#I feel so bad for my main commander someone please hold him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aplaceinthedark · 27 days ago

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ANYTHING > HUMAN

Summary: A friend calls on Noah to say goodbye

Word Count: 15.8k

CW: Main content warnings: Supernatural themes, Loss of parental figure/guardian, gun/weapon violence, mild mind-control, brainwashing, kidnapping, racism, Enemies to lovers to Enemies, Mind Fuckery (unreliable Narrator), attempted drowning, Bad People getting Thanos- Snapped, body disfiguration (third-degree? burns) House Fire, Character Death, Graphic Depiction of an Autopsy. Sexual content Warnings: Oral (Fem receiving), teasing, fingering, implied squirting, implied overstimulation, intentional marking (Noah likes to leave mementos), size kink if you squint, Protected PnV, Unprotected PnV, a position might be anatomically incorrect.

A/N: This is RPF, and thus contains real people, but events have been changed. Other than the Bad Omens crew, names and looks have been charged, and any likeness to actual real people is coincidental. I do not write real people's trauma in my fanfiction. If this does not sit well with you, then please press the back button and leave in peace.

Dividers by @astrumaur and @saradika-graphics

THREAT ENTITY DATABASE ENTRY

THREAT ID: P K LTE-2995-CHESHIREMORPH-PURPLE “ANYTHING > HUMAN”

AUTHORIZED RESPONSE LEVEL: 1 (Minimal Threat) 5 (Immediate Threat) N/A (Liquidated, File Archived)

DESCRIPTION: Subject was a Caucasian female approximately twenty-six (26) years of age and a Type Purple (Subtype Phase IV) Threat Entity. Subject once worked for the Universal Paranatural Alliance as a Security Level 4 PSYCHE Researcher for the Department of Ontokinetics.

LIQUIDATION PROCEDURES: Due to Concealment concerns, liquidation authorization at Response Level 5 was given on 8/14/24. Subject evaded all strike task forces for three months.

On 10/31/24, subject broke into ATT-5292-Templum-Alexandria. Director of Site Security and Strike Task Forces, Colonel Sumerian, signed off on a one man mission to eliminate the target, sending in STF Theta-777 Team Commander Agent SAMHAIN.

Subject successfully liquidated on 10/31/24 by Agent SAMHAIN.

>CONTINUE?

I dream in Hell and wake up screaming, wishing that I was someone else…

He twists and bucks against the hand that holds him under the water that devours him. He knows it isn’t really water, that it’s something much worse, but right now, that’s all it feels like. It’s something worse than the hoarfrost that coats his being. He normally enjoys the cold when he can wrap up in hoodies and blankets, but when he’s as naked as the day he was born, the cold isn’t very enjoyable. And this cold…

There’s no warmth that could banish this cold away.

The Empty, he had heard them call it. It didn’t feel empty. The… Not-Water pressed against his skin. There was no beginning, no end. Just… Not-Water. Normally he would have a better idea as to what he could describe what he was drowning in, but the cold and lack of oxygen was depriving his brain of any function other than live.

His lungs finally give up the fight and he gasps for air, but instead gets a mouthful of the Not-Water. Now he can finally think of a better descriptor for it: the Burning. Because the Burning spreads through his body like lava, slow and painful and unbearably hot, and it’s so heavy that it weighs him down, so he sinks into forever.

The Burning spreads through his veins, boiling the blood in them until it evaporates. He opens his mouth to scream in agony, but the vacuum of the realm steals the sound from his lungs. Any air he had left escapes in the bubbles that leave his mouth, and more Burning enters his lungs this time, collapsing them with a familiarity that he knows all too well.

He thrashes in the darkness, not content to die like this. He seeks out the entity that had pushed and held him under the surface so he can seek retribution; so he can grab a hold of them and either pull himself out or pull them in to suffer with him. Except there’s no hand to bite. It’s just nothingness above him; nothingness below him, nothingness around him. He’s all alone.

Only a single thought crosses his mind; Was this how she felt?

And that crystallizing clear thought finally makes him panic.

Noah opens his mouth to scream again, his body wrenching upwards hard enough that he feels like he might’ve pulled a muscle in his stomach. This time the sound travels. He opens his eyes and frantically casts his gaze around.

He’s no longer in the Empty. He’s in his home in Cooper’s Rock. And like the past several months, he’s alone.

He takes in a long, shaky breath that is thankfully free of liquid, but the air still burns as it goes down his raw throat. He collapses back onto his bed, cursing and rubbing his face. He must’ve been screaming or something like that in his sleep again.

Again. He’s had this nightmare for several months now. And it’s starting to drive him insane.

He’s startled when his phone rings, splitting the silence with its shrill tone. He kicks at the sweat-soaked sheets that are tangled and twisted around his naked legs, gives up when he only manages to get them down to his ankles. He grabs his phone and presses it to his ear.

Though he knows what the phone call has to be about when he sees the caller ID, he still snaps. “What?!” Like the caller had woken him up from a deep sleep. As if that were possible for him these days.

“There’s been a breach at the Site.”

Noah sighs at the tone of the Director Site Security’s voice. His nightmare is still haunting him when he asks, “It’s her, isn’t it?” with no preamble.

“I don’t know what manner of—”

His grip on the phone tightens as well as his free hand in the sheets. “You wouldn’t be calling me at three in the morning if it wasn’t her,” Noah snaps. He then lets out the tension that has formed in the past minute. It comes out as a huff. “Me and the team will be there in fifteen.”

“Make it ten.” The line goes dead.

Time to go to work.

Noah Sebastian does not take threats quietly. The last time he did, the man he called father was killed in the explosion that took his house. Since then, Noah jumped feet first into every Threat Engagement he was assigned to. He would not – could not – lose another loved one.

But he had never prepared to face the fact that a loved one might become one of those Threat Engagements.

The night shift had her confined to one wing of the library on Level 3 of the Site. The only reason they hadn’t completely rounded her up was due to the shield of ultraviolet light that encompassed her and a small section of the shelves. Any who attempted to breach the light was met with a harsh heat that melted through their Titan-Kevlar gloves. She wouldn’t take the shield down until they met her one demand.

And of course, her one demand was Noah.

What felt like the entire Site’s crew of Task Forces was on that level, and they all part like the sea when he passes through. He can feel their eyes on him as he’s briefed. He rolls his eyes before lighting his hand and letting it hover close to the blue-violet light. “It’s me,” he calls out. “I’m here, like you asked.”

The light flickers in acknowledgement, and he presses his hand to the shield. It goes right through. He peers behind him one last time at his partner. Nicholas nods. Noah then turns back around, putting his helmet on, and walks through the shield.

Noah unholsters his service pistol and loads it with FUSCHIA-grade bullets. Normally, he liked to have his long-range rifle, but it would be useless coming face to face with her. Just in case, he had strapped his katana to his back.

This place had always been peaceful for him, despite being in the middle of Site-6. He tries to think of a plan on how to take this Threat Entity out, but all he could think about was the irony of ending it where it all began.

Noah finally finds her pacing back and forth in front of a shelf. He holds up his pistol and flicks the safety off. The sound causes her to halt, her back facing him.

“Turn around. Slowly,” he says. The figure holds up her hands, almost as in a surrender gesture, as she slowly turns around.

“Hello, Noah.”

“Hey, Mab,” he says, exhaling her name.

He catches a flash of light in her eyes, but before she could open her mouth, he fires a warning shot. It doesn’t even graze her shoulder, but she doesn’t react. She didn’t even attempt to stop it, either by catching it mid-air or stopping it dead in its tracks. She probably doesn’t even think he has it in him to kill her.

She was wrong.

“It’s been a while,” Mab says softly.

Noah gives her a quick glance over. She’s wearing the black tactical dress uniform he last saw her in; a uniform similar to what he was currently wearing. The knee-high boots, fitted pants, and tac vest over a long-sleeve turtleneck doesn’t hide that she seems to be thinner than last time. Her bright red hair pulled into a bun does nothing but accent the shadows under her eyes. She doesn’t look nearly as bad as how she looked back when they first met, but it was close.

If he could take a gamble on what she was going through, it was that she was as tired as he was. Not physically tired; Type Purples never got tired like that. She had to be mentally exhausted; tired of playing the game.

Maybe Noah could be the one to end it for her.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his pistol never lowering.

“I wanted to see you,” she says.

Internally, he rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just come over to the house if that’s all you wanted. You know, say hello to your old teammates? I’m pretty sure the cats miss you, too.”

He’s certain that the reason she hasn’t tried to show her face near their place, or Cooper’s Rock for that matter, was because of the uncertainty whether they might turn her in or not. And she has to know that he would do it in a heartbeat for what she did.

She makes a sound that confirms his theory. “Fine. Since you have me so well figured out, I came here to steal—”

“So what? You just decided to rejoin your old friends after what they did to you? Or are you starting a new cult since you killed the old one?” he asks bitterly.

Mab looks at him with outrage clearly written across her face. “I’m not stealing a book on behalf of that horrendous Serpent,” she hisses.

“Yeah, right. You really think the UPA would keep the Book of the Black in here? In an unrestricted section?’ Noah asks. Mab looks at him, shocked. “Oh, I know that’s what you would be looking for. It probably has Admin-level clearance after everything that went down.”

“Samhain, what’s your status?”

Matt’s voice in his commset was a welcome relief. He was probably worried about the sound of the gunshot.

Noah subvocalized back, “Crystal clear. Code Wraith.”

Matt’s answer was two small light-blips in the corner of Noah’s visor, and the small camera symbol designating that his helmet camera was broadcasting video feed to the higher-ups vanished. They’d be scrambling to turn it back on, which means he had ten minutes alone with Mab with no UPA hovering over the two of them.

He lowers his gun fully. Mab’s facial expression doesn't change, even as he lifts an empty, gloved hand out to her. “Come on, Firefly. It’s time to come home.”

The nickname only temporarily takes her off guard. Her eyes flick down to his outstretched hand and then back up to his visor. “It stopped being my home a while ago. We both know that.”

“Just… please, Mab. We can work something out if you would just turn yourself—”

“Turn myself into the people who want me dead?” she asks incredulously. “You and I both know that if I walk out of here with you, I’ll end up dead. Or worse, in a containment cell at the bottom of Site-1 with that thing for the rest of my life.”

I’m just trying to make this easier on you, Noah thinks as she takes in a deep breath to calm herself. He can hear the shake of it as she exhales, which makes him realize how close they are. A small part of him wishes he could comfort her like he used to, but he squashes the feeling immediately.

“Besides, I’m here to do the opposite.”

Noah lowers his hand. “What do you mean?”

“Noah, I can’t hide in Cooper’s Rock anymore. There’s only so much of the bubble left for the Spooks to comb over. I… I can’t stay,” she says, choking on the last word. Unlike him, she could never hide her emotions. Especially with him around.

“You were hiding in Cooper’s Rock this whole time? Where?” he asks. Her lips thin, but he continues. “They’re not watching. It’s just us, okay?’ Matt will delete the local storage before anyone can see this.”

“I don’t buy that for a second. And there’s others I need to protect,” she says.

His composure finally snaps at that. “Oh, you’ll protect your new buddies, but you won’t stay and protect us? Your family?” he shouts. He should keep his voice low, but his anger gets the best of him.

“What did the UPA tell you? That I killed all those people? That I went back to the Cult of Orobos after everything they did to me?” she asks. “The UPA went after me, Noah. They saw me as too much of a threat after I got shoved into the Empty. They were the ones who killed all those people in an attempt to kill me!”

Noah steels himself in case she goes Phase IV. “The UPA didn’t do that. Don’t try to manipulate me.”

Her face falls. “Really? You’ll believe them, but not me?’

“What does the UPA need to put the blame on you? Why would they lie?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The organization that has a history of lying to cover-up anomalies might be lying to cover up this anomaly?” she points at herself.

“Seriously, Mab? What are you trying to accomplish here? You wanted to see me; here I am.” He spreads his arms wide.

Hurt flashes across her face as her eyes flick between him and the area. “I’m not really seeing you,” she states. “Can’t you just take off your helmet?”

He knows he shouldn’t give in to her demands. The helmet was the only thing standing between her and him, the only thing stopping her from killing him instantly. He’s seen her do it, go into peoples’ minds and flick their light switch off. She might still love him, but what was stopping her from saving her own skin?

But he lets her get close to him. From this short distance, he can really see how hard the past several months have treated her. Her lilac-colored eyes don’t seem as bright as they used to be. Her skin seems pallid and sunken in. She really seems to be a shadow of her former self.

Her hands reach up and unbuckle the chin strap, and she lifts up the helmet. When it’s finally off his head, she lets it drop to the ground. He hears it hit with a dull thud as well as a crack as the visor breaks. Her fingers are soft against his skin as she pulls the cloth mask down to expose his face fully.

Steady…

Mab’s eyes scan Noah’s face, as if she was slowly memorizing his features one last time. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes shine with unshed tears, and he hates how he can’t say that his aren’t the same. Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and he can’t help the flutter of his eyelids before they close. He admits to himself that he missed her touch.

Steady…

“I’m so sorry.”

At those words, his eyes snap open. He sees her eyes flash. He can barely get out a shout before he’s blinded by a sharp stab of pain to the front of his brain, and his vision goes dark as his head fills with static.

The static leaves me in a catatonic peace. I want to finally sleep now.

She’s so thin.

That was the first thing Noah thought of when he could see all of her, which of course wasn’t a whole lot. And she’s tiny as well, probably a foot shorter than him. He couldn’t really tell all of this when she was up so high on the bookshelf.

He and Nicholas had heard a noise several minutes ago, and after losing a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, Noah had to go check. He had almost missed her at first, until he had the sense to look up. And there she was.

“Having fun up there?” he asked.

He knew he startled her. What he didn’t expect was that he did it so well that she would slip. He rushed to catch her. He was right; she did weigh nothing in his arms.

Then she opened her eyes.

Noah had been trained to not show emotions on the field, and he was glad of that. Because she had purple eyes. He was currently holding a Type Purple Threat Entity in his arms and for some reason, he wasn’t dead.

Yet.

“Hi, princess,” he said.

His words seemed to snap her out of her stupor, and she started trying to escape. He tried to maintain a tight grip on her, but it was like trying to grab water; she seemed to be able to slip out of his grasp every time he thought he had a sound hold on her.

It wasn’t until he had wrestled her to the ground, pinning her down with his full body weight, did he get his first real look at her. Besides her frail stature, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, nor cleaned herself in as long. Her violet eyes seemed to swim with tears.

“Lemme go!” she hissed with a hint of fear lacing her words.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna let someone who’s broken into a secure facility g—”

That’s when the strangeness happened. The room seemed to darken around them, like the edges of his vision were going black. He thought he was about to pass out until the darkness almost… consumed her. Then it just… slipped out of his hands. She materialized a few feet away from him, the light coming back to him.

Luckily, he was still wearing his helmet, otherwise the girl would’ve seen his jaw drop. They both stared at each other in shock for a few seconds; he could’ve sworn that she was just as shocked as he was. But she recovered faster than he did, and she darted off with a swish of her long, red hair.

“Hey!” Noah yelped, getting to his feet and running after her. He wasn’t fast enough though, and as quickly as she appeared in his life, she disappeared.

But it certainly wasn’t the last time he saw her.

The next time was six months later, and it pretty much started and ended the same. He was just getting off duty and was handing security over to the next shift. Clocking in these long hours was rough, but if he wanted to be a part of his own task force, he had to do them.

Just as he was ready to go to the Site barracks and take a nap, he turned the corner around a bookshelf and saw her.

He learned his lesson from last time, though. He was unaware that he was behind her, so he snuck up on her. He threw one hand over her mouth, stifling her scream in his glove, and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He hauled her up, kicking and flailing, until he stumbled to an unoccupied room.

In the dim lighting, her eyes almost seemed to glow. He panicked for a second, because he had forgotten that she was a reality-bender and that she could probably warp him out of existence. But when that same light in her eyes died out, he realized something else.

She’s wasting away.

He felt something close to remorse for her, which is a really bad thing. There’s a reason why Type Purple Threat Anomalies are nicknamed Type Violent by Special GRAVE Agents.

Never talk to the target. Never look them in the eye. Never do anything that will allow yourself to humanize them. When the time comes to make the kill, you must be direct, forceful, and without mercy. Don’t do anything that will make that harder.

Except this anomaly seems like the polar opposite. She barely looks like she could hold herself up without collapsing.

He offered her an olive branch; a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, courtesy of his roommate. And despite the fact that she’s trapped in a room with someone who could most likely kill her or hand her over to authorities that could, she takes it.

“So, do you have a name?” Noah asked.

“Mab,” she answered, mouth still full.

Just Mab. It wasn’t even her real name. She couldn’t remember her life before five years ago; only flashes of a fire. She was brought to the Grey Library to recuperate, and in exchange for saving her life, she became an indentured servant to the Cult of Orobos. Their leader’s orders were the reason she was stealing from the Site-6 library.

Noah had had his own run-ins with the Cult, none of them pleasant. He knows they’re responsible for the death of his guardian when he was only fifteen. The UPA had standing orders to shoot them on sight. So that meant he’d violated two shoot-on-sight orders.

After the small interrogation, he offered to keep her in Cooper’s Rock, to save her from essentially killing herself to keep her “masters” happy. But the Cult has their claws too deep in her. Neither of them leaves that storage closet satisfied.

“Guess no more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for you,” Noah said, turning away from Mab.

He hadn’t even taken two steps when he was hit in the back of the head with something so hard, it knocked his helmet off. He whipped around, fury spitting from between his teeth. Her eyes met his, wide from shock and fear, and she turned and darted off. He looked down at the projectile.

A fucking book.

“So that went well,” his partner, Nicholas, joked from behind him.

Not too long after that meeting, she came to him this time. Mab’s just as hungry, but this time she was covered in bruises. She collapsed in his arms, and he had no choice but to bring her back to his dorm. Luckily the only one there was Nicholas, who just rolled with the fact that Noah was hiding a member of a terrorist organization in their cramped quarters.

“It’s only for tonight,” he told Nicholas. “I’ll figure out something in the morning.”

He had no idea how he was going to figure something out by tomorrow morning.

After she woke up and took a shower, he handed her a pair of Nicholas’ shorts and a shirt Noah hardly wore anymore: a simple white tee with a picture of Jesus Christ and Satan playing basketball. It swallowed her thin frame, and if it were anyone else, he would laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. But she looked so small and fragile he let it slide.

He learned that she’s a dreamer; she loves fantasy and fairy tales. She got her name from her favorite book. When he told her that he’s half-Sidhe Tumuli, an elven offshoot of the faeries, her whole face lit up. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the only things he inherited from his long-dead mother was his tall figure, thick hair, and dark eyes.

As far as Noah was concerned, he might as well be nothing more than human.

He didn’t have to wait until morning to figure out what to do with her, because the Cult raided the Site in the middle of the night to bring her back.

He followed her screams as they dragged her back to the Grey. It’s the only thing that gave him direction, because the Grey is a maze; a seemingly infinite space filled with every book ever written, to be written, and not thought to be written. If Mab wasn’t screaming her head off, he would have gotten lost instantly.

When he found her again, she was strapped to a table, cocooned in a blanket of her shadows while everyone around her was dead. He picked her up and cradled her close, despite the darkness around her chilling him to the bone.

Noah took her back to baseline reality, back to absolute hell. He was forced to hand her over to Site authorities, and she was taken to Level 2 to Research and Containment. And he’s sad because he knows he’ll never see her again.

Except he does.

After almost five years, he’s finally the commander of his own Strike Task Force. Theta-777, otherwise known as “Bad Omens.” He still served Site-6, but the team traveled around the world so much he’s hardly ever there. But no matter how many of the other Sites he saw, he found no trace of Mab.

It’s after the team loses another PSYCHE consultant to a Threat Anomaly in China that he saw her. Just her file, but it's enough. It’s after he stalled long enough that a PSYCHE consultant was assigned to the team without his approval, and he went through their file.

There, on his computer, is her picture, along with her title: RESEARCHER MAB GREY, PSYCHE CONSULTANT OF THE DEPARTMENT OF ONTOKINETICS. They’d hidden her in Site-2B for the past two years, working as a glorified secretary in the NExUS Records. But under him, she’ll be a reality-bender working for the Department of Tactical Theology.

If he was a believer, he’d say that it was fate that brought her back to him.

Later that month, he was on his way back to the United States from the temporary Area set up in the Prefecture, wrapping up the Research and Engagement of the anomaly that got her predecessor to retire early. He headed to the team’s office, where the AMITY Ambassador of the team, Joakim, is debriefing her. He’s nearly knocked over by the sight of her.

Mab no longer looked like she was on Death’s door. She filled out the PSYCHE uniform of a black coat that’s a mix between a lab coat and trench coat, but she’s foregone the pencil skirt in favor of black slacks. She cut her thick red hair to shoulder length, but right now she had it in a high bun.

Noah went over to envelope her in a hug, but stopped when he saw her facial expression. He was reminded of the adage “if looks could kill” because he’s certain that she could make it a reality.

He grew more and more confused as she treated the others formally, but she barely gave him the time of day. He even looked into having her reassigned at one point. A team can’t function properly if team members can’t work together. But the others insist that he let her warm up to him.

And the High Command denied his request, anyway.

Noah just needed to know why she hated him, then he could work with her. It was only after their first time alone together that he made any sort of headway.

Noah never understood why everyone in the UPA hated Type Purples. How they were portrayed in seminars seemed too… unreal. That they could rewrite reality, become gods if they wanted to, seemed too drastic. And after spending the past three months with Mab, who was afraid of the dark, he knew that people around here had nothing to be afraid of.

But when Mab had to take a trip out to Site-1 in London, and he had to accompany her – standard protocol – he learned that everyone’s hatred for Type Purples ran deeper than he thought possible.

Mab hadn’t been thrilled when she found out that he was her security detail. At Site-1, she could barely shake him off. “I don’t need a babysitter, Noah,” she said.

She actually did.

At the meeting she was summoned to London for, she was practically attacked on all sides. Noah was shocked at how Mab was treated, but she just waved off the insults and continued on. He could barely concentrate on anything that wasn’t her.

And then the universe threw another loop at him.

At the same meeting, before it had even started, several members of STF Alpha-1, the “FANTOM” Force, had filed in. They were the most prestigious task force in the UPA, meant to be bodyguards and enactors of the Administrator Council. If they were there, then an Admin was nearby.

But what threw Noah for a loop was when their team leader threw his arms around Mab. And she responded in kind. She practically lit up when she saw him. The two practically made Noah feel like a third wheel.

“Oh, Oli, this is Noah,” Mab finally introduced him.

Oliver was shocked to see him, like he had thought that Mab had made Noah up. “Look at that, you do exist.”

Noah tried pressing Mab about it after the meeting, but she had basically shut down. She only said that they met at Site-2, and nothing else. He was going to prod her more about it, but they were interrupted.

It wasn’t until they were back in the sleeping quarters they had been given for the weekend did he finally get to talk again. “You wanna talk about what happened out there?” Noah asked, closing the door behind him. He started unbuttoning his BLACK jacket; hers was already tossed over the back of a chair.

Mab opened her mouth, but then hesitated. For several moments, she seemed to contemplate what she was going to say next, until she closed her mouth and only said one word: “No.”

The simplicity of the denial nearly caused him to see red. Instead, he snorted in a way that he knew would annoy the ice queen. “Whatever you say, Princess.” The only inclination that he got under her skin was the way her jaw clenched.

Fine. Let her be that way. It irked him something fierce, even if he wouldn’t admit it – to her or to himself.

Except now he couldn’t sit still to save his life, and the room is way too small to contain the tension between them. So instead of trying to talk it out like how normal adults would, he escaped into the bathroom to take a shower.

He shed the rest of his BLACK uniform. The ink etched down the front of his upper half is stark against the backdrop of the white tile behind him when he looked in the mirror. He stared at his reflection as the water heated up, until the steam fogged up the mirror.

Once in the shower, he let the hot water hit his back to try to ease the tension that plagued him since that morning. He should be worried about Administrators being in the same Site; should be worried that he’ll make a fool out of himself in front of the wrong people. But all he was worried about was how Oliver could Make Mab smile, when he couldn’t even get her to look at him.

His mind continued to race, which didn’t help the knot in between his shoulder blades. He shut off the water before he passed out from heat stroke or whatever it was called. He toweled off and pulled on a clean pair of joggers before heading back out into the room.

Mab also must’ve changed while he was in the bathroom, but that wasn’t what made his feet come to a screeching halt. She was now wearing her hair down, while a large shirt swallowed her frame. He knew that shirt. He thought he lost it between Engagements – it wasn’t unlike him to forget something in New Mexico or Japan – but looking at it now he remembered the last time he saw it.

“Nice shirt,” Noah said before he could catch it.

Mab looked up from her book like she was surprised he was still in the room. He caught her look catch on his naked chest before she looked down at her shirt. “Uh… okay? It’s from my time at the Center, I think.”

Her response made his blood heat up. “’You think’?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I don’t remember exactly where I got it.”

Noah didn’t believe her. There was no way Mab “Remembers Every Line From ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’” Grey forgot where she got a shirt.

His feet moved him faster than his brain could stop him, and the next thing he knew was his fingers had plucked the book from hers.

“Hey! What’re you—”

“What are you reading?” he asked, thumbing through the pages.

“None of your business! You’ll make me lose my—” she seethed, reaching out for it.

“Oooh, is it a spicy book?” he asked as he stepped backwards out of her reach. He started to take a closer look at the words on the pages. “’Even in the grey moonlight, her eyes were the deep blue of a September sky. He’d known them to be blue before, but now they were like two brilliantly lit univer—’ OW!”

He had been so caught up in humiliating her, he hadn’t noticed she had jumped off her bed and was not practically climbing him.

He held the book high above his head. “Give. It. Back!” she growled, reaching for it.

“No. Not until you tell me how you and Agent Sykes know each other,” he blurted out.

His words made her halt. She slowly slid down until her feet hit the floor. “Why? Why are you so pressed about him?” she asked. “We hung out for like a week at Site-2. That’s it.”

That is NOT it, he thought. Her eyes narrowed, and he thought he actually said it out loud. She then rolled her eyes. “Fine. We had sex one time, for the love of—”

“I knew it.” He grinned widely. Her eyes widened at the ferality of his tone. An acidic feeling churned in his gut at her confession.

Of course she hooked up with the commander of the most prestigious strike task force in all of the UPA.

Mab shoved away from him finally, her book long forgotten. “So what? It was one time,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

“Only one time?” Noah asked, his voice coming out low. He dropped the book onto her bed, and the soft thump it made startled her, like it was a gunshot.

He watched her throat bob nervously. “Yes… one time,” she said. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“If it didn’t mean anything, why’d you do it?” he asked. He didn’t know why he was having this conversation, let alone having it this close to her. She must’ve thought so as well, because she tried to take a step back. She glanced behind her before nervously turning back to face him.

He was vaguely aware that the back of her knees were pressed against her bed. One push and she could’ve been spread out for him. His hand twitched up, almost betraying his intrusive thoughts, but he reeled himself back in.

“Noah—”

“No, we’re going to settle this now,” he said, gripping her arm. Something in his brain yelled at him that this wasn’t the way to do this, but he chose to ignore it. “Why do you hate me, after everything that happened?”

She blinked twice. “I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “Ever since you saw that I was your Commander, you’ve been anything but respectful to me. You can barely stand to be in the same room as me. After everything we’ve been through?”

Her head suddenly tilted. “What we’ve been through? We haven’t gone through anything. You might think you saved me by pulling me out of the Grey, but ever since then I’ve had to fend for myself in an organization that hates what I am,” she snapped. “You saw how they treated me at that meeting. Imagine that, but for the last five years.”

“Mab—”

“Some days I wondered if I really had escaped that Cult, because the UPA really likes to keep me on a leash as well. And at least in the Grey, the hand holding it didn’t want me dead!”

He watched a range of emotions cross her face. And then she delivered the stab to the gut. “Sometimes I wish you never rescued me! I wish you and I never met in the first place!”

Noah took a step back, whether it was from the hurt in her confession or to give her room to breathe, he couldn’t say. She swayed a little, like a reed in a sudden gust of wind, and he thought she was about to have a mental breakdown. But she straightened suddenly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She straightened the hem of her – his – shirt. She then spun on her heel, brushing past him to grab her shoes.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I need some air,” she snapped, her voice cracking on the last word.

“Mab, it’s not safe—” he managed to say, but he was cut off by the door slamming closed.

He stood there for a moment, her words pulsing through him. He stewed in the regret and anger at himself for cornering her until she snapped. But he didn’t go after her. He stayed in the dorm, letting the guilt trickle in.

He was worried, still. He called her cell every five minutes. It wasn’t until after midnight that his phone rings, and it's her calling him. It was practically pressed to his ear before the first note ended. “Hello?”

“Noah—”

“Mab, where the fuck are you?” he asked in a rush. “I called you seven fucking times.”

He heard her sigh, and there was a few moments pause. He hated that she wasn’t in front of him, because he couldn’t hear her over the phone. Did he scare her with his questions? Is she thinking about what to say? Is she going to leave?

Is she going to leave him?

“Mab, where are you?” Noah asked again, softer this time.

There was more silence, and he had to check his phone to make sure the line was still connected. He almost missed her answer, it was so quiet. “I don’t know—”

“What do you mean—” His voice rose without him meaning to, but he reigned himself back in. “Describe your surroundings, Mab. Details.”

“Noah, it’s dark, it’s raining, and I’m sure I’ve never been in this part of the Site before,” she said.

“Come on, Mab. Use that beautiful brain of yours,” he said, pulling on a hoodie. He booted up the tracking program on his phone and inputed Mab’s code while she went into minute detail.

“Alright, I’m coming. Just for the love of fuck, don’t move.”

“Noah—”

Three quick beeps interrupted her, and her location suddenly disappeared from his screen. He swore. She probably didn’t have time to charge her phone after they got back from being in meetings all day long. She could use his EVE tracker mode, but there was no way Site-1 didn’t have a few Reality Anchors floating around somewhere. Without her phone online, she was basically invisible.

He pulled on his shoes and strapped on some easily concealable weapons, even though they’re on Site grounds. He knew there was at least one person that would love to see Mab dead, and he wouldn’t risk the chance of that guy finding her.

He grabbed another hoodie and an umbrella, and made his way outside.

He shouldn’t be surprised that London was cold at this time of the year. He definitely wasn’t surprised that it was raining. He was more surprised that the logical and overthinking Mab Grey would storm off in the middle of a rainstorm.

How bad did she want to be away from him that she was willing to walk into this deluge rather than be in the same room as him?

Noah had the entire walk to think about what he could say. But the whole time, he told himself that he was only out here looking for her because he’s supposed to be protecting her. Not because he was scared he could lose her.

Thirty minutes later, he finally spied the reality bender. Curled up on a bench, absolutely soaking wet, and looking miserable.

“Well, look at that. You can actually listen to instructions.”

Goddammit Noah, you fucking idiot.

She peered up at him with the ghost of annoyance, but he could tell she’d been crying. He started to feel bad until she opened her mouth. “Don’t get used to it,” she mumbled, barely audible over the sound of the storm.

“You gonna sit there all night or are you gonna come with me?” he asked.

She thankfully stood up, though not before letting him wait a few more moments. When she stepped into the dry space underneath the umbrella, he handed her the extra hoodie. She pulled it on, and it enveloped her. It fell below mid-thigh on her, leaving her legs bare.

As they walked back to their dorm, he noticed how she was trying hard to avoid touching him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and he could almost feel the vibrations of her shivering form. He shook his head, wrapping an arm around her. He expected some resistance, but she melted into his side.

For a few moments, he let himself wonder what they might look like if someone were to pass them. Two lovers taking a leisurely stroll through the paths of Site-1? Or something else?

Back in their room, he expected her to say something. Instead, she quietly sat down in the chair where her BLACK coat had been thrown onto. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting ready for bed. What’s it look like, Noah?” Mab snapped. Her fingers fumbled over her shoelaces, either from being cold and stiff, or from pure frustration. It might be a combination of the two, as it looked like she just made it worse when he saw the knots that she formed.

He looked up at her face. It had scrunched up, and he could see how her eyes shone. “Mab.” His voice cut through to her.

“What?” she snapped. She didn’t look up at him.

“Would you just calm down for a second?” Noah asked.

“I’m fine, okay?” she said.

“That was a rhetorical question, Firefly,” he said, crossing the room towards her in two strides. He kneeled down in front of her and gently brushed her fingers out of the way. She tried to pull her foot out of his grasp, but he gripped her ankle firmly, keeping it in place.

“Noah, I can take care of myself,” she protested.

“I know you can, but I didn’t ask you to, did I?” He slid that shoe off and started working on untying the other.

When he was done, he looked up at her to see that her gaze was rooted firmly to the ground. “Hey. Mab, look at me.” He reached up to put a finger under her chin, and tilted her face up. Her violet eyes casted downward, still avoiding him.

“Look at me, Firefly,” he said again. He brushed her cheekbone with his thumb, which passed through a wet patch. “Firefly…”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of the hoodie.

Noah gently tugged her forward out of the chair and cradled her. The sound she let out as she clutched a fist in his hoodie felt like an arrow had pierced him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her wet hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. If I had known where they casted you off to, I would’ve been there to guide you. And I can do that now, Mab, but you gotta let me in.” He kissed the crown of her head. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

She didn’t say anything. He let her shower and change into dry clothes, but she continued to wear his hoodie. He thought that it was a great start, that she’d warm up to him eventually, but when he settled down to finally sleep, she wordlessly crawled under the covers of his bed.

“Night, Mab,” he said, lips curling into a small smile.

“Good night, Noah,” she replied softly, barely audible, from her side of the bed.

Normally, Mab Grey was all sharp angles: sharp mind, sharp tongue; a habit learned when you’re an anomaly that worked for an organization that liquidates anomalies like you. But behind the curtain, she was all soft. Soft skin under Noah’s hands, soft breath against his feverish skin. He was the only one who got to see this side of her, and he reveled in it.

“Noah—” She breathed into the space between their mouths, before Noah encased her lips with his own and swallowed down the rest of her words.

They were always like this. A professional relationship at the Site, their feelings towards each other only known to those of Bad Omens they could trust. When it was just the two of them, they frantically tore at each other’s clothes. There hadn’t been a visit to her place that didn’t end up with the two having sex on some surface.

Mab straddled Noah’s hips as he leaned back on his hands. He wanted to touch her; let his fingers roam over every inch of her until she was like melted wax in his grasp. It took every ounce of his meager self-control to keep his hands to himself, but it was worth it to watch Mab lose it. And it doesn’t take long. Her fingers dug into the meat above his hips, and she rocked down against his hardening cock.

His hands moved to glide up the sides of her waist. When his fingers traced the skin they left behind, he could feel the goosebumps that had formed in their wake. She was tense above him, shuddering in anticipation. He trailed his hands back down, down until he could grab two handfuls of her ass over her shorts. He then forced her core to drag down over the front of his sweatpants, and the movement sent him over the moon, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his skull.

She gasped his name at the same time, and he mentally stowed the sound for another time. He moved only one hand up to curl around her cheek and the back of her head, and he licked into her mouth in a dominant kiss that he knew she would reciprocate.

A while ago, he had read about Type Purples in order to learn more about Mab. In that information, he read about Purple’s tendencies to use their powers to manipulate others for sex and love. He had brought it up to Mab once, back when they first started working together, but after the visceral reaction he had gotten from her, he never brought it up again.

A lot of other people brought it up instead. “You’ll wake up one day and realize she’s using you, son.” Noah never got over that; how it was said to him while Mab was standing right next to him. It had taken every ounce of training to not beat their faces into a bloody pulp.

Noah’s will was his own. He protected Mab because he wanted to.

Noah and Mab continued to kiss, heavily and messily, and he felt her fingers tugging at the band of his sweatpants. He pulled her hands away and searched blindly for the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up over her head, sending her hair in every direction. He took a moment to admire the beauty of her tits in his face, before ducking his head and encasing one nipple between his lips. He swirled his tongue around it, and then sucked hard enough that her back arched. After having a little nibble, he hurriedly released it with a wet pop to do the same process to the other.

He didn’t stop until both of her tits had been worshiped enough; red from his lips and teeth, and she was a mess on his lap. She’d tugged at the short hairs at the back of his neck for some time now, and he was sure it stuck up all over the place.

Her skin tasted unholy, but all he could think of was how he had to have his mouth on her pussy in the next few seconds or he’d combust. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up off his lap. The loss of friction made her whine softly. “I know sweetheart I know,” he mumbled into her clavicle, pulling his legs out from under her. “Lie back, lemme taste you. Please.”

He let her go and she fell backwards. He couldn’t help but admire how her hair fanned out like flames licking the sheets below her. Her hands joined his as he pulled down her shorts. Even before he glanced back down, he could tell that she was wet and ready for him. He tore at her underwear with more urgency than he had with her shorts. Maybe he was under a spell, but he was sure it wasn’t her reality shaping powers.

Purple-Type Reality Bender or not, she was his goddess, and he would kneel at her altar for as long as he lived.

Noah threw her thighs over his shoulders, hooking his arms around them as he dug his fingers into her skin. He dove straight in, not even bothering to tease her with soft kisses to her inner thighs and outer lips. He barely even took a second to admire how pretty and perfect her pussy was. He wrapped his lips around the bud of her clit and sucked it in between his teeth, causing her to loudly whine above his head. He felt her fingers wind into his hair, and he moaned against her folds when she tugged at his roots.

He pulled away slightly to run the flat of his tongue up her slit, and she wore as she shuddered and grinded her pussy against his face. When he moved back up to her flit, he slowly rubbed at her entrance with a single finger, prodding it in up to the knuckle. When he crooked it up, her body bent like a bow, tensed to snap at any moment.

She swore as he circled her clit with his tongue, flicking it up and down. The hand not in his hair found its way to his bicep, and he felt a sharp pain that traveled down his body and caused his dick to twitch. His hips involuntarily sought friction by rutting against her bed.

Mab wasn’t very vocal when it came to dirty talking during sex, or talking at all. Noah had to learn her tells, but luckily they fucked so often that it didn’t take long. She wasn’t a swearer, nor a babbler. Her tells were all physical. So when he felt her thighs tense beneath his hand, and when her breathing picked up, he doubled down until her thighs caged his head and she came. Hard.

He drank it up like a man dying in Death Valley. He was a feral with his tongue, not stopping until he was sure she was about to come again. He groaned at the thought that he could suffocate between her legs, and as cliché as it sounded, he knew he’d die happy.

The vibration from his moan sent her into another climax, but he still didn’t stop until he consumed everything she gave him. Pretty soon, she was squirming from the stimulation and pulling him up by his hair. He reluctantly parted from her and rose to greet her with a grin that she would normally wipe off his face if she wasn’t so drunk off her orgasms.

“Speechless?” he asked, and she finally glared at him. “It’s a cute look for you.”

“Shut up,” she muttered. Her bare tits rose as she tried to draw in air.

While she was distracted, Noah quickly shed his sweats and boxers. He searched for a condom, fumbling with tearing the foil packaging until he gave up and tore it open with his teeth. After the rubber was rolled on, he crawled on top of Mab. Her breathing had nearly returned to normal.

He held himself up with one hand and then leaned down to kiss her. She hummed a sound as he slipped his tongue past her lips. He thought to himself that every part of her tastes amazing.

His hips rocked against hers, his cock running through the slickness between her thighs. Her breath hitches. “Not gonna last too much longer, sweetheart,” he said with a breathy groan. When he rutted against her again, she met him at the same pace. He wasn't even inside her yet and he could nearly cum right there and then.

He pulled back a bit and wrapped his fingers around her jaw as he said, “Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

They popped open as he dragged his thumb over her bottom lip. He could never get enough of her eyes. Despite the color almost being obliterated by her dilated pupils, he could still see the flecks of sky blue interspersed amongst the lavender irises, like a violet starscape. My shooting star, he had once called her on the top of the townhouse as they watched a meteor shower. She didn’t hear him at the time, but he was okay with that. It could be just his little secret.

He had no idea how accurate that name was.

Noah held her jaw in an iron grip as he slowly entered her. He reveled in the feeling of her chest rising as she gasped; the way her eyes widened more. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes as she fluttered around him, and instead his breath came out as a deep rumble from somewhere in his chest.

He didn't break eye contact until he was flush with her, their hips pressed together snugly. He rested his forehead against hers, peering down at their bodies. He nearly blocked hers out with how big he was compared to her, and the feeling of being so much larger than her ignited another fire in his belly. Instead of giving into that fire, he kissed her again, slowly this time, giving her time to adjust.

Her patience though doesn’t let him stay still for long. “Noah,” she whimpered, her fingers flexing into his ribs as if to urge him to move.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said. “Let me stay like this in you for a little bit.”

After taking a deep breath, he withdrew until he was almost out. He then hitched her legs up to where her thighs rested over his hips. He rocked back in with a sharp thrust and hit a spot in her that had her gasp aloud. The sound made him lose his composure.

“You’re all mine,” he blurted out. “Say it.”

There was a pause after his words, and the silence nearly deafened him. He knew he hadn't even said the L-Word yet, and here he is, claiming her as if she belonged to him. He just wanted to hear her say it, just so he knew that she was real.

“I’m yours.” Mab whispered. “I’ve always been yours.”

Noah thrusted again, and her hands sought out for something. They pulled at the sheets, the pillows under her head, finally curling under his arms and gripping his shoulders. With every one of his thrusts, her nails sunk deeper and deeper into his back, until she tore at his skin and practically drew blood.

“You’re Mine.” He enunciated every word with a thrust that had her tits bouncing. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“I'm… yours,” She gasped. “Oh, god - N-Noah-!”

“You’re so good for me,” he growled into her ear. “So fucking good around me. Fucking made for this cock, fucking made for me.” He rambled on.

He looked down at where they connected again. The sight of her smooth, blank skin against his heavily decorated torso nearly doing him in. He grinded his teeth together so hard he could feel a muscle spasm in his cheek. He focused on that so he wouldn’t blow his load before he cums. Except when he looked back up at her, he saw that she was looking as well, her lips forming a perfect “o”.

This had to end now or he’d end up embarrassing himself. He quickly pressed his thumb down on her clit, and luckily, with little encouragement, she came. She came with a cry that caused her to nearly lift off the bed.

The noise, the feeling of her wrapping around himself, it was all too much for him. With a shudder and a groan, he emptied into the condom. His arms nearly gave out, but he caught himself before he fell on top of her. Catching his breath, he slipped out of her despite her protest. Fighting his body's natural habit to stay, he turned over to dispose of the condom and to grab something to clean themselves with. He wanted to do more, but the hand clinging onto his arm made collapse back onto the bed.

She almost materialized on top of him. This kiss is nothing but soft; something to reassure him that she was thankful for him. It almost felt like a reminder that he's only human… well, half-human.

When they parted again, she laid her head on his chest, her body tucking into his side as he held her tightly to his warm, wide torso. She whispered something into his skin, slick with sweat still cooling off, but when he made an inquiring noise that asked what it was she said, she pretended that she hadn’t said anything. He didn’t let on that he had heard her clearly.

“You're mine, too,” she had whispered.

Noah watched as Mab fought against the cultist; she clawed against the hand around her throat, kicking her legs wildly. The cultist held her out as far as his arm would let him, but her feet still made contact with his legs. Still, he stood unphased.

“Put her in,” the Serpent said, his black eyes cold and unyielding.

Noah tried to scream, tried to crawl his way to her to save her from whatever watery grave they were going to send her to. But his body, as torn up as it was, refused to move. The most he could do was moan and reach his hand out for her. Despite the short distance between them, he couldn't do anything.

He was going to watch Mab die, just like he watched Kennedy die.

“Dad! DAD!”

Noah’s eyes met Mab’s, and the fear in them almost made him throw up.

The cultist tried to let her go, tried to drop her into the pool, but her grip on him was too great. He then tried to shove her in. The minute her skin made contact with the water, she let out a shriek that sounded more like it belonged to a mortally wounded animal. She certainly fought like one; the water of the pool flew everywhere as she thrashed.

Some of that black water hit Noah’s ravaged skin. He hissed at the icy burn, certain that frost formed where it made contact.

The cultist then held Mab’s head down under the water with his free hand. After a while, the ripples she formed lessened until they stopped completely. Noah watched, horrified, as the cultist pulled his hands out of the water. They looked like they were completely frostbitten.

The serpent turned towards the Bad Omens. “Now, we can—”

There was a flash of violet in the corner of Noah’s eyes. Before the Serpent could finish whatever he was going to say, the pool erupted like a geyser, shooting up its contents as a figure flew out of it.

Noah could barely describe what he was seeing. It was like looking through a two-dimensional hole in three-dimensional space, but the hole was in the shape of a humanoid woman. Where eyes would be, there instead were two galaxies, swirling clouds of blue and purple, combining in a cosmic force. When he looked through her, he could see stars dotting the expanse, some spinning around each other or tumbling to some far corner of space he couldn’t see.

The being then moved her hands, and suddenly the room exploded.

Jolly threw himself over Noah at the same time Folio ducked and rolled against an overturned table. Noah felt a great weight settle over him, but it had nothing to do with Jolly. It was like gravity was pulling and pushing him at the same time, with equal amounts of force, cementing him to his spot.

Fighting this gravity, Noah managed to turn his head towards the center of the chaos. He was just in time to see the guards and cultists get vaporized by the Entity’s power. The Serpent screamed as he was sucked into a black hole; an actual hole, held by the starry figure. The hole then imploded, sending another explosion through the room.

And as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Silence fell over the hall, leaving just his fire team and whatever just decimated the cult of Orobos.

That’s when those violet galaxies turned onto him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Folio lift his gun. He watched the figure glance over, and he knew he had to get in the middle. He somehow found the strength to move out from under Jolly, onto his feet, and in front of Folio before he was blinded in his right eye. He felt that raw power brush past his face, or maybe he was just feeling the skin boil and fuse with the neoprene mask.

“NOAH! NOAH! NOAH!”

Everything around him slowly dissolved, floating upward until it was only him and the god-shaped hole in front of him. Fog permeated the outside of his vision, like it was creating a barrier between them and the rest of the world. Or maybe it was the figure who created it.

Noah…

He heard his name being spoken into his mind rather than out loud. “I know you’re in there,” he said, turning to face it. “You wouldn’t hurt us willingly.”

Noah.

“Come on, Mab,” he said, holding his arms out. He slowly approached her. “Come back to us.”

The edges of the figure rippled at his words, like it was trying to reassemble itself into a form it might recognize. Noah didn’t stop until he was practically pressed against it, feeling the cold nothing radiating out of it. He tentatively placed his hands on its waist, and almost immediately his fingers turned purple.

“Please, Mab,” he pleaded. “Come back to me.”

Noah?

Noah blinked at the sound of his name. He looked up and behind him towards the doorway, where Nicholas stood.

“Anything?” Noah asked. Nicholas only shook his head.

Noah looked down at his phone in his hand. The text screen was still pulled up.

Picking up some Thai and we can watch whatever you want to tonight. That OK?

Ok.

You OK Firefly?

I'm fine.

I know it's been a rough couple of days recently.

I'm OK.

Ok then… Be there in 15.

He had sent that message five minutes before he led the strike team to raid Mab’s place.

It had been a rough few days ever since they got back from the Grey. Noah had to undergo several surgeries to get himself back to normal, including surgery to repair the half of his face that had been burnt. Jolly had called him “Two Face” at one point.

After the surgery and the anesthesia wore off, he woke up to what he thought was Hell. Jolly, Oliver, and another person had come into his recovery room to tell him what had happened. “She killed an entire strike team trying to bring her in for questioning,” Jolly had said. They weren’t there for questioning; they were there for an extermination. “She’s too dangerous to be out in the open anymore.” That doesn’t justify sending a drone to kill someone and any witnesses.

Whatever Administrator he was (why else would someone from Alpha-1 be in the room?) debriefed Noah on what Mab had essentially become: a Phase V Reality-Bender, a myth come true. And she killed fifteen people to save her skin. The UPA Killed them!

As he had walked through Mab’s place, he couldn’t help but notice how it had been scrubbed clean. Nothing of her had been left behind, not even a fingerprint. It was like she never lived here in the first place. When he went into her room, he knew it would be just like the rest of the place, but he still had to check. He scoured every inch to try and find something of her of them.

Nothing.

He had collapsed onto the mattress, the sheets gone. He pulled his helmet off and pulled the mask down before hanging his head in defeat. Half of his hair hung in front of his face; the other half would take months to grow back. And that’s where Nicholas had found him.

Noah’s thumbs shook as he typed out the message: Mab, we need to talk. But his blood boiled at the return message:

THE NUMBER YOU ARE TRYING TO REACH HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED.

He threw his phone against the wall. It fell to the ground in several pieces, broken beyond repair. Next was his helmet; it put a large dent in the wall’s plaster. When he was about to put his fist through the wall, Nicholas’ hand materialized out of nowhere and grabbed his wrist mid-swing. “You just got that hand fixed,” Nicholas said.

The anger in Noah's veins evaporated, and he collapsed to the floor. He let out an animalistic scream to vent whatever steam he had left. Mab was gone.

He loved her, but she was gone. He was too late.

Noah…

He looked up at the mess he had made. A single photo had fluttered out of the inside of his helmet, out of the tiny nook he had tucked it into. “That way you’re always on my mind,” he had told her.

“Wow. Cheesy,” she had replied. What was in that photo, Noah?

Noah turned his head towards the voice that spoke from next to him. Mab sat on the edge of the roof, kicking her legs back and forth. It almost reminded him of times from long ago when they first met.

“I still can’t believe that Cooper’s Rock has the exact same stars as the rest of the world,” Mab said, dreamily looking up at the night sky.

“What, you expected something else?” Noah asked.

“It’s a Nexus field! They shouldn’t be able to replicate every single star as exact as the outside world! Yet everything…”

As Mab went on, Noah could only focus on how her face reacted to the words coming out of her mouth. How her nose would scrunch up occasionally. How her lips would pout when she frowned.

He could absolutely kiss those lips right now.

“… at least, that’s what Dustin told me.” She sighed. She looked down at him. “Uh, Noah? You alright?”

“Er, yeah,” Noah coughed, catching himself. “Do you make it a habit to remember everything a guy tells you?” Mab elbowed him in the arm. “When he's talking about my field, yes.”

“I thought he was the religion guy.”

“No! That's T.J.! Honestly, do you ever pay attention to a word I say?”

He does, actually. He knows Tobias is the Religion Guy, because he’s worked with him numerous times over the past two years. But he liked to tease her if it meant she was talking to him. Better than how they were several months ago.

He changed the subject. “Our next engagement will take us to the other hemisphere,” he said. “I could show you a whole other sky of stars.”

The promise took her by surprise. Her eyes widened, and thanks to the soft glow of the streetlamps below, he caught the tinge of pink spreading across her cheeks.

And that’s when he got the thing he wanted the most from her: a smile, pure and dazzling. “I’d like that,” she said.

no no no it’s too much no no

He tore his gaze away from her smile to look up at the sky, and at the same time a meteorite streaked across the night. It left behind a glittering trail of purple.

He felt warm all over, like he was blushing or something. But the heat rose, and rose, until it was unbearable. A sound from behind him made him turn his gaze away from the sky.

Everything was on fire.

No, no no no no no… Not this.

“Dad! DAD!”

Noah heard a scream as some of the roof caved in, and he sobbed. His singed hands burned as he tried to wipe away his tears. He couldn’t do anything to save the man who raised him since—

Wait. Why were his hands burned?

He heard another scream, much like the first but it was different than he remembered. He looked away from the fire and saw the flash of red as the figure from his nightmares fled the scene.

It was like a dream where he was in his body, but not controlling it. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go! He wants to scream.

He rushed towards the figure, his mind racing at the thought of seeing its face for the first time. Even though he knew who it was, thanks to the UPA declassifying the files—

Except a different scene unfolded before him.

The Administrator in the hospital had told him that it was Mab that had caused the fire, killing his guardian and almost taking Noah with him. It was so easy for Noah to throw that love for her away, almost like he had been brainwashed.

As he chased the figure, he saw that she wasn’t running away, she was being carried; she was unconscious.

“Hold on! I’ll get you out!” He shouted as the girl screamed. His hands grabbed the flaming post, the adrenaline numbing the pain and giving him the strength to lift it. He then reached her, picked her up and helped her out.

This person carrying them, he’d seen them before. He was there when Mab was tossed into the Empty. A cultist of Orobos? What were they doing here?

His hands grabbed the redhead and pulled. “Let her go!” he screamed. Despite his lack of strength, he managed to pull her free. He clutched onto her until the cultist tore her away from him.

Mab hadn’t set the fire.

The cultist had.

Mab didn’t kill his guardian.

Noah’s head exploded in pain. He screamed as it felt like his brain was short-circuiting and melting from the confusion. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn’t stop him from seeing the jumble of images melding together:

Mab wrapped in shadow.

Mab drenched in rain.

Mad covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Mab made of nothing but night and stars.

Mab emerged from a forest, young and naked, wide-eyed and confused as to who or what she was.

“Who are you?” his 15-year-old self asked.

“Ah… s-star…” She muttered, pointing behind her. Where Noah had been handing to check out the meteor. Her violet eyes glowed as she looked back at him.

“NOW DO YOU REMEMBER?” she asked, but her voice sounded so much older.

Suddenly, he was back in the Grey, standing before the starry Entity. He was frozen to the spot as its galaxy eyes stared him down.

Noah felt tears falling down his face, suddenly unmarred. “I remember…”

The figure – Mab – cupped his face. It’s touch was bitingly cold, like the water from the pool; like the Burning Not-Water from his nightmare. The figure’s form flickered again, changing shape and form for a brief moment, like a slideshow:

A figure wrapped in shadows.

A figure drenched in rain.

A figure wrapped in stars.

A figure with pale skin, black hair, and brown eyes—

Wait.

The image of the mystery woman gave him enough clarity to wrench free from the Entity’s grasp. And with a sorrowful scream, Noah raised his service weapon and pulled the trigger.

Within the silence of this illusion, is there anything more than human?

Suddenly, everything rushes back to Noah with startling, painful clarity. The shock causes him to double over as Mab stumbles away from him. He dry heaves for a few seconds before hurriedly recuperating.

He looks up to see her shocked face. She’s holding her side where the bullet hit her. It hadn’t penetrated the uniform, he has the UPA to thank for that. But it did manage to tear her concentration away from him.

“You fucking shot me,” she says incredulously.

“Yeah, well, don’t try your mind shit on me,” he groans, standing up. “Or at least pay attention to the finger that’s on the trigger, just in case something like this happens again.”

She’s still incredulous and he would find the look comical if the situation were different. “After all that I just showed you, you still think I would hurt you.”

He shrugs, pulling his mask back over his nose. He can’t tell how long time has passed since she initiated that walk down memory lane. For all he knows, the UPA is back to watching his every move.

He reaches down for his helmet, but it vanishes under his fingertips. He sighs and turns back to Mab. “Really? You do that now?”

“Noah, listen to me,” she pleads. “I don't have much more time. I was serious when I said that I didn't kill all those operatives. I didn't kill anyone.”

"Who's to say that you fabricated all those memories?” he says, drawing his katana. Her eyes widen as he leaps at her, but she's still able to throw up a shield so the blade bounces off harmlessly. He attacks again, and once more she blocks with the violet light at the last second.

“Noah, please!" she pleads as he swings again and again. Her blocks are sloppy compared to her previous combat. It's almost like she's distracted, or her body can't keep up with what her mind wants.

Eventually she comes around and blasts Noah backwards. He hits a shelf hard enough to lose grip on his katana, and he and the sword both hit the floor hard.

As he pushes himself up, she walks up to him. He half expects a boot to connect with his face, but instead she stops a foot away from him. She crouches down into a squat, and she’s now level with him as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. Her eyes are level with his, the black piercing his—

Wait. No, her eyes are all wrong. It’s like they’re bleeding purple down her face, draining the irises of their color.

Maybe unknowing of her condition, Mab brushes the strands of his dark brown locks away that have fallen into his face off his sweaty brow. “This can only end one way, Noah; only one way to free us from this nightmare.”

“Then do it already,” he says, lifting up his chin in stubborn defiance.

She sighs. “I told you, I’m not a murderer, Noah.”

“Then who are you?”

His question catches her off-guard. “What?” she asks.

“You can't fool me anymore,” he says.

With a force that makes him dizzy with pain afterwards, he headbutts the Type Purple humanoid. With a curse, she falls backwards, giving him enough time to roll over and grab his gun. The two stand up quickly at the same time, but he aims the gun at her, much like how this all started.

“Noah…”

“Do you trust me?” Noah asks.

She pauses, then smiles as she catches up to what he knows. “I always do.”

“Goodbye, Mab.”

And the gunshot echoes through Level 3.

Noah drops the smoking gun, and it hits the floor at the same time the body does. He follows quickly after.

It doesn't take long for the other task forces to flood the space now that Mab’s shield wasn’t preventing them from doing so. Noah watches them numbly as they do their job: Scan the area, test for EVE radiation, check for abnormal Hume readings. They only scan him long enough to make sure he’s physically alright, and he’s not under a cognition hazard, and they move on to the dead body. This process is familiar to him, as he’s done it himself. It’s just part of what a GRAVE operative does.

It's not until Matt and Nick hook their arms under his and help him onto his feet does he move. He turns away from the scene, not even looking back once.

“Noah—"

“It’s not Mab; not anymore,” Noah says curtly, and keeps walking.

There’s still more to do, but for him?

It’s all over.

I never needed you to be anything more than human.

“And you're sure you killed her?"

Noah swallows thickly, resting his head in the palm of his hand. He was dead tired. “Yes,” he replied.

“You're sure of—"

"I don't miss my shots. Check on service record,” Noah snaps, catching himself at the last second. "Sir."

Noah hates debriefing interviews. It's a bunch of repetitive bullshit, just the interviewers asking the same five questions over and over again in hopes that he'll spill something he wasn't meant to. He can guess why they're coming down especially hard on him. Besides the relationship he had with Mab, there was the broadcasting hiccup along with no recoverable footage, they only had his word to go on.

And of all people they could've pulled to interview him, they pulled the doctor that hated him the most. Dr. Altef hated Type Purples with an almost racist passion. He hated Mab so much; he was the reason why Mab was transferred to Site-6. Noah was sure he would be here for hours still.

“I’m not doubting your aim, Agent Sebastian,” Dr. Altef says, thumbing through a folder thick with paper. Noah bristles at the title, the lack of one obviously a slant against him. “I'm doubting your… motives.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Noah asks, not caring that the man in front of him has more authority and more clearance than him and the rest of Bad Omens put together.

“It’s no secret that you and LTE-2995-Cheshiremorph-Violet were… involved with each other,” the director says, distaste dripping from his words, “despite the UPA rulings against team relationships.”

Noah feels a mix of anger and sorrows in his gut. Anger at the use of Mab’s entry name instead of her actual human name, and sorrow for the change of the first letter. L meant Liquidated, Liquidated meant exterminated.

It meant she was dead.

Noah had hoped that the person he killed would’ve turned back to its original form. But even hours later, it remained the same. He had shot Man. He had killed Mab.

Talk about some kind of Greek tragedy…

He reigns in his emotions before they could get the best of him. “So what, that bullet hole in the middle of her forehead just materialized out of nowhere?” he sneers. A second later, the thought of how Mab probably could materialize a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead, but he keeps that thought to himself.

“We’re trying to get all the facts here, Agent Sebastian,” Dr. Altef sighs in annoyance.

“We haven’t been seeing each other since the L’Engle event,” Noah finally admits. “Last night was the first time I saw her since.”

“So you say,” Dr. Altef says. He tries to say more, and honestly risks getting his face bashed in, but a knock at the door of the interrogation room tears both of their attentions away. The director goes over to the door and talks briefly with whoever was on the other side. Meanwhile, Noah finishes his coffee, which has gone cold since the start of the interrogation.

Altef returns, looking slightly more smug. Noah doesn’t like where this might be going. “What?” he asks.

“You’re coming with me,” Altef says. “Why? Where are we going?” Noah asks.

“To the medical ward on Level 2,” Altef says. Noah feels his body go cold as ice. "We're going to watch the autopsy.”

Unfortunately for Noah, the UPA works fast.

Not even twelve hours after a bullet was put in it, the corpse was ready for dissection. Noah wasn’t sure why he was being dragged to see this, nor why they were doing an autopsy in the first place. It was clear to see how she obviously died.

Died.

Before the interrogation, when he had been cleared to go home and sleep, he immediately had fallen face-first into his pillows, probably asleep before his face had even hit them. Not once was he interrupted by dreams. When he woke up later that morning, the realization of having a nightmare-free night hit him like a truck, and he broke down at the implication.

She was really gone.

This had to be some kind of punishment. Making him watch as they open and disassemble the body? That alone had to be its own kind of special hell.

Noah looks down from the raised platform he stands on, behind bulletproof glass. Two medical examiners had wheeled the covered body in and moved it to an examination table. They withdrew the white sheet, finally uncovering her.

Despite saying that they hadn’t done anything to her yet, they had already shaved her head of the copper hair that had made her so distinct from everyone else. Noah clenches his fists so hard that he could feel his nails in his palms, despite wearing gloves.

“Type Purple procedure,” Altef says from beside him. “Can’t be too careful.” Like the explanation was supposed to calm the anger slowly boiling inside of Noah.

“Let's get this over with,” the director says. Noah shoots him a glare from the corner of his eyes quickly, then schools his face back into one of indifference.

Noah’s fists clench even more as the examiners direct machinery into position, and the laser makes the first incision. They cut a precise line straight down the body, from the suprasternal notch down to her navel. The laser then split, going opposite ways and then back together to form flaps. The other arms of the machine pull back the skin and muscle. The whole process takes less than ten seconds.

Noah can tell something was wrong just by the examiner's stances. They had paused after looking inside, and they seemed confused as they poke around in the chest cavity for some time, talking to each other.

Dr. Altef gets impatient. “What’s the hold up?” he snaps.

The examiners ignore him, and take out some of the organs. Noah might’ve been an average student growing up, but even he knew that the organs looked… off. Discolored.

Finally, the examiners turn up to the two men peering down at them from the observation room. “We have a problem,” one says, their voice being piped through an intercom.

“What? What is it?” the director snaps. Noah fails to suppress his eye roll.

“This body has… clear signs of atrophy and necrosis. Severely. This body has been dead for a while.”

“I’d put it as being dead for at least a week,” the other examiner says.

Noah can’t help the hoot of laughter he lets out at the director’s incredulous face. “Are you saying that—” Dr. Altef sputters.

“We can run DNA tests, but I’m positive that this isn’t the body of our LTE-2995.”

As the director swears up a storm, Noah allows the smallest smirk he could make without getting noticed.

It wasn’t Mab’s body.

The changes had been superficial. Deep down, the body’s DNA betrayed the fact that it was the body of some random woman that just so happened to match the description of a corpse that had gone missing recently. Mab’s reality-bending powers never ceased to amaze Noah.

And so did her stealth abilities. The second he stepped back into his room after that disaster of a day, he could sense something was off. Usually he kept his room tidy, therefore his eyes immediately zoned in on what was off. A drawer, slightly opened, when he knew it had been shut before he left. An old shirt was missing, and in its place was a single violet tucked into a note.

The next three months were almost unbearable, as it took that long for the UPA to stop scrutinizing Noah’s every movement. After the investigation and he was cleared of any “helping KTE-2995-Cheshiremorph-Purple in her break-in”, he took some long overdue time off. Thanks to some help from Matt, he basically disappeared from sight.

Now, under the disguise of visiting his home country, he thanks the truck driver for bringing him out to this small coastal village in western Ireland. He shells out twice the amount he had promised in thanks. He shoulders his duffel bag and turns the collar of his black trench coat up against the January wind, and walks through the town.

The locals tell him of a small cottage that had mysteriously appeared overnight, and the nice “witch” that soon occupied it. They point him in the direction, and indeed he eventually finds himself trekking down the path towards it. It has a clear line of vision all around it, so there was no way someone could sneak up on her.

The cottage also has a clear view of the ocean, but right now the weather has turned everything gray. Noah squints his eyes, as if he could see through the mists to his birthplace of Hy-Brasil, despite there still being a couple of years before the mists would part for that one day.

The cottage itself looks like something out of a fairy tale. Cobbled stone walls, but with a shingle roof. The windows are lined with intricate stained glass, and violets are blooming in the garden despite the weather. It looks exactly like something she would like.

Noah knocks on the door three times. The inside must be as small as it looks, because he can hear her scrambling towards the front. “Hold on! I’m coming, I’m com—” Several locks turn and the door opens, and the sole occupant stops mid-sentence when she sees him standing there.

“Hi Mab,” Noah says.

Mab Grey remains silent, almost like she’s having a hard time believing he was standing in front of her. She looks exactly like the last time he saw her; the real her. She’s wearing dark leggings and a thick gray sweater, letting her hair and eyes account for the lack of color.

“You’re here,” she whispers as she exhales.

Noah steps inside, ducking through the doorway. “Well, you extended the invitation,” he says, dropping his bag near the door.

Her lips curl into a coy smile. “Well, I didn’t think it would take you this long to figure it out,” she teases.

“Oh please, I knew exactly what you meant,” he shoots back, slowly crowding her backwards until her back hits the wall.

“Damn, I was hoping I was being clever,” she airily laughs, tilting her head back to stare directly into his eyes. Hers sparkle with happiness and anticipation.

“Really?’ he asks, leaning down. “I can wait for you at the bottom.” He kisses the space between her brows. “I can stay away if you want me to.” He kisses the tip of her nose. “I can wait for years if I have to.” He lightly pecks her lips. “Heaven knows I will never get over you,” he finishes quietly, lips hovering over hers.

“Noah…” she sighs.

“So no hard feelings?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes. “You shot me.”

“Mmmmm… If I’m thinking correctly, that wasn’t you, just a puppet,” he says. “But let me make it up to you?”

“I like the sound of that.” She smiles as he cups her face and finally kisses her.

After almost a year of being apart, they meet in a kiss that consumes the both of them. Mab surges up to meet him, standing on her tiptoes to try and make the distance less. Noah ducks down, his hands blindly seeking her thighs, long fingers wrapping around the back of them. He picks her up, wrapping her legs around his hips, and she wraps her arms around his neck to get closer to him, as if they weren’t already fused together into one being.

He pulls her away from the wall, and blindly carries her to the tiny bedroom. He tries to ease her down onto the bed, but she grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him down. It doesn’t take long for them to shed their shirts, and when her offending piece of clothing is discarded, he wraps his lips around the peak of one breast, sucking until her nipple hardens and she squirms against him, letting out sweet whimpers. His fingers tease the other one, matching the motion of his tongue.

Her fingers thread through the hair on the back of his head and she gives a small tug; not enough to make his body react, but just enough to get his attention. He pulls away from her skin, looking up at her through his lashes. “I missed you,” he says. “I missed this.”

“Then show me how much you’ve missed me,” she says.

He grins devilishly at the challenge.

Noah moves away from Mab, kneeling at her feet. He takes one in his hand and kisses her ankle, trailing his lips along the skin of her leg until he gets close to her center. He bypasses it, kissing her hipbone instead. She lets out a huff, and he chuckles darkly.

“Someone’s needy,” he says. He kisses the soft swell of her tummy.

“Well, someone is being a tease,” she shoots back.

“Well, fine. I just wanted to play with my food for a bit,” he says with a mocking huff to match hers. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, running the backs of them along the sensitive skin. “But if you insist…” He yanks her leggings down, tugging her panties along with them.

Fuck. He really had missed her.

He slowly leans down, letting his tongue hang out as he watches her watch him. He licks the bundle of nerves until he sucks her clit between his lips. She lets out a sharp, loud noise, encouraging Noah to speed up his movements while keeping up his rhythm.

Her laboring breath picks up the pace, and he moves one of his hands to replace his tongue with his fingers, rubbing tiny circles around the bundle of nerves as he explores her entrance with his tongue. Her hips jerk at the new contact, and not before long she tenses and cums with a shudder and his name on her tongue.

He nips at the soft sensitive skin of her inner thighs, willing red marks to appear so she can have bruises to remember him by. He only has a week until he has to go back to “hunting” her, and he plans on making the most of it.

“Noah…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks before licking her wet slit once to gather her release on his tongue.

She squeaks in surprise, hips jerking at the overstimulation. “Oh my god, get up here already.” She pulls on his hair, but he’s already crawling up to cover her with his body.

This kiss is practically bruising. Mab holds him down as their tongues fight for dominance. He tries to wrestle his pants down, but both of their patience is thin so he only manages to get them and his underwear down past the crease of his ass before he gives up.

“Mab, hold on, let me—”

“I wanna feel you. Now.” Her hand dips between them to take his length in hand, and he sighs against her lips. His breath rate increases as her strokes increase.

“Damn, you really did miss me,” she says, grinning.

“Play later,” he growls, taking her wrist in his hand. She doesn’t let go, so they both guide his cock to her entrance. They moan simultaneously as he slowly slides in.

After a few thrusts, he feels the problem. His zipper is rubbing against him uncomfortably, making him wince. Mab must feel it too, because after a bit she pulls away and asks to stop. She laughs as he frustratingly kicks his remaining clothes down his legs and throws them as if they personally offended him.

“God, I love you,” she says.

Noah pauses, and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Noah crashes his lips back onto Mab’s, putting their mishap behind them. It takes a few moments to get back into the mood, a few gropes and a few moans, but soon he’s sliding back in, causing her body to bend. And he has every intention to make her break.

He braces his knees between her legs and pulls her up along with him. “Noah, what—” she manages to get out before he quickly thrusts up, causing her words to choke off into a moan. One of her legs wraps around him while her other keeps her up for support, but she has to wrap her arms around his neck as he pounds her into oblivion.

“I love you,” he whispers lowly into the space of her neck below her ear.

He feels her pussy tighten at the words and it sends them both toppling over the edge. Mab clutches onto him as she buries her face into the crook of his neck. Her shoulders shake as he sinks down onto the bed.

They hold each other as if the other would dissipate it they let go.

“Please… stay…” Mab sobs.

“As always,” Noah replies.

Featured Creatures:

@shilohrosechicken, @comforting-madness, @ladyveronikawrites, @roley-poley-foley, @sitkowski

@deathblacksmoke, @darksigns-exe, @dominuslunae, @into-the-grey, @nojoyontheburn

@baddestomens, @lilhobgobbler, @hedonists

“Global Occult Coalition Casefiles” by DrClef, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/goc-hub-page. Licensed under CC-BY-SA

“GOC Codewords” by unknown author, from the SCP Sandbox Wiki. Source: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/collab:goc-codewords#. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.

Content relating to the SCP Foundation is licensed under creative commons sharealike 3.0 and all concepts originated from https://scpwiki.com/ and its authors. “ANYTHING > HUMAN”, being derived from this content, is hereby also released under Creative commons Sharealike 3.0

An excerpt from “The Prox Transmissions” is included in this article. “The Prox Transmissions” (2016) was written and is owned by Dustin Bates and The Starset Society.

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #paranormal au

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sweetteaanddragons · 2 months ago

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If Maedhros had died in Morgoth's ambush, do you think Maglor would have given up the kingship?

I think Maglor would - a big gesture is definitely needed to reunite everyone, and I think of Maglor as someone who appreciates the value of a good "big gesture." Additionally, I don't really see him as someone who actually wants to be the big picture guy for the war effort; he's much more comfortable being the second in command.

(Also, if we're going with my personal headcanons here, he's also just lost his wife, so. Definitely not in a great headspace to fight for the kingship.)

But let's explore deeper!

What if . . .

Celegorm is the oldest left standing?

Yeah, absolutely not. I also don't think Fingolfin would bow to High King Celegorm, so I guess we're having another division of the Noldor here.

Caranthir is the oldest left standing?

I - hm. It's not so much that I think he wants the high kingship, exactly, it's that I think he couldn't bear to just give it up. Maybe if there's some sort of deal he can feel like he got the better end of?

Or maybe with Feanor and three of his sons dead Fingolfin feels like it would be in bad taste to angle for it. I'm not sure.

Curufin is the oldest left standing?

He is definitely not giving it up. None of the Nolofinweans ever thought for a second he would.

Everyone is deeply concerned about the death toll the Feanorians have taken.

The Ambarussa, either or collectively, are the oldest left standing?

We have basically no canon characterization for them. My personal view is that it wouldn't occur to them to offer, but that if someone suggested it, they could be talked around.

Nolofinwe arrives and discovers the Feanorians have crowned little Tyelpe king for lack of other options:

He is taking their word for it that Celebrimbor is still alive. The very protective Feanorian army is not currently letting anyone in to see their king, thank you, especially not anyone that might potentially be holding grudges.

His main concern at the moment has very little to do with who gets what title and a whole lot to do with convincing them that he has never in his life considered holding Tyelpe responsible for any of this and that's definitely not going to change now.

But let's not take my word for it! Let's vote:

#silmarillion #i love asks!#just don't ask how long this one was lurking in my inbox #i love polls!

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 7 months ago

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Hi!

Would Platonic Yandere! Scott Summers ever manipulate reader? Or just fully or subtly infantilize them to keep them safe? Or maybe even gaslight them?

To him it would just be like oh I’m doing it to keep you safe of course even if I am making you rely on me but I don’t want you to realize this :)

(Sorry if this is a crappy ask I haven’t gotten a chance to really get into X - Men and the idea was really only half formed when i submitted it)

(Ps why does Scott kind of lowkey give off Platonic Yandere! Dick Grayson vibes? No just me? Ok 🥹😂)

HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️💙💙💙💙

⭐️anon

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍…

!!! GN reader, manipulation (shocker), strict Scott, control issues, Dck Gryson cameo, accidental infantilism, accidental gaslighting.

X-Men content is like a drug. I was dragged in by ‘97, then started watching the OG cartoon, then started picking up the comics, and now look at me. My life is ruined. Run while you still can.

Scott’s manipulation completely comes in the form of abusing his leadership position. He’s not afraid to threaten you with disciplinary action as the field commander of the X-Men, even if it’s over something as little as you not wanting to abide by his made up curfew. If you wanna be an X-Men, then you have to listen to him both on and off the field. How can he depend on you if you don’t, huh?

Scott has to be in control. Bad things always happen when he’s not, so the thought of not having you — someone he views as a sibling, or even his own child — under wraps is absolutely terrifying. Yes, it might seem like he’s being a total prick to you, but this is just what all of the trauma over the years has done to him. He can’t really help it!! Please respect his authority!!

He just wants to keep you safe… please let him keep you safe…

Now, I usually imagine the reader to also be an X-Man when it comes to platonic Scott. But if that’s not your cup of tea, then the whole leader thing kind of falls flat. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t hold the same commanding presence, however. “Because I said so” is his main go-to for manipulation (if you even wanna call it that), and he’ll say it in the same tone he uses against Wolverine or Gambit whenever one of those bozos are acting up. He’s older and wiser than you, and that obviously means he knows best. Why are you questioning him?

As for the Dick Grayson comparison… not gonna lie, I’ve thought about a Nightwing/X-Men collab idea before, but that’s beside the point. Dick has a full arsenal of manipulation tactics at the ready, one of them being the more stricter, no-nonsense angle that may be reminiscent of Scott’s. But whereas Dick likes to metronome between any and every possible manipulative strategy out there, Scott pretty much only has one. And it’s barely a conscious decision, either. Should he ever have to actually think about manipulating you, he’s actually feel pretty guilty about it before convincing himself it’s for your own good.

Infantilism is less of a manipulation tactic and more of a way he shows his love. He is 100% convinced you’re just a little baby and doesn’t find it weird at all to treat you as such. His delusional ass will absolutely carry you around in his hip and think you’re the crazy one for not liking it. There might be a little gaslighting in that regard, but definitely not heavy-handed or on purpose. You’re an adorable little thing… don’t all adorable little things like to be carried? Huh… weird. Maybe you’re just not used to it.

All and all, while he’s sharp enough to see through most forms of manipulation, actually executing it is another story. This man is way too blunt to be charming and too emotionally constipated to lean harder into his softer side. Heads up: there’s a chance you may walk in on him reading books on parenting.

#❥ CALL INCOMING: DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?#⭐️ DARLING~#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE SCOTT SUMMERS #❥ YANDERE SCOTT SUMMERS X READER #❥ GN READER

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 8 months ago

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Congratulations for the 450 followers ! You deserves it ! Have one more ❤️

Can I request a 5 and 13 for the fic roulette ? With Mayday , please 👌

Hello my lovely, @griffedeloup

I loved having Mayday to work with; I tried a different approach for this one. I hope you enjoy it. I look forward to writing more for this lovely man.

Love oo,

Italics - Comms

Encrypted Communication

Warning: Mixed communications, insults, curse words, I think that's it, let me know if I miss any.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

{03:24 - Encrypted communication} - Looking for your report cadet, why isn’t it on my desk?

{03:27 - Encrypted communication} - Cadet, I’m not going to ask again! Report better be on my desk in the next five minutes or I’ll have you running 50 laps before breakfast!

You groaned as your comm beeped frantically, you grabbed to look at the messages you were receiving. Groaning in annoyance.

{03:35} To whoever typed in the wrong karking number - I’m not your cadet. So shut up!

{03:36 - Encrypted communication} - Do you think this is funny, cadet? Also why isn’t your communicator encrypted?

You blinked at the message.

{03:37} I’m sure this is more than what you were expecting, but do me a favour, jackass, and look at the number you’re typing!

{03:38 - Encrypted communication} … // … // … I apologize for the late comm messages. It was unintentional. Apparently my cadet thought it would be funny to change one number on the number I have saved under his name on my communicator. I will definitely make sure to exact punishment on the cadet.

You couldn’t help smirk at the message, feeling sorry for the cadet but also pretty impressed he was about to get a hold of his commander’s comm device.

{03:39} No worries. Although I hope you don’t kill your cadet. If you don’t mind my asking, how did he get a hold of your comm?

{03:40 - Encrypted communication} More than likely while I was taking a shower. I do apologize for the inconvenience.

{03:41} That’s okay. You smirked. Tell me, you really gonna make your cadet run 50 laps?

{03:43 - Encrypted communication} I do believe the punishment should fit the crime although I may make him run 75.

{03:44} Okay, I feel bad for him … I’m assuming it’s a him? Could be a her?

{03:45 - Encrypted communication} It’s a him.

{03:46} So I’m assuming you can’t sleep

{03:46} - Encrypted communication} Can’t sleep?

{03:47} Well you’re up and texting someone at 3 in the morning. Actually for the past 20 minutes give or take, so either you’re living somewhere that’s in a different time zone or … you can’t sleep and feel the need to torture those who are beneath you.

As you sent the message you regretted the innuendo that it sounded like.

{03:48} Okay, that wasn’t meant to sound like it did.

{03:48 - Encrypted communication} Hahaha, but you’re right. On both fronts.

{03:49} Oh really! LOL. That’s interesting to know. By the way, what’s your name?

And that weird three a.m., conversation was the beginnings of your friendship with Mayday, now almost six months later, you two were exchanging messages like there was no tomorrow, and in fairness for a man who was somewhere in the galaxy, somewhere possibly fighting for his life the least you could was answer his messages.

{12:40 - Encrypted communication} Good afternoon, mesh’la. You won’t believe the osik storm I’ve had to deal with today.

{12:41 - Encrypted communication} Hey handsome, what happened?

{12:42 - Encrypted communication} I’m getting transferred

{12:43 - Encrypted communication} What??? Why??

{12:44 - Encrypted communication} Redeployment of assets. On the plus side I’ll be on Coruscant for the month before I have to get sent to my new station.

{12:45 - Encrypted communication} You’re coming here! Whoa! I wasn’t ready for that.

{12:46 - Encrypted communication} I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it

{12:47 - Encrypted communication} Are you crazy? Of course you should’ve! I just never … I just never thought we’d actually meet in person. I mean yes, you walked me through encrypting my comm, and when I asked for a picture you sent me a picture of your helmet, which hahaha very funny by the way. But now, you’ll be here… on the same planet. With me. That’s … I’m beyond excited! Sorry that seems a bit much.

{12:49 - Encrypted communication} LOL no at all, mesh’la. I’m excited to meet you too. I’ll be arriving in two days. Maybe I can meet you at the cafe you talked about last time.

{12:50 - Encrypted communication} Alright, I’ll meet at Snow Capped Cafe. What time works for you?

{12:51 - Encrypted communication} I’ll be arriving on Coruscant, hopefully around 1300 hours. So after my debrief I should … hopefully, be available by 1930.

{12:52 - Encrypted communication} I’m taking a shot and say that’s 7:30 p.m.?

{12:53 - Encrypted communication} Hahaha, yes mesh’la. 730 p.m. You know we went over military time a while back, you should know that.

{12:54 - Encrypted communication} I know! I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.

{12:55 - Encrypted communication} You don’t have to do anything mesh’la. You just have to do you. I look forward to seeing you, and finally meeting you in person. I’ve looked at your picture enough to memorize what you look like, I’ll find you.

{12:56 - Encrypted communication} Can’t wait, Mayday. See you in two days.

Those two days went by faster than you expected, you sat in the cafe, staring at your cup of tea. You’d bought Mayday’s cup of coffee. Your stomach felt as though it had butterflies tied into knots being tossed about on a stormy sea. You wanted to throw up, run to the bathroom, and take a nap all at the same time.

Mayday rushed to get to the cafe, the last thing he wanted to be was late, simply because one karking officer didn’t know when enough was enough and needed to shut up. Thankfully, it wasn’t far to the cafe, he came to a halt just before the cafe. He closed his eyes and took a breath. He looked in and saw you sitting at a table in the corner. You looked more beautiful than you had in your picture.

Suddenly, the idea of actually talking to you face-to-face seemed like a really bad idea. That was until he saw your message.

{19:32 - Encrypted communication} Hey don’t want to make it feel like I'm pushing, just wondering if your debriefing is running late?

He couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face the moment he read your message. He took in a deep breath and walked in, heading straight to you with a smile on his face.

“Mesh’la?”

You looked up from your comm and smiled at him, standing up, “Mayday?”

“Hi” he smiled, brimming from ear to ear. It was awkward for a second before you both mutually decided without speaking to hug each other. “It’s so good to finally meet you, mesh’la.”

“You too!” You breathed in his scent, trying to remember the woodsy, peppermint, coffee, gun oil smell that seemed to be his. Somehow that scent made all your knots, butterflies, and raging storms calm down. In his arms you felt at home, at peace.

You both pulled back to look at each other, smiling. “How was your flight back?”

“Hellish, boring, but I made it.” He smirked.

You motioned for him to sit down, “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Please, my treat!”

He smiled and nodded, “In that case, surprise me.”

Surprise him you did, with a sandwich that was filled with grease, cheese, some sort of meat, and a sauce that was to die for, along with a pecan pie slice, and a mochaccino that had whipped cream, with chocolate shavings. You walked over with the number for your order and placed it on the table, smiling as you sat in front of him.

“Thanks for making this a possibility,” you smiled chewing on your lower lip.

“C’mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you. Not my mesh’la, the one who came up with the most effective way to torture someone.”

You started laughing, “All I said was it would suck if they had to run without their flight suits in cold weather. You’re the one who went all out with it being the perfect punishment for anyone who didn’t turn in their reports.”

“And you know I’ve been getting everyone’s report on the dot, thanks to your genius.” He chuckled as he looked at you. His eyes widened when the waitress brought over the food and placed the mochaccino, “Wow, when I told you to surprise me, you really surprised me.”

“Well I got some stuff that I thought you might like and the best hot sauce around.” you pulled out your secret hot sauce from your bag and placed it on the table, “You said you liked sweet and spicy. So I got you pecan pie and a mochaccino with whipped cream, and the most greasy yet delicious sandwich imaginable.”

Mayday reached over and held your hand, stroking your knuckles with the back of his thumb, “Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly be any more perfect.”

You felt your face flush as you looked at him, “And just when I thought you couldn’t get any smoother with your lines. Where are you getting transferred to?”

“Barton IV”

“Barton IV, where’s that?”

“Somewhere that doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot to the Empire.”

“Then why go?”

“Because that’s what a clone Commander is supposed to do.”

“Just be safe, when you do go. So you’re here for a month… so much to plan and do.” You smile as you look at him. “Is this your first time to Coruscant?”

“I’ve been here a number of times, don’t worry. I know my way around, but I’d still like to see what you have planned.” He smirked as he looked at you.

“Hmmm so many options. Well have you been to 79’s?”

“Of course.”

“Great! Than you can take me! We have to build up these memories before you leave.”

“Don’t worry, mesh’la, even without memories, I’ll still be the best pen pal, you could’ve hoped for.”

You nodded as you glanced down to the pecan pie, chewing the inside of your cheek, “Is that … what we are, pen pals?”

Mayday squeezed your hand, “I thought we were friends, I hoped really good friends.”

You lifted your eyes half way, “What if … we tried for more than that?”

“Then you would’ve made this Commander the happiest Commander in the Imperial Army.”

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

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melishade · 8 months ago

Text

Attack on Prime Incorrect Quotes: The Saga Continues

Main Story

Part Whenever

Hanji: I'm tired.

Optimus: You slept for three hours last night! Why are you surprised?!

Hanji: I'm not surprised. I just wanted to complain about it.

Levi: I want you to know that I’m judging you

Megatron: Don’t you always judge me??

Levi: Yes, but you’ve been extra quirky today so I have to let you know that it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Hanji: Would you rather kill Eren, or—

Megatron: Yes, kill him.

Armin: They didn’t say the other option.

Megatron: I don’t need to hear it.

Eren: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.

===

Zeke: I can't believe you assassinated the Commander of Marley!

Megatron: Well, 'assassinated' implies it was politically motivated. I killed him because he was a dick, so technically I murdered him.

Zeke: That's not better!

===

Survey Corps: Can we ask you for a favor?

Optimus: I would literally die for you but continue.

Levi: We have got to talk about you starting sentences that way.

Beloved Timeline

Optimus: What am I supposed to do all day while you're off in Marley?

Elita:...I don't know? What do you normally do when I'm gone?

Optimus *Sniffing and tears up*: Wait for you to get back.

War Timeline

Hanji: We have fun, don’t we, Doc?

Ratchet: I have never been more stressed out in my entire life.

Jack: Wow, Miko, looks like you've been dethroned.

Armin: I...I think we have to kill Eren.

Megatron:

===

Pieck: So...how did you two meet?

Optimus glancing over at Megatron: ...You know, we actually legally can't answer that.

===

Beloved Timeline

Elita: Go on! Shout, scream, say something! Stunned as Optimus puts his servo on her cheek.

Optimus to Elita: You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.

Survey Corps:

Megatron: I don’t think you apologizing to me is a good idea.

Armin: Uh…why?

Megatron: Because when you do that, I inevitably feel bad and forgive you, and I really want to be mad.

Armin: But why would you want to be mad? I hate being angry, it ruins everything.

Megatron: Exactly. Ruining everything is kind of my thing, I can’t lose it.

Peaceful Timeline

Maria: Oshern, can you do me a favor?

Oshern: Of course, mo leanbh (my young child). Always.

Maria: Cool. Can you stop denying your feelings and tell Mama (Ymir) you love her — like love love her in that kind of way so the two of you can stop pining?

Oshern, spit-takes

Optimus: Maria, what?

Maria: Focus, Papa. This is important.

===

Megatron: I need help.

Levi: Two words.

Megatron I bet they won't be helpful.

Levi: Your. Problem.

Megatron: I was right.

===

(Based on a prompt of Hanji experimenting with dark energon and seeing Unicron)

Unicron: Hey, I bought your soul last month and-

Hanji: No returns.

Unicron: Please, it’s making me sad.

===

A million years later after the Dark Timeline Epilogue

Optimus: You're worth every tear I've cried since you died. You've always been.

Megatron: Optimus...

Optimus: *almost crying* So don't tell me you're not worth my tears, because you are. You're worth the tears of relief, and, and happiness. I missed you everyday.

Megatron: *hugs Optimus*

Optimus: *crying* I missed you, I'm happy, these are, these are tears, they're—

Megatron: *holds Optimus tighter* Happy tears. I know brother. I know now.

===

Arcee: Where's Buckethead?

Hanji: Don't worry, I'll find him.

Hanji, shouting: Optimus sucks!

Megatron, distantly: How fragging dare you!

Hanji: Told you he still cared about him.

====

Optimus dealing with another death/respawn situation: What's up guys, I'm back.

Hanji, crying: What the- you can't be here. You're dead. I literally saw you die.

Optimus: Death is a social construct.

====

Eren: I'm not traumadumping.

Eren: I'm telling you my villain origin story.

Arcee: That's fragging worse!

====

Levi: Someone will die -

Hanji: Of fun!

===

Random Marleyan: Wait, you're gay? Are you fucking serious?

Optimus: I'm bisexual, actually. And yes.

====

Peaceful Timeline

Ymir: ...You came...

Optimus: You called.

===

Megatron: The dwarf is telling me I'm going to die.

Armin:...Are...are you sick?

Megatron smirking: No, he just doesn't like me.

Levi: IMMA FUCK YOU UP ON TUESDAY!

===

Hanji: You are, of course, wondering why it is I have brought you here tonight.

Optimus: Actually Hanji, after all these weeks, I just sort of go with it.

===

Eren: Arcee, I just realized something. I had a bad childhood.

Arcee: Yeah, I know.

Eren: What do you mean you know?

Arcee: Look at you.

Eren: What do you mean look at me?

Arcee: Look at how you stand! People with good childhoods don't stand like that.

===

Arcee: *speaking Cybertronian*

Eren: I know, I know.

Wheeljack baffled: You speak Cybertronian?

Eren: No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language.

===

*at Megatron and Eren's funeral in the Dark Timeline*

Armin: Optimus...it... it was a beautiful service.

Optimus: *staring up at thunderclouds* I'm glad it didn't rain. They hated the rain. *reaches up to wipe away tears* Why do I feel this way Armin?

Armin: Because you loved them, Optimus.

===

Hanji to Optimus: You are my best friend! If I'm dying, you're dying with me! Ain’t no choice!

===

Peaceful Timeline

Megatron to Maria: I was never afraid until you showed up.

===

Eren: When have I ever done something rash or irresponsible?

Optimus channeling his inner archivist: I keep a list. It’s alphabetized.

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bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

Note

🗝️

Commander Mills as an explorer/treasure Hunter/guide/expedition leader/bounty Hunter/whatever from a bygone era. Please and thank you :)

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 — 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒

TreasureHunter!Mills x Goddess!reader

summary: Mills is enchanted to meet you after stumbling across your temple in his journey to find treasure. He's desperate for a way to pay his daughter's medical bills and agrees to pay upfront for taking the golden offerings.

word count: 2k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suspense, inference of threat, dub-con ((? (seduction through enchantment))) cumming untouched, fully clothed, grinding, forced worship, cumming in pants. Wanted to try something new for this one and really enjoyed writing it!!!

➛ mills masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

Rabid breaths heave from Mills’ chest as he hauls himself over the sheer cliff face. The chalky surface crumbles beneath his hands, the rope he had managed to throw and hook over a stone pillar holding the weight of his body. Adrenaline skitters up his spine as though he’s touched a live wire, every hair on his arms standing on end despite the baking heat of the setting sun at his back.

Buckling his leg over the edge of the drop, Mills pushes on the heel of his boot to pull himself over and away from the death drop below. He wheezes heavily, clasping at his chest with his palm, checking his heart is still throbbing despite how it practically slams up against his ribs. His blood rushes in his ears as he rests his head back on the dusty floor, staring up at the stalactites that hang menacingly from the cave roof. They remind him of the daggers of the local people who had threatened him for trespassing into their lands, and he lets out an incredulous laugh, eyelids slipping shut as exhaustion kicks in.

This entire journey had been treacherous from the very beginning, almost cursed. Mills must have somehow cracked every mirror in his general vicinity, receiving a perpetually multiplied seven years of bad luck. The plane had come down from the sky; he’d been attacked by a particularly overzealous tiger on his way through the jungle, kidnapped by local tribes– if he was fair, he could understand why they were enraged by his presence. But, of course, Mills couldn’t exactly claim he wouldn’t pounce on trespassers in his home, either. Regardless, peril had held a blade to his throat the whole journey, and if he hadn’t been at the mouth of the very temple he had been in search of, he would have turned on his heel and headed straight back home to the sanctuary of his bed.

Over the gasping breaths rattling his lungs and the whistling of the wind through the stone caves, Mills swears he can hear a voice. Sweet words whisper softly in his ear, the sensation of breath tickling his ear, causing a chill to run across his dusty skin.

It has been so long since someone graced my halls.

Lurching upright suddenly, Mills scans his eyes over his surroundings, taking in the pillars that held up the gargantuan temple carved into the rockface to his left. Despite what he could only assume was centuries of isolation, lost to time, the temple still holds a golden, flickering glow of torchlight. Flames dance from the wall brackets built into the stone, the miniature blazes casting a dancing orange hue across the floor.

“Hello?” He calls, his voice ricocheting off the walls. Mills speaks, and the same word repeatedly returns his address; Hello, hello, hello?

Stumbling to his feet and discarding the rope he had clung to as a lifeline. Brushing his hands over his hips, he feels for the handle of his gun in his holster, gripping the weapon tightly as he wanders into the temple, eyes scanning the walls. Ancient inscriptions decorate the walls, chiselled into the face of the brickwork with rudimentary tools. Mills could just about make out certain words, names for goddesses, warnings of dange-

I have missed the company of others.

The disembodied voice in his ear causes Mills to jump suddenly, eyes wide and panicked as he spins on his heel, searching the shadows for the source of the noise. Besides the rushing wind outside that brushes loose strands of hair from his face and the quiet skittering of small stones disrupted by his footsteps, he cannot hear anything more. He’s almost sure that he’s imagining things, that he may have unwittingly bashed his head off the side of the cliff on his ascent– until he spots you standing in the middle of the large open prayer room.

States of the old gods surround you, enshrined in ivory marble amongst the golden sandstone. You wear draping cloth, something akin to a toga, and it sways in the breeze that sweeps your hair from your cheeks. It takes his breath away, your ethereal beauty, his lips parting as he gazes at your enchanting face.

“Ah- Excuse me,” Mills addresses you cautiously, an inexplicable nervousness settling in the pit of his stomach. You are almost too beautiful to look at, the awe fixing in his bones and aching.

“Apologies are nonessential,”you smile politely at him, sandals silent as they walk along the textured surface of the ground. Mills gawps as he watches you almost float towards him, your eyes scanning over the length of his being. Is this a fever dream?

“Might I ask that you state your business?” You query him, and Mills’ hairs stand on end, that nervous energy turning his stomach over. He feels jittery, as though his instincts tell him his survival depends on how he answers your question.

“I- I have been ordered here in search of precious metals.” Mills chooses to offer a half-truth. Treasures were an honest response, yes. But no one had sent him here— no one but desperation.

“In order to pay for your ailing daughter’s remedy?” You hum softly in that voice as soft as silk. Mills’ heart twists, and he might have noted that he never mentioned Nevine if it weren’t for the stinging of tears in his eyes at the mere mention of her. He hadn’t seen her in many moon cycles, persistent on his journey in hopes of finding enough treasures to save her from the disease ravaging her body.

You nod, approaching Mills ever so slowly. Something in the very back of his mind, a whisper of instinct, warns him to retreat from you, but as your hand lifts to cross the small space between you both, he yearns to know what it would feel like to be comforted by you.

“I understand your pain, dear one. The agony and suffering of our children is a painful weight to carry,” Delicate fingers brush up the bare skin of his forearm slowly, the touch itself soothing and easing some of the emotional pain that grips his mind and blurs his vision. “There is bounty here that may ease that burden.”

Relief lurches up Mills’ throat in a sudden sigh of relief. It sounds a lot like a sob, emotions coming so easily to the usually steeled hunter in your presence. It’s almost startling to Mills how the tears spill down in cheeks so quickly, even with the overwhelming consolation.

“I just request something in recompense,” you whisper, your breath brushing across his cheekbone and warming his skin like a summer breeze. He melts into your affections as you continue to stroke at his bare skin despite his better judgement, body seemingly craving the solace it finds in your connection. “Something that may atone for the loss of my most prized possessions…”

“Name it,” he murmurs, eyelids heavy as he watches your eyes alight with mischief, the glow in them not unlike the flames that light the surrounding room. “I’ll do anything for you..”

The words sounded odd coming from his lips, not quite what he had meant to say. Mills opens his mouth to correct himself; ‘for my daughter’. But, instead, a gasp of pleasure pushes past his chapped lips. Your eyes scan across the pinch in his brow as Mills’ body throbs with an overwhelming sense of bliss, his jaw falling slack as you gently tuck strands of his ebony hair behind his ear.

“What is-” He chokes out, leaning slightly into your touch despite his internal drive to push away. Instead, the very atoms of his being pull towards you, fear and ecstasy twisting in the pit of his abdomen as you hold his gaze, your perfect brow arching in query.

“Is?” You urge him to continue, but Mills’ mouth fails to form around the words- or do they dissipate in his mind before they even fully form? He has lost the ability to speak entirely, eyes rolling back as arousal flits from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His cock strains against the seam of his trousers, twitching and pulsing.

“I do enjoy how delicate people are,” You whisper to him, voice as soft as cotton, “You break apart with my touch, burst at the seams at my command.”

Mills’ knees buckle beneath him at the sound of your mirthful chuckle, moaning pathetically at how the seam of his trousers’ crotch presses against his throbbing balls. Already his cock is weeping precum through the tan fabric, leaving a dark, wet stain.

“Mhmm,” you smile to yourself, lifting the skirts of your toga as you bend at the knees, balancing on the balls of your feet. Mills, grinding his hips against the fabric of his trousers, looks up at you. His eyes are stinging with tears, the immense arousal. “Is it pleasurable? Does it engulf you, that heavenly feeling?”

He wants to shout stop, wants to beg you to release him from the enchantment you seem to have cast upon him, but instead, his head tilts forward in a nod, body seemingly working against his mind and prostrating before you in an act of worship. He can feel your eyes on the back of his head and can practically sense your prideful smirk as the pleasure grows significantly.

“Ohh–” Mills whimpers and it’s pathetic. Almost like a wail, the sound bounces off the smooth walls, a dissipating melody of his own whinings. He tries to spread his legs wider, hoping it will relieve some of the building pressure, but his hips have a mind of their own and begin to rock against the inseam that lays flat against his cock. The friction itself causes a gut-wrenching groan to burst past his lips.

“You may give it to it,” he hears you advise from above, “This is your reparation, the promised payment for my treasure.”

All at once, his arousal surges, and Mills finally releases any and all reservations. It floods his body, the almost unbearable bliss that rocks through every nerve. He can’t help but fall victim to the burn and the sting. He has no doubt he looks utterly pitiful at your feet, hips rocking against the air and body trembling as his balls pull up tight.

“That’s it,” you whisper, silky smooth voice running down his spine, pooling in the pit of his stomach and poisoning his sensibility, “That is perfect.”

And it is, God, it is. Mills is entirely pliant as the darkness takes hold of his mind. It seeps in, creeping into his consciousness and chasing out the light. As his cock drools and his hips pick up their pace against the tightness of his pants, his eyes roll back into his skull. Oblivion swallows him whole, blissful pleasure utterly obliterating his cognizance. It’s an inferno, blackening his insides and charring his skin with a devastating heat as he cums in his pants.

When the obscurity releases him, there is no sense of self or mindfulness. Instead, he’s completely detached, his body trembling and alight with enormous sensation, and his mind inundated by you. You, only you. Your pretty fingers clutch his chin, and you stare adoringly down at him as you push his hair out of his face again.

“You are a treasure, yourself, my dear,” you whisper to him, shaking your head as you pout slightly, “I can’t find it in myself to release you.”

In himself, Mills also can’t find it in himself to leave. He couldn’t remember why he had entered these hallowed halls. Had he even come from the outside? As far as he could recall, he had always been here, on his knees before you in worship.

And that’s where he intended to stay. Anything else would be sacrilegious. He wouldn’t dare defy his Goddess in such a way.

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sunnyy3d · 1 year ago

Text

Nightmare| Thomas Thorne x Reader

Warnings: death, implied suicide, angst

A/N: Please feel free to give me requests!!!

He is in the field. Oh God. What is he doing? I am running, but my legs aren’t carrying me fast enough. I will never get there in time. I am trying to scream, but nothing is coming out of my mouth. He does not need to do this. Whatever was said is not worth dying over. We have not even been able to get married yet; we are only newly betrothed. He cannot die! I am too late. I am at the field when I hear Byron’s gun go off. I was so close. Finally, I can get the words out of my mouth, “Thomas!” “My love,” he replies, holding his wound. “He shot early, we did not get to twenty paces.” “It is okay, Thomas. Someone, get a doctor!” I scream while clutching onto him. I am already sobbing when Francis walks up to us. I do not even notice until he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Get off of me and go get a doctor,” I command. Francis sighs, “There is nothing a doctor can do. The bullet hit too close to his organs.” “You do not know that. You are not a doctor, so go get one,” I yell at him. I hear Francis walk away. I hold tightly onto Thomas, “Thomas, you cannot die. I will not allow it. You cannot make me live without you, I simply will not.” Thomas raises his clean hand to my face, pulling me in for a sweet kiss. “I did this for you, my love. You shine brighter than the sun, and I could not let those charlatans get away with speaking ill of you. I would say I’m sorry, but that would mean that I have regrets, and I do not. It only saddens me that I will not get to spend more time with you. I love you, dear. Do not ever forget that.” “I love you, too, Thomas. Please do not go. We could have so much more time together,” I sob. I hug him, not caring if I get blood on my dress. Why has Francis not come back with the doctor? I pull away from the hug, hoping to get another good look at Thomas’ face. Maybe he can tell me something poetic, anything to prove he is not dying. But I get the opposite of that. Instead of a happy and alive Thomas, I see a pale and dead one. I start screaming and sobbing, gripping his shirt in my fists. After a little bit, Francis finally comes back. “Where were you? You let him die!” I yell, shoving him. Francis grabs my wrists and pulls me into a hug, but I quickly push him away.

I sprint back to the house, running into my room. What am I to do? I cannot live without Thomas. I pace in front of my bed, contemplating. I cannot live without him, so I shan’t, and I start devising a plan. I put on my best dress and fix my hair. I would look the prettiest I have ever been, if my face did not look so sullen. After ensuring everyone is asleep, I grab a candle and sneak out of my room. I head back into my room after grabbing the main step to my plan. Now, all I need to do is make sure that everything is in order. I place the letters down on my desk in a neat row. There is one for each member of my family that I am leaving. All I have to do now is go to bed. I lay down, trying not to think of my fate and the death of my love, but of the happy times I have spent with him and my family. Eventually, I drift off to sleep.

I wake up with a start, tears streaming down my face. I look around, spotting Thomas. Quickly, I hug him, sobbing into his chest. I hold him like I would die if I ever let go. He groans, waking up due to the sudden change. After realizing what is going on he sits up and grabs me, “What is wrong, my love? What has happened?” “I had a nightmare. It was of the day it occurred,” I explain, sniffling. Thomas pulls me in for a hug, shushing me and rubbing my back. “Oh, it is okay, dear. I am here now. It is all in the past. Nothing bad can happen to us anymore. Look, let us lie back down and sleep.” I let him bring me back down to the bed, not faltering on my grip. I lay my head on his chest, “Can you just talk to me?” He soothingly rubs my back. “Of course. Anything for you, my love.”

#mathew baynton #x reader #thomas thorne #fanfic #thomas thorne x reader #bbc ghosts thomas #bbc ghosts

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keelt9 · 7 months ago

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Chapter 5

Space

Masterlist

The next hours passed like it wasn’t me. When I left the building, I heard Jill scream my name, but I chose not to turn back. I took a cab and asked him to leave me in the little store near to the beach, all the way I let the tears flow crying in silence.

I walk until the rocks of the ravine meet the sand and the sea; I sit there trying to calm down but slowly I hug my legs and hide my face between the space that my chest and my knees create, I let out the pain, a pain that it was utterly know, like someone keep squeezing my chest leaving me out of breath.

“I’m so sorry Riley, so sorry.” I whisper over and over again, rubbing my arms trying to find some kind of warm sensation.

“Don’t you dare do this to me Riley.” I put all my weight over his wound but it seems to be useless because my hands quickly stain red. “Riley!”

He takes his dog tags with shaking moves from his neck and puts them in my hands.

“No, no, no, Riley, hey, hey, look at me, ok? I’m gonna get you out of here just look at me.” He is smiling and he is breaking something in me. “Please Riley, hold on.”

Phoenix, Bob and I were walking after the maneuvers from today ended, when we heard a Cyclone voice.

“Watch your tone, Lieutenant.” We looked at each other but our questions were interrupted by the sounds of someone running to us. Jake passes us running like his life depends on it. For a moment we were a ghost on his way to Cyclone and the unfortunate pilot, but Cyclone stopped him.

“Commander Seresin.” Jake doubts if he must reach the person who is walking away or he must obey, at the end he walks back. “Let her, she just needs time.” Jake lowers his head and breath out, we see him clench his fist, he is contained.

“Sir… I think…” Cyclone interrupts him.

“It’s an order.”

We wait until Cyclone disappears through the doors leaving Jake alone. “Hey Bangaman, what’s going on?” Jake turns around and lets his shoulders down, rubbing his forehead like he was trying to find the pieces of something.

“Sky…she lost control up there.”

Jake told us what happen and instantly, I run even I hear them scream; I look for her in the dressing room, bathroom, classroom, Jamie’s office, but it’s like I’m trying to find a ghost, when I was walking for Cyclone office, I hear Jill screaming her name from the main entrance, but when I reach Jill, she was grabbing the back of his neck.

“Is she okay?” I ask her, but Jill just sees me and denies with her head.

“How could she?”

I arrive at Hard Deck, Penny is already outside like she is waiting for someone, she stands as I walk closer to her. “Rooster, have you seen Sky? The girl who was the other…” I interrupted her.

“I know her, but I thought she was with you.” Penny sits on the stairs. “It was that bad?” She doesn’t give me time to answer.

“I KNOW, I think I know where she is.”

Penny told me that Sky and Riley had a special “ritual” when the day was hard, they bought a couple of beers and sat on the beach observing the ocean, Penny thought she must be somewhere near that store.

What feels like hours of crying were interrupted for the sensation of someone sitting beside me, I clean my face before I raise my head.

Bradley is sitting next to me, he isn’t looking at me, he isn't speaking to me, he just sits beside me, without a reason my tears accumulate one more time.

“I’m so…” He interrupts me before I apologize.

“What you've been through it’s not easy, but you don’t have to apologize with no one, I’m pretty sure even Riley knows you don’t owe him an apology.” His voice is a soft whisper that brings me a little bit of calm, he sees me and I find a little bit of comfort in his face. “Quite the opposite, thank you for keeping fighting, thank you for being here.”

For an impulse I hug him, he shocks for a moment, but he holds me back. “You are doing the best every day and that is more than enough.” I grip him tight, fearing if I don’t do that I will keep falling.

At that moment I didn’t even care how he knew about Riley, how he knew what happened or where to find me, with his mere presence, I felt calm, I felt I could cry a river and he would stay there, and when he hugged me, I didn’t notice but… changed a lot of things inside of me.

My parents gave me the space I needed; when I arrived home, they were in their room just sticking their heads out to make sure I arrived safely home, watching me enter my room and close the door.

At dawn I get down to eat a snack; it’s been more than 9 hours since I ate and my stomach starts to protest; I hear footsteps coming downstairs and my mother enters the kitchen, she doesn't look at me with pity, she just serves a glass of water and asks me. “Are you in the mood for chocolate chip cookies?” I see her and she smiles at me.

“Sounds great.”

With the sun rising in the horizon my mother and I were eating chocolate chip cookies in the garden with our pjs on.

“Y/N, you know, when your father and I knew you were coming to the world, we promise to each other and specially to you, we’re going to make you the strongest girl in the world, what a surprise when at 2 years old you already challenging us with that cold look of you, herency of your father by the way… We understand you already were the strongest girl in the world.”

I grab another cookie. “What I try to say is, you always do the best you can and that’s fine, don’t be hard on yourself.” She put her hand on my knee, looking at me like she always does, if I was the brightest star in her sky. “I love you so much my little butterfly.”

With the weekend beginning I know I have to go for a little trip before the deciding week begins; I pack a little bag and say goodbye to my parents. I take a flight to Boston, Riley’s hometown; I need to do something so I can start to let him go.

Waiting for the door to open while the cold weather embraces me makes me smile; Riley always said if I ever get bored from the hot days, there I will always feel a cold but nice breeze.

“Y/N?” A tall, blonde guy appears behind the door, in front of me.

“Hi, Jack.” He put the towel he had between his hands on his shoulder, for he could freely hug me.

“OMG, Y/N! What a surprise.” He let me go and let me in. “Please let me help you with that.” He takes my bag by the time the sound of small steps running to us puts a smile on my face.

“AUNT SKY!” A 2-year boy appears with his apron covered with food.

“Henry, hey!” He jumps for I catch him and holds me by my neck, I close my eyes, when I open one more time, Camille is watching us.

“I wonder why there is so much fuss at this hour.” I smiled at her, and Henry let me go.

“I’m sorry for coming without a….” Camille denies. “You don’t need an invitation Sky, you are family, didn’t she, Henry?” I look at the boy who is nodding incessantly. “Come here, we are just about to finish for breakfast and I bet you didn’t even eat something properly.” The cookies weren't a proper breakfast and that’s for sure.

Jack and Riley Miller were closer brothers, their mother died when they were 9 and 6 years old, for an unexpected and lethal cancer, left them with his father, who died a few months after Riley graduated from the navy, a fulminate heart attack. If life could be more cruel, after a couple of years I gave Jack, Riley’s dog tags and a flag, since that moment and on, I couldn’t even see them in the face.

“How are your parents?” Jack asks, putting in front of me a full plate with pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

“Good, thanks for asking, they send you greetings.” Camille is in Henry’s bedroom changing his clothes.

“I was tempted to call you but… well, I didn’t know where you were.” With a bite of pancakes, it was a difficult question from Jack, thankfully I didn’t have to answer because Henry entered with draws in both of his hands.

“He insists on showing you his drawings.” Henry was the adoration of Riley, in his bag there was always a picture of Henry, every time we could be at our home, he always made sure to buy him a nice toy. I met him when Henry was just 5 months old. He was a cute little baby, a kid that's easy to love, but smart like Miller's.

“I save the best for the last.” Henry removes all the drawings just leaving one.

If you narrow it down your eyes can see a small drawing of a plane, submerged in a blue color and in the top an orange ball, I guess it must be the sun, but a peculiar green circle along the airplane.

“It’s a good one.” Jack says sitting next to us. “Explain it buddy.”

Henry watches his father and then points with his little finger.

“This is the ocean, this is an F-18, the plane you fly; Uncle Ray said you are the most amazing pilot he ever knew. You even blast off in the middle of night like you have the sun above you, that’s why I put the orange for the sunset.” He keeps quiet as if he is thinking deeply.

“And this?” I point at the green circle.

“Is uncle Railey.” He looks at me. “Uncle Ray said no matter where we are or what we do, he always going to be watching us from the sky, so I guess is the same with you aunt Sky, no matter where you are or what you do, you always going to have a little green light beside you, who is actually in the sky.” My tears were rolling and all of them were smiling at me.

“Is for you, maybe if you watch it every day, you’re not a sad Aunt, anymore, I hate to see you cry.” I hug Henry because it is the only thing I can do right now.

The weekend we passed, the days talking with Jack and his family put us on the day, playing with Henry, telling him stories about how amazing Railey was and how much he loves him. Saturday night before he goes to sleep, I said goodbye to him, promising that I would go to see them from time to time and say hi to Riley every time I’ll be in the sky.

“You promise Y/N, you come from time to time.” Jack says and puts a cup of coffee and slice of apple pie; they insist I must eat something before leaving.

“Actually, I came here for a reason.” Both look at me with surprise in their expressions, I put a folder in the table and push to them. “I’ll…I’ll be preparing to get back, but on the way I realized that I must let go Riley. I know so well how much Riley loves you and how much he wanted to help you just like you did with him; as I get back made me realize he left so much things undone, and it’s killing me; so I’ll work hard for let him go, still I’ll do whatever I can for take care of the one he loves just like he did with me the last time.” I see a glimpse of tears in Jack's eyes.

“Inside of the folder there is the deed of the house that Riley and I bought, it’s yours.” They open his eyes and try to speak but I continue, stopping with my hands. “Riley and I bought that house because we dreamed that when one of us wants to settle down, there will always be a nice and warm home waiting, but well, things don’t go as we planned, so this is yours. Riley said if he works harder maybe he could buy you one someday and help you with something, his intention was in the future, you only have to worry about Henry and not the stupid rent, so…Here.” Jack pushed it back.

“No, no, no Sky, is yours, I can’t, it's not right.” I clear my throat.

“Actually, it isn’t mine, it was from the both of us, and now is yours.” He grabs my hand. “It’s a nice town, Henry will have a lot of fields where to run and play, you can maybe look for a nice place where you can put your veterinary for you, and Camille can start her own vegetable patch, like she dreams.” I smile at both of them.

“Let me please know the death of Riley wasn’t in vain, let me help you like he dream about, that way I can let him go.” Jack and Camille stand and hug me, letting my tears roll.

“Thanks Y/N, thank you so much.”

“But stop crying, he will punch me if he sees that I made you cry.” He scoffs and they split.

“Well, I'd better go, you have a lot of things to do.” The tree of us giggled.

“Morning Hondo.” I say to him walking to the hangar, he almost chokes with his coffee.

“Sky, what are you doing here?” Left his coffee in the table and look his watch. “It’s 6 am!” I adjust my suit.

“I know, my test begins this hour, no one told you?”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #fanfic #rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction

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confuseddimensiontraveler · 1 year ago

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As soon as I heard Crowleys playlist had Take Me To Church on it i lost my shit, and now that the new season is out (and I’ve had the song on loop for an hour) I finally wrote my analysis of him and this song! also all of this is just my interpretation, please don’t hurt me I’m young and feeble.

Major Good Omens 2 spoilers ahead!! You’ve been warned

Take Me To Church + Crowley Analysis (does not include all the lyrics soz)

My lover's got humor

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshiped her sooner

Aziraphale is not very good at social cues or understanding human matters, and knows what happens when he disobeys heaven and how they feel about him, but he still does what he thinks is best; both of which are things Crowley likes about him. Crowley didn’t even fully realize he loved Aziraphale until Nina and Maggie (my hero’s) had to shove it in his face.

If the Heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece

Aziraphale is one of the last few angels who does things that can really be considered good/godly, like helping humans and just being generally nice.

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week

Each time Crowley is forced to interact with heaven it just gets worse and worse, like being kicked out and then heaven trying to end the world, until they take Aziraphale away from him.

"We were born sick", you heard them say it

My church offers no absolutes

Everyone keeps telling them it’s unnatural for an Angel and a demon to be friends + the church not offering absolutes as in all the angels talking about the great plan though no one really knows what it is.

The only Heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you

Crowleys never going to make it back to heaven, and the closest he’s going to get is his relationship with aziraphale. Plus the only times he’s actually seen happy are with Aziraphale.

I was born sick, but I love it

Command me to be well

A-, Amen, Amen, Amen

He doesn’t want to go back to heaven either, he likes being a demon, he just wants them to be able to be them. He wants to want to do whatever Aziraphale wants, but he doesn’t, he has his own interests too.

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

Crowley follows Aziraphale basically everywhere, including literally a church despite what it does to him, and in his mind they shared a similar devotion because they’re “partners”. Like when Aziraphale trusted him to shoot him for a magic trick. So when Aziraphale leaves, it makes him feel like the whole thing was a lie. He even waits for him to come back, but he doesn’t, and it leaves him feeling abandoned.

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

After the kiss, Aziraphale only says “I forgive you.” like it was a bad thing. Then he left, and Crowley can’t die, but that almost makes being alone worse. He spends so long just being there to protect him, and then he’s gone, and he no longer has someone to spend eternity with.

If I'm a pagan of the good times

My lover's the sunlight

The definition of pagan is “a person holding religious beliefs other than those of the main or recognized religions,” so in Crowleys case, he’s a pagan of the good times because supposedly god wants to destroy the earth, which means by choosing to try to stop it, he’s going against Christianity. Aziraphale is just the sunlight to his darkness (I love them so bad).

To keep the Goddess on my side

She demands a sacrifice

Crowley makes many sacrifices over the course of the 1st season to prevent the end of the season, and eventually he’s forced to give up Aziraphale to heaven after they remove Gabriel because he vetoes Armageddon.

Drain the whole sea

Get something shiny

The first time they really talk is when God floods earth, and it’s also when some of the initial seeds of rebellion are implanted in Crowley specifically. Aziraphale has already given away the sword, but it’s the first example Crowley cares for people (very not-demon-like), which is what leads to their friendship/seeing each other as kindred spirits.

Something meaty for the main course

That's a fine looking high horse

What you got in the stable?

This could either be about heaven in its entirety or Aziraphale, with both acting like Crowleys below him when really they’re much more similar than that, and that all the angels isn’t perfect either.

We've a lot of starving faithful

That looks tasty

That looks plenty

This is hungry work

The demons are plenty in numbers, and greed is literally one of the seven deadly sins. Even being less “demon” than most of them, Crowley isn’t perfect. He wants a lot. Plus some of the things he does take a certain… demon-ness other people don’t have, but they get results.

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

When it’s just them working together, there’s always the looming presence of heaven and hell, but that’s not what they’re representing, respectively. Each side commits atrocities in the name of war, but with their “gentle sin” being rebelling against their organizations, it separates them from that. They’re just an “us”, to Crowley.

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

Only then I am human

Only then I am clean

Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen

On earth they’re usually brought together by chaos and tragedy—the first season's whole hook is armageddon. In the madness of it they both lose their sides, quite literally being seen as going native, and in Crowley's mind, that scrubs him of his demonic responsibility. In the show, demons are shown to be especially dirty, with their mud and maggots and frogs and flies and stuff.

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

In the end, the whole thing can be interpreted as an allegory for being gay and the effects of religious trauma has on that, just like the song :D thanks for indulging me, and sorry if this didn’t make any sense, the wound is still fresh 😭

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #go 2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #I’m so insane about them #hozier #crowleys playlist #good omens analysis #sad gay hours #neil gaiman im in your walls

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yanderes-galore · 2 years ago

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Can't stop thinking about Evil Morty but everytime I want to send in an ask my brain stops 😭, do you have any hcs for him?

Oh, I don't blame you. Easily my favorite antagionist in the show. ESPECIALLY IN SEASON 5, OML- That was such an amazing episode!

Aged up as all my fics are!

Yandere! Evil Morty Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Kidnapping, Isolation, Manipulation, Guilt tripping, Sadism, Murder, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Breaking of bones mention, Punishment mention, Trauma, Swearing in one line near the end, Forced companionship.

He says that the only thing that makes him evil is that he's fed up with Rick's nonsense.

Although the many murders, manipulation of power, and murder of anyone who disagrees with you beg to differ-

Evil Morty is Sadistic, Manipulative, Clever, Ruthless, Posessive, Obsessive, Forceful, and overall a threat.

He has the apperance of a sweet innocent Morty.

When in reality he's just as smart as a Rick, willing to get rid of anyone in his way to obtain his goals.

He was clever enough to take over The Citadel.

There's no doubt he has enough charisma to win over many.

That does not make him good to be around, however.

He rules over The Citadel with an iron fist and expects everyone to listen to him.

There's no doubt Evil Morty knows of your presence in the multiverse.

There's many different versions of you, however, he's interested in the prime version of you.

The (Y/N).

The original, not some copy.

It's funny, really... in the entirety of his youth he thought he'd get with Jessica.

Turns out that isn't the case... someone like Jessica just isn't for him.

He didn't think he'd fall for anyone until he saw you around the C-137 Rick and Morty pair.

Was it so bad to be... envious of his C-137 counterpart?

It's normal for him to clench his teeth while keeping an eye on you, isn't it...?

It just feels so unfair.

Why does that Morty get to be happy with someone like you?

A good friend... a loyal companion....

He's enraged... jealous and on edge to the point other Mortys and Ricks are subject to his wrath.

"I want you to do me a favor..."

He commands with gritted teeth, the Ricks at his command standing by.

"Bring (Y/N) to me. Make that C-137 pair suffer while you're at it."

This officially begins the hunt.

It doesn't matter if you care for the Morty of your universe as a friend or anything more.

Evil Morty wants that partnership.

For awhile in the start of the obsession, you're running from The Citadel.

You don't know what they want, as you're not a Rick or Morty, but you refuse to find out.

C-137 Rick and Morty try to defend you, but Evil Morty will be clever about this.

One way or another he plans to remove you from them, prying you from their hands and into his.

The moment you let your guard down, it's done.

You struggle against your captors as they drag you through a portal, treating you mostly as a prisoner.

Although... they aren't too rough.

Almost as if they fear someone greater.

You expected the Ricks ushering you to the main building to be scared of another Rick.

After all, The Citadel was normally under Rick rule, right?

Turns out... no.

You're met with shock when a Morty in a suit greets you, small smile on his face while he leans on the large table in the room.

"Was wondering when we'd finally meet, (Y/N)."

He believed you to be the true (Y/N) because you were so much different than the others.

You had the potential to hold a close bond with him... once he encouraged it out of you.

"Wow... you're so much different than my Morty back home-"

He feels his eye twitch... but lets you off easy.

"Don't bring him up in here, please. It's really upsetting to hear you compare me to any old Morty."

"Sorry... sir?"

Evil Morty plays himself off as calm, collected, and welcoming towards you.

He wants you to trust him.

Due to being so good at manipulation, he tries to come off as a very nice man.

He's more mature and confident towards you.

If he messes this up, then it could make the bond between you sour.

Can't have that, can he?

He plans everything out.

You're given a golden room of your own to rest in, implying your stay will be much longer than expected.

You are still scared and resent him for kidnapping you... although he's convinced such feelings will lessen.

"There's no need to be so bitter towards me, (Y/N). I promise to treat you well here. If anyone gives you trouble... let me know."

Just be aware that if you do let him know, they're killed brutally.

Anything to keep you happy with him, y'know?

His sadism doesn't usually show itself directed towards you unless you somehow anger him.

He'd be a yandere for discipline.

If you fought his orders, he'd take sick pleasure in breaking your emotions... perhaps even your bones.

He can fix everything after, but that trauma would serve as a lesson.

He'll only be nice if you are.

"I won't accept you misbehaving here. Better know who you're talking to."

Manipulative... so very manipulative.

He's still a Morty and can easily pull at your emotions.

If you're too harsh with him, he'll start the sad facade.

He'll start sputtering, sobbing about how he's sorry.

He wants to be better for you!

Why are you so mean!?

Then, once you give in, apologizing and reaching out-

He'll strike.

He'll swap back to his usual persona and trick you into willingly accepting your punishment.

You're just too sympathetic towards him because he reminds you so much of your Morty.

"Oh, you're such a fool.... Even now you fall for such an easy trick."

Evil Morty is clever and thinks things through fully.

He thinks of every escape, every attempt at manipulation, and every plan you try to hide.

He hijacks portals, locks down doors, he does everything to prevent your escape.

Until you're loyal to him... he refuses to let you go unmonitored.

Trackers are inserted in electronics and your skin... cameras watch your every move.

Privacy is limited if you truly go against him from the start.

He knows your every move, he knows just how to be one step ahead of you.

All with a cocky smirk and half-lidded confident eyes.

You can't win against him.

"Better luck next time... now back to your room."

He shows compassion to you when you try to comply with him.

He appreciates every conversation and every touch....

Others, however, are nearly always met with his ruthless persona.

Rick, Morty, or anyone else... they're treated the same.

Ruled by a tyrant and killed if they don't obey.

He likes to talk endlessly about his ideals... how he can create a happy universe with you... no Ricks needed.

In fact, Ricks tend to ruin everything.

They're the reason he can't live a normal life.

He is obsessive over keeping you close to him and often jealous.

He hates other Ricks and Mortys around you.

Ricks because he knows they could use you.

Mortys he hates because he doesn't want you to replace him.

He'd kill them before that happens.

"I'm the only Morty for you! I'm so much smarter than a Rick and superior to any other Morty! Don't you DARE replace me!"

It's like a lot of his obsession stems from a fear of not being enough.

He's so much better than any other Morty.

Superior enough to actually do something about the Ricks and not be a little bitch.

So why doesn't he get a happy ending!?

Why does some other Morty get to be happy while he suffers?

Well, not anymore.

He'll make changes around here.

You're going to be by his side...

He'll show you why he's so much better than any Rick and Morty.

"I'm going to find a better life than this... and you'll be with me through it."

#yandere rick and morty #yandere evil morty

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liam-neesons-best-girl · 5 months ago

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Drinks {Bryan Mills x Reader}

Summary: Drinks with Bryan are interrupted by unwanted attention and a breakdown in communication.

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk and disorderly strangers, mentions of a gun

You are set to meet Bryan at a bar for your first date since he's back from a job. It was a favorite spot of his, and knew it was close to your apartment.

The plan was to arrive at 7 o'clock for drinks and then he was going to whisk you away to a mystery place for dinner.

By 7:10 you were bouncing your leg with nerves and by 7:30 you were fearing the worst.

Even with worried apparent on your face, two men, presumably brothers, begin to hit on you.

They were not bad looking, but were too forward with you.

"Can we buy you a drink", they'd say, already having had at least three a piece.

"No, I'm just waiting for someone," you'd say back, not looking at them but keeping your eyes glued to the door. You wanted Bryan to walk in just so you could run to him and be in his arms again.

"He must be crazy, leaving a pretty thing like you all by yourself," one said as he brushed his hands on your exposed knee, since your dress ended mid-thigh.

To get away from his touch you lean away, which puts you practically in the lap of the other man.

You start pushing at the men but they don't budge, clearly big but not as big as Bryan.

"Stop, please, no, I just want to go home, " you babble out repeatedly, feeling their wandering hands over your back, arms and legs. You are no match for two men and your eyes begin to well up when a light came into the dimly lit bar.

"Leave her alone," was all you heard. It was more of a rumbling that accompanied a familiar set of hands that yanked the men away at their collars. Bryan was seething, those men had no right to do that to you and no he had to turn back into 'soft boyfriend' to console you.

"Bryan!" you squeaked out, throwing your arms tightly around his neck, not wanting to let go.

He reciprocates the hug for a long pause, then pulls back to be able to look at you.

"I was so worried you weren't going to come. I didn't know if you were hurt or you forgot and I didn't know how to make those guys leave men alone," you say between fits of tears and uneven breathing. To any on-looker you may seem to be a tad over emotional but to Bryan you were just the ray of sunshine in his life that was currently clouded due to his poor time management.

"I'd never forget about you, sweetheart," he said, meaning every word. "I was just stuck backing up a hard drive with the team and it took much longer than expected, forgive me?"

"Yes, lets just get out of here and go home," you breathed out.

"Are you sure, you got all dolled up for tonight. I still have reservations downtown at 8:30," he suggested knowing you like date nights out on the town.

"No, those guys ruined the night, I just want to be safe at home with you," you say above a whisper for only Bryan to hear.

"okay, love, your wish is my command," he says letting you walk in front of him, guiding him by holding his large meaty hand in yours as you file through a sea of people.

On the way out he shoots the two men death glares and a flash of his holstered gun. Needless to say those men will not be returning to the establishment our of fear.

He helps you into his car and makes sure the heat is comfortable. He can still hear you sniffling and wants to make you feel better.

He turns to the dashboard and starts playing your favorite artist on low, just loud enough to hear the melody but low enough to talk over. After he has pulled out of the lot and onto the main road you take his hand closest to you and place it open palmed on your thigh.

He instantly knows you need a reassuring squeeze. Once you arrive home he carries you in, needless to say all of the commotion at the bar really tired you both out . . . . . .

#bryan mills #bryan mills x reader #liam neeson x reader #liam neeson #liam neeson fan fiction #liam neeson fan fic #taken #taken movie #bryan mills fan fic #bryan mills fan fiction

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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The Match - Part 7

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k (woops the longest part yet)

Summary: You finally decide to lower your pride and talk things out with Bucky.

Warnings: SMUT IS BACK BABIES! Oral (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial, also lots of alcohol consumption, Bucky stalking you, annoying people I guess? Uhhh y’all might want to strangle me at the end lmfaooooo

A/N: I’m gonna be honest, every single time I update this I get nervous as fuck because what if this story starts to suck lmao but okay I just hope everyone’s still enjoying this story. Thank you for the continuous support like fuck??? People actually like reading my shit so I’m really flattered. Sending y’all sloppy kisses ‘cause I’m a hoe like that

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

"Uhh you might want to slow down on the drinks."

Mark was right about the bar serving the best drinks. It was actually a Mexican-themed bar which also served Tex-Mex food. The drinks were so good that the main course hasn't even arrived yet and you were already on your third frozen margarita.

"Let me have this, Mark. It's been a pretty shitty week." you told him, finishing up your drink before asking the waiter for another round.

Mark watched you with a funny look on his face, the kind that was baffled at the way you were acting now. He probably thought you were all prim and proper, given your demeanor at the office. But with the way you were stuffing your mouth with chicken quesadillas, you were far from being the department head that everybody seemed to respect.

Stress eating. That was what you were doing, because holy shit did you get on Bucky's last nerve. With the message, no, more like warning, that he sent you earlier, you might as well have your last meal before your execution.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mark carefully asked but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he watched you eat.

You hummed, mouth full of food. "Totally okay. These quesadillas are the bomb, actually."

Mark laughed, "It's good that you're enjoying the food. I'll be honest, I really appreciate that you agreed to go on this date. I mean, if you even would like to call it that." he explained, much to your relief actually.

You swallowed your food and took a sip from your glass of water, "Thank you." you told him. "Well, this can be a date. A friendly one, of course." you awkwardly chuckled.

Mark nodded, "I don't want to pressure you into anything. I guess I got a little to enthusiastic earlier and I'm really sorry for that. It's just that...you're a really interesting person and you're cool." he admitted with a charming smile.

If Bucky was out of the picture, you would have actually swooned at Mark's charm. He wasn't so bad, he was tall and handsome. He oozed a certain charm, the nice guy kind of charm and any girl would really appreciate the honesty he was showing you now.

You smiled at him, "You're pretty cool too, Mark."

The friendly date was very fun, you definitely didn't expect to enjoy it to the point of forgetting about Bucky's warning. Mark was a nice guy, you realized. Bucky doesn't have to worry about him because it was never even your intention to make him jealous in the first place.

By the time the dessert was being served, you were bellowing from laughter. You literally had tears in your eyes from how hard Mark was making you laugh with his hilarious stories.

Little did you know that from someone else's point of view, you looked like you were having the time of your life with Mark. Your laughter, the ease you were exuding as the both of you talked-- it was very easy to misunderstand.

Especially if that point of view belonged to none other than Bucky, who was sitting silently inside his car that was parked right across the bar.

"Oh god, I can't breathe!" you exclaimed amid your laughter, leaning back against your seat.

Mark heaved out a shy, "That was really, really embarassing." he said timidly.

Mark's phone buzzed in the middle of the conversation, his face turning into a frown as he read the message.

"Hey, everything okay?" you worriedly asked.

"It's my younger sister. I'm needed back home." he explained with a sigh.

"Is everything okay?" you asked worriedly, holding Mark's arm to comfort him.

Mark nodded, "It's fine. It's just a little family emergency." he said before offering you an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I can drop you off on the way home--"

"Hey, it's fine. You can go. I'll be fine. Your family needs you." you reassured with a smile.

Mark sighed, "I'll make it up to you next time." he said, fishing out a couple of bills from his wallet.

You walked out of the bar with Mark and bid goodbye, giving him a friendly hug before he slipped inside his car. As soon as Mark drove off, you headed back inside the bar and ordered a couple of shots because you badly needed to get Bucky off your mind.

Your head was pounding when you stirred awake, your throat burning and vision spinning as you opened your eyes. The light that greeted you made you hiss, pulling the covers over your head you tried to get back to your slumber.

Until you realized that the bed was soft, too soft to be your own. And when did you even own a duvet?

Slowly but surely, you sat up and looked around you, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. This was definitely not your room. Shit, did you sleep with Mark? Fuck no, you remembered him going home early due to a family emergency.

You squeezed your temples and shut your eyes, trying your best to recall everything that happened after you went back to the bar. Flashes of tequila shots and glasses of mojitos made you dizzy. Jesus christ, how many did you drink?!

And then you threw up in the streets as you attempted to walk home. Shit. Someone pulled your hair back while you puked and then there was nothing but darkness.

Pulling the duvet down, you noticed that you weren't wearing anything but a white shirt and your panties. You lifted the shirt up to your nose and sniffed it.

The scent was too memorable to forget.

"I thought you wouldn't be up until the afternoon."

You stilled at the sound of Bucky's voice and you almost didn't want to look up from your lap when he walked into his bedroom. How the hell did you end up at his place?!

"Four frozen margaritas, two shots of tequila and two tall glasses of mojito. I'm surprised you're still alive." he said as he stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

He was wearing a tight black shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. This was the most casual you'd ever seen Bucky, but also the most feral. You thought that the scowl he gave you at the elevator was the worst, apparently, this Bucky in front of you, seemed the most dangerous.

"Why am I here?" you asked softly.

Bucky rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed side table, fetching the glass of water and a bottle of painkillers that you failed to notice when you woke up.

"Drink." he commanded and waited for you to take the glass before moving back to stand at the foot of the bed.

Your eyes never left Bucky's when you popped a pill into your mouth. After drinking water, you carefully placed it back on the bedside table and exhaled heavily.

"What happened last night?" you asked again.

"Your date left you." Bucky said, matter of factly.

You snickered, "It wasn't a date and Mark didn't le--"

Your very own squeal cut your statement off when Bucky threw the duvet aside, grabbing your ankle and pulling you towards the edge of the bed until your legs were hanging off. He didn't waste any time to kneel in between your thighs, holding your neck in place as his nose brushed against yours.

Your lids fluttered at the closeness, his scent yet again invading your senses, making you lose all your inhibitions because fuck, it's been too fucking long.

"Let me have this, please..." Bucky whispered against your lips.

When you failed to respond, Bucky took it as his go signal to crash his lips against yours. You knew this was a bad idea because one taste of Bucky and you're gone and yet you let him take what he needed from you.

Because you needed him just as much. So you kissed him back fervently, your fingers carding through his hair as you tugged him closer, wanting to feel and taste all of him.

Bucky breathily chuckled when you whined as he pulled away, only to shower your neck with open-mouthed kisses which made your body buzz with need. Your head was still hurting and you felt like you were going to pass out from dizziness but fuck it, you couldn't care less. Especially not now when Bucky was now nipping at your inner thigh while his hands were spreading you wide open.

All your thoughts flew right out of the window the moment Bucky pushed your underwear aside, his mouth quickly latching over your clit. A needy, raspy moan escaped your lips when Bucky sucked your bud followed by his tongue flattening against your folds.

"Fuck, Bucky..." you breathed out, falling down on your back as he continued lapping up your pussy.

You'd almost forgotten how fucking good Bucky was with his mouth and tongue. You elicited another whimper when he pulled back, but only to stand up and pull down his sweatpants, revealing his cock-- already hard and weeping with pre-cum.

In one swift motion, Bucky slid into your cunt. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your moans as you adjusted to his size. With how your pussy was clenching down on his cock, you realized that indeed, it's been too fucking long.

Bucky moved slow at first, letting you adjust to him before he began to speed up his thrusts. His breathing was erratic, soft grunts and growls reverberating from his chest as he fucked you. You gripped his forearms when he started pistoling his hips into yours, the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

"Want you to watch me fuck you." he growled, pulling you up to lean against your elbows.

Bucky held your neck with both his hands, forcing you to look down at your pussy while his cock slides in and out of it. Your face scrunched into pleasure, your mouth open as moans and whimpers continued to escape past your lips.

"Keep your eyes on my cock, see how your pussy takes all of it." Bucky demanded as he fucked you relentlessly.

Your thighs began to tremble, your entire body thrumming from pleasure. You tried to keep your eyes open as you watched Bucky fuck you fast and hard. Clawing at his biceps, you held on for dear life when you felt yourself teeter at the edge of your climax.

"Gonna cum, Bucky..." you moaned as your eyelids fluttered.

Bucky kissed your hard, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth before tugging at it. He pressed a soft kiss beneath your ear, licking at your skin before sucking your earlobe.

"Remember this when that Marcus fails to fuck you real good." he whispered and then pulled out just before you could even cum.

You blinked, unable to process what just happened. Bucky stood up and pulled his sweatpants back up. He rubbed his chin angrily before turning to you.

"You really blew me off to be with a guy who left you at the bar." he said.

Bucky really seduced you, fucked you raw only to edge you and deny you of your fucking orgasm. And now he was reprimanding you? While your legs were spread, panties pushed aside and your wet pussy out there for the world to see. You quickly adjusted your underwear, pulled your shirt down and sat up.

"What the fuck, Bucky?" you hissed. "First of all, his name is Mark. Second, he didn't leave me at the bar!" you exclaimed before you realized something.

"Wait, how did you know?" you asked, finally realizing that Bucky seemed to know everything that took place last night. "Bucky, did you follow me at the bar? Is this why I'm here?" you asked, standing up to come face to face with him.

Bucky shrugged, "So what if I did? If I didn't, you'd wake up in the streets, in your own vomit because again, you went for a guy who couldn't even bring her girl home. You should actually thank me." he said.

"Thank you!" you yelled. "I appreciate you bringing me back to your place. I really do." you said, calmly this time. "But can you please not bring Mark into this because he's a nice guy." you explained, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

Bucky snorted, "You call that nice? He left you!" he said again.

"He didn't! There was an emergency, for fuck's sake! He needed to go home and I said I can take care of myself." you said. "I shouldn't even be explaining myself to you yet I am because you're being really irrational right now." you scolded Bucky.

Bucky shook his head, "You really expect me to believe you? I saw how you laughed with him, how carefree you looked when you talked. How you caressed his arm and you're asking me not to bring Mickey into this conversation?"

You hid your face into your palms, "It wasn't a date, Bucky. We both made it clear. And he's a good person, I enjoyed talking to him. That's it. And again, it's Mark." you said through gritted teeth.

"Not a date my ass, you were flirting with him." Bucky accused.

You scoffed, "I wasn't flirting with him! I was casually talking to him like how a friend would! How hard is that to understand, Bucky?!" you exclaimed.

"You were never like that with me!"

"It's because we did nothing but fuck each other, Bucky!"

"That's why I wanted to make it official but you said no!"

"I already told you the reason why!"

"And yet you went out with a co-worker!"

"We're not just co-workers, Bucky. You're my fucking boss! The fucking CEO! How many times do I have to...you know what, it's useless for me to even explain it again to you." you said.

Bucky chuckled bitterly, "You're going to regret this." he said with a sinister smirk.

"Why can't you understand where I'm coming from?" you asked exasperatedly.

"Maybe because you won't let me help you." he said confidently. "And you know what I hate the most about this thing we have? It's that you want me too but you're too stubborn to give in. And you know what? I'll make sure you do." Bucky said, towering over you and staring deeply in your eyes.

"What I want, I always get."

The weekend passed by like a blur-- a huge, messy blur that made your head and heart hurt. You wanted to spend the weekend to ponder on things, to forget about Bucky even for just a while and now that was impossible after everything that happened.

You caved in first, that was for sure. And the thing is, you don't even regret it but then Bucky exploded and now everything seemed to have gotten worse. You understood why he was so mad at Mark, poor guy though, but he wouldn't even listen to you when you said that the date wasn't even a legitimate one!

"What the fuck did I get myself into?" you uttered under your breath as you sat in your car in the parking.

You began to analyze the situation you were in and drew out possible solutions to your dilemma. Nothing a good conversation can't solve, right? So maybe talking things out with Bucky properly would make things right. The previous conversations you had with him were always too emotional with both your egos getting in the way.

Alright fine, you'd tone down your pride for Bucky this time around and tell him that you do want to be with him. It's just that the repercussions scared the living daylights out of you.

You can't afford to lose your job nor everyone's respect. So if you were going to do this with Bucky, he has to understand that he has to be really careful. Everything must be done in secret, for the meantime at least.

"That sounds about right." you sighed, feeling hopeful that this might actually work out.

The shift in your mood gave you a little bounce as you walked into the building. You were confident that maybe Bucky was able to calm down over the weekend. Perhaps today was a good day to have a decent talk with him.

As soon as you reached your floor, you hurriedly went to your cubicle to drop your things. The earlier you get to talk to Bucky, the better. So as soon as you were done, you jogged back to the elevator excitedly, unable to notice how everyone seemed to be preoccupied gossiping about something.

Your heart was pounding as you walked along the corridor leading to Bucky's office. Fuck, you were really going to risk it all for one Bucky Barnes. You were a few steps away from the door, ready to reach for the knob when an unfamiliar voice called your attention.

"I'm sorry?" you asked, turning around.

"Sir James said not to let anyone disturb him right now." you were met with the presence of a blonde girl who looked younger than you, an intern maybe?

You nodded but then spared another glance at Bucky's office. "Yeah, I uhh need to talk to him. It's usually not a problem for me to barge into his office." you explained with a soft chuckle.

The girl made a face, "I'm sorry, but I'm just following Sir James' orders." she explained, walking around the desk near Bucky's office.

"I don't think we've met. Are you an intern?" you asked, trying to be as nice as much as possible.

The girl giggled, straight on giggled cutely and stood up again. She excitedly extended an arm for an overly eager handshake, "I'm Beverly. I'm Sir James' secretary. It's my first job!"

You blinked, "Oh...oh uh what happened to Amelie?" you asked, curious about Bucky's previous secretary.

Beverly tilted her head, "I don't know. I just got a call over the weekend from Sir James, offering me the job so I accepted it. I mean, he is pretty cute. Right?" she said in a soft voice.

Is this Bucky's plan? To hire a younger, more bubbly secretary who'd follow his every order? Someone who was the complete opposite of you? Because if this was his plan to get you to cave, it wasn't working. At all.

Sure, Beverly was pretty and young and very chirpy. But you were sure she wasn't Bucky's type. He was never into obedient little girls, hell, your defiance turned Bucky on. This was definitely not working.

You didn't know why, but instead of relief you felt even more nervous. Because if this wasn't Bucky's threat to you, what could it be? You snapped out of your pessimism, maybe Bucky came around over the weekend too?

Only one way to find out.

"Beverly..." you carefully said. "I'm just going to go inside. And don't worry, I'll make sure that Mister Barnes won't get mad at you. This is all me, alright?" you reassured.

Beverly pouted and sighed, "I don't know, because he was very clear with his instructions. And he's talking to--"

"I got you, Bev. I'm going in now." you said, cutting her off and then going straight for Bucky's office.

Taking in a deep breath, you pushed the door open and wasted no time to talk.

"Hey, I really need to talk to you. I thought about--"

"Oh, who's this little lady?"

Your eyes widened upon seeing Bucky in the company of another woman. She looked like she was around your age, except that she was taller and had legs for days. Her brunette hair reached past her shoulders in lovely waves. She was wearing a white chiffon blouse paired with a pair of black trousers and matching stilettos.

She oozed the charm of a lady boss. The way she carried herself reminded you of someone but you just couldn't point out who it was.

"I'm sorry to interrupt." you said, straightening up and turning to look over at Bucky who lifted a brow at you.

That fucking look of mischief.

"I told Beverly not to let anyone in." he said.

"I just wanted to--"

"Oh come on now, Bucky. Don't be so grumpy this early, you were about to call everyone for a meeting anyway." the woman said, turning to you with a smile.

Did she just call him...Bucky?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Bucky rolled his eyes and sighed, "Yeah, well you're already here might as well introduce you first."

You narrowed your eyes at Bucky in confusion, "I don't understand what's going on." you said.

Bucky stood up from his chair and walked over to the other woman, standing beside her. Seeing them side by side was making you feel things. You haven't even seen them interact that much but you were already sensing that you were going to hate their dynamics.

"This is Mackenzie. I hired her to help us out on a huge project which I will be discussing with the entire team this morning." Bucky introduced a little too proudly for your liking.

Mackenzie offered her hand, "You can just call me Kenzie. I'm a marketing consultant. And you are?" she asked.

Your blood boiled, your eye twitched and your heart ached. Because now you realized who it was that Mackenzie reminded you of when it came to her charisma.

You.

And not only did she have a similar personality to yours-- confident and had authority-- but she also seemed to be here to take the one thing you worked so hard for.

You offered a smile, taking Mackenzie's hand in yours as you mentioned your name, your piercing eyes glancing over at Bucky.

"I'm the head of marketing."

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

Text

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Shmi Skywalker #JangoShmi #Jango Fett #Disaster Lineage #star wars #time travel #de aging #mandalore #mandalorian culture #phoenix posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #tattoos #original characters #outsider pov #this is part one of three I think #it's two in the diddly darn morning and I am going to bed

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raggaraddy · 3 years ago

Note

Tae’s first time with a virgin if your still taking requests?

Virgin

A/n: Thank you for the request! It was fun to write. Enjoy xx 💜💜💜

Trigger warning: Smut, first time, oral, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic, dirty talk, mild spanking.

Taehyung

Dom!Taehyung

You pull out your phone and type the message. Over and over. Deleting it and re-writing it about 30 times.

Until you see the typing bubble pop up on Taehyung's side.

If you have something to say, get it out. He writes.

Damn. You really should have written this on paper first. But too late now.

You had spoken with Taehyung for months and had met him in person for the first time last week. With clever wording, so far you'd gotten around telling him your secret. But you know you have to tell him before your first play session tonight. You don't know if a guy can tell or not, but if he can it's going to be embarrassing if he finds out that way.

It's not like you haven't done things before, you were probably more experienced than most when it came to other areas. You've played with other kinky people before, hooked up with girl friends and guy friends, and you've had a full D/s relationship that was filled with BDSM. It's just that you'd never done that one thing.

Really, you don't even know why you held onto it for so long. At first, you were trying to be smart and not give it away too quickly or easily, but then it almost became something you had a sense of pride in and tried to protect. But Taehyung was special. Someone you felt connected to. And you know, it's time to get it over with. Both telling him and the act itself. You have to simply rip the bandaid off and tell him. He shouldn't be mad. You didn't exactly lie about anything.

Its just about tonght :)

Please don't be mad. I ddnt know how to say it before

But you should probably knwo I'm a virgin

Three separate messages. Typed so quickly they're riddled with spelling and grammar errors. The words are not nearly as well prepared as you had wanted. But at least it was done.

The read symbol appears, and then nothing. Staring at your phone for what feels like 5 minutes, there is no reply. You're running over a dozen new messages, typing them in your head first. Wanting to explain that you didn't lie and that everything you told him, you really had done.

Typing the first word, his answer finally comes through. Only 3 words that make you relieved but also anxious from their conciseness.

See you tonight.

After spending hours getting ready, it was finally time to meet him. You came to his house and were perfectly on time. Although, you had a moment of concern thinking you were at the wrong address. When Taehyung said he had a big apartment you hadn't expected it to be a 2 story, riverside, penthouse in the middle of the city. He never wanted to tell you anything about his job, and now you were a little worried he's someone famous or that he runs a drug cartel or something.

Feeling a bit out of place and with the upcoming plans looming ahead of you, you start the night filled with nerves. However, Taehyung's confident demeanour as well as some casual conversation and a few drinks, eventually help you start to relax. And soon you're even beginning to get a little impatient.

A mix of anticipation of what is to come, steadily becoming tipsy, and having not touched yourself for a week, your mind is already running with all manner of dirty thoughts. But unfortunately, you're far too shy to initiate anything so you are entirely dependant on Taehyung's schedule. And he is taking it slow.

Normally, he would have a girl naked and on her knees by this time, but you were special to him, also. And especially now knowing that you're a virgin, he is determined to make the night last. Sat on the couch with him, there are small touches here and there, provocative topics of conversation, and his commanding tone of voice that makes you melt. Your excitement peaking as he passionately kisses you, pulling you onto his lap.

Nearing 2 hours of talking and teasing, Taehyung finally starts the main event. Taking you with him into the most stunning playroom you have ever witnessed. An industrial meets a minimalistic-modern theme. A beautiful king four-poster bed, with an x-frame top, a wooden headboard, and a white canopy. Making you think that this must be where princesses who liked to get spanked come to play.

Never parting his lips from yours, slowly and gently Taehyung undresses you. His delicate removal of your clothes and his tender kisses are in explicit contrast to the sharp, rough tugs on your hair that he uses to move you around. The combination making your skin burn with lust.

Sitting you in the middle of the bed, he remains fully clothed. A prickle of excited nerves shivering up your body. You're beyond needy and ready. Your hands starting to pull at his shirt, unable to refrain yourself any longer.

"Please," you whine. As his mouth comes off yours, you pull him into you a little firmer.

"What do you want?" Taehyung asks. His voice coming out deep and lowly spoken.

"I want," you gulp trying to think of what to say. Your face heating. "you?"

"That wasn't convincing." He moves forward, his hand pressing to your chest, pushing you flat onto the bed. "I asked you," Leaning over, his mouth comes to your breast, sucking your nipple. Your gasps turning to moans as he bites down before repeating himself. "What do you want?"

"Whatever you want, Sir." Your hands cling into the blankets trying to stop yourself from digging them into his perfect dark hair instead.

Looking up he smirks. "Mmm, when you call me that," he grabs your wrist, bringing it to his crotch. Pressing your open palm to the hard bulge straining in his pants. "it really turns me on."

You whine as he pulls your hand away. You'd been fantasizing for weeks about what he must feel like and now you were so close to having what you dreamt of.

"Don't worry about me, Y/n. I'm going to get what I want. But what I want right now," his hand suddenly cups your pussy making you gasp, "is for you- my horny, wet, little virgin," instinctually you spread your legs wider and his middle finger presses deeper, slipping between your folds making you wail. "to tell me what you want."

"Anything," You're trying to make yourself say more, but your mind is swimming and you're glowing with embarrassment thinking about actually saying what you want him to do to you. His piercing stare, his beauty, his hard cock, you're aching to have him. He knows what you want. It's not fair for him to make you ask for it.

"Y/n," your eyes lift to his face upon hearing his rumbling voice call your name. "Have I given you the impression that I tell you to do something so I can hear my own voice?"

Your eyes get big as you chew your lip, shaking your head. Even his light scolding is turning you on.

"Good. Then I'll ask you one last time, and if you make me ask you again, I'm going to put your panties back on, and they won't be coming off again tonight." he purrs making you whimper at his threat. "I was going to accept your little two-word answer, but now you've made me ask you multiple times, so you'll tell me in detail. What do you want me to do to you, little girl?"

You feel like curling under the blanket from shame, but you start to push the answer out. "I want... you... to," you swallow looking down, "fuck me." You can see his eyebrow raise, telling you to go on and give him the specifics like he asked. "I want to have you inside me, Sir. I want," you're thinking of the next words while feeling near to tears from discomfort. Unable to even glance at his face. "I want you to be the first man to fuck me." It's nearly inaudible by the end of the sentence, but you get it out. Hoping it's enough to make him happy.

Finally building the courage to look up, Taehyung is brimming with satisfaction and hunger. Looking ready to devour you.

His fingers gently hold your chin, lifting your head a little higher to meet him as he hovers over you. "Thank you, Y/n." He says softly, making your stomach swarm with butterflies. His warm reaction has you even more confident in your choice. "Put your arms above your head, and interlock your fingers." He instructs hushedly.

Too eager to follow his order your arms stretch above you, knocking into the headboard making your wrists bend. Holding your hips, Taehyung yanks you down the bed giving you the space to hold your arms out straight.

Pressing down on your wrists his face softly becomes more serious "You're not going to move your hands at all until I say. Not in any direction. Do you understand?"

With a little smile, you nod. Already having fun. "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl," he praises making you blush for what is surely the 100th time tonight.

He releases your hands and you push them down making sure to follow his order.

Slowly Taehyung shifts down your body, his fingertips lightly tracing down your arms and your sides, making you flinch and squirm. Fighting through being ticklish to hold still and keep your position.

Setting between your legs he continues to play with you. Your eyes clenching shut as his touch runs down your neck, your chest and stomach, gripping your thighs, tracing your lips. His fingers softly pinching your nipples producing a moan, your hips bucking up as your breathing deepens.

Moving lower still, Taehyung pushes your thighs wider. Lifting one of your legs he has you bend it upright, kissing from your knee down your thigh. Trailing lower until his lips touch your core making you bite your lip to stop from crying out. Needing to bite back even more vocal cries as his tongue flicks out, kneading against your clit. Starting to suck and lick you. Your legs spreading further on their own accord. Quickly losing your senses to pleasure.

His nearly painful grip on your hips jerks you down, pulling you into his tongue as it dives inside you making you cry out. Instinctually, your hands want to cling onto him and lift an inch from the mattress. Quick realization making you panic and slam them back flat.

Soon you're fussing, calling out his name as the flat of his tongue strokes you, eating you like a man starved. His long fingers deep inside you, massaging you in the same insisting manner. Pushing you to the edge without pause. Cumming with a yelp you bite your cheek in lieu of your arm. Your orgasm not stopping him, instead, he spreads your legs further lapping up all of the juice you spill. And just when you can't stand anymore and your body is starting to shake, he finally springs up smacking his lips with a satisfied open mouth grin. Wiping your cum from his face.

Flopping onto the bed alongside you, he rests over you again, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself. Leaving you breathless when he finally parts.

"How are you doing?" He asks, his mindlessly touch once more trailing along your skin. "Good?" he presses for confirmation.

"Yes," you giggle, feeling lightheaded in the afterglow. Wanting to touch him back you, accidentally lift your arms off the mattress again. "Oh," You gasp, settling them back.

Raising up, he leans on his elbow. Digging into your joint hands, he clicks his tongue. "How many times did you lift your arms? Hmm?"

"Um," You feel like your cheeks burning under his inquisitive gaze. In truth, you hadn't counted. But you think at least 7 times. "Seven," you whisper.

"And how many times did I say you could move them?"

Your mind races for a moment trying to remember exactly what he said. You don't remember him saying a number though. And you realize it's a trick question. "None?" you squeak.

"That's right." He hums.

Sitting upright, he abruptly sticks his hands under you, flipping you onto your stomach in forceful motions. Trying to not break position, you stay straight keeping your arms flat to the bed. With a last tug, Taehyung pulls you onto your knees, your elongated arms and aching your back makes your face burry into the mattress.

"Seven," He says. His large open palm smacking your ass harshly. He doesn't count down the rest, but in your own head, you do. Each stinging slap only worsening your hunger.

But it doesn't matter how desperate you are, Taehyung isn't nearly done with you. Over the next 90 minutes, he touches and toys with you. You come serval times from his hands, his tongue, from toys, and even once from your own hand as he makes you get yourself off.

As the events go on, he gradually undresses. His own needs getting dire, he also cums, letting you suck him off and swallow his load. But soon after he is hard again. Getting too much enjoyment from teasing you with his cock, seeing you become a mess. And no matter how many times you cum, it is the part you want the most. At last, though, he addresses your needful craving.

Putting you on your back, you can see the switch in his eyes and the intent behind it. Laying over you and resting on his elbows, he lines up with your entrance. Your body almost shaking with expectation.

"What do you want little girl?" he repeats, his own breath strained with desire.

You no longer have any apprehension about saying it. You've never wanted anything, anyone, inside you more than you want Taehyung right now. "Please fuck me, Sir." you pant, tilting your hips up, your motion rubbing his tip through your dripping folds.

This time it's Taehyung whose exterior cracks. Dipping in your warm opening makes him groan. His jaw tensing, he has to restrain himself from slamming his dick inside you. He wants to do it. He wants to make you scream and writhe, and take his dick all at once. But he knows he can't be cruel. He knows he has overcome his baser instincts and be patient.

Pressing his lips to yours, slowly, carefully, he starts to edge his hips forward. His cock sinking inside you. Inch by inch. Allowing you the time and space to adjust to him. And you're grateful for it. He's stretching you and the deeper he goes the further you're being spread. The size of him, his thickness is larger than any vibrator you've used before. Or anything else you've had inside you.

Breathing lightly, shortly, your hands are clinging to the blanket. Your eyes fluttering closed. Feeling him fill you is beyond your wildest imaginations, and right now you wish it would never end.

"Fuck," Taehyung whispers, his entire dick buried inside you. Your virgin walls tightly constricting and twitching around him. With a few heavy breathes, he calms himself. "How does that feel Y/n?" He asks, half teasing you, half genuinely checking on your well-being.

Words have left you. Your mind is delirious. You can only whine and nod stiffly. Your hands wrapping his back draw his body against yours. Mutly begging for him to continue.

He gets your meaning and is all too happy to oblige. Keeping a slow, steady pace, he lifts his hips. The rubbing making you fevered. And when he sinks into you again, he sets up an even pace of long deep strokes. Rocking into your over and over and it isn't long before any hint of pain is replaced with pure euphoria. Your legs shaking and shivering.

"Such a good girl." He moans into your lips. "You're taking my dick so well," Starting to pick up the pace, your moans come out more unrestrained. A kind of vibrating static filling your brain.

As his thrusts become more empowered, the low ache returns. Hurting just enough that it's helping the incredible sensation build. After several minutes, one of Taehyung's hands lowers to your clit. The external pressure causing electricity. Enhancing the pleasure inside. Quickly the combination overwhelms you and you can feel pleasure in your core unlike any other. As if every single cell in your body were crying out in joy, you lift and fall, exploding in ecstasy. The sensation turning your stomach, aching the back of your jaw from how hard it hits you. Taehyung's tongue filling your mouth, he swallows the breathless screams of your orgasm.

"Oh god, Y/n, you feel so good." Taehyung groans, his thrusts not slowing any. Your body floating, your mind ringing in orgasmic relief.

The pulsing inside you seems to last for an eternity. And even after it fades your oversensitive body is still quivering from his unrelenting motions. You're exhausted and wrecked and now that you've cum, his size is starting to make you sore.

"Did that feel good?" He purrs. Your moans of pleasure turning into whimpers as his pace begins to pick up. Pushing on his chest a little, you're breathing too hard to vocalize your thoughts. But Taehyung can read your actions.

"You can take a little more, cant you, baby?" He coos, pressing deep and holding it, grinding his hips down. Making you squeal in pleasurable pain. "You wanna make me feel good don't you?"

He stops moving, pulling back a little to give you space to breathe and to hear him clearly. You nearly sigh in relief. The tip of him was pressing too far. Your eyes open as his hand comes to your face, making you look at him.

"Can you be a big girl for me while I fuck you?" he kisses you lightly, sucking your bottom lip. "Do you wanna be a good little girl and let me use you, let me fill you with cum?"

Even with your body depleted, you don't need to think twice. You want all of that. You want him to cum inside you. You want to make him happy, whatever it takes. Not looking away from his eyes you nod. A little scared, but mostly turned on and excited at the idea of him using you to get himself off.

Closed lipped, his mouth lifts into a smirk. His eyes getting prideful at your agreement.

Easing into you, his breath becomes shaky. Again he bottoms out inside you and you whine in pain. With your approval given he isn't waiting on a slow build this time. He's rock hard and your warm wet cunt is driving him crazy. He knows it's going to hurt you. But he also knows you won't need to endure for very long. He is already nearly ready to burst.

Quickly his thrusts get faster and rougher. Extending his arms he raises up and lifts one of your legs for leverage. His chest pushing down on the back of your thigh spreads you deeper and shoves him even further inside you.

You can't contain yourself at that point. Crying out with every thrust. Your skin is covered in goosebumps. You can tell he is still restraining himself, but it's easily too much. You're drained and tender. And he's too big and rough for you to handle.

But despite your discomfort, you force yourself to stay still. Repeating a mantra over and over in your head that you want to be good for him.

Sweating lightly, Taehyung is pounding you until all of sudden, with a final solid snap of his hips, his movements faltering. A chesty moan pouring out of him as his body falls heavier into you. Your raw sensitive walls twitching as they are flooded with warmth. Several small jerking thursts pumping all of his cum into you before he drops his weight.

Letting your thigh drop back down, he rests on his elbows on either side of your head, his heavy breath fanning your face. Lightly brushing his lips to yours he kisses you through a smile.

"Such a brave girl." He mutters.

You're so tender that he has you mewling even as he pulls out of you. The movement makes you wince.

Gasping, you're surprised you can actually feel his cum shifting. It feels like it's going to run out of you. Clamping your thighs shut, your face glows again with embarrassment. You're not sure if that is supposed to happen. You thought it would stay inside. But in any case, you don't want to make a mess on his bed.

With a last satisfied grunt, he drops onto his side, leaning on his arm while still hovering above you.

"I'm so proud of you. You did so well." He smiles warmly, brushing your hair off your face, wiping away your sweat. "How do you feel?"

How do you feel? Sore, exhausted, thoroughly use, but mostly,

"Good," You grin sleepily, leaning into his touch.

"Good." He whispers back.

Shuffling a little higher, he pulls a pillow down and nudges it under your head. His arm going under your neck he wraps his other arm around you, hugging you. As you roll to your side and cuddle into him, he takes the hint and draws you in tighter. His hands rubbing up and down your back softly.

"I had a really nice time tonight Y/n." He kisses the top of your head, his chest tightening against you. "Thank you for letting me be your first."

613 notes · View notes

dysfunctionalmaki · 3 years ago

Text

To Remember

Previous part: To Realize

Main Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: Natasha's been connecting all the dots about how she feels about you, it's up to her to how she'll handle the situation.

Warnings: none, let me know if there's any.

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You wake up alert and on your guard when you feel someone touching you, and manage to calm your nerves as soon as seeing the redhead and pair of green eyes looking at you. "God, I thought you were dead," Natasha says before sighing.

"Well, obviously, I am pretty much alive." You retort, yet the worry and concern didn't leave Natasha, and you notice the two of you shivering due to the temperature. Taking both her hands, you blow air on her skin attempting to make her feel better. "I think we should change our clothes, we're soaking wet." You comment, and she agrees.

"When you said it wasn't after us, what is that psycho after then?" You ask her as you stand up from where you were laying down, attempting to dust off the dirt that's already clinging to your clothes. "It's after this." She told before taking something inside the pocket of her hoodie, revealing a bunch of vials with something red.

"What is it?" You ask once more, Natasha shrugged and now showing you a photo of her probably around 10 or 11, she has blue-dyed hair and there's someone younger than her. You look at her and she seems taken aback, seeing her old photos.

"She's my little sister…" Nat didn't say anything more, you don't want to force any information about her at this time, you offer your hand yet hesitated before holding on to it. "Are you alright? I'm sorry I couldn't help, I barely felt my body after the explosion." You confessed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to come along to get some gas." She apologized, you look at her with furrowed brows. "It's alright, it's not every day you get an RPG launching towards you while driving a car." You tried to joke about the situation, and you managed to make her smile a little.

"But, I could have gotten you killed." You roll your eyes, quickly placing her hand on your chest for her to feel your heart beating. "Well, I'm alive, save that for another day." You say, then Natasha stayed silent.

"Let's just go, we're going to Budapest." She says as she takes her hand back to herself, not holding your hand anymore, kinda hurt when the two of you walk back in the forest and into the caravan, not mentioning a word about the kiss that happened earlier.

Changing clothes, and managed to get all the necessities in a bag, then the two of you left the place as if no one stayed there recently. There's nothing but complete silence between the two of you, she occasionally asks if you're okay then there's nothing more, not even small talk.

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The two of you got off the train, the two of you didn't initiate a conversation during the whole trip, all she said was the two of you would be heading to the Budapest safe house. You tried to ask what she and Clint did here in the country. Her answer was short and simple. "I'm only removing my last defect on SHIELD," she said.

Now the two of you are outside the door, you have your handgun out while she tries to pick the lock, then a voice comes from inside. "I know you're out there." The female inside spoke. "I know you know I'm out here," Nat replied, then finally opened the door. "Whatever happens between me and Yelena, you don't do anything, alright?" She quickly says before heading inside.

The two of you have your guards up then Yelena speaks again. "Then why are you and your friend are skulking around like you're in a minefield?" Natasha chuckled sarcastically at the comment. "Because I don't know if I can trust you," Nat commented.

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing." Yelena finally revealed herself, a blonde female in her 20s, and she has a gun pointed at Natasha. The redhead looks at you signaling that it's time for you to back away, you place your gun back at your holster raising your hand where Yelena can see them.

"Didn't expect you'd bring a friend," Yelena says, her eyes never leaving Natasha's figure, then the two of them still have their guns pointed at one another. You decide it's best to leave the two alone, and you look around the flat, not touching anything and still careful while wandering around.

You started hearing dishes getting broken, somebody getting thrown on the ground, door, probably kitchen cabinet too. You trust Nat and decided to stick to your word that you won't do anything if something happens, maybe this is how they greet one another? You're not going to be surprised actually.

Then the noise died, you've decided to check both of them, and they were choking each other with a curtain, the place is absolutely trashed but none of them seems to be injured. Both of them turned red until Natasha called for a truce.

"You've grown up," Natasha says, Yelena stood up then looked at you as she replied to Nat. "No shit." Then the blonde heads into the kitchen and chugging vodka straight out of the bottle. "This is how you guys greet each other? Wouldn't say it's sweet, but you guys do your thing." You asked Nat.

Natasha shook her head. "Haven't seen her in like 20 years, trust issues, y'know?" You chuckle at her answer, then the two of you follow Yelena.

"You had to come to Budapest, huh?" Natasha says as she takes a drink in a shot glass, Yelena shot her a look before speaking. "I came here because I thought you wouldn't." Then her eyes trailed at the walls. "But since you're here, what bullet does that?" You and Nat look at the holes in the wall.

"Those are arrows." You answered Yelena, and she seemed to be content with it. "If you thought I wouldn't come here then why did you send me this?" Natasha says before placing the vials along with the picture on the table. "You brought it back here?" Yelena says with worry in her voice.

"Well, tell me what it is," Natasha commanded, then Yelena talks about it being a synthetic gas that has something to do with altering their mind. "In English, please?" Nat says with confusion on her face. "это противоядие от контроля над разумом (it's an antidote to mind control.)" Yelena spoke, causing you to chuckle.

Natasha looks at both of you before commenting. "Real mature." You furrow your brow with what Nat has said before defending yourself. "It was funny? Your sister has humor, Nat." You say now crossing both of your arms.

"Why don't you take it to your super scientist's friends, her dad?" Yelena asked while pointing at you. "We're actually on the run and we're federal fugitives as of the moment, sorry." You replied to Yelena, and you haven't noticed that Nat changed her shirt.

"Well, where's an Avenger when you need one?" Yelena spoke, and Nat glared at her sister, holding Natasha's arms when she walked towards Yelena. Stopping her from probably starting another fight, and she seems like she wouldn't so you let go of her.

"You could've gotten both of us killed." Natasha raised her voice, then you looked away trying to avoid the conversation. "What was I supposed to do? You're the only superhero person I know." Yelena spoke, and you felt bad for Yelena when Nat almost shouted at her sister.

"You know, I keep on checking the news about Captain America taking down the Red Room," Yelena says and Natasha looks at her surprised, you are confused since she and Clint already took down the Red Room, they always joke about Budapest. "What? Dreykov's dead, we almost blew up an entire building just to take him down." Nat spoke.

"Who's we?" Natasha rolled her eyes and answered. "Barton, we stayed here for 10 days before even leaving the country," Nat explained, yet Yelena isn't even convinced. "Then tell me exactly what happened, tell me the full details."

Natasha didn't speak as if she was holding something back, you were sitting down on a chair watching the tense scene between the two. "Did you check for Dreykov's body?" Yelena asked once again.

"There was no body left to check," Natasha answered, and Yelena scoffed as if Nat wasn't speaking the truth, then silence filled the room. Until the three of you heard footsteps outside, then Natasha pulled you to hide in safety.

Suddenly you and Nat heard the window crash and footsteps going in your direction. "You alright?" Nat asked, you just nodded trying to be silent, then Natasha's eyes went searching for Yelena.

Now she sees Yelena going across the room, turning some switch and causing a continuous explosion, then the three of you used the advantage of it and fleeing the building, you and Nat followed Yelena since she seems to be headed somewhere.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Natasha asked while the three of you were running for your lives. "East side of the building! Motorcycles!" Yelena answered, now the three of you managed to get on the roof. A lady is wearing a similar suit to what Nat would usually wear chasing all of you, seems like she's not hesitating to kill you all too.

Now there's nowhere to go other than jumping on the chimney and probably hoping for the best, you and Nat removed some piece of metal that connects the chimney to the roof, as soon as the both of you removed it. The three of you hopped on and held tight, suddenly the lady decided to join, yet she missed.

Natasha managed to hold the lady, trying to knife Nat's hands then she slipped from her grasp, causing the stranger to fall, the chimney now crashed on a building, you and Yelena fell and crashed in a window.

"Who are these people?" You ask Yelena, helping her to stand up, and two of you catch your breaths before heading to Natasha. "There are other Widows, trying to retrieve the vials and return it to Dreykov." You nodded with her explanation.

"Let's get to Natasha and free the widow chasing us," Yelena says, taking out one of the vials in her bag, then the two of you rushing down the stairs, and you wish that Natasha is safe, probably doesn't have a broken bone too.

"I believe you must be exposed to the gas then?" You ask her once again, Yelena looks at you. "Why do you think they're after me too?" She answered sarcastically. "Yeah, right… dumbass." You muttered to yourself, as soon as the two of you reached the ground floor.

The both of you kicked the door open, to see Natasha kneeling on the ground. "Do you believe me now?" Yelena asked, seeing the widow chasing the three of you lifeless on the ground, she slowly took back the vial in her bag. "How many are there?" Natasha asked, her back facing the both of you.

"Enough, let's go," Yelena says before heading to fetch her motorcycle, you don't usually feel this type of adrenaline in your body, considering the fact that your father would only allow you into in and out missions.

After lots of running and ducking to avoid getting shot by other widows, the three of you finally get to the motorcycle, of course, it's a two-person vehicle. "Which one is yours?" Natasha asked Yelena. "Black, brown seat." She quickly answered.

You heaved a sigh before taking the motorcycle next to it and hot-wiring it. "Looks like Stark isn't such a good girl, what do you think?" Yelena commented, before hopping on her motorcycle and letting Nat drive.

Once you've finally powered the vehicle, the three of you are being chased by an armored car. "Y/N! Follow us!" Nat shouted, of course, you're going to follow them. It's not like you'll survive having a psycho who copies your friends and being chased down by a trained assassin would do you any good.

Managing to lose the armored vehicle, there are other widows on the bike too, you're actually surprised of what they are capable of, it seems like Nat really must be one hell of an assassin.

Everything is going well until the three of you are welcomed by traffic, and suddenly a widow shoots the wheel of her motorcycle, while Natasha and Yelena crash into a car. You got out of your vehicle and followed the two, seeing Yelena pointing a gun at a man to make him get out of the car.

"You can't just steal a guy's car?" Natasha commented while Yelena got in the car first, then you're all panicking and shit, you followed Yelena inside and realized you sat down on her lap. "Well, Stark stole a bike earlier." She says while looking confused with you on her lap.

"I am panicking, it's my first time experiencing all this." You defended yourself, Natasha finally got inside and started to drive the car. "Y/N, are you alright?" Natasha asked, rolling your eyes by hearing that question for the nth time.

Suddenly you get dizzy, is it because you're probably panicking too much? Or the fact that all you've done the whole week was to run either from authorities or trained assassins. Your vision started to get all blurry, and you can't understand anything that Nat or Yelena was saying at the moment.

And you passed out due to the stress you've been feeling.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

You felt a sudden pain in your left arm and that woke you up, quickly sitting down you notice you're in a cramped and small space, is this the morgue? Are you dead? You placed a hand on your chest and released a relieved sigh when you felt your heart beating.

"It's been a year, Stark, you passed out while we're on the run," Yelena spoke, a hand on your shoulder trying to comfort. "What? No, that can't be-"

"Yelena, stop." As soon as you hear Natasha's voice, you feel safe, and you didn't notice that you were laying your head on her lap when you collapsed. "What happened?" You ask the two.

"Psycho comes back and shoots another RPG, hence why you're injured and we're hiding in this air vent." Nat simply explained and ran your hands on your hair. "How long was I out?" Asking once again. "Less than 10 minutes," Yelena answered. "I'm sorry…" you softly spoke.

"It's alright, it's normal that you reacted the way you did." Natasha comforts you, then to your surprise she takes your hand and intertwines your fingers with her. "I'm glad that the two of you are safe." You say as you hold on tight to Nat's hand.

"It still doesn't make sense, I killed Dreykov, dropped an entire building on him," Natasha spoke, Yelena looked at her before scoffing. "Truth doesn't really make sense when you only omit key details, what happened to Dreykov's daughter?"

"She was collateral damage, I had to take her down too," Natasha admitted. You felt the guilt in her when she admitted, then you suddenly remember how she and Clint would joke about Budapest.

"Wait… you and Clint joke about exploding a child?" You look at Natasha who's looking at the floor. "Sometimes using humor to cope helps, Y/N," Nat says, then you remember how much your father joked about what happened in New York, you think it's quite… valid?

"This is quite cozy for some air vent." You say trying to change the topic of the conversation, you moved your ass to sit down next to Nat, your head subconsciously resting on her shoulder. "Clint and I stayed up here for 2 days." She says, fiddling with your fingers and resting her head on top of yours.

"I'll see if we're good to go." Yelena says before opening the entrance of the vent, then she went back in the subway, now you and Nat are alone. "Are you ok–" Natasha was about to ask the same question she asked you for the whole day.

"Nat, no, I'm actually not, I'm fucking scared, and I feel like anytime Ross is going to be here or that Dreykov's special project is after us or the other widows." You let out, Natasha looks at you, then noticing that you just shed a tear, you are scared. Fearing that one of you get to be thrown in jail, or get killed because of some mind-controlled assassins.

"Y/N, you're doing great for someone whose first time being on the run, I know it's all hard to take in and if only we went our separate ways, you wouldn't have been dragged into this." She lets go of your hand, instead, she places her hand on your cheek once again, wiping the teardrop on your skin.

"If we've gone our separate ways I wouldn't last a day without you, I'm probably chilling with Wanda and Clint, I'm not saying they're not good company, but I don't want to be in jail." You say, and Natasha nodded. "I know what you mean, Y/N, I know…"

Then you notice the distance between the two of you, faces an inch apart, the two of you can feel each other's breath once again, and your eyes trailed down on her lips which Natasha noticed.

"That's also me saying I wouldn't last a day without you." You confessed, before resting your forehead against hers, Natasha was expecting you to kiss her, but being this close to you, she doesn't really mind, as long it's you she's doing it with.

Natasha stayed quiet, as she enjoyed the peacefulness of this moment, then she slightly pulled away from you to place a chaste kiss on your forehead, and she held both of your arms, wrapping them around her neck, now her arms made their way to your waist.

Burying her face at the crook of your neck while she holds you tight and close, you shut your eyes as the two of you embrace each other. While in the middle of the calm and serene moment, the lid of the air vent came off then. "We're good to go and we've got to be quick!" Then the two of you get off each other, if Nat gets to kiss you before you fall off the bridge, pretty sure you can kiss her before getting off the vent.

"Nat, wait…" You hold her arm since she's about to go down first, and she looks at you over her shoulders, you move closer to her before crashing your lips against hers, you softly bite her lower lip before slowly pulling away, and you see a smile on her face as she hopped down.

"Did you two just?" Yelena looks at Natasha, cringing with what her sister just did, Nat waits for you to get down before following Yelena. "Do we not talk about that too?" You ask Natasha before following her, and she looks at you with a smirk.

"Depends on what you want to talk about," Natasha replied, then you raised a brow at her response, you jogged leaving her behind and catching up with Yelena. "I will act like you didn't just kiss my sister a second ago so that we can communicate without me remembering that," Yelena says.

You chuckle, yet you smile at what she just said. "Is your sister usually annoying like that?" You ask Yelena while pointing your thumbs at Natasha, then the two of you look over your shoulders to see her.

"Ah, yes, I don't know what runs through her head," Yelena replied, while Natasha on the other hand, looks at the two of you not knowing what the hell you two were talking about.

Let's say that she's hoping and praying that Yelena doesn't say something about her in front of you.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

After staying in the vent and managing to run away from the Task Master, the three of you ended up in a convenience store in the middle of nowhere, you bought some alcohol, and bandages to properly care for your wound, and Yelena looked around the store for an alcoholic drink.

"Where is the Red Room?" Natasha asked while she's washing her hands on the sink, Yelena shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know, every widow is sedated at every entrance and exit for maximum security," Yelena replied, as she took a look at some bottled alcohol, then tossed it to you.

"Where do you think I was after all this time?" Yelena asked Natasha, the latter faced her younger sister, and she looked at her. "I thought you're living a normal life," Natasha answered, you take the items they took and head to the cashier to pay for them.

"And you never bothered to check on me?" Yelena says, Natasha followed you at the front, yet she didn't leave the store yet. "I thought you never wanted to see me." She told Yelena, and the latter rolled her eyes then scoffed.

"Just say you don't want your baby sister to tag along and save the world with the cool kids," Yelena says with a smirk on her face, and Natasha clenches her jaw. "You're not really my sister–"

"And the Avengers aren't really your family, well… except for Stark, she stayed with you after all this running," Yelena commented, and suddenly she changed the topic. "Why do you always do that thing?" And Nat looks at her with a questioning look.

"Oh, that thing!" You butted in, then you do the infamous Black Widow pose, Yelena nodded giving you a thumbs up for knowing what she means. "You're a poser, Natasha," Yelena commented, then Nat raised a brow. "I'm not a poser." The latter says.

"It's okay if you're a poser, it's just that you think that everybody is looking at you." Natasha retorted, and you chuckle at the bantering between the two. "All the time I spent on posing, I was doing something good, to make up for all the pain and suffering we've caused." The mood changes real quick, now you stay silent.

"Well, pain and suffering is every day and we'll always be the trained killer that we are," Yelena says, the guy at the cashier hands the plastic bag containing all the items you bought, and you leave the store first. Natasha followed after and taking the bag from your hands, you looked at her who seemed exhausted from all the events happening.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" You nodded, Nat signs you to follow her, and after a little bit of walking, with Yelena behind the two of you, the three of you arrived in a small food place.

You sat down then Natasha went inside, ordering cheeseburgers only for you, and beers for all of you, she sat down next to you, while Yelena settled in front of you two.

"An older widow freed me, and I killed her," Yelena says as she takes a sip from her beer, Natasha unwrapped the cloth on your arm, and she tends your wound while listening to Yelena. "Did you have a choice?" You ask her, and she only shook her head as an answer. "Then it's not your fault," Natasha says.

Yelena's eyes shifted at the family going home across the place you three are drinking, she seemed to like the view of what seems to be a happy and functional family. "Have you ever looked for your parents, the real ones?" Natasha looked at the latter as soon as she finished putting a bandage on your wound.

"I got abandoned on the street like garbage, I don't think I have a reason to look for them," Natasha says then she takes a good sip at her drink before asking Yelena the same question. "Well, they ruined my birth certificate so I made a new one." She said with a smile, and Nat seemed to brighten up.

"It says that I still live in Ohio, I have an older sister who moved to the west and she works as a science teacher, but she started working part-time when she had her son, and she has a husband who is a construction work–" Natasha halted Yelena speaking when she chuckled at her story. "That's definitely not my story," Nat says, then Yelena leaned back on her seat.

"Yeah, what is your story?" Yelena asked, and without you knowing, Natasha looks at you while you're spacing out. "Well, I don't really have a story, I don't have much to think about it alone," Nat answered. "But if I'm pretty sure it involves another person, who's a Stark?" Yelena teased, and with the mention of your last name, you look at the latter.

"What about you? What is your story?" Yelena says, then you wipe your mouth with the tissue before speaking. "Well, I was created because of my father's one of many hookups, lived with my grieving mother while I was an infant and she's grieving cause Dad won't marry her, so she left me at his doorstep, we did DNA tests to prove that I was really his and now he loves me more than anything." You say, smiling at the memory of your father who did everything he could to raise you.

"Then why aren't you with him?" Yelena asked once more, you look at Nat for a bit before answering. "Because I chose to do what I think is right, and probably did follow my heart." The blonde chuckled, noticing that Natasha was blushing at what you've just said.

"I have a plan." Natasha suddenly spoke, you and Yelena looked at the redhead. "Is it killing Dreykov and taking down the Red Room?" Yelena told Nat, and she earned a nod from Nat. "Even if he's way too slippery to kill and Red Room's impossible to find?" She nodded once again.

"Sounds like a shit load of work," Yelena says, making you and Nat chuckle. "Yup," Nat replied and Yelena took another sip at her beer. "Could be fine though." You say as you take the final bite of your burger. "Yup,'' Yelena said.

"I saw where he put the keys," Natasha says as she looked at the car, that the man of the family parked in the garage, the three of you smiled before speaking in unison.

"Top drawer green cabinet."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Next Part: To Make Action

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