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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years ago

Text

Speak Easy

Bakugo x Reader , Dabi x Reader

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by "heroes" Now that she's out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words: 2738

Masterlist

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You tried and failed to lift your head. This should alarm you, but it was something you had unfortunately gotten used to over the past… how long had you been here? You couldn’t even say. Maybe a year, give or take? But it honestly felt like a lifetime. You could hardly remember your life before. Back when you had a life, friends, family, a promising future. Now you were nothing more than property to some secret fucked up government funded hell.

You spent most days in a drugged-out haze. They liked to remind you that it was your own fault. All you had to do was cooperate, now you had to face the consequences of your stubbornness. But those hazy days were by the far the best. Those days it was easy to let the darkness take you and dream about what your life would be like if you hadn’t ended up here. You can still see the soft smile of Todoroki as he helped you study. You could feel the warmth of Kirishima’s hugs. You could hear the quit mumbling of Midoriya as he scribbled in one of his many notebooks. You could smell the most intoxicating mix of smoke and caramel as you and Bakugo trained. You wondered what your friends where up to now. Did they miss you? Did they still think about you?

The other days though… they sucked. They were filled with needles and experiments. Always forcing you to use your quirk on some poor helpless person. Always trying to find a way to use your quirk without your permission.

Compliance was key. Just do what they ask, when they ask, and do it right. Any kind of mistake whether it was intentional or not was seen as insubordination. At first you tried to be sneaky about it, thinking that if anything they would just punish you. But you soon found out that they not only punished you, but the person you were meant to be using your quirk on. It was better for everyone to just submit.

You’ve always hated your quirk. People tended to avoid you, scared of what you had the potential to do. No one understood that just because you had the ability to do something, didn’t mean you were likely to do it. It wasn’t until you got to UA and finally made some friends that you started to appreciate you quirk.

They called you Siren… like the mythical creature. You could control and manipulate people using the five senses. If they looked you in the eyes you could see into their head, and their private thoughts. You could hypnotize them with just your voice. You could paralyze them if they tasted your blood. Your smell…. was quite the aphrodisiac. As for skin to skin contact, it helped you share and feel emotions and sometimes even pain.

None of that mattered if you didn’t activate your quirk though. You could live your life just like everyone else. You didn’t just walk around every day controlling people like puppets. It didn’t stop the fear that festered in the hearts of the public though. Your biggest mistake was deciding you wanted to be a hero. You wanted so badly to prove to everyone that you weren’t the monster they thought you were.

You could have lived your life off the radar. But once you took part in the sports festival there was no chance at that. Civilians complained about how you had a villains quirk, how you shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets unsupervised, let alone be given a hero license.

So, when there was only one agency willing to give you a job after graduation you jumped on it. They told you, they planned to utilize you in most recon and interrogation missions. Which made perfect sense given your skill set. They were going to train you to be the perfect spy.

At first it was normal for you to be gone for weeks or months at a time, with no contact with your friends. They understood you had top secret stuff to handle and always looked forward to hearing your stories when you got back. But the longer you worked there, the sketchier the missions got. Tracking bad guys turned into tailing fellow heroes. Interrogating criminals turned into “persuading” politicians. The last straw though… they had asked you to start sleeping with targets. The ultimate honey pot.

You started to be more vocal about your disapproval. You should have known better.

Now this is your life. Strapped to a bed, drugged up, and used as they pleased. You almost always had on a blindfold and gag. Except for when you had to “work” you lived your life in darkness, you lived your life in silence, you lived your life in solitude.

Your neck itched and bled under your collar. The humiliating thing was what kept you under their control. It acted as a shock collar, a tracking device, and it also monitored and recorded all of your vitals. They have to keep you alive after all.

You heard the familiar buzz of the electric lock on your door, signaling that someone was about to walk in. You felt anxiety bubble up inside you. Just remember the rules. Just behave and you’ll be fine.

You could hear quick quiet footsteps step into the room and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. After all the time you’ve spent here you had gotten really good at telling everyone apart by the sounds of their footsteps.

“Shit, what did they do to you?”

You felt tears well up and your hands began to shake. You’d know that voice anywhere, even if it sounded strained and emotional. It was Bakugo.

Warm hands pulled your blindfold off, quickly followed by your gag. Your hands jerked in their restraints as you tried to reach for him.

“Hey, its okay we’re here now. But you need to calm down. Your heart beats all over the place. They’ll know something’s up.” His hand smoothed your dirty hair out of your face. You could see the pain and disgust painted on his face.

You wanted to say something. To thank him. Anything. But you were in shock. You were also terrified this was a trick. What if they were testing you? So, you just stared at him with glossy eyes as he continued to free you.

He made quick work of the rest of your restraints, leaving only the heinous collar. He gave you a sympathetic look. “This is going to hurt, and I’m really sorry about that. But I have to get it off before we leave.” He cupped your cheeks in his hands, “Are you ready?”

Without breaking eyes contact you nodded silently. This was the first time someone has willingly made eye contact with you in months. You could almost drown in his vermillion eyes.

His hands moved from your cheeks to the collar on your neck, “One… Two…” Without waiting for three, as impatient as ever, he set off several small explosions that busted the bulky metal collar to pieces, but not without burning a thick ring around your neck.

You winced in pain, but you still made no sound. It was like there was still some part of you that was scared to break the rules. To speak without permission. Before you could even start to think about how messed up you were, Bakugo was scooping you up. He sprinted through the door and was racing down the halls. You wondered why there were no alarms going off. This seemed to easy. This had to be a trap, or maybe a dream. You felt yourself start to shake in his arms.

One of his hands wound through your hair. “Hey it’s okay. We’re almost out. The others are waiting for us. I just need you to keep your shit together for a little while longer okay.”

Before you knew it, he was kicking a door down and all the sudden you were outside. You gasped as you felt the cold rain hit your skin. You blinked in surprise at how bright it was, despite the fact that the sun was hardly even up yet.

A van screeched to a halt in front of you and the door slid open just in time for Bakugo to jump in. “WE’RE GOOD! GET US OUT OF HERE!”

The door slammed shut and the Van lurched forward.

You were now sitting in Bakugo’s lap clinging to his shirt as silent tears slid down your cheeks. You could hear the voices of Todoroki and Kirishima coming from the front of the van, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. You just clung tighter to Bakugo and continued to sob.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t said a word since I found her. I think she’s in shock.” His fingers tangled in your hair while the other hand rubbed circles on your back.

At some point you must have cried yourself to sleep. When you woke up you were in clean clothes, curled up on a soft couch.

You could hear voices coming from somewhere behind you.

“I know I don’t like it either, but we don’t really have any other options. We have no idea who’s on what side. Outside of the people here right now, who can we honestly say we trust enough to protect her?” You had never heard Midoriya sounds so rough and defeated. “She’s in no condition to look after herself and we can’t help. Not right now.”

You could hear pacing behind the couch, “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what they were doing to her. It was…. Sick a-and twisted. I say we take them down and ask questions later.” Bakugo only stuttered when he felt helpless, which wasn’t often.

“Bakugo you know we can’t do that. They may borderline evil, but officially on paper they are heroes. It’s a hero agency after all. If we attack that makes us villains, best case vigilantes. Both of which result in us ending up in Tartarus.”

“Okay and? You’re trying to hand her over to villains anyway!” You kept your eyes closed as Bakugo leaned over and pulled a blanket over you.

“I don’t know if I would consider my brother a villain. At least not anymore.” Todoroki sounded tired. “Ever since we… reunited… we’ve had a don’t ask don’t tell policy. But I keep tabs anyway. He’s still shady, but he’s not working with villains anymore. If anything, we have more in common now than before. He’s my brother but he’s also a dick. He doesn’t really care about heroes and villains anymore. He just doesn’t like people in general.”

You stiffened. Were they talking about Dabi? Why would they trust him? Wasn’t he one of the villains that kidnapped Bakugo?

“You say he doesn’t like people, so why do think he’ll even help?” Bakugo was making his way around to sit on the end of the couch, gently moving your feet into his lap. He seemed to calm down once his hand found your calf.

It was quite for a while before Todoroki sighed, “Because unlike the rest of you… my brother and I know what it feels like to be an experiment. He won’t let anything happen to her. Villain or hero, he doesn’t care. He has no rules or code of ethics to follow. He’s our best option here Bakugo and you know it.”

You couldn’t take this anymore. All these guys sitting around deciding your future as if you weren’t sitting right here.

You slowly sat up, pulling your legs away from Bakugo. You blinked as you looked around the small room. Todoroki and Midoriya were sitting as a large wooden table that was littered with files and paper.

You blushed when you realized everyone was looking at you now, yet the silence persisted. Were they waiting on you to say something? You cleared your throat and winced at how dry it was. “Oi! Get her some fucking water, would you?”

You nodded your head in thanks as Midoriya handed you a bottle of water before taking a seat on the floor in front of you. “Listen y/n. None of us can even begin to try and understand what you’ve been through the past few years. It might be a while before you are ready and that’s okay. But when you are, please know we are here to listen and help in any way we can. Any information you can give us on what happened, what they are doing there, will be helpful in making sure we take them down.”

You nodded as your grip tightened on the water bottle. They wanted information. But what information could you possibly have that could be helpful. You spent almost the entire time drugged, blind, and chained to a bed. Your heart began the thud against your chest at the memories.

Bakugo was quick to scoot over. He didn’t touch you, but he wanted you to know he was there. “Hey it’s okay. Like he said. No one’s asking you to say anything right now.”

Todoroki grabbed something off of the table in front of him before strolling over to hand it to you. “Here. I noticed you are having some difficulty speaking. Given what you’ve been through it’s not really a surprise. So, you can use this to get your thoughts out. Whether they be private or not. It might be good to just get things off of your chest.”

Again, you nodded as you took the leather-bound notebook from Todoroki. You flipped to the first page and traced the empty lines with you hand. You opened your mouth to say thank you but were shocked to find that you couldn’t make yourself do it. You hadn’t been allowed to speak in the labs. Not unless given permission, which was hardly ever.

You glanced around to the other men, gesturing with you hand that you needed something to write with. Of course, Midoriya, Mr. Takes notes on everything had several pencils in his pocket.

You wrote the following:

Thank you. For everything. I didn’t think anyone was coming for me. I don’t know why I can’t speak, but it’s probably because of the rules.

Bakugo read over your shoulder as you attempted to show the other two men. “Rules? What rules?”

You sighed and gripped your pencil tighter to the point of almost breaking.

I will not look anyone in the eyes without permission.

I will not speak unless spoken to.

I will not touch anything, or anyone without consent.

I will do as I am told without resistance.

I will remember this is the consequence of my actions.

You turned the notebook so they could see and you could feel the tension rising in the room. You almost jumped out of your skin when Todoroki’s phone chimed.

He quickly walked away to answer it, giving Midoriya a nervous look as he did.

You turned to look at the angry man sitting next to you. His eyebrows furrowed and his fists were clinched. Finally, his eyes left the notebook and met yours. “Hey I just… I just want you to know I’m sorry.” You gave him a confused look, but he pushed on not waiting for you to question him. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize something was wrong. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner…I- fuck- I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

You went to put your hand on his shoulder but paused right before you made contact. He growled as he gripped you hand and put it on his shoulder for you. “You aren’t there anymore y/n. There’s no more rules.” His fingers found your chin as he guided you to look at him. Your eyes widened and you gulped. “I don’t know how much of that conversation you heard earlier. But I promise I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’ll check in with you as often as I can. If Todoroki says we can trust him… then I guess we’ll just have to trust Todoroki.”

You tried your best to give him a reassuring smile, but in all honesty it felt more like a grimace.

Todoroki walked back in shoving his phone in his pocket. “Okay he’s on his way. We have probably about fifteen minutes. Let’s get ready to move.”

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha #my hero acadamy #dabi bnha #dabi x reader

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another-fantasy-world · 4 years ago

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Theirs, In Every Way Possible

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Pairing: Jemily x Fem! Reader, JJ x Reader x Emily

Summary: JJ and Emily thought that their life couldn’t get any better, until they met you. However, what happens when you aren’t completely truthful to them and the team who was already a family to you?

Warnings: Canon Violence, Reader came from a serial killer family, Reader has so many traumas, Homophobia, Reader has trust issues and is very indecisive. Y/N might frustrate you. Major Character Injuries.

Word Count: 3816 words

GIF isn’t mine

This case is completely made up from the top of my head, so if there are any similarities in the episodes in CM, they were probably just carved in my brain. Also, this might be a little ooc because I can’t just seem to tap into their personalities just yet

I’m sorry, I tried making this as angsty as I possibly could, I’m still working on my angst.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were fairly new to the BAU, only working there for about 6 months, and yet you fit in really easily. It definitely helped that you were the sunshine- Penelope Garcia’s bestfriend and that Erin Strauss couldn’t bring herself to dislike you. But what matters the most to them is that fact that you were a genius. No, not like Dr. Reid genius. You understood the serial killers in a personal level, and you would often coax the weapon out of their hand and get them to submit and surrender. Of course, when they confronted you about it, you easily lied and they somehow accepted that. So much for being profilers.

You never really did know when you first started seeing the couple in a new light. Yes you liked them both. It never really mattered since you just knew that it would just fade away. It was already embedded in your brain that everyone eventually leaves and that being too close to anyone would only get them killed. You learned that the hard way. But that didn’t stop you from admiring them from the shadows. It didn’t stop you from smiling whenever they talk, it didn’t stop you from memorizing their features like they were about to vanish into thin air, it didn’t stop you from admiring how JJ controlled the media, or how Emily used that voice when she’s speaking to the unsub and it didn’t stop you from admiring how well they fit each other, how their hands fit like puzzle pieces, and how your heart clenches in awe when you see them cuddled up with each other. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself, you desperately needed to get away from them, but you also wanted and needed to be around them. God, you knew you sounded like a hormonal teenager.

“This is Daryln Garcia, Ahron Balydyn, Abbey Banagher and Jehoushua Castiel. Their names are on top of the list of the recent chain of murders all over each state.” Garcia winced at the pictures that she had to present to the whole team, she never did seem to get used to it

“Some of these are from waaaaay long before, why only now?” Emily asks from her seat , which was coincidentally next to yours

“The M.O’s are all over the place, which is why they didn’t connect the murders until now. The only thing connecting them are black sticky notes that are posted on the wall and on their body.” Rossi reads out.

“Where’s the latest one?” You ask, sipping your coffee

“...Los Angeles, California.”

“Wheels up in Five.” Hotch concludes, as everyone gets up to gather themselves.

After talking and discussing the case a bit more, You all decide to calm down for a few hours, and each and everyone of you set off to do your own things.

“Uh-huh, you’re staring at them again huh.” Garcia teased you through the screen.

Spencer was memorizing and rereading the case files,

Hotch was talking with Rossi, probably discussing the case,

Morgan has his headphones clogging his ears,

JJ and Emily were cuddling with each other as JJ munched on her cheetos.

You were currently seated away from the team, just out of earshot because you knew that Garcia would begin spouting non-sense.

“Shut up...” You blushed bright red. “...I told you this once, while I was drunk and now you bring it up in every conversation that we have. It’s just a silly little crush, sunshine. It’ll pass.” You told her, playfully glaring at the screen, to which she laughed

“Sure, Gummy Bear. Keep telling yourself that.” She grinned.

When you were about to land, you hung up on your bestfriend before steeling yourself, You didn’t need to acknowledge the gut feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you most certainly ignored the growing headache that you have.

JJ and Emily certainly noticed you right from the start. The woman who had no experience in the field whatsoever is suddenly the finest one they ever seen. (or maybe that’s just because they were so attracted to you that they happen to pay too much attention) That wasn’t the only thing they noticed though: They also noticed the tiny change in tone when you talk to either or both of them at the same time, or the way that your head would be the first to turn when they walk in the bullpen, or the way that your eyes would quickly scan them from head to toe before you bury your face into the paperwork that Hotch gave you, just a slight hint of embarrassment in your eyes peeking out from the cover or maybe it was the way that you would breathe a little heavier and talk a little faster when you discussed the case with them. You weren’t painfully obvious, but they were profilers for God’s sake, they notice everything, especially if it’s about you. There was just something so painfully attractive about you that interests them so much. The way your hair flowed as it dances with the wind, The way you licked your lips since they were dry (They tried to get you to use a lip gloss or a lip balm but you fought them, real hard.), The way your body tackled unsubs who got into your nerves (They always had to change clothes after that...), The way your eyes shined when you successfully return and reunite families, The way your mind worked: How you analyze quick, How you look at things in all angles, How you tried to put yourself in the very scene, How you work so well with Spencer and How you always seem to know what to say, every damn time. Maybe it was the way you broke social construct just by wearing a suit everytime you go to work, or it’s probably the smirks you give them when you’re right about something and they were in the wrong. (It makes them want to pounce on you, but they restrain themselves, taking their frustrations out on each other in the privacy of their own home.) But what they hate the most, it how dense you are. At this point, JJ could send you a love letter and you would think that it’s a recent case evidence.

"...This is Dr. Reid, SSA Prentiss, Y/LN, Morgan, Jareau, and Rossi."

“Right this way, we have arrested a prime suspect this morning.”

“How?” You ask, lifting two duffle bags and setting them down to your designated table

“She was found lurking around the crime scene and a bloody shirt matching one of the latest victims in his backpack.”

“Can we have her bag?” Emily asks, approaching the officer

“Yeah sure. Right this way Agent.” He leads her to somewhere while you trail Hotch to the interrogation room, only to freeze in your tracks.

“What the hell” you whispered under your breath, feeling the same suffocating aura when you felt like your past is catching up to you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” You hear Derek ask you.

“I can’t do this. I need to call Garcia. Excuse me.” You replied with a look in your eyes. Derek recognized that same look with Emily when she ran away, pursuing Doyle to protect the team, and he’ll be damned if he let’s history repeat itself.

“Nuh-uh sweetcheeks. I know that look. Tell me.” Derek grips your forearm gently.

“Derek. I promise I won’t run away. And if I’m not back within an hour, track my phone and my ring.” you assured him, pulling your phone out and hurrying outside.

“Garcia. Please tell me that my identity is still concealed.” You begged Penelope while you were stress smoking at the back of the precinct.

“It is! I promise! There’s no way they would find you! through technology at least.” she ranted. You see, Penelope Garcia doesn’t do well with secrets, but you really needed her, and she understood that. Which is why your secret is the best kept secret she has, she hid your secret for a year now.

“Then tell me why my aunt, who might I add is an absolute psychopath, is in our major suspect list right now?” you panicked, knowing that your “family” has somehow tracked you

“It might be a coincidence, Gummy Bear. But I will look into it! I promise.”

“Garcia. One more favor. Back up all my files, all of it. From my work laptop, my FBI files, my personal devices, all of it. Then delete them all. I’m going to use a disposable starting now. Pull up the GPS service for my ring, keep an eye on me at all times. I’ll be damned if I see more of my family.” You spat out, stomping out the light of your cigarette, before popping a mint.

“Consider it done. Don’t you think it’s time to tell them?” she carefully asks, knowing how sensitive you are.

“Thank you Garcia, And I will. Once the time is right.” You grumbled, knowing that it’ll be sooner than later.

“Y/N. Tell them before it’s too late. Please, for your sake and for ours too.”

“I will short stuff. I will.”

For days you successfully evaded interrogating your aunt, subtly helping them as much as you can without raising suspicion. You knew that this secrecy is going to be revealed soon

“Y/N. We picked up coffee for you.” You suddenly hear JJ behind you, Emily’s hand gently placing the coffee in front of you, her eyes filled with concern

“You didn’t go to your hotel room did you?” Emily accused

“...No” You dropped your head onto the files in front of you

“You need your sleep Y/N. You’re no use when your brain can’t even function.” JJ retorted, taking a seat beside you, with Emily by her side.

“...Fine. A nap on that sofa. That’s it.” You bargained, determination shines in your eyes

“Okay. Go.”

And then, the moment your head hits the arm rest, you blacked out. Only waking up to Derek’s frantic shaking of your body

“Y/N! Get up!” It was rare for Derek to be this panicked and scared, and that gave you anxiety

“What? What is it?!” You stood up, feeling yourself get dizzy my how fast you got up.

“JJ and Emily are gone.”

What?

“Wait- What do you mean- How long was I asleep?” You blinked

“Precisely 4 hours, 36 minutes and 56 seconds.” Reid blurts out from infront the whiteboard.

“What happened for fuck’s sake?” You sat back down, rubbling your head

“Hotch was about to send you in on a lead, but they both volunteered instead.” Rossi explained

“And no one sent backup?” You were angry, barely keeping it in, you were slowly regretting keeping your secret now

“No one knew until now, when JJ and Emily didn’t come back after an hour, Derek went after them, only to find this.” Rossi lifts up the black sticky note.

“Family for Family, Blood for Blood”

“Is it possible that Rayna Torres, is their relative?”

“ Call and Tell Penelope I said Yes.” You point to Derek, knowing that Garcia will know what to do. You’ll let your bestfriend explain, she’ll explain it better since your mind is fogged

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your face hardened, clenching your jaw. You rarely showed anger, or annoyance for that matter, so they didn’t know what to do when you stormed off in pursuit of Hotch.

You found Hotch in the interrogation room, silently observing your Aunt

“Let me talk to her.” You say, earning a nod from him

You stormed in, slamming the door behind you.

“Listen here, you little psychopath. Where are they.” His eyes widened slightly, Hotch didn’t expect you to be so hostile

“There you are. I was beginning to think that we got the wrong team.” She grinned, intertwining her fingers, her wrists still bound to the table by a handcuff.

“I am not in the mood for your games.” You deadpanned, gripping the table to conceal your anger

“Hmmn. You always did have your father’s temper.”

“WHERE. ARE. THEY.” You slammed your palms on the metal table, making a slight dent on it. Ignoring the pain, you glared at her hard

“You know where they are child. I know that you know where they are.” The devilish grin once again appeared on her face.

“If I step foot inside that warehouse, and they are not there, I can’t guarantee your head will still be attached to your shoulders when they prepare you for your casket. Auntie.” At that statement, you walked away with a surprised Hotch on your trail.

He treated you like his very own ever since you knocked on his door, crying your eyes out, ranting about your family. Of course he noticed the small slip-ups you accidentally let out especially when you’re drunk. But it was never enough to completely put the picture together. He knows that you treat him as a father figure. Which is why he can’t let you go in there alone.

“No. Absolutely not. You might die Y/N!” You raised your brow at him, the bulletproof vest never felt as heavy as it is now

“You’ve known me for 6 months, you’ve known them for years. Why are you picking me over them? You know that I’m what they want. You or any other person steps in though that door, they’re all going to be dead before they see JJ and Emily. Not to mention they might kill JJ and Emily too. Please Hotch. This is my battle. If I die, I die. I don’t want to live knowing I could’ve done something.” Those were your last words before you slowly walked to the warehouse door after getting wired.

“This really isn’t the best first impressions you could make on your future daughters-in-law. Father.” You spoke as you saw him pointing a revolver at her, at your Emily.

You almost collapse at their state. JJ’s beautiful blonde hair caked with dirt and blood, she was staring at you, shaking her head, tears welling up in her eyes. Her lip is swollen and you could see multiple bruises forming.

However, Emily’s state was much worse. Her eyebrow was bleeding, her knuckles are bruised, she has small cuts everywhere and you could see that she was struggling to stand up despite being tied by her hands to the ceiling

“This one has a sharp tongue daughter. i don’t appreciate it.” He snarled, now pointing his gun at you

“Last one who said that exact words to had his dick cut in half. Where’s my jerkwad of a brother anyways? How’s his dick? Still has my bite marks? Scars maybe?” You smirked, hearing your “mother” load her gun

“Disrespectful Bitch. Don’t talk to your brother like that, he’s better than you ever will be” She snarled, firing at your feet, slashing through your pants, making you bleed slightly, making JJ scream through her gag.

“Your aim’s getting rusty.” You pulled out both your guns, pointing them at you biological “parents”

“And you’re wearing a bulletproof vest. Take it off and kick your guns to us. You know what’ll happen if you don’t” you gritted your teeth, taking off the vest despite the protests of Hotch and the rest of the team

“Happy?” “Very.”

“Now let them go.” You frowned

“No. You see, since you do love them right?” Your father smirked, making you frown

“Yes. I do. I’m in the same team as them for fuck’s sake!”

“No. No. That’s not just it. You love them in a different way as well. Say it.”

“...” Your mother rolled her eyes at your silence and fired two bullets to Emily and JJ, scraping Emily’s cheek and JJ’s shoulder.

You flinched, you knew not to show emotion, but it’s painful to see the women you love get hurt.

“Okay! Fine! You want me to say that I love them? I will.” You gritted out

“Go on then, you know how I love my drama shows.” You glared at them, taking a deep breath in, watching them walk out of the room, a bright spotlight aligns itself on the three of you, It really is a sick TV show that your parents would love to watch.

“What they say is true. I don’t know if you noticed it yet. But I do love you, both of you. I really hoped that I could tell you over dinner, or a cup of coffee, but I guess life has other plans. Loving the both of you seems so weird, and unconventional, but who wants to be normal and boring am I right?” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, which they didn’t appreciate.

You moved your hand to their gags slowly, listening for complains from your parents, hearing none, your grabbed their gags and pull them down.

“Y/N-” They both started

“Shhh. Let me speak, you know I don’t have much time.” You smiled, implying that you wouldn’t get out of this alive.

“I notice everything. I do. I’m not as dense as you think I am. I just... I didn’t like the thought of you both getting attached to me. I love you both so much that I knew that if they catch up to me, I could die, or you could get hurt. And now this happened.” JJ shook her head as if to say it isn’t your fault.

“I love you both so much, I love the way you look at each other, often wished I could look at you both like that. I love the way you both force me to sleep then give me coffee in the morning. I love the way your brow furrows when you see a detail in the reports that displeases you, and then you’ll playfully glare at JJ and I when you notice that we’re laughing at you. There’s a lot more that I want to say to you, but I don’t have enough time.” you say, moving closer to them, tears staining their bruised cheek.

“I’ll see you in our usual spot in the coffee shop across the street?” You whisper to JJ, kissing her cheek

“I’ll be copying your move now.” You chuckle lightly, kissing her cheek

A slow clap rang throughout the room.

“Now that is a perfect drama and revenge.” You whipped your head around, only seeing your father. Pulling out your knife from your thigh, you run towards him recklessly, the screams of JJ and Emily’s pleads piercing your ears.

And then three gunshots rang throughout the warehouse, Derek kicked the door down, chasing after your laughing family. Your ears were ringing, you didn’t even notice that you collapsed from the impact. You couldn’t believe it actually worked. You could feel the sticky, red colored cornstarch mixture on your abdomen. However the growing pain on your shoulders prevented you from celebrating.

“Fuck.” You whimpered out, the impact of the bullets on your abdomen radiating throughout your body, yet you can also feel the bullet that’s still in your shoulder.

“Y/N. Stay with us come on” Emily whispered, despite her being in a worse condition that you, She still has your hand in a death grip.

“I’ll be fine Em.” You reassure her through jagged breaths, JJ’s crying face invading your view made you smile too.

The moment that Emily and JJ were free from their binds, they immediately limped towards you as fast as they can, both of them on each of your side, silently wishing that they had more time

“They only managed to shoot me on my shoulder okay? I’ll be fine.” You could see the confusion in their faces, which faded when the paramedics unbuttoned your stained white shirts, only to find another bulletproof vest and an empty plastic bag, previously filled with what they can assume was fake blood.

Emily’s eyes widen, what you did was dangerous, and extremely risky. You gambled on a unpredictable mess and she wondered how you got Hotch to approve of what you did, only to find out later that Hotch didn’t know either.

You could only smile at them, feeling the drugs the paramedics injected take effect, slowly drowsing off. You were happy they were somewhat safe. You were also happy that you managed to stab your father in his arm. Even if your brother did shoot your shoulder from behind, you were still happy with how things turned out.

Almost regretting what you did when you woke up to a staring Emily, JJ quietly handing you water, before they both scolded you like there’s no tomorrow.

However, after what seemed like ages of reprimanding from the older women, they both pecked your lips before asking you out on a date.

I guess it all worked out in the end.

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jemily x reader #emily prentiss imagine

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ninjettey · 3 years ago

Text

Boys and Aliens

Experiment 626 - A.K.A. Stitch escapes from the Intergalactic Prison Transport. The stolen police cruiser lands near Hawaii, but Stitch bailed out early, landing on the beach of Santa Carla.

AN: No Lilo. The trial dialogue is almost verbatim from the Lilo and Stitch movie. I do not own The Lost Boys or Stitch.

Chapter One

The Galactic Alliance councilman of all universal species were gathered in the massive coliseum. The Grand Councilwoman heading the proceedings of one Dr. Jumba Jookiba. An intelligent alien teetering on the line of insanity and brilliance. He was being charged with unethical experimentation in genetics. Jumba was heavily restrained and surrounded by guards on a floating platform in the center of the coliseum.

The Grand Councilwoman calls for silence before addressing the accused, “Read the charges.”

Gantu, Captain of the Galactic Alliance read Jumba’s charges out loud, “Dr. Jumba Jookiba-- lead scientist of Galaxy Defense Industries-- you stand before this council accused of illegal genetic experimentation.”

The coliseum was filled with hushed conversations in regards to the charges. Some repeating rumors of horrid experiments gone wrong. Or of the many times the doctor has relocated his laboratories to not raise suspicion. When the Grand Councilwoman speaks, every being quiets, “How do you plead?”

Jumba stood tall, confident that his experimentations were safely locked away in his laboratory. He was not going to lose. Not this time. With a clear and concise voice, “Not guilty. My experiments are only theoretical--completely within the legal boundaries.”

The coliseum burst in volume as everyone spoke their own opinion. The doors behind Jumba open. A massive containment unit floating into the room. Stopping near the center. Grand Councilwoman states, “We believe you’ve actually created something.”

The containment unit could be seen by every being. It proceeded to open. Jumba laughs, “Created something?! Ha! But that would be irresponsible and unethical. I would never, ever--… make more than one!” Inside a glass case was a little blue creature with big ears twitching with every sound, two antennae on the top of his round shaped head. Big, black bottomless eyes taking in his surroundings. His puppy-like nose is overwhelmed with the scents of every being. Four arms, two of which have the ability to shrink into himself to become a quadaped, three digits and opposable thumbs on each fur covered paw. Several spikes that act as additional antennae on his back. He was wearing an orange and red zipper-front jump-suit.

Captain Gantu blurted out, “What is that monstrosity?” Jumba sputters at the insult, “Monstrosity! What you see before you is the first of a new species. I call it Experiment 626. He is bulletproof, fireproof and can think faster than a supercomputer. He can see in the dark and move objects three thousand times his size! His only instinct: To destroy everything he touches!” Jumba falls over in his restraints as he cackles.

The Grand Councilwoman is shocked at the sight of the creature, “So, it is a monster?” Jumba stops cackling like a lunatic, “Only a little one.” Gantu voices his opinion, “It is an affront to nature. It should be destroyed!” Grand Councilwoman lifts her hand to stop the chatter, “Calm yourself, Captain Gantu. Perhaps it can be reasoned with. (to Stitch) Experiment 626, give us some sign you understand any of this. Show us that there is something inside you that is good.”

Experiment 626 ceases his efforts to escape the glass containment to answer the council, “MEEGA NALA KWEESTA! (I WANT TO DESTROY!)”

The audience gasps. The Grand Councilwoman clutches her chest, “So naughty.” Experiment 626 laughs hysterically while Jumba claims he didn’t teach him that, still trying to convince the council of his innocence even with the evidence laughing in their faces. Gantu issues the order, “Place that idiot scientist under arrest.” Jumba could be heard yelling, “I prefer to be called EVIL GENIUS!” As he put in his own containment unit and quickly shuttled away.

The Grand Councilwoman issues her judgement on the creature, “And as for that abomination, it is fiord project of a deranged mind. It has no place among us. Captain Gantu, take him away.” Gantu cracks his knuckles, “With pleasure.”

On board the prison transport, Experiment 626 is restrained to the ceiling of a cell, upside down with only his head visible. Two massive, eight barrel laser cannons pointed in his direction. Gantu taunts the creature, “Uncomfortable? Aw… Good! The council has banished you to exile on a desert asteroid. So, relax… enjoy the trip and don’t get any ideas! These guns are locked onto your genetic signature. They won’t shoot anyone but you.” Gantu walks away from the creature as one of the cell guards takes a syringe with the creature’s blood and injects it into the cannons. “Secure the cell.”

Captain Gantu returned to the bridge, “All ahead full.” The prison transport and the following brigade started the flight to the deserted asteroid. Experiment 626 was twisting in his restraints, loosening them up so he could escape. The cannons followed his every move, and that’s when an idea struck him. He used his saliva to gauge the reaction of these cannons and found they followed the dribble. The noise from his experiment captured the attention of the only present guard. The creature spit a massive wad of saliva onto the guard, triggering the cannons. This provided the distraction he needed to break free and escape his cell.

A female copilot announced, “Gunfire! In the cell bay!”

The creature had gotten loose, ventured into the ventilation system and exited into a loading bay. Stealing a police cruiser, he blasted through the loading bay doors and flew into space. He passed by the bridge windows and one alien noted, “He uh… took the red one.”

Other police cruisers closed in on the creature’s craft. He had punched through the dash to disable the tracking system. He could hear the commands flowing through the coms device on the dashboard. It was then he knew he would have a better chance of escaping if he activated the hyper-drive. The damage from the punch to disable the tracking system, also damaged navigation. He activated the hyper-drive with no predetermined designation.

With no way to track the creature, the Galactic Alliance didn’t know where to begin to look for the creature. The Grand Councilwoman had issued an order to watch for any suspicious activity anywhere in the universe. “It is going to take a millennia to find that abomination. Gantu, I am putting you in charge of tracking down that creature.” Gantu hung his head in shame, “Yes, Grand Councilwoman.”

Meanwhile

626 comes out of hyper-drive near Earth. He flies towards the unknown planet. The pressure from entering the atmosphere has the craft groaning, the internal pressure building up. 626 releases the ejector seat, landing on a desolate beach at night, the craft crashes hundreds of miles away in the ocean. The advanced craft was not detected on Earth’s radars. 626 released the restraints of the seat, pulled off the suit and threw everything into the ocean. Getting rid of any evidence of his arrival for now.

He took a look around. Several hundred yards away were bright lights of some sort of amusement park. 626 cautiously moved towards it. He was about one-hundred yards away from this amusement park when he heard some loud, rambunctious laughter, then a small voice crying for help. On the other side of a sand dune was a bonfire and a group of grown, intoxicated men tossing around a small child. 626 being new to the planet needed someone to show him around. This small, innocent being may be able to help him adapt to this planet before he destroys it.

Rushing towards the group of men, 626 claws, bites and tears apart the men. Leaving the normally golden sand below his paws crimson red and sticky. The small being lifts his head from the ground, his face bloodied and swollen. He looks around and sees various body parts strewn around the area and a strange creature with four arms walking up to him. 626 approaches the boy, “Meega 626.” The creature gestures to himself, then to the boy, “Yuuga?” The boy takes a swallow breath, “Laddie. Thank you.” The boy promptly passed out. 626 sniffed the boy for his scent and possibly scents of others like him. He turned his nose to the sky trying to catch the scent of the others, finding it leads to the amusement park.

Picking up the boy with his top two arms, he runs towards the boardwalk, keeping in the shadows. The scent of the others has become very strong above his head. He tilted his head listening to the raised voices above him, “You were supposed to keep an eye on him Star! Laddie could be anywhere. So help me, if he is hurt, I will tear you apart.” 626 perks up when he recognizes Laddie’s name. He gently sets Laddie down and climbs the post to the top of the boardwalk. 626 sat on the top railing looking at the five humans staring at him.

The group of four men and one woman turn towards the noise of something crawling up the side of the boardwalk. It perched on the top railing. This strange creature just looks at them with it’s big black eyes. They can see it’s covered in blood. The man with long, dark hair is the closest to 626. He could smell Laddie’s blood on him as well as the blood of other men. The man moves to grasp the creature, but 626 jumps out of reach. “Where is he? Where is Laddie?!” The man yells, his eyes shifting to a yellow with red outer line before shifting back. 626 points to under the boardwalk with one of his paws.

The man brushes past 626 and jumps over the railing landing in the sand next to the boy, “Laddie!” The boy jolts awake hearing one of his brothers calling his name. “Dwayne, where’s 626?” Laddie asked in a quiet voice as Dwayne picked him up. The other three men followed Dwayne down. The man with a really poofy mane asked, “What’s 626?” “He saved me from Surf Na….” Laddie’s heavy lidded eyes close as he passes out again. His breathing is raspy and shallow. A classic sign of broken ribs. One of the men dressed in all black and short hair spoke, “Dwayne, take Laddie back to the cave. The rest of us will find where Laddie was attacked. Star?” The girl looks at her ex. He handed her some money. “Get something to eat.” His way of telling her to go away. Dwayne left on his bike with Laddie.

626 was watching from the shadows under the boardwalk. He looked back and forth between the boy leaving on a motorcycle and the rest of the group. One of them looked in the general direction of 626, “You can come out. We’re not going to hurt you.” This one had on an interesting, colorful, patch-covered jacket. The creature moved out from behind the pillar he was partially hiding behind. The men looked up at 626, he was on the under-side of the boardwalk looking down at them. 626 tilted his head, narrowed his eyes at the men. He didn’t want to trust them, but they don’t seem afraid of him and he doesn’t have a choice. 626 crawled down the post, approaching the men with caution.

Marko, Paul and David were able to get a better look at this strange creature. They couldn’t look away from this four armed, big eyed creature that looked like it belonged in a Sci-Fi movie. The four beings were distracted from their staring contest when a dog barked. 626 looked at the noisy creature running on the beach, then himself and decided to try and blend in better. These men watched as 626 pulled two of his arms, his antennae on the top of his head, and the spikes on his back into his body. Now, 626 looked more like a weird species of canine. Poofy mane enthusiastically exclaimed, “That was so cool. I’m Paul.” He pats the one with the brightly colored jacket covered in patches, “This is Marko, and the one in all black is David.”

David rolled his eyes at Paul. The stoner is way too cheerful sometimes. David lit a cigarette before speaking to 626, “Can you show us where you saved Laddie?” 626 nodded his head, “Ih.” They went back to their bikes. 626 got excited when he saw them. He climbed onto the gas tank of the closest one, which turned out to be Marko’s. The guys chuckled at him. Marko mounted his bike and told 626 to hold on. Kicking their bikes to life, they drove down the nearest stairs and onto the beach following the general direction 626 pointed. The closer they got to the slowly dying bonfire, the stronger the smell of blood got.

The guys parked their bikes and climbed up the sand dune. They looked back and forth between 626 and the mess he made. Paul and Marko suddenly bust out laughing. They laugh so hard there’s tears running down their faces. David chuckles, “Impressive. Come on boys, let’s help him clean up.” 626 was a little confused but he helped throw what’s left of the Surf Nazis into the bonfire. Once done, David crouches to 626’s level, “It would be best if you stayed with us. Most people wouldn’t react the way we did.” Knowing David was right, 626 went with them back to their cave that they call home.

Dwayne looked up as the rest of the guys and 626 entered the cave. He stood from where he was sitting on Laddie’s bed. The boy had been bandaged, given some blood from the ‘wine’ bottle they keep and was falling asleep. David asked, “How is he?” Dwayne ran one of his hands through his hair, “He has a concussion, broken ribs, busted lip, and his left arm was broken. Did you find the assholes that did it?” David looked over his shoulder at 626, who was crawling up the wall exploring the cave, “Yeah. Little guy tore them apart. Five Surf Nazis have been taken out.” Laddie’s small voice was heard, “Six. There were six.” A sound pretty similar to that of a cat hacking up a hairball was heard from 626. He had coughed up a wallet and a cheap watch. The guys didn’t even bat an eye. Marko picked up the wallet soaked in drool, “Welp, I think we know what happened to Greg.” The guys all shared a look, “He could be our very own Hellhound.”

Dwayne went up to 626 to really look at him. He tilted his head, “What are you?” 626 brought his other two arms, antennae and spikes out, “Meega Experiment 626.” He points towards the outside, “Me crash.” Those two, broken English sentences explained quite a bit. “Okay boys, got ourselves an actual alien,” David sat in his wheelchair. 626 felt a little worried, thinking these beings were going to alert the Galactic Alliance. Dwayne was still watching the small creature and saw the look on his face. “We won’t tell anyone you’re here. We are not exactly law-abiding citizens.” 626 was relieved for the moment. He still planned on destroying the planet. But he would need to commandeer or build a ship first. His thoughts were interrupted by Marko, “Why don’t you make yourself at home. We’re going to sleep soon. We sleep during daylight.”

Looking around the cave, 626 spots the boy, Laddie’s bed. The alien gets on the foot of the bed, burrows under the blanket and gets comfortable. He was asleep before the sun rose. Star returned and went to bed without saying a word to anyone. The guys glared at her back, waiting for the day she either turns fully or they get permission to kill her. She has one job, and that is to look after Laddie. Star keeps screwing that up. If it wasn’t for 626, Laddie would have died tonight. The sun was starting to rise, so the guys ventured to their subcave to sleep.

#the lost boys #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #paul #dwayne #marko #the lost boys 1987

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ssscentral · 4 years ago

Text

Starry Eyes | For Kas

Summary: A movie night is nothing compared to what Namjoon has actually planned for your birthday.

pairing: Namjoon x reader

rating: GA

genre: tooth-rotting fluff !! some crack too

warnings: kissing. kim namjoon’s existence, namjoon is very cheesy

wc: 2.8k

member: Rid & Melody || @taegularities & @hoebii

a/n: this was written for our beautiful, amazing, intelligent, gorgeous friend @voiceswithoutlips !!! happy, happy birthday - we love you so so much, baby, and not even this fic can express how much you mean to us. here’s to many more years of annoying each other !! <333 also, thank you so much @oftenderweapons for beta’ing this, precious !! :-*

The growling of the clouds woke you up.

A storm this early in the morning? That was surely unexpected and unusual. Not that you minded though — not only was it your favourite weather due to its aesthetics, but it calmed you in some odd way as well. However, while you were thoroughly enjoying the sound of the rain, something in the back of your mind reminded you that you were missing something important; something you’d even thought of before falling asleep.

And when you sat up, your eyes automatically shifted to the open window, a small curse escaping your lips as you pulled the blanket away and half sprinted to close it. Yes, rain was cool and all, but it had no business wetting your whole bedroom floor, and you had no wish of mopping the floor right after waking up.

You couldn’t help but cringe as you felt water on the floor while shutting the window, cursing at whoever had opened it last night in the first place. Thankfully, however, the amount of water that the wind had brought wasn’t much. It would dry in a moment, you thought, no need to clean it up. Nope.

With that, you slunk back towards the bed, ready to return to the land of dreams.

As you were getting cosy again, your phone started vibrating incessantly. Mentally cursing at whatever the reason was for your phone to be buzzing so much, you laid there contemplating if you should just grab the device and chuck it out the window into the ongoing storm. No, control yourself. You don’t have the money to do that.

Grabbing the phone, you didn’t even bother checking what was on it, rather just switching it off in sheer spite. Laying there for a moment after that, you tried going back to sleep but soon realised that you weren’t sleepy anymore.

Grumbling, you decided to wake up the sleeping man beside you. Why? Because if you had to be up so early, then he had to as well.

His eyebrows furrowed as you shook his body, his hand coming up to rub his eyes until he let out an annoyed “What?”

But when he saw your mischievous grin and face so close to his, a smile appeared on his lips, the perfect dimples so deep you wanted to hide in them. The grin of a clown had nothing on the pretty man next to you.

“What?” you asked him with a tilt of your head, eyebrows raising as he pulled you down.

“What do you mean ‘what?’”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

The brightness in his expression disappeared slowly as confusion took over, blinking a few times in disbelief until he inquired, “Don’t you remember?”

Remember what?

The cogs in your brain started to rotate again as you thought about his question — and although you soon realised what he was hinting at, you acted oblivious, the need to annoy him too strong to ignore.

“Ah, is it Wednesday already? My assignment is due today,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

Shaking his head, Namjoon gave you a questioning look. “Babe, I’ve been looking forward to this since this year started and managed to remember it, but you didn’t?”

It was your turn to give him a confused look, brows furrowing. “Why would you be looking forward to the due date of my assignment,” you asked, “actually, how did you look forward to it? We were given the work last week.”

Before he could reply, you gasped - trying desperately to not burst out in laughter at his face. “Oh my god. Are you psychic?” you fake whispered, acting as if you were asking for the recipe to eternal life.

Namjoon contemplated his life choices as he looked at you baffled, eyes nearly hollow as he shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Are you sure, because-”

“Babe, just…” he placed a hand on his face, fingers massaging his temples for a second, “Happy Birthday.”

You looked at him with a playful, devilish grin, brushing your chin with your fingers before you exclaimed, “Oh! It’s my birthday!... What’s a birthday again?”

Namjoon tried to suppress the smile that threatened to surface, tongue running along the inside of his cheek before he pulled you into his chest tightly. “Okay, now you’re just fucking with me.”

“What? Me? No,” you said, laughing into his shirt as he squeezed you lovingly, “Why fuck with you when I can fuck you?”

You felt the arms around you loosen before he threw you next to him, the sight too endearing to hold your laughter in. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too, baby. But if you keep pouting, I will bring mint-choco.”

“You hate that, too?” He looked offended but curious as well, one eyebrow cocked at you as he waited for your answer.

You barely shrugged, strands of hair wrapping around your finger. “I wouldn’t be eating it, you would.”

“Why do you hate me?”

You lifted your body, giving him a kiss with a clearly audible muah-sound as you said, “I don’t, baby.”

“My doubt increases the more you threaten me.”

You clicked your tongue, booping his nose. “Then stop giving me reasons to threaten you, sweetheart.”

And when he calmed down, you yawned, listening to the storm as it slowly died down until you finally asked, “So, cooking risotto, baking cake and watching lame movies - that’s the plan for today, right?”

“If we finish all of it, yes,” Namjoon agreed, smiling sweetly - a gesture you found harmless enough to suspect anything behind it.

Jumping from the bed, you tilted your head, stretching out your hand as if you were talking to a child, “Up, up, then.”

Without further annoyance and teasing, the day had passed exactly as you’d expected: with endless giggles, flour on your face (and ass), bad jokes and a near death experience with Namjoon somehow tripping over nothing and barely avoiding a concussion. Finally, he’d managed to serve something somewhat edible while you’d handled the beautiful cake, it was already late, dusk passed and stars twinkled in the clear night sky.

The storm had long vanished and made way to a crystal clear sight - perfect for you to cuddle up and laugh about flopped movies all night long. Stuffing more of the icing and toppings of the cake into your mouth, you barely noticed when he shifted, assuming that he was only going to the bathroom when he pulled you up with him.

Surprised by his sudden move, you looked into his dark, shiny eyes, a questioning look making him speak up, “Do you trust me?”

Scary. One would think a sentence like this meant doom, but the way he looked at you, the fondness and affection so apparent in his gaze, made you simply nod.

“What if I told you there’s something I want to show you that’s a lot better than these movies?”

Then, you broke, eyes rolling as you asked, “Better than badly dubbed Jurassic Park? You have to convince me, Mister Kim.”

He laughed as he brought his nose to yours, rubbing against it for a second before he pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. When he backed away, he mumbled a “Stay right here” before disappearing into your room. You remained standing at your spot, craning your neck.

“Huh?” was the only sound that left you when he came back with two thin jackets, handing you yours before he took your hand, grabbing the keys and gently urging you out of the apartment.

“Where are we going?” you asked, clutching his hand as he led you to god knew where.

“To the magical lands of Narnia,” he replied, snorting at his own words. He saw an opportunity to tease you and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

Not one to back down, however, you replied, “Wouldn’t that be through our closet then, Mr. Smartass?”

Rolling his eyes, Namjoon chose to ignore your words, pushing open the door to the roof - making you raise an eyebrow.

“Did you bring me here to push me off for all the comments I’ve made today?” you asked, “‘Cause not only is that illegal, it’s also my birthday so that would be quite rude of you.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he answered. “If I wanted you dead, I’d much rather poison you.”

Putting a hand on your chest, you gasped. “How scandalous! Though the food you let me taste did make me suspicious,” you said as if deep in thought.

Namjoon gave you a flat look, not impressed with your jab at his cooking skills. “Do you not want your gifts? Is that it?”

You perked up at the mention of gifts — plural —, looking at him innocently, “Nooo, I do. Gimme, gimme!”

Approaching the edge of the roof further, you noticed a small table, surprisingly dry and decorated with two little flowers and two weird looking glasses. You looked at him in question, pointing at the objects silently until you’d gathered enough words on your tongue to ask, “When did you do this?”

“I mean, this table is always here, but the rest… uh - remember when I told you that I had to take out the trash but took too long to come back?” When you nodded, he moved his head with you as if to indicate Yes, back then.

“And the glasses?” you inquired as you picked one up, faintly recognising them as those one uses to wear at nights when-

“Wait. Wait. I think I remember reading something about an eclipse somewhere.” You watched his expression change, the nervosity fleeing until he gave you a knowing look. “Oh, wait, really now?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” He grinned at you, his pretty dyed silver hair floating in the wind as he gestured for you to take a seat. “We’ve looked at the stars before.”

You did as he asked, scanning the table for all its content before landing on a card. Picking it up, you couldn’t help but coo at how cute it was. The card had a cake on it’s center with what seemed to be balloons beside it, Namjoon’s beautiful handwritten ‘Happy Birthday’ on top as a banner.

“Aww Joonie, you weren’t joking when you said you’d let your niece draw for my next birthday!” you gushed, failing to notice how he gave you an offended look.

He cleared his throat to get your attention away from the card, “Actually, I made that myself.”

Your eyes widened at that, lips pressing together so hard that it hurt as you tried not to burst out in laughter. You coughed, trying to mask the chuckles that still left your lips, “Oh babe. That’s um.. I love the card! The attention to all the details on the little cake is so cute!”

He would’ve remarked something snarky, you knew it. But instead, he pointed to the glasses, both of you placing them on your noses before you looked up just in time. Any laughter and giggle left you when you lost yourself in the view above you, mesmerised by the simple natural phenomenon that had you awestruck.

Floating in the eternal void called space, the Earth finally aligned with the sun and moon perfectly, shifting in between and colouring the latter a faint red. It was almost as if your planet’s natural satellite had become angered at the interruption of the sun’s illumination, separated from its lover and showing it in the furious hues of red and orange.

You laughed a little at the thought, sighing right after as your hand moved to find the one of your own lover, clutching it until he moved closer. His fingers left yours soon though, his arm instead wrapping around your shoulder as he pulled you in, your head resting on his chest comfortably as you watched the beauty in the sky silently. With how the colours of the moon changed slowly, the stars were momentarily forgotten, the soft breeze of the spring day grazing your cheeks pleasantly.

And as soon as everything had started, it had ended as well, the Earth finally reconciling the couple in your solar system and you stretched your legs, looking at him in awe. He was folding the glasses in his hands, teeth nibbling at his lower lip nervously without looking at you.

“Joonie,” you called before his stare met yours, eyes so big and confused at his own name that you knew something was off.

But he softened soon, gaze shifting from yours to your nose and settling on your lips. Without a warning, his hand cupped your face softly, mouths colliding and moving tenderly. When he backed away, you smiled, asking, “You’re distracting yourself from the pretty view because of kisses.”

“You’re the prettiest view though.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you sang-song, wiping the hair away from his eyes.

He pressed you closer, still looking at your lips longingly, his expression nearly melancholic as he whispered, “The eclipse is over.”

“Still.”

“You’re here in my arms. The stars, sun and moon? They aren’t.” Despite loving you more than he’d ever considered possible, his lips on yours were the only thing that could distract him from his nervousness, his pounding heart and his shaking limbs.

Your smile melted his insides entirely, your features so soft and inviting that he couldn’t help but let out an overwhelmed sigh, fingers only pressing into you harder as you said, “I’d totally forgotten about the eclipse today.”

“Well, I’d been planning this for quite some while. Wanted to show you something that’s almost as fascinating as you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is.” The chairs were uncomfortable, but with him, things always felt peaceful and calming, no space to complain ever.

“Okay then,” you started, kissing his cheek just once, “then show the birthday girl how fascinating she is for you.”

“Are you sure I should?”

And here was the nervous nibbling and distressed gaze again, by now worrying you a little as he took a deep breath. “Are you okay?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Did I say something wrong?”

Namjoon was quick to shake his head, waving his hand to dismiss your worries, “You could never, baby.”

“Then what’s up, why do you look so nervous?”

He fidgeted on his spot for a second, trying to come up with the right words to say. “Well, you see, Y/N,” he started, slowly going down on one knee as he pulled out a velvet box from his pocket.

Your breath hitched as you looked at him in shock. Was he going to do what you thought he was?

“You know, I was always a happy, optimistic person and didn’t think life could get better, more wholesome with everything I already had,” he started, taking the glistening in your eyes as a good signal as he continued, “But that was until I met you.”

You could feel the warm tears run down your cheeks and onto the ground, your nails digging into your palms, twitching to reach out for him and hug him as close to you as possible.

“The way you just got me, how you understood me and how we can spend all the nights under this damn sky, look at all the stars and eclipses and shooting stars, and their beauty will still never compare to you. We talk about nothing and everything without any judgement, bicker about the stupidest things but also delve into such deep talks the next second, that’s the happiness you make me feel.”

There was a clear pause, still something his heart carried, a few words he wanted to say that were the sole reason you didn’t drop to your knees and pressed your lips against his.

“And frankly, I want to keep feeling like this forever,” he said, his voice shaking at the end as the nerves took over yet again. Opening the box in his hand, he presented a beautiful ring that glinted under the moonlight as he finally asked, “So, what do you say, Y/N? Want to make me the happiest man alive and spend the rest of our lives together?”

And finally, your knees gave out, cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss, whispering ‘yes’ over and over again.

Pulling back from you, he looked into your eyes, his own looking as if they were shining. “Are you sure?” he asked, his wide anticipation filled eyes reminding you of a puppy.

“Of course I am! Of course, Joon, I love you so much,” you replied, pulling him back into another kiss, smiling as you felt him put the ring on your finger.

You broke the kiss, looking down to inspect the ring that sat on your finger. “It’s beautiful.”

Namjoon smiled, pulling you into his embrace and placing a kiss on top of your head. “Not as beautiful as you.”

if you liked the story, don’t forget to like/reblog or send us an ask !! <3

#sssc #ssscentral #namjoon fic #namjoon fluff #bts fluff #bts fic #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #kim namjoon fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner

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sincerly-kate · 4 years ago

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Shattered Glass (Malcolm Bright/Whitly x gn!reader)

A/n: This story is inspired by two things; a two-part series by @wreckofawriter and also my experience with family . If you want me to remove it (wreckofawriter) then I will, but I don’t mean to copy your amazing work.

Warnings: Angst to fluff, Malcolm trying his best (not really a warning but that needed to be put out there, HE ONLY TRIES HIS BEST), also talk about poor mental health! (Such as Anxiety, description of an anxiety attack (this is based off MY experiences I’m not trying to generalize them!) and slight depression)

Don’t read if you’re not done season one! All spoilers are under the cut just in case (Eve is mentioned, iykyk)

Summary: You and Malcolm have been dating for a few years now, you share with him all of your sides- or so he thought. How will he react when he sees you crying when you think he can’t see you? How will he feel when he realizes that you guys are more alike than he originally expected?

Y/s/n = Your Siblings Name

Y/m/n = Your Mothers Name

y/n = your name (just in case this is your first fic)

Words: Just over 3,000 (😅😅)

I was listening to this song as I was writing this: If the World Was Ending- JP Saxe, Julia MIchaels

You always knew that Malcolm could see the real you better than anyone else, he could see straight through your facial expressions and little habits. It was his job after all as a profiler, he couldn’t just turn it off when he was with you and that was understood between the two of you. The last thing you wanted was for him to change in a world that treated him differently already (no thanks to his father).

But there was one part of you that you tried to keep from Malcolm at all costs, and that was your family.

It wasn’t because you didn’t trust him with that knowledge, but it was just a side of you that you’ve never been able to let anyone see. To see how hurt you were by their words, how little you were respected by them, how small you felt anytime you tried to be yourself around them. You couldn’t tell him any of it, you hoped that he would believe your lies, cause you knew that his family was way worse than yours; so you just kept it all inside for no one except yourself to see. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel guilty for confiding in you after all these years.

You felt him nudge your shoulder, which brought you back to reality. You were a Reporter, and a very god one depending on who you asked, and Malcolm needed you to help him drag out a killer for a case. He was profiled as overly confident and a borderline narcissist, so Malcolm was certain that if you talked about him on the news, saying that they had him in custody that he would contact either you or the station to say you had a fraud. Malcolm was going to be by your side the entire time, just to make sure they wouldn’t go after the most important person in his life-,not again; he wouldn’t know what he would do if you were taken away from him like Eve. He would do anything in his power to make sure that he wouldn’t go after you, since you matched most of his previous victims.

“You alright?” He looked at you slightly worried, he was always concerned when you got too deep into that head of yours, he wasn’t sure what caused you to be constantly thinking that you’re not good enough, but he wasn’t going to press the matter. He rubbed your thigh as he sat next to you, to keep you grounded.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I’m about to be indirectly talking to a serial killer on live television, and possibly get a target on my back for doing so.” You nervously laughed as you looked down at your feet, your leg bouncing up and down to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart.

“You don’t need to do this; you know that right?” He placed his hand on your cheek, caressing the side of your face with his thumb repeating the motion to calm your nerves. “I can ask Ainsley; she’s done this before-”

“Malcolm, I’ll be alright. I always am.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile; you knew it wasn’t very convincing but that’s all you could muster up at the moment.

He wasn’t convinced, you could tell since he gave you his doubtful that he’s given you on more than one occasion but he was cut off by another voice before he could call you out on it.

“C’mon Bright, they’re about to go live.” Gill said as he lightly grabbed his arm to get him out of the shot, and he complied.

“Live in 3,2,1...” You were given the cue as you took a deep breath and put your ‘TV face’ on as you liked to call it. “Breaking news tonight, the NYPD have confirmed that they have someone in custody who’s been known to the public as The angel of death, nothing has been said by police if this truly is their killer but after the past week of The angel of death terrorizing the city, police are led to believe that this is him.”

You took a pause to make it look like you were listening to someone through your earpiece, that was intentionally visible to the camera, then carried on with the broadcast.

“I’ve just gotten a confirmation from our sources that it has been officially confirmed that they have The angel of death himself in custody and will be setting a court date to be announced later. Now back to Ryan with politics.”

The second you heard the ring that signaled you were no longer on air, you slumped over in relaxation. You crossed your arms on the table in front of you and leaned your head, that now felt lighter than air, on top.

“You did amazing darling, that should get the killers attention for certain.” He said to you as the sound of his shoes got closer to the desk the kissed the top of your head and slowly rubbed your back to release more tension that he knew you were holding.

“I didn’t really- “You tried to correct him as you lifted your head, but Malcolm refused to let you get close to finishing that sentence of yours.

“Nope- you just brought us our killer baby; you did a hell of a lot more than most would’ve in your shoes.” You loved how he was always able to reassure you, and how he did it without a second beat.

You turned to look up at your loving and supportive boyfriend in admiration and a warm smile slowly painting your features, “Whatever I did in a past life was so worth it.”

“What?” He slightly laughed at your statement, looking at you now with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

“To deserve someone like you and be lucky to call them mine.” You stood up from your chair and moved closer to him to close the distance between his lips and yours, you could taste the slight cherry flavor of the candy you knew he had earlier. As you two break apart, you can still taste it on your own lips.

Unfortunately, this moment doesn’t last as long as you two wanted it to, because both of your phones go off. His from an unknown caller, and yet yours is somehow worse.

You look down to your phone saying Mom, you sighed at this and then looked at Malcolm, or where he was, already on his phone, most likely talking to the killer himself next to Dani, Giles and JT.

You excused yourself to another room for some privacy that you knew you were going to need. You were only halfway to the quiet room when you answered your phone; you knew that was going to be a bad idea.

“Why in the hell did you think that was a good idea y/n?!”

You sighed and with a tight-lipped smile replied with, “Hello to you too mom, haven’t heard from you in a while.” You then slowly closed the door behind you.

“Don’t give me that lip! I am your mother, I deserved to be treated with respect! I never get this from y/s/n.”

You dropped your head down in defeat, you always considered the problem child, ever since your sibling came into the picture. Before that everything was relatively fine, but you never blamed y/s/n though; it’s not their fault your parents decided that you could fend for yourself at the age of 8.

“Yeah I know, but it was for a case- “Once again, she decided to cut you off.

“A CASE?” she shrieked into the phone, making you pull the device away from your ear.

“Yes- “

“Now I knew were selfish, but I never thought it was this bad. I could tell that it was staged, are you seriously putting yourself in danger so they could contact you for some ink?”

You were absolutely shocked by her words; she thought that you risking your life was selfish? So, you could save others, that made you selfish? You felt the pressure of tears build up as a sickening pit was building in your stomach; she always knew the words to say and never in the good way. “No, that’s not- “

“No, I get it, you’re too damn stupid to see past your own needs. I have no clue where I went wrong with you.”

The minute you heard that, you hung up the phone. You couldn’t care less about what she would’ve said after that.

You hit your back on the wall as you slowly walked backwards and slid down to the floor. You pulled your knees up to your chest and placed your head down.

You must’ve been sitting there for a while as there was a rough knocking behind your back, on the door. ‘They must’ve been knocking for a while’ you thought.

“Y/n! Are you in there?” Malcolm. You must’ve scared him to death, without even thinking you stand up and open the door for him.

Behind the door was Gil, JT and Dani accompanying Malcolm. “Shit guys, sorry if I scared you.” You laughed humorlessly but stopped once you saw all their concerned faces.

“Y/n, you alright?” Gil asked, who was more of a parental figure than your own, but you couldn’t ever tell him that. Not because you were scared it would go to his head, no, he wasn’t like that. You just didn’t want it to become awkward since he already needed to worry about Malcolm, you didn’t need him to constantly worry about you on top of it.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You said then realized you still had massive tear stains on your cheeks and puffy eyes from your previous phone call, you forgot to wipe them away before you opened the door.

‘Dammit y/n’ you scolded yourself for making the four of them all worry.

“Um you got somethin’ right,” JT then motioned to his whole face, Dani then elbowed him in the side for his unhelpful comment.

“Oh!” You wiped the sides of your face, “I’m fine guys, just got something in my eye.” You smiled at all of them.

Your head then turned to Malcolm, who squinted his eyes at you. You could tell didn’t believe you at all; he knew all your tells. You could tell that he was going to ask later, but you were sure as hell going to avoid it if you could.

Unable to deal with the silence anymore, you pushed by all of them, apologizing as you went, and walked out to your car. You were done for the day anyways, so you wanted to go home to Malcolm and yours’ apartment.

Once you got through the door, you let the dam in your mind open. The flood gate of tears rushed, and there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it; not that you really wanted to anyways. Your hands shook from the rush of emotions going through you, but you forced down the inevitable panic attack until you got to the couch. Your hands continued to uncontrollably shake, and you curled up in a fetal position with your favorite blanket wrapped around you like a tight hug. The words of your mother echoed throughout your fogged mind.

“I knew were selfish… you’re too damn stupid to see past your own needs…”

It just wouldn’t stop. It was like a massive wave going over a surfer; nothing could be done about it, you just needed to ride it out.

You heard a muffled noise coming from behind you but being so caught up and immobilized in your thoughts, nothing could’ve dragged you out of this one, not this time.

A pair of arms grabbed your shoulders, and there was enough fight left in you to push them away and run into the corner of the apartment. You could slightly see a male figure coming near you, and all you were capable of doing was whimpering and curling up in what you had deemed your safety blanket.

“Y/n… talk to me… happened at… were worried…”

You tried to make out the familiar voice- Malcolm; that’s the only person it could be right? It didn’t matter to you right now; the voice of your mother was stronger than your own thoughts, it always had been.

You felt a thud right next to you, and smelt the subtle sent of his cologne, it brought you back to your senses slightly, but not enough to stop your uncontrollable shaking and tears. He nudged himself closer to your body, and you instinctively laid your head on his shoulder. You could feel yourself calm down, but you knew it was because he was here. Yes, he was helping you ground yourself through the small gesture, but it was mainly that you were embarrassed of him seeing you like this and could feel your body force away the attack.

As you begun to trust yourself to speak, you turned slightly towards Malcolm, a numb look coated your features. “Sorry you had to see that; you shouldn’t have had to.” You spoke meekly, looking down at your still slightly shaky hands in your lap.

“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

It was once he said that sentence that you knew you needed to come clean about the one secret that you had left from him.

“But I do, I’ve been selfish.”

“How darling?” He said while slowly petting your head, the way you’d comfort a child.

“I didn’t want to tell you, cause you already had so much on your plate, with this case, your family, and I- I just didn’t want to add my family on top of it.” He understood that this must’ve been eating at you for a while, because you normally bottled all your feelings until it broke; unfortunately, that’s why you both got along so well. He never wanted you to feel like that was necessary when you were with him, but how do you bring that kind of thing up?

“What about your family?” he spoke softly. You never spoke about them, hell he’s never even met them but now he felt deep down that he was about to find out why.

“Am I selfish to you? Am I someone you really see yourself with in the long run?” Tears begun to fill your eyes again, and a crack in your voice was evident to Malcolm that you believed in what you were saying about yourself.

He felt a pang of sadness for you in his chest, that was quickly turning to anger at whoever made you feel like you were any less than worth the universe. He composed himself before he responded to your question.

“Far from it, you are the most selfless human being I’ve ever met. There’s now way that a selfish person would’ve done what you did today; going in front of thousands of people and calling out a killer like that, like a badass.” He nudged your shoulder, where he got a slight giggle out of you. It wasn’t a lot, but it was better than nothing.

“And absolutely can I see you with me later on,” He took a deep breath before he continued his statement. “I love you y/n, and if I ever lost you… I don’t even want to think of who I would become. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”

You immediately rushed into his arms and embraced him so tightly, afraid that this was all some massive cruel dream, and you’d wake up another day without him knowing. You stayed like this for a moment before Malcolm piped up,

“So, you wanna tell me why the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth is currently crying on our apartment floor at nearly 9 pm?”

You both chuckled at this, as you unwrapped yourself from his arms to look him in his beautiful blue eyes. His eyes were still filled with an underlying anger, but mainly held concern towards you.

“You know when we were at the news station today? And you got a call from the killer?” He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“Well I also got a call, but it was from my mother. We got into an argument, since she saw the broadcast, and words were said.” You knew that the fine details were going to be said eventually, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“And, what did she say baby?” He answered in a voice that was barely even a whisper, he looked you up and down; most likely looking at your body language to see if you were going to try and lie, but he could tell that you were going to be honest.

“That I was selfish, dumb, questioning where she went wrong with me.” You sniffled and looked to your hands, terrified to see Malcolm’s reaction. Not because he might yell at you, but at what he might do to your mother now that this was his first impression of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Was all he said after some silence.

“You have your own family shit to deal with, I didn’t feel like it was fair on you to dump mine on top of it. I didn’t want you to lose anymore sleep than you already do over something that I need to deal with.”

“…”

“Malcolm? You’re scaring me.” You looked up at him to see him looking out the window, his face glowing from all the nightlife neon lights across the street; he looked so angelic, more than he normally did.

“How didn’t I see this any sooner? I don’t care that you didn’t tell me y/n, I don’t care that your family is screwed up as well. I do care about the fact that I couldn’t help you through it.”

“But Malcolm it wasn’t your fight-” you tried to defend your reasoning, but alas he needed to correct you once more before the night was through.

“You’re right; it’s our fight. To hell with our parents, we’re not our parents; we are our own people. So, from this moment on, I promise to be completely transparent with my baggage as long as you are with me. We can break our constantly bottled-up feelings together.” He gently picked up your hand and laid a kiss on top.

“turn them into shattered glass.” You nodded as you spoke, a smile slowly coming back to your face.

“Just like shattered glass.” He nodded back, returning your smile.

And just like that, the two of you sat down on the couch, cuddling and watching movies as dusk carried on into dawn.

A/n: I hope you guys liked this, I always loved Malcolm’s character and Prodigal son, and with my life being slightly hectic at the moment this was a nice change of pace. Hope you have an amazing day or night, depending on where you are! 💙

-Kate

#prodigal son #prodigal son x reader #malcolm whitly #malcolm bright x reader #malcolm bright #malcolm whitly x reader #prodigal son fandom #prodigal son fanfic #dani powell #gil arroyo #angst to fluff #kate writes #prodigal son spoilers s1

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rpd-rookie · 4 years ago

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Pollen - Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A new type of mutamycete has been discovered in a remote region of South America. As a scientist working for Blue Umbrella, you are sent along with BSAA Captain Chris Redfield and his team to conduct research on it. Unfortunately, everything goes to hell when the infection goes out of control and start contaminating the unit ...

Author’s Notes: This is a request sent by the Queen of Headcanons (@missmamacitaoliveira). It is basically porn with a plot and I chose to characterise it as "mild dub!con" because the sexual interaction depicted in this one shot is definitely the result of an arousal both characters (Chris and Reader) experience because of the mutamycete that contaminated them. Consent is given but the sexual act in itself is still a mix of fear and lustfulness at least at the beginning of it. Read at your own risk.

Warning: Sex Pollen / Smut / Mildly Dubious Consent / Rough Sex / Masturbation / Language

Golden spore-like particles were beautifully floating and dancing in the air outside the sterile plastic tent, shining like millions of innocent little fireflies but killing like a deadly swarm of wasps. They were covering the surrounding forest in yellow, from the trunks of the trees up to their tops, rotting the bark and the leaves, turning them into a thick yellowish mold capable of liquefying even the most solid of steels. A one-of-a-kind fascinating spectacle you had never thought to witness one day. Incredible – yet scary - what this new type of fungus was capable of doing.

Your earpiece crackled loudly in your ear, making you grimace and you dropped your leather notebook on your desk. “We’ve …sot … bit of sit…tion.” was all you could make out, the words sounding like gibberish because of the permanent interferences caused by the large cloud of mutamycete that had spread and contaminated the ambient air and the flora in the forest area by the riverside. “What kind of situation?” You asked, already removing a white Hazmat suit from a hanger. A never-ending sizzling was buzzing in your ear now, making it impossible to ear whoever was trying to communicate with you. “Hello?” You said as you adjusted the device to restore the communication. But all of a sudden, some static electricity – probably generated by the interferences - fried your earpiece in your ear, making you squeal in pain and fear and troubling your vision for a second. “Shit.” You cursed as your threw the broken earpiece to the ground, a low buzzing echoing in your head. “Why does it always happen to me?” You quickly slipped on the rubber suit, put on some chemical overshoe boots and grabbed Umbrella’s latest air-filter helmet before heading towards the exit. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to wander outside for too long as an officer rushed towards you, pointing at the military green tent that happened to belong to the medical unit that accompanied you on this mission. “Hurry, please.” He said with an alarmed voice that sent shivers down your spine. Something was definitely wrong.

You ungraciously followed him to the tent, your uncomfortable get-up making it hard for you to run properly. After all, it was made to work in a lab, not play commando in a remote tropical region of South America. Once in there, you immediately noticed two soldiers convulsing hard on their medical beds, struggling to breathe in spite of the oxygen the mechanical ventilators were providing them. Their faces were bright red, covered with pustules and blisters; their skin peeling off as if some acid had splashed on them. “What happened?” You dared ask, your widened eyes staring in shock at the poor men whose painful screams where muffled by the masks covering their melting faces. “Unsuitable gear. Thank your corporate overlords for that.” You glanced at the man who had answered, recognizing the angry powerful husky voice in spite of the deformation caused by the gas helmet he was wearing. “Captain Redfield, I’m sure…” He waved you to shut up and you obeyed, knowing that now was not the time to start an argument with him. It would not end up well, Redfield being too impulsive and stubborn to have a calm conversation with you even in more peaceful circumstances. His reluctance to work with Umbrella Co., you supposed. “How can I help?” “You’ve been studying this new mold, haven’t you?” Chris asked as he rushed to immobilise one of his men to allow a medic to sedate him with a syringe of morphine. “Might care to explain what’s happening?” “I’ve only studied the infection on the nearby vegetation. I don’t know what’s happening to them.” You mumbled, trying to keep your composure and ignore your growing concern and panic caused by the gut-churning vision before you. “Just tell what you know!” Chris growled as he pinned his struggling teammate down on the white mattress with an incredible strength you found scarily impressive. “It’s basically the same mutamycete that we collected at the Baker’s except that it was somehow genetically modified to have a reproductive morphology similar to plants and flowers. That’s why it looks so much like pollen.” “Make it understandable for a 5 years old, Y/LN, please.” Chris demanded with an annoyed sigh and you nodded though you didn’t really know how explain days and days of complex scientific research in a few simple sentences. “Alright. The previous mutamycete permitted to turn dead people into Molded, sort of. This new version does the same but it can also reproduce … breed if you prefer. A simple contact with a compatible host can lead to fecundation that can ultimately lead to lots of Molded babies. But I don’t need to develop that part, do I? Everyone in this tent knows how to make babies, I believe.” You scoffed, finding a certain comfort and some safety in sarcasm. But now was not the time for humour and you understood it perfectly when Captain Redfield glared at you. “Sorry. I tend to make bad jokes when I freak out.” And you were definitely freaking out right now. “But to sum up, this new mutamycete basically mimics the primary instinct of a G- virus infectee.” “Meaning?” Chris asked, his voice sounding an octave lower certainly because of the knot in his throat the simple mention of the G-virus had created. “It basically has a vital need to procreate, relentlessly searching for the right host to fecundate.” “So you’re saying that my men are what … pregnant with Molded?” He frowned and you could hear all his worries in his voice. He genuinely cared about his men. Very admirable and honourable. “I don’t know, Captain. I’m just telling you how it works on plants. Might be different for humans… I hope. Do you have an ultrasound scanner?” “ No, but we have one at the lab.” The doctor said. “ Then we need to evacuate quickly. And I …” You took some surgical pliers from a medical trolley and a test tube from your pocket. “…am going to need a sample to study all this.”

You approached one of the soldiers who was now basically dozing because of the morphine and slowly removed one of his gloves to cut one of his nails in order to later study his DNA. But as soon as your fingers touched him, he woke up with a start and jumped you, growling like a beast and grabbing you by the waist with a superhuman strength, almost digging his nails in your flesh through your clothes. You first instinct was to scream. Not the most efficient thing to do, you agreed. But, fortunately for you, you were accompanied by men who had better first instincts and reflexes than you. Chris pushed his man away from you and pounced on him, grabbing him almost brutally by the wrists to slam him down against the bed. You put a hand over your pounding heart and stared, terrified and powerless, at the enraged man squirming to get up. His eyes were dark and hungry and fixed upon you as if he was unable to focus his attention on anything else. “What the fuck, Carter?” Chris roared as he used all his weight to keep his soldier in place. But Carter didn’t care. Carter didn’t even look human anymore. And watching those two men struggling on this bed was like watching two lions fighting on National Geographic. Except that it was terrifying. Fucking terrifying.

Twenty-four hours later, Carter and his teammate were dead and their bodies still burning up like hot ember had been placed in the morgue section of the lab for you and your colleagues to study. But, in spite of the disgusting bloody experiments you led on them, you couldn’t take your mind out of the near-death experience you had been through at the camp. It haunted you, making it almost impossible for you to focus exclusively on your work. Those eyes. That darkness in them. That hunger that looked more and more sexual and lustful the more you thought about it. It was making you shiver in fear and discomfort. You had never seen anything like it before. You shook your head to make the images go away and concentrated again on your researches. You had been studying fours little rats in a glass cage for hours, trying to see how their systems reacted to the new mutamycete. But for now, six hours after injection, only an unusual high body temperature could be noticed.

The automatic sliding door of your lab opened with a hiss, making you slightly jump. You briefly checked the clock on the wall. 10:38pm. You didn’t expect any visit that late especially not a visit from Chris Redfield. “Captain Redfield. What are you doing … here?” You furrowed, staring at him with concern. He didn’t look so well. “Something’s happening to me.” His voice was cavernous and raspy and he sounded almost out of breath as if he was chocking under his black turtle neck. You immediately got up, resisting the instinctive urge to come closer to check up on him and took a few steps back. “Alright. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and I’ll see what …” You weren’t able to finish your sentence as Chris crumbled to the floor beneath him, growling as if he was trying to resist something, his nails dug in the grooves of the white tiles. “Oh my god, Chris.” “I feel like I’m burning up.” He struggled to say. And this time you rushed towards him. You couldn’t leave him like that. You had to do something.

Knelt onto the floor, you grabbed his broad shoulders to help him lean his back against a lab bench. His face was scarlet red and pearls of sweat were dripping along his forehead. You wiped them away with your sleeve. They felt weirdly sticky and had a strange sour smell. But what worried you the most was the heat radiating from Chris’s body. You could feel it brushing your face. It looked like the man had been microwaved. “Don’t move. I’ll call for help.” You tried to get up but Chris’ hand caught your arm in a firm strong grip that made you wince. “You don’t… understand.” He managed to say, panting, his extremely dilated brown eyes staring at your (colour) confused ones.

Without forewarning, he placed your hand over his crotch, a gesture you found disgusting, salacious and incredibly inappropriate and that instinctively made you squeal and try to get away from Chris’ grasp. He was incredibly hard. “What the fuck?” You gasped, horrified as you tried to quickly get up. But you lost your balance and clumsily fell on your rear. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He confessed, suffocating. “I’ve been like this for the past hour or so.” “The past hour?” You repeated, not knowing how to react or what to do. “Please tell me you can do something.” Chris begged, truly shamed and panicked and perfectly aware of the how indecent and degrading his behaviour must feel to you. You stood up to focus on your breathing and regain your calm. “Okay. Everything’s going to be fine. Breathe.” You needed to have your mind clear if you wanted to help Chris. You needed your scientist mind back. “Are you … aroused?” You said, genuinely uncomfortable to ask something so intimate. “Fuck, Y/LN!” Chris growled, glancing down at his pants. “ Isn’t it obvious? I’m freaking hard!” “Clearly.” You cleared your throat. “Don’t move.” You rushed towards your cupboard to rummage in it. “I’m going to give you GnRH antagonists. They can suppress hormones like testosterone. It should ease your pain for a while, or at least long enough to be able to find something that might help you. It’s possibly an effect linked to a long exposure to the mutamycete. Got you.” You took the vial with your trembling hands and turned around to go back to Chris. But what you didn’t realised was that Chris was just right behind you.

You bumped into his large chest and accidentally dropped the vial onto the floor. It broke into a thousand pieces as it landed on the tiles and you cursed, internally blaming yourself for your stupid clumsiness and your panic. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I needed.” You grimaced, scared to tell him the truth as you could tell he was getting angry again. Then again, who wouldn’t? “There might be another way.” You tried to reassure him but you knew it was vain. “Another way?” He harrumphed with a growl of pain as he leaned against your desk to breathe deeply. “What way?” “ Well, have you tried to … you know…” You mimicked a pumping motion with your hand, not daring to say the word. “Masturbate?” “You’re serious?” Chris’ darkened eyes widened, refusing to believe you were actually serious. “This is your medical advice? You want me to jerk off!” “Yes, that’s what I want … I mean advise.” You corrected, probably as uncomfortable than him right now, if not more. “Are you guys at Umbrella all dumb or is it just you? I don’t even know how I still can walk, Y/LN. I’ve never been that sensitive in my entire life. I feel like if I touch myself I will actually explode, like literally. I can’t jerk off right now!”

There was an awkward silence that didn’t last long as Chris turned around to shout his suffering again. Though this time it was mixed with an animalistic rage whose cause was still blurry to you. Was it mad at you? At himself? At his condition? At Umbrella? … All of it? You sighed and approached him. Hands on his back you helped him face you. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” You told yourself.

You put your hand over Chris’ male parts, making him wince and hiss, to blindly look for the zipper, staring away from him on purpose. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, slapping your hand away from him. “You got a better idea, soldier boy?!” You retorted, wishing there was another solution and that this all situation was merely a nightmare. You opened Chris’ trousers and disgustedly slid your hand in his briefs. “Ouch, easy!” He grumbled the second your fingertips touched him. His member was so sensitive and aching right now. “This is the worse day of my life.” You admitted as you delicately took his hot swelling length, which was thicker and heavier than what you expected, in a limp grip. “Pff. I’m sure part of you enjoys it” Chris said in between two guttural moans, a sensation of both suffering and pleasure tensing his abs and clenching his jaw. “You must think it is karma for all the times I’ve been an ass to you.” “What?” You harrumphed as you stopped moving your hand, genuinely offended. “How can you believe I’m enjoying it? You’re sick.” “Then why are you all flushed?” He asked.

All this panic and concern for Chris had made forget about your safety and yourself in general. You touched your cheeks. They were abnormally hot and you could feel their sudden redness tickling your skin. “Embarrassment and panic.” You retorted, trying to convince yourself more than Chris. After all, wasn’t it the most plausible reason? Unless… “Or the mutamycete and in that case it’s all your fault and if I die I’ll come and kill you.” You started panting and Chris stared at you silently. “What? You think that masturbating you arouses me? Pff, you should know better than anyone right now what it means to be aroused.” “Y/N” He called out by your first name. He had never done that before. “What?!” You screamed, pissed at him. “Shut the fuck up and keep going.” He ordered with a severity worthy of his military status. “Seriously?” He didn’t reply, seeing no need for an answer, and you reluctantly resumed your soft motion on his engorged cock, feeling the prominent thick veins throbbing against your palm as Chris suddenly began removing his military vest and his turtleneck “Are you kidding me?” You mumbled in between your teeth, definitely not liking this situation. “I’m burning up. I can’t stand my clothes anymore.” But soon your eyes occasionally started glancing towards Chris’ broad and hairy chest. He had a formidable body. God, what the hell were you thinking? “Please tell me you’re gonna cum soon.” You begged but he didn’t respond. A bad sign. “Gosh, I must be doomed.” “Perhaps if you actually put some effort in it.” Your eyes widened at him. Was it really criticizing the way you were jerking him off? “Seriously, Mister ‘Ouch I’m too sensitive’?” “Don’t mind me. I get it. You’d rather do something else than help me right now. And I know this must feel very degrading. Well guess what? I’d rather do something else than being jerked off by you.” You stepped back. You had had enough of it. “Then go ahead.” You waved at the door. “Leave and get out of your bloody mess on your own. I don’t give a fuck. Actually you should have done that from the very beginning instead of coming to me. Why did you come here anyway?” “I have no fucking idea, Y/N. I was in my quarters and seconds later I was here. I can’t explain it. I was like … guided here. ” You frowned, finding this honest confession extremely weird and yet not so absurd, your scientific brain making a parallel between Chris’s words and the way the mutamycete was permanently searching for a host to breed. The conclusion that Chris might want the same thing froze you to the spot, scared and apprehensive, a bit like a deer caught in headlights. Why hadn’t you thought about that earlier? “And the more I look at you, the more I stay with you… I wanna fuck you so bad. And I hate myself for it.”

You gulped, finding yourself unable to regain control over your paralysed body as an instantaneous wet hotness formed in between your legs. You tried to repress it but Chris came closer, his darkened chocolate brown eyes staring at you the same way Agent Carter’s eyes had stared at you under that tent. It made you shake, expecting with a certain amount of fear what was bound to happen. “Fuck! You have no fucking idea how hard it is to resist the urge to just slam you against that desk and shove my cock into you.” Your heart skipped a bit and the air got stuck in your lungs. You couldn’t breathe anymore. Terrified and yet so atrociously aroused it was making you want to hurl. A strange sensation – certainly a result of the contamination - you had never experienced in your entire life and you didn’t know how to process. “I’m calling security.” You announced as you somehow managed to rush towards your desk. “They’re going to place you under quarantine. That’s what I should have done from the very beginning.” You tried to seize your phone but it was immediately taken away from away from you and thrown across the room before you could even push a single button.

You trembled again when you suddenly felt Chris’s towering body press against your back, his hardened member pushing against your butt as his muscular arms were forming a caging embrace to prevent you from escaping. “Then why haven’t you?” He whispered in you ear, his hot breath tickling your neck and making you shiver, this time more in arousal than in fear. “I don’t know.” You mumbled in a whisper, feeling your heart pounding like crazy in your chest because of the exquisite proximity between Chris’ strong body and yours. This was insane.

You moaned when you felt Chris softly grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck and then gasped with a certain apprehension when his large hand grabbed your throat to squeeze it, knowing he could choke you to death with ease right now without giving you a chance to fight back. “Tell me you want this.” He murmured, rubbing his pelvis against your rear hoping teasing you would convince you to give in to him. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to. But please, please, tell me you want me to.” You looked back at him to stare at his eyes. In their hungry darkness, you could notice that Chris was still in there, spotting his integrity slightly gleaming behind the veiled pupils. He was fighting the temptation caused by this stupid fungus. But how long could he resist? Or better question, how long could you resist judging by the wetness growing in your panties. The answer? Not long.

“Do it.” You whispered so low, hoping he would not hear you and let go of you. But he did hear you and he didn’t wait. He pulled your skirt up to your waist and ripped your panties with a swift powerful motion that made you squeal and hold on tight to your desk. “I don’t think it’ll take long.” Chris said with a raspy voice as he dropped his trousers and briefs to his feet, finally freeing his throbbing cock that sprang erected and hard as a stone pillar. He watched it for a second, admiring it twitching and begging to be relieved. Then he stared at you, at your naked butt and your glistening red lips. “Gosh, you look delicious.” He said to himself before spitting on his finger to lube his length. Last thing he wanted was to hurt you. “You’re sure you’re up for this?” He asked again, not knowing how he would react if you said no. “I’m sure. Just fuck me, please.” You whimpered and Chris smiled as he guided himself towards your entrance. He moved briefly in between your half-closed thighs, right against your tight lips, to spread your juices along his shaft before kicking your calves to make you spread your legs for him. Once the access granted, he finally pushed himself deep into you, sliding him member so deep it almost disappeared in you. You winced and moaned, nails dug in the wood of the desk, when you felt him stretching you, definitely not used to welcome such girth inside your pussy. “Holy shit.” You cursed, with a small tear in the corner of your eye. “You’re so big.” “I know. Sorry.” He chuckled, his hand wandering down your back. “You’ll get used to it.” You cried out when Chris suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one single hard move. The force of his thrust made you fall flat on the desk. “You got nothing against rough sex, right baby girl?” Baby girl? The pet name made you furrow. What was next? You calling him daddy? “Cause I’m in that kind of mood right now.” He growled as he repeated the same motion, making you muffle a new loud moan in the leather notebook on which your head was resting. “Let’s get this over with.” You growled, already breathless.

Chris’ pelvis smacked loudly against your ass, making it bounce, as his heavy balls hit your swollen clit. “Fuck!” You shouted, hating the sensation as much as you were liking it. And he did this over and over. With time, you grew accustomed to the brutality and even happened to find a blissful pleasure in his roughness. Hell, you could even hear how wet your pussy was. “You like that? You want it faster?” You nodded and he grabbed your hips to pull you even closer to him and started relentlessly pounding you from behind. You screamed his name, wondering how he could still be that rough and yet that fast. His cock was literally a jackhammer hitting you hard inside, not that you minded. “Yes, just like that.” You said as you brought your fingers to your swollen clit. “Do you want to cum already?” You heard the cheekiness in his voice. He was amused. “Aren’t you the one who said it wouldn’t last long?” You retorted with a mocking smile that he definitely noticed in the tone of your voice since he grasped a handful of your hair to pull you back against his chest. “You’re going to regret this tone, young lady.” He bit your lips, making you almost bleed and kissed you with a hunger and a ferocious passion that would certainly let your lips bruised for days.

And as he did, his fingers crawled towards the buttons of your white shirt to violently tear the clothe apart, reducing it to rags and making the small metallic buttons fly in the lab. “Let me see those boobs.” Chris ordered as his hands squeezed your breasts, feeling the hard nipples pointing through your laced bra that he ultimately removed with the same burning ardour he had shown while removing your shirt. “So perky and pretty.” He confessed in a whisper as he pinched the rosy teats between his fingers. “Do you like them?” You asked, biting your sored lips “More than I like you. That’s for sure.” The rebuke made you sourly laugh. “I don’t like you either.” “Good.” He turned you over to face him and pushed you against your desk to make you sit on it, throwing all your stuff to the ground before laying you down on it. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist but that’s apparently not what Chris wanted as he put both your feet above his left shoulder with a grunt. “And don’t move.” He commanded and his hand slapped your breasts. They reddened almost instantly but the overall sensation was exhilarating, making you clenched your walls around Chris’s cock. “Fuck, don’t squeeze me like that.” He complained and you chuckled. But your laugh was brief since Chris caught you by your legs again and resumed his previous pounding.

You head tilted to the side and a stream of OHs and AHs escaped your mouth. You were completely at Chris’ mercy, lost in an intense bliss that made you completely unaware of the world around you. There was only pleasure. Pleasure and Chris. You toes went to feel Chris’ muscular pectorals, curling up more and more by the second. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You confessed with half-lidded eyes that you could barely keep open now. “Yeah?” You nodded. “You want me to help you?” “Please.” You whined, desperately wanting to let the ticking bomb of pleasure between your legs explode. “Alright then.” His arms circled your waist and he hoisted you up against his chest with an incredible ease. You were certainly very light for a man as strong as Chris. His small dark hair tickled your breasts, making you shiver and you wrapped your legs against him as well as your arms around his neck. You could feel it still inside of you and you were waiting eagerly to se how he would manage fucking you in that position which was far from easy. “Hold on tight.” He announced as he squeezed your ass to make you slide up and down his penis. The first moves were sloppy and clumsy but what followed drove you back in intense delight. The perks of being fucked by a man who had definitely been spoiled by Mother Nature.

Your body perfectly angled against Chris’, hands now holding on tight to his large shoulders, you could feel your clit rub atrociously well against the bush surrounding his member that your pussy had excessively creamed. “Chris. I’m cumming.” You shut your eyes and cradled against his body to keep yourself in place when the exhilarating moment you had been longing for finally happened. You shouted so loud as you clenched your walls against Chris’s cock you wondered how no one rushed in your lab to see what was happening in there. “That’s it baby girl. Cum for me.” Chris hissed, his mind split between your pussy squeezing him tightly and your nails scratching his shoulders to the blood. “Fuck, Chris!” Your climax knocked you out, rendering you dizzy and limp, and you let yourself slump against Chris, head over his shoulder. “Alright time to truly finish this.” He chuckled and knelt to the floor where he laid you hot body on the tiles. The coldness made you tremble but you were too giddy and tired to mind. Nevertheless, you sensed Chris lie on top of you, his massive body sprawled over yours almost crushing it under his weight.

His shaft found his way back in your relaxed pussy and he weaved his hand in your soft hair to pound you for the last time. Only soft almost soundless moans escaped your mouth but you could tell that the effect of your powerful orgasm was slowly fading away as your energy was slowly growing back and regaining your limbs. “I’m gonna cum in you.” This was a terrible idea, risky even, and you knew it. But you didn’t know how – or didn’t want – to fight back, actually desiring to feel Chris’s hot sperm spurt inside of you. So instinctively, you managed to circle his waist with your legs and spur his hard rear to make him go deeper inside of you. “Eager girl. You want to take my cum so bad, don’t you?” He scoffed and kissed your lips hard as he pinned your wrists up your head to finally release his sticky white seed in your vagina with a guttural animalistic grunt that echoed in the lab. “Take it.” He growled as he kept pushing himself hard inside of you to be sure not to waist a single drop of his semen.

Chris pulled out of you and gazed at you glistening red pussy, glad to see that his cum was not oozing out of you. “That felt so good.” He admitted before allowing himself to fall next to you with a sigh of content and enjoy the coldness of the tiles against his sweaty body. “And you know what? I actually feel a lot better.” You didn’t answer, exhausted but more especially lost in your thoughts. Gosh, what have you done? “You’re alright?” Chris asked, his voice finally back to normal. You glanced at him and noticed even his eyes had found their sweet chocolate colour back. “ Y/N” Your name echoed in your head and you suddenly got the impression that your body was abnormally convulsing. “Y/LN! Y/N” Chris repeated as he urged to hold you. “Y/LN. Hello?” You felt your mind slowly dozing off, finding yourself unable to answer. What the hell was happening? That was the last thing that came to your mind before it completely shut off. Then everything went dark and only Chris’ voice calling your name remained. “Y/LN! Open your eyes. Wake up!”

You woke up with a start, lost and wondering where you were, your startled eyes scanning your surroundings in search of something familiar. It took you a couple of seconds to realise you were laying on the ground and that you actually were in your tent, a the camp. “Y/LN” Your eyes met Chris’. He was staring at you with concern, his hands firmly holding your shoulders. “You’re alright?” You stared at him, still very astonished and then, you spontaneously jumped in his arms. “Chris! You’re okay!” The relief in your voice made Chis frowned and he slowly pushed you away. “Yes. You?” You nodded with a smile. “So it was a dream?” You asked, expecting an answer from Chris which was completely absurd. “A dream?” He repeated. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you bump your head or something? Hurt yourself?” “No.” You shook your head, not getting why he looked so worried. “But your ear.” He pointed at it, not daring to touch it and you brought your fingertips to it. A thick liquid was pouring out of it. It was pus and blood. You were bleeding. Why were you bleeding? “What the fuck?” You looked around you only to spot the fried earpiece on the ground next to you. The interferences. The static electricity. It had certainly burst your eardrum and made you faint and … “It was all a dream.”

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #resident evil #one shot

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twokinkybeans · 4 years ago

Text

Company Chapter 3: Imbolc

Moodboard made by Kim <3

Peter and Oberon find warmth with each other. Another Fae has different plans.

Warnings for this chapter: Fluff, smut and angst, magic and folklore, mischief, masturbation, anal (fingering), hand job, rather vanilla sex tbh? it’s full of love, then regrets and a scene that could be compared to how victims respond after rape (and the next chapter that will release on Ostara will likely contain actual dub-/noncon so please continue with care), Mysterio is here to fuck shit up.

Go to the Masterpost for all the teaser poems and chapters! Read Company - Chapter 3: Imbolc on AO3 —————————————————————————————- Here it is! Chapter 3! The next one will be posted on Ostara, March 21st. Thank you for reading it, if you do! I hope you enjoy!!! <3 - Lien

...

The Fae haunts Peter. His thoughts, his dreams- both day and night. Oberon’s smile and intense gaze follow Peter through life. He catches himself yearning to hear the man’s laughter, to feel his fingers curl in Peter’s neck as he did when he took off Peter’s coat. Sometimes, Peter imagines how he would whisper, laying next to him in bed. How his soft lips and stubble would contrast themselves on the shell of Peter’s ear. He can only guess the words the Fae would tell him, but part of him wonders what his name would sound like from Oberon’s tongue. “Peter…” The young man gasps as he shakily thrusts up into his hand, spilling over his lower abdomen. His muscles tense and his lips part to let out a strained noise in a half-assed attempt to hold back his ecstatic experience. Wave upon wave of pleasure floods over him until his body and member slack. Peter pants, eyes closed, and whispers the Fae’s name in reply to his imagination. “Oberon-” Peter knows he shouldn’t be thinking of Oberon like this. The more he gives in to his growing infatuation with the Fae, the more likely he is to slip up and give himself to the man fully. He can’t help the small voice in the back of his head, wondering how bad it would be to spend eternity with Oberon. Would it be bad at all?

… When Imbolc finally arrived, Peter took the first train to the woods. Maybe he’s a little eager, but he simply can’t wait to see Oberon again. He scrolls through his phone, smiling at some silly photos of May he took last week and setting one as his lock screen. She’s alive again because of the Fae- because of Oberon. And all the man wants is company. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, Peter thinks. If it’s company he wants, it’s company he’ll get. With the snow gone, Peter more confidently finds his way through the woods. He’s still not exactly sure where to go, but at least the direction he’s taking feels like it makes more sense. “Oberon?” Peter uses his hands to help his voice carry further. “You here?” “Why, aren’t you cute.” Peter’s back straightens and he turns, startled, at the voice behind him. A man with slightly longer, pushed back, dirty blond hair grins down at him from a large branch. His short, trimmed beard enunciates his jawline and he has large eyes, almost comically so. They glow dim, just like Oberon’s. Fae. Bad news. Peter swallows and presses his lips on top of each other, breathing in through his nose. “Says a strange man sitting in a tree by himself in the middle of the woods,” he replies calm and collected. The Fae chuckles darkly, causing a shiver to run down Peter’s spine. The man hops off the branch and lands effortlessly. “Hmm,” the Fae hums. “If it is strange I am here in the woods by myself, then why is it not odd you are here?” “I’m looking for someone,” Peter answers earnestly. “A friend who goes by Oberon.” Suddenly, Peter’s blood seems to freeze, locking him in place as the Fae stalks closer until he is right in front of Peter. He looks down, locking Peter’s eyes with his. The Fae grins and leans in, nearly letting their noses touch. “You may call me Oberon, then.” The man’s breath is cold on Peter’s face and the young man blinks in an attempt to fight a sudden drowsiness that washes over him. “I’ll be your friend.” The Fae’s gaze holds him in place and momentarily, Peter wonders if the beauty of the being’s bright blue eyes are the cause of this sleepiness. He is using magic on Peter and only now does it become painfully obvious what Oberon could have done to him from the start, but never did. “I don’t think I should-” As quickly as the Fae got hold of him, he lets Peter go again. He looks to his side cautiously and when Peter blinks, the Fae is gone. “Puck,” a familiar voice speaks. Immediately, a smile grows on Peter’s face. He pivots and the Fae seems surprised by how Peter beams. “Oberon, hey!” Peter holds himself back. Part of him wants to fall into the Fae’s embrace straight away, but as much as his feelings for the man have rooted and grown, he’s not sure Oberon has gone through the same. “Who were you talking to?” Oberon inquires curiously. Peter cocks his head and frowns. With an uncertain pout, he looks around him. “Nobody- eh, myself, I guess? I tend to do that.” … “What’s that?” Oberon creeps over Peter’s shoulder, staring at the device in Peter’s hand. The young man is seated on the soft pillows of Oberon’s cabin. Peter grins. “With my aunt back at work, she started making money again.” He holds up his phone to proudly show it to Oberon. “She gave me this phone for Christmas!” The Fae frowns slightly and shuffles to sit down next to Peter, who sucks in a breath at how close the man is to him. “Phone…” Oberon repeats, lost in thought. “It looks fragile.” “Well,” Peter chuckles. “I wouldn’t throw or toss it. I don’t want it to break- these things are expensive.” “Huh.” Oberon cocks an eyebrow. There’s a curious glimmer in his eyes as he stares at Peter’s fingers caressing the screen. “May I… May I see it?” “You are seeing it, aren’t you?” Peter smirks. Oberon scoffs and gestures at the phone. “From up close, please?” “Since you asked so nicely,” Peter says theatrically, wanting to hand Oberon the device. However, he quickly pulls back. “There’s metal in this.” “I can handle it, remember?” Oberon says with an encouraging nod. “I am Iron Man.” “Right- right,” Peter chuckles at the silly nickname and passes the phone to the Fae. The man turns and twists it in his hands, studying it intently. His eyes squeeze to slits in an attempt to look into the charger hole. “Press the button on the screen,” Peter instructs. Oberon looks up at him confused, but does as told. The screen lights up and a photo of Peter and May together appears. Oberon gasps in awe. “Who is that?” “M-“ Peter stops himself, nearly saying her name. “My aunt.” “The one I helped?” Peter nods. “She seems nice.” “She’s the nicest.” “Not I?” Oberon jokes, causing Peter to scoff a soft laugh. “Don’t make me choose.” Oberon perks up at that, eyes wide and glimmering, mouth open in a wide smile. “So, you think I am nice?” “I- I don’t mind spending time with you.” Peter looks away into the fire, blushing profusely and silently swearing at himself for feeling it crawl up to his ears. Oberon stays quiet, but Peter can practically hear him grinning. The Fae settles flush next to him as they both stare at the flames. “I think you are nice too,” Oberon speaks softly. He slowly raises his hand to give the phone back to Peter. Instead of taking it, Peter curls his fingers around Oberon’s and presses the home screen again. Oberon seems surprised by Peter’s actions, but watches intrigued as Peter swipes up, opening the camera without unlocking his phone. Oberon gasps when he is met with his own moving image on screen. “It is a mirror?” Oberon moves the phone closer to his face with Peter’s hands still on top of his. “A camera.” “For… Photos?” The Fae looks at Peter with a cocked head. The young man smiles and nods. “Correct,” he replies with a posh accent. “And videos too. Here-” Peter takes the phone out of Oberon’s hands and angles it so they are both in shot. His thumb hovers over the button on screen. “Cheese!” Right as Peter presses the button, Oberon turns to him with a frown. “Cheese?” Click. “What does that have to do with pictures?” Peter snorts and looks down at his phone to open his album. Oberon’s captured face is pricelessly confused, but Peter understands where it came from. “I- I’m not actually sure,” Peter chuckles. “I think it has to do with the word itself? Like, you kind of smile when you say it?” “I smile when I say cheese because it reminds me of its lovely taste.” Only then Oberon notices the photo on Peter’s screen. “Oh, that one is not particularly flattering,” he deadpans as he leans in to look at himself. “Can we tear it?” “Let’s not rip up my phone.” Peter smiles. “I’ll delete it.” “Just because I cannot lie, does not mean I cannot tell when others do,” Oberon says smugly. Peter hides his phone, but his eyes shimmer mischievously. “We could also just try again?” “Yes, let’s do that,” Peter says, already promising to himself that that photo will be his home screen. Peter unlocks his phone and raises his arm to angle it right again. His breath hitches when he feels Oberon press himself against Peter, to fit in the frame better. The Fae’s breath is warm in his neck and Peter nearly forgets what they were doing. He smiles awkwardly, but it turns into a genuine laugh when Oberon pokes his side slightly and exclaims: “CHEESE!” … “So, which one of these are edible?” Peter asks as he pulls at the leaves of a bush, nodding at the berries resting at the base of the twigs. “For starters, that one leads to an eternal nap, so I would advise against it,” Oberon states dryly. Peter immediately lets go of the plant and stands up straight again. They had decided, since Peter can’t actually eat food that Oberon offers him, to go foraging. That way, Peter can collect his own food. It’s been around five hours since Peter had arrived at the cottage and their conversations were as interesting and comfortable as they could be. Peter really loves his time with Oberon. “How about that one?” Peter sheepishly points at another bush with darker berries. Oberon smirks and saunters towards it, taking exactly one berry off of it and tossing it into his mouth. He chews and swallows. “Good pick.” He picks another few berries and eats them. Peter can only stare at Oberon’s bobbing Adam’s apple. After a few bites, Oberon cocks an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Puck? The berries are safe.” Peter blinks and steps towards the bush, but Oberon doesn’t move. Instead, he moves to angle a branch so that the berries are easier to pick for Peter. The young man fills his hand with berries and gratefully pulls his arm back from the bush. Two got squashed in his greedy attempt to fit as many as possible in his hands, but they still look edible. Peter takes his free hand and tastes a single piece. It’s a little sour, but incredibly tasty. He immediately perks up and tosses another three in his mouth, not noticing Oberon’s intense stare on him. Peter’s next bite is a little too eager. To prevent the berry from falling out, he clenches his teeth. However, the berry wasn’t in Peter’s mouth all the way, so it squashes and starts dripping down his chin. “Shit-” Peter exclaims as he makes a cup of his hands to catch the juice dripping down. “Here,” Oberon says quickly. “Allow me-” The Fae raises his hand and steps closer until their breaths mingle. Peter can’t move as Oberon’s thumb finds his jaw and wipes away the juice. He looks up at the man with big eyes, jaw slacked as his mind races. Oberon, seemingly reluctantly, takes his hand back but Peter stops him by dropping the berries he still had to the ground and grabbing hold of the Fae’s wrist. His mouth is dry, regardless of the juicy fruit he just ate. He feels like he’s not breathing, but judging by the fact that he can feel his heart thump in his head and that he sees his chest rising and falling rapidly from his peripheral vision, he’s still taking in oxygen. “Puck?” Oberon whispers. “Are you-” “I think there’s still some left on my lips,” Peter replies breathlessly. It is a bold move, but one he was definitely willing to make after so many more hours of talking and getting to know the man better. “My hands are already sticky.” Oberon licks his lips, eyes strained on Peter’s plump ones. Peter absentmindedly mimics Oberon’s actions. “Only one way to get rid of it then…” Oberon scoffs softly at Peter’s directness. The corner of his mouth curls up as he leans in, closing his eyes. Peter’s and Oberon’s noses brush together and Peter can’t help but close his eyes as well, relishing in the feeling of Oberon’s heat flush against him and his breath mingling with the Fae’s. He gasps softly when he feels a tongue flick against his lips, but the Fae remains distanced in a way that drives Peter mad with want. “I can only imagine how sweet you would taste,” Oberon mutters. “Don’t imagine anymore…” Peter’s order soon turns into a plea. “Please.” “Since when are you so loose? So relaxed? Why would you let me steal a kiss from y-” Peter lets out a strained noise at Oberon’s indecision on what to do, now knowing damn well the Fae wants exactly the same Peter wants. He boldly leans in, immediately opening his mouth so Oberon can push his surprised moan into him. Where Peter took initiative, Oberon now takes the lead. Peter lets himself be guided into the kiss, letting go of Oberon’s hand, so it can find its way into Peter’s hair. After a little bit, Peter pulls back slightly and scoffs a quiet laugh, still not opening his eyes. “Maybe your spells are finally working.” … The door to Oberon’s cabin gets blown wide open as he and Peter are glued to each other, breathing rapidly and tugging at their clothes. The Fae lifts Peter effortlessly, kicks the door shut and pushes the young man up against it. His hips grind into Peter’s crotch and the human whimpers at the friction against his clothed cock. “O-Oberon-” he begs. “More- more, please-” The Fae immediately moves his lips to Peter’s neck to suckle on it. He grins against Peter’s skin when a certain spot has Peter buck his hips involuntarily. Oberon sucks at it a little harsher, drawing the most delicious sounds from Peter. “More-” “I will give you all- everything- all of it.” Oberon’s mutters are nearly incoherent as he ravishes down Peter’s neck, pulling at the hoodie until he can reach Peter’s collar bone. He grazes his teeth past it and pushes his hips up against Peter’s crotch again. “Yes, yes, please-” Oberon carries Peter over to the pillow pile on the floor and sits down with Peter still on top of him. The young man’s eyes flutter open to stare straight into Oberon’s. They glow brighter than they did before. Peter immediately pushes in to kiss him again, rolling his hips into Oberon’s and moaning with every sting of stimulation on his aching clothed cock. The Fae pushes his hips up invitingly as he pulls his head back to take off his shirt. Peter stares, nearly drools, at the beautifully toned chest. “Your turn,” Oberon chuckles darkly. Peter follows the Fae’s lead and undresses his upper body. When Peter’s head is hidden in his dress shirt as he awkwardly pulls it over his head, there’s a sudden intense, wet suckle on his left nipple. “A-ah!” Peter exclaims, twitching under Oberon’s attention. The Fae’s large hands keep Peter in place. He wants to get rid of his shirt asap, but now that he can’t see, the sensations of Oberon’s tongue circling his sensitive bud are all the more overwhelming. When he’s free, Peter throws the shirt away from him and moves his hands into Oberon’s hair to anchor himself. The roll of his hips into Oberon’s crotch is steady now, but both men are ready for more. Peter feels like he’s floating as the Fae turns them both around until he’s pinning Peter on the floor. He rubs their clothed crotches together and all Peter can do is take whatever is given him. “Can I-” Oberon gasps as he sucks possessive marks on Peter’s chest. “M-May I-” “Fuck me-” Peter orders. “Please, I need you-” “Oh, Dandelion,” Oberon moans, tugging at Peter’s pants. “Sweet Chamomile, Bluebell, Primrose…” Each flower nickname is paired with a kiss or a mark or the scraping of teeth over Peter’s skin. His head spins and his eyes roll back as he tries to buck up into Oberon. He can’t close his mouth anymore. All he can do is gasp and moan and attempt to catch Oberon’s lips with his before the Fae moves back to ravish Peter’s neck again. “Clover, Columbine, Sunflower-” When all clothes have been discarded and both men are grinding into each other naked, Oberon’s voice rumbles through the cottage. “Puck-” Peter smiles at how much that particular name takes him out of it. “Parker.” Oberon freezes at Peter’s last name. He pulls back, wide-eyed until he can look at Peter properly. Both of them pant, hips still gently rolling into each other as a soft reminder they’re still going. “What?” The Fae whispers. “Puck isn’t a sexy name, is it,” Peter chuckles, bringing his hands up to trace patterns on his chest with his index finger. He gasps quietly when he brushes past his nipples. “You already know my last name…” Peter half-closes his eyes and licks his lips in an attempt to seduce Oberon to continue. “Use it.” “Parker…” The word gently falls from Oberon’s lips and Peter can feel that same tug at his heart as he did last time. It feels amazing. “Parker,” Oberon repeats, seemingly feeling pleasure from simply saying it as well. “Parker-Parker-Parker-“ Sparks seem to fly from Oberon’s eyes and he growls, moving in to eat Peter up again. Peter is unsure what is happening, but it feels absolutely heavenly. Is it Fae magic? Oberon isn’t in pain, like he said he would be if he broke his promise, so it’s not Oberon using magic directly on him. Maybe Peter feels the unwritten rules of the Fae; rules no one can go around. Not even promises. Oberon might not have Peter’s full name, but through this, part of Peter wonders if he is already bound to him. In all honesty, he couldn’t even mind it if he tried. It feels too good. The sensation is everything; an overwhelming pleasure that makes Peter yearn for more. Earlier, Peter wondered if it would be bad to be bound. But if it feels like this, he is certain that it’s not bad at all. Not with someone as sweet and caring and loving and giving as Oberon. Peter gets brought back to reality by Oberon snapping his finger. The young man blinks dreamily and smiles up at the Fae. “Are you with me?” Oberon checks and Peter nods. “Feels so good-” The Fae grins but it soon fades when Peter cheekily cocks an eyebrow. “However, I do believe I told you to fuck me,” Peter says cheekily. Oberon scoffs a laugh and leans back until he’s up straight again. “Proof of autonomy, right there,” he chuckles as he brings one hand down to circle Peter’s hole. Peter immediately pushes down and lets out a soft whine. “Make me yours-” he gasps. Oberon licks one long stripe from Peter’s right nipple over his collar bone, up to his neck and jaw. “You already are, my flower.” Oberon’s voice is dark and Peter can’t help a high pitched sigh escape his throat. “Are you alright with Oberon?” Peter double checks. “From your lips, always,” the Fae smirks, still teasing around Peter’s entrance. “Anything else, my king?” Peter jokes, referencing the fact that the character is king of the Fae. Oberon freezes at that, causing Peter to open his eyes. “Too much?” Peter ponders out loud. Oberon licks his lips and swallows, seemingly regaining his composure. The Fae then pushes in without warning, curling his finger. Peter’s surprised the glide comes so easily. Like he is already lubed up. Magic, he guesses. He doesn’t really want to think more of it and the ecstasy already makes him forget what just happened. When Peter’s body complies and follows without protest, it doesn’t take long for a second finger to be added. And then a third. Peter is fucking himself on Oberon’s fingers while the man searches for the spot that will make Peter scream. Soon enough, he finds it. Though, after brushing past it once and earning the most delectable noise from Peter, he pulls his fingers back. Before Peter can whine about the lack of touch, the fingers are replaced by Oberon’s stiff cock. “Wasps-” Peter chuckles at the characteristic swear coming from the Fae. “You’re so tight, Parker. So tight.” Oberon bottoms out and stops moving, allowing Peter to get adjusted to the Fae’s girth. Peter, however, is so ready to be fucked, he doesn’t really want to wait anymore. He reaches his, up until now jelly and motionless, arms up until his fingers wrap around Oberon’s shoulders. He then starts pulling and smiles when Oberon lets himself be guided. The Fae’s eyes are closed, like he’s trying to concentrate. It makes him a lot more compliant, which Peter uses to his advantage. Peter keeps pulling and turning until Oberon is laying down and Peter is sitting on top of him. The young man’s hands rest on the Fae’s chest. “Your turn,” Peter whispers, repeating what Oberon said earlier, as he leans down to obscenely lick at Oberon’s perched nipples. He wets them up nicely and moves back enough so his index fingers and thumbs get enough space to start rolling the nipples between them. Oberon chokes back a moan. His entire body is tense. It’s only now that Peter notices Oberon’s arms are spread, fists clenched and… Is that magic in his closed palms? “Are you alright?” Peter inquires. Oberon nods, simply and aggressively. “Holding back-” he chokes out. “What are you holding back?” Peter’s question is paired with a first, slow and gentle roll of his hips. Oberon sucks in a breath and Peter stares curiously at the sparks, brightening in the Fae’s hands. “Magic. My- m-” “Is that magic dangerous to me?” Something about that question thrilled Peter. The only thing that actually frightens him right now is the idea Oberon might want to stop. And also the fact that he may or may not have fallen in love with the man below him. “No,” Oberon groans. “J-Just magic-” he pauses to react to Peter slowly lifting himself up his cock, only to lower himself again and slightly wiggle his hips when he bottoms out. Peter’s curiosity grows by the second, just as his need to get both Oberon and himself off. “What kind?” The words roll off Peter’s tongue, low and alluring. “Illusions- I think I- I can make them be illusions.” Peter isn’t sure what Oberon means with that exactly, but the reply surely piqued his interest. He picks up the pace riding the Fae, reveling in how Oberon falls apart below him. The magic in Oberon’s hands intensifies and it is now Peter’s sole mission to have the man let go for him. Peter leans in and kisses Oberon on the lips, so soft and gentle. “Oberon,” Peter whispers as he sits up straight again, slowly but surely turning his rolling into bouncing. “Open your eyes.” The Fae obeys and moans at the sight of Peter’s body on top of him. In a reflex, the man starts fucking up into Peter in tune with Peter’s bouncing. “O-oh, yes!” Peter exclaims. “I- I wanna see it, Oberon. Y-your magic. Let it out-“ Oberon’s eyes roll back as he loses tension in his fingers. Blues and purples shoot from his hands, surrounding the two lovers with an endless galaxy. Peter gasps surprised, staring at the infinity around them. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. When he looks down at Oberon again, whose eyes still glow and flicker, he notices even the ground has turned to stars below them. He grins as he picks up the pace again. “Never thought I’d get to fuck in space,” he chuckles, riding Oberon feverishly. “Or y’know, get fucked by a Fae.” “You,” Oberon sighs with a smile. “You talk too much.” Now that Oberon doesn’t have to hold anything back anymore, he quickly turns them around like they were before. His hands, still sparking with magic, cup Peter’s cheeks and he brings them together in a hungry kiss. He has once again taken the lead and is now thrusting into Peter, chasing his high. One hand swiftly finds its way down between them. Peter moans into Oberon’s mouth when the Fae’s fingers curl around his shaft to pump him at the same pace as Oberon’s hips move against him. They’re wet and sticky with magic lube and precum and the sounds their crashing bodies make are downright porn-worthy. “Parkeeer…” The Fae groans. “O-Oberon,” Peter replies breathlessly. Their pace is relentless now, bodies tensed and nearing release. “Stark,” the Fae says, causing Peter’s eyes to shoot open when he feels another tug at his heart. The Fae looks down at him with a panting half-smile. “If I get to call you Parker, you get to call me Stark.” Last names. Peter’s entire body shakes and trembles as the edge is ever so close. He’s on fire, surrounded by moons and stars and milky ways and Oberon- Stark, right there with him, above him, making him see even more stars. “S-Stark-” he whispers. Around him, the scene intensifies and Oberon’s eyes glow even brighter. “Yes, that’s it, my sweet, my flower, my Parker-” Peter squeezes his eyes shut. “So close-” Peter isn’t sure if Oberon means himself or Peter, but either way, he’s right. “Wanna cum,” he gasps, biting into Oberon’s lower lip slightly. “Go on then, show me your beauty,” Oberon encourages, moving to sit up a little straighter and parting their faces from each other. Peter instinctively tries to move up along with Oberon, so he can keep their lips locked, but Oberon pushes him back down. The Fae’s thrusts are more calculated now, angled exactly where Peter needs him to go. His last free hand shifts to gently roll Peter’s balls while his other still pumps the young man’s shaft feverishly. “Stark!” Peter’s body thrashes and he cums, spilling himself all over Oberon’s hand and his own belly. He clenches down on the Fae’s cock and smiles deliriously when he milks Stark, the feeling of his insides being coated white adding another surge of pride and pleasure to his high. “Oh, flower,” Stark sighs, nearly dropping himself on top of Peter. “You were so good, so sweet.” Peter’s eyes are already closed, Oberon’s cock still sheathed inside of him. “Hmm…” Stark/Oberon shifts until they are both laying on their sides, bodies still flush together. “Will you sleep for me tonight?” Peter nods absentmindedly, still grinning ear to ear and basking in the afterglow. The smile brightens slightly when he feels Oberon’s lips press a soft kiss on his nose. “I will be here in the morning. Take your rest. I’ll hold you.” Peter drifts to sleep to the soft humming of the Fae’s voice. Not bad, he thinks before losing himself to slumber. Not bad at all. … A chilly breeze hits Peter’s face. His lips curl up and he turns, feeling around for Oberon. For Stark. His smile fades when the haze of just waking up fades and he notices just how cold the room actually is. His hand ends up on the cool flooring. Oberon isn’t there. Peter opens his eyes and sucks in some air when he notices there is snow. Inside. He quickly moves to sit upright, pulling the blankets up to keep himself warm, and he looks around. Oberon sits by the opened door, hands folded together in front of his mouth. He’s hunched up and his expression is stern. Tight. Worry settles in Peter’s stomach. “O-Oberon?” He isn’t sure if he should be saying the Fae’s actual name now. Oberon doesn’t look up. “Get dressed.” “Is something wrong?” Peter’s browns curl together. “Get. Dressed.” Peter remains seated, frozen in place and at a loss for words. When Peter still doesn’t move, Oberon finally turns his face to stare Peter down. “Do as you’re told.” “Excuse me?” The young man’s eyes go wide with surprise. Who does this man think he is? “You’re leaving,” Oberon says with a shaky voice. “Now.” He looks away again. “Get dressed.” The world around Peter collapses. Everything they had been through together, everything that had happened… Is over? “I don’t understand-” “Do not make me get over there and force you.” Peter immediately stands and grabs his clothes, feeling his tears threatening to spill. The only word going through is head right now is why. Why would Oberon do this? Why is he suddenly so different? Why does Peter have to leave so suddenly? Why is this happening? Once Peter is dressed, he grabs his phone from where it’s resting against a pillow. The screen doesn’t light up. Great; his new phone is dead too. He stares at his reflection in the dark screen. His cheeks are red and his eyes puffed. He blinks and then the tears fall. “Puck.” Peter gasps and looks up at the Fae who now stands. An odd glow now radiates from the middle of his chest. The man’s expression is pained, like he’s holding back. “You are no longer indebted to me. You are to go home and forget about us. Do not come back to these woods. Ever.” “You,” Peter pushes out through gritted teeth, his sadness slowly making place for anger. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Oberon doesn’t speak. The only response Peter gets to his accusation is the twitch over Oberon’s upper lip. “You manipulated me enough to have sex with me and now you’re dropping me.” The Fae looks away and takes hold of the door, gesturing to outside. “Leave,” Oberon orders. “Please.” Peter is confused at how the Fae’s voice cracks, as if he actually cares about Peter. “Unbelievable,” the young man breathes. “I can’t believe I fell for this. For you!” “LEAVE!” The Fae’s aggression reverbs through the cottage, making it even colder than it already was. Peter’s jaw trembles as his tears now freely glide down his cheeks. Peter runs. Past the pots and pans at the cooking area, past the herbs hanging from the ceiling, past Oberon, through the door. The second he sets foot outside, he hears the door being thrown shut, but when he turns around he finds the cabin has disappeared entirely. It’s gone. And now Peter is alone in the woods. He shakes violently, dropping to his knees and sobbing. Part of him hopes that wherever Oberon is, that he can hear him wail. … When Peter arrives home, he plugs in his phone and heads to the shower. He feverishly washes himself, scrubbing his body and hating how he can still feel the Fae’s touch lingering on his skin. He wants it gone. Wants the Fae gone. He sobs under the stream, knowing damn well that he will never be able to get rid of the sensation of disgust. After an hour of letting his tears disappear in the drain, he turns off the tap, broken and drained- empty and dulled. He drops himself on his bed and simply lays there. He won’t be able to sleep anyways. … Peter is startled back to reality by his buzzing phone. The alarm he had set for the morning after Oberon went off, now that the battery was fully charged again. He swallows and grabs his phone, snoozing his alarm. He wants to put the phone away, but notices something is off. He unlocks it and the notification that caught his guard now fully pops up. Recording ended due to empty battery. Confused, yet curious, Peter opens his album to check which recording the notification meant. He blinks a few times when he spots the right one. Two hours and forty-two minutes. When did that happen? He selects it and starts the recording, not entirely unsurprised to be met by Oberon’s face, extremely close to the camera. The sight stings him. “Oh, this is a video right?” Oberon’s voice asks from the phone’s speakers. “Right. Well, hello, future Puck, I am going to show you something.” The Fae turns the camera to show a peacefully sleeping Peter. The camera moves closer to Peter and he can hear a bit of shuffling. He guesses Oberon went to lay down next to Peter. “Do you see your face?” Oberon’s voice is toned down and soft, now that he’s so close to Peter’s sleeping form. Peter watches what Oberon means, already feeling the tears sting in his eyes again. “You wear no mask now…” A hand appears from the corner of the screen to move a few of Peter’s curls out of the way. His fingers caress Peter’s cheek, causing an unwelcome shiver to run down Peter’s real spine. “You are at peace like this. So wonderful, so beautiful…” The Fae sighs content. “I could watch you like this for hours, you know?” “I know.” Peter is startled to hear himself talk in the video. In his sleep. Oberon chuckles. “Oh, do you?” “Mhm.” “Tell me, Puck, what is your favorite season?” “Spring.” “Well, aren’t you lucky that’s right around the corner.” Peter wants to throw his phone to the other side of the room. Oberon is having a conversation with him that he doesn’t remember having. Because he was asleep. It makes him feel uneasy and wonder what else the Fae asked him. “Think you can do some math right now? That ought to be fun to make you try.” The Peter in the video doesn’t reply, so Oberon simply continues. “Puck, what is two plus two?” “Four,” Peter replies promptly. “Easy.” “Alright how about twenty-one times forty-eight?” It’s quiet for a few seconds, but Peter replies still. “One thousand and eight.” “I honestly would not know how to check if it is correct, but I would surely assume you are correct.” Oberon asks Peter some more insignificant questions before falling silent again, simply looking at Peter. It seems he forgot he was filming Peter as the phone is quickly put away in a standing position. Peter guesses this was the spot he found his phone in, looking out over the entire cottage. Peter scrolls ahead in the video, not wanting to watch Oberon play with Peter’s hair for one and a half hours. Peter plays the video at normal speed again when he spots Oberon standing up. He shuffles around the room and speaks softly. “I will be out back to collect some more berries. Will you be alright, my love?” The name is a punch in the gut for Peter and he pulls at his hair. He doesn’t know why he’s still watching, but part of him wonders if whatever made Oberon change his mind like that so suddenly has been caught on camera. “Be fine,” Peter in the video mumbles bluntly. “Love you, bye.” A wide, surprised smile spreads on Oberon’s face and he walks out, mumbling something to himself. Again, nothing happens for half an hour, when suddenly… “Here you are…” A familiar voice speaks. A stranger saunters into Oberon’s cottage. Peter feels like he’s seen him somewhere before, but he can’t recall where. His eyes glow blue, like Oberon’s and when he reaches Peter, he squats down. “Didn’t expect someone as delectable as you to spend time with our heir.” Heir…? Peter’s skin crawls when the man’s hand traces down his bare body, curiously lifting the blankets and grinning wide at his findings. Peter instinctively clutches his sheets, covering himself more. He feels even more disgusted now. “Oh, aren’t you spent…” His eyes darken and his smirk turns ever so evil. “Used.” “Was so good,” the Peter in the video says. The man perks up surprised. “You speak in your slumber?” “Mm…” “Oh, what a nice turn of events…” The man’s hand cups Peter’s face. “Does the prince know your name?” Prince- “No- yes. A little.” “A little? How does that work?” “Last name.” “Oh, like so. Well then, sweet thing, what is your last name?” “Parker.” Peter feels the tug at his heart again. No, is all he can think. Don’t say more. “And then, if you’ll indulge me… What is your first name?” “Your voice is silenced in eclipse, no more words fall from your lips-” Oberon rushes in and reaches his hand forward at Peter, quieting him immediately. The second the spell has settled on Peter, Oberon’s eyes widen and he freezes before he collapses clutching his chest and letting out an agonized groan. Peter stirs, but the other Fae waves his hand once. “Do not wake ‘til morning comes, Parker, I have plans for you.” The man turns back to Oberon and scoffs a laugh. “I can spell him all I want, I have no promises to break. Unlike you, cousin.” Oberon gasps as he trembles, the area where he clutched his chest now glows blue like his eyes. Like Peter had seen the morning after. Oberon broke his promise and now had to deal with the consequences- the pain. He broke his promise; to protect Peter. “Why are you here,” Oberon seethes. “Why, I was quite intrigued to find this beautiful specimen in the woods yesterday. Searching for Oberon. I suppose that is you?” The man laughs condescendingly. “And you are not even king yet.” He turns back to Peter. “Pathetic… You didn’t even take his name.” “Step away from him.” “I will not. You have not claimed him, so I will.” “Mysterio-“ Oberon threatens, squaring up. His hands turn to ice like they had done when he almost spelled Flash. Snow is brought through the opened door by a wind Oberon conjures up. “Leave Puck alone.” “Oh!” Mysterio exclaims. “You call him Puck? And he calls you Oberon. How disgustingly sweet.” His expression drops. “I’m going to hurl.” “He’s not yours to take, leave us!” The snow in the cottage thickens as Oberon’s skin pales more with anger and cold magic. “Iron Man, do not tell me you love him.” Oberon’s jaw tightens at Mysterio’s condescending tone. “Oh, you love him.” Mysterio confirms to himself. “Well, then I’ll certainly enjoy taking him for myself.” “I will not let you!” Peter doesn’t understand why Oberon doesn’t just force the man out of his home. “You will, cousin.” Mysterio stands upright and circles Peter like a hawk, waiting for the right moment to take his prey. “For if you do not, I will tell all of Winter Court of the human you bedded. The human you want. The human you did not trick. The human who is not yours, for you do not have his name.” “You would not,” Oberon breathes. “All the Fae will come for him then. I won’t be able to protect him.” “That is what you are worried about?” Mysterio scoffs. “Not that your father will revoke your title and pass the throne to me for your dishonorable and disappointing behavior?” “I do not want to be a king like my father. The title means nothing to me.” “Then why not pass it to me?” “And leave you in charge of all of Winter Court? I’d rather eat my own two feet.” “Rude, much,” Mysterio says faux-offended. “Tell you what. I’m giving you one chance to redeem yourself.” “What will you have me do.” “Claim him.” “No,” Oberon immediately counters, taking two steps forward. Desperation seeps off every word. “No, please, do not make me do this.” “You choose, Oberon,” Mysterio taunts. “You either take his name and keep your honor, or you will lose your title to me and all of Winter Court will be scouring these woods to use him the way you would not.” He cocks his head and grins. “And I will be first in line. Your boy will certainly look lovely at my feet, having no choice but to worship me for all eternity.” “You disgust me,” Oberon seethes. Though, his magic loses power as his shoulders start hanging. “And you me, cousin.” Mysterio then steps over Peter’s body as he casually makes his way to the door, past Oberon. He places his hand on Oberon’s shoulder and pats twice. “Make our court proud.” Mysterio then leaves Oberon and Peter alone in the cottage- in the cold. Oberon’s sad eyes find Peter’s figure and after a minute of visibly holding in his tears he manages to shuffle towards Peter. A soft sob escapes his throat as he lays down next to Peter again, fixing his hair where Mysterio had undone it. The new light emitting from Oberon’s chest now lights up both of their faces. The Fae waves his hand over Peter’s face to undo the spell he had put on him. He then sniffs and the Peter watching the video cries along with him. “Oh, Puck, my flower,” Oberon mumbles through his tears. “I do not wish to lose you. I want to keep you.” “Keep me,” sleeping Peter replies softly. Oberon swallows and closes his eyes. “I can’t.” “Keep me,” Peter repeats. “No.” Oberon is sobbing quietly now. His shoulders shake with every intake of breath. “No.” The Fae presses his lips together and swallows. “I love you too much to keep you.” “Love you too, bye.” Oberon can’t help but scoff a quiet laugh through his tears. Peter is still asleep. Whatever he says is steered on by his subconscious. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but Peter can’t get himself to stop the video. He watches as all possible emotions in existence pass over Oberon’s face. “Puck,” Oberon asks suddenly. Peter holds his breath, anticipating the question. “What is your name?” Peter stares breathlessly at the screen, but when the Peter in the video opens his mouth to speak, Oberon swiftly covers it. “No. No, I do not want it.” He averts his gaze. “I should not have asked to begin with, I am sorry.” “It’s okay,” sleeping Peter answers, probably only responding to the I am sorry part, not actually aware of what it was attached to. “It is not.” It’s quiet again for a little bit. Peter notices the video is almost at its end. He wonders if anything else will be said before his phone’s battery died. In the last thirty seconds, Oberon speaks once more. “I have decided to let you go, flower.” Oberon’s words are shaky. “You deserve your freedom more than I deserve anything else.” Peter is sobbing now, so painfully aware of the things he had accused Oberon of when he left the cottage. “You will never see me again after this, so I want- I want you to have this… To have mine.” Peter frowns through his tears. His…? His what? “My name…” Peter’s eyes widen and he sits up straight in his bed. Is Oberon giving him the one thing they would never share? “My name is-” Peter stares at a black screen as the video and audio cut right when Oberon was about to say his name. After five solid minutes of being frozen in place, something in his mind finally clicks. He has to go back. Back to the woods, back to Oberon. Stat. Straight away. Pronto. Immediately. Now. … Peter runs as fast as his legs can carry him. The ground in the woods is treacherous and uneven, but he can’t get himself to slow down. The wind cuts the skin on his face and his quick breath condenses in front of his mouth. “OBERON!” His screams carry far. “OBERON, COME TO ME!” He nearly trips, causing him to stop running altogether. “OBERON, PLEASE!” he cries out. “PLEASE!” Peter wants to protect Oberon the way he had protected May. Mysterio hadn’t given Oberon this third option; to let Peter leave. It was a risk Oberon had taken in an attempt to go around Mysterio’s threat, since in both, Peter’s freedom would be taken. The Fae was presented with two choices: claim the name or don’t and suffer the consequences. Thing is, Oberon did not claim Peter’s name. That means Mysterio will still tell all of Winter Court about Peter. Oberon will lose the throne and be shunned from his people forever. That is why Peter is here. Oberon has to take his name. He simply has to. And now, Peter is more than ready to give it to him. The Fae had sent Peter away to protect him from being taken, but there is nothing he wants more right now then to be taken. By no one other than- “OBERON!” It’s no use. Peter has been walking for hours now, searching the woods for any sign of the Fae. Or any Fae for that matter. He assumes they would’ve already found him by now, but they are nowhere to be seen. He unlocks his phone and swears when he realizes what day it is. The human world and the Fae world are parallel to each other and they only really mingle on the actual Pagan celebrations. It’s no longer Imbolc. The veil is back. Peter couldn’t find any fairy circles or other signs of passage to their realm in his desperate attempt to locate Oberon, which means there is no way he can find the Fae before the next time Oberon and he were supposed to meet. Ostara. March 21st. Defeated, Peter falls to his knees on the forest floor, clutching his phone against his chest and crying without tears. He had none left. Peter inwardly has to tell himself that he is going to have to go home… And that he is about to face the longest one and half months of his life…

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pinktwingirl · 3 years ago

Text

Rats, Squirrels, and Unlikely Friends

A quick oneshot in which Squirrel Girl travels to the DC universe and meets Ratcatcher II. Enjoy! :) @oh-its-jennyyy

Doreen knew she wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Stark Industries’ prototype wormhole generator was strictly off-limits to anyone but authorized staff, and that certainly did not include Doreen. She was a new hire, fresh out of college. She didn’t belong in top-secret labs, tampering with cutting-edge technology that could alter the fabric of space and time as we knew it. And yet, there she was, hacking into the “supposedly” un-hackable security system to check it out when no one was working on it. (She was slightly more skilled in the firewall breaching and data encryption area than her supervisors were aware.)

Every cell in her body screamed at her to stop. God, what was she thinking?! If anyone caught a glimpse of her doing this, she’d be fired on the spot. But whether it was her unending curiosity or her stubbornness to blame, she kept going. She just couldn’t help it; the whole concept of wormholes and interdimensional travel was so cool! She only wanted to see what the thing could do and how far they’d come... and hey, maybe if there were any areas for improvements that she could offer ideas on-

The device, a tall, silver arch, suddenly illuminated in a bright white haze, with its center forming some sort of black void. She must have somehow turned it on by accident.

“Ohhhh shit...” she grumbled.

Frantically scrambling around to find an off-switch, Doreen quickly realized that there wasn’t one. In fact, there were no buttons or cord connectors on the device at all. Was it motion activated? Voice activated? Maybe thermally activated from body heat?

There was no time to find out. Before she could move or do anything, she felt her body pulled into the void, and everything went dark.

…

It took Doreen a while to fully process her surroundings when she regained consciousness. A bright light, that she assumed was the sun – or, at least, a sun, given that she was in a new universe – was shining in her eyes, and she had to blink a few times for her vision to adjust. She could feel hard gravel pressing on her protesting back, which begged her to sit up. When she did, she came face-to-face with a young woman posed in a defensive stance, ready to strike.

Doreen took a moment to size up her potential assailant. The woman had a small stature, much like her, with short, dark hair, a dirty black coat, and, most bafflingly of all, a rat sitting on her shoulder, which didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

“Who are you?” the woman demanded. She certainly had a bit of an accent, although Doreen couldn’t quite place what it was. Not that it would really matter, though; countries could be entirely different in this world, assuming that this even was another Earth in the first place.

Well, at least people in this universe could still speak English. That would make communication easy.

“Umm...” Doreen got out. “Would you believe me if I said I was from another universe?”

Before the woman could respond, they both jumped when they heard loud squeaking behind them. Doreen was shocked to see her three faithful companions, Monkey Joe, Tippy-Toe, and Mr. Liebermann, bounding to her side.

“Wh-? What are you three doing here?! Did you follow me?” Tippy-Toe nodded and gave an enthusiastic chirp as Doreen stroked her back. “Oh, you silly squirrels... You know you’re not supposed to come to work with me...”

The dark-haired woman, much to Doreen’s surprise, was looking at her not with disgust or judgment, but instead wide-eyed wonder and fascination.

“Are these your... friends?”

“Huh? Oh! I guess it would be rude to skip introductions. These are my pet squirrels, Monkey Joe, Tippy-Toe, and Mr. Liebermann.” Doreen stuck out her hand. “I’m Doreen Green.”

Reaching her hand out as well, the dark-haired woman tentatively shook it, apparently having decided that Doreen wasn’t a threat. “Cleo Cazo. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too! So, um... yeah... I guess you’re... wondering where I came from?”

Cleo nodded.

“Well, so... the company I work for kind of built a wormhole generator that could transport people to alternate universes. And... I guess this place is one of them. Although, I actually wasn’t supposed to be messing with it. This was all a huge accident.” After a moment, she gave Cleo a sheepish grin. “I guess that must all be hard for you to believe, though...”

The rat on Cleo’s shoulder squeaked something into her ear, and she smiled. “No, it’s okay. Sebastian says you are telling the truth. He can sense that you are an honest and kind person!” The rat suddenly scurried to a patch of grass nearby to chew a dandelion off its stem and present it to Doreen. “Aww, look! He is offering you a flower as a token of his goodwill!”

Doreen giggled as she took the flower and put it in her hair. “Thank you, Sebastian! Would you like an almond?” Sebastian squeaked happily as she reached into her pocket and handed him his gift.

As Doreen stood up, Cleo was surprised to see a long, bushy tail extending from her backside. “Forgive me if this is a rude question, but... do all people in your universe have tails?”

“Oh, no. I’m actually the only one. I was born with altered DNA that made me part squirrel. They call me a mutant because of that. Do you have mutants here?”

Cleo shook her head. “I do not think so. I have heard of people born with altered DNA, but I have never heard the word ‘mutant’ used to describe them. Your powers are so cool, though! I wish I were part rat. But I don’t have any rat blood in me. I just communicate with them and tell them what to do.”

“That’s still pretty impressive! How do you do it?”

Cleo showed Doreen her rat-guiding light. “With this. My papa taught me how. He was the original Ratcatcher. When he passed away, I became his successor: Ratcatcher II.”

“That’s amazing!” Doreen smiled at Sebastian. “Do you mind if I pet him?”

“Not at all! Can I pet your squirrels?”

“Sure!”

The girls swapped rodents, with Cleo stroking Monkey Joe, Tippy-Toe, and Mr. Liebermann and Doreen scratching the head of a very happy Sebastian. After a moment of silent contemplation, Doreen spoke up again.

“I’ve never... met anybody like me. I mean... someone who talks to small rodents. It’s a really underrated ability!”

“I know, right? Everyone always thinks I am weird or gross.”

“You know, I never got why people hate rats so much. They’re so cute and fluffy! I mean, sure, they eat garbage, but it’s not their fault! They don’t have anything else to eat! What else are they supposed to do?”

“That’s what I keep saying!”

“So... are countries still the same in this universe? Is this the U.S.?”

“Yes, we have a United States. And a Portugal. That’s where I am from. Does your universe have a Portugal?”

“Yep! It sounds like we have all the same countries! That’s a relief.”

“But this is not American soil. We are in the Hispanic nation of Corto Maltese.”

“Oh... I guess it’s a good thing I ran into you, then, instead of the natives. I don’t speak a lick of Spanish.”

“Neither do I. I don’t live here.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Cleo pointed to what looked like the ruins of a tall building off in the distance. “Cleaning up that. The ruins of Jotunheim.”

“Jotunheim? You mean, like, the place where frost giants live?”

“What are ‘frost giants?’”

“Oh... you... don’t have those here? I have a friend who’s a frost giant, so I thought that’s what you were talking about.”

“Jotunheim was once a research laboratory. They used a giant alien starfish to conduct experiments with the creature’s mind control abilities. Many people died in the process, and the American government was behind all of it.”

“That’s horrible!”

“The government sent me with a team to cover it up. But when the monster got loose, we destroyed it instead. Now, we have to clean up the damage in the city. It is not as glamorous as saving the world, but no job is too menial for the Suicide Squad.”

“The ‘Suicide Squad?’ That’s what you guys call yourselves? That’s a pretty bleak name. See, I’m part of a team called The Avengers. Now, that’s a much better name."

“Well, it’s only a nickname. Our official codename is Task Force X.”

“You know, why does the letter X always make everything sound, like, ten times cooler? Like, ‘Task Force Y’ or ‘Task Force W’ just wouldn’t sound right, would it?”

Cleo giggled. “I guess not.” She handed the squirrels back to Doreen as Sebastian happily bounded back to her side.

“Well, this has been a real treat, but I should probably get back now,” Doreen laughed. “I don’t want to get-” She froze as she looked behind her, realizing that there was no wormhole device. “Oh... I... I don’t know how to get back... Oh no, this is bad...”

Cleo put a hand on her shoulder before she could start to panic. “Don’t worry! I’m sure my friends can help you figure something out! Let’s get you back to my teammates.”

The two walked down several blocks, where a tall man with heavy-duty armor and a walking shark were waiting for them. Cleo grinned at Doreen.

“Is seeing a giant shark with legs strange in your world?”

“Well, I’m friends with a talking tree and racoon, so, not really, to be honest.”

The tall man gave Doreen a weird look. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her tail or her last rather bizarre-sounding remark. Maybe both.

“Who is this?” he asked.

Doreen cheerfully stuck out her hand. “My name’s Doreen Green, also known as Squirrel Girl! I’m from another universe!” She paused. “It’s kind of a long story. I also need help getting back home now.”

The tall man tentatively shook her hand. “Robert DuBois. Or Bloodsport. I guess we can get you down to the science people if you really want to come with us.”

Doreen took a moment to peer at him. “You know, it’s weird... You look just like this guy one of my friends used to know. Would you happen to be related to a guy called Heimdall at all? Guardian of Asgard? Watchman of the Gods? Is that ringing any bells?”

After staring blankly at her for a moment, Bloodsport turned to Cleo. “Is this girl on drugs?”

“Excuse me! I most certainly am not!” Doreen protested. “It’s strictly against company protocol to be under the influence of any substances during work hours! And I’m technically still working!”

The shark suddenly pointed at the squirrels. “Nom nom!”

Cleo sighed. “No, Nanaue, that’s not nom nom. Squirrels are friends. Just like rats.” She patted the shark’s back as he gave a dejected slump. “We’ll get you food when you get back.”

Out of nowhere, Doreen suddenly felt a tingling sensation in her body. Moving of their own will, her legs suddenly starting stumbling backwards. Her squirrels instantly jumped on her shoulder, ready to protect their human from any harm.

“Hey, where are you going?” Bloodsport called.

“I...” Doreen got out. “I think the device is pulling me back!”

“You’re leaving now?!” Cleo shouted.

“I can’t stop it!” Doreen grabbed onto Cleo’s hand in a last-ditch moment of desperation. “Cleo! Take good care of Sebastian! And don’t ever let anyone underestimate you! Trust me, I learned the hard way! People think we’re weak because they don’t understand us... But you’re stronger than you th-”

Before she could finish, she was gone.

…

Doreen collapsed on the ground, her heart racing at the familiar tile patterns. She knew this laboratory! She knew this building! She was back!

Her excitement quickly faded when she realized that return would mean consequences. Yep, she was definitely fired...

Except... there was still no one in the lab. No one had come back. Doreen checked the time. 2:15. She’d only been gone for 5 minutes! She looked around in awe at the silent room. All she would have to do now was sneak out. Had she really gotten away with it?

Slipping out the door and quietly returning to her workstation, she did her best to ignore her coworker’s questions about why she took a fairly lengthy bathroom break and whether she knew what they were supposed to be doing, instead giving them quick, uninvolved answers. Her mind was on Cleo and that strange, strange universe. It was so different, and yet... so similar to hers. The multiverse was certainly big and daunting, but no matter what people found in it in the future, no matter what research lied ahead, she knew it would always give her one source of comfort:

She’d found a friend that was just like her.

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thestarsociety · 4 years ago

Text

hey there, hero

Rating: T

Word count: 4.5k

Content warnings: mild blood/injury, likely inaccurate medical procedures

Summary: five times kira greeted bella, and one time bella greeted her back.

: : : : : : : : 1 : : : : : : : :

Bella pulled at the edge of her gloves, adjusting her stance on the roof as she observed the Citadel Solutions complex down below. It was walled (which, really, was no surprise, considering the name), but she had found a spot on a building high enough up that she could watch.

Something was happening in there. She knew it.

She had forgone her usual bright blue and yellow attire for a mostly black outfit. After all, Blink, local hero and above-the-board actor, couldn't be caught here. But, Bella was fairly certain she could get in easily with some well-timed teleports. She had a labcoat stashed in her bag that was at least somewhat similar to the garb of the engineers inside. Similar enough, she hoped, that they would let her pass by, once she was in.

She'd spent this stakeout watching the movements in and out, trying to time her entrance so she could get in with the least fuss. She was almost sure she had it. She took a deep breath, and repeated the plan like a mantra. Get in, find what they're up to, disappear. You can do this. You can do this. You can do th—

Boots touched down onto the roof behind her.

"Hey there, hero. What brings you to this fine rooftop?"

Bella startled, instinctively teleporting behind the newcomer. "Wh– who– how did you know I was here?"

The newcomer spun around to face her, tilting her head slightly and crossing her arms. She was slightly taller than Blink, and wearing a sort of armored suit. A hard shell mask covered the bottom half of her face, but her dark eyes were amused. She had warm brown skin, and thick wavy hair that fell past her shoulders, just above the backpack she seemed to be wearing.

Most eye-catching, however, were her gauntlets. They were bulky, covering her entire forearm, and when she moved her hand, Bella could hear the whine of motors.

In short: definitely dangerous.

"Hey, whoah, no need to break out the powers," she said, wiggling her fingers slightly. The motors whined. Bella swallowed. "Anyway, I asked first. So." She stepped towards Bella. "Why are you here?" The mirth drained out of her voice, replaced by a steely seriousness.

"Ah..." Blink floundered for a second. "Just... came up to enjoy the view," she said. It was... a plausible excuse. It wasn't like nobody had ever spent time on top of a building for a view before.

The stranger just looked even more amused. "You sure? 'Cause the locked door would say otherwise," she said, cocking her head towards the door which did, in fact, read "NO EXIT/ENTRY" in large red letters.

"Euhh..." Bella clenched and unclenched her fingers. Purple sparks began to accumulate, swirling around her feet. "I..."

There was a snap, and Bella fell onto her bed.

Quinn spun around from where he was sitting in her chair, a red lollipop in his mouth. "Oh, you're back early. How'd it go?"

Bella covered her face with her hands and groaned.

: : : : : : : : 2 : : : : : : : :

Fighting has never been Bella's strong suit.

She'd gotten better at it, sure, thanks to experience and sparring with Quinn. Her battle strategy didn’t consist of "teleport away from punches and hope for the best” anymore. But she still didn’t like it.

Case in point, feeling like she's totally floundering as she tried to fight a dozen robot drones. She elbowed one that approached behind her, then teleported three feet above one in front of her, letting gravity (and her steel-toed boots) do the work for her. She got into the rhythm of it, kicks and punches and smartly-timed teleports becoming a dance that she weaves and bobs to.

However, she's not a fighter, and when fighting on a rooftop, it turns out that drones sometimes do have a strategy.

Corner her towards the edge of the building.

Every time she tried to fight her way away from the edge, the bots herded her towards it. What they lacked in individual power they made up for in combined might.

Then, the worst happened.

She tripped.

Her scream lodged in her throat as she fell though the air towards the hard ground below. Wind whipped around her, hair flipping into her eyes as she frantically tried to gather her powers, visualizing somewhere safe and grounded and––

The momentum around her stopped as Bella was slammed into by someone flying through the air. Arms circled her knees and back and Bella opened her eyes to see––

Her.

The girl bridal-carrying her grinned, the edges of her dark eyes crinkling. "Well hey there, hero," she said. "Hold onto me. Don't want to drop you." Bella looped her arms around her neck and dared a look down at the ground below. They were. High up. So she kept her gaze on her unlikely savior.

"Why did you—"

"I'm a hero," she said easily. "Heroes don't let pretty girls fall off rooftops." She glanced down at Blink. "Uh, and if they did, they would catch them out of the air."

Bella's breath hitched. Her face flushed, and she was silently happy that her mask covered her cheeks. "Thanks," she mumbled, averting her eyes from her savior's face.

"Your ears are red." Bella could hear the stupid smirk on her face. "Let's get you on solid ground, shall we?"

Before Bella could say anything in reply, the stranger boosted whatever mechanism made her fly, and the wind whipped even faster. Bella buried her head in her shoulder.

When they landed and brushed themselves off, the armored girl turned to Blink. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot." She extended a hand. "I'm Cavalier."

Blink didn't move. "...As in, arrogant?"

"As in, horse-riding knights." She tapped the Citadel Solutions logo, a horse, on her chest. Blink frowned. Of course she was with Citadel.

"Shouldn't that be Cavalry?"

"The force as a whole is Cavalry. Just one is a Cavalier. Also, c'mon, can you just shake my hand?"

Bella took her gauntleted hand reluctantly. "Blink." she offered.

"Charmed, I'm sure. Can I ask what you were doing? Those bots aren't meant to attack people.” Blink opened her mouth. “Also, would be nice if you didn't disappear on me again. I did just save you."

"I can handle myself," Bella bit back. "I have powers."

Cavalier shrugged. "You were falling pretty fast." She cocked her head. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the Citadel cell tower on that rooftop, hm?"

Bella's breath hitched. It did. Citadel Solutions had recently developed and installed cell tower devices that would monitor and report "suspicious metahuman frequencies". Essentially, anti-meta spyware. Bella and Quinn were intent on destroying them. Her stomach tightened. "I... can't tell you that."

Cavalier started at her flatly. "So, that's a yes."

"Listen, they're horrifyingly unethical!" Blink burst out. "Spying on metahumans? For no reason? It's ridiculous! We aren't inherently dangerous!"

Cavalier cocked her head. "Blink, just last week, a pyrokinetic couldn't control their powers and created thousands of dollars in property damage."

Bella threw her arms up. "I know! I was there! I am extremely familiar with what happened. So familiar, in fact, that I was the one who diffused the situation!"

Cavalier's eyes widened.

Bella continued on her tirade. "So I know that the solution isn't surveillance. Jamie just needed someone to talk to. Someone who knows what it's like. He needed help, not to be stopped by some kind of armed force," she spat.

"Okay, but one situation doesn't cover all of it. Citadel is trying to help people, to make the city better, just like you are."

"The intent behind it doesn't matter. This is going to impact metahumans everywhere. It's not okay."

Cavalier stood for a moment, her jaw opening and closing a couple times. Her eyebrows were furrowed. Finally, she hummed. "Okay. Thanks for not disappearing on me." She turned her back to Blink, getting ready to take off.

Before she left, she looked over her shoulder back at Blink. "I'm... not gonna report this. Just so you know. Thanks for your thoughts."

Her repulsors built to a high whine, and she lifted into the sky.

: : : : : : : : 3 : : : : : : : :

Blink hadn't seen Cavalier all night. They had gotten into a rhythm of patrolling together over the past few months: they worked better as a team than on their own, and games of rooftop tag always made it more fun.

Their first patrol had been awkward, for sure. Blink has never approved of what Citadel does, but when they're not pushing morally dubious tech, Cavalier was helping people. So when Cavalier approached her on one of her regular patrol routes to ask about "pooling their resources" since "I save people, you save people, really, we're on the same side, here," Blink and Signal accepted.

Through these shared patrols, they'd grown much closer. There was something about the late nights spent together that allowed their conversations to flow, to share their thoughts easier. Blink had grown to appreciate Cavalier's humor and wit, and cared about her quite a bit. Through conversations about possible team names (Cavalier was set on 'Starlets', but Bella was partial to 'Moonlighters' and Quinn to 'The Star Society'), things that happened at school (though they were both careful to never mention names), or even Citadel projects, Bella saw Kira as a total person and not just an extension of Citadel. She agreed with a lot of Bella's criticisms of Citadel, and Bella admitted where they did legitimate good.

She knew Kira now. Knew that she was laughed loud and cared louder, that she would quote random lines from things Bella had never heard of, that when she smiled, the edges of her eyes would crinkle.

Nowadays, they would patrol together nearly every night. Quinn would sometimes rib her about "not giving away team secrets," but Bella trusted Kira. Which was strange.

Blink was worried. Cavalier had a tendency to flake off, sometimes, but she would always at least shoot her a message. Today had been radio silence.

She completed her route alone, as the sun set low below the sky and the few stars that weren't obscured by light pollution made their appearance. Once she was done, she went to one of their favorite spots: the top of a building that was taller than all the rest in the area, so they could see everything, but couldn't be seen.

Sure enough, Blink found Cavalier sitting on the edge of the building, her head resting on her knee and her mask set on the ground as she looked over the blinking city lights below. This didn't seem to be her usual vigilant watch. She looked... tired. Contemplative.

"Hey."

Kira looked up at her, her head not moving from its rest on her knee. "Oh. Hey, Blink." She sounded exhausted. Her shoulders were slumped.

"What, no 'hero'?" Blink said, trying to lighten the mood.

Cavalier huffed a little laugh. "You know you're my hero." There was a smile in Kira's voice now, at least.

Bella sat next to her, letting her legs dangle and peeling off her mask. She looked at Kira from the side. She still hadn't moved. Her eyes seemed fixed a million miles away, as the lights of the city reflected in them. Thousands of pinpoints of light: windows, passing cars, neon signs, like stars in a dark sky. The glow brushed the planes of her face, accentuating the shadows beneath her eyes.

"Hey," Bella murmured. "What's up?"

Kira smiled a little. "Us?" Her voice cracked as she spoke.

"I am completely sure you've said that joke before," Bella said softly.

Kira's smile softened. "I think you're right. ...You usually are."

They sat for a while, watching the city. (Really, Kira watched the city while Bella watched Kira, and occasionally the blinking red cell tower.)

"I don't think I can do this. I don't know if I'm made for it." Kira confessed quietly. Her eyes were still fixed on the city.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," her voice wavered. "I mean, I don't know if I'm a good hero. If I can be a good hero. I know the kind of person my parents want me to be, what Citadel wants me to be, even what you want me to be. But I don't know what I want to be or–– or if I even have the ability become any of those people."

She sniffled.

Bella took a deep breath. "Kira," she said gently. "I've thought a lot of different things about you in the past. You know that. I've made sure that you know that. But something that has always stayed the same is this:" Bella turned so she was facing her. "Kira, you have proven to me a million times over that you are a hero. You're a good hero. No matter how much I've argued and fought with you about Citadel, about the Cavalry, whatever. I know Kira. And Kira is a hero."

Kira tilted her head towards her, and Bella could see stars reflected in the tears pooled in her eyes.

"Listen to me. The only person I want you to be is you. I like you. Whatever kind of hero you end up becoming–– and you are a hero, trust me ––I will want you to be that person. No matter what."

Kira sniffled, her lip quivering. She surged forwards, wrapping her arms around Bella's torso. "Thank you," she said, muffled into her shoulder. Bella held her until her breathing became more even, until her breath stopped shuddering in her ribcage, tracing circles on her back.

When Kira pulled back, their legs still intertwined, she looked up at her, eyes huge. "Thank you. Again. I needed to hear that."

Bella smiled at her. "It's just the truth."

"I– god. You're so good. I think I like you way too much." Kira sniffled. "Also, uh, all that stuff you said, about 'I like you no matter what?' Um. Ditto. Me too. I care about you. You're good people."

"You're good people, too," Bella said. She was sure she was red all over.

"Your ears are red," Kira murmured. "Hey, you ever think we're moving too fast? Like, I'm here spilling my guts about everything and how much I like you, and we've bandaged each other up more times than I can count, but I don't even know your favorite movie or your last name––"

Bella cut off her increasingly panicked ramble, stilling one of her shaking hands at the wrist. "My Neighbor Totoro. Jennifer's Body is a close second. And Vogel."

Kira blinked. "Iron Giant. And Singer-Veturi."

"Listen. We have plenty of time to move slow. Let's get dinner and see a movie. This Friday."

"Is that a date, Vogel?" she said coyly, testing the name out. She blinked up at her through her eyelashes.

Bella smiled, angling her head just as coyly. "If you want it to be."

Kira snorted, and they both broke out into laughter.

"I do," Kira said, without a hint of sarcasm. "I really, really do."

They stared at each other for a moment, grinning, before Kira took the hand that Bella was holding and cupped Bella's cheek. "Hey, can I––"

Bella nodded vigorously. "Please."

Kira leaned forward, and their lips connected.

: : : : : : : : 4 : : : : : : : :

Bella was inches away from slamming her head into her calculus notes when her phone pinged.

"Oh thank god," she mumbled.

Kira Cavalier: hekp'

Kira Cavalier shared a location with you.

Kira Cavalier: please it's serious thifs timr

Bella's heart caught in her throat. She tapped the location into her maps app threw her phone onto her bed, yanked her costume on in record time, and checked for landmarks around Kira's location. Locating a bakery on the street she was familiar with, she grabbed the first-aid kit just in case and teleported onto the roof.

She landed in a three-point-stance, immediately jumping up and looking for any sign of Kira. She grimaced at the familiar sight of a Citadel device on a nearby roof, but no sign of Kira.

"K—" what would she say? Kira? Cavalier? Either could be compromising to her identity. Eventually, she settled on yelling "K?! Are you here?"

Her phone pinged in her pocket.

Kira Cavalier: alleywy

Bella bounded towards an alleyway, leaping across it when she saw no one there. She silently thanked Kira for goading her into playing rooftop tag all those times. She was an expert at traversing rooftops now.

She saw a flash of purple in one of the narrower alleyways. She immediately blinked down. Purple sparks rained around her as she landed. She gasped.

There was a distinct coppery smell in the air. Kira was slumped against the wall, one gauntlet pressed against her side, where red was leaking through, staining her suit and her gauntlet. When she touched down, Kira smiled up at her weakly. "Hey there, hero." She tried to raise a hand to wave, the motors whirring, but she winced and lowered it gingerly.

"Oh my god." Bella dropped to her knees, kneepads slamming onto the concrete. "Why are you covered in blood? What happened? Can you move?"

"Uh, in order:" her voice was strained. "Sexy reasons, I fought some drones, and, uh, no. That's why I called you."

Bella began opening the first-aid kit. "Couldn't you call someone from Citadel? The Cavalry?"

Kira looked her in the eyes. "I was fighting drones, birdie. I was dismantling Citadel property." Before Bella could say something in reply, she continued. "I wiped 'em, don't worry. They won't be too retributive. Citadel won't know."

"That's not..." Bella said softly. "Why?"

Kira closed her eyes. "Milagro. That kid we saved last week. She's a metahuman and she lives here. She would qualify for surveillance. I couldn't..."

Something curled in Bella's chest. "Hey, listen. We're gonna make things right, okay?"

Kira looked at her and smiled. "Okay."

"Let's do this not in an alleyway, okay? I'm gonna teleport you to my room."

Kira sniffed. "Okay."

Bella wrapped her arms around Kira as best as she could, gathered her powers, and they popped in a shower of sparks.

Back in her bedroom, Bella gently placed Kira in her spinny chair. Kira protested weakly. "'M gonna get blood all over your nice chair."

Rooting through the closet, Bella glanced back. "It's fine. Honestly, Quinn will probably be more upset than me."

"Man likes his chairs." Kira said absently, head lolled against the headrest.

Bella peeled her mask off and dragged the larger first-aid bag out from her closet, unzipping it and pulling out the relevant materials. "I think you're gonna need to take off the armor," she said. "Is that possible."

"Mmhmm," she said. "But I think you'll have to help."

She guided her to the release on her mask and pulled it off. Bella set it aside as Kira licked her chapped lips. Bella frowned. "You should drink more water. I'll get you some after, uh." She gestured vaguely.

Kira sniffed. "Thanks."

They went through the process of gingerly removing her armor, Kira typing in the command to release the pressure and Bella peeling it off. Once the armor around her torso was removed, Bella lifted up the tank top above the wound on her side and cleaned it gently with alcohol and cotton. Luckily, it wasn't bad enough that she would need to go to a hospital, but she began securing it closed with butterfly stitches.

"So, how'd this happen? Usually you're a much more capable fighter."

Kira sighed and leaned her head back. "Both me and the drones are Citadel-made," she said bitterly. "My blasters didn't damage them as much as I expected. So they overwhelmed me."

Bella hummed. "We'll have to mod your blasters so they will, hm?"

Kira smiled. "Yeah."

Once the biggest wound was cleaned up, Kira removed the rest of her armor, including her gauntlets, and accepted a change of Bella's clothes. She was bruised elsewhere, but nothing that had to be attended to immediately.

"You should stay here," Bella said. It was selfish. She wanted Kira near her. But she was worried about what would happen if her parents saw her like this. "Tell your parents we're having a sleepover."

Kira shrugged. "They're too busy to notice," she said easily. Bella frowned. Kira just yawned, turning away. "I'm beat. Getting stabbed takes a lot out of you. You coming?" She asked. "Bed's big enough for two."

Bella smiled, filing that away under 'talk about later'. "Yeah. Let me clean up first, and I'll get you some water."

She gathered the bloody cotton and the gross tank top and shoved them into the trash can in the alley. She put the first-aid bag away, and stacked both of their costumes in the closet so prying eyes wouldn't see them.

She blinked downstairs to find her dad. "Hey, Dad, Kira's parents are out of town, so she's sleeping over here."

Her dad looked up from his book. "Oh, has she eaten yet? We have some leftovers we can heat up for her."

Bella nodded. "Yeah, she's asleep upstairs already. She went to bed late last night."

Her dad smiled. "I am never gonna get used to you just teleporting people in and out of here"

Bella rolled her eyes and grinned. "Dad, it has been like eight years since I got these."

"I'm your father! I worry about you! What if you get splinched?"

"Splinching isn't real. Don't worry so much, Dad. I am very responsible." She filled up a glass with water. "Alright, just wanted to let you know that she was over."

"Thanks. You know we like Kira," he said significantly.

Bella coughed. "Thanks, Dad! Goodnight!"

"Night, rabbit!"

Bella returned to her room with the glass. "Your water, my liege."

"Thank you, Sir Vogel." She took the glass and gulped it down, placing it on the nightstand. "Now come to beeeeedd," she said, reaching out her arms.

"Okay, okay!"

: : : : : : : : 5 : : : : : : : :

Bella woke up bleary. So, so, bleary.

She rubbed at one eye, shading a bit of the sun coming through the window. She buried back into the comforter, and rolled over to see Kira on the other side of the bed.

Oh. So last night wasn’t a dream. The injury, patching her up, asking her to stay for the night. Sharing the bed.

Bella sank into the bed and observed Kira as she slept, her chest rising and falling evenly, her lips slightly parted. She looked so different to the girl she'd spoke to on the rooftop months ago. Peaceful. She hoped she'd had even a small part in that.

She still found her just as pretty as she had on that night, though.

Kira began to stir, her eyes screwing shut before blinking open.

"Morning," Bella greeted.

Kira stretched, groaning a little bit. "G'morning." Done with her stretch, she settled on her side, facing Bella and looking into her eyes. She smiled, the edges of her eyes crinkling. "Hey there, hero," she said.

Bella couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey," Kira started.

"Hey," Bella echoed.

"You remember that time we were playing rooftop tag—"

"Oh my god." Bella covered her face with her hands.

"Wait, no, c'mon, you don't get to hide from this," she retorted, laughing. "You were it, and you tried to tag me, and you decided the optimal way to do that was by straddling me."

"Listen, it seemed like a good idea at the time!" she groaned. "And I did get you."

"I wanted to kiss you right then and there," she said, her eyes tracing the lines of Bella's face.

Bella started. "Oh. Yeah. Me too, actually," she said, bringing her hands down from her face.

Kira's eyes widened a little, but the expression was soon replaced with a grin. "Well, it's a good thing we have plenty of time to make up for it."

"Mmhmm. Wait, what are you— be careful––"

Kira hooked a leg over Bella's hip, flipping them so she was straddling Bella's hips and her arms were on either side of her head.

"Oh, you asshole," Bella giggled.

"Hey there, hero," Kira said, grinning down at her.

Bella pulled her down for a kiss.

: : : : : : : : +1 : : : : : : : :

They took Bella. They took Bella.

Tensions between the Moonlighters and Citadel had risen, and an ultimatum was presented: metahumans had to be controlled or neutralized. And Blink was the first meta to go.

Kira was so stupid. She should have seen the signs. The blueprints floating around for metahuman containment, the power-nullifying field generators she thought were purely theoretical. She was too busy living her stupid fantasy life of being a Real Hero, of running around the city with her friends.

She fired indiscriminately, warning everyone to get the hell out of her way. She'd spent hours and hours modding her gauntlet blasters, and now not even the Citadel Blast-Resistant Substance™ could withstand it. She descended into the complex, searching for the containment tubes.

And she found it.

Bella, held in a transparent tube, straps around her torso. Her head was lolled forward. The hum of electronics and the beep of a heart monitor filled the room.

Kira slammed the control panel, keying in the combo to release her.

Bella slumped out of the cell, and Kira caught her in her arms. "Birdie," she said, heart racing. "Hey, it's me, talk to me."

Bella sniffled. "Kira?" She looked up at her. She had a bloody nose that had since dried, the blood showing on her teeth as she grinned at her. Kira took a shallow breath in.

"Well hey there, hero," Bella said, eyes sparkling despite her injuries.

Kira's eyes welled up. "Shut the hell up, you're not funny," she said. "We gotta get out of here. Can you do that?"

"Mmphf. Gimme a second." Her head lolled forward again, and she gripped onto Kira's biceps. Purple sparks began swirling around them, and Kira felt the familiar sensation of teleporting, the mild nausea and rubberband snap.

But they were only about a yard away from the tube. Bella sniffled again. "'M sorry," she said.

"Hey, it's okay, that's fine," Kira said, adjusting Bella so she had one arm around her waist, letting her lean her weight on her.

"We'll fight our way out," she said, her arm blaster whining as it charged up and flashed.

#this is the longest single thing i've written. wtf #it's not. super great? but idk i had a lot of feelings about these two and needed to put them somewhere so. *hands you this*#also artfight friends if you drew literally any scene from this i will owe you my firstborn #my FIRSTBORN OK i am so serious #also im not usually a writer so if there's anything glaringly obvious that could be better lmk #writing #birdsong #kira #bella

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de-facto-slut · 4 years ago

Text

Release Me Into Orbit

(Dark!Bucky x Black!Female Reader)

Summary: Bucky and the Reader are trying to heal from the trauma of their pasts.

A/N: Here we dive into the past. The true beginning to our characters stories. This story takes place both in the past and the present so get ready for that. I do plan on releasing the next Chapter of Invisible Chain soon! Stay tuned.

Warnings: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Violence, major character death, Manipulation, emotional abuse, physical abuse, eventual Kidnapping, Breeding Kink, and angst etc later in the story.

Honestly More tags will be added.

Ch 2: 2014

Longing.

It was hard for Bucky to see anything through the small opening in his cell door. He had lost count of how many years he had been locked up a long time ago. There were no windows that allowed him to even guess when it was night and when it was day. Inside his cage they made sure he had no human interaction; they left Bucky completely alone. As the years passed the only thing keeping him company was his own thoughts. Bucky would try his hardest to focus on his fragmented memories before the war. Those memories contained the few good things he could remember about being human. His first kiss behind Sal’s Diner. The smell of his mother’s home-made cherry pie. The scary thing was he couldn’t even remember his mother’s face, just the smell of her fragrant pie. To be honest he couldn’t remember any faces. They were all just blurs. When it came to his captors all he knew is that they had the same routine in place for him every day. They would feed him his one meal, then they would return to remove him from the cell. The strong ones would drag him through a maze of corridors until he reached a room filled with bright fluorescent lights. The lights illuminated the dreaded device they used for their experiments.

Rusted.

The experiments were the only time he interacted with anyone outside of his cell. Bucky could never see them properly as they always hid behind the bright lights. All he ever got to see were their shadows as they moved about speaking their foreign tongue. Nobody ever spoke to him unless they were reciting the very words that caused him great mental distress. Those words were a curse that was cast on him a long time ago after the war. One that followed him, captor to captor. They would often drug him, just enough so he’d be a little disorientated, but they made sure he’d still be able to feel and hear everything. Once drugged, that’s when they would begin torturing him. The only thing they would change in his routine is the method in which they tortured him. Each time they would try a new method to test the limits of his body and the limits of his mind. Unfortunately for Bucky, the day didn’t end until he physically and mentally could not take anymore. Eventually, they didn’t even need to use pain or the dreaded spell to get him to comply.

Seventeen.

It was a strange sensation to not be in control of one’s own body. It was a sensation that Bucky should have grown used to, but he never could. It was as if his own consciousness was taking a back seat while someone else controlled him over and over, each driver just as brutal as the next. He was always vaguely aware of what atrocities they made him commit in the name of science, and that in itself was torture to live with. When they would return him to his cell, he could barely get a wink of sleep as the images would replay over and over in his mind. Their screams ringing in his ears. This was what they had reduced him to, he was just a tool to them. Eventually, he had to do everything in his power to keep himself from going completely mad and that just meant numbing himself to it all. The bright-eyed man from Brooklyn that was just trying to save the world was gone years ago. In his place was a murderer. A weapon. A monster. And that’s all he’d ever be.

Daybreak.

It was a day like any other, except it was storming outside. Bucky could tell by the sounds of the fierce winds howling against the facility that and he had finally been moved to a cell with a small window. Bucky had learned that he had been with these particular captors for several years. Honestly, everyone that ever ‘owned’ him was the same in his eyes, so it didn’t matter how long he was kept. Eventually, he’d just be handed off or kidnapped again by someone else that wanted him. Luckily for him, years of compliance and loyalty earned him an upgraded cell and some limited freedoms. Along with some of the smaller changes he was finally able to speak their tongue, just another language to add to his impressive portfolio. There weren't a lot of things Bucky could do to entertain himself. If he wasn’t on an active mission, he was pretty much tied to his room unless they allowed him a break from his cell. In his free time, all Bucky could do is entertain himself by working out. And that’s all he ever did.

Furnace.

He was face down as his palms supported his weight in a push-up position.

“Two hundred and Forty-Nine.”

“Two Hundred and Fif-”

Nine.

He suddenly paused looking towards the door of his cell. He could have sworn he had heard a voice. Bucky waited patiently, but there was only silence in return. Perhaps he had imagined it, or maybe he was truly going mad. He returned his gaze to the floor before he heard it again. It was a voice, it was faint, but it was definitely a voice.

Benign.

“Hello?” it called out softly as if in a whisper.

Homecoming.

The voice was suddenly followed by the sound of the metal slot on the door sliding to reveal two eyes peering at him. Bucky was unsure of how to respond, mainly because he was unsure what was going on. The men who came to retrieve him from his cell never spoke to him, and this person was clearly speaking English. English felt foreign to him now, he hadn’t heard it in so long. Bucky suddenly sat up watching the eyes on the other side of the door. Again, there was a moment of silence before they spoke again.

One.

“Can you understand me?”

It was a woman.

Freight car.

---

“Mom! Hurry, I’m going to miss my flight!”

You rushed down the stairs with your bags in your hands. Your shoes caught on the last step almost causing you to trip. A quiet curse left your lips as you attempted to stabilize yourself. Your father watched as he tried not to laugh at your misfortune. Carefully, you handed him your bags and he tossed them into the trunk of his truck.

“Fragile!” you shouted at him.

You crawled into the back of the car as you patiently waited for your parents to join you. Eventually, after what seemed like another 30 minutes gone by, they entered the car. “Do you have everything?” your father asked one last time.

“Yes, now let’s get going!”

It felt like freshman year of college all over again. Instead, you were a graduating senior and you had just accepted an opportunity of a lifetime. A few months ago, your professor, Mr. Brigmova, had presented your class with an opportunity. The top five students in the program would be able to join him in a work-study program. You were still unsure how you beat out several other students, but you did. You felt extremely lucky to be able to partake in such a program. To be among the top 5 students in your area of study was everything you could have hoped for. It showed your parents that it wasn’t a waste of time or money to send you out of state for school.

Ever since middle school, you had always wanted to study genetics and biology. When you reached high school, you learned about Bioinformatics and molecular genetics and you made up your mind on what you wanted to do. When you told your parents, they began immediately running numbers in their heads. Feeling guilty about your career choice and the school you chose to attend; you worked your ass off to get and keep a 4.0 GPA. In turn that promptly led you to the 3rd spot among the top 5 students. And not to toot your own horn, you were the only double major among them. Double the hard work, so deep down you felt as if you were #1 anyway.

As a result of all your hard work, you were flying across the world for the first time. You’ve never been so nervous before your professor had revealed the location, you had never heard of Sokovia. You wouldn’t have been able to locate it on a map either, it was such a small country. This was also the first time you had to travel without your parents, and you’d be away for them for five months. You would have no safety net out there. Before you knew it, you had arrived at the airport and you could feel the butterflies settling at the bottom of your stomach like a heavy rock. You felt like you had to use the bathroom, but you knew better than that. Your parents helped you remove your bags from the car as the other cars honked impatiently. You flipped the respective vehicle off before embracing your parents one last time. You exchanged your goodbyes before you disappeared behind the airport doors.

It was the longest flight you had ever been on. After getting off the plane, you were tempted to kiss the frozen ground, but you had seen enough cartoons to know what would happen. In Sokovia, the winters were harsh around this time, and thanks to your research beforehand you were prepared. Or at least you thought you were. You exited the airport to be greeted by the harsh Sokovian winter.

The bitter cold of Sokovia nipped at your bare cheeks and the tip of your nose. Slowly it seeped into the pockets where you kept your gloved hands numbing your fingers slowly. The cold was nothing like you were used to back in the south. Immediately, regret settled right beside the nervousness as you realized you wished you had stayed behind the airport doors just a moment longer as you waited for your ride.

The streets were not as busy as google images made it seem. It was probably due to the fact that it was unbearably cold, and it was late. You desperately wanted to return to the warmth of indoors, but you feared missing your shuttle. You moved about in hopes that it would warm you up while you waited for the shuttle as you watched it grow dark. Not wanting to expose your hands to the cold you peeked at your pocket for the time before you left you made sure to adjust it for the time difference. The shuttle was running late and that worried you, you knew nothing of the language to get help if you ended up stranded.

Eventually, you took a seat on your suitcase, holding onto it tightly. The last thing you would want is to be robbed in a completely different country. You waited for what seemed like almost an hour in the cold before you saw the shuttle pull up in front of you. Slowly you stood on your two feet stretching as you watched the shuttle door slide open, only to reveal your professor. Mr. Brigmova was a tall man with an average build in his early forties. He had dirty blonde hair and striking gray eyes. If not for the slight wrinkles near his eyes, he could have easily been mistaken for his early thirties. He motioned you inside as he jumped out to grab your bags for you. You did as you were told climbing into the vehicle as the warmth inside embraced you. You watched as Mr. Brigmova carefully placed your bags in the back seat of the shuttle. He flashed you a smile as he slid into the seat next to you. “It is good to see you, Y/N.” He greeted you. “It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Brigmova,” you replied.

“Please, call me Peter. We’re colleagues now.” He responded. You noted it was just you, Your professor, and the Driver. Out of everyone you were the last from the program to make it in. Your professor turned towards the driver tapping the back of his seat, “My gotovy k rabote.” He mentioned in his native tongue. You weren’t completely sure what he had told the driver but the fact that the shuttle started moving probably was related. Peter turned to you noting how tense you were placing a hand on your knee and squeezing it lightly. His action surprised you, but he only flashed you a smile in return,

“Relax you’re in Sokovia now.”

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #dark!fanfiction #Dark Fic #dark!marvel #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x black!reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!mcu #black reader #bucky × black reader #sam wilson

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years ago

Text

Titanic Beginnings

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

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

Dick was excited when Bruce helped form the Justice League, babbling on about Bruce’s new friends and begging to meet them. Damian also wanted to meet the JL, but to appraise them to see if they were worthy of his father’s time and ensure they were capable of watching Batman’s back.

Not wanting the boys to get involved in the more punishing missions the JL faced, Bruce continually denied their requests.

That was ruined during a meeting a month later when Superman sheepishly admitted that his sons had also been badgering him and his wife to meet the other JL members and asked if he could bring the boys to the next meeting.

Green Arrow, Hawkgirl, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter appeared as resistant as Bruce. However, Wonder Woman adored children and agreed before any of them could speak up. She even offered to bring her young sister to keep them company. Aquaman agreed as well, mentioning that his apprentice could use the land experience. Flash and Black Canary were fine with it, which left the League at an even split.

At a nudge from Canary, Arrow broke the tie by reluctantly agreeing to bring his protégé.

Any ideas Batman had at keeping his boys out of it were dashed when Lantern turned to him and asked if he would also be bringing his kids. Superman sent him a look that clearly stated he would invite the boys if Batman didn’t so the Gotham vigilante nodded after giving Lantern a fierce glare.

Batman, Robin, and Serin were the first ones to the temporary headquarters the Justice League were using while Batman, Arrow, and Lantern finished the work on the space station they were retrofitting.

Before they arrived, Bruce had reminded Dick that, allies or not, only Superman knew the Bats’ identities and it was to remain that way for the time being. He had also negotiated with Damian. The boy wouldn’t challenge anyone to a fight and would abide by sparring rules with anyone who challenged him, no matter what abilities they may have. In return, the boy could assess whoever he wanted. He also allowed the boys to bring their dogs, hoping that would help keep Damian from going too far.

Titus (or Birdhound as Dick insisted despite Damian’s arguments that Great Danes weren’t hounds) had swapped out his red collar for a yellow one that matched Serin’s belt and had a tag with Serin’s logo on it. He also wore a grey ballistic vest with dark coral straps and handle. Haley (or Bitewing, a play on a character from Dick’s favorite story in Bruce’s extraterrestrial files) had a green collar with Robin’s logo hanging from it in place of her usual blue. Her vest was red with canary straps and handle.

Robin and Bitewing immediately went off to explore while Serin and Birdhound stayed at Batman’s side as he got things ready for the meeting. The boy kept an eye on the meeting room’s door, so he was the first one to notice the Supers’ arrival.

Superman was talking to his foster son when they walked in, his younger son flying over them with wide eyes. Superboy (aka nine-year-old Jonathan Kent) nearly looked like the spitting image of his father with his blue-black curls and neon blue eyes that didn’t quite look human, though his nose and lips were shaped a bit more like his mother. Meanwhile Hyper (aka fourteen-year-old Christopher Kent) only shared his foster father’s physique, his skin not having that same natural sun-kissed look while his hair was a dirty blond and his eyes were a bright amber that was just a little too close to yellow to be humanly possible. Superboy was wearing jeans, red high tops, and a Superman costume shirt that had a small red cape attached. Hyper was even more underdressed in just jeans, black tenner shoes, a yellow and blue flannel, and a black shirt. A black band wrapped around his wrist, appearing to all the world like a watch though, having helped create it, Batman knew it was a device to help Earth’s newest kryptonian keep control of the powers he’d developed on arrival.

Robin reappeared suddenly, dropping down onto Superman’s shoulders. “Heya, Kal!”

“Hello, Robin,” the man chuckled.

The twelve-year-old did a backbend so he could hold a hand out to the older boy. “Hi! You’re Hyper right? Kal’s told us about you.”

“Oh, yeah. Or K’Riss. Uh, K’Riss-El, but just K’Riss is fine,” Hyper said, accepting the hand.

“And I’m Jon!” Superboy said, dropping down in front of Batman and Serin. He smiled up at the man before holding his hand out to the other boy. “Dad’s told us about you too. Nice to meet you. I like your dog. Can I pet him?”

The eleven-year-old looked at the hand, then glanced over Superboy’s outfit. “No. What kind of attire is that for fighting crime?”

The half-kryptonian looked down at his clothes and shrugged. “I thought it looked cool.”

“It offers no protection.”

“They’re kryptonians,” Robin pointed out as he stood up on Superman’s shoulders so he could pet Bitewing, who was leaning out of a vent on the ceiling. “Their skin is better armor than the stuff we wear.”

“What if they were to lose their abilities? A shard of kryptonite would easily pass through that flimsy shirt.”

Superboy frowned and glanced back at his dad, which gave Batman time to give his son a reprimanding look and hold out his hand.

Serin scowled and palmed him a small lead case.

The Supers didn’t notice the actions, distracted by unsuccessfully trying to get Bitewing out of the vent.

“Neither of us really dressed for fighting crime,” Hyper said over Robin’s soft cackling, pulling away from the vent. “Jon’s too young for that stuff and I’m still getting my powers under control. Our superhero names are more honorary than anything.”

Clicking his tongue, Serin crossed his arms. “Heroes or not, we are in the base of a team of superheroes. You should be prepared to be attacked at any minute by any of the members’ various enemies.”

Superman aimed an incredulous look at Bruce, who shrugged.

His son wasn’t wrong.

“Hello there!” Wonder Woman called as she walked in with a teenage girl in red and black Amazonian armor.

The girl looked exactly like a fifteen-year-old version of her sister with her curly brown-black hair, warm olive skin, and dark green eyes. She gave a smile that looked a bit more forced than her sister’s, which quickly dropped away when she noticed Superman still near the vent with Robin clinging to his back. “Why is there a dog up there?”

“She likes it in there,” Batman grunted when Wonder Woman looked like she was going to try to help as well.

“She’s Robin’s,” Serin added, which did explain it if you knew Robin.

“Dogs shouldn’t be inside vents,” Wonder Woman said pointedly.

“And children shouldn’t nap in chandeliers,” Batman muttered, earning snorts from Serin and Superman. Accepting that the issue wasn’t going to be dropped, he gave Robin a look.

The boy pouted, then gave a sharp whistle. Instantly the pitbull sprung from the vent, hopping off superman’s chest, then Hyper’s shoulders, before landing on the ground as gracefully as her boy despite her missing limb. Robin dropped to the ground next to her and scratched her neck before grabbing the handle on her vest and going over to greet the Amazons.

Wonder Woman introduced her sister as Troia, who had recently left Themyscira so she could learn more about Man’s World at her sister’s side.

After respectfully greeting the sisters, Serin turned to Superboy. “See, the Amazons wear armor.”

“Well, they aren’t quite as durable as us,” Superboy shot back.

“They also don’t have a well-known weakness to a rock, yet they still understand the necessity to be prepared for battle.”

“So that one is definitely Spooky’s,” Lantern joked as he walked in with Hawkgirl.

Robin did a cartwheel into a backflip, landing in front of the two with Bitewing racing to stay by his side. He gave the heroes a wide grin, leaning cutely against the alert dog. “Hi, I’m Robin! It’s so nice to meet B’s friends! I like your wings, Ms. Hawkgirl! They’re very pretty!”

“Thank you,” she said, bemused.

Lantern gave Batman a smirk as he shook Robin’s hand. “You sure this one’s yours and not Supe’s or Wonder Woman’s?”

Robin’s grin turned sharp, then he pulled away.

A green flash lit the room and Lantern was left in just a black tanktop, Flash sweatpants, and mismatched fuzzy socks. The man yelped and looked down to find his ring missing from his hand. His gaze shot up, but Robin and Bitewing had disappeared with the light. “What the heck!?”

The boy’s laughter echoed around the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere.

“Okay, maybe he is yours.”

“Why is Lantern in his sleeping clothes?” Martian Manhunter asked as he and Aquaman came in with a young Atlantean.

“Robin stole his ring right off his hand,” Hawkgirl answered with poorly hidden laughter in her voice.

The test pilot scowled and held out his hand. His ring shot out from inside Batman’s cape. As it slid onto Lantern’s finger, returning his suit in a flicker of green, Robin and Bitewing poked their heads out of the fabric. He pointed at the smug boy. “You won’t do that again.”

“Unless I want to.”

“Kid -”

“Hey, my first idea was to come up and throat-punch you so be glad I just stole your ring,” he snickered, slipping back into the shadows. “Can’t talk bad about my family if you can’t breathe.”

“It seems the Bat’s family are as entertaining as he is,” Aquaman joked. He set his hand on the young Atlantean’s shoulder. “Speaking of family, this is my mother’s ward and my apprentice, Aqualad. Lad, this is the Justice League and their young companions.”

The boy appeared to be around fifteen with alabaster skin that was edging towards grey. His eyes were plum-colored and his hair was long and pitch black. With teeth slightly sharper than a human’s, he smiled and gave a small bow. “A pleasure. You may call me Garth.”

Baring the Bats, the group all greeted Aqualad cheerfully. Batman grunted and nodded with Serin copying his actions while Robin’s hand poked out of the cape to wave.

Before anyone could introduce themselves to the newcomers, Arrow and Canary entered with a grumpy thirteen-year-old.

Speedy had fair skin and pale red hair, alongside eyes hidden behind a domino mask like the ones Robin and Serin wore. Batman knew from his day-life that Speedy’s backstory wasn’t too far off from Robin’s. He’d gotten Oliver Queen’s attention during an archery contest so when the boy’s adopted father died, Oliver took him in.

“Are we the last ones here?” Canary asked.

“We’re still waiting on Flash,” Wonder Woman answered.

“As per usual,” Hawkgirl joked.

“Well, in the meantime,” Arrow set a hand on Speedy’s shoulder, “this is Speedy.”

“‘Sup,” he said, giving a sarcastic salute.

Introductions went around. Robin took the distraction as his chance to slip out and greet Aqualad and Speedy properly. As the time for the meeting grew closer, the group got the kids settled in a room near the meeting room. Just as they were about to leave for the meeting, a steak of red shot into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Flash said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re actually on time,” Superman said. “Though you’ll have to wait to meet the kids until after the meeting.”

“About that…”

A second streak came into the room, which turned out to be a red-headed teenager. The boy was tan and freckled. When he pulled up his goggles to smile at the group, his eyes proved to be a grassy green. “Hi, there! I’m Kid Flash!”

The group turned to Flash, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “My nephew became a speedster last week. I’m training him how to use his powers.”

“Then I’m going to be his sidekick!”

Batman held back a snort at the imploring expression Flash gave him and Superman. The kryptonian patted the speedster on the back and led him out of the room with the others following.

Behave, Batman said with a grunt, giving his boys the kind of glare that would have the JL flinching back and the criminals of Gotham fleeing.

Robin batted his eyes innocently and Serin gave a half-hearted nod.

When the meeting was through, the adults returned to find the room worse for wear.

Robin and Kid Flash were sitting cross-legged on a battered table (one of the few remaining pieces of furniture) with Bitewing draped over their laps. They were both fidgeting with the dog’s ears and tail as they happily talked about a fight the Bats had recently had with Penguin.

Serin and Troia were standing off to the side near some cracked flooring, talking about the Amazonian knife she was showing him. Superboy was sitting on the floor next to them, though he appeared more focused on the pets he was giving Birdhound.

The last three boys were standing next to a hole in the wall. The older two were inspecting the hole with guilty frowns while a snickering Speedy patted Hyper on the back, looking more relaxed despite the bruise on his cheek.

“What happened in here?” Arrow asked, all the adults except Superman and Batman looking shocked at the destruction.

“Sparring competition,” Superman answered, proving he’d kept an ear on the kids throughout the meeting.

“We locked a bunch of superpowered and vigilante children in a room together. I’m just pleased the room’s still standing,” Batman added.

Robin and Kid Flash laughed while Speedy bit down his own laughter at a look from Arrow.

Lantern slapped the archer on the back. “Lighten up. As much as I hate to admit it, Spooky’s got a point. We should have known the kids would screw around and set them up somewhere a little less fragile. So, who won?”

“Troia, technically, since Robin was disqualified after the tournament was over,” Kid Flash said.

Batman turned to Robin, who gave a wide grin. “I don’t want to know.”

“I would have won had I had my full arsenal,” Serin said petulantly.

“He was eliminated because Superboy managed to bear hug him right at the start of their go and he couldn’t squirm free before the time ended,” Robin explained.

“You utilized kryptonite in your spar with a kryptonian so I do not see why I couldn’t!”

Superman gave Batman a look and the vigilante sighed, holding out his hand.

Robin skipped forward and dropped a lead case into his palm. “For the record, I brought blue kryptonite.”

“Was that why you were disqualified?”

“No.”

I will be having a conversation with both of you when we get home, he said with a grunt and put the case in his belt.

“And how did you fare?” Aquaman asked his apprentice, coming over to set his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I won my match against Kid Flash, but Robin proved too formidable an opponent.”

“I lost first round to Troia,” Speedy said before Arrow could ask as he and Canary came up to the teen.

“His close combat abilities could use some work, but his skills with a bow are comparable to some of our best archers,” Troia argued. “Had our arena been larger, the fight would have been much closer.”

“Yeah, Arrow’s not too good at close range either,” Canary said, earning a huff from her boyfriend. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll show you a few tricks.”

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

If you're wondering why I put Donna in armor instead of one of the suits she wears in the comics, I ask you this: Why the flip would she want to wear some spandex suit when she could wear sick Amazonian armor? This applies to Cassie too.

And yes, Dick's treatment of Hal is a reference to a certain movie and a certain TikToker. Thanks for asking.

#batman #dick grayson #robin #damian wayne #teen titans #Robins are the Same Age AU #fanfiction #64ao1

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kumeko · 4 years ago

Photo

A/N: For the @juminxvzine! This is one of those stories where I had the perfect image for it in my mind, but somehow it was difficult to get it down on paper.

…

“The great Jumin, folding clothes.” Jihyun chuckled, his shoulders shaking. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He paused, before smiling self-depreciating. “In a sense.”

In a sense was the only way to put it. Jumin watched from the corner of his eye as Jihyun folded his pants, his hands blindly groping beside him until he found a new piece. By now the blindness was permanent, according to every doctor they’d visited. And some that he’d seen on his own, privately, without Jihyun’s knowledge. There were some things that couldn’t be fixed.

That smile had better not be one of them. Coolly, Jumin slowly folded a shirt. “I do take care of my own laundry on occasion.” And that was only partially a lie—this was the only occasion he’d do this. On his right were carefully written instructions, a diagram on how to fold every piece of clothing imaginable, and perhaps he should see to giving Jaehee a raise.

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” Jihyun pressed the pads of his fingers into his tan shirt, his eyes closed. In the background, they could hear the sounds of hammers banging, of contractors walking the length of Jumin’s apartment. “You did not have to do this.”

“It is just folding.” Jumin pressed the shirt sleeve down firmly, smoothing out any wrinkles. “It is actually calming.”

“Not just sorting my clothing—the renovations.” Jihyun gestured at the room around him, the room that still smelled of fresh paint. The walls were a bright yellow now, a colour Jumin had never known he’d detested until he was surrounded by it. “The lights, carpeting, everything. You didn’t have to do this. I do have my own place, you know.”

“That ‘place’ is ill-equipped to handle you.” Jumin snorted derisively, thinking of that small house with its cluttered rooms. He’d been against it when Jihyun bought it and if there was one good thing to all of this, it was that he’d finally managed to pry him out of it. “The location is also too remote.”

“Perhaps.” Jihyun neatly folded his pants in half, setting it on the growing stack beside him. “Either way, thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Jumin dismissed with a shake of his head. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Nevertheless, thanks.” Jihyun paused. “And thank Jahee for me as well.”

“…I will.”

-x-

Change was inevitable. Jihyun knew that. He had known that for years—there was a reason he loved the camera. Photography was an art of preserving things as they were, of capturing a moment of time and immortalizing it.

Opening a drawer, he rifled through the shirts neatly pressed and stacked inside. There were small safety pins attached to each one: one symbolized grey, two green, three white. A code he had memorized as they attached pin after pin. Picking up a white one, he pressed it to his nose and inhaled. There was the faintest trace of lavender, of sunlight, a scent that he had long associated with Rika. Her fingerprints were all over his things, her memories connected to even the most innocent objects.

Yet, almost overpowering her scent, was a darker, muskier scent. An aroma tinged with the faintest traces of cat food. A smell that permeated the rest of the apartment and Jihyun wouldn’t be surprised if he found it on himself at this point.

Change was inevitable. For once, he found himself looking forward to what this change would bring.

-x-

Jumin was not one to repeat himself. Things only needed to be articulated once and either the other person heard it, or they didn’t. To repeat oneself was uncouth. Yet, staring at the camera in his hands, his jaw fell slack and he couldn’t help his reaction. “You want me to do what?”

“Sell it.” Jihyun brushed his hand on the top of the camera reverently. There was a hint of sadness, of apology, in his lowered eyes, his turned down lips. His finger stopped on the button, pressing it down one last time. “Donate it. As long as it finds a good home, that is all I can ask.”

“Your camera.” Still dumbfounded, Jumin tightened his grip on the device. Its edges felt harder than he remembered.

“My camera,” Jihyun confirmed, stepping back now. He clasped his hands behind his back, his head slightly bowed. “I…I can no longer use it, after all.”

“That…” Jumin paused, processing it all. There was no refuting his words, no denying it. It was a fact and he should have remembered it by now. “That is true.” He held the camera awkwardly. “What will you do now?”

No, that wasn’t what he wanted to ask. Jumin could only remember Jihyun with his camera, with his eye in the viewfinder and his head in the clouds. When they were ten, with a gap-toothed grin as he clumsy took shot after shot. When they were fifteen and he was experimenting with polaroid and filters. At twenty-one and he was nervously setting up his first exhibition. That was Jihyun.

Who will you be now? were the words he’d wanted to ask. Who was Jihyun without his photos, who would point out the smallest flowers when they walked or the colours of every sunset. And if Jihyun wouldn’t be the same, if Jihyun would turn into a stranger, then what was Jumin’s place with this changed man?

It unsettled him. It scared him.

Jumin could only nod as Jihyun replied, tightening his grip on the camera until he left his imprint.

-x-

It was night. Of that much, Jihyun was certain. The big window in his room had the blinds permanently up and during the day sunlight would filter in, warm and comforting. While he was blind, Jihyun could still see some shapes, large grey blobs that he could now identify as Jumin and his furniture. Now, though, the shades of grey decreased into an almost uniform mass. The lights were off, then. Jumin must be asleep.

Quietly, he stepped outside of his room. At his feet, a plush carpet indicated the path toward the other rooms and Jihyun pressed his hand on the wall as he followed it. Passing by Jumin’s room, he could hear him breathing softly, steadily. A slight whistle as he breathed in through his nose. A low snore as he exhaled. Jihyun regretted losing his sight. An unguarded Jumin; he wanted to see it, to drink it in. To capture it with his camera.

Automatically, his feet led him to the spare room, to the art station that Jumin had set up for him. What he couldn’t see, he’d draw. His fingers dipped into the cold paints, not even bothering with the paint brush, and he smeared black across the white canvas. The paint settled in chunks, small bumps of paint that he smoothened down in places. Next was white, then blue. Colour after colour was layered on the canvas and by the time he stopped, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there.

A small chime shook him out of his revere. Seconds after, Elizabeth the Third jumped onto his lap, the bell ringing softly as she settled on him. Jumin had bought it three days after Jihyun had moved in and exactly one second after Jihyun had accidentally stepped on her tail.

“Elizabeth the Third,” Jihyun murmured as she leaned on his belly. “What do you think? Does it look like your master?”

She purred in response and he hoped it was a yes.

-x-

“Ah.” Jihyun took a delicate sip from his wine glass, his eyes closing reflexively out of delight. “It’s been a while since we came here.”

Jumin leaned back in his seat, turning slightly to take in the view. This restaurant used to be a favourite of theirs, somewhere they’d meet at least once a month. Situated next to a picturesque river, the restaurant served only the finest wines and the freshest fish. All three of them would order different meals, with Rika stealing—

Jumin didn’t want to finish the thought. The memory. There were too many things here linked to her, too many memories made here, and he was suddenly reminded of why they’d stopped coming in the first place. His anger toward her was raw, palpable, and that wasn’t why he was here tonight.

No, tonight they were just here to enjoy a meal at a favourite place and celebrate Elizabeth the Third’s modeling debut. Picking up his own glass, he swirled it. “It has been almost too long since we came here.” He brought the glass to his nose, inhaling the delectable scent. “The house brand’s quality remains the same.”

“Is that the only compliment you can give? Indirect ones?” In a good mood, Jihyun laced his fingers and rested his chin on it. There was a light flush on his cheeks. He closed his eyes. “They changed the band.”

Jumin turned to the stage. Four women sat on the stage, all of them carrying a different stringed instrument. “It’s a four-string quartet now.” He listened for a moment, paying attention. “They are better than the group they had before.”

“I don’t know, I liked the other group. Their music was cheerful. Even Ri—” Jihyun cut himself off, his eyes lowered.

Something boiled in Jumin, something dark and ugly. Would her memory ever not hurt? Before he could say anything, a waiter approached, his footsteps barely audible over the music. “Here you are, sirs.” The waiter handed out a menu to each of them before standing back, notepad in hand.

It took Jumin all of five seconds to realize the menu wasn’t in braille. A sixth second to turn to the waiter. Jihyun’s hand covered his in the seventh, his voice calm and collected as he held out the menu. “The bibimbap.”

Jumin stared down at their connected hands. The coolness of Jihyun’s hand did little to calm his rage. His blood felt hot, almost ready to explode. Clenching his teeth, he spit out, “The same.”

Maybe the waiter felt his fury, because he scrambled away without even confirming their orders. Another black mark against him. Jihyun stroked the side of Jumin’s wrist, his voice low and comforting. “Jumin? Are you okay?”

Yes. No. All he had was this white hot anger, this dark and murky thing that coiled inside of him. He didn’t know who he wanted to direct it at. The waiter for not bringing the right menu. Rika for all that she did, all that she said. Himself for not noticing in time.

At Jihyun, for nothing saying anything.

“Yes.” Jumin restrained himself, forcing a smile Jihyun couldn’t see.

-x-

Jihyun could smell alcohol the second the door opened. Strong, repugnant, it permeated through the air, and he scrambled to his feet and toward the door. It was strange how familiar this apartment had become, how well he knew the carpeted paths and where they’d take him. Within minutes, he was at the door, just in time to hear it slam shut.

“Jihyun?” Jumin warbled. There was a soft thud as something hit the wall. No, someone.

“Jumin?” Groping blindly in front of him, Jihyun felt Jumin’s arm. Then his shoulder. Then the rest of him as Jumin leaned heavily on him. Startled, he took a step back, adjusting to the new weight. “How much did you drink?”

“A litttle,” Jumin slurred. This was a complete novelty; Jumin almost never got drunk. The rare times he did, it wasn’t stumbling drunk.

“More than a little,” Jihyun sighed, wrapping Jumin’s arm around his shoulders. Slowly, he dragged him toward his bed, a process easier said than done. It would have been easier if Jumin had just been a deadweight. Instead, he tried to help, stumbling from one side to the other, threatening to pull Jihyun off the carpet and into a lost, unknown area.

“I’m shorry,” Jumin mumbled into his neck, sending a shiver down Jihyun’s spine. This close, Jihyun could almost feel his lips as he shaped the words, feel his voice more than hear it. “I’m shorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t get this drunk again.” It was impossible to lean away and still keep his grip on Jumin. He settled for craning his neck slightly away. However awkward it felt, it didn’t unnerve him as much as Jumin’s proximity.

“No, nott that.” Jumin shook his head, his hair brushing against Jihyun’s skin. “I…I couldn’t shave you. Shave your eyes.”

Jihyun almost dropped him then and there. Stopping, he turned to look at Jumin, but even this close he couldn’t make out his expression. Maybe if he touched his face, but he couldn’t do that and still hold onto him. “What?” he uttered softly.

“I should have shtopped Rika.” Jumin wasn’t crying but it felt like it. “Should have shtopped you. I’m shorry.”

“It’s not.” He faltered—was this what’d been bothering Jumin recently? This guilt? These bottled up feelings? “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m shorry,” Jumin repeated, a never-ending apology that continued long after Jihyun put him to bed.

-x-

“Jumin.” In the spare-bedroom-come-studio, Jihyun patted on the second chair he’d set up. While Jumin hadn’t remembered a thing the next day, he had. And had taken a week to think about it all, to think about his response. “Could you sit here?”

Without questioning him, Jumin padded toward the chair. “This feels familiar.” He sat down with a soft swish. “It’s been a long time since you used me as a model.”

“That’s because it’s been a long time since you were free enough to do it.” Jihyun couldn’t help the chuckle at the memories—Jumin had been his first model. He’d spent years photographing him. Holding out his hands, he asked, “Can I feel your face?”

“Yes.”

Jumin guided his hands towards his face and hesitantly, Jihyun pressed the pads of his fingers against Jumin’s cheeks. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips in a set line. All of it as usual. He brushed Jumin’s skin with his thumb, feeling the small rough patches in an otherwise perfectly smooth skin. There was nothing Jihyun was gaining through this; he had known this face since they were elementary kids. Even blind, he could draw it perfectly.

This was the face of someone who’d been there for him, through thick and thin. Someone who had tried to reach out, no matter what response he’d gotten back. Somewhere along the way, Jihyun had forgotten that. What their friendship had meant. What their relationship was. The bond between them that was stronger than anything and he had been so determined to do it on his own.

“I’m sorry,” Jihyun murmured, feeling the muscles on Jumin’s face shift as his expression changed. A knitted brow. Firmer lips. Displeasure radiated from every pore.

“For what?”

For not believing in him. For not telling the truth. For many things, really. But Jihyun wasn’t drunk enough to say it all and Jumin wasn’t drunk enough to hear it and instead he shook his head. “What happened with Rika wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that,” Jumin answered bluntly, his brow furrowing even more.

“And what happened with me wasn’t your fault,” Jihyun continued.

At that, Jumin fell silent.

“It wasn’t,” Jihyun repeated, keeping his grip firm on Jumin’s face. “It wasn’t your fault, so don’t blame yourself. Not when you’ve done so much for me. I’m sorry for…I’m sorry that you…” I’m sorry wasn’t the right word and he stumbled slightly, trying to figure out what to say. Jumin’s warmth radiated through his hands, a warmth he had almost forgotten, and he was not sure what happened but an electric shock ran through him. Leaning forward, he kissed Jumin firmly and pulled back. “I love you. So don’t…don’t…”

For a moment, Jumin froze, and Jihyun realized what he’d done. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. Before he could retract his hands, Jumin’s were covering his, his head turning slightly so he could kiss Jihyun’s palms. “Is it true?” he asked, his voice low.

“It is. It always has been.” As friends first. As lovers now. A change, but change wasn’t bad, not always. And as Jumin pulled him close, Jihyun wondered just what this change would bring.

#jumin han #mystic messenger #juminv #jihyun kim #jumin x v #fanfic

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morningfears · 5 years ago

Text

Television Romance [Chapter One]

Rating: PG-13 (some swears, nothing major)

Summary: Natalia Adler is a stressed out grad student who attempts to escape the noise of her office by visiting her favorite coffee shop. However, instead of a few hours of writing, she gets a lap full of coffee and a date with the most gorgeous guy she’s ever met.

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter Two

The graduate student office was usually busy, bustling with activity and overflowing with graduate students working on various research projects or grading coursework as well as undergraduate students seeking assistance with assignments. It was always difficult to concentrate among the din, there was always some conversation or another taking place that was much more interesting than writing yet another proposal, but Tuesdays were the worst.

On Tuesdays, the graduate teaching seminar met in the student office. For an hour each week, the teaching assistants dragged whatever chairs they could find to the center of the room and formed a circle to discuss problems that had arisen in their classrooms, questions they had about university policy, and an article on teaching practices they were assigned to - but never actually did - read. The class was supposed to be useful, a way for them all to prepare for their futures as academics, but it usually turned into a shouting match as the stronger personalities argued over one another about best practices in classroom management. And after, when the dust settled and the faculty facilitator was gone, students who didn’t have a one o’clock class stuck around to catch up on whatever departmental gossip they’d missed throughout the week.

Most days, Natalia was able to tune it all out. Her desk was in the corner, hidden behind a flimsy partition, and her noise cancelling headphones worked wonders to drown out the arguments. She didn’t love catching snippets of pointless conversations about which departmental policies were outdated - they all were - or which graduate students were sleeping together but she made it work. However, today was not one of those days.

She had several important deadlines looming over her head - conference submissions, revisions for a potential publication, the first draft of her thesis proposal, all due within days of one another - and she was feeling overwhelmed. The argument as to whether the department was too hard or too soft on students - or whether professors played favorites - was only making things worse. Instead of subjecting herself to two more hours of torture, she decided to pack up her bag and head to the coffee shop across the street. Even if it was loud, it had to at least be less hostile than the office.

She stood, satchel slung over one shoulder with her cellphone and headphones in hand, and glanced over the top of her partition at the girl who sat across from her. Nicole, like Natalia, wore headphones whenever she worked in the office and only glanced up when Natalia tossed a paperclip at her.

“I’m going to Molly’s,” she announced when Nicole pulled her headphones away from her ears and glanced up at her. Natalia struggled to keep her voice quiet in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to herself, though she was half certain she could yell and still not be heard over her colleagues. However, she remained cautious as the last thing she wanted was for anyone to join her. “You want anything?”

“A new job, a better salary, a husband who takes out the trash… I could go on,” Nicole answered, rolling her neck and grinning tiredly at Natalia’s deadpan expression. “I’ll settle for a caramel latte, though. With almond milk and extra caramel, please. I’ll Venmo you.”

“I’ve got it,” Natalia assured her with a wave of her hand as Nicole reached for her cellphone, “you got me boba last week. You have class at three, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” Nicole sighed as she dropped the device, straightened up in her chair, and pulled a face as she glanced at the syllabus tacked to her partition wall. “We’re going over how Marxism influenced Burke today. I think I’d rather chew off my own foot than try to teach a group of undergrads about either Marxism or Burke.”

“I know the point of college is to make kids think,” Natalia began as she hoisted her bag a little higher on her shoulder and ambled around her partition to stop beside Nicole’s desk, “but I’m glad I got the class that’s a little more, ‘well, duh,’ than that. We’re going over how fundamentally fucked the US healthcare system is today.”

Nicole paused for a moment, staring at Natalia with a look that reeked of both annoyance and exhaustion, before she dropped her head to her desk and asked, “Is it too late to drop out?”

This was a conversation they’d had at least once a week since their first semester of graduate school and Natalia bit back a laugh as she nodded. “Yep. You’re halfway through your thesis proposal, no quitting now,” she pointed out as she nodded toward the stack of books on religious rhetoric that Nicole had stacked on her desk. “Anyway, only eight more months until we’re free.”

“I’m three pages in,” Nicole informed her, a pitiful whine erupting from her throat as she lifted her head and ran a hand through her unwashed curls. “This is going to be a long semester.”

Natalia, who had been under the impression that she was impossibly behind although she only lacked a completed methodology section, grimaced upon learning just how far behind Nicole was. She gave her friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and, although she had her own deadlines to meet, offered her assistance. “I’ll probably be sticking around after class tonight,” she informed her as she thought about the papers she still needed to grade, “if you need me to help with anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Nicole sighed as she turned in her chair and smiled at Natalia, the exhaustion evident in her features although they were only a month into the semester. “I’m thinking about a writing party on Friday so that people can submit conference papers and then go get hammered after. You in?”

“Always down for drinks after opening myself up for rejection. You can send out an email and maybe follow up with a GroupMe or something. Your husband won’t mind you spending Friday with us?” she asked as she glanced over at the group of students, now talking instead of arguing, that still remained in the room. Although they got on her nerves sometimes, she had grown to love most of them.

“He’s going to a football game with some friends. If I stay home, I’ll just end up falling asleep in the tub with a glass of wine. I’ll send the email after class,” Nicole answered as she grabbed her headphones and moved to reposition them onto her ears. “Go, get out of here before someone stops you. You’ll be back by three?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back before you have to leave. I’ll text you when I’m on my way over. See you in a bit,” Natalia hummed as she tapped the top of Nicole’s partition before maneuvering around the group that crowded the doorway and stepping out into the hall.

The building itself wasn’t that busy, it rarely was, but campus was teeming with students as Natalia stepped outside. They typically opted for afternoon classes rather than morning ones and it was obvious that classes held after lunch were the most populated as she watched students wander from building to building. Her own undergraduate experience had been very different - classes as early in the morning as she could get them and work in the afternoons until late at night - but she understood the desire to take advantage of the opportunity.

As a graduate student, her schedule was a little different. She was usually the first one to arrive in the office, just to get a little work done, and held office hours during lunch. She was a TA for a class that met on Tuesdays and Thursday at three and had her own classes to attend, with each of the three meeting once a week, starting at six p.m. and ending at around ten.

She was busier than she had ever been, even busier than the two years she spent working two jobs and overloading her class schedule. It was harder and lonelier than undergrad had been. She had little time to feel human or socialize without anyone outside of her program, however, she told herself that it would all be worth it when she finished and had a master’s degree under her belt.

Natalia made the most of the few minutes it took her to walk from her office to Molly’s, the closest coffee shop to campus that wasn’t the always crowded Starbucks in the library. She rarely got to enjoy her days. They were usually spent locked in the office or cooped up in the library, neither of which had enough windows. Although it was September, fall still seemed a lifetime away.

She could still smell summer as an occasional ocean breeze wafted through campus. The sun was bright and high in the sky and the air was warm. It felt like the height of summer, as it usually did in Los Angeles, and she was grateful that she’d chosen to wear a dress instead of pants as the slight breeze kept her from overheating as she entered Molly’s.

The little coffee shop was every Instagram obsessed student’s dream. The exterior was nondescript with plain white walls and a small patio with string lights and a few small tables, however, the interior more than made up for it. There were walls covered with ivy - though Natalia didn’t know if it was real or not - and neon signs littered around the space. There was also a loft with tables and chairs that always seemed to be quieter than the rest of the shop.

It had all been too much for her the first time she visited. It seemed gimmicky, not the kind of place she wanted to frequent even if it was convenient, however, her opinion changed the moment she tried the coffee. Her predecessors in the program hadn’t been wrong in telling her that it was the best coffee she could get and that it served as a good hideout when the office got to be too much to handle. She understood why it was frequented by both students and the outside community, even if it took them too close to campus.

Although the coffee shop was bustling with students rushing in and out between classes, filled with the sounds of conversation and the excitement that came with a new school year, it still seemed quieter than the office. After ordering her iced coffee and settling into a table near the entrance, Natalia slipped her headphones back on and bit her lip in concentration as she opened her laptop and began working on the revisions she’d gotten back from her co-author.

It was difficult, not paying attention to the patrons that entered the shop as she loved people watching, but Natalia kept her eyes on her screen and typed away. If she had glanced up, she might have seen the looks that people threw one another as two men entered the shop. She might have seen how a few snuck pictures with their cellphones or how others whispered excitedly as they passed them by. But she didn’t. All she saw was the cursor on her document blink as she tried to string together a coherent sentence.

She focused on typing a new explanation for a concept she thought she’d covered well enough to need no further explanation, a metaphorical dark cloud hanging over her head as she let the reviewer’s comments weigh on her pride. However, as she got into a groove, her word count quickly climbing, she felt something cold splash against her right side.

She sat, stunned, for a few seconds, before she pulled her headphones off and blinked at the coffee that stained the right side of her dress and dripped from her skin. Ice cubes gathered in her lap, cold seeping through the fabric of her dress as she attempted to process what happened. It took a few more seconds of staring at the mess before she picked up her laptop and held it away from the growing pool of coffee. Ice cubes clattered to the floor as she stood and she grimaced as she watched them fall. She looked over the computer, sighing in relief when nothing appeared to be wet, before she lifted her head and looked at the person responsible.

Any other time, her attention would be on how beautiful the man in front of her was. He stood a head taller than her, easily, with broad shoulders and a surprised expression that she was sure matched her own. His blonde curls had fallen into his eyes, obscuring the blue slightly, and his cheeks and upturned nose were tinted pink in embarrassment as he looked over the damage he’d done.

They stared at one another for longer than necessary, his eyes lingering on her face just as hers lingered on his, and she was glad that he at least had the decency to stare at her face instead of the wet fabric clinging to her. The man beside him, slightly shorter and more amused than embarrassed, nudged his friend who moved as if he were a video that had been taken off pause.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, his words rushing together as he watched her place her laptop on a neighboring table to keep it out of harm’s way before she reached for a few napkins. “Fuck, here, let me help you with that.”

His hand bumped into hers as he reached for more napkins and began wiping at the table and, as cliche as it was, she felt a jolt of something shoot down her spine as she quickly pulled her hand away. It was easy for Natalia to ignore the feeling as she watched him make matters worse. She tried to hide it, however, she couldn’t help but grimace as she moved her bag away from the table, slipping it over her head in an effort to avoid him sweeping coffee inside it.

She shook her head at his apology and reached for another handful of napkins. “It’s okay,” she sighed, not wanting to be rude even though she knew she’d have to take time she was planning on using to write to go home and change before class, “at least it was iced coffee.” She tossed the soaked napkins into the trash and bent down to pick up the ice cubes and cup from the ground. “What happened, anyway?”

“He tripped,” the shorter, dark-haired man informed her before he took a sip of his coffee. He still looked amused, positively delighted as he watched his friend struggle to find the right words to say, and Natalia bit back a laugh as she realized everyone had a friend like him.

“I didn’t trip,” the taller man defended with a roll of his eyes, cutting his eyes at his friend before returning his attention to Natalia. He met her eyes sheepishly, the embarrassment softening his features as he explained, “Someone bumped into me on their way in and I, uh…” He trailed off, clearly having planned on saying that he tripped, and dropped his gaze to the floor as Natalia laughed.

“Tripped?” she finished, a smile on her lips despite the situation. When the taller man grimaced, bringing the hand not full of soaked napkins up to rub at the back of his neck, she laughed once more.

“Fine, I tripped,” he acknowledged, “but it wasn’t just being clumsy. Someone really did bump into me.” He gave his explanation more to his friend than to her and she wondered how often he found himself tripping over thin air. He looked solid, like he wouldn’t be the type to trip over his own two feet, but looks could be deceiving and she knew from personal experience how annoying it was to be the clumsy friend.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, a little more sincere in her assurance this time as she offered him a genuine smile. “Nothing spilled on my laptop and it wasn’t boiling so, worst case scenario was avoided. I think I’ll just not sit near the door next time, though.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good call,” he agreed. His lips were quirked in a smile, grateful that she wasn’t yelling at him, and he still held the soaked napkins in his hands. “I still feel bad, though. Can I make it up to you; buy you a coffee or something?” he asked, a hopeful lilt to her voice that told her he wasn’t just looking to make up for spilling coffee on her.

As much as it pained her to turn him down - and it hurt quite a bit as she found him to be beautiful, even in basketball shorts and a t-shirt - she didn’t have time. “That would be great,” she began, a rueful smile on her lips as she grabbed her laptop and slid it into her bag, “but I have to run. I need to go get changed before class. It’s really okay, though. No big deal.”

She didn’t miss the nudge his friend gave him and raised an eyebrow as she watched him swat at his friend’s elbow. “I, uh, how about dinner, then?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

He looked so earnest, his skin still tinted pink and his eyes wide, and she felt a giddy excitement bubble in the pit of her stomach. He was gorgeous, the kind of guy she never imagined would be interested in her, and she wanted to give him a chance. She didn’t know him, didn’t know if that chance would turn into a disaster, but she found herself wanting to take that risk.

“I have class until ten tonight,” she told him, biting back a coo when his face dropped at what he assumed was her rejection, “but if you tell me your name, I think I could free up my Friday night for dinner.”

He blinked, surprised at how her sentence ended, and smiled at her. He had a unique smile, his teeth on full display and tongue pressed to the back of them, and his eyes brightened as he nodded his agreement. “Right, yeah. Luke,” he introduced, moving to offer her his hand before realizing he still held the wad of napkins. “This meeting isn’t really going that well, huh?”

“I’d say it went south when you dumped coffee on her,” the friend commented, not even bothering to hide his grin as he watched the interaction unfold before him. “All downhill from there, mate.”

“I’m Natalia,” she introduced, pointedly ignoring his friend’s comment with an amused glance in his direction. “I’ve had worse first meetings, don’t worry. My freshman year roommate opened a door on me and gave me a concussion. You just stained a dress.”

“Oddly, that makes me feel better about this, thanks,” Luke laughed as he reached out and dropped the napkins into the garbage. “Can I get your number? That way you can go change now and we can make plans later,” he clarified, smiling at her as he offered her his cellphone to put her number in.

She felt Luke’s gaze on her as she put her number into his phone and she offered him a smile as she handed the device back. “I have one request for Friday,” she told him as she grabbed her own phone from the table and grinned at the text he sent her with his name, “no tables near the entrance.” Luke laughed at her request, a sound that she found endearing, and Natalia grinned at him. “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

“See you on Friday,” he confirmed, grinning as he watched her step around him.

Natalia and Luke maintained eye contact for a moment, each giddy and grinning as they felt the butterflies of something new on the horizon, before Natalia bumped into something solid on her way out and made a face before quickly turning to apologize. She tossed Luke a wave over her shoulder, her own cheeks burning in embarrassment, as she heard his friend mumble, “Wow, she’s perfect for you.”

As she stepped out into the world once more, she grinned at the encounter. It made her lose an hour of writing time - and ruined her favorite dress - but maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. She’d been single for years and hadn’t had any luck with dating apps. She knew that a boyfriend wasn’t the most necessary thing in her life, however, it might be nice to be the girl with a date for once. And it certainly didn’t hurt that Luke was gorgeous.

Whatever the future held for them, she found herself looking forward to it.

____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: If I try to start another series, someone fight me. Like, actually, genuinely fight me. I’m focusing on Rose Tattoo, These Violent Delights, and this. (And MF if I get inspiration but those updates are more sporadic, never meant to be regular, sorry. :() I want to write a few one shots but they’ll likely be shorter and just fun, you know? Not super plot heavy. I may or may not update the next chapter of this sooner than a week because this is kind of short. But, hey, I’ve got all the time in the world because after I defend next week, I’m done with grad school and that’s mildly terrifying. Anyway. Here we go.

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