x reader #Dabi x reader #Shigaraki X reader #Hawks x reader smut #Dabi x reader Smut #Overhaul x reader #Chisaki kai #Dabi #Hawks #Tamaki keigo #Shigaraki Tomura #Overhaul #Bnha smut #Boku no hero academia

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

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Imagine...Breaking Dean’s Nose

Brother!Dean x Sister!Reader; Brother!Sam x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Mild Angst, some fluff (I think), minor back story, first fic written since [spoilers] Dean’s Death in 15x20 (spn finale)[spoiler].

Summary: The siblings have a minor disagreement that leads to a fist fight. And ends with Dean getting a broken nose and a realization, he has to let her grow.

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I write and edit all my works, hope you enjoy. This is my first time back writing Dean since the Finale.

Y/N sat in the back seat of the impala as they drove back to the bunker from the hospital. Sam driving his brother in the passenger seat, his nose swollen, a black eye swelling his eye.

The two siblings were at a disagreement.

Ever since she joined the brothers, it was after she lost her family. Nothing weird about their deaths. But state officials did DNA tests to find any family relatives. Turns out she’s related to Sam and Dean, as their half-sister.

The pair disagreed on something simple. Going out, but their sister was always careful. But since there was a project due soon and it was a group project. She had to sneak out, without Dean or Sam knowing. And came back to a pissed off Dean. Dean then got on her nerves, hovering over her, always concerned about her over the simplest of things. But she was still 13 years old.

Sam pulled into the garage, parking it and killing the engine, they weren’t as fast as Y/N to get out of the car. She had walked quickly to her room, locking her door.

The next morning, Y/N got up early to shower, and make Dean a big breakfast, Sam too for putting up with their crap. She may not have any idea how to cook, but to anyone’s famous last words before burning down a kitchen, how hard can it be?

She began making the pancake batter, cracking some eggs, adding some oil, and she began cooking them. Flipping them was a whole other story, some looked perfect circular, golden pancakes. But others would look over done or under done. The under done ones, she played the safe card and threw them away. Next were the eggs. She cracked some eggs in the skillet, flipping them once the whites were solid enough, making them over easy. Giving each brother 3 pancakes, 2 eggs over easy. Next was bacon for Dean. Dishing up their plates, giving Dean and Sam their morning coffee’s, and Sam some O.J, she put them on trays and sat them in their rooms just moments before their alarms went off.

Dean woke up to the smell of food in his room, Sam woke to his alarm with the combo of good smelling food. Both with notes from their sister.

Sorry for being a pain. Was written for Sam.

And the other note, reading, Sorry for breaking your nose. For Dean.

She cleaned up the bunkers kitchen, cleaning the dishes, and then bolting to hide in her room for the rest of the day.

Dean knew she wasn’t backing down, not really. Not entirely.

Their argument, he knew he was stopping her from getting a homework assignment for school and getting it done. But he didn’t want her out where he couldn’t protect her.

“You can’t always protect her Dean.” Sam says. Knowing full well about their argument. Well, he practically, unwillingly, had front row seats to the screaming match and fist fight.

“Just watch me.” Dean challenged.

“Dean.” Sam says in a knowing tone. “She’s got a school project, due Monday, it's Saturday. And she’s going to fail it if you don’t let her go.” Sam explains.

“But what if something happens?” Dean asks. “Like, what if one of the kids is a shifter trying to get at us. Or a werewolf, or a vamp kid, or even--”

“Dean, just stop. We taught her everything she needs to know about hunting. And she knows what to do.” Sam says.

Dean just sat back in his chair, with folded arms, grumbling to himself. But after about five minutes of thinking. Sam’s right. Dean doesn’t want to get in the way of his sister's education. She’s 13, about to go into high school next year. Those next four years are going to be important to her. And she has shown she'll kick his ass if he gets in her way.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine.”

“Let me go talk to her.”

“Yeah, talk. No yelling. Okay Dean.”

Dean simply waves him off.

He walks to her room, farthest from either of them. And gives it a few knocks. But gets no response. He tries to open it, it’s unlocked. So there’s something. He pokes his head in her room.

She's on her bed, with her wireless headphones on, playing some loud rock music but one ear piece is off her ear and sitting behind it. Doing her homework on her laptop.

“Guys, I gotta go.” She says to the laptop.

“Okay, but thanks for your help on the project. We’ll let you know if we need more info.” Her classmate says from the laptop.

“And, Y/N, go easy. I live with my older brothers too. And he’s just trying to protect you. He’s doing the best he can.” said another one of her classmates. Seeing her nod at them.

“You can do it girl, see you in class on Monday." They said. She gives a small friendly wave, and ends their video call. Taking off her headphones, she gets off of the bed.

“I’m sorry, I really had to get my portion of the project done and to the rest of my team.” she said to Dean, casting her gaze down. Waiting for him to yell at her.

“It’s okay, that’s what I was coming in here to talk to you about.” He says.

She looks up at him, not saying a word.

“I can’t protect you from everything out there. Not even life or the supernatural itself. Deep down, I sure as hell don’t want you hunting.” He explains.

That’s why he doesn’t let me out on hunts. She thought.

“I want you to live the normal life. I want you to get an education, a job, a life you are happy with to call your own.” He continues.

“But what if you guys need help?” she asks.

“Cas can always lend a hand. Same for Jack. but you are off limits. You’re 13, you have a long life ahead of you. And I want you to live it.” he says.

She nods.

“Are you almost done?” he asks.

“Almost, I just have to write my research down so we’re ready to present it on Monday.”

“Well, finish up. I say, you deserve some you time in the Dean Cave.” He says. She smiles, he never lets her do whatever she wants in the Dean Cave. She has the same gadget and tech know-how like Sam. And with her XBox One, she always wanted to play it on his big screen TV in the Dean Cave.

“Just, put everything back the way you found it. You know how I am with technology.” he says. Making her giggle.

“Sure Dean.”

“Oh, and Uh, thanks for breakfast. The eggs were a bit over hard, and the bacon wasn’t quite done. Maybe one of these days I’ll teach you how to cook.” Dean tells her.

“Okay.” she smiles.

She went back to writing her research essay and he went to his room to chill out. And once she was done she hooked up her console to his TV in the Dean Cave and binge played Fallout 4.

Sam was just happy there was some peace in the bunker, not just that day, but the days throughout.

Did you like it? How’d I do? Comment, Like, send an ask, feedback is fuel that keeps me going!

Dean Tags:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @mlovesstories, @winchest09

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 11/28/2020

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stillness-in-green · 4 years ago

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Spinaraki Week Level 2, Day Five: Rain | Steampunk

I don’t know anything about steampunk but take this anyway and I hope it’s not TOO obvious that I’m a huge poseur. I promise I did at least some research.

———– ———– ———– ———–

The brass city fell. It didn’t even take Gigantomachia, in the end, just Shigaraki and the change in his disyncrasy: steel to rust, bone to dust. Anyone within half a kilometer of the epicenter had gone up like so much ash, give or take some lightning-fast limb-cutting, and that had been that. Case closed, except for the evacuations to somewhere the Hero Corps wouldn’t be sticking their noses while Shigaraki’s new army figured out the new status quo.

The Liberation Army had airships on hand—it was the easiest way to get into Deika’s isolated mountains—so that was where the League wound up after the initial flurry of medical care, piled into the nicest cabin of the nicest airship Spinner had ever set foot in.

Not that there was a lot of competition on that front. Spinner had been in exactly one airship in his life, and that was the one he’d taken to get to Hosu. He’d shared with two others a third-class berth that had reeked of sulfur emissions the entire trip. Blankets had been request-only, for a surcharge.

This place was huge, an apartment of rooms in the upper galleys, all mirror-polished oak floors and white linen sheets in the beds. Every room had a glass door that lead out to a railed deck you could walk all the way around the stern, as long as you were the kind of person who had no fear of heights whatsoever. Shigaraki’s was at the very back, a sitting room with the standard door and a ridiculously well-appointed bedroom with its portion of the deck walled off from the rest, turning it into something more like a private box. Spinner had seen whole kitchens smaller than the bed.

Shigaraki—who’d rolled his eyes at Spinner’s hovering, but Spinner didn’t trust that automaton of Skeptic’s enough to let Shigaraki walk around alone with it—looked around, ambivalence in every line of his face, then turned back to Spinner and grinned.

“Want to break the bed in?”

They didn’t manage it, not for lack of intention or for absence of Spinner’s sputtering, but just because Shigaraki was asleep two minutes after he hit the mattress, and Spinner, despite his best intentions, wasn’t far behind.

He woke hours later to a shift in the sound of the engines’ dull rumbling. Nearby warmth confirmed that Shigaraki was still with him, but dead to the world, unresponsive to Spinner’s tentative nudge or careful edging out of the bed (once he found the edge of it, anyway).

The only light in the room came from a yellow glow seeping in from the door to the balcony. When Spinner crept over and tilted his head way back, he could just make out the bottom edge of the huge lantern hung above the deck, lit up so bright he had to blink away spots when he averted his eyes. Outside, any sign of the land below was obscured by the balcony railing; above it, a ribbon of sky tumbled behind them endlessly, empty but brilliant with stars.

The future looked a bit like that for all of them now.

Spinner shook off the half-formed thought, heat in his cheeks at the naked romanticism of it, and turned back towards the bed.

He didn’t know enough about airship engines to know what the change in sound meant. Maybe they were changing directions, maybe they’d hit a headwind, maybe they needed to refuel; he had no idea, and he wasn’t going to leave Shigaraki to go find out.

He pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and arranged himself in it, the last of his knives recovered from the pile of their gear on the floor and resting over his lap. Resolved to stay awake in case someone came, he fixed his stare on the door and waited.

He woke up again, this time to gray light and the sound of rain on the window. The bed stood empty, and the cane the medics had given Shigaraki (that on top of a leg plaster, an arm brace and a jar of laudanum the size of Spinner’s fist) was gone.

Hissing a curse under his breath, Spinner stumbled to his feet and swept the room. The balcony was obviously empty, and there was no answer to his knock on the bathroom door, nor was Shigaraki passed out in the wood-paneled bathtub.

Just as he lay a hand on the door to the sitting room, he heard the laugh from inside—Toga. Spinner sighed in relief, giving himself long enough to pick out Shigaraki’s voice before he doubled back to the bed to throw on his coat and loop his sword belt over his shoulder.

When he pushed into the other room, it was to find Shigaraki and Toga perched in the pair of chairs positioned in front of the doors to the outside deck. Toga was wrapped up in Shigaraki’s tattered greatcoat (which definitely looked like it was sporting a few new patches), her legs drawn up into the seat and her skirt tucked close enough around her feet that it was obvious she wasn’t wearing shoes. Shigaraki, lacking a table to kick his legs up on, sprawled sideways in his chair, bare feet dangling in the air over the arm nearer the doors. Both of them looked over at his approach, Shigaraki craning his neck back over the other chair arm and Toga shooting him a suspiciously satisfied grin.

Unlit and gloomy, the room was bitingly cool, and Spinner levelled a reproachful look at the both of them.

“There is a radiator in here. We don’t have to sit around being cold anymore.”

“It’s a nice atmosphere!” was all Toga had to say in response to that. She’d upgraded to an eyepatch from the gauze packing of the infirmary, a dark swath of leather over her right eye that made her skin look almost white. Given the amount of blood she’d apparently lost, she was probably supposed to still be in bed just like Shigaraki, but the gods knew the two of them didn’t exactly have the best self-preservation instincts in the League.

“We’re supposed to get to the new hideout in a few hours,” Shigaraki weighed in. “You can go sleep some more if you want.”

“Everyone else is,” Toga added, in the tones of one who’d checked.

“It’s fine.” I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep right now anyway, he didn’t finish, instead just arranging himself in a cross-armed lean on the wall.

Shigaraki and Toga looked at each other, silent for a beat, then went right back to the conversation they’d presumably been having when he came in.

“So?” she prompted. “How’d it feel?”

“Terrible,” came Shigaraki’s answer, flatly candid, but then a snide grin teased its way over his face as he went on. “At first. Felt pretty good by the end, though. Real liberating.”

“Mine didn’t feel bad at all,” Toga replied, drawing out the last word in a dreamy gratification. Something seemed to strike her, sharpening her previously unfocused stare. Her wide smile drained away for just a moment before twisting itself back up into a smirk, taut with a spite he hadn’t seen on her face since the whole thing with the Shie Hassaikai. “I can’t wait to try it on someone I actually like.”

“What are you talking about?” Spinner asked, bewildered.

“She unlocked it,” Shigaraki said shortly, then his lips hooked up into an anticipatory little smile as he watched Spinner’s jaw drop. “Her disyncrasy.”

“I can change shapes!” Toga announced, her expression melting back into eagerness. “Not right now—that’s what I need blood for—but that’s what I’ve always wanted it for! I figured it out when that reporter lady wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Spinner’s mind reeled with the possibilities. They’d been out of contact with their supposed spy since Shigaraki’s master was taken, but with that kind of infiltration capacity on the table, on top of Shigaraki’s rust now affecting everything, not just metal…

“You too, right, Spinner?”

Toga’s coy voice clipped off the unspooling ends of his thoughts and he looked up into barn-owl yellow eyes that saw straight through him. “Wh-what?”

“You changed too. I can smell it.” The assertion made no sense, but her smug certainty drove heat up into his cheeks anyway, because damn, she was right, even if there was no way for her to have known about it.

“It’s really nothing,” he muttered, not daring to look at Shigaraki, though he could feel the stare without even needing to. “Not compared to—”

“You an’ me’ve read a bunch of the same serials, Spinner,” Shigaraki interrupted him dryly. “If you unlocked something, there’ll be a way to use it. What’d you get?”

Spinner closed his eyes and bit back a groan. Rubbing at his face did absolutely nothing to alleviate the weight of their attention, though, so he gripped his hair and pulled his own head up enough to glare back at Shigaraki, hollowness chewing at his stomach.

“Climbing on walls. Like a—” and he broke off to gesture at himself with his free hand.

“That’s fun!” Toga chimed; Shigaraki just looked thoughtful, which was—well, it was a better response than Spinner’s gnawing anxiety had been expecting, anyway.

“Yeah,” he said at length. “I can come up with ways to use that. Who looks up at ceilings, anyway?”

“What were you thinking about when you figured it out?” Toga asked, and grinned completely unrepentantly when Spinner moved his glare over to her instead. “I bet I can guess.”

“Leave him alone, Toga,” Shigaraki said, an off-handed defense that still filled the emptiness in Spinner’s guts with sudden butterflies, the blush now for a wholly different reason. “That’s five of us. Just one more to go.”

Toga moved her fingers for a moment, frowning down at them. “…Five?”

“Dabi’s holding out. He’ll tell us when he wants to.” A beat, then a huff. “Hell, Compress might be, too.”

They went on talking, and Spinner let them, watching Shigaraki with a tingle in his mouth that felt like a promise trying to make itself known.

#spinarakiweeklevel2 #iguchi shuuichi #spinner bnha #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #boku no hero academia #my writing #ficcing

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silverhandy · 4 years ago

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I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 4

Takemura doesn't believe in ghosts, not really, but a man driven to his limit might believe in just about anything. Trapped in a losing game and consumed by grief, he returns to Night City looking for closure. but ends up finding something much more.

ao3 I chapter 1 I chapter 2 I chapter 3

As he opened his eyes, the first thing Takemura noticed was that he was no longer lying on a leather chair in the center of the clinic, hooked up to an impossible amount of monitors, a painfully bright surgical lamp hovering over him, blinding him to the point where it wasn’t possible to keep his eyes open even if he wanted to. Instead, Takemura found himself lying on an actual bed, frame creaking with every little movement he made. It was pushed to the side of the garage, away from prying eyes, but still within Viktor’s line of sight. The other man must’ve moved him at some point, though Takemura wouldn't be able to pinpoint when exactly, the brief moments he could recall an unsettling blur in an otherwise blissfully void unconsciousness.

Misty’s terrified face. Viktor leaning over him, still in that suit he wore to the funeral, bloody smears staining his otherwise perfectly white shirt. The bitter taste of vomit flooding Takemura’s mouth, a pair of strong hands helping him turn to the side so he wouldn't choke. And the cold. An unyielding chill that’d shake him awake every few hours, teeth chattering despite a thick blanket he was covered with. Eventually, it was gone, only to come back in the form of searing hotness, one that made his optics go haywire, spitting glitchy warnings all over his feed before he drifted off again. And Viktor’s hand against his forehead, his skin almost ice cold in comparison with his own.

In short, Takemura felt like absolute shit. Like he’s been dragged through Night City’s trash dump and back. At least the clinic didn’t seem to him a rocking boat anymore, the soft, neon lights no longer so unpleasantly bright as they were merely a few hours before. It seemed surreal, but it’s not like Takemura didn’t know what to expect. He’s been through cyberware withdrawal in the past, the memory of the last time he ended up in Viktor’s clinic in a less than presentable state still fresh in his mind, but this felt so much worse. In the moments he was lucid enough to form such judgments, Takemura kept telling himself it was his injuries aggravating his symptoms, these two unfortunate circumstances layered on top of each other yet another instance of bad luck that seemed to follow him the moment he stepped foot in Night City for the first time not even a year ago, but he knew well enough it was bullshit. It almost felt as if his body finally found an opportunity to carry out a proper vengeance for the last few months in Takamatsu.

When Takemura first stepped off the AV, a sense of relief washed over him. Finally, he was back home. He made it, carved himself a path back under Arasaka’s wings, the only place he ever truly belonged. The circumstances were different, sure, and he was yet to swallow the disappointment that being dismissed from Saburo-dono’s side was, but everything was back as it should be. At that point, Takemura could still force himself to push the memory of V far back into his mind, convinced that it was her who made the wrong choice, though little did he know it wouldn’t be much longer.

He refused to acknowledge it, but even before V started haunting his every waking moment, even his favorite foods felt bland to taste, far removed from the richness of flavor he remembered. Then came the memories and guilt that kept him awake at night and copious amounts of coffee to remedy the lost hours of sleep by day, his meals growing smaller and smaller, reduced into a bare minimum necessary to keep him going. He was never a man to refuse a meal, the hunger that plagued his entire childhood burned into his mind, but these days he couldn’t stomach more than a few bites before he felt it lodge down his throat.

Takemura slowly sat up and almost immediately regretted it, his back protesting the movement after all the hours he spent in one position. He ignored it, running a hand through his hair to pull back the loose strands plastered to his skin. To his mild surprise, he was no longer wearing the suit he left the hotel in, but a stretched out t-shirt and sweatpants, both a bit too loose on his smaller frame. Viktor must’ve changed his clothes at some point, most likely before the blood had a chance to stiffen the material. It didn’t make Takemura feel embarrassed. If anything, he was grateful for the care, but the state he was in certainly made him feel vulnerable, much more so than he’d be willing to admit. Fighting the anxiety rising in his chest, Takemura looked to the side, fully expecting his left arm to no longer be attached to his shoulder, but there it was - heavily bandaged, but still in one piece. He tried moving his fingers and saw them twitch before a warning flash of pain could reach his senses.

The clinic was quiet, save for a quiet hum of machinery and the sound of a boxing match playing in the background, punching and grunts faded out by a speaker spitting commentary faster than a machine gun spits bullets. All of that was interrupted by a soft creak as Viktor got up from his chair and walked over to Takemura.

“Good to see you back among the living,” Viktor said, a faint smile on his lips. He was back to wearing his usual blue shirt, sleeves rolled up over his biceps, stethoscope hanging around his neck. He seemed much more at ease than the last time they met, the clinic being his natural environment much more so than the bar, though it did very little to lift the dark circles beneath his eyes. If anything, he looked even more exhausted.

“How long was I…?” Takemura’s voice came out hoarse and strained, barely audible even for him. As if reading his mind, or, more likely, simply having a decent bedside manner, Viktor handed him a glass of water.

“Here you go. As for your question, four days, give or take.”

“And did anyone..?”

“Did anyone come knockin’ lookin’ for you?” Viktor asked as he grabbed himself a chair and sat beside Takemura. ”Luckily, no. Left me wonderin’ what the hell happened. Somehow I doubt it was the Valentinos you met on a late night stroll, so let me make a wild guess - tough day at work?”

“You might call it that.”

“So what, Arasaka is sending their assassins after people for missing a day off work now?” the doctor asked, not much humor in his tone.

“It wasn’t...exactly that. I apologize, but I would rather not discuss it right now.” Takemura replied but didn’t provide further explanation. To his relief, Viktor didn’t push for it either, at least for now. Before the silence between them could grow any heavier, Takemura added: “If you are worried about troopers bursting through your door, there is no need. If they had not done that already, I believe it means that I...got my point across.”

“Should’ve seen the other guy, huh?” Viktor asked with a husky laugh.

A wet sound of a blade piercing the sternum, going right through the aorta. A seasoned Arasaka agent struggling to load a magazine, fear in his eyes as if he had seen the devil himself. A quick cut to the neck of a practically defenseless man, still recovering from the shard’s aftereffects, dead before he had a chance to see what happened to his companions. That’s all it took, it seems.

***

“Since you’re out of the woods, allow me to give you a quick rundown of how it’s lookin’ for you: a gunshot wound to the stomach was a walk in the park compared to the scrap metal that was the wiring in your left hand. I hooked you up with some suitable replacements, should be workin’ just fine if you allow the cuts to properly heal, so take it easy for a while. I took the liberty to go in and tweak your CPU a little, managed to restore some basic interface functions, but I'm afraid all the other implants are a goner.” Viktor said, fingers dancing as he typed on the screen he was holding. “No way for me to reset them, Arasaka tech is way above my pay grade. You probably know that already, which brings me to another matter we should, uh, discuss.” the other man’s expression changed, his brows furrowed in concern clearly evident on his face.

“Yes?” Takemura’s fingers froze halfway through buttoning the coat Viktor handed him. To his relief, Takemura realized it was his own coat, seemingly fresh from a half-decent laundry service, one that managed not to completely ruin the heavy grade wool. Buttoning it wasn’t easy with only one hand, but whatever was left of his pride made it impossible to ask Viktor for help.

“I just found it concernin’ that you had such a strong reaction to bein’ cut off from implants, especially since it ain’t your first time. You should have experienced some mild nausea, light oversensitivity, maybe a vicious headache, but your other injuries aside, it knocked you right out for days. I ran quite a few scans when I was treatin’ you but didn’t find much to explain it. How’ve you been feelin’ in the last few months? Eatin’ well? Sleepin’?

Was there even a point in lying?

“Not really, no.” Takemura said, unable to look the other man in the eye, fingers slipping as he rushed to fasten the rest of the buttons,

Viktor hummed and stopped typing away at the small screen he had been holding, letting his hands rest on his lap.

“Listen, uh, the past few months have been tough on all of us. I’m not good with this sort of stuff, but if you need someone to talk to, I can give you contact info to a great doc.”

“That will not be necessary, but thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Alright, but you know, if you need it, don’t hesitate to ask. With the way things turned out, I presume you’ll be staying in Night City for a while?”

“I’m afraid so. It would be unwise of me to come back to Japan right now.”

“I know it was supposed to be a short trip, so I don’t presume you came prepared for a longer stay, huh?

“I have some funds stashed away on a secure account, but it will take me some time to gain access to them. I will pay for your services, of course.”

“Nah, it’s not my fee I’m concerned about. I don’t want you to roam the streets in the dead of winter, not an eddy to your name. Suppose what I’m askin’ is if you have a place to stay?

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Then how about you stay in my place until you figure out what to do next? I’m not there all that much anyway, been spendin’ most nights at the clinic lately. Shame for the place to go unused like this and it seems you need it more than I do.”

Takemura hesitated. Viktor has already done so much for him, from saving his life to letting him run up a tab on little more than a word. He knew he'd never be able to repay such kindness, but the ripper was right. Before he jumps all the hoops to access the little cash he had stashed away on an account so deeply buried even Arasaka wasn't able to cut him off from it, more than a few days will pass. He still felt weak and even just the thought of spending the night outside was making Takemura miserable. At the same time, he didn’t want to stay in the clinic any longer, knowing that his presence had effectively stopped Viktor from taking up more than a few clients he trusted well enough.

“Thank you, Viktor,” Takemura said and bowed slightly, as deeply as the stitches would comfortably allow.

“No problem, really,” the man smiled and handed him a shard. “Just jack it in, it’ll tell you the location and grant access to the building. It’s a few blocks away, you won’t miss it.”

“See you later, I suppose?”

“Sure. Go get some rest before you go out to roam the streets and remember, your body ain’t got all the fancy tech to patch you up in no time. Folks like you often seem to forget that. Just take it easy, Takemura.”

“It’s Goro.”

“What?”

“Call me Goro. And I will, do not worry. I have...a lot of things to figure out.”

#goro takemura #goro takemura/viktor vector #victor vector #viktor vector #takemura/viktor #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cp77 #the devil ending #cp2077 spoilers #writing #vikemura #takevik

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bleedinghearthalstead · 5 years ago

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SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 10, woop woop! SWAT!AU version of Chicago Med 2x20 Generation Gap. Crossposted on AO3, link on my blog.

"What are you doing here?" A raspy voice comes from the next room.

Jay sighs. "Will wanted me to check on you."

"No need," the voice returns. Hailey’s head snaps towards the voice when the older man in the White Sox t-shirt gruffly turns to her. "And who is she?"

They walk through the front yard with the white and green picket fence and straight into the white and green house, Jay not even bothering to knock, and wow, if Hailey didn't know that Jay was a White Sox fan before, she'd know it now... or at least know where he got it from. She looks around the place and there's memorabilia everywhere – a White Sox wall clock, a White Sox jersey framed on the wall, baseball caps, bobble heads, there's actually a game on the TV...

"What are you doing here?" A raspy voice comes from the next room.

Jay sighs. "Will wanted me to check on you."

"No need," the voice returns. Hailey’s head snaps towards the voice when the older man in the White Sox t-shirt gruffly turns to her. "And who is she?"

"Pop." Jay takes her hand and pulls her to his side to where he's standing in front of his father who is sitting in a recliner. "This is Hailey," he pauses and clears his throat while she squeezes his hand, "my fiancée."

Patrick Halstead laughs. Hailey doesn't know what kind of reaction she expected, not that she thought that she'd receive a warm welcome, but it still kind of hurts, and if not for her sake, then for Jay's. They've shared some of their experiences growing up and she knows that Jay and his father don't have much of a relationship – Jay has barely spoken to him since he joined the Army and even less after his mother died, just as she doesn't have any contact with her father except for when her mother isn't fast enough to be the first to pick up the phone. But how the man in front of her can manage to look down at them from his position sitting down is still unbelievable to her. It all feels oddly familiar though. She glances at Jay out of the corner of her eye and she can see the muscle in his jaw twitching and the corners of his mouth pulling down into a frown.

"Yeah, my fiancée," Jay huffs. "What's so funny about that?"

The older man wheezes while he is still laughing. "Didn't think you'd ever have the balls to-" When Pat spots the diamond ring on Hailey's left hand, he loses his train of thought.

Hailey notices him staring at her hand and instinctively crosses her arms, hiding the ring from view, although she doesn't really know why she does it. Well no, she does know why. She immediately knew that he recognized the ring, hell, he must have been the one to buy it and he'd seen it on another woman's hand for over twenty years, but while Hailey is still getting used to wearing the ring, she is already extremely possessive of it. It's hers, a symbol of Jay's love.

Pat frowns at the couple, unsure of himself all of a sudden. He hasn't seen that ring in years, over a decade really, and it's bringing back all kinds of feelings that he definitely doesn't want to deal with. He settles on disdain and turns back to his son. "Again, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Again," Jay parrots and pointedly stares at Pat. "Will wanted me to check on you. He said you didn't sound so good when you talked on the phone."

Hailey and Jay had been in the middle of the maze that is an IKEA store looking for a new coffee table when Jay's phone had started buzzing insistently. He'd declined his brother's calls twice before he picked up on the third time. They'd had a ten minute discussion about whether Jay really (really?) needed to go over to their Dad's house while Jay was lounging on one of the display beds until he'd reluctantly agreed.

And Jay has to hold back rolling his eyes because Will was right. He takes a closer look at his father – he is pale except for his red cheeks, there's a sheen of sweat on his skin and he's breathing heavily, gasping almost, although he is reclined in his chair and was probably doing nothing except for sitting there and watching TV.

"As I said to your brother," Pat rasps, "I don't need this, I'm fine."

His son scoffs. "Are you kidding me? You can barely talk!" Pat only grunts at him and Jay sighs. "Come on, we're taking you to Med."

"Like hell you will, it's just a waste of a trip," the older man grumps.

"Dad, come on. Let Will have a look at you."

"What, so I can take medical advice from someone who wet the bed until he was nine?" Hailey's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and Jay groans at the jab at his older brother who isn't even there.

"Stop being so stubborn, you old pri-"

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey interjects before Jay can finish his sentence with an insult, "you're obviously having a lot of trouble breathing, why don't you let us take you to the hospital?"

The older man glares at Hailey. "And now I have to listen to some ditzy blonde-"

"Hey!" Jay snaps at his father.

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey tries again, this time more firmly, "either you let us take you or I might have to call in an emergency and have an ambulance roll up." She takes out her police radio and stares him down, fiddling with the dial. "I think I heard cries for help coming from this house."

Pat stares back at the defiant young woman next to his son, waiting on her to call her bluff. One of her hands is propped up on her hip and she's added a raised eyebrow into the mix. When she doesn't budge at his glare, he huffs, "I'll be damned if I'll have neighbors see me hauled out of here in an ambulance." He pushes himself up from his seat with shaky arms and grunts with the effort. "If we're going, I'm driving."

Jay's snort is cut short when he sees his father sway as soon as he is upright. "Woah, Pop!" He grabs his father by the arm, holding him steady.

Pat groans, but tries to push his son's hand away. "I got it!"

"I'll call the ambulance." Hailey takes the man's other arm.

"No!" The older man says with more force than expected, especially given his condition, and shakes both of them off. "Just move your asses."

Pat walks or rather staggers out on his own, with Jay hovering next to him the entire way to the jeep. He helps his father into the front passenger seat and Hailey slides into the back. When Jay starts the car, he looks at his fiancée through the rearview mirror. "Can you text Will, tell him we're gonna be there in twenty?" She nods at him and starts typing a message on her phone.

* * * * *

Jay drives right up to the emergency department entrance and they are greeted by Will, a nurse and a wheelchair. Of course Pat refuses to sit in the damn thing, so both brothers guide the older man to the nearest open exam room, their father grumbling at them to leave him alone. Since Will isn't allowed to treat the elder Halstead, he's also called in Dr. Rhodes who immediately starts calling out treatments and diagnostic tools as soon as they have Pat on the exam bed.

Will turns to his brother and future sister-in-law who have stopped at the exam room door, pats Jay on the back and smiles at Hailey. "Thanks for bringing him in."

"Yeah, no problem." Jay frowns, watching their father being hooked up to oxygen and various monitors, being reminded of another time he was unable to help one of his parents. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Will checks on what is happening in the exam room. "Apical holosystolic murmur and his lungs are wet."

Jay rolls his eyes at his brother. "In English?"

"It means that his heart has been compensating for his faulty mitral valve for a very long time and now it can't keep up, so fluid is backing up into his lungs." Will grimaces. "It looks like he's having a NSTEMI – it's a type of heart attack."

When the team of doctors and nurses pushes Pat's gurney out of the room, Jay's frown deepens and he scratches the back of his head, a telltale sign that he is getting upset. Hailey takes his hand in hers and rubs his arm with her other hand.

Will starts following the gurney, but stops and turns back to his brother. "Don't worry, we can beat this. Dad needs an angiogram, I'll let you know when he's done." He gives Jay a quick one-armed hug and jogs after their father who is being wheeled towards the elevators at the end of the hallway.

Jay keeps staring after his brother until Hailey squeezes his hand. "Come on, let's go park the car somewhere it's not gonna be in the way of an actual ambulance and then we'll be right back, okay?" She gives him a soft smile and rubs his arm again. Jay just nods at her and lets her lead him back to the jeep.

* * * * *

After the non-surgical treatment failed and Pat was quickly rushed to the operating room, Will left Jay and Hailey in the waiting area and went to observe their father's surgery, but when he comes back, Hailey is waiting by herself, reading a magazine that's probably been there for a few months at least.

As soon as she sees Will, she gets up and walks up to him. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, the surgery went well." He lets out a relieved breath that he didn't realize he was holding. "They fixed the mitral valve – shouldn't give him any more problems. He's still in recovery, but they'll get him to a room soon."

"That's great." Hailey gives him a hug. She pulls back and notices Will looking around the room. "Jay was called in. He said he'd be back as soon as possible, but it may take a while, you know how it goes. I can text him if you want?"

"Thanks, yeah, that'd be good."

When she sees that Will is still fidgeting, Hailey puts a hand on his arm. "You okay? When was the last time you ate something? Do you want me to get you something?"

"I'm fine," Will says, but he's still looking antsy. "I should probably head back to the house and get some of my Dad's things… but it can probably wait till Jay gets back. I don't want to leave my Dad by himself."

"I can stay with him," Hailey blurts out, but as soon as she says it, she internally panics, thinking she's overstepped. Although she and Jay are engaged now and she feels like Will and her get along pretty well, she's only met their father a few hours ago and that meeting couldn't be called friendly by a stretch.

"You sure?" Will looks hopeful though, so her decision has already been made for her.

"Yeah, I can sit with him till you get back." She raises a questioning eyebrow at Will. "He'll be out of it for while, right? From the surgery?"

Sensing Hailey's hesitation, Will chuckles and gives her an out. "You really don't have to stay, it's fine." But in that moment, his stomach growls and he gives Hailey a sheepish smile. She only gives him a pointed look. "If you're really sure… I'll be quick, I promise. I'll tell the nurses to let you know what room he's in."

She shoos him away. "Go. I know how to deal with difficult fathers." Will has half a mind to ask her what she meant by that, but figures this is neither the time nor place.

* * * * *

Hailey is reading a text from Will that he's on his way back when a hoarse voice startles her.

"How long have you two been engaged?" Hailey raises an eyebrow at the question. She feels like it deserves a sarcastic answer given his earlier reaction to the couple, but the man in the hospital bed beside her has been through major surgery so she decides to give him some leeway. Before she can answer though, Pat coughs and grunts in pain.

"Do you need me to call a nurse? Are you in pain?" She is looking around for the call button, but the elder Halstead stops her with an annoyed wave of his hand.

"No, I'm fine." And if there's one thing she's learned from meeting their father, Hailey now knows that the one personality trait commonly shared between all Halstead men is that they are stubborn as hell. Pat slowly reaches for the cup of water that's been conveniently (thankfully) left on the bedside table by the nurse that showed her to the room earlier. She helps him with the straw and takes the cup from him after he takes a couple of sips, but stops fussing as soon as Pat has settled back against the pillows. "Where are my boys?"

The way he says it, soft and somewhat disappointed that neither Will nor Jay is here, Hailey isn't sure if he meant to say it out loud like that. "Will's on his way back from the house and Jay's been called into work." She checks her phone to see if she's gotten a message from Jay in the meantime, but he still hasn't replied to her text that his father's surgery went well, but then she also knows that Jay doesn't keep his phone on him when he's out on a call.

Pat grunts in response, then motions at Hailey. "Hand me the remote, will ya?" She does and he starts zapping through the channels. "I missed the game for this."

Hailey rolls her eyes when he waves the remote at her not to block his view, but also turns to the TV and settles back in her chair, although it's almost impossible to get comfortable on the hard plastic. She watches as Pat changes channels every few seconds, going through all the channels twice before sighing and putting on an old White Sox game. She can live with that.

They watch the game in somewhat of a comfortable silence until Pat speaks up again. "So?" When the young woman frowns at him, he huffs. "You didn't answer my question."

"We only got engaged last month." Hailey can't help but blush thinking back to the day at the range and the surprise that awaited her. There's a feeling of butterflies in her stomach every time she thinks about Jay and her getting married soon and she couldn't be happier. Still, she feels like she needs to elaborate. "But we've been together for over two years now."

"So no shotgun wedding?"

Hailey laughs. "No, definitely not."

"He treat you well? That boy can be trouble, always has been."

"Trouble?" Hailey feels sudden anger flare up inside of her at the uncalled-for dig at her fiancé and any compassion she felt for the older man evaporates within seconds. "Jay served – is still serving – his country and just because he didn't do what you wanted him to do, he's trouble?"

"Don't be disappointed when he leaves you," Pat mutters, averting his eyes.

Hailey lets out a humorless laugh. "Oh I've heard all about your son being a disappointment to you. And Will too. You do realize that both of your sons have done everything they can to help you today? If it weren't for them, you might as well be dead." The blonde knows that she's being very harsh, but maybe that is what's needed to drive the point home for once. Having said her piece, she turns back to the TV and dreads having to spend another minute with the older man, but she told Will that she'd stay with him and she's not going back on her word.

"You're right," Pat says after a couple of minutes where the sound coming from the TV was the only thing that made the silence between them even remotely bearable. "They made something of their lives. They're better men than I am."

"I don't think they feel that way," she sasses, but pauses at Pat's defeated look. "But I also don't think they'd want you to feel that way either."

Will chooses that moment to appear at the door, slightly out of breath and carrying a luggage bag. "Hey guys." He looks between the two of them, dimly aware of the tension in the room. "How are you feeling, Pop?"

Pat sighs. "Like I took one on the chin."

"You kind of did." His son smirks at him.

"I'm gonna head home, leave you guys to it." Hailey stands up from her seat, her mission accomplished with Will's return. "Keep me updated, Will, yeah? Bye, Mr. Halstead."

Before she can step away from the bed, he stops her with a hand on hers and gives her a small smile. "Call me Pat."

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #daddy issues abound #lots of stubbornness #bhhfic #swat!jay au

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loveforpreserumsteve · 4 years ago

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Those Who Fall: "APTF" Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Epilogue:

A frantic banging on his and Bucky's bedroom door was what woke Steve up. Instantly, his eyes snapped open and he moved to climb out of bed. And while he pulled a pair of pajama pants on over his boxer briefs, Bucky was already at the door, with his hand on the baseball bat behind it. Even months after the locks had been changed and the security system was updated they were all still paranoid. But especially Bucky and Steve.

When they saw it was Jonas, both men eased because at least they -- and their children -- weren't in danger. However, just because they weren't in danger didn't mean that everything was okay, so Bucky asked, "What's wrong?"

"Wanda's in labor," Jonas answered, out of breath seeing as he probably sprinted down two floors to get to them.

Instead of giving their oldest a snide comment about how this was why he shouldn't vape, Bucky nodded, "Okay." Turning back to look at Steve, he suggested, "You get the van ready, I'll help Wanda and Vis."

Over the months, they had planned this out as best as they could. Steve pulled on a shirt and Jonas said, "I already got the yoga ball."

"The bags are already in the van," Steve added, making sure he had his wallet.

At the top of the stairs, Bucky tossed the keys down, "I'll call the hospital to let them know we're on our way."

Nodding, Steve turned, keys in hand, for the garage. Immediately hopping in behind the steering wheel of the van and opening the garage door. Turning the lights on, Steve's drowsy mind realized that Jonas's snow-covered older minivan was parked directly behind him.

Cursing under his breath in annoyance, Steve climbed out of the van and quickly made his way for the main level of the house. Only, before he could even step on the first step, Vis was helping Wanda down the staircase. All the while, she practiced her Lamaze breathing, and Steve tried to do some as well to help calm himself down.

"Is Joni back upstairs?" Steve asked, standing off to the side of the staircase and out of their way.

"He's in the living room," Bucky confirmed. "Why?"

"His van is blocking me in," Steve relayed.

Groaning in pain, Wanda doubled over. Holding her full-term abdomen, she loudly cursed. Bucky hovered behind her to make sure she didn't fall down the rest of the steps while Vis comfortingly rubbed her arm.

"Get off!" Wanda swatted away Vis's hand, "I don't want to be touched!"

"Sorry," Vis apologized, but still helped her down the stairs once the contraction passed. Assuring, "Let's get you to the van."

With the mention of the van, Bucky sprinted back up the stairs to get Jonas's keys. Vis reached the landing and assisted Wanda down as well. At the bottom, she paused again with another contraction and Steve raced for the van to at least get it started while they waited. After all, it was February.

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait for long, and Steve couldn't help but tease, "Now I see how you got all those track medals in high school."

A grin stretched Bucky's lips at that, but he was still in a hurry to move their son's vehicle, even though Wanda wasn't even in the van yet. But he couldn't fault his husband for being in a rush. Hell, his whole body felt like it was running a marathon and all he had done was walk from his bedroom to the garage and back. Reaching for the glovebox, Steve made sure that his emergency inhaler was there. Just in case.

Wanda cried at another contraction.

"Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Exhale. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," Vis softly instructed from the seat beside her, letting her squeeze his hand as hard as she needed to.

Once Jonas's van was moved, Steve quickly backed out of the garage. Briefly pausing to let Bucky in the passenger seat. Bucky's breathing was almost as labored as Wanda's, and to lighten the mood, Steve joked, "My inhaler's in there if you need to use it."

Playfully, Bucky rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to reply. Before he could, however, Wanda cursed in her pain, "Fuck!"

Finally on street, the contraction was over and Wanda apologized, "Sorry, pops."

"You got nothin' to worry about, sweetie," Steve assured while Bucky chuckled, "Pops swears enough for everyone, so don't feel bad about it."

Wanda weakly giggled at that and from the rearview mirror, Steve could see that her eyes were closed. Good, he thought, hoping that it wouldn't be a long labor. Nevertheless, he nearly sped the entire time and was beyond thankful that the roads weren't slick before he finally pulling into the hospital parking lot.

Steve pulled up outside of the entrance and Vis opened the door before he even had a chance to stop the vehicle. As he helped his fiancée out of the back, Bucky climbed out from the passenger seat and said, "I'm gonna get them set up."

"I'll meet you inside," Steve assured, blowing his husband a kiss.

Left alone, Steve's tired mind was trying to wrap itself around the situation. Sure, they had been planning out all the different scenarios so they could be prepared. But now that it was actually happening, it was different. Steve could feel the nerves knotting his stomach and making his palms sweaty.

"You've got this," Steve encouraged himself as he parked and grabbed the bags. Slinging each bag over his shoulders, Steve carried the yoga ball into the hospital. Beyond relieved when he found Bucky waiting for him. Forever grateful to be going through this -- like everything else -- with him.

"Ready?" Bucky asked, taking the ball from him.

"As I'll ever be," Steve confirmed, handing over Wanda's heavier bag.

Hand in hand, the pair headed for Wanda's room. Occasionally, Bucky would give Steve's hand a soothing squeeze, just to remind him that he was there. Before the elevator stopped at Wanda's floor, Bucky brought Steve's hand up to give it a kiss.

"You know," Bucky started, "You're the hottest grandpapa I've ever seen."

"Clearly," Steve tried to stop his blush from getting too red, "You haven't looked in a mirror."

At their floor, Bucky's laughter echoed in the empty hall. Steve rolled his eyes, even as his grin remained intact for the rest of the walk. Standing outside of Wanda's door was another story, however. Needing a moment, Steve quietly turned to face Bucky, "You nervous?"

"A little," Bucky whispered.

Nodding, Steve said, "I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone but you."

"Likewise," Bucky agreed, that toothy grin returning.

And since Bucky's smiles were contagious, Steve smiled too. Content with greeting this next chapter in his life, Steve knocked on the closed door. Not wanting to just barge into their adoptive daughter's space, they patiently waited until Vis opened the door for them.

"Five centimeters," Vis instantly divulged, looking frazzled by the information.

Steve's brows shot up on his forehead while his eyes widened. From the bed, Wanda joked, "She sure is punctual, huh?"

Removing the baby's bag from his shoulder, Steve glanced at the clock and noticed that it was officially the baby's due date. Steve chuckled, "Could have worst traits."

Wanda noncommittally shrugged and tried to get comfortable despite being in labor and being hooked up to so many monitors. Steve took a seat in one of the chairs beside the bed. Instantly encouraging the teen, "You've got this."

Reaching out, Wanda covered Steve's hand with her own and softly smiled, "Thanks."

"Of course," Steve returned the smile and gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

When she yawned, Bucky suggested, "You should try and rest."

"I don't know if I can," Wanda tiredly argued. Briefly pressing her lips together, trying to fight the smile wanting to break free, "I'm excited to meet her."

"Me too," Vis agreed, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

Letting Vis have his seat, Steve stood and went to sit beside Bucky on the loveseat by the large window. Bucky took Steve's hand in his and laced their fingers together. Glad to have each other. Glad to know that their daughter and future son-in-law had each other.

Yawning, Steve rested his head on Bucky's broad shoulder and let his heavy eyelids closed. Trying to get a little more rest while he could when he could. Especially since the next moment he awoke, the doctor was entering the room and greeting them.

"Mr. and Mr. Barnes, are you ready to meet your granddaughter?" Dr. Cho smiled while the nurses got things ready for delivery.

"Pops," Wanda called, reaching out for him from her bed.

Standing from the loveseat, Steve crossed the room to her and let her take his hand in hers. Pushing her hair off her face, he assured, "You've got this."

Nodding, there were tears in her eyes as she agreed, "I've got this."

On the other side of Wanda, Vis wasn't looking too confident. Thankfully, Bucky draped his arm around the teen's shoulders and complimented, "I couldn't ask for anyone better to be the father of my granddaughter."

Tears filling his eyes as well, Vis softly said, "Thanks."

Bucky ruffled his strawberry blond hair the way he would with their other sons, and confirmed, "No problem."

With Bucky taking his requested place up by Wanda's head so he could mop up her sweat, and Steve holding her right foot while Vis held her left, Wanda did as instructed. Inhaling deeply, before pressing her chin into her chest and pushing with all of her might. Only taking a moment to inhale again before following Dr. Cho's instructions, "Doin' good, Wanda. One more big push."

Grunting, Wanda pushed as much and as powerful as she could. Really putting her all into it as she tightly grasped her thighs and pulled them towards herself.

"That's it, you're doin' great, sweetie," Dr. Cho encouraged, "Another big, big push."

"You can do it," Vis soothingly rubbed her ankle.

Then, Wanda dropped back against the bed in relief as Dr. Cho got to cleaning the baby up. Just the minimal of cleaning, such as her airway before she placed the bald baby on Wanda's abdomen. Wanda cried in her happiness, and Steve noted how Vis was too. Really, it wasn't any surprise that when he looked up, misty-eyed himself, that Bucky's steel-blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"Hi, sweetie," Wanda sniffled, touching her daughter. When her little eyes opened, Wanda asked, "Whatcha thinkin', Pietra Stefania, hmm?"

"Thinking about how beautiful her mom is," Vis smiled, wiping his tears and leaning over to kiss Wanda's sweaty temple.

It was such a Bucky thing to say that Steve couldn't help but look over at his husband. So thankful for the life that they had created for themselves and their children, and now, for their grandchildren too.

#a place to fall #jump then fall #those who fall #bonus #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #marvel #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #modern au #domestic life #fluff #smut #otp

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dlwritings · 5 years ago

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Firecracker Soul | Dean Winchester

Chapter 5 - Movies and Masks

pairing - mob!Dean x teacher!ofc

word count - 5,236

warnings - language, thigh riding, Dean is so sweet your teeth will hurt

additional notes at the end

(previous)

On Saturday, Alice was excited to get breakfast with Christine. Even though she knew Christine would tease her endlessly about her date, she also knew she'd give her so much support. Christine was very vocal about how much she hated Greg, so she had been ready for Alice to jump back on the dating horse ever since she pulled back into Lawrence. She knew Christine would be over the moon that Dean was as amazing as he was.

Alice beat Christine to the cafe, but as soon as Christine walked in, she all but ran to the booth. She slid in and waved the waitress over. "Hey AJ," she said. "We'll have our usual." AJ laughed at Christine's assertiveness before nodding and leaving the pair. Christine put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. "Tell me all about him."

And she did.

Alice raved about the flowers, the dinner, and the drinks they had after. She decided not to spare any details, sharing how respectful Dean was when she didn't want to go any farther but also how badly she wanted to keep kissing him forever. "Wow," Christine breathed out, smiling dreamily. "He sounds perfect. What does he look like?"

"Mm," she hummed. "Tall, but not too tall. Muscular, but not too muscular. Sharp jaw. Gorgeous eyes. The perfect amount of stubble on his face."

"How old is he?" Christine asked.

Ah yes. The question she was dreading the most.

"He's a little older," she said, sipping her coffee.

"How much older is a little?" Christine asked. She was on the verge of smirking, able to see right through her friend. Alice didn't say anything, just kept her mouth on her coffee mug. "Alice," Christine pressed. "How old is this guy?"

Alice sighed. "41. I think."

"41!" Christine repeated. "Alice, you're 22."

"I know how old I am," she said. "It's not like he's a grandpa or anything." Christine laughed. "What?" Alice said. "I like him. He's nice, and he's hot! And he's mature, and he has a real, adult job, and, and he respects me." She shrugged. "Plus -I don't know- he takes care of me. We're not even together-together, but it's like I already know he'd protect me if I needed it. Not that I would, but-"

"Dude," Christine said before sipping her own coffee. She put her mug down, leaned back in her chair, and folded her arms across her chest. "You have a daddy kink."

"What?" Alice almost hissed, getting closer to Christine as if to tell her to quiet her voice. "I do not!"

"You so do," Christine laughed, sitting up in her chair again and putting her elbows on the table. "You love this age difference. You want him to take care of you, and-" She laughed again. "God! You're his little sub already. I'm so ready for this guy to pop your cherry."

"Why are we friends?" Alice asked, rolling her eyes and drinking her coffee again to hide her blush.

"You'll tell me all about it, right?" Christine asked. "Like how big he is? And how much of a dom he is? And-"

"I'm not gonna tell you about it because today is the last time I'm ever going to hang out with you."

"Shut up," Christine said with a grin. "You love me." Alice rolled her eyes and took a bite of her eggs. "And he was nice when you told him you were a virgin?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He felt bad for asking. Said it wasn't his business." The corners of Christine's mouth turned slightly as she nodded with a quick shrug.

"He's not wrong," she said.

"I don't even know why I said anything," Alice said. "It just came out. I was so flustered."

"Well, you've had a weird week," Christine said. "I'm surprised you're handling it all as well as you are."

Alice shrugged. "You know me. I've been through worse."

Dean walked into Sam's house with a smile on his face. Hannah had an event through work that evening, so they pushed family dinner to Sunday. Still, Dean thought he'd stop by and visit his brother. "Anybody home?" he asked.

"Living room!" Sam called. Dean walked through the house and plopped on the couch beside his brother.

"Where're Jess and Lex?" he asked.

"Shopping I think," Sam said. "Told me it's a girls' day. I'm not allowed to know." Dean laughed, and Sam looked away from the TV and at Dean with furrowed eyebrows. "What's got you so happy?" Before Dean could even answer, Sam's eyes grew wide in realization. "Your date with Alice," he said. "You're telling me that's got you like this?"

"It might be," Dean said with a shrug, trying to appear casual. Sam shoved Dean and turned his body to face him.

"I never thought you'd actually tap my daughter's teacher," he said with a laugh.

Dean shook his head. "I didn't hook up with her." Sam looked confused. "No, we went out for dinner and had some drinks back at her house."

"And you didn't sleep with her?" Sam asked.

Dean scoffed. "Is that all you think I do?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Sam said. "I thought you weren't one for the dating game."

"I went on the date for Lexi," Dean said sarcastically.

Sam rolled his eyes. "So you didn't even try to sleep with her?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Dean said, folding his arms across his chest. "I started to, you know-" Sam nodded and waved his hand so that Dean wouldn't explain any further. "She freaked out. Told me she's a virgin."

"A virgin?" Sam repeated. Dean nodded. "I thought you only liked experienced girls."

"God, shut up," Dean said with a roll of his eyes.

"You think you'll see her again?" Sam asked. Dean licked his lips with a small nod.

"I'd like to," he said. Sam was quiet for a moment. Dean could tell he was thinking something but holding back. "Spit it out," Dean said. Sam looked at his brother, then sighed.

"What's your endgame here?" Sam asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked.

"This can't just be one of your games," Sam said. "She's so young, man. She's got a whole life ahead of her. And whatever happens is gonna affect all of us. So what're you gonna do? Take her on a few dates? Show her what a good time is? Break her heart in the end?"

"Jesus Christ, Sam," Dean said. "You really think that little of me?" Sam shrugged. "Frankly, what I choose to do with her is none of your business," Dean said.

"Whatever man," Sam said, holding his hands up defensively. "Just thought I'd put the thought in your head."

It wasn't that Dean hadn't already been thinking all of that. He didn't know what his endgame was, but what people did? Did everyone go into meeting a person planning out their whole future? So he took her on a date. So he wanted to see her again. Maybe they wouldn't be forever, but what was wrong with living now? He didn't want to play a game of chase that just ended in him fucking her. Not anymore. Like he'd always said, if he wanted his dick sucked or a girl to fuck, he had numbers on speed dial. Hell, Amara, Jo, Bela, and Anna were practically on standby. He liked Alice. This was more than just adding a girl to his black book.

What that more was, he just wasn't sure yet.

The day wore on uneventfully. When the sun set, Dean was alone in his penthouse, sitting in bed and watching TV. He had this weird desire to text Alice, like his phone was burning a hole in his pocket. Was it too early to text her? He had only seen her yesterday. Should he step back?

He felt like a teenage boy. This was stupid.

Alice jumped when her phone buzzed on the bed beside her. She picked it up and held back a wide smile.

Dean: What are you up to?

She bit her lip and swiped to respond: Just in bed watching a movie

He texted back just as fast: What movie?

Her thumbs hovered over the screen. She could lie and say something cool, like an action flick or even a horror. Instead, she said, You're gonna laugh at me

Dean: Swear I won't

She smiled and decided to tell the truth: Tangled

Again, Dean was quick to respond: The Disney movie?

She pouted and wrote, You swore you wouldn't laugh

Dean: I'm not laughing!

Alice: It's a good movie

Dean: I'm glad you're enjoying yourself

This made her smile. I am, she wrote back. The only thing that could make it better is ice cream

Dean: Yeah? What's your favorite?

She laughed. Hmmm. That's a heavy question, Dean

Dean: Is it?

Alice: Yes. Yes it is. It varies from day to day. Right now I think it's Ben and Jerry's Cinnamon Buns. Sometimes it's Milk and Cookies

Dean: Hm. I've never had that

She furrowed her eyebrows. Those flavors or Ben and Jerry's? She grinned, then added, Or ice cream in general?

She could imagine Dean rolling his eyes. Ha ha, he sent back, sarcasm evident in the text. Ben and Jerry's

Her jaw almost dropped. What? That's crazy! It's the superior ice cream brand

Dean: Okay okay! I'll have to give it a try

She held down the text so she could react with a heart, then locked her phone and put it back down, resuming play on Tangled. After a few minutes went by, she got bored. She decided to grab a facemask from her bathroom and put it on and maybe do her nails. It had been a while since she had a nice, relaxing night. She picked one of her favorite clay masks and applied it, then picked a baby pink shade for her nails. When she pressed play on the movie again, Rapunzel was leaving her tower for the first time with Flynn. By the time they got to the Snuggly Duckling, her apartment's buzzer went off. She furrowed her eyebrows, paused her movie, and walked over to the intercom, trying not to touch anything with her wet nails. "Hello?" she said, pressing the speaker button.

"Hey, sweetheart. It's Dean. I come bearing gifts. Can I come up?"

Crap, she thought to herself as she remembered she still had her mask on. It hadn't dried yet, but there was no way she'd let Dean see her that way. She'd have to rinse the mask off before he got upstairs. "Yeah!" she said through the intercom. "Come on up!"

She buzzed him in and ran as quickly as she could to the bathroom. The mask was mint green, and she was bummed that she didn't get to have it long enough to do its job refreshing her skin. But there was no time to dwell. She washed the mask off -messing up her nails in the process- and patted her skin dry just as she heard the knock at her door. She ran over and whipped the door open. "Hi!" she said with a smile.

"Hey," Dean said. "I brought you something." She cocked her head to the side, and he lifted the grocery bag he was carrying. She was able to see through the plastic, and she smiled widely.

"Ice cream?" she said. He nodded, and she let him inside and closed the door behind him. He went into the kitchen and pulled out one pint of Cinnamon Buns and one pint of Milk and Cookies. "You didn't have to do that," she said, though she was so glad he did.

"I know," Dean said, placing a kiss on her forehead. When he pulled away, she noticed his eyebrows had furrowed.

"What?" she said. A smirk grew on Dean's face as he reached up and wiped his thumb on her forehead. He showed her his thumb which had a little smudge of green on it. "Crap," she muttered, putting her hand on her forehead.

Served her right for acting too hastily.

Dean laughed and put the ice cream in the fridge, then followed her into the bathroom where she went to wipe her face off again.

"What is it?" Dean asked her, leaning up against the doorframe as he watched her.

"I was doing a facemask," she said with a slight pout.

"Well why didn't you leave it on?" he asked.

"I looked weird!" she said. "My face was green like a martian."

"Your facemasks are green?" he asked.

"One of my facemasks is green," she said. "I have black ones and orange ones and clear ones and purple ones." Dean raised his eyebrows, and she just laughed and opened one of the drawers so she could lay out all of her facemasks. Dean whistled lowly before chuckling.

"What's the point of all these?" he asked.

"They do different things," she said. "Some of them are supposed to help your blackheads, and some are supposed to refresh you or make you feel cleaner. I think they're just fun." She looked up at him and bit her lower lip.

"What's that look for?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"You could do a facemask with me," she said, putting her hands behind her back.

Dean laughed. "Yeah. No way."

"Please?" she whined. "I think you'll like it. It'll make you feel so relaxed."

No. He would stand his ground. He wasn't going to let her-

"Please?" she said again. And then she had the audacity to flutter her eyelashes, and Dean jutted his jaw out and sighed.

"You're lucky you're cute," he said. Her smile broke across her face and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

And no. He did not blush.

"Alright," he said, clearing his throat. "Which one are you giving me?"

She picked out a clear sheet mask for him and decided to grab one for herself too since she wasn't able to let the clay one do its job. She opened the package and pursed her lips at Dean. "You're too tall," she said. "I can't put it on you when you're, like, half a foot taller than me." Dean grinned then licked his lips and moved to his knees in front of her. He was eye level with her stomach, and she couldn't help the way she shivered.

"Is this alright, sweetheart?" Dean asked, lightly squeezing her hips. She giggled nervously and jumped out of his touch.

"Mhm," she hummed. "That's better."

She forced herself to focus as she unfolded the mask and laid it on his face, making sure the eye holes and mouth hole were where they needed to be. She tried not to burst out laughing. She was sure the last thing this tough, rugged, 40-year-old man ever expected he would be doing on his knees in front of a girl was applying a face mask. "Are you laughing at me?" he asked, attempting a serious expression under the mask. She bit her lip and shook her head no. Dean stood up from the ground and took a step towards her. Her back immediately hit the wall. "Nowhere to run," he said. She licked her lips and put her hand on his chest.

"Well," she said, "you can't kiss me with the mask on. And that stays on for twenty minutes." Dean scoffed, and she gently pushed him away so she could sneak past him and put her own facemask on. Dean stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. They were standing in front of the mirror, and she couldn't help but grab her phone from the waistband of her sleep shorts. She opened up Snapchat and put one hand under her chin, snapping a picture of her and Dean. He laughed as she put a filter over it that said my face at 9:56 PM. She saved the picture and posted it to her story before she and Dean moved away from the mirror and went to sit on her bed in front of the TV.

"I'll grab the ice cream," Dean said.

"Spoons are in the drawer to the left of the sink," she told him. Dean came back with the two ice cream pints and spoons, handing her one of each. She looked and saw that he handed her Cinnamon Buns. She opened it at the same time that Dean opened his. She put the ice cream on the side table and got her phone out again.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked as he started to dig his spoon into the ice cream.

"I have to film this," she said. "This is a historic moment."

"It's ice cream."

"It's Ben and Jerry's!" she said back. "It's scientifically better than any other ice cream."

"Oh really?" Dean said patronizingly, cocking his head to the side.

"Yes," she said with a firm nod. "Ben-" Dean raised his eyebrows. "-co-creator of Ben and Jerry's," she clarified, "can't smell. And smell affects taste, so they put bigger chunks in it so he can at least feel their texture since he can't taste them."

Dean laughed. "Why do you know that?"

"Jeff Goldblum has a show on Disney+ and he talked about it on an episode," she said. Dean raised his eyebrows again and she rolled her eyes. "I like Jeff Goldblum and I like ice cream. Sue me. Now let me record your first bite."

"You know," Dean said, "as good as this might be, it's got nothing on, like, authentic gelato. You know that right?"

"Shut up and eat your ice cream."

Dean took his first bite of Milk and Cookies while she pointed her camera at him. He struggled to make sure his mask didn't slide off as he shoveled his spoon in his mouth. She looked at him expectantly, and Dean shrugged. "I've had better." Alice gasped and gave Dean a shove, still holding record on her phone. Dean laughed and pulled her onto his lap, and her finger slipped off the screen, promptly stopping the video. Her phone fell to the side as she straddled Dean's waist and played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. She wanted to kiss him, but she was not going to allow him to take the mask off. It would go against everything she had told him earlier. So, she adjusted herself on his lap and turned so she was facing the TV.

Dean held back a groan as she wiggled on his lap. He held her hips and watched as she picked up her phone, saved the video, and posted it to her story. She grabbed the ice cream she abandoned and took some of it with her spoon. They switched between ice cream flavors, sometimes feeding a spoonful to each other. After a while, they weren't hungry anymore, so Dean moved her off his lap and went to the kitchen to put the ice cream away before it started to melt.

It was time to take their masks off, so they went to the bathroom and took them off, throwing them in the trash. She rinsed her face off, patted it dry with a towel, and looked in the mirror to see Dean staring at her. "Why're you looking at me like that?" she asked, adjusting her shirt a bit.

"Sorry," Dean said, forcing his eyes to focus on hers again. "Just looking at your pajamas. They're different than the ones you wore when I was last here."

She chuckled. "Well yeah," she said. "I have lots of pajamas. Don't you?" Dean smirked and ruffled his hand through his hair.

"Well, I usually sleep in my boxers," he said. "So I guess I have a lot of pajamas, too." He could tell his words made her flustered by the way she blushed and looked away.

"Pajama sets are like a weakness for me," she admitted, quickly shifting the subject. "I buy them way too much."

Dean hummed in understanding, pulled his own mask off and rinsed his face, then dried it off before looking at her with a smile. "How do I look?" he asked.

"Refreshed," she teased. "You're glowing."

Dean's smile widened, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. "So," he asked, his lips so close they were tickling hers, "do I get that kiss now?" She giggled and put her hands on his cheeks.

"Mm, that is what I said, isn't it?" she said. Dean scoffed and leaned down to press his lips to hers. She kissed him back, letting her thumbs brush across his smooth skin. Dean surprised her by lifting her up and sitting her on the bathroom counter. She hooked her ankles around his waist and slid her hands to the back of his head, holding him closer to her. His hands moved under the back of her shirt, resting his palms on the small of her back. His hands were rough, covered in calluses he must've accumulated over the years. She wondered how. Office work didn't usually result in beaten hands.

And why was she thinking about this right now?

When they parted, she let her forehead rest against his. He chuckled and pecked her lips once more before stepping back so she could jump off the counter. "Alright," he said, "I gotta know how that movie ends."

They ended up back in bed, Dean's arm wrapped around her, holding her close to him. She had her head rested on his collarbone, and he kept trailing his fingers up and down her arm. She absolutely hated how badly she wanted to kiss him. She could hardly control the urge she had to hop on his lap and suck his face like her life depended on it. She hadn't even realized she had been wiggling so much until Dean squeezed her hip. "Why're you so squirmy?" he teased. She looked up at him as he ran his tongue across his lower lip.

She took a deep breath and sat up, straddling his waist. His hands immediately landed on her hips, and the playful glint in his eyes had vanished. She kept her hands braced on his shoulders as she leaned forward and kissed him. She slid her tongue past his lips, and he moaned and moved one hand to the back of her head. She didn't notice the way her hips had begun grinding against his, but she did notice the moan that escaped Dean's lips. He pulled away from her and started kissing down her neck.

His hand that was resting on her waist slid up slowly, palming her breast over her shirt. She let out a shaky breath and rolled her hips against his again. "Sweetheart," Dean said, fighting back another moan. "Ah fuck, you're killing me."

"Sorry," she whispered, stilling her hips and resting her forehead on his shoulder. "I just, I wasn't thinking." She let out a surprised gasp that quickly turned into a moan when Dean pinched her nipple through her shirt. He knew what was going on. Exactly what was going on, and he was sure she knew it too. She was just too embarrassed to say it.

Dean started kissing her neck again. "It's okay," he muttered. He grabbed one of her thighs and moved it to rest in between his legs so she was straddling his thigh instead of his hips. She wasn't meeting his eyes, so he lifted her chin to make her look at him. Instead of saying anything, he pressed his lips to hers. He bit her lower lip, drawing out a soft whimper. He started kissing her neck and tugged at the hem of her shirt. "Can I take this off?" he whispered. Dean noticed her grip on his shoulders tightened. He moved his face from her neck so he could look at her again. "You remember what I said yesterday?" he asked. "I don't want you to be nervous around me, and I never want to make you uncomfortable. You can say no. You can always say no to me."

Alice swallowed nervously, and Dean stroked her cheek. His lips curved up in a small smile. "I can just see you're a little-" He hesitated with a chuckle. "-frustrated." The apples of her cheeks turned pink, and she hung her head again. He lifted her chin. "You can say no," he said. She took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her lips.

"Can you take yours off first?" she asked. She didn't want to be the only one without some clothes on, and even though she knew showing him her breasts was a lot different than him showing off his pecs, she didn't want to be alone. Luckily, Dean was sweet. He smiled and placed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Course," he said. She pulled back from him so that he could grab the collar of his shirt and pull it over his head. He tossed it to the side and ruffled a hand through his hair. She put her hands on his chest and ran her fingers over a tattoo that was on his left pec. It was a star in a circle with some sort of black waves around the circumference.

"I like this," she whispered.

Dean chuckled. "Thanks. It's kind of a, uh, family crest." She nodded and still didn't meet his eyes.

Okay, she thought to herself. It's not a big deal.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, immediately looking down rather than meeting his eyes. "Hey," Dean whispered, "look at me." She did. He pinched her chin and smiled. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

She never did this sort of thing. She was with Greg for almost two years, and it took her almost a year to feel comfortable without her shirt on in front of him, and that was as far as they ever got. She had known Dean for a week, and she was already submitting to what he said, melting under his words and soft touch.

She was already in deep.

Dean kissed her, cradling her head in his hand, before trailing his lips down her neck. She felt him suck and leave a mark on her skin before kissing it and moving down to her breasts. He noticed a scar on her upper left side. "What's this?" he muttered, letting his thumb brush across the mark. She flinched, and he stopped kissing her chest to look up at her.

"'S nothing," she said, shaking her head. "I'll tell you another time."

He nodded, respecting her boundaries, and moved his left hand to knead her breast, pinching her nipple as she let out a shaky breath. He kept doing that while bringing his lips down to her right nipple. The feeling made a shiver run up her back, and she instinctively put her hand on the back of his head. She could feel him smile as he flicked her nipple with his tongue, sucking it between his lips until it was hard. He switched actions then, putting his mouth on her left nipple and keeping his hand on her right.

Soon enough, she was grinding down on his thigh. Her movements were nervous and hesitant. Dean pulled his lips away from her chest and put his hands on her hips to start guiding her movements. He made sure she moved slowly but firmly, dragging her clit up and down his thigh. She could feel whimpers in her throat, and she was embarrassed by how much she liked what was happening. She rested her forehead on Dean's shoulder and continued moving her hips with his hands. "You look so pretty like this," Dean muttered, kissing her shoulder softly. "Does it feel good, sweetheart?"

"Mhm," she hummed. "Feels, feels so good." Her fingers that were gripping his shoulders started digging their nails into his skin as she let out a soft cry. She could feel something building inside her. She may never have orgasmed before, but she wasn't so naive that she didn't know what was happening.

"Dean," she breathed out. She buried her face in his neck, and her eyes were squeezed shut.

"That's it, baby," he said. "Cum on my thigh." Her breath caught in her throat as the coil inside her snapped. She whimpered his name, and her nails dug stripes across his shoulder. Dean praised her softly in her ear, and he helped her slow the movement of her hips to a stop.

She was breathing heavily, her body collapsed against him. Dean wrapped his arms around her and ran his fingers up and down her spine. "Good girl," he cooed. He kissed her cheek, and she let out a breathy laugh.

"Wow," she whispered. "I can honestly say I didn't expect this when you brought ice cream to my door."

He laughed. "Neither did I." He kept tracing her spine. "Was that okay?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice coming out barely more than a mere breath. She laughed lightly. "I think I'm gonna put on some other pajamas." He chuckled and kissed her cheek again.

"Not a bad idea," he said.

Alice got out of bed and walked over to her drawers to get out a new pair of pajamas. She excused herself to the bathroom, and as soon as the door was closed, Dean let out a heavy breath. His cock was throbbing in his shorts, and all he wanted was to take care of it. Instead, he forced himself to think of anything to get his mind off of it.

By the time she came back out of the bathroom, he had gotten his erection under control. He smiled at Alice. The look on her face was a mixture of post-orgasmic bliss and pure innocence. He had never seen a look like that on anyone's face before, and it was so cute on her. She walked over to the bed, seeming somewhat nervous. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to," she said, playing with the hem of her shirt. "But, you can if you do want to."

Part of her felt pathetic for saying it. How needy was that? Sure, a small part of her wanted him to stay. Okay, maybe a big part of her, but that was so clingy. She quickly shook her head. "Nevermind," she said. "You don't, I mean, like, you can stay, but I totally get that you probably don't-"

"Alice," Dean said with a chuckle. "Do you want me to stay?" She shrugged, her teeth worrying into her upper lip like they so often did. Dean shook his head with a grin and patted the bed next to him as he got under the covers. "You're on breakfast duty tomorrow," he said.

She tried not to show how eager she was as she skipped over to bed and got in beside him. She immediately cuddled up to his chest as he put his arm around her. He kissed the top of her head, and she hummed contently. "Goodnight, Dean," she whispered.

He smiled. "Goodnight."

He may not've known what his endgame was, but one thing was for sure.

He was already in deep.

----- ----- ----- -----

A/N - I never thought I’d find a video of Jensen doing a face mask but here we are

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supremeuppityone · 5 years ago

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Chapter 119: Part 2 — What Makes Up a Monster

Author’s note: This is a sequel to Chapter 47 - What Makes Up a Monster in my series, A Beautiful Symmetry. This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. P.S. See if you can spot my shameless plug for another of my stories. :)

Part 3 can be found here.

Prompt: “What do you mean you’re a vampire?” Klaus may have played the lead in a wildly successful monster movie franchise, but it never occurred to him that there was any truth to the stories.

Warning: Angst. Also, some sexy times! Plus, I lost count of all the TO shade. :)

“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild.” ― Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption: A Story from Different Seasons

Maybe the plastic vines wrapped around that twit’s neck would strangle her. Caroline watched in irritation as the twit actress Camille pretended to struggle with the vines, whose pointy thorns were somehow supposed to mean the demise of Klaus’ character, Hell’s Hybrid. They were a couple of weeks into filming the movie in the immensely popular franchise, Hell’s Hybrid 5: Terrible Tears in New Orleans, and Camille’s hilariously awful overacting coupled with her exaggerated facial expressions only had gotten worse.

But what had gotten better was the view. The familiar clip-clop noise of Klaus’ cloven hooves drew her attention, and she eyed his muscular chest appreciatively. It had been decades since a human had captured her interest like this; every covert wink and sly smirk of his had her blushing like a schoolgirl and she couldn’t wait to drag him back to his trailer for some in-depth makeup removal.

Their initial meeting had been memorable — he’d assumed she was either a stripper or a hooker his brother had hired, and she’d been so charmed by his appreciation for ‘60s horror movie makeup that she’d thrown caution to the wind and revealed that she’d been the mastermind who’d created those designs. Because she was a vampire.

“What do you mean you’re a vampire?” Klaus’ reaction hadn’t been unexpected once he’d seen her black veins and sharp fangs, but once he’d calmed down, he’d bombarded her with questions about her experience in the movie industry over the past century. His enthusiasm was endearing. Klaus had been reduced to a wide-eyed fanboy when he heard about his favorite actors from his childhood.

“You mean the Pageant Screams reaper’s stunt double also was in Chupacabra Cheerleaders? AND he ad-libbed that harvest scene in Cutthroat Coven?”

“Yes, and then the writers forgot to tie his speech back into the main plot, so there were all kinds of embarrassing loopholes with the harvest witches’ ancestral magic. So, I just added more blood spurts to the makeup special effects to distract the audience,” she cheekily explained, heart fluttering a bit at Klaus’ delighted laughter.

“Doesn’t someone’s nose need to be powdered,” Camille snidely asked, jarring Caroline from her thoughts.

Caroline blinked back her monster who’d been a bit on edge after she missed her snack because the extras required prosthetic touchups. Twit actress did not want to light this particular fuse. “Yours certainly does, but I sent one of the PAs for the really big sponges first. It must be awful to be cursed with an oil slick for skin.”

She’d always been a petty bitch, and there was nothing more satisfying than putting someone in their place right after they’d failed to put her in hers. Caroline’s blue eyes twinkled with malice as Camille valiantly searched for a comeback.

They both were distracted when the scene broke and Klaus began to towel off, sending Caroline a flirtatious wink that made her cheeks turn rosy. Camille hissed venomously in her ear, “Just remember, you’ll never be more than Klaus Mikaelson’s side piece.”

“Easy, love,” Klaus murmured as he reached her side, “I assume you’ve no interest in showing your lovely second visage to the rest of the crew?”

Caroline rolled her eyes as they walked back to his trailer. “Your groupies are getting ridiculous. This morning, I caught the one with the perpetual pout adding laxatives to my spiced chai.”

“Bloody hell — we should report that to Enzo. As director, he could kick her off the movie.”

She was touched by the concern she heard in his voice, but she waited until they were safely inside his trailer before she kissed him. “You’re sweet, but it’s not necessary. Most human drugs have little effect on my kind. Besides, I really enjoyed making her think she’d drank my tea by mistake.”

Klaus chuckled as he sat beside her on the couch. “I suppose you’ve acquired...groupies over the years as well,” he asked, determinedly trying to keep his tone light.

“I’ve never been one for blood bunnies,” Caroline sarcastically replied, hating the twinge she felt when their conversations brushed up against anything too real. “Besides, human relationship are hard — they pretty much have to give up their world for yours in order to keep your secret. It’s not an easy life.”

The small circles he traced on her back were soothing. His voice was hesitant as he commented, “It sounds lonely. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not have...” he quieted, an awkward silence between them as Caroline realized he was going to say family.

It was one of the first things he’d asked about once he’d gotten over his shock at her revelation of the supernatural world. He was very close with his siblings, and it seemed to pain him to learn that she didn’t have a family. Smiling brightly, she laced their fingers together and teased, “It’s not so bad. I’ve gotten to meet giants in the industry — Lugosi, Garbo, Hepburn, Crawford...you...” she trailed off with a knowing smile.

He snorted softly, “I’m not an industry giant.”

“Not yet,” she replied, playfully poking one of his dimples. “But I predict Klaus Mikaelson will go on to do great things.”

Klaus’ gray eyes suddenly lit up, his handsome face breaking out into a silly grin as he told her excitedly, “Actually, I do have some news that I’m really excited to share. I received word today that I’ve been cast as the co-lead in A Simple Kind of Man!”

Caroline let out an excited squeal at his news. Industry insiders were vying for a piece of Spielberg’s bold, sweeping Norse saga. Even a year out from pre-production, it already had garnered more than its fair share of Oscar buzz. “That’s amazing news,” she replied, pulling him in for a fierce hug, “I told you you’d be a giant in this industry! With your talent, it was just a matter of time!”

He laughed, a slight flush staining his cheeks as he enthusiastically continued, “My agent and publicist are planning a big media blitz, so you can’t say anything yet, but this adds a whole new layer to my career. I can parley this opportunity into even bigger and better roles and create a legacy; I’ll be more than just a mere footnote in the industry.”

Her smile dimmed at his words, but she did her best to keep it in place. She’d watched Klaus on and off the set over the past couple of weeks and he breathed so much life into the silly Hell’s Hybrid franchise. He was meant to be a star. He craved it. He wanted to settle into a career that lasted decades; to become the next McKellen or Hopkins. It would be an amazing life for him. And one she couldn’t be a part of.

“Sweetheart, what is it?”

She shook her head, blue eyes shining with unshed tears that she furiously blinked away. It was stupid to mourn something before it had the chance to become something. “It’s nothing. I’m really happy for you, Klaus. It’s everything that you deserve and I know you’ll be amazing.” She lowered her gaze, unsure of how to explain. “You desire the spotlight, and I want you to have it. But being what I am, it’s a place I can’t follow.”

His crestfallen expression hurt her heart, and she gave a half-shrug, chuckling darkly, “Us monsters have to stick to the shadows.”

“You’re not a monster,” Klaus quickly disagreed, “and the time we’ve spent getting to know each other has been amazing. We’re building toward something that could be incredible — don’t you want that?”

Damn it. His pleading, earnest tone made Caroline want to weep. “Of course I do.” She held his face in her hands, desperate for him to understand. “But your world is about to get a lot bigger and way more complicated. That spotlight you crave is blinding and everyone will want a piece of you. And they’ll definitely want to know everything there is to know about the mysterious makeup artist who’s caught your eye.”

Her voice became a harsh whisper. “My survival depends on anonymity. It’s not how I want it, but that’s the way it has to be.” She surged forward, capturing his lips with hers. They’d carried on a flirty relationship since they began working together, trading a few sweet kisses here and there, but it was nothing compared to this. This was fire and carnal need and her skin vibrated under his roaming touch as they sank together on the couch.

Klaus pulled back slightly, his lips still hovering over hers and his tone rueful as he asked, “How are we supposed to walk away from this?”

A tear escaped as she replied with a soft sigh, “We just have to.” Caressing his cheek, she tentatively questioned, “But maybe we could have this first. Can one night be enough?”

Gray eyes blazed as he swore, “One night with you would never be enough. But it will have to do.” He brought his mouth down on hers in a punishing kiss, his hands roaming over her body as though trying to memorize every line.

She purred in delight when he yanked her fuchsia tank top over her head, nibbling at his collarbone as he groaned above her. All those hours he’d spent in her makeup chair had been sweet torture as she’d done her best to avert her eyes from the tight-fitting shorts he always wore. But now, she let her hands roam with wild abandon, eagerly palming him as his flesh twitched in pleasure.

“I want you,” she panted, hooking her thumbs under his waistband to slide down the material underneath his rock-hard cock. She let out a giggle as he accidentally kicked over the side table, scattering his werewolf claws and cloven hooves.

With a sexy growl, he ducked his curly head to lightly bite at her exposed hip, dragging down her ruffled skirt until she was bare before him. His lusty gaze made her feel desired. Like she wasn’t a monster. Caroline let fingers wander down her belly, teasing him as she barely grazed her clit.

“Fuck yes,” Klaus breathed, staring hungrily at her.

He liked to watch. She licked her lips when he joined her, their fingers gently sliding into her warmth, slow, steady pumps that built up that golden sensation to make her weak. She was so close to the edge, but he pulled away at the last moment, plunging their fingers into his mouth with a satisfied grin.

She parted her thighs, a low moan escaping her lips as he positioned his slick tip, slowly rubbing against her. That first thrust wrecked her, their bodies crashing against each other as she cried out in pleasure. It was a thing of beauty to watch his muscles flex and strain to please her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him closer. She needed to touch every part of him.

Klaus bucked into her, keeping up the punishing pace as she started to ride out the waves of ecstasy. One final, deliciously dirty grind had them both seeing stars, their moans threading together in a steady hum of bliss.

“You’re a bloody revelation,” he panted, pulling her into his arms as they settled back on the couch.

Caroline breathed in Klaus’ citrus and cedar scent, idly wondering if she’d carry him on her skin once they were done. She wanted to remember everything from this moment. “And you’re wonderful,” she sighed regretfully.

His embrace immediately tightened, and she did her best to relax her body against his. Klaus’ tone was gruff as he asked, “So, this is it — we somehow manage to walk away?”

This is it. Caroline knew all of her reasons by heart — even if Klaus had no intention of pursuing fame, he’d never be able to keep her secret — he and his siblings were close and at some point, he’d feel that burden of not being honest with them. Plus, he loved being a star. And as his star shined brighter, paparazzi would swarm them, picking apart every detail of their lives. And then they might find out about her.

Heart thudding in her chest, she leaned over to give him a lingering kiss, traitorous tears clinging to her lashes by the time it ended. Once he opened his eyes, she took a breath, hating what would happen next. “Klaus, I want you to listen.” It was difficult to keep her tone even and melodic, but she pressed on knowing it was important that she did this right. She summoned her monster, letting her eyes widen as she captured his gaze.

He looked at her with so much trust. There was a sadness that settled over him, almost as though he instinctively knew what was she was going to do. “I wish I could trust you, but I can’t take the risk. This is how I survive. It was impulsive and stupid for me to show you what I am, but we had this connection and I couldn’t help myself. I’m selfish.”

Caroline hated his blank stare. The one that she put there. “You won’t remember the time we’ve spent together. You won’t remember what I am. I’m merely a makeup artist for your movie and while we’ve exchanged a few words, you barely know me.”

“I barely know you,” Klaus mumbled flatly, still dazed from her compulsion.

She choked back a sob, quickly pulling on her clothes and leaving his trailer. She didn’t look back.

_________________________________________

She’d mercifully managed to avoid Klaus the next day, compelling Enzo to insist Davina handle Klaus’ monster makeup while she focused on the group of extras that were filming the Abattoir scene. The unnecessarily darkscene because Enzo stupidly had thought that he was establishing a gothic atmosphere, but instead would just give the moviegoers eyestrain when they tried to see the actors. She threaded her way through the giggling extras, in desperate need of a caffeine fix if she was going to make it through the day’s grueling shooting schedule.

“Come on, you’re telling me you’ve never hit that?”

Caroline stopped short, realizing that was Tyler’s voice. Tyler was part of Klaus’ growing entourage, and his main function seemed to be partying on Klaus’ dime. One more exclusive Arcadius diamond timepiece and she was compelling Tyler to give sponge baths at the retirement home in the Valley.

She cautiously peeked around the edge of the fireplace set, noting with a pang that Klaus somehow looked even better today. Of course he would — he hadn’t been up tossing and turning all night. Because he didn’t remember.

He ran a hand through his curls, tossing an irritated look at Tyler. “Caroline’s a makeup artist for this movie and while we’ve exchanged a few words, I barely know her.” Fuck. Caroline felt that all the way down to her toes. You did this. Those are the words you compelled Klaus to say. You aren’t allowed to be upset.

“Whatever. She’d probably be a clingy one-night stand anyway.”

Klaus glared at Tyler, a hint of a growl in his tone as he said, “Don’t be daft. I suspect one night would never be enough.”

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline fanfic #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline #klaroline aesthetic #aesthetic #i swear this started out fluffy and then took a wrong-ass turn somewhere

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detectivecutiepantsandhisbabyfox · 5 years ago

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29 for mazlek cause it sounds like such a hoe thing to say

This took longer than planned, probably because it’s longer than planned. Ive put it under a read more. I hope you like it anon.

If anyone is triggered by illness, Joe is unwell in this - not seriously though. But there is talk of vomiting so avoid it if that's triggering for you.

29. What do you mean you’re sick, you’re supposed to be my partner in crime.

Joe’s phone buzzed continuously on his bedside locker, the sound puncturing his temples like a drill.

His stomach rolled as he moved to lie on his side and attempted to reach his phone; memories of last night spent with his head in the toilet flooding back and causing him to flee from his bed for what felt like the millionth time in the last twelve hours.

As he re-emerged from his bathroom; making a mental note to buy more cleaning products, he heard keys rattling in his front door.

“Joe!” His best friends voice made his head hurt, even from downstairs.

Walking as slowly as possible so not to jostle his stomach, he peeped round his door and croaked “Up here.”

His voice was shot after last night, throat burning from throwing up so much.

“Rami” God he sounded pathetic,

“Can you bring me water.......please?”

“You okay?” Rami shouted; Joe heard the water run as he made his way back to bed before he keeled over. Closing his eyes he could distantly hear Rami moving around downstairs.

“Joe?” He peeped open one eye and saw Rami standing over him; beautifully dressed as always, concern etching his face.

“You look awful Joey.” He handed him the water. Joe sat up gingerly and took a few sips; immediately regretting it as his stomach cramped up.

“Sorry......I........” he dashed into the bathroom again, pushing past Rami on the way.

“You alright?........want me to come in?” Rami hovered by the bathroom door.

“No.....god no” Joe managed to get out. There was no way he wanted Rami of all people watching him throw up.

While Joe hugged the toilet, Rami eyed his sheets suspiciously; he could tell Joe had slept fitfully. The duvet was twisted and the bottom sheet had come off the corner of the mattress. By the time Joe emerged from the bathroom, Rami had fresh, clean sheets on his bed and had put the others in a pile by the door. He’d put them in the wash later.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Joe mumbled weakly, as he slipped between the fresh, cool sheets; sighing as he closed his eyes.

Rami’s hand pressed gently against his forehead, “You’re not burning up......do you think it’s something you ate?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling at a loose thread on Joe’s grey duvet.

“Dunno.......too sick to go today though.... I’m sorry.” Joe’s hand flapped around looking to squeeze Rami’s in his own.

“You can’t be sick. You’re my partner in crime. What would Snafu have to say about this?” Rami smiled, grabbing his hand and squeezing softly.

“Probably the same thing you just said” Joe replied weakly, he attempted a smile; which quickly turned into a grimace as his stomach cramped up again.

“I’m gonna call Jas and go get you some medicine.....be right back.” Rami’s patted his hand as Joe drifted off to sleep again.

Rami picked up the sheets by the door and headed downstairs.

He pushed his disappointment at Joe being ill aside as he put the washing machine on.

The reunion for The Pacific cast was an annual event and this year was the first time Rami and Joe could actually attend together, their busy schedules meaning only one or other of them had been able to show up previously. Rami walked past Joe’s navy suit, hanging up on a hook in the hall. He would have looked damn good in that, Rami thought as he made his way outside.

“Joe?” Rami squeezed Joe’s shoulder, attempting to rouse him, “I have some stuff you need to drink......don’t want you dehydrating.”

“Mmmmmmm” Joe rolled over, blinking blearily at Rami’s face.

“You need to go...you ll be late....”

“I think I should stay.....I’m worried about you.” Rami pushed Joe’s hair back from his forehead.

“I’m gross Rami.......you probably don’t wanna touch me.......and you’re going.....they’re expecting you.” Joe managed to push himself into a sitting position, sighing heavily at the effort.

“But what if you get worse?” Rami asked; hands on his hips.

“I ll call you....it’s only..what? A ten minute cab drive away?”

“What if you collapse or something?”

Joe took a tentative sip of his mug of rehydration salts, grimacing at the taste, “Then you’ll find me when you get back.”

“Joe that’s not funny.”

“Rami, I’m gonna be sleeping......please go have lunch and just give my apologies okay. I ll be fine.”

Rami huffed “Promise you won’t try and go downstairs or anything?”

“I promise......and thank you....for this ...........delicious concoction.” Joe lifted his mug in gratitude, wrinkling his nose.

“Right well if you’re sure?”

“I am”

Joe watched as Rami fussed with his blankets, making sure his phone and bottle of water was nearby, adding the tv remote control and a large bowl that that he pulled out from beside the bed.

“Just in case” he said as he placed it beside Joe on the duvet.

Joe felt a warm, comforting feeling spread over his chest, the crampy, sick feeling in his stomach eased somewhat by the butterflies now erupting in there. This had been happening a lot recently, Joe choosing to ignore it; but today that seemed a lot harder to do.

A few drinks in and talk turned to relationships; most of the guys were happily married, Rami being one of the only ones yet to settle down.

He checked his phone again as Martin rambled on about some house he was renovating; he couldn’t stop worrying about Joe and it seemed some of the others had noticed his detachment from the conversation.

“Rami” Ashton patted his arm, “You ok?”

Putting down his phone, Rami sighed and leant back in his chair, taking a long pull of his beer.

“Yeah......I’m worried about Joe....”

“He’s a big boy...I’m sure he’s fine.”

“You didn’t see him.....he’s really sick. Maybe I should go?” He raised his eyebrows at Ashton, “Do you think I should?”

Ashton smiled as Brendan rolled his eyes next to him.

“Jesus Christ” he drawled and Rami was whisked back to Australia and Bill Leyden saying the same thing to Snafu’s new nickname for Sledge.

“What?” Rami felt all eyes on him as the table quietened.

“You have some patience man” Brendan continued “12 years is it? Go get your man and quit sitting here worrying about him.”

“What?” Rami said again. He knew he was flushed red and he also knew that what Brendan has said was true.

He pushed back from the table and headed to the bar.

“He’s right y’know.” Martin joined him at the bar, Rami’s second whiskey doing little to calm his nerves. How in fuck did everyone know? Did Joe? Fuck.

“Yeah well it’s not that simple is it? He’s my best friend.” Rami stared at the brown liquid in his tumblr “I can’t risk ruining it.”

“So you happy to carry on pretending? Think of what you might have if you take that risk. Joe’s not an asshole.......he‘ll .....he’ll be good to you no matter what.” Martin clapped him on the back and headed to the bathroom.

He was right. Rami could have everything he’d ever wanted if he was just willing to risk everything he currently had. Knocking back his whiskey he cursed himself for coming and the boys confusing the hell out of him. He wished Joe was here.

“Rami!” Ashton shouted from their table near the bar, “Your phones ringing!”

“It’s lover boy!” Brendan yelled and Rami’s stomach plummeted. Joe said he’d only call him if he felt worse, he needed to leave.

Snatching his phone from Ashton he turned away from the table as he answered;

“Joey” the pet name slipping from his mouth unconsciously. He could hear Brendan snorting behind him and Martin and Ashton telling him to shut up.

“What’s......what’s wrong? Are you ok? I can come back now...”

“Rami.....stop” Joe sounded exhausted, “I just woke up and I have a weird rash on my chest.”

Rami’s felt sick. A range of horrendous ailments entering his head at Joe’s words.

“Is your neck sore?”

“What? No..... why?”

“Meningitis” Rami rambled on “I’m gonna call Jas. Please don’t get up Joey....please.....just wait.”

“Okay” Joe whispered, slightly concerned himself over the level of Rami’s worry.

Rami sat down heavily into his chair. The boys eyes all immediately focused on his pale face.

It was Brendan that unsurprisingly broke the silence, but speaking softly and somewhat uncharacteristically.

“Is he ok?”

Rami’s phone pinged on the table top, as a message came through. Joe had sent a picture of the rash on his chest - Send this to Jas. Might help. X

Ashton’s brow furrowed at the picture.

“Go see if he’s ok please.....I’m worried now.”

Rami nodded “Please can we do this again.... before next year?”

They all nodded, murmuring agreements and adding “with Joe as well.”

“Im gonna head off then…..Joe....he....yeah.” Rami trailed off.

Martin grabbed his wrist from across the table

“Tell him Rami.”

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“Oh I honestly don’t think that will be a problem” smiled Ashton.

Rami crept quietly up the staircase, not wanting to wake Joe from much needed sleep. His bedroom door was open and Rami could see Joe bundled under his duvet through the now dim light of the evening.

Jas has said he needed to be cooled down to get rid of the heat rash, so Rami tiptoed quietly to the bathroom; leaving another cup of rehydration salts on Joe’s bedside locker.

After wetting a washcloth with cool water, and wringing it out, Rami padded over to Joe kneeling down next to the bed and peeling back the covers.

Rami’s stomach flipped at the sight of Joe sleeping, soft and peaceful. When had this started? When had things changed? Rami wracked his memory. Could you fall in love with someone over the space of 12 years and not realise? He stared at Joe’s sleeping face; he was so handsome, and Rami was taken aback by just how attracted to him he was. Rami smiled to himself, maybe he should take a chance? Joe was everything to him, and Rami was now realising he wanted him to be even more.

“Stop staring at me” Joe’s croaky voice startled Rami into action.

“Sorry.....I.....Jas said you need to cool down...you have a rash cos you’re sweaty. Here.” Rami showed him the folded wash cloth and Joe turned onto his back.

Joe shivered as Rami pulled down the duvet off Joe’s heated chest and placed the washcloth on his forehead.

“Okay?.......there’s more salts for you to take there...” Rami pointed to the bedside locker.

“Oooh yum...” Joe said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and grinning at Rami.

“How you feeling?”

“Groggy....but my stomach isn’t crampy now....so hopefully I can actually sleep tonight.” Joe peered at Rami from under the washcloth.

“Will you stay?........I hate to ask.....but....but..”

“Joe......you don’t have to ask....of course I will....”

“Thank you.....oh! how was lunch?”

Rami sat up against the headboard in Joe’s huge bed and filled him in on all the news from their cast mates, answering Joe’s questions but leaving out one very specific conversation.

“They all send their love....hope you feel better soon.”

“Ashton text me actually....” Joe turned on his side “Said you left early.”

Rami couldn’t look at Joe, he felt his pulse race as he stared out the window at the darkening sky.

“Rami......” Joe’s hand found his and he squeezed gently.

“You’ve always been so good to me...........too good to me......I.......I......thank you.” Joe sat up. He grimaced as his head pounded at the change of position, but crossed his legs and sat facing Rami.

“Joe.....lie down...”

“Why did you come back early?”

Rami searched Joe’s face for any sign that he was messing around. He knew Joe well enough by now to recognise a lift on one side of his mouth that always gave him away. It wasn’t there, his face was soft, open, and as gorgeous as Rami has ever seen it; even with his sickly pallor and bed head.

“I think you know why” Rami murmured.

“I think I know too......but I’ve been really wrong about things like this in the past so......”

Rami winced, Joe had never had much luck dating. Rami had always been there to pick up the pieces with him.

“Joe” Rami wanted, he wanted so badly to pull Joe into his lap.

“You have no idea how much I wanna kiss you right now.”

Joe grinned, his whole face lighting up as Rami ran his hand up his arm; leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Give me 12 hours and I’m all yours” he murmured as he pulled Rami into a hug.

“Thank you for today......but.....can you sleep in the spare room because I honestly don’t think I’d be able to keep my hands off you if you’re......in here......”

Joe pulled reluctantly away from Rami’s arms, realisation dawning on what he’d just said.

“Uuuh I mean.....I don’t wanna make you sick” he stared at the sheets below him, flexing his long toes.

Joe woke early the next morning , the rain pounding against his window. Stretching, he assessed himself for any stomach or headache and found that he felt much better, not one hundred percent. But better.

Running his hands over his face as he yawned, he sat bolt upright in bed as he remembered who was currently in his spare room and the conversation they’d had. His body moved without him thinking as he headed to the shower and to brush his teeth.

As the hot water pounded against his back, he let himself imagine what might possibly happen today. He’d always loved Rami; but had made himself believe they were just really close friends. He never really thought Rami felt the same though, and Joe wasn’t gonna jeopardise their incredible friendship by telling Rami how he felt.

Turns out most of their cast mates on The Pacific could see it a mile away. They were both idiots really; all the heartache they could have saved each other. Although Joe laughed to himself as he remembered that anytime either of them had split with someone, they’d immediately gone to each other for comfort.

It had been obvious to everyone, except them.

Joe knocked quietly on the door to the spare room; it was early and Rami liked to lie in at the weekend, but when Joe pushed open the door he found Rami standing at the window in his boxers. His mouth immediately went dry.

“Uuuuhhmmmm morning...” Joe croaked.

Rami grinned. “You feeling better?” He asked as Joe moved into the room. His bare toes dug into the soft grey carpet, as his heart beat erratically in his chest.

“Yeah....I am....”

“Thank God” Rami interrupted him as he made his way over to Joe and took his hands in his own.

“I’ve waited twelve years to do this......I can’t wait any longer.”

“Rami...” Joe whispered as their lips met and they finally fell into each other.

“Breakfast?…..you feel like you could eat something?” Rami couldn’t stop touching Joe; any part of his body, it was like he’d been starved of it. His fingers were currently skimming the waistband of Joe’s sweatpants where they hung low on his hips.

Joe’s head was pillowed on Rami’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I could eat you?” Joe smiled into Rami’s bare chest, breathing in his scent and nibbling at his nipple.

“Hey!” Rami pushed him away, then pulled his face to his, both hands on his cheeks.

“I want .........god I want you so bad” he pushed his hardening cock against Joe’s thigh, shivering at Joe’s answering moan.

“But when you have your strength back......Jas said....”

“Wait....you asked your sister when we could have sex?” Joe began to laugh “Oh my god......”

“No! Joe c’mon.....you know what I mean......” Rami pushed his erection against Joe again,

whispering in his ear “Just think about how good it will be.....”

Joe flopped onto his back groaning, “I’m gonna need another shower” he added as he pressed down on the bulge in his sweatpants.

Joe didn’t ever think he’d been this sexually frustrated in his life. He’d had a semi all day, Rami only had to look at him and he wanted to bend him over the back of the couch. It was like his cock had now been given permission to react to Rami. They’d spent all their spare time together the last few years, and he’d never had this problem. His cock was like a dog being finally let off a leash.

Rami sat in his boxers and a t-shirt, Joe’s head in his lap as they watched a cooking show. Joe was snoring softly, his warm breath tickling Rami’s thighs. He ran his fingers through Joe’s soft hair, smiling at what today had brought.

Pulling out his phone he snapped a pic of his hand resting in Joe’s hair as he slept soundly on his lap.

He sent it to Joe’s phone with the caption:

“I’ve always loved you.”

#mazlek #joe mazzello #rami malek #fic prompt #sick fic #anon

28 notes · View notes

howtohero · 4 years ago

Text

#299 The Resistance

Ultiman hovered three inches off of the floor. It was a nervous habit of his, which had the added benefit of making anybody near him feel just as nervous as he did. People tended to fear floating men. Especially floating men who could shoot beams from their eyes and snap tanks in half over their knees. So Ultiman tried to stay on the ground as much as possible. People liked a grounded hero. For the moment though he was alone, and so he allowed himself to hover, just a bit. He was nervous, how could he not be. The world had been taken over by supervillains, and it may as well have been his fault.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he muttered to himself, another nervous habit of his.

“There was nothing you could have done, so you left. You knew whomever was left would need a leader and so you retreated. It was the smart move. It was the only move,” he said forcefully trying to convince himself. It didn’t work, and not for the first time, he was thankful that the only person he seemed to have to convince was himself. The other heroes, those who had managed to escape the supervillain attacks across the world and the eruption of hellfire outside of How To Hero headquarters had been thankful to see him. They’d been happy he’d run away when he did. The heroes who had been captured, Cowboy Rockstar, Cannonballer: Baller of Cannons, and so many others, might have a different opinion though. But he’d done what he’d done, made the choices he’d made, and hopefully history would vindicate them. Hopefully he’d actually be able to lead the ragtag Resistance that had formed to save the world. Hopefully he was up for it.

Ultiman looked around the room he was in, if only to take his mind off of the challenges that lay ahead of him. He was in the Haberdashery, one of the many satellite hideouts Hatman maintained in cities with large superhuman presences. Specifically, he was in a room called the Hall of Hats. The room’s walls were covered with hooks and on those hooks were dozens of hats that were, ostensibly, worthy of being enshrined in a hall. Ultiman floated over to one of them, a cowboy hat made out of black velvet with the name “Winston” glued onto it in silver sequins. Ultiman looked below it and read the description: “‘Hat worn by Winston Churchill at his stag party’ There’s no way that’s true.”

“You calling me a liar?”

Ultiman quickly landed and spun around.

“Hatman, I didn’t hear you come in.”

The other man frowned and folded his arms across the yellow tophat insignia that was emblazoned onto his chest, “As pleased as I am that I managed to sneak up on you, you seem distracted.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I suppose not, they’re all in the other room. Waiting for you.”

“Waiting to hear my big plan.”

“Waiting for you. You’re the symbol U. The platonic ideal of superheroism. The-”

“Don’t say it.”

“The ultimate man. I get that you’re nervous, a supervillain takeover of this magnitude has never had so much success. Smuggles has somehow managed to do what nobody else has ever been able to. He’s taken the entire world by surprise. We’re scattered, most of our people are captured or missing. He’s put the heroes on defensive. He’s managed to unite every supervillain in the world. He’s managed to ally himself with the forces of Hell.”

“You sound like you’re impressed.”

“By all measures it’s very impressive stuff.”

Ultiman smirked, “Maybe we’ll be able to get you one of his hats.”

Hatman looked him dead in the eye, “I would love that.”

Ultiman laughed for the first time since he’d flown away from How to Hero Headquarters. It felt good. It felt unearned.

Hatman didn’t even crack a smile, “Shall we go in there?”

“I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

Hatman shrugged and then left him.

“All right Ultiman, game time. Show time. Give them the Ultiman they’re expecting. Give them the symbol.”

With a deep breath, he walked out of the Hall of Hats and into a large dining room. Why one would need a large dining room in their hideout Ultiman wasn’t sure, but he took his place at the head of the ornate table in the center of the room anyhow. He quickly scanned the room. He recognized several of the heroes sitting around the table and nodded at them. To his right was Professor Paleontologist who smiled at him reassuringly. There were other heroes, heroes he was ashamed to say he didn’t recognize scattered around the room, along with a few support-team types. Gael, director of G.U.Y. I.N. T.H.E. C.H.A.I.R. was there, scrolling on his smartphone, absorbing information like a sponge. Two of the How To Hero guys were there too, Ultiman didn’t know their real names but he recalled they went by Parenthetical Guy and Curly. Parenthetical Guy was trying to squeeze a collapsible lawn chair in between ‘Earo and Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man at the conference table.

(“Why do you even need to sit at the big table, you have super hearing, you could be on the moon and you’d still be able to hear!”)

Curly was standing in the corner chatting Hatman’s ear off as the hero tried to sink into the shadows, as was his custom at large meetings, even those held in his own hideout.

Ultiman smiled wryly and clapped his hands together, taking care not to accidentally create a sonic boom with the force of it. Instantly everybody stopped talking and every head in the room turned towards him, with the exception of Gael whose eyes were still glued to his phone.

“I think it’s time we began,” Ultiman said, double checking that his feet were on the ground.

“I won’t lie to you, we’re in trouble,” Ultiman started simply. “Big trouble, unprecedented trouble. But that’s just a day in the life right?”

There were a few scattered chuckles.

“What’s important to remember though, is that this is not insurmountable trouble. We’re down but we’re not out. In this room I see a few dozen people who want to make a change and believe they can do so. A few dozen people who still have hope. And hope is a powerful thing. It might be the greatest power we have right now. As we speak Smuggles and his Crime Consortium are sitting pretty in How To Hero headquarters. Hundreds of our comrades are languishing who knows where. World leaders are missing. Military bases have been taken over by armies of the damned. The rest of the galaxy waits on bated breath to see if Earth’s heroes are up to snuff. To see if we have what it takes to put the world back together again. It won’t be easy, but none of us would be here, none of us would do this job, if we cared about easy. I don’t know about the rest of you, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had easy and I’m still here. I’m still standing. And so are the rest of you. So let’s show Smuggles and the Fish Whisperer, and Marconi and the Skeleton King and-”

“And Zeus,” Gael chirped from his seat.

“And what?”

“Zeus, lord of the skies, king of the Greek gods. He’s just endorsed Smuggles. Apparently he thinks it’s hilarious that Greg the Skeleton King has deposed the rest of the rulers of Hell, his brother, Hades, among them of course.”

“Ah,” Ultiman said. “Thank you Gael.”

He took a moment to recompose himself, “And Zeus too then. Add him to the list of people we’ll have to fight to save the Earth. That’s fine. Who cares. We’re heroes, and saving the world is what we do.”

“Hear hear!”

“Let’s show them what we’re made of!”

(“I’m telling you, I’m important I should really be at the table for this. What if someone takes a picture of this historic moment. People are going to think its weird if I’m not in the picture.”)

Ultiman held up his hand and the chatter stopped. “Now, before we can take the fight to the villains there are a few things we need to take care of. Hatma- Where’s Hatman?”

{“He left.”}

“He left? What do you mean he left?”

{“Like out the door.”}

“While I was speaking? While I was speaking just now? But that’s so rude. Wow.”

{“I know. So rude!”}

Ultiman shook his head, “Whatever, do you mind going after him?”

{“You got it chief! I’ll just go put on my costume.”}

Ultiman tilted his head, “I don’t think that’s necessary. I just need you to step outside and grab him for a minute.”

Curly was already gone.

“All right then. Hatman knows what to do I’m sure.”

(“What if I just sat on your lap? Come on, you’re a cyborg, you won’t even feel it.”)

Ultiman turned to Professor Paleontologist, “Professor, as you can see we’re a little light-handed. While it’s possible we’re all that’s left of Earth’s defenders I’m inclined to believe, to hope, that there are others out there. Why don’t you see if you can gather some allies for us.”

Professor Paleontologist, “It would be my pleasure sir. I believe I know just where to look.”

“Excellent, and why don’t you take him with you,” Ultiman said pointing to Parenthetical Guy, who was now talking to the superhero Yellowjacket.

(“Come on, there’s literally no way you deserve a seat at this table more than me, at least just scoot down a little bit.”)

Professor Paleontologist tugged at his collar, “Well, sir, I don’t know if that’s the best idea. I’m happy to take somebody else if you want me to go with a partner.”

“Parenthetical Guy!” Ultiman shouted drawing the gangly man’s attention.

(“Yo what’s up big guy?”)

“I’ve got a mission for you, go with Professor Paleontologist. He’ll explain it.”

(“Aw man, Professor Paleontologist? Do I gotta?”)

“Yes.”

(“All right, fine. Let’s go PP, I’m not getting any younger.”)

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes but joined Parenthetical Guy by the door. Ultiman heard a collective sigh of relief when they left the room.

Ultiman took stock of who was left. His two biggest names had just left, and all that remained now were the second-stringers and the also rans, but that didn’t matter. Ultiman meant what he said before, he believed that the motley crew in front of him could mean the difference for humanity. And a leader is nothing if they don’t believe in their troops.

“Now,” Ultiman said. “Let’s talk strategy.”

***

“So, Ultiman says we need allies. Luckily I have a colleague in-”

(“Blah blah blah. Trust me, when Ultiman asked us to gather super cool allies to help us take back the world I’m sure he didn’t mean any colleagues of yours.”)

Professor Paleontologist arched an eyebrow, “I suppose you have someone in mind?”

(“As a matter of fact I do!”) Parenthesis Guy shouted, pulling out his cellphone.

“I wasn’t aware you had superpowered associates,” Professor Paleontologist said. “Or associates at all outside your merry band of bloggers.”

(“What was that a joke? I didn’t think they had jokes in the Paleozoic Era.”)

“Actually, there were no dinosaurs in the Paleo-”

(“Oh my god I’m not doing this right now.”)

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes, he’d been superheroing for a long time. Longer than Ultiman or Hatman or Cowboy Rockstar or many of the other big named heroes, and yet still this is what he was reduced to. A glorified babysitter for a hyperactive manchild. Of course, he knew what he was doing was important; as it stood, the Resistance didn’t quite have the manpower that would be necessary to take back the world. Yet he still couldn’t help but feel a little bit insulted. Even Smuggles’ Consortium of Crime hadn’t even bothered to attack to him when the villains took over. The villain Professor Paleontologist had been working with, Chives, a 50-foot tall vampire stegosaurus, had simply grabbed the other hero on their team, the robot warrior BiteLock and ran off, leaving Professor Paleontologist alone. When even the villains who are in the process of taking over the world don’t want anything to do with you, well, that says something doesn’t it?

“We do this to help people, not to be recognized,” Professor Paleontologist muttered to himself.

(“What was that?”) Parenthetical Guy said.

“Nothing. You said you had some leads?”

(“As a matter of fact I do!”) Parenthetical Guy declared and then held up his phone to Professor Paleontologist.

“Ethynda Goodwitch?” Professor Paleontologist read.

(“Our very own local village mystic!”) Parenthetical Guy exclaimed. (“She can use all her cool magic and witchcraft to send Smuggles straight to hell or whatever.”)

“Smuggles is allied with Hell, remember? And correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Ethynda hate you and everyone else from How To Hero? I can’t imagine she’d offer up her services if literally the most obnoxious one of you showed up at her door.”

(“Gosh I don’t even have the time to tell you everything that was wrong with that.”)

“Great! So why don’t we-”

(“First of all-”)

“Oh.”

(“Smuggles is allied with one of the lords of Hell, and I’m sure in doing so he’s managed to alienate a fair few other ones. Secondly, Ethynda used to hate How To Hero, on account of the fact that we recommended that every would be superhero in a 100 mile radius try blackmailing her into giving her powers in our very first post.”)

“Yes you lot made a rather strong impression on the magic community at large that day.”

(“But I have to imagine she doesn’t hate us all that much seeing as she has never, not even once, rained magical destruction and chaos down upon us. Like I’ll admit she was one of my top suspects for the whole anonymous bombing thing last year, but now that we know that was Smuggles I’m more sure than ever that she and I are actually really great friends and she’s a big fan of our blog.”)

“Blackmail notwithstanding I imagine.”

(“Blackmail definitelywithstanding Professor!”)

“Very well, how do we find this-”

(“Thirdly I am far from the most obnoxious How To Hero member. That’s definitely Curly

or maybe Dr. Brainwave’s Greatest Shame a giant monster who eats people, which is pretty obnoxious.”)

“Are you done yet?”

(“Fourthly, Ethynda doesn’t even have a door, she lives in a cave on a mountain.”)

Professor Paleontologist folded his arms and waited patiently.

(“Oh, I’m done now.”)

“Excellent. Now, how do we get to this magical mountain cave?”

(“We’ll take the teleporter, good thing Half-Face McGee was captured right? There’s no

way he’d let us use that thing.”)

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes. “Ok, so where did you leave your teleport pad?”

(“Oh, we’ve been standing on it this whole time,”) and with that, he pulled out a remote control from his pocket and clicked a button.

***

Hatman pressed up against the alley wall as a trio of supervillains strolled past. Another patrol, Smuggles must have noticed that a few heroes had escaped him and had sent out his villainous lackeys to find and capture any superheroic stragglers. The only people he’d seen so far had been villains. No civilians, the people of Clifftown must have all been hiding out in their homes. No heroes either, which didn’t fill Hatman with confidence. He had hoped to find others out here, but it seemed like the skeleton crew hiding out in the Haberdashery was everybody that was left. No matter, he’d faced down worse odds. Hatman checked the secure communicator in his gizmo-packed gauntlet. Still no messages. That was probably a bad sign. When Smuggles had launched his take over, and the villains had all simultaneously betrayed and subdued the heroes they were working with, Hatman had been in the middle of a frozen bay with the villain Friar Frostbite. Even Hatman wasn’t above admitting that the situation had been dire. Friar Frostbite had the element of surprise, a cryo-gun, and a distinct home field advantage. According to some, it was only the timely arrival of Hurricane Hank, and Hatman’s bitterest non-supervillain rival, Glassesman, fresh from dispelling a sharknado, that allowed Hatman to prevail over his bitterest supervillain rival. According to Hatman, he would’ve been fine either way. After all, he’d fitted his gauntlets with superheaters specifically to deprive Friar Frostbite of any icy cold advantages he might possess. Still, the extra hands certainly allowed for things to be taken care of more quickly and within seconds Friar Frostbite was down for the count. Which presented Hatman with an incredible opportunity. Aboard Glassesman’s aviator-goggles shaped cargo plane, the trio of heroes had stripped Friar Frostbite of his costume, which helpfully included an insulated ski-mask, and his weaponry. Glassesman then assumed Friar Frostbite’s identity and flew his plane back to How To Hero headquarters, which had, by that point, become the seat of Smuggles’s power, while Hurricane Hank flew Hatman and Friar Frostbite to the Haberdashery. Since then, Glassesman had been providing Hatman with information over a secure network. Troop movements, supplies inventory, a roster of Smuggles’s known associates. Valuable information that the Resistance could use to topple Smuggles’s regime. And information that was specifically useful for Hatman, who had taken it upon himself to sabotage as many of Smuggles’s operations while Ultiman and the others developed a plan of attack. But the messages had stopped. Which probably meant that Glassesman had been found out.

Typical Glassesman, Hatman thought as he removed the gauntlet and tossed it in a dumpster, it was a tremendous waste of resources, but he couldn’t risk Smuggles’s people figuring out how to trace the messages Glassesman had been sending back to him. He’d be sure to send Glassesman a bill for all of the exorbitantly expensive proprietary super-tech the gauntlet possessed. That guy can’t do anything right.

{“Whatcha doin?”}

In one swift movement, Hatman unclipped a pocket on his utility belt, pulled the miniature top hat out of it and spun around on his heel, the tophat growing to full size as he did so.

{“Whoa whoa! It’s just me, Curly! Don’t point your… shrinking top hat? At me”} Curly shouted, waving his empty hands in front of him.

The short, round, goateed man was sitting upon a dumpster, dangling his legs over the edge.

Hatman narrowed his eyes and returned the tophat to his belt. Curly watched as it shrunk to fit back in its tiny compartment.

“It’s a magical top hat, it was a gift from a wizard.”

{“Do bunnies come out of it?”}

“Among other things. What are you doing here?”

{“Ultiman sent me after you, you left the meeting kind of abruptly.”}

“I didn’t see any need to remain there. I could be of better use to the Resistance out here on the streets.”

{“Well what are you doing out here that’s so important?”}

“Sabotage.”

{“Sabotage?”}

“Yes, it’s the most important thing in a time like this. Let Ultiman plan his full frontal assaults and face to face confrontations. I’ll happily take control of the more shadowy parts of this resistance.”

{“Ooh shadowy stuff. Count me in.”}

“No.”

{“Aw come on!”}

“I work alone.”

{“388 different Hatboys beg to differ.”}

“You make a point.”

{“Also, like, we’ve already worked together. I was a Hatboy at one point remember?”}

“What?”

{“That’s how I snuck up on you just now. You trained me. I was Hatboy #283.”}

Hatman just shrugged, “I’m sure you understand that I can’t possibly remember every Hatboy that has worked under me. My thoughts are better occupied by coming up with new ways to fight crime and new designs for hat-themed vehicles.”

Curly frowned, {“You seriously don’t remember when we worked together?”}

“You’re seriously still talking about that? If you want to help that’s fine, but come on we’ve got work to do.”

{“What kind of work?”}

Beneath the reflective lenses in his top hat shaped cowl, Hatman rolled his eyes. This Curly wasn’t the type he usually worked with. He asked a few too many questions. Hatman knew what he needed to do. He needed to inspire. Awe, respect, maybe even some fear, he’d have to see how the night went. In pursuit of this Hatman struck his most imposing and superheroic pose. He looked off into the distance, a look of steely resolve taking over his chiseled features. He put his hands on his hips and lowered his voice an octave.

“We,” he paused here, an age old trick to make civilians and sidekicks hang on your every word. “Need to steal a truck.”

A moment of silence passed between the duo and Hatman was sure Curly would follow his lead unquestionably from now on. These wannabe heroes were always so easy to manipulate.

{“Oh you’re done. So is that just any truck or…”}

Hatman was jolted from his self-indulgent reverie. Apparently it would take more than dynamic posing and vague statements to bring this one in line.

“No! A specific truck. If we just steal any truck that makes us no better than these repulsive villains.”

{“It’s just that all you said was the word ‘truck’ and then you just stopped talking like I was supposed to understand what you meant. You should really try incorporating specific articles into your speech like ‘we need to steal that truck’ or ‘we need to steal the truck that drives by this alleyway every Thursday at 2:30 pm’ or ‘we need to steal the truck that drives down my block every night making a whole lot of noise even though there are signs specifically prohibiting such trucks from driving down my purely residential block.’”}

Hatman sighed.

“Supply trucks drive through Clifftown every day carrying everything from valuables to essentials to How to Hero headquarters. We need to intercept and hijack one of them.”

Curly hopped off of the dumpster and smacked Hatman on the back.

{“See! Was that all that hard? So where do we find one of these trucks?”}

“According to my observations, one should be rolling by this alley in ten minutes.”

{“Great! So what do we need to do?”}

“We need to steal it.”

{“You can’t think that’s what I meant.”}

“I’ve learned never to overestimate the intelligence of a prospective Hatboy.”

{“Prospective? I literally was Hatboy! I’m one of the few surviving ones! I’m wearing the utility belt you gave me right now!”}

“You’re wearing a belt? Perfect. Tell me, do you know how to drive a truck?”

{“I’m legally not allowed to drive one but I guess?”}

Hatman checked the time readout on his remaining gauntlet.

“That’ll have to do,” he said as extracted a grappling hook from his own belt and looped the hook around Curly’s belt.

{“What’s happening right now.”}

“Like I said,” Hatman said as he ran to the entrance of the alleyway. “We’re going to steal a truck.”

***

In a flash of light Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy appeared in front of a gaping cave. Parenthetical Guy quickly turned around and emptied the contents of his stomach.

(“Gosh, every time,”) he said, wheezing.

“I’m sure throwing up on her doorstep will ingratiate you with Ethynda even more,” Professor Paleontologist said as he stepped off of the teleport pad and examined the entrance of the cave. “So do we just walk right in or?”

Suddenly, two large rocks at the entrance of the cave shuddered and started to roll towards our two heroes.

(“Have you ever visited a magical lair before?”) Parenthetical Guy said as he brushed off his pants and held up his fists. (“First you have to fight off the magical guardians and then you just walk right in.”)

Professor Paleontologist instinctively reached for the bright red amulet that hung over his chest. The boulders had now sprouted limbs and Professor Paleontologist didn’t think their four fists would be quite enough to overpower them.

“Well I wish you would’ve mentioned that before we teleported here,” Professor Paleontologist said.

(“Yeah well I wish that Rockblock were here so he could reason with these rock monsters. Or maybe seduce them or something. Side salad, do you think Rockblock is considered attractive? Like by golem standards I mean.”)

Professor Paleontologist didn’t answer. He was clutching his amulet now and, mentally, reaching backwards in time. The magical amulet had been gifted to him by a council of ghostly dinosaurs nearly two decades ago, and it allowed him to draw dinosaurs from the far flung past into the present so that he could use their unique gifts and abilities to fight the forces of evil. It was a tremendous honor and responsibility to wield such a powerful weapon and it was one that the Professor took very seriously. He had studied up on time travel and chaos theory and he was well aware of the incalculable ill effects that could result from wonton time travel, and so he very rarely used his incredible powers to their fullest extent. Instead he used his amulet primarily to confer with the great spirits that had gifted it to him in the first place. In essence, whenever he was struck with an especially difficult problem he gave himself a moment to consider, and ask, what would a dinosaur do. In this moment several of the departed dinos were snarling at him to either sacrifice his puking partner, or bring in some real firepower. One though, a ghosty compsognathus, presented him with a different, somewhat more elegant solution. The compsognathus, made famous by the blockbuster hit, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, were tiny dinosaurs, no larger than the modern day chicken, and not the freakishly huge ones that have set up camp in the Grand Canyon in recent years, regular chickens. They didn’t have the bite or size of other dinosaurs, but they learned how to use their small stature to their advantage. The compy told Professor Paleontologist what it would do in this situation, and the Professor thanked it, and all the other spirits, before releasing his hold on his amulet.

All of this occurred in a fraction of a second.

(“Like, let’s say Rockblock had the normal amount of arms and everything and had like, skin, he’d be undeniably attractive then right? I feel like that’s not really up for debate. So I guess what I’m really asking is if golems find the same qualities attractive that humans do. Does that make se-”)

“Get the left one’s attention and then follow me,” Professor Paleontologist said, finally cutting Parenthetical Guy off, much to the rock monsters’, and Parenthetical Guy’s, great relief.

(“Get the attention of the hulking rock monster that is already fully focused on destroying us? You got it, but only because I think it’s a terrible idea and want my death to haunt your conscience for the rest of your stupid life.”)

Parenthetical Guy scooped some pebbles off of the ground and held them aloft towards the rock monster was bearing down on him. (“Watch your step big boy, or these pebbles get it!”)

The rock monster snorted and lifted up its giant fist.

(“Ok that didn’t work,”) Parenthetical guy blinked and then tossed the handful of pebbles at the rock monster and began running in the opposite direction.

“Follow me!” Professor Paleontologist shouted as he began running directly towards the other rock monster.

(“This is actually the worst plan!”) Parenthetical Guy complained as he dutifully followed.

Professor Paleontologist led his hapless partner and the towering mountainous man that followed him towards the other rock monster who slowly raised its own fists and howled in rage, seemingly more at the Professor’s audacity that anything else. As the two interlopers neared the howling golem Professor Paleontologist shouted, “Slide!” and then collapsed into a flawless baseball player’s third base slide, deftly maneuvering right between the angry monster’s legs. Once he was through the monster’s legs, he quickly popped back up onto his feet and took off running towards the cave’s entrance, stopping just long enough to make sure Parenthetical Guy had made it through as well before the monster had punched a crater into the Earth. He had, but not nearly as gracefully and Professor Paleontologist saw him spitting rocks out of his mouth that he had accidentally ingested when he dove and face planted into the ground.

“Keep moving!” Professor Paleontologist shouted, “We need to make sure we’re clear!”

(“Clear of what?”) Parenthetical Man shouted indignantly before he was flung off his feet

again by a tremendous boom. The two rock monsters had collided sending a shower of smaller stones hurtling in every direction.

Professor Paleontologist grabbed Parenthetical Guy and wrenched him clear from any of the larger rock chunks.

(“That was your plan?”)

“It worked didn’t it?”

As it would turn out, Professor Paleontologist’s plan had not worked. Rather than destroying both rock monsters, their speedy collision had actually caused the monsters to merge somewhat. Now instead of fighting two rock monsters, they were facing a royally ticked off two-headed rock monster. It was a little bit better, but not much.

“Oh this is bad,” Professor Paleontologist said dejectedly as he reached for his amulet once more.

(“Oh this is perfect!”) Parenthetical Guy said as he reached for his remote control, and Professor Paleontologist was surprised not to hear even an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

Parenthetical Guy winked at the professor and then pointed his remote control at the giant two-headed monstrous monolith. In a flash it, and the teleport pad it had inadvertently landed on following its amalgamation, disappeared. Professor Paleontologist blinked wordlessly.

(“Handled!”) Parenthetical Guy shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

“I- I guess you did, wow.”

(“No need to thank me Prof, I’m just doing what heroes and vitally important resistance fighters do.”)

“Where did you send it?”

(“The moon, they’ll be fine. Rock monsters don’t need to breathe. Don’t worry about climbing down this ridiculously high mountain, Ethynda will just teleport us back to headquarters once she agrees to join us.”)

“Well, I guess we should go in then.”

Parenthetical Guy smiled widely and then walked into the cave. Or, rather, he walked in the magical force field that protected the cave’s entrance.

(“Oh come on Ethynda! We fought your guardians, I think we at least deserve a conversation!”)

“Deserve?” a shrill voice cackled from within the cave. “The only thing you deserve is a swift kick in the behind as far as I’m concerned.”

Professor Paleontologist braced himself for another fight as he watched a young woman in a bright green tracksuit walk out of the cave, a black cat followed her, eyeing the two intruders through slitted yellow eyes. Or, Professor Paleontologist could have sworn, eyeing his amulet in particular.

(“Ethynda! Darling! How have you been?”) Parenthetical Guy held his arms open, as though he expected the witch to give him a hug.

Ethynda waved him off.

“You! How dare you show your parenthetical personage at my sanctum. I have half a mind to strike you down where you stand right now,” Ethynda’s eyes started to glow an unnatural green and her clenched fists burst into green flames.

Professor Paleontologist didn’t like the sound of that, but, to everybody’s consternation Parenthetical Guy didn’t seem all that concerned.

(“Ethy! You slay me-”)

“I’m about to.”

(“No need! Love your energy though. Love the spunk. Sublime spunk, wouldn’t you say so Prof?”)

Professor Paleontologist gave him a sidelong glance and then held up his hands as if to say “please do not involve me in whatever it is that you’re doing you fast talking imbecile.”

(“Now, Ethy, hows about you channel that sublime rage against a smuggler and a man who whispers to fish? I really do feel like that would be a far better use of your time. Don’t you?”)

Ethynda’s eyes reverted to their normal color and the flames around her hands dissipated. Professor Paleontologist let out a breath he’d been holding but kept his hands near his amulet.

“You’ve come to me for… help?”

(“Why of course! You’re only one of my dearest friends! And the world’s in trouble. We can use a powerful and magnificent witch such as yourself. Plus, the other side’s got a bunch of damned souls that I’m sure you could steal?”)

Ethynda sighed and put her hands on her hips.

“I suppose you two may as well come inside. I don’t need you superhero types drawing any more attention to me than you already have.”

She turned and walked back into her cave and Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy warily followed her. The inside of the cave was not at all what Professor Paleontologist had expected. He’d been inside a few magical lairs in his day, and most of them were filled with ancient and powerful artifacts, the walls were usually adorned with mantras or wards or the occasional shelf filled with pickled eyeballs, paws, tails, dreams, and other common potion ingredients. This cave, however, was empty, and Professor Paleontologist found that especially worrying.

“Where is everything?” he asked.

Ethynda raised an eyebrow, “Everything?”

“I’ve heard about you Ethynda, you’re a powerful sorceress, and you keep to yourself. I don’t imagine you spend all of your time sitting alone in an empty cave. So I ask again, where is everything? Where are all the charms and idols and amulets and icons and-”

(“Thingamabobs and whosits and whatsits.”)

Ethynda rolled her eyes.

“I’m moving.”

“Moving?”

“Moving, leaving, whatever. The world’s gone to hell and trust me, I’d know, I’ve been. You and your super pals lost. Big time. And we don’t intend to hang around for the blowback.”

(“We?”)

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You have the power to help us set things right? Where are you even going?”

(“What do you mean we?”)

“Me and every other magic user I know. We’re not interested in litigating the squabbles of you cape and mask and fisticuff types. This is not our war and we have no interest in fighting a losing battle. So we’re exiting this plane of existence.”

(“You’re going to the Magirealm.”)

“Naturally.”

“The Magirealm? You think you’ll be safe there?” Professor Paleontologist shouted, waving his arms wildly and freely. After all, there was nothing of value he might accidentally knock over anyway.

“I guarantee you we’ll be a lot safer there than we will be here. Besides, what on Gaea would make you think that I’d be interested in joining your little team?”

(“Why Ethynda, we’re friends aren’t we?”)

“Absolutely not, what would make you think that?”

(“Well, I’m not dead.”)

“And?”

“That’s actually as far as that line of reasoning goes,” Professor Paleontologist said, feeling deflated.

“Do you know how many halfwits and sociopaths tried to blackmail me into giving them powers after your stupid blog advised them to? You’ve caused me no shortage of problems, we’re certainly not friends. Now as far as me not killing you goes, what kind of person do you take me for? I don’t just murder anybody who insults me on the internet.”

(“Aw are you still sour about that? We just wrote that post about magical vehicles for you, I thought that made things even.”)

“Sure, fine, we’re even. You can find your own way out right? There’s just the one entrance,” Ethynda said as she turned away from Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy.

(“Are you telling me that you’re ok with supervillains taking over the world?”) Parenthetical Guy shouted drawing a sharp glance from Ethynda’s cat.

“The petty disputes of superheroes and supervillains are of little concern to the magical community. We are more than content to wait this crisis out in the Magirealm.”

(“What a bunch of cowards you are! All that abra kadabra power and you just vacate this plane of existence until we save the world from Smuggles and Chuck and… Oh, is that what this is? Are you afraid of who they’re working with? Is this about Greg the Skeleton King?”)

Ethynda whipped around and grabbed Parenthetical Guy by the collar of his shirt.

“The forces of Hell are not to be trifled with. You’d do well to flee as well.”

(“Oh please. His name is Greg, we can take him.”)

Ethynda threw him against the wall and Professor Paleontologist ran over to him.

“I’ll ask you one more time to leave my home before I force you out.”

“Are you ok?” Professor Paleontologist asked, helping Parenthetical Guy to his feet.

(“Wait! Wait, ok, you won’t help us fight. That’s fine. That’s your right. Just grant me one wish.”)

“No.”

(“Come on Ethynda, just get me and my sidekick here into the Cube. Then you can go off and cavort with your magical friends in another dimension.”)

“Ha! That is your wish? Very well then, I’ll transport you into the Cube. But if you think he’s going to help you you’re even dumber than you look.”

Parenthesis Guy dusted off his pants and smirked, (“I get that a lot thanks.”)

“Wait a minute, the Cube, as in-”

“Leave,” Ethynda said as her eyes began glowing green and she snapped her fingers.

***

Hatman reached the entrance of the alley just as a large cargo truck drove by. The words “All hail King Smuggles Eternal Ruler of the-” had been hastily spray painted on to the side of it. So hastily in fact, that the last word was just a green blob instead of anything discernable. Curly watched the grapple line extend as Hatman, still gripping his end of the grappling hook, hopped onto the back of the truck and, using magnets in his gauntlet and boots, began climbing around the side of it to the front. At this point the truck’s driver, the supervillain Jhonny McBarnburner, noticed that there was a masked hero crawling across the side of his truck and started responding accordingly. Jhonny cut the wheel sharply to the right, causing the truck to swerve violently but Hatman clung on. With his free hand he activated a small signal hijacker in his utility belt, giving him full control of the truck’s radio.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to shake me criminal scum!” Hatman declared over the radio.

“Hey don’t call me scum! You know my name! You stopped me from burning down a barn like a month ago!” Jhonny shouted at his dashboard.

“I can see that you’re talking to me but I can’t hear you with your window rolled up. I’ll assume you’re issuing a full and unequivocal surrender.”

“Full and unequivocal what? The nerve of this guy,” Jhonny Mcbarnburner said as he rolled down the window so the costumed man clinging to the side of his truck could hear his witty jibes and retorts.

“Is this better? Can you hear me now?” Jhonny asked before receiving a magnetized boot to the face as Hatman hurled himself through the now open cab window. Jhonny Mcbarnburner flew across the cab into the passenger’s side window. Hatman, who was now sitting in the driver’s seat quickly wrapped his grappling gun around the steering wheel and slammed on the gas.

“Ah come on!” Jhonny said as his hand ignited into a small fireball. “The boss isn’t going to like me singing the inside of this truck but I reckon he’d prefer slightly crispy to nothing. I reckon bringing your charred remains in oughta make me mighty popular too.”

“That’s funny,” Hatman said as he threw a miniature plastic fireman’s helmet at Jhonny’s hand. The plastic hat exploded into fire-retardant foam which quickly extinguished Jhonny’s fist. “Bringing you in won’t raise my standing with the Resistance one iota, what does that tell you about how this fight is likely to play out.”

Jhonny screamed as he lunged at Hatman causing him to lose control of the truck. Hatman sighed and pushed Jhonny off of him back into the passenger’s seat. He then pressed the recall button on his grappling gun and, while keeping one hand on the wheel, vacated the driver’s seat himself, joining Jhonny on the passenger’s side.

***

Curly had grown bored of waiting in the alley and was now sitting against a grimy wall plucking out a somber tune on the grapple wire that was attached to his belt.

{“What the heck is Hatman doing over there?”} he asked.

All of a sudden he felt the rope go taut.

{“Huh?”}

Then he felt himself moving.

{“Wait a minuuuuuuhhhh-”}

Curly found himself soaring through the air behind the out of control truck as the grapple line grew shorter and shorter.

{“This is insaaaaaane!”} he shouted as he flew through the still open window on the truck’s driver’s side and slammed into the steering wheel.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Hatman said as he released his own hand from the wheel. “You drive.”

{“What the hell was that!”} Curly shouted as he quickly grabbed the wheel and put his foot on the brake to try to slow the truck down a bit.

“Meet me at the corner of 14th and Tropp, I’ve got a garage there,” Hatman shouted as he wrestled with Jhonny McBarnburner.

{“Meet you?”} Curly asked frantically as he struggled to keep the bounding truck under control as a veritable all out brawl raged on inches away from him.

“Yeah,” Hatman grunted as he grabbed Jhonny McBarnburner with one hand and threw the passenger door open with the other one, causing both hero and villain to tumble out of the speeding truck.

{“Well, all right then. See you there,”} Curly said as he gripped onto the truck’s steering wheel for dear life. Through the rearview mirror he could see Hatman tussling with a fully engulfed in flames Jhonny McBarburner in the middle of the street.

{“You really haven’t changed much my hatted honcho,”} Curly said.

A few minutes later, Curly brought the truck to a stop in front of the garage that Hatman had described to him and was surprised when the door started to rise open to allow the truck in.

Aha! Curly thought. There must be some camera system that has identified me as a former Hatboy so it’s letting me in. At least the system remembers me.

All thoughts of being validated by Hatman’s computer system evaporated when he saw Hatman standing inside the garage next to a tied up Jhonny McBarnburner.

“Took you long enough,” Hatman said after Curly had pulled the truck in and the door had closed behind him.

{“How in the world did you beat me here!”}

“Oh please,” Hatman said as though the question were absurd. He walked over to the back of the truck, “Now let’s see what we’ve got here.”

As it would turn out, the truck contained all manner of goods that might be of use to an evil world-dominating organization: Weapons, money, magical artifacts, even several jugs of clean water.

“This is the problem,” Hatman said, tapping one of the jugs. “If Smuggles and his crime consortium control everything from weapons to water, they control the populace. We can’t compete with that. If we can’t even drink freely how are we supposed to take on the combined forces of every villain on Earth and every soul that’s ever pledged fealty to the lords of Hell.”

{“Yeah but they only control it, they don’t have it. Not all of it, not yet.”}

“What do you mean?”

{“Smuggles is operating out of our headquarters and let me tell you, the most valuable thing we kept there was a dirty napkin signed by what turned out to be a very convincing Owen Wilson impersonator. If Smuggles wants the world’s resources on hand he’s going to pretty much have to transfer everything. Which means they have to get supply trucks past us.”}

Hatman smiled, “Which gives us the chance to take control of everything before it gets to Smuggles.”

{“Exactly.”}

***

“The Cube” as it is called by those who know of its existence, is exactly what it sounds like. It is a cube. Made of a superstrong impenetrable alloy forged from the will of the most powerful flesh-and-blood human being in the universe, The Cube floats alone in a pocket dimension that, due to a few well placed bribes at the International Board of Travel, is totally inaccessible through official channels. But all of the best pocket dimensions are. In reality, The Cube’s pocket dimension is not as wholly separate from the rest of the multiverse as its sole occupant would like to believe. In truth, there are more than a couple of ways in. A few backdoors, so to speak, that arose during the construction of this most isolated of all dimensions. You see, The Cube was not built in an existing remote pocket dimension, it was kludged together from interdimensional debris and detritus that was siphoned off from other pocket realms. One of those other pocket realms was the Magirealm, The Cube’s closest interdimensional neighbor. Not that dimensions really have neighbors, but we’re doing our absolute best to spare you from the brain-shatteringly nonsensical physics that govern these strange realms. Anyhow, since The Cube’s dimension contains fragments of the mystical energies that constitute the Magirealm, it can, theoretically be accessed by a skilled enough magician, though none have ever attempted such a feat. While most mages would agree that travel to The Cube is possible for mystics, all would agree that such a trip would be fruitless at best, and dangerous at worst. There is only one being that calls The Cube its home, and he prefers to issue invitations to his realm at his own leisure. That man is Power Jones, the man with one million powers, and at the moment he is… hosting some kind of time-shattering game show?

“Welcome one and all to another thrilling episode of everybody’s favorite show, ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ I’m your host Power Jones!” a pale, floppy-haired man clad in a purple three-piece suit gestured broadly and flashed a dazzling smile at a bulky video camera that rested on a tall tripod. Canned applause and whistling filled the room, emanating from seemingly everywhere and nowhere all at once. Behind him two individuals, one human and one robotic stood at separate lightbulb-bespeckled podiums. A large glowing sign with the gameshow’s name flashed above them.

“Let’s go meet our contestants, why don’t we?” Power Jones said, flashing one more smile at the camera.

“Yeah!” a disembodied voice shouted.

“Thank you disembodied voice!” Power Jones shouted as he whirled around to face the

other two people in the room. He strolled over to the human first, resting his elbows on the top of the gaudy podium and cradling his chin on the tops of his hands.

“Please recite your name for the audience, good sir,” Power said.

The man stammered something in Italian causing Power Jones to frown.

“Right right, other languages, I keep forgetting to account for those don’t I,” he said to himself. “Oh well, an easy fix,” he waved his left hand with a flourish in the man’s direction.

“This place is incredible? And what’s this? English? Fascinating. Pray tell, who are you?”

Power Jones beamed and slapped the other man on the back, “I’m Power Jones, now, for the good people watching at home. Who are you?”

“Oh yes, of course, my name is Leonardo,” he said.

“Leonardo who,” Power Jones prompted.

“Leonardo… from win?” he said.

Power Jones scratched his head and turned to the robotic contestant at the other podium.

“What?”

“Whatever you used to translate my predecessor’s speech seems to have worked a little too well,” the android said.

“Oh for Pete’s- It’s Leonardo Da Vinci everybody!” Power shouted, eliciting more disembodied cheers and whistles.

“Yeah!” the disembodied voice shouted.

“And I am Leonardo Da Vinci II, an android clone of the famed polymath from the 32nd century,” the robotic contestant said flatly.

“Incredible!” the original Da Vinci said breathlessly as his gaze settled on the android.

“Righto! Now, as always, our first challenge is a cooking one. Using only the contents of my refrigerator you must make me a sandwich. Whomever makes the best one wins!”

The Da Vincis stared at him blankly.

“You um, you do know that I’m not a chef,” the human Da Vinci said.

Power Jones eyes glowed red and his voice dropped a dozen octaves, “Foolish mortal! Power Jones knows all!”

Da Vinci stumbled backward, clutching his chest, “Demon!”

Power reverted to normal, “Nah, I’m just messing with you Leo. Of course I know that you’re not a chef, if you were a chef this would be way too easy. None of today’s challenges will have anything to do with your many talents or accomplishments, if they did I’m pretty sure the android would kick your butt at the sciences, and you would wipe the floor with him when it comes to the arts. So to keep things fair and balanced you both are going to make me a-” Power Jones trailed off and his purple suit melted into purple chainmail armor.

“Someone’s coming,” he said gravely.

Suddenly, in a puff of green smoke Parenthetical Guy and Professor Paleontologist appeared in the center of the room.

(“Wow I did not think we were going to make it,”) Parenthetical Guy said as he surveyed the room.

“Then why did you wish for this?” Professor Paleontologist shouted, gobsmacked. “We need to get back to Earth, Ultiman is count-.”

The two interlopers were flung off of their feet into a nearby wall.

(“Ouch,”) Parenthetical Guy said.

Power Jones’s eyes were glowing red again. “Who are you! And why have you dared trespass onto my domain!” he boomed before winking at Da Vinci.

Professor Paleontologist struggled to his feet, “Mr. Jones, please if you just give us a minute-.”

“I didn’t invite any other guests here and I’m clearly in the middle of something so unless the two of you are more Da Vincis I’m going to have to vaporize you or turn you into sandwich ingredients. You have until I decide to answer.”

“We need your help!” Professor Paleontologist shouted.

(“We are indeed more Da Vincis!”) Parenthetical guy shouted at the same time. Things were rapidly getting out of hand and it was clear to him that this was the best way to have a prolonged conversation with Power Jones.

Power Jones smiled widely and his purple chainmail melted into his usual mode of dress, an unbuttoned purple vest over a one-piece black bodysuit.

“A couple of Da Vincis in need of my help? Why please, go on.”

Professor Paleontologist stammered nervously “I am, uh. Well you see actually…”

Typical Professor Paleontologist, blowing our one chance of being the heroes of the Resistance, I’ll handle this, Parenthetical guy thought to himself.

(“I am Leonidas Da Vinci, a dimension hopping Da Vinci that defends the multiverse and leads the legendary Da Vinci Corps. This is my sidekick. No wait! My personal assistant, Leon Von Iguanada Vinci, he’s really into dinosaurs, but he assures me that it’s not in a weird way or anything.”)

Power Jones turned to the camera, “Isn’t this something! A visit from the famed and legendary Da Vinci Corps!”

“Are you uh, are you broadcasting this?” Professor Paleontologist asked as he finally took a moment to glance around at his surroundings.

“Of course I am! ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ is one of the most popular television programs ever!” Power Jones proclaimed.

“Where does it air?” Professor Paleontologist asked.

Power Jones looked at him for a moment and then scratched his chin “You know what? I honestly have no idea,” Power Jones said.

“What is going on!” Leonardo Da Vinci shouted as he and the android joined the talking circle in the middle of the room.

“Why have I never heard of a Da Vinci corps?” the android Da Vinci asked.

“Yeah!” the disembodied voice shouted.

Professor Paleontologist whipped around “Who said that?”

“Oh, that’s just a disembodied voice that shouts ‘yeah!’ every so often. I’m not entirely sure where it came from. I don’t think one of my powers is to create a disembodied voice that shouts ‘yeah!’ every so often. But truly it can be difficult to keep track.”

(“Well, that’s certainly neat, but to answer my counterpart’s question, we’re an interdimensional force that defends arts and science from those who wish to destroy it.”) Parenthetical Guy said, thinking on his feet.

“Erm, yes, we defend ideas and creativity. There are a lot of people who would threaten those concepts that are integral to our society, and only Renaissance Men such as ourselves have what it takes to ensure their protection,” Professor Paleontologist said, speaking directly into the camera.

Suddenly the entire room rotated and Parenthetical Guy and Professor Paleontologist were flung to the floor once more.

“None of that explains why you’re here,” Power Jones said, he and the two Da Vincis were now standing on the wall which had previously been the floor.

Parenthetical Guy sprung to his feet, (“Why! We’ve come to recruit these two fine Da Vincis of course!”)

Professor Paleontologist groaned, it was clear to him that his partner was quickly losing track of what they were supposed to be doing.

(“We have just come from a reality where arts and sciences have been threatened by a foul knave who would see all knowledge and creativity erased so that he may rule over a dim and dull populace. We’re endeavoring to stop them, can I count on your help?”)

“Why of course! Provided I can figure out how to get down from this wall!” Leonardo Da Vinci shouted.

“Yeah sure, that sounds like it could be interesting,” Leonardo Da Vinci II said.

“Well that’s all well and good,” Professor Paleontologist said, trying to get the mission back on track, “Now Mr. Jones, if we could actually-”

“Well, it seems like you’ve gotten what you wanted, this has certainly been quite an interesting episode of ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ but I’ve grown tired from hosting so many guests. All of you leave my home immediately.”

“Wait but-”

(“Oh, shoot I forgot what we came here for.”)

Power Jones waved goodbye and just like that the two Da Vincis and the two superheroes were gone.

***

Curly was laying on his stomach on the top of an abandoned grocery store. A crudely constructed domino mask did a questionable job of concealing his identity and the leg of a large “K” — part of the sign displaying the store’s name “MOSTLY SNACKS”— concealed his body from any supervillain patrols. He scanned the street using a pair of high-tech binoculars that Hatman had given him. Supposedly they were twice as good as any binoculars that Glassesman had ever developed. Curly wasn’t totally convinced of that, seeing as how glasses were kind of the guy’s main thing, and what are binoculars if not fancy glasses, but Hatman had been very insistent about this fact.

Curly stopped when a truck, nearly identical to the one he and Hatman had stolen the night before, only with somehow even sloppier graffiti on it, ambled into his view.

{“All right boss, I’ve got one,”} Curly said into a communicator Hatman had loaned him.

“What did I say about speaking to me?” Hatman responded. He was still trying, and mostly failing, to intimidate Curly into falling in line.

{“Not to do so unless you spoke to me first. But you also told me to be on the lookout for more supply trucks and that kind of seems like the more important order.”}

Curly heard Hatman sigh dramatically “How many in the cab?” Hatman was a few blocks away, searching for trucks from a perch of his own.

{“Two. It looks like they’ve noticed the other truck is missing.”}

“It’s safe to assume there are more in the trailer then, Smuggles doesn’t want any more trucks to go missing.”

{“Sucks to be him.”}

“Indeed. Can you tell who they are?”

Curly upped the zoom on his binoculars while aiming it at the truck’s windshield.

{“It looks like… Dr. Deathtrap and… oh yeah, that’s Snipey McSkullface.”}

“You’re sure?”

{“He’s got a face tattoo, of a skull, he’s practically wearing a more visible nametag.”}

“Very well, keep tracking it but don’t engage until I get there.”

{“Sure thing Hats,”} Curly said before deciding to completely ignore the older hero. Curly removed his grappling hook from his old Hatboy utility belt, and after trying to figure out how to work it, cursed under his breath and threw it over his shoulder.

{“All right, I don’t need that. I’ll do this my way,”} Curly muttered to himself before running over to the edge of the roof and hurling himself over the side of it.

“What was that?” Hatman shouted.

{“Nothing!”} Curly shouted as he landed on the store’s awning and made the jump down to street level.

“What part of ‘don’t engage’ do you not understand?” Hatman shouted.

{“By the time you get here they could be long gone, or someone could get hurt. If you see a supervillain you’ve gotta stop a supervillain. We’ve got a poster that says that back in the office,”} Curly said as he removed some more implements from his utility belt: a crumpled piece of paper and a small length of string.

“You’re the someone who is going to get hurt if you try to stop the villains in the truck. You’re practically a civilian. No, you’re worse than a civilian. You’re a superhero-adjacent civilian, which means you’re definitely going to bite off more than you can chew.”

Curly patted his stomach with one hand and scooped up a good sized rock off the ground with the other, {“Never underestimate the amount that I can chew!”}

“I’m serious Curly, this isn’t the time for jokes.”

{“It’s always the time for jokes. We’ve got a poster that says that too.”}

Ahead of him Curly watched as the truck slowed to a stop at a red light.

{“Perfect, they’ve stopped for a red light.”}

“Why would a supervillain stop for a red light! It’s a trap Curly! Get out of there!”

***

“Why did we stop?” Dr. Deathtrap asked irately, this glorified babysitting job was far beneath him.

“Red light,” Snipey McSkullface said casually, this glorified babysitting job was right at his level of supervillainy.

“So what? We’re supervillains, in a world controlled by supervillains and the collected forces of evils, we don’t stop for reds. Keep moving.”

Snipey McSkullface shook his head, “The only people on the road are these supply trucks, and, like you said, all of those trucks are driven by supervillains who probably aren’t following any traffic laws or regulations. I run this red light, there’s a very good chance we get t-boned by another one of these trucks. With my luck, it’ll be one carrying nuclear warheads or killer hornets or something. So nuh-uh, we stop at reds.”

“You’re absurd,” Dr. Deathtrap growled at him.

Suddenly, a rock with a note tied to it smashed through the passenger side window and landed in Dr. Deathtrap’s lap.

“What the hell?” he said as he picked up the rock.

The light changed to green and Snipey McSkullface got the truck moving again.

“Could be it’s from Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy in the back. What’s it say?” Snipey asked.

“It says… ‘Dr. Deathtrap smells’. What!”

Snipey McSkullface burst out laughing. “Ha! They totally got you. And you do kind of smell. What’s the deal with that?”

“How dare you!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted as he scooped up the rock and smacked Snipey McSkullface in the side of the head with it causing Snipey to jerk the wheel sharply to the left.

“Hey!” Snipey McSkullface said as he tried to get the wheel under control.

“It’s enough of an insult that I have to ferry these goods for Smuggles of all people. But I will not broach insults about my personal hygiene!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted as he wrapped his hands around the steering wheel.

“Now, I obviously cannot construct one of my patented deathtraps under these conditions, but I can certainly turn this truck into one!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted before bursting into maniacal laughter as the truck careened out of control.

***

{“Holy cow that worked, like, immediately,”} Curly said as he took cover in a nearby alleyway as the supply truck jumped the curb and flipped over, spilling diamonds, guns, and out-of-season fruits all over the place.

“What did you do!” a gruff voice said from behind him as a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

Curly spun around, ready for a fight, only to find Hatman glowering at him from beneath his top hat cowl. When he saw the grim hero Curly burst into a wide smile and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

{“Pretty neat eh?”}

“We need to get all of these guns off the streets now, the last thing we need is a scared public getting into gun fights with supervillains,” Hatman said.

{“Fine fine, we’ll call it into the rest of the Resistance and somebody can pick all this stuff up. But for now we’d better check to make sure those baddies are down for the count.”}

Hatman nodded and quickly rattled off a series of instructions into his remaining gauntlet communicator. The two heroes then walked across the street to the overturned truck.

“Hatman!” a bombastic voice called from the wreckage.

“Leave this to me,” Hatman said as he removed a shrunken object from his utility belt. With a flick of his wrist he enlarged the object to full size and Curly could see that it was some sort of helmet with a short pike on top of it.

“A pickelhaube,” Hatman said as though that explained anything as he screwed the “helmet” over the top of his gauntlet, making it look like his hand had been replaced with the pike.

{“I don’t know what Parenthetical Guy told you but I assure you my pickle-”}

“It’s a 19th century Prussian military helmet,” Hatman said curtly as he readied himself for battle.

{“Ok but why do you have it and why is it on your hand?”}

“I see that today is more glorious than I ever could have imagined! Today is the day I will finally vanquish the accursed capped crusader!” a man cried as he emerged from the open trailer. Like Hatman, he too was decked out in strange and ancient looking armor, though his covered more than just his left hand, and the blade he was wielding was a fair bit larger than Hatman’s hand pike. Curly narrowed his eyes, while he had never met this particular villain, it was clear from his choice of weaponry that this was the notorious Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy. The How to Hero gang had spent a fair bit of time making fun of this guy, though now Curly wished they had instead spent that time talking about how best to best him in combat or at the very least how to avoid being skewed on his ruby encrusted sword.

Hatman didn’t waste any time with pre-battle banter or taunts, instead charging at the villain and aiming for his sword-hand with his battle pike. Curly winced as Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy blocked the blow with his sword and then kicked out at Hatman forcing him back a bit so that he could slash at the hero with his blade. Hatman parried the sword with his pickelhaube and jumped back out of the range of Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s ruby encrusted sword. Hatman unclipped his grapple gun from its holster and fired a line at the sword, attempting to snare it but Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy effortlessly slashed through the wire and charged at Hatman.

{“You can do it Hatman!”} Curly cried out {“I heard a rumor that those rubies are just plastic anyway!”}

Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy whipped his head toward Curly. “Who told you that?” he demanded. He was only distracted for a moment but it was enough for Hatman to press the advantage. He quickly slammed the butt of his bare palm into Ruby Encrusted Sword’s Guy nose, he then ducked low and swept the villain’s legs out from under him. Hatman then jabbed his pickelhaube into Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s chest, using the momentum from the fall to pierce the villain’s thick battle armor.

“Damn you!” Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy shouted as he swung his sword at Hatman. Hatman grabbed Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s sword hand with his hand, stopping the downward motion of it. He then aimed his Pickelhaube hand at the sword and, to both Curly’s and Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s surprise, launched the small helmet from the gauntlet. The helmet’s pike made contact with Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s hand, causing him to drop his sword, which Hatman then caught in his now free hand.

“Stand down. Now,” Hatman said as he pointed the villain’s own sword at the weak spot in his armor that Hatman had created.

{“Consider your villainous endeavors cut off at the knees,”} Curly grinned.

***

“How did you flip the truck?” Hatman asked when they were safely back in Hatman’s garage. Ultiman had sent Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man and a couple of other heroes to clean up the mess and round up the villains Hatman had left behind. Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man had also indicated that Ultiman would prefer if Hatman and Curly returned to the Haberdashery so they could better coordinate their actions with the rest of the Resistance. But Hatman had thrown a smoke bomb at the ground and whisked Curly away in the confusion.

{“Well Dr. Deathtrap helped. I just tossed a little note into the truck and he took it from there.”}

“What’d you say?” Hatman asked.

{“Dr. Deathtrap smells.”}

Hatman looked confused for a moment, but then realization and then a smile dawned on his features. “Of course, good thinking.”

Curly was shocked, {“What really? You like that?”}

Hatman began pacing back and forth, talking as much to himself as to Curly.

“Of course, of course. Somehow Smuggles has gotten all of these villains to work together, to work for him. But that kind of alliance can’t be especially strong, not with who these villains are. Not with the way all villains are. They’re arrogant, they’re loud, they’re antisocial.”

{“Every villain wants to rule the world,”} Curly muttered.

“Exactly!” Hatman shouted. “If we can just nudge them slightly towards infighting, they’ll take care of themselves. By the time Ultiman and the others are ready to mount an attack on Smuggles and his inner circle, we’ll have already destabilized the rest of his organization,” he abruptly turned towards Curly. “How many more insults do you think you can whip up? I can scatter them around in locations that I know these villains are patrolling regularly.”

Curly rubbed his hands together, {“Oh Hats, you don’t know it but you’ve just hit the jackpot. Most of what we did back at the office was make fun of these villains. You tell me who you want to insult, and I’ll help you hit them where it hurts.” }

Hatman smiled, “Excellent.”

***

“Well that was a huge waste of time,” Professor Paleontologist said as he patted himself down, making sure that all of him had made the transfer from The Cube back to Earth.

(“What are you talking about? Ultiman sent us to gather allies and we just scored not one, but two in one fell swoop!”)

“I don’t think a couple of time-displaced renaissance men is what Ultiman had in mind,” Professor Paleontologist snapped.

Leonardo Da Vinci raised his hand, “Pardon me, but what is it that you needed us for again?”

Professor Paleontologist turned to the artist, a sheepish expression on his face, “I’m afraid we may have misled you sir. We’re not versions of you from alternate realities, I’m a superhero, Professor Paleontologist, and he’s a… I don’t know, an intern? A court jester? I’ve been reading your blog for quite a bit and I’ve never quite figured out what your role actually is.”

Parenthetical Guy let out a loud, forced, laugh. (“Oh Iguanada Vinci how you slay me. This should clear everything up,”) he said as he handed out business cards to everybody.

“This just says that you’re an ‘expert on everything,’” Leonardo Da Vinci II said. “That doesn’t clear up anything.”

The android then took stock of their surroundings. They were standing in the anteroom of the Haberdashery and the walls were adorned with different hat-shaped gadgets and gizmos.

“Ah,” he said. “We’re in the possible past year of 2021, this is the Smuggles Event is it not?”

Professor Paleontologist didn’t exactly like the term “possible-past” but he was relieved that the android had saved him the trouble of trying to explain their situation. “Yes, that’s exactly right. We’ve been tasked with locating possible allies for an eventual assault on Smuggles’s stronghold.”

Leonardo Da Vinci II nodded, “You may count on my assistance in the coming battle. Smuggles must be defeated for my timeline to come about.”

Leonardo Da Vinci stared open mouthed at the three individuals in front of him and then at all of the machines adorning the walls around them. “This is… All of this is absolutely incredible. I’m not much of a warrior but if you let me examine some of these inventions I’ll happily help in any way I can.”

Parenthetical Guy folded his arms across his chest and smiled smugly at Professor Paleontologist, (“See! Mission accomplished, let’s never speak to each other again.”)

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes, “Before we call it a day I actually have an idea for where we can find even more help.”

(“You’re telling me right now to my face, in front of our staunchest allies no less, that you think we need more help than these two time-displaced Leonardo Da Vincis.”)

“Yes,” Professor Paleontologist said matter of factly as he began pacing back and forth. “Now, what I’m about to suggest is highly unusual, and entirely unprecedented, but there is a sizable group of powerful do gooders that we have yet to tap, and whom I believe would have been overlooked during Smuggles’s hostile takeover of the world.”

Parenthetical Guy rolled his eyes, (“And I’m supposed to believe you just forgot about them until now? Deus ex machina much?”)

“He’s not wrong, that does seem awfully convenient,” Da Vinci said, stroking his chin. He was now wearing a futuristic helmet labeled “The Hat-Helmet Mark 1”.

Professor Paleontologist held his hands up, “I would’ve mentioned them immediately but for the fact that it goes against every superhero protocol in the book. So when Parenthetical Guy said that he had some ideas I figured we’d leave mine as a last resort. But we’ve been at this for a while now and it’s pretty clear that I need to step in.”

(“So who are these perfect recruits?”)

“Are you familiar with the Superhero School in Albany?” Professor Paleontologist asked.

(“I’m familiar with the fact that they’re a subpar, overpriced superhero teaching institution. How to Hero covers everything those stuffed shirts do and so much more… And so much better!)

“Granted I don’t think the school offers a course in ‘what to do if a ‘which superhero are you’ quiz gives you an answer you weren’t expecting,’” Professor Paleontologist said flatly, “But they do have a sizable student body. Since your blog started enrollment has surged to record breaking levels.”

(“Hey that’s a more common problem than you’d think! Do you know how many superheroes have turned evil because they got, for example, you on one of those quizzes?”)

“So we’re going to… Albany was it?” Leonardo Da Vinci asked.

“Oh the school isn’t actually in Albany,” Professor Paleontologist said.

Parenthetical Guy looked up sharply, (“What? What are you talking about?”)

“It’s just called that to throw people off the scent. It’s actual location is one of the most closely guarded secrets in superherodom. That’s why I’m quite certain that Smuggles’s forces wouldn’t have been able to find it.”

(“Sounds like you’ve definitely endangered the people of Albany by calling it that but whatever,”) Parenthetical Guy muttered to himself parenthetically.

“So where is this academy then?” Da Vinci asked.

“It’s in-”

“It’s been moved since you last taught there Professor,” Da Vinci II suddenly piped up.

“Ah, I was worried about that,” Professor Paleontologist admitted.

(“Makes sense, they wouldn’t want you showing up there again.”)

“If I may,” Da Vinci II said, “In my time, the many locations of the school is a matter of historical record. I know where it is at this very moment, and I can use my personal warp gate to take us there without compromising the secrecy of its location.”

Professor Paleontologist beamed, “That’s perfect!”

(“See, my gets are already helping us save the world.”)

“If everyone could just gather close to me, we can be on our way in a…”

In a flash of light the unlikely quartet disappeared to parts unknown.

***

“According to the pattern I’ve detected, another shipment should be rolling through the city shortly. We should get back out there,” Hatman said, consulting a handheld electronic map of the city.

Curly looked up from his notes. He’d written devastating insults for just about every villain that was confirmed to be working with Smuggles. And he’d done like two and a half sit ups. He was readier than he’d ever been to fight more crime alongside Hatman.

{“Let’s do thi-”}

A sharp chirp drew both of their attention to the truck they’d hijacked from Jhonny McBarnburner.

“What was that? It sounded like-”

{“It’s your gauntlet,”} Curly said quickly.

Hatman narrowed his eyes, “My what?”

{“The gauntlet you threw away back in that alley where we first joined forces. I thought I could maybe reverse engineer it and develop some for myself. I’m a bit of a tech guy you know. I basically keep the blog running and all. I added a shuffle button to the interface. I’m sure you noticed that and so I figured, hey free gauntlet filled with all sorts of gizmos and doodads and whirli-”}

“Curly!” Hatman snapped. “I threw that gauntlet away because I believed it could be used by Smuggles’s forces to track my movements.”

{“Oof, wow. So it would’ve been really great if I hadn’t taken it out of that dumpster is what you’re saying.”}

Hatman snarled and then rushed over to the truck. He grabbed the gauntlet from the truck’s cab and looked at the message on the screen. As he read his scowl softened and he furrowed his brow.

“They know where you are. They’ll be there soon. Z VS PG them. Will be in touch again soon.”

“Curly, get in the truck. This location is compromised, they’ll be here any minute.”

As Curly trudged over to the truck, Hatman tossed him the gauntlet.

“And what do you make of this?”

Curly read the cryptic message and smiled. “Well, it looks like you’ve got yourself another mole.”

***

“We have arrived,” Da Vinci II announced.

They were standing in an open field, a large imposing building loomed in the distance.

Parenthetical Guy quickly took out his phone and opened the Snaphat app.

“What are you doing?” Professor Paleontologist hissed.

(“Looking for a geotag. Secret location my ass. I deserve to know where we are.”)

“I’m afraid that won’t work,” a gruff voice said from above them.

All of a sudden the quartet found themselves surrounded as dozens of brightly clad superhumans and para-folk descended from the sky. A cavalcade of glowing eyes, fists and weapons sent a clear message: Do anything we don’t like, and we’ll blast you straight to kingdom come.

“The Superhero School can’t be located by any form of technology, a combination of hexes and our own advanced tech sees to that,” an older man in a lab coat said as he descended on a floating metal platform. “Now why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”

(“Ok how about we chill with the attitude geezer. I’m here to save the world, which of you good for nothing recluses is in?”)

A look of disgust flashed across the older man’s features. “How dare-”

Professor Paleontologist cleared his throat and stepped in front of Parenthetical Guy. “I’ll take it from here.”

Immediately the atmosphere changed, the older man’s features softened and some of the others even powered down a smidge.

“Professor Von Iguanadon,” the older man said as he quickly walked over to Professor Paleontologist, causing Parenthetical Guy and the two Da Vincis to raise their fists, expecting a fight.

“It’s good to see you old friend!” the older man cried before giving Professor Paleontologist a hug.

“It’s good to see you too Professor Fueller,” Professor Paleontologist said, clapping the other professor on the back.

“What brings you back to the school?” Professor Mitch Fueller asked, and then, dropping his voice an octave, “And how did you find us?”

(“We used an android duplicate of Leonardo Da Vinci from the future to find you and teleport here. Isn’t that how everybody does it?”) Parenthetical Guy said smugly while the Da Vincis waved at the superheroes in training.

“And why did you bring him here,” Fueller said, not even trying to hide his disdain for Parenthetical Guy.

The How to Hero crew had long been a thorn in the side of the Superhero School’s faculty. Professor Fueller once estimated that the teachers spent roughly 80% of their class time reteaching topics and concepts that students had been misinformed about by How to Hero. He wasn’t sure what had brought Professor Paleontologist back to the Superhero School, but there were very few reasons Fueller could think of that would convince Leon to bring Parenthetical Guy of all people to the school’s hallowed grounds.

“I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t an emergency Mitch,” Professor Paleontologist said, explaining quickly. “Supervillains have taken over the world, and we’re going to need all hands on deck to take it back.”

A hush fell over the crowd, followed by an anxious murmur.

“Supervillains have taken over the world?”

“They need us? Where’s Hero Force?”

“Shit man, is that Leonardo Da Vinci?”

Fueller shuddered. The superhero school was, by design, cut off from all communications from the outside world. The idea was to keep students in the school until they were properly ready to go out into the world of superheroing. If the school and its students had access to news and was constantly being informed about supervillain attacks, alien invasions, and all manner of other crises, the odds were good that students would decide they were ready to help before they were, which could be catastrophic. So it was news to everybody that the world had gone down such a dark path without any of them being the wiser.

(“Listen up you wannabes!”) Parenthetical Guy shouted as he climbed atop a nearby boulder.

“Oh dear,” Professor Paleontologist said resignedly.

(“A guy named Smuggles has teamed up with every supervillain on the planet and also the forces of Hell and also Zeus I guess? The heroes barely have two stones to rub together to light a fire under our own asses. So we’re forced to come to you almosts and wouldbes. None of you are my first choice obviously. There’s no way any of you are even remotely ready for this, especially since you get your hero training from a hoity toity place like this instead of, I don’t know, my totally kickass blog. How to Hero look it up, tell your friends. But what I can say, we’re desperate, so here we are. Who’s in?”)

Da Vinci II buried his face in his robotic palm.

“Get down from there,” Fueller demanded before turning to his erstwhile colleague. “Is it true, are things so dire?”

Professor Paleontologist nodded, “Ultiman sent us looking for allies and we haven’t had much luck yet. You know I wouldn’t come to you if I could avoid it. Nobody more than me understands the importance of allowing the students to complete the full curriculum before they join the good fight. But we’re vastly outnumbered and quite frankly, out of options.”

Fueller sighed, he was going to have to break every rule in the handbook.

“All right then,” he pressed a button on his lapel that connected him to the schoolwide PA system. “Listen up everybody. This is Professor Fueller. We have just received word that the rest of the world is in dire trouble. The forces of evil have managed to prevail, at least for the moment. But as you all know, good can never be fully snuffed out. A resistance has formed, and that small force of good has reached out to us in search of help. I know this isn’t how things usually work here, but, well, the world usually isn’t taken over by supervillains overnight. So I’m calling upon each and every one of you, teacher and student alike, to join me, to join the forces of justice, in this fight. If you’ll join me, please come to the quad now.”

Fueller cut his connection to the PA and turned to Professor Paleontologist, “Many of them are not combat ready but we’ll help in any way we can.”

“I appreciate that old friend,” Professor Paleontologist said.

“Look!” Da Vinci shouted as he pointed towards the school.

Colorfully clad figures of all shapes and sizes were pouring out of the building and marching towards the small group already standing in the quad.

Professor Paleontoligst smiled and nudged Parenthetical Guy with his elbow, “How’s that for an army?”

Parenthetical Guy could barely suppress his grin, (“Whatever, I’m taking credit for it.”)

***

Hatman got the truck started and ready to move at the very same moment that the large metal door of the garage exploded.

“Hold on to something,” Hatman growled as he slammed on the gas causing the truck to barrel forward toward the smoking doorway.

A hail of gunfire caused Hatman and Curly to duck down in their seats. The windshield soon shattered, which caused Hatman to swear softly and place an arm protectively over Curly, but all the while the capped crusader kept his boot on the pedal and the truck kept, well, trucking.

Hatman heard several yelps and shouts as orange and red clad men with tommy guns dove out of the way of the speeding vehicle.

“That’s about enough Hatman!” a warbly, Italian accented voice shouted before the truck squelched to a halt.

“They’ve managed to hit the engine block,” Hatman observed as he slipped the compromised gauntlet onto his bare hand. He reasoned that there was no point in notit wearing it seeing as Smuggles people already had a pretty good idea of where they were. And he didn’t want to leave himself shorthanded for the fight that was no doubt about to occur.

{“Want me to insult them?”} Curly said as he stayed hunched over in his seat.

Hatman gritted his teeth as the gunmen approached the cab, “Knock yourself out.”

Curly flashed a toothy grin and a thumbs out before cupping his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn.

{“Excellent shooting boys, you really managed to incapacitate a 40 ton truck with just under 100 bullets. You lot must have graduated at the top of your class at henchmen school!”} he called.

Another message flashed across Hatman’s gauntlet.

“Curly, we need to move now,” Hatman said.

{“Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”} Curly said sarcastically as the cab doors were thrown open and the two heroes were dragged out of it. Hatman and Curly were both made to kneel on the ground while two of the henchmen bound their hands behind them. Curly steeled himself, trying to prepare for anything the next couple of minutes might throw at him. What he wasn’t prepared for though was a giant, mustachioed, lobster wearing a trench coat and a fedora with holes cut into it to accommodate the creature’s eyestalks.

“Ah Hatman it brings me great pleasure to be the one to finally end your reign of heroism and hat-themed nonsense!”

“Mobster,” Hatman spat.

Curly could barely believe his eyes, or his ears.

{“Wait a minute! You’re the Mobster, like, the lobster who runs a mob? You’re actually real? I thought that was just something we made up for the blog. I can’t believe this. You’re really a lobster! This is the happiest I’ve ever been. Wow.”}

The Mobster narrowed his eyes, “I see you’ve recruited yet another Hatboy, it will bring me great joy to kill this one and finally earn my ‘Murder a Hatboy’ badge at this year’s supervillain jamboree.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Hatman said and then spat at the Lobster’s feet.

“Why you insolent-”

Suddenly dozens of men in full combat gear rappelled down from the roofs of nearby

Buildings. A man wearing a cowl shaped like the head of a snake and wearing a black labcoat gesticulated wildly from one of the roofs as the combat gear clad men surrounded the Mobster, his mob, and Hatman and Curly.

“We’ve finally tracked you down Hatman! Prepare to meet your end at the hands of the Dr. Python and the Python Paramilitary!”

Hatman rolled his eyes, apparently Smuggles had shared their location with several of the crime bosses now under his employ.

“What are you doing here Python! This is my score!” the Mobster shouted, craning his segmented neck to get a better look at Dr. Python who was cackling like a madman.

At that same moment an armored truck pulled up, a horde of giant, gun-toting, lizards jumped out of the back of it.

“Hatman! We’re bringing you in to Smuggles for the glory of the lizard-people mob!” one of the lizards hissed/shouted.

“What! I am the only reptile themed villain who will defeat Hatman!” Dr. Python shouted.

“What?” the lizard shouted. With everybody milling around on the ground, it was getting difficult to hear Dr. Python up on the roof.

“Halt Hatman! Prepare to suffer the wrath of El Chad!” shouted a disheveled man riding atop a goat with the words “Property of How To Hero Don’t Frikkin Steal This One Chad I Mean It!” shaved into its fur.

Everybody, villain, hero, and henchman alike let out a loud groan. El Chad was the worst. Nobody was ever happy to see him.

“I’m flattered that Smuggles seems to think it will take four supervillains and their criminal organizations to bring me in but this is getting ridiculous,” Hatman said.

“Shut up!” the Mobster said snapping a meaty claw inches from Hatman’s face. “Do you, Hatman, surrender unconditionally to the Crime Consortium!”

“Never!” Hatman shouted.

{“We’d be happy to!”} Curly cheerfully announced at the same time.

“What?” Hatman said sharply, turning to look at his partner.

“What?” the assembled villains said, looking at each other in confusion. None of them had much experience with superheroes surrendering unconditionally to them.

{“I mean of course we’ll surrender to you guys. You beat us fair and square. It’s just that, and really this is such a small thing, Hatman and I are only going to unconditionally surrender to whomever is actually in charge here. I mean, you wouldn’t expect a top tier hero like Hatman to surrender to a henchman or some second stringer would you?”}

“No of course not, that’s fine. As leader of the Lob, the Lobster Mob, you will surrender to me then,” the Mobster announced proudly.

“Excuse me?” the three of the lizards said in unison. “Clearly the lizard mob will accept the surrender of these heroes.”

“What’s going on down there!” Dr. Python shouted. “Did he say that he would surrender to the Python Paramilitary?”

“Nah man, he said he’d only surrender to the head honcho which is of courses totes magotes, me, El Chad,” El Chad said proudly.

“You!” Dr Python shouted. “But you’re the worst!”

“How dare you!” El Chad shouted.

“How dare you!” the Mobster shouted. “Who even invited you to this!”

“One of your lobster boys tweeted about it!” El Chad shouted.

“That’s it!” Dr. Python shouted. “Python Paramilitary, show these goons who the real supervillain is!”

The combat gear clad men all pointed their guns at the other villains. Which caused the lizard-mob to launch into action, swiping and biting any Python soldier that got close to them. It wasn’t long before the Lob and El Chad and the two or three goats he had managed to swipe from How to Hero headquarters joined the fray.

{“That’s our cue to leave,”} Curly said as he slowly rose to his feet.

“Right behind you,” Hatman said as he superheated his gauntlets and melted the cuffs on his wrists.

Hatman undid Curly’s cuffs and the two of them ran away from the fight that was escalating in the street behind them.

“Hey you guys! You guys! They’re getting away!” Dr. Python shouted.

Unfortunately for them, the other villains were too busy fighting each other to hear him.

{“Where to? Back to the Hab?”} Curly asked when they were a safe distance away from the brawl.

“Not yet, another message came through right before we were attacked. It seems like Smuggles has given up on individual supply trucks manned by exploitable supervillains. There’s a huge unmanned train full of stuff coming through town soon.”

Curly nodded, {“Ok, so what do we do.”}

Hatman began walking in the direction of the city’s train tracks. “We stop them.”

***

“There it is,” Hatman said. Both he and Curly were perched on a rooftop overlooking a stretch of track that passed through Clifftown’s abandoned warehouse district.

{“I’m surprised we haven’t run into anymore villains on our way here,”} Curly mused. The duo had slowly made their way across the city. Dropping insulting notes with forged signatures of other supervillains in strategic locations so that the wandering squads of villains patrolling the city would eventually find them and succumb to infighting. But there didn’t seem to be any roving teams in this part of town.

“There are just about zero civilians living in this part of town. It’s mostly supervillain lairs honestly,” Hatman said. “There’s no reason for the villains to remain here now that they control everything else.”

{“Which makes it the perfect spot for us to make our move,”} Curly observed as he watched the train get closer.

“Exactly,” Hatman said as he checked his gear over once more. They were only going to get one shot at crippling Smuggles’ infrastructure. And Hatman wasn’t about to blow it. “You good to go?”

Curly patted his belt, they’d stocked up on explosives and other gear at one of the caches Hatman had hidden around the city. {“Oh yeah.”}

��Good, keep your beacon on at all costs. See you on the other side,” Hatman said before he dove off of the roof.

{“See you soon,”} Curly said as he unclipped his grappling gun and fired it at the train. {“If we survive.”}

Hatman hurtled toward the moving train at increasing speeds, grinning as he hurled a blocky and powerful magnet at the train’s roof. The magnet instantly connected to the roof and Hatman clicked his heels and wrists together, activating the internal magnets in each of them. The magnet on the train’s roof drew the magnets in Hatman’s appendages to it, ensuring that the falling Hatman kept pace with the moving train. Then, right before he connected with the speeding train’s roof and ended up becoming little more than a superheroic splat, Hatman reversed the polarity of the magnets in his costume. Which, when reacting with the large magnet on the train’s hull, dramatically slowed Hatman’s descent. Allowing him to land softly next to the magnet. After remagnetizing his boots to avoid falling off of the train, Hatman superheated his gauntlet and melted a hole in the train’s hull, which allowed him to breach the train’s exterior. Hatman jumped through the hole he’d burned and landed deftly inside the train. Checking his beacon, he was able to see that Curly had managed to breach the train’s caboose, as planned.

Hatman took stock of his own surroundings. The car he was in was filled with all manner of powerful weapons. Hatman shuddered at the thought of Smuggles and his Consortium getting their villainous hands on all of this firepower. He quickly removed an explosive from his belt and moved to attach it to the train’s wall.

“Ah ah Hatman. You’re not going to destroy this shipment,” a cold robotic voice taunted.

Hatman steeled himself for another fight. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter.”

The wall closest to Hatman lit up. It’s a screen, Hatman observed. A cruel looking face flashed across it.

“Regardless Hatman, this is where your campaign comes to an end.”

“Nemesystem,” Hatman said, recognizing the voice. “You’re controlling the train.”

“Not just the train,” Nemesystem said, and the face projected on the wall winked at Hatman. Suddenly several of the weapons surrounding Hatman whirred to life and, floating up from their perches, aimed themselves at Hatman.

Hatman took stock of his situation. He was in a confined space with several weapons pointing at him, with both the space and the weapons being controlled and operated by an enemy that Hatman couldn’t physically overpower or subdue. Not a great situation, but he’d gotten out of worse. Nemesystem being in control of the train certainly complicated things though. Hatman had to hope that he could keep the evil AI occupied until Curly could set his explosives. Hatman moved quickly. He dropped half a dozen smoke bombs at his feet while affixing an oxygen mask from his belt onto his exposed mouth and nose. As the room filled with smoke, Hatman jumped up, grabbing onto a floating sniper rifle. He used the rifle to swing himself further upward as several of the weapons discharged, sending a hail of bullets every which way while Nemesystem tried to pinpoint Hatman’s location. Hatman knew that wouldn’t take the system long. The smoke was merely a temporary diversion for a being who didn’t actually have any eyes with which to see. As soon as Nemesystem was able to switch to infared or night vision Hatman would be in trouble again. He continued using different floating weapons as rungs to get him higher and higher until he could reach the car’s ceiling. Once he did he superheated his gauntlets and burned a circle in the ceiling, which caused a segment of it to fall to the floor. In an instant all of the weapons, including the floating alien plasma blaster Hatman was hanging onto fell to the floor. Converging on the fallen chunk of ceiling, which just so happened to have Hatman’s super magnet still stuck to it. Hatman once again activated the magnets in his boots and gauntlets, and, reversing the polarity once more, used the magnet to launch himself out of the weapons car into the next one down.

“Very clever, Hatman,” Nemesystem taunted, as the walls in this next car flashed to life, displaying Nemesystem’s digital visage on them as well.’

“Thanks,” Hatman grunted as he removed an explosive from his belt and allowed it to be sucked into the weapon’s car by the magnet. This car was filled with various treasures, and valuables. No tech, which meant there was nothing for Nemesystem to take control of. Hatman smirked and removed another explosive from his belt.

“You are far too smug,” Nemesystem said as several large guns and cannons emerged from the ceiling walls and floor of the train car.

Hatman ignored him, arming the explosive and letting it fall to the ground.

“These weapons are anti-ferrous, so your little magnet trick won’t work again. You see, for every time you thwart me I grow smarter. I learn your strategies and plans and reconfigure this train to combat them.”

“You don’t say,” Hatman said, tensing his leg muscles and taking stock of the crates of valuables that surrounded him.

A hail of laser fire emitted from the various cannons. Hatman expertly dodged them and then sprung at a nearby crate, quickly ripping the lid off of it and knocking it over, causing hundreds of diamonds to spill out onto the floor.

“Your fanciful acrobatics will not keep you alive for long,” Nemesystem said as the cannons recharged for another volley.

“Yeah, that’s clear to me,” Hatman said as he scooped up a handful of the precious stones. “Crystal clear.”

The cannons let off another round of laser fire and Hatman expertly hurled the diamonds at one of the turrets. The diamonds caused the laser fire to be refracted in multiple directions, overloading the other cannons. Hatman didn’t stick around for the show, he wrenched the door to the next car open and dove through it.

The next car, the last of the three Hatman was supposed to deal with was filled with combat drones of every make and model. Each of their faces had been replaced with the Nemesystem’s who grinned evilly at the hero. Hatman looked at his gauntlet, which displayed a countdown that was synched to those of the bombs he and Curly were planting. He only had about a minute left before this train went, and he and Curly needed to link up and throw themselves clear before then. That didn’t leave a ton of time for Hatman to deal with these robots. Hatman shrugged, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

“What hat-shaped gadget will you deploy to deal with this problem Hatman?” Nemesystem taunted. “Remind me, do you humans have a hat that can wipe out one hundred and nineteen state of the art combat drones?”

Hatman didn’t waste any time responding; he simply removed a collapsible umbrella hat from his belt and opened it up to its full size. The “hat” was actually a brightly colored shield that Hatman could safely hide behind while he developed some sort of plan. All at once, the drones opened fire on the umbrella which absorbed and disperred the laser fire. Hatman backed up against a wall, cursing himself for not saving any of the diamonds from the last car. He felt the wall behind him and pressed his back flat against it, allowing the metal tips at the edges of the umbrella canopy to dig into the wall, essentially sealing Hatman in a laser proof dome.

“Curly come in!” Hatman shouted into his gauntlet.

Nothing but static came through the speaker. Hatman feared the worst, Nemesystem must have already gotten to Curly. Another Hatboy lost he thought glumly. Then he shrugged it off. If Curly was taken out then that meant Hatman needed to take out his cars in addition to this last one. It also meant he couldn’t afford to dawdle in this dome while the front half of the train exploded around him.

“Nowhere to run Hatman, I wonder, will you scream as I tear you apart limb from limb. Human screams fascinate me. Machines can’t seem to synthesize any sound that is quite as delicious.”

Hatman shuddered, he wasn’t going to give this cruel computer an ounce of satisfaction. Hatman shoved the umbrella forward, disconnecting it from the wall and barreled into the first wave of drones that had been attempting to breach his shield.

A crude, electronic attempt at a maniacal laugh crackled from speakers embedded all over the train car as the Nemesystem’s drones aimed their various onboard weapons at the hatted hero. Hatman raised his superheated fists, planning to simply punch his way through the robotic horde when suddenly the laughter cut out abruptly and the drones immediately clattered to the ground.

{“If you’re done messing around in here, it’s just about time to go,”} Curly said as he stood triumphantly over the fallen robots.

“Curly? How?” Hatman said at a loss for words.

Curly held up a slim silver device with the letters “HTH” carved into them. {“Standard issue How to Hero technology neutralizer. We all got them, after Dr. Brainwave accidentally brought all of the appliances to life and Parenthetical Guy almost got killed by the blender.”}

Hatman was at a loss for words. “What?”

{“It’s short range only, and it’s not very powerful. So while it can’t stop the train I’ve been able to keep Nemesystem from entering any of the cars I’ve been in. But we really need to jump, like now.”}

Hatman nodded and positioned himself at the far wall of the train car. “Turn that thing off… now!”

Curly quickly switched off the tech neutralizer and the drones started coming back to life. Hatman threw his last bomb into the crowd of drones and then melted a hole in the side of the train.

“Let’s move!” he shouted as Curly ran toward him and they both jumped out of the train.

They’d timed the operation so they’d leave the train as it was passing over the Clifftown bay. Of course, the bay was still frozen thanks to Friar Frostbite. Apparently Smuggles hadn’t seen it fit to undo this during his tenure. That was all well and good though, because, as expected an aviator-cap shaped jet was hovering right outside the train, waiting to catch the two heroes.

Only it didn’t swoop in and catch them. Hatman saw Curly’s eyes widen in fear. iOf course, Hatman thought. The neutralizer disabled our beacons. The plane’s onboard guidance system can’t find us.

Hatman and Curly locked eyes and then unclipped their grappling guns and fired them both at the plane as the train exploded in the distance.

***

{“So we each hooked onto one of the plane’s wings and it flew us away as the train exploded like: BOOM! KABLOW! ZAMMO!”}

(“Dude I cannot believe you got to fight villains and hang out with Hatman while I was stuck with friggin Jurassic Dork.”)

They were both sitting in the entrance hall of the Haberdashery, Ultiman had whisked Professor Paleontologist and Hatman into a closed door meeting so they could debrief him without the constant interruptions and interjections of the two bloggers. The new recruits from the Superhero School, along with the two Da Vincis, were off mingling with the other Resistance heroes.

{“What can I say, I’ve always been more of a fighter than you,”} Curly said.

(“Oh yeah? Well we’ll see how good of a fighter you are when I put you on mutant alligator feeding duty when we take back our office.”)

Curly started to retort but then he remembered something. {“We have someone on the inside!”} he blurted.

Parenthetical Guy was surprised (“What? Who?”)

Curly explained about the cryptic messages he and Hatman had received, {“He told me to ‘play Z VS PG’. That’s ‘Zach versus Parenthetical Guy’ it’s a game we play back at the office where we get the two of you to fight over who’s the real boss of How To Hero.”}

(“What, that’s a stupid game. It’s obviously me!”)

Curly gave him a look.

(“Oh… Oh! You think it might be Zach? You think he’s infiltrated the bad guys? Does that mean he’s ok?”)

Neither of them had heard from Zach since Smuggles had freed Chuck the Fish Whisperer and launched his villainous campaign against the world. Curly was starting to really worry about him and though they had never discussed it, Curly knew Parenthetical Guy was too.

{“I mean it could be! He’s still unaccounted for. He could have gotten away from Chuck and hidden out until he could embed himself in the Consortium and now he’s sending Hatman messages.”}

Parenthetical Guy scratched his goatee, (“I mean, it could b-”)

A heavy knock at the door drew them from their conversation. They both looked at each other in shock. Nobody was supposed to know this place existed. They looked around, they were the only people in the entrance hall.

The person on the other side of the door knocked again.

(“Do we get it?”)

{“What if it’s a trap?”}

Ultiman, Hatman, and Professor Paleontologist burst out of the room where they were conducting their meeting and hurried to the door. As though they’d rehearsed it, Hatman and Professor Paleontologist pressed themselves up against either side of the door. Hatman had his hand on his belt, ready to unsheath some sort of gadget. Professor Paleontologist put a hand to his amulet. Ultiman glanced over his shoulder at Curly and Parenthetical Guy.

“Be ready for anything,” he said curtly, before opening the door. “Oh?”

Waiting for him outside was a veritable mob. But it didn’t seem to be the angry kind. Dozens of regular humans, along with all manner of sewer-mutants, werewolves, and vampires were gathered on Hatman’s stoop. Standing at their head was a large mud monster with glasses and a disheveled man in a rumpled suit wielding a swordfish.

Parenthetical Guy peeked his head around Ultiman and eyed the crowd, (“Lawyer Guy?”)

The disheveled man nodded [“The civilian brigade is reporting for duty. Can we come in?”]

***

A Secure Location

“Attention prisoners, mandatory recreation time ends in ten minutes,” an electronic voice chirped.

The collected superheroes groaned. Recreation time wasn’t very fun, but it was the only time they were allowed out of their cells. Today’s activity was called “supervillain charades.” It was like regular charades, but you were only allowed to mime various crimes. The activity was overseen by Giorgio the Evil Mime and he was very strict. A tall, well-built man, strode onto the stage. A cowboy hat rested upon his head and was angled such that the top half of his face was shrouded in shadow. He had black nail polish on his fingers and a tattoo of himself riding a skateboard while playing an electric guitar on his left bicep. His name was Cowboy Rockstar and he’d had just about enough of Giorgio, Smuggles, and the whole lot of villains who had imprisoned him and so many of his superhero compatriots. He lifted his hat, revealing piercing blue eyes and made direct eye contact with another prisoner, a far less muscular man with a raggedy beard and glasses. Unlike the other heroes in the room, who had all been given garish supervillainish costumes to wear while in prison, this prisoner was clad in regular street clothes. A hoodie and jeans. He wasn’t forced to dress like a supervillain because he was not a superhero, and so the Consortium saw little value in trying to turn him into a villain. Which wasn’t to say that he wasn’t a valuable prisoner. Smuggles saw plenty of value in keeping him locked up. And Cowboy Rockstar saw plenty of value in teaming up with him.

Giorgio waved his arms frantically, signaling to Cowboy Rockstar that he’d better get started if he wanted to get his charade in before it was time for the heroes to be herded back into their individual cells.

Cowboy Rockstar kept his eyes locked on the prisoner in the hoodie and began his charade. He held up two fingers. Two words. He then held up one finger. First word. He squatted against the wall. Chairs, and other props, were wholly out of the question but Giorgio allowed use of the wall, the stage, and any other element of the space the heroes could think to use. With his back flat against the wall he lifted up his right foot and made like he was pressing on something with it.

Various heroes shouted out guesses.

“Tapping!”

“Foot!”

“Kicking!”

“Brake,” the man in the hoodie muttered.

Cowboy Rockstar nodded and then held up two fingers. Second word. He then mimed opening a door and stepping through it.

“Door! Breaking down a door… of a bank!”

“Open! Break open! Breaking open someone’s… skull?”

Cowboy Rockstar shrugged and touched his nose, signalling that Rockblock had gotten it and causing the giant rock monster to whoop in delight. Cowboy Rockstar winked at the prisoner in the hoodie, who had understood what the hero was really getting at. The prisoner in the hoodie smiled faintly. Cowboy Rockstar was planning a break out, and he wanted Zach, self-proclaimed expert of all things superheroes, to help him do it.

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