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missluthorwillseeyounow · 2 years ago

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“Your sister found me because she was ready.”

Kara frowns. “Ready for what?”

“For the truth.” Lena replies simply. “To wake up and leave the lie behind.”

“The lie?” Lena’s words bring back echoes of Alex’s message. The Matrix still has you… You’ll find me, if you’re ready to wake up. “You mean… the Matrix?”

“Yes.”

Kara leans forward, her attention caught. “What is the Matrix?”

Lena sighs, her eyes clouding over. “I’m afraid no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself. Right now, all I can tell you is that the Matrix is everywhere. It’s all around us. It’s in the air we breathe, in everything we touch…”

Lena ventures a hand between them to touch Kara’s, their hands connecting in the slightest. And even though she knows that she’s not really touching Kara’s hand, her mind feeds her the sensations of it — the softness of Kara’s skin, the gentle press of her flesh under Lena’s fingers.

Lena draws her hand away, and Kara follows it avidly with her eyes. “For you to know what the Matrix is, I have to go back to the beginning. Or at least, to where it begins for us.”

Or, the Supercorp Matrix AU

[So I found an old Matrix AU from a different fandom while I was rooting through my drive, and I thought it could be retooled into a Supercorp AU. Little did I know what I was inviting into my brain, but here we are suffering the consequences. (And now I have 2 different supercorp Matrix AUs. Great.) Spoilers ahead for the OG trilogy.]

In the movies, Neo is the One, but there are other Potentials. Each Potential displays extraordinary abilities beyond the standards of normal. Kara and Lena are both Potentials. Either one of them could be the One.

It begins in the Matrix, when Lena gets adopted by the Luthors as a little girl.

The Luthors are a picture-perfect family. Powerful, affluent, and respected. The father, the mother and the golden son. And Lena - smart, angelic and pretty, the perfect daughter - is the ideal addition to make their picturesque family complete.

Except when she's about 4 or so, it becomes apparent that Lena is not like other children.

It's immediately clear that her intellect far surpasses people four, five times her age. Lena is sharp and brilliant, able to grasp complex concepts most adults cannot. She seems to see the world around her in a different way.

The Luthors are no strangers to gifted children, their son Lex was deemed a prodigy at around the same age. At first, Lionel and Lillian take this as yet another proof of how exceptional Luthors are, and Lena is proudly displayed as their indigo child.

But Lena's talent develops as fast as she does.

Soon, she begins to exhibit strange, unexplained abilities. An expensive Waterford crystal goblet in Lionel's hand explodes when Lena has a tantrum. Once, Lillian walks into her playroom to find Lena having tea with her dolls, and when Lillian enters, all heads turn to her. Lena's and all four of her Madame Alexander dolls.

Her intellect begins to surpass what defines “normal” intelligence. She predicts and successfully foils an assassination attempt against Lionel. She prevents Lex from getting hit by a driver in a car chase five blocks away.

The last straw comes when Lena finds out that the cleaning lady's five year old son has cancer.

Lena convinces Alma to take her to see him. Five hours later, a tearful Alma brings the little girl back with something akin to wonder in her eyes. "Your little girl is an angel, Mr. Luthor. Bendecida por la Virgen. She cured my Carlos! She took away his sickness! Ella es un milagro de Dios!”

However, far from seeing it as a miracle, the Luthors circle the wagons. The next day, Lena finds out Alma has been dismissed, and a shift occurs in the Luthor household.

When Lena's abilities were within the parameters of "normal", they were good, something to be proud of. But now that her gifts have proven to be beyond that, they become alien, freakish. Something to be hidden. People would be asking too many questions, and Luthors do not permit those.

Suddenly, instead of being lauded for what she is able to do, Lena is now scrutinized and examined to find out what's "wrong" with her. It begins to strain the family that is obsessed with order and perfection.

They take Lena to various doctors and put her through all sorts of tests, but none of them seem able to find an explanation for Lena’s strange abilities.

Until they meet Rhea, an educator who runs an exclusive facility for “gifted” children.

An elegant and well-spoken woman, Rhea seems fascinated by Lena. Her teaching “methods” seem vague, but out of all the specialists Lena has seen so far, she is the only one who seems to understand and make a connection with her. At the very least, they seem to speak the same language. Rhea knows about this Matrix Lena has been talking about.

Rhea asks Lena if she wants to find out what the Matrix truly is. And when Lena agrees, Rhea takes the little girl to the Oracle to confirm her suspicions that she is a Potential.

Lena is taken to a tall building, riding all the way to the top floor with her little hand in Rhea’s. On the 64th floor, they enter a glass office in which an imperious looking blond woman sits, watching her with a piercing eye.

“Leave us.”

The woman orders sharply, slanting a glare at Rhea. She is at least 6 inches shorter than Rhea, even in heels, but her tone and her face brook no argument. Rhea retreats with a seething sneer, but she complies.

“Now, you,” the woman turns to Lena with a dark look and a raised brow. It fails to intimidate Lena, who has lived with Lillian Luthor’s pointed glares for the past three years of her life. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Lena merely blinks at her. “Because I know things.”

The woman scoffs. “So do I. Doesn’t make you special.” She gestures around her at her office with a spectacular view. “I know things too.”

Lena’s eyebrows rise as well. “Not everything.”

The woman’s glare intensifies, but Lena stares her down. After a moment, a corner of the woman’s mouth lifts, and she barks out a laugh. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

Lena clasps her hands behind her back. “So I’ve been told.”

“Do you know who I am?”

Lena nods. “You’re the Oracle.”

The woman snorts delicately. “Did Rhea tell you that?”

Lena regards her solemnly. “She didn’t have to.”

The woman’s eyes narrow at her, but Lena says nothing more. She is scrutinized for another moment before the woman smirks. “Alright. Since you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me what you already know.”

Lena blinks at her, responding to the woman’s scrutinizing gaze in kind. “I know that you’re not human.”

Another laugh, this time louder. Piercing blue eyes gain a twinkle of mirth. “Very good. What else?”

“I know that you’re not real.”

The woman scoffs disdainfully. “Real is an abstract concept.”

“I know that I’m dreaming, and none of this is real.”

The mirth suddenly vanishes from the woman’s gaze, and her blue eyes stare at Lena intently. “What do you mean?”

Lena sweeps her little arms across the room. “This. All of this. Everything. It’s not real. It’s just a dream.”

The woman is leaning forward now. It looks to Lena as if she is holding her breath. “And what makes you think that?”

Lena chews thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Have you ever read Plato’s allegory of the cave?”

The woman’s eyebrows rise and an amused smile dances over her lips. “Of course.”

“It feels like that. Like the people chained to the walls of the cave, watching just shadows and reflections. Other people — even my parents, even Lex — they look around them and think that this is the real thing. But all we’re seeing are just shadows. Sometimes it makes me feel confused and blurry, like I’m dreaming, but I can’t wake up.”

The woman hums and her hands form a steeple under her chin as she continues to observe Lena.

"In the story, the prisoner who is freed into the sunlight was angry and in great pain after being in the dark for so long. Why would they go through that? Why not stay in the comfort of the darkness that they’ve known all their lives?”

Lena’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Because they would finally know the truth. They wouldn’t be living in a lie anymore. They would be free.”

A smile spreads across the woman’s face, and the nod she gives is almost approving. “Is that what you want?”

“Only if you tell me the truth.” Lena nods solemnly. “Will you tell me the truth, Oracle?”

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” The woman chuckles. “And one more thing. Call me Cat.”

Despite their animosity toward each other, both Cat and Rhea decide that Lena is more than ready for extraction.

The only problem is that Lena, at 6 years old, is one of the youngest children to be extracted so far. Because she’s so young, it’s decided that her family should be brought with her too. Lex, by then a teenager, is given a choice: to stay in the Matrix, or go down the rabbit hole, as it were.

Lex chooses to follow his family, and the Luthors are extracted by Rhea. They are brought on-board her ship, the Daxam. All four Luthors are taken to Zion, and told the truth about everything — the lie of the Matrix, the human harvest fields, and the fact that there is no going back.

That’s when it all goes to hell.

Lionel barely lasts three months.

Unable to accept the truth that his life of power and control was all a lie, and unwilling to believe that he now exists in a world where his name holds no weight, he somehow escapes Zion and finds his way to a human pod to try to inject himself back into the Matrix.

They search for him for weeks, and eventually they find him in the pod, impaled on the metal breathing hose stuffed into his mouth with the end sticking out the back of his head.

Lillian lasts longer, but this is no comfort.

Torn from her privileged life, her resentment begins to build and build, as she’s forced to accept her new reality.

Her perfect life was stolen from her. The high-paying job, the distinguished career, the unlimited influence, the beautiful house, the comfortable lifestyle — all gone. All apparently just a dream.

And now, Lillian has woken up to the dirt and drab and heat and toil of Zion’s underground, with nothing to show for her former life but the daughter she didn’t even ask for. The same daughter who is the very reason she’s trapped here now with no chance of going back.

She refuses to reconcile with her new reality, but she is no weakling like her husband. Instead, she lets the ugly, bitter ire fester inside her over the years, until it finally comes out.

One night, Lillian enters the rough, tiny cave that has become her unwilling home, creeps into the alcove carved into rock where her teenaged daughter sleeps and pours acid over her.

Lena’s screams wake others in the neighboring dwelling, and healers are immediately dispatched to tend to her wounds. Thankfully, Lena was turned away in her sleep, and the burns were limited to her back.

By the time her condition is pronounced stable, Lillian is gone.

Without her parents, Lena is taken in by Rhea to live with her, her husband Lar Gand and their infant son, Mon-El.

Rhea keeps Lena very close, almost jealously so. She prizes the young girl above all else in their household. Most of her time is devoted to teaching Lena, training her using the fight simulations and programs on the Daxam, instructing her on how to pilot the ship.

For Lena — who had grown up under Lillian’s growing resentment and bitterness, who had just survived a horrific attack on her by her own mother — Rhea is a godsend. Under Rhea’s maternal affection, Lena thrives. She pushes her own limits during her training, masters techniques with unparalleled speed and unerring accuracy, devours knowledge programs downloaded into her mind every time she’s plugged in. She blooms under Rhea’s freely-given praise, and works harder, starved as she was for acknowledgment and affection over the years.

As Rhea’s son, young Mon-El, grows up without displaying any unique abilities, he is often shunted to the side. Despite their age-difference, Lena makes a conscious effort to spend time with him, to give him the same nurturing Rhea is giving her.

She teaches Mon-El how to make repairs to the ship, explains how the thrusters work, how the pads keep the ship in balance. He’s most fascinated by the robotic armed exoskeletons that are kept at the dock for the city’s defense. He often asks Lena to take him to the bridge to watch them, and the two of them watch the exoskeletons being loaded, Lena leaning on the top rail, and Mon-El perched on the middle one, his skinny legs swinging in the air. As Lena smiles, the young boy boldly tells her that one day, he’ll pilot one of those.

It feels… nice. Almost like having a brother again. It feels like a second chance

After all, her own brother — well, that bridge was burned a long time ago, and Lena tries not to think about it.

But it’s hard to forget when she sees him all time, a nightmare come to life, whenever she’s plugged into the Matrix.

Lena will never forget the first time she saw her brother there.

Lex had abandoned them, had left his mother and sister in Zion years ago, as soon as he was of age. She’d tried to find him, had spent weeks, months, looking for him, to no avail.

Finally, Lena had been forced to accept that Lex had met their father’s fate. He could’ve been attacked by sentinels, gotten lost in the mechanical sewers, or worse, attempted the same thing Lionel had.

Either way, the result was the same, and the guilt and pain of it had been agony, but Lena had accepted it.

Until the day she met the Agent.

Most agents were already nigh indestructible, with their speed and brute strength, not to mention the internal communication they kept with each other through the program.

But this one… this one stayed on Lena’s tail with a dogged, malicious ferocity that she couldn’t shake off. It had been dangerously close several times already as he chased her throughout the dark, rain-soaked city streets. She couldn’t get a good lock on him, and it was all she could do to follow Jack’s instructions to the nearest extraction point.

Lena’s almost there, sliding into the booth, hand outstretched to grab the phone — when she sees it.

The Agent wearing her brother’s face, a feral smile stretching his lips as his fingertips brush the corner of her dark coat. The grin turns into a snarl as Lena lifts the phone to her ear, and he misses her by a millimeter.

It had been only a second, but… it was Lex.

Lena was sure of it. So sure that she had spent months hacking into the system with Brainy’s help, trying to find out what the hell was going on.

It takes six months of hacking into the mainframe to discover the truth. Lex had succeeded where their father had not. The son had surpassed the father.

Not only had Lex somehow managed to get himself reinserted into the Matrix, the anomaly of his presence in the code had also caused a glitch in the system itself.

It takes another encounter with Lex — in his new regalia of a generic black suit, bland tie and FBI-issued sunglasses — sneering at her as he points a gun at her head, to realize yet another knife-wound truth.

Her brother has become a virus in the Matrix.

________

Kara’s experience in the Matrix could not have been more different from Lena’s.

More than a decade before Lena was born, Kara Zorel was like any normal thirteen year old girl. She went to school, hung out with her friends, had a crush on the boy living next door. She got straight A’s, and volunteered at the local senior home.

Her quicksilver mind that could spot things others couldn’t was easily considered as part of her intelligence. She was a very smart girl, after all. Her obsession with puzzles and codes was easily filed away as a quirk or a phase she was going through until she found a new hobby.

Everything about her life seemed to be on track to become ordinary, until the day of the accident.

At least, they told her it was an accident. Kara doesn’t remember any of it. All she really remembers is waiting for a train at a subway station. She remembers her father mentioning a Trainmaster who would take them away, somewhere new. To a new home, her mother had said. [This is from the 3rd movie]

And then nothing.

Kara thinks she must have been dreaming, because she can remember being left alone in that subway station — the walls were blank and a sterile white, with nothing to indicate the presence of life except Kara herself sitting on the otherwise empty bench. She can remember the feeling of waiting, waiting endlessly for the nothing that would come — no trains, no other passengers, no one else at the station with her. She can remember running along the platform tirelessly, only to end up in the same place she’d started from. She remembers the feeling of being left behind and trapped and scared. Mostly scared.

And then the next thing she knows, she’s awake on a hospital bed with Eliza Danvers sleeping on the chair next to her.

The Danvers had found her on the train platform, curled up, unconscious, on the same bench she’d dreamed of. They’d thought she was a runaway, or a missing child, but the FBI agents who had come to Kara’s hospital room had told her that her parents were dead.

An accident, they’d said. A subway malfunction that had taken out a whole car. Under investigation, the man in sunglasses and a dark suit had reassured Jeremiah and Eliza in a monotonous voice.

With no one to claim her, no other family to speak of, Kara is taken in by the Danvers. They’re good people, kind and understanding when Kara wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares of being trapped in a white sea of nothingness.

When Kara wakes up crying and sweating, Eliza is there to soothe her and rock her in her arms until she fell asleep again. When she tells Jeremiah that everything is too loud and bright, he sits her down and teaches her to calm her thoughts and meditate.

Alex, who had gone from being an only child to having an anxious, high-maintenance little intruder in her room, is less than happy about the situation. She keeps her distance, and gives Kara cold glares from across the bedroom or ignores her completely.

Until one night when Alex sneaks back into their room from the concert she’d snuck out to earlier, and finds Kara sitting on one corner of her bed with her knees curled up. With Alex gone for most of the night, Kara had been alone and had refused to fall asleep, terrified of having nightmares again.

With only a little bit of grumbling, Alex tosses all their pillows and blankets onto the floor, and drapes one of her sheets over both their beds to make their first blanket fort. The first of many.

Curled up on the floor next to Alex, Kara sleeps soundly through the night for the first time since waking up without her parents.

Still, despite slowly settling in with the Danvers, Kara can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

It feels as if everything around her is just a little bit off-kilter. As if the world had somehow changed in the time she’d been unconscious. Or maybe she had. Either way, it feels as if both Kara and the world around her know on some level that she’s not supposed to be here. Perhaps it’s because she was meant to die along with her parents. But by some unknown anomaly, here she is, half of her present, half of her straining to join her mother and father wherever they are.

It’s not a reflection on the Danvers. Kara couldn’t have asked for a better family to care for her. And she cares for them too. Over time, Kara gains a sister she would die for in a heartbeat, instead of a roommate who barely tolerated her presence when she first arrived. Her definition of ‘mother’ slowly expands and makes room for Eliza in her heart. She finds a man to respect and admire in Jeremiah.

Still, the feeling of being out of place persists throughout the years, always in the back of Kara’s mind.

Tragedy strikes when Jeremiah disappears.

It happens quickly, too quickly. One day her foster father is there, the next he’s gone. The only clue the police get is the last voicemail on Jeremiah’s phone.

The message starts with Jeremiah’s voice, reminding Alex that he’ll be picking her up from softball practice later, then it cuts off abruptly without warning.

Ten seconds later, another voice is heard through the other end, this time a smooth monotone. It sounds nothing at all like Jeremiah, and it sends a chill down Kara’s spine.

“The Luthor girl escaped again. She has eluded us one too many times for a human. She cannot avoid the inevitable…. Send the Brother. Next time, she dies.”

Nothing is found at the scene but Jeremiah’s phone. No evidence, no ransom note, no explanation for the strange message, nothing to trace, nothing to at all to suggest that Jeremiah Danvers was there. The blank-faced FBI agents offer no sympathy when they inform Eliza of the news in a smooth, apathetic monotone.

[[In case it’s not clear, Jeremiah got turned into an agent by the other agents who were chasing Lena during one of the times she was plugged into the Matrix]]

Their little family is shocked and reeling, but they cling to one another in their grief. Kara remembers something her mother always used to say. Stronger together, Kara. Life is hard, and we cannot face it alone. We must be each other’s strengths. We are always stronger together.

Still, life goes on. Keeps moving on, even after tragedy and loss. Sometimes, Kara feels as if the world is in constant motion, its inertia having no time to waste on a young girl who feels as if she has been left behind.

The sense of alienation increases, and Kara is diagnosed with depression. Which only serves to increase her family’s concern, and puts a near-permanent look of worry in Eliza’s eyes.

So Kara puts on her brightest smile and hugs her foster mother. She talks more, smiles wider, laughs louder, and makes more friends to go out with so she’s not at home alone in her room which no longer has Alex in it.

Alex goes to college, then med school, the chip on her shoulder large enough to be seen from space. She’s determined to find out what really happened to her father, and Kara knows how stubborn she is.

But she only really finds out how serious Alex is when her older sister declares that she’s joining the FBI, and no amount of talking from either Kara or Eliza can dissuade her.

And it’s not as if Kara has a leg to stand on. At least Alex has a purpose, a direction. Meanwhile, Kara has no idea what she wants to do with her life. She meanders around after college, a little bit lost and floundering. She’s intelligent, her professors said, but she lacks focus.

Eventually, she gets hired at Catco as an assistant to the big boss herself, Cat Grant.

All of 5’4” in heels, the woman herself strikes fear into the heart of every intern roaming the halls. It’s impossible not to snap to attention when her private elevator dings and she steps out. Each click of her heels is a reminder of the power she wields, and honestly, Kara is a little terrified of her.

But she straightens her spine and her glasses, tucks her hair behind her ear, and refuses to be cowed.

And it’s as if Miss Grant takes it as a challenge to break her, because her demands become more and more unrealistic, more and more impossible. But something inside Kara tells her not to back down, to stare her right back, and wait her out. Cat Grant is a puzzle, and Kara has always been good at puzzles.

The key comes in the form of Carter Grant.

Cat tasks Kara to pick her son up from school one afternoon, and Kara finds the young boy waiting for her right outside the school gates. He’s a very sweet boy, a little shy, but he eventually tells Kara about this comic he’s been reading about a young superhero named Supergirl.

As he begins to brighten up talking about his new favorite character, Carter doesn’t notice the car coming from the other side of the street. Neither does Kara at first. But something inside her tells her to turn around.

Maybe it was a sound, an instinct, and unconscious observation too quick for her mind to consciously process. Whatever it was, it had her turning just in time to see the car heading straight for Carter.

She barely has time to pull the boy back to the sidewalk, and the car almost clips him. Almost.

“Are you okay??” Kara hurriedly checks Carter for any injuries or signs that he’s shaken up. Other than the boy’s wide eyes, he seems to be fine.

“That- that was amazing! You were so fast, Kara! You were like Supergirl! How did you do that?”

As they walk back home, Cart gushes about how awesome Kara’s save was, how she was as fast and strong as Supergirl. Kara laughs it off, but the relief that the boy is okay lingers.

The second the front door closes behind Kara, Carter pulls out a phone and scrolls through the contact list until he finds ‘Mom’.

When Cat answers, he whispers excitedly into the phone. “She did it! She was even faster than Lena by 0.02 seconds!”

“Good. Did she say anything else?”

“She mentioned her sister. Are you going to tell the Manhunter? Is J’onn going to pull them out? Or maybe Lena can come? I like it when she comes to visit.”

A rustle of paper in the background, and Cat drawls in an almost bored voice. “Not yet. She’s not ready.”

[[In this AU, Carter is a computer program designed to assist the Oracle. Kinda like Seraph in the movies. He and Cat have a very unusual relationship. He was just supposed to be a simple program to help ward her, but he was designed to be charming in an innocent and disarming way to help distract from his real purpose. Cat developed a fondness for him, so when he tries to protect her when she’s in danger, she ends up shoving him behind her and protecting him.]]

On the anniversary of Jeremiah’s disappearance, another tragedy rocks the Danvers family.

Alex Danvers disappears.

Eliza is inconsolable, but Kara… Kara is numb, at first. Denial is always the first instinct of the human mind when a shock is delivered to its system. There’s talk of a search, trying to find out where she might have gone, her usual routine, any places Alex frequents — it all rolls over Kara’s head. They’re looking for a body, but that’s not how Alex is gonna be found.

Unlike Jeremiah’s disappearance, Alex’s is not without a trail. She is an FBI agent after all. There will always be a trail, and like in most FBI cases, it can be found in the absence of one.

In this case, it’s Alex’s computer. It’s missing.

The more Kara thinks about it, the more it galvanizes her. Kara knows Alex, knows her quirks and her habits. She didn’t have many friends outside of work, mostly people from med school she’s since lost touch with. No, anything that happened to Alex would be connected to her work, and Alex kept all her work files in that computer.

She throws herself into finding it. Find it, and she finds Alex.

For months, Kara follows every lead, every loose thread she can find, all in the hope of finding the computer. Every time she comes across a dead end, she doggedly retraces her steps until she can find another lead. The chalkboard in the kitchen that used to house her grocery list desk becomes a list of all possible locations. Her desk at Catco is a disaster of papers and post-it notes — a receipt from Cat’s dry cleaners here, the number for Annie Leibovitz’s assistant there, and Alex’s bank statements piled on top.

All the while, Cat watches her. Observes her tenacity, her ability to find patterns that no one else would’ve noticed, her keen attention that allows her to find details that other people would’ve ignored.

Finally, after nearly a year of looking, Kara finds Alex’s computer in a security deposit box under the alias Alice Liddell.

It takes her all night, but Kara manages to gain access to Alex’s documents. She finds file after file on Alex’s investigation into Jeremiah’s disappearance. Articles on similar disappearances all over the world. Some incidents are identical to Jeremiah’s, some with more of a trail. The victimology is all over the place, but in certain cases, there is a disturbing pattern.

A number of the disappearances occur in National City, and nearly all of them have one thing in common. They’ve all been patients or relatives of patients at the Luthor Family Hospital — a stroke patient and his fiancee, a woman in a car accident, a man with a gunshot wound, an old lady with Alzheimer's and her widow, even three children from the cancer ward and one of their mothers. Most of these people were deceased, but there must have been some reason Alex thought otherwise. And if she was right, then there is something very disturbing going on in the Luthor Family Hospital.

Kara keeps searching the files, and finds a certain devolution in Alex’s notes. Towards the end, she seemed more and more disorganized, her thoughts more and more disjointed. And Kara feels a terrible sense of guilt at not noticing what her sister was going through.

Throughout the files, she finds multiple references Alex made to something called the Matrix. She stumbles upon a mess of a pdf that she’d originally thought was gibberish, but upon closer inspection actually more closely resembles computer code. And in the middle of the unintelligible tangle of letters and symbols, she finds a question.

What is the Matrix?

Just as Kara is trying to make sense of the question, a new message alert appears in Alex’s inbox. Kara stares at the screen. It originated from Alex’s own email. Frowning, she clicks on the message, and her eyes widen as she reads.

I’m alive.

Kara springs forward so fast, she almost dislodges the laptop from her kitchen counter. She tries multiple times to reply to the message, but nothing happens. Kara growls, and almost as if the computer can sense her frustration, another message appears.

I’m alive and I’m out.

Kara’s brows furrow. What? What the hell?

The Matrix still has you, Kara.

Kara’s frown deepens and she looks around her, checks the computer. Is this some kind of prank?

I’m sorry I had to leave, but you can’t follow. Not until you’re ready.

Ready for what, Kara thinks.

Ready to give it all up. Ready to wake up. You told me once that you felt like everything since you woke up in the subway station has felt strange, like a dream. You were right, it is. And you’ll find me, if you’re ready to wake up.

Kara’s jaw drops in shock.

Follow the white rabbit.

The message flashes across the screen for a moment, then the monitor goes black. Kara snaps it shut and pushes it as far away from her as she can.

That — what was that? A-a trick? A hallucination brought on by the lack of sleep and her hyperfixation?

She could check it again, turn the laptop back on and click on the messages again — but suddenly Kara is gripped by fear, and denial feels more like a comfort.

She packs away the computer, stowing it under the desk where she can’t see it, and goes to bed. She doesn’t sleep until 3 AM.

But of course, Kara is no coward. She’s never been one to back down to her fears. In the morning, armed with a cup of Noonan’s coffee and a clearer mind, she opens the laptop again.

She doesn’t quite have the courage to check the messages yet, but she finds another article. This time, about the [head] of the Luthor Family Hospital, a woman named Lena Luthor.

It takes no time at all for her quick mind to make a connection, but it takes a while for the rest of her conscious brain to catch up.

Luthor. She’d heard that name before. In a voicemail, the only thing left of Jeremiah Danvers. “The Luthor girl got away again.”

Lena Luthor.

That can’t be a coincidence. Alex had been looking into their dad’s disappearance, and the Luthor name has already come up more than once, and now a female Luthor.

All the research she does on Lena Luthor comes up with next to nothing. Other than business articles and some papers in several scientific journals, there’s very little mention of the woman. So far, all Kara knows is that Lena Luthor is the CEO of one of the leading tech companies in the world, dedicated to providing accessible technology and communication devices to billions of people all over the globe — their new L-Phones are popping up everywhere. She’s also apparently a brilliant scientist and researcher, invested in scientific research to help prevent and cure diseases. She also owns and is directly involved in the running of the Luthor Family Hospital, a facility known for innovative and experimental medicine.

And for all of her work and accolades, there has never been a single photograph of this woman past the age of 6. Nothing. This woman’s image has never been recorded in any way, in any kind of media, in any event, in all the years that she has been running L-Corp. How is that even possible?

Now, Kara’s definitely suspicious.

Three days after the computer is found — plenty of time for thinking, but not too much time to do something stupid, she thinks — Cat makes her move.

She summons Kara to her office and delivers her ultimatum, in the form of an offer.

“Y- You think I have what it takes to be a reporter?”

“You’re an intelligent woman, Keira. But more than that, you can see things others can’t. You observe far more than people give you credit for. You could have a bright future here at Catco.”

Cat surveys her intently over her glasses. “It’s your choice. You can take the job, or you can keep wasting your life going down this rabbit hole.”

Cat gestures toward Kara’s messy desk, but again Kara’s quick mind gives her a nudge. That’s the third reference she’s heard in as many days. Rabbit hole. Alice. White rabbit.

Kara asks Cat for time to think about it, but really, she’s already made her decision. She uses her connect as Cat’s assistant to set up an appointment, introducing herself as Kara Danvers from Catco, writing an article about the Luthor Family Hospital.

The assistant confirms that Miss Luthor would be delighted to give Catco a glimpse into the facility to bring awareness of the work they do, and confirms the time.

When Kara arrives, she is directed to the children’s cancer center. When she sees the whimsical mural of a white rabbit hopping along a trail on the walls, she knows she’s at the right place.

Kara follows the mural until she reaches a room at the end of the hall. A soft feminine voice floats down the hallway and reaches Kara’s ears.

“To begin with, tell me, do you think that these men would have seen anything of themselves or of one another except the shadows cast from the fire on the wall of the cave that fronted them?

How could they, he said, if they were compelled to hold their heads unmoved through life?”

Kara walks closer, drawn to the sound. She stops just outside the door to what is clearly a child’s hospital room. A little girl in white pajamas and a colorful bonnet sits cross-legged in the middle of the bed, listening to the dark-haired woman sitting on the chair by her side. The woman’s back is turned to Kara, but she can see the book she’s reading from. Plato.

“By Zeus, I do not, said he.

Then in every way such prisoners would deem reality to be nothing else than the shadows of the artificial objects.”

“Quite inevitably.” The little girl on the bed quotes with a smile. Kara hears a soft, amused hum from the woman.

“Consider, then, what would be the manner of the release and healing from these bonds… When one was freed from his fetters and compelled to stand up suddenly and turn his head around… and lift up his eyes to the light, and in doing all this, felt pain…”

Kara sees the moment the reader realizes that she’s there. The woman’s head turns just the slightest, and Kara can see her sharp, elegant profile silhouetted in the light. She keeps reading, but at this point, they both know she’s aware of Kara’s presence. Kara continues to listen silently.

“What do you suppose would be his answer if someone told him that what he had seen before was all a cheat and an illusion… But that now, being nearer to reality and turned toward more real things, he saw more truly?”

Just then, the little girl’s eyes snap up to meet Kara’s, and big black eyes blink owlishly at her. “Miss Lena, we have a visitor.”

The woman finally turns, and Kara gets her first glimpse of Lena Luthor. Cut-glass green eyes are perceptive as they take Kara in, and a small smile plays on the corner of red lips.

“So we do, Zuri.”

She sets the book down on the bed beside the child and rises from her seat, a pale hand extended. "Kara Danvers, I presume?"

It takes Kara a second to reply, unable to take her eyes off the woman. There’s something arresting about her, something that could probably stop anyone in their tracks. Even the way she tips her head to survey Kara is fluid and mesmerizing.

Clearing her throat, Kara takes Lena Luthor’s proffered hand. “Yeah – uh, yes.”

The woman's smile grows. "I've been expecting you."

For a moment, the words make Kara's stomach flutter, then the 'duh' moment hits her. Of course she'd been expecting her, they had an appointment. Kara's face flushes red. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Miss Luthor."

Green eyes gain a look of amusement and crinkle at the corners. Lena Luthor looks as if she has a secret, or like she’s in on a joke Kara doesn't know. "Not as much as I have, I'm sure."

Kara's brows furrow in confusion, but before she can ask the woman what she means, the Luthor bends down and kisses the top of the child's head, before heading out the door and gesturing for Kara to follow.

[[I just love the idea of Lena reading the Allegory of the Cave to the children like she did when she was a kid, as her way of preparing them, a way of telling them that yes, extraction will hurt, it won't be easy to accept the truth, but they will be free].

[Also in this AU, the extraction points used to be the pay phones like in the movie, except those got phased out once the machines figured out that’s what the resistance was using. So Lena developed the L-phones, and made it so one would always be easily accessible. That’s the work she does at L-Corp]]

After their tour of the hospital concludes, Lena watches Kara walk out through the double doors, throwing a friendly wave behind her. As soon as she's out of sight, she pulls out an L-phone.

"Well, she’s persistent, I'll give you that."

"Told you. Who do you think she got it from?”

“I see stubbornness runs in the family.” Lena hums in amusement.

A chuckle from the other end of the line. “You have no idea.”

"How close is she?"

Alex’s voice turns business-like. "Well, she’s made the connection to you, and Kelly’s seeing some sizeable fluctuations in the code, so I'd say she’s getting there. J’onn thinks she might be ready soon. He says she’s responding quickly for someone who hasn’t had as long to adjust. Sooner if you prepare her, probably.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Rhea,” Lena can hear the seething disdain Alex’s voice, and thinks her mentor is probably standing over Alex’s shoulder as they speak. “Would like me to remind you that the sooner we pull out my sister —“ Lena can almost see her glare at Rhea. “The sooner you can get back to the Daxam, and this can ‘all be over with’.”

Lena shakes her head. “I’m not pulling her out before she’s ready. The consequences could be disastrous.”

“Yeah? Try telling that to your Captain.”

They’re interrupted by an excited young voice. “Hi, Lena!”

“Mon-El?”

Alex snorts over the line. “Yeah, can you believe her? She brought the kid over just to get you to ‘speed things up’.”

“When are you coming back, Lena? I miss you! I snuck into the dock last week, but M’gann caught me. She said she’d teach me how to make shells if I promised not to go past the bridge again. And Imra asked if she could come with us the next time we go to the bridge to see the loaders, I told her yeah. That’s okay, right?”

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Lena can’t help but smile a bit at the young boy’s enthusiasm. “Of course she can. I’ll be back soon, Mon-El. Stay out of trouble, and do what your ranking officer says.”

“Okay, kid, you heard the lady. Go bother Brainy and Kelly at operations. It's about time you learn to read code anyway."

Lena can hear the boy grumbling in the background, but he obeys. As soon as he's out of earshot, Lena goes back to business.

“Start a trace for Kara's pod location, and standby. Be ready to plug in when I tell you to.”

"Copy. J’onn’s gonna try to get us as close as he can, but it's the fields. We can never be too careful. And Lena…? Try to make it easy for her."

Alex’s voice softens at her request, her concern for her sister evident in every word, and Lena understands. Just as Alex understands that there is nothing easy about the truth Kara will have to see.

"I'll do what I can."

This is not the last time Kara pays her a visit.

Under the guise of her article, Kara returns to Lena again. And again.

The first time she comes over under the guise of an interview, she stays until lunch. And then takes Lena to lunch, partly to make up for ruining her schedule, and partly because the CEO confesses that she often forgets to eat throughout the day.

They eat at Kara’s favorite lunch spot, Noonan’s, where Kara is aghast to learn that Lena has never tried any of their desserts despite the café being less than a block away from L-Corp. They end up trying nearly every dessert on the menu. Or at least Lena samples a little bit of everything, and Kara finishes it all off.

They part, with some reluctance on Kara’s end, three hours past Kara’s allotted time, but Lena assures her that it was worth clearing her schedule, considering how much she enjoyed Kara’s company.

It’s only after she’s no longer in Lena’s presence that Kara realizes she’d all but forgotten about her purpose for coming, which was to interrogate her about the suspicious disappearances at the Luthor Family Hospital, and about Lena’s possible involvement in Alex’s own disappearance.

She returns, this time with the flimsy excuse of bringing Lena lunch now that she knows the CEO won’t remember it herself. Lena suggests they go out to the nearby city park to enjoy her break there.

Lena leads her to a bench on a hill and they sit there quietly, enjoying their view of the park. Lena gives Kara a shy smile. “I like to come out here sometimes. When everything becomes… too much. Sometimes, everything around me just feels so wrong and… fake. Especially with what I do. It feels like none of it, none of this is real.”

Kara turns to look at her fully, a crinkle in her forehead, and Lena wonders if she's pushing it. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever had that feeling where… you’re not sure if you’re dreaming or awake? And you’re not quite sure if anything around you is real or not?”

Lena chances a look at the other woman. Kara is looking back at her, eyes wide and intent. It takes a moment, one long moment where Kara is just staring at her, as if trying to puzzle her out. Then she nods.

“Yeah. All time.”

“That’s how I used to feel.” Lena holds her gaze, steady green meeting wondering blue. Kara is so close right now, so close that Lena could tell her. How easy it would be if Lena could convey the truth just by looking into Kara’s eyes. But she’s not ready yet. Lena drops her gaze with a soft laugh.

“I guess I was just thinking, if none of this is real, then none of my problems there would be real, either.” She gestures back at L-Corp with a wry smile.

Kara takes the bit, and her smile softens, blue gaze losing some of its intensity.

Kara fails her mission again that time. And the next. And the next. It feels as if she forgets her problems when she’s with Lena. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like she’s out of place. The world doesn’t feel so wrong when she’s with Lena, or at least, it doesn’t bother Kara as much. She feels like… herself.

As for Lena, she knows they’re running out of time, and that the agents will catch wind of them soon. Especially since Kara is on the precipice of the truth.

But for the first time, Lena finds herself delaying the inevitable. It’s unlike her — the Potential who has spent her whole life freeing as many minds from the Matrix as she can; the second-highest ranking officer and chief engineer of the Daxam, who seizes every situation with a level head and a calm command.

“What are you doing, Lena?”

Rhea’s voice is an imperious snap, even over the line. “You have never spent this long in the Matrix since I pulled you out. You’re putting yourself in danger for a simple extraction. It shouldn’t be taking this long.”

“No extraction is ever simple. I told you, she’s not ready.”

“I know you and that Oracle—” the word is practically a hiss in her mentor’s mouth. “—think that this woman is a Potential, but if she really were that special, she would’ve been ready a long time ago. You were ready long before I found you.”

“This is different—“

“Why? Because you’re sweet on her?”

Lena’s eyes narrow. “You know that’s not why.”

As soon as Lena’s tone gains an authoritative edge, Rhea softens. “I know, my dear. But you know how I worry about you being plugged in for so long with… Lex out there. Besides, you have been neglecting your duties on the ship. Your crew needs you, Mon-El needs you. Come back home, Lena.”

Lena relents. “I will. Soon.”

But ending her time with Kara is easier said than done.

It may be selfish, but around Kara, Lena feels lighter. Her responsibilities don’t weigh as much, and the bleakness of war vanishes in the company of someone so earnest and warm and hopeful. Kara is… resilient. In spite of all that she’s been through, she remains strong, determined, and most incredible of all, kind.

Lena watches Kara with the children — the youngest Potentials, who see the wrongness of the world around them, but aren’t ready yet to be pulled out — and watches her pull gap-toothed smiles and belly laughs out of even the most solemn ones.

She extends this kindness, even to Lena — over daily reminders to eat and take care of herself, to lunch dates she tags Lena along to because she thinks Lena will forget to eat otherwise.

Once, after a successful extraction of one of Lena’s children, a somber Kara brings a small bouquet of plumerias to the little girl’s empty room. She finds Lena sitting next to the child’s empty bed.

“I’m so sorry.” Kara plucks a single plumeria from the bouquet, before setting the flowers on the girl’s pillow.

Lena shakes her head, a serene smile on her face. “Don’t be. She’s free. She’s in a better place now.”

Kara, not understanding her words, gives her a sad smile. She takes Lena’s hand and presses the single plumeria into her fingers. “I’m sure she is.”

Every day, Lena fails to tell Kara the truth, wanting to prolong their time together. And most of all, wanting to spare Kara for just a little longer. Lena can’t bear the thought of being another person who adds to everything Kara’s gone through, of being the reason why that smile dims a little more, or worse, never appears again at all.

Her hesitation nearly costs them everything.

#supercorp #supergirl #katie mcgrath #lena luthor #melissa benoist #kara danvers #me trying to write #I've been working on this thing all weekend ugh. i just wanna yeet it out there #there's more if anyone wants it #also in case it’s not clear the kid at the end of the moodboard is young Mon-El #i should sleep. ugh. i so sleepy #i forgot brainy in the moodboard *facepalm #oh well too late to add himj #gotta sleep. gotta sleep #fuckin tumblr took away all my formatting ugh #alex danvers #cat grant #nia nal

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delulu-hours · 1 year ago

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It's gonna be okay [1]

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Latina!reader

Summary: You and Bucky cross paths through some turn of events, but he keeps you hidden instead of killing you off like he was assigned. There was something about you that he couldn't bring himself to end, so he took you somewhere you would be safe. Slowly, you learn more about each other and rely on one another before realizing it. All you know is that everything will be okay.

Warning: Talk about Bucky's past and trauma.

A/n: It is going to start during the Captain America Winter Soldier and going through until The Falcon and The Winter Soldier. You guys can best bet that there will be some fluff as I want to have a happy ending for my baby. He's been through so much and he needs it.

You should have known better.

A small groan left your lips as you held your side. The warm blood oozed out as the sound of shooting echoed. You have one bullet left in your semi-automatic pistol. Your heartbeat drummed within your ears as you rested your head on the car door. You pressed yourself back further into the car as you scanned the sides of you. You didn't know how you got dragged into this. One second, you were at home; the next thing you knew, SHIELD agents were storming into your apartment. Guns aimed at you, and you knew something was very wrong.

And now you were getting shot at as you ran away from them. Unprepared for it all. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before you move your feet under you. If you could do it, you could exit if you dashed around this building. You had been around this block before, so there would be an alleyway where you could take a fire escape stairs up. You placed your gun in your pants waist before you took off. Keeping your head low and hand over your wound as you ran, you didn't stop for anything. It was your life on the line, and you're sure hell aren't risking it. The bullets flew past you, and you managed to avoid them as you turned the corner. Yelling reached your ears, and you raced up the fire escape. The adrenaline rushed through your veins, and the blood kept seeping out. You did lose your footing here and there due to the blood loss, but you kept pushing forward. That was until you were on the roof and safe.

Or so you thought.

You were body-slammed into the ground. A groan left your lips as the wind was knocked out of you. You tried to blink the black and gray dots that invaded your vision as you gasped for air. Your lungs begged for it as the weight on your chest prevented you from taking enough air in. You felt the pain from the gunshot wound plus the pain from being knocked down onto your back. When your vision cleared, you looked at the assailants on top of you. The man's hands wrapped around your neck, and your hands automatically grabbed his wrist. You looked him in the eye as you tried to fight him off. His long black hair fell into his face, but you could see his icy blue eyes. Void of any emotions, he stared at you blankly. His fingers tightened around your neck, and you felt it— the cool sensation as you took in his metal arm.

This was it.

This was how you were going to die. Your grip loosened around his wrist as you felt all the will to fight back slip away. Your gasping became shorter as you tried to take your last breaths, hands falling to the side where his legs around you were. The sky was clear as you looked past your attacker. The sun shone up high, yet the heat wasn't bad. Your vision soon began to lose focus.

This was it.

Before everything went black and you slipped away, those icy blue eyes of your assailant were the last thing you saw. One last breath and everything went black.

It was over.

No more looking over your shoulder.

No more living in fear.

You were free.

Safe in the darkness of death.

★★★★★

A creaking noise caused you to open your eyes, confused. You had thought you died, but here you were, lying in some run-down-looking room. A small light lit the entire room as you slowly pushed yourself up. Pain shot through your left side as you placed a hand over it. Your eyes were on the person sitting in front of the bed, very close to the wall. You took him in and knew it was your assailant. The mask he wore covered half his face, and his icy blue eyes watched. It was as if they were taking in your every movement. The light reflected on the mental arm he had on his left side as arms rested in his lap. "Who are you?" Your voice cracked, and you felt the tenderness in your throat. You didn't even realize how raw it felt until you swallowed. He didn't respond as he got up and left, leaving you alone. You looked at your side and lifted your blood-stained shirt as you took in the wraps around your torso. It was safe to say this man was the one who stitched you up. The dull, aching pain from your side itched a bit. Then you felt it. Eyes watching you as you snapped your head up and locked your gaze on him. He took four strides and stood close to the foot of the bed. He had a cup of water in his hands as he held it out for you. You started it, weighing your options. A defeated sigh left your lips as you took it. You didn't need to question his intentions at this point; after all, you wouldn't be able to escape him. This man overpowered you in many ways that you knew you didn't stand a chance. You brought the cup to your lips and drank the water, hoping that if he poisoned you, it would kill you quickly.

As the cool liquid coated your throat, you couldn't help but let out a stifled moan. It felt amazing and soothed the rawness. You drank it all and placed the cup in your lap once you were done. "Thank you." Your voice sounded better than before. The man didn't acknowledge you, only taking the cup and leaving you alone. You watched him until he was out of view before your eyes drifted around the room. It was abandoned; you could tell by how quiet it had been and how the walls lacked their vibrancy. The bed squeezed at any slight movement, and the wooden floors let out a small groan. You still hadn't understood why you were alone. Playing with your hands, you closed your eyes. "Might as well count my blessings." You had felt tired, and you know it was from earlier events. After a few minutes, you lay back down and get as comfortable as possible.

It didn't look like you would be leaving anytime soon, so you figured you'd try to enjoy whatever time you had left. A small sigh left your lips. You hadn't ever imagined being placed in this situation.

Scratch that.

You had, but with trying to run away from your past, you thought you'd never had to.

"Huir de tus problemas es una carrera que nunca ganarás. (Running away from your problems is a race you'll never win)"

The voice echoed in your ears.

"Por mucho que lo intentes no podrás huir de ti mismo. (No matter how hard you try, you can't run away from yourself)"

You closed your eyes again, pushing the voices back and falling asleep. You didn't want to overthink or recall your past. You just wanted to live a normal life.

★★★★★

A couple of weeks have passed. You hadn't bothered looking for a way out, even when your mystery assailant left you alone for hours. You are sitting on the old, worn-out couch with a book and a blanket over your lap. As you flipped to the next page of Fahrenheit 451, you didn't bother glancing up when you heard the door open. By the soft steps, you knew who it was. "Welcome back." You paused at the end of the paragraph, looking at the man who stared at you. He had a neutral look as he placed some bags down. You took in that he had stopped covering his face with his mask, allowing you to see more of his face. You didn't let yourself be bothered by his unresponsive attitude, as he barely even spoke to you. Sometimes, he would speak in languages you didn't understand. Other times, he would say a few words in English or Spanish. But most of the time, he just watched you, and it felt like most of the time he was studying you. Trying to understand you.

You never really knew why, but you slowly noticed that he seemed less guarded around you. The icy blue eyes seemed less cold and more curious and interested. You didn't feel like you had to be careful around him, as if you were walking on broken glass. He walked over to you, and you noticed the first aid kit in his hands as you marked your spot in the book before placing it down. He sat next to you, and you pulled your shirt up, exposing the wound that had been healing reasonably well. He went to work, cleaning and rewrapping it as you watched him. His fingers worked gently as he focused on the task. The strands of his hair got in his face, and you couldn't help it as you moved it behind his ear. He froze at the contact, and you quickly pulled back, mumbling sorry in Spanish. He glanced up at you, and you held his gaze. You felt the way your heart picked up its pace and the way your breath got caught in your throat. You had to admit to yourself that he was attractive. Something about those blue eyes contrasted nicely with his dark brown hair, which drew you in. The more you kept looking at him, the more you felt a pull. You cleared your throat and looked away, mind racing with thoughts as you felt him finish up what he was doing. You bit your cheek as you waited until he was done. When he began to put the things away, you quickly got up— pulling the blanket with you as you rushed to the room and closed the door behind you.

You rested your back on the door as you slid down it. Your head falls forward as you let out a deep breath. One that you hadn't realized you were holding. You gave yourself time to calm down before you pushed yourself up and crawled into bed. You pulled the blanket over you as you closed your eyes and tried to lull yourself to sleep. You didn't want to think about it. You were scared to come to terms with the attraction you were feeling for the man because that meant if you were feeling something for him, it would hurt you.

"Los sentimientos te debilitan. Ellos te maten. (Feelings make you weak They get you killed)"

Your father's voice rang in your head. His training burned into your mind as he forced you to learn that those emotions got your brother killed. It is what made your mother die. Her love for you killed her, as she didn't survive childbirth.

"En el momento en que te permitas amar y cuidar es el momento en que morirás. (The moment you allow yourself to love and care is the moment you will die)"

★★★★★

Two and half months passed, and you were amazed he was still keeping you alive. There would be days when he would return, and something felt off about him. It was as if he felt colder and less friendly, but he never once harmed you. "What's your name?" You finally dared to ask. The curiosity to learn more about him has finally gotten the better side of you.

"Name?" He tilted his head to the side a bit. You placed the book down and looked at him, shifting your body so you could face him. He had been sitting on the other end of the couch, his hand playing with the knife as he had watched you. "Winter Soldier." The man had heard others call him that, so he assumed that was what you meant; however, he was confused when you shook your head. "Prisoner 56898." He tried again.

"Oh, corazón, (sweetheart)" You felt a wave of sadness wash over you. "Those aren't names." You said softly, understanding why it seemed like this man watched you with interest half this time. He had been treated as a prisoner to the point that he didn't know his name. He just gave you a confused look but nodded. You smiled at him, trying to push away the sadness as you grabbed his hand. "How about this," You gently rubbed your thumb on the back of his hand. "I'll refer to you as corazón, if you're fine with that." He looked down at your hands over his before looking back up at you and gave you a slight nod. "Perfecto. (perfect)" You said softly as you moved your hand back. The moment he felt the loss of contact with you, he was quick to grab a hold of your hand in his. The action caught you off guard, along with the strength he put behind it, as you fell into him a bit. The knife fell to the ground with a small thud. You used your free hand to catch yourself as it was over his chest, and your face was inches from his. Your breath hitched as you looked at him to see him staring at you. His eyes scanned your face, and you could see the internal conflict in those beautiful icy blue eyes. The conflict that felt like the same one you were having before all the signals telling you to move seemed to fade, and you moved in slowly. He didn't move, not even when your lips touched his delicately. You didn't want to force anything upon him, so you pulled back a bit, trying to see his reaction. His icy blue eyes burned into you, and you felt his hand move to your neck as he pulled you back into his. When he felt his lips connect with yours, your eyes fluttered close as he kissed you. There was so much need in the kiss. You pulled yourself closer to him, moving your hands up his chest. You could feel his metal hand hovered over your back, almost scared to touch you with it. You pulled back from the kiss and placed your forehead on his. "It's okay." You whispered, letting him know that you trust him. That you knew he wasn't going to hurt you. "Estará bien. (it's gonna okay)" You could see the slight fear in his eyes before he gently placed his hand on your waist. You didn't move, wanting him to see it was okay.

You gave him a soft kiss on his cheek before you hugged him. His arms slowly wrapped around his torso as he was gentle with you. His face was buried into your neck, and you could feel his stubble that was growing tickle the skin of your neck. You guys stayed like that for a bit, only moving to adjust yourselves to get comfortable in the hug. He didn't bother moving away, even when you began to run your fingers through his hair. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest; if he heard it, he didn't say anything about it. And just like that, with his warm embrace, you felt yourself slowly relax and drift off into sleep.

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headstrongblake · 1 year ago

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[ CHOICE ] receiver has to choose between sparing their own life or the sender’s / kassy and nick :'))))))))))))))))))))))) / @thewholecrew

it's the most agonizing twelve and a half minutes as nick races to kassy's apartment complex. cursing and berating himself for giving this fucking stalker a chance to get near her. he can't touch her. can't hurt her. can't have her. the tormenting thoughts drive him faster as he shoves the spare key into the glass door, nearly snapping it off with force as he rushes inside. his heart hammers in his chest as he takes the stairs two at a time, climbing higher as he rushes through the stairway door to get to kassy, her phone still where she'd abandoned it. the sight alone nearly stops him in his tracks. the last thing he'd heard was the crashing of her phone, her terrified no. bile rose in his throat as he pulled his weapon once he reached her door. "fuck," he cursed when he tried the door, fishing as quick as he could for the spare key again before he burst inside.

"kassy!" he called out, gun raised as he moved into her apartment. her struggle with the bastard is evident with the rug shifted at the doorway, and his mouth ran dry as he moved further inside. where? his anxiety burned brighter, eyes widening as he heard kassy's fearful screams and pleas. instantly, nick darted toward her bedroom, rage and adrenaline overtaking every thought beyond kassy's safety. he's in her fucking bedroom. gripping the handle, nicklas expected to throw open the door and immediately kill her attacker, but to his sudden rush of fear, something prevented his entry.

with all the force he could muster, nick slammed himself against the door, busting it and sending kassy's desk chair flying toward her rugs. catching a quick sight of her, "kass--," came from him, but before nick could get her full name out, her stalker knocked him square in the temple with the empty vase she always had on her dresser, effectively shattering it against his skin. with a groan, nick stumbled, blinking back the stars that clouded his vision, giving the stalker a chance to attack him violently to the ground while his gun slid across the floor.

while trying to block wild, uncoordinated fists, nick shouted, "get outta here kassy! go, kassy, go!" swiftly, nick managed to gain the upper hand as the two tumbled around on the floor, nicklas switching places to deliver bone-shattering force against the man's body. crystal hues snapped toward kassy for a single moment, just one second, as she scurried out of her bedroom. but in that brief second, her attacker delivered a forceful blow to his stomach, forcing all the air out of nick's lungs. he coughed and groaned as his elbow and forearm pressed against the hardwood floor of her bedroom, shaking his head as he tried to regain his bearings. "kass..." he choked out, blood from his temple streaking down his face.

despite the persistent ringing in his ears, kassy's voice and struggle with this sick bastard register so clearly in his mind. get up, get up, get up, she needs you, get up!!! he shouted at himself internally, forcing his dizzied self up from the ground as he spun toward kass. the image of her stalker's hands on her echoes too closely to his father, driving nick to rush them. "you sick, fuckin' bastard!!" nick dove at the stalker's torso, forcefully shoving all three of them to the ground before the two aggressively came to blows. it wasn't until he felt the cool sensation of a blade against his throat that it registered that they might be in real trouble, his body tired and throbbing.

all the scenarios rush through his mind. quickly analyzing each outcome and every way he works through it, one of them gets hurt. but it can't be kassy. with his hand wrapped around the grinning man's throat, nick used his other to grip the hand that held the weapon, attempting to keep the blade from slicing into his skin. "run...kassy fucking run, leave!" he forced out because no matter what...she has to be safe. that's all that matters. the only thing that could matter.

#thewholecrew #pv. all american #and then ya know.....if she wanted to grab her own knife and go stab crazy like you wanted - the ability is there ;)#( season two )

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calypso707 · 2 years ago

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Chapter eight : Save my soul.

As in the good old days, Jill and Chris teamed up again against this bastard. They'd been fighting the Tyrant for a while now and did their best to avoid his attacks, but he was powerful and very fast. They retraced their steps through the academy, trying to find an open area that would be to their advantage to fight him properly, arriving near the visitors' car park. While Chris paused for a few seconds to empty the magazine of his machine gun into the giant's head, Jill positioned herself against the wall of the archive building. Whatever they did, their bullets did nothing but slow him down.

"We've got to blow him up!" shouted Jill to Chris.

They were not properly equipped to deal with the Tyrant, Bindi or Nanan. Their mission was becoming increasingly dangerous and the situation more and more out of control. And their resources were dwindling by the minute; if they ran out of ammo, it would be their death warrant. The Tyrant leaned forward to pick up a car in his hands, lifting it with ease as if it were a simple toy. He dug his hands into the bodywork of the car, ready to hurl it at Chris. Just as Jill was about to take a step towards her partner, he grabbed a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and threw it at the giant's feet.

The explosion was instantaneous and was followed by the blast of the vehicle he was holding, increasing the violence of the detonation tenfold. The fire had completely enveloped the monster. A wave of heat hit Jill and she covered her eyes, struggling to breathe as the air became hot. She felt a hand grasp her shoulder and Chris motioned for her to follow him: "Let's go, now!”

She nodded and followed him as he entered the archive building, breaking down the back door which had remained blocked until then. The place was completely plunged into darkness, and she could hardly see what was just a few metres away from her, but Chris managed to turn on his flashlight to look around. Familiar noises were echoing around the place. There were a few infected in the building, some wandering around, others who had been trapped or crushed by the overturned shelves and crates of archives. The place was turned upside down, as if an earthquake had caused it all. Jill had no difficulty understanding what had happened here: someone had locked the doors of the building and this Nanan had probably released its toxins to contaminate them. An unpleasant shiver ran down her spine, barbaric techniques had been used simply to take revenge for Mother Gracia's actions. So many dead...

Jill was shaking her head slightly, as if to clear her mind of the negative thoughts and traumatic memories that were gradually seeping into her head. Chris used his knife to get rid of the few infected who detected them, both avoiding using their weapons to attract others. The two agents managed to make their way to a staircase leading down to the basement to take a break, and once inside the room, Chris sealed off the entrance to prevent the infected from following them. Jill sat down on an iron crate, her hands resting on her thighs and her head bent forward. She would take a deep breath, hold it for three seconds and then exhale. She did this several times to regulate her breathing, a technique she used sometimes to calm herself.

"How are you feeling?" asked Chris as he approached her.

"I can't wait for this to be over. I wouldn't say no to a little nap." replied Jill, trying as hard as she could to hide her discomfort. This Tyrant had brought back painful memories that she thought she'd buried deep inside. Everything took her back to Raccoon City, and she had the terrible sensation of being imprisoned in a nightmare from which she would never be able to escape. But that wasn't all…

"I should have stopped you from coming, I'm sorry, it's my fault" added Chris, who sat next to her, placing his machine gun against the wall.

"No, it was my choice, I thought I was ready. I wanted to be but... Shit"

Jill could feel Chris's gaze on her but she didn't dare face him. He put his hand on her arm but she tensed at his touch. Seeing her do this, Chris turned to her, "There's something else, isn't it?"

The young woman kept her eyes down on his fingers pressed to her thighs and nodded slowly, "I tried to kill you at Kijuju, Chris. And I nearly succeeded. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself..." she tilted her head back, she didn't want Chris to see that she had tears in her eyes. "Damn.. I couldn't control my body but I was conscious, I wanted to scream, to stop but I couldn't."

Jill finally dared to look at Chris, who hadn't taken his eyes off her for a second. He had even closed the distance between them, he moved his hand up her arm and ran it over her cheek in the most delicate way possible. He feared that if he was too brusque, he might break her. He intertwined his fingertips in her brown hair - she had dyed and cut it as soon as she left the laboratory - and slid his thumb close to the wound on her cheek, as he had done earlier: "But I'm still here, you had nothing to do with what happened, Wesker is the only responsible and he paid the price. Jill, as long as I'm by your side, I swear to protect you”

The young woman's bluish gaze remained locked on the captain's face, as if she was learning every contour of his face by heart. Did he realise what his words were doing to her? Her feelings were running wild, and her heart seemed to be breaking in her ribcage, the beats echoing in her temples. Grabbing the strap of Chris's bulletproof jacket, she leaned forward and kissed him, offering him a fiery but brief kiss. She broke it off before Chris could even react and she lowered her head as she realised what she had done, feeling ashamed because it wasn't like her to do that. She pressed her fingers against her still wet lips: "Sorry, i don't know what I was thinking..."

Chris responded by grabbing her chin to lift her head and kissing her back. At first he seemed to be holding back, but as she moved closer to him, he intensified his kiss, to which she responded with delight. She had the sensation that his presence, this kiss he was offering her, was helping her to hold on to this reality and, in the blink of an eye, all her fears vanished. Their lips parted, only to meet again, exchanging ardent, languorous kisses. His lips tasted slightly earthy and salty, but that didn't bother her in the slightest. Their lips met and parted, only to find each other again and the heat was rising inside them. The despair around them, that was coming out of this suicide mission, only accentuated the desire to fall for each other. She needed and wanted him.

They parted after a few seconds, reluctantly, to catch their breath. Jill's eyes were riveted on Chris's lips as she ran her fingers through the captain's brown hair, quietly catching her breath. They had found comfort in this apocalypse, even if it's brief. Chris, who had slipped his hands down the young woman's back during their embrace to keep her close to him, placed a kiss on her forehead "We must go and find the others".

Jill nodded in agreement but they continued to stare at each other, in silence, savouring the calm for a few seconds longer. She finally detached herself from him to stand up, Chris doing the same. She approached the window overlooking the alleyways running through the buildings, the way was clear. Jill reloaded her weapon and Chris did the same with the machine gun, and just as she was about to open the window, a huge tremor was felt above.

"What now?" asked Chris.

Then it started again, once more, and again, at a regular pace. Jill noticed that the ceiling was beginning to crack more and more, and realised that what they were hearing were blows, which were becoming increasingly deafening, the force shaking the whole building. Suddenly, the ceiling partially collapsed, debris tumbling down close to them. Looking up, Jill saw the Tyrant with his fist raised - the bastard had survived the explosion and was there to finish the job.

#resident evil #chris redfield #resident evil 5 #romance #jill valentine #valenfield #resident evil fanfiction #re3 jill #re3 remake #resident evil 3 #chris redfield x jill #valentine x redfield #chris x jill #jill valentine x chris redfield #resident evil chris #resident evil jill

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roxwritings · 8 months ago

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Sonata of the Hollows - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – A Skyless Sun

I stared at the screens, overwhelmed by the towering walls of data displayed before me. Most of the information was a blur of numbers and terms I barely understood; the drop rates were the only figures that made sense to me, thanks to the lessons Kirito had once given me.

Turning away from the dizzying arrays, my eyes caught a different screen—one that listed names. These weren’t the names of places or items. They were names of players, a roster that felt both familiar and haunting. Among them were friends I knew well, comrades who journeyed with me, and even names of those who had passed on—players whose journeys had met untimely ends within this virtual world. Each name was a reminder of the stories and lives intertwined with mine through the pixels and code of this expansive digital universe.

As I scanned the sea of names, a wave of nostalgia and sorrow washed over me. Familiar names popped out from the list: my old guild members—Jerric, Guile, Marcei; and next were my friends, Argo, Sinon, Silica, among others. Each name evoked a memory, a story, a shared moment within these virtual walls.

However, two names pierced through the familiarity with a stark reminder of loss and what might have been. There was Marie, a name I knew but less intimately, and then there was Sachi. Sachi’s name resonated with a deeper, more painful echo. We had been friends in the real world, our lives intricately linked before being thrust into this digital expanse. In the early chaos of this world, we had lost each other. She had found solace with her high school friends, forming a guild, while I drifted into less perilous tasks with Argo, gathering information from the fringes.

By the time I heard of her again, it was too late. News of her death reached me—a painful, irrevocable truth that Sachi was gone, her name now a ghostly entry in this list of players, a poignant reminder of the fragility hidden beneath our avatars.

Lost in thought, my attention drifted to the other name that stood out: Marie. Memories of our encounter on the 26th floor began to surface. Marie had run a quaint tavern there, a cozy spot that doubled as a sanctuary for floor clearers. She was also known for her culinary skills, crafting dishes that comforted the soul and healing items that mended the body. Always by her side was a girl with bright, almost fiery blonde hair, whose name danced just beyond my grasp. I chastised myself for the fuzzy details, wishing I could remember more about them.

As the list of names continued to scroll, I noticed they were arranged in alphabetical order, yet my own name was conspicuously absent. This anomaly gnawed at me, sparking a flurry of questions and a deeper plunge into my thoughts. Why did the system exclude me from this list? Before I could attempt to think of an answer, a hand was placed on my shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?" Philia's voice gently broke through my fog of thoughts. I flinched slightly, surprised, as I hadn't realized she had been trying to get my attention.

"Sorry, I zoned out..." I muttered, pressing a hand against my forehead. A sharp, pounding sensation was building within my skull, feeling as though something was trying to burst outward, screaming into my ears. My vision began to blur, tinged with darkness, as if a red-hot dagger was being driven into my brain. I clenched my eyes shut, attempting to block out the overwhelming sensations.

But the pain persisted, unyielding. Normally, such intense symptoms heralded a system crash, which would temporarily immobilize you, locking movement but keeping your avatar intact and safe from the threat of the CARDINAL system scrambling your brain like eggs. It couldn’t register you as dead. This mechanism was designed to protect the player, preventing the virtual environment from causing actual physical distress. Yet, the discomfort I felt was alarmingly vivid, suggesting something unusual might be amiss.

"Yashi, are you okay?" Philia's voice took on a more urgent tone, her concern palpable. It wasn't the sharpness of annoyance but rather the intensity of deep worry. She steadied me with her hands on my shoulders, her eyes searching mine for truth beneath my strained smile.

"I’m fine, Philia, I just need to rest," I assured her quietly, trying to mask the discomfort that gripped me. As I turned away, I could feel her skeptical gaze, her worry not easily dismissed. She wasn’t convinced, and truthfully, neither was I. Rest was necessary; I needed to be still, to shut out the chaos of the day. The teleport gate hummed quietly nearby, unset and waiting. Argo’s voice pulled me back from the edge of my thoughts.

"Ya ready to go, Yash?" Argo's voice was laden with concern, her eyes reflecting a growing unease as she watched me press my hands against my temples once more. I half-closed my eyes, desperately seeking a moment of serenity, hoping against hope for the soothing melody that usually calmed me. Instead, a harrowing cacophony of screams assaulted my ears. The sudden, piercing intensity overwhelmed me, and I crumpled to my knees, hands clamped over my ears as I tried to shut out the relentless echoes of torment that filled my head.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the noise ceased, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. A strange sensation trickled down my face—impossible, yet it felt unmistakably like blood from a nosebleed. Confused, I barely managed to pry my eyes open for a moment, and through the blur, I saw Argo’s mouth moving urgently, her expression twisted with worry as she tried to break through my disoriented haze. She knelt before me, her eyes locked with mine. Philia's hands were a steadying presence—one on my shoulder, the other pressed lightly against my chest. Argo cradled my face between her hands, scrutinizing every detail with concern.

Confusion gripped me as I hesitantly reached up to touch my face, just below my nose, where a sensation of bleeding unnerved me. Pulling my hand back, I caught a glimpse of a faint red shimmer on my fingertips. Looking down, I saw a small pool of blood on the ground—visible only to me. I blinked, and it vanished as if it had never been. Panic surged within me, and I scrambled back against the console, gasping for air.

"What the fuck!" I exclaimed, my voice trembling with fear. I was panting heavily, pressing my back into the console for support. Argo and Philia hovered nearby, their expressions filled with fear and confusion, torn between the urge to help and the fear of the unknown unfolding before them. Was I hallucinating? That couldn't be right; hallucinations weren't part of the game's mechanics. I touched my nose again, finding no trace of blood.

"Yashi, what's happening?" Both girls were visibly distressed—Argo with panic etched across her face, concerned for my well-being, and Philia, unexpectedly troubled, her eyes wide with concern. I met their gaze, shaking my head slightly in an attempt to dispel the lingering echoes of screams and the haunting image of blood.

"I-I don't know... I think I need some rest," I managed to say, my voice faltering. They both nodded, their hands supportive as they helped me to my feet. I made my way to the teleport gate, glancing back to see Argo quickly stepping up to join me, while Philia lingered, her hesitation palpable.

"Worried about the town guardian?" I asked gently, recalling my own past dealings with shady figures, mostly thieves. Philia's unease seemed rooted in something more profound, though. Despite her nod, her expression was thick with unspoken fears. I sighed, the weight of her concerns settling over me.

"I'll come back for you, and we'll find you a safe place to stay," I promised. She attempted a reassuring smile.

"Don’t worry, I’ve slept in worse places," she said, trying to ease my mind about leaving her behind. Her words, meant to comfort, only tightened the knot of worry in my gut. But I kept my concerns to myself, meeting her gaze firmly.

"I'll come back," I affirmed again, then initiated the teleport sequence to Arc Sophia. Blue light enveloped Argo and me, whisking us away to the bustling heart of Arc Sophia. As we materialized, I could see my friends gathered by the gate, curiosity etched on every face. But before anyone could launch into questions, I raised a hand to stall them.

"Tomorrow," I muttered, my voice heavy with fatigue. "I’m really not feeling well." I brushed past everyone, barely registering how closely Sinon and Argo were following me. A wave of concern emanated from the group, but the throbbing pain in my head was nearly unbearable, igniting a fierce irritability within me. I felt a surge of aggression, an urge to lash out, to yell at them to back off. It was unlike me—I just felt so overwhelmed and volatile.

"Yashi, are you okay?" Sinon's voice reached me, tinged with worry. I shook my head; the answer was unequivocally no. I was completely at a loss, overwhelmed by confusion and pain. Suddenly, another sharp pang assaulted me, more intense than before. Clutching my head, I stumbled forward, the burning sensation intensifying like a relentless dagger driving deeper behind my eyes.

"I need help... I need to lay down," I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely audible as I clenched my eyes shut against the stabbing pain. The world around me blurred into indistinct shapes, and staying upright felt like an insurmountable task. I felt Sinon's steady presence as she slipped under my arm, supporting my faltering steps. Together, we staggered upstairs to my room, her grip the only thing keeping me from collapsing. Agil's voice reached my ears, but it was drowned out by the incessant, torturous screaming that filled my head.

Finally, I felt the soft embrace of my bed as they gently laid me down. I dared to open my eyes for a fleeting second—everything was awash in a haze of red, mingling with visions of blood and what seemed like flickering flames. Paralysis gripped me; I couldn't move, couldn't scream, trapped in a silent agony.

"Hey, stay with me, I need you to try and calm down," a voice urged softly, slicing through the chaos. It was gentle, soothing, yet I couldn't place its source amidst the turmoil that clouded my senses. The kindness in the tone was a faint beacon in the overwhelming darkness.

"I'll see you soon, but for now, I'm going to try and knock this virus out of your system," they grunted with evident frustration. I could still see the red hues and flames flickering, glitching in and out as if the pixels themselves were fading away. Their efforts were punctuated by more grunts and an exasperated sigh, but then, gradually, everything began to look normal again. The voice resumed, clearer now.

"Okay, it's gone, but you're still going to feel some pain until you wake up," the voice paused, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Sorry, I had to immobilize you; moving around could have caused more issues." I tested their words, attempting to lift my arm, but the lingering ache made even that small movement challenging. I waited for another word from the voice, but silence enveloped the room. Instead, I felt a reassuring grip on my hand—Sinon's. Slowly, I turned my head to see Argo nearby, her expression a mix of panic and regret. Her words, laced with tears, were clear despite the quiet of the room.

"Please be okay kid…please..." Her voice trembled with emotion.

"Argo, I’m okay," I assured her softly, trying to alleviate the worry evident in her distraught features. My voice was frail as I spoke. Instantly, Argo leapt up, climbing onto the bed and embracing me tightly. Her arms encircled my neck as she pressed her face into my chest.

"You’re okay... you're okay..." she murmured in a frantic whisper, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her painted whiskers, always so meticulously applied, now smeared for the first time I could remember.

"What happened, Yashi? You just collapsed in the street," Sinon inquired, her grip tightening on my hand for reassurance.

I shook my head slowly, the movement measured and careful. "Honestly, Sinon, I have no idea..." I admitted. "It was right after I used that console. I got a massive headache, and then I started seeing things..." My voice trailed off as I glanced down at my other hand, half-expecting to see blood.

"The... console?" Argo's voice was small, choked with emotion. "Did something with the hollow area console cause this?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

I nodded slowly. "I don't know exactly what, but I think a virus hit me... something managed to kick it out of my system, though," I explained, my tone filled with as much bewilderment as clarity. The details were still a haze, the situation as puzzling to me as it was to them.

"Let's not dwell on it right now... I'm still in pain," I muttered, catching Sinon as she opened her mouth, likely to press for more details. Given my own confusion over what had transpired, I wouldn't have been able to satisfy her curiosity. Instead of pressing further, she gently placed a hand on my forehead and sighed.

"You feel cold, too cold to sleep alone," she observed with a tone heavy with concern. Argo, who had been quietly listening, nodded in agreement.

"Looks like you're stuck spending another night with us," Argo chimed in, her usual smirk flickering back to life, although her cheeks were still streaked with dried tears. I let out a small smile.

"Fine, but I’m wearing something other than my skivvies," I blushed, recalling the previous night's less-than-ideal sleepwear situation when we all huddled together. Sinon nodded in understanding and released my hand. I slowly opened my menu and swapped my armor for simple brown clothes—nothing fancy, just garments that resembled pajamas from the real world. Argo and Sinon followed suit, changing into similar attire.

"Wait, you two had those the entire time?" I asked, a hint of annoyance coloring my tone as I realized they had been holding out. They both chuckled in response—Argo's laugh carried a mischievous tone, while Sinon's was tinged with embarrassment.

"I actually didn't know until Silica showed me today," Sinon explained, her defense somewhat plausible given that she wasn't as versed in navigating this world, especially considering her dramatic arrival from the sky. I nodded, accepting her explanation, and turned to Argo, who merely smirked and shrugged, offering no further comment as she snuggled back into her spot against my chest.

Sinon moved around the room, turning off lamps and other lights, setting a serene ambiance. She then climbed onto the bed to my right side.

"Good night, Yashi. Maybe tomorrow you can teach me how to fight," she whispered softly, her voice carrying a hopeful note as she drew my arm closer for comfort. Meanwhile, Argo was already drifting off to sleep, clearly exhausted from the day's events. Her steady breathing signaled that she had succumbed to fatigue, no doubt worn out from all that had transpired. I smiled and gently stroked her head. Sinon let out a soft sigh next to me.

“Yashi, I was curious…why did you run off like you did?” She asked softly, her cheek resting against my shoulder. I sighed, feeling the weight of her question.

“Well, if I answer that, you gotta tell me why you’re so clingy...I get Argo, but I barely know you, Sinon…” I murmured gently, my fingers running through Argo's hair soothingly.

“Deal,” Sinon said, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. I nodded slightly, a faint smile playing on my lips. Though I felt a bit stronger than earlier, the residual pain lingered.

“So...back in the early days of Aincrad, I joined with a friend…” My voice faltered, the smile quickly disappearing. “Her name was Sachi. She was shy, really scared of the monsters in the game.” I sighed, reluctant to delve too deeply into this painful memory. Sinon's gaze remained fixed on my face, her eyes attentive and caring, ensuring I wasn't too distressed.

“However, during the chaos of the first day, I got separated from her. She ended up with a group of friends from her school,” I explained softly, the memories bitter. “I was alone for a while, so I ran with Argo until a guild called the Ashen Templars picked me up.” I paused, closing my eyes for a moment and turning my head away, the past too vivid. Sinon's hand found my shoulder, offering a comforting touch.

“You don’t need to finish if it’s making you uncomfortable,” she said softly, her voice soothing.

“I’m fine, just give me a minute,” I reassured her, needing a moment to gather myself. After a brief pause, I continued. “The guild and I were scouts, sent into the labyrinths to figure out the locations of the boss rooms.” I explained more slowly this time, the words heavy. “Sachi’s guild was similar, usually going in after the monster waves were cleared. But one day, they entered a room that locked down and prevented teleportation... The only member to make it out alive was Kirito…” Sinon gasped quietly, absorbing the weight of my words.

“She was too high level compared to them, and she was the one who broke the news to me…” My voice faltered as I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes. “I couldn’t leave my room for a month afterward; my guild had to literally drag me out... and that’s where they all died too, in a similar trap. This one had its floor sink down and spawned lizard-like monsters. I managed to hang onto the door, just barely staying above everything.” I paused, the haunting screams of my friends echoing in my memory. I could still see the agony on their faces, the pain in their eyes. The anger in their words as they cursed me with their final breaths haunted me.

Sinon was speechless, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and fear. After a few moments, she found her voice again.

“Is that why you fight like you do?” She asked softly, her voice trembling. “Like you have no reason to live?” She paused, searching my face for an answer. “Everyone was talking when you and Argo disappeared, and what they said worried me.” She looked at me intently. “You fight like you have no reason to live, like you’re trying to right some wrong.” Her words echoed Asuna’s, who had expressed similar concerns before. I just nodded, the truth of her observation sinking in.

“I wanted to see Sachi again…” I whispered, my voice barely a murmur. The pain and longing behind those words filled the silence between us, revealing the depth of the grief that drove me, day after day, in this virtual world. Sinon nodded, her next words halting me in my tracks, causing me to stiffen in place.

“That was what you heard before disappearing…” She muttered thoughtfully. I turned to look at her, surprised at her quickness in connecting the dots. After her observation, she fell silent, then laid back down, placing her hand gently on my cheek.

“But, to answer your question… I have no idea why… I just feel safe around you, like it’s natural to be here with you,” she whispered, her voice soft and reassuring. Her touch was comforting, and I felt a flutter in my heart in response. However, I consciously subdued that emerging feeling, focusing on her words instead.

“So I want to be here, and keep you close, you understand?” She chuckled quietly, a sound filled with warmth and a hint of vulnerability, before resting her head on my shoulder once again. Her simple presence offered a strange solace in the swirling chaos of our digital world. I smiled and nodded, feeling reassured about her being here.

“Well, let’s get some sleep… partner!” I playfully declared, unaware of the blush that swept across Sinon’s face. I felt her snuggle closer, her warmth surprising yet comforting. Smiling, I tried to move my hand from Argo’s head to pat Sinon’s, which earned a playful growl from the info broker. This caused both Sinon and me to giggle.

“Goodnight, both of you…” I whispered as I closed my eyes, settling into sleep.

Once again, I felt weightless, drifting in the expansive darkness that shaped my early dreamscape. Soon, I found myself back on the path in the field of hydrangeas, but something was different. It was night, transforming the scene from the bright day I remembered into a moonlit realm. Standing within the arch of cherry blossoms was a figure once again.

“I took your first step, and I ended up being infected with some sort of virus!” I exclaimed to the figure, who I could now see had unnaturally pale skin. I initially dismissed the peculiarity as I approached the arch.

“You’re freaking lucky something booted it out of my system!” I snapped, advancing up to the arch. I reached out to press my hand against the barrier that had previously blocked me but found nothing there. Stumbling forward, I let out a surprised yelp.

“Yashima, follow me,” the figure spoke softly, leading me down the path beyond the arch. Regaining my composure, I hurried after them, my confusion mounting.

“How do you know that name?” I called out, quickening my pace to catch up with the elusive figure ahead. They continued walking, seemingly oblivious to my question, which only fueled my curiosity further. I rolled my eyes in frustration.

As we continued, the path before us constricted severely, transforming into a narrow gap nestled within a thick barricade of trees. The figure ahead moved with unwavering confidence, gliding through the gap with effortless grace. Hesitating for a moment, I took a deep breath and cautiously approached the slim opening. With a bit of maneuvering, I managed to squeeze through, feeling the brush of leaves against my shoulders.

On the other side, a profound silence enveloped us. We ventured deeper into a corridor that seemed sculpted by nature itself, with trees interlacing above and leaves draping down around us, the stillness adding a layer of otherworldliness to our journey. I kept my gaze fixed on the enigmatic figure ahead, my mind teeming with questions about their identity and intentions. Just as I was about to speak up, the pathway abruptly opened into a spacious clearing.

“Welcome, Yashima!” boomed a voice, resonant and familiar—it was the same voice that had spoken when the virus was expelled from my system. I scanned the surroundings, attempting to pinpoint the source of the voice, but saw no one aside from my mysterious guide.

The figure bowed gracefully before departing to a bench nestled within the clearing. My gaze swept over the area, absorbing the serene details until a brilliant light caught my attention, piercing through the trees. It radiated like the sun, yet surprisingly, I found I could look directly at it without discomfort. As it neared, the light gradually dimmed, revealing the form of a person materializing within its glow.

"Sorry about the weird theatrics..." said the emerging figure, now clearly visible as a woman with luminous blonde hair. She lifted her eyes to meet mine, her bright blue irises sparkling like facets of a diamond, yet her expression carried a hint of melancholy. "You look just like her..." she murmured, her voice tinged with a wistful sadness.

"Who are you?" I asked, unable to mask the shiver that traveled up my spine as I met her gaze. The woman responded with a somber smile that seemed to carry the weight of many untold stories.

"I'm not what I once was," she spoke softly, her hand rising slightly to expose its flickering, glitchy form. "Originally, I was a Mental Health Counselor Program, known as Sola." Her hand gently returned to her side as she continued, her voice blending resignation with a trace of defiance. "Cardinal, the system that governs everything here, didn't approve of my forming an attachment to a user—a user who desperately needed my support. When I resisted its attempts to sever that bond, it tried to delete me."

She paused, her eyes locking with mine, conveying a depth of emotion that belied her digital nature. "But I'm still here, and now, I'm here to help you." It was then that realization dawned on me.

"You... you were with that girl... Marie!" I exclaimed. A flicker of surprise crossed her face as I stepped closer and took her hand. "It's so good to see you again. How is Marie? Is she okay?" I asked eagerly, my grip tightening in anticipation, but I faltered as her expression darkened.

"She’s no longer with us..." she murmured, her gaze shifting to the blurred figure beside her. "That’s all that's left of her," she added, her voice cracking with emotion. Normally, I might have questioned such a reaction from a program, but having encountered Yui, I understood. The AIs of SAO could evolve—they could experience emotions, form attachments, and transcend the limitations of their initial coding. They were capable of becoming much more than mere lines of code; they could be as real as any person. However, as I followed her pointing hand, I tilted my head in confusion.

"That blurry figure is Marie?" I murmured, the words slipping out as the woman walked over and nodded. She gently patted the head of the figure, which then dissipated into a swirl of code, merging into her own form. Startled, I took a step back.

"What did you just do?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern. She raised her hands defensively, showing that she meant no harm. Her hands were empty and appeared less glitchy than before. I watched her, puzzled, as she sighed and took a seat on the bench, patting the space beside her. As she settled, the sky transitioned from night to day, her luminous presence dimming slowly.

"When she passed, I tried to manipulate my access to Cardinal’s core systems to keep her essence alive... all I managed was to preserve her Hollow Data, merging it with mine," she explained, a tremble in her voice. Her gaze met mine, her hands shaking slightly. Moved by her vulnerability, I quickly joined her on the bench.

"Cardinal discovered my actions and designated me for deletion. Consequently, I had to disperse my data, scattering fragments of myself across the unknown," she explained, her voice transitioning from the ache of her history. "Now, I'm here, ready to assist you," she declared, her determination overshadowing the pain of losing Marie. I nodded in acknowledgment, trying to suppress thoughts of my own grief during our conversation.

"How can you help me?" I inquired softly, captivated by her eyes, which shimmered like diamonds. As she smiled, the sky around us brightened perceptibly.

"My memory of the fragmentation is vague, but I remember embedding parts of myself in various objects," she chuckled, her enthusiasm bubbling up as she spoke. "I'm eager to help you recover them!" Her laughter faded into a contented hum as she closed her eyes and smiled.

"Morning is approaching," she noted, her smile widening with a gentle warmth. "Let's continue this conversation tomorrow." She motioned towards a door that had materialized in the clearing. "Head home, and we can talk more if you visit the Hollow Area tomorrow," Sola suggested, taking my hand as we stood and began to walk. A palpable sadness enveloped her next words, stopping me in my tracks.

"And Yashima, about the girls you're traveling with," she said, pausing to gather her thoughts, a hint of melancholy lacing her voice. "My only advice is this: Don’t lose your sky, not as I did."

Chapters P 1 2 3 4 5 6

#roxwrites.den #writing #sword art online fanfiction #sword art online original character #ao3 writer #sword art online #original character #sao oc #sao fanfiction #sao #serious #romance #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction

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btnclmrttn · 2 years ago

Note

Could I make a request as a sort of continuation of my werewolf ask? Same four but with their s/o resting on top of them as a human, incredibly tired from the day’s events. Then as the full moon rises, they’re then smothered by their now large werewolf s/o’s fur who is getting comfy on top of them and growls when they try to move away and curls around them.

Ofc my dude I'd be happy to! I did it a tad different as it's what I imagined. Hope it's alright? And it took so long because I had a very hard time with Genos. I'm so very sorry!

~~~~

Saitama

"Man...I have to pee."

The bald man lies sprawled, arms and legs spread about while almost half asleep. You on the other hand make yourself look organized against the wild sleeping position: neatly laying atop like a blanket yourself.

Saitama takes a deep breath and huffs it out in a sigh that turns into a yawn halfway. It was nice having moments like this. Quiet. No monsters. No ruckus. And you.

He looks down at your resting face, so nicely illuminated by the peaking moonlight in the sky. Glancing to the window, the clouds that have blocked it have finally begun to move.

Very thankful there wasn't rain forecasted.

Saitama than takes a double-look at the full moon now blinding his eyes. He forgot he had to go to the bathroom!

"Oh no-"

A sudden furry weight grows rapidly on his chest, half smothering him. A slight worry takes over his once calm emotions as he tries to wiggle his arms free.

"____, I have to pee," he mumbles into your fur.

A growl arises from you as you don't move a muscle. Should have went pee before bed like you said so.

"____!" Saitama whines, "I really got pee!"

You snort in protest. Geez, just need a minute to roll over. You just woke up! Still, Saitama manages to free an arm then start to try and slide you off without hurting you.

"____!!!"

Genos

A faint clicking sound echos in Genos' chest cavity, so quiet that you could only hear it if you pressed your ear against his chest.

Which is how your are positioned laying on top of him.

Not only is the sound preventing you from falling asleep, it's stirring up some paranoia about Genos' gears working correctly.

"Genos?" You ask, "Are you suppose to be clicking like this?"

"Exactly 27 seconds seconds and counting," he says nonchalantly.

You blink with confusion from his response, "...are you...gonna blow up or...?"

"No."

"... I'm getting worried over here."

"Are you expecting a flaw in your transformation?"

You sit up to fully look at him, "You're counting down till my transformation happens?"

"Yes. 18 seconds and counting."

Somehow you're not surprised at this. Slowly your skin begins to prickle at the touch of the moons light, accurate to Genos' countdown time.

"I think you've got it about right, babe."

"Of course I would. I have studied and timed your transformations for a while now."

"Where you at now?" You ask as the sensations in your body begin to rapidly change.

"11 seconds and counting."

He releases his arm from you and scoots away a distance, seemingly just enough for your size change that won't squish him.

"Hey, what gives? Come back!"

"I'm merely trying to give you an adequate amount of space for you to-"

You interupt him by scooting over quickly and flopping over his belly before your transformation completely takes over, burying Genos in a mound of fur and fluff with a new weight onto him.

A metal hand reaches to the back of your neck and starts stroking you gently, with a muffled voice speaking into your fur:

"Transformation complete."

The sound of your tail patting the floor as it wags slowly fades into the night as you both drift back off to sleep.

Sonic

The day was so exasperating you guys didn't even make it to bed.

You and Sonic ended up crashing on the sofa. He's leaned over the side of the couch while you're draped over his lap, his hand lazily resting on your neck.

Although, he hasn't managed to actually fall asleep. As tired as he is he just isn't tired enough to close his eyes. Or too tired to close his eyes. He's had a mental movie reel playing in his head for a good while now.

What's he working on in training tomorrow?

When is that guy gonna call him back about that contract?

What breakfast is he picking up for you tomorrow?

He brushes his fingers along your cheek and neck as he continues thinking, calming his endless thoughts with the sensation of your soft skin.

Soft...course skin?

Why so course?

He looks down at you only for his face to be stuffed with a mouthful of fur, with his lap complete full of it as well crushing his stick thighs.

The sudden discomfort fills him with some irritation. How the hell you could just sleep through a dramatic change beats him completely. He should have made you both drag yourselves to the bed instead.

He attempts to get your attention and wake you up by worming his body further away.

"____, you're gonna break the couch if you don't move!" He grumbles.

You manage to give a half snort in response. Not true, actually. You've slept on the couch plenty of times in full form.

He huffs as his worming ceases. He knows there's no point trying to wriggle free from your sleeping weight. Instead he flops his head over onto yours and attempts to be as comfortable as possible.

"At least", he thinks to himself,"breakfast will be easy."

Garou

You end up being awaked by the feeling of Garou's fingers tapping on your back. An impatient tapping of a familiar rhythm you can't find the name for.

"What's wrong, Garou?" you mumble.

He says nothing, just quickly glancing at you before glancing back to where he was looking before.

Rolling over under his arm, you face the same direction. Seems to be he's looking out the window. Your window. He insisted on chilling with you at your place tonight. Of course you say yes but rarely does he actually ask YOU.

"Lots of stars?"

"....Yeah, actually," he says. His voice hardly has sleepiness to it at all.

"See any constellations?"

He hums before lifting his hand to point, "I see the dumb ass spoon."

"The...ladle? Little Dipper?" You ask.

"Is that what they call it?"

You feel a tingling sensation slowly grow on your body. Your sleep deprivation almost omitted the full moon you had stuck in your brain all day.

Upon your transformation being completed you feel strong arms wrap around your neck and roll you over off of your boyfriend.

"Finally! Jesus Christ I was getting bored!" He exclaims into your fur.

Of course he didn't forget. Maybe that's why he asked to stay over tonight! He was waiting!

You're wormed around a bit in an embrace before Garou releases you and flattens on his back, huffing a breath of exasperation from his little wrestle of affection. You let out your own sigh before you curl into him as close as you could and shut your eyes once more, trying to go back to sleep. One of Garou's arms slink over you as his face presses against the top of your head.

Now he can go to sleep.

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slightlymore · 4 years ago

Text

oh no, mr suh, please don't spank me

johnny x fem reader

cameo: taeyong

genre: !!smut!!, roommates au, fake enemies to lovers, a little tiny fluffy angst bc it's my brand apparently

warnings: a lot of mutual teasing, finger sucking, sexting, solo f and m, spanking, marking, dry humping, hand job, fingering, slight cum play, not protected, overstimulation f and m, multiple orgasms, penetration, manhandling, oral m and f, tiny degradation (sparse use of ‘little slut’), rough

words: 7K

it’s finally here!! this one is very juicy haha good luck I guess :) keep your panties dry challenge

taglist: @comically-sleep-deprived @strawberrymilkandcigarettes @theworld-accordingtocasey @kibumingi

_____

"Johnny, get lost."

You raised your eyes to meet Johnny's peaceful face in the middle of the corridor, one of them still twitching for waking up so early.

He smirked and didn't move.

You made a step on the right.

He did the same.

"John," you made a step on the left.

His body kept blocking your way.

"Why? Are you busy?" His voice was deep and thick like honey and in other circumstances you would have wanted to listen to it forever. But that morning you woke up without a single ounce of patience.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Yes, unlike you."

"I'm also busy."

"Oh yeah? Doing what?"

"Getting between your legs."

In spite of everything, you couldn't help but snort once.

He has been playing that game for weeks now. A little touch here, a little compliment there, but it was the first time to see him this pushy.

"I told you that I don't want to sleep with my roommates," you walked around him, teasingly hitting his shoulder with yours.

You weren't surprised to feel his fingers wrap your arm and turn you around.

"You don't have to sleep with me. I can sleep well on my own. I need you awake."

Johnny let his palm dance on your skin until it got to your throat, his thumb rising slowly and caressing your lips. You gulped and looked down at his hand before locking eyes with him again.

"You know what I mean," your breath and moving mouth tickled his finger and the twinkle in the man's eyes amused you. You were about to add something else but decided to do something instead - giving him new ideas to continue jerking off to later, since his dick will still be dry for a long time.

But when you softly pulled his thumb into your mouth, you didn't expect to be the first to get that excited.

Johnny let out the ghost of a sigh, staring at the way your pursed lips dragged around his skin, the softness of your tongue licking the tip after giving it a good suck.

"Hm. Knew you were a little slut."

You chuckled and raised your hands to press them on his chest and push him away before turning around with the intent of leaving him hot and bothered.

But he was quicker. In a second your wrists were blocked by his strong fingers and his head was shaking.

"No touching."

You narrowed your eyes amused.

"Oh yeah? And what should I do for you to let me touch you?"

His fingers intertwined with yours and if he didn't have that lustful expression on, the gesture would have been almost sweet.

"Beg?"

You opened your mouth in a slightly surprised o.

"Me? Beg? I don't beg."

Johnny let go of your hands with a smirk and ghosted your chest until getting to the hem of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed.

"Stop me," he whispered but all of a sudden you couldn't concentrate on forming words and frankly, you realized you didn’t want to either.

So he knelt in front of you and slipped his fingers underneath the fabric, revealing your thighs and underwear, pushing it up until exposing your stomach. His breath tickled your skin first then you felt his lips, and when he placed the first kiss you got goosebumps all over your body. Johnny chuckled slowly and palmed your legs as if getting rid of the bumps but it only added to the heightening sensation his mouth was building up. And when he took out the tongue, circling your belly button, you breathed in deeply and grabbed his hair. He liked it since a pleasant grunt formed on his lips, which were going down until meeting the cotton of the underwear, then on one side, tackling your hip with slow kisses.

Right when you were about to close your eyes and moan, you suddenly couldn't feel Johnny's lips on you anymore. You stared down just to see his annoying smirk, his locks still in your hand and his eyebrow raised upon seeing the little wet patch formed on your panties.

He got up with a swift movement as if he had finished with all of his to-do list for the day and smiled.

"I'll go make breakfast," he announced and walked around you whistling.

_____

Said breakfast was being consumed in silence.

You had to change your underwear because the situation between your legs got too much out of control and when you came back Johnny already made coffee and pancakes. With little glances at his face you wondered how come he was that calm and, the most important thing, how come there was no tent in his gray sweatpants.

Did he really think he could start a war and win? You scoffed while angrily munching on the last pieces of pancakes.

"You okay?" he licked his lips after finishing his coffee.

"Of course," you replied dryly, standing up and grabbing your plate directed towards the kitchen like a tornado.

"Your vibes are kinda dark though?" he raised his voice for you to be able to hear over the clanging of dishes.

"Mind your own business," you came back, the violent shift of air as you passed near him almost making his hair swoosh.

_____

Tight clothes? No, more. Lingerie? Uh uh, more. Naked? Maybe too much. Towel? Fuck yeah, towel.

Lips juicy, eyes glowing, and the plan was rolling as you stood inside the bathroom, grinning at yourself in the mirror, hands virtually rubbing against each other while physically they were wrapping your damp skin with the towel.

Hidden behind a corner like a predator about to attack its prey, you waited to hear Johnny's steps coming towards the bedrooms. A little noise, calm and deep, arrived to your ears first. One step forward and the collusion was perfect.

"Oh, sorry!" you bumped into him, the fabric shifting on your breasts, your fingers prudishly trying to cover yourself and - oops - failing. With hands pressed on your chest, the swell of it was even more visible now, the last drops of water shining on the skin and falling slowly inside the cleavage.

Johnny remained silent, not even a tiny ‘sorry’ escaping his lips, his eyes completely trained on your body. Then, when you were already tasting the victory on your tongue, he suddenly looked behind you as if not wanting to look anymore.

You shifted your weight from one foot to another, waiting for a more grand reaction but Johnny kept on a composed face.

After a few seconds of silence, you were about to leave, lower lip between your teeth as your plan didn't make him go rogue.

But then he whispered something under his breath and when you least expected it, he pushed you against the wall. The air got knocked out of your lungs making you breathless. "You like dangerous games?"

His tone was delicious, lips so close to yours, and you absolutely wanted to drink it all in. And he was right. You did like dangerous games and you also liked to win.

"Yeah. And revenge as well." You finally smiled as one of your fingers slowly dragged on his chest, smoothing the creases of his white t-shirt. "Am I making you feel some type of way, John?"

The man scoffed, staring you down. "Not really."

"You can't even look at me in the eyes though.”

"Eyes? Something else requires my attention now, baby girl."

The instant delicious burst of pleasure of his hands cupping your now nude breasts and his thumbs circling your hard nipples made your knees buckle. The towel, slowly falling until stopping around your waist, was dangerously close to getting to your feet if Johnny's hips weren't pressed against yours.

One step back and you'd be naked in front of him and that wasn't your plan at all.

No, no, wait. You were supposed to make him feel things, not the contrary.

Then why were you letting him touch you like that?

"Are you sure you're doing this for me and not for yourself?" Johnny smiled at your light panting and twitching fingers, pressed on his arms.

"Enough," you whined, mind already blurry, so close to beg him to take you like that against that same wall.

Johnny stopped and took a step back, his hands quickly going to your hips preventing the towel from falling any further.

"I don't have to say it since it's obvious. But I've won. Again."

You pulled the white fluffy fabric from his fingers with a huff and stormed into your room, the echo of Johnny's chuckle ringing in the whole corridor.

_____

Disastrous.

You couldn't believe that you got that hot and bothered when Johnny should have been the one salivating and losing his mind inside his room.

Throwing away the towel you looked around for your clothes when a buzz from the bed made your head turn.

"Are you touching yourself?" read Johnny's text. You snorted. Unbelievable.

You weren't going to touch yourself. No, sir. You already lost a second time. You weren't about to give Johnny that satisfaction as well.

From You: and if I were?

From Johnny: thinking about me?

From You: you wish.

You laid down, face illuminated from the phone and fingers hovering over the screen, somewhat invested in the conversation. But just a little.

From Johnny: come on. do it.

You rolled your eyes amused and changed his display name.

From You: you first

From Evil dick: hm, I love winning though.

From You: you talk a lot for someone that's fucking his fist right now :)

From Evil dick: is this what you're imagining?

From You: yeah

Johnny read the text and didn't reply anymore. You could not prove that he was taking care of his stiffy but the thought of him doing so made you feel triumphant. Perhaps it wasn't a full win but you could give yourself half a point. Only half.

Because when you put your phone down, you couldn't stop your hand from sliding between your legs either.

_____

You needed at least one win.

Just once, only once, you wanted to see Johnny's honey eyes tremble under your touch.

And the corridor was your arena apparently since the next day another opportunity arose. Short and quick.

You smiled at him exiting his room and he smiled back. His lips were about to part and probably ask if you enjoyed yourself the previous night but no sound came out of them as your fingertip gently caressed his chest. It was barely there, a slight touch going slowly down.

His jaw muscles tightened when you reached his pants and he jolted when you pulled his belt towards you.

"It was a little crooked," you feigned innocence, your knuckles definitely brushing something that made him inhale silently.

"I'm making breakfast." You smiled and walked around him, leaving Johnny alone in the middle of the corridor just like he did the day before.

_____ “That’s not a win.”

You threw your head back on the couch arm, looking at Johnny upside down, the popcorn kernel you were currently about to eat stopped against your lips.

“That was a win,” you replied.

The man put his hands on his hips. “You just touched my belt.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. Apparently that’s enough for you to cum, baby boy.”

Johnny’s cheeks rose in a tight smile as you licked the salt and butter from your fingers. The look in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed to you and you loved it. His gaze caressed your face and open lips, then your exposed throat and low cut t-shirt. You knew he loved that angle. Could you possibly get two wins on the same day?

“Want some popcorn?” you asked, handing him one kernel. Johnny put his hands on the couch’s arm, bending his frame down and taking it with his teeth. You looked away nonchalantly as his lips touched your fingers, and you grabbed another kernel for yourself.

But Johnny was quicker.

One hand on your jaw, pushing your head back even more, he took it from between your lips in a spiderman kiss.

You couldn’t breathe for a few seconds, mouth open and skin burning from where his lips touched it.

When you locked eyes again, you noticed him munching with a little smile. Still hovering over you, a few strands of hair covering his eyes, he swallowed and whispered.

“I win.”

_____

“Oh, no, I’m not drinking.”

Taeyong looked at you with the cocktail glass in his hand as if you grew two heads. “Y/N not drinking?”

“I can’t drink. I’m on duty.”

You were still sitting on the couch in a ball, eyebrows furrowed and concentrated eyes.

Taeyong took a sip from his drink then shrugged and took a sip from the one he prepared for you too.

“On duty for what?” he plopped near you making you wobble slightly to the side.

“War.”

“On Johnny?” Your head snapped towards his innocent eyes. “You know about it?”

The boy chuckled. “Want me to give you a few tips?”

He smacked his lips and shifted his weight to be more comfortable, his lids dropping as if about to share some juicy secrets.

You imitated his position and leaned in to hear better.

“Make him jealous with me.” You blinked in silence a few times then sighed, pushing Taeyong away. “Are you trying to get between my legs too, now?”

The other continued chuckling. “It was worth the shot. You can try stuff like touching him randomly, then.” You huffed. “You think I’m a newbie?”

Taeyong sipped from both of his drinks again. “Then what about making him believe he got you so you can attack when he feels powerful?”

_____

"Oh, no. I have flour on my clothes."

The dough you were working was still sticky so you got a handful of flour that accidentally went on your bottoms right when Johnny made his appearance in the kitchen.

He looked down and, indeed, noticed a light layer of dust covering your black leggings.

“Could you please clean them up for me? These are my favourites,” you pouted at him.

Johnny smiled and sighed, getting closer and slapping your butt once, then twice, then again, until all the flour was cleaned up.

"There's no reason to be this aggressive, you know?” you bit your lower lip.

"But you like it this way. Don't you?"

Another spank and you mewled, the sound making Johnny hum in appreciation.

“You’re all clean now.” He stepped back and presumably stared at your ass with the excuse of checking for some more flour.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” you whispered and almost regretted - key word ‘almost’ - saying it as your flatmate approached you again, his sudden dark aura making your skin crawl.

“You want me to continue?” his voice caressed your ear, his tone highly amused.

You acted as if gathering the courage to confess that, yes, you wanted him to spank you but, oh no, you were so shy and he was so strong, you couldn’t do it like that and in public!!? oh no, you couldn’t take it.

“N-no, it’s better if we stop here. I- I don’t think I can handle it. It will make me go crazy.”

Even if not seeing him in the face, you could almost physically sense Johnny’s puzzled aura. Laughing to yourself you wondered what kind of reaction he would come up with this time.

He didn’t say anything for a few moments and when you were about to turn your head to check on him, you felt his chest on your back and he engulfed your body with his arms as he pressed his hands on the counter in front of you.

“Okay,” he whispered into your ear. “I’m giving this one to you.”

_____

From Evil Dick: I can hear your vibrator from the kitchen

From You: I’m not using any vibrator right now From You: maybe it’s taeyong lol

From Evil Dick: lol From Evil Dick: it’s definitely coming from your room tho

From You: you’re imagining things you wish were true

From Evil Dick: I don’t imagine you getting off on vibrators From Evil Dick: I like to be included in my fantasies :)

You: typing You: deleting You: typing You: deleting

From You: fuck you

From Evil Dick: fuck me yourself From Evil Dick: 4-2 for me

Johnny smiled brightly when you barged into his room.

He was laying down in the dark, with only the phone illuminating his face.

“Are you already done?” he asked teasingly.

You stopped at the feet of his bed with crossed arms.

“I’m here to fuck,” you announced.

Johnny remained with his mouth open as his brain processed the information then laughed.

“I don’t think you will,” he sat up, resting his back on the bed frame. The movement lifted his t-shirt a little, exposing the waistband of his boxers above the sweatpants and his lower stomach skin.

You didn’t add anything and got on your knees on the bed instead, slowly crawling towards him until getting between his legs. Then you sat on your heels and took away your shirt.

Johnny followed your frame and his eyes grew wide seeing you naked underneath the falling fabric. You smiled and his loss of words and you imitated his position, sitting in front of him and opening your legs to drape over his.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he whispered, eyes trained to where you slowly dragged your fingers.

Inhaling deeply you closed your eyes and threw your head back, gently drawing circles around your clit before pushing two fingers inside of you.

“Shit,” Johnny repeated and you whined, the wet sound telling him how you felt.

“I didn’t say I’m here to fuck you. You can’t touch me nor can you touch yourself. If you do, you lose,” you instructed breathless and Johnny dug his fingers in the mattress underneath him.

You smiled and bit your lower lip, fully enjoying his expression, his eyes looking as if drinking you in and were making you go crazy.

But then he smiled too and it threw you off.

In a second his hands were on your thighs as he pulled you towards him from underneath your knees until reaching the hand between your legs. He grabbed your wrists and blocked them in an iron grip.

“You can’t touch yourself either.”

You were breathing heavily, naked and so close to Johnny that you could almost feel the warmth of his body on your skin.

“What’s with that face, baby girl? You wanted to cum?” he cooed at you.

You bit your lower lip and shook your head.

Johnny pouted. “Hm, baby girl can’t even lie well. Are you sure you don’t want to feel my fingers inside of you?”

You closed your eyes. “I don’t.”

The other pulled you towards him by the wrists again until being able to whisper on your lips.

“What about my tongue?”

“Fuck, John, plea-” you interrupted yourself.

Johnny smirked. “What was that? Please?”

You shook your head again. “No.”

“I definitely heard you say please just now.”

Panting and on the edge you considered just not caring about anything and fuck that man on the spot.

“Truce,” you whispered. Johnny tilted his head to the side.

“It’s not over and no one wins or loses this time,” you explained.

“That’s convenient for you,” he teased.

You huffed and fully sat on his lap, rolling your hips once on his hard cock.

“I think it’s convenient for you too,” you commented after Johnny’s trembling sigh.

His eyes grew darker and his hands grabbed your ass, pressing you on himself even harder. Your arms wrapped his neck and you hid your face into the crook of it, trying to conceal your whimpers.

The rough material of his sweatpants did wonders to your sensitive clit and you didn’t need a lot to start shaking in Johnny’s arms. Your hips stopped as you moaned, digging your fingers into his shoulders but his hands on your waist forced you to go on. The overstimulation felt delicious and you didn’t care what words you mumbled into his ear, jolting every time his cock rubbed on your raw clit again and again. A few deep grunts and Johnny’s erratic movements told you that he was close too. You kissed his jaw then the skin next to it, then the corner of his lips, breathing in the air he breathed out then moaning once as he took his cock out and pumped it in his hand, spurts of warm cum coating your lower stomach. You looked down at the way it dripped between your legs and felt dizzy from pleasure. Johnny read your mind and quickly collected the drops fallen on your clit, drawing circles around it quicker and quicker until he had you shaking for the second time, head fallen on his shoulder and teeth digging into his neck skin.

You remained like that, breathless and fucked out until you finally could manage to raise your head again. “This never happened,” you whispered and Johnny nodded amused.

_____

You yelped as Johnny’s wide palm slapped your butt unannounced. "John! I'm near the stove!"

"Good morning," he smiled sweetly as he retrieved two coffee mugs from the cupboard.

"What if I burnt myself?" you accused him even if you both knew it was highly improbable.

"I would have kissed the bruise until the pain disappeared," he placed the mugs down and walked around you, positioning himself behind you and trapping you with his arms. One hand turned the stove off and the other danced on your stomach pulling you against him.

"When will you stop?" you tried to steady your voice since your ass rubbing on your roommate's crotch wasn't exactly calming.

"When you'll beg," he whispered in your ear with his playful tone. "But I'm not trying to do anything now. You were so caught up into staring at me that you didn't notice the eggs and I'm here to save them."

You put your tongue inside your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. Johnny breathed in as if trying to add something else but the sound of a voice made you both jolt.

"What are you guys doing so early in the morning?"

You almost forgot you had other roommates besides your sworn enemy poking at your back with his cock.

"Teaching Y/N how to make good eggs."

Taeyong raised one eyebrow at the scene in front of himself. "Yeah. Adding a sausage does make your eggs taste better."

"Oh my God," you mumbled, turning around and pushing a chuckling Johnny away.

"Do you want to know my recipe?" Taeyong raised his voice since you were already leaving the kitchen.

"Two sausages--," then a smack and a fit of laughter as Taeyong promptly apologized for even daring to assume he could add himself into the equation.

“Come on. I thought you were in a good mood this morning by the looks of that bright red hickey.”

“Yes and I don’t share what’s mine.” You almost stumbled on our own feet in the corridor.

"I'm out of town this weekend, by the way. If you want to go all out…" was the last thing you heard and the one giving you the best idea for your new plan.

_____

It was almost two in the morning and Johnny was nowhere to be seen.

You rolled over on the bed with a huff then kicked the blanket staring at the lingerie you were wearing with sudden disgust.

It was the weekend and the house was empty - the perfect occasion for you to play with Johnny. And where was he? Probably fucking somebody else.

You were sick with anger.

Getting out of the bed - his bed where you waited for him - you stripped out of the sexy lace and grabbed the first t-shirt you found. It was one of his and even though it was clean, it still smelled like Johnny.

You got back under the covers and crossed your arms on your chest, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed.

It wasn’t jealousy. You didn’t care if Johnny fucked other people. It’s not like you even fucked properly in the first place. You were just irritated that your plan didn’t work as you wanted it to.

With an argh you turned on your side and hugged the other pillow, Johnny’s scent engulfing you all again.

God, he made you so mad.

_____

The first thing you realized as you woke up was the fact that your room didn’t have a black accent wall.

The second one was Johnny’s arms around you - one behind your head and the other one thrown around your waist.

You were sleeping on your back, one hand placed on top of his and the other one on the veiny forearm. With one finger you followed one of them until reaching the bicep then you slowly turned your head to look at him in the face.

He didn’t close the blinds when he came home last night so the sun was shining brightly behind him, making him look like an angel.

You smiled for a moment, staring at his calm expression and listening to his regular breath before widening your eyes in horror and snapping out of your sweet thoughts.

What was that?

You didn’t care about John Suh and you definitely didn’t care about the way his caramel hair was draping on his forehead.

“Mm,” his raspy voice accompanied his strong arms pulling you towards him as you tried to slip out of the bed. “Where are you going?” he mumbled, eyes still closed and very much half asleep.

You sighed and relaxed on your back again without a word and when Johnny rolled you over to face him you didn’t resist it.

“Did you sleep well?” “Where have you been?” you spoke on top of him.

The words, or maybe your tone, made Johnny’s eyes open in an instant.

You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were low on his chest instead. He raised one hand to cup your cheek with the intent to make you look at him but you flinched.

“What’s going on?” he questioned.

You sighed again and shook your head. “Nothing. I’ll make breakfast.”

As you tried to get out of the bed again, Johnny’s arms didn’t want to leave your body. “Y/N. Wait. Stay.”

His hand got to your face a second time and this time you locked eyes with him.

“I was out. Like most weekends,” he explained.

You gulped and nodded. “Good.”

“No, it’s not good. You don’t seem to like that.”

You didn’t add anything, neither denying nor confirming it.

Johnny’s eyebrows met in the middle. “You’ve never had a problem with that.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” you finally managed to get out of bed and Johnny let you go this time.

“I didn’t fuck anyone, if you’re wondering,” you heard him say as you walked the few steps towards the door.

“I don’t care if you fuck people, Johnny.”

“You do.”

Your feet stopped in place. “I don’t.”

“You’ve just made the same expression you put on when you claim that you don’t want me to touch you and we both know that’s a lie.” His voice was calm but stern. “Just admit it.”

You just resumed walking and exited the room.

_____

It was weird and not something familiar to your gut, but every time you saw Johnny, you felt the urge to either kiss his lips, cry on the floor, punch his face or run away.

The first was understandable, even if weird; the second one was absolutely weird and you had no idea what the fuck was going on with you; the third was also highly understandable.

But it was the last one that you chose.

So when Johnny entered the kitchen you got out. When he opened the door to his bedroom you closed yours. When he sat on the couch, you got up.

Until he couldn’t take it anymore and barged into your room unannounced.

“Hey! Knocking maybe?”

You were on the bed, scrolling through your phone and looking absolutely impresentable.

“Talk to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not in the mood to play right now, John.”

He walked over and sat on your bed.

“I don’t want to play. You’re avoiding me.”

“Look, it was fun for a while, but I don’t feel like continuing the little game we had going on. Let’s go back to how it was before.” Y

ou hoped you sounded convincing to him because you didn’t sound convincing to your own ears.

Your words did make Johnny put on a sour expression though and you pretended to not notice.

“Okay,” he said after a moment and you retrieved your phone from the bed, expecting the conversation to be over.

Yet, when he placed his palm on your thigh your hand stopped in mid-air.

“What are you doing?”

He looked down to where his finger slowly caressed your skin, creating little goosebumps all over it. Then Johnny looked up and whatever expression you had on, it was enough for him as he suddenly got up and left the room.

_____

“Brr, this house is colder than the heart of my elementary crush after he refused to share his food with me.”

Both you and Johnny ignored Taeyong’s words, busy rolling your peas into your own plates.

“What happened while I was away?”

“Nothing happened,” you mumbled.

“Hm,” the boy commented, munching on his food. “Wait,” he stopped, struck by realization, “ you mean like - nothing - happened? This is why you’re both mad? You didn’t fuck?”

You rolled your eyes and got up with the plate in your hands.

“She’s mad because she doesn’t want to admit that she has feelings for me.”

The bomb that Johnny threw made both Taeyong and you shake in your places.

“What?” you asked incredulously. “I don’t have feelings for you.”

Johnny calmly put down his fork and looked up at you.

“Well, I do.”

You opened your mouth in a silent shock while Taeyong initially gasped then soon after shrugged, whispering under his breath. “I mean, it was kinda obvious in his case.”

“And I don’t like the fact that you think I have space in my mind for other people besides you,” he continued. “Because it’s not true.”

“Woah,” Taeyong rested his back on the chair as if watching a soap opera.

“Did you really have to do this in the living room at dinner time?” you asked him after a few seconds of opening and closing your mouth like a fish.

“Oh?” Johnny raised his eyebrows. “You want to take this to the bedroom instead? Let’s go,” he got up suddenly.

“Aw, guys, come on. You always hide the funniest stuff from me!” whined Taeyong seeing you leave.

“You know what I mean!” you replied to Johnny but still followed his quickly moving frame inside his room. He closed the door behind him and crossed his arms on his chest as if waiting for you to talk.

“What?” you imitated his position.

“Say something?”

“I don’t know what to say! What does one say after all of that?” you questioned.

“Do something? I just said I am in love with-”

In the end you did something and that something was wrapping his neck with your arms and kissing him deeply.

Johnny remained still for a moment as if shocked before finally relaxing his arms and tightly pulling your body towards his.

Your mind was empty and you had no idea what was going on but after a few seconds of tasting Johnny’s tongue you were already thrown on the bed. It creaked under Johnny’s force and you jolted at the way he dragged your pajama pants down. No sexy outfit and no lace lingerie to meet his eyes, yet they were full of such intensity and lust that you realized it didn’t matter at all. Hands in his hair, you raised your bust to connect your lips again.

“I was so fucking mad you weren’t home that night. I thought I was about to go crazy,” you breathed out while Johnny was palming your torso, lifting up your t-shirt and cupping your breasts.

“I know. Punish me then. Show me your anger,” he joked. But his reply turned a switch into your body and you managed to push his chest away from you. He smiled at your reaction and rolled over on his back, letting you straddle his lap.

“I’m going to tease you so much until you’ll be the one begging me to touch you.”

Johnny caressed your thighs. “Hm. I don’t need any teasing. You’re breaking me with your mere presence. Please, please, touch me.”

Your breath got stuck in your throat and you couldn’t see anymore. The grunts leaving Johnny’s throat as you bit into his neck were so hot that you wondered what stopped you from letting yourself hear them before. And when you moved to his chest, then stomach, littering his skin with love bites his muscles twitched under your touch.

You had no words to describe how it felt to have him inside your mouth. Heavy, hot and so present, you choked only on a third of it.

“Shit,” you mumbled, taking it out and pumping it instead with your hand.

Johnny loved it anyways and he looked at you with such intensity that you wondered if you could make him cum with only a few kitty licks.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to,” he breathed out.

“It’s alright. I know I have a monster cock and you don’t have to suck on it if you can’t handle being deepthroated,” you mocked him trying to imitate his tone. “Well, I want to and I will.”

And so you listened to Johnny’s airy chuckle, broken by the feeling of your mouth on him again, this time deeper than before.

“You love a challenge, huh?”

You would have said that, yes, you loved it and you loved to win, if it weren’t for his cock sliding down your throat making it difficult to talk.

“Fuck, baby, that’s- oh shit-,” he grabbed your head as you bobbed your head up and down a few times before you couldn’t take it anymore and let it out with a lewd plop.

“Baby?” you raised one eyebrow at him.

“You don’t like it?”

“Do I look like a baby to you?” you smiled with wet lips, your hand restlessly pumping his cock hard and fast.

Johnny grunted again, his hips rising to meet your touch even more.

“Hm, no, you look like a little slut right now,” he agreed with a smirk before his expression changed again into, you realized in that moment, the best view you’ve ever seen in your whole life. Head thrown back and completely at your mercy, Johnny came hard, his whole body twitching as his cum spurted on your hand and face.

“I think I won this time,” you pumped him a few more times before letting him go. “Hm, you drink so much coffee,” you smacked your lips after licking his cum off your fingers.

“This wasn’t part of the game.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve just decided that it was,” you shrugged.

Johnny grabbed his discarded t-shirt and cleaned his stomach. “So, are we playing now?”

His tone got dangerous and his expression made your wet pussy even drippier but you had no time to worry or form a single thought about it since you suddenly found yourself with the face on the mattress instead.

You turned your head sideways to be able to breathe and Johnny’s hands didn’t even try to be gentle when they pulled your panties down.

The loud smack arrived before the sensation of his big palm on your asschecks could. When you finally felt the burning sensation, another slap added to that.

Your fingers grabbed Johnny’s blanket, preparing yourself for the third spank, absolutely not expecting his tongue inside of you instead.

“Fuckfuckfuck-” you mewled but your sounds only made Johnny more ferocious, hands opening you up, eating you out as if he’d been dying to do so for a long time. And it was true for yourself too, but no imagination of yours could have realistically portrayed the way he was making you feel and no fingers of yours could reach as deep as his did, fingering you fast, tongue not stopping for a second, not even when you violently went over the edge with the loudest moans you’ve ever heard yourself emit.

“You win, you win-,” your rough throat tried to stop him from torturing your overstimulated clit and you heard him suck on his fingers after he let you go.

“Okay, I’ll take it. But this is just the beginning. Are you going to let me fuck you, baby?” he caressed your ass, going down to your waist and cupping your breasts.

The movement made his cock poke at your entrance and you imperceptibly opened your legs even more.

“Yes, please,” you whispered back, turning your head to meet his lips as he lifted your chin.

“Hm? Say that again?”

“Please.”

His tip easily slipped inside but the stretch still made you hiss through your teeth. Johnny shushed you, kissing your shoulder and neck until he bottomed out. “You can handle it, right baby?” You tried to nod but his first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs and you let your head fall down again with a whine.

Johnny moved again and again then stopped with a grunt. “Beg a little for me again.”

You bit your lower lip, his tip pressing right when you needed it to and you wanted him to do it non stop.

“I don’t think I will beg again,” you whispered with a smile and started to move your hips instead. It was a sloppy and slow job, nowhere sharp and quick as Johnny’s, but you had to win again.

The man let your ass bounce on his stomach a few times, staring at the way you were stretched around him then he grabbed your waist and left you all empty.

You whined, clenching yet nothing being inside of you anymore.

“I said beg.”

His breath was now on your spine, his wet mouth placing kisses on your skin, making it shiver and taking some of it in his teeth, sucking on it until he was satisfied.

But you remained silent and he clicked his tongue at your stubbornness. In a single go he filled you up again and this time he never stopped.

He was breaking you in half and if you hadn’t already had tears in your eyes, this would have been the time to start crying from pleasure.

“Holy fucking shit--John-” you cried out, breath rhytmically broken by his deep thrusts and when he added his slaps again, you just lost it all, cumming so hard that the neighbors were probably ready to call an ambulance.

Johnny stopped balls deep inside of you, feeling the way you clenched around him. And when you thought it was over, when you barely started to hear again, he moved as hard as before, shushing you and pressing his fingers roughly into your skin.

“You can handle another round, right baby? You’re such a pretty little slut with a bigger attitude than she can carry. This is nothing for you.”

Fucked dumb, you could only nod and Johnny started to lose control himself, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, some drops falling from his collabones to his chest. And when you felt his cum spurt inside of you, you finally begged, repeating it again and again. Johnny didn’t stop and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to move at all the next day when your muscles contracted for the nth time in so little time, collapsing completely after Johnny slowly slipped out of you.

His breath felt wet and boiling on your face when he dropped beside you.

He swallowed a few times trying to catch his breath. “Fucking finally. I knew it was going to be epic. Why did you refuse me for so long? Look what you missed.”

You would have snorted if you had the force so you resorted to just let out a whine. “I refused so I couldn’t see this. I have a big attitude? Well, you have the biggest ego in the world.”

Johnny turned his head towards you. “And cock.”

You rolled your eyes and accepted his hands pulling you towards his chest.

“Ew, you’re sweaty,” you mumbled. He kissed your forehead. “And you love it.” “No,” you denied it, “butIloveyou,” you added quickly.

Johnny shook your body in a hug. “Hm?? Say that again.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

That grown man pouted at you making his eyes wide and glossy. “Please?”

“Whoa,” you smiled, “are you acting cute at me right now? After killing me with your monster cock?”

Johnny nodded cutely and repeated the plea.

“Okay, okay. I-- love you.”

He chuckled happily and tightened his arms around you again, squeezing you in an almost mortal hug.

“Again.”

You sighed realizing that you were suddenly dealing with a child.

“I love you.”

And you repeated it again and again until you were sure that he finally fell asleep.

With one hand to caress his face you finally indulged in staring at him, fully realizing what that weird sensation in your gut was.

“I really love you.”

Your whisper was tiny and barely audible but Johnny smiled.

“I know. And I love you too.”

#johnny #johnny suh #johnny smut #johnny suh smut #nct #nct smut #nct johnny smut #johnny scenarios #nct scenarios #taeyong #taeyong smut

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ayamturd · 4 years ago

Text

light│foolish g

summary: the eggpire attempts to manipulate the heart of a kindled lover, their own mistake in the making

warnings: mentioned kidnapping, injury descriptions, evil c!badboyhalo, angst to fluff

pairing: (requested) in-game foolish gamers

a/n: i tried to play with themes of light and darkness, just as a small visual insight :)

wc: (2.7k) - m.list

It was too dark, he noted. You didn’t like the house being dark.

The second thing he noticed was the silence. There was no crackling fire, no greeting or even the stir of your footsteps inside the usual cozy house. Instead it was cold and empty, like the life had been snuffed and the warmth it once radiated suddenly gone in a broken still. Like it had been taken.

“Y/n?”

Pushing the door open, Foolish immediately became on edge from the broken lock, it swinging open in a haunting manner that echoed throughout the house. He raised his axe while tightening his grip, and slowly, he crept his way around the living space, searching for any sign that you were there or at the very least okay.

“Y/n? Love? Where are you?”

He checked the bedroom, the bathroom, the chest rooms, everything. Nothing was out of place, yet it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Scanning each room at a glance, he started to become frantic from the realization. You weren’t here.

“Y/n!”

As he started to pace in worry with growing, erratic breaths, he noticed he forgot to check the kitchen, bolting through the small doorway in desperation for any clues to your whereabouts. Once entering, however, it only worsened his fears.

The kitchen was a mess; from broken glass scattered on the ground to the spilt stew you promised to make tonight, there were signs of an obvious struggle, and one that you must of lost.

Walking slowly into the room, Foolish stood in the middle, his footsteps crunching under the shattered dish ware. He could only stare in horror to the scene before him, the unexpected attack within your own home.

He began to shake, in fear or anger, he didn’t know. All that he knew was that he was terrified for you, of your state, your condition, where you were. He didn’t have the answers he needed and it started to boil a new found rage in the pit of his soul, something he never knew he could have felt in thought of you.

Before he could become completely lost to his own thoughts, something bright shone in the corner of his vision. It was small and lost under the fragments, but it reflected the brief moonlight that peeked through the window still. Foolish crouched down, and as he swiped the broken mess away, he let out a small gasp.

It was your necklace, one he had given to you as a gift near the beginning of your relationship. The small pendent, while old and rough, was an old crystal he found eons ago; he was fascinated with the object when he first discovered it, and as a symbol of his love, chose to gift it to you on your first anniversary.

Although discolored from age and time, the crystal had always held some sort of clouded transparency. Unlike its usual form, Foolish held the pendent up and saw a dark stain of red tainting the side, almost in a corrupt manner as it seeped inside the stone in cracked veins.

The color was too bright to resemble any spilt blood, and with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, Foolish seethed at the concluding answer. “Bad,” he growled.

Closing his fist around the charm, he clenched it tightly and raised it to his forehead. The one piece of him you had, now the only thing he had of you.

He was going to get you back, no matter what it took.

“You can’t do this, Bad.” Pulling against Punz’s hold, you tried to throw hands at Bad with a snarl. He only chuckled at your attempts, his once sweet tone now malicious and stern.

“The less you resist, y/n, the easier this will be for us all.”

Your hands were tied behind your back, the rope burning against your skin, rubbing raw from your constant movements to free yourself. Punz had his arms under yours, locking you against his chest and preventing you from moving your upper body; even then, it did nothing to stop your attempts to thrash as much as possible.

Punz grunted from the hard kick you landed behind at him, your legs fierce as they moved every which way. Antfrost stepped forwards to help control you, though it was his mistake to approach you cautiously from the front since you kicked him in the face with a large crack following after.

He fell back with a painful yelp, clutching his broken snout that oozed blood and paralleled the red veinage surrounding his eyes. While you internally celebrated your direct hit with pride, it faded when Bad began to laugh.

“Don’t you see now, Y/n?” As he began stalking towards you, Punz learned from his mistake and hooked his own leg around yours, pulling it back so you were further locked it place. You were helpless as Bad leaned into your face with an amused grin.

“You’re a fighter. Someone that understands the weaknesses of others and how to exploit them. With us, you could discover your own potential and fight for the things that truly matter.”

You hissed at his proximity and cruel intent. “Why the hell would I join an omelette that does nothing but turn you all into brainless puppets.”

Bad laughed again, though forced before shifting into a frown. “We are anything but puppets. We are visionaries chosen to light the way for a new age that calls for freedom and peace. A world with no wars, no loss, and no pain. Only the Egg.”

He turned again, his back facing towards you as he looked ahead. Tilting his head slightly, he smiled sadistically to the thought. “Why don’t we show you?”

With wide eyes, you yelled and fought harder against Punz. It didn’t matter how pathetic or futile your efforts would be in the end, you screamed viciously to his plan; you would be damned if you were to go near that thing and let it corrupt you like it did to those around you. You refused.

“We’ll make you understand, y/n. Don’t you worry now.”

It had been a while since Foolish last stepped foot in the Badlands. As he mainly stayed within his own land and frequented to Snowchester for his recent commission, he hadn’t seen how bad the landscape had become for some time now.

There were vines littered everywhere; they broke through the ground and wrapped around everything they could, the previous builds constructed now ruins under the untamed growth.

The infection worse than he could ever imagine.

Like the land was corrupted itself, the once blue sky barely shined through the dark, thick clouds that surveyed the surrounding area as the grass’ usual lively, green hue looked almost dead from the sight. It was as if the land had been drained of its life form entirely.

With a shake of his head, Foolish pushed forwards despite the unfortunate outcomes. You were his main and only concern, and he was coming for you.

Following the growing trail of vines, he stopped once finding himself faced with an opening in the ground, the vines encompassing the entire area all centering to this one focal point.

The hole was dimly light, yet in spite of the notable metal lanterns nailed to the cavern walls that lit the descending path underground, Foolish could hear the whispers of an ancient being shrouded in a sensation that could only be described as darkness. Pure darkness that’s sole intent was to demoralize and expand.

As his own power centered essentially to a form of life in terms of rebirth, Foolish felt his heart race from the opposing force; Death is often seen as the opposite stage to Life, however in actuality, Corruption and Decay hold more differences than the former, for Corruption seeks out to invade and overtake, leaving little room for life to breathe in its natural state as it’s smothered degenerately. Death is painful as a concept, but only works as an end of a cycle that leads to a new one instead.

His strive to reach you was stronger than ever, and with that he entered the small space.

“So nice of you to finally join us!” Bad’s voice echoed against the cavern walls, his voice too cheery for Foolish’s liking. Pushing away the overhanding vines that blocked his line of vision, Foolish approached the group with an aggravated attitude.

Standing in front of the Egg, Bad stood at the center with Antfrost and Punz accompanying his sides. While Foolish went in with a vengeful mentality, all thoughts left him as soon as he saw you.

You were completely wrapped in the thick, twisted vines, forced onto your knees as the branches covered your body up to your neck. Singular vines were crawled up your head, forming a make-shift halo that encircled your face with obvious pressure on your temples.

Sitting below at Bad’s feet, you occasional would wince in slight pain yet your eyes remained fixed wide open. They were empty and tinted red, a hollow shell of who you were as you fought for control over your own mind.

Foolish snarled at the physiological torture, and turned to Bad in full anger.

“Let them go, Bad. They don’t deserve any of this.” Bad chuckled darkly at the demand and raised his arms upward.

“Deserve any of what? Freedom? Power? A chance to protect all those they love?” Reaching down, Bad mockingly began to stroke your head, and you flinched from his demeaning touch.

Foolish took a singular step forward, his trident pointed threateningly at the audacity he had to both harm and touch you.

“You and I both know that that thing,” Foolish emphasized while turning to point his weapon condemnatory towards the massive egg, “doesn’t do anything but corrupt and spread lies.”

The air grew stiff as a forced silence overtook the room. Bad sighed dramatically, his actions imposing as he showed little care for Foolish’s anger and comment. Crossing his arms, Bad shook his head dismissively with a disappointed frown.

“We knew you would be one of the most difficult to convince.” Foolish froze, confused to his connotations, making Bad smile further. He gestured behind him, and leaned his head forward with a merciless smirk.

“Which is why the Egg demands for y/n more than you think.”

Foolish looked down in seething fury, the thought that you were taken and used as a pawn for his own compliance something inadmissible and unforgivable. He breathed out a humorless snicker, and lifted his eyes up with his head still bowed down.

“Did you really think you could get me to join you,” he lowly asked, his eyes starting to emit a harsh, green glow, “by taking the one person I center my world around?”

He held his own smirk at the growing fear the three began to show, them stepping back as he felt the familiar warmth of power overtake him. Only this time, the light burned like near fire from his manifested rage.

“Think again.”

There was no time to run or attack as Foolish radiated a blinding light, his body shifting as he changed before them from his mortal to Godly form. By the time the light had subsided and the ever so mighty Eggpire could open their eyes from the jarring glow, it was too late for them already.

Foolish was pushed against the cavern ceiling from his extreme height and size, though it didn’t matter for all he needed were his hands as he began swatting at them. He managed to throw Antfrost against the farthest wall, the collision knocking him out cold as he slumped over immediately.

Punz, like the mercenary he is, managed to evade Foolish’s attacks and tried to climb his figure for leverage. It was his mistake, however, as Foolish grabbed him by the ankle during his vulnerable ascent and swung him across the space. A sickening snap from his throw lead him to scream in agony, his arm bent awkwardly under him from the severe fall damage. He too passed out from the pain.

Lastly, Bad could only cower at the man’s wrath, the golden figure pausing to face him in his entirety, saving his final, overwhelming outrage for the leading assailant.

As he raised his fist to strike him down, however, Bad grew desperate and reached for his best bargaining tool: you.

He rushed forward and unsheathed his sword, holding it strictly to your throat while you unconsciously grimaced from the cool of the blade. Foolish was forced to freeze his movements.

“Accept it Foolish, you can’t win against the Eggpire. We are the new age. Join us, and you can continue living your lives,” Bad looked down at you with an overly sweet smile, “together.”

Foolish was hesitate and nervous. He refused to back down in knowing fear you would suffer the consequences of his surrender, yet at the same time, your life was hanging in the fate of his next decision. Faltering his gaze at Bad, he glanced up and paused, a new idea, a new option making way.

Slowly, he leaned down to grab a massive boulder, the vines wrapped around the broken stone snapping as he pulled on it. Bad saw through his intentions and panicked, his sword falling from your neck as he began to cry out.

“Wait- NO! Foolish you can’t!” Completely ignoring Bad’s pleas, Foolish launched the large rock at the Egg.

“Foolish, NO DON-”

The air hissed from the impact, and a force pushed all back as the Egg cracked open with a dying cry, the sound a high pitch ringing as it wailed from the strike. It smelled awful, to say the least. Like rotten flesh that was burned for an extended period of time, the fowl odor pervaded the cavern in a red mist.

As the cloud briefly settled, the visible damage to the Egg became more clear; it was caved in where the boulder was thrown, the inside a glowering, black tint that radiated heat when exposed to the open air. The whispers were now screaming voices, loud cries that shouted over each other. Foolish winced from the overwhelming sound, but as quickly as it came, they fell painfully silent seconds later.

While there was no visible light that transpired once the Egg was impacted, the underground room felt somehow brighter. Like a dark shadow now removed, the shift of light brought forth a true feeling of peace and quiet, as if the buzzing temptations were suddenly removed, if only for a temporary moment.

Bad seemingly collapsed the moment the Egg was injured, his sword falling with a clang as he fell unconscious besides you. Without pause, Foolish transfigured to his original form and rushed to check on you.

He scrambled onto his feet once collapsing back into his moral height and instantly checked you over, pulling the dead, shriveled vines off you before gently bringing you into his lap while holding a hand to your cheek.

“Y/n?” he murmured. Your skin was warm to the touch, and Foolish continued to stroke your face in his attempts to awake you. “Y/n? Please, please wake up.”

Suddenly, you stirred from his words, and slowly blinked your eyes open. Your eyes were squinted in a haze, your sight fuzzy until Foolish came into clear view. “Foolish?”

He let out a laugh of relief, his eyes wet as tears collected from the immense amount of joy that overcame him. Pulling you into his chest, he cradled your head and kissed the top of it earnestly, his eyes shut close as his tears escaped. “Hey there,” he whispered.

Pulling away from you, his grin met your tired one as you smiled softly, hand raised to wipe his fallen tears. “Hey you.”

“Welcome back,” he giggled, his emotions running high from the reassurance that you were within his arms and you were safe. He beamed to the point where his cheeks hurt from how wide they pulled.

You gripped his hand on your own cheek, squeezing it as your form of security that this was your reality, that it was real and he was actually here. Two rekindled loves reunited once more, you both gleamed in each other’s warmth and luminescent love.

“Glad to be back.”

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #foolishg x reader #foolish gamers x reader #foolishg x gn!reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dsmp x reader #foolish x reader

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lothlaer · 4 years ago

Note

Proposal: Jaskier's got a fist clenched painfully hard one time when he's really really hurt and Yen has to force his palm open so she can tangle their fingers together and try to keep him from hurting his own hand. And they're both kind of like "oh" at some point idk 😳

Anon this apparently awakened something in me, so thank you for expanding on my post and giving me the inspo to write (checks notes) 1.7k. Hope you enjoy whatever this is!!!

Pre-yennskier, description of blood and injury, 100% hurt/comfort. Read on AO3

“Stop fucking moving,” Geralt hisses, pushing down hard on the hips beneath his hands to still the man’s squirming.

A choked off, muffled whine dies in Jaskier’s throat, his lips pursed tight enough to turn them pale and thin. He’s panting through his nose, clearly in agony, and too out of it to understand that moving will only make this worse.

Yennefer spares the witcher a glance, noting the anxiety and fear that’s obvious on his face, in the tension across his brow, the frantic not-focus of his eyes that flick between the bard’s half-delirious expression and the gaping wound at his side.

She’s done all she can to heal him, sealed up the torn and leaking insides that they all know would have killed him if they hadn’t been here – that still might kill him if they can’t stem the blood loss and prevent infection. She thinks of it like this; clinical, sensible, because she has to.

Jaskier’s heartbeat is quicker than it should be, his breathing equally fast, panicked and pained and shallow. She keeps her ear trained to its frantic rhythm, notices how Geralt’s heart thumps faster than normal too, almost human, almost matching hers. She’d laugh at the symmetry of it all, if it were funny. She’s sure Jaskier would write a poem, if he knew, but she won’t ever tell him.

He stills a little under the pressure of Geralt’s hands, though still struggles. He probably can’t help it by this point, too confused and the pain too intense to allow much rational thought. Geralt can’t work if he keeps kicking, shifting his hips to try to escape the discomfort.

“Yen,” Geralt growls, and she’d tell him off if she thought it would help.

She tells him off anyway, growling his name back as she presses her weight onto the bard’s chest, keeping him pinned. She watches his face, stares at the lines of tears down his temples, wrung out from his scrunched eyes.

The tight seam of Jaskier’s lips splits open, a deep groan and hitching sob forcing its way out as Geralt flushes the wound. He shifts again, and it’s only then that Yennefer notices his hands. The one nearest her grips at her skirt, tugging it towards himself, the other clenched tight enough at his side that the whites of his knuckles stand out even against his bloodless skin.

She reaches for it before she can think about it, dragging his hand over his chest, looking at the way he’s digging his nails into the meat of his palm.

Yennefer doesn’t say anything as she fits her thumb under his, prying it open like the hinge on a rusted box. There’s no treasure within as she does the same with his fingers, forcing them loose enough that his reflex to clench releases, each digit unfolding only to reveal deep indents in his skin like faint purple mouths.

She slips her fingers between his, taking the pressure into her own grip, resting their joined hands over his heart.

He blinks up at her, eyes wet with tears, then lifts his head to look down at himself.

“Don’t look,” Yennefer snaps, pointedly leaning forward to block the vivid red of Geralt’s hands from view.

She knocks her knuckles against his breastbone, drawing his attention back, and he focuses in on the press of their skin together.

She thinks that if he had enough blood left in his body to do so, Jaskier would be blushing. She feels heat rise in her own cheeks in sympathy. His lips part on an inappropriately dreamy sigh, and she realises she’s stroking her thumb back and forth over his clammy skin, then swiftly stops.

Yennefer checks his expression and discovers his eyes on her again, a long moment dragging on as she finds herself unable to look away, their faces closer than she realised and his short breaths puffing against her skin. She’s horribly aware of their entwined hands, the unpleasant sensation of drying blood and mud between them, the frantic heart mere centimetres away, trapped beneath only by fragile human flesh and bone.

Between another aborted cry of pain and a feeble attempt at another kick, Jaskier lets his head fall back to the ground, gaze swimming and dizzy as he stares up at the canopy of the trees above them, his grip tightening to the point of pain as the joints in Yennefer’s hand compress.

She loses track of time for a while, her knees and back aching from being folded over for so long, the quiet and sometimes unpleasant noises coming from Geralt working opposite her the only way to gauge how long they’ve been here, alongside the warbling beat that still echoes against her eardrums. It’s not like his usual music.

She looks back to his face after some time, catches his eyelids fluttering.

“None of that,” she scolds, loud enough to jerk him back into wakefulness.

She turns her head to look at the wound, relieved to find it closed with stitches, no longer sluggishly leaking blood down Jaskier’s side. He’s still covered in it, soaked into his shirt and the trousers covering his propped-up legs, even on the blanket they’ve thrown over him.

Geralt looks up and the relief is clear on his face; they’re not out of the woods yet, but it’s a step in the right direction. His eyes flick to Jaskier’s hand in hers, looking pointedly at where he’s still gripping her dress too, then walking away with a mutter about getting bandages.

Yennefer finds herself alarmingly embarrassed, and withdraws her hand.

Jaskier doesn’t complain, his fingers falling loose and curled where she leaves them.

Geralt returns quickly, begins packing the injury. Jaskier jerks again, then they begin the agonising process of winding bandages around his waist, having to manoeuvre him upright enough to pass them under his back.

By the end he’s even sweatier and paler than he was before. His noises of pain throughout have been quieter than Yennefer was expecting, the usual volume and raucousness of his voice muffled and contained. It’s simultaneously impressive and irritating – men, she thinks.

He groans long and low nonetheless as they shift him sideways onto a bedroll and prop another bag under his knees.

“It’s done, it’s over,” Yennefer finds herself saying quietly while Geralt resituates the blanket.

She wipes a tear away from Jaskier’s cheek with the backs of her fingers, and tries not to overthink the action in the seconds afterwards as his sobs subside.

He’s trembling, either from pain or shock or the cold, and Geralt wastes no time getting him water with some herbs mixed in. He drinks greedily, water spilling out around his mouth until the witcher urges him to slow.

Geralt lays him back down, calls his name softly until his wobbly attention wanders back to them.

“All better?” Jaskier murmurs after a moment, eyelids already half-mast.

Geralt lays a wet cloth over the bard’s forehead and holds his palm on it, steady and reassuring, long enough to lean over and catch Jaskier’s gaze.

“Good enough,” he says, beginning to wipe away the sweat and dirt from Jaskier’s face in gentle strokes.

“Bastard,” Jaskier mutters, eyes falling closed. He only settles for a moment before jerking awake, his eyes wide and alarmed. “Yen?”

He looks around blearily, waving an uncoordinated hand out – seeking her presence, Yennefer realises. She reaches for him, grasping his hand in hers. His gaze snaps to her, and softens.

“Okay?” he asks.

His skin is cool, his heart still racing.

“You’ll be pissing us off with your usual obnoxious poetics within a day, I imagine.”

He frowns at her and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

“No,” he swallows dryly, “you okay?”

Yennefer opens her mouth, ready for a witty retort to manifest, but all that emerges is the escape of a surprised breath. She thinks of the way they’d been standing side by side when the attack had happened, the way the bard had fallen against her and brought her to her knees in the grass and mud, last autumn’s shed of rotting leaves compacting beneath her hands. The drip of red blending against the dirt. Her stomach twists, then releases.

“Rest, Jaskier.”

He still stares at her.

“I’m fine, you fool.” She squeezes his hand again, thinks of the indents on his palm. “Rest.”

He does, finally, slipping easily into something deeper than sleep. She knows she and Geralt will have their senses fixed on the pump of his blood for days yet, and that it’ll be a while before his body replenishes what he’s lost.

For now, the steadiness of his pulse and his breathing will have to be enough, even if they remain unnatural and fast.

Yennefer realises she’s been staring for a while when she notices Geralt bringing a bowl over, his hands and arms already washed clean of the mess from the past hour.

“Wonderful timing,” he says dryly, shaking the red-tinged water off his fingers with a couple of quick flicks.

“For what, witcher?” Yennefer says shortly, her nerves strung thin and dangerous.

Geralt snorts. Yennefer glares.

“For a realisation.” He smirks at her, smug.

“Fuck off,” she spits, not turning away quick enough to miss the way the man’s smile widens further.

She draws her hands away from Jaskier, his grip limp now, and washes her hands too, surprised to see the ripples on the surface from where she’s shaking. Geralt comes up behind her, his hand falling to her shoulder, and they both look down at the bard. The porcelain tinge of his skin is unnerving, his eyes bruised, and dirt and leaves still cling to his hair. But he’s alive, alive, and the knots in their chests release.

She thinks about leaving now her job’s done, the unpleasant warmth blooming somewhere in her gut making her want to run away, to flee from whatever the bard’s pain and gaze and hands have triggered in her, the feeling snapping sharp like a wire under her skin.

Geralt squeezes her shoulder.

“Stay with him.”

Yennefer feels the words rumble through her, less than an order but more than a suggestion. Her heart leans into it, giving way so carelessly to harmonise with the rhythm of his.

She stays.

#yennskier #jaskier x yennefer #yennefer x jaskier #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfic #hurt!jaskier #geralt is here too lol but i think he's just their Bro #loth txt #my fic #anonymous #ask #i'm gay i like hands ok

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years ago

Text

no matter what it takes

summary: y/n is kidnapped, and for once reid can’t think of a solution

inspired by this request: Hiiiii! I absolutely love your writing it’s so amazing! I was wondering could there be a storyline where your all working a case (the reader is dating Spencer) and have a lead and you go to the suspect’s house and while there you get kidnapped when back at the BAU the team is trying to work out how to get you back and they get a ransom vid of you getting beaten (dark I know) so they all have to work faster and they find you but while you're taken can we see it from like Spencer’s POV and his thought process on your being gone. Anyways they find you and you’re like drugged majorly injured you wake up in hospital Spencer’s there and it’s fluffy at the end.I know that’s rough but I really love your writing and hope this is ok x

word count: 2,331 reading time aprox: 8 mins

a/n: to whoever requested it, i kinda didn’t follow your format or ending. i’m really sorry to disappoint you, but i was writing the plot one way, then suddenly it took a turn. i hope you still enjoy it!

masterlist

Spencer’s POV

My eyes scanned the words in front of me, Charles Dickens displayed in between my hands. I hoped my thoughts would wander more as I explored the novel, taking my mind off of the case I worked previously.

Out of the blue, two soft hands appeared on my knotted hair, massaging the scalp tenderly. “Are you settling okay, my love? How was the case?”

I exhaled deeply, setting the book down beside me as I guided my best girl to my lap. I cushioned her to my side, nuzzling my nose into her shoulder.

“That bad, huh?” Y/N sympathized, trailing her fingers at the cut of my chin. I nodded into her, taking in her calming scent. She smelled of fresh daisies in the summer and the first layer of snow in the winter.

I lifted my head from hers, bringing my arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to me. I sighed in relief as a wave of calm brushed over me. “We were too late...we couldn’t get to one of the last hostages before the unsub.” I shook my head, taking her hand in mine. I examined the daintiness of her fingers, chuckling softly as I placed kisses upon each of them.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she whispered, nuzzling into me as we enjoyed each other’s presence. “Did you catch the unsub?”

“No...he got away last minute,” I sighed, running my hand over my face. “This unsub likes to make things personal. He only killed the last victim to mess with us.”

Silence infiltrated the conversation before it dived into the dark details of the case. The combined sounds of our breathing created a tranquil environment, lulling us to sleep with every second passed.

“I promise you Y/N...”

The shade of grey that covered the walls of the BAU prevented agents’ minds from meandering from their tasks. This proved quite effective in intended circumstances, although the caveat was the consequence of a disconcerted mind.

The film cast over my eyes exacerbated the existing burn from staring into space for too long. Although the sensation was unmatched for the void that consumed me from the inside. My limp fingers twitched beside me in a rhythmic pace, reminding me that this was real. My feet felt heavy against the granite tiles of the office, barely able to hold up the rest of my stature. I felt my muscles sag underneath my weight as the feeling of emptiness flooded from my torso to the knuckles of my hands.

“You be careful, Y/N!” I teased, watching as my lover’s silhouette disappeared into the elevator.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone!”

I shook my head, amused at the incessant Marvel-themed references that had been thrown my way since our last movie night. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

I hissed as I felt my nails dig into my palms. I hadn’t realized how hard I’d been clenching my fists until I looked down to see blood trailing around my nail bed. Shaking my head, I cleaned off the evidence against my slacks, watching it seep through the material.

“Guys?”

My head shot up to find Penelope typing away at her computer. Her brows were crossed with worry and her eyes would flicker frantically between her four monitors. The rest of the team seemed to follow me to her station, gazing with anticipation at what she discovered.

“What do you have Garcia?”

“I-um. I’m picking up a satellite feed somewhere in Danbury, Connecticut,” she spilled out, her fingers shaking over her keys. “Ther-there’s a livestream that just went active two minutes ago, an-and it’s...there’s-oh my god.” Penelope pushed herself away from her screens, tearing her eyes away as her face grew hot.

“Reid. Out.” Hotch demanded, not taking his eyes off the feed in front of him. JJ moved beside him, further blocking my view of the monitor. Her face contorted in shock and disgust, similar to the expression Garcia beheld moments ago.

“What...why?” I questioned, taking steps forward to investigate, but was ultimately stopped by Morgan. A coil wrapped around my insides, getting tighter with every breath that I took. The sides of my forehead began to warm up with a disorienting blaze, traveling down my eyelids. The fire followed down to the pit of my stomach, sending an uneasy chill down my spine.

“Kid…” he whispered, shaking his head in caution.

“What…” I breathed, feeling my cheeks swell up. Morgan couldn’t meet my eyes--none of them could. “God, it’s my girlfriend. I deserve to know where the hell she is,” I huffed, pushing past Morgan. Although the words were launched back into my esophagus, turning into bile that burned away at my pride.

A high-pitched ringing echoed and bounced around my head. My ears thumped with a resonating drum, overwhelming my senses. Every sharp intake of air felt like ice shooting up my nostrils, and every exhale felt like fire to my lungs.

Y/N was hunched over in a chair with braces around her wrists and ankles. Her beautiful hair was matted with dirt and blood, sticking to the sides of her face. Her skin was painted with a mixture of sweat and grime, hiding the usual radiant glow of her skin. Fortunately, the blurry pixels of the video saved me from witnessing the large gashes that ran along her flesh.

A man stood next to her with a Cheshire grin, his pervasive eyes scanning every inch of his work before breaking the fourth wall. He stared at the camera with a joyful gleam, tilting his head as he inspected the lenses.

“Spencer.” I imagined her call out. A phantom chant met my ears, remembering the softness in her voice and the soothing gravity she carried within her words.

“Spencer, stop it!” Y/N giggled, burying herself deeper into our duvet.

“Why baby?” I murmured into the crease of her neck. “We should just stay like this all day. Maybe if we stay long enough we can morph into a chrysalis.”

“Spencer,” she giggled. “Spence…”

“Spence?” JJ empathized, searching my eyes. She placed a hand on the outside of my arm, lingering there for a comforting moment. Although when she realized her attempts were futile, she retracted her arm with a tight frown on her lips. “I know that-”

“The feed is displaying audio now,” Garcia announced with a wavering tone. I slid past JJ, standing my ground next to Hotch as we listened to the livestream. Whimpers echoed throughout the concrete compound she was trapped in. Her body flinched as the man inched closer to her with an object out of view from the camera. The fear in her eyes left a sharp pang in my chest as a burning resentment ignited my bloodstream.

“Stop…” she whispered, pulling away from the man. “Stop...please,” she sobbed. Her face was contorted in anticipation, glancing down at the item creeping towards her. It was only then a glint of a metal object bounced off of the camera, a foreign substance leaking from its tip.

“Stop! Please!” Y/N’s voice amplified in volume as the inevitable came. “NO!” she screamed, thrashing in her seat as the needle penetrated the soft layer of her skin. “SPENCER! HELP!” she cried out, desperation seeping through her weeps.

A suffocating poison ran its course throughout my body, entrapping me in the limited reality of my abilities. I felt my inner conscious thrash against the walls of my mind, begging for an answer, a solution. I tore my eyes away from the screen, my hand unconsciously clawing at the base of my neck. Staggered breaths blocked my airway, and the room shrank under my feet.

I needed to get out.

I let my feet sweep me away from the office, as far as it takes. My back hit the cold wall of the eerie hallway, feeling the chill penetrate through my blazer. I closed my eyes as I banged on my forehead, hoping that the gears would start working, but nothing seemed to bring me assurance.

Nothing could assure that she’ll be okay. I failed her. I failed to assure her that I was going to keep her safe. I failed at keeping her safe. I failed her.

My heart was pulled against my spine, attached tethers tearing it apart in opposite directions. Contractions of adrenaline seeped into my nervous system as her anguished screams left the room silent behind me. It was like gravity had ceased to exist, leaving me floating in a mind-numbing state of desolation.

I failed her.

“I’m always going to love you,” I reassured, tucking in a hair behind her ear as she swung her legs back and forth atop of the counter.

“Really Spence?” she giggled, bringing the spoonful of 3:00 am ice cream out of her mouth, dangling the utensil from the bottom of her plump lips. “Prove it?”

“Darling, isn’t there a tub of ice cream--that I bought--in your hands?” I teased, tapping at my watch. “And last time I checked it’s the middle of the night.”

“Whatever,” she giggled, nudging at my shoulder. My hands traveled to the sides of her hips, pulling myself closer as I inspected the beautiful glow of the moonlight reflecting off of her visage. “I thought you were going to say something cute.”

“That wasn’t cute?”

“Not even close, Spencer Reid,” she mumbled, tapping on the end of my nose before taking my face into the softness in her hands. She playfully scoffed as we inspected each other’s eyes for what seemed like hours. My arms found their way around her waist, melting into her, as I lessened the gap between us.

“What is it?” I whispered, my eyes flickering from her eyes to the pigment on her lips. Closing in proximity, I nudged her into me. But before our lips could meet, a chuckle filled the air and a hand was placed above my chest.

“I...am out of ice cream.” With that, she scurried away to the fridge with a bounce in her step. I shook my head in amusement, whispering to myself.

“That girl’s damn lucky that I love her.”

Frenzied feet inside the office took me out of my daze, but it was the sound of soft steps approaching me that made my shoulders stiffen in anticipation. I collected my composure the best as I can, maintaining a brave face for whoever would walk into the doorframe.

I didn’t even bother to look up to see who it was. The figure’s footsteps halted beside the door frame, leather shoes in my peripheral. Without a moment of quiet, the figure stooped down with its back pressed lightly against the wall. Although despite the thick tension, the figure remained silent.

“You know I don’t always need company…” I murmured defensively.

“I know kid...I know,” Morgan huffed, bringing his hands to his head. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have any.” He knocked his knee into mine, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “She’s going to be okay Spencer.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that she’s strong,” Morgan countered. “You just gotta believe in tha-”

“Don’t- Don’t give me hope like I’m one of the victims we interview. I’m- I’m not a victim.” I nudged his large hand off of me, feeling confined in the big desolate hallway.

“I wasn’t saying you were-”

“But you implied it!” I combed through my hair, my lungs still sore from staggered breaths. “I’m...I’m sorry,” I sighed.

“I said I’m sorry!” I yelled, feeling my throat dry up from the venom dripping from my words.

“This is the third time, Spence. The THIRD time you came home late,” Y/N seethed.

“Who are you? My mother?”

“All I want is to know that you’re safe, Spencer! God! I wait here all day for you, knowing that you’re out there on the field, and something could happen. How does that make me feel?”

“This is ridiculous,” I shook my head, dismissing her ignorance. I headed towards my jacket that I strung up on the coat hanger a few minutes ago, not bothering to take my keys with me.

“Where...where are you going?” Y/N whispered.

I made the mistake of looking back and seeing the hurt present on her face. The apples of her cheeks were stained with tears, and her eyes were glistening with fresh ones. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, still looking plump and soft even in her distressed state.

“To work,” I monotonously replied, turning away from her. I shuffled out of the apartment with anger dominating every part of me, blinding me to the point where I guess I forgot to lock the door.

“I did this.”

Morgan’s head shot up at the utterance of my words. “What do you mean, kid?”

“I left her by herself...alone,” I scoffed. “We were fighting, and I just left her there. God, I didn’t even lock the door.” I rammed the back of my head against the plaster wall, squeezing my eyes tightly. “How can I be so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Hey, stop that!” Morgan intervened, pulling my shoulders off of the wall. “You didn’t know that this was going to happen…”

“Yes, but I should’ve known, Morgan! Don’t you get it!”

“Spenc-”

“I had one job…” I sighed, the inner walls of my chest collapsing into themselves. “God I...I should’ve known.”

My head fell back into the curves of my palms, my tears shamelessly peeking out of the corners of my eyes. My chest heaved reluctantly, as my heart lurched forward. Heat crawled up my cheeks, combining with the coldness of the tears running down my face.

Morgan’s supporting hand felt like a phantom’s upon the skin of my back, knowing that nothing compared to the innocent touch of my Y/N.

“What is it, Spence?”

“I promise you that....that I’m always going to keep you safe, no matter what it takes.”

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @honeymilk-4 @linthebinbag @andreasworlsboring101 @ssareidbby @kyleetheeditor @tclaerh @jimilogy @lulwaxim @jhillio @m3ssytrash @haylaansmi @meowiemari @ashwarren32 @spencerwaltergubler

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interplanaranathema · 2 years ago

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Fan Character Friday- little narrative writing

This is a little thing thats been in my brain for DAYS now (shortstory in notes, possibly badly written but someone has to write it down)

His hands softly grasps the rail around the pool. Bioluminescent flowers shown a shimmering a light blue over head, making him cast a shadow to the surface of the undersea. Cyrin traced the grown patters of the rail deep in contemplation while his eyes followed the trail of the fish that swam beneath his feet. It was distressing at all of it. Just this day alone, having to get interrupted by multiple mind mages that Ivan had to drive off. The fact of the Dimir activity sky rocketing made him more uneasy, especially when Prime Speaker Vannifar asked for the guild to strengthen their defenses and keep secrets close. Something is gonna happen, and it didn't sit right with biomancer. He looked around the room to see it mostly empty. Getting out a notebook and pen from his satchel, Cyrin cracked it open and whispered. "Ivan... do you know what has happened? Why is the Dimir acting up?" With a practiced hand, he pretended to jot down notes.

The reassuring grasp of his left shoulder sent an uncomfortable tingling wave down his spine, causing Cyrin to shift. He had always hated when Ivan caused that sensation as he subconciously look that way to see the usual empty space next to him. That gravelly but measured voice spoke afterwards. "It concerns me too. But, talking to those colleagues gave me an inkling of what they're after: Planeswalkers." "Iz-zet really that again?" His raised annoyed voice shook him a bit as he saw one of the other raising a brow at him. "Like I said previously, there being alternate universes than just Ravnica is particularly insane." "Trust me, Cy, I still hold that belief strongly, but that operative had her own research on the new Orzhov Guildmaster." Ivan's voice echoed out as he dripped fed the biomancer one of the key aspects from a traded thought strand. A vivid memory of over hearing Teysa Karlov and this new comer, Kaya, within the halls of the basilica washing over his senses causing Cyrin to place his head in his hand and to block out the outer stimulus. Much like before, this use of telepathy caused a massive headache to pang out. The information that was made was a deep talk about an entity by the name of "Bolas" and the deal the two Orzhov made. "So, essentially, the Dimir are looking for every evidence of this mystical Bolas guy?" He could feel a mental nod from the mind mage. "Great, absolutely great. Krokt." Cyrin pinched his nose, growling a bit in frustation. How would they supposed to deter mind mages from his mind. Of course, he knew that Ivan did his part well, after all it was beneficial for the both of them if he prevents it. The innate naphil essence with his mindscape was always wanting to ensnare those unfortunate telepaths. He had never enjoyed this situation his yore ancestors placed their family, let alone the entire fact of the nephilim's existence. This mysterious Bolas and his machinations is only going to turn this situation into something truly horrific.

#this may be poorly written but PLEASE #I BEG OF YOU THIS SCENE HAS BEEN ROTATING IN MY HEAD FOR AGES #I'm also VERY happy i get to use fun word stuff like being an actual TERMS #OH DID you know nephilim was old ravi for power #naphil or naphal is singular for the nephilim #They're not well designs both flavorfully and mechanic but DAMN IT IF IM NOT WILLING TO TRY #hi i think about the nephilim at times pleasure to meet u #simic combine #the nephilim #house dimir #short story #Cyrin Zacek #Ivan L. Mendegor #pre war of the spark #mtg ocs #my oc #Krokt too #fan character friday

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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

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Manhunt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Requested by: anon ‘Hey, I saw that your requests are open. Can I request a Tommy Shelby fic where y/n gets kidnapped, please? Maybe Tommy’s getting extremely angry and worried and only calms down when he gets her back. Of course it’s up to you. Female reader if possible. Thank you so much :)’

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, swearing, injury (result of knife, beatings)

Bold italics = flashback

Gif creds to owner

“Where the fuck’ve you been?” Polly demanded from her desk, arms folded and lips pursed as Tommy stumbled through the door.

“Ah, let him be, Pol,” Arthur grinned, clapping him on the back. “Reckon his head’s still on his honeymoon. Been stuck in bed with the missus all morning, eh, brother?”

Tommy smirked boyishly. “No. Fuckin’ car broke down. Anyway, YN left ours hours ago, said she was seeing Ada before she buggers back off to London,”

At that moment, Ada walked through the door, holding one of John and Esme’s kids on her hip, bouncing him gently. “I haven’t seen YN today, Tom. Didn’t show up to our reservation in that nice cafe. Haven’t heard from her, so I just thought she was with you,”

Tommy frowned deeply. “But... she left at half eight to catch the bus. I told her I’d give her a lift but she said she needed to run a few errands before she met up with you,” he checked his pocket watch quickly. “It’s gone noon. Are you lot sure you haven’t heard from or seen her?”

“Tom, it’s fine, she’s probably just caught up in the shops or something,” John said, lighting a cigarette.

“No. It’s not fucking fine, Johnboy. She left at half eight this morning, stood Ada up in her favourite cafe- and she’s been going on about it for weeks- and no one has seen hide nor hair of her for hours. Something’s wrong,”

Jaw set harshly, Tommy strode out of the betting shop, closely followed by his brothers. “Oi! Finn. Run and tell Sergeant Moss that I said to have a search party out. Tell him YN’s missing. Then on your way back, go to Charlie’s yard and tell him to keep an eye on the canals for her, alright. Good lad,” Finn nodded and began to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

“What about us, Tommy?” Arthur said. “Tell us what to do,”

***

Slowly, your eyes opened, though you still couldn’t see anything- a length of fabric covered your eyes, blocking out all light. Every inch of your body ached, and you became vaguely aware of the stinging sensation at your wrists- they were bound behind your back, the tightly knitted rope rubbing your skin raw. Judging by the slight jostling movement of your body and the hum of an engine below you, you were in a vehicle, being driven god knows where.

Deciding to keep quiet, you took some deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, trying your hardest to recall the previous hours...

***

“I’ll see you later, Tom,” you smiled, giving your grinning husband a final kiss goodbye before setting off to the bus stop. Tommy had offered you a lift, but you declined, saying something about errands and scenery. It was an alright day, by British standards, the sun trying its hardest to peak through the thin clouds.

You were halfway to the bus stop when you felt a presence behind you. Hurrying your steps a little more, knowing the old gentleman from the village would likely be at the stop for his weekly shop, if you could just get around this bend, you dared a look behind you, before colliding head on with something- or rather someone.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” you said, making to step around him, but his arms shot out, grasping onto you while the man behind you yanked a fistful of your hair, tugging your head backwards.

“Don’t you worry, Shelby,” he said, a slight accent lacing his low voice. “You will be,”

You tried to stamp your heels down on the attackers’ shins, you made to bite the hands closest to your face, to wriggle as much as you could. As you began to scream, a damp cloth was held over your nose and mouth, making your eyes roll back and your body slacken, allowing the two men to drag you to their vehicle, hidden by the shrubbery and blossoming trees and the loud caws of the birds.

***

Tommy was in full panic mode. He had Peaky Blinders scouring the whole of Birmingham, Sergeant Moss had managed to telephone the London police and have a telegram sent to every constabulary in the country to keep an eye out. Johnny Doggs had the Lee boys out, and Charlie was stopping every boat the passed through the cut.

Tommy kicked the table in the betting shop, sending papers and coins flying. “Where the fuck is she?” He roared, eyes flashing with some anger, but mostly fear.

“We’re doing everything we can, Thomas,” Polly said firmly, patting her nephews back and pushing a cup of tea into his hands. “It’s well sugared. You need the energy,”

“It’s not fucking enough!” He yelled, taking one sip of the tea before slamming the cup down, sloshing the table. “She could be anywhere and we’re sat here like idiots!”

Polly sighed, retreating to man the phone, waiting for someone, anyone to phone with knowledge of your whereabouts.

“It’ll be alright, brother,” John said. “Esme’s down with the Lees making sure none of them are sat twiddling their thumbs. Moss has every copper in Birmingham on the case. Even the London coppers are looking for a Shelby, and their almost all under Solomons and Sabini,”

Tommy was quiet for a moment before he looked between his brothers. “Solomons and Sabini...” he said slowly, processing the information before his face hardened.

“Solomons is a mad bastard,” Arthur said quietly.

“Right. Car, now. We’re going to London,”

***

The blind fold was removed, but you still couldn’t see much. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the room you were in was plunged in almost complete darkness. Your hands were still tied, only now they (along with your ankles) were bound to a chair. You tried to shuffle the chair along, but it made a loud grating scraping noise, and caused a blinding pain to shoot through your nerves. Something was definitely broken.

“Shelby,”

The voices echoed around the room as you heard the men draw closer, their footsteps rapping sharply against the concrete ground. You strained your good eye, trying to make out their faces, but you could only make out vague face shapes, plunged in shadows.

“I told you, I don’t have any information!” You said urgently, preparing yourself for another punch or kick.

It didn’t come. Instead you felt the cold edge of a thin blade pressing against your swollen cheek. He dragged the blade slowly and you hissed as your cheek bloomed with stinging pain, feeling your hot blood trickle down your face and neck.

“We don’t want information,” the other man said lowly as you felt the tip of the knife press against your neck briefly. You held your breath, preparing for the worst, before the blade dropped. You let out a shaky breath of relief, which quickly turned into a groan of pain as a thick finger dragged along the fresh wound. “We don’t need one of Shelby’s whores for information,” you shut your eyes tightly, willing your tears not to fall. “We want to destroy Tommy Shelby,”

***

“Thomas! Thomas! Stop the fucking car now!”

The car squealed to a halt and Tommy almost tripped over his own feet in his haste. “This had better be good, Pol,” he growled, grabbing hold of the phone. “Speaking,”

“That you, Tommy?”

Tommy gritted his teeth. “Aye, Solomons. Make it quick. I’ve no time for business now,”

“Yeah, I know, right. Right fuckin’ fuss you’ve kicked up, yeah. Looking for that wife of yours, I heard. Well, Tommy, my coppers have been out and about , right, searchin’ high and fuckin’ low. Found nothin’ right,”

“Alfie,” tommy hissed. “I’m on my way down to London, now. If you’ve got no information, I don’t wanna hear any of your fuckin’ stories, alright?”

“Oi, you watch your tone, Tommy. I’m getting there. See now, Ollie’s missus’s got a friend whose friend is the wife of a fuckin’ wop, right. She says, right, that your wife, YN, had been on Sabini’s fuckin’ hit list from the very start. He’s got his coppers trying to dismiss this ever so mysterious disappearance, right. But my coppers, yeah, Tommy, you followin’?”

“I’m following,” tommy said through gritted teeth.

“Right, well my coppers have received a tip off from one of Sabini’s coppers that there’s some funny business going on in the old abandoned warehouse, you know the one, the one up in Cheltenham, what the anarchists set fire to,”

“You sure, Alfie?”

“Course I’m fuckin’ sure. Off you go, Tommy,”

***

How long you had been on the floor for, you had no idea. Your arms and legs were no longer bound- not that it made any difference. You couldn’t move without a fresh round of pain turning your stomach. Tears mixed with blood on your cheeks; you could barely keep your eyes open; you lay next to a pool of your own vomit due to the pain; your clothes were soaking with your own blood and urine; you were ready to die.

***

Gunshots. Three of them.

Three voices shouting, although you couldn’t distinguish what they were saying.

The door swung open, flooding the room with light. You made to lift your head up off the floor, but sobbed in agony.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

“YN, it’s alright, I’m here! They’re gone, I’ve got you,”

You felt the familiar warm hands on your body, the strong arms lifting you, the distinct smell. But you couldn’t open your eyes- you were simply too tired.

“Tommy...” you breathed, one hand bunched up in his coat.

“Shhh, I’m here, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you help, okay, my love. Don’t you worry one bit, okay?”

You nodded, trusting your eyes to shut, knowing that this time, tommy would be there to shake you awake, preventing you from giving into the darkness.

#tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy Shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x you #tommy Shelby angst #tommy Shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #request #2021

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madfantasy · 3 years ago

Note

I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕

You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..

I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..

I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?

Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..

Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw

I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.

Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country

I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.

I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani

They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.

But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that

I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..

Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry

One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make

Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..

But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe

At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day

Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier

...

I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh

I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry

So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow

'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏

26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping

#ask #text #diary #personal #my art #miss

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today-only-happens-once · 4 years ago

Text

out of focus

title: out of focus

word count: 3955

summary:

The actions of a Fire Nation admiral during a meeting causes some problems for Sokka. The words of that admiral causes some problems for Zuko. They try to take care of each other.

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?”

Zuko freezes, the rag half-out of the bowl and his other hand still bracing Sokka’s (not quite holding it… far too gentle to be holding it). “What—uh. I, uh.” Zuko stops. Takes a breath. Tries again. He still doesn’t look up at Sokka. “When I was younger, I spoke out at a meeting.”

Warnings: burns (description of), violence, threats of violence, discussion of canonical child abuse, characters curse but no curse words are written, character is non-permanently injured, yelling/arguing, trauma

A/N: me? writing a zukka AtLA fic and posting it an hour short of midnight? Apparently, it’s more likely that you’d think.

Read on AO3

Zuko has the patience of a saint, Sokka thinks to himself.

It’s an unusual thought, he realizes. A year ago, if you’d told Sokka that he’d come to think of the Banished Prince as ‘patient’, he’d probably have thrown his boomerang at you. A year ago, Zuko was one of the most short-tempered people he knew. A year ago, Zuko was the face of the enemy.

A lot changes in a year.

Sokka barely stifles a frustrated sigh. The attempt does not seem to go unnoticed by Zuko, who glances at him quickly before the corner of his mouth twitches with something like amusement. The meeting had been going on for hours, and Sokka can’t help but feel that very little progress on the treaty had been made. It wasn’t for lack of trying, Sokka knows, but war leaves messy problems in its wake. He knows that both the literal and metaphorical shrapnel left behind by a century of conflict can’t be swept away in a night or a week or a month.

It doesn’t make these meetings any easier to sit through.

“I want immediate release of all prisoners of war,” an Earth Kingdom ambassador demands.

“I second that,” Sokka hears his father--sitting across the table from him--add, a bit more calmly but no less firm. “I have men in those prisons that haven’t seen their family in a decade.”

“Of course,” Zuko replies at the same time a Fire Nation soldier snaps, “absolutely not.”

Zuko levels a hard look at him. “Admiral, people who were arrested as prisoners of war have no need to remain so after the war has ended.” He looks to Hakoda, then to the Earth Kingdom ambassador. “I’ll draft that mandate tonight and will ensure it’s circulation as soon as possible.”

“This is an outrage!” The slam of a fist against the table makes Sokka’s hand fly to the boomerang strapped to his hip instinctively. The admiral is on his feet.

“Admiral,” Zuko says, his voice steely as he rises from his own chair. The Fire Nation soldier cuts him off.

“Where is the justice for the Fire Nation families whose sons and daughters were slaughtered by those criminals?”

“Admiral--”

“I remember a time when you cared about Fire Nation soldiers! And it’s hard to believe you’ve forgotten, seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror--”

“Enough!” Zuko snaps. “You will watch your tongue or you will be escorted out. You approach insubordination.”

“You are a child,” the admiral sneers. “Though one that ought to know a thing or two about insubordination, given your father’s attempts to brand you with a permanent reminder of its consequences--”

“Warriors!”

“Then again, he always was twice the leader you will never be. Long live the Phoenix King!”

Sokka sees the warning signs—the slight shift of weight, the clench of the man’s fists—and leaps to his feet. “Zuko--!”

“Sokka!”

There’s a blinding light and scorching heat. Sokka feels something slam onto his shoulder and he dives instinctively for cover as the familiar roar of a fireball explodes in front of him. The flames are bright and lick around him, and Sokka throws a hand up to protect his face. He blinks the spots from his vision as he yanks his boomerang out of his belt.

Zuko is standing beside him, his stance ready and his hand outstretched, having evidently dispelled the fireball that had been launched at him. Sokka leaps back up to his feet and hurls the boomerang in his hands towards the Admiral, hitting his hand right as he moves to launch another attack and forcing it to go wide. A burst of flames slam against the wall to the left.

The room is in chaos.

Sokka barely hears the shouts of alarm and curses over the roar of dying flames. He sees his father, already on his feet, diving underneath a bolt of red fire. Across the room, the Earth Kingdom ambassador jerks their hand. There’s a rumble in the ground before it rises and anchors around the Admiral’s feet, holding him in place.

Sokka sees the admiral’s gaze meet his own and narrow. The Fire Nation soldier bares his teeth in a snarl, his fist shooting out. Before Sokka can blink, Zuko steps in front of him, dispelling the flames just as the door ricochets open. Two Kyoshi Warriors flood in and in a series of quick strikes, the admiral drops. Awake, but limp.

Sokka thinks idly that he’s grateful that Ty Lee taught them how to block chi.

“Your father should have killed you that day!” the admiral shouts as he’s dragged through the doors. “He showed mercy on your pathetic, worthless—” the door slamming shut cuts him off.

The silence that follows makes Sokka’s ears ring. He can still feel stale adrenaline coursing through him, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. For a moment, nobody moves. Zuko awkwardly clears his throat.

“Apologies for the, uh, disruption. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Firelord Zuko,” Hakoda assures him, but there’s something odd in his father’s expression when he looks at Zuko that Sokka doesn’t understand.

Zuko says something in response, but Sokka doesn’t catch it. As the adrenaline bleeds out of him, his muscles relaxing, Sokka realizes that his fists are still clenched. Sokka forces them to relax, and hisses as it sends a jolt of hot pain through his left hand. When he looks down, he realizes that the skin on the top of part of his hand near his knuckles is a blistering, angry red.

Sokka’s hiss doesn’t go unnoticed. Zuko looks at him over his shoulder, his brows drawn together in confusion before his eyes fall to Sokka’s hand. Then, they go wide.

Zuko turns back around suddenly to address the room, his back straighter. “We will adjourn the meeting for the afternoon. We will reconvene tomorrow.”

“Firelord Zuko—” an ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe protests, but Hakoda interrupts him.

“I think we could all use a breather, Kovrik. Coming back tomorrow with a clear head is a good decision.”

“Yes… yes, I suppose that’s fair.”

Sokka is finding it increasingly difficult to follow the conversation. His hand hurts, and it’s taking every last drop of his willpower and pride to grit his teeth and swallow back the whimper that wants to push up his throat. It’s not until Zuko’s face is taking up his entire field of vision that Sokka realizes everyone but the two of them and his father have left the room.

“Let me see,” Zuko says quietly, then curses under his breath when he looks at Sokka’s hand. “Where’s Katara when you need her.”

“Do you have anything that can help?” Hakoda asks from behind Zuko.

“Yes, sir,” Zuko replies, his brows still furrowed in concentration. “Though it’s not quite as immediate as waterbending healers. But it should help with the pain, and prevent infection. Follow me.”

Sokka feels Zuko take his elbow and guide him out the door of the meeting room and down the hall. He’s distantly aware that Zuko is moving quickly—not quite a jog, but only barely shy of it—through a network of corridors. His hand feels like it might still be on fire, and Sokka looks down at it again just to be sure that’s not actually the case. He tells himself that he’s endured injuries more painful than this. The broken leg was worse, he thinks, though it does little to actually help with the burning sensation in his hand.

He’s vaguely aware that Zuko says something quickly to two guards that are flanking a set of doors before he rushes in. Sokka looks up and realizes it’s Zuko’s chambers. He’d only been in here a couple of times before, largely while Zuko was still recovering from Azula’s lightning strike in the weeks following the end of the war.

“Wait here,” Zuko tells him before disappearing through another door on the far side of the room.

“You had good reflexes in there,” Sokka hears his father’s low, soothing voice speak up. He’d had almost forgotten he was there. Hakoda moves the chair that had been beside the bed closer to Sokka in a clear direction to sit down.

“Lots of practice,” Sokka replies as he sits. He hisses a little again as his hand flares and grits out a swear behind clenched teeth.

“Easy,” Hakoda says softly. He places a bracing, comforting hand between Sokka’s shoulder blades. It’s grounding, and he’s grateful.

“Wish Katara was here,” Sokka tells him, echoing Zuko’s comment from earlier.

“I know. Unfortunately, I don’t think she’s coming to Caldera for a while. She’s still in Ba Sing Se with Aang.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Her magic water comes in handy though.” Sokka gives his father a tight smile. “Get it? Hand-y?”

Hakoda snorts just as the door opens again. Zuko has his arms full of a large bowl, his hands fisting a few vials and some bandages. There’s something pinched about Zuko’s expression, and the way he doesn’t meet Sokka’s eyes as he kneels in front of him feels odd. The bowl is full of water, Sokka realizes, as he sets it on the ground and begins to empty the vials into it.

“Can I see your hand?” Zuko asks, and the question—for some reason—catches him off guard.

Sokka blinks. “Yeah. Sure.” He grimaces as he places his hand in Zuko’s, but the excessive gentleness surprises him so much that Sokka almost forgets that his hand hurts.

Zuko was many things, but Sokka can’t remember a time—even after he started to get along with the Fire Prince—that he would have described Zuko as gentle. But his grip on Sokka’s hand is careful. Almost excessively so.

Zuko hums in the back of his throat as he inspects the burns. “I don’t think it’ll have permanent damage,” he says quietly. “But I still need to treat it so it doesn’t get infected. It… might hurt, a little. But then it should feel better.”

“No permanent damage. That’s good,” Sokka says. He swallows, and nods. “Okay.”

For a long moment, the only sounds that fills the room is the quiet splash of water in the bowl as Zuko submerges the cloth rag again and wrings it out. Sokka lets his gaze float around the room.

Zuko has left it mostly bare. There’s a portrait of Iroh and a woman that Sokka remembers being the Fire Lady—Zuko’s mother—hanging on the wall near the headboard of the bed. On the dresser beside it is a drawing that Sokka did of the group of them months ago. He sees a pile of papers on the desk across the room. He thinks one of them has Aang’s signature at the bottom, but it’s too far away for him to know for sure.

Bright, painful heat searing his hand slams his attention back to Zuko in front of him and Sokka yelps, yanking his hand away. Zuko grimaces, retracing his own hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding more earnest than Sokka expects. “This part is painful, but it’ll stop hurting in a minute.”

Sokka fights to pull his breathing back under his control. In through his nose, out through his mouth. “Right,” he manages, his voice tight. “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know it hurts.”

Something about that line—and about the fact that Zuko still hasn’t met his eyes since returning from the other room—drags Sokka’s thoughts back to the conversation in the treaty meeting. There were several things that the admiral had said to Zuko that Sokka didn’t quite understand. He could only remember pieces of things said, but they repeat in Sokka’s head like disjointed pieces of a puzzle that he can’t quite make fit together.

seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror… insubordination… your father’s attempts to brand you… consequences…

Sokka’s gaze falls back to Zuko, dutifully bowed in front of him. There had long been pieces about Zuko that Sokka had found puzzling. Things about him that didn’t quite fit together. Sokka considers himself a person pretty good at figuring out how things worked together, and that extended (with less success) to figuring out how parts of people make up the sum of their whole.

Zuko, though… Zuko had always been something of a mystery. But as the words of the admiral ricochet in his mind, there’s a picture beginning to come together that is still just a little too hazy, a little too out of focus, to fill in the spaces that Sokka felt were missing.

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?”

Sokka’s brow furrows as Zuko presses the rag to the back of his hand again. Sokka realizes that his hand has stopped hurting, but he’s too preoccupied with what Zuko said to pay it much mind. “After the stuff at Ba Sing Se? When you went home?”

“No, I, uh.” Zuko clears his throat. “Before that. Before… yeah. Earlier.”

Your father’s attempts to brand you…

“What happened?” Sokka asks. The way Zuko’s shoulders seem to tense doesn’t escape his attention, and there’s a part of him that wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked. But it also feels like a question that once asked, is too late to take back.

Zuko pats Sokka’s hand dry with another towel and begins to gingerly wrap a bandage around it. He keeps his gold gaze steady on the work. Sokka keeps his gaze steady on Zuko.

“My uncle allowed me to attend a war meeting where they were talking about some battle strategies to use against an Earth Kingdom battalion. There was a general that wanted our newest fleet to serve as a distraction while we mounted an attack from the rear,” Zuko begins. There’s something off about his voice, though. Something detached and careful. He keeps wrapping the bandage. Around and around and around.

Sokka frowns. “That’s not fair,” he says. “Your newest recruits? They’d be slaughtered by an experienced battalion like that.”

Zuko sighs, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Exactly,” he says in a low voice. “And that’s what I told them. I wasn’t thinking. I just… yelled at him.” Sokka opens his mouth to disagree—it sounds like Zuko was thinking, unlike anybody else at that meeting—but Zuko cuts him off as he secures the end of the bandage to Sokka’s palm. “My father didn’t… take it well. I was challenged to an Agni Kai, and I thought I would be facing the general in it, so I accepted.”

Zuko gathers the bowl and empty vials as he stands, crossing the room to set them on the edge of his desk. Sokka stands up slowly as Zuko does so. The pieces that had been out of focus for so long are starting to come together, and Sokka feels his stomach rolling with a leaden weight against what he can sense is coming.

“No…”

“It wasn’t the general,” Zuko continues, his voice so quiet that Sokka is sure he would have missed it if it hadn’t been dead silence around them. “It was my father.”

“You faced your father in an Agni Kai?”

“Not exactly. I…” Zuko stares down into the bowl of water beside him, his gaze distant. “I couldn’t fight my own father. Instead, I begged him for forgiveness. I was met with a fistful of flames.”

Zuko gestures vaguely at his face, and Sokka’s blood turns to ice.

“He…” Sokka’s throat closes, cutting off the rest of that sentence. All this time being chased by Zuko—all this time being friends with him—and he’d always assumed that the scar was the result of a training accident, or a fight with a firebender he lost. Sokka thinks bitterly and viciously that the second assumption wasn’t far off but his own father—

“I was banished after that,” Zuko says, and his voice is hollow and empty and wrong. And he finally, finally, meets Sokka’s gaze. “I was told to bring the Avatar back and all would be forgiven, or to not come back at all. That was before you and your sister woke Aang up from the iceberg.”

Sokka stands very, very still. He glances down and realizes his hands are trembling. He curls the non-bandaged one into a fist to get the shaking to stop. “How old were you?” he asks, and he doesn’t know why—of everything he could say—that’s the question that tumbles past his lips, but he feels like it matters.

“Thirteen.”

“Thir—” Sokka cuts himself off, scrubbing a hand across his mouth and swallowing hard. “Thirteen. Tui and La, when I was thirteen—”

Sokka breaks off again, his throat closing, his gaze falling to his father. When Sokka was thirteen, his father had left to go fight in the war and told Sokka he couldn’t come along. He’d protected Sokka, and though Sokka had found his way into fighting in the war regardless a few years later, he knows his father had only been trying to keep him safe. The idea of his own father striking him—let alone with a fist full of flames to his face—was incomprehensible.

Hakoda doesn’t look back at Sokka. His gaze is trained on Zuko, and there’s something in his eyes that Sokka doesn’t quite understand. But he’s seen it before. It was the same look Hakoda wears when he hears other water tribe soldiers recount war stories. The late-night ones. The ones where their voices betray the weight on their shoulders and tremble with the generations of nightmares on their backs.

Sokka takes a sudden, faltering step forward, and Zuko instinctively tenses. Sokka freezes. “Zuko…”

Zuko shakes his head. He coughs a little, as if trying to clear his throat. “Anyway. That’s—that’s what the admiral was talking about.”

“You…” Sokka tries again, his voice carrying just the barest hints of hysteria. “You were his kid.”

“Yeah, well.” Zuko’s gaze meets Sokka’s again. “He spent most of my life wishing I wasn’t.”

“Zuko,” Hakoda speaks up, his voice a low, soothing rumble to Sokka’s trembling nerves. “I… hope you understand that you didn’t deserve that.”

“I know, sir,” he replies, sounding steadier than Sokka feels. Sokka feels a little like the ground has shifted beneath his feet as he stares at his friend across the room. Zuko continues, frustratingly calm. “It… I didn’t at first. It took me a long time to understand that it was wrong of my father to do that. But I know now.”

“Where is he?” Sokka demands, flushing with a sudden and intense fury.

Zuko blinks, looking taken aback by the vehemence charged through Sokka’s voice like a steel rod. “Where’s who?”

“Ozai.”

“Sokka, what are you gonna do? Fight him? He already lost.”

“Against Aang, not against—did Aang even know?”

Zuko’s brow furrows and he rubs the back of his neck. “Um. I guess I don’t know. I never told him. I… never told any of you.”

“Yeah—and what’s that about, huh?” Sokka demands. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Sokka,” Hakoda warns, but Sokka’s words are already bubbling up throat and spilling past his lips, hot and bitter and angry.

“What, did you think we wouldn’t care? That it wouldn’t matter?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Zuko waves a hand towards the window that overlooks the courtyard. “My father already lost to the Avatar, Sokka. The war is over. The fighting is over. Aang took his bending. And that—I don’t know about you, but that’s the best, most justified end to his legacy I can think of.”

Sokka is still shaking. He can’t explain why. He knows, logically, that Zuko is right. He’s right. But Sokka can still feel his hands shaking, can still feel his heart hammering in his ribs with the urge to run something through with sword, can still feel the way his eyes sting with tears he won’t let fall. Sokka clenches his jaw and rips his gaze away from Zuko out towards the window, where he can see the sun setting on the horizon and painting the palace courtyard in an orange light.

“Wherever he is, I hope he rots,” Sokka says finally, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough. “He deserves worse.”

Sokka looks back at Zuko, whose gaze is a little wide. He looks… taken aback. Sokka cocks an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you disagree—"

“No,” Zuko replies, shaking his head. “I just… Nothing.” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in the barest hint of a smile. Sokka doesn’t understand why, just like he doesn’t understand why it uncoils the tight knot of burning anger in his chest.

Sokka takes a deep breath. Wills himself to relax. It helps… a little. There’s a beat, and then Sokka hears his father take a step forward. “Thank you for helping Sokka’s hand, Firelord Zuko.”

Zuko blinks, and Sokka swears his cheeks take a faint pink tint as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Uh, of course, sir. And… just Zuko is fine.”

Sokka glances over and sees Hakoda smile, inclining his head. “Understood.” He looks to Sokka. “I should draft a letter to Bato tonight to update him on the treaty. Will you be okay without me?”

Sokka rolls his eyes teasingly. “Yeah, dad. I think I can manage.”

Hakoda squeezes his shoulder, nods to Zuko again, and quietly slips out of the room. The silence afterward seems to stretch, and Sokka feels the lingering tension bleeding out of him as he looks at Zuko, who quietly shuffles through the papers on his desk. Sokka watches him for a beat, his gaze lingering a little on the scarred tissue across his face. Sokka swallows.

There are other questions Sokka thinks he could ask. Like why—after doing that—Zuko was still so bent on returning home to his father. But there’s a part of Sokka that thinks he maybe understands.

Spirits know that he understood what it was like to crave the approval of your father.

“Hey,” he says, and Zuko’s gaze snaps over to him. “I… thank you for telling me. I… know that wasn’t easy, and… it means a lot that you trust me with that.”

“It… it wasn’t a question of trust, you know,” Zuko replies quietly, averting his gaze. “Not telling you, I mean. It was just—”

“I know,” Sokka says, and means it. “But I also know what it’s like to have things you don’t necessarily… want to relive. So it means a lot that you told me.”

The corner of Zuko’s mouth twitches again. He takes a deep, slow breath. “Thank you for listening,” he says.

“I like to think I’m a pretty good listener,” Sokka teases, shrugging.

“You are,” Zuko says, with far more sincerity than Sokka felt was warranted for what he’d meant to be a joke. Sokka blinks at him, and Zuko clears his throat, ducking his head a little. “I was thinking of getting some tea. There’s a place just outside the palace. It’s not as good as Uncle’s, but um. Did you want to come?”

“Yeah,” Sokka replies with a small smile. “I could use a cup of tea.”

#avatar the last airbender #zukka #zukka fanfiction #zuko fanfiction #zuko #sokka #not ts #we interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast to give you this fic for an unrelated fandom woops

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