#au; under the cover of night (superhero) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itaehynz · 28 days

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HII BABY! ahem SOOO for the event i’d like to request for “welcome to the movies”, the movie batman BUTTTTT villain catwoman!reader x CHOI YEONJUN . HEAR ME OUTTTTUH (a little plot but mostly smut ykyk 😇)

ONE NIGHT ONLY.

pairing: batman!yeonjun x catwoman!reader.

genre: forbidden love, superhero x villain au, smut, a little angst & fluff.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: profanity, argument before intercourse, yeonjun and reader are both dicks in the beginning, mention of killing, includes an explicit sex scene; harddom!yeonjun at first, sub!reader, big dick jun implied (it’s real), public sex, oral (both receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, dacryphilia, marking, hair pulling, throatfucking, choking, overstimulation, spanking, unprotected sex, squirting, nipple play, breeding, degrading + praising, soft sex toward the end (but not for long), kissing, spitting, breeding kink, name-calling; pretty/pretty girl, good girl, gorgeous, slut, whore, baby.

“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.”

ni’s notes; the event masterlist is coming soon but here it is!! i hope you enjoy this fic, my love. also thank you to my proofreading friend, if you see this, ily babe. happy reading my lovelies! 💕

SPECIAL MASTERLIST!

With the arrival of night comes danger—dangers this city has been dealing with for years on end, dangers caused by you. And, of course, Batman is always the one to the rescue. He has always been their superhero, the person they can always count on. But not anymore. A rumor has begun. A rumor you started. A rumor to ruin his reputation.

You two have been secretly meeting at night to avoid being seen by others. This is all because of him - he's the one who made this rule. He's the kind of man who always gets what he wants and never takes no for an answer. However, the rumor that the two of you are in a committed relationship, which isn’t true, has officially ruined his reputation. But where's the fun in telling the truth?

It doesn't matter how much you love him; you love to toy with him even more. Getting under his skin, and ridiculing him, makes you feel giddy. The knowledge of how angry you could make him with a simple action. The adrenaline hurries through your veins at the thought.

But that's before you hear something rustle behind you. You think it could be a random citizen, so you simply ignore it, until your mouth is covered by a black leather glove.

“Stay quiet,” the voice says. It’s deep and rich. You recognize the voice—actually, you know it. It’s him.

The man who never denies himself pleasure, the man who always knows what he wants. The man goes by two names, Batman or as you’d like to call him, Choi Yeonjun.

When he appears behind you, you don't gasp or panic. You knew he was coming sooner or later. Once the news spread, you knew he'd have no choice but to come to you. Eventually, he'd try to figure out who spread the word, only to be led back to you. Besides his assistant, nobody knows about the two of you, except you and him.

Soon, he uncovers your mouth and begins leading you to god knows where; however, you're not complaining. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to seethe with anger. You truly looked forward to hearing from him, whatever he had to say. Every time you two have a conversation, it almost always ends with sex. This time should be no different.

He pulls you into a dark alleyway, a blind spot away from the citizens of Gotham. "Tell me," he says, bringing a finger to his temple and inhaling deeply. "Tell me what led you to this point, Y/n."

To your dismay, it's as if every reason you had has been wiped from your memory entirely. Under his mask, you see his eyes piercing into yours. You find yourself feeling more intimidated as you look away, making an effort to avoid his intense gaze.

He grasps your face firmly, bringing your eyes back to his. After doing so, he takes his mask off, throwing it somewhere. What you're now faced with is an expression you’ve never seen before. He’s furious. His eyebrows furrowed and a firm wrinkle was prominent in the center of his forehead.

He looks at you with raised brows, expectant. Expecting a reasonable answer from you, not whatever random bullshit you can think of.

“I wanted to see if I mattered to you,” you draw in a large breath, “If we mattered to you.” He looks at you dumbfounded, has he not been the best he could be to you? What more could you want from him? He scoffs, “You’re joking, right?” he questions while looking at you, once again, expecting an answer.

You laugh, “Of course I am! Why would I care about how much I mean to you? You're Batman, you don't care about how others feel about you,” you add, rolling your eyes in a joking manner. He scoffs at your ability to joke in situations like this, soon falling into a small laughter. Withdrawing his hand slowly, slapping your cheek twice in a ridiculing manner.

He seems completely disinterested in continuing the conversation, as your responses didn't give him anything to engage in. He's convinced that you started the rumor because if not you, then who else?

Deciding not to think about it any further, he runs a hand through his hair before walking away from you. You grab for your mask, taking it off before calling out to him. As you call out to him, he pauses in his tracks before turning his head in your direction with a raised eyebrow.

“I just,” you murmur, rolling your eyes once again. “I just wanted to get a rise out of you. I admit, it was a stupid way to do it but I just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all.” He looks at you once again, amazed by your reasoning. He’s never found anything more stupid than that.

"Are you serious?" is all he says. The more you think about it, your reasoning for doing this is pretty dumb. Not only does it ruin his reputation because it's said that he's dating the city's worst villain, but it also ruins yours. Obviously, your reputation was trashed the moment you started this job, but now it's worse than it was before.

You simply nod at his words as he scoffs for the nth time, shocked by how far you've gone. You know how hard he's worked to get into his position, and the fact that you were able to break all that down with a simple news article baffles him, to say the least.

“I should fucking kill you.” He threatens, scowling at you. You’re taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor as the distance between the two of you gets smaller and smaller. “What?” you question, already knowing that he’s fuming. This is your way of trying to get more of a rise out of him. You trust yourself and know what you're doing, he wouldn't dare to kill you… right?

“First, you ruin my reputation and now you're standing here acting like you’re an innocent ass fucking fool, acting as if you don't know why I’m here,” he pauses, seeming as if he wants to hear your side. “Yeonjun, I’m the fool? If anything-” “Yes! You are! So, don't even try to go there with me, Y/n. You need to fucking learn your place and keep our business in between us. Stop doing stupid shit to get a rise out of me because I already knew what you were doing once that dumb excuse came out of your mouth.”

“I need to learn my place?” you scoff lightly, beginning to walk closer to him. “You should be the last person talking about learning their place. You’ve never known yours! You're always intruding into someone’s life and trying to fuck things up for everyone. You’ve never known your place, and now you're shocked when someone else doesn't know theirs? Well lucky for you, I’ve had a great fucking teacher! So since you wanna talk big, why don't you show me what my place is, huh? Show me exactly what my fucking place in this world is, Choi Yeonjun.”

Those words were all he needed. Just like you needed to provoke a reaction from him, he needed you to say those few words. The moments it took for your heart to beat were the few seconds he needed to get you right where he wanted you.

He is aware that you can be a brat sometimes; that's for sure. However, this time was extreme. Not only did you argue with him, but you also kept giving him illogical reasons, even after he explicitly told you not to.

If you wanted him to fuck you, why not just say so? You went as far as revealing the relationship between the two of you, and just for some dick? Hysterical. Absolutely fucking ridiculous, is what he thinks.

“You’re just a fucking whore, aren't you?” He says, venom creeping its way into his voice. His cape drops as he makes his way to you, eyes blown out with lust and a tinge of fury. He almost laughs at the way your face shows pure worry, but your eyes say otherwise.

You're almost caught off guard by his sudden switch-up, but what can you say? You like how he’s acting. You like the way his calloused hands feel against your skin, the way his unoccupied hand feels against the flesh of your ass. Grabbing weighty amounts of your flesh and groping it roughly, he has no intention of being soft with you but maybe, just maybe you can change his way of thinking.

“You like it when I’m rough with you, huh? You like it when I treat you like shit—don’t you?” he growls softly in your ear, you can’t deny that. The pleasure you gain from arguing with him for no logical reason is immense. You know you should feel guilty, but the feeling of his hands on your body takes away all the guilt you’ve ever had.

He removes his hand from your face, both hands now resting on the apple of your ass. He rubs around it softly, reminding himself what belongs to him. “Hm. This is a pretty suit, are you sure this is the same as the others?” He whispers, kissing from your lips to the sweet spot of your neck. You hum in affirmation, causing him to put a stop to his ministrations. “Words, Y/n,” he taps your cheek with two fingers softly. “Yes, it is.” He hums, continuing to kiss in the same spot he was before.

You feel his hands gripping roughly at your flesh once more, soon hearing a tear. You jump in shock, grabbing at his arms for some sort of balance. He coos in your ear, telling you to stay quiet once again. You feel his hands spread your legs further, right before he presses a firm thigh between them.

“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.” He brushes his knee past your tender clit, emitting a soft moan from you. His soft kisses soon turn to bites, his finger now rubbing back and forth past your slit. He brings his other hand back around to stretch the tear of your suit, slapping your clit lightly. You gasp in satisfaction, causing him to wrap a hand around your mouth.

“I told you to be quiet, didn't I?” He questions, not expecting an answer. He runs a finger past your clit, rubbing small but rough circles into it with his thumb. His finger slightly teases your slit, going in and out to build the stimulation within you. His finger enters you in a swift motion, eliciting a whiny moan from you and into his palm.

He kisses your forehead softly, beginning to pump his finger faster before adding one more. You cringe at the stretch but soon adjust to it, squirming in pleasure. He tightens his hold on you, pushing your stomach down which does nothing but increase your volume.

“You hear those sounds, baby? Those beautiful, dirty sounds coming from you? Those are the sounds of a whore.” he says, slapping a hand on your clit once more. You whimper into his palm, watching as he smirks at the sounds coming from your cunt. He bites back a chuckle, seeing how easily he can have you writhing in the palm of his hand.

He draws his fingers from your soaking cunt and brings them to his mouth. He looks at you as he does so, wrapping his tongue around the digits as he flutters his eyes shut in delight. “Such a dirty mouth, yet you're so sweet.” He pulls his fingers from his mouth before lowering himself down to your cunt, humming in adoration once he’s faced with your wetness. “Look how pretty she is, so wet—so perfect. You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, bringing an agonizingly slow stripe of saliva to your cunt.

“You still wanna do this here? Or would you prefer to go back home?” he asks, pausing his actions. “N-no, please, this is fine, Jun.” He smiles at your desperation, chuckling softly to himself before licking another long stripe up your cunt. His hands grip your thighs roughly, spreading your legs more than before for better access. Before doing anything else, you feel his hands reach up your chest to tear another hole in your suit. He moves the fabric aside to release your perky tits from their enclosure, rolling one between his fingers.

You moan quietly, to abide by his rules. He flicks your clit with his tongue, keeping your thighs apart with his free hand. He laps at your clit, wrapping his pretty lips around your sensitive bud. He relishes in the taste of your juices, sucking at your cunt as if his life depends on it. Your moan increases in volume, causing him to hum into you. He watches you writhe in pleasure as he inserts two fingers, watching every pleasure-felt expression that appears on your face.

You begin gripping his hair, pulling at the brown locks as you roughly ride his nose. He groans at the feeling, fluttering his eyes closed in pleasure. He feels his pants getting tighter as your pretty moans fill his ears and shoot straight to his cock.

You feel your orgasm creeping up on you as he continuously moans into your squelching cunt. With a plan in mind, you tug his head away from your clit. He looks up at you, dumbfounded. He's confused as to why you did that before seeing you drop to your knees. He watches you pull down his pants, releasing his cock from his slacks. He groans in pleasure, bucking his hips toward your face frantically.

You lick at the tip of his cock, jerking the rest of him off. He watches you with lust-filled eyes, bringing his hand to your face. You melt into his palm, looking back up at him with doe eyes. His breath quivers as you wrap your lips around his tip, licking at his leaking tip. You swallow the drops of precum before licking at his slit once more, watching as he bites his lip in attempt to contain his moans.

You chuckle, “It’s so pretty, Yeonjunie,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. You watch his hips buck upward in pleasure as you begin to hold his waist, preventing him from doing it again. He moans at the restriction, watching as you finally take all of him in your mouth. For some sort of stability, he grips your hair in his fist. He gains control over your throat as he bobs your head back and forth on his cock, seeing how you easily give in to him. He closes his eyes, stalling your head and fucking himself down your throat.

You grip his hips tighter, allowing him all the relief he needs as he fucks your throat. “F-fuck, baby… yeah, j-just like that, fuck, yes,” he moans, bucking his hips into your mouth. The noises coming from the alley would induce any type of curiosity in a person who just so happens to be passing by—the lewd sounds coming from your throat as he moans above you. The pretty noises coming from him as he shoves all of his length down your throat makes wetness form between your thighs, pooling at your entrance.

As you continue to let him fuck your throat, you reach down and rub rough circles into your clit. He opens his eyes for a split second to see how you’re occupying yourself and sees one of your hands away from his hip. Even though he feels himself nearing his orgasm, he yanks your hair to pull you away from his cock. He watches drool leave your lips as you stare up at him, breathing heavily and jaw nearly slacking.

He pulls you up by your hair, forcing you around to press you against the concrete wall. “You thought you were gonna get away with touching yourself? You thought I wouldn't catch you?” He rubs the soft flesh of your ass, tearing the rest of the bottom half of your suit off. “Look at you, baby. So pretty and wet, just for me.” He whispers in your ear, landing a firm slap on one of your asscheeks.

Watching as you wince, he soothes the pain with a soft knead into your flesh. It doesn't last long as he lands another one, telling you; “This is for lying in my face,” Another one. “This is for telling the press our business,” Another slap. “And, this? This is trying to make me look like a fucking fool,” Another one. “This one is for touching yourself without my permission, acting out, and all those times you treated me like I was a fucking joke; laughing in my face, lying to me, creating bullshit excuses for your actions, and thinking everything is a fucking game.” He raises his hand higher, before landing a harsh and rough slap on your ass once more.

You feel tears rolling down your face as he coos into your ear, kissing your neck and rubbing the bruising flesh. “Aw, my poor baby. You’ll be okay, just don't act like this again, okay?” He says, wiping your tears with his free hand. He kisses you one last time before pulling away to line himself up with your cunt. “Look at this,” he smiles to himself. “Doing all this crying, just to find out—you’re getting off on this shit, what a fucking slut.” He chuckles once more, inserting himself carefully.

You moan at the way he hits your sweet spot almost immediately, feeling his hand creep up to your breast. He pulls you against his chest by your throat, wrapping a firm hand around it. You watch him gather his spit in his mouth before telling you, “Open.” With quickness, you open your mouth as the spit drops from his to yours. “Swallow it,” he whispers, watching you carefully. You stare up at him, swallowing the spit just as he told you to. He smirks, kissing down your neck. He slowly starts fucking into you, pulling at your nipple between his fingers.

A moan erupts from your throat, slowly feeling a bit of overstimulation overtake you. You feel his pace slowly but surely pick up in speed, his pace becoming unrelenting. You feel his arm wrap around your torso to stop your squirming, his grasp tightening the more you move. You hear him groan in your ear along with the soft slapping emitting from your ass. His arm that was once wrapped around you is now creeping down to play with your clit, rubbing your bud in a circular motion.

“H-hah— fuck, keep—keep going, shit,” you moan, putting a hand over his. He kisses your neck once more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “You're so, fuck, so fucking gorgeous.”

He goes from kissing to sucking purple and blue splotches on your neck, making you moan directly into his ear. The moan seems to spur him on as his pace somehow picks up. You feel yourself teetering over the edge as you claw your nails into his arm, causing him to bite down on the sweet spot of your neck.

The bite itself emits a loud moan from you, his freakish pace adding to it. He feels you clench around him, clawing into your hip. “You gonna cum f’me? Go ahead, baby. Let it all go, I know you need it.” His words bring you over the edge as you seem to cum on his command. But that doesn't stop him.

He still hasn't came yet, you remembered. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not seeming to be letting up anytime soon. The quickness of his hips, his balls slapping your cunt at the ferocious speed he’s kept all this time. He flips you around, making you face him. He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his grip on your throat tightening.

You feel his warm tongue explore your mouth, groaning into the kiss. His other hand goes back to playing with your nipple, tugging and rolling the bud between his fingers. One of your hands reaches up to his face, holding his cheek as he continues to fuck into you. He decides to change the position as he releases your throat, turning you back towards the wall, and bringing both of your hands behind you. He holds both your hands in one of his and rests his hand atop your head, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back.

He begins pounding into you from behind at an erratic speed, chasing his high, “You're doing so good, baby. Keep moving your hips, shit, just like that.” He groans, slapping your ass as he continues his ministrations.

Feeling overstimulated, you pull your hand out of his and try to brush his thigh back, in an attempt to slow his pace. “F-fuck, ohmygod, p-please,” you hiccup, watching his face turn into a scowl. “What? Don't tell me you can’t, oh fuck—d-don’t tell me you can't fucking take it now?” he chuckles, bringing another hand to your ass and gripping the rose-colored flesh.

“That’s n-not, fffuck, yes— That’s not w-what I said, don't stop please, shittt,” you stutter out, he chuckles at how incoherent you’ve become and coos from behind you. “Uh huh, okay. Of course, what was I thinking? Thinking a slut like you would’ve wanted to stop,” he laughs. You whimper at his words, “I’m not a s-slut!” — “Aw, you sure?” He taunts, watching tears well up in your eyes. “Oh, pretty baby, why are you crying?” he asks, faux concern lacing his tone, “I thought you liked it when I fucked your brains out?” He taunts once again, listening to you whimper at the overstimulation.

“No words now?” You hear him ask as you mumble incoherently, reaching out toward his hand for stability. A small smirk ghosts over his lips at your neediness, his fingers ghosting over yours as his other hand continues gripping the meaty flesh of your ass. “Look at you—jumbling all of the words that come out of that pretty mouth, so pretty.” You moan pathetically, feeling your orgasm approaching once again.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, hearing his breaths become more erratic as he also feels his climax approaching. “F-fuckkk, baby. I’m right t-there, keep moving, please,” he moans, releasing your hand and placing his on your hips. You place your hands on the concrete wall, trying your best to keep yourself stable. You bounce back towards him, letting him take a break from doing all the work. His hands caress your back, reaching to pull you up. He holds you close to his chest, catching your lips in a kiss that's different from the last one.

The kiss is so passionate that you nearly forget your surroundings. His plush lips press against yours, hungry and intense. The adrenaline rushes through both of your veins, the pent-up anger and constant arguments have built the tension between the two of you. Your hand tangles in his hair as his hand grabs your chin, deepening the kiss. You start to feel a warm sensation in your chest, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

In the midst of your shared kiss, both of your orgasms creep up on you and take you by surprise. He moans out of bliss; groaning into the kiss. Your back arches intensely as his hips still, releasing thick strings of cum into your fluttering pussy, your orgasm following soon after.

Your second orgasm hits harder than the other; you’re squirting on his cock, body jerking in his arms as he kisses your neck, easing you through your orgasm. You moan loudly, loud enough for him to have to cover your mouth. “Shhh, you did so good. So perfect f’me, my perfect girl.” He kisses your neck, watching as you come down from your orgasm. You let out cracked sobs, hearing him coo as he wipes them away.

“Breathe, baby.” He rubs your hip, massaging it softly. “You took me like such a good girl, so proud of you,” he kisses your lips, turning you back around toward him. He stares at you; his eyes are no longer lust-filled but full of love. He looks down at the shreds of your clothes, shocked. He knows he did that but it's still pretty shocking, which he laughs about.

You look at him, cracking a smile. He catches your eyes and begins smiling as well, “I really did that, huh?” he asks, a bit of shyness overtaking him. You smile timidly, nodding your head as he picks up the pieces of your suit.

“I’ll get this sewn back together for you—if you want me to,” he insists kindly, looking at you awaiting a response. You wave your hand in front of his face, “I don't need you to, I have plenty of others at your place.” He smiles at your insinuation of staying over and chuckles softly. You watch his eyes turn into crescent moons, followed by his sweet laugh.

He raises a hand to your face, caressing the soft skin of your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you pause, looking up at him to show how genuine you truly are. “For telling our business to the press, I really just wanted a rise out of you and-” “It’s okay baby.” He smiles, pinching your cheek softly.

“Even though you do get on my nerves at times, I still love you, y’know this. Plus,” he pauses, looking away for dramatic effect, “You know I hate false accusations.”

He winks at you, catching you slightly off guard. “Yeah, trust me I know. You’ve always wanted to prove a point,” you scoff with a minor eye roll. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve never wanted to prove a point in my life,” he hums, pulling up his pants. You raise your eyebrow at him, leaning back against the wall. “Don't even, you don't remember that one time when you-”

“Shhh. You're prettier when you're quiet, baby,” he says, placing his finger on your lips. You roll your eyes, smiling at his response. He smiles back at you, ticking his head to the side, “You wanna head home?” — “Please, I’m quite literally bare.” He laughs at your comment, pulling out his grappling hook and latching you on his side.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

★ TAGLIST: @boba-beom, @gardnhee, @n0-thisispatrick, @hyukafied, @luvsoobs, @choiwrld, @majestyjun, @tyunkus, @belovedxiao, @h00nerz, @sugaringgcaramel . . .

☆ NETWORKS: @k-labels . . .

244 notes · View notes

wttcsms · 2 months

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cw yandere themes, stalking

thinking about a superhero au that's similar to the setup in "the boys" where superheroes are celebrities, backed by a company/management team + you are promoted to be character's handler. you're the one who finalizes his schedule, tells him where to go, accesses all the classified files that detail the missions he goes on (+ sometimes even accompany him to said missions). you know the ins + outs of his life (career-wise, he's doing fantastic; does well in polls, the public loves him, and his reddit snark page is itching for him to do anything they can complain about. his private life... well, he doesn't really have a life outside his job — or so it seems). he's a very black noir inspired superhero; no one knows what he looks like underneath his mask; no one knows anything about him since he stays consistently covered in his nearly indestructible suit that only emphasizes the flex of his muscles and the tightness of his abs. he never talks, which took some getting used to. you thought that was just his bit for the public, the whole "silent killer" persona, but he only nods or shakes his head when you're going over his itinerary for the day. you eventually get used to his silence & you two sort of come up with your own secret language. you can't see through his mask, but sometimes the two of you will look at each other when something happens and it's like you just know what he's trying to communicate + vice versa.

being a superhero's handler means your own private life — or lack thereof — is pretty boring. you don't have a lot of time for anything, but you finally get a chance to go out on a date. but it's just your luck that your date turns out to be a small-time villain on the side. when you think things are going to take a turn for the worst, who shows up to your rescue?

your superhero, of course.

you don't question how he knows where you're at; you're too busy being grateful for his help. you can't see the gleeful expression he's wearing under the mask when you're cooing words of praise at him. you look so cute, he thinks. you're always cute — when you're kicking off your heels after you get home from a long day of work, when you're slipping off your blouse so you can hop in the shower, when you're rushing to get to work on time in the morning, when you're hiding away in one of the many break rooms inside the company's building.

that night proves to be a series of surprises for you; first, you literally went on a date with an actual criminal. and second, you actually hear character speak for the first time ever. he has a nice voice, deep and a bit gravelly — probably due to the fact that he chooses not to speak most of the time. but it's what he says that almost wipes your grateful smile off your face.

"don't go out with anyone. you're supposed to be mine, remember?"

#i have been wanting a superhero au like this for the longest #im actually the biggest black noir fan ever LMAO i love him so much #im only on s2 though nobody say shit to me ik what happens but i don't wanna acknowledge it

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btsmosphere · 3 months

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 14: Cover Me

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: An unprecedented strike at the heart of bangtan leaves you baring yours.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, (supernatural) animal attack, injury

a/n: if this whole time the slow burn has been me leaning nearer to a candle with a lighter... now is where I finally let the flame catch🤭👀

The one good thing to come of your escapade was, unexpectedly, quite a plethora of entertaining tales designed to make you feel better. As it turned out, most of the boys had also been just as, if not more, stupid than you on occasion.

While your body was exhausted, and smiling pulled at the cuts on your face, you couldn’t help yourself. All of you would be in bed long after the sun rose at this rate, but right now you made no complaint as you fell back against the couch with laughter. Even Yoongi, the butt of the current story, bore a begrudging grin.

“I still can’t believe it!” Jimin cackled, falling over Yoongi’s lap dramatically. In all honesty, you didn’t know how he even managed to speak around his giggles, “those innocent people just wanted to have a fun night!”

“Most of them were innocent-”

“And the non-innocent among them were terrified when the disco lights got hijacked,” you deadpanned.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“I was in a bad mood.”

“You heard it here: don’t mess with our Yoongi, you can’t imagine what he’s capable of,” Jin teased.

“It’s less of an abuse of power than stopping an entire highway of traffic just so the Kan CEO couldn’t get away,” Yoongi responded, eyes pointedly fixing on Jimin.

Jimin’s head snapped up, surprised by the turn towards him. His hand tightened on V’s, but the next second he scoffed a laugh.

“He deserved it!”

“That’s the reason every time one of you makes a fool of yourself,” Jin smiled. “You can be stupid and they can still deserve it.”

His eyes flicked over to you, then. While embarrassment still washed over you, it gave way to a sheepish smile, your private response.

Sinking into the warmth of the squishy sofa, a smile laced your lips, not leaving, as your friends kept laughing and poking fun. The night went on, eyes beginning to droop and laughter growing sleepy.

They had welcomed you back with understanding. It was more than you could have hoped for, some hours ago fighting for your life in the cold.

This was your home. And the man who once wanted you gone had been the one to bring you back.

Jungkook hadn’t sat beside you. After the revelations you had shared in the bathroom, perhaps your both needed some reeling space. But you noticed his eyes on you from his spot opposite, and found your smile came easily.

Though he didn’t return it, he wasn’t cold. His expression unwavering, his brows were almost imperceptibly creased with intrigue.

You only let your body’s haze of exhaustion wash through you, not trying to read closer into his demeanour. Although you may not understand him half the time, you knew one thing for sure, and for tonight, that was enough.

He still wanted you here.

Noise drenched the space, wrenching you from sleep. Even while your eyes were still opening, your body moved without you, getting your legs under you.

Covers thrown off, the relative cold shocked you fully to your senses before another crunch shook the very walls.

Suddenly very awake, your brain whizzed through the last dizzying seconds. And didn’t land very far from the initial, sleep-crazed and panicked conclusion that you were dying.

The crunch was interrupted before it even finished ringing out, by another noise, splintering through the air. An immense thud of something hitting the ground buzzed through the floorboards beneath your feet.

Heart hammering as if trying to match the cacophony assaulting you, you sprinted for the door. You threw it open and stopped dead.

Sudden, brilliant light assaulted you. Of course it was light; you had all stayed up far too late after yesterday. So much for a rest.

But the light didn’t come from the window.

It came from the gaping hole in the ceiling.

Hardly daring blink, you let your eyes strain in shock and staggered from your doorway. A chunk of rubble sat in the hall, between yours and the others’ bedrooms. Gaping, you looked to the chasm above you, beyond which was sky.

Just then, another movement drew you back to earth.

You had never seen Namjoon with bedhead before, your scrambled brain realised as you met eyes with your bewildered leader through a doorway.

And then darkness plummeted between you.

Thunder deafened you, and you were forced to jump back from a shower of debris. Beyond the caving of the roof, a roar rumbled. Not another sound of stone or brick; it was like an animal.

You readied your hands, the only thing you could do.

The wall of wreckage settled so high you could no longer see Namjoon. But the others must be awake, too. Whatever the hell was going on, you would take it together.

A shape loomed then in the open space, blocking out the sun. Before you could make out more than a silhouette, it stomped closer, the building shuddering beneath it. Dust rained down in the thin remaining streams of sunlight.

Then, all at once, it pounced through the hole it had opened, and was filling the air with its great roar.

Rubble cracked under its feet. The floor shook. The doors rattled – before the thing lashed out an immense arm, and the wood splintered like paper.

So it had arms. And legs, poised beneath it like a predator. And teeth.

Eyes adjusting, you honed in. You didn’t like what you saw.

Unfortunately, it saw you too.

The beast’s furry head twisted your way, fixing you with eyes you would never forget. Its jaws opened, and your power surged within you at the same moment it lunged-

Then shot sideways in a blur. It fell with the crunch of its own weight, a lump of masonry disintegrating around it.

Aborting your shot at the last second, you fell back against the wall, blindly throwing your arms up as claws slashed through the air inches from you in the fall. Bricks flew, slamming dents into plaster.

You stayed there, fixed in place, gasping. Not just because of the near-miss.

You knew this beast.

A blur and Jimin was in front of you, feet skidding to a halt among the dust and smithereens. Looking up at him in shock, you found his face hardened, nostrils flaring as he glared towards the creature.

He stuck a hand under your nose, but as you took it, a lumbering shape reappeared in the corner of your eye.

Clutching your hand tighter, Jimin stepped back.

The monster whizzed around, limbs flailing. Nothing it came into contact with could put up a fight; the tv sparked as talons sliced through the centre. It fell uselessly to the ground and burst into flames behind the creature, who drew to its full height. The glinting gaze was the same, unperturbed by Jimin’s rock-solid attack.

“What is that?” Jimin hissed in horror.

You could have answered, but shock had words sticking in your throat.

Everything moved at once, the monster leaping forwards again. It forced you and Jimin apart, both diving away from the vicious claws. Its bulk smashed against the wall, but it was already scrambling up, readying a new strike.

Crawling below the kitchen table on your elbows, you looked over your shoulder in time to see the eyes swivel straight to you again. Dread overflowed in your chest.

But it got no further.

An impact knocked its head sideways, though not off-balance this time. Merely a jolt, as if dodging a fly. Growling deep in its throat, it looked around.

At the same moment, you found the form streaking through the air which had struck it. Hobi.

Uncaring for the chairs you sent crashing to the floor, you shot up from your shelter and took aim. Your electric blue took out the arm that threatened your friend.

And so it was back on you.

Thundering steps pounded closer and you were backed into the wall. Another strong blast hit it square in the chest, but only served to anger him more. Every nerve screamed at you to dodge, flee sideways, but you squared your jaw and let him run at you.

Remembering what Kuyang had told you, you hoped the same weak spot still held true on Frank. You had never actually had to use it before.

“Y/N!”

Jin’s yell of your name threw you off, tearing your eyes from the spot on Frank’s head. Flooding over the pile of rubble came the rest of your team. Jin cocked a gun by his head. Your eyes darted between the monster and your friends, the world slowing for a breath.

“No…” you whispered. Frank was almost upon you.

Jin fired. The crack of a bullet made Frank turn, the sweet spot on his head now out of sight.

Cursing, you ducked as he made impact with the wall, apparently forgetting you were ever there. Scrambling clear of his reach, you found your feet. But Frank was already moving again.

Among the mass of matted hair, you saw the tail of a dart poking from his back. A tranquilizer. While a good idea, you knew that it wouldn’t knock Frank out by a long shot. He needed strong sedation, and a lot at that. Your lab wasn’t equipped for that.

All they had done was piss him off more. Your heart thundered along with Frank’s steps as he lunged for your friends.

With a sweep of his hand, V shot up a wall of purple flames. Frank bellowed and swiped at them, unfazed by the burn. Orange fire burned thicker your end of the room, spreading from the tv to the rug, and you leapt around it, firing at the monster’s back. Anything to keep him from your brothers.

Sure enough, Frank turned, but a new shape came at him. Your heart squeezed as Hobi flew so close by – near enough to the weak spot on his head, but he didn’t know about that. Among the crashing and roaring of fire and fighting, he would never hear you. Your comms were safely tucked away in a room downstairs. This was a fight you hadn’t seen coming.

Frank’s eyes locked onto the boy coming for him. Hobi landed a solid kick and whirled away, but Frank wasn’t giving up. A slash of talons followed.

“No!” you screamed, firing with precision into Frank’s eyes.

The creature stumbled, claws fumbling wildly, but it hadn’t been enough. Hope’s form dropped hard to the floor, rolling away. He stayed there, still on the floorboards.

Jimin marched closer, a hand raised, and Frank was slammed back into the wall. Jimin flung his arm down and Frank’s face was smashed on the rubble, dropping to his knees.

With the brief distraction as cover, you raced towards Hobi. Skidding to your knees in front of him, a breath punched out of you as you saw his eyes open.

“Shit, Hobi.”

Reaching out, you circled your arm around his shoulders and hauled him to sit with your help. You winced along with him, but you had to move. A long gash ran down his chest.

“I’m… okay,” he panted.

“Bullshit,” you spat.

A new holler from the beast had you whirling to look over your shoulder. Frank held Jimin in a gargantuan fist, raising him from the ground.

“Jimin!” you cried, but your voice was drowned out in Frank's roar, and the bursts of desperate rifle fire from Jin.

V had already leapt into action, murderous purple tinting his eyes as he brought flames up around the beast, swamping him. Jimin’s eyes still burned pink, despite his immobilisation. His brows drew down in focus, and a new piece crumbled from the roof onto the monster’s skull.

Though it stumbled, the creature didn’t even fall.

“We need to get out of here,” you hissed.

Though Hobi sagged against you, you felt him nod. Easing him to rest against the wall, you stood.

A silhouette darting through the flames emerged. You had never seen V like this. His expression was clouded with dark, wild anger and he leapt for Jimin, catching hold of Frank’s arm and swinging from it.

Blazing purple circled Frank’s flesh along every inch where V made contact.

An ear-splitting howl of pain and rage ripped from the monster’s throat. Throwing his arms to the side, he tossed both V and Jimin who came flying towards you. In mid-air, Jimin caught hold of V, curling around him before they both came tumbling to the ground at your feet.

Thrashing his immense arms, Frank blundered out of the column of fire, leaving it to eat up the building behind him.

Seeing Jimin and V untangling themselves, bruised but mobile, you stepped around them.

“Get out of here,” you told them with urgency, “take Hope.”

“Y/N-!”

Jimin called after you, but you were already starting forwards.

The only one left standing was Jin – where were the others? – so you had to put a stop to this before anyone else got hurt. Dashing forwards, you found Frank hadn’t made a target of you yet. He took his fury out on your house, which was quickly devolving into little more than wreckage.

A glance at Jin showed him backing away, to your relief. In the other direction, Hobi was sandwiched between Jimin and V, rushing between the violet flames to escape through the garage.

A booming roar brought you back to Frank.

The monster stomped his foot, gaping jaws wide and snarling as he lifted his arms. Claws dug into brick, tearing off a chuck of ceiling. You jumped as he sent it crashing to the ground in a fog of dust.

A wall of rubble was stacked in front of you, but Frank’s enormous foot cracked it easily as he stepped over it.

Red fire spat at your back, the heat immense. You couldn’t back up further.

Frank’s giant fist descended, grip circling a couch, the end of which was already flaming. He lifted it, flung it to the side. Removing it from his path as he advanced on you.

Below it, someone moved. Ducking underneath, heading straight for you. Next moment, the figure crashed against you, throwing you to the side with strong hands gripping your arms.

They flipped, taking the brunt of the fall to their back as you slid together among the debris.

Instantly, you were struggling against them, throwing the arms off. They let you go, and you struggled to your feet, rounding on them.

“Jungkook?”

He staggered up too, reaching for your arm.

“We need to go,” he panted, “we can’t fight it.”

“I can,” you protested, shaking him off.

But he sprung forwards, grabbing you. With a startled cry, you were twisted around. His arm caught your waist, yanking you against him, placing him closest to Frank to fire a golden beam at the claws which had swiped for you.

“I thought we went over this?” Jungkook’s voice was ragged in your ear.

A new pounce from Frank sent you both diving over the rubble. You landed hard on your elbows, Jungkook’s arm on your back.

“We did,” you gasped, scrambling to right yourself, eyes never resting between Jungkook’s confusion and the looming threat of Frank. “But I mean it this time. I know how- argh!”

Frank swept a forceful kick at the table. It cracked under the force, two halves shooting into the air to crash against the kitchen cabinets.

Dropping to the floor, you rolled away from the hunk of wood as it clattered back to earth between you and Jungkook.

In the haze of dancing flames and cascading dust, thick in the air, you met Jungkook’s eyes.

“Just trust me!” you shouted, the words wrenching deep from your chest. Your chest rose and fell sharply with exertion. Frank was running again. You had had too many chances already; this had to be the one.

With one last glance back at Jungkook, you found his eyes blazing. But with determination, not anger.

“Cover me?” you called.

A sharp nod was all you needed.

Not sparing any moment to doubt, you took off. Charged straight at the beast.

Just as you trusted he would, Jungkook rushed the other way, firing gold right into Frank’s heart. Its predatory eyes followed Jungkook, while its back turned to you.

Frantic heart spurring you on, you fixed your eyes on the spot you aimed for.

And jumped.

There was no way Frank didn’t feel the human landing bodily against his back. The moment you made contact, you grabbed on fiercely, anticipating the enraged lurch of his body as he tried to throw you off.

Dangling from his shoulder, you swung a leg up, securing around his neck.

Dazzling gold knocked a fist aimed for you off-course. Jungkook had your back. You couldn’t afford to spare any attention on where the next one would come from.

Reaching up, you grabbed onto Frank’s head, fingers closing around a bony ridge that lined his monstrous skull. He shook harshly, making you cling with your every muscle as your hand fumbled over his skin.

And then you pressed down. Scrubbing your hand back and forth, the effect was almost instant.

The shaking stopped. You didn’t. This patch should knock him out for at least half an hour, you remembered.

Then Frank dropped, his entire mass hitting the ground as one. You were thrown down with him, head jerking forwards and stopping inches from the floor.

There you stayed for a long second. Just panting in the sudden stillness.

At last, you rolled off the monster’s form, bracing your landing with hands against the ground. A bit shaky from the adrenaline crashing through you, you let yourself smile, and looked up.

The place was a mess. If only you could have got to Frank sooner, it need not have escalated like this. But you had no way of telling your friends not to get involved. At least you had done it now, although the place was left a disaster scene of fire and debris.

Trying your best to ignore the crackling flames, you looked up to the figure silhouetted in front of them.

Jungkook looked back at you in total shock. His slack face was painted with a shade of bewildered horror.

“What. The hell.” He said flatly.

Huffing a laugh, you finally pushed yourself to your feet and wiped your hands on your trousers.

And found yourself knocked back by a fierce hug. The shock alone nearly swept you off your feet. As it was, you kept your ground and blinked, startled, into Jungkook’s shoulder as his arms wrapped fast around you.

It was all you could do to get your arms to stop hovering, and tentatively hold him in return. Not to mention the effort it took to ignore the frightening soar of your heart under his touch. Surely he would feel it thumping against him, with how tight he gripped you in that moment.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” he half-laughed, stirring the hair above your ear.

Forcibly shutting your gaping mouth, you chuckled, face falling forwards against his shoulder.

“So you keep saying,” you replied wryly.

Finally, you summoned the courage to ease away from him. Honestly, you were a bit worried about the speed your heart was pumping the longer you touched, but it was strangely counter-intuitive to step out of his arms.

Jungkook found you with wide eyes, and slowly lowered his hands in a mirror of yours.

With an awkward laugh, you darted your gaze away.

“Kuyang made this guy,” you nodded down to the creature. Your eyes lingered the closed eyes and tantalising teeth that had always made you shudder back in your days at the lab. “We called him Frank.”

You weren’t sure Jungkook’s eyebrows could climb any higher.

“…Frank?”

“Yeah. Bit more fun than ‘Necrus X’, I suppose,” you shrugged, and stepped to Jungkook’s side.

He kept eyeing Frank.

“How long do we have?”

“He’ll wake up in around half an hour,” you told him.

His eyebrows pulled downwards a fraction, and he glanced around the space.

“How do we kill it?”

But your focus was distracted by a pitch floating through the air, growing closer. Looking up, you found your gaze on the empty hole torn in the roof.

Sirens.

People were arriving.

“Let’s not stick around to try.”

Jungkook seemed to agree with you, reaching for your hand in an instant. Then he was tugging you with him, towards the stairs leading underground to the training space. You never usually had to scale piles of rubble to get there, but the world did change very fast these days.

Near the peak of the mini-mountain, you took the chance to peer up through the cracks. Blue lights flashed somewhere near, and you had never heard so many people at once in this part of town.

Soon, Jungkook’s hand was urging you on, and you jogged down the stairs side-by-side.

“Looks like we’re busted,” you worried aloud.

Jungkook sighed, but it could have been from the exertion. Your feet met the training floor and you raced away together. He kept clutching your hand. Of course, you had expected him to let go the first chance he got, and yet you found yourself holding firmly in return. Must be the need for some kind of steady comfort after that fight. Right?

“Namjoon and Yoongi cleared us out,” Jungkook was saying. You had to force yourself to tune in, wresting your mind away from the ever-present warmth of his fingers around yours.

“I guess they’re prepared for something like this. They shut down all the tech, collected some documents. Destroyed some things too. It was almost like Namjoon was... ready for this? He told me to just get everyone out.”

“But how did they find us?” you frowned.

Turning down the corridor where Namjoon’s office lay, you saw Jungkook was right. The doors all stood open, nothing but darkness beyond.

Jungkook led you both to the end of the hall. You had never been here before, but somehow it hadn’t crossed your mind to question Jungkook about where you were going. He eased to a stop beside you then, unable to help a glance over his shoulder. Just in case.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, meeting your eyes. His shoulders slumped and he frowned to himself, shaking his head. “I mean, there was the car you saw tailing you guys. Maybe there were more. They tried again, or-”

There was no way either of you could know right now. It wouldn’t change anything.

Turning himself from that line of thought completely, Jungkook dropped your hand and approached the wall. You bit your tongue, your fingers retracting straight away at the lack of his warmth. It had felt strange, standing still and yet holding hands – no, not holding hands, but… grabbing. Out of necessity.

It just hadn’t crossed his mind to let go. You ignored the fact that once upon a time, it would have been the only thing either of you thought about until you could finally be rid of the other.

Shaking your head, you almost wiped your hand on your trousers. You stopped, for some reason, and just ran your thumb over your fingers instead.

In front of you, Jungkook reach for a fire extinguisher fixed to the wall. Raising your eyebrows, you prepared to tell him that the place really was past repairing, when he pushed down on it instead.

It moved, something clicking into place out of sight. In a blink, a square had emerged in the blank wall, and Jungkook pushed it out. A panel swung inwards, revealing empty space beyond.

Lifting a leg to swing inside, Jungkook turned to you with a smirk. It was your turn to be stunned.

“That sure is helpful,” you muttered, before starting forwards.

A bright laugh came from Jungkook as he hopped down into the passage.

“Namjoon-hyung really thought of everything.”

Humming your assent, you climbed through the opening. Jungkook secured the panel back into the wall. For a moment, you were submerged in total darkness, only sensing the click of your hiding place being concealed.

A weak light filtered to life above you after a few seconds of waiting. It illuminated Jungkook, who was looking up, clearly anticipating its arrival.

“Right.” He met your eyes, and swallowed. The space here was much thinner than outside, the walls forcing you nearer. “Let’s get moving.”

Nodding rapidly, you waited for him to turn and lead you on. Once his back was safely to you, you let out a breath, feeling your heart winding down in your chest. Some adrenaline trip you had been on, huh?

“Where are we going?” you asked, hurrying after him. Something about this place made you hush your voice, however illogical that was.

“It should get us a safe distance away,” Jungkook replied over his shoulder, “Namjoon had time to give me this. We’ll head to the coordinates he sends.”

The emergency lighting in the tunnel was sparse, and as you walked you fell through light and shade. Currently in a patch of darkness, you squinted to make out a small pager screen which Jungkook held up to show you.

So you carried on. With no idea where you were, or what was going on, you probably should have been freaking out a lot more. But right now, you had a direction. Somehow, following Jungkook eased your concern. You were glad he was the one with you...

Wow, that was something you shouldn’t admit out loud. You eyed the man in front of you, as if worried he could have read your thoughts. He only kept walking.

Eventually, the passage gave way to a set of industrial-looking metal stairs. Together, your footsteps clanged gently against the comfortable quiet.

At the top, you found a door made of thick metal. A grate set into it at eye-level let in the buzz of traffic beyond – and sirens.

Ahead of you, Jungkook peered through the small gaps, before stepping back to make way for you. He met your eyes with the same concern you felt. Was it safe for you out there? Looking down at yourself, you took in your attire. Neither of you were wearing anything particularly distinctive, having been surprised at home.

“Let’s not chance it,” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts, but you could hear the frustration concealed in his voice. Neither of you much fancied sitting around doing nothing at a time like this.

Better that than blowing the whole thing up by being hasty, though. You had learned that the hard way.

The passage widened, but not enough to sit face-to-face. So, agreeing with Jungkook, you joined him and sat at his side on the top step.

It was impossible not to feel his eyes on you. Or the weight of his arms from where he had hugged you, lingering like a phantom. Having him so close only teased what you had just felt, the gentle warmth where your shoulders brushed sending ripples over your skin.

“Your face,” Jungkook spoke, “it’s better.”

Swallowing, you lifted your head from the surface of your thoughts and back into his eyeline.

Sure enough, when you lifted a hand, there was no need for the trepidation in your fingertips. No pain returned your touch. The skin was totally smooth where Monsoon had broken it yesterday.

“This lifestyle does have some perks, then,” you shrugged.

Jungkook’s smile rewarded you.

“Hey, you wouldn’t change it for the world,” he retorted jokingly, elbow nudging your arm.

You gave a small chuckle, but it soon faded into a more distant smile.

“No,” you sighed. “I really wouldn’t.”

“That… that’s good.”

You had never really heard Jungkook fumble for his words like this before. Maybe his mind was elsewhere, like yours. Although ‘elsewhere’, in your case, was directly on him; you just couldn’t tell him that. Among all this chaos, it made no sense that he was the thing dominating your mind.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you offered into the newfound quiet.

Though Jungkook let the silence stretch out a little longer, one lone siren soaring through it, he found his voice eventually.

“I should have done it sooner.”

Turning to him fully, your heart threatened to burst again with the earnestness in his eyes.

“You did it at exactly the right time,” you shook your head, adamant, “and… it’s good to know I earned it. Just about, in any case.”

You couldn’t help the joke creeping in. Giving into your cowardice, you ducked with a self-depreciating laugh from the force of his gaze. A force all too soft for you to know what to do with. When he gave you fire, you could push back with something just as solid. But here, with his defences long abandoned, all you were met with was the terrifying prospect of falling right in.

“Hey!”

The hard edge that crept back into Jungkook's voice, surprising you with his ferocity, was almost a relief. But the spark in his eyes that trapped you in his stare wasn’t of anger. Something far from it.

“You’ve earned more than-”

His words choked off. It was only now you realised how breathless you were.

You were quickly giving in to the pull of his gravity, the words floating unsaid only dragging you in further.

Eclipsed by him as you were, you hardly registered the warbling siren that drew nearer outside, and passed by. All you could see was the way Jungkook’s eyes slipped treacherously downwards.

At the peak of the siren’s volume, he drew the smallest gasp, pushing himself away. Hands bracing on the step, he hovered, breathing harder now.

The way your heart lurched at the thought he might leave right now sealed your fate.

His eyes met yours with vaguely panicked apology. Before he even spoke, you had made up your mind.

“Sorry,” he breathed, “I shouldn’t-”

Some of the steely determination he always stirred up in you made itself known. You needed him to hear, to see how certain you were of this.

“I think you should.”

In one frozen moment, you saw the reservation flee from his eyes. Rising temptation replaced it. His own hunger terrified him, but yours matched it, always, since the beginning.

You felt the moment he gave in. Felt it in the fingertips on your jaw, the heat rushing through you- the lips on yours.

In one movement, Jungkook had allowed himself to fall, and fall he did. He surged towards you, taking your face between his hands, kissing you with a blistering urgency. The vigour in his movements drowned out all trace of caution, everything flung aside the instant you kissed him back.

He needed to feel you.

Your body sang against his, warmth erupting in your chest. Every move of his lips stirred it further. Supple, like the rest of him, their softness belied the power there which he had never hid from you.

You relished it, the exhilarating force making your head spin. And you gave back equal fire, too, grazing his lower lip with your teeth. It summoned an electric sound from his throat, a grunt that accompanied his hands roaming further, hungrily running down your back, tugging you onto him.

He tasted gold.

It was a taste you knew, from his powers when he had trained you, when he had rescued you- yet so tantalisingly new in the way he gave himself to you now, painting it in laves along your mouth.

His desperate sigh, ripped from his lungs, told you he was being ruined the same way you were from this kiss. And you weren’t ready for it to end. You had no idea how long you drank him in, surrendering like you had to no one else. Your world was lit only by the glow his every touch made bloom on your skin: his arms around you, his lips, his tongue pressing between them and making your eyes flutter back.

You had repelled each other for so long. Now, at last, you had given in to the magnetism, and you could no longer bear an inch of space between you.

Even as you split apart, panting hot across each other’s faces, you welcomed the way Jungkook kept you pressed flush against his chest. Dozens of times, you succumbed to each other’s pull again, lips colliding to indulge in a desperate one-more, becoming two and three and...

Each a brief, fruitless struggle to escape the force drawing you together.

It had been there all this time.

You drew back again, panting, in time to see a crackle of gold spark in Jungkook’s heavy-lidded eyes. It mingled with a jet of your own, reflected blue dancing with the gold in his iris.

Stiffening, you remembered all the times your power had turned him away. The way he had run from you when you last lost control. The dreadful truth he had told you last night, about what Bolt’s power had done.

But his hands only clawed over your sweater, dragging you nearer again as he stared up at you with such open eyes.

“Fuck,” his voice was raw, barely more than a ragged breath, “you were right, Y/N. They are beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Every time, you never expected Jungkook to stun you more. Of course, he outdid himself at every turn, leaving you scrabbling for words again, as you were right now.

Eyes drinking in your gaping expression, his loosened into a grin. The lazy shift into a deep, breathy laugh was like the sun coming out. You refused to look away.

You couldn’t refuse when his arm tugged you back against his chest, though.

Flopping there with a breathless laugh of your own, you closed your eyes, pushed your face against his neck. The energy to question this, to resist what had been building, had abandoned you, and you were ready to accept it.

How could you not, when his touch made you feel like this? When you had proved yourselves to one another time and time over?

You realised it all now, as you listened to the mingled sounds of your breathing with Jungkook’s.

You realised something else, too.

The sirens had stopped.

Thank you for reading!!! I appreciate all those lovely people who leave comments🥰💜

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natashaslesbian · 3 months

Text

Tiger-Lilly

Summary: you’re staying with your auntie Yelena while Natasha is on the run after the events of the sokovian accords, you haven’t heard from her in 5 weeks, where could she be?

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairings: (Auntie!Yelena x Niece!Reader) (Mom!Natasha x Daughter!Reader)

Warnings/Content: Civil war events but following an au timeline / sad reader / happy ending

————

A few months ago, Natasha left home. After the events of the sokovian accords, she had to go into hiding until it was safe for her to return, it was the hardest decision she’d ever had to make. Leaving her friends behind after watching them fall apart broke her heart but nothing could’ve prepared her for the devastation of leaving her daughter behind, leaving you behind. Two weeks after escaping the red room with Yelena, Natasha found out she was pregnant. The sisters had managed to make it out before the graduation ceremony. If the ex widows hadn’t met the team and joined S.H.I.E.L.D you wouldn’t be here, they saved all three of you. Growing up in the compound was the greatest gift of your life, you loved all your family, but your mommy was by far your favourite.

Yelena decided not to become an avenger but became an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D and soon reached the highest rank of all the agents. Because of that, your auntie wasn’t involved in the downfall of the superhero’s so Natasha decided it would be safe to leave you with Yelena. The accords didn’t intertwine with S.H.I.E.L.D so Natasha trusted her sister and Nick to keep you safe and prayed that no government agents would come after you. It was hard to explain to a 4 year old that her mommy had to go into hiding, especially to a child as close to their mother as you were to Natasha. Your mom held you tight as she said goodbye, explaining that this wouldn’t be forever and that she had to do this. You cried yourself to sleep the night Natasha left and it was the longest journey of your mom’s life.

Today marked three months since Nat left and you were having a difficult day. It was fun staying at auntie Yelena’s house and under different circumstances you would’ve been having a blast, but not knowing where your mommy was or when you would see her again weighed heavily on your mind everyday. It was Yelena’s day off and she had tried everything to get you to smile, even just for a moment. You were currently sat on your bed, your auntie reading you a story. “Why don’t you take a turn at reading tiger-Lilly?” Yelena asked. “No” you whined as you crawled under the covers. All of your family called you tiger-Lilly, it came from your middle name Lilly and your favourite animal being a tiger. You loved all kinds of cats, Lions, Panthers, Leopards, Jaguars, Cheetahs and domestic cats but your favourite of all was the tiger.

You cuddled up with your tigger stuffy under the duvets (obviously tigger was your favourite character, he was a tiger after all.) Yelena huffed quietly under her breath, not wanting you to know that she was struggling too. Natasha sent letters when she could, each time she moved location to avoid being tracked. The last letter had been delivered over 5 weeks ago and Yelena was going out of her mind with worry. She pushed her feelings to one side and gently stamped her feet across the floor “did you hear that?” She asked, feigning her anxiety. Yelena rose to her feet and used her hands to pad across the mattress “uh oh!” She cried “I think it’s the tickle monster tiger-Lilly!” your auntie yelled as she began to tickle you above the sheets.

You popped your head out from the covers and shuffled away from Yelena “stop it!” You yelled, pushing her away. “I don’t want you I want mommy!” You cried. Yelena froze in her place, surprised by your outburst. “Go away I don’t want you!” You screamed, tears streaming down your face. “I’m sorry sweetie” Yelena said as she sat down beside you unsure what to do. “Go away!” You sobbed once more, pushing against your aunties frame. Yelena sat helplessly and watched you cry. She took a step back when you cried out loudly, kicking your little feet against the mattress. “I’ll be outside” Yelena stuttered as she walked towards your bedroom door, giving you the space she figured you needed.

You continued to cry in your aunties absence, twisting and pulling at your duvet covers. Outside, Yelena slowly slipped down the door muffling her own sobs behind her fists. “Mommy” you cried out into the empty room, breaking Yelenas heart even more. Yelena wanted so desperately to run in and scoop you up in her arms, but she knew you needed to let everything out. It was when you began coughing roughly that your auntie knew she had to go back into your room. “Y/n?” She softly called as she pushed open the door “deep breaths sweetie, here take some sips of your water” she said as she passed you your water bottle.

You gulped down the water, trying to rid the ache in your throat. “Easy sweetheart, small sips okay” Yelena said and you eased up. When the water was all gone, you followed your aunties breathing, bringing yours back to a steady rhythm. “I’m sorry” you whispered, looking up at Yelena through teary eyes. “It’s okay tiger-Lilly, I know you just miss mommy, but next time you get overwhelmed you come and tell me alright” Yelena said, you nodded shyly, feeling guilty for your outburst. “Hey” Yelena said as she lifted your chin up “it’s ok, it’s all ok no one’s angry with you, I’m not angry with you” she said.

You and Yelena cuddled up again until you finally fell asleep, peacefully snoring against your aunties frame. When she was sure you were deeply asleep, Yelena slid out from underneath you and made her way downstairs. It was late but the blonde had no intention of sleeping anytime soon. The hours raced by as Yelena sat at the kitchen island with her warm coffee. Silence filled her house and Yelena basked in the comfort of it. The silence was interrupted by a soft click from the front door. Anyone else would’ve dismissed it, but being a spy, Yelena perched up at the sound.

Peering over her shoulder, Yelena looked directly at the door, eyes glued on the handle that was now shaking. Quickly, she made her way around the kitchen and switched off the overhead light. The agent shuffled along the wall towards a small cupboard, opening it slowly and reaching underneath to peel away a gun taped along the top. The door was pushed open and soft footsteps fell across the tiled floor. Yelena prepared herself for a fight, she was exhausted but you were just upstairs and there was no way she was going to let you get hurt. Placing her gun in front of her with outstretched arms, Yelena listened closely at the footsteps came up beside her. A shadow rounded the corner, mirroring Yelena’s position with a gun before them. The blonde froze when she locked eyes with the body behind the weapon.

You shifted gently as you began to wake up, your throat dry due to your earlier meltdown. You reached for your water bottle, frowning slightly when you remembered that it was empty. Pulling the covers away slowly, you shuffled down off your bed, setting out on a mission to find your auntie. You figured she had gone to bed in her own room so that was where you went first. Finding the bedroom empty you thought carefully about where she could be. You heard a quite whisper from downstairs and slowly made your way down towards the kitchen.

Waddling slowly, you rubbed your eyes roughly as you entered the kitchen “auntie Yel” you said holding out your water bottle. You were confused when she didn’t reply, blinking your eyes a few times adjusting to the light of the room. You looked over to the kitchen island and paused in your movements when you saw not one person, but two. Your eyes began to water as you looked at the second figure “mama” you whispered. “My baby” Natasha exclaimed as she ran towards you, kneeling down to your level and wrapping you up in the softness of her arms.

You sobbed so loudly at the relief of finally having your mom back, you gripped onto her so tightly, afraid she would disappear again. “Mommy” you cried into her shoulder “I’m here baby, mommy’s home now” Natasha said as she lifted you both up from the floor. Yelena smiled at the sight of the two of you back together again and excused herself so that you could be alone. Natasha was swaying softly with you in her arms, not planning to let you go anytime soon. “Oh my tiger-Lilly, I’ve missed you so much, I’m so sorry I had to leave you” she cried.

You pulled yourself impossibly closer to your mom, her voice soothing you. “I missed you more mommy you sobbed, gulping in your breaths. She didn’t want too, but Natasha set you back down on the floor, resting eye level with you. “Hey, hey, deep breaths sweetie, I’m here” she said as she brushed her hands through your hair. You copied your mom’s breathing, finding a gentle rhythm once again. Natasha lent forward to place a soft kiss on your forehead “look at you” she said as she held your face in her hands “you’ve gotten so big!” She smiled. “Y/n I promise you I’ll never leave you ever again. Being away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, I love you so much baby girl” Natasha said. “I love you too mommy” you smiled through your teary eyes, launching forwards into Natasha’s awaiting arms.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

#marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha x little!reader #yelena x reader #yelena belova #yelena black widow

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theyellowhedgehog · 17 days

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How Tim found out about the secret identity.

PART 2

Reverse Robin + Parallel AU PART 1 HERE

Since there is no blaring clue like the quadruple flip, Tim has his work cut out for him. Bruce is paranoid enough, just add a miniature Bruce. Batman and Batboy became like a true mythical urban legend.

Tim was actually 14 when he found out Bruce was Batman. Damian was 16.

After becoming Batboy, Damian joins the Justice League and works with a team of teenage superheroes like his own. So he rarely comes home or he's gone for a long time. Tim still visits the Manor, he talks with Alfred in tea times, and sometimes accompanies Bruce on golfing. He still has a fascination on vintage cars but he got bored watching the cars in the garage, that is when he took notice of the new Batmobile that was recently caught on news.

14 years old Tim, takes out his best camera and sets out into the night to take photos of the Batmobile.

The Batmobile becomes his newest obsession. One day, on his close up shot of the car he noticed something about the tail light bumper, normally you won't notice, but the company that produces it actually trademarked it.

W.E

Tim starts going into detective mode. This tail light is a model that WE never released. They were not released due to the fact that it doesn't fit the regulation of a proper rare light. Therefore, if someone is using those , Tim deducts that they must be from somewhere higher up. He started digging into the BODs of WE with his limited resources. He ruled out 13 out of 24. But it isn't still not good enough. He mopes around the vintage cars as he was about to give up when he saw Bruce Wayne lay down flat under a car, legs poking out.

"Umm, Mister Wayne..?"

Bruce slips out and greets him, "Oh, hi, Tim! Come to check out the cars again? "

"Yeah," Tim looks at Bruce covered in grease and says, "Bruce, you can call in a mechanic, you don't need to do it by yourself."

Bruce laughs from under the car, "Sometimes, it's better to do it with your own hand, son"

Tim shrugs and sits down. It is then he realised the rear bumper of the car is destroyed.

"How did this happened??" Because Tim know Bruce is not that irresponsible.

"Well, Mr. Smarty Pants Damian thought it would be a good idea to take his friends out on a ride after getting his permit. He's lucky he hit a lamppost or he better expects a lawsuit if otherwise."

"Oh, then maybe this need a proper mechanic to repair that."

Bruce rolls out and looks at him, "Look like we got two of the best here."

This make Tim grins and drops his bag as he starts to inspect the damage. His heart goes to the beautiful Ferrari that got damaged. Fortunately, this is but a dent, the tail light are broken so new ones need to be replaced.

"Bruce, you have extra tail lights?"

Bruce comes and checks," Yeah, it's in that box." Tim brushes some scratches and dirt ignoring the huge dent beside it, and when he got to installing the tail light, he paused. He looked down at his hand when he feels uneven ridges on the tail light.

Tim stares straight ahead in silence and quietly got back to work again.

When Bruce comes out to check how he is doing, Tim looks at him and asks," How did you get the WE tail lights that were never released? "

Bruce lets out a hearty laugh, " Well, I just keep some spare ones because they are quite useful even though they might not meet regulations."

"Can I have one?" Tim asks. And Bruce actually gives him one.

That was clue one. He suspects but never confronts Bruce or Damian.

Clue two was matching the dates of the debut of Batboy and Damian's absent and presence in Gotham and in California.

As well as Bruce absent in Gotham when Batman was spotted in Metropolis.

When Tim realised the dates actually matches up, he just didn't end it there.

Clue three was calculating Batman's height without the boots and cowl, analysing the body structure, he mannerism in pronouncing certain words and consonants.

But Tim has already decided.

Tim decides to live an ignorant life in bliss, as he does not want to be separated from his cars so soon.

Tim after feeling the tail light and Bruce came to him.

#tim drake #reverse robins #dc comics #fanfic #i burnt my braincells for tim's deduction #theyellowhedgehog #Bruce shouldn't be too offguard around tim #batman #batfam

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oathkeeperoxas · 1 year

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TOP GUN / Icemav fic recs part 4

Hello my fellow icemav enjoyers, I bring to you more fic recs, freshly harvested from the local fields. If I list an author below, I also recommend checking out their profile for their other works as well!

Rec list 1 here

Rec list 2 here

Rec list 3 here

Where Are You Going by @adiduck

They’ve both heard all the philosophical bullshit, of course. Poems about your soul forever seeking its other half, impassioned treatises they were supposed to read in high school English about how you know where your own limbs are, quotes from long-dead guys about physical distance but hearts taking up the same space--that kind of bullshit. Maverick never put much stock in that kind of thing--he’d hated school. It probably shouldn’t have been surprising that Ice also really did not care about the science or philosophy--they were supposed to be perfect for each other, after all. (Or: There’s a handshake in the O Club the first night of Top Gun, and the very bearing of “magnetic North” shifts permanently under Ice and Mav’s feet)

Soulmate AU!!!!! This is so cleverly put together, the worldbuilding details are delicious and so very excellent, and the characterisation is on point. A very fun and enjoyable read 💖

Polaroid Picture by @betanoiz

man, we used to be brothers. superheroes and warriors. - The story of Maverick and the important relationships in his life, as told through photos.

The author plays with form through the use of pictures in this fic, using them to broaden the story and really show the character's relationships with each other. A very soft landing that hits all the right notes.

Ever Higher by @astolat

Maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it on his own, but soon as he’d heard about it—well, it was fucking obvious, wasn’t it? There was no other way to keep climbing.

I read this the first time, had to sleep on it, then come back to digest it properly. The author fits so much into every single sentence - the plot and the reveal hit you straight to the chest, no room to avoid it.

Mach 4 Mile High Club by @topgunreacts

In a civilian bar off base, Ice finds half-price drinks, trivia, and Maverick. The drinks he's expecting. The trivia he can handle. He isn't ready for Maverick.

This is just pure fun!! The back and forth between Ice and Mav builds deliciously throughout the story, the smut is top tier, and the finale lands just perfectly.

that’s what i love (about sunday) by @gracedbybattle

For the past few years, Ice has gotten used to the silence. But their house isn’t so quiet anymore.

Established icemav and the daggers can be so so good actually!! The domestic fluff here hits all the right notes.

Decent by @lambourngb

Ice was aware of the old adage, 'Don't Judge a Book By Its Cover', but he had seen Maverick fly, and now that they were teaching together, he was pretty sure he had Mav figured out. There were lots of reasons for Mav to be insanely confident; he had movie star looks, he had gifted hand-eye coordination in the sky, and he had no discernible shame trigger. Turns out, probably all of that was true, but Mav had one more reason for his swagger.

I have been converted to the Mav has a big cock agenda. Enough said.

Take the Long Way by @kerbyfullyloaded

Five times Iceman tried to get Maverick to come home and the one time he finally did.

This and it's sequel are so full of satisfying emotion - this author has such an excellent voice for the characters and it very much comes through in the prose!

Centrifugal Motion (Perpetual Bliss) by @brendaonao3

A month after the DADT repeal goes into effect, Ice finally gathers the courage to tell Mav he wants another chance.

The pining! The second chances! The yearning that threads its way through this, oh... so very soft and good 🥺

A Box of Love by @film-in-my-soul

It's black and embossed, a medium-sized thing with a careful label facing outward— Wedding, 2014. Jackpot.

Married icemav my beloved. The established relationship is written so tenderly and well, with an understanding between the two of them that I hold very close to my heart

#icemav #maverick #iceman #top gun #rec list #fic rec #tg #soooo many excellent fics in this fandom... i am being fed so well

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anitalenia · 7 months

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𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙍𝙀𝙏 𝙄𝘿𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙏𝙔 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆‎♡‧₊˚

꒰ঌ definition ໒꒱ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡𝘩𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑤𝘩𝑜 𝑡𝘩��𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 / 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ below you will find sub genres under this category, as well as some useful pairings for this trope. for educational writing purposes <3

note: several of these can also be used in other tropes as well, just depends on how you write it and interpret it.

₊˚⊹.* ♡ let’s start with the obvious, person A is a superhero and person B is completely oblivious

₊˚⊹.* ♡ a villain needing to hide their true self to avoid being caught

₊˚⊹.* ♡ secret admirer (can be a best friend, co-worker, etc)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is rich and hides that fact from person B so they’re not taken advantage of

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is actually undercover (can be for a case, cop au possibly)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is in witness protection

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A started a new life because of their dark past (changed name, town, etc.)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is a celebrity where they come from, but moved somewhere where no one knows who they are

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is hiding who they really are to protect person B

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is really a higher being (angel, deity, something divine) sent to earth for various reasons (to pass on a message, complete a task, protect person B without giving themselves away)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is extremely powerful and mysterious and no one knows who they are (i.e. mystogan from fairy tail, black knight trope)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ a person of royalty (king, prince) has abandoned their royal duties and left on the side of the road like a common beggar (can be because they didn’t want that life, there was a mutiny, etc.) — they’re found by a group of people or a person who have no idea who they really are

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A stumbles upon a powerful object that gives them magic / powers when they wear it (i.e. the mask)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A only looks a certain way during a specific time of day — they transform back into their original form at night / at sunrise (fiona from shrek, cinderella)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is incredibly poor but mistaken for someone else in a bizarre twist of luck — taken into the rich home to carry out the duties of the original person because no one is the wiser

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is a thief / good liar and never shows their true colors until they fall in love with person B

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is a common criminal taken under the wing of a generous prince who falls for their beauty — revealed at the end that person A was never who they thought they were (doesn’t have to end bad, they can reconcile)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ bouncing off that idea, person A is a criminal sent to kill / rob person B, a royal. person A assumes a fake persona to gain their trust but ends up falling in love with person B and can’t finish out the task

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A faked their own death before moving away

₊˚⊹.* ♡ in a dystopian kind of setting where person A belongs to a group of people not accepted by society, so they must hide that part of themselves to stay alive

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is ashamed of what their real name is associated with (toxic family life, weird past, etc.) so they lie to person B

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A must lie to cover for someone else (seen in movies where person A’s friend, person B, doesn’t show up for a date so person A must fill in for them, then when the date shows up they think person A is person B) — can be used in other ways ofc

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is doing intel on a certain group of dangerous people and must fit in or they’ll die

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is the maid of the princess and has no choice but to take her place when the princess disappears — person A has to temporarily take care of royal duties and ends up falling in love with the prince the princess was set to marry

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is under the protection (doesn’t have to be protection) of whoever, so very few people know their real identity but they end up falling in love with person B anyway — points if the people who know their real identity say it can never happen / not end well if person B knew who person A really was

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A must wear their mask at all times but person B fell for them anyway (darth vader, the mandalorian, ghost from cod)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is a shapeshifter and assumes multiple identities all the time anyway

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A time travels to the past or future to stop someone from doing something and must gain person B’s trust

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is a demon in disguise to bring person B to hell / make them hold up their end of the deal — obviously ends with love periodt

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is actually an angel meant to help person B come to terms with their own death, but ends up trying to save person B’s life

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is the doppelgänger of person B and uses it to their advantage (katherine from tvd)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is using a cloaking spell to disguise themselves as person B for whatever reason

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is the twin of person B who is much more important and has to take their place — ends up falling for person B’s love interest

₊˚⊹.* ♡ similar to that person A and person B are long lost twins with drastically different lives — they switch places to live the others life and falls in love with their respective love interest (the parent trap, the princess switch)

#❀⋆ ─ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 ⊹❀ ֙⋆#book writing help #writing themes #writing fanfiction #writing tips and tricks #writing help #writing things #book writing #writing inspiration #writing prompt #writing #book tropes #books and reading #secret life #secret identity #secret identity trope #writing tropes #romance tropes

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brick-a-doodle-do · 1 year

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ITS DOOOOONE WOOHOOOOOOO FIC TIMEEE :3333

SPIDERMANSPIDERMANSPIDERMAN! i originally wrote this for beckyu and i kind of still did but i feel bad giving her straight angst so it was INSPIRED by beckyu and her liking of superhero au's at the time dhdjfnnsn

ty to @munchkin1156 and @a-xyz-s for the ending ideas, ANDDD thank you munchkin, @dingbatnix and 3d for proofreading ILY 🫶

(title from doomsday by derivakat)

you're stuck in the web and caught in the lie

wc: 6748

cw: sfw vore, unwilling prey, fatal vore mention, mentions of puking, (lots of) panic, little comfort

—-—

The bulb in the bathroom teases with his sanity, flickering in the corner of Wilbur’s vision as he stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes are heavy, exhaustion lingering on them, for moments before he had been passed out after a long night. Ultimately, he had been woken up by commotion in the streets, but loud feedback from the radio in his room is what drove him out of bed and stumbling into the connecting bathroom.

Tommy, a borrower he had discovered just before starting his vigilante work, hadn’t been anywhere to be seen as of this morning, which he considered a given since he was housed on the other side of the flat and slept through almost anything.

So, it was just him, splashing water on his face and dabbing it dry with a hand towel. His mask hangs over the edge of the sink bowl, looking warped without a wearer. Wilbur stares at it, frowns, and sighs while swiping it off the porcelain. The tight, sturdy yellow and black fabric stretches in his fingers as he fidgets with the edge of it. After a tiresome moment of consideration, he swipes his hair back and slides the mask on, fitting it under the bodysuit. Wilbur then takes his top layers of clothes off, throwing his shirt and shorts onto the hamper and stretching in the skin-tight suit that makes him cringe.

His radio chatters louder than normal, screams and police sirens amplified through fuzzy audio. He briefly hears someone discuss his name—his hero one, at least—and discuss his absence. Wilbur yawns. He’d rather slip back under the covers of his bed and drift off until the foreseeable future. The only thing standing in the way between Wilbur and his comfort is his moral obligation to perform no bad.

Offering his masked face a tired rub, he trudges from the bathroom with heavy feet and finds his way back into his bedroom, listening for any indication of where the disturbances are before shutting it off. It goes silent, and now audible are the distant sounds of police sirens echoing throughout the city. Wilbur unlocks his window and slides it open, stepping over the edge and out onto his fire escape. He shuts it, then places two fingers over his palm. Instantaneously, a pearl white web shoots from his wrist, latching onto a nearby building. Quickly, he pulls himself up onto the railing and jumps, hand wrapped tediously around the web as he swings, legs curled up with practiced ease. Through his fatigue, he finds his way through the city, web after web latching onto different buildings that he only lingers on for a few seconds before jumping to the next.

A few flashes catch his attention from down below as the early-morning crowd of people notice the hero's arrival. For the most part, he ignores them, instead keeping his eyes out for the sounds of sirens and the sight of distress.

Spotting a crowd, Wilbur zeroes in on it, instinctually latching to a nearby apartment building and landing on the roof half-gracefully. He creeps over the edge, crouched as he approaches. There’s a gathering of police cars, a count of three ambulances and two nearby fire trucks. A whole crowd of pedestrians and traffic has positioned themselves outside of a ring of orange barriers. The only thing Wilbur can’t locate is the problem.

He scans the street, looking beyond the crowd and studying the depths of the block. Wilbur gazes over the horizon, where the only thing to meet him was the beginning of a sunrise. Despite his yearn to watch the upbringing of the morning, he turns his gaze away to find his villain.

A scream grows exponentially, echoing through the busy street and filtering through his mask. Wilbur whips his head over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he scans the skyline. He huffs as he’s left without eyes on the villain.

About half-way to the edge of the rooftop in hopes of contacting the police down below, there’s a piercing screech from directly behind him. Wilbur startles, the noise making him wince and cringe hard enough, leaving him now falling over the edge of the rooftop and into open air, where his eyes widen at the realization of the descent. Reacting quickly, he shoots a web to the railing and latches on, jerking to a stop before letting the web retract and raise him back to the rooftop. Wilbur connects his fingertips and feet with the concrete wall, sticking to it effortlessly while he creeps up the side of the building.

Through his awkward angle of the top of the ground, he spots a misplaced train car half-dug in the concrete, minute sparks still flying from the impact. Wilbur spots a round of people inside through the tinted windows. They’re jarred, no doubt, presumably both mildly and gravely injured. Only few still move about the confined spot, mostly with agitation and fear. He doesn't mind them for the time being, more focused on the culprit of the disturbance.

Despite the size of Essempi and their neighboring towns, he didn't meet a lot of supervillains. Occasionally some with creative costumes, though they don't pose much threat—he had himself half-convinced that the serenity of the town was just the beginning of some in-progress-anti-hero organization.

So, there weren't many villains who could make the technology to haul a train car onto a rooftop.

His imagination doesn't have to run much longer, for the mechanical noises of XD’s robotic extra arms draws his attention to the side, where the approaching villain stares around the skies for him. Satisfied with his obscurity, Wilbur raises a little bit to get a better view of the scene.

Suddenly, there’s an irritating whir that toys with his eardrums. He looks back, a helicopter catching his line of vision. Fuck. Just as he notices it, the spotlight ticks on and lands directly on him.

Wilbur gasps, squints at the bright light. The space now illuminated around him and XD’s attention turned to him instantly. He ducks down, spinning around so his back is against the wall and facing out to the city. Wilbur finds the attention of the aircraft and makes a motion akin to slicing his neck, silently portraying that they’re doing more harm than good.

Abruptly, part of the light is obscured from above him, thankfully shadowing the blinding light, although posing even more of a problem than potential blindness. Wilbur sighs, looking up to see XD’s carved mask—his old one—the cracked thing boring daggers into his own mask.

“Spiderman! Y’know, I thought I hated the cops, they just weren't ever on my side, but look at this! They helped me find you,” XD says, chuckling and then offering a salute to the aircraft. Wilbur’s shoulders slump a little as he flips back over and climbs up to the rooftop, hopping over the railing to find footing on the concrete ground. From this view, he notices that XD’s figure isn't laced with thick armor and his grand mask, and he’s instead stood, black slacks and a neon hoodie with his old smiling mask slapped on his face. His hands are in his pocket, looking casual, almost lazy.

“You look like you've seen better days,” Wilbur says. Why hasn’t XD made a move yet?

Dream shrugs. “Didn't want to be too…noticeable.”

Wilbur looks at the bright green hoodie he’s sporting and then at the train car of people. XD’s arms twitch.

“You should reconsider,” Wilbur suggests. Within a moment, he flicks a web at XD’s mask to distract him enough before darting to the left of him and running after the train car to help the civilians. XD isn't showing much interest in fighting him,

Immediately as he approaches the car, he gets halfway to wedging his fingers between the seal in the doors before there’s five metallic fingers wrapping his torso and pulling him through the air. It throws him, wind screaming in his ears around him and hissing in his ears as he begins his descent—over the open air, no building to catch him. The crowd beneath him gasps, loud enough to bring him back to reality.

His hands find a familiar position and he has the quick reaction to latch two webs onto the railing again. He retracts in a second, back onto the railing, crouched with his hands on the cold bars.

XD still isn't moving. He’s everything but hostile, apart from launching him off the side of the building. The spotlight from the helicopters above whirs loudly, circling the two on the building.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wilbur asks finally, snapping XD’s attention to him.

“Okay—look, I should've really planned this out, and I don’t want to totally humiliate you…” XD trails off. Wilbur slips off the railing and onto the roof, standing up to await the villain’s plan.

“It's kind of late for reconsidering the humiliation, didn't you just launch me off a building?” Wilbur points out.

“Shut up! I'm thinking,” XD insists.

Wilbur sighs. He runs again, flicking yet another web at the train car. He jumps, the web retracting and he glides overhead the villain, who through the corner of his vision is still caught up picking web off his face.

He lands on the roof of the train car with grace, considering his next move. Wilbur carefully climbs down to the back of the car, where he’s barely visible. Soothed at the fact, he offers a wave to the city-goers in the car. “I'll get you out,” Wilbur whispers, more of a reassurance to himself than anything.

Winding a quick punch and releasing it just as quick, the glass in the window cracks from his enhanced strength. The surrounding people inside the car step to the side on instinct as he punches again, the crack deepening. Through the reflection in the windows, (Any lighting in the car had been replaced by phone lights, making it incredibly difficult to see inside), he spots one of XD’s arms launching at him. Wilbur jumps, landing on the roof of the train car and wincing as he listens to glass break.

“That car isn't for you to save, Spiderman,” XD says, coldly, his voice less casual and reminding him of their typical encounters. The arm launches for him again and Wilbur dashed out of the way, flicking a web across the building and dashing out of the way.

He darts out of the way for the third time, huffing out in impatience. “Oh, so you brought it up here for fun?” Wilbur asks, shooting a web at XD’s arm, effectively folding it against the villain’s back.

He hisses out in victory, although the action is short lived because as he jumps from the railing, overtop of XD and going for another calculated web, the wind is knocked from his chest as he’s grabbed from the air and jerked to the side. Wilbur groans out in pain as he’s shoved to the concrete, which startles a shriek out of him. It’s then that he’s brought back to open air, dangling from the ground with an irritated scowl hidden underneath his mask. His shoulder stings from where it had slammed into the ground, but when he tries to soothe it with a rub, he finds his hands are pinned to his side.

Wilbur glares at XD.

“I’m going to put you down, and we’re going to talk.”

Wilbur knows obliging would be the best decision, leading him to tentatively nodding at the offer. As suggested, he’s lowered down, cautiously, the arm then retracting with a whir and laying on the ground beside XD’s form.

“Have you ever heard of the trolley problem?” the villain asks, his real hands still in his pocket. Wilbur shrugs.

“In passing,” he says, “Why? I don't see anyone else hostage, do you know how the Trolley Problem works?” he muses, brows furrowing at XD’s response: something of a laugh.

“You have two choices here, alright?” Suddenly, a screeching sound is scraping at his ears, two of XD’s arms wrapping the car and holding it up, right near the edge of the rooftop. “Save a train car full of people,” the villain continues, then reaches into his pocket. Wilbur squints as the villain pulls something small from the depths of his hoodie and holds it up, a string with something on the end of it dangling in the air.

His heart sinks. Tommy.

“Or a pest. Your pest.”

Wilbur’s mouth falls agape, his shoulders slump, and his hands tense. Play it off, Play it off. He still has the time to embarrass XD and make him believe he has the wrong guy. Surely XD doesn’t—actually know his identity.

“I don’t see anything,” Wilbur says, his voice rushed and quivering.

“It's—It’s on the end of the string, look—there's some pest at the end of it.” XD clarifies, a smudge of humor in his tone.

Wilbur lets the clarification run dry and finds himself bitterly glaring at XD. The villain hums, shakes the string a little. As he does, Wilbur watches Tommy flail at the end of it. His heart pounds in his chest, twisting at the thought of the poor borrower caught up in his work. He tried hard to keep Tommy out of it—he never even hinted at it. The idea that Tommy dangles in the grasp of Wilbur’s enemy without any hope that someone could save him makes Wilbur want to puke.

A scream from the people in the train car snaps him out of his thoughts, adjusting him to his very real situation that he needs to find a solution to. He can save Tommy from a lethal fall, or save a cluster of people from an equally deadly height.

“Which one, Spiderman?” XD persists.

Suddenly his lax clothing and old mask doesn't seem so lazy anymore, and Wilbur finds himself staring at the carved out smile with disbelief.

“Did you wake up and decide to do this?” Wilbur asks. He’s wasting time. The hero watches as Tommy is drawn a little higher, and the likelihood of death increases massively. Meanwhile, Wilbur just stands there.

“I was bored. Wanted to test my theories about you, turns out…I was right,” XD hums. Wilbur knows that XD is clawing at the inside for a chance to blurt his name out and rip the bandaid off. Something in Wilbur has to hand it to the villain, though, because even with an audience of news reporters and cops and civilians, he still has held off.

Okay. This cannot be hard. (Albeit reluctantly), He’s Spiderman. Wilbur can always do both.

“I’ll take the train,” Wilbur decides, “leave the 'pest’,” he lies, easily. The words are like poison to his tongue, but he’s found an obvious route to take.

“Okay. Okay! Well, what's your heroic plan without a little entertainment?” XD comments, then releases the car immediately, his silver arms retracting and glistening under the rising sun. Wilbur yells out, running near the edge of the building to go after the train, although before he can get the momentum to jump off, he notices that XD has dropped the rope holding Tommy.

His eyes widen at the realization, he screams out a rushed “Tommy!” and quickly, he flings a web in the vicinity of the borrower, hopefully latching onto him before taking to the railing, finding his footing before jumping off of the building.

Calm and calculated, trying to ignore the blood rushing in his ears and the way his head screams about his inevitable failure, he instantly retracts the web holding (what he hopes to be) Tommy, then lifts his mask up in a panic, getting a good grip on the clump of web before shoving the flash of white into his mouth and pulls the mask back down over his mouth. His mouth shuts with a click that blurs his thoughts of a plan.

Briefly, he recognizes movement within his maw, and with the reassurance, Wilbur finds the time to finally focus on the train car, which plummets, although nothing too worrying yet, especially as he now has the opportunity to advance downwards, the wind lapping all around him. He’s done this a thousand times.

Something clicks against his teeth, hitting from the inside. The wind in his ears and the adrenaline completely flooding him makes it hard to focus on the fact that he had hit bullseye on Tommy, and even more is he distracted at the fact that the poor thing is scared out of his life, in the clasp of someone he doesn't know he trusts. Trapped in their mouth no less. He runs a worried tongue over the figure in his mouth to try and resolve the boy’s fear. It was half-assed but all he could muster as a thousand ideas for saving the car floods through his mind and thoroughly bury the memory of Tommy.

A web shoots from his wrist and flies through the wind, whistling against it before coming to a halt when the edge of the web reaches something solid, the edge of a building, just a temporary brace until he can build another. He flicks another web, and another, and another, and he feels the energy leaving his body as Wilbur constructs a base for the car to land in. It’s already caught on the first one he did, but the weight of the metal and the people inside has the web splitting.

By the time he finishes the landing pad, it’s mere feet from the streets, housing the fallen train car. Meanwhile, now no longer distracted, his blurry mind has the ability to shoot one last web onto a balcony near the scene. Wilbur jerks as the web pulls taught, something in his head shifting to panic, but he ignores it while letting the web retract and guide him up onto the balcony, which he clambers onto and falls over in an instant, something of this morning’s fatigue, his mix of emotions, and the overuse of his silk making him a useless pile of black-and-yellow fabric.

(*)

Tommy is screaming. He knows he’s screaming, even though the noise is barely audible over the lapping sound of the helicopters that circle the area, which had irritated him enough into covering his ears, he still is screaming. The disturbance of the helicopter had been enough to distract him, and as he zones back in as Spiderman had yelled out something incoherent, and then weirdly, his own name.

It was then that he finally felt the rush of cold air against his body, and it was then that he registered that he was falling, concrete growing closer and closer and closer, and—his abrupt fate was cut off by an equally abrupt something clashing into him and expanding, surrounding his entire body and jerking him through the air. His stomach sinks at all the movement. He struggles against the sticky web that he’s caught in, memories of getting caught up in spider web as a borrower flashing through his memory. If not for the fact that this situation was nothing similar, and that this was quite literally life or death, he might’ve found comfort in finding some resemblance of his home life.

Wilbur.

Oh, Wilbur's going to get home and think Tommy abandoned him! Oh, oh fuck—

Suddenly, there's another pull in his gut and he’s screaming even louder as he falls, plummets, zips through the air. It whistles around him, his ears throb, and his hands are shaking so much he can barely even wipe the tears off of his face without it being consistent with hitting himself. There’s a thick groan that murmurs from his mouth as, despite the layer of web between him, he’s tossed against someone’s hand, whiplash settling in nicely with his jittering soul.

He barely recognizes the black and yellow fabric all around him before he’s catching his gaze on a distantly familiar bottom profile of a face, one that, terrifyingly, opens up and draws Tommy close.

“No, no, nonononononoNO—” Tommy yells, a mouth suddenly his only surroundings. The morning light illuminates the space around him, rows of human teeth entirely surrounding him, fleshy pink walls and the faint outline of the opening of a throat just mere inches from him.

“Shit! Let me out, fuck—HELP ME!” Tommy pleads, screaming, he can't even help but try to be hopeful in a time like this. He can’t even wrap his head around the fact that he thinks he'll be curled up in Wilbur's hands tonight if he asks. What is he, four?

Tommy sobs. Tears break through, finally the adrenaline of the situation coming to a screeching halt as soon as the mouth he’s in shuts tight, the the jarring view of the city overhead coming to a close with an echoing click that replays in his mind a thousandfold. Tommy sobs again, shaking, his struggling within the cage-like web intensifying. He has a higher chance of avoiding becoming food if he can stand up and fight.

Finally, finally, his legs can move more than a few inches. His legs are free, and he tears his arms free, picking the excess pieces off of him, baring his teeth as he strains his arm just to get free. He can barely fend off an inanimate spiderweb, he can only imagine the idea of fighting off a prodding tongue that’ll inch him slowly to the back of the throat that’ll send him to his real death.

He pulls at the silky material, which has been soaked slightly as the person's saliva fills the room. It's at the moist sensation under his fingertips that he realizes how suffocatingly damp it is. Tommy pats at the surface underneath him, cringing, almost gagging at the fact that he’s sitting atop a tongue. He’s…he’s going to die, he’s sitting on his deathbed.

He can barely maneuver himself to stand up without fucking falling. Tommy jerks a little bit, almost falling into the person's teeth at the movement.

Finally stumbling to a stand with a scowl on his face, he tries to feel around for something solid. He seems to reach teeth, because his pounding fists collide with something hard. He punches at them, sobbing, a sudden weakness in his form overtaking him.

“Let me out! Please! I—I can't die, not right now! I—I just—” Tommy finds himself stuttering over his words. He doesn't know why he doesn't want to die. There shouldn't be a problem if he simply ceased to exist, though the idea still tormented him.

If he were to die, it at least shouldn't be at the hand of something Tommy had spent most of his life avoiding, and certainly not by something he had foolishly begun growing to trust.

The feeling of something wet seeps into his clothing, prodding at him—and so caught up in his cries he takes an embarrassingly long time to recognize that there’s a tongue placed by his shoulder. Tommy shrieks as he does realize, scrambling away from the muscle the best he could, (which wasn’t easy, considering the thing took up most of the mouth).

He swallows down a gulp of vomit, cringing at the fact that he’s even existing right now. Tommy draws a hand to his face, fisting his tears away. It doesn't matter in the end, as by the time he gets his face dry it's ruined by another orbit of tears. He still shakes, his hands propped in his lap while he leans against the closed rows of teeth, awaiting his inevitable fate.

Just as expected, the world jerks, heavy, heavier than before, and suddenly he’s almost downed in a pool of saliva as he’s drawn back, back, and, NO—he claws aimlessly at the tongue, his efforts run useless while he’s shot down the throat in an instant. His hands fail to cling onto purchase and he slides, easily, too easily. He can't flex his limbs enough to flail, and even if he did the struggle would go unmatched against the pool of acids he’s about to meet.

He falls, he screams as he falls. His gut churns at the fact that he’s landed in someplace new, equally as dark as a mouth but painfully obviously not.

It’s hollow, nothing like the tunnel he just traveled down. It’s warm and suffocating, however, and he feels as if he couldn't breathe. Probably because his nose is stuffy and breathing in through his mouth triggered another fit of sobs.

Tommy stretches his arms to feel his surroundings, coughing, then immediately sobbing again upon the feeling of fleshy walls that contort around him, flexing slightly. He’s going to die. He’s going to puke—he is dead. He falls against the surface he’s surrounded by, attempting to draw his knees up, though they slip into the thin pool at the bottom of the chamber, his chamber.

The warm liquid soaks his shoes, and in half a second, he’s convinced himself that it stings, and that he’s going to die within the next five minutes.

If only Wilbur were here. He would know how to calm him down, even if he was dying. If he was on his last breath and Wilbur was there to reassure him, he’d believe him. Full-heartedly.

Tommy punches at the fleshy walls, yelling, despite how much strain it puts on his already-sore throat. “Fuck,” he whines, sliding against the walls and sighing.

He has a plan for everything. Wilbur, as a joke, locked him in a jar once, then proceeded to accidentally forget about him, and he inched off the counter until he fell and broke the jar. He was all cut up but he was out. So, why isn't his brain catching up to date with recent events and getting him a plan?

Tommy knows why, but he doesn't exactly want to admit it just yet.

His surroundings jerk, throwing him to the other end of the area before the walls squish in on him, embracing him from all angles and making him wail at the fact. His face is pressed against the slick flesh, the pool of saliva and, (what he tells himself is) acid, he sobs again. Again again, his body aches as he shakes with somber origins, again he cries again, Prime, why won't he stop crying?

(*)

By the time Wilbur regained feeling in his head and it was no longer a sludge of mixed emotions about what just happened and reassurance that he had Tommy, and by the time Wilbur had picked himself up from where he lay on the cold concrete of a balcony and webbed away, he realized there was nothing in his mouth.

But, he completely remembers the web with Tommy in it being secure in the makeshift pocket while he did his work, so why wasn't it there anymore?

Wilbur lands in the crowd, wincing as he catches the attention of news broadcasters. He’s about to web away to avoid public attention when something in his gut hits him so gently that he pauses, and his eyes widen. Wilbur pauses, freezes, then shudders.

Tommy.

He runs off, immediately, into an alleyway where he leans against the wall and places a disbelieving hand to his gut. “Wh—Tommy?” Wilbur whispers, careful as to not catch the attention of the nearby reporters.

There’s a response. It’s faint, he can’t hear it—shit. At the very least, he’s alive—hopefully for the time it takes to get him out.

Okay, just…focus. He’s focused before—he has to be focused to unstick. But he’s never swallowed anyone before! Wilbur closes his eyes and pulls his attention to the moving figure in his gut, squeezing in his stomach and pretending like he’s trying to puke, (which probably wasn’t the best idea considering he does feel like he’s two webs away from vomiting his guts out).

The attempt is disturbed by flashing cameras, which startle him to a defensive position and make him forget about his focus. He groans, staring at the news reporters that have taken to crowding around him, cornering him in the alley.

“I’m gonna be real with you guys, I think there’s a lot more interesting things to film than me,” Wilbur says, huffing out a dry laugh.

“Why did you wait until the last second to save them?” A reporter asks. I was saving someone else, Wilbur muses in his mind, once again reminded of Tommy.

“Seriously, leave, I’m done with this scene, you should be too,” Wilbur tries.

The reporters only grow closer, photo after photo after photo—it overwhelms him, to say the least, especially with the fact that his gut is being absolutely attacked by Tommy. It takes a lot for him to not curl up against the brick wall behind him and murmur reassurances to him. Flashes and questions blur in his mind, and thankfully his energy has seemed to return and he has half the mind to toss two fingers over his palm. A web sprouts, spiraling up onto the building above so he can get away from the crowd of people.

Landing on the concrete, he sprints behind a doorway and kneels there, just in time for a particularly revolting punch from the inside of his gut that leaves him clutching his gut and gagging as something travels upwards in his gullet—finally. He gags again and feels something thrash in his mouth. Tommy, no doubt.

Without adrenaline rushing through him and numbing his thoughts, he notices there’s a distinct taste in his mouth. It’s tangy and unpleasant, mixed with the taste of salt—undoubtedly tears. He winces at it, making a move for the edge of his mask. Before he could pull it up and beg the trust he just thoroughly undid, the laps of a fucking helicopter catch his attention. Immediately, his hands drop from his face and he scrambles up, flipping them off tediously before running to the edge of the roof and jumping off, landing on the neighboring one.

Wilbur takes a sharp left, his webs wrapping around a street light. Gracefully, he lands on it, looking around the sky for the aircraft. It seems to have lost sight of him.

Gently, with his tongue, he pushes Tommy to the side of his mouth and rushes out reassurances while he glides through the city and back to his apartment building.

“You’re okay—I’m so sorry, Tommy. You’re okay, I promise you’re okay,” he says, it’s half-mumbled but it, hopefully, has gotten the point across.

The little “fuck you!” from within his mouth says otherwise.

Finally, for what has felt like hours when in reality barely half an hour has passed, he finds footing on his fire escape. The security of being home feeling like a boulder off his shoulders. He opens his window, climbing in and shutting it with ease.

Immediately, Wilbur lifts his mask up and spits Tommy out. The boy quivers against his skin, shaking and murmuring curses with his strained voice. Wilbur’s heart twists, guilt coursing through him even more than the adrenaline had earlier. He did this to Tommy.

“Tommy,” Wilbur calls, his voice soft. His hands find themselves frozen, unable to comprehend how much of a trance Tommy has been put under. “Tommy, hey, king, come on, you’re safe,” Wilbur says, taking a distracted seat on the floor. “Are you

okay? Are you hurt?” Wilbur adds, pulling the tiny a little closer to inspect his shivering form.

He’s not sure if Tommy actually recognizes that he’s not in Wilbur’s mouth, or even gut.

“Get the fuck away from me—” Tommy breathes out, his voice shallow and dry. He coughs, shuddering with another sob. Wilbur frowns, deep, watching intently as the borrower collects himself in his cupped hands, shuffling to sit up and glare at Wilbur.

(*)

“I didn’t mean to swallow you, I promise—I just—” Spiderman says, his own lies running dry on his tongue. Why is his voice so familiar? “Just tell me

you’re not hurt, man—”

Tommy doesn't respond to Spiderman and instead takes a look around the space, realizing very quickly that the space is identical to Wilbur’s apartment.

He hiccups, coughing as phlegm gets caught in his throat. “Why are we at Wilbur’s house?”

Something in Spiderman’s face, from what he can see of it, shifts, something of confusion tugging at his lips. Then, in a blink, he’s shifted onto one hand and Spiderman pulls the mask off fully, revealing—

Oh.

“Wilbur,” Tommy breathes out, coughing again. His heartbeat picks up at the fact that Wilbur, out of the whole city, sat behind the mask. “You fucking swallowed me,” Wilbur almost flinches at the words, “and you lied to me.”

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you, not intentionally.” Wilbur returns his hands to the cupped position, but Tommy doesn’t move. His eyes are glued on Wilbur. His hair, his worried eyes with tears swelling in them and fatigue lining them as dark bags, his frowning lips, and the black-and-yellow suit that clings onto his body.

“Fuck, Wilbur, you—I don’t even know—” Tommy says, groaning and leaning into Wilbur’s hold. It feels warm, similar to—-

“Are you mad at me?”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he scoffs. “What the fuck?! Of course—-of course I am, Wilbur! I thought I was going to die! I probably would’ve!”

Wilbur winces. Bastard.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispers.

Tommy looks at Wilbur strongly, and for some reason, the action alone is enough to make him sob again. He shudders, goosebumps trailing his spine.

“No, no—Tommy, you’re okay, man!” Wilbur reassures—or he tries to, it doesn’t really work, because Tommy just ignores it.

“I’m not!” he retaliates, sobbing into the human’s gloved hand.

“Toms, darling,” Wilbur tries gently, taking his thumb and oh-so-gently drawing it along Tommy’s tiny, red-and-puffy face, ridding of his tears in an instant. His heart hurts at the nickname and the show of affection. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“I almost wasn’t,” Tommy seethes out. “I would’ve died from that fucking villain you were fighting, you could’ve chewed me to death, and I probably was going to disintegrate when you swallowed me! Fuck you, Wil.”

Wilbur’s expression shifts. “You didn’t die, though, you’re very alive. And, I told you, Tommy, I never wanted to swallow you. It just happened. I must’ve startled too hard and did it.” Tommy scowls. He shifts, his damp feet sliding on the slick fabric of Wilbur’s suit. He almost forgot he was covered in saliva and acid.

“That doesn’t make up for the fact that you did it, instinctually, or whatever. Your brain wanted to eat me, just admit it!”

Wilbur stays quiet.

“Put me down,” Tommy then asks, now growing impatient after the warmth that Wilbur’s hand had provided has since run cold and proved nothing comforting. Wilbur, the bastard, looks so hesitant to his request it makes him shudder. “Wilbur, put me the fuck down,” he repeats, stronger, masking his (dwindling) panic.

Begrudgingly, looking as if he regrets every moment, the human obliges and lowers the boy onto the floor, close to the bed where Tommy’s nearest nook is. “Thank you,” Tommy offers smally. He doesn’t know if he expected Wilbur to let his hesitance overtake him, but he finds that he’s grateful for the fact that he’s no longer engulfed by Wilbur’s hands and has found a place on the floor, already making a rushing move to the shadows of the bed.

Though, as he walks, he feels his limbs are tired and ache. He doesn’t understand why they do, however—he had only cried, a mental problem, and he had kept his struggle to a minimum (in terms of how he usually flails), so why did he feel such a strong desire to collapse?

Tommy feels tears swell up in his eyes again, soul tugging at him to break down again. He winces at such fragile sensitivity and strays from his path, pulling off to lean against the leg of the bed. He sighs against it, holding back the floodgates of his tears while trying to ignore that Wilbur is still sat on the floor. He blinks away his tears. Tommy’s throat burns from earlier, also now housing the sobs he’s shoving back down his vocal box. He’s not crying again, no fucking way.

“Are you sure you want to be alone, Toms?” Wilbur asks, still soft as ever. It’s hard to be mad at the bastard when he’s been nothing but reassuring. But he almost died because of Wilbur, three separate times in barely an hour. How could he not be pissed? Then again, he had bargained with himself that Wilbur could be the only one to ever talk him out of the fear of death. Ironic, his mind muses.

“Not really,” he says, coughing a bit. He blinks away another circle of tears. It doesn’t work, and the irritating sting in Tommy’s eyes just pushes him far over the edge and he cries again, drawing his knees up and crossing his arms over them while he stares off into the shadows. He can’t hear much, but not in a concerning way, he’s just spaced out long enough for the only constant in his mind being his shallow cries.

Perhaps as he’d expected, he’s drawn back to reality with a nudge on his side. He grumbles, looking over to find Wilbur’s hand next to him, fingers folded into each other except for his forefinger, which pokes at his side again. From under the bed, most of the man’s face is obscured, but he can see Wilbur’s lips, which sport a fine smile, nothing amused, only genuine.

“Do you want to rest? I think you could benefit from a break from this shitty morning,” Wilbur offers, “we can finish talking later,” he then adds, which the thought of reliving today, even in memories, makes him shiver, but falling asleep on Wilbur had been his one wish when in—there.

Hesitant, he shuffles up from where he sat. At his movement, Wilbur’s hand opens up and lays flat against the hardwood floor, moments from Tommy.

A part of him does wonder if it’s a ruse, but a lot of him doesn't have the energy to give a fuck. At least, not for right now.

He climbs onto the hand, his own hands bracing Wilbur's fingertips so he doesn't lose his balance, and he finds a seat on the crease in Wilbur’s fingers that connect them to his palm.

“I'm still actually mad at you,” Tommy says as Wilbur draws him out of the shadows and back into the air.

“That's okay, sunshine,” the man reassures. Once again, he takes his thumb, the gloves digit rubbing over Tommy’s face, tugging up to dry the last of his tears. The boy grumbles at the touch, but his disapproval only makes Wilbur stifle a laugh.

“I thought we were resting, dick.”

Wilbur hums, shuffling up from the floor while keeping Tommy steady in his hand. He walks to the bed, sitting on the edge. “And you're sure you’re not hurt?”

Tommy sighs at Wilbur. “I'm not, if I was I would’ve told you, I still trust you. Kind of. Bitch.”

He has such a way with words.

Wilbur just hums, carefully drawing the boy up to his mouth. Tommy scrambles back, pressing further into the hands under him. The panic is short lived, especially as Wilbur only pecks a kiss on the top of his head.

“Stop that,” Tommy demands. Wilbur draws him back, slightly. At the distance between them, Tommy stumbles to a stand and walks the length of Wilbur's palm and stands on the edge of it, arms outstretched to pull Wilbur’s nose closer to him. He hugs it, or, the best he could.

“Awe, Tommy,” Wilbur says, his tone high in adoration. Tommy pinches Wilbur’s skin, causing the human to retaliate his hand and drag the borrower with it before situating himself in bed. Tommy snickers, slipping off Wilbur's hand and onto his chest. He frowns at the placement and walks, along the Spiderman suit and latching onto Wilbur’s chin, using all the (lacking) strength in his arms to pull himself up Wilbur's face, stumbling only slightly while readjusting. Wilbur stays still, he can spot the man’s eyes on him, but otherwise he remains absolutely frozen until the borrower plops down by the older’s nose and gets extra comfortable.

Only because he knows Wilbur wouldn't be able to move him without waking him up, and the human wouldn't dare.

—-—

taglist: @da3dm, @i-am-beckyu, @local-squishmallow, @skullsnbruises, @krazycat49, @munchkin1156, @nobodywritingao3, @a-xyz-s // taglist request

#mw #brickfic #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #g/t #dsmp vore #t!tommy #tiny!tommy #g!wilbur #giant!wilbur #moral obligation au

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live-from-flaturn · 8 months

Note

KimChay: under the mask

I didn't see this coming, but, uh... here we are.

---

In this au, Kim and Chay do not meet during the canonical timeline. The Kittisawats still move into the compound, though, and Porsche's photokinetic powers activate/turn Korn to dust during the first Nampheung reveal.

With Kinn's funding/support Porsche starts taking down large swathes of the criminal underworld. He becomes an established Bangkok superhero, known for his charm: The Phoenix.

---

Kim is a wide-eyed, soft-smiling pop idol by day... and a superpowered vigilante by night.

After his Father's ruthless experimentation activated a dormant gene in Kim's DNA - and therefore his latent psionic powers (telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and teleportation) - he's been donning a special suit built for him by Arm & Co. in secret to help take down Korn's empire. Kinn wants to legitimize the businesses and secure them a real place in the word and Kim wants to help.

So he helps whenever he can by aiding The Phoenix in the guise of his own alter ego, Masked Shadow (he let Khun make it up, okay? it's his own fault for wearing an all-black ensemble and full facial covering).

---

Chay, still smarting after everyone he loves made enormous and life-changing decisions on his behalf (without once consulting him), decides to take a walk on the wild side.

Shortly after Phoenix and Shadow have cleaned up the neighborhood, they find themselves directly targeted by a new face on the scene. A young, brash, dangerous villain who dresses in bright colors and goes by the nickname 'Songbird'.

His fights with Phoenix are brief and tumultuous, ending with bruises for both parties, but something about his energy with Shadow is different. Like he wants to be caught in some moments and can't live without catching Kim the next.

And Kim has been caught. Several times. He (absolutely, definitely has not) been flustered by the tall, somewhat familiar villain tilting his chin up with one finger and calling him 'naughty' for ruining a well-laid plan.

Okay maybe he gets caught on purpose sometimes.

But he needs to find out who exactly is under that mask. Definitely for justice and no other reasons at all.

#kimchay #kinnporsche the series #porsche kittisawasd #porchay kittisawasd #kimhan theerapanyakul #kimchay ficlet #under the mask #THANK YOU SHOU #I LOVE YOU SO MANY DARLING AHHHH T #THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME

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thiswasinevitableid · 2 months

Text

Greener Pastures (Vincent/Apollo)

Second place of the "First Rodeo" prompt poll was "Greener Pastures. For those who don't know, Apollo was introduced in this Amnesty Superhero AU. Thank you to @bellafarallones2 for playing in this space on Discord!

He was star of the rodeos but now they rob him blind

It took 18 years of Brahma Bulls and life on the line

To get this spread and decent herd but now he spends his time

Pulling night guard.

-Stan Rogers, Night Guard

“How many does that make?” Duck stands from where he’s examining the tire tracks at the southern end of the pasture.

“Seven.” Vincent removes his hat, fanning himself with it, “If they get anymore I’m in serious trouble. The car’s paid off but the house isn’t; I’ve already been to the bank once to explain the situation and they’re not happy.”

His neighbor stands, knees cracking worryingly for a man who’s only 32, “Cops got anythin’?”

“Nothing. I’m small potatoes, Duck, they don’t care about one old rancher losing his herd.” He sighs, “I’ve been on watch every night this week, but there’s too much distance to cover, and they know it. They got the last one out from under me.”

“You want me to help? Might go better with more eye’s on ‘em.”

Vincent considers it. He’s known Duck since he was 16, knows the offer of help isn’t given if it’s not meant.

But if this goes wrong, his friend doesn’t deserve to be hauled into jail with him.

“I’ll think about it. I have a plan tonight; if that doesn’t work, I might just take you up that offer.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vincent leaves a pile of windfalls from Duck’s orchard in the southwest corner of his property, and the cows can’t resist, munching happily as Vincent uses the scant oak trees for cover.

The black R.E.O pulls in silently, lights off. Dulce stomps her feet when the tires stop, but Vincent shushes her softly, petting a flank to keep her calm.

Two figures, the same size and height, leave the cab, ushering one of his heifers into the back of the truck. He can’t move just yet. He needs the proof.

As the truck begins pulling away, he pulls his Winchester from the scabbard on the saddle, takes aim, and fires four shots.

The cattle scatter, panicked, and Dulce nickers, alarmed. There’s two, responding bangs as two tires blow, sending the truck careening side to side before the driver loses control and plows headfirst into an empty drainage ditch. The passenger door flies open and one figure takes off across the road and into the neighboring field.

As Dulce trots over to the wreck, he hears another truck coming. The lights from Duck’s pick-up render the whole sight like a scene from a picture show, and the vehicle is barely stopped before the younger man is hopping out.

“Jesus fuckin christ, Vince, you scared the hell outta me. Thought you’d gone and got shot.”

“I’m alright. I worried the driver might not be. I didn’t aim anywhere near him, but I only got two tires with four shots.”

Duck hops down into the ditch as Vincent shines his flashlight on the door. When it opens, a figure is slumped over the wheel, and his heart climbs up his throat. Then the rustler stirs, groaning, and looks at Duck. His angular face is partially hidden by red glasses, and his pale hair is almost white.

“Hello.” The thief’s gaze moves from Duck to Vincent, then to the rifle, “Ah. I see. I understand my position is not an ideal one, and my bargaining power low, but I would appreciate it if you did not shoot me.”

Blood is running down his chin; he must have hit his nose in the crash. He looks more like a dazed deer than a threat.

“Get him into the house and get my cow back to the herd.” Vincent jerks his light in the direction the other man ran, “I’ll deal with that one.”

Duck nods and Vincent turns Dulce into the starlit night.

The second thief has made it a decent distance, but he’s only heading in the direction of more flat grass and so Vincent does him the courtesy of calling, “You may as well stop now. You won’t outrun me.”

He doesn’t stop, seems to try to sprint, only to fall a moment later. Vincent can hear him cursing the entire time he rides up.

When he dismounts, the man looks up, unafraid and sneering.

Vincent puts the barrel against his throat.

“The safety is on.”

“I know.” He sighs, “I’m not actually going to shoot you. But I need you to understand the gravity of the situation.”

The grin widens, “Coward.”

“Get up.” Vincent stands back so the man can climb to his feet. He seems unsteady on them, though it’s not until his hands are tied and Dulce is kneeling for him to get on that Vincent understands why; his ankle is sprained, though he’s been walking around on it without wincing this whole time.

The short walk back to the house is a litany of insults to his weight, age, intelligence, cleanliness, and parentage. Were it any other day, he’d be able to let it roll off him, remind himself that he’s not interested in the opinions of cruel people.

Were it any other day, he wouldn’t have spent the morning in the bank, staring down the loss of everything he nearly broke his back for.

The rustler thrashes and twists as Vincent helps him down, clearly trying to make a break for the ditch, or possibly for Vincent’s own truck. By the time they burst through the front door, he’s holding the boy by the scruff.

Duck is just hanging up the phone, and both he and the other thief jump at the bang of the windowpane on the door. The thief is holding a frozen bag of peas to his forehead, and in the light of the kitchen Vincent can now see he and the man trying to kick his legs out from under him must be twins.

“Apollo, for heaven’s sake, stop that. Hurting them is not going to do anything but make this hole deeper.”

“I will not be cowed by some fat, old man!”

“Be quiet.” Vincent turns to Duck, “was that the sheriff?”

“Yep.” Duck leans against the wall, frowning, “but he says he won’t send anyone out to pick ‘em up. When Indrid here gave me their names, that made a little more sense. These are Cold’s boys.” He glares at Apollo, “why they’re stealin from decent folk when their pa owns half the fuckin county is fuckin beyond me.”

“It is a long story. But I did tell you they would not send anyone; you needn’t have troubled with the call.”

“You ain’t exactly proved yourself the honest type.”

Indrid bites his lip, “If our actions have caused a financial burden, perhaps we could work it off?”

“At least one of you has sense, and some manners.” Vincent releases Apollo, but keeps a hand on his shoulder.

Apollo flicks his blonde hair from his face, then sinks his teeth into the side of Vincent’s hand.

“God fucking–” he catches himself, doesn’t swing out with his other hand to slap him. Instead he shoves at his shoulder and tries to pull away, tries to pull Apollos hair, but all the man does is bite down harder.

“Fuck, is he part Gila Monster?” Duck tries to pry Apollo off with limited success

“That is certainly one theory.” Indrid pinches his brothers nose, and after ten seconds of spluttering the other twin finally releases Vincent’s now-bleeding hand.

“Traitor! We could have run just then if you’d hit this brick with something.” He kicks Duck in the ankle.

“I am not going back to him.” Indrid says to him with what Vincent is coming to understand as very reasonable fear.

“Coward. Traitorous, useless coward!” Apollo lunges at his brother, but this time Duck is ready with the dog leash from the front door, wrapping it around his wrists and trapping them behind his back.

Vincent hauls the still-thrashing brat into the spare room, muttering, “I ought to put you over my knee” under his breath as he slams the door and slumps against it in the kitchen. Duck is watching him with concern.

“I…I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t like to lose my temper.”

“Apollo has that effect on people.” Indrid sits back down as Vincent washes his hand and fetches a bandage from the bathroom.

“You don’t think he might have rabies, do you?” He’s only half-joking.

Indrid shakes his head, “It would be nice if it could be explained so simply.” He fiddles with the corner of the now-thawed peas, “I truly am sorry. And I wish I could say that we–or, I suppose, he–will not do it again. But that would be a lie. Father has his reasons for demanding we do such things. Apollo might steer clear of Capra Farms, but he will find someone else’s livelihood to undermine.”

“So, what, we’re just supposed to keep him here like a fuckin lion in a zoo?”

“That may be our best choice. At least for now.” Vincent looks at Indrid, “Can you bale hay and pick fruit?”

Indrid nods, almost eager.

“Duck, I suggest you take this Mr. Cold up on his offer. You need more hands than I do. I’ll keep Apollo here with me for now; maybe once he’s calmed down he’ll see reason.”

And if not Vincent thinks I always was good at breaking in horses.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Knowing when to ignore things is a skill. If Apollo can apply it now, he can get himself out of this. He will ignore the pain in the ankle that fat old goat made him bandage himself. He will ignore Indrid’s betrayal. He will ignore the inexplicable surge of heat that came with his captor threatening to put him over his knee.

He will ignore it. He will bide his time. And then he will take back his car, steal anything and everything of value Vincent Capra owns, and go home.

Apollo supposes he could use the phone in the kitchen to call the cops to fetch him. But Capra has earned vengeance, and that will take time.

When the door to his little room, with its small but comfortable bed and shelf of old books, is finally unlocked, he does his best to walk un-hobbled into the kitchen.

“Good morning.” Vincent does not turn from the stove, where he’s scrambling eggs in the early morning light.

Apollo says nothing, simply sitting down and pouring himself coffee.

Vincent turns, setting a plate of toast next to jam and butter, and the bowl of eggs next to a little vase of wildflowers. Apollo realizes he did not, in fact, take the old man's place at the table; there are two settings laid out.

“I want to apologize for my behavior.” Apollo says with as much sincerity as he can conjure, “my brother had the right idea. I will help around your…farm. To pay back what I owe.”

“Thank you for your apology.” Vincent replies mildly. Then he pauses in buttering his toast, “I’m sorry for how I acted. I doubt you can understand what losing livestock means, but all the same I shouldn’t have threatened you.”

He sets the toast down and Apollo realizes; the old goat is embarrassed.

Pathetic.

“I hope we might be able to start fresh this morning. I have a few jobs you should be table to do without aggravating your ankle.” He holds out a hand, “do we have a deal?”

Apollo shakes it with his best smile, “We do.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vincent doesn’t trust Apollo any further than he can throw him–which, after that bull bucked him in 73 and hurt his back, isn’t far–but at least the younger man can follow directions.

He fed the chickens and collected eggs, cleaned dishes and milked the cow Vincent keeps just for that. He also got himself barked at by Quixote before Vincent whistled at the dog to follow him out to the pasture.

When Vincent sets dinner on the table, the younger man actually thanks him before helping himself to the meatloaf and green beans.

There’s a clink as Apollo sets the fork down, staring at his plate.

“Is everything alright?”

“Why are you doing this? How are you doing this?”

“This being…?” He fills his water glass.

“The food, old man.”

“I’m not about to let you starve, or make a separate, sad meal just to punish you. So, you eat what I eat.”

“But why does it taste so, so good?”

Apollo seems so perplexed Vincent stifles a laugh.

“Because that’s how food is supposed to taste. I may not be a rich man, but butter and salt and nice spices are some of life's little joys,”

“Ah.” Apollo says, understanding without grasping his reasoning.

Vincent assumed Apollo’s life was a luxurious one up until now. Now he wonders if the twins had been like prized stallions, kept too close and penned in for fear of losing their value, greener grass only seen when they were let loose to do their fathers bidding.

“If you want a real treat, I still have cherry preserves from Duck’s last harvest. Can you check the freezer? There may be some ice cream in there that it would top beautifully.”

Apollo balks at the order a moment, but still stands up and opens the door. When he turns and nods, it’s with a far more genuine smile than the one he gave this morning.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

It takes five days for Apollo’s ankle to take his weight, and once it does Vincent puts him to work more concertedly. He spends all of Saturday fixing a stretch of barbed wire, comes in sore and sunburnt but flops into bed after dinner feeling…oddly pleased with himself.

Sunday morning finds biscuits and gravy in the kitchen, with Vincent telling him he needs to run into town for some supplies for dinner. Apparently, the older man observes the silly tradition of not working more than needed on Sundays.

When the truck pulls out, Apollo takes a test jog around the house, and looks over his damaged car. Unless he can lure a mechanic out here, he’ll have to take Vincent’s truck when he finally makes his run for it.

Climbing up the porch steps, he finds Indrid waiting for him with a suitcase.

“Duck drove me back to the house when I knew father would be gone. I got my things, and a few of yours.”

“Good. I’m sick of wearing these hideous hand me downs. The pants are all too short and the shirts all too wide.”

“I was also sent with this” Indrid lifts a basket of cherries, “it turns out Duck’s orchard is prize winning. He also sells hay to half the ranches in the county.”

“I do not care.”

Indrid sighs, “I know.”

“Is he mistreating you?”

“No” His brother looks horrified, “Duck has been wonderful to me. Especially given the circumstances under which we met.”

“Oh. good.”

“Try not to sound so disappointed.” Indrid steps down, past him.

“I am not. Now go away. Vincent will be back soon and I want to sweep the house before he is.” He ignores how that sounds and wills Indrid to do the same. His brother cocks his head slightly, but says nothing else as he starts back up the road.

Vincent returns just as Apollo is tossing out the last of the dust and throwing a stick for Quixote to fetch. Dinner is pork chops, apple sauce, and onions cooked brown and sweet. Vincent sips his beer while Apollo sticks to an orange soda.

After their meal, Apollo is looking for something to read in the main bedroom when he notices the photo on the wall.

“That’s you.”

“After my first big win on the circuit. Two days later I put most of the prize money into the account that turned into this farm.”

“Ah.” Apollo feels something dangerously close to guilt.

“I do think I cut quite a figure back then.”

“Yes. Though you have only gotten better with age.”

It’s the kind of compliment that soothes the egos of little men who nonetheless have something the Colds need. Only when it’s out does he understand he means it. The Vincent in the picture, dark haired and beaming, dust on his cheeks, is handsome. The man beside him, grey haired, with more weight to him and more lines on his face, is stunning.

Vincent chuckles, accepting the compliment but not believing it.

“I…I was going to sit. On the porch. To watch the fireflies and…and maybe see if I could spot the owl who has been calling. Would you like to join me?”

Why is it so hard to ask? Why does it seem to take a thousand years for Vincent to answer?

A gentle smile, “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apollo is kneeling by the fireplace. It’s snowing outside, and Vincent sits in the chair before him, fully clothed, firelight making him look like a painting, like the statues of great men in the museums Apollo went to as a child.

The rifle is on his lap and he shifts the barrel out over his knees. Apollo leans forward, taking it into his mouth and sucking. Vincent murmurs that he’s doing well, that he’s so very pretty like this. The gun is not loaded, this he is certain of. Even if it was, he is certain he would not be afraid. It is safe like this, comforting, and as it always does the dream melts into the two of them in the fields, grass green as Vincent takes him into his arms.

He wakes up to the smell of coffee and toast, the way he has every morning for the last three weeks. Apollo is no fool; he knows what his dream means. Knows that every insistence to himself that he did not like men has been a lie, perhaps even the longest lie of his life. He also knows that his brother was kissing that silly cherry grower by the western fence last night.

If Indrid, odd and unappealing as he is, can make someone kiss him, surely Apollo can do the same.

They’re fixing the barn door today; it was knocked off its hinges by a bad summer storm. The chore passes uneventfully, the two of them discussing whether to go into town for a movie on Sunday, when Vincent’s jeans catch on a nail, ripping a hole in the thigh.

“That was close.” The older man checks to be certain there’s no injury, “thank goodness I wore the thickest pair.”

Apollo nods, eyes on the patch of now-exposed skin. There is a tattoo there. An arm and something green, he thinks.

Vincent has a tattoo. And if Apollo does not get a full look at it soon, he is certain he will lose his mind.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been hot enough that, were it anyone else but Apollo, Vincent would assume the suggestion of a swim was solely due to the weather.

But he knows his Apollo. There is always an ulterior motive.

He scolds himself as they arrive at the swimming hole; Apollo isn’t his. He’s working off a debt, and one day he’ll fly off somewhere new, either by mutual agreement or by stealing everything Vincent owns.

That option should worry him more, but it’s hard to view Apollo as a threat when the hardened cattle rustler is animatedly talking about the heron they saw on their walk here while trying to get out of his clothes.

He strips down and climbs into the water as Apollo is distracted by a hawk overhead. When the younger man sees he’s already in, he looks almost annoyed. Vincent does avert his eyes as Apollo tosses his underwear away; he’s swam naked with plenty of friends, but he’s certain Apollo has not done the same. He doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

That worry evaporates when the blonde stands directly next to him, looking down with an intensity Vincent is trying not to read too much into.

Then Apollo huffs, grabs his leg, and sends him backwards into the water.

He twists away and comes up spluttering.

“Hold still!”

“Apollo, what on earth-”

“What part of hold still was unclear, old man?” Apollo grabs for his leg again.

“What are you trying to do?”

“See your tattoo. I need to know what it is of!”

“Asking is preferable to drowning me.” His exasperation is fond as he sets his leg on a rock so Apollo can see the blonde merman inked into his skin.

“It’s…it’s a man.” Apollo blinks, tilting his head.

“Yes. He wasn’t cheap, so please don’t insult him.”

“Do you like blondes?” Apollo’s eyes flick to his face, then back to the tattoo.

“It’s been known to happen.” Vincent lowers his leg back down so he’s standing comfortably.

“Blonde…men?”

“Yes, Apollo.” He says patiently, amused that his clever ranch hand seems so stymied.

“As in you like men to have sex with? While also being a man?”

“That's generally how it works.” He takes a step forward as Apollo goes stiff and faces him like he’s expecting execution.

“I think I would like to have sex. With you. Because I have been having dreams that are about your gun. And sucking on it. When it’s not loaded.”

“Oh, my gun is always loaded.” He teases.

Apollo looks alarmed.

“That was a sex joke.” He says reassuringly, and hazards putting his arms around Apollo’s waist.

“Oh. Ha. Ha?”

Were he being charming, being bold, Vincent would fear this was all an act. But the awkward shyness of it all leaves no doubt in his mind as to what the man in his arms is after.

“You’re an odd little bird, Apollo Cold.” He strokes an angular cheek.

“And that is a good thing?” Apollo sets his hands on Vincent’s shoulders.

“I certainly like it.” He tilts his chin up,meaning only to offer the invitation, but Apollo is instantly kissing him. It’s painfully, endearingly inexperienced, and the younger man seems to know it.

“I, I have not done this before. I am sorry if I am bad at it.” He takes Vincent's hand and kisses over the skin still a little pink from the healed bite.

“You’ve picked up plenty of skills on my farm. I think you’ll manage this one.”

Apollo grins, bright and breathtaking as a sunrise, “I may need a bit more practice. Though I would prefer somewhere less damp.”

Vincent climbs from the water and helps Apollo up after him, enjoying the way his cheeks redden when he’s eye level with his cock. Then he fetches the blanket they brought, lays it out in the shade of a tree, and lays down with his lover in the soft, green grass

#vincent/apollo #vinlo #yeehawgust 2024

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dreamstormdragon · 6 days

Text

TMNT 2k3 AU WIP #1: Fish Out of Water

Decided it'd be fun to start sharing WIPS and stuff again, so I wanted to share a sneak peek of a new project called Fish Out of Water.

Fish Out of Water, is my shameless OCXCanon fict, revising a character I've had since I was 17. I've been wanting to bring her back and after much encouragement from Aileen ( @theblueskyphoenix go check out her TMNT art!) Without further adieu... Here's a sneak peek of what's to come under the cut!

It was a foggy night. It was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

The clouds hid the moon while the fog set the stage across New York City.

The Battle Shells headlights cut through it, as Donnie sat up front.

He hated driving in this weather. It was getting late.

They lost track of time if he was being honest.

April had invited the turtles over, for a movie and food in exchange for helping with some chores around the 2nd Time Around.

“I figure you four don't need Casey for this… again.”

“Oof,” Raph winced. “What'd he do this time?”

April rolled her eyes.

“You don't wanna know.”

“So, what're we thinking…Casey able to redeem himself or are we gonna have to decide between friend and foe?” Mikey asked, breaking Donnie out of his train of thought.

So much had changed. New lair… New friends but danger at every turn.

Yet, they had hope. They had defeated the Shredder!

They took down the Mousers…

He couldn't shake the feeling something else was missing.

“I mean, we didn't think the superhero thing was gonna happen either,” Raph glanced behind him. He was sitting up front while Leo and Mikey were in the back. “Yet…”

“I proved you guys wrong!” Mikey grinned.

The other three groaned.

“Mikey we said we were sorry like ten times. Let. It go.” Leo pleaded.

“Nah I'm not bored yet.”

Donnie hummed, his mind going over various consoles Mikey had left on his work bench. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Ugh, this weather….

“Hey, Mikey, how much do you value your GameCube?”

Mikey’s baby blue eyes vanished as his inner eyelid shifted.

“You. Wouldn't. Dare.”

“Maybe I would put it on the top shelf.”

The turtles often referred to the top shelf of Donnie’s work area Death Row of Appliances, because once they went up, they might never come back down.

“No!”

“Appliance Hell. Brutal. I like it.” Raph nudged him.

Donnie chuckled.

“Heh…”

Finally, the fog was starting to fade, as a truck pulled out in front of them, cutting the armored truck off.

Donnie cussed, as he slowed down, to avoid colliding with it.

Raph leaned his hand out the window.

“HEY A-HOLE! IT’S CALLED A STOP SIGN!” He roared out at the truck.

“Raph, don’t.” Donnie sighed. “He’s just an a-”

The truck had double doors on the back, with a window on each door.

The headlights illuminated the back of the truck, when..

THUNK!

A hand hit the window, slamming into it.

“What the?”

Raph’s eyes widened, glancing over.

“I wasn’t the only one who saw that right?”

The truck was picking up speed.

THUNK!

A face appeared in the window, the person inside throwing themselves against the doors.

Trouble.

Don narrowed his eyes.

“Guys, we need to make a stop.”

I don’t like this.

A muffled scream made it through.

“SOMEBODY PLEASE!”

Leo and Mikey narrowed their eyes, as they turned their attention towards it.

“Donnie?”

“I’m already on it.”

Donnie narrowed his eyes.

The Battle Shell, sped after the truck, as the turtles, prepared for a new mission ahead.

“What’s the plan Leo?” Mikey asked, getting to his feet.

“Mikey, Raph you’re with me, Donnie get the Battle Shell as close as you can!”

He opened the latch on the roof, climbing out, the wind blowing his mask tails around.

The cold night air was crisp as he climbed up onto the rooftop.

His vivid green irises vanished behind the inner eyelid.

It was time to get to work.

-----------------

She woke up, in the back of some sort of refrigerated truck… covered up by a sheet, on the floor. The last thing she had remembered was blinding pain…

“Now, now don’t make such a fuss!” Dr. Stockman chided, as he approached her, syringe in hand.

A glowing green liquid was held up to her face.

“I hate to say this… but this will hurt.”

That man…

She had been held captive by him and the other scientists, for weeks, with several other people… she wasn’t sure what happened to the woman she had shared a cell with.

Sidney…

She had been kind to her.

“What’re they gonna do to us?”

“Shh…”

Sidney, wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Neither, really wanted to speculate on that. The constant tests… The medical exams.

Their minds conjured up the worst. Sidney tried to put on a brave smile, brushing Lorelei’s hair out of her face.

Lorelei hugged her tighter, whimpering.

“It’ll be okay, we’ll be fine… they’ll… someone will find us. It’ll be okay Lorelei.”

They knew she was lying… but was it lying if it kept them sane?

Nothing had been fine!

One minute, she was on that monster’s table, struggling to catch her breath, pain coursing through her body…

Her body hurt so bad.

“AAAAAAGH!”

Her heart was racing, thundering in her chest, she couldn’t breathe.

Dots danced in front of her vision.

A heart monitor nearby screamed.

Dr. Stockman, called out some sort of order, before looking down at her.

She wasn’t sure when… her eyes had closed and oblivion welcomed her into it’s loving embrace.

She coughed, sputtering, as she pulled herself to her feet.

Her body ached.

What… happened? Where am I?

Her mind raced, trying to get her mind to slow down.

She felt something around her wrist. Some sort of rubber band with a paper tag on it.

Subject #25

Age: 15

Cause of Death:

During the procedure, a complication occurred resulting in full respiratory and cardiac arrest. Resuscitation efforts failed.

Time of Death: 9:30 PM, 11/02/2003

Death?

Her heart skipped a beat.

If they thought she was dead… then…

She looked around her, as the realization set in. She was being taken somewhere to be disposed of.

If they realized she was still alive, they would take her either right to the lab or…

They’ll just kill me. I’ve seen their faces.

Her body was heavy as she stood up, stumbling. She looked down, as she tripped over something, as her foot collided with…

OW!

She stumbled, slamming into the doors of the truck. Part of her hoped, maybe they’d fall open and she’d fall out.

The other part was preoccupied with what she had tripped on.

A long… fish-like tail, that leads from the base of her spine, to the floor. It was brown, ending in a large fin.

What… happened to me?

Panic bubbled up in her, as her mind raced, her heart rushing to catch up.

Bile threatened to escape her, before she shook her head, hitting it against the door.

“Calm down!” She yelled, inhaling deeply. “Think through this. Come on.”

She lifted her head… as her eyes widened.

There was a large green truck, a real muscle car.

Maybe…

Just maybe.

She narrowed her eyes and forced herself to her feet.

She winced ,as she stumbled, nearly stepping over her… tail, oh gosh that was really hers? She shook her head.

She took a few steps back, before throwing herself HARD against it.

She slammed her hand, hard, her fist repeated against the window, screaming at the top of her lungs.

The truck swerved, as the drivers too were alerted, to her living presence.

Lorelei threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“SOMEBODY PLEASE! HELP MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

She stumbled, as the truck picked up speed, as she was thrown against the floor again.

“AGH!”

SCREEECH!

Something metal collided with her side, as she gasped, before grabbing it.

A tire iron..

She grinned.

At least, this was better than nothing.

She got to her feet, gripping it in both hands.

Lorelei took a deep breath.

I’m not dying for real tonight.

She swung it against the window, as the glass shattered from the force.

CRACK!

She covered her face as shards flew into the trailer, with her, she used the tire iron to clear out more glass, before shoving her arm through, waving frantically for help.

Headlights flashed in her eyes, blinding her momentarily.

Please…

She bit back a sob.

“Please!!!” She screamed. “CALL 911!! HELP ME!!!”

Her scream echoed clear through the night now, hoping it reached…

As she peered through the window, she spotted two figures atop the truck.

Please… Please…

Her eyes burned, as she sobbed, lowering her head.

“Please…”

----------

The truck accelerated, as the drivers became aware of their passenger. The vehicle swerved, a loud shriek echoing from inside.

CRAA-AAAACK!!!

The window broke out, as the person inside, forced their arm through.

“Please!!! CALL 911!! HELP ME!!!”

Her scream echoed clear through the night now, sending a chill down the turtles spines.

Mikey growled.

“Leo! What’s the plan!?”

“Crap.” Leo hissed under his breath. “RAPH, DONNIE BOX ‘EM IN!”

The doors opened up, as the Shell Cycle roared to life.

Donnie glanced in the rear view mirror, at Raphael.

“Make it hurt.” He smirked.

“You know me.”

Like a bat out of Hell, the Shell Cycle sailed out of the car, landing as Raph pulled up around the right side of the truck.

Leo and Mikey, crouched down, holding onto the roof, as Donnie swerved, to corner it.

The wind blew their masks' tails behind them.

Leo exhaled slowly, before pushing off in one smooth motion, as he lunged onto the roof of the truck.

“Hey MIkey?” “Yeah?” “Get ready to play catch.”

Mikey winced.

“Back in the car?”

Leo smirked.

“Back in the car.” “Aye, aye Captain!” He joked, before dropping back down through the hatch in the roof.

The truck swerved, as Leo crouched down, his stomach rolling for a moment.

He inhaled deeply…

Be careful… be swift…

The truck swerved and the turtle stumbled briefly, before catching himself, his heart leaping up into his throat.

Leonardo held his breath, as gravity threatened to take him down to the street below.

He righted himself.

“RAPH, WATCH IT!” He screamed.

Raph coasted back behind the truck, moving to catch up with the Battle Shell.

Mikey rolled down the passenger window, leaning out.

“What!?”

“That spike strip, Donnie borrowed last week!? Is it installed!?”

Mikey’s eyes lit up, as a wicked grin crossed his face.

“Ohh, THAT THING! Yep!”

Mikey leaned back into the cabin, turning to Donatello.

Donnie’s face was narrowed in focus.

“What do we need?” He asked, his voice clipped and even.

“Spike strip.”

“I see what he’s thinking. You got it.”

Mikey stuck his arm out the window, giving Raph a thumbs up.

“Which button?”

Donnie exhaled, unclenching his jaw, his hazel eyes returning for a moment.

He gave Mikey a playful grin.

“The red one.”

Mikey’s eyes lit up.

“DIBS!”

----------

Thank you so much, see you soon!

#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #TMNT Fanfiction #TMNT 2003 #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2003 #OC fanfiction #OC #Lorelei Palaemon #Donatello #Leonardo #Michelangelo #Raphael #TMNT 2K3 #TMNT 2K3 Donnie #TMNT 2k3 Donatello X OC #TMNT 2K3 CanonXOC #OCXCanon #fanfiction #TMNT Fanfition #TMNT 2K3 Fanfiction

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dwritesit · 1 month

Text

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

Pairing: Mike Wheeler and Will Byers

Rating: M for Mature

Tags: BYLER SPIDERMAN AU BABEY, romance, SLOW BURN BABEY, mutual pining, el is also a superhero, mike wheeler Realizing things about himself, lots and lots of lies and Friends Don't Lie

Summary: Will Byers had a love-hate relationship with being The Spiderman. On one hand, he was free from everything that ever made him feel stuck and the world thought he was totally awesome, but on the other hand he was stuck with lame excuses and telling lies to the people he loved the most. It only gets worse when he accidentally makes friends with Mike Wheeler as Spiderman, who has no idea about the truth under the mask. Even worse again when, in doing so, he gets Mike caught up in a whole lot of unnecessarily dangerous situations... and Mike might actually be falling for him, the Superhero, and not Will.

Man, he hated lying.

Read it HERE! on Ao3

Sneak Peak:

...

Will Byers loved the sound of wind rushing past his ears and whipping at his covered skin. It was thrilling. Fast. It felt nostalgic, like late night bike rides on the way home from a friend's house, like racing down a hill with laughter ringing in his chest. It felt like freedom and peace. Like he could finally breathe outside his childhood bedroom, outside of the societal rules of the town he grew up in.

While swinging on webs off rooftops and powerlines, or soaring from skyscrapers, or stopping real bad guys like a real superhero, no one could get to him. No one could tell him what he could or couldn't be, what colleges he should go to in the fall. Who he could love or want.

It was just Will and the roar of the wind.

So yeah, being The Spiderman was awesome, freeing. It was probably the best feeling in the world, he'd never felt more alive. And although being trapped in a freaky lab for a week, and all of his friends and family thinking he had been dead kinda sucked, but he wouldn't give it up for anything.

...

#byler #byler nation #mike wheeler #will byers #mike x will #mike wheeler is bi #will byers is gay #byler fic #byler fanfic #byler is canon #spiderman will byers #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things au #mike wheeler x will byers #i hope you like it because im obsessed #dwritesit #dwrites byler

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hoes4hoseok · 2 years

Text

how you get the girl part i: nightwing’s guardian angels

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your neighbor, heeseung, gets on your nerves. he’s full of himself, makes more noise than all of your neighbors combined in the middle of the night, spreads anti-superhero propaganda in your political science class, and, unfortunately, is the most attractive man you have ever laid eyes on.

pairing :: lee heeseung x fem!reader featuring :: jake sim, jeon somi, kim sunoo, and more! genres/au’s :: superhero au, neighbors to lovers, enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, angst if you squint, nightwing!heeseung chapter warnings :: mentions of and references to sex, minor violence, suggestive chapter word count :: 3k tag list (open!) :: @thejjrl @grace1852 @tsunchani @hanniiesuckle17 @mjr4fnaf1997 @goldenhypen @3nh4luvr @hobistigma @ditzy-e @nomy0520 @woniewhite @koroktsuya author’s note :: prior knowledge of nightwing and DC comics is not necessary to read this work! also ty to @lethekoo for all your help :) playlist :: here’s to you

so…long time no see ('_') honestly i really never thought i’d return to this as of a few months ago, but my new writing class really has me feeling motivated! so i’m back :) i find it really funny that this chapter was supposed to come out march 31st of last year but HEY at least i’m back 🤧 anyways, i changed the prologue a little bit so you might wanna look over it again before reading this but TY TY TY FOR READING LOVE YA

1. Sincerity It matters what you do when you don’t think she’s looking. She can tell whether or not your heart is in the right place.

TWO DAYS LATER…

Heeseung was tired. It was 6 am. He had only just gotten home. His body ached from the particularly strenuous night, and yet all he could think about was 1. having to go to class again in a matter of hours and 2. the fact that someone was knocking on his door at the crack of dawn. “Be there in a second,” Heeseung groaned, peeling his suit off before quickly pulling on his pajamas.

Heeseung winced a little seeing Y/n standing at his door from the peephole. He was in no mood to be reprimanded, let alone interrogated. The whole ‘pretend you’re having sex’ cover was Jake’s idea, of course—and it was not working. It just gave his prickly neighbor a reason to be mad at (and potentially suspicious of) him.

Seriously, he had stamina, but not that damn much.

Which is why he needed a new cover as soon as possible. And why he needed to open the door right that second.

“I know, I know, no sex, no fun, whatever,” he puffed as the door swung open.

Y/n smiled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Oh, it’s alright, I slept fine,”

He could tell she hadn’t slept a wink. The circles under her eyes were the biggest giveaway. Nevertheless, she was fully dressed, woolen hat in her hand. Why was she lying?

She wanted something.

Heeseung had two options: turn her away and get some sleep, risking being reported (as she threatened every night but never seemed to do), or help her. He chose the latter. His brain would hate him for it later.

“Okay…so what do you want? Why are you knocking at this hour?” He asked, rubbing his shoulder.

Y/n met his gaze. Heeseung could tell from her hesitance that he was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. But alas, here she was.

“Do you happen to have a printer in your apartment?”

Heeseung heaved a sigh of relief upon realizing that the task didn’t require leaving his apartment or donating a pint of his blood (it’s happened before!) “Yeah, I do,”

“Do you mind if I use it real quick?” Y/n scooted straight past him, “The print center doesn’t open for an hour and I need to get this draft to the Scoop before then,” she explained, looking around the room cautiously. Honestly, for a woman who thought her neighbor was a sex addict, Heeseung didn’t blame her for expecting his place to be something of a sex dungeon.

“Sure,” he closed the door behind her, “just send me the file on my school email,”

“Thanks. I already did,” Heeseung tilted his head in amusement at her confidence, “I was really counting on you letting me use your printer, I knew you had one. Figured you owed me a night of your sleep,” Y/n grinned as she walked around the room.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he replied, opening his laptop as he stood by his desk, “I’m sorry, it’s just that we usually can’t meet at her place.”

Y/n froze in place, turning her head toward the man with a smirk on her face. “Hold on…‘her’ singular?”

“Yup, my girlfriend,” Heeseung looked up briefly to confirm before looking back to his computer, “she lives with her dad, so that makes it kind of hard to spend time at her place,”

Heeseung’s jaw tensed up. He didn’t like bending the truth, but it came with the job.

“Ooh, exciting! What’s her name?” Y/n inquired, scurrying over to Heeseung as he received the printout.

“None of your business, hon’” Heeseung sneered, placing the freshly printed article against her chest. “Anyways, debt repaid. Take it,”

Y/n groaned, “you’re no fun. It’s like our late-night exchanges mean nothing to you,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Heeseung sighed sarcastically, “I appreciate it so much when you look for an excuse to talk to me every night!”

Y/n blinked repeatedly in surprise. Fuck. Heeseung messed up. Was she offended?

To his relief, Y/n just scoffed as she walked past him. “Well, thanks anyways,”

“Anytime,” Heeseung replied as he turned around, “...but not really. Don’t come again unless I owe you another favor,”

“I don’t plan on it. See you in class. And please, don’t leave right at the beginning again, or else we’ll have to hear the ‘importance of attendance’ speech for the second time in the week,”

It took every shred of Heeseung’s willpower to not make a smart remark about how Y/n wanted to see him again, but he resisted. It would have been overcompensating.

Y/n was thrilled to hear about this new development in the Lee Heeseung saga—he had a girlfriend! This meant he had sex with the same girl for hours every night and this mystery girlfriend managed to arrive and leave without being seen by the neighbors. Impressive! She couldn’t wait to tell Somi. So, she didn’t.

“He has a girlfriend?!” Somi exclaimed, sipping her morning coffee, “That’s insane!”

The two of them met at the coffee shop outside Y/n’s building before class whenever they woke up early enough. Honestly, it wasn’t a common occurrence.

“Well, it’s not that insane, considering that the moans sound pretty similar every night,” Y/n reasoned, taking a bite of her bagel, “I guess I thought he had a super specific type? Now that I say it out loud, I’m surprised the girlfriend thing didn’t cross my mind earlier,”

Somi shrugged, “nope. The man seems like a fuckboy. I don’t blame you for jumping to conclusions. It’s not like you spread rumors about him,”

“True, I’m innocent,” Y/n let out an awkward laugh.

“So,” Somi rubbed her hands together in anticipation before picking up the small packet on the table, “how’s your advice piece going?”

“I came up with an idea!” Y/n beamed with pride, “I’m gonna write about five ways to win a woman’s heart. Or ‘get the girl’. They both sound a little misogynistic, but I’ll make it work,”

Somi waited a moment before replying, “...is that all you’ve got? A number?”

“Well, I have one idea that I wrote about for the first draft that I submitted today,” Y/n explained, “I tried to make it as universal as I could,”

“Go on, read it,”

“Sincerity,” she summarized the page she had typed, “none of the following tips matter unless you’re sincere. Women can tell if you’re just trying to do something to get in their pants—it’s imperative that you do these things because you care,”

“Well, it’s certainly true,” Somi nodded, “wording needs some adjustment, but good work,”

“My essay is already kicking my ass, having you in the mix will not help,” Y/n threw a playful punch at her friend’s shoulder. “Now tell me about the real article here. Got any new stuff on Nightwing?”

“Nothing from the source himself, obviously,” Somi sighed, “I was kidding myself to think I could get a word in with him. I’m not even awake when he’s out. He was patrolling this morning from 3 AM to 5 AM according to the Nightwing subreddit,”

“You should pull an all-nighter next weekend,” Y/n joked, “maybe then you’d get him,”

“I really would if I didn’t have responsibilities to take care of during the day,” Somi groaned, “this article could make or break my career,”

“Well, what do you have?” Y/n asked, “We can start somewhere other than his personal account,”

Somi straightened up, opening her notebook on the coffee table, “I did find some info on the guy who wrote the slander article,”

“Ooh, okay,”

“Apparently, ‘Patrick Lumbard’ isn’t his name—I can’t find his real one yet, but I looked him up in the city records and there was nothing,” Somi wiggled her eyebrows, “but, according to the Scoop’s records, he got fired from his last job, yet he’s writing front-page articles after four months of being here!”

“Watch out Lois Lane, here comes Jeon Somi,” Y/n giggled. “Nice job!”

“And here's the kicker—I looked up a digital archive of a 2003 article about our new boss, Mr. Kim, last week,” the blonde explained, “I took notes on it, but that doesn’t mean much because the article is gone. It isn’t in the records or online,”

“What?” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows as she took the last bite of her bagel.

“Yeah, I can't see why,” Somi continued, frustration seeping through her voice, “the article was pretty neutral; it just described his acquisition of an abandoned Wayne Enterprises project,”

“Weird. Wayne Enterprises is a little fishy if you ask me,” Y/n lied back in her chair, finishing off her drink. “Keep me posted. Good luck,”

“Of course,” Somi smiled, grabbing the trash from the table and tossing it in the bin beside her, “But I think you’ll need the luck for class with Heeseung,”

“You see, these vigilantes, particularly this Nightwing guy, is doing nothing for Bludhaven,” the professor claimed, removing his glasses, “they spread fear and undermine our police,”

Y/n took pride in the fact that typically, her professors liked her. Sure, sometimes her grades wavered, but she was a well-favored student. But then, in a way-too-hot room with 30 students all facing the center, that track record was at risk.

“I disagree,”

Jake. Before Monday, Y/n had never expected him to be in this class—but she had never been happier to hear his voice than now.

“Well…this is a discussion,” the man replied, “explain your stance, Mr. Sim,”

“I think he’s helping us out,” Jake shrugged. “Sure, ideally, we wouldn’t need him to save us every night, but we do. Before Nightwing got here, this city wasn’t safe for any of us,”

Whew. And Y/n didn’t have to say a word!

“How do we know that he has our best interest at heart?”

“That’s a good point, young man,” Professor Jung pointed towards the seat adjacent to Jake’s where…Lee Heeseung sat. Of course. As if Y/n didn’t have enough reasons to dislike him. Screw him and his t-shirt for knowing the professor would crank the heat up way too high. What was even worse is that he did have a point.

“We don’t know,” Y/n piped in, the already hot room feeling even more stuffy as she stared lasers into Heeseung, “But look at Gotham and how much Batman has improved the overall safety and morale of the city—maybe it’s worth the risk if Nightwing could do something similar here,”

“People being above the power of law enforcement is dangerous,” Heeseung countered, staring right back at the woman across from him.

‘Hold on…was that a condescending smirk on his face? Right now?’ Y/n was pissed. The lack of sleep was catching up to her.

“Yeah but—” Y/n cut Jake off before he could even start.

“The rich already are,” Y/n scoffed, “and if law enforcement can’t serve us all, maybe heroes that do are exactly what we need,”

“And with that, our discussion comes to a close,” Professor Jung interjected, “we started too late to have a full-blown debate, sorry about that. Great job, everyone,”

Y/n was proud of herself for countering the word of the professor and formulating her argument so fast. She could not, however, understand what she did that was so worthy of ridicule that Jake started giggling the moment class was dismissed.

The nap. It was the best part of Y/n’s day ever since Lee Heeseung and his girlfriend started having sex in her building. Even if she wished it could restore her life free of consequences, it could not.

The first problem it brought was that she always woke up feeling like she had just gotten off a 10-hour flight. The better the nap was, the more this rang true.

And, as expected, the second consequence was that it made her sleep schedule even more irregular than it already was. Usually, when she couldn’t sleep later in the night because of Heeseung, Y/n would put in her earbuds and hope for the best. But on the nights that she snuck in a nap? Hopeless.

Tonight was one of those nights. The lights were off, the moans were louder than ever, and she was wide awake. Somehow, knowing Heeseung had a girlfriend made the noise even more unbearable. A little. She wouldn’t be able to tell you why if you asked. Regardless, she needed air.

Usually, Y/n would have been smart enough to not go walking alone in the middle of the night in Bludhaven. She’s no idiot. But she had pepper spray and a fairly strong taser on hand. She was going to be fine. (I promise!)

There’s something about nighttime in Bludhaven that Y/n found so special. It was unsafe in areas, certainly, but every once in a while, the night felt like one that a synth-pop album would be written about. Somehow, it made her miss her family and friends back home while making her feel glad to be right where she was at the same time. On nights like these, she would get a coffee and go for a short stroll—usually with Somi.

“Hi, can I get a small decaf coffee? Two sugars, two creamers?”

Brenda’s Cafe. Best coffee in New Jersey. Open 24 hours (now that Nightwing is around).

“Sure, coming right up,” The barista smiled, taking the cash from your hand and heading to the back.

“RING, RING!”

Y/n scrambled to reach her phone, “Hello?”

“Y/n! How’s it going?”

“Sunoo,” the woman grinned as she paced around the cafe, “hi! How’d you know I was awake?”

“Eh, figured it was worth a shot with the whole neighbor problem I keep hearing about—you have the sleep schedule of a cat who works full-time now,”

Sunoo and Y/n had known each other since middle school. Now, Sunoo was working on a movie on the opposite coast. It was difficult to time their calls with his packed schedule, to say the least.

“Yeah,” Y/n replied with an amused tone, “How are you? How are your fancy schmancy show-biz friends?”

“Well, I certainly made some more,” Sunoo began, “the cast of this movie is hilarious and they take me out to dinner all the time, so we’re getting closer,”

“Yes, I love to hear it!” Y/n exclaimed, grabbing her coffee from the barista’s hand and giving a nod of thanks before heading toward the exit.

“And how’s the hot snickerdoodle neighbor?”

Y/n’s eyes widened as she pushed the door open, “I called him hot one time. And that was before I knew he was a jerk…that had a girlfriend,”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Y/n could hear Sunoo’s misplaced pity through the phone. “That sucks,”

“No, it does not suck,” she insisted, adjusting her scarf, “I’m fine. Besides, you know that I’m trying to graduate this semester. That’s the only reason I haven’t reported the guy,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sunoo dismissed her, “still sucks,”

Y/n rolled her eyes. He was not going to let this go. “Anyways, how is your sist—WOAH!”

Y/n’s phone and coffee flung out of her hand as she was firmly pushed towards the road, nearly falling to the ground if it wasn’t for another force pulling her back by the jacket.

Y/n paused for a moment in disbelief. What the fuck just happened?

“Y/n?” the woman heard Sunoo’s voice coming from her phone quietly between the sounds of footsteps getting further and further away.

Her phone was safely lying on the side of the road. Her coffee? Not so much. It had spilled everywhere. Including her new coat. But as thoughts raced through Y/n’s head, her coat was the furthest thing from it. ‘Someone pushed me because they were being chased…by someone who took the time to save me,’

Her disbelief quickly turned to excitement as she put the pieces together. Could the person who saved her have been Nightwing?

“Y/n, what happened? Are you okay? Do I need to call Somi?”

Y/n scrambled to her retrieve her phone, “I’m fine! I’ve gotta run, but I’ll explain everything tomorrow,”

“Wait, hold o—”

“Bye!”

She thought about calling Somi right that second, but she needed confirmation. So she made the questionable decision to follow them. Somi’s reporter instincts were clearly rubbing off on her.

After walking with a comical level of caution for a few minutes, Y/n decided to turn back. As I said before, Y/n is not an idiot. She makes educated choices.

What. A. Night. She was eager to tell Somi—despite the fact that she’d criticize Y/n’s poor educated choices, she would be happy too.

All of a sudden, interrupting her train of thought, Y/n heard a whistle from across the road.

There he stood, in all his blue and black glory—Nightwing.

A skin-tight black suit with blue accents adorned his tall frame and he had a pair of nunchucks in his right hand, which he tucked away before placing a cup of coffee on the ground next to him.

This was a moment that Y/n would remember for years to come. But right now, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Nightwing, the man responsible for taking down the biggest supervillains and mobs in Bludhaven…bought her a coffee. She waved to him in gratitude, to which he waved back with a smile on his face before disappearing into the shadows.

After he left, Y/n rushed over to retrieve the coffee cup, her heart racing with elation.

Brenda’s Cafe Start your day with a smile! decaf coffee two sugars two creamers

1. Sincerity Do things she appreciates because it’s the right thing to do for someone you really like as a person. It matters what you do when you don’t think she’s looking. She can tell whether or not your heart is in the right place.

previous ☆ next ☆ series masterlist ☆ masterlist

#how you get the girl 🌃#hoes4hoseok #lee heeseung imagines #kpop imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen

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