#Oh yeah and there’s the theory that the experiment in the bigger boy’s room is stain and they’re torturing him with electricity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

libsterslobsters · 4 years

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Summary: Even after the battle with Thanos, The Winter Soldier's reputation still proceeds him (much to the chagrin of Bucky Barnes), which has a habit of making things more complicated than they need to be. That, on to of the fact that there’s certain question he and the Reader still haven't brought up (most importantly, why did she wait those five years he was gone), equals trouble, and poor Sam doesn't know what hit him.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Super-soldier Reader (Reader can see bits of the future in visions as well as understand every language)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, insecure Bucky, Sam doesn't deserve any of this, IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T INTERACT!!!

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The day starts off normally enough. He and Sam are in the training room sparring while she practices her skills with the throwing knives on the opposite side. Bucky’s so involved with his task (Sam may not be enhanced per se, but dammit, he can move fast) that he doesn’t notice that he’s being watched until the sound of someone clearing their throat reaches his ears. On instinct, his head turns towards the noise and that’s when he sees the intruder. A man with an eye patch who looks vaguely familiar.

“Wilson, Barnes, New Girl-” Sam’s head snaps up and as her final knife sticks in the wall, she studies the man in the eye patch as well. “-get your asses up to the situation room. Meeting in five.” With no further explanation for his presence, the man slips out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

“Who the hell was that?” He says it more to himself than to the others, but Sam still shoots him a questioning look as they start in the direction of the elevator.

“You mean you don’t know?” He almost shoots back that he wouldn’t be asking if he did, now would he, but before he can, she falls into step next to him, taking his hand.

“That’s Nick Fury, Buck. Director of SHIELD back before it went up in flames.”

“Oh, shit.” Well that certainly explains the vague recollection. Now that he knows who the man is, the whole picture is coming into focus. He remembers him. “I tried to kill him once.”

Sam doesn’t bother to hide his snicker as they climb into the elevator and it begins to ascend.

“It was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s gotten over it.” Despite her attempt at reassuring him, Bucky’s fairly certain Nick Fury is the type to hold a grudge.

That theory is confirmed as soon as they step foot in the situation room and he’s instructed to take a seat against the back wall while the others are offered chairs in front of Fury’s desk. It’s also not lost on him that, no matter how far the former director paces, he always keeps Bucky in his eyeline. So much for bygones being bygones.

“The president is going on a diplomatic mission and his head of security has requested that we lend him a protection detail.”

“What’s the location?” Sam’s question is met with a frown.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis. Everyone who’s involved will find out once you’re in the air.”

“Still-” Sam tries again. “-we’re not bodyguards for hire. No world leader, no matter what country he’s from, warrants a protection unit consisting of three Avengers.”

That lone good eye settles on Bucky once more, and he can guess what’s coming next.

“Not three Avengers. Just two. Falcon and Soothsayer. The Winter Soldier is not required on this particular mission.”

“Why?” This time, she’s the one speaking up.

“Why what?”

“Why Sam and me, not Bucky? Usually Falcon and Winter Soldier are the go-to task force.” He really wishes she hadn’t asked that. There’s no way the answer will make any of them happy.

“Apart from the fact that you can see the future and speak every language flawlessly upon hearing it as well as having super soldier capabilities-” Here it comes. “-the president’s head of security felt that Sergeant Barnes is too volatile to act as an asset in this instance.”

“Bullshit. Barnes is a seasoned combat veteran who’s received special training that allows him to operate seamlessly under any set of circumstances. I’m more likely to lose my shit than he is.” If only he were sitting closer, he could take her hand, try to silently communicate that he’s okay, this is just part of having his particular past, she doesn’t have to go to war for him.

Fury crosses his arms, glaring at her. “I don’t know how much plainer I can make it. Your boyfriend’s services are not required. End of story.”

“And if I choose not to accept this mission?” Sam shoots him a look that clearly says, “Is she really arguing with Nick Fury?” Bucky’s torn between being astounded himself and trying not to laugh at how shocked Fury looks.

“If you chose to disobey direct orders, then you are no longer an Avenger.” He can sense where this is going to go, so before she has a chance to straight up quit, he stands.

“Will that be all, Director Fury?” That definitely just put him on the shit list, or at least further down it.

“That will be all. You’re dismissed.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s seething the whole drive home, and it shows. While usually Barnes is the one to drive (her guess is it’s a throwback to his youth when the gentlemanly thing to do was for the man to drive, one that he hasn’t even realized he’s doing), it’s rush hour, and he’s still getting used to modern New York traffic, so this time she’s behind the wheel. Normal highway offenses that wouldn’t ruffle her feathers are met with gritted teeth, and situations that would make her frustrated on a good day result in curses and the middle finger. And why not? Since the world at large is showing it’s ass, she’ll join in and show hers too.

By the time they arrived home, her stormy mood has turned into a varitable hurricane, and she slams the apartment door instead of closing it.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Bucky’s voice is measured, but she still bristles. “Doll, what’s gotten into you?”

Her gut instinct is to reply with something seething, but a look at his face puts that to rest. He’s wearing a slight frown, those eyes wide with concern. At the same time, her anger fizzles and is replaced by a deep sadness.

“I hate how Fury treated you.” Her voice is brittle, breaking off at the end. As much as she’s sick of how the world views her Winter Soldier, she knows it affects him tenfold. When the world at large looks at the man standing in her kitchen, gazing at her with so much love and sympathy, they see a monster. Maybe it’s ignorance. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to see past the deeds HYDRA forced him to carry out. But it breaks her heart to know that this gentle, loyal to a fault, brilliant, hilarious hero is still regarded by those in power as some sort of heartless psychopath.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, instead just collecting her into his arms and holding her close in response. Despite her best efforts to keep the tears at bay, a few leak out, and she knows he can feel them through his worn shirt. It’s ridiculous. He’s the one being scorned and she’s crying. Well, there’s something she can still do about this.

“I’m not going to accept the mission.” She feels more than hears him sigh.

“Doll, you know you can’t do that. They’ll kick you out of the Avengers.”

“I don’t care.” Her words are reckless, she realizes that, but in the moment, she means them. “I won’t be part of a team where you’re not treated like a valuable player. Fuck the Avengers. I don’t want it if-”

“It’s not about what you want though, is it?” She leans back to see his face, trying to read his meaning. Bucky chuckles wearily. “Sweetheart, you didn’t join the Avengers because you wanted something out of it. You did it because the world is a dangerous place, and we can make it safer. Together.” He gives her side a gentle squeeze. “This team is bigger than one person, and what we do is more important than a few jerks holding grudges.”

She knows he’s right, but still…

“It should be you on that protection detail. Not me.” She doesn’t doubt her capabilities, and in some ways she understands why her skllset would be deemed valuable for this mission. However, when it comes down to it, Barnes is the better option. He’s stronger than her, has years of experience, and was trained as a soldier. Protecting a target while remaining unseen is his bread and butter. By comparison, she’s a clumsy second.

“Maybe.” He nods. “But to be honest, I don’t mind sitting this one out. A mission in close quarters with Sam for days on end, sitting through endless boring meetings?” Bucky feigns a shudder, which makes her snicker. “No thanks. You can have that.”

“So you’re not disappointed?” She decides to pepper in some humor to lighten the mood. “Not missing out on every boy scout’s dream of meeting the president?”

He narrows his eyes at her, but the twitch of his lips gives it away. “Did you just call me a boy scout?”

Holding his gaze, she nods solumnly. “If the shoe fits.”

They stay like that for a few moments, eyes locked, waiting to see which one will crack first. Finally, with a shrug, he tells her, “I don’t even know who the president is nowadays-” and she gives into the giggles.

“Yeah, yeah. You’d better go pack your bags, solnyshka. Wheels are up in two hours.”

Still chuckling softly, she squeezes his hand. “Love you, Buck.”

“Love you too, Doll.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

On the first full day he’s alone, Bucky keeps to his usual schedule. His alarm goes off at five thirty, and after realizing that the other side of the bed is cold (which jogs his memory), he gets up and bleerily makes his way to the kitchen. Normally the time spent waiting for the coffee to perk would be spent making jokes about the inevitable knots and tangles both of them would be sporting after a night of deep sleep, but instead, it’d dead silent, and he reads the news instead of joking around with his girl.

Their apartment isn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but without her there to make the familiar noises of getting ready for the day ahead, it feels huge and empty. Eerily so. Shaking his head, Bucky finishes dressing and grabs his keys. There’s no real point in going to the Avengers complex since Sam won’t be there, but it feels wrong somehow to hang around his home without her here.

Rhodey doesn’t bother to hide his surprise when he catches sight of him, but doesn’t say anything other than to tell him to check his inbox for a requisition form which should cover the cost of new ammo. As it turns out, when you have absolutely nothing else to concentrate on other than the task at hand, doing paperwork goes much faster. By twelve o’clock, Bucky’s finished all three field reports that are due and filled out a good month’s worth of backlogged forms. So, after lunch (a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because she’s not around to meet up with at a diner for a quick bite before they both have to return to work), he heads to the training room.

It takes all of two hours for him to thoroughly exhaust every workout option, and no one is available to spar with him. Unfortunately, he’s still left with two more hours to fill before he can justify leaving, so he does something he’s never done before: cleans his desk. Technically, it’s only been two months since he started the “day job” part of being an Avenger, but my god. You’d think it had been two years since this desk saw the business end of a duster. He draws out the task until the clock reads five in the afternoon and then, a trash bag full of odd papers and food wrappers in hand, heads out to the parking lot.

Dinner is a silent affair. If she were here, he’d put his phone on silent while they worked together, preparing the evening meal, but tonight he watches Youtube video after Youtube video in an attempt to keep himself occupied. Finally, at nine o’clock, he crawls into bed. He’s nowhere near asleep when, an hour and a half later, his phone dings with a text. It’s her.

“Hey, you. Hope you didn’t miss me too much today.” A smile spreads over his face as he reads the teasing message, and he rapidly types back.

“Nope. Barely realized you were gone.”

“Good, ‘cause I definitely don’t miss you stealing the covers.” He snickers.

“Yeah, and I had so much hot water for my shower this morning I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

There’s a short pause, then-

“Sorry. Got distracted picturing you in the shower.” She’s perfect. She really is.

“Don’t worry about it. I was busy thinking about you in bed next to me.”

“Dammit, Barnes. Here I was trying to be sexy, and you said something sweet.”

They text back and forth for a few more minutes, during which she tells him that she can’t call because the hotel room is possibly bugged, and then finally, after exchanging “I love you’s” say goodnight.

The second day is a little different. For the first time since his time in the Army, Bucky ignores his alarm. His body wakes him up at seven a.m., and instead of making his own coffee, he stops at the gas station around the corner to pick up a cup. He’s already made up his mind that he’s not going into work today (he’s caught up for the next two weeks at least), so instead, he just drives. Explores the open roads with no map and nowhere to be. Going where the highway takes him. That is, until he gets lost.

He has a GPS on his phone (wonders of modern technology), but on a whim, he decides to check the map in his glove compartment. If he started in Brooklyn, and the last town was… yeah, he’s in New Jersey. Well, that was a fun road trip. Time to head back home.

It’s a grand total of five hours later when he arrives back at his apartment, which means he still has nineish hours to kill before he can go to sleep. Alright, he needs another task, fast. As he makes himself a sandwich for lunch, he catches sight of the broom and dustpan. Cleaning. He can clean the apartment.

Dusting, vaccuuming, mopping, doing dishes, and washing all of the clothes that, between him and his fiancee, they own, takes five hours. It would’ve been less, but he went over things three times to kill more time. There’s no real reason to cook, it’s just him, but because he’s trying to keep himself occupied, he attempts to make a quiche. Three dozen eggs later, he thinks he’s figured it out.

The goodnight text comes at nine o’clock, but it’s short. “Hey. Can’t talk. Target is still active.” (he assumes she means the president). “Just wanted to check in. Love you.”

He types a quick reply, then rolls over and starts to count ceiling tiles in an attempt to wear himself out.

On the third day, Bucky doesn’t get out of bed until ten a.m. Not because he’s sleeping. Oh, no. Because there’s nothing else to do except scroll through news articles and watch videos of dogs getting scared by their own hiccups. He finally convinces himself to get up, but after much consideration, decides against putting on pants. It’s just him. There’s no one else around. Come to think of it, he might as well drink his coffee straight out of the pot. Again, no one else around. He draws the line at eating cereal straight out of the box, but that’s mostly because it requires milk.

After eating, he settles in on the sofa and decides to take advantage of the seemingly endless supply of movies and television shows readily available at the click of a button. Leave It To Beaver attracts his attention because it’s in black and white. Made in the late 1950s. Okay, he’ll give it a go.

Three seasons later, his phone dings and he realizes that it’s seven p.m. So that’s what people mean by “binge watching.” It’s a text (big shocker), but this time, he almost drops his phone as he reads. “The mission’s over. We’re heading out tonight. We should touch down tomorrow morning at seven a.m.” Yes!

“Alright. I’ll be there.” That’s not enough. “Looking forward to having you back, Doll.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes, then-

“So you’re not missing the bachelor life?”

He snorts. Hell no. “I think 100 years of bachelorhood is enough.”

That night, for the first time since she left, he sleeps well.

When his alarm goes off, Bucky’s already been up for half an hour, changing the sheets on the bed, checking to makes sure he put all of the laundry away in the right drawers, and making a note of any foodstuffs they’re out of. He takes more time showering and shaving than usual along with paying far more attention to which shirt he puts on. Part of him feels a little ridiculous, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by excitement. His girl’s coming home today! Before he climbs in his car, he brews a pot of her favorite tea and pours it into a thermos, adding sugar and milk to her specifications. Goodness knows she’s probably had enough of doing without over the past four mornings.

He’s expecting the quinjet to arrive a little later than predicted. He’s even expecting the other agents to disembark first. What he’s not expecting is, when he finally sees her, for her to be laughing at something Sam has said. If anything, he was expecting his partner to have gotten on her nerves. This is good. The three of them have had to work together a few times in the past months since the blip was undone. It’s good that they’re getting along. Bucky nods to himself. It’s healthy really, especially since they work in high-stress situations.

As soon as he steps out of his car, he can make out their conversation.

“I can’t believe you made me listen to Elton John!” Sam’s shaking his head, but he’s smiling.

She elbows him. “Hey, you ended up singing along, didn’t you? And you have to admit, the song’s catchy.”

“Not when you sing it, it’s not. You have to be the most tone-deaf person on the face of this planet.”

Whoa! Where the hell does Sam get off saying that to her? It’s true, but still. He’s about to intervene, tell him to go to hell, but she just shrugs.

“What can I say? It’s a gift.”

Sam whistles. “Remind me to make sure you’re on the opposite team next karaoke night.”

Wait, there’s karaoke nights? He’s never been invited. Not that he’d want to go, but-

“Yeah, because you know the only way you’d ever have a chance at winning is to go against me.”

Something about that playful smile, the one he’s only ever seen before directed at him (usually when she’s teasing him about being an old man… god, she’s so young, what’s she doing with him anyway) irks him, and ultimately that’s what makes him step forward and interrupt the banter.

“Good mission?” Okay, his mind’s definitely playing tricks on him. Her eyes light up and, completely abandoning Sam, she takes off at a run towards him. Bucky’s prepared for it and immediately pulls her into a tight embrace as soon as she’s near enough.

“God, I missed you.” Yeah, it was all his imagination. Her lips press against his in punctuation to her statement, and by the time they break apart, he’s out of breath.

“I missed you too, Doll, but the question still stands.”

“Yes, it was good. Pretty boring for the most part, but…” He really should be paying attention, but his gaze shifts towards Sam. Is he crazy, or is Sam… watching her? That’s to be expected. They did just spend seventy-two odd hours in close quarters. It’s probably a remnant from the mission. Right?

“...and between you and me-” She leans closer, body pressing against his side, and that redirects his attention. “-the president is kind of a dick.”

She says it quietly, but Sam must’ve heard, because he nods.

“Welcome to protecting world leaders.” Their eyes lock for a moment, and Bucky nods.

“Wilson.”

“Barnes.” And, Sam’s back to looking at her. “Gotta say, your girl’s more fun on stakeouts than you. Knows how to keep things interesting.” What the hell does that mean? He needs to calm down. He trusts her implicitly. It’s an innocent comment.

“I could’ve told you that.” Of course she’s more interesting. When Bucky’s on a mission, he’s only interested in getting in and out as quickly and effectively as possible. That’s what he did as The Winter Soldier, and the years of sticking to a strict protocal haven’t made him more chatty. She and Sam are from the same generation. They have things to talk about. Things in common. Shared life experiences. Oh god, he’s so very much older than she is. Old and boring.

“Yeah.” Sam chuckles. “I think next time, I’m gonna ask if I can have her instead of you.”

If he was paying closer attention to the woman by his side, Bucky would’ve caught the slight frown on her face at Sam’s words, but it’s lost on him thanks to her reply.

“No thanks. If I never have to share a hotel room with you again, it’ll be too soon.” Wait… they shared a hotel room? That’s common, but… one hotel room. Shared. That means one bathroom. One shower. One bed. Jesus, he needs to get ahold of himself. It’s fine. Everything is-

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the debrief?”

She nods, smiling brightly. “Sure thing.”

Sam approaches and… oh boy… they share a quick hug.

Bucky’s not sure how long he’s just standing there, ordering the voices in his head to shut up, but it must be longer than necessary, because next thing he’s aware of is her calling his name.

“Yeah.”

“You okay there, Buck?” She peers up at him, frowning. “You seem a little… off.”

“Fine.” Clearing his throat, he interlocks his fingers with hers. “Let’s go home.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

It’s been bubbling underneath the surface for a while now. Ever since she returned home from the mission a week ago, really. Something about Barnes is… off. She’s not sure what, but he seems quieter somehow. More solemn.

At first she thought he was hanging back, giving her a chance to readjust to life at home. That’s why she didn’t pay much attention when, on the first day, he stayed mostly silent, letting her carry the conversation. She took that time to fill him in on the highs and lows of the mission, the funny moments, the frightening ones, and everything in between. His response was pretty muted, but she brushed it off.

The next day was the debrief. Despite not being involved in the mission, Bucky was called in. She chalked up the stiffness in his posture during the meeting to discomfort at being in the same room with Fury again. That is, until it was just him, her, and Sam, and if anything, Bucky seemed more sullen.

She returned to teaching on the third day, so her mind was occupied with other things besides the man she loves for the majority of the day. He seemed more his normal self when she arrived home, and the evening was going pretty well until they settled in to watch television and she made an off-handed comment about how he really must’ve enjoyed Leave it to Beaver. His response was a sigh and the words, “It’s more in my age bracket, I guess.” After that, he was completely shut down, and she was torn between apologizing and asking him what the hell is going on.

On day four, she wakes up with new determination. She’s going to fix this, whatever it is. Maybe he’s feeling left out since she went on a mission with his partner. Well, she has a simple solution to that. She’ll invite Sam over for dinner so that they can have some time to catch up. After all, with Steve all but out of the picture, Sam’s the closest thing to a friend Bucky’s got. And, since tomorrow is a Friday, it’ll work out perfectly. She expects an at least mildly positive response when she mentions the idea to Bucky, but instead, his lips quirk down slightly before he hides any and all emotions away and tells her,

“Okay. If that’s what you want to do.”

At least Sam’s a little more enthusiastic.

“Sure. I’ll do anything to avoid cooking.”

The day of the dinner, she makes a point to leave work as soon as her last class is dismissed. No student meetings. No talking to colleagues. She’s a woman on a mission. That mission takes her to three separate grocery stores, a bakery, and a liquor store. By the time she arrives home, she has all the ingredients for a traditional Sunday roast, a Boston cream pie, and a bottle of wine she was told would pair well with the meal.

As per usual on her days to cook, when Bucky arrives home, he asks if he can help with any of the preparations. She cheerfully informs him that she’s got it covered, and from his expression, you’d think she’d told him to go jump off a bridge. She thinks about calling him back, but that’s when a pot decides to boil over, so she’s momentarily distracted.

At six o’clock, there’s a knock on the door. Right on time.

“Can you get that?” She calls from the kitchen to where he’s sitting in the living room. It’s unnervingly quiet for a moment, then-

“Sure.” It’s said with all the excitement of someone agreeing to a root canal.

Her gut tells her to leave the kitchen, go and oversee the hospitality in the other room, but she forces herself to stay in place, give them some time to get reacquainted.

“Nice play you’ve got here.” Sam.

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t realize it was in the same building as Steve’s.” Oh no. She doesn’t have to be able to see Bucky’s expression to know he’s taken a hit.

“Yeah.”

“Is that his old couch? I remember crashing on it a few times.”

“Same one.”

Well, this is thrilling. Shaking her head, she removes the cork from the wine, allowing it to breathe and makes her way towards the living room.

“You okay, man? Seems like something’s eating you.”

“Fine.” So it’s not just her imagination.

“Hey, guys-” Two sets of eyes lock on her. Sam looks relieved. Bucky looks… sad? No, she’s reading this wrong. “-soup’s on.”

Dinner is… awkward. Sam cracks jokes and tells old battle stories. She laughs at the appropriate times and asks polite questions, but the whole time, her attention is on Bucky. He’s not one to participate in idle chatter (at least not when it involves anyone outside of the two of them), but tonight he’s dead silent. At one point, Sam asks him a question, and the only reply is a glare and a sharp, “No.” She resists the urge to kick him under the table, instead focusing her frustrations into being cheery enough for both of them.

The clock strikes eight, and although she wasn’t expecting Sam to leave this soon, she can’t blame him for making an excuse about having an early morning meeting at the V.A. to get out of there.

"That is, unless you could use some help with the cleanup?”

She’s already prepared to brush it off, he’s a guest, they can handle it, but before she can speak-

“No. I’ve got it covered.” It would be a less threatening sentiment if Barnes wasn’t standing directly in the kitchen door frame, blocking the room from view, arms crossed over his chest, frowning menacingly.

“Right.” Sam nods and, muttering something about seeing them at work, sees himself out.

As soon as the door closes, she collects their plates and, not bothering with a warning, pushes past her fiance into the kitchen. She’s hoping that the literal cold shoulder will serve as a warning for him to stay back, don’t fuck with her right now, but of course, her luck couldn’t work out just this one time because not thirty seconds later, he’s beside her, scraping plates in preparation for washing. Fine. If he insists on ignoring all the signs that point to “Do not disturb”, she’ll go ahead and get into it.

“You didn’t have to be so rude to Sam tonight.” He freezes, hands gripping the ceramic bowl he’s emptying into the trashcan so tightly that she’s afraid it’ll shatter.

“I wasn’t rude. I was quiet.” The bowl slams down on the counter top next to her, and if she weren’t so pissed off, she’d jump, startled. “There’s a difference.”

“Not speaking when spoken to, answering with one-word statements?” Shaking her head, she turns on the tap. “That’s rude. Not quiet.”

Another slam, this time of a wine glass. “Didn’t seem like the conversation suffered.”

She opens her mouth, fully intent on calmly pointing out that friends talk to each other, that’s what they do, but instead what comes out is,

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His jaw tenses, and she considers apologizing, but decides to stand her ground. He’s had this coming to him all damn week.

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me. Except that I’m not Sam.”

She turns to face him, confused. “What does that even mean?”

Not so much as pausing as he scrapes the remnants of dinner off of a plate, he nearly growls, “You go away on a mission, and when you come back-” The fork clatters as it’s tossed into the sink. “-he’s your new best friend.”

“What’s wrong with that?” She refuses to let his gruffness ruffle her, instead allowing her own voice to turn hard. “Am I not supposed to have friends?”

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“Then what is it?” She’s rapidly losing patience with the entire situation.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, returning to the sink. “Forget I said anything. Clearly my opinion isn’t needed since now you can talk to your good pal Sam.”

Her mouth falls open, forming a perfect “o”, but she immediately snaps it shut. Fine. If he wants to go down that road…

“You know what? You’re right.” She nods. “I do like talking to Sam.” His shoulders tense, but she continues. “It turns out we have a lot in common. You should try it sometime instead of shutting down anything that might lead to you actually liking the man!”

“Well if you like him so much, then why are you even with me?” The words are practically hurled at her and she blinks in surprise. She’s never heard this much anger in his voice, not directed at her. So much anger and… dejection?

“Is that what all of this is about?” She says it more to herself than him, but Bucky gives her a tight nod.

“You said so yourself; you two have a lot in common-”

“So do we-”

“-And he’s closer to your age.”

She rolls her eyes. “If I wanted someone closer to my age, do you think I would’ve spent the five years you were gone on my own?”

“Why did you?” The trashcan lid slams shut and another fork is thrown into the sink. “For all you knew, I wasn’t coming back.” His eyes rake over her, and she has the urge to cross her arms, covering herself. “You’re a beautiful woman. Smart too. Even with half the population gone, you can’t tell me there wasn’t anyone interested. Why didn’t you start over?”

“I couldn’t.” She expects her voice to shake, but it comes out deceptively strong.

“Sure you could. Why didn’t you-”

“Because I love you, okay?” Tears prick at her eyes even as she shouts the words, and she has to stare into the sink to keep him from seeing. “I love you. In case you hadn’t realized it, I’m a one-and-done type. For me, it’s you. There’s only ever going to be you. I’m yours.”

“Doll-”

“What do you want from me, Bucky? Do I have to get on my knees to prove it to you? Because I’ll do it.” The tears are truly flowing now. She doesn’t have much time. So, with the last bit of bitterness she has in reserves, she mutters, “I can’t keep having this conversation for the rest of my life.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” The words take her by surprise, and she looks up. He’s peering at her, brow knitted, but this time, it’s not in anger. “Doll, you haven’t done anything wrong. I know that, just-” He groans, forcing his fingers through his hair. “-I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, ‘cause that’s how it’s always been. You don’t deserve that.”

“I don’t.” She shakes her head, eyes still locked with his. “But you don’t deserve to live like that either. So what can we do to fix it?”

For a few seconds it’s silent, the kind of silent you can feel pressing against you, strangling you, forcing the breath from your lungs. Then-

“I don’t know, just-” Bucky sighs, and she pretends not to see the shine of tears in his eyes as well. “-can you keep reminding me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but just until I can get it through my thick skull-”

It’s involuntary. Her mind has no control over her body as, without any warning, she grabs hold of his collar and, yanking hard, pulls him down for a kiss. As his arms envelope her, pulling her flush against his body, close enough that she can feel his heartbeat hammering against her chest, everything’s right for the first time in days.

“I can do that.” She murmurs it against his ear, breath catching in her throat as his lips leave a trail of kisses across her jaw, leading down to her neck. “For as long as you need me to.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

“I’m sorry.” It’s never an easy sentence to utter, to admit you were wrong, that you’re the one at fault. “I’m sorry.” In Bucky’s experience, most times he utters those words, it feels like he’s slapping a band-aid on a bullet wound. Most of the things he’s done are so bad, it doesn’t matter if he regrets them. There’s no absolution available. Especially this time. Especially now that he’s hurt her. But what else can he say? He truly is.

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.” They’re in bed now, lying side by side, his head buried in the cushion of her chest. Her hands are trailing up and down his uncovered back, tracing lazy patterns between gently kneading the tension of the past few days out of his muscles. For his part, all he can do is breath her in, her scent, her presence. That and repeat the same damn words over and over like a prayer.

“And I’m going to keep telling you the same thing. It’s alright. It’s over. I love you.” He’d be happy just to drown in those reassurances, let them wash over him until it’s all he can remember. But that’s not realistic. Eventually he’ll have to get up, and when that happens, the next step will be making amends. He may not be a man who believes in the power of an apology, not after all he’s seen, but he’s wise enough to know that words need to be backed up with actions, and the sooner the better.

He hates himself for moving, for interrupting such a peaceful moment, but he needs to get a start on repairing any damage that’s been done. Leaning back just enough to see her, he peers into her eyes, partially hidden between lowered lids.

“Let me show you, then.” It takes a minute, but he can tell when she registers what he’s asking.

“There’s nothing to prove, but I’ll never say no.”

It’s nothing they haven’t done a thousand times before. He lifts the shirt from her body and eases her back against the mattress, those trusting eyes not straying from his face, and he can’t help but think to himself that he’s the only one who gets to see her like this. Exposed. Vulnerable. Whether he deserves it or not (he’s unsure if he’ll ever believe he does), he’s the one who gets to kiss her lips, feel them move against his, until, both of them breathless, he pulls away, leaving them a debauched red.

From their years together, he knows that just below her earlobe is a hot spot; if he so much as brushes it with his tongue or allows his breath to tease over it, she’ll gasp, body growing more pliant beneath him. That, as he works his way lower, she likes the feeling of his hand over her throat, not applying pressure, just resting there, reminding her that she’s held. He’s caught her studying her reflection in the mirror, fingers lightly tracing over the marks he’s left in the hollow between her breasts, a small, secretive smile on her lips. Tomorrow, she’ll do it again.

He knows, after removing the thin cotton panties from her lower half and settling between her legs, how to take her apart, piece by piece. Her hands grasp his hair, much shorter now than the first time they did this, as he teases her nub with his tongue, just enough to hear her soft moan before starting in earnest. He’s the only one to know exactly how much she can take, how rough he can be, or how teasing, before she’s absolutely desperate, but tonight, he doesn’t put that knowledge to good use, instead focusing on what will tip her over the edge most effectively.

They’ve both got a hell of a lot of endurance, so this could go on for hours, but he knows after the first orgasm, she prefers for him to get on with it, get inside of her, and usually by that point, he’s beyond jokes or teasing her about being an eager little thing. Tonight’s no exception, although he takes special care to prepare her, working one, then two, then three fingers into her, immediately finding the spot inside of her that makes her breath catch in her throat. It’s only after he’s satisfied that she’s ready, that there will be no pain, that he tears open the packet from the nightstand drawer and, now covered, presses against her entrance.

He’s the only one who knows that, as soon as her legs are locked around his waist, heels digging into his ass, she’s ready for him to pick up the pace, use the leverage of his resting on either side of her head, boxing her head, to rock against her faster. If he presses his face against her shoulder, he can hear each intake of breath, feel her pulse thundering away. If he lowers his forehead to hers, he can look into her eyes. Tonight, he chooses to take advantage of their position to place kisses on her nose, forehead, cheeks, really any part of her face he feels like pecking.

It’s as often her on top, and god, that’s probably his favorite view in the world, but this time, he wants to be the one in control, taking care of her. Reaching between them, he urges her over the edge a second time, her nails digging into his shoulders providing just a tinge of pain that’s almost enough for him to lose it, but no, not yet. He wants her to cum one more time before he finishes.

It doesn’t take long. She’s so sensitive at this point that, only minutes later, he feels her contract around him with a tale-tell moan, and that’s what sends him over, muffling his own moan against her sweaty neck.

Before, he would resist the urge to just colapse on top of her, or at the very least, roll off quickly in fear that he’d crush her under his weight. Now that her status as a super soldier matches his own, he can relax, enjoy the feeling of her chest rising and falling against his, and moments later, her arms encircling his back.

“I love you, Doll.” So much. Before it all, before the war and HYDRA and everything that followed, he was good with words, quick with sweet talk, but now, they seem to stick in his throat. Still, that’s what it all boils down to. He loves her, and as much as she claims that she’s his, he belongs just as much to her.

“I love you, Bucky. Always.”

#marvel #the avengers #captain america #the winter solider fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #smut #fluff #angst

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chaoslordjoe · 3 years

Text

Bloodlines AU - Tiny Warmths Part 1

The cane clacked against the Schnee Manor's front door. Winter was welcomed by Klein who always showed her to the living room, knowing she needed a rest from the trip back home for the newest addition to the home.

"Long flight, dear?" Willow asked by the staircase, sniffing her coffee.

"More like a long sail, mother. We were inspected for hours by sea/air traffic control." Winter grumbled, walking over to the sofa.

"Yes, I heard about it from the news reports. You'd think they would recognize our snowflake by now."

"I'm not sure I want to test that theory." Before she could sit down, she was welcomed by a hug from her blue-haired brother-in-law.

"Good to see you Winter."

Winter returned the hug best she could. "You as well, Neptune. How's fatherhood?"

Neptune could only sigh. "Exhausting so far. He's almost five months and I feel like I'm still getting used to all this."

"Weiss certainly wasn't kidding about how anxious you've been." She was handed a spot of tea. "Thank you, Klein." Then she turned back to the spearman. "Is my sister adjusting any better?"

“Surprisingly. But Nicky's been dealing with colic pain, so patience is a virtue she’s been having better than me. She's taken to this so much easier than I have."

Winter sipped at her tea. "It can't be easy with both you and her running businesses."

Neptune sat taking a cup of tea. "It's not, but we've adjusted and tried to settle into a routine. Even when she's at her busiest she refuses to hire nannies and will rock or breastfeed him while on a business call."

Winter tented her fingers. "It's funny. I never really considered how that works until seeing the photos she sent me while I was overseas."

"Pretty much no choice if he’s cranky.” Neptune answered. “He won't take a bottle from Klein. That’s how much he’s already making up his own mind.”

Klein aided Willow on her way to the recliner. "I believe the important part is that I'm trying, sir."

Neptune smiled at the butler. "You are. And we are so thankful for your help, Klein."

Willow sat back down. "He's less fussy when we get him on diaper duty. But clearly..." She grunted, sitting slowly onto the chair. "Clearly he's more in favor of his mom and dad right now."

"How are your back pains, mother?" Winter asked.

"Little stiff today.” Willow answered. “I'm only having one coffee cup for Nicky's sake, due to all the hustle and bustle of preparing for a visit before you arrived."

"Weiss is changing him right now." Neptune pointed out.

Winter exhaled. "Right. Meeting the nephew...How should I present myself?"

"Just be yourself." Neptune said plainly.

"You mean the military woman shtick minus the sternness." She asked.

“That sounds about right.” Weiss Schnee answered right behind her big sister.

Winter turned her head, seeing a joyful Weiss having just gotten off of work for the day with a bundle in her arms. Inside the blue blanket was Dominick Karl Schnee, cocooned and eyeing his mother fondly. Weiss bounced him in the blanket turning him around to face a new relative.

“Dominick, can you say ‘hi’ to your auntie?” His mom requested.

The future heir revealed his little face to Winter.

He weighed in at 8 pounds and 3 ounces in a handsome little bundle of his father’s bronzed skin, light blue eyes included. His mother’s alabaster hair was spiky but neatly groomed in time for being the up and coming prince of his family’s corporation. The baby stared through Winter, moving his tiny arm out and grabbing the edge of his snuggie.

The Specialist took the plunge by reaching out her hand with an adjustment from her cane to let him hold her bigger hand. “Um…Hello, Dominick. I’m your Aunt Winter.” She greeted after a heavy pause.

The baby reached out by placing both hands around Winter’s trigger finger.

She flinched from the sudden grapple. “Is this his way of reading people?”

“I think he’s trying to figure out who you are.” Neptune observed.

Weiss gave a big smile. “Would you like to hold him? You’ll be fine, just be sure to support his head.”

Winter reached out, gently taking her nephew and still appearing uncertain. Unfortunately the toddler disagreed. Who was this mysterious lady who looked almost nothing like mommy?

Her grasp felt unwelcoming with baby Nick kicking up a fuss. Winter cringed looking up to her sister in a panic.

“Shh-shh-shh, it’s okay honey. Mommy’s here.” Weiss cooed. “Try rocking him a bit.”

She rocked him back and forth. Except this wasn’t the left-and-right direction. This was back and forth, on the couch where things had been static. The boy whimpered from the incorrect rocking, shielding his eyes and curling up.

Weiss frowned. “I'm sorry Winter, he's just not used to you yet" She took back her son, bouncing him again to soothe his cries.

Winter frowned next. “I would know having raised you.” She wanted to comment.

Dominick was suddenly calm being set back down on the couch by Weiss. He curiously eyed the living room around him when Weiss stood up stretching across from her kin. “I’m guessing you were hoping to ask how Neptune is adjusting, sister.”

“The thought crossed my mind back on the tarmac.” Winter replied with a nod.

Neptune could only sag his shoulders. "I'd like to say that I am but then I’d be fooling myself. Last night, Weiss was in a board meeting and I swore I could get Nicky to bed. I don't know what I did wrong but he screamed his head off for almost fifteen minutes until she came to bail me out."

“It was...Troubling.” Klein recalled while he handed his infant master a rattle and chewing ring.

Weiss nodded next. “Took me a little bit to calm him down, taking even longer to bring Neptune back into his usual bouncy self.” She squeezed her husband’s shoulder when he sank further at that recollection.

“I thought he didn’t like me. But can you blame me?” Neptune defended himself. “He always stops crying for you.” He groused.

“He just needs to take some time in getting to know you, dear.” Willow coaxed. “Klein could tell you a thing or two about that.”

The butler folded his arms with a sigh. “I take no joy in being the bearer of bad memories here. But mum is right, seeing as how...He was away at work,” Klein hissed, holding back his grumpy persona. “It took our snowdrops plenty of time to adjust to myself. Until one day they started speaking hand gestures asking where she was.”

“And how does that help Neptune?” Winter asked.

“I am saying is that there must be a moment for you and young Master Dominick to connect, just the two of you. Seems I got lost in translation there, sir.” Klein admitted to the blue-hair.

“Yeah, fair enough.” Nep conceded. “It's hard to settle a baby when there's so much commotion around the manor. And he's so attached to Weiss, that I thought we'd have that instant connection. He's my son but I guess it's just as hard on him as it is on me."

During his rant, Neptune saw Dominick following his dad’s words with a quizzical head tilt. “You like me, right little fella?” He wiggled his tan finger for him to see.

The baby took a moment to look upon his rattle. Then to the ring in his mouth. Take daddy’s hand, his 5-month-old instincts told him. Nick set the rattle down and grabbed Neptune’s finger with both hands, then babbled in an interested tone.

The intellectual laughed. “Yeah I’m your daddy. Can you say ‘daddy’?”

He cooed in D-sounds, but moving onto B-noises as he wasn’t opposed to learning new noises.

Weiss folded her arms proudly. “See? He’s learning.”

Neptune picked the baby up, flashing a goofy grin and holding him proudly. “My boy!”

Nicky squealed happily and joined him in a laugh whilst reaching for his rattle. Nep bent over, handing the rattle to him and holding him to his chest during one of his evening bounces.

Winter gave the slightest hint of a smile at the bonding moment in front of her while going back to her sister. “Among the other things I’m learning to catch up on, the delivery must have given you hell.” She said.

Weiss held onto her own stomach underneath the lovely sweater.

“It was...An experience. A scary one, to be sure. But Neptune ensured I stayed in bed while I was recovering. Minus a few stitches, I’m as defiant as ever. Hopefully.” She blinked slowly while watching her son and hubby in the background.

“How bad was it?” Winter asked while snapping a picture of her nephew’s playtime.

“Klein said I was working too hard” She woefully began. “That’s what brought on the labor. However, Yang was kicking in the door and kept me calm just in time. When the contractions started, I was already aboard Yang’s Manta craft while Ruby and Neptune held onto me during our flight to the hospital.”

Winter patted her sister upon the back.

“Neptune was so panicked, and it took so long that I was wheeled in for an emergency C-section.”

“Did they go through with it?” Winter’s expression turned to that of fear. Hadn’t her sister been stabbed and nearly cut open enough times during the Salem war?

“No. But the labor was quite long.” Weiss finally answered. “While Neptune was panicking outside it was the sisters who were keeping me steady. Before they could break out the knife, Dominick was- -Ahem…” She rubbed her eyes with an itchy throat. “Apologies...Dominick was born safe and sound. So we agreed we were having only one.” Weiss sniffled.

Don’t get her wrong, it was a happy memory. But the pain was more than enough to warrant a single offspring and heir being held in her husband’s arms. Winter dried her bottom eyelid on sisterly muscle memory.

“I’m glad that he’s here.” Winter added. “Thankfully, you’re not feeling the way Blake is right now in her pregnancy.” She mentioned.

“Oh, what have you heard from her?” Weiss lightened up at hearing about her cat teammate.

Winter folded her arms. “Only that she’s feeling stir-crazy. Moving around is quite difficult for her right now. relying on Nora and Ren for their recipes in case of any strange appetites...Though Ruby has contributed some odd ideas."

“That makes Sun at her beck and call.” Weiss guessed.

“Yes, quite.” Winter answered. “You probably don’t want to know what cravings Ruby conjured up for her.”

“Somehow I’m not sure that’d help with Nicky’s colic deal.” Weiss mused, grinning at hearing a joyful squeal behind her with her husband’s starry-eyed reaction. “Oh, mother. You haven’t held him yet.” She offered.

“I bet he’s been looking forward to spending some quality time with his oma.” Willow beamed. She held out her aging arms to her son-in-law. Neptune handed baby Dominick over with the rattle included.

Willow took the rattle and handed it to her grandson, rocking him back and forth with the proudest smile she could bear at 57 years with how he’s already turning out.

“Are you happy to see your Auntie Winter yet, my Little Yeti?” She teased.

Nick cooed after a prompt nose boop from the matriarch.

“Little Yeti?” Winter questioned.

“It’s cute, but I prefer to call him Snowdrop or Nicky.” Weiss admitted, shrugging.

“Yeah, you’re gonna grow up into a big monster and give mommy and daddy the runaround huh?” Neptune baby talked to the...Well, baby.

“Please don’t jinx it, Neptune.” Weiss insisted.

The infant could only blink at his remark.

“He was awfully big for his age when he came into the world.” Willow answered, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “But it just proves his strength and how he didn’t mean to give his Muti such a hard time. No you didn’t!” She teased the little one next, giving him a raspberry earning another laugh.

Weiss gave a dreamy sigh. “Oh, don’t you worry just yet my little snow monster. We’ve got a lot more to figure out.” She earned a babble of agreement out of her son.

Winter got up. “And hopefully he...Mmgh.” Another grunt, she steadied herself with grasping the cane. “He won’t run too much when I’m on babysitting detail. I’ll be in my office.”

Her sister got up, taking her arm. “Here. Let me help.”

“I’m okay, Weiss. Really.” The specialist insisted with her cane wobbling at her sister’s touch.

“No you’re not.” She backtalked. But not before supporting her. “Is your leg acting up again?”

“...Yes. My painkiller prescription has been delayed ever since President Baum had cut back on Specialist healthcare in light of the frontline grunts. Not that I blame them.” Well, that hurt to mention the G.I.'s of Atlas in light of her own health problems sustained in the line of duty.

“Then you should be in bed.” Weiss demanded. Not as CEO, but as her sibling.

Winter nodded. “Good idea. Klein, could you please get my laptop?”

“Certainly, Winter.” The butler answered. “You do look like you need a leg pillow as well.”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Winter answered with a small smile. “Mother, Neptune, will you be alright with Dominick?”

“Of course, dear.” The older mom told her.

“Yeah, we got him.” Neptune answered with another warm nod.

-------

A/N: Unfortunately, due to Tumblr having a frigging character limit, this must be posted in two parts. Until then, hope you enjoy the first part of this segment.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby next gen #weiss schnee #neptune vasilias #rwby iceberg #rwby shipping #klein sieben #willow schnee #rwby fluff #domestic #parenting #parents as people #bittersweet

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silverwhiteraven · 3 years

Text

Wings of Broken White - Ch.9

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on A03 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 8 ] [ Chapter 10 ]

“I don’t want to be scared any more,” Mylène whispered gently to the curious gazes. Ivan, out of the Dragon costume, had one of his wings wrapped around her protectively.

Chloé, decked out in a formal suit and cape, scoffed, “It’s just a costume, Haprèle, pull yourself together!” Adrien, dressed in one of Chloe’s blue and white ballroom dresses, nudged her with his shoulder and gave her a deep frown, shaking his head. She scoffed again and looked away. “If it will make you feel better, just pretend you can still see Bruel behind that ridiculous costume. It will be less scary that way.” She then turned and walked away, her regal red caplet fluttering behind her.

Ivan sent a thankful look to Adrien for the interference, and he smiled back reassuringly. Mylène giggled a bit, looking perplexed but a bit better. “Did she just try to be nice?” Adrien only shrugged, his smile turning knowing, and the group laughed lightly.

They tried the scene again, and Mylène did better, but couldn’t make it through to the end of the stage-fight. Something about imagining Ivan getting stabbed with a sword, even if it was fake, really didn’t help the situation. No one could find her when she ran off again, and that was when the Akum came. She reappeared, but no longer herself.

Rather, she was nor a very real, very large version of the class’s fairytale Dragon. And just like how their costume didn’t actually breathe fire, neither did Mylène’s. Instead, it was very much a blast of glitter.

Marinette found herself to be the first one hit by it when she was trying to herd the class to safety. She didn’t realize anything had happened to her until the class was barricaded in a room together, sans the Akuma Dragon, and everyone was staring at her.

“Uh...What? Do I still have some glitter on me?”

Adrien had broken the silence with a suppressed giggle and a shake of his head. “No, uhm, I think the Akuma did something to your armor?”

She looked down, only to realize it wasn't cardboard and foam. It was heavy, and shiny, and- “Is that-? Oh no, Adrien, your fencing rapier! She turned it into- into a broadsword! M. D'Argencourt is going to have my head if he finds out I got it involved in an Akuma attack!”

He patted her on her armored and caped shoulder and shook his head with a fond smile. “Don’t worry about it. Ladybug and Chat Blanc will have it back in no time. In the meantime, I don’t hear the Akuma at the door any more. I wonder…”

The class moved to glance out the windows of the classroom, only to gasp in unison and see their school’s courtyard transformed in a wave of glitter-fire.

Markov, wielding his still-recording camera, let out a whistling sound. “Now that's what I would call a perfect set for a medieval movie. Do you think we can get Ladybug to not cast Miraculous Ladybug until we finish filming?”

The class broke out into an even mix of disbelieving groans and agreeing hums.

All that was left now was for the Heroes to figure out how to get out there and fix this.

Surprisingly, the civilian heroes managed to get out of the classroom rather easily. It became clear that the Akuma had very little interest in actually hurting anyone. It seemed to simply be making itself at home in their school-turned-castle. It made sense that a Dragon would find comfort in being in a medieval fantasy setting of its own making.

The real problem came when the class tried to leave the building itself. Akuma-Mylène, just like any other Akuma, had her mind set on a task and was hellbent to keep at it. So the entire class was captured and became the Princesses in her dizzyingly tall Tower. Anyone not already in costumes got put into extravagant gowns, makeup, and even jewelry when the group got caught by the glitter-fire. The costumed students got the same treatment as Marinette, their characters brought to life in more detail.

Marinette did a quick headcount of the class, then did it again when she noticed something was off. “Hey, has anyone seen Kim? He was with us when the Akuma caught us, wasn’t he?” Everyone looked around the tower chamber they had been locked in, only for confirmation of his disappearance to pass back to her. That is, until their ever-composed King looked up, screeched in terror, and smacked a few faces when her Swan wings spread out.

Everyone looked up to see a small dragon in the rafters, looking down at them with a wide smile and a wagging tail. It dawned on them, then, that Kim, who had kept the prop dragon head with him the whole time, had probably ended up turning into this adorable baby dragon when they were captured.

His wings spread and he jumped into a glide. Clearly, the wingless boy was enjoying a temporary change in wing-status.

After a few circles around, he landed on Marinette’s shoulder, making her stubble. Her Crane wings flared out to balance her, and she froze. She saw the eyes of the class on her and her breathing stopped in panic.

My wings aren't bound. The Akuma got rid of my bindings- They were hidden under the cape until now- Oh gods everyone can see them, they’re-

Her thoughts were halted as Adrien spoke up.

“Huh, I guess Mylène pictures Knights to have wings! She did get you twice with that glitter-breath thing she does, right?” Marinette sucked in a breath, realizing that he was giving her an out, whether he knew it or not. “Those wings weren't there the first time she got you. Maybe the more you’re hit, the more you're affected? In that case, we should really keep dragon-Kim away from Dragon-Mylène, he might just get bigger!”

Marinette swore she would have kissed him out of thanks for this if she hadn't been weighed down by Kim. Alix and Nino, the only ones besides Kim who knew that the wings were not Akuma-made, added themselves to the kiss-list by echoing Adrien’s words and adding their own reasonings for why someone without wings would suddenly have them.

While the attention was off of her, she tucked her wings back into the cape and straightened up, dragon-Kim content to curl around her shoulders like a monkey. She went to a window and peered out, seeing nothing but the skyline. Curious, she leaned out and looked down.

“Huh,” she pulled herself back inside and turned to her class. “Hey, I think we can escape.”

“Escape?” Alya joined her, looking curious. She glanced out the window as well, and her eyes went wide. “Oh…”

“Exactly!” Marinette grinned.

“Care to fill us in, please?” Nino looked between the best friends nervously.

Alya beamed, “Look outside; the Akuma isn’t watching us. No circling of the tower like a vulture. She expects us to stay put and play our role.”

Max hummed in thought as he joined them at the windows. “This appears to be true. Traditionally in Fairy Tales involving dragons, they are not confronted in the sky, but rather on the ground. Usually outside the gates or somewhere inside. Perhaps Mylène is waiting for Ladybug and Chat Blanc to come as the Heroes of the tale?”

Marinette nodded, glad her classmates were catching on. “Exactly! I saw her down at the base of the tower, and she wasn’t looking upward. We could rescue ourselves and fly out!”

An excited buzz went through the class at the prospect of being their own saviors.

“Yeah, about that,” Chloé spoke sharply, hands on her hips and looking a tad annoyed. “Some of you can’t actually fly, remember? That includes you, Dupain-Cheng. You and Lê Chiến may have wings, but you have zero experience with flying. And not to mention my dearest Adrien! And Sabrina, too, I suppose. That’s four people who can’t leave this tower. And last I checked, none of us winged students are grown enough to carry a whole other person.”

They had to admit, Chloé had a point, and a big one. They couldn't just leave a chunk of the class behind, stuck in the tower.

Ivan cleared his throat. “I could- I could carry Sabrina and Kim? I have practice flying while carrying things. Mostly gliding, but that’s all we need, right? Just enough to get us to the ground safely?”

“That sounds like a good plan!” Adrien smiled, interrupting Chloé as she was about to retort. “Don’t worry about me, though, I think it might actually be a good idea if I stayed. Dragon won’t be too happy if he finds out the original Princess isn’t in the tower where he belongs, right? Besides, I found a closet full of blankets and cushions. I was thinking I could build a pillow fort while I wait for the Heroes to defeat the Akuma.”

“As cute and brave as that sentient is, Adrien, what about Marinette?” Alya interjected protectively.

Marinette smiled reassuringly and set a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I should probably stay, too. I’m the Knight, remember? A Knight always protects her Princess,” she winked at Adrien, who smiled back with a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Chloé practically growled, displeased, but a look from Adrien had her huffing and turning away. “Fine! Stay if you want! At least your sacrifice will be noble or whatever.” And with that, the class’s King was hopping up onto the windowsill and diving into open air.

It took several rounds of reassurances and encouragement, but eventually, Marinette and Adrien were able to herd the rest of their class out the windows after Chloé. Nino was the last to go, and before he did, he gave Marinette a soft smile and a glance at Adrien who gave a wave before dashing for the closet.

“What is it, Nino?” She asked curiously.

“He protected your secret,” he stated plainly.

“Oh- Yeah, he did…” She looked at Adrien, too, watching as he pulled blankets out.

“The literal model son of a winged fashion designer. There’s a chance that, well… Marinette, I think he knows.” She tensed where she was, but said nothing to try and disprove her friend’s theory. He continued, “Don’t you think he would be able to recognize the use of wing-binders, considering his life? And the thing is...I’m worried about you. We all are, those of us who know, that is. Maybe just, start by sharing your wings with someone else. One person at a time, ya know? Adrien would be a good start. And who knows, it might get you out of this tower, too,” he added with a teasing tone. “I know you can hold a lot of weight on those wings of yours. Be a real Knight and consider giving him a Princess-carry, yeah?”

Marinette snorted and bumped him, causing him to stumble and laugh.

“Just sayin’, dudette! See ya!” And with that, he was out the window with the rest.

She considered his words as she walked over to Adrien where he had started building a pillow-and-blanket fort, just like he had said he would. He beamed from between two of the makeshift walls when he saw her.

“You’re really calm about still being stuck here, Adrien,” she noted softly.

“Are you kidding? This whole project has been the most fun since- well, in a while. Akuma or not, I like being here. Also, I just made a blanket fort. Blanket forts make everything better.” He grinned wide and went right back to building.

Marinette laughed and shook her head. “Fine, move over then. I’m going to help.”

Their fort was flimsy and fell over several times, but they both had to admit, it was a fun thing to do. It also revealed that the closet hid a trap door to a staircase leading downward.

“Who knew having fun would be the answer to our conundrum?” Marinette mused, amused.

“You sure do get caught up with a lot of Akumas that can have fun, huh?” Adrien jokes, causing her to chuckle and fluster at the realization.

“I mean, you're right, I guess. Nino, Nathaniel, Mylène- Everyone just wants to be happy. Makes me wonder what Hawkmoth is doing,” she trailed off, pondering on his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Adrien sat back, looking perplexed. “His power is so...big, but he does so little with it. I could swear he even stops himself from going too far. Why does he even attack Paris and ask for the Miraculous?”

“And what’s holding him back?” They were quiet for a little bit as their thoughts continued on silently, unknowing that they were both thinking along the same lines due to their masked partnership.

The blanket fort fell down on top of them, knocking them out of their thoughts and back into joint fits of giggles. Once they escaped their soft prison, they made their way to the window, looking out. they admired the view, but used it to remind themselves of their duties to do.

“Adrien?” He answered with a hum. “Thank you for speaking up, distracting everyone.”

He smiled gently and glanced at her. “When the wings came out? It was nothing. No one should be stared at like that if they don’t want to be.”

She wryly smiled back. “Thank you anyways. You’re a good friend and I, I trust you, a lot.”

His eyes went wide, “You do?”

She nodded, her smile growing in amusement. “Yeah, I do. Enough to tell you that I appreciate you keeping a secret you didn’t even know you just learned.”

“You mean-” he glanced at her Crane wings as they peaked out from behind her cape. She looked at them, too, noticing for the first time that they had a layer of armor on them as well. She smiled, stretching them out more.

“Yeah. Besides one person, I haven't told anyone about these in almost four years. I’m not exactly...proud of having wings. It’s hard to explain.”

“And you’re okay with me knowing?” He asked, his voice low in awe.

She smiled, a bit embarrassed, and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

He beamed like she had just handed him the stars, and somehow, a twinkle in his eyes made it seem like she had already given him the sun and moon in the past, too. Just to get him to stop looking at her like that, she declared it was time to exit the Tower, and she scooped him up just the way Nino had suggested. After delivering him to safety, she ran off as fast as she possibly could. Not long later, Chat Blanc and Ladybug had Paris and Mylène back to normal.

#marichatmay2021 #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat blanc #ml wing au #wing-binding #willowbendt

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brelione · 4 years

Text

The Goddess Part Three (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Swearing,mentions of boners,JJ being JJ

He looked down at you with wide eyes. “What?”He asked.You blushed. “You said that they are small but they'll get bigger so I said “That's what she said.””You repeated.He nodded. “So when did you get a sense of humor?”He asked.You scoffed. “Wow,JJ.Are you trying to say that i'm not funny?”You asked.He nodded. “Yep,exactly.”He grinned.You bit your lip. “You’re smiling right now!”You called him out,staring down at him.He nodded. “Im smiling because you’re not funny.”He replied,letting a small laugh slip out. “You’re laughing because i'm not funny?”You asked.He nodded. “Mhmm.”He hummed,biting his lip to prevent another laugh from coming out.You grinned. “I guess that makes perfect sense.”You shrugged.He nodded,trying not to laugh.You reached forward,pulling the green hat off his head.Before he could realize what had happened you sprinted down the beach,closer to the water while clutching onto the hat.

You could feel him running after you. “God,(Y/N)!You’re such an ass!”He exclaimed as he reached forward,grabbing onto your sweater.From grabbing your sweater he was able to grab onto your waist,pulling you into his chest. “Can I have my hat back?”He asked.You shook your head,trying to get away from him but it was no use.You looked up at him,seeing him smiling like a child as he watched your struggle. “Sweetheart,don't make me punish you.”He grinned.You looked up at him,confused.Before you could wrap your head around what was happening he had thrown you over his shoulder,running into the water. “JJ!”You squealed.His breath hitched in his throat,feet skidding to a stop when he was at his knees in the water.You giggled,wrapping your legs around his waist and placing his hat on his head.He smirked before dumping you into the water.You fell in with a splash,your sweater and hair getting soaked in the process.

He tried to run away,knowing he had started a war.You got up from the water quickly,running after him.You jumped onto his back,soaking his shirt. “Asshole!”You exclaimed,letting your wet hair fall onto his neck.He blushed,holding onto you so you wouldn't fall off of him. “You did take my hat,Sunshine.”He grinned.You rested your chin on his shoulder. “Ight,but you threw me into the water.That's kind of dramatic.”You smiled.He shrugged. “You took my hat.”He defended himself.He kind of just stood there with you on his back and your chin on his shoulder.He could've got you off of him if he wanted too but he didn't really mind.He had never actually touched you until today.You hadnt really held a conversation either but it seemed a lot of things were changing today. “The waves are getting bigger.”He observed.

You nodded. “Good job,Captain Obvious.”You grinned,sliding off his back.He felt cold from your sudden absence.You grabbed your surfboard,taking off your sweater and shorts before running past him and into the water.He just stood there,dumbfounded.You had to have been some sort of witch.That would at least explain the amount of herbs you grew in your garden.Maybe you had put some sort of poison in his breakfast.That was the only explanation for his quickly beating heart and the odd feeling in his lungs and stomach.He couldn't let himself fall for you.He didn't have room in his life to care about anyone else.But it seemed that he had already fell.It wasn't a small fall either.It was the kind of fall when you slip backwards,smack your tailbone on the ground and then land on your back.It was like that commercial with that old lady screaming that she had fallen and couldn't get up.Thats how he felt.He watched as you paddled out on your board,a wave forming a bit far out.

He grabbed the board that he kept here,the one that he kept leaning against a tree and paddled out to catch up to you.He watched as you stood on your board,gliding across a ten foot wave.Everything went into slow motion for him.He had heard about out of body experiences before and if he didn't know better he'd say he was experiencing one now.He couldn't really hear anything and now he couldn't feel anything either.He couldn't even feel the fast beating in his chest or how heavy his head felt.He just felt nothing.He couldn't feel his board under his hands.He felt like he was floating,he couldn't feel the air coming through his lungs.He watched the way your hips moved,how your arms kept you balanced and how your hair was moving around,a few strands sticking to your face.It was all brilliant and graceful like you had done it countless times before.You had done it countless times.As the wave died you slid under the surface of the water,coming back up a second later.

The water had slicked your hair back,you lifted your hands off the board to wipe the water from your eyes.You looked over at JJ who was only three or four yards away from you.He could finally feel again,the noises of the water and the whistle of the wind against tree branches slowly came back to him. “Jesus,J.You look like you just saw a ghost.”You giggled.He didn't notice that how his jaw had dropped,eyes wide and fingers holding onto his surfboard so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.He closed his mouth,licking his lips and looking down at his reflection in the water. “Hey,are you good?”You were in front of him now,surfboard steady between your things.He nodded. “Yeah...yeah im good.”He replied.You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure about that?”You deepen your voice as low as it could go to sound like the John Cena vine.JJ chuckled. “Oh Yeah!”He laughed,sounding like the kool aid man.

This was not how you thought your morning would go.He paddled out,waiting for another good wave.A few small ones came but they were so small that they barely even moved his board.The good ones only seemed to come for you.He’d watch in confusion as you’d paddle far out,only to realize that large waves coming your way.Around an hour later the two of you were laying on your stomach’s on your boards,catching your breath and calming yourselves down. “How do you do it?”JJ asked,eyes closed as he enjoyed the sun. “Do what?”You sighed,looking over at the almost asleep blonde boy. “Just...everything.”He mumbled,readjusting himself so the side of his head rested on his arms.You looked up at him,eyes half closed. “Elaborate,please.”You grinned.He sighed. “You just….what are you?A witch?A goddess?”He asked.You laughed quietly. “I am honored you think of me that way,but no.Why do you ask?”You blushed.

He splashed some water at you. “You surf...well,you surf like that.Its like the waves are made specially for you and you sing like a disney princess and you make the best jam and bread i've ever had.How do you do it all?”He asked.You bit your bottom lip,making eye contact with him. “You ever think that maybe you're just bad at surfing?”You grinned.He scoffed,flipping your board over.You fell with it,falling into the water.You swam down as far as you could,going under his board.You were down there long enough for him to grow concerned,looking around in the water for you.He was about to go into the water to find you when you swam up under his board and flipped him off of it.He spit water out,glaring at you. “Hey,I'm just getting even.”You grinned.He shrugged. “Truce?”He asked,offering his hand.You shook your head.

“I'm not falling for that.”You scratched at your eyebrow.He frowned. “Wow,so now you're calling me a liar.”He smirked.You shook your head. “When did I say that?”You asked,resting your arm on his board.He grinned. “So now youre calling me dumb?”He asked.You put your head down on your arm with a loud,dramatic groan. “JJ-can you please shush?Please?”You asked.He smiled. “Nope.No I cannot.”He replied,resting his chin on the board. “Imagine if a shark just came up and attacked us right now.”You grinned.He rolled his eyes. “It's a one in a million chance and an even slimmer chance of dying.One of your cows is more likely to kill you.”He shrugged.You stared back at him,eyebrows raised. “And you know this for why?”You asked.He grinned. “I had a shark phase back in seventh grade.I was convinced that I was a merman.”He chuckled.You smiled at his confession. “Maybe your great great great great grandfather was a merman.I have this big theory about mythology,i've got some folktale books if you’re interested.”You offered.

He bit the inside of his cheek. “If I let you tell me your theory and show me these books can I have more bread and jam?”He asked.You scoffed. “You should be honored that i'm giving you the chance to hear my theory.”You grinned,tapping your fingertips on the board.Your’s was still tied to your ankle,floating only three feet away from you.You liked being this close to him though,it sent a weird feeling down your spine.He wasn't gonna complain,he enjoyed being this close to you. “So no bread and jam?”He asked.You rolled your eyes. “You can have two jam sandwiches,deal?”You asked.He nodded,holding out his hand. “Deal.”He waited for you to shake his hand.You didnt,poking his fingers until they folded into his palm,placing his thumb over his fingers so he was making a fist.You grinned,gently bumping his fist with yours. “I don't like handshakes.”That sentence sent him back to the last time he had seen you,when Pope tried to shake your hand.

If someone had asked him to repeat everything you had ever said to him in order he could do it without thinking.His brain just liked you a lot.He didn't like you.He was sure he didn't like you,his brain just liked you and that was it.You were faster than him,getting to the shallow water and untying your board from your ankle and dragging it across the sand and back to the tree line.He hadnt gotten the chance to really look at the bikini you were wearing.The top matched the bottom,deep olive green.A goldish loop connected the material of your bottoms on your hips.He could see a few stretch marks through the loop,biting his lip.He had always thought stretch marks were beautiful and seeing them on you just made him-just made his brain like you a bit more.You pulled your shorts up over your hips,buttoning them.He couldn't stop staring at you.

Usually it wasn't this bad,he could force himself to look away from you and convince himself that he hated you,that you were manipulative and annoying.But not today,not with the way you had shredded those waves and the way your eyes lit up as you offered to show him the folktale books.He watched as you pulled your sweater on.It was wet and probably heavy but you didnt care.You bent over,collecting your hair on top of your head and twisting it into a wet,messy bun.He dragged his feet as he pulled on his shorts,hoping you hadnt noticed the tent growing in his swimsuit,pulling on his shirt and putting his hat on backwards. “Lead the way,Starboy.”You waved your hand towards the woods.

@yallneedtocheckyourselves @sexualparkour @xlittlemissydjx

#jj maybank #jj maybankxreader #jj x you #jj outer banks #outer banks #jj obx #sarah cameron #pope heyward #kiara carrera #john b #rafe cameron

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bedbellyandbeyond · 4 years

Text

Mystery Baby Theatre, Part 1

(Short Story Post, 1/6)

“Hola, I am Carloco, and welcome back to another episode of ‘Mystery Baby Theatre’! My fiancé, Reggie Twink is here with us. Reg, show the locas what you’re wearing. Driving me crazy over here... Damn.” Reggie came over to his partner, showing off a faded maroon crop top over his pale mostly slim body. The curve of his belly so far could only be caught from a profile view, so he did a little turn, cupping the base of his abdomen. “That’s right, loca. It’s that time of the year. Another little enigma is on the way.” Nine years they’d been together and to think it started as a fluke. When they first met, Carlos’s channel ‘Carloco’, described by some as ‘the Gay Man’s Jackass’, was an overnight hit, and Reggie’s own more established channel, ‘Reggie Twink’ had been doing well for two years already, discussing the sexual experience of trans men. They hooked up for the clout, but they didn’t expect to actually get along so well and when Reggie’s pregnancy announcement video went viral, they figured it was time to commit and moved in together. “What are we on now, Reg? So many kids…” Carlos asked. “Seven? Eight?”

“This is baby número nueve,” Reggie replied holding up his fingers. “Is that right? Nine?” Carlos grinned and bit Reggie’s ear. “Perfect. You know I love it when you speak Spanish…” Reggie grinned, rubbing between Carlos’s legs. “Thank god these babies aren’t symphonies, or else this’d be the end for us.” Carlos rolled his eyes. “Babe, nobody gets your classical music jokes…” “A lot of composers died after making their ninth symphony,” Reggie explained, pouting. “I thought it was funny…” “Hm, we can edit that out later.” “Babe!” “I’m joking, I’m joking!” Carlos chuckled. “Calm down. I love you. You’re the smart one.” “That’s right. You’re lost without me.” “I really am…” Their first pregnancy, though extremely popular with the fans, had been quite a struggle for the couple. They were both still technically in college at the time, so time and money were limited. Reggie struggled through his year but he was determined to achieve academically and chose to retire his channel so he could concentrate on school and his pregnancy. Carlos on the other hand dropped out of college to do videos full-time. Many fans were heartbroken by Reggie’s retirement, so ‘Reggie Twink’ came back for the birth of their son, in all it’s graphic glory, as a feature on Carlos’s channel. The video was taken down within minutes, but fans had managed to download it anyway and it had been reuploaded by fans countless times. Videos they made later featuring baby boy Vance became incredibly popular and the channel started really taking off with the little family on screen. But it wasn’t always sunshine and daisies. Scandal broke out when photos came out of Reggie caught in public kissing a mystery man. This came just shortly after Carlos and Reggie announced baby number two was on the way. Reggie denied the photos, claiming the man in them didn’t look anything like him, but then the mystery man himself, Carlos’s own friend and hairstylist, admitted to an affair with Reggie, leading to Reggie’s own confession. It wasn’t just the mystery man, however. He admitted to having three other misters he’d been sleeping with since he started dating Carlos. “Breaking up with Reggie Twink” became Carloco’s most viewed video that year. When everyone thought it was over however, Carlos came out and proposed to Reggie. It came as a shock to everyone and the internet went insane. Carlos admitted that he didn’t mind Reggie sleeping with other men and in fact found it to be a huge turn on. The truth was, he was a mess without Reggie and the notion that the baby inside his stomach at that moment was highly likely some other man’s child drove him wild with lust. He wanted to be there for Reggie no matter what and if he was willing to be his husband, he wanted to live with no one else. The fans had never heard of a crazier love story and they ate it all up. When baby Brynn came, the birth video was uploaded again, and Carlos gave her his surname, letting everyone know he was serious about raising Reggie’s children. Not long after, Reggie was pregnant again, and the couple were open about the high likelihood that the baby was not biologically Carlos’s. The fans started spreading theories on who the true biological father could be based on the men Reggie was seen associating with. At this point, Carloco was doing so well, the couple was living easy and in luxury. Carlos hired a small team of staff to help with the production of his videos and every member with a penis was considered a possible baby daddy. Reggie’s belly got huge and it was soon revealed that he was having twins. The birth this time was much riskier, but it was still recorded like the last two and the twins were born naturally. Oddly, they had incredibly different features, and after paternity tests were done, they found out that Reggie had actually managed to get pregnant by two different men, neither of which were Carlos. Once again, the children were given the Fuerte name and were equally loved by the family. After the twins, Reggie took a little break from pregnancy. Family videos became a common feature on Carloco and they were seen doing everything together. Carlos continued to do his jackass style comedy on his channel, but nothing brought in the views quite like Reggie’s pregnancies. It wasn’t too long after that realisation that the bump began to swell again. Paternity speculations began to swarm again, and Reggie fed them by snapping pics with random men and throwing them up on his social media. No one could guess who he’d slept with and many were pretty sure he didn’t know either. Many were hoping for twins again, or maybe triplets, but he didn’t get very big and it seemed he wasn’t going to be able one up his past pregnancy. Until the baby came out with a tail. And not just any tail, a fish tail. People couldn’t believe it. Reggie had given birth to merspawn. This was the first time the couple made national news. Videos involving the merbaby trended for weeks and the family couldn’t even go outside without being harassed for photographs with the latest edition of the family. They were contacted by the APID multitude of times, but they refused to cooperate with the government beyond registering their child as non-human. Their fame made them wealthy beyond expectation and they moved into a bigger house in a more remote location to get away from the paparazzi. This didn’t stop their videos though, and it didn’t stop Reggie’s pregnancies. After the merbabe, a wolf child. After the werewolf, a cat spirit. After kitten, a Yulinian baby. It seemed there was no end to series of Reggie’s half-human line of children and they’d started to call the pregnancy videos ‘Mystery Baby Theatre’. Now with another on the way, the fans couldn’t even fathom what species Reggie had managed to impregnate himself with this time. “How many weeks?” Carlos asked, pulling Reggie into his lap in front of the camera. It was a living room shot and they were just chilling on their couch. The kids were being looked after by the nanny so they could film in peace. “Just five,” Reggie said, stroking his stomach. “Though I could swear I can already feel it kicking.” “Maybe you can. The only thing you’ve let me know is that it’s not human.” Carlos placed a hand on Reggie’s belly and held it there. He was always obsessed with Reggie’s belly through every pregnancy and videos with the two of them, he was always seen with his hand placed possessively on his fiancé’s middle, reminding everyone that these babies were his, no matter who put them in there. “Definitely not human,” Reggie said confidently. No one knew how Reggie managed to find his baby daddies. None of the fathers had ever come forward to claim their children and it was believed they had some kind of contract with the couple not to. As far as anyone could tell, Carlos was taking his fatherhood very seriously and he shared his time with all his children equally, not prioritising his blood in any way. He loved all the children and they regularly featured on his channel, chilling with their dads and showing off their little talents. They’d even started a channel for their eldest, Vance, whom at eight years old, was already his own little personality and liked to do fashion reviews and reaction videos. “So whatcha got brewing in there, huh?” Carlos asked, giving Reggie's belly a pat. “A fairy? El chupacabra? A dragon?” “Wouldn't you like to know...” Reggie smirked and framed his stomach with his hands. “You'll just have to wait like everyone else.” Carlos grinned and pinched Reggie's cheek. “Driving me wild, babe.” Reggie pulled his face away from the pinch and chuckled. “What's on the agenda today?” “Q&A, príncipe. The fans want to know all about everything.” “Okay, any questions for me?” “Of course. The locas want to know everything. Who wouldn't want to know about you?” Carlos called his Carloco followers his locas and they were numerous. Locas from around the globe wanted in on this supernaturally mixed family. Carlos had hired one of his staff specifically for public relations and sorting through all the comments for worthwhile questions for his Q&As. “Start with a question for me then,” Reggie insisted, waiting for Carlos to pull them up. “Okay, okay. Hold on.” Carlos scrolled to the Reggie section of his list of questions. “Ah. 'When is Reggie going to take over the channel'? Feels like you have already.” “That's right. I own 51% of this company,” Reggie grinned. “Another one.” “Hm. ‘What number will they stop at? Reggie can't possibly give birth to endless babies.’” Reggie just shrugged. “We'll stop when I'm ready. I might never be ready.” “Yeah, you'll be ninety-five, pushing out an eight-legged horse, Loki-to.” “Was that...a Spanish pun?” “Si, mi amor. You're supposed to laugh.” “Oh. Ahahahah.” “You're lucky I find you so damn sexy...” Reggie smiled and kissed Carlos's neck. “Another question.” Carlos smirked and scrolled down on his laptop. “Okay... ‘I need need need Reggie's postpartum workout routine and I need it stat. Didn't have a baby or anything. Just fat.’” Reggie laughed genuinely at that. “Oh, sweetheart... I'm sure your body is absolutely beautiful, but if you really need to lose some weight, I recommend talking to your doctor before trying any kind of workout. What works for me won't necessarily work for everyone else.” “So basically, you're going to keep your secrets,” Carlos deduced. Reggie's lips curled. “Maybe. Next question.” Carlos scrolled down. “Okay, one for me please. Ah. ‘When is Carloco going to free climb that redwood tree like he promised umpteen videos ago?’ That is a good question. We looked into it. My researchers said it'd be too dangerous... So, soon. Lo prometo.” Reggie rubbed Carlos's shoulder. “Don't hurt yourself, babe. I need you.” Carlos turned and gave Reggie a peck on the lips. “Te quiero, mi amor. But no promises.” “Another question for me now,” Reggie decided, leaning forward and scrolling the laptop himself. “Ooh, here’s a good one. ‘Will Reggie singlehandedly repopu—” He was suddenly cut off by a sudden urge to puke. He covered his mouth and tried to hold it down, but suddenly black bile escaped through the cracks of his fingers. Carlos jumped up in alarm. “Reg? What… Are you okay?” Reggie nodded but rushed off, dashing to the closest bathroom. Carlos frowned and picked up the camera, heading over to his partner in a jog while retching could be heard off-screen. When he got there, Reggie was bent over the toilet holding his stomach. He’d taken his glasses off which was a sign to Carlos that this was serious. When he looked into the toilet, it was pitch black. Carlos knelt down and rubbed Reggie’s back. “Are you okay? Feeling any better?” Reggie nodded again, panting to recover his breath. “…Towel.” “Of course.” Carlos pulled a towel down from the rack and soaked the edge. With it, he started wiping Reggie’s face. This wasn’t the first morning sickness they’d dealt with by a long shot. Of course, it had never come out pitch black before, but then again it was a mystery creature pregnancy. They’d started to expect weird things like this. Reggie turned over and put his hand on Carlos’s arm. “Babe… Camera… I don’t like being sick on camera.” “Right, right… We’ll be right back, locas.” Carlos turned off the camera and grinned. “Very dramatic, babe.” Reggie chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “You can thank this kid for that. I did not expect this shit…” He leaned over and flushed the toilet, letting the bile wash away. “Think we should be concerned?” Carlos asked. “Naw… I’m already feeling better. Help me up.” Carlos stood up and pulled Reggie up along with him. “Can’t believe you’re willing to go through all this. I don’t think I could handle being pregnant.” “It’s not for the feint of heart, I’ll tell you that.” Reggie stretched. “I’m hungry. Are you gonna keep filming or do you want to lunch with me?” “I want to do everything with you,” Carlos insisted. “What are we craving today?” “Hmmm… I have a serious wine craving.” “That’s not food, babe. And do you think it’s safe?” “Trust me, whatever’s growing inside me can handle it. I promise.” “Okay, but I’ll make us some sandwiches too,” Carlos said before leaving a big kiss on Reggie’s cheek then heading to the kitchen. Reggie took a moment to wash and moisturise his face before going to join his partner.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

#lore #short story #mpreg #Reggie #Carlos #mystery baby theatre

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years

Text

Burned Part 25

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 25: The happy life of a little family together

Teddy Solomons’ first word, thankfully, was not ‘fuck’. Alfie was certain that if that word had slipped out of the baby’s mouth, he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as his wife ever again. What was more surprising was what he actually did say because Alfie certainly wasn't expecting it.

Alfie was entertaining the baby while Louise peacefully read in the parlor. He held Teddy up on his lap, making faces to make him laugh and shriek with glee. It amazed Alfie how easy it was to make Teddy happy. Sometimes all it took was crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue to make the baby erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Da!” Teddy squealed and reached to tug on Alfie’s beard, one of his favorite past times as of late.

Louise looked over the top of her book. “Did he just say what I think he said?” She perked up in surprise.

“Just gibberish.” Her husband shook his head and wrote it off as nothing. “Babbling on as usual, aye?” He teased and wiggled Teddy’s toes. "Speaking your own little language?"

He giggled and pulled a bit harder on his father's beard. “Dada!” He chirped again.

Louise stood up, setting her book aside, and walked over. “Alfie, he’s saying dada.” She insisted.

Alfie wasn’t sure how old children were when they took certain milestones. Ollie had given him an estimate but all of his kids ranged from early to late bloomers so it was hard to say for sure. Time seemed to pass by so fast as Teddy grew so it seemed far too early for the baby to be saying any intelligent words. “It’s an easy sound for him to make, I’m sure it’s just nonsense.”

“You don’t think he’s smart enough to be speaking yet?” She challenged and put her hands on her hips.

He made a face at her remark. “He’s me son, innit he? That means he’s fucking smart.” He asserted. “Ted, who’s that?” He tested out the theory by pointing at Louise. Teddy giggled and mimicked his father pointing but didn’t say anything.

“Who’s that, love?” Louise pointed back at Alfie.

“Dada!” He responded and beamed as if he knew exactly how substantial his first word was.

She looked smug with herself. “Told you.”

“I stand corrected then.” Alfie chuckled and gently patted Teddy on the back. Pride bloomed in his chest. He was his son's very first word. It made him feel more important than anything else he'd ever done in his life. “Fucking bright as can be, innit he?”

“Hush, you can’t swear around him anymore because he’ll start to pick up on it!” She reminded him. But it was hard to be stern, Louise was also pleased to hear Teddy address Alfie first. She wanted him to know how important he was to the little boy.

“Sorry, love. Right, gotta start biting my tongue.” He couldn’t get the great big smile off his face though and eventually just began to laugh. However, mid-way through, his chest seized and he erupted in a coughing fit.

It was hard to forget about their reality for too long. Although Alfie was in good spirits and was able to stay fairly active, there was always something reminding them of his cancer. The frequent headaches that never seemed to end. The deep ache he felt in his body every morning and every night. He became out of breath often and sometimes became light-headed from how severe his coughing fits were.

Louise picked up Teddy from his lap and sat him down on the rug for a moment. “It’s okay, try to breathe slowly.” She soothed

Alfie’s face turned red and stood up to walk out of the room, staggering a few steps. More often than not, his violent coughing upset Teddy and he couldn’t have that. He wasn't sure what his son would remember of him, but he certainly didn't want his only memories of him to be a coughing bout. Alfie walked into the foyer and put a hand on the stair railing to steady himself. After a painful few moments, he managed to get the coughing under control. He took a few wheezing breaths and looked up.

Louise stood in the doorway with Teddy in her arms. The little boy didn’t seem upset and merely toyed with his mother’s curls. “Okay?” She asked softly.

Alfie nodded and cleared his throat once more. “Sorry, love.”

“Don’t apologize.” She walked over and touched his cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for something beyond your control.” It made her ache knowing there was little to nothing she could do to ease his pain. She felt as if she were failing as a wife.

He smiled weakly and leaned into her touch. “Just wish you didn’t have to see me like that.”

She sat down on the stairs and gestured for him to sit beside her. Setting Teddy on his lap, she gently stroked her husband’s hair back. “Remember when I said I never wanted you to change? I want you just the way you are. This isn’t you but it’s something you’re fighting. You don’t need to try to shield me from the difficult parts. Whatever you’re fighting, I’m right there beside you.”

“Dada.” Teddy cooed and wrapped his little fingers around Alfie’s white shirt.

Alfie kissed the top of his son’s head and then his wife’s cheek. “Can’t imagine going through any of this without you two.” His voice was still ragged from coughing. “You keep me going.”

There was no telling how much time Alfie had left. Doctor Stephens said there was a good chance he’d have a few years but warned him to be wary of his health. But seeing Teddy make such milestones made Alfie happy and just a hint more optimistic than he had been before his birth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, a warm June evening, Alfie and Louise went for a walk. Teddy was fast asleep upstairs and would most likely be asleep a few hours before he woke up for a nappy change or to nurse.

Alfie was in a good deal of pain and tried to cope by walking through it. Most nights it was hard to just stay lying awake in bed. At least when he was walking outside he could forget about the pain and focus on something else other than the ceiling.

They walked along the grounds together, arm in arm with Alfie holding a lantern to light their usual path past the stables and around the pastures.

“Can’t believe it’s already summer,” Louise commented. The night was alive with all sorts of insects beginning their nightly symphony. A warm breeze kicked up the scent of the roses that were just beginning to bloom. It was heavenly and managed to distract them from everything even just for a little while.

“Can’t believe Teddy’ll be one in the fall.” He agreed. The year had passed by far too quickly in his eyes. It seemed only yesterday he was holding his son for the very first time after he was born.

“We’ll have to throw a party for him. Wouldn’t it be nice to have everyone over here? Some could stay for the weekend, his birthday’s on a Friday.” She smiled.

“That would be lovely, yeah. I mean for fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I’d last this long.” He admitted. “On borrowed time, ain’t I?”

“No,” She shook her head and reached for his hand, threading her fingers with his. “You’re here for a reason. We’re together for a reason and we’ve Teddy for a reason.” She murmured softly and squeezed his hand lightly. “I don’t know what the reason is but I won’t question it. You make me happy and I think that’s reason enough.”

He smiled and lifted her hand up to kiss her knuckles. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine going about his life without meeting Louise. He used to have some semblance of a master plan involving the bakery and his other various business ventures. He’d finally put Darby Sabini out of commission and rule a bigger piece of London. But with plans like that, he was sure he would never truly be satisfied. With Louise and Teddy, he had everything he needed. He didn’t need more from them; all he needed was to see their faces each and every day.

“Do you think I’m right?” Louise asked curiously.

“You’re my wife, you’re always right, love.” He grinned and stopped to kiss her.

“One day you’re going to wake up in Inglewood, next to your wife. Your son or daughter will run into the room to wake you up and beg for you to come and play with them.”

Louise was usually right; Alfie had learned that in both positive and negative ways. Alfie liked when she was right because it gave him a sort of comfort for the future. She reassured him that he would continue living and that he would be there to experience his son growing up. He saw Teddy’s first birthday, then his second, and was gearing up to see his third as well. He was there, kneeling on the ground, arms outstretched as Teddy took his first steps. He heard Teddy call Louise ‘mumma’. Heard him call Cyril, Cee-Cee. Watched him grow taller and start to walk and run without falling over.

Alfie felt so blessed and every morning he was reminded how great it was to wake up and find himself where he was. Louise was asleep beside him, her arm outstretched and hand lingering on his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That morning, Teddy came toddling into the room, going right for his father’s side of the bed. Alfie was always up before Louise was, mostly because of his previous habits of waking early for work and because of the ache in his body that kept him up. But he was never too tired for Teddy.

“Dada.” The little boy whispered, well aware that his mother was still sleeping.

“There you are, already awake?” Alfie reached over and scooped Teddy up, letting him sit on his chest. “Don’t want to sleep in, aye?”

“No.” He giggled and grabbed at his feet, pressing his heels together and rocking back and forth.

Alfie held him steady. “What’s on the agenda today, then?” He asked softly. “Take a drive somewhere?”

“Ponies!”

“Sh, sh, mumma’s still asleep.” He whispered and motioned for him to be quiet.

Teddy mimicked the finger to his lips and giggled. “Shhhhh…”

Louise turned over and began to stir.

“Uh oh, Ted, we’ve done it now.” Alfie grinned.

“What’ve you done?” She mumbled with her eyes still closed.

“Mummy!” Teddy squealed and wriggled off Alfie to greet her. He burrowed under the quilt and cuddled close to her. “Mumma, ponies.”

Louise yawned and wrapped her arms around her son, pulling him close to her chest like a little teddy bear. “It’s a bit early to see the ponies, love.” She murmured, still half asleep.

“Mumma, sleep,” Teddy whispered and placed a pudgy hand over her eyes.

She laughed softly and took his hand to kiss it. “Just for a little longer. Then we’ll have breakfast before going outside.” She promised.

Alfie leaned on his elbow to watch mother and son cuddle close. Such an undeniable bond that made him relieved. Even after he was gone, they would still have that connection. No matter what happened to him, they would both have each other long after he passed. “C’mere.” He murmured and drew them both close to him, wrapping them up in his arms as a protective cocoon. He could’ve remained in that moment forever and be eternally happy. Hearing both of their soft inhales and exhales, faintly feeling their heartbeats, and enveloped in their warmth. They were just a small speck in the world, a small bit of dust in the grand scheme of things. But at that moment, Alfie felt like he was embracing the entire world, holding it in his arms and keeping it safe. Because they were the only two things that mattered on the planet as far as he was concerned.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434

Tag list: @vehement-care @kimmietea @eleventhdoctorsangel @fire-treasure-iii

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #tom hardy character #fluff

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sparrowsabre7 · 4 years

Text

Used a guide, because life is short and this game is long. So I'm meant to talk to Fragile by selecting Fragile jump in my room. I guess that makes sense but given it's only ever been for fast travel not sure how I would have worked that out as a method of communicating, or that Fragile could put you into a beach.

It's quite a nice story beat, that Fragile can't jump to Amelie as previously explained, but she can jump to Sam and Sam can get to Amelie through the things that bind each of them like knots on a strand. It may be a little on the nose but it still works, as does perhaps the first moment of consensual touch Sam allows in the game, after Fragile quietly says "I'll have to touch you" and he silently accepts. For all his weird sexualisation of some scenarios and badly worded dialogue, Kojima can still sell emotional beats when he needs to.

On the beach at last; ok, Higgs is Darth Vader now and has force powers. He creates a BT spiderweb and sets Amelie at the centre before a fourth wall breaking monologue about stick vs rope and one last boss fight: no items, final destination, Fox only.

It's Strandin' Time!

Ok this kind of... blows. It's a stealth segment where he can find out where you are almost instantly. Why the fuck wouldn't you take any weapons Sam? It's really hard to break line of sight. I know I need to throw the boxes to distract him but it's not working. Did manage to yeet one right in his dumb fucking face though. Didn't see that coming Mr. God Particle.

Ah fuck this; LEEROOOOOY mmJENKINS!! Decked the shit out of him then pivoted to bind and then kick the shit out of him some more. God, that's satisfying.

After a few rounds of that, "I don't need a gun Sam". Brave of you to say half way through the fight dickwad. Come at me.

When you were partying, I studied the strand. When you were learning how to control BTs, I mastered the parry mechanic. While you wasted your days at the gym in pursuit of vanity, I cultivated inner strength. And now that the world is on fire and the barbarians are at the gate you have the audacity to come to me for a boss fight and expect victory. Welcome to dirt, punk.

Oh, and apparently you don't need a gun but do need grenades. You're a real honourable warrior, Higgs. Truly the last of the samurai.

Kicked out a Snake-like "Aaaaaah" from him and it's over.

No. Wait. Round 3. "We got DOOMS, Sam! This was only ever gonna end one way." Ok, I... I don't know what that means but now we're in Tekken apparently. Health bars above our heads and everything. Oh no, it's Mortal Kombat, with the slow mo jaw break.

This...

This is kind of a shitty end to a boss fight... I'm literally hammering attack and winning it's just so incongruous with the rest of the game, should have left it at stage 2.

It's got dramatic music like it's meant to be the Snake and Liquid fight in MGS4 but I have no emotional connection to Higgs, in-game or out. He's just kind of a shithead, there's no brotherly bond here and he's not been established enough.

Ah multiple headbutts finisher. It is literally trying to be that MGS4 fight.

I know this isn't the end since Cliff's thing is still unresolved, but it is definitely trying hard to feel that way.

Oh shut the fuck up Higgs, stop with your "you won but still lost" bullshit. Fragile, kill the fuck out of him, please. Ugh, don't repeat I'm not that Fragile like it's your catchphrase.

Ha! Fuck you Higgs! Run out of BT juice. Oh... was that it? One punch. Also, don't just repeat "You're damaged goods" back to him like you're in a Joss Whedon film and that's an adequate comeback. Wow after a strong start this not-finale has been super anti-climactic.

Oh nope,she is going to shoot him. But offscreen. Fragile managed to bring Lou over too, nice. "Where should I take you?" Fragile asks, before Amelie butts in with "He doesn't need you, he's got me." Alright, calm down. Jealous much. But Sam is like "yeah you should go." Glad Fragile at least calls them both out on it.

Ok, so now Amelie says she could have left at any time basically, but did it to force Sam to connect the Chiral network.

And now we're "Mario and Princess Beach" running back home.

And now everything has gone insane. Now Bridget is here but maybe she's also Amelie and Die-Hardman is here to kill Bridget for fucking the world up and now Cliff is here and he knows Die-Hardman (who's real name is John) and Bridget is sending him after Sam but now she's Amelie again and behind Sam and tells him to run by pushing him in the sea, causing him to repatriate but in the repatriation sequence it's not BB inside Sam but one of those horrid dolls.

What the FUCK.

Ok and now I'm back in my room and Deadman tells me Amelie ported me here and then checked out to "finish what Bridget started" which I'm guessing may still mean blow up the world or the beach or something. Christ it has got very dense very quickly.

"We've been operating on the assumption, Higgs was controlling Cliff"; have we? News to me, I always assumed they were two separate antagonists given the Battlefield was entirely separate from Higgs' brand of goopy nonsense. So now Cliff has Amelie AND Die-Hardman on the beach. Great so things have gotten worse. Now Fragile can't port me to the beach either because reasons.

So I have to walk all the way back East all the fucking way because she transported all the secondary characters before me.

Thanks a fucking lot. This has been a real kick me while I'm down moment.

At least I don't need to carry anything there save protection and climbing gear. Hope I can at least drive some of it.

Ooh more flashback time. Looks like Bridget was intending to use BB as a sacrifice to build the UCA, unclear if by causing the Death Stranding or somehow starting the Chiral network.

Anyway now I'm walking these 6k or whatever back to Lake Knot. Some zipline help but one asshole put the zipline where the dismount is off a cliff. Sam echoes this though with a "nice zipline, asshole".

I also have no equipment, so stopping off at the paleontologist to gear up. Nice, a free bike too. Everything's coming up Bridges.

Oh fuck off Deadman, I don't want a Cliff notes session (pun intended), especially when you're just restating a bunch of theories. So Cliff wants BB to b whole, yep already gathered, the battlefield is tied to him due to his anger dragging his hellscape through with him. Sure, cool, can I get back to my drive now?

Oh come on... BTs can now spawn as catchers immediately, don't even need to grab you. Fuck this, I'm running. Sorry purple bike!

Jesus fucking christ Deadman, fuck OFF. Blah blah secret BB experiements were to make BT detectors but actually they were designed to make the Chiral network like I thought.

Oh.

They made the network by building all the cities with a BB integrated into each one.

Jesus Fucking Christ, I didn't see that coming...

That's some heavy shit man. This is that episode of Doctor Who with the space whale heavy.

While I ponder that horrific choice I'll inevitably have to make I am enjoying coming back and seeing how much bigger the highways have gotten in my absence. It's so fun to boost down them on a trike.

Another call from Deadman. Cliff put his BB in the care of the scientists but didn't know they were going to use the BB for the Chiral network, I assume he thought the experiments were benign per the lie told. Deadman says he's unsure how he was able to arrive on Bridget's beach and that there must be more to their connection so I'm going to go ahead and guess, he's Sam's father as well as the BB's, or he's a sibling of Bridget.

Fucking hell, another call from Deadman. Jesus give it a rest. No apparent connection between Die-Hardman and Bridget because his past has all been redacted, also suggested that Die-Hardman had no connection with Amelie/Bridget and that it's DH connection to Cliff that allowed him access to Bridget/Amelie's beach. God my head hurts.

Heartman's saying that the beaches are beginning to merge into a single seam, aside from the battlefield and Heartman's beaches. Amelie may have some kind of super bridge that controls all beaches which further my theory that she was BB patient zero.

Oh boy, big ol' Chiral storm, looks like it's battlefield time.

Flashback time, Cliff gives a sad speech about being a father and it looks like Die-Hardman killed Cliff under Bridget's orders.

Ok we're in Vietnam now and Cliff's wearing DH's mask. Comparatively this opener is less badass than the WWI and II battlefields but only in comparison. In any other games this would be a ridiculously cool moment. The arena itself excels as always, still not sure I could pick a favourite. Vietnam feels more linear but the mix of violent explosions, fire and oppressive silence and darkness work so well together.

Ok, I was wrong, actually reaching Cliff gives a supremely cool scene of Cliff and co marching through a lake of fire.

Another intense game of cat and mouse later and Cliff is finally down.

It's actually a really nice moment of emotional catharsis. Cliff begins to whistle a tune to BB and Sam completes it. It's not a big shock reveal, just a quiet mutual realisation that Cliff is Sam's father. They embrace and then a gunshot is heard and Cliff disappears, having first transitioned from combat gear to a suit, I hope implying his becoming whole and at peace. Despite minimal development until this past hour of exposition, Cliff has been a much more successful antagonist compared with Higgs.

Another flashback, DH is saying that Cliff should escape with his BB, but he will be forced to carry out any orders Bridget gives, hence the previous flashback. Seems DH was one of Cliff's soldiers. Still unclear if the woman lying on the bed, who is Cliff's wife, is the same person as Bridget. It's deliberately vague and when Bridget approached the BB in a previous scene her face was covered with DH'S mask.

Oh... Sam seems to think Cliff is Lou's father but that very much wasn't my take away from that scene. Deadman comes along with a recording of DH, says that Amelie left a message for him to get to the beach with one of Cliff's dolls. He knows it's a trap but plays along anyway and says Amelie also has no recorded past and made the point no one's ever met her in person. Seems to point to the fact that she may only exist on the beach.

DH says that her soul remained on the beach while her body deteriorated in the real world, but with high DOOMs abilities. She could then travel to the beach body and soul by the time she was 20 and the president said never contact Amelie except by hologram, but once the Chiral network was up and running DH checked the old records:

Bridget had uterine cancer in her 20s and never had children, yet Amelie is the spit of a younger Bridget, so... what's the connection?

Ok, now Fragile's here, and says Amelie was behind Higgs, she led the Demens and he abandoned Fragile when Amelie showed up, began the extinction initiative. She could control BTs and she was the one who turned Higgs into Homo Demens, able to command BTs at will. There was no BB in Higgs' chest pack either, only another of the dolls Cliff had.

But if that's all true, then why did she not just trigger the death stranding when Sam competed the network? Why did she need Sam to kill Higgs?

Another chapter closes but I feel we've still got a ways to go.

#sparrowsabre7 plays death stranding #death stranding

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johannstutt413 · 4 years

Text

(requested by gamerwolf29)

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages!” The Doctor was standing in the middle of the dojo, cupping his hands to spread the sound better. “We have a very special demonstration for you today! In the red corner, the battlin’ boxer who’ll knock your lights out UNLESS you’ve got the goods. It’s our fish-snatching honeysucker come down from the Underground, BEEEEEEEHUNTER!”

“Alright, let’s do this!” Beehunter was in her usual gear, minus the brass knuckles.

The Announcer (a new role of his) directed the crowd of enthused Operators to her opponent. “And in the blue corner, the grandmaster and heir of an ancient style who’s renowned for her work both on and off the battlefield; normally, she’s packing a pair of metal gauntlets, but tonight, the gloves are coming off! It’s the powerhouse panda who’ll leave you black and white all over, FEEEEEEEEAAAAAter!”

“Thanks for the invite!” She was bouncing on her toes, at least as excited about this matchup as Beehunter was, although she’d decided to wear a more traditional outfit. “This is gonna be exciting!”

“I don’t doubt that one bit. Alright, we’re closing off betting, so once Swire’s given me the thumbs-up...Let’s get this show on the road! One round, fight until your opponent either gives out or gives up. 3...2...1...LET’S RUMBLEEEEEEEE!!!!”

The reason the Doctor called this a special demonstration was obvious from the moment their fists met the first time; Beehunter was a master of the tavern-brawler’s style, using whatever tricks were available to leave her opponents knocked senseless, while FEater, despite her reputation, had not only received classical training, but real combat experience had honed her into a precise weapon with an encyclopedic knowledge of the ways the Universal Fist could bring her opponent to their knees. In theory, this was the ultimate battle of nature versus nurture, instinct versus intellect, and some of the crowd had shown up just to see which would win out.

Most, however, had simply seen the posters Deepcolor had drawn about a no-holds-beared fistfight between the two Operators best known for exercising their right to bear arms while refusing to bear arms, and the number of puns the Doctor had crammed into his marketing pitch had impressed enough people that word had spread like wildfire. If they’d had a proper ring, they could have gotten Siege to dress up and hold the round cards and made this a proper MMA match, but for their purposes? It was probably better this way.

All-in-all, it took Beehunter five minutes of brutal hand-to-hand to finally win the fight, much to the surprise and delight of the audience. Both of them were bruised to hell and back, but Gavial was there to fix them up after the fight (not intentionally, just because she was the Medic most interested with events like this), and once they could both walk off the field of battle, the Doctor and a couple volunteers worked on cleaning things up for the next event (a sparring match between Ch’en and Texas) while the bear-knuckled brawlers went to the locker room.

“Man, that was something!” Beehunter was floating on air after her victory, but she knew how close it’d been. “I mean, I knew from your movies you could fight, but getting to actually feel it was amazing! And some of those takedowns - if you had those gloves on, I would’ve totally died!”

“I’m really impressed you took that fight, Bee. I knew you were good, too, but you totally outdid your reputation out there. Aaaah, I just wished we could’ve done a full three rounds!” FEater was pumped up, too - it didn’t matter who won the fight in the end, what mattered was how incredible the journey had been all the way to the end.

The grizzled veteran nodded. “Yeah, that would’ve- hey, we could, though, couldn’t we?”

“Oh, I wish,” FEater sighed. “I can’t do it today, but maybe later this week?”

“Aww, you’re not up for one now?”

She smirked. “Right now?”

“Yeah, why not?” Bee grinned; they’d both changed out of their clothes and were heading to the showers. “We did it back in the Underground all the time! Some of my best fights happened in baths.”

“Alright, let’s do this, then.” FEater and Beehunter went to the back, where a wall of showerheads were set up, and turned on every other head.

Once everything was set up, the grizzly counted off. “Alright, three, two, one, go!”

“Hyah!” The panda charged forward, only to trip in the middle of the attack; she landed her shot, but instead of a punch, she accidentally tackled Bee to the ground. Neither of them were hurt that much, but FEater’s head was firmly lodged in her opponent’s chest for a few moments. She sat up once she came to her senses, breathing heavily. “Is that going to happen a lot?”

“Yeah, probably. Still wanna do it?” Beehunter was no longer focused on the fight.

FEater followed her eyes and chuckled. “Eyes up here, Bee.”

“I’ve made my choice,” she smiled back. “Which of us is bigger, though...”

“I think I have a better idea for what we can do while we’re here,” the panda announced, crawling hand-and-knee back to Beehunter.

Her target sat up, arching her back. “Oh do you now?”

“Yep!” FEater went straight from her crawl to wrapping her arms around Bee’s neck, pulling her head into her chest with a giggle. “I may not be able to top you in a fight, but I bet I can have you screaming ‘Uncle.’”

“You’re on, starlet!” Beehunter pushed her back, and the rest...is probably a bit too steamy for this Tumblr blog.

#arknights #FEater (arknights)#Beehunter (arknights)#i have a few weaknesses #this certainly falls under one of them #would love to know which of these two would win a best of three though #arknights fic

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xbaepsae · 5 years

Text

private tutor | part three (m)

“’We can take a break, if you want.’ ‘Are you sure?’ he asks, double meaning in his words and heat begins to pool in your body. ‘Yeah, I think I need time to process the information, you know?’ you say. ‘Besides, I think I’ll learn better with more of a…hands on kind of approach.’”

[tutor!namjoon x reader]

genre: college!au, smut, humor, fluff-ish

word count: 5.1k

a/n: and here it is! the final, thrilling part to this series. thank you to everyone who has been super patient with me. i love and appreciate all of you <3 xoxo

part one / part two / part three

You don’t see Namjoon again for a few days.

It’s not that you’re avoiding the guy, he did give you one of the best orgasms of your life after all, but you just haven’t had the opportunity to meet with him again. After the last study session, both of your schedules haven’t matched up. When you’re in class, he’s free. When you’re free, he’s too busy reading those damn philosophy books.

The two of you exchanged phone numbers—or rather, you coerced Yoongi into giving you Namjoon’s phone number with the promise of free Starbucks for the rest of the semester because the poor boy was out of money in his school account—but every text about possible study sessions has been in vain.

So, the little pink bullet vibrator in your bedside table has been relieving much of your end-of-semester stress instead. It also doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about your tutor either. You can’t get the image of when he was staring at you while giving you head out of your mind, and it’s been driving you absolutely crazy.

You told Ara about what happened in his bedroom after the game, and your roommate was shocked at how fast it all happened. “So, it’s that kind of payment.”

Were you some kind of prostitute now? You voiced this mild concern to Ara before she assured you that you weren’t a hoe now just because your tutor gave you oral in return for a study session. If anything, you should’ve given him head as payment. “I know—and I would have if not for your interfering phone call.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t show up on time,” Ara said. “But on the real, is he really hot?”

Hot doesn’t do Kim Namjoon justice. There are no right or perfect words to describe him. You don’t know what it is about him, but everything concerning him just oozes sexuality. He knows all of the right words to make you bend to his will, as well as fiery looks that make you melt underneath his ministrations. And his mouth—that amazing, fantastic mouth—is magical. Your body becomes excited at just the thought of it.

It’s about a few days later when you get a text from him asking if you'll be free Friday afternoon. Lucky for him, the only class you have that day is chemistry, ironically enough, and you let him know this fact. Namjoon replies instantly, telling you that he’ll see you after that class.

Since meeting with Namjoon, you’ve been paying more attention in chemistry class. Things were starting to make sense—kind of, sort of—and you have an inkling feeling that you might pass. Also, in all honesty, you just really want to impress him with the new concepts you're learning. But trying to impress someone like him seems impossible.

When Friday rolls around, you cannot contain the excitement you feel. You sit in chemistry and take the most detailed notes you’ve ever taken, feeling determined to show how much you’ve improved since the first study session. Once your professor finishes her lecture, you leave class with a skip in your step and pull out your phone to send a quick text asking what time you should meet. As your typing away on your phone, not really paying attention to where you’re walking, you end up running into someone.

“Oops—I’m—” you look up, only to be met with the amused expression of your tutor. “Oh my god, Namjoon—I’m so sorry—”

Goodness, you are such a klutz. You were so focused on sending him a text, so excited to see him again, that you completely disregarded everything else. You realize that he has his arms on your shoulders, steadying you. Suddenly, embarrassment floods your body at the fact that you literally ran into him.

Shaking your head to collect yourself, you can’t help but notice that once again, Namjoon is dressed like he is some runway model—not a college student. Today, he’s wearing a plain black dress shirt tucked into lighter wash jeans. You don’t know how long you stare at him, but he coughs once, and you meet his eyes. That’s when you realize that he decided to forgo the glasses today. “You should watch where you’re going.”

“I was just about to send you a text,” you point to your phone. “I didn’t expect to run into you.”

“I actually sent you one too.”

Looking back at your phone, your message still in the text box, you scroll down and realize that Namjoon did send you a text just seconds ago.

12:49 PM | Namjoon: Hey. I’ll meet you outside your class today.

You look back at him, “Well, why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“My one o’clock got canceled, and I got out of my noon class a little early,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, I haven’t been in the science building since freshman year.”

“Okay, mister philosophy major.”

“Are you free to study?”

Nodding, you swallow the lump in your throat as you remember what happened during the last study session. “Definitely. I even took good notes today in class.”

He smirks. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Give me credit for trying,” you pout, walking away from him. Namjoon catches up to you in no time, arms slightly brushing against yours as he walks beside you down the hall. You become overly aware of how fast your heart starts beating and mentally curse yourself for reacting like a total noob.

“Isn’t that something you should’ve been doing all semester?”

You give him a look, but he merely laughs as you both walk out into the sun. You lead Namjoon to your dorm, walking past stares from the student body. As the two of you walk, you make small talk with him—clearly more interaction than what you guys did last time. He talks to you about his philosophy classes, which you don’t really get, but you appreciate his passion for it. “Honestly, I don’t really like philosophy.”

“Not many people do,” he says. “But I think people like Plato and Socrates were fascinating.”

“Is philosophy on the list of graduation requirements?”

Namjoon looks down at you. “I believe at least one class is.”

You groan at the thought of sitting through an entire semester of lectures about the mind and theories. “Great.”

“I could always tutor you, again,” he says, eyes still on you.

Your body hums at the thought of spending more time with Namjoon. Immediately, you want to jump and say that you want nothing more than to continue future tutoring sessions; but you decide to tease him a little. “Hmm…we’ll see. If I pass chemistry, then maybe. Like, I don’t want to waste my time if my grade doesn’t change you know?”

“Is this a challenge?” he asks with a smirk. “I already told you that I’m confident you’ll get at least a C. Why? Doubting my skills? Did I not make you cum hard enough last time?”

He says the last bit so quietly you almost don’t catch it. The two of you are still in public, which means anyone can hear the conversation you both are having, so you’re shocked that he’s being quite bold right now. Even though you don’t want to, you redden at the mention of last time because he’s right—he did make you cum really hard—so you definitely are not doubting the sexual prowess that is Kim Namjoon.

Before you can answer him, you’ve already reached your building. Rummaging through your backpack for your ID card, you swipe the metal lock on the door and open it up. You walk inside first and tell Namjoon that your room is on the second floor.

“Also, there’s no elevator in this building,” you sigh. “At least, no working elevator—the one we did have has been broken since labor day weekend.”

“Oh?” he laughs a little, following you up the stairs.

“Yeah, I think there were too many people on the elevator at one time, so it got stuck and maintenance hasn’t bothered to fix it. But at least I only have to climb one flight of stairs—I feel bad for the people on the floors above me. I don’t even want to think about the chaos that will be having to pack for winter break.”

Making it to your room, the first door on the left, you notice that Namjoon is awfully close to you and it sends little jolts of electricity up your spine.

“Cute,” he suddenly says, and you turn to ask him what. “The decorative names are a nice touch.”

You smile, looking at yours and Ara’s name that are creatively pieced on the door of the room. “Thanks—it was actually Ara’s idea though. She’s very into this kind of stuff. You know, doing the whole college experience.”

Slipping your key into the lock, you open the room and sigh in relief when you remember that you cleaned the night before. Ara was shocked that you were cleaning, not that you’re extremely messy or anything but you do have a tendency to leave empty water bottles around the room. However, when you mentioned that Namjoon was coming over to help you study, Ara would not stop shut up about it.

“Make sure to use protection, okay?” she said to you and you almost tackled her on the spot. “Also, make sure he discards the condom—I don’t want that shit to get on the carpet. I’ve heard that it’s hard to take cum off the carpet.”

Thankfully, Ara has a packed schedule on Friday afternoons, so she will not be here to disturb your study session. You invite Namjoon to walk inside first as you lock the door.

“Well,” you start, “welcome to my humble abode.”

“Your room is bigger than I thought it would be,” he comments.

“Why? Did you think it was going to be the size of a closet?” you snort. “This room accommodates two people, so it has to be decently sized.”

When you and Ara first moved in, you two tried to set up the room as practical as possible. You both decided to forgo the whole bunk bed situation because neither of you wanted to fight for the bottom bunk, so your beds sit parallel to each other with both bedside tables in-between. At the foot of your beds are desks, and by the door stands a sink and your closets.

You put your bag down on your bed and pull Ara’s desk chair from her side of the room. Setting it next to your chair, you sit down and beckon Namjoon to follow. You pull out your notes and textbook, handing them over to your tutor to look over.

“Are those the notes you took earlier?”

You nod once. “Yeah.”

Namjoon examines your notes, flipping back and forth over the pages you wrote today. “Did you understand everything the professor said?”

“Surprisingly, I did,” you say. “I’ve been able to soak up more information this past week than I have almost all semester.”

“That’s good,” he says with a nod and opens your textbook up. “Did you want to start from what you learned today, or where we left off last time?”

You tell him that you want the latter and Namjoon picks up seamlessly. With pen and paper in hand, you jot down everything that he says and ask questions when you don’t understand what he’s explaining. When he gets to the chapter about stoichiometry, you admit that you never understood what the heck this was. You even make Namjoon balance a simple hydrogen and oxygen equation five times because you really don’t get it. But, to your relief, you learn that Namjoon is surprisingly patient with you.

“Can you explain that again?” you ask with a sheepish smile, watching Namjoon write the current example you two are working on again.

“Okay, so the problem asks how many grams of nitrogen are needed to produce the 38.5 g of NH2 produced in the equation: 1 N2(g) + 3 H2(g) = 2 NH2(g)?”

You watch as he writes down the goal mass and then solves the problem using mass-mass stoichiometry. Through each step, he explains slowly what he is doing and why he is doing what he is doing. By the time he comes out with the answer, you feel a little lightbulb flicker in your head. He then asks if you feel comfortable solving the problem yourself, which you honestly don’t but what’s new, and you reply with an I guess so.

Without letting you see his work, Namjoon helps you start solving the problem before forcing you to do it all by yourself. After a few painstaking minutes, you show your answer and the smile he has lets you know that you’re not a complete failure. “So, I got it correct?”

“Yeah—just make sure you put the unit of measurement in your answer, as well as the atomic letters of the chemical,” he says, and you immediately add them to your answer.

“Thank you for being so patient,” you tell him. “I’m sorry that I’m so fucking slow.”

He only shakes his head, “I’ve tutored worse—trust me.”

Namjoon continues through different lessons and before you both realize it, nearly all of the afternoon has passed by and you’re starting to get hungry. Not hungry-hungry, but hungry enough that you know your stomach will probably start making noise. You will your stomach to not growl, but your body betrays you and the sounds coming from your stomach fill the room. Almost instantly, you wrap your arms around your abdomen and you feel your face flush. “Sorry.”

Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, Namjoon checks the time. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how long we’ve been studying. I also didn’t even think about whether or not you’ve even had lunch.”

“I’m okay,” you brush him away, knowing you can hold out until dinner. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, but not for food.”

Your lips part in silent surprise. Oh. Slowly, your eyes meet his and you see that same dark look; this sends your body into a frenzy. Without even touching you, Namjoon has you under his spell and you honestly never want to be released from it. “We can take a break, if you want.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, double meaning in his words and heat begins to pool in your body.

“Yeah, I think I need time to process the information, you know?” you say. “Besides, I think I’ll learn better with more of a…hands on kind of approach.”

Humor laces Namjoon’s dark eyes and you swear that you’ve never seen anything sexier. “The next part of your payment?”

You’re so ready for this—anything and everything. You’ve been ready for a while now. “Of course.”

“Okay,” his voice is gentle. Namjoon brings a hand to cup your face, thumb running over your jawline before settling on your lips. He parts your mouth and you begin to suck on his finger. “Get down on your knees for me, baby girl.”

Your arousal skyrockets as you stand up and push your chair back. Falling to your knees, Namjoon’s hand never leaves your face. Looking up at him, you feel his hand moving to tangle in your hair. Suddenly, he pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue dancing with your own. You’re already getting drunk of a kiss, so imagining what's to come has your core aching.

As his lips move against your own, your fingers slide up his thighs and you can feel his muscle flexing underneath. He feels so strong underneath your hands and you can’t wait to see if he crumbles beneath you. Fingers find the belt holding his jeans together, and you begin to loosen the buckle. After, you begin to unbutton his jeans. Namjoon’s lips release yours when you lower his zipper. Shoving his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion, your eyes take in his already half-hard member.

Namjoon surprises you when he brings a hand to his cock, holding it erect. “Suck my cock, baby girl.”

Your hand goes to replace his when he stops you. “What?”

“No hands,” he says, voice deep with lust, “put them behind you.”

A jolt of electricity goes up your spine and you almost let out a moan. Oh my god. You do as he says, fingers lacing together behind your back, and lower your head towards his groin. The first thing you do is extend your tongue out to lick the tip. A small smile stretches across your lips when Namjoon visibly shudders.

Then, your mouth envelops the entire head—sucking gently and tongue swirling around it. As you suck, you take more of him into your mouth. You have never been one to particularly enjoy giving head; you’ll do it without question, but it usually doesn’t do anything for you. However, you’re enjoying yourself; you want to please Namjoon and make him feel good.

Through your focused attention to his member, you can make out the few choked praises and curses that leave Namjoon’s lips. You moan appreciatively as you take him deeper into your throat. You release him for a moment to catch your breath before giving some attention to his shaft and balls. By this point, his cock as grown increasingly hard and you wonder for a brief moment if he’s going to fit inside of you.

Size has never been an issue for you; then again, you’re pretty sure he’s got the biggest package you’ve seen in real life.

“Fuck, y/n,” Namjoon moans, beginning to thrust his hips once you’ve taken all of him back into your mouth. You can feel your eyes begin to sting from the force of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and your gag reflex kicks in.

Even though you’re beginning to choke, he doesn’t stop slamming his cock down your throat. In fact, he tightens the grip on your hair and speeds up his thrusting. After a few hard thrusts, he releases you. Gasping for air, you can feel saliva dribble down your chin.

Wiping your face, you glance up at Namjoon. “Was that…?”

“Wow,” he breathes, “your mouth is fucking amazing.”

Pride beams inside of you and Namjoon takes this opportunity to crash his lips onto yours. He lifts you off the floor and helps you take your clothes off. As you strip, you also help him shed whatever clothes he is wearing as well. After the two of you are completely naked, you take in Namjoon’s bare body and just groan. How could one man be so damn perfect?

“Like what you see?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “No.”

He kisses you again and you become putty in his hands. Namjoon’s lips leave yours for a moment before reaching back down towards his jeans. Pulling out his wallet, you watch as he takes out a little foil packet. He tears the edge and rolls the condom onto his cock before sitting back down. “Sit on my cock.”

Usually, you’d bite back if someone ordered you around; but with Namjoon, you’ll do anything he says. But before you can straddle his lap, he brings his hand up to cup your mound. “Namjoon—”

He begins to rub your clit and you fall over, bracing yourself onto his shoulders. You moan into his neck as he slips a finger inside of you. And then another. With nails digging into his back, you grind your hips into his thrusting. Just as you’ve started building up momentum, he pulls his fingers out.

You curse, which only causes him to laugh. Unable to help yourself, you kiss him again—you really like kissing him, you realize. Wasting no more time, you hover over his lap and position yourself over him. Slowly, you sink lower. Just as your about to slip him inside of you, Namjoon stops you for a minute. Looking into his eyes, you find yourself getting lost in them. He kisses you again and begins to rub his head along your clit and down toward your slit.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your jaw.

“Namjoon,” you choke on a cry. “I—”

“Do you want my cock inside of you?” he asks, continuing to tease you.

Your hands tighten around his neck, “Yes.”

“What was that?”

“Yes,” you repeat, another moan releasing from your lips.

His tip swirls around your clit again. “What?”

“Oh my god, Namjoon. Yes! Put your cock inside of me—oh.”

Your head tilts back and eyes roll as you feel him push inside of you. Unadulterated moans leave your lips as he slowly stretches you. Quickly, you realize that you were right—he is big, and you feel so full you can hardly handle it. You sink lower until you’re buried to the hilt, and it feels so good you might just explode. “I just…I just need a minute.”

Breathing into the crook of Namjoon’s neck, you allow your body to get adjusted before you begin to move your hips. As you ride him, you can feel your high approaching quickly and it doesn’t help that Namjoon has decided to tease you by pinching your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You feel so good on my cock, baby girl,” he practically coos into your ears and your hips slam faster; harder. “Fuck yourself onto me—just like that.”

Who knew you’d be such a praise kink hoe? You’re living for the sweet nothings coming from his lips.

He continues to pinch and pull at your nipples and just when you think you can’t take anymore, you feel his fingers right at your clit and that’s all it takes to push you over the edge. You scream his name, entire body convulsing in orgasm. Throughout this, Namjoon fucks himself into you still—helping you ride the high out.

“Oh my god,” you say once you catch your breath. “That was—”

“Who said we were done?” His voice causes you to raise your eyes towards him. “We’ve only just begun.”

Your mouth parts, core tightening with desire as he lifts you up and over to your bed. Still inside you, he lays your body down and begins peppering kisses all over your skin. Suddenly, you feel him pull out; you’re about to protest until you feel his hot breath caressing your thighs. Pushing your legs apart, he presses more kisses along the inside before his mouth begins to suck on your lips.

“Namjoon,” you moan his name, legs shaking at his ministrations.

There’s just something so erotic about him eating you out post-penetration—the thought sends your head spinning. Without much, you feel your insides tightening again; you’re going to cum again and your body is so ready for the toe-curling sensation. But it stops when Namjoon releases his hold on you. “You think you deserve to cum again?”

You lift yourself up on your forearms, breathing heavily as you stare at the man before you. Is he being serious right now? “What?”

“I don’t know if you’ve earned another orgasm yet,” he says, a smirk growing along his lips. “I mean, I haven’t cum yet…so why do you deserve more than one?”

“I…I…” you struggle to speak. Hell, you can’t even think right now.

But Namjoon doesn’t stop tormenting you. You watch as his hand returns to your cunt, fingers moving slowly along your wetness. A moan leaves your lips, and it only seems to make his smirk wider. “Tell me why, y/n?”

Your head falls back a bit when you feel that tightness building again. As his fingers continue to move, your hips match their rhythm. “I’m so…close.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod feverishly. “Oh god…yeah.”

“You want to cum again?” he asks.

As Namjoon’s fingers move along your slit, rubbing delicious circles around your swollen clit, your hips move feverishly to match his pace. Clutching the bedsheets in-between your hands, you cry as your high comes. But as your body shakes, you feel him enter you again.

He fucks you hard—cock buried deep inside of you—and it feels so fucking good you swear you might actually pass out. Namjoon thrusts relentlessly, and another wave of pleasure crash over you as he hits your g-spot repeatedly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you feel completely spent. How many times have you come undone today?

You’re pretty sure that you can’t manage another orgasm, you’re already feeling sensitivity-overload; so instead, you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his back. “I want you to cum.”

“Yeah?” he asks, hair in a sweaty mess on top of you. God, he looks so good.

You nod. “Yeah…where do you want to cum? I’ll let you choose.”

Namjoon grunts at your words, hips picking up their pace. “Can I cum on your tits?”

Your body shakes at his request, and all you can do is nod. He continues to thrust a few more times, hips moving a little sloppier each with each thrust, before he pulls out and removes his condom. Strings of milky white hit your chest as he mutters fuck over and over again, painting your breast; however, the real sight to behold is Namjoon and the way his eyes are shut in pure ecstasy.

Sitting up, you pull him closer and mold your lips against his. As you both kiss in post-coital bliss, you realize that you can get used to this.

***

a few weeks later...

Namjoon paces up and down the empty hallway.

His loafers echo in the closed space, while outside there is a totally different picture. Mother nature has decided to be lovely as usual and snow—the first of the season. Although the snow is nice and all, he can’t but feel nervous as his eyes continuously return to the same wooden door; the door that leads to you. Well, to your chemistry class specifically. You’re in there taking your chemistry final right now, and it’s nearing the end of the three-hour exam session.

Shouldn’t you be done already? For the last hour, Namjoon has watched as other students have filed out of the room with their exams in hand. As each individual walked out, he searched for your face in vain. And as the minutes continue to tick by, Namjoon grows more worried.

He doesn’t doubt your preparedness—you two have done more than enough studying. Namjoon licks his lower lip at the memory of every study session you’ve both had, since they’ve all ended with the both of you in each other’s beds. Although the sex has gotten better and better every time, that isn't the only good thing that's happened. In the last few weeks, he has actually taught you a lot about chemistry too.

“What if I forget everything?” you asked yesterday, the both of you tucked in his bed.

Namjoon laughed, “You won’t forget.”

“I can’t even remember what mass is, and that is supposed to be the basic of all basic information.”

“It’s property of a physical body and a measure of its resistance to acceleration when a net force is applied, y/n.”

When he first met you, he said something about guaranteeing that you’d make a C on the final, but he was quite positive that you’d actually do better than that. You were able to soak up a semester’s worth of chemistry in a few weeks; if that isn’t impressive, Namjoon doesn’t know what is. And this is coming from someone who aces all of their finals.

From what he can remember about the chemistry final is that it’s about one hundred questions, and it's all multiple choice. There are different versions of the final, but all of the questions are the same—just in a different order to prevent cheating. And since the test is multiple choice, students get their scores immediately after. You both practiced more than enough old final questions, and you did well on all of them, so he was confident in your skills.

Now, he doesn't know what to think.

Just as Namjoon is about to worry himself sick, the door creaks open and you walk out. Immediately, you make eye contact with him and offer a small smile. He quickly scans your face and assumes the worst. “Oh god, did you not pass?”

“Sorry I took so long,” you avoid his question as you walk closer to him, “those one hundred questions took everything out of me.”

“Y/n, what did you get on the final?” Namjoon takes your face in his hands, searching your eyes for an answer. “Baby, I swear I really thought I prepared you well. I’m so s—”

Suddenly, you laugh. You laugh so hard your entire body shakes. Namjoon looks at you like you’ve grown another head. He asks you what’s wrong, but you can’t even answer. “You’re so funny, Joon.”

“Why are you laughing?”

You smile. “I’m laughing because you’re getting so worked up over nothing.”

“Nothing?” he asks, incredulously. “I’m worried that you didn’t pass. That’s not nothing.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

Namjoon frowns for a moment and you unfold your exam and reveal the front page to him. He blinks a few times to make sure the red letter is actually there. Slowly, a smile builds on his face and he lifts you off the ground. You laugh into his shoulder as he spins you around in circles.

As your feet meet the ground again, the smile can’t be wiped off your face. “I can’t believe I actually got a one hundred!”

“Did the professor think you cheated or something?” Namjoon jokes and you almost punch his shoulder.

“No, I just explained that you tutored me. That was all she needed to know.”

“I guess we both win, huh?”

“Win?” you ask, confused as to what he’s talking about.

Namjoon nods. “Yeah—you got the grade, and got my payments.”

You mock laugh, “Ha. Ha. I think you've gotten one too many payments from me, don’t you think?”

He takes that chance to pull your body close, so that you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. Namjoon looks down at you with a smirk, enjoying the way you squirm in his hold. Over the last few weeks, you’ve gotten a lot more confident in his presence and he loved it. However, he still enjoys messing with your anyway. “I think you enjoyed giving me all those payments.”

“Who said?”

“Your body,” he smiles.

“My body tends to betray my mind,” you say, fighting your own smile.

Namjoon’s hands move from your waist to cup your ass. Your eyebrows raise at his action, but you don’t object and that’s all the confirmation he needs to lean down for a kiss.

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #bangtan bookclub #bts smut #namjoon smut #bts fic #namjoon fic #rm fic #bts humor #smut #humor #fluff #rm #namjoon #private tutor #xbaepsae

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themurphyzone · 5 years

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Oneshot: Make Believe

Summary: When actors from Darkwing Duck go missing, Drake Mallard and Launchpad are beyond ecstatic to finally have a case that doesn’t just involve stopping a Beagle Boy from purse-snatching. But hero work always leads to a dangerous truth.

Drake Mallard flopped onto his bed with a splitting headache. He’d spent two hours on a stakeout and the only action he had was just another Beagle Boy purse-snatching. That old lady should’ve been grateful, but she screamed about killer shadows returning and smacked him in the head with her purse.

He groaned and reached for a bottle of painkillers. Seriously, what did she keep in that thing anyway?

Rocks, bricks, and medieval torture devices?

He’d only taken up the mantle a few weeks ago. Drake knew he shouldn’t expect results right away, but he figured there would at least be a journalist or two seeking a new and fresh story.

He was still an unknown figure in Duckburg, so he had to brainstorm ways to boost his public image. Business transactions at McDuck Enterprises, failed revenge schemes at Glomgold Industries, and Gizmoduck dominated the local Duckburg news. He needed to take a case that would supersede all three of those things, something that would circulate through the major networks and social media alike for weeks.

Roxanne Featherly criticized everybody she reported on, but Drake was willing to tackle negative publicity. If he could prove his own bullies wrong as a duckling, he could certainly shatter expectations all over again.

And maybe, just maybe, he could inspire a kid to triumph against the world.

He could be a hero.

A sudden rumble shook the foundations of his apartment, and Drake instantly went on alert.

“Who’s there?” he called, throwing open the door to his bedroom. “I’ll have you know, I was top of the class in Quack Fu! Beware my fists of fury, thieve!”

But the living room only contained a couch, a TV, a table, the front half of a limousine sticking out of the wall-

“If you’re trying to kidnap me, you’re doing a very poor job! And I definitely don’t appreciate your pitiful attempt at redecoration!” Drake shouted, his fists raised in a basic defensive position.

“AH! THERE’S A KIDNAPPER IN HERE?” someone screeched.

“Aha! So you admit your motive!” Drake exclaimed triumphantly. In the darkness, he could only make out vague shapes. But there was a tall, muscular someone in front of him. That was an undeniable fact.

“Have at you, fiend!” Drake yelled, rushing at the tall, blobby shape and knocking it down. He drew his fist back, but his attacker’s hat fell off, revealing bright red hair that no darkness could ever hide.

“THE KIDNAPPER’S GOT ME! HE’S GONNA SACRIFICE ME TO THE MOLE MONSTERS!”

“Wait, Launchpad?” Drake asked, lowering his fist. He knew that voice. He never would’ve tried the hero gig for real without it.

“HE KNOWS MY NAME! NOW HE CAN MIND CONTROL ME WITH A MAGICAL AMULET!”

Drake scrambled off Launchpad and turned on the lights. “Launchpad, we’re the only ones in here. There’s no kidnapper.”

Launchpad sat up, scratching his head as he surveyed the living room, his eyes falling on the damaged wall and limo. He chuckled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Oops, guess I’d better let Mr. McDee know about this. He’s not gonna like it though...so, how are you?”

He popped the question like they just randomly saw each other in the grocery store.

“Disregarding the whole kidnapping and crashed limo thing? I’ve been better, I guess,” Drake shrugged. “Mostly I was just hoping I could stop something bigger than a Beagle Boy purse-snatching.”

“Stopping a theft is good,” Launchpad said earnestly. “Stealing is wrong.”

Drake knew Launchpad was right, though sometimes the childlike honesty was a little uncomfortable.

“I saved the purse without too much trouble, but I was smacked in the head by its owner,” Drake said.

“Gee, that’s too bad,” Launchpad winced. “It hurts just thinking about it.”

“Yup,” Drake sighed. He turned on the TV, quickly flipping to the news when the screen displayed a rerun of Darkwing Duck.

Launchpad didn’t protest or comment on the switch. The circumstances under Jim Starling’s disappearance were too fresh on their minds. Through some unspoken agreement, they refused to consider the possibility of their idol’s death.

Jim Starling.

Drake didn’t know how to feel about him anymore. On one hand, Starling saved their lives. But on the other, Drake and Launchpad’s lives wouldn’t have needed saving if Starling hadn’t set the studio ablaze with his jealousy-induced rage.

Drake thought he’d honored Starling by accepting the role in Boorswan’s rather...unique vision.

But Starling just considered him a knock-off replacement.

“Hey, Launchpad,” Drake said quietly. Launchpad’s gaze tore away from a clip of Gizmoduck accidentally beaning Roxanne Featherly with a lemon meringue pie during an interview. “You told me to honor Jim by taking up Darkwing Duck. How do you know I’m just not replacing him?”

“Cause you aren’t,” Launchpad insisted. “Let’s say you and Jim are both pilots instead of actors and you’re both working under this really important guy. Then Jim goes missing for a decade and during that time the important guy hires you to pilot him around. Then Jim comes back, you wanna meet him, then he yells in your face in a houseboat and storms off. Get the picture?”

Drake forced a smile. “Uh, yeah! Oddly specific analogies really help me get the picture. Thanks.”

Launchpad clapped him on the back so hard that Drake nearly fell off the couch. “No problemo,” he said, his attention returning to the TV. “Huh, they got a missing person case going on.”

Drake leapt to his feet. “A missing person case?” he exclaimed, suddenly feeling wide awake. He quickly turned up the volume.

“-actor-turned-salesman Jack Russell has been reported missing. He was last seen walking by the water cooler factory in the industrial district. The investigation is still pending.”

A picture of Jack Russell flashed onscreen. The dog’s hair and muzzle had long turned gray, but there was no mistaking those long, floppy ears and enormous nose.

“Is that-” Drake gasped.

“The actor who used his background as a salesman to deliver rapid-fire marketing-based threats as the Liquidator!” Launchpad exclaimed. “Man, that’s too bad. Vanished into thin air like Jim.”

“Like Jim,” Drake agreed. “You don’t suppose there could be a-”

“-suspicious connection behind the disappearances!” Launchpad and Drake finished together.

“Now that we’ve established that particular possibility, let’s head to the industrial district, partner!” Drake exclaimed.

“Partner?” Launchpad gasped. He bounced up and down uncontrollably.

“Sidekick doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Drake admitted. “You get the limo outta the wall, I’ll get into my costume, and together we’ll solve this mystifying mystery perpetuated by the machinations of the malicious criminal mind!”

Launchpad’s jaw dropped open. “You’re really good at that alliteration thing!”

Drake grinned as he disappeared into his bedroom. “Don’t wanna boast, but I was one of the best drama students in my school!” he called over his shoulder as he donned his Darkwing Duck costume for the second time that night.

“Duckburg. A peaceful, quiet night. The moon and stars shine over the empty streets, not a soul to be seen. Yet not all are slumbering peacefully in their homes, for villains lurk somewhere in the shadows. For he is the terror that flaps in the night, the typo in the villain’s manifesto, he is Darkwing Duck!”

The limo swerved to the side, the front bumper clipping a stop sign. Darkwing yelped and grabbed the seat with both hands, wishing he hadn’t ignored his agent’s suggestion of creating a will.

“Great monologue!” Launchpad said, still applauding.

“Uh, Launchpad...if you don’t mind, WE ARE ABOUT TO CRASH INTO THE BRIDGE!”

Darkwing covered his eyes in preparation for the inevitable.

“Love the dramatic flair, especially when you say-oh no, the bridge!”

Darkwing smacked his bill against the glove compartment as the limo’s front slammed against the concrete support beam of the bridge. His seat belt was the only thing that saved him from being flung out the window.

Shaking his head to get rid of the dizziness, Darkwing grappled for the door latch and stumbled out, clinging to a telephone pole for support while his heart rate slowed to a less dangerous hypertensive level.

“Oops,” Launchpad grinned sheepishly. “At least we’re at the factory now. So are you going to use your superior sleuthing abilities to catch the crook?”

Finally recovering from his near-death experience, Darkwing straightened up. “There’s no guarantee we’ll catch the crook now, partner. But there could be some kind of clue. Signs of a struggle, a form of identification, something.”

Launchpad tsked. “It’ll be awful hard to find a clue with all this litter lying around.” He scooped up an armful of discarded advertisements. “There a trash can around here?”

Something small and rectangular slid out of Launchpad’s arms, landing face-up at Darkwing’s feet. A duck’s head was emblazoned across what Darkwing initially assumed to be a business card.

But business cards didn’t normally depict masked, malicious-looking ducks. Darkwing scrutinized the card, even using a magnifying glass in case the words were written in very fine, small print. But there was no name, no address, no telephone number.

There was nothing written on the back either.

“Launchpad, we found a calling card,” Darkwing said as the taller duck returned from dumping the advertisements into a trash can. “I have a theory that it was purposely planted by the perpetrator.”

Launchpad only looked at the card for ten seconds before pulling away, his shoulders hunched and his eyes uneasy. “He looks kinda like you.”

“Well, I can see it in the beak and face, but my hat is way more stylish. Who wants to go around wearing a ragged stop sign on their heads?” Darkwing said, deliberately turning the card face-down.

He didn’t want to look at the card for longer than necessary. Something about that smile with sharp, yellowed teeth made him nervous. He ran a hand through his cheek feathers, praying they weren’t as ragged as the picture on the card.

“You alright, DW?” Launchpad asked.

“I’m fine. This lead is a bust though. We should find a-wait, DW?” Darkwing asked, the nickname halting millions of questions that were currently running through his head.

Launchpad nodded. “I want to call you something too. I mean, I know the show usually called him ‘the Darkwing’ or ‘the Masked Mallard’ or something but I can come up with something else if you want. I got it! I’ll call you the Purple Pimperbill!”

DW didn’t have a bad ring to it. But mostly he wasn’t keen on being saddled with the second suggestion.

“DW sounds great, LP,” Darkwing said.

“Darkwing Duck gave me a nickname,” Launchpad breathed, collapsing in a dead faint.

While waiting for Launchpad to wake up, Darkwing flicked through the local news on his phone.

So far, the police had discovered nothing. It seemed like everyone was banking on Gizmoduck to rescue Jack Russell. Well, almost everyone. Roxanne Featherly was adamant that the police could handle it and Gizmoduck should keep his oversized wheel out of the way.

For once, Darkwing was inclined to agree with her. Gizmoduck just didn’t seem like the investigating type to him.

Another headline popped up.

BREAKING NEWS: ESTEEMED UNIVERSITY OF DUCKBURG PROFESSOR DR. TINO CHICKPEA KIDNAPPED IN BIOLOGY LAB. CLICK TO SEE SECURITY FOOTAGE.

Tino Chickpea. Bushroot’s actor, Darkwing recalled. His love for plants wasn’t just a trait made up by the show.

Launchpad coughed, finally coming back to the conscious world.

“Glad to see you awake,” Darkwing said, practically shoving his phone in Launchpad’s face. “We have a video lead now! Whoever our kidnapper is, he’s not smart enough to avoid getting caught on camera!”

He played the video.

The security feed didn’t have audio, but Darkwing could practically hear Dr. Chickpea gently encourage his budding sunflowers. As the professor measured water in a beaker, shards of glass scattered across the floor. A caped figure stalked towards Dr. Chickpea, who didn’t appear to notice the intruder until the very last second. His beak went wide, but the intruder knocked him out with a single blow to the head.

Launchpad rubbed his own head as if he could feel the migraine that sort of attack would inevitably cause.

The intruder slung Dr. Chickpea over his shoulder like a dead weight, then lingered by the desk for several seconds as he removed something from his pocket and shut it inside a drawer.

With a flourish of his black cape, the intruder faced the security camera.

Black mask. Ragged, crimson hat. Messy feathers.

Darkwing compared the face on the card to the criminal in the video. It was a perfect match.

The intruder laughed directly into the security camera lens. Though Darkwing couldn’t hear it, he was pretty sure living bodies weren’t supposed to contort like that.

Finally, the intruder sauntered offscreen with Dr. Chickpea in tow.

The video was over.

“He left the calling card here, Launchpad,” Darkwing said, pushing down the uneasy feeling in his stomach. “And deliberately planted evidence among Dr. Chickpea’s beloved plants.”

“I thought he put it in a drawer,” Launchpad said.

“They’re in the same room. It still counts,” Darkwing replied. He struck a heroic, confident pose to rid himself of his previous misgivings. A kidnapper that had successfully nabbed two former Darkwing Duck actors was running rampant and needed to be stopped after all. “We should get to that bio lab. To the limo, partner! We’re going to the University of Duckburg!”

“Alright! I haven’t been to that place since I accidentally crashed the Sunchaser into the field by the Fine Arts building!” Launchpad exclaimed.

It normally took half an hour to reach the university from the industrial district, but Launchpad’s driving shortened the journey by fifteen minutes. Though Darkwing held a great preference to not bumping into curbs with every turn of the wheel, he had to admit that Launchpad saved plenty of time.

As Launchpad pulled into an alley to avoid parking next to the police cars surrounding the street in front of the university, Darkwing searched for a layout of the campus online. He found a color-coded map that would suit their purposes tonight.

Much to his surprise, the biology building wasn’t far from the giant archway in front of them that marked the university’s entrance. That would greatly simplify the investigation.

Now it was just a matter of sneaking past the police officers.

“Here’s the plan, LP,” Darkwing said, snapping his fingers in front of Launchpad’s face when his expression glazed over from the nickname. “We’ll work on your fainting habit after this case is wrapped up, but our main priority is getting past those officers.”

“Or we could just ask them for information,” Launchpad said.

Darkwing shook his head. “While that would be our simplest option, I’m not a recognizable public figure yet. They’d probably just mistake us for costumed partygoers.”

“Too bad you’re not Gizmoduck levels of recognizable yet, huh?” Launchpad asked.

“And what does that mechanical menace have that I don’t?” Darkwing muttered, painfully aware of how Gizmoduck content had a tendency to circulate around social media. Sure, most of the videos consisted of suit malfunctions, but the recognition levels were the part that counted.

Launchpad pointed to the university. “The police’s attention for one thing.”

“Huh?” Darkwing peeked out of the alley, concealing his beak with his cape so the bright color didn’t give away their hiding place.

Sure, Gizmoduck was the self-proclaimed superhero of Duckburg and finding a kidnapper naturally came with the territory, but that didn’t mean Darkwing was pleased to see him. The mechanical menace’s beak flapped multiple times as if he was speaking a mile a minute. Several of the officers held pens and paper out, which Gizmoduck quickly signed before trying to get back on topic.

One of the officers pinched the edge of Gizmoduck’s beak and gently shook it, much to his embarrassment.

Darkwing didn’t like Gizmoduck, but he knew this was their best opportunity to sneak past the officers.

And seeing Gizmoduck being treated like a little boy was comedy gold. Too bad his phone camera didn’t capture videos from this distance.

Darkwing and Launchpad crept out of the alley, ducking behind a police car for cover.

“M’maaa...ma’am I must ask that you focus on the question please,” Gizmoduck declared. “Did the kidnapper leave any fingerprints or other forms of evidence behind?”

“Are you sure you aren’t wearing yourself thin?” a brown-feathered officer asked. She looked torn between wanting to hug Gizmoduck and maintaining a certain professional distance.

“He doesn’t look good,” Launchpad whispered.

“How can you tell? You can’t even see his expression,” Darkwing said.

Launchpad shrugged. “He’s been busy lately. Hasn’t been around his lab much either.”

Darkwing blinked at him. Launchpad was more well-connected than he realized.

“As fascinating as Gizmoduck’s personal life is, we should really be going,” Darkwing said.

After a quick check to make sure Gizmoduck and the officers hadn’t spotted them, Darkwing and Launchpad made their way across the street and ducked behind a thick bush before finally sprinting to the archway, where a support column blocked them from the officers’ line of sight.

“Oh man, that was awesome!” Launchpad exclaimed. “Only thing we need is a musical accompaniment!”

“Smooth jazz on saxophone would’ve been so perfect,” Darkwing said. “I’m definitely the saxophone type. Smooth, classy, magnetic.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Launchpad said. “What kind of instrument do you think I’d have?”

Darkwing thought for a moment. “Cymbals. Or some kind of percussion. I don’t know, cymbals crash, you crash, I think it fits.”

“We should put wheels on cymbals,” Launchpad mused. “Then you’d get twice the crashiness.”

They headed to the biology building, which had a helpful ‘Biology Hall’ label attached to the doorway. Darkwing stopped Launchpad before he could enter.

“Let’s look around the perimeter first,” Darkwing said. “There was shattered glass in that security footage, so there’s likely a broken window used as a point of entry.”

Launchpad nodded. “Exactly like the thirtieth episode!”

“Yes, precisely,” Darkwing agreed. “And once we’ve located the broken window, it’s a simple matter of finding whatever the kidnapper left behind!”

“Let’s do this!” Launchpad exclaimed as they rounded the corner.

“That’s the spirit!” Darkwing shouted.

Turned out there were a lot of broken windows.

“Maybe I should look into the next few labs,” Launchpad said. “Your feet aren’t looking so good.”

Launchpad’s feet were covered so the glass shards didn’t affect him much, but Darkwing wished he had the foresight to bring boots along.

“Working through the pain!” Darkwing grunted, though every step felt like a million pins were digging deeply into his lacerated feet. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine. Boost me into that window on the end! I have a feeling this could be it!”

Launchpad bent over, allowing Darkwing to climb onto his back and reach the last window. The glass had been entirely knocked out of the pane, the sparkling shards scattered all over the lab. Darkwing pushed off the wall with his hands, heaving his lower body through the window.

Darkwing dusted himself off, then helped Launchpad through the window.

“Whoa,” Launchpad said in awe. “Tino Chickpea sure loved his plants.”

It looked as though the professor had turned his lab into a miniature greenhouse. Shrubs and saplings lined the entire back wall, while flowerpots rested on the tables. The cabinets were full of fertilizer, seeds, and water.

The artificial sunlight lamps hanging above the flora made it possible to see without the use of a flashlight.

Darkwing avoided the shards as best he could, though he was pretty sure the smaller crystals were still burrowing their way into his foot. There was a desk in the middle of the room, directly in the line of the security camera. A sink had been built into it, the kind that students normally used in science labs.

A shattered beaker laid on the floor, the glass surrounded by a puddle of water.

“Aha! So this is the lab where Dr. Chickpea was unceremoniously abducted by our avaricious avian,” Darkwing said, heading straight to the drawer where the kidnapper had purposely left something behind.

The middle drawer contained a black recording device.

They were trying to leave a message.

“That’s weird. I thought criminals wanted to get away with their misdeeds,” Launchpad said.

“So did I,” Darkwing admitted.

Instead of keeping his kidnappings under the radar, it seemed as though the masked villain enjoyed being in the open.

Darkwing hit the play button, hoping the tape would explain some sort of motive behind the kidnappings.

A guttural sound came out of the recording device, followed by harsh, gravelly laughter. Darkwing tried to turn the volume down, but the laughter only seemed to get louder.

“I am the screeching fingernail on the chalkboard of justice! I am the devastating blight on the potato field of peace and goodwill! I AM NEGADUCK!”

Darkwing and Launchpad backed up from the recording device as if it had been possessed by the devil himself.

The voice spat out every good value as if they were nothing more than a disgusting, grimy stain in a twisted perversion of Darkwing Duck’s triumphant introduction.

“Hello, Dipwing Dork. We haven’t been properly introduced, have we?” the voice crooned, every word oozing like deadly, acidic honey. “But I’ve been watching you, and you think you’re oh-so-noble letting my...no, your lackey feel like he’s helping. Newsflash, dimwit. He belongs to me. You stole him. I’ll take him from you. I’ll take everything from you that you stole from me!”

“I didn’t steal anything from this...Negaduck guy,” Darkwing said, picking up the recording device. He’d heard enough. He prepared to throw it out the window, but a tingle ran up his arm and evolved into a painful shock that made him drop the device on his foot.

“Nuh-uh-uh. I’m not finished yet. Just one last order of business. I have two actors. You may have noticed something they share in common. And like any collector, I’m not satisfied until I have them all. Maybe I can even score a few...exclusives. Oh, I believe I mentioned this device was set to self-destruct once the recording’s done?”

Launchpad barely managed to grab Drake and take cover behind the desk in time as the device exploded, creating a huge hole where the window used to be. Thankfully, Dr. Chickpea’s plants were unscathed.

“I’ve never heard of him,” Launchpad said.

And Launchpad regularly associated with a family who faced down practically every type of villain in existence.

“A newcomer to the scene then,” Darkwing said, struggling to his feet. The pain was flaring up again, but he ignored it. “Jack Russell and Tino Chickpea played two members of the Fearsome Four. Negaduck’s going after the last two. We have no choice but to emerge victorious against this vile villain.”

“Dan Rattigan and Michael Bill,” Launchpad supplied. “The actors for Megavolt and Quackerjack. They run a toy store downtown. Been there a few times with the triplets. They’re a big help when I faint in there.”

“Given the current time, it’s more likely they’re at home,” Darkwing said. “And unless a headline breaks about them being kidnapped, we have no way to reach them.”

“Actually, they’d be in the toy store tonight,” Launchpad said, pulling up a picture of a video game console on his phone. “It’s the midnight release of the Gigashark X. It’s been superhyped up lately. Louie’s been trying to get Mr. McDee to buy him one, but Mr. McDee isn’t budging.”

Darkwing checked the recent news on his phone, but there was nothing to indicate that Dan Rattigan and Michael Bill had been kidnapped.

Since Negaduck was deliberately leaving evidence of his criminal activity behind, he probably wouldn’t care much about kidnapping the former actors in front of an audience either.

If anything, the recording raised more questions than answers.

“Alright, let’s get to that toy store,” Darkwing said. “And please try to resist fainting this time.”

“Sure thing, DW,” Launchpad agreed.

After some debate, Darkwing and Launchpad decided to leave through the front entrance so they didn’t have to deal with the glass. Then the door burst open.

“LEAF-ING SO SOON, THIEVES?”

Darkwing and Launchpad instinctively put their hands up as Gizmoduck rolled into the lab, shining a spotlight on them as if they were a pair of criminals.

“Mistaken for a kidnapper by a guy who can’t even make a pun worthy of a Saturday morning cartoon,” Darkwing muttered.

“Believe me, I’d love to be more creative with those,” Gizmoduck sighed.

Launchpad waved. “Hi, Fen-”

Gizmoduck broke into a coughing fit.

“Uh, guy I don’t know whose name definitely doesn’t end with ‘ton’!” Launchpad corrected himself hastily. “Man, that was close.”

“Launchpad!” Gizmoduck groaned. “You’re as bad as M’ah...Officer Cabrera. Hold on, why are you even here? And with the criminal too!”

“I’m helping DW on the missing actor case,” Launchpad replied. “It’s been really cool so far. It’s just like being on the Darkwing Duck show!”

“And if you watched the security footage, you’d know that the kidnapper’s costume is similar yet different than mine,” Darkwing added.

“So did you use your super-cool telepathic abilities to find us?” Launchpad asked.

“My suit can track heat signatures,” Gizmoduck said. “I don’t have telepathy.”

While the chance meeting was nice and all, Darkwing knew they really needed to get back to the case. He clapped his hands, getting Launchpad and Gizmoduck’s attention. “Yeah, great to meet you. If you don’t mind, Launchpad and I will be heading to a toy store now,” he said, insistently tugging on Launchpad’s arm.

Unfortunately, Launchpad was too heavy for him to move. “I know! We should team up!” Launchpad exclaimed. His arm snaked around Darkwing’s shoulders, and he managed to get Gizmoduck tucked under his other arm for a group hug.

Darkwing tilted his head slightly so Launchpad didn’t accidentally choke him, and Gizmoduck’s beak opened in surprise as he wobbled unsteadily on his wheel.

“We’re gonna be like one of those buddy cop shows where they don’t mesh well at first but through a series of mutual understandings we come together and save the day!” Launchpad exclaimed, pulling their heads closer to his chest. “To the toy store!”

“To the toy store!” Gizmoduck shouted. “Wait, why are we headed to the toy store?”

“We’ll fill you in,” Darkwing said as he tried to wriggle out of Launchpad’s iron grip.

Gizmoduck was terrible at the whole secret identity thing. Even if Launchpad hadn’t slipped up and called him ‘Fenton’, Darkwing would still know that Gizmoduck’s M’ma was on the police force.

Because his armor was too large to fit in the limo, Gizmoduck had gone back to his alter ego, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, for the time being. Fenton added Darkwing Duck to an alarmingly large list of people who already knew his secret identity.

The Gizmoduck armor was currently inside a large duffel bag, stowed safely in the back. It seemed like an incredibly cumbersome way of keeping the costume nearby.

Darkwing explained everything they knew about the case, and Launchpad interjected a few times to compare an event to something that happened on the Darkwing Duck series.

“I think the components of the recording device were already prone to overheating,” Fenton said after Darkwing summarized the important points of Negaduck’s message. “Though under normal circumstances, it would be a few sparks here and there or a small flame that would easily be put out. This Negaduck guy likely added a small time bomb that would go off after a certain amount of time when the play button is pushed. Too bad it couldn’t be salvaged. I know someone who could’ve examined the parts for us.”

Darkwing didn’t care much about the science behind the recording device though. It exploded. That was all he needed to know.

“Fenton, you’re one of the best scientists I’ve ever met. Sure you could have done it too,” Launchpad said.

Fenton blushed. “Uh...I don’t know about that. I get the basic concepts and stuff, but I don’t really have, say, advanced knowledge of electronics. That’s more of Gandra’s thing.”

“He’s an official employee under Mr. McDee,” Launchpad said. “Scientist superhero is a pretty good job title.”

Darkwing raised an eyebrow. “So he just sends you out whenever he needs some superhero-ing done?”

Fenton shook his head. “I’ll admit I had a brief stunt as...well, a sell-out superhero under Mark Beaks for lack of a better term...but I could never work like that again. Deciding who doesn’t get saved or not saved based on an app? It was terrible. And I still barely know what I’m doing half the time. I repeat puns like three times in the course of a single confrontation. I still pie people in the face by accident. I’m not sure how half the contraptions on the armor work.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” Launchpad said. “Gyro and Mr. McDee and the kids and I think you’re amazing. You already have a strong moral code as a hero. You’ve got this.”

Fenton smiled. “Thanks, Launchpad. Still, I’m glad you guys are helping me with this kidnapping. It’s been kinda tiring lately.”

“We should do an interview together. You can promote me as Duckburg’s newest hero, and I can give you a few pointers in managing your fame,” Darkwing said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fenton laughed.

Teenagers and young adults lined the sidewalk leading up to the toy store, complaining loudly when the employee only let ten in at a time. It seemed like every teenager in Duckburg was here. So far, everything looked normal and there was no sign of a black-masked duck anywhere.

“From what you told me, I just assumed Negaduck already kidnapped the former actors,” Fenton said as Launchpad parked behind a delivery truck. The hood ornament of the limo crunched against the back bumper. “But that doesn’t seem to be the case here.”

“We might have time. If we can get to Dan Rattigan and Michael Bill now, we might be able to take them to a secure location and rescue the other two actors,” Darkwing said.

“McDuck Manor would be our best safe zone,” Fenton suggested.

“Launchpad can drive them there,” Darkwing said. “You and I will find Jack Russell and Tino Chickpea and apprehend Negaduck.”

Launchpad grinned. “Alright! I get to drive two actors from my favorite show!”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Fenton said. “Got any ideas on how we’re getting in though?”

“Easy. Name brand recognition,” Darkwing said.

Launchpad and Fenton stared at him blankly. Darkwing couldn’t be the only one in their group who was willing to take advantage of fame, right?

“Starting to see why all those posts trend about Gizmoduck on social media. You should really get a PR manager for that,” Darkwing suggested. “Just roll up as Gizmoduck. The employee will let you in cause you’re famous, and me and Launchpad too by association.”

Fenton frowned. “I don’t like taking advantage of being well-known like this. And you’re a little too excited about fame by association.”

Okay, maybe he also wanted to try negotiating a cut of the toy sales by using his connection to Gizmoduck. But hey, a guy had to get publicity somehow.

“Hello there, citizen!” Gizmoduck called to the employee managing the door, who finished counting another group of ten and regarded Gizmoduck with half-lidded eyes. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” the employee yawned. “Get back in line. Like, way over there.”

He pointed to the end of the street, where the line only increased in size.

“Sir, this is an important matter,” Darkwing stated. “We have it on good evidence that a crime most foul will be committed here tonight.”

“Technically, the evidence was destroyed,” Launchpad added.

Darkwing put a finger to his beak to hush Launchpad. The employee didn’t need to know that.

“A kidnapper has been targeting actors from Darkwing Duck. Two of your co-workers are on his list,” Gizmoduck said. “If you’ll let us through, my associate Launchpad will drive them to a secure location while Darkwing and I catch the kidnapper once he shows up.”

The employee rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard plenty of stories tonight. People just don’t wanna wait in line, you know? Now get to the back and I might consider letting you in when it’s your turn.”

Darkwing marched up to him, ready to protest that lives were at stake, but broke into a hacking cough instead. Thick clouds of red smoke flooded the air like evil incarnate in a gaseous form. Gizmoduck activated several fans on his suit, but it wasn’t effective against the dense smoky dread that had pierced its way into the atmosphere.

Confusion and panic snaked their way through the crowd. Teens tried to run, only to collide into each other. Total strangers clung onto each other for dear life. Several people rushed out of the store to see what was going on, despite Gizmoduck trying to order them back inside.

“I AM THE BLAZING INFERNO THAT RAVAGES YOUR CITY. I AM THE VENOMOUS SNAKE THAT LURKS IN YOUR BACKYARD. I AM NEGADUCK!”

The proclamation was followed by harsh, gravelly laughter, which terrified his audience even more. The smoke made it impossible to pinpoint Negaduck’s location.

“My heat sensors can’t detect him!” Gizmoduck coughed. “There’s too much interference!”

Darkwing clenched his fists and dropped into a basic defensive position.

“I was wondering when you’d show that face I despise so much,” the voice hissed. “I was about to go rob a few banks while I waited. Blow off steam.”

Darkwing tried not to twitch. He felt something press against his back and he jumped, only to realize that it was just Launchpad covering his blind spots.

“Face it. You’re nothing more than a fanboy in a costume. A hack. A fake. How pathetic. I’d get more of a challenge out of an eroded pebble!”

“Shows what you know. You’ll never scare me!” Darkwing said, allowing his cape to flare out. His heart hammered and threatened to jump out of his chest at any given moment. Negaduck was just another bully, he told himself. Darkwing had dealt with plenty of those. “Do you know who I am? Let me tell you, I am the terror who flaps in the ni-”

Something heavy slammed into his back before he could finish, knocking him to the ground. Gizmoduck and Launchpad cried out in warning, but Darkwing could barely hear them over the massive cacophony.

Darkwing’s back erupted into sheer agony. Something was putting massive pressure against his spine, pinning him in place. Fingers dug into his vertebrae, threatening to sever a fragile nerve. A hand clamped down on his neck and squeezed. Darkwing could only make choked, pathetic noises while an eerie cackle rang in his ears.

Black spots danced in Darkwing’s vision. He couldn’t yell at Launchpad and Gizmoduck to run and find help. He couldn’t make out anything except a pair of furious, insane eyes.

The harsh laugh formed a chilling soundtrack as the darkness closed around him.

“Unhand us at once! Michael and I need to be at the store tonight! You’ll be hearing a call from my lawyer if you don’t let us go!”

“My plants are on a very strict water schedule!”

“I was taking a walk to cure my insomnia! What did I do?”

“Is this some kind of joke to you?”

“Would. All. Of you…SHUT IT! I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK WITH ALL YOUR STUPID YAKKING!”

Darkwing’s neck throbbed. His back ached. His lacerated feet stung.

He took it as a sign that he wasn’t dead.

“DW! Where’s DW?”

Launchpad.

“I’m right here!” Darkwing tried to say, but something that tasted an awful lot like spandex covered his beak, preventing him from reassuring Launchpad.

“No pet names! Darkwing Duck doesn’t do pet names, nicknames, or any of that other junk!”

Darkwing opened his eyes, surprised that the material covering his face wasn’t blinding him.

Launchpad was bound to a high-backed chair, his wrists restrained by many coils of rope. Several rows of empty seats stretched out behind him.

It was a studio audience setup, Darkwing realized.

Four old men were strapped to the floor on a green screen. They whispered to each other in soft tones, shooting confused glances to Negaduck, who barked orders at them to shut up while he rolled a large camera into the center of the setup.

They found the actors of the Fearsome Four, but not in the way Darkwing had hoped. He’d been thinking more along the lines of a daring rescue where he thoroughly defeated the villain and received countless requests for public appearances afterward.

Gizmoduck wasn’t here.

Darkwing knew Gizmoduck was either running damage control or going to McDuck Manor for help if Negaduck hadn’t gotten his slimy hands on him, but he seriously needed to hurry up.

Negaduck pounded on a piece of sound equipment whose wheels were trapped on a piece of metal in the floor. After several minutes, he screeched so loudly that the walls shook and tore through the metal with a chainsaw. The metallic sound grated on everyone’s ears, but Negaduck didn’t listen to anyone’s pleas for mercy.

With Negaduck distracted, Darkwing could escape, rescue Launchpad, evacuate the Fearsome Four, and save the day! Darkwing grinned, feeling the spandex crinkle against his cheeks.

First things first, the mask that encompassed his entire head had to go. Darkwing grunted, but his hands refused to come up to his face. He could only twitch his fingers against his sides. His legs were bound too, so he couldn’t use his feet either.

So Negaduck thought he was clever enough to restrain Darkwing Duck with a series of intricate knots, did he? Little did he know, Darkwing had some Junior Woodchuck merit badges under his belt! Tying and untying knots had been one of his specialties!

Darkwing looked down, though the mask limited his range of motion. But he didn’t find a large rope coiled around his body.

Instead, a gray suit covered him from his neck down. At first, Darkwing thought Negaduck had changed his clothes while he’d been unconscious and cringed at how creepy that sounded, then he felt his fingers brush against the fabric of his Darkwing Duck costume, much to his relief.

Darkwing leaned back, taking a deep breath and tried to think of a new plan of escape. His head brushed against another piece of fabric, and he jerked forward in surprise. A red, high-collared cape covered his back.

At least he thought it did. It was hard to tell with his limited head-turning capabilities.

The costume was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t pinpoint where he’d seen it before.

“Where are we anyway?” Launchpad asked. “I dunno, I thought I was at a toy store with DW and Gizmoduck.”

“As my biggest fan, I thought you’d appreciate seeing me in action,” Negaduck said, leaning against the metal gate that separated Launchpad from everyone else. “Had to knock you out like the hack and Feeble Four though. Can’t have you revealing my location before the big show.”

He grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp, yellow teeth.

Launchpad shrugged. “Sorry, I think you confused me with someone else. I’ve never seen you before. Well, unless you count that security footage in the lab.”

Negaduck laughed humorlessly. “That cheap camera didn’t capture my best side.”

“What big show?” Michael shouted. “If you’ve tied us up here, the least you could do is explain why!”

Negaduck snarled in his direction, and Michael quickly hid his face. His entire body trembled, and only a brief touch from Dan managed to calm him down again.

“Aw, Mikey,” Negaduck chuckled lowly. “You’re too impatient. I was just getting to that part. SO DON’T INTERRUPT ME WHEN I’M TALKING!”

Negaduck’s fist collided with Michael’s head, knocking out the former TV villain instantly. Dan and Launchpad pleaded for Michael to wake up, Tino stuttered incoherently, and Jack averted his gaze and refused to speak, as if it would somehow shield him from Negaduck’s wrath.

Darkwing threw himself forward, trying to scream Negaduck’s name to get his attention. He needed to draw his ire, get him to turn his wrath away from an innocent person, but the suit prevented him from moving more than an inch.

Darkwing strained against the suit, but it was tightly pressed to his chest and limbs. He gasped for breath as the suit closed in around his body, constricting his movements even further.

He’d never been claustrophobic before, but he was sure he’d be developing that fear soon enough.

“Ah, I see our guest star is getting restless,” Negaduck drawled. “You’re all just dying to know what’s happening, aren’t you? My biggest fan, don’t you wanna know who our guest star is?”

“I’m not sure I like this,” Launchpad admitted.

Negaduck ignored him. “We’re on the air in one more minute. Those bumbling morons make it so easy to hijack the airwaves.”

He sauntered in front of a camera, adjusting his ragged hat and cape.

A green light flickered to life.

“Attention, Duckburg! You’re bearing witness to the debut of Negaduck! And don’t even think about tuning out, because all your channels are filled with nothing but me! Not that it’s a huge competition. I’m sure you all prefer watching a grim and gritty villain than whatever passes for entertainment these days!” Negaduck laughed.

Darkwing didn’t know how Duckburg was reacting to this, but he doubted they were laughing along.

“Years ago, a show was canceled prematurely. I was...invested in this program,” Negaduck ranted. “The idiot executives thought they could sweep it under the rug and pretend it never existed. But the joke’s on them. In just a few moments, everyone will be able to see the long-awaited season finale of Darkwing Duck!”

“You left Michael half-dead for this?” Dan shrieked, ignoring Tino’s attempts to hush him. “A fanboy who can’t accept that a silly show ended. I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” Negaduck growled. ”BECAUSE I DON’T RECALL TELLING YOU TO SPEAK!”

Negaduck kicked Dan in the side, hurling furious diatribes about where he could stick his electronics. Dan whimpered in pain and curled into a ball to protect himself. Tino trembled violently, while Jack pursed his lips and avoided looking at Negaduck.

Launchpad looked away, fiddling with his restraints. “So that’s why he’s got the masked evil twin and the bombs,” he said quietly. “I...I don’t wanna believe it either.”

As Negaduck stalked towards Darkwing, something clicked in his mind.

He knew this suit. It was in the last episode of Darkwing Duck before the series was canceled.

Hadn’t he spent countless hours theorizing over TV Darkwing’s evil doppelganger?

Negaduck knew the Fearsome Four actors. He was invested in the show. He knew Darkwing would investigate the kidnappings.

And most importantly, Negaduck believed Launchpad was his biggest fan.

Negaduck dug his hands into the fabric of the villain suit, and Darkwing shuddered as he felt sharp-tipped fingers press against his ribs.

“You think a few very painful explosions can stop me?” Negaduck snarled. Darkwing resisted the urge to gag on his rancid breath. “Now, let’s see who you really are.”

Darkwing had seen those blazing, madness-fueled eyes before. And just like last time, he was caught off-guard, aching, and helpless.

The spandex mask came off with a sharp yank. Negaduck carelessly tore out several of Darkwing’s feathers along with it.

“Jim Starling?” Darkwing asked, the name tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

For a moment, the only sound was Launchpad’s choked gasp. Darkwing was sure Launchpad had figured it out already. He just didn’t want it to be true.

Negaduck’s hand went slack and Darkwing took several deep breaths, savoring the air he’d been deprived of.

But it didn’t last long.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Negaduck roared, an animalistic howl escaping him. Darkwing’s vision blurred as his beak smashed against the ground.

“YOU’RE TALKING TO NEGADUCK NOW! I’LL GROUND YOUR SKELETON INTO DUST AND BLOW IT UP WITH A MISSILE! AND THERE’LL BE FIRE! LOTS OF FIRE THAT WON’T LEAVE YOUR ASHES BEHIND!”

Darkwing’s entire body was on fire. His muscles protested, his legs throbbed, and no matter how deeply he breathed, he couldn’t get enough air to travel to his lungs.

But he had to get up and keep fighting. He couldn’t allow Jim...no, Negaduck... he had to think of them as different entities, to hurt four innocent people.

Darkwing strained against the suit, finally freeing his arms and latching onto Negaduck’s ankles. Negaduck snarled, striking every part of Darkwing’s body with his feet, but Darkwing refused to let go.

With his legs still trapped, Darkwing was relying heavily on his upper body strength. He endured Negaduck’s kicks for just a few seconds longer, then abruptly tugged on Negaduck’s ankles, knocking him to the ground.

But his attack only fueled Negaduck’s murderous desires, and Negaduck freed his feet from Darkwing’s grasp within seconds. Darkwing’s head swam as Negaduck slammed him facefirst into a metallic strip.

“DW!” Launchpad shouted, struggling against his bonds. “Jim, you gotta stop!”

Negaduck glowered at Launchpad, his hand still wrapped around the back of Darkwing’s head. “The name is Negaduck!” he screamed, sharply yanking Darkwing’s head back. Darkwing made a pathetic noise as his neck ached in protest.

“You’re still Jim Starling though,” Launchpad said calmly. He was the only person in the room who wasn’t intimidated by Negaduck’s violent inclinations.

The crushing pressure around Darkwing’s head vanished, and he hit the ground facefirst again, but not by Negaduck’s doing. Compared to everything else he endured, it felt like he’d fallen onto a pillow.

“You’re my fan,” Negaduck growled. “Support me.”

But Launchpad shook his head. “Not this. Never like this.”

Negaduck took a step back, the madness in his eyes being replaced by...was that grief?

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen talking.

In a swirl of his tattered black cape, Negaduck swept out of the room, his hasty footsteps echoing off the walls.

It took several tries and shouted instructions from Darkwing, but Launchpad finally untied the restraints binding him to the chair. He rushed over to Darkwing, stepping behind him and lifting the high-collared red cape out of the way.

Moments later, Darkwing heard something being unzipped as he pulled his legs free of the trap he’d been forced to wear.

“The Darkwing Duck trivia said that Jim-” Launchpad paused, glancing to the door in worry. “-well, apparently he spent six hours stuck in the doppelganger costume cause the zipper wouldn’t work and he wouldn’t let anyone cut him free.”

“Your production trivia knowledge comes in handy,” Darkwing said, smiling at Launchpad despite his aching beak. “Come on, let’s get these actors free.”

Dan and Tino’s restraints came undone in a simple tug, Jack’s took a bit more effort, and Launchpad had to carefully slide Michael out while Darkwing undid the complicated knot.

“That was Jim?” Jack asked in a small voice. His long ears hung limply as he bowed his head. “You’re sure?”

Those were the first words he’d spoken all night.

“I’m afraid so,” Darkwing admitted. “Are you alright? I mean, I know you were kidnapped and taken here against your will...sorry, Mr. Russell. It was a dumb question.”

“I’ve seen better. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on my friends,” Jack promised. “Jim needs to be stopped.”

“You’ll be fine?” Darkwing asked.

He glanced at Michael, who was still out cold.

Jack nodded. “Don’t worry about us. Best go before Jim gets away.”

Darkwing and Launchpad followed the trail of destruction. Overturned desks, shattered pictures, and shredded paper littered the hallway.

Negaduck was standing in front of a large mirror that covered the far wall of the room.

It was supposed to be a dance studio, but the floor was in need of a good polish, the ballet shoes were worn and frayed, and the mirror was cracked and distorted their reflections.

“That’s me in there,” Negaduck murmured, reaching up to touch Darkwing’s reflection. He hunched over the bar, breathing slowly. “There I am. Adored, respected, beloved by fans.”

His voice was no longer Negaduck’s husky growl, but it wasn’t the familiar pitch of Darkwing Duck either.

No heroic bite, no confidence, no cockiness.

“Jim, we can help you,” Launchpad said quietly.

Darkwing braced himself in front of Launchpad, ready to lash out if Negaduck’s short fuse went off.

Negaduck didn’t acknowledge them.

“But it’s not real, is it? Just some stupid fantasy of a has-been who’s not even fit for a cameo. That’s what being a hero gets you. Insults and scoldings and everyone wondering why you couldn’t have a productive life even though you get injured every single day of your washed up career just to entertain them.”

“Jim, please stop,” Darkwing whispered.

Negaduck screeched, tearing out the bar and smashing it against Darkwing’s reflection.

“WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST LET ME BELIEVE I HAD A CHANCE?”

Jagged mirror shards splintered everywhere, leaving an empty, tattered wall behind. Negaduck clawed at the wall, shredded wallpaper falling to the ground.

This was the man he once looked up to.

This was the man who shaped his worldview.

This was the man who gave inspired him, enabled him to fight back, and helped him through hard times.

And now he was gone, though some part of Darkwing prayed that wasn’t the case.

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. Darkwing couldn’t watch Gizmoduck restrain Negaduck and walk him into an armored vehicle. He couldn’t watch the paramedics aid the former actors. He couldn’t watch Scrooge McDuck order several skilled technicians to cut the hijacked airwaves and restore the normal programming.

“You need medical attention too, DW,” Launchpad said.

Launchpad was right, but Darkwing buried his head into the taller duck’s chest instead.

Maybe it was selfish, but he desperately needed this.

Drake’s hospital room had been dubbed ‘The Superhero Suite’. Launchpad had explained they treated any injuries Fenton received as Gizmoduck here. And doctor-patient confidentiality extended to secret identities as well.

Drake had several finger-shaped bruises around his neck where Negaduck had tried to strangle him. Drake had almost forgotten what it felt like to breathe normally. And he was lucky to not have an infection on his feet from the broken glass.

“This is so weird,” Fenton said. “I’ve never seen you without your mask before!”

“Just don’t go calling me Drake Mallard when I’m in costume,” Drake warned. “Cause the identity thing is something you need to work on.”

Fenton laughed. “Yeah, I get the same lecture from all the other critical people in my life. Guess people are a little more observant than they portray them in the superhero shows!”

Drake fingered his bedsheets, trying to think about anything but a certain show. “Sure they are.”

“Ah, sorry. I forgot. I’m just gonna change the subject before I strike a sore spot, okay? I’ve got good news. Launchpad’s smoothed everything over with Mr. McDuck. He’s less angry about the blown up limo now. And I’m pretty sure the kids are throwing an ‘I’m so happy you’re not dead’ party for Launchpad.”

“When did the limo blow up?” Drake asked. He didn’t remember that part.

“Launchpad parked too close to the delivery truck where Negaduck was keeping his kidnapped victims,” Fenton replied. “He couldn’t get the doors open so he could throw you, Launchpad, and the two actors-turned-shopkeepers in. I guess blowing up the limo was the logical thing for him. Or he just liked explosions. Maybe both.”

“And the actors? How are they?”

“Recovering on a floor below us,” Fenton said. “Michael needs to be observed for a while, but he’ll pull through. So will Dan. They’ll be running their shop in no time. Jack said he’d be helping Tino with some community gardening. He says nature has a calming influence on Tino.”

Drake sighed in relief, just happy that the actors would be alright.

Fenton twisted his tie, scuffing the floor with his feet and avoiding eye contact. “Drake, I stopped by for another reason. I just wanted to...say...um, I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. From the bottom of my heart sorry. Really badly-”

“Fenton.”

At the sound of his name, Fenton looked up.

“Don’t go putting this on the record, but I have no idea what I’m doing either. Nobody wrote a Superhero-ing for Dummies manual, you know,” Drake said.

“You wanna learn together?” Fenton asked, finally smiling back. “Launchpad said you’ve got all sorts of neat moves on you. If you teach me a thing or two, I can get you a few gadgets. It’ll protect you better in the field.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Crackshell-Cabrera. I humbly accept your offer,” Drake bowed dramatically, much to Fenton’s laughter.

“My two superhero buddies are bonding!” an excited voice said from the doorway. “It’s everything I dreamed and more!”

Drake coughed. Launchpad’s childlike honesty was nice at times, but it could be downright awkward too.

“Nice to see you, Launchpad,” Fenton said, patting the chair next to him. “Things going good at the Manor?”

Launchpad happily accepted the invitation. “Yup! Louie was upset that he missed a late night episode of Ottoman Empire. The whole taking over your TV thing, you know. Dewey and Webby clung to my legs for a whole four hours. That’s gotta be some kind of record. Huey and Della were out doing some Junior Woodchuck mother-son camping trip, so they missed out. They’ll find out soon enough, I guess. Mr. McDee says Negaduck was taken to jail and they’re gonna be setting a trial date in a few months.”

“Negaduck won’t be in jail forever,” Fenton said. “Probably just long enough to recuperate, but he’ll be causing trouble on the streets.”

At the mention of Negaduck, the jovial atmosphere sobered.

Drake plucked at his bedsheets. He wanted to believe Jim Starling and Negaduck were two separate people, but reality said otherwise. He couldn’t live like Negaduck, who desperately tried to relive the glory days of his acting career.

But being a hero wasn’t something a person could make-believe.

Jim must’ve believed in the ideals and dreams of Darkwing Duck once. He’d inspired Drake and Launchpad after all. How many other children saw him on television and adopted Darkwing Duck’s beliefs?

“I think we should help Jim,” Launchpad said.

“What? He tried to kill you guys a lot!” Fenton protested. “He’s selfish, egotistical, and doesn’t care who he hurts. Why would you wanna help someone like that?”

Fenton hadn’t grown up with Darkwing Duck the way Drake and Launchpad had. And frankly, Drake thought the idea was crazy too.

But nobody, not even Jim Starling, Negaduck, or whatever he called himself deserved to rot in their own madness.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Drake replied.

“For Jim,” Launchpad said.

“For Jim,” Drake echoed, placing his hand over Launchpad’s.

They looked expectantly at Fenton, who sighed in resignation.

“I have my doubts, but you’re right. Heroes save everyone, whether they deserve it or not. Let’s do this for Jim,” Fenton said. He squeezed Launchpad’s and Drake’s hands.

Jim Starling once showed Drake how to get back up and stand on his own two feet. He showed Drake how heroes suffered setback after setback, but it didn’t stop them from saving the day.

It was time to return the favor.

#darkwing duck #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #fenton crackshell cabrera #ducktales 2017 #jim starling #negaduck #fanfiction #strangulation tw #torture tw #nothing really graphic though

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somerandomwriter1234 · 5 years

Text

Girl Meets World Fanfiction: Girl Meets Reality Chapter 1

Summary: A science experiment goes wrong and sends Riley and Maya to an alternate universe where their lives are a TV show called Girl Meets World. In this strange world, Riley and Maya watch clips of their lives in TV show form, meet actresses Rowan Blanchard and Sabrina Carpenter, look up fanfiction and fan art involving them (yeah, nothing bad could happen from that), but more importantly: discover how their lives made a much bigger difference than they ever could have thought.

Chapter 1:

Early one morning Riley and Maya walked into Farkle's bedroom and saw him working on a large metallic device shaped like a circle with a computer attached to it. Riley then said, "Okay Farkle. We got here as soon as we could. What do you have to show us?" An excited Farkle then said, "Okay guys. Don't freak out. But with Smackle's help... I think I may have discovered a way to access alternate universes." A confused looking Maya then said, "Alter-what's-it?" Farkle then said, "Other worlds. It's the multiverse theory. The idea that: what if people made different choices in the past, and it resulted in worlds similar to ours but different." Maya then said, "Ohhhhhh... I still don't get it." Riley then said, "Well I'm proud of you Farkle. So how does it work?" Farkle then said, "Well it's still untested technology so don't..." Riley then pressed a large button near Farkle's computer as she said, "Ooo. Shiny!" Farkle then finished his sentence by yelling... "Don't touch anything!" Suddenly a large vortex appeared near the machine and right in front of Riley and Maya. Riley and Maya then instantly got sucked inside as they yelled, "Whoa!" Then within seconds... Riley and Maya were gone.

Riley and Maya suddenly appeared in the bedroom but Farkle was gone. As Riley looked around she said, "Wait. What happened? Where's the vortex? Where's Farkle?" Maya then said, "More importantly... where's the fourth wall?" Riley and Maya then saw in front of them was a TV sound studio with empty seats for a potential studio audience. Riley then said, "When did Farkle's room get so much bigger?" Maya then said, "More like why did someone build a re-creation of Farkle's bedroom in a TV studio? Come on. Lets look around." Riley and Maya then walked around the studio and found an exit door. The two girls walked outside and saw a bright outdoor sky and parking plot. Riley then said, "Well at least we're still in New York. Look at all of those buildings and... Wait. This isn't New York. Where are we?" Maya then said, "I've seen pictures of this place. Riley... I think we're in Los Angeles." A freaked out looking Riley then said, "We were transported to the other side of the country!? Oh man. How are we gonna get back?" Maya then looked at her phone and said, "Well however we're gonna do it, it won't involve our phones. I got no cell service." Riley then looked at her phone and said, "Me neither. Come on. Maybe we can use a computer or phone at that mall over there." Maya then noticed a mall not far away, and then she and Riley headed over towards it.

Riley and Maya began walking through a mall together. As they walked, several people began to make quick stares at them. Riley then said, "Maya, is it me, or are people starring at us?" Maya then said, "Eh. We're east coast girls. West coast folk probably think we smell weird." Suddenly a little preschool girl ran up to Riley and Maya and said, "Hey. Is it really you? Are you really Riley and Maya?" A surprised Riley then said, "Um... yes. How do you know us?" The little girl then said, "I love your show. It's the only thing I used to watch on Netflix. Can I get both your autograph?" A surprised looking Maya then said, "Um... sure." Riley and Maya then began to sign a piece of paper the little girl had as Riley said, "Is she talking about our old middle school news broadcasts?" Maya then said, "I guess. Didn't know the school had a deal with Netflix though." An adult woman then walked over to the three and said, "There you are Stacy, and... Oh wow. You're the ladies from my daughter's favorite show." Riley waved and said, "Hi. Nice to meet you." The little girl then got the piece of paper back and said, "Look mommy. They signed it." The adult woman smiled as she looked at it and said, "Aww. They signed it in character. That's cute." The adult woman and little girl walked away as Maya said, "Well this keeps getting stranger."

Riley and Maya then walked into a book store as Riley said, "Well maybe we can hook into the wi-fi here. How about getting a smoothie at the cafe first? My treat." Maya smiled as she said, "Thanks. But you're already my treat." Riley smiled as she went over to the cafe counter and said, "Two banana smoothies please." A young adult woman at the counter looked at Riley and Maya as she said, "Oh my gosh. Oh wow. I can't believe this. Listen, I know it must feel weird for a 27 year old to be saying this, but I love your show so much." Riley glanced at Maya as she whispered, "I had no idea so many people across the country were watching our morning announcements." The young woman then said, "I watched your show every Friday night with my niece and it meant so much to her, and some episodes even really touched me. We were both so devastated when Disney canceled Girl Meets World." A wide eyed Riley then said, "Girl Meets What?" The young woman then said, "Anyway, I'm sorry. I'll stop bothering you. Hey. Whatever you want, it's on the house." A confused looking Riley then said, "Uh... thank you."

As Riley and Maya sat in a corner booth by themselves Riley said, "Maya... has the world gone mad? Why are people treating us like celebrities? And why did that woman talk about Disney canceling our show? Wait... could we be in an alternate universe that Farkle's invention sent us to?" Maya who was looking at her phone said, "Way ahead of you. I had a feeling we were pretty far from home, and I got into this place's wi-fi and remembered the girl mentioning a show called Girl Meets World, so I searched for it and... well... look." Maya then held her phone up towards Riley and Riley's eyes got wide as she looked at the screen. There Riley saw pictures posted of her friends and family next to a large logo that said Girl Meets World. Then Riley looked at a description box and read it as she said, "According to this: Girl Meets World is an American comedy television series created by Michael Jacobs and April Kelly that aired on Disney Channel from June 27, 2014 to January 20, 2017. The series is a spinoff of Boy Meets World and stars Rowan Blanchard as Riley Matthews, Sabrina Carpenter as Maya Hart, and... Hold on. Our lives a TV show in this world!?" Maya then said, "Apparently. We even have our own theme song. Check it out." Maya then started a video clip of the Girl Meets World theme song. As it played Riley look at it and said, "What? How did they get this video footage? Have they been stalking us!? This... this is too weird!?"

About an hour later, Riley and Maya were hidden in a very isolated part of the book store sitting on the floor still looking at their phones. Maya then said, "Wow, watching these clips sure feels creepy. It's like some stalkers set up hidden camera all around our bedrooms, classrooms, and favorite hang out spots." A scared looking Riley then said, "Oh no. The episodes don't include scenes of me taking my hour long morning shower do they?" Maya made a little smile as she said, "No honey, this is apparently a family show. Although judging from the comments in some of these video clips, there are some guys that wish they could've seen that... and some girls." Riley then said, "I just don't get it. Who would want to watch a TV series about our lives? I mean I wasted all of third grade just tripping all of the time because I couldn't tie my shoes. Who would want to see that?" As Maya continued to look up information on the show she said, "It's not our whole lives Riley. Just from the beginning of 7th grade to the middle of 9th. Apparently the show ended right after your mom decided not to move to London." Riley then said, "Wait. Why did our show end?" Maya then said, "Apparently a reasonable explanation was never given from Disney and fans started a huge campaign to save the series. On social media the day it ended, it was apparently the second highest trending topic worldwide behind only the 2017 presidential inauguration." A wide eyed Riley said, "Worldwide!? How popular was our show!?" Maya then said, "Well the premiere got just over five million viewers in the USA, but it's apparently been aired worldwide, so we may have been watched by over 100 million fans at some point or another."

Riley then slouched back in her chair as she said, "A hundred million people!? My Harajuku phase, first kiss with Lucas, and paint fight with you was seen by over 100 million people!?" Maya then said, "Well if it make you feels better, it wasn't technically you. In this world it was an actress named Rowan Blanchard." Riley then looked at a picture of herself as she said, "What!? I don't look like a Rowan!? That's a weird name for someone who looks like me." Maya then said, "Tell me about it. I can't believe my face belongs to some actress in this world named Sabrina Carpenter. What kind of name is that anyway? It sounds like the name of some cartoon cat who's a handy-woman." Then Riley said, "Who are these two girls anyway? Lets look them up." Maya then said, "Well, lets see. According to this: Rowan Blanchard on top of acting, is also a public activist in areas such as feminism, human rights, and gun violence." Riley then said, "Whoa. And according to this: Sabrina Carpenter is an accomplished actress and singer, with multiple hit albums and sold out tours." A wide eyed Maya then said, "What!? No. That's gotta be fake." Riley then said, "Well it is hard to sort out which news sources are more reliable on this alternate world. I know. Let me search what's real and what's fake on this Rowan Blanchard and Sabrina Carpenter and see what's the real deal with them and... Huh? Is that... OH MY GOSH!" A worried Maya then said, "What!?" Riley then said, "Oh God. Whatever you do: don't image search our actress' names and the word fake next to them." Maya then glanced at Riley's phone and said, "Oh my gosh. That is so messed up... Your boobs are way more bigger than that in real life." Riley then began pressing buttons on her phone fast as she said, "Ahh! Delete internet history! Delete internet history!"

Later Riley and Maya were walking through the mall again as Riley said, "It's just so weird Maya. For so long: my life was just... my life. And now I learn in some alternate universe... it's been watched and studied by millions of people." Maya then said, "It's not us Riley. It's just stories being performed by two girls who look like us... and who are smarter than us... more famous than us... and way more talented than us." A concerned looking Riley then said, "You okay, Peaches?" Maya then said, "Yeah. It's just... I always wished more people paid attention to my art. And to see a world where another version of me has her art adored by millions of people... it's amazing but still very strange." Suddenly a man ran over to Maya and said, "You. You're supposed to be on stage in fifteen minutes. Why aren't you in hair and makeup?" A confused Maya then said, "What?" The man then said, "Oh. Miss Blanchard. Nice to see you. I suppose she's hanging out with you today?" Maya then said, "Um..." The man then said, "Come on. Lets go." The man then quickly led Maya over to a closed door and let her and Riley in. The man then said, "Apologies for not getting your sooner. It's just I was told you were already here and... Wait. What?" Suddenly everyone stopped as Riley and Maya saw walking around a corner in makeup were actresses Rowan Blanchard and Sabrina Carpenter. All of the girls stopped walking as they looked at each other. Rowan Blanchard then looked at Sabrina Carpenter as she said, "Sabrina, what is going on?" Riley then looked at Maya as she said, "Oh boy. This sure got complicated."

TO BE CONTINUED...

*Author's Note - This story was co-written with fanfic writer: Just a Complicated Person. So what did you all think of this tale so far? Feel free to leave a comment or message with your thoughts, and feel free to share what should happen next, along with what other corners of the Girl Meets World online fandom that Riley and Maya should discover. Until then, thanks for reading!

#girl meets world #girl meets world fanfiction #gmw fanfic #riley and maya #riley x maya #rilaya #rowbrina #rowan blanchard #sabrina carpenter #rowan blanchard x sabrina carpenter #girl meets world f #girl meets world fandom #gmw fandom

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somuchbetterthanthat · 5 years

Note

If you could hit me with a no. 10 on the prompt list for JonMartin and completely destroy me emotionally, I would be very grateful? :D

10 - not said to me. :). :). :). (how dare u.). Disclaimer that 1) i don’t know what martin’s poetry looks like; 2) i myself have written a few bad poems before 3) IN FRENCH. so, yeah. Please, please don’t judge me too hard.

It’s not about what I say, by Martin Blackwood.

I create warmth; carefully measured for your hands,Sweeter than they all expect, even you, to make amends.

“And… You believe him?” Elias asks.

His tone is mild as ever, which tends to make Jon more agitated even on his best days, and this is definitely not one of those - he’s left Martin down in the Archives to settle in, and he can’t stop thinking of his pale, tired face, or the way his eyes had immediately checked the whole room nervously as soon as he’d thought Jon wasn’t paying attention anymore.

“Well, yes,” Jon says impatiently. “I can’t imagine why he would lie about that, and we’ve all been made aware of Jane Prentiss months ago -”

“Mmh, he isn’t a bad liar,” Elias says, which - is a very odd and Elias thing to say, Jon supposes. “But alright, I’ll see what I can do, call the police perhaps. If you’ll please tell Martin to come see me -”

“Not today,” Jon says categorically. Elias’ eyebrows raise somehow even higher than before. “He’s exhausted, and terrified.” he justifies, with no idea why his neck warms up. “He needs rest. You can hear his story tomorrow, surely.”

“Of course.”

Jon nods. “Right. Well. Thank you. On his behalf. For letting him stay -”

“If you don’t mind me saying, Jon, I’m quite surprised of how… ardently you seem to be taking this,” Elias says lightly. “You’ve been very vocal before about your… disapproval of Martin.”

Jon flushes; he can still very well recall the… heated discussion he and Elias had a few months ago, when Elias told him Martin would join them in the Archives. Still; this is not - this is much bigger than any personal feelings, surely Elias can see that -

“I may not like the way Martin works, but I’m not heartless,” he says at last. “He’s - he’s just had a very traumatic experience. I’m not going to begrudge him some kindness just because he’s horrendeous in latin. Besides he’s -” Jon tapes his fingers stiffly on his side. “He’s a… a good man. And if I had been a bit kinder in the first place, perhaps he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to go back there in the first place just to, to prove a point to me.”

And i feel guilty, he doesn’t add; I feel guilty that I’ve been so pleased not to have him around, I feel guilty I didn’t think to check on him properly when he didn’t return my calls, I feel guilty I sent him there in the first place -

Elias seems to understand, like he always does. “Well, that’s a lesson learnt I suppose,” he says. “We’ll see what comes of it soon enough, I’m sure.”

I offer whatever I can, through the dark you take refuge in; I stay here even when you bite, because I don’t need to be seen.

“Tim, one more thing,” Jon says before he can’t stop himself.

Tim turns around to look at him with tensed shoulders, lips pursed and eyes ready for a fight. It makes every single bit of Jon’s agressive instincts rise up as well, but he tries very hard to keep his voice mild and professional when he says:

“I know the situation is…”

“Fucked-up?” Tim says when Jon can’t seem to find the proper word.

“Right,” Jon sighs. “That. I understand it’s been - hard on you but if you would please refrain for taking in out on Martin -”

“Excuse-me?” Tim exclaims, and closes back the door loudly behind him. “Oh that’s rich, Jon, that’s - are you kidding me right now?”

“You’re mad at me,” Jon retorts stiffly. “Yell at me all you want, but I’ve overheard you and Martin yesterday and -”

“You overheard did you?” Tim bites. “That’s none of your business what I say or not say to Martin -”

“Yes, it is!” Jon snaps. “Weren’t you the one who wanted me to be a proper boss? Well, as your boss, I’m telling you there’s no need to take out your anger on your colleague, especially when, out of all of us, I think Martin deserves it the less -”

Tim scoffs with angry disbelief. “You are such an arshole,” he says. “You’re so - You’re such an hypocrite! You literally spent your days before going off at him for the stupidest reasons and now I’m being called off because I got annoyed at his endless cheerfulness once?”

“I’m just saying -”

“No, no, I get what you’re saying,” Tim cuts him off. “Bet that’s going to make Martin’s day too, really; oh, hey Martin, of course i’ll take that cup of tea, Jon said I had to, because he doesn’t want us to hurt your feelings. Get this: next time he might even admit that you’re not a murderer! That’s true love right here!”

“I -” Jon tries again, cheeks flushed and stomach twisting unpleasantly. “If you’re going to make a joke out of this -”

Tim stares at him for a second, and then he shakes his head, looking disgusted.

“God, you’re so - Fine, boss. Be nice to Martin. Added to my to do list of the day. I’ll just go now, or I may punch you, and god forbid I get fired.”

And though you may never hear, surely you must notice,That I fight for you, the small and the big, monsters or police -

“Hey, Jon?”

“Mmh?”

“I’ve been thinking about your colleague,” says Georgie above his head.

Jon opens his eyes back to stare at her, baffled: “Why were you thinking about Martin?”

He knows immediately he’s made a mistake, though, because Georgie’s hand goes back to play with his hair and she gives him a cheeky grin, the kind he’s learnt to dread years and years ago.

“Who says I was talking about Martin?” she asks, and she even has the nerves to waggle her eyebrows at him. He scowls, cheeks flushed.

“Well, if it was Melanie, you would have said her name, for a start. As for Tim and Basira I - well -”

He doesn’t have any excuse; he knows this, and she knows this, and he knows she knows this. Her eyes are sparkling.

“No,” he says.

“Oh, come on,” she laughs. “I was testing a theory, and you’ve proven me right.”

“No,” he repeats, more firmly.

He knows exactly what she’s thinking and it’s - absurd. Utterly, entirely, completely -

“He sounds sweet, from what you’ve said,” Georgie continues, happily ignoring him. “And like he cares about you, which is important, you’re really terrible at taking care of yourself, Jon.”

“I am not, under any circumstances, having this conversation with you,” Jon tells her.

“Who else are you going to talk to about your feelings, uh?” Georgie asks, and then, grins harder. “Martin?”

“Isn’t there an implicit law, somewhere, that forbids exes to talk about each other’s -” Jon stops right there. He’s made another mistake. God, he’s bad at this. Or perhaps Georgie is very good. There’s no words for what Martin is to him, he supposes. He’d like to think they’re more than coworkers, but he’s unsure friends can really apply when he’s spent the last few months unable to trust him for anything at all, and the last few years before that berrating him for poor work ethics. He groans.

“You could ask him out,” Georgie suggests, her voice kinder now. “Have dinner with him, see what’s going on here.”

“Right,” says Jon. “And then what? We date until I become a monster? Until he dies horribly because I made another mistake? Or, perhaps, until the end of the world arrives and we don’t know how to stop it?”

“…Jon,” Georgie sighs softly.

“I - sorry,” Jon mumbles. “I just… I just don’t think dating should be high on my priorities right now.” Georgie opens her mouth again, but he adds, empathically: “Besides, and that is a very important fact, I am not in love with Martin Blackwood. Which means this whole conversation is pointless.”

There’s a blank; The Admiral purrs on Jon’s chest, his claws digging into his sweater rather uncomfortably. Georgie’s eyebrows rise up. Oh, thinks Jon. Third mistake. He’s really, really quite terrible at emotional talks.

“In love?”

So you see, dear one, there are many things I could say to you,I have, before; and I will again, that much is true -

“Look, Jon,” says Basira. “I do care about what’s happening with Martin, but out of all of the things to take out from these tapes, I don’t think that finding him is the priority.”

“Fine,” Jon spits; he’s still clutching the last tape recorder in his hand, as if it could somehow make Martin appear right now, in front of him. “Then I’ll just go find him alone.”

“Jon,” says Daisy calmly between them.

“What?” Jon snaps. “What is it Daisy? What is it you all want me to say? That I’m going to deal with this - this Extinction business right away? I don’t care about a new threat to the world. We have plenty of things ready to destroy the world at any given moment! This whole place is a monument to it! I may very well be on the path to destroy it myself, not that I would know if that’s the case because that’s the information I apparently can’t get by thinking hard! So excuse-me if for once, for once I prioritize -”

“For god’s sake Jon, Martin’s a big boy,” Basira cuts him off, exasperated. “He’s made his choice, he’s very clear about it. He doesn’t need you to throw yourself into danger recklessly again, he needs you to think. Look at all of this! He’s carved you the path for it so if you could just -”

“What did you do, all those months Daisy was trapped in the coffin?” Jon asks abruptly.

Basira looks like he’s just slapped her. “This is not -”

“You searched for her,” Jon continues fierce and angry; his mind pulling at Basira’s thoughts; she stares at him, and when their eyes meet they both feel the gaze of the Eye, staring down at them, heavy and passive. “You searched for her, again and again, you did not give up because there was no body, which meant there was hope. And yes, sometimes, that meant leaving Martin and Melanie at the Institute, unprotected; but you did it, because you loved her.”

“Stop that,” Basira says, very, very coldly. “Get out of my head, Jon;”

Jon does but, for once, he doesn’t waste his breath apologizing. “I am going to find him,” he says. “Because I love him, and because I refuse to believe it’s too late. Everything else can wait.”

But I don’t need to tell you that I love you,Because I know you’ll understand it in everything I do.

“Jon,” says Basira, very quietly. She understood already of course. Jon’s throat is tight.

“I know,” he says, and that’s ironic, that’s so - he wants to laugh, and he wants to cry. “I know.”

“What?” says Martin, worry and urgency in his voice. “What is it?”

“There’s a way to get out,” Jon tells him, very softly. “Of course there is. I just - need to know it.”

“…Okay?” Martin frowns. His hand is still gripping Jon’s arm, warm and comforting, and Jon feels little tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. “Do you - why do I feel like i’m not going to like it?” he asks.

“It’ll be fine,” Jon breathes out. He stares at him, drinks him in, pale and freckled and entirely focused on Jon, as he always were; all this time, doing everything for him, as if Jon deserved any of it - “It’s going to be fine, Martin.”

“You usually say that when it’s not,” Martin says.

Jon laughs. “Right, I guess I do. Basira -”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll handle it.”

“Thank you,” he tells her softly. There’s a beat, and then she awkwardly squeezes his hand. “Good luck,” she tells him, and gets up, rising up her gun.

“Wil one of you just tell me what’s going on?” Martin snaps.

Jon turns towards him again; carefully, hesitantly, he lets his fingers run over Martin’s cheek. Martin freezes;

“Martin,” Jon begins. “I -”

I love you, he doesn’t say. What’s the point? Why add to their pain, when there’s already so much of it? I love you, he doesn’t say, and lets his hand fall at his side again, ready to open the door and drown.

#the magnus archives #THIS IS SO LONG OH MY GOD #sorry for the bad poetry #it IS really really bad but for once let's blame me and not poor martin #tma stories

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years

Text

Survey #245

“i fell asleep at the wheel again, crashed my car just to feel again.”

What is your favorite condiment to go with french fries? Ketchup. What do you have a habit of doing when engaging in a conversation with someone? Obsess over the appropriate amount of eye contact I make. What color is your mp3? Hot pink. Have you ever laid in a hammock? Yeup. Is there a song or lyrics currently super-glued in your head? "Popular Monster" by Falling In Reverse FUCK What can you go a day without doing? Uhhh a lot? I dunno... oh, drink water because I suck at that gah. I've gotten a lot better than I used to be tho. What can’t you go a day without doing? Touching some form of technology. Who do you spend most of your time with? Myself. Do you have a favorite classical composer? No. What type of quality is a must-have in a friend? Treat others with kindness. Are you any good at reading someone's body language? I definitely think so. What type of art would you hang up in your room? Lol I have some of my own... but let's say it was a clean slate again. I'd put some macabre/gothic art of some sort up, probably. Of COURSE with meerkats making an appearance. What fruit is too sweet to you? Hm, I'm blanking. What was the last contest you have ever won: Uhhhh... I think the giveaway of two Silent Hill: Revelation things? That was forever ago. What was the worst hair cut you have ever had in your entire life: Looking back, the haircut I had before this one (short on the left, faded into still rather long on the right) I don't really like anymore. Looks fine in some pictures, but not most. What was the worst thing you have ever worn in your life: Oh I don't know. Probably some dance costume. Do you like any sort of animes: Yeah, a handful. I'd honestly like to watch more. Have you ever used someone for your own benefits: I don't think so. What is the worst cartoon you have ever seen: Oh boy, idk. There's some dumb ones, a lot that I've only seen peeks of. Do you like to type or write more: TYPE. Writing physically can easily make my carpal tunnel act up. I hated having to hand-write a few essays last semester... I had to stop frequently to roll my wrists and cringe and stuff. What color would you have your skin if you could change it: I'd like pale skin like I have, but I wish it was more flawless/porcelain-ish. SOOOOOO pretty ahahhhhhhhhahhhhhh Do you usually cook your own meals, or does someone cook for you: I usually have to throw something together in the microwave because Mom's barely home, but when she is home, she cooks. If someone cooks for you, do you always thank them for it: YES. YES. NOT SAYING ANYTHING IS SO FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL. What do you do during the day: Almost without question, SOMEthing on technology/usually computer. As for what I do on technology, boy, a lot a lot. I don't even feel like listing it all. When you are online what do you normally find yourself doing: ... Oh, lmao. Uhhh binging YouTube, writing on or just checking up on KM, dA browsing/cleaning my drowning inbox, Facebook, "working" at the SH and SotC wikis, playing games, roaming Tumblr, check my emails, uhhhhhhh,,,, What is the most hated item you own: I wouldn't... keep it if I hated it? Uhhhh yeah, I honestly don't know. What is your favorite item you own out of all the items you have: My iPod, really. I have over 1k songs on this old-ass nano that I've had since middle school. I guess my laptop is kinda tied, but idk. Like, I don't love this laptop itself, just that it allows me to go online at a decent speed lmao. I guess they're my favorites in different ways. So, do you think that you will get where you want in life currently: Not stopping pushing for it 'til I get it. Why is that so. May I ask: I'm "too" determined. It's been a struggle getting to even where I am, but FUCK, I'm getting there. Do you like Halloween: I can't fwu if you don't. Has a teacher ever flirted with you? Not to my recollection. Is it okay for friends to kiss each other, as friends? Personally, I think a simple peck is fine IF that's your thing and it's mutually understood that it's platonic. Ex., I know greeting kisses are normal in some cultures, and I see no reason to shame it so long you're not like making out. Is it okay for girls to hit boys? Fuck no. Unless you're like fighting off an assailant/defending yourself, NO gender hits ANYONE. Do you know a lot of attractive boys personally? I've never thought about it? I'm not gonna dig through all the people I know rn... What happens if you realized you had a crush on somebody? More than anything, I'd be scared of being hurt again, particularly if it's a guy. So I definitely wouldn't make the first move. Do you think you are attractive? No. Which two of your friends would have the cutest baby together? I don't know. How do you feel about your naked body? DON'T COME AT ME WITH THIS QUESTION GO AWAY Have you ever been called obnoxious? No. At least, not to my memory. Do you wish you had a bigger family? No, but a more close-knit one. Which friend would you kiss full on the mouth, no questions asked? Sara. If somebody smacks your butt, you automatically say: I wouldn't say shit, I'd turn around and smack them across the face. How often does your family life conflict with your social life? Pretty much never. Have you ever been emotionally abused? No, thankfully. Do small children like you? They seem to, I guess. If karma is really true, should you be worried? Not very. What makeup do you wear on a daily basis? None. Do you have anything hidden in your room? Yeah, some saved money. What do you wish you were doing right now instead of this? It'd be great to talk to Sara. If you had a baby, would you want to have it at home or in a hospital? Oh I'm going to the fucking hospital for that epidural fren. If I even wanted kids. What was the last thing you ordered online? Uhhh good question. Have you ever had a bad experience with anti-depressants? If so, what? Well, actually the entire time I was ON anti-depressants. Because I'm bipolar, anti-depressants actually ramp up the aggression of bipolarity symptoms. How, I don't recall the science of, but I trust every word that comes out of my psychiatrist's mouth for many reasons. That definitely happened. One also made me gain weight, and the worst instance was in middle school when I was briefly on one that made me SO fucking hyper and happy in the morning but I crashed into an absolute bitchy monster by mid-afternoon. Now a combination of mood stabilizers helps both my bipolarity and depression immensely and are the main reason I'm alive. Are you allergic to any plants? I mean, I'm allergic to pollen. Are you an outdoors person? If the weather is cool, I love it. Does your past bother you? Some parts of it. Do you take risks or play it safe? I tend to play it safe. What forms of art do you like the best? This is an absolutely impossible question. "Art" has such an incredible range of forms, and I enjoy like... all. I guess the one thing I don't particularly care for is abstract art. What forms of art do you want to try? HYPERREALISM IN DRAWING. I REALLY wanna be able to draw/paint/whatever and make it look so true to life, BUT I'd like to add fantasy aspects to what I'm making (for example, my characters). I'd love to do portraits, too. This isn't really a "type" of art, but one thing I desperately want in art is to actually develop my own recognizable style that isn't just a wobbly attempt at realism with shitty proportions. What’s your favorite planet? Saturn's dope. Has a medication ever made you itch? No. What’s your favorite rainy day activity? Cuddle with snacks and like binge a good TV show/YT videos, etc. BUT considering I'm single I'ma just take a nap if I'm actually tired and you can hear the rain on the window. Do you put creamer in your tea? I wonder how many times I'll tell surveys I hate tea lmao by the end of my life lmao. What do you think are some good names for twins? I don't care enough to think about this. What are three things that fascinate you? Animal behavior (particularly social), the paranormal, and genetics. Would you say you live more in the past, present, or future? Present, I think. Have you ever been a victim of a crime? Not me personally, no, but my family. We had our basketball hoop stolen from our front yard and I was mega tilted yo. Does injustice make you angry? More like it infuriates me. Do you have the bad habit of procrastinating? Very badly. Are you afraid of running into a certain person in public? I both am and am not afraid of running into Jason. I have a very strong feeling I'd start having a PTSD episode (by that I mean hyperventilating, crying a bit, and shaking at the very least), but simultaneously I just want him to know I'm sorry. Do you have anyone you avoid? No. Do you have the same dreams now that you did as a kid? No. Who’s your crush? I don't really know if I have one right now. My old friend Ian and I started talking, and he's a fucking hilarious dude with similar ethics to mine with great compassion, but I still don't know him well enough to say I like-like him. I'm honestly just happy to have an irl friend again that actually talks to me regularly. Do you trust the government? I believe in WAY too many conspiracy theories to even try to convince anyone I trust the government lmao. Who do you want to meet in Heaven? I don't know exactly what sort of afterlife I believe in (it's not the traditional Heaven though), but I do believe that souls can reunite. The first thing I want to see again is Teddy. Does your school take sports too seriously? Considering we're well-respected in the sports field to the degree we draw in a huge number of foreign athletes, guess you could say yes lmao. Most of the people I even slightly know here came for sports. If there are bruises on your body, how did you get them? There aren’t. Would you ever go back in time to do something over again, but differently? Yes. Where did you kiss the last person you kissed? The airport. Have you thought about your wedding in detail? Not great detail, no. Do you think you could ever really kill someone? In self-defense, I know I could. Do you like Papa John’s pizza? I couldn't even guess the last time I had it. I don't remember. Do you attend school? Yeah. Do you call it a crush, or do you just say you like someone? The latter. Where were you when the ball dropped? In my bed asleep lmao. Where are your siblings? Probably all at work. Waffles, pancakes, or french toast? French toast. Do you ever judge people based on if they believe in God or not? Not really, but I WILL wonder to myself if you believe in some of the bullshit just about every religion has somewhere. Are you sometimes scared to express your opinions in fear of what others might think? YUP YUP YUP! Mainly irl tho. Have you ever painted your nails on only one hand, forgetting about the other one or getting side-tracked? No. Have you ever gone to one of those parties where everyone is falling around drunk everywhere? No. Been to one where everyone was high, though. Are you “the good guy”, or “the bad guy”, or somewhere in between? I'd hope the good guy. Do you ever erase the numbers off of surveys just because they annoy you? Ha ha yeah. Do you think you will have the same best friend a year from now? Yes. Do you have siblings over the age of twenty-one? Yes, all but one. What do you hear right now? "Another Life" by Motionless In White. Proud as fuck because this song was a MASSIVE PTSD trigger at first and even made me cry, but despite it still making me kinda uncomfortable, I can listen to and enjoy it now. If an ex said they hated you, what would you say? The only three people whose opinions would matter there would be Sara, Girt, and Jason. Sara and Jason would fucking break me, while I think Girt would of course make me cry, but I just. Wouldn't be surprised to lose another irl friend. I'd be so fucking hurt by any. OH YEAH, what would I say? I think Sara would have me speechless. I'd probably just choke out, "I don't blame you," to Jason. Girt, my first instinct pondering this was "are you serious?" because he's such a joker while my stomach dropped. What would you do if you found out your most recent ex was in a relationship? I'd be happy for her, but still feel kinda sad that it wasn't me. What do you think when someone kisses you on your forehead? If I like the person, I feel very comforted. It like... makes me feel small, safe, and permitted to just let my emotions loose, ex. be "allowed" to cry. What do you usually do right when you wake up? Check my phone to see the time. Truthfully, is there someone you used to date that you miss? I don't want to answer this. Do the math. Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? No. Do you brush your teeth right away when you wake up? No. Have you ever made someone laugh when they were crying? Yeah. Would you date someone three years older than you? Yeah. Do you prefer to shower at night or in the morning? Actually as of recently, the morning. It's a nice way to start the day clean and energized. Could you handle living with the last person you texted? I'd love to live with her. Was the last book you read for fun, or was it for some type of assignment? It was assigned, but I loved it. Have you accomplished any goals you set for yourself this year so far? Not really? Well no, I think I'm being a less procrastinating student and also not fleeing so quickly from situations that invoke my anxiety. Are there still movie rental stores where you live or have they all gone out of business? SOBS Blockbuster come BACK we NEED u. What was the last thing to annoy you or make you upset? Eh, it was stupid and something that realistically isn't worth being annoyed by. I was SUPER bored and tired yesterday waiting for Mom to finish her field work while I waited in the library after classes, and I was so ready to go home, but she stayed longer than she thought she would. Do you think you would be a good match for your celebrity crush/es assuming you have one? Why? If you don’t have one, who was the last person you saw that you found attractive? Actually, not really. He's way too motivated and drawn to people who push forward and get shit done, and just in general at least from how I "know" him as a fan I could only realistically see us as friends. But a fangirl can dream ok just let me dream. When looking for something to watch on TV do you tend to pick shows you know you like, or try new shows that look interesting even though you’ve never heard of them before? I'll answer hypothetically if I watched TV: probably something I know I like. Might get adventurous every now and again and try something new, though, especially if it's on a channel I like. How old were you when you had your wisdom teeth removed? I haven't had to. I juuuuust slightly have enough room where I DID have them grow in. Where was the last job application you filled out sent to? Uhhh probably the deli, which I got and lasted for two hours my first work day lmao. Have you ever been fired from a job? No. What do people tell you your voice sounds like? I dunno, kinda deep for a girl and lacking an accent most of the time. What financial class are you? Lower. What poster is hanging closest to you? A huge Nightmare Before Christmas one. Are you more comfortable with men or women? Women. Would you go on a date with someone right now if they asked? Maybe if Ian did? Idk. It'd be a nice way to get to know more about each other, but I'd only agree to it after we talked a bit longer. Does your family keep tons of leftovers in the fridge? Not "a ton." Things we'll eat again though, yes. Favorite FRIENDS character? That is, if you like it. I haven't watched it. Are you thinking of getting another piercing? Where? Hell yes. Pretty sure next is collarbones if I could just lose a little bit more weight so they're more visible. Do you love when people remember little things about you? YES OMG!!!!!!!!!! Do you ‘bless’ strangers when they sneeze? Yes, I just think it's common good manner. Even though the reasoning behind it is whatever, it's a societal thing that I just go along with. How many phones have you gone through? Idk, not too many. Have you always lived in the house you currently reside in? No.

#survey #questions #quiz

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