#but it kind of makes sense because this man hates being in the warehouse probably just as much as jervis honestly (': and with

[mad-hunts]

if barton tried hard enough, he thought, imagining himself being literally anywhere else but the warehouse right then was easy. this place was never meant to be lived in for an extended period of time after all; despite the fact that it had appliances that you might see in an every day home like a fridge.

it put him on edge instead of at ease, and it certainly didn't better barton's mood when he stayed in it either, after all. but so long as he was allowed to dream within it to some degree... it was tolerable. plus, he had company here, courtesy of nico, jack, and barton also supposed jervis counted. nico had complicated feelings towards the doctor, though, and spending time around jack whilst in it thus far gave barton an unfortunate impression; which was that his own son was made nervous by him.

and the irony of it all was, barton only gathered that because he could feel cognitive empathy towards him. something that didn't include feeling but reasoning. therefore, the hopes of him somehow patching that up with jack someday were drastically decreased. barton vaguely listened to jervis respond to what he'd said about him being in the warehouse solely because of them; all of the words but one not quite having any actual impact on him, this being 'nightmares.'

the smell of the yuja tea that jack prepared for jervis, as fragrant in the air that it was, seemed to be the one thing keeping him from being sucked down a unpleasant train of thought. for someone who didn't feel human half the time, barton sure as hell experienced his own fair share of seeing 'ghosts' from the past and mourning the way some things had gone in his life. and regret, as well as sorrow, were practically intertwined in every single 'normal' person's life that he'd known.

speaking of regret, once he'd closed the curtains, something from the small cabinet hanging on the wall next to them fell to the floor. barton picked it up and was immediately reminded of why he kept this photo here instead of at his home. hiding it away helped alleviate the pain of not only loving someone and losing them, but also knowing that at the time it was taken, everything seemed fine.

'my 19th birthday party - spent right, with my handsome fiancé!' was written on the back in marcy's handwriting. barton felt like screaming and smashing something simultaneously. the photo was instead placed in his pant pocket, whilst he dragged his hands down his face and thanked his lucky stars that jervis wasn't exactly expecting any big conversations from him. barton's hand flexed by his side before he was changing his shirt, wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do after seeing that again.

grief was a thing he'd never been able to pend down how to deal with 'appropriately,' unfortunately. from marcy, to the momentary blink of an eye that felt like his bittersweet friendship with yves, to his son julien's death - barton thought he'd be destroyed by all of those losses for the longest time. but he supposed he was still here, god willing, or laughing at him more like if such a being did exist. barton noticed the fabric that was splitting on the blanket and how jervis very much appeared to be in his own world.

it was at that moment that he reached for something in that same cabinet he'd opened to change his shirt, finding that sewing thread and needle he'd stored in there long ago. barton kept it there because the shirt he was wearing had actually torn at some point and he'd fixed it. though, he had no use for it now, so he decided to put it on the edge of edge of the cabinet if jervis wanted it. but he didn't really know what he wanted. that night seemed to be a series of gut punches now as the other touched upon how jack was a good person and barton should be proud of him.

he blinked several times as he felt this sensation like something ugly was swirling within him. jack had always kind of gotten the short-end of the stick, and for what? ❝ ahh. well, sometimes i've found myself practicing behaviors towards him that my father used to use on me... but i try to stop myself when that happens. jack has come a long way, as the first time i met him, he was a scared two year old who was on his own with his brother. but now jack's a young man and very brave, despite maybe still being scared sometimes. ❞ barton cleared his throat then, ❝ that's normal though. so yeah, i am proud of him. ❞

barton turned his attention back to jervis and tilted his head at the other's sluggishness. being vulnerable like that surprisingly didn't feel too nerve-wracking, as he added just a bit more to the equation. barton gave the iv bag jervis was hooked up to a good squeeze, ❝ hmm. are you still in pain, jervis? or are you just tired? ❞ he observed the other silently and looked down at the cards before the both of them. that is, before barton heard jervis approve of him reading his fortune.

he drifted a hand along the cards then. choosing one that felt 'right' came without much difficulty to barton, and when he did, the reversed 'wheel of fortune' card for jervis's past. the next card he chose was the reversed 'six of swords' for jervis's present. barton flipped the last one for his future and was greeted by 'the sun,' which made him let out a soft 'huh' and smile a bit. ❝ well... i hate to start off with the past when you got this card, but i guess we have to. ❞ he was about to start interpreting jervis's fortune when jack came back into the room with the breakfast he promised the other. well, talk about convenient timing.

Jervis merely rolled his eyes at Barton’s remark, fingers biting into the fabric of the blanket as he pulled it around his shoulders like an old shawl. The plush material was a little threadbare at the corner; a tear disrupting the otherwise seamless fabric.

Sea-green and white plaid. Utilitarian, impersonal.

It sufficed perfectly; his thin frame was almost terminally intolerant to the cold. 27 years in Gotham had failed to inoculate him against the frigid rains and bone-chilling air sweeping off the harbor.

“Trust me, I’m well aware where I would be, if it weren’t for you both. I see enough of the place in my nightmares… so I don’t require any reminders.” He flexed his fingers around the teacup, feeling the warmth seep into his hands as he cautiously tipped the liquid into his mouth. It had a strange, but not unpleasant consistency, like warm, thin honey that slid smoothly over his tongue in a tangy blend of sweet and sour. Tiny bits of softened citrus peel floated in the syrupy mixture.

Barton’s IV pole scraped slightly along the concrete floor, a sharp metallic sound that mingled with the sudden rasp of the curtains being jerked shut. The room was clean and sparse, a sterile space designed to be free of clutter, yet a faint, telltale mustiness clung to the air—a lingering scent of damp fabric and stale dust that disinfectant alone couldn’t quite mask. Beyond the makeshift partition, the rest of the warehouse stretched out in vast, dark emptiness. The floor was cold, unpolished concrete, marred with cracks that split like spider webs. Dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast a harsh, uneven glow, barely cutting through the haze of dust that swirled in the air.

But, of course, beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to hideaways—especially when you’ve learned to take shelter wherever you can find it. Or when you were part of the criminal element.

How far he’d come and how little had truly changed.

Jervis glanced across the room at where his coat, shirt, and gloves rested neatly on the desk, carefully folded with almost surgical precision. He flexed his hands again around the teacup, feeling the phantom prickle of sensation where the wool-lined leather should be—an exposed vulnerability that gnawed at him, made his skin itch with invisible grime.

He sank his teeth into a particularly broad piece of yuja peel, the bitter tang releasing as he bit down; meanwhile, Barton’s voice drifted in one ear, out the other like the static hum on a faulty wireless. He chewed slowly, savoring the rind as he turned his attention back to the small tear in the blanket. Nodded intermittently.

Jervis’ callused, scarred fingers found the frayed edge; the fabric was worn thin and splitting, and he traced it absentmindedly, feeling the uneven fibers beneath his touch. For a moment, his thoughts shifted to the sewing kit buried somewhere in his bag, imagining the small spool of thread and the thin, glinting needles; each one ready to pierce the fabric and pull it back together.

As if stitching this small wound would make any real difference, he thought bitterly; like it could somehow soothe the cold reality pressing in on them from all sides… It was a small, pointless task, a flicker of control in a situation that felt like it was slipping away, unraveling faster than he could sew it back together. He knew it wouldn’t ameliorate anything—wouldn’t solve the problems looming larger than this tiny, frayed corner. And yet, his fingers lingered there, desperate for something tangible to fix; something he could make whole again, if only for a moment.

Jervis gave no reply as Barton moved to change his shirt; blinking hard as he gazed down at the floor, but the darkness behind his eyelids refused to stay empty. Flecks of indigo light bloomed in the black, shifting like dust motes that twisted with each beat of his heart. The room swam as he opened his eyes again, the ceiling blurred and murky like the styrofoam cup Alice stored her wet paintbrushes in. He scratched absently at the IV in his arm, feeling the tug of the thin plastic embedded in his skin but barely registering the discomfort. The bright pinpricks danced at the edges of his vision, trailing like little comets whenever he turned his head.

“You ought to be proud of him, I imagine. Your son… he seems like a good lad.” Jervis’ voice was a wisp of silk, smooth and thin, like it might unravel into nothing if he spoke too loudly. He tilted his head slightly, almost resembling a marionette on a slack string, the hint of a smile touching his lips but never quite reaching his eyes. He ran a finger along the rim of his teacup, the motion delicate and deliberate as he pondered Barton’s final query.

“Hmm… can you?” Gray eyes blinked slowly, the lids heavy and sluggish, further dragged down by fatigue. The question lingered in the air, softly innocuous. He glanced over at the tarot cards Jack left behind on the desk—arranged in a rough, careless spread, but somehow feeling deliberate, as though the cards had fallen exactly where they were meant to. The edges were worn, curling slightly; the images esoteric, half-familiar symbols. Stars, sun, moon, cups and swords, animals and human figures rendered in faded colors.

He paused, gaze narrowing, subtly curious despite the exhaustion that weighed down his expression. For a moment, his hand tightened around his teacup; twitched like he might reach out and touch them, as if by brushing the surface he could glean some hidden answer buried beneath the painted ink.

‘Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all.’

His grip on the blanket slipped momentarily, fumbling at the worn edge before he reached for his collar instead. He dug beneath the charcoal fabric of his T-shirt, searching with a practiced motion until his fingers found the tarnished silver chain again. He drew it out slowly, the weight of it comforting against his skin as he absently ran his thumb over his and Sylvie’s rings, threaded side by side on the links.

The metal was dull, no longer shining with the luster it once had, but it carried a certain softness now, smoothed by years of worry. His eyes dropped for a second before he let the chain slip back beneath his shirt. “By all means, if it tickles your fancy…” Jervis gave a short, rough half-shrug, the motion stunted as though his shoulder couldn’t quite decide whether to follow through.

[izufeels]

⁝ KATSUKI BAKUGOU !

description: as model! momo’s PA, you have a lot of interesting interactions

content warning: meet-cutes; flirting; no one really likes katsuki; stress y/n

You don’t hate your job. Actually, you really like your job. You like Momo and her friends, you like flying to different countries every week— even if that means you can’t ever make your own plans— and you especially like the money.

What you don’t like, is the hours upon hours spent in a sketchy warehouse with no air conditioning. Which, in retrospect, isn’t the worst place Momo has had a shoot, but it’s definitely the most unbearable.

You’re surrounded by models, obviously, and their own overly-snobby PA’s— whom you’d probably rather die than talk to.

And it’s hot. Insufferably hot. Triple digits hot. You regret wearing your hoodie and you regret not wearing a shirt under it even more.

You would say something to Momo, but she’s in front of a white backdrop with her arms draped over Shoto Todoroki— world famous model and your second favorite nepo baby.

And then your phone buzzes. You tear your eyes away from Momo and Shoto, looking down at your phone. “Oh,” you whisper, standing up from your chair. The notification is from DoorDash— Momo’s matcha latte has arrived.

So you get up without excusing yourself— because the people around you wouldn’t care anyway. You walk to the door, get the drink, and make your way back to your seat.

And, because you’re so engrossed in your phone, you don’t see the man headed straight for you and you slam directly into the front of him. The matcha latte spills down his torso and you’re frozen in fear.

You’re not looking up at his face yet— too mortified— but you can tell he’s a model just from the compression shirt and washboard abs that the drink is covering.

Imagine your surprise when you look up and see the Katsuki Bakugou standing in front of you.

Katsuki Bakugou; famous Japanese model, nepo baby and world class asshole. Or, so you’ve heard. You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him, only listened to Momo and her friends bitch about him.

But, looking at him now, he’s kind of cute. Okay, he’s more than cute, he’s hot. His jawline is chiseled and his eyes are a dangerous shade of red that makes you want to commit atrocities not yet heard of.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t even watching where I was going and- oh my god. This is so embarrassing. I’m so sorry. I- oh my god.”

He looks down at his shirt, annoyance flickering across his face for less than a second before disappearing. His eyes narrow but, somehow, you can tell there’s no heat behind them. “S’fine,” he mumbles, sighing.

The silence is awkward for several seconds when, finally, you manage to open your mouth. “I um, I can pay for your shirt,” you offer, voice soft. “Like uh, for dry cleaning and stuff. Because, you know… I- I ruined it.”

He looks down at his shirt again as if he’d forgotten about the giant stain. A small chuckle bubbles up from his chest and he shakes his head, looking back at you. “Nah, don’t bother. Ain’t the first time this has happened.”

“What?” You furrow your brows and tilt your head. “You’ve had multiple girls spill matcha latte on your shirt because they were too busy scrolling on Instagram?”

He snorts, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Not exactly,” he chuckles. “but I’ve had people spill way worse on me. So, a little green liquid is like a walk in the park.”

You sense the eyes on you. You can hear the whispers. But, at this moment, it’s just you two. His red eyes staring into your own. “I’m Y/n,” you say, sticking your hand out. “Momo’s PA.”

He regards your hand with a blank stare, like he isn’t sure why it’s being extended to him, but, eventually, he takes it. His hand is so much bigger than yours and a shock runs the length of your arm as his palm meets yours. He grips you a little tighter than necessary. “Katsuki.”

“You’re a model, right?” You already know the answer, but you don’t want the conversation to end.

For some reason, your question makes Katsuki preen. He puffs his chest out slightly, clearly proud of the fact that you actually know who he is, and nods. “And a damn good one,” he says, a smirk finding its way onto his lips.

You open your mouth, but Momo’s voice cuts through the air and makes you turn. “Y/n!” she exclaims, briskly walking over to you. “Hey, are you okay? Is he bothering you?” she turns to him and narrows her eyes. “Why are you harassing her? I’ll pay for the shirt, for fucks sake. Go away.”

The smirk slides off his face in a heartbeat. He shoots your friend a glare and opens his mouth to respond. “I’m not harassing her,” he growls. “She ran into me like a dumbass. Dropped her own drink. Not my fault.”

“W- well it’s not really my drink-” you gasp and your eyes widen once more. “Momo! Oh my god, your drink! I’m so sorry! I spilled it everywhere!”

She holds up a hand and shakes her head, stopping you from delving into a second round of apologies. “It’s fine,” she says, shooting a sharp glare at Katsuki. “I just hope he didn’t give you too much trouble. Come on, let’s go. I’m done here anyway.”

tags; @sazankahanei @mimidonottouch

[colourful-void]

I have finished Virtue's Last Reward!

what was that.

-

alright thoughts, here we go!

Im glad the time paradox thing was addressed, to my understanding it's like. the two branches diverge no matter what, but instead of living through the Good Branch, we're here on the Bad Branch. it's not going to cease to exist if Phi and Sigma and kyle??? can change the past, we're just fucked.

I'm with Tenmyouji! Junpei is never wrong I agree with him always. That is not the Akane Kurashiki i once knew. She is long gone. (spike chunsoft please bring her back)

This ending is so much more of a downer than the last one. I'm a little bummed out actually. Like I know Akane's telling me its up to me to save the world and everything but like. It's a narrative video game fuck the world man I want my little guys to be happy. 999 was weird as shit and has like. a higher active body body count (3 characters in game die no matter what as opposed to vlr's 0, but 7 billion if u count. the earth.), but despite all that? the ending feels hopeful. and then really weird because alice being there was such a jarring shift but like ignoring alice?? very good.

Actually, Akane talking to Kyle felt more like she was talking to me, Void, more than any other interaction in this entire game. "You want to know what happens between Dec24 and new years eve? then you have to go back. you have to do it." It's like a threat. What the hell akane. I do want to know. you're going to make me play another game but ur fucking right i do wanna know.

I'm glad that Tenmyouji and Quark will stay together. I love you Quark. I love you tenmyouji.

Seriously Phi explains jackshit.

Game thoughts as a whole! Uhh a little mixed? mixed! there's more I like than I dislike, but my thoughts are kind of. muddled a bit

A lot of things were frustrating (mainly puzzles) but a lot of things were really exciting (mainly story).

some puzzles were really exciting and fun (the whole archives, the lounge, the final cube puzzle, the pec door puzzles, the rec room) and some were really annoying (darts, most of the pantry, anything with a lot of math and cross referencing really). ((some of this is because im bad at puzzles!!)

Most of the story was really fun (All of Quark and Tenmyouji really, Luna's backstory, Dio's backstory i still hate him but its good, K's initial backstory just from his ending, going through the different endings and combinbing knowlege from em,) Some of it was really annoying (Sigma being gross to the girls, the weird radical 6 based contradictions, a significant portion of the ending though i dont feel fair making a full judgement on it because half of it still makes no sense to me and im not sure how much of this is sequel bait, the general sudden downer shift of it all)

menuing and q-o-l wise: i did get used to the sprites and menuing, though part of that comes from a shift to displaying it on my tv (the display darkens and softens it out a bit so its nicer,) and getting a controller (item tabbing!!!) though i never really ended up using the ingame notes past the first room. instead i took paper ntoes and my journal is a mess for it. i do have a very important complaint to raise re game display:

THE FUCKING MAP SECTIONS TAKE WAY TOO LONG!!!! unless you're already fastforwarding, it's really slow and there's no way to skip it! I know where the lounge is by now this is my 7th run but no i've gotta watch the little dot move all the way from the b floor warehouse and it's just really annoying. why was there not an option to just skip it. goddamn.

In review: im not sure what to think about vlr yet? It's definitely left me much more conflicted than 999, and I probably like 999 more overall. The twists in vlr were really fun and unexpected (favourites are the inital betrayal from alice turning into an ally, seeing k's mask come off, tenmyouji's picture of akane, the first time more stuff was added to the flowchart like that, seeing the moon and everything.) and there were a lot more of them, but i think the ones in 999 hit me harder, while there were fewer. (Learning akane was who died, learning ace's identity, when the dialouge switches to first person).

But i;ll be fair, I was probably always going to be biased towards 999? it's aesthetics are more my taste and while this sounds weird it's... a lot more down to earth than vlr? Vlr is really high concept and i feel like if I spend some time with it or look at stuff AROUND it i'll grow into it. but it's a lot more than i usually. swallow at once. im a weak man okay my brain can't handle it.

Vlr's ending much like it's beginning is gonna be one of those things i thing where at first im like 'fuck this' and then over time im going to really love it. I'm already liking it a lot more than I did like. 15 hours ago.

Will I play Zero Time Dilemma?

Well im curious where the story goes, but I'm also wondering like. Yes? Play it? or is like a 'play the first two and pretend zero time dilemma never happened' situation. my only interaction with the fandom of zero escape is whatever you all send me, and a meme of akane my brother once found.

Here's the part where I was gonna say that video games are expensive and I'd see based on ppl's reccomendations and pricing and how much I'd need to save whether and when i'd get it but like. i forgot steam summer sale is on and it's like. 9 dollars right now so I'll probably get it anyway.

still curious though, other people's opinions, please weigh in! do you think I'm being too harsh to vlr? is there something I haven't considered? do you need to play ZTD to really give VLR a fair shot? what are your favourite parts of vlr? did i completely fail to read something important in the game and its fucking my perception. should i go back and play those two endings that fuck over quark i avoided?

let me know!!

[tennessoui]

49!!!!!! Please

finally!!!! baby, finally!!!!

49. Boss/Intern (35yo!Boss!Anakin, 19yo!Intern!Obi-Wan)

(2.4k)

Obi-Wan rubs his hands rapidly down his face. He feels distinctly like he’s about to burst into tears, which would be a very bad thing to do here and now. His supervisor had come in fifteen minutes ago to tell him everyone was going to lunch. She’d invited him along, but he’d said no.

He always says no.

Lunch for the rest of the office means he gets to have a scheduled breakdown at his little cubicle.

He just. He just doesn’t know anything.

He’s only had this internship at Temple Tech for one week and already he’s floundered and fucked up more than anyone else probably has put together in their lifetimes.

He shouldn’t have ever applied, but he had been getting so desperate for summer employment, any sort of employment and, yes, this internship was out of his career field, and yes, he did have to lie at least five times on his resume, but it was an internship and it was paid.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. But then he actually got the job by some stroke of hellish luck, and he’s been learning every day since that it was actually probably a terrible idea. The learning curve is too steep. Obi-Wan is trying, but wow is he bad at it. Tech. Data stuff.

On his open computer, the sound of an email pinging rushes through his ears and he takes his hands off of his face to look. It’s from Anakin Skywalker. The boss.

Obi-Wan thinks he can feel his fingers grow numb. His heart feels like it’s stuttering in his chest, like it’s about to stop once and for all.

Temple Tech is a start-up company, still small but growing quickly. At its head is thirty-five year old Anakin Skywalker, which shouldn’t be any sort of a problem because Obi-Wan’s nineteen now and he can keep it in his pants, even if Anakin is hot as hell, smart as well, and so terribly kind whenever they run into each other.

Which happens a lot. Because it’s a small company, operating out of one renovated warehouse turned office. The floor plan is open enough that Obi-Wan’s able to see Anakin’s space--he gets a proper office, as part of being the boss, but he’s chosen to make the walls glass so it doesn’t feel as if he’s cut off from everyone else--from across the room. And Anakin is big on making everyone who works with him feel like family. A lot of companies say they do that or support that, but Anakin actually does. For one thing, he tells them to call him Anakin, not Mr. Skywalker. For another, he’s open about his personal life, but not so much that it makes anyone feel uncomfortable.

He’s quick with a smile and so understanding, and if he ever gets mad—and from his stories of his younger days, Obi-Wan knows he must have a temper—it’s never been in public.

And Anakin has never commented on how often Obi-Wan blushes around him, or how hard it is for him to focus on his work if Anakin sits on the edge of his desk to talk with him. Or any of the other employees, Obi-Wan has had to remind himself many times. Even though Obi-Wan feels hypersensitive and like a schoolgirl whenever Anakin is in his general vicinity, Anakin is a professional. He’s Obi-Wan’s boss. Nothing could ever happen between them. Not while Obi-Wan works under Anakin.

Even if Anakin is so nice and so kind and has asked to meet him now when everyone else is out of the building. It’s not suspicious and it’s definitely not cause for concern of any kind.

He thinks about shooting back an email, confirming it, but he’s never been good at the whole office environment thing. Instead, he logs off his computer and stands up.

It’s a short walk to Anakin’s office, hardly enough time for his palms to get sweaty.

Anakin’s typing something when Obi-Wan enters the room and he looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, aghast when he realizes he’s forgotten to knock. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Obi-Wan, come in, please,” Anakin gives him a slight smile and gestures for him to sit on the couch next to his desk. Obi-Wan takes a seat hesitantly. It’s as soft as it’s always looked.

Anakin types for a few more seconds on his computer before pushing away from his desk all together and taking a seat next to Obi-Wan on the couch.

“I’ve noticed you never go out to lunch with your coworkers,” Anakin says, positioning himself so he’s facing Obi-Wan completely. His body language is open, like he’s read one of those business books on how to sit so everyone knows you’re nice but you have an agenda.

It puts Obi-Wan on edge, and he fidgets around on his seat.

“You’re not in trouble, b--Obi-Wan,” his boss murmurs. “I just want to know why. Do you not like them? Have they been mean to you?”

“No!” Obi-Wan denies immediately, looking up at Anakin and biting his lip when he sees that the man’s attention is fixed so squarely on him. “No, of course not. Everyone here has been amazing.” He widens his eyes and raises both eyebrows. “Really, sir.”

Anakin looks distinctly uncomfortable. “I’ve told you to call me Anakin,” he criticizes, and Obi-Wan blushes more.

He’s really messing this up.

“Sorry, sir, I mean. Anakin. Sorry. Anakin,” he coughs. His palms are sweaty. He’s sitting on his attractive boss’s couch when everyone’s gone on lunch, and his palms are sweaty.

He doesn’t even want anything to happen.

Alright, so that’s a lie. He definitely has spent a lot of late nights thinking about something happening between them, just like this, but those are fantasies and Anakin is his boss. More than that, Anakin is a good man. He’d never take advantage of an intern in that way, no matter how frequently Obi-Wan feels as if he’s walking around with a sign around his neck that says, Take Advantage of Me, Mr. Anakin, Sir!

“Why don’t you go to lunch with them, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks softly, gently.

Obi-Wan’s hands clench down on themselves. It’s really the moment of truth, now. He really can’t keep lying, not when Anakin sounds so concerned. He has no right to be concerned! He shouldn’t care about Obi-Wan at all; hell, he shouldn’t even know him!

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles, staring down at the stretch of fabric on his knees.

Anakin hums. Obi-Wan wonders if he learned that from his fancy How to Run a Business books as well: don’t say anything, just let the other person talk until you know everything you need to know to crush them.

Damn if the silence doesn’t work to get Obi-Wan speaking again though.

“I...I’m behind on the work,” he admits. “I don’t have time to go to lunch because I need to figure out how to do my work.”

Anakin makes a sympathetic noise deep in his throat. “If...if your workload is too heavy, Obi-Wan, we can look into cutting it. I don’t want to be known as the company that runs its interns into the ground.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightens too much and he shrugs. He can’t cry. He really shouldn’t cry. He did this to himself. “It wouldn’t help,” he whispers.

“What?” Anakin asks, leaning forward to hear him better.

“It wouldn’t help,” Obi-Wan says again, louder this time. Anakin blinks at him, and Obi-Wan finally tells him the truth. “I don’t know how to do any of this. I...I lied on my resume. I needed a job, for my student visa. I needed the money to keep it while not in school. And...and internships are supposed to look good on your resume, so I...I thought I could figure it out, I’m smart, sir, I’m so smart. I don’t know why I can’t figure it out.”

He drops his gaze to his hands again and breathes out shakily. He’d been carrying the weight of that secret for far longer than he should have been. It should have been a relief of the utmost degree to give it away. But instead he’s waiting for the punishment. Anakin will have to fire him now. Anakin might even get mad at him for lying.

When his boss doesn’t say anything for several long seconds, Obi-Wan chances a glance up at him through his lashes. Instead of anger on his face, there’s only a confused sort of sympathy.

“I’m...not sure I understand, Obi-Wan,” he says slowly. “You lied on your resume to get this internship, but...why couldn’t you have just applied to an internship in a different field? One you actually want to study? I know you like biology, you’ve told me more about biology in the past few weeks than you’ve told me about yourself.”

“None of them wanted me,” Obi-Wan sniffles and hates himself for it. “I tried, I promise. I promise I didn’t want to lie, but I needed the money, and this internship paid so much better than working at a coffeehouse would.”

Anakin puts his hand gently on his shoulder and Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from turning into the pressure of it. “It’s alright,” Anakin murmurs. “Oh no, please don’t--please don’t cry, b--Obi.”

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan wails.

Anakin hushs him. “Alright, Obi-Wan, alright. Let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re going to fire me,” he says with absolute certainty. He doesn’t even much like his job at Temple Tech, but how is he supposed to find another one on such short notice?

Anakin is quiet. He doesn’t say no.

“Look, I’ll try harder, I promise,” Obi-Wan stutters out, turning to look up at Anakin with wet eyes. What a picture he must make. Nothing professional about him at all. Nothing worth keeping around either. “I promise, please, don’t--I’ll--I’ll stay after hours, I’ll work late, come early. I need this job, sir.”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrow and he looks genuinely regretful, which is little comfort. “Obi-Wan, it’s not about...your work ethic. I promise, your work ethic is stronger and better than most of the people on my team.”

Obi-Wan wipes at his eyes hastily. He knows there’s a but coming soon.

“But I can’t...if you’ve lied on your resume, you can’t put Temple Tech there later. That’s not fair for anyone else who applied and was rejected in favor of you. The spot you have...I need someone there who knows what they’re doing with computers. Who wants to be there. Obi, it makes sense that you don’t know anything about tech. You never look like you really want to be here unless you’re talking to someone else.”

Obi-Wan’s bottom lip trembles and he can feel another wave of tears coming. “I understand, sir,” he mumbles, standing up and preparing to leave the office and Anakin Skywalker behind forever. He’s never been fired before. He doesn’t know what the decorum really is in this situation.

Being tugged back and into his boss’ arms doesn’t feel like how it normally goes, though.

But he can’t resist melting into Anakin’s tight hug, rubbing his cheek on the man’s nice shirt. He wants to give him something to remember him by, even if it’s just tear stains on expensive cotton.

“Lemme help you,” Anakin suddenly says, voice very gruff. Obi-Wan freezes in his arms and tilts his head to try and see Anakin’s face. Help him?

“I don’t understand,” he admits, biting his lip.

“I like you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin confesses. “I do. I’ll be sad to see you leave. I was already going to be sad to see you leave when your internship concluded, but this is much sooner. I…”

He trails off as if trying to make up his mind. It doesn’t take him long to nod to himself.

“Be honest,” he warns him, but there’s a joking lilt to his voice. Obi-Wan, personally, thinks that’s a little too soon. “Do you know how to clean house?”

Obi-Wan pulls out of Anakin’s arms to stare at him.

“Or walk dogs,” Anakin adds.

Slowly, Obi-Wan nods. Cleaning up a house and walking dogs feels like something he can figure out how to do. Feels pretty self-explanatory for the most part. The only thing he’s confused by is why Anakin is asking this of him.

“Would you...that is, just for the rest of the summer, until your classes start again--how would you feel about cleaning my house? And walking my dogs?” Anakin seems to hold his breath.

Obi-Wan feels like he’s stepped into the Twilight Zone or something.

“You’re...firing me,” he says slowly. “But...you’re offering me a job? As your….maid?”

“‘We should call it housekeeper,” Anakin says quickly, a pained look flashing across his face. “Too...many connotations with maid.”

“Why?” he has to ask. “I mean. I lied to you, sir. I...you’re firing me.”

“Because I need someone in that position who knows what they’re doing,” Anakin explains slowly.

“Do you want me in another position, sir?” Obi-Wan asks. He blushes furiously as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Anakin’s eyes darken and he clears his throat. He doesn’t say no, and his silence, the double entendre of his silence, makes the breath catch in Obi-Wan’s throat.

“You said you needed money to keep your visa,” Anakin says. “I’m trying to offer you an honest means of employment. I need someone to keep up my house and walk my dogs. If you can do it, I’d hire you over anyone else in a second.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan whispers, suddenly so very aware of how close they’re still standing to each other, how nice Anakin smells, how handsome he looks with just the beginning of a silver streak at his temple.

Anakin sweeps his gaze over Obi-Wan’s face and chest, and Obi-Wan has to wonder what he sees there. Whatever he does, he must like because he smirks. “Work ethic,” he murmurs.

[ethanesimp]

WHEN YOU’RE GONE // D.D.

Pairing: Mob Boss! Damiano David x Mob GN! Reader (it was originally written with a fem! reader so please let me know if you spot any slip ups on my part)

Summary: Soulmates are already a difficult concept to grasp and things don’t seem to get any easier when you like a person who already has a soulmate.

Word Count: 9.8k (it’s so long lakjd)

Warnings: Swearing, death and mentions of it, injuries, angst -lots of it-, it’s a mob fic so violence, smoking, Damiano being kind of an asshole? Me probably using swear words in italian wrong... Just read with caution pls

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction at the beginning of the year (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) I just like it and wanted to bring it back. I did add/modify some tiny details though. The idea is probably dumb, but I’m sharing anyways.

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove​ @superchrystaldrug​ @reputationdamiano​​

“This isn’t how I wanted to start my morning,” Your best friend mumbled in a tired voice. You could barely hear him from where you were standing over the sounds the old -and surely broken- coffee machine kept making and the music playing from his phone.

“Well, sucks to be us, huh?” You chuckled and poured coffee on both of your cups as you did a small dance to try and shake the tiredness off your body. You handed Damiano his cup after preparing his coffee the way he liked it, a teaspoon of sugar with a splash of milk, and walked with him to the large office down the hall, “I don’t get why Ethan and Thomas can’t do this instead of us.”

The room was always cold and you seemed to forget about it most of the time since it still slipped your mind to wear a sweater or hoodie over your thin pajama shirt. You grabbed one of the blankets from the small black couch on the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body as best as you could with your free hand. 

You sat down on the chair next to him to have a better look at all the papers and files he had spread out on the desk, “What exactly are we looking for?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows. All those documents were enough to keep you occupied for the whole day if you didn’t work fast enough.

“We are looking for any leads to the drug cartel or its leader. Really anything that can help us find them,” Damiano explained and took a sip of his coffee as he opened the first file. 

You had been trying to track a drug cartel ever since they infiltrated your warehouse and stole some of your products. Damiano’s father had been at both of your necks ever since it happened as if it had been your fault instead of the incompetent guards that were supposed to be guarding the entrance at all times, “I’m sure these are people we’ve made deals with in the past, they wouldn’t have been able to break in otherwise. We’ve always been far too careful for this to be a mere coincidence.”

He removed the gold ring from his ring finger and left it on the jewelry bowl you had placed on his desk. You had known Damiano David and his family for years. For as long as you had known him, the band on his ring finger had been gold, and you hated it. 

That stupid little gold band was a silent reminder that he had met his soulmate and there was nothing to be done about it. For months you had silently hoped and prayed for Damiano to be your soulmate, but any illusion or wish you had of it happening, had vanished the moment you saw the gold ring on his finger for the first time. You later discovered he avoided wearing it on his hand because it put his soulmate at risk of being found, but he still kept it close to him at all times by using it as a necklace.

You avoided wearing yours for an entirely different reason. The black ring and all the stares and words of pity that came with it were saddening and something you didn’t need. While gold was a reminder of love and good luck, black was a reminder that your soulmate was no longer alive and you were doomed to spend the rest of your life alone. You were sure the band had been black for most of your life, or at least that’s how you remembered it.

It was safe to say you were jealous of Damiano’s soulmate, Marlee. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women you had ever met, but she got to have perhaps the most amazing man by her side until her dying day, something you could never have in any way that wasn’t platonic.

You successfully ignored it most days, which wasn’t so hard to do since you had better things to think about most of the time, but nights were always the hardest. In your loud and chaotic life, there was a speck in time where everything quieted and calmed down. During those few hours was when you’d break down and grieve for the person whose name you didn’t even get to know. You’d cry for being stupid enough to fall for someone who wasn’t only your best friend, but who also had a girlfriend.

“Damiano, Y/N?” Marlee’s sweet voice interrupted your train of thoughts. You had been reading the files consciously enough to notice anything unusual, but you had paid no mind to anything else until she walked into the room. You smiled politely at her and waved. 

She walked up to Damiano and he immediately closed all files with any sort of photo that might be too graphic for her to look at. Marlee cupped his face and pressed her lips to his for a few moments that felt like an eternity to you, watching everything from the side as a feeling of jealousy invaded your senses. You did nothing but look at the painting on the wall until they stopped locking lips, which took a bit longer than you would’ve liked.

“Did you two find anything?” Marlee asked once she pulled away from Damiano. He gave her a look you knew as ‘I cannot tell you anything about the mob to keep you safe’. She had been involved with the mob’s administration for most of her life, only after she met Damiano and her father united his mob with Damiano’s did she stop working. 

You had been brought in as a replacement of sorts once Marlee stopped doing any mob business per Damiano’s request. His parents had saved yours from a legal accident, which left you in debt with his family, so you didn’t have much say on whether you’d join the mob or not. 

Something you were grateful for was that Damiano always kept your hands clean. No matter what business it was, he made sure to keep you out of any sort of situation in which you’d have to hurt or get hurt by another member of the mob. Most people that worked for Damiano didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him as the lenient and caring individual he was around you.

You excused yourself after spending a few more minutes flipping through the files in search of something but ultimately found nothing. It was supposed to be your free day, or at least that was what Damiano had promised. Apart from that impromptu search for information at 5 am, he promised he’d have Ethan, Vic, or Thomas help with anything he needed. 

That was why you took the liberty to lock yourself inside your room and put your phone on silent. You desperately wanted to catch up on all the hours of sleep you had lost in between those early morning duty calls and coffee runs. No matter how much you enjoyed spending time with Damiano, you still missed your normal sleep schedule.

-

When you woke up a few hours later, the house was completely silent. The usual chatter coming from the kitchen wasn’t there, neither was the noise of Vic repeatedly firing bullets at the targets in the garden to practice her aim like she did every morning or the soft sound of Thomas softly strumming his guitar as he tried to piece an unplanned melody together with the assistance of Ethan’s drumming.

It wasn’t a Sunday, which meant they weren’t away visiting their families. They were all supposed to be home. That last thought made you nervous and you couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened while you were asleep. Being in the mob, you knew a lot of unexpected things happened all the time and you had to be prepared for them all.

You walked to the door, determined to investigate what was wrong. Your hand was already firmly grasping the doorknob and you were about to undo the lock when someone knocked harshly on the door, startling you. 

Without hesitation, you jumped back and reached for the gun stuffed in one of the drawers nearby, “Y/N? You awake?” 

You let go of the drawer’s handle and your tense body relaxed at the sound of Victoria’s raspy voice, “Fuck, Vic, you scared me,” You spoke as you opened the door to be met with her panicked blue eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed at her worried expression, but before you could ask, she grabbed you by the arm softly and dragged you out of the room.

Once you were in the hallway, you finally heard everything with a lot more clarity. The faint sound of glass clinking before falling to the floor, Thomas’s exasperated shouts, and Damiano’s complaints. You looked at Victoria, expecting an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened,” She began, “One second he was alright, then at like 9 AM Ethan and I heard them fighting. She’s gone and Damiano’s locked in his room, won’t let anyone in. Thomas is trying to get him to talk while Ethan looks for the keys.”

You walked past Victoria and ran up the stairs. Damiano’s room was right above yours. Upon walking up to the third floor of the house, you saw Thomas repeatedly knocking on Damiano’s door. Once he heard footsteps and spotted you, it was like relief washed all over him at the sight of you.

“Do you mind trying?” He asked, “He’s been asking for you,” Thomas added with a sigh as he brushed his messy hair out of his forehead. You nodded and got closer to the door once he got out of the way.

With hesitation, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response, which arrived only after you knocked once again, “Vaffanculo, Thomas! Which part of your tiny fucking brain cannot understand that I want to be left alone?”

You flinched at his words and took a long breath as you gathered the confidence to speak up, “I-It’s Y/N, Dami,” You said, loud enough for him to hear you from where he was. You were expecting rejection; if Damiano didn’t want to talk to people who were as close to him as siblings, why would he talk to you? Sure, you were one of his best friends, but he’d known Thomas for longer than he—

Your thoughts were interrupted when Damiano opened the door and quickly dragged you in before slamming it shut once more. For the first few minutes, you stood in silence while Damiano faced the door. You couldn’t see his face or his eyes, so you had no idea what could be going through his mind, so you focused on your surroundings instead. 

The room was a mess, but not more than it usually was. What alarmed you was the shattered glass on the floor as well as the drops of blood that stained the white floor. You looked back at your best friend and noticed that it was dripping from his hand. 

“Damiano,” You called, “Amore, your hand,” He turned to look at you and that’s when you finally saw his red and swollen eyes as well his tear-stained cheeks. His gaze softened once his eyes fell on yours. He choked back a sob and turned away from you once again.

If his hand hadn’t been bleeding, you wouldn’t have hesitated on wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to comfort him. Instead, you ran to his bathroom to grab the first-aid kit. After years of being in the business, treating Damiano’s cuts and injuries wasn’t anything new to you, but you were oblivious as to why he was in such a state in the first place.

Being the person he was, Damiano had learned to conceal his emotions incredibly well to protect himself, even around the people he trusted the most. You had only seen him that shaken once when something had gone terribly wrong. The fact that Marlee was gone too only gave you a worse feeling. The fact that her clothes were all gone from the closet didn’t ease your worried mind either.

Damiano was sitting on the bed patiently waiting for you to return. Once you did, he avoided your gaze and said nothing as you examined his hand. The cuts were all superficial and would surely cure on their own in a few days, which was why you only focused on removing the tiny shards of glass that had stuck to his skin with a pair of tweezers.

Once that was done and you had cleaned the cuts, you wrapped a bandage around his hand once and secured it with a small piece of tape. You sat in silence for a while, you didn’t comment on the sobs that would escape his lips every once in a while or the tears that had started falling down his cheeks.

Instead, you waited until he was ready to say something, “I don’t even know how to tell you this,” Damiano mumbled. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. He seemed… embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“I was finally going to do it this morning, N/N,” He said as a sigh escaped past his lips and he took a small velvet box out of his pocket. He didn’t have to say what was inside the box because you knew exactly what it was. Damiano had been planning on proposing for months, but there was always something that managed to get in the way of completing his goal.

“She went to the bathroom and had left her phone on my bedside table. I was going to get the ring and Y/N… I-I swear to God I didn’t want to look but the messages kept coming, one after the other, the fucking phone wouldn’t stop making noise. Cazzo, she was the one feeding information to the drug cartel and Lord knows to who else,” He said those words in one breath and you had barely been able to catch them all. Damiano threw the box at the wall angrily and from the noise, you didn’t doubt there’d be an indent there.

“I asked her about it and you have no idea how much I wished she’d deny it, but she didn’t even try,” Damiano cried. Unexpectedly, Damiano turned his body around to face yours and wrapped his arms around your waist while he buried his face on your neck.

It took you by surprise, but you said nothing. Instead, you focused on rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. Part of you knew there was something else going on, even if you didn’t ask. You hadn’t seen Damiano cry in a long time and even then you saw nothing more than just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. What happened with Marlee had truly driven him right to the edge and he couldn’t keep in everything he had been trying so hard to hide.

-

In the four months that followed, you didn’t see Marlee once. She never had the guts to return after Damiano found out about everything she had been doing behind his back. At first, he had been utterly destroyed by her absence, it pained you to see him shut everything and everyone out with the lame excuse that he had work to do. Every single time he did so, you’d quietly sit down and help him despite his complaints. 

He got better though. Once enough time passed, he healed, but all that love he had once felt for her was now nothing more than pure hatred every single time her name was mentioned. You knew better than anyone that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but it didn’t matter how many times you told him so because it never truly changed much.

As for the mob, things seemed to calm down once Damiano and Ethan were able to track down the leader of the drug cartel and get the stolen products back. Everything was too good and too quiet. While your four friends enjoyed all that peace, you couldn’t help but worry about something being wrong. It was a silly thing anyway, there was nothing that gave you even the slightest confirmation that your worry wasn’t just fueled by paranoia, not a single thing.

You should’ve been grateful instead. Your sleep schedule had gotten acceptably regular and there was no more working from 5 am to 10 pm every single day. You also had time to finally sit down and read the books that had been sitting on your untouched shelf ever since the start of the year, just like you were doing at that very moment while the boys were playing poker in the basement and Vic was on a date.

Damiano walked into your room eventually, still smelling like the cigarette he had just been smoking minutes back. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose as the smell of lemon incense burning hit his nostrils.

You looked up and giggled at his disgusted expression, “You cannot be disgusted when you were the one who walked into my room smelling like cigar and beer,” Damiano rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed next to you.

“Incense is bad for you,” You shot Damiano a killer look and closed your book. He gave you a funny look back and then put his attention on your book, “What are you reading anyway?”

You hummed and showed him the cover. It had a beautiful yet simple design, which accurately represented the story hidden in between those pages, “Okay so, it’s the story of these people that all get invited to this island. They’re all summoned there for different reasons but it turns out they all have this common enemy. It’s terrifying because they get killed off one by one when a children’s lullaby plays. I truly cannot explain it enough to do justice to how intense this book is.”

“Oh and before that I got to read the most wonderful romance book! It was apparently the first book written where soulmates weren’t a thing and it was just a piece of art. Beautifully written, made me cry for hours too.”

Damiano smiled and you could almost see all the gears turning inside his brain, “Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“What would?”

He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you, “A world without soulmates, where you’re not bound to someone since birth.”

You sighed and turned to look at him, “It’s our own fault… being bound, I mean. No angel from the heavens came down to tell us we have to love our soulmate as anything more than a close friend, you know? It can be purely platonic, we’re just stupid.”

“Were you ever able to fall in love with your soulmate or was it just platonic?” Damiano asked. You never talked much about soulmates with him. He still didn’t know your soulmate had been dead for as long as you could remember.

“I never got to know them,” You smiled sadly and showed him the black ring you had gotten used to wearing around your neck, carefully tucked under your shirt to stay unseen. His mouth fell open as he grabbed the ring and inspected it closely. It was the first time he had seen a black ring.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry,” Damiano let the ring go. You shrugged and waved your hand to silently show it wasn’t too important, “I thought you guys were separated or something.”

You shook your head, “Mom says the ring turned black when I was six, but I don’t really remember so I just like to pretend I never had one in the first place… I don’t know.”

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t want to ask it, as intrigued as you were to know the answer. You hadn’t talked about her ever since she left and he’d most likely avoid the question because he truly wanted to keep her name out of his mouth. Nonetheless, he noticed your hesitance because you suddenly got too silent. 

“You can ask, you know? I know I just touched on a sensitive topic, so…” You nodded. Both of you were lying on your backs, looking up at the ceiling which had some of those glow-in-the-dark stars and planets you had glued when you first moved in to feel less lonely.

You hummed softly as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to be too straightforward with your question in fear of upsetting your best friend even though he had asked you the same question minutes earlier, “Did-did you ever… you know, fall in love with her?” 

Damiano thought about it in silence, you had probably caught him off-guard with your question, “No, not really. Not in the way I was expecting at least. You know truth be told, I was a bit disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, she had this angelic look to her, she was a stunning girl. I just- there was nothing we had in common other than being soulmates. For years I had seen my parents act like they shared one mind and just thought the same things. I always imagined it’d be like that for me too.

“My expectations couldn’t have been further from what it truly was like. Honestly, I’m not even sure which part of our relationship was true anymore. Now that I look back on it, I’ve realized most of the things she did or said were just to get information out of me.” 

It was weird to hear him say all that. As a person who always got to look at the way Marlee and Damiano interacted with one another, you would’ve never expected Damiano to feel that way, “And,” He continued, “I was expecting it to be someone else.”

His last confession made you turn around to look at him. It was the first time he had admitted that, probably because of the beer he had been drinking while playing with his friends.

“I know it sounds terrible but… I met her and this other person on the same day, almost at the same time. I didn’t notice my ring had turned gold until much later. I had only been with them both and people I already knew. I thought it had been the other person until she told me her ring had changed too. Meanwhile, the other one said nothing. Now I realize it would’ve been impossible for them to be my soulmate.”

It might’ve been because he was telling you all those things and you felt safe to admit what you felt, or maybe because you were tired of bottling it up for so long. Either way, you spoke up, not caring if you’d regret it later, “It’s not as terrible as you might think.”

“Look, I’m not bound to anyone. The black ring gives me the freedom of loving someone else. I never met my soulmate so there’s no guilt in being with someone else. It’s supposed to be a perfect thing, Dami, only it isn’t. I know a lot of people who’re also blacksouled,” You hated using the word. It was usually how people would refer to those who didn’t have a soulmate anymore, “And I fell in love.”

“T-that’s great!” Damiano replied, “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, not like you’re obliged to tell me anything just because we’re friends but I-”

You interrupted his rant, “I fell in love with someone whose soulmate’s still alive.”

“So what? You said it yourself. Are they together?” He asked. You told him they weren’t. If only he knew you were talking about him… He’d probably run away and never speak to you again, “Then fuck it. Fuck the rules and everything else society has to say.”

“It’s not that simple, Dami. I truly wish it was, but it isn’t,” You wanted nothing more than for the conversation to be over. If it went any further, you knew you’d spill every single thing. It had gotten far too hard to conceal your feelings when you were close to him. Now that you were talking about them, it’d be even harder.

You got up and walked to your bookshelf, where you started accommodating your books as an excuse to avoid being so close to him, to avoid his curious gaze. Even if they weren’t together anymore, you knew Damiano would reject you, that was far too obvious. Even if he felt the same, after what happened, it’d take Damiano a lot of effort to ever trust someone in such an intimate way, even if that someone was you, his best friend.

“Why? It is that simple. If they’re not together, what’s stopping you? You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try,” You turned around to look at him, fists clenched by your sides, “Listen Y/N, I know you’re scared of relationships and everything they involve but you cannot let that sto—” 

“Fine then, I’m in love with you! I can barely breathe when I’m around you because my love for you is so suffocatingly strong, and I can’t think straight either! You and your stupidly handsome face drive me insane. How’s that?” You admitted, interrupting his small speech midway, too irritated to process what you had just said. Once you did, your hand flew to your mouth and you shook your head. You wanted to say it wasn’t true, no, it was nothing more than a lie to get him to stop poking his nose into your love life. Except it wasn’t and, if you were being honest, no part of you wanted to hide it anymore.

Just like you expected, he said nothing. Damiano stayed silent for a few seconds before getting up and walking out without another word. He slammed the door on the way out so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if the door separated from its hinges.

For the weeks that followed, Damiano avoided you as much as possible. You were still his right-hand person and needed to be present at every meeting and would have to discuss any type of business with him. It used to be your favorite part of the day when you got to sit in the meeting room with Damiano and discuss plans to make the mob prosper, now it was nothing but uncomfortable because you’d do all the talking while he looked at you as if his biggest desire was to carve your heart out with his pocket knife. 

While you understood that he was still mad at Marlee and wanted nothing to do with her, you didn’t understand why he was treating you that way when you had nothing to do with it and weren’t to blame for the stupid shit his ex had tried to pull. You thought he knew that you loved him far too much to ever do anything to jeopardize his safety. Yet again, he might’ve assumed the same thing about Marlee.

You walked out of yet another unsuccessful meeting with Damiano and slammed the door as hard as you could to let him know how much his childish behavior annoyed you. Ethan was standing close to the door and you could see the shadow of a smile that was threatening to break out and illuminate his face, “Don’t you dare,” He raised his hands in defense and bit his lip to try and hide the smile that would just annoy you further.

“You two are starting to act like two teenagers and it’s fucking pathetic,” Thomas chimed in from where he was sitting on one of the couches.

“Yeah? Tell that to your friend who is giving me the silent treatment like a fucking toddler! I just want- I need to have a serious conversation with him,” You admitted and sighed as you fell on the couch right next to Thomas, head in your hands to try and cover up the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Both men stayed silent as they watched you, Even though you could feel their stares, you decided to focus on not crying instead. The truth was, the longer Damiano spent ignoring you, the more you regretted telling him what you had been bottling up for years, it had been a mistake there was no coming back from. Unless he decided to stop acting like a kindergartener, things would never go back to the way they were.

It was frustrating to think that your friendship would go to shit just because of your confession. Being rejected by him wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had actually stayed in your room and spoken like the adult he was.

“For the record, I think he’s acting like an idiot because he’s scared,” Sighed Victoria, who had just walked into the room with an ice pack placed over her hand, “I know it’s been a while but, give him time. He’ll come around or I’ll make him, I promise.”

You gave Victoria a tight-lipped smile and nodded. You hoped more than anything that it wouldn’t have to come to getting locked up in the same room as Damiano to get him to speak to you.

Except… as more days passed, you feared it would most likely have to be that way because he was still saying nothing to you. He had only spoken once and it had been to call you out for being doing everything wrong while looking through some important documents when you were, in fact, doing everything just like he had initially requested. Now, not only had he been giving you the cold shoulder, but he had started acting like a complete jerk around you too.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on all the work you had pending, but it wasn’t working. Every single day, no matter what you were doing, your mind still wandered back to the brown-eyed man and his stupid face, his stupid hair, and stupid smile.

Even as you stood in the middle of the kitchen, your thoughts made it difficult to bake the cookies you had been craving all week. You had started to work on the second batch after the first one came out disgustingly salty because somewhere along the process you had mistaken the salt for the sugar.  

You hated how bothered you were by the whole situation. It had affected you way more than you would’ve liked to admit. Truth be told, you had never felt sad about his rejection because it was something you had expected ever since that attraction for him first settled on your brain. It was the way he was treating you that got on your nerves. 

That was mainly the reason why you were so thankful for being alone in the house at that very moment. Apart from a few security guards here and there, you were completely alone. You allowed yourself to relax for a split second and connected your phone to the speaker system in the kitchen. You started playing one of your favorite playlists before getting back to making cookies the right way this time.

You softly swayed your body along to the music as you dumped all the ingredients on the large bowl in front of you. As you poured the flour in the bowl and mixed it with your hands, you noticed Damiano standing by the door. For some unknown reason, he scared you so bad you accidentally tipped the bowl and made a mess of the counter. 

A frustrated sigh escaped past your lips and you threw your head back, feeling defeated and irritated, “I’m sorry,” Damiano spoke up hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and wiped your hands on the apron you had tied around your waist, “It’s fine,” You turned around so your back was to him and started wiping the counter with a damp towel. 

“You deserve so much better…” You heard him speak up over the music. His words caught you by surprise. You turned around to look at him but said nothing. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hands trembled by his sides and the way his jaw was firmly clenched.

After a few minutes of hesitation, Damiano started walking to where you were. He placed his hands on the counter by your sides, leaving you trapped in between the counter and his body. You looked into his dark eyes to maybe try and guess what was going through his mind. 

You breathed in so deeply your chest hit his. You gulped at that and tried to control your trembling hands without looking away.

“What you said the other day, did you mean it?” Damiano asked, without hesitation this time around. Your eyes widened.

“I-I… What?”

“Just answer me Y/N, please,” Damiano pleaded. He looked so desperate to know the answer, which only made your blood boil. After weeks of silence, of glares and being a jerk, he dared to just show up and demand answers?

You shook your head and pointed your finger at his chest, “How dare you?” You took a step towards him, which made Damiano take a step back, “You have no right to show up like this and ask me to give you answers after how much of an asshole you’ve been.”

He seemed taken aback by your truthful words, but you didn’t care. If he wanted to know how much truth had been behind your words that night, he’d have to hear it all, “You know I’m your best friend and you also know I’d keep up with anything you do because that’s how much I care about you, but can you stop it? I know I was stupid for telling you because of what you just went through and I’m sorry, but please don’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. I just want to fix this.”

After a few minutes of silence, you shrugged and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, spoke up, “And yeah, I meant every word.”

Your expression softened as you waited for any sort of reaction from Damiano. You expected something similar to what had happened the day you first told him. No part of you expected him to cup your face with his warm, calloused palms to bring your face closer to him once again. 

Neither did you expect to feel his soft lips pressed against yours, or the feeling of his soft hair as you brushed it back with your fingers and your eyes slowly closing as you basked on the joy and pleasure his soft touches caused.

Damiano was gentle as he held your face in between his hands, almost as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you into pieces if he didn’t hold you delicately enough. That kiss felt so intimate, like nothing you had ever felt before. Everything from the way he held you to his slow movements and touches was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

When he pulled away, he left you completely breathless, wordless. There was nothing you could possibly say after the way he had kissed you, so you waited for him to find the right words instead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Damiano mumbled. He still hadn’t let go of your face, “You truly deserve better. You are so beautiful, so perfect. I’m so sorry for being such an idiot and hurting you, ignoring you. I just- I know I cannot love you as you deserve. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have you close to me all the time, to kiss your lips until you grow sick of me, but I can’t,” His voice was starting to crack as he said those words to you and you knew it was because of how he saw your face fall.

“No, no, shut up and listen to me,” You pleaded and placed your hands on top of his. You gave them a soft squeeze and let your forehead rest against his, “I know it’s hard for you to trust after what happened with her and I know it’s not going to be easy, but believe me, I’m willing to try if you are, Damiano.”

“You were that other person,” He confessed and got closer to kiss you once more, with as much passion as the last time. You were too concentrated on the smell of his musky cologne and the faint taste of vanilla chapstick he had surely stolen from your room to respond to his comment.

His hands fell from your face and comfortably rested on your hips as his lips attacked yours. Damiano pushed you against the counter and kept savoring the moment as if it were the first and last time he’d kiss you like that. You hoped for your sake it wouldn’t be the last.

Damiano pulled away reluctantly and unexpectedly lifted you up so you’d sit on the counter. He stood in between your legs and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Remember when I told you about the person I met the day I met Marlee?” You nodded, “That was you... Ever since I met you I’ve felt this inexplicable attraction towards you and it’s been driving me insane. I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“You’ve done so much to deserve it, so so much,” You mumbled and brought him close to you to kiss him for the third time. It was such an addicting feeling and both your heart and mind were screaming to feel it again.

That time around, Damiano didn’t hesitate to lift you up once more, he carried you to his room and locked the door.

— 

It had been a few weeks since your conversation in the kitchen. Things returned back to normal after that night. Other than your relationship with Damiano, things were the same again. You had to go back to working at ungodly hours of the morning thanks to some suspicious activity Ethan had noticed. Apparently, one of the oldest members of Damiano’s mob had tried to establish a deal with an unknown subject but had been caught before he could accomplish it. 

This put you both on edge because there was someone out there desperate to break into the mob and finish it for good. At first, you thought it wasn’t more serious than whatever had happened with Marlee, but Damiano’s father proved you wrong the moment he brought you, their most loyal employee, in for questioning. 

It had been nothing too serious, at least not in comparison to what you had heard others say. In your case, it had been done mostly as a standardized protocol, to stop others from thinking there was some sort of preference or special treatment towards you just because you worked so close to Damiano. You knew almost everything Damiano did, so you were possibly the greatest source of information outside the David family and their small circle of friends.

“Amore?” Damiano asked softly as his hand caressed the exposed skin of your waist. You had been cuddling in bed for almost two hours with the excuse that you needed a break after all the hard work you’d done, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You turned around to be face to face with him and pressed a kiss to his freckled nose, “Not much. I was just remembering I need to get my ring resized again. I tried putting it on a few days ago and it didn’t fit anymore.

Damiano frowned at your words, “Your soulmate ring?”

“Mhm,” You responded simply and let your head rest on his chest. You enjoyed the feeling of warmth his body irradiated, it was soothing and the soft sound of his rhythmic heartbeat never failed to make you feel calmer.

“Soulmate rings don’t need to be resized, ever. Not that I know of, at least,” Now it was your turn to frown because, as far as you remembered, you had always gone to get your ring resized by a family friend who didn’t live too far away. No one had ever told you it wasn’t necessary.

You pulled away from his embrace and reached for the bedside table where you had been keeping the ring for the past few days. Once you turned back around, Damiano looked confused and almost scared, “Just, out of curiosity, tesoro. Have you ever taken off the ring and left it like far away for longer than a few hours?”

A giggle escaped past your lips at his silly question, “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Dami. Of course, I have, several times.”

You laughed nervously once you saw his horrified expression. Damiano was starting to scare you, but you knew better than to say something because you’d end up looking like a fool if he started laughing and told you it was all a joke. Except, it didn’t seem like one.

“Please get dressed and meet me in room five, okay? I might be going insane but I just need to make sure I’m not,” Before you could ask any questions, Damiano had already grabbed a pair of pants and a t-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.

You tried not to think much about his weird questions and got dressed quickly instead. You grabbed your cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and walked to meeting room five.

You opened the door and were surprised to see all your friends already sitting around the small table you’d use for informal meetings. Thomas and Victoria looked tired and Ethan’s long hair was tangled and messy. That gave you the impression that Damiano had most likely woken them all up for your impromptu meeting. 

They all looked just as confused as you felt. There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but Ethan beat you to it, “Okay, now that we’re all here can you fucking explain why you had to wake me up? Please.”

“Have any of you three—,” Started Damiano, referring to Thomas, Victoria and Ethan, “—tried to take off your ring for a while but have started feeling sick and weird?”

Thomas and Victoria looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Ethan did after a few seconds of thinking about it, “Yeah, there was actually this one time I went on a date and I didn’t want the girl to see the ring had turned gold, so I left it at home. Thirty minutes later I was puking everywhere. I didn’t really understand why but someone at the Soulmate Centre explained rings are an extension of the soul and they need to be close to us at all times and there are actually records of people dying after losing their rings. Why?”

Damiano looked at you and raised his eyebrows to silently ask if he could share the information with the other three guys. Once you nodded, Damiano spoke up, “Y/N doesn’t need to have it close to them and they need to get it resized every once in a while.”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, “That’s as far as my knowledge goes. I don’t know. I think the best thing you can do is go to the SC.”

You sighed but nodded. Ethan’s explanation had started to freak you out. What if there was something terribly wrong with you? What if you were born without a ring and your parents lied to you all your life?

— 

After having a short conversation with Damiano in private, you decided to follow Ethan’s advice and go to the Soulmate Centre that was only a few minutes away from your house. He wanted to go with you or send someone to watch over you but had accepted your petition to go alone after you told him it was a private matter and you'd tell him all about it once you got back.

So there you were, on the reception of the SC, with your sweaty hands intertwined together as you tried to ignore all the dirty looks people were giving you. Everyone around knew exactly who you were and most weren't one bit pleased to see you there. While some didn't hesitate to look at you like they wanted to kill you, others were afraid to do so.

Those few minutes that passed until the lady at the desk called your name were some of the most uncomfortable of your life. Some part of you hated having the mobster title because that usually gave people the wrong idea and drove them to hate you even if you could proudly say you had done nothing illegal or violent in your whole life. You had to admit the mob wasn’t an ideal job to have morally wise, but you had found a family inside those four walls others doomed to be cursed.

You walked up to the lady. She had what you could interpret as a nervous smile as she stood behind the desk, patiently waiting for you to tell her what had brought you there in the first place. You were hesitant to communicate your issue because you were mortified of finding out a truth that should probably stay hidden.

You reached back and unclasped the chain the ring was looped through. You left it on the counter and smiled softly as you shyly spoke, “So uh, good morning, ma’am. I was hoping you could take a look at my ring, I’m slightly concerned there was something wrong with it.”

The lady nodded and removed the ring from the chain. She inspected it closely for a few minutes before nodding her head towards one of the rooms that said ‘only employees allowed’. She started walking towards it with a quick step and you saw no other choice but to follow right behind her.

She opened the door and quickly closed it with a lock once she verified you were inside, “Listen, the only reason I’m not turning you over to the authorities is because you don’t strike me as someone stupid enough to walk into an SC with a soulmate ring like this.”

Your jaw dropped in surprise at how direct she was being. For a second, you noticed her face fall before she realized it was best to keep a face that communicated seriousness instead of begging for your forgiveness or whatever people did when they pissed Damiano off.

“I don’t know who gave this to you or in which illegal market you bought this but if a higher authority sees you with this, not even Damiano David could save you from the consequences of sporting a fake ring,” She said. You honestly didn’t know how to respond because panic had started to drown out any coherent thought that tried to form on your mind.

You didn’t even try to disguise your panicked expression that time around. Instead, you focused on regulating your breathing and trying to keep all your emotions at bay before you lost control and began to hyperventilate. The other woman noticed your distress almost immediately and led you to sit down on one of the couches.

After you took a few deep breaths, you looked back at her, eager to ask thousands of questions, “How can you know they are fake?”

She sat down next to you and put the ring on your palm, “Look at the inside,” She demanded while pointing her finger to a spot on the inside edge of the ring, “They usually have something engraved inside, a code that only repeats itself twice. Whenever one loses their soulmate, this code vanishes. Your code is still there. I also used a detector to confirm my suspicions and it detected nothing.”

“And with… with that code, can you tell me if my soulmate’s still alive? Or who they are?” The older lady looked at you with pity in her green eyes and shook her head.

“Unless this is the original code engraved on the real ring, there’s not much I can do for you other than telling you how your soulmate is. I need so much more information to ever give you a name,” You nodded in understanding. All you needed to know was if they were alive, that’s all you wanted.

She took your nod as a sign of approval and disappeared into another room. While you waited, you couldn’t help but secretly hope they were dead. You wanted all those weeks of bliss you had spent with Damiano to last a lifetime. He knew everything about you, from the number of scars scattered around your body to what book you had read the most times. No soulmate could learn that about you until years after meeting each other. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right. The Gods had already been too cruel for not making him your soulmate, but now that he wasn’t with Marlee and you knew he loved you just as much as you loved him… 

She walked out of the room and cleared her throat to catch your attention. You were thankful for her interruption because you were mere seconds away from bursting into tears of distress. She looked nervous to tell you what she had found out, but the way you looked at her made her spill the truth without any warning.

“Your soulmate is still somewhere out there, alive.”

— 

Damiano clutched his side with his hands as every type of curse word spilled from his mouth, “Thomas! Dammit Thomas, where the fuck are you?” He screamed and pushed the ache in his throat and side to the back of his mind as he limped towards the table where his loaded gun was placed, ready to be grabbed and shot. 

Things had been perfectly fine just ten minutes back. He had been drinking and playing pool with the boys in the basement. They were all laughing and messing around when Victoria heard the first gunshot. Thomas had been quick to dismiss it as one of the guards practicing his accuracy like they did every once in a while, so they went back to playing the game.

Then they heard it again and again and again. In that time it took the four men to walk up the stairs, people had already successfully broken into the house and they were shooting at anything that moved. The blood-red snake symbol all these people had on the masks that were covering their faces was one he had grown far too familiar with. These were the people Marlee had been conspiring with and they had managed to overthrow every single line of defense in between them and the front door.

Damiano had been in his room fetching a gun when a smoke bomb was thrown into the room. It had stopped him from seeing the person who shot him. Thankfully enough, their vision wasn’t much better either, because the bullet only grazed his side. It was still painful as hell and blood was pouring out of the wound, but it wasn’t going to be anything deadly. 

He finally got ahold of his gun after minutes of feeling around the table to try and spot it with the low amount of vision he still had. Once Damiano had it in his hands, he raised the scarf he was wearing to cover the lower part of his face to try and lower the quantity of smoke he inhaled.

He walked out of his room and into the hallway, still holding the gun firmly ready to shoot it at the first person he saw with that red symbol. Damiano opened the door to every room on the third floor. He had to shoot at one or two people before walking down to the floor below. The first room he opened was yours. His eyes went wide as he remembered you were still supposed to be at the SC. Damiano cursed under his breath. He needed to warn you not to come back but to go to your parents’ instead. Damiano opened the tracking app first, a precaution he had been insistent on taking just to make sure you both knew the other was safe. 

“Fucking hell,” Damiano mumbled as he saw that blue dot with your name above it was right on the same spot as his. You were back home.

Every thought of investigating each and every room to make sure there was no intruder flew out the window and instead he focused on trying to find you. Everything had turned chaotic on those few minutes he had been in your room, which was why it had gotten harder to get around without finding someone waiting on almost every corner for him to appear.

Damiano heard a piercing scream that made his blood go cold. You were in danger somewhere inside the large home and he desperately needed to get to you, to make sure you were safe from any danger. He knew his friends would be perfectly fine, they had their guns and several types of weaponry close-by, but he knew you didn’t. You always refused to take a gun or dagger with you whenever you went out and if they had caught you right when you had just gotten back… you’d most likely have nothing to defend yourself with.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were witty and incredibly smart, not to mention agile and great at coming up with plans on the spot, but he still needed to make sure you were alright. 

He got down on the first floor and his eyes met with a pair of blue ones he knew far too well. He let his eyes trail down to her carmine-tinted shirt. Marlee smiled at him and trailed her thumb along her jawline. That’s when he noticed her hands were also red and she had also left a trail of bloody footsteps from his office to where she was standing. His office.

Damiano didn’t hesitate to point the gun at her leg and pull the trigger. He then aimed for her other leg and shot it. She fell to the floor as an agonizing scream fell from her parted lips. Damiano was satisfied now that her stupid smile had been wiped right off her face.

He quickly ran to the office and opened the door. What he saw inside made time stop. It made all those sounds go silent. It made him feel like there was no floor beneath him to stand on. You were lying on the floor, a dagger piercing your chest.

You looked panicked, sad, like you wanted to do nothing but scream and cry, which you had started doing the moment you saw Damiano walked into the room. He didn’t know if your reaction was out of relief or if there was something else that concerned you, apart from the obvious.

“Damiano,” You spoke up weakly, The sound of your raspy voice was like a slap back into reality. He didn’t waste a second to fall to his knees right by your side. Damiano cupped your face with his trembling hands and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Shh. I’m here amore, I’m here,” He responded voice barely above a whisper, “I just need to find something to press against this wound I— something…” He stood up, ready to look for a rag, bandages, anything to stop the blood from rushing out of your body so quickly, but you stopped him.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and with all the strength you had brought him back down, “No hey, stop,” You mumbled, “Unless she happened to study every major artery, vein or has awfully perfect aim, I’ll be dead in minutes.”

He shook his head and wiped the tears that were starting to fall with the back of his hand. He was not giving up. Damiano was not going to let you die, “Wait, no, no. I can do this,” Damiano took his sweater and scarf off. With the help of his scarf, he applied pressure to the wound, careful not to move or dig the dagger further with his movements.

You shook your head and Damiano couldn’t help but cry harder at the desperation and panic in your eyes, “Please, Dami. Stop it, there’s no use. I-I just want you to hold me, please.”

He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and nodded repeatedly as he careful cradled you in his arms and moved your head to rest on his lap, “Everything’s going to be okay,” Damiano mumbled and left a long kiss on your forehead, then another one on your cheek and a last one on your lips.

You cupped his face with one of your hands and wiped the tears with your thumb. There wasn’t much left to say, not like you’d be able to talk even if you tried. Instead, you offered him one last sincere smile with all the energy you had left. 

He watched in horror as life slowly started to drain out of you as his ring simultaneously turned black. Damiano sat there for minutes after you were gone. He cried and let every frustration, confusion, and pain escape his body with a loud scream.

Damiano didn’t let go of your body until Victoria and Thomas had to forcefully pull him away and let someone else take care of you.

— 

Ethan didn’t walk into the room until he made sure every single intruder had been killed, except for Marlee, because Damiano had asked to keep her alive. When he did walk in, all he saw was Damiano with a folder in his hand and multiple pieces of paper scattered around the desk in his room. He looked pale, mortified by everything he was reading. The long-haired man didn’t understand what had gotten his friend in such a state of shock until he walked closer and looked at what seemed to be a contract.

You were Damiano’s soulmate. All your lives you had been tricked into believing you weren’t meant for each other. Your parents had made you believe you had no soulmate and Damiano had been fooled into thinking Marlee was his. You had gotten right to the bottom of it all and the secret would’ve gone to the grave with you if you hadn’t left the papers lying on his desk and if he had left his ring on the pocket of his jeans like he usually would. But now it was far too late to do anything about it.

[worldsover]

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a  win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts. 

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧ 

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

[sylvies-chen]

Can you do 5+6 for brettsey?

5. "You're safe now" + 6. "No one's going to hurt you."

Sylvie's not weak. She's strong. She's a fighter.

That's what Matt keeps reminding himself of as Stella drives through the intersections, sirens blaring.

They’d heard the call for a 10-1 coming from Sylvie exactly seven minutes ago. He's been counting. They'd heard it all, from the scuffling of footsteps to Violet’s voice arguing with another in the background. The call, however, was short-lived and Sylvie’s calls for help were cut short when the line went dead.

The line went dead. And in their world, that’s never a good sign.

They’d taken a call at some old warehouse that’s undergoing construction. When 81 finally pulls up on the scene, however, there’s no one there. No construction crew, no contractors, nobody. All they see is the ambo with doors swung open, not a paramedic in sight. It’s not like Sylvie— or Violet for that matter— to leave the doors open like that, to leave supplies vulnerable and ready for the taking. It makes Matt’s stomach churn, and he finds it increasingly hard to be a Captain right now instead of Sylvie’s boyfriend.

But she’s strong. She won’t give up without a fight.

Casey strides through the front doors of the warehouse, Gallo, Stella, and Mouch trailing behind him and struggling to keep up. His eyes frantically survey the rooms before them. Everything in the building is grimy and unfinished and smells like sawdust. It’s cold. He hates that. Sylvie's warm in every sense of the word, this is no place for her to... to... well, he doesn't want to think about what could have happened here.

There aren’t any more gunshots— at least not ones they can hear, the warehouse only has two levels, thankfully, so they make haste and clear the first floor quickly as CPD’s squad car sirens wail in the distance. They probably received the call too, he thinks.

“Fire department, call out,” Mouch shouts aimlessly, hoping for a response. It’s dead silent.

“Brett, Violet,” Stella yells, checking the last room. “Call out if you can hear us.”

Still nothing.

Matt’s heart feels like it’s drowning in that dreaded silence.

“We’re up here!” Suddenly, they hear a voice coming from the second floor— one he instantly recognizes as Sylvie’s. She sounds panicked, and he immediately darts towards the staircase across the room.

Then, the single, harrowing gunshot goes off.

He doesn’t know what to think. He’s two steps up the staircase when the loud shot echoes throughout the warehouse, bouncing off the tinny walls and reverberating in his chest. It makes him stop dead in his tracks. In that moment, he swears he died a little and he knows then that he’s not being a Captain anymore. Because screw that. This is the woman he loves. He just needs to make sure she’s okay.

He’s only paralyzed with fear for a brief moment though until he turns around to see Stella staring at him, wide-eyed with worry. Then, everything snaps back into place. He bounds up the stairs, skipping a couple of steps with each stride, and moves into the first room. Gallo, Mouch, and Kidd all follow as quickly as they can, their boots thudding against the concrete. There, they finally set their eyes on the scene before them.

Sylvie’s there, and so is Violet. There’s a man next to Violet, lying on the floor and bleeding out as Violet keeps the pressure on his wound. Sylvie’s standing a few feet in front of Violet, holding the gun at her side as her hands tremble and she lets out a relieved sigh.

She’s alive. She looks sweaty and panic stricken, but she’s alive.

Matt turns to the man he hears grumble in the opposite corner of the room and half expects him to be bleeding. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if Sylvie had shot someone in self-defence— and he certainly wouldn’t blame her. He can picture a struggle that somehow led to her taking this guy’s gun and… he doesn’t know. He’s still trying to process the whole scene himself; he’s barely past the pure relief that Sylvie is alright. But he turns as Gallo moves to check on Violet and the victim she’s tending to, and sees that the guy in the opposite corner isn’t injured at all. His hands are raised and he eyes Sylvie nervously. It confuses Matt but he snaps back to Sylvie quickly and runs over to her. To hell with the other guy. Stella and Mouch can take care of him— or CPD, now that the cops are flooding into the room. For now, Sylvie is his priority.

For now and for forever.

“Sylvie,” he exhales, his hands flying to her face as soon as he reaches her and brushing her hair out of her face. The temptation to pull her into his embrace and never let go is tempting but he resists it. For the moment, at least. “What happened?”

“I… I…” Sylvie sputters, her eyes darting between nothing frantically. “He had the gun to my head.”

“What?”

“He had the gun to my head and it- it just… didn’t go off,” she explains, still in shock. She’s shaking, her gaze is hollow, and her muscles tense.

“We came in and this guy had already been shot— the charming guy with the gun over there said something about trespassing on the warehouse property,” Violet explains from behind her, still in shock herself as she keeps pressure on the wound. It’s the first time Matt realize that Gallo’s gone, and then remembers hearing Violet ordering him to get the stretcher at one point. “We… we thought we were both dead. He was in some kind of fit of anger and then- then he just pointed the gun at us.”

“But the gunshot—”

“He shot at the wall to try and scare us,” Sylvie tells him. “I risked responding to you guys and he shot at us that time. That’s when the gun jammed. When I realized it did, I just tried as hard as I could to yank it out of his hand and hoped for the best. I… oh God, I can’t believe he— that I… I mean I almost…”

Matt brows arch inwards, his heart aching for Sylvie. He knows better than anyone how scary that kind of situation can be. He’s been through the exact same thing and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But she’d been there for him then so he’s here for her now, without a flash of hesitation.

“Hey, you did good,” he assures her. “You did so good, baby. You’re strong, you know that, right?”

He says it because it’s true. She’s alive, she’s okay. And that’s her own doing, because of her own strength. Not his.

She nods absentmindedly, too distracted by everything going on around her. CPD is rounding up the warehouse worker, Kidd and Mouch are helping Gallo move the victim out on a headboard while Violet wipes at her sweaty brow and sits back against the wall, just as panicked as Sylvie. Everything is dying down, people are busy doing their jobs or distracted.

When she looks around and realizes this, she looks back up at Matt. His hands move to rub gentle circles on her arms and pulls her in for a hug. And then, as if brought on by his embrace alone, the damn just sort of… breaks.

First, her muscles relax under his arms. She exhales heavily, tears finally streaming down her cheeks. He knows this because her face is buried so deep into the crook of his neck that he can feel her tears dampen his white shirt. The strength she’d needed to get through something like that, the adrenaline, the shock. It all wears off as soon as she’s met with the familiar embrace. It serves as a reminder that here, with him, she’s always allowed to be vulnerable.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

He knows that she knows it. But he repeats it anyway until she believes it and, maybe, until he himself believes it.

[kiranatrix]

I feel like the nature of Light’s ideology and his methods get caricatured a great deal in the fandom (especially by those who only viewed the anime). I keep seeing popular memes about Light killing petty shoplifters who are only attempting to feed their family and I always get the sense that they’re largely inaccurate (for the most part). Light notices in the Yotsuba arc that Kira’s sentencing spares those: who’ve served their sentences and improved their ways, who committed justifiable crimes, and who have shown remorse. So it feels off to seeing portrayed that way, especially when Light’s elimination of innocents (such as the FBI agents, Naomi, etc...) are usually for strategic purposes, intended to help him progress ahead. Not to mention this pervasive belief that Light apparently didn’t know that he would be bound to sentence some innocents to death (with his large kill count per day). Wouldn’t it be more likely that Light knew that it was inevitable and was willing to sacrifice those lives for “the greater good,” in his view?

This is a doozy of an ask, anon. But it is GLORY bc these are all excellent things for me to ramble about Light (thank you!). I’ll take them point by point, strap in cause this is a bit long. *cracks knuckles*

You’re absolutely right that fandom often boils Light’s character and ideology down to a few basic elements that are distorted, mostly to drag him. Let’s be honest-- it’s fun to drag characters, even our favs-- and pretty much everyone in Death Note deserves it. But it does become annoying when its inaccurate, like with your example about who Kira focused on killing and some others I see. To be clear, this isn’t any kind of apology for the bastardly things Light DID do, but clarifying what he was and wasn’t about.

Did Light kill petty criminals?

The only time it is mentioned that Light kills criminals for non-serious crimes is when he was under surveillance by L (the infamous potato chip scene) and had to kill someone on the news right then, as well as the immediate coverup. In that circumstance, he couldn’t afford to be picky-- he needed L to see a signature Kira death (heart attack) when Light supposedly couldn’t be doing it. The crimes that appeared on the news that night (in his chip bag TV lol) ended up being non-serious criminals, and Light wasn’t so thrilled about this. 

Mainly because it meant he had to cover his tracks and kill a few more minor criminals so it really did look like Kira’s work. 

But his focus was putting himself in the clear with L; those minor criminals were incidental, and when he had choice/freedom again, he did not focus on them. The ruse didn’t completely work because L thought minor criminals dying was suspicious since it deviated from Kira’s usual MO. So, L knew the real focus.

This was a strategic move in service of, versus reflecting, Light’s ideology. This is something we see pop up again and again for Light. He is willing to do ‘wrong’ for the greater ‘good.’ We also see his distaste for killing petty criminals later when Light rebukes Mikami’s off-script killings in his thoughts. If Kira had been acting this way all along, then the Task Force wouldn’t have been surprised and Light wouldn’t have been pissed off that Mikami was doing it. 

Kira was looking for violent criminals who had escaped justice, that’s his main goal. He’s also disagreeing with Mikami’s methods of punishing wrong-doers who paid their debt to society (as opposed to the Death Row criminals I discuss below who haven’t ‘paid their debt’ yet). He doesn’t want people to fear Kira and thinks shooting fish in a barrel, so to speak, would do that. His ideology is not punitive; to him, its about prevention. Petty crime wasn’t on his radar until he had to make that a temporary focus for his safety.

Did Light focus on criminals already in prison? 

I’ve seen plenty of posts in the Death Note tag grousing about how Light was ‘dumb’ because he only focused on criminals in prison, but that’s not wholly accurate. The first two names he wrote were criminals he witnessed in the process of a crime with actual victims that needed help (a hostage scenario where the perp had already murdered people, and a man about to rape). Then he went for the Big Bads in the news- the most vicious criminals world-wide.

Other than criminals at large, he DID kill some criminals in prison. The times he did so were:

1) Killing criminals on Death Row who, in the eyes of law enforcement, “deserved the death penalty several times over.” These are criminals who had already been sentenced to die and Kira enacted the ‘justice.’

2) During Light’s ‘testing phase’ of the Death Note when he was trying to understand the rules in a population he could control 

3) When he was trying to be conspicuous about deaths for L’s benefit, like throwing off the assumption that Kira was a student. Light knew that those deaths would be found immediately and attributed to Kira. 

For 2 and 3, these criminals were likely to be on Death Row given what was said by INTERPOL about who Kira was killing behind bars. Ironically, even L thought Death Row criminals needed to die-- he chose Lind L Tailor from Death Row for his stunt, and said on TV he’d seek the death penalty for Kira. Hmm.

Why did Light kill innocent people?

The innocent people that Light killed include Raye Penber, the rest of the FBI agents in Japan investigating Kira, and Naomi Misora. L and Watari might be considered innocent per Kira’s ideology (Watari had probably murdered people but L had probably not, directly). Rem technically killed L and Watari, but Light certainly wanted them to die and orchestrated it that way. The innocent people that Light WOULD have killed include the Task Force (Mogi, Aizawa, Matsuda, Ide) and the SPK (Halle, Gevanni, Rester, Near,) if he’d won in the warehouse.

The main thread tying all these people together? They were all imminent threats to Light and were actively trying to stop and/or kill him. Killing them would never have crossed his mind if that hadn’t been the case. THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE DIDN’T ENJOY IT. Taking out his enemies was something Light did savor, he really loved that win. But it wasn’t like he wiped out the entire FBI or Japanese police force. Those were not his targets; these were individuals who threatened his goal and life, and he saw their killing as self-defense. 

Did Light kill any criminals who were innocent or wrongly convicted?

It’s certainly possible that he did but the manga never touches on it. Given that his MO for killing incarcerated criminals was limited to Death Row, he probably felt like those were safe bets (we know that’s not always the case in the real world, of course). But let’s say that Light, in canon, found out he’d killed someone wrongfully convicted. In the beginning of his journey as Kira (at 17-18), I honestly don’t think he’d given this a lot of thought. What’s funny is that Light was naively, and paradoxically, putting a lot of faith in the human justice system while simultaneously enacting his own justice that relied on having zero faith in the traditional channels. Makes my head spin, but Light is a fascinating character because of that kind of thinking. He championed sweeping ideals of right and wrong, but couldn’t be bothered with getting in the murky details. 

But by the time he’d grown up and matured some, especially after becoming part of the police force himself, he would have know it was a possibility. At that point, I agree that he’d view it as an inevitable sacrifice in service of, but not directly reflecting, his ‘greater good,’ like the previous choices he’d made. 

So why is Kira’s ideology so often distorted? For one thing, his thinking is kind of convoluted. The anime has less nuance about what Light’s about, and many people just watch that. Another common reason I see for this is that someone really, really hates Light for defeating L, and once we dislike someone it becomes easier to roll in more and more unlikeable qualities into a nasty villain pie. Any trait that is ‘bad’ can be overlaid onto Light because he is ‘bad,’ so it fits right?? Ha....no. He has plenty of bad traits and actions of his own to drag him for without inventing new ones. At the same time, I see L’s flaws and negative traits/actions being hand-waved away or justified because he is their fav. It happened with Minoru, too. 

[fangirlovestuff]

A Thin Line - Natasha Romanoff x avenger!reader

a/n - hey lovely people! i’m so excited for this one! it’s for @candy-and-writing ‘s 1,000 followers challenge - congrats lovely!! i’ve never written for Natasha before, but i hope i will again because i love her:) divider is by @firefly-graphics and italics are for thoughts. enjoy!<3 

Summary: Natasha seems like she wants nothing to do with you, but you two get sent on a mission together. It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out, but when things get complicated can you count on her to come to your aid? aka, a sort of enemies to lovers :)

Prompt: “How the fuck do you turn it off?” (bold in the fic)

Word Count: 3,385

Warnings: blood and violence (both pretty brief), mentions of insecurity, explicit language 

You closed your eyes and sat back, relaxing in your seat. Natasha was the only one with you on the quinjet today, and she was flying it, so you didn't need to deal with her. For now, at least.

Most times, dealing with Natasha just meant not talking to her. Or looking at her. Actually, just… try to get out of her way. You weren't sure why, but for the moment you two met, Natasha always tried to push you away, always giving you hard glares and cold shoulders. You got the message and promptly removed yourself from her immediate surroundings every time it was possible. But, being Avengers together was a serious flaw to this plan, seeing as you needed to go on missions. Luckily, this should be a pretty easy mission today; get in, disable the missile system, get out.

You never understood Natasha's coldness towards you. In the beginning, you had tried to get close to her, talk to her even. Every time she would just brush you off, so eventually you just stopped trying. You spent countless hours wondering what on earth could make her dislike you this much. Maybe she thought you weren't good enough to be an Avenger? Or maybe the other way around – she thought you were a threat to her, because you were so little women in the Avengers? but that's absurd.

You were certainly no threat to Natasha Romanoff, who was a way better spy than you, has more field experience than you, and was prettier than you. Like, ridiculously pretty. Pretty enough that the first time you met her in person, you had to physically stop your jaw from hitting the floor, and you had to admit – she was really hot. And if you weren't working together, you would've totally asked her out right that second, but you knew better. You thought you could at least be friends, but those hopes were also crushed fairly fast.  

Safe to say, things between you and Natasha were never smooth. Right now though, you could simply rest until you got to your destination, the middle of nowhere.

You were dosing off, and you opened your eyes abruptly at the sound of Natasha's voice. "Buckle up," she said, "we'll land in five."

You did as she said and braced for the landing.

You and Natasha went out of the quinjet side by side, silently observing your surroundings. The icy land stretched out before you, the warehouse that was your target just out of sight because of a hill, but you knew it was there. You started walking, and it didn't take long for you to be on the top of the hill, the warehouse a mere 3 minutes away from you. You could see the missiles system on the roof. Very poor installation, but what could you really expect from lowlifes like the ones who used to run this place.

"It looks abandoned," you remarked, feeling awkward about the lack of conversation.

"The files said it was," Natasha answered dryly, moving forward to continue walking. You swallowed your questions and quickly caught up to her. Even on a mission, agent Romanoff just can't seem to make conversation with me.

You stood in front of the back door, and took your guns into your hands, while Natasha took her gun and tested the door handle. It was locked, as expected, but she wasted no time kicking the door down, pointing her gun at whatever emerged from the darkness, but nothing did, and she lowered her gun a little, entering cautiously. If you were friends, you would've told her she looked totally badass kicking down that door, but you weren't so you stayed quiet. Besides, I'm sure she already knows, you mulled as you followed her inside. You felt along the wall closest to you, finding a light switch and turning it on, squinting slightly at the fluorescent light.

Before you was a long hallway. The warehouse was turned into a makeshift building, different rooms for different people or occasions. You had memorized the blueprints, but even without them you could find what you were looking for – it was kind of hard to miss.

A huge room with glass walls was at the end of the hallway, and even from this distance you could see the big, old-fashioned computer system used to control the missiles.

You and Natasha moved wordlessly towards it, opening other doors in your way to make sure there was nothing there, but you found mostly supplies, which is unsurprising since this place is abandoned and in the middle of nowhere, you thought, fighting your disdain at the frankly stupid protocol of checking every corner. This whole mission seemed a little boring and unnecessary to you, disarming a missile system just so no one could get their hands on it, but sometimes that's how it is.

And it is a pretty massive missile system, you thought as you entered the big room, your eyes scanning over the large machinery. Natasha stood guard by the door while you approached the main computer, turning it on. The program was old, but very effective, you noted as you observed it for a bit, contemplating how to turn it off for good. There was always the option to set the place on fire, but that's never a good idea when the missiles are stored on the roof.

You found the self-destruct but without blowing up part of the software and were just neutralizing it when you heard heavy footsteps. You were about to call out to Nat from the other side of the room, but a hand clamped down on your mouth, and a foreign voice growled into your ear, "Shhhh. Who else is here?" the man asked.

You quickly looked over at the door and found that Natasha wasn't there, and you sighed in relief. She must've gotten away.

You quickly picked your plan of action. "Please, I'm alone, I didn't know there was anybody here," you said, allowing the panic that was rising in you to be heard in your voice. Because Natasha may be safe for now, but what if she can't turn the missiles off? Or what if she just left you here? She was a spy, it would be so easy for her to just lie and say there were complications and you died, and no one would question her because they like her more than you, and she would've gotten rid of a person she hates while you rot here and—

You took a breath as deep as the hand on your mouth allowed you. This wasn't the time to spiral. She's a professional, she won't leave you here even if she hated you. And you were a valued member of the team. You forced yourself to relax, your irrational thoughts fading. You can act panicked without actually being panicked.

The man looked around the room and clearly didn't see anything else, because he started leading you through another corridor, one you hadn't been in before.

When you left, Natasha went out of her hiding spot and cursed under her breath. She hid when she heard the footsteps, but before she managed to signal you to do the same, she saw the man grabbing you and seizing you away.

She wanted to go after you, but instead went and after seeing that it's all clear, stood in front of the computer you just stood in front of a couple of moments before.

Every fiber of her begged her to succumb to her initial urge and go after you. And she wanted to slap herself for it, because if it would've been Cap or Tony, she wouldn't have felt like this. She knew you could handle yourself, and besides, she was extremely good at containing her emotions.

She stared at the program in front of her, trying to make sense of it, trying to remember what little she knew about it, but that was your specialty.

"How the fuck do you turn this off?" she whispered under her breath before willing her mind to calm down and start figuring it out.

You let yourself be dragged by the man until you eventually entered another large room, filled with people, seemingly of the same age as the man who took you. Currently, he sat you down and tied your hands to a pipe behind your back.

"Why are you here?" he asked, taking a knife from one of the men next to him. Everyone in the room quieted down, listening.

"I just…" you said, feigning panic to buy you some time. "I was hiking and I was getting really cold but then I saw this building and it looked abandoned so I thought…" you willed yourself to look as scared as possible, tears coming to your eyes, and you inwardly thanked your mom for making you sign up for that one acting class. "I thought I could come here and get a little warm. I didn't come looking for trouble, I promise," you wavered your voice.

The man punched you in the face and you clenched your jaw at the pain. "Then why were you in the control room?" He reached inside of your pocket. You tried to get him off you, but two of his friends held you down quickly. You squirmed when he entered his hand, pulling out a paper that you had prepared to help you disable the missiles – it contained the program shortcuts for you to use if you needed them to destroy the missiles. A valuable part of your pre-mission research that the man tossed aside. Thankfully, he probably doesn't understand the program.

"Keep an eye on her," he said, leaving the room, probably to sweep the perimeter once more. Hopefully, this little interrogation bought Natasha enough time to figure out how to disable those missiles, because if not… you were definitely screwed.

Natasha spent about one minute trying to disable the program before realizing it was useless. Without you, she could never do it. She ran back to the quinjet, making it twice as short as it took you both to walk. She contacted the team back at home, and thankfully Tony answered her right away.

"Nat? What's up? Did you and—"

"Tony, I don't have time for your stupid quips. The warehouse isn't abandoned. We need backup, asap."

He could hear the urgency in her voice and told Jarvis to call for backup.

"Did you disable the missiles?" he asked.

"No," Natasha answered, moving around the quinjet in a hasty search for anything that can help her when she goes back in.

"Why? Let me talk to-"

"You can’t talk to her, Tony, they took her," Natasha said, straining to keep her voice leveled.

Tony was shocked at the display of emotion that still managed to be heard, a sign she was really upset. Things were probably going to shit over there.

"I already sent in backup, they'll be there in a bit," he said. He wanted to live, so he ignored her anxious tone.

She hung up without saying goodbye.

The people who were sitting around the room started closing in on you, looking at you.

"Poor girl," one of them said, smirking down at you, "you got into the wrong building." He took out a knife and slashed the rope that was tying you. The others still kept you in place while he grabbed hold of your wrist. You tried to pull away from him, but your face was already painfully puffing up from the punch you got before, and you couldn't break away from his grip. He moved the tip of the knife across your inner forearm, and you stopped moving, realizing if you did it would rip into your skin.

He smiled an unpleasant toothy smile when he saw you stopped moving and cut you across your arm, a long line that immediately started bleeding and you yelled at the sudden, burning pain, actual tears rising in your eyes right now. You were done for. He reached for your other arm, no doubt to do the same. Before you could struggle away, the door was kicked open.

It was kicked open by one very angry Russian spy.

You had never been happier to see Natasha than at that moment. She went in, her gun securely in her hands, steadily shooting the people who were holding you before they had the chance to realize what was happening. You fell to the floor, clutching at your bleeding arm. Everyone else scattered away, leaving the room quickly, and Natasha rushed to your side.

"Did you disable the missiles?" you asked her, your tone urgent.

"I couldn't," she shook her head, kneeling next to you and helping you up.

You couldn't help but lean on her a little, dizziness clouding your head. "Let's go to the computer room," you said through gritted teeth.

"You need medical help, you can't-"

"I can and I will. Let's go before they come back," you said. You instantly regrated taking your aggravation out on Natasha, but apparently it worked, because she started making your way to the room.

When you got there, you leaned heavily on the table, blinking a little until you could focus. You entered the final few lines and the system shut down. You sighed in relief. Natasha was back at your side, helping you move out of the warehouse, making your way to the quinjet.

"I called backup," she said, "they should be here soon." She looked at you, a frown on her face. You were losing too much blood.

"Great," you nodded, before you tripped, nearly falling on your face before Natasha caught you.

"Stay with me," she told you. You barely made the rest of the way to the quinjet, collapsing against the nearest wall. Natasha told you to stay awake, and she went to get the medical supplies.

"Keep your eyes open!" you heard her call out to you. And you tried, you really did, but you just couldn't. Your arm hurt like hell, so did your face, and you were almost grateful to feel your consciousness slip away from you, your eyes closing.

You awoke in a seat that was propped back to make a sort of bed. You could feel that your arm was bandaged. You tried to get up, but as soon as your head lifted you felt a wave of dizziness hit you. In an instant Natasha was by your side, grabbing your healthy arm and lowering you back into your previous position. "Wow, I wouldn't do that if I were you," she chuckled. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," you smiled. "What happened? How long was I out"

"Twenty minutes. You lost a lot of blood, but you managed to disarm the missiles," she smiled. "The backup team got here fifteen minutes ago, and hey went to deal with everyone that was there."

"Who were these people?" you frowned, "how did we not know they lived there?"

"They were a part of the gang who used to run the place, and our intel that they all left was wrong. A bunch of psychos," she said, frowning at your now bandaged arm.

"Thanks," you said and moved it a little, "for that. Also, for coming back for me."

"Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't I come back for you?"

"I'm pretty sure this is the longest conversation we've ever had," you chuckled. "You hate me. It's fine, I got the hint. But I'm just glad you're professional enough to disregard that. Thank you."

"I don't hate you! Why would you think that?"

"Come on, it's okay, really. You don't talk to me, you escape every time I enter the same room as you, you're never in my presence unless you have to. I'm not dumb. I just can't figure out why you can't stand me," you shrugged as best as you could from your lying down position.

"But I don't do these things because I hate you," Natasha said. "I… okay, I almost got you killed, you deserve to know," she gathered her courage. "I don't want to talk to you or be in the same room as you because I think I'm going to make a fool out of myself, like I'm doing right this moment. I'm scared that if I spent enough time with you, I'd start… feeling, and for a spy that's a disadvantage. But the joke's on me I guess, because even when I distanced myself from you I still feel enough to lose my head, not be able to diffuse those missiles, and almost not get to you in time."

"Feel what?" you asked, still a bit puzzled.

"Feel…" she looked for the right words. Apparently, she couldn't find them, because the next thing you know she was gently cupping your bruised face in her palm, leaning down and putting her lips on yours. She kissed you gently, not wanting to hurt you, but you couldn't care less, pushing your face up against her to deepen the kiss, until you flinched in pain and broke apart from her, lying back down.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" you smiled at her, biting your lip.

She laughed. It's corny, but it was one of the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard, and knowing you made her laugh made it all the sweeter.

"I was taught that feelings will only ever get in the way of my missions. And… I thought you wouldn't feel the same about me, so it would be all this trouble for nothing."

"Well, I do," you said and smiled brightly at her. "And see? You did great on this mission. No matter what you felt or didn't feel about me, you don't know programming and you couldn't have disarmed that system. But you saved me, and just in time," you said.

"So what you're saying is it all turned out for the best and I should take you out to dinner?" Natasha smiled.

"Mostly the first part, but dinner would be very nice," you smiled back at her.

She leaned down to kiss you again, and you broke apart with a smile. At that moment Tony entered the quinjet, calling out to you and Natasha. She promptly stood up, checking the bandage on your arm.

"Agent Romanoff, I see you've become a nurse," Tony quipped.

"I can currently think about 50 different ways to kill you," she shot back and you fought the giggle that arose in you at her sudden change of demeanor. "I have a reputation to uphold," she shrugged, as if answering your thoughts.

"Yep," Tony agreed, "Nat, you can go, and we can take it from here."

"Why would I wanna go?" Nat quirked her eyebrow.

"Well, no offense, but don't you, you know," he pointed at you, "don't like her?" he stage-whispered.

"First of all, if I did, that would be the rudest thing to say ever, but second of all, why does everybody think that?" she said incredulously.

"Okay," Tony said, raising his arms in mock surrender. "I just thought you'd both be happy to know we found everyone we could. The lunatics confessed to everything right away. And you have a week off," he added and walked out of the quinjet.

"A week off," you whistled. "That's a lot of dinners."

"It is," Nat agreed. "Why, do you have any plans for them?"

"Not unless you make them with me," you said, smirking.

"Good thinking," she smiled.

"Thank you. Now, I don't know about you, but I'd die for a shower right now, and I'm gonna need help because of this bandage," you smiled, falling into a banter with her easily.

"Oh really? I wonder who could help you," she chuckled as she left to fly you both home.

You would've pinched yourself but the pain you were still in was enough to confirm you weren't dreaming. Natasha didn't hate you, she wanted to take you out on a date. And there was nothing you wanted more than that date. A smile on your face, you dosed off into a peaceful slumber, feeling secure and happier than you have in a long time.

hope you liked it! tell me what you thought and if you want to see more nat in the future, i definitely want to write more for her! also, next on my agenda is a new Cycle update, so keep an eye out for that;) Thank you so much for reading!<3

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if you wanna join / be removed from this taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[imaginethatneathuh]

The Fool: Game Boy - American Gods

Game Boy x partner!reader, romantic

Game Boy plays a game with you.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop.

TW/CW: None that I can think of.

Word count: 2.0+ K

•

After a long day at work you were relieved to not have to do anything else today. As soon as you got home, you said to yourself, it’s nap time. Sadly, or maybe happily, things didn’t work out that way.

As you stepped into the small, shared flat, you sighed and rolled your neck. Wordlessly, you walked to the kitchen and got some water, tossing your keys on the counter.

You had been on your feet all day; the only thing on your mind was a shower and bed. As you drank, water falling from the corners of your mouth, you noticed there was silence about the house. There was never silence unless your long-term partner, Game Boy was gone. Setting your cup down, you walk around the counters and cabinets that split the living room and kitchen. You stopped at the edge and peered in, hands on hips. With a frown, you tilted your head before walking into the living room, still in your barista uniform.

“Game Boy?” You called in the empty flat. “You here?”

After a long string of silence, you moved closer to the sofa and placed your hands on top of it.

It wasn’t peculiar that Game was gone, just odd that he hadn’t said anything before. He had always told you beforehand so you wouldn’t worry. This time, you supposed, he’d failed to mention his absence. Still, a part of you thought he may be elsewhere in the flat.

As he didn’t answer you, you began to search for him. He wasn’t in the bathroom and you doubted he was in the communal laundry room. Despite knowing that he certainly wasn’t in your room, you still checked. Predictably, he wasn’t there, but you did decide to change into something more comfortable.

With nowhere else to look, you knocked on his room’s door and opened it. It was empty. Gaming equipment, actual games, a computer, a telly, and other stuff like that covered the room, but there was no Game Boy. Your partner Game Boy, not the Nintendo handheld game console. He did, in fact, have one of them on a shelf.

There was a note taped to his computer which is odd because Game Boy rarely ever wrote anything with a pen or pencil. He also never let anything so “dated” as a pen and paper note on his precious computer. Not if he was in his right mind anyway.

You got closer, out of curiosity of what was so important that Game decided to write it out. The handwriting was very sloppy, you noticed.

Do you remember where we met? The note asked. I do. I thought you looked amazing. That’s why I couldn’t talk to you. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t say anything. I was so tongue-tied, it was rather embarrassing.

You smiled, remembering how flushed Game had been. He couldn’t even look at you. It was adorable.

Find where we met. Follow the trail and we’ll see each other soon enough. Let me take you on an adventure. You won’t regret it. I promise. I love you - G

Your heart swelled in your chest.

‘A game from Game Boy,’ you thought. ‘How cute.’

You left the flat, wanting to see just what game Game was playing.

•

Standing near a park bench, you looked around.

You had been around here, on a walk, when you’d bumped into Game. Stupidly, you hadn’t been watching where you were going and ran into him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I am so sorry,” you said. “I didn’t see you.”

You looked into his beautiful blue eyes and your heart skipped a beat.

The young man you’d run into turnt away, blushing and pulled his black trench coat tighter. He nodded, still looking at the ground.

“Again, really sorry.” You walked past him but stopped next to a park bench. After a few seconds, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at him.

The blue-eyed boy stood there, looking at you, his hands in his pockets and scarf wiping back from the wind. He was considerably round and he had some acne, but it didn’t bother you. His eyes told you everything. There was more going on behind them than most would assume. More what, you didn’t know. But he seemed to know so much. One look into them and it was like you had had a glance into endless something, but you weren’t sure what. It was within your grasp and, yet, an ocean away.

Your eyes met again and warmth filled your chest. You smiled and waved at him.

His already deep blush deepened.

You walked down the path. A note, taped to a bench, caught your attention. You picked it up and opened it.

This is where you stopped when we first met. The moment you looked back at me and our eyes met, I could feel myself falling for you. I don’t get that feeling anymore. It’s more of knowing I love you and you love me kinda feeling, but I digress.

You smiled. His words rang true for you, too. There were no longer butterflies and lightning. But there was a feeling of belonging with him that you could feel in your heart.

Sometimes, I wonder why you weren’t repulsed by my acne and fat. I still have no idea why you’d go out with me. But, I’m glad you did ask me out. Being with you has been something else. A fantastic something else.

After the first time walking through the park, you started going there more often. At one point, it was every single day. All you wanted was to see him again. But, it took months before you did.

And when you did, as cliche as it sounds, it was like the whole world stopped around you. Without even thinking about it, you walked over and asked him out.

You got a stuttered yes, but it was still a yes.

Go to where we had our first date and you’ll find a friend and a note waiting. - G

•

After getting out of the car, you made your way to the arcade you and Game Boy had spent your first date. It had been easier to get him to talk about video games than it was himself. Still, the way he had talked about his favourite, and his most hated, games made you fall deeper in love.

The two of you played a ton of games, usually for two players. He’d even called you his player two, as a joke.

“Hey, Y/N,” the attendant, Steve, said. “G stopped by earlier. Told me to give you this.” He handed you a note.

I know I didn’t really let you talk much when we were here, but when you asked about my favourites to play, I just started rambling. It did make it easier to talk to you, though.

Speaking of rambling, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was a bit nonsensical, wasn’t it? I don’t know why you love that movie (or the book) but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to wear the VHS tape out with you. Seeing you happy was the best part of that. Now, Alice, my dear, go back home and go down the rabbit hole once again. - G

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was indeed nonsensical which was the best part about it. There was no real story. It was nonsense, the best kinda sense there is.

“Thanks, Steve. See ya later,” you said as you left.

•

Back home, you went to the telly and pulled out the VHS tapes. On AAiW’s case was a note from Game.

We’re pretty close to the end now. But, just to say it before I say it, I love you. As much as I found this movie weird, nonsensical, and rather insane, I found it worth every second spent watching because I got to spend time with you. Y/N, you mean everything to me. I love you. The reason I say this now is because I’m not the best at saying things without coming off like a prick. It’s easier to write them.

You can find me at the address below. And, as the rabbit always says, “I’m late.” So get here before I have to chop off your head for tardiness (or should I say tartiness?). - G

You chuckled softly at the pun and ran a finger down the page.

The address below wasn’t familiar to you so you pulled out a map.

•

The warehouse looked disgusting on the outside. Broken windows and grime-covered walls were not the most romantic thing, but still, if Game Boy was here, it’d be worth it.

You walked in, expecting to walk across broken glass or something, but there was no crunch beneath you. A path looked like it had been swept clean for you. It trailed to the back of the warehouse, small origami roses laying on it.

You followed them and picked them up one by one. The first few were plain white with green-painted stems. But, slowly, red started to bleed onto them. The ones farthest away were fully red, just like the Queen wanted.

The last rose sat on a door handle, the kind typically found in warehouses that jut out to the side. You picked it up, twirling the faux stem in your fingers. The rest of the bouquet sat in your arm. You could smell the paint coming off them.

The door creaked open and a shy figure peeked out.

“G?” You asked.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Please?”

You did as he asked, heart pumping. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

As much as you wanted to know, you knew Game Boy had a hard time figuring out what was okay and what wasn’t when it came to real-life people.

“You’ll see,” he said.

The door creaked open more and he shuffled out. He picked the bouquet out of your arms as well as the last flower before disappearing for a moment. The warmth of his hands transferred to yours as he led you into the office. You could hear the door close again. Game Boy positioned you right in front of something, guiding you by your upper arms. His warmth left you before he spoke.

“You can open them now,” he said.

He stood in front of a table, a vase of the origami flowers he had made in his hands. Candles hung down from the ceiling in a heart formation, each holder connected by wire.

You silently stared at the sight.

Game Boy breathed heavily, his coat thrown off to the side. Still, his turtleneck was a little hot right now. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was nervous or overheated. Probably both.

You stepped forward and took the vase from him and set it down on a table.

“You did all this?” You asked.

He nodded, wiping his hands on his khakis. “I wanted it to be special.”

“Wanted what?”

He ran a hand through his blonde hair. “I’m not the best at this,” he mumbled under his breath. He straightened and looked you in the eye, despite that being rather uncomfortable for him. “Y/N, we’ve been dating for a while. Not a super long one, but it’s been a while. And I know you said you wanted to wait before calling us partners, but I can’t wait any longer. I love you so much. I want- I want you to be my player two. Permanently. Not just for a game or two.”

He seemed to have practised saying the speech over and over again.

You walked forward and pulled him into a kiss by the fabric of his turtleneck. Game Boy cupped your cheek and kissed back gently.

You pulled away, smiling. “I’ll gladly be your player two for as long as we both play the game fair.”

Game Boy sighed in relief, a giant grin spreading across his face. He leant in and kissed you again.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 11: ON THE CASE

Word Count: 3369 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Rating: T Content Warnings: swearing, references to violence (canon-typical) Cross-posted to AO3: here

Previous Chapter: Normalcy || Masterlist

A/N: Sorry it’s taken me so long, my loves. This chapter was rough. And I’m not a mystery writer, so I can only hope it satisfies.

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“So,” Diego said around a mouthful of cereal, absently scratching Duncan’s head with his other hand. “Who exactly are we looking for?”

“John Miller. Assistant archivist at City Hall,” you explained stirring your coffee. “He plays pool with my fence and a few others on Thursdays. I mentioned I was looking for a big score with a flexible timeline, something to work on in the background between things. He put us in touch.”

“And you’re sure it was Miller that sold us out?”

“He’s the only option.” You shrugged.

“What about Derek?” Diego offered, frowning. 

You froze, staring at him, agape for a moment.

“No. No way,” you shook your head. “The only person I’ve known longer is my brother, and maybe yours. There’s no way he would do that. I trust him.”

Duncan whined, sensing your distress and circling the counter to press himself against your leg instead of Diego’s. You absently placed your hand on top of the dog’s head, comforting him if not yourself. 

“I just had to ask. Cover all our bases,” Diego said, trying to placate you.

You glared for a moment, before deflating with a sigh. “I know…”

“Other than city hall, do you have any leads?”

“No…” you admitted. “But if he’s not at his office, maybe someone there will know where to find him. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Maybe...this is a mistake and we should just leave it…”

Diego frowned. He’d never known you to just give up, not for anything. And yet, he had been hoping you would, scared for your safety and how things might play out. 

“That’s a change from what you’ve been saying,” he observed cautiously. 

“I know but...if Miller ratted us out, and Reginald hired extra security, the kind that use real guns and shoot first, don’t ask questions...what if he also did something to...silence loose ends?”

You hated that you were suggesting it, didn’t know if it was even probable. But you had to say it out loud. You just hoped that by calling him Reginald and not Diego’s father, it would make the suggestion seem less horrible, although it didn’t seem to be working well on yourself.

“Isn’t that all the more reason to keep looking? If someone is hurt, or dead, because of my father, and we’re the only ones who can put those pieces together, we have a duty, don’t we?”

You chewed nervously on your lip. “I...you’re probably right.”

“I could go alone if you’re worried?” he offered. “You’d be safe that way.”

“Diego,” you sighed, fixing him with a level look. “That makes no sense. I’m worried that this is too dangerous for the two of us together, why the hell would I let you do it alone?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Are you trying to reverse psychology me?” you gaped at him, scandalized. 

He shrugged. “Did it work?”

“You don’t have to convince me to do anything, Diego. I’m not going to give up, even if we probably should.”

“Good. But, we should be on our guard.”

“Are we ever not?”

“Even more on our guard than usual,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

~

City Hall proved to be a quick dead end; the only thing John Miller had left behind was an office that looked like it had never been used.

“There must be something,” you fumed, running your fingers anxiously through your hair as you paced the empty room. “This can’t be it.”

“We could try asking? Or find a phone book?” Diego suggested, shrugging. 

“We’re going to need more to go on than a name when it’s as common as John Miller. There’s probably twenty of them in the area.”

“Good point. Trash can.” Diego pointed to the unassuming bin under the desk.

“What?” You frowned at him in confusion.

People always forget to empty the trash can, and throw out all kinds of things. Like receipts.”

“Worth a shot.” You sighed, circling around to kneel down and take a peek inside. 

Diego was right that when trying to erase the fact he’d ever existed, Miller had forgotten that little detail. But it didn’t look at first glance like it would be all that helpful, just old napkins and cigarette butts. You grumbled something about him being a fire hazard and sighed, resigning yourself to rooting through. 

“Jackpot,” you muttered before tossing a balled up receipt for ‘May’s Clean-n-Dry’ to Diego. “Think we can do something with that?”

“It’ll narrow things down at least.”

“Great. Then let’s get out of here. We’ve hung around too long already.”

~

It took several more hours, before you were able to narrow down from a radius near the dry cleaner’s to an exact address. The sun was setting as you approached the unassuming brick-faced building. You scowled at it, almost annoyed that for something likely so important it looked so...ordinary.

“So he lives on the second floor,” you said, reviewing the notes you had jotted down throughout the day. “Alone. We should split up and approach from multiple angles, in case this is a trap.”

“No. We go in together,” Diego argued. 

“Diego, be reasonable. I don’t like it either. But we both know it’s the best way to do this.”

“Y/N…” he frowned, expression deepening at your determined and somewhat annoyed look in return. “Fine. But I’m going in the front door. If he’s there and expecting trouble that’s where he’ll expect it from.”

“I’d argue with you about being overprotective, but that was already my plan anyway.”

You leaned over and kissed him swiftly, trying to comfort him and sooth your own nerves, seeking some sort of reassurance in it that the two of you, together, could handle anything that might come. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, clinging to you and answering your emotion with his own desperation and need. 

“Showtime?” you asked when you parted finally, quirking an eyebrow at him and smirking excitedly. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, voice quiet. 

You slipped out of the car, immediately wrapping your powers around you to blur the sight as you crossed the street and circled the building. It wasn’t hard to find a fire escape and open window, slipping inside and crouching in the shadows to wait for some sign of Diego. Glancing around, you noticed that the apartment looked like it had been tossed, clothing and personal belongings scattered.

The front door creaked open and Diego slipped inside, freezing immediately as you heard a sound from the next room. 

Suddenly, Miller burst through, not noticing either of you as he tossed the room further, like he was looking for something.

“John Miller?” Diego asked, stepping into the center of the room and making the other man freeze, wide-eyed. 

“Are you here to kill me?” he asked, strangely calm. 

“Now why would we do that, John?” you asked, leaning against the sill you had just come through.

He shrieked, jumping to look at you, fists raised. You watched him standing there, trembling, and frowned, casting a look over at Diego.

“B-b-because of the robbery. The warehouse. You’re mad it was a setup, right?”

“You knew?” Diego snapped, pulling a knife. You rolled your eyes and waved for him to stand down.

“Now why would you sell me out John?” you cocked your head. “Seeing as I’ve never done anything to you.”

“It wasn’t me! Please you have to believe me! The old man came to me!”

“What old man?” Diego snapped. “Tell us everything.”

“No. No. I can’t. I have to get out of here! We all have to get out of here!”

You were starting to suspect that John was going to cry, or piss himself. He was terrified, certainly not the sort of man you had expected. He didn’t seem like the sort to be a criminal mastermind, or even an informant. Something wasn’t adding up, again, and you were starting to get really angry about it.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “You got in over your head, obviously. And you’re scared. Talk and maybe we can help you.”

“You can’t. No one can.” He shook his head. “He’s going to kill me.”

“We can protect you,” Diego offered, holding out his hands placatingly. “You just have to tell us everything.”

“No. No one can protect me. You least of all.”

“We can,” you insisted. “If you just calm down and tell us exactly what happened.”

“You don’t understand. He paid me a lot of money to bring the plans to you. To get you to break in. Not just any thief. He told me your name, where to find you, who to contact. He wanted you.”

“He...what?” Diego asked, voice catching.

“What was his name?” you forced out past the lump of fear in your throat.

“You did what he wanted. I know too much. I’m a loose end. I know how this works. Now if you’re not going to kill me, I have to get out of here. I have to hide. Maybe he won’t find me. But I have to go.”

“What. was. his. name?” you asked. You knew the answer. But you needed to be sure, to hear it. 

“Hargreeves.”

“Fuck,” you sighed.

Diego looked pale, like he might be sick. You felt the same. 

“Get out of here,” he told Miller, shaking his head. 

~

“Just trust me, alright?” you asked, holding Diego’s gaze. “We’re not going to engage, we’re not going to do anything risky. Just take a quick look around and see what we see.”

“No. Y/N. It’s too dangerous. And what if we find something?”

“Then...I don’t know. we should probably go to Eudora? You said yourself that we’re the only ones who can make this connection, so we have to do something. Right?”

He was chewing nervously on his lip, a habit you were pretty sure he’d picked up from you at some point. 

“But he’s also your father, and I get it if that makes this complicated for you…”

“Going to the police will mean we have to explain how we know. And having something concrete.”

“That’s why I said Dora, specifically. She’ll be more understanding than most. Maybe she’ll be able to help us swing it so that we don’t end up in jail too. Either way, that’s assuming we can figure out exactly what’s going on.”

“We won’t find anything sitting out here. Let’s go.”

The pair of you stayed in the car, parked across the street from the infamous Umbrella Academy for another several minutes.

Diego, you could tell, was nervous to reenter the place he’d grown up in and left behind long ago. There were so many memories within those four stone walls for him, and most of them were bad. You almost expected him to balk at the last moment and ask that you go alone. And you had made contingencies in your mind for just that purpose. But Diego was never one to run from a fight. 

You, on the other hand, were terrified to potentially confront your father and brother in law, for both Diego’s sake and your own. You hoped that the building was empty, or that the only beings inside were Diego’s mom and...whatever one classified Pogo as (and you weren’t sure that wasn’t “your husband is pulling your leg about just how weird it was growing up in that house”). But none of your luck had been good so far, so it seemed like too much to hope. 

“We should get going…in there and...g-get it over with...” Diego said haltingly. 

“We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I can come back alone or something,” you rushed to assure him, catching his stutter immediately. 

He shook his head. “No. Let’s finish this.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze while the other fell to the door handle. He returned the gesture with a strained smile and a determined glint in his eye. Without speaking, it was like the pair of you counted to three, synchronizing. 

The Academy towered over you both, casting a looming shadow even from across the street. You swallowed and set about to work. 

~

“Diego?” a voice said, stopping your husband short. Slowly you both turned toward the door on your right. “What are you doing here? Who’s she?”

“Is Dad here, Luther?” Diego asked instead of answering questions. 

“No, he should be home soon. Don’t try to tell me you’re here to see him though. I know that’s not true.”

“No. We’re looking for answers.” 

Luther seemed more confused than combative. You let your eyes wander over your brother-in-law’s large form and decided that was probably for the best.

“Answers? Answers to what?” his voice raised slightly. 

You practically feel the way Diego tensed beside you, his hand subtly dropping to one of his knives. You stretched your fingers to dance over his and try to get him to ease off, for now.

“Diego, what’s going on? And you still haven’t answered who she is.” Luther pointed a finger accusingly at you.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, offering a smile and stepping forward to shake Luther’s hand, only to retreat when he shifted as if expecting you to launch an attack. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Diego,” you didn’t like the tone of Luther’s voice now, a warning, or a scolding maybe. 

“We don’t have time to explain Luther. We just need to take a look around before Dad gets back.”

“No. Not unless you tell me why.”

“I...had a run in with some guys that tried to kill me,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “I have reason to believe your father might be involved, and convinced Diego to help me...snoop.”

“You've always been selfish, Diego,” Luther snapped, face darkening in anger and disbelief, and Diego scowled back, “but this is a new low. I can't believe you'd turn on us for some girl.”

“She is not just 'some girl', Luther!” Diego had drawn his knife in a blink and pointed the tip of it at his brother. 

You flinched. You didn’t want it to come to a fight between brothers. Even if Diego probably could handle it physically, and pretend he was fine with it emotionally, it didn’t seem right to you. 

Luther scoffed disbelievingly. 

“She’s my wife. I love her, I have to protect her. We…” Diego hesitated, afraid of how easily the words felt like they could roll off his tongue. “We’re family.”

“What would you know about family? You ran away from yours as soon as you could!”

“We didn’t have a family growing up. This, between Y/N and I, is real, not forced because our father thought it would make us easier to control.”

“What exactly makes her so special?”

“Y/N sees me. I’ve never been a number to her, or our last name. I’m just me. And she cares about me, flaws and all. She’s been here for me no matter what. She makes me happy. Really happy.”

“And that’s enough?”

“What else is there?” you asked softly, shrugging apologetically. 

Luther turned his glare on you. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“Don’t talk to her like that, Luther,” Diego warned. “I made a decision. Now get out of our way.”

“No.”

“Don’t make me do this, Number One. I will.”

He shifted into a different stance, one you recognized from the boxing ring when he wanted to taunt his opponents and look weaker than he really was. Luther seemed to take the bait, raising his fists, and the two brothers circled each other slowly in the foyer of that house.

You stepped back, neither of them seeming to notice you anymore. Your heart fluttered, and nervously you wondered if you should stay in case Diego needed your help. Part of you wanted to step in and put a stop to it, to remind them that they were family too and should be on the same side. 

But then your logical mind kicked back in. The watchdog was distracted. Now was going to be your best, probably your only, chance to slip away and look for answers. If you moved quickly, everything would be fine. You rationalized that this was probably part of Diego’s plan, and you slipped away.

Most of the house was just empty rooms, storage and old bedrooms, places that hadn’t been lived in in years. You passed one with drawings on the walls, chicken scratch and frantic pen and wondered whose mind had been so excited that they couldn’t look for paper (you had your suspicions though). Another with scuff marks in the door and holes in the walls, as surely Diego’s as anything you’d ever seen. 

‘At least now he uses a board to practice,’ you thought, smiling softly.

Passing further down the hall, you found a back stairwell and followed it up, circling around a balcony strewn with memorabilia of the famed Umbrella Academy and of the exploits of Reginald Hargreeves. You scowled. The whole building was a monument, a museum of one man’s ego and you wanted to light it all on fire.

Reigning in your temper, you tried one of the doors on the upper level, easing it open to reveal a cluttered space that was quite clearly a study. 

“Alright, Reginald. Tell me your secrets. It’s the least you can do,” you breathed, slipping inside and shutting the door behind you. 

Immediately, you went to the desk, piled high with papers and journals. There was too much to stop and read. You needed more to go on, so you started leafing through, looking for some sort of system or organizational mark. You swore under your breath after a few minutes of hunting. Of course there was nothing that straight-forward. He was too smart for that. 

Just as you were considering giving up, you found a folder full of papers stamped with D.S. Umbrella Co. letterhead. Most of them were just lists: dates, locations, item descriptions, something you thought might be crate numbers or license plates, names. You frowned, tugging at your lower lip as you read through them, looking for something. On one page, the date a few months prior, was the name of someone you recognized as a missing person. But there was so little else to go on. Still, you pulled it out and shoved it in your coat pocket, planning to take it and study it in more detail later. 

You returned the rest of the folder to the drawer and straightened to go. Then something you had missed before caught your eye and you paused.

Underneath a pile of what appeared to be invoices for building materials and construction equipment, you found a journal, red-leather embossed with the letters RH, apparently hastily hidden. Easing it carefully out, trying to disturb everything around it as little as possible to cover that you had found it, you flipped the obviously important book open and began to read. 

First was a list of locations, some crossed out, some with initials or marks next to them, and eight circled, including one you recognized as your parents’ home address. Your jaw clenched angrily and you kept reading, finding notations about which children he had found, how’d he’d acquired them, and added in a different ink at another time their numbers and abilities. Skimming a few more pages, you realized that this book was full of observations about the seven children and their raising/training. A chill ran down your spine when you realized that there were also notes about you. Eventually you shook yourself, trying to absorb the information was taking too much time, and irrelevant to the matter at hand. 

Flipping to the end, you scanned the last entries. Much of it was in code, and you growled in frustration, but one date caught your attention: your wedding date. Starting there, you began to study and puzzle through every entry, wishing you had a pen and paper to help you. 

Before you could get very far, a hand fell on your shoulder and you gasped, spinning around to defend yourself. 

Instead, you felt rooted in your spot by the cold glare of Reginald Hargreeves. 

[aliendes]

Natural Borns - Chapter Nine

Banner by @thebannershop​

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, smut (NSFW) 

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: cursing, vivid depiction of a panic attack do not read if this makes you uncomfortable, crying, blood, shitty medical descriptions (probably), depression, cursing, anxiety, forced medical practices? Restraints, mentions of unwanted sexual acts? I suppose just sadness, man. The next chapter is going to get pretty dark, and this one leads up to that, so beware.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 7.1k~

A/N: Surprise!! Hi, I know this is early, but I had a productive week and felt inspired. I am so excited for like two chapters down the line, because there is a really sweet scene, that I can’t wait for you guys to read. Thank you for all the love, it means so much. Please like, reblog, comment so more people can see this series! I absolutely LOVE hearing from the readers of this series, and it is my favorite time of the week interacting with you, so please send me all the asks you want, I’m happy to answer questions about characters! You might learn a thing or two if you read those asks I answer ;)   ALSO: I’m less than 50 followers away from 1,000... which is... insane. I’m going to do a drabble/ask maybe request thing once I reach 1,000 so stay tuned!

xx

Jungkook’s eyes were panicked and Jin’s heart cracked at the sight, not remembering a time when Jungkook had been so passionate about something, the weight of his words settling in his own chest, “They took her.”

It’s dark and cold. Your eyelids are so heavy you don’t think you could open them if you tried. Your throat feels like the Sahara desert with how dry and scratchy it is, and your muscles feel like you attempted to run a marathon without stretching whatsoever. To put it simply, you feel like shit. But why?

The last thing you remember was sitting with Jungkook next to the small stream you found in the middle of the forest. Sharing your first kiss with him. The thought makes you smile mentally, taking your thoughts away from the searing pain you feel throughout your body. You’re not sure if you’re even awake right now, you can’t move any part of your body, nor can you open your eyelids. Were you in some sort of coma? No, there’s no way. 

Did you fall asleep? That must be the case, right? Maybe you were so dehydrated and exhausted you passed out. Jungkook would take care of you, though, so you shouldn’t worry. But then again, why do you feel like you’ve been hit by eight trucks and thrown off an overpass?

Your body feels like lead, it’s so heavy, and you almost feel like you’re sinking. Your body is floating, you feel no hard surface beneath you, like you might if you were laying on the ground, but at the same time it’s like you're slowly falling through quicksand. It’s like you’re weightless, but entirely too heavy all at once. Nothing is really making sense to you right now, all you know is that you’re in pain, and you really, really want to wake up and ask Jungkook what’s going on. Is he okay? Are you okay? Your brain calls out to him, but nothing happens. 

Your thoughts are cut short by a sudden sharp, shooting pain in your right arm. At least, you think it’s your right arm. You can’t be entirely sure, because it feels like your limbs aren’t quite attached to your body. You’re panicking, the pain is seeping through your veins, traveling to the rest of your floating limbs, connecting all your body parts together through a burning sensation that is one of the most unpleasant feelings you’ve ever experienced. You want to scream bloody murder, you want to open your eyes, you want to figure out what’s happening to you, but you can’t. You’re stuck in this dark abyss, unable to locate your mind or your body, unable to piece them together to become one being again. 

The pain is duplicated on your left side now, the same acid like burning sensation traveling up the left side of your body. You’re starting to feel whole again, but at what cost? Your arms feel like jelly, yet you still can’t move them. They’re burning, like fire, it hurts so bad. If you could, you’d be crying out for help. For Jungkook. For Jin, for anyone to help you. You need help! Your brain is screaming out to anyone, but no one can hear you. You can’t even hear you, you can’t hear anything. You don’t even know if there is anyone around. Did Jungkook leave you? What did you do to deserve this kind of torture? For the first time in a couple of days, you think about Mina and Woo, how they would help you if they were here. You want your friends, Seokjin, Namjoon, anyone. Please…

Jungkook walked close by Jin, never straying from his side, clutching onto his hand tightly, as the seven of them traversed the forest. He hadn’t fully stopped crying since he woke up, tears blurring his vision as they travelled, thoughts of you swirling through his mind. All he could think about was you, the kiss you shared, the way you made him feel. He felt responsible for you, he was the reason you got separated from Jin in the first place, right? He took off without making sure the elder was with you. If he had just stayed, or maybe charged his stupid phone so Yoongi was able to track you, maybe you’d still be with him. There were so many things he could’ve done differently. I feel safe with you. Those words engulfed his mind. He didn’t deserve your trust, he let you down, and he would never forgive himself for it. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this low before, ever felt such a horrible pain of losing someone. He never knew his parents, never really had anyone besides Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, and Tae, so to finally have that with you, and to have it all ripped away in a few short days, was excruciating to him. 

Once they realized they lost you, Namjoon urged them to push on, to make it to the outskirts of Seoul where they could come up with a plan. They hoped they still had Yeonjun on the inside, but they couldn’t be sure until Yoongi could get to a secure location to try and contact him. For all they knew, he could’ve given them away on purpose, though Namjoon liked to find the best in people, so he wasn’t completely sold on that idea. He was trying to keep a strong frame of mind for his group, he needed to be their pillar of support right now, make sure they were safe. But he was conflicted. Shouldn’t he have kept you safe, too? They accepted you as one of their own, told you that you could trust them, and now they’ve lost you. Namjoon felt horrible, like he should’ve been able to stop this, even though the logical side of his brain told him it was no one’s fault, really, except Big Hit’s. They were the only ones to blame in all of the unfortunate situations all of them have gone through. 

While Jimin and Taehyung had yet to meet you, they could sense the pain the others were feeling. Even Hoseok’s demeanor had changed, and he barely knew you. He knew the people he loved most, loved you, he could feel it, and the fact that they were feeling pain, was bringing him down as well. Jungkook and Jin were enraptured by you, so there must be something special about you. What little time he spent with you told him that much. Would he ever get a chance to get to know you better? He hoped so. Even for the boys who weren’t close to you, they all understood the pain that you were probably in right now, and understood what you were about to be put through. Especially Taehyung. He just got back from the torturous experiments and shitty conditions they kept him in, and he hoped he would never have to return to them. The fact that you were experiencing the same, or similar things to what he had just gone through, was heartbreaking to him. 

Once they were reunited, Taehyung clung to Hoseok and Jimin, looking to them for guidance and support, unsure of his feelings. He was so happy to be free of that place, but at what cost? Now they have you, an even rarer DNA makeup, he couldn’t imagine the things they would do to you. Sure, he didn’t know you, but he was an empath by nature, and was already feeling guilty over essentially switching places with you. His freedom for yours. It didn’t sit right with him, and so he was starting to slip, following Hoseok around like a lost puppy, a glazed look in his eyes. 

Yoongi was trying to stay focused on getting to another safe house, or somewhere he would be able to potentially help you. He can’t believe the way he’s treated you since you’ve come to stay with them, and he’s been beating himself up about it since you all left the warehouse last night. He made you cry, he hurt you. You probably hated him, or at least thought he was cold, cruel even. He didn’t want you to remember him like that. Despite his often icy exterior, he didn’t like when people viewed him as cold-hearted, and he was pretty sure that’s how you saw him. He wanted to make sure he had the chance to redeem himself, to get to know you, actually know you. He was determined to get you back.

But no one was more determined, more distraught with your disappearance, than Seokjin. Not only had he spent the most time with you, and gotten to know you the best, but it was so much more than that. He could feel himself falling for you, for your shy exterior, but your deep faceted personality, your stunning features, and that adorable pout you wore when he was tending to your injuries. He was falling for you, much like he fell for the others. Maybe even harder, and he was not prepared to lose you without a fight. Aside from his strong feelings for you, he could see that Jungkook, his other half, was in just as deep, and that cut him to the core. They could have had something so special with you, with the others, that they haven’t experienced before, and you were ripped away from them. Just when he could tell Jungkook was starting to open up and blossom into the person he always hoped he’d become, you vanish into thin air. That hurt more than anything, the what if. What would happen if you were still here? Would your relationship bloom into something beautiful? Even if they get you back, which they will, Jin tells himself, you won't be the same. They all know what happens in that lab, and they couldn’t even begin to imagine how much worse it will be for you, their first female. Jin shudders at the thought, catching the attention of his companion who is clinging to the back of his t-shirt. 

Jungkook looks up at his elder with wide doe eyes, still glassy from earlier events. When Jin looked down at him, the dam that he had been holding together with a string, burst. He stopped in his tracks, making Jungkook stop as well, looking panicked as he reached out to wrap his arms around Jin. They stood in the middle of the forest, clinging to each other tightly, silently mourning the loss of what could have been.

The others slowly started to realize what was happening, one by one, and all started to gather around Jungkook and Jin, no words spoken, emotions telling their story. First was Hoseok, placing a comforting hand on Jungkook’s back, and leaning his forehead against his shoulder. Next, was Jimin and Taehyung, each wrapping an arm around their maknae to support him as he sobbed. Then, Namjoon approached the eldest, wrapping him up in a tight back hug, placing gentle kisses against the back of his exposed neck. Last was Yoongi, he was hesitant to offer his comfort, because he didn’t feel like he deserved to comfort them, didn’t feel like he deserved any place in this with how awful he had been to you. But grief at watching his love's hearts break, eventually pushed him to move, reaching up to wipe Jin’s tears away gently, as his own started to fall. 

You blinked your eyes slowly, once. Twice. Three times. You felt the haze of the Sandman try to pull you under once more, but resisted with all your might. Even though you had no grasp on how long you’ve actually been asleep, your aching body told you it’s been too long. 

You let your eyes slip shut again, the appeal of unconsciousness dangling just within grasp. You almost let it take over you, but you persist, opening your eyes one more time, blinking tightly to try and remove any leftover sleep from them. When you finally manage to peel back your eyelids, all you see is white. 

Furrowing your brow, you try and turn your head to your right, but your neck feels like you haven’t moved in it decades, cracking under the pressure of movement. You let out a soft whimper from the back of your throat at the pain, but it sounds more like a growl with how low and gravely your voice is. You don’t even recognize it to be you for a moment, still uncharacteristically sleepy. 

When you finally manage to twist your head to the side, you’re just met with more white, and more confusion. You’re in what looks like a small doctor’s exam room, like the ones you would go to at your pediatrician’s office when you were a kid. Only this one was completely void of any color or those posters that tell you about puberty. 

White walls, white tile floors, white ceiling, a white table and chair in the far corner, and a white door. No windows, no sink like you’d usually find in a doctor’s office. The room closer resembled a holding cell at a prison than anything else. You try to sit up, but your muscles resist, instead shooting a searing pain from your shoulder down to your lower back, making you yelp in surprise. 

The pain made you feel more awake than you have since you opened your eyes, and for the first time, you really take in your surroundings, realization hits you. Where is Jungkook? Jin? Anyone? You sit up, ignoring the cracking of your bones, biting back the scream that wants to escape your throat at the feeling. You wince, trying to bring your hand up to rub at your face in any attempt to wake yourself up, you must be dreaming right? Only your wrist is snapped back to the bed, a loud metal clanking sound echoing off the walls. Your head snaps down, eyes widening at the sight of a leather cuff strapped to your wrist, connected by a chain to what you can assume is the slats of the metal bed frame you’re currently laying on.  

Looking over at your other wrist, you notice it is restrained in a similar way. Panic is starting to set in, your mouth slightly agape in fear, eyes comically wide as you frantically search for a way out of here. Your breathing is labored, you can feel that black shadow of anxiety creeping up your spine, bleeding into your throat and traveling into your nose, making it hard to take a deep breath. You’re suffocating, pulling at your restraints, you can’t inhale at all, it’s like someone is holding a pillow over your face. 

“H-help!” You try and scream, but it only comes out as a garbled cry with how little air you have in your lungs. Tears are streaming down your face as you start to thrash in the bed. This can’t be happening. They got you, they took you. Did they get Jungkook, too? What about the others? The thought is enough to send you into another spiral of panic, neck straining with the need to escape. They can’t be here, you led them away, right? But, that means they probably took Jungkook, too. Or worse. 

Your chest is heaving, soft whimpers escaping your throat as you attempt to take in any air your body will allow, when the white door to your room is thrown open, bouncing off the wall adjacent to it. The panic doesn’t stop, however, when you see who walks through the door. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, willing away whatever demons were bringing you this wretched dream. This can’t be real, you reason with yourself, it’s just a horrible nightmare.

“Pearl?!” Your father shouts, coming into the small room, another, shorter man, in a white lab coat following in behind him. You barely have any time to take a look at the other person in the room, as he preps a syringe, filled with an unknown substance that only makes your fear suffocate you further. “Pearl! Can you hear me, Pearl? It’s me, it’s dad!” Your father is kneeling next to your bed now, as the strange man approaches you, needle in hand.

“N-no!” Your high pitch scream startles both men, piercing their ears as you let out a wail when the man approaches you, stabbing the needle into your bare thigh. “N-no -n-no!” your voice wavers, stuttering to a complete silence, as your body falls back against the cardboard-esque mattress. Your breathing is evening out, eyes half-lidded as your brain feels like it’s floating. You aren’t asleep, no, just floating, peaceful even.  

“Is she out?” you faintly hear your father ask.

“No, sir,” another voice sounds off, “it’s just a sedative. It’ll wear off in about an hour, but I don’t expect her to be in much better condition by then.”

You can hear them, though it kind of sounds like they’re underwater. Focus, YN, you tell yourself. Listen to what they’re saying. In your dazed state, you can’t really remember why exactly you should be listening, just that you should be listening. 

“Are you going to keep her here?” You could hear your father ask, his voice sounded… strained? Your hazy mind was confused by the pained tone of his voice. 

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” the second voice sounded professional, yet there was a hint of regret to his tone, “that was part of the deal.”

Deal. What deal? Your foggy mind tried to hold on to that piece of information, but you were in and out of consciousness, your body felt like it was floating. The next time you regained consciousness and were able to decipher the voices again, you only heard one. 

“Yeah, she’s here,” it was the second voice, the one you hadn’t recognized before, “no, I don’t.”

It sounded like he was speaking to someone, but you didn’t hear a second person anymore. You definitely didn’t hear your father.

“Look, I don’t have much time. They suspect me, but they haven’t done anything yet, though I’m expecting it soon. Yeah. I’ll try.” 

You loll your head to the side, unable to do much to hold it up. You felt heavier than you did when you woke up the last time, but you were able to open your eyes slightly to catch a yellow haired man talking into a phone. “You really need to get here soon,” his back was to you, but you could hear the urgency in his voice. He lowered his voice when he spoke his next words, “They’re getting ready to run tests, you know how-” he cuts off abruptly, pausing for a second, “I can’t Namjoon.”

Namjoon? Your brain was feeling more alert at the mention of his name. Faintly, you could hear the yelling of another voice coming through the phone speaker.  Was that really Namjoon? You were about to use all your strength to sit up and ask the young man, when the door slammed open again, another man in a white coat entering the room. The yellow haired guy immediately shoved his phone into his pocket, turning around, wide eyed. 

“Yeonjun,” the second man addressed the yellow haired one, he sounded a bit surprised, “Soomin has been looking for you.” Yeonjun, you supposed, bowed slightly, walking out of the room quickly, but not before he sent you a worried look from behind the second man’s back.

You still couldn’t move much, bones and muscles feeling like gelatin, but when the man in the white lab coat approached you, you tried to sit up and scoot away from him. It didn’t take a genius to realize exactly where you were, now that your state of mind was a little clearer. The fact that your father was here, and seemed to know exactly why you were here, only confirmed what Namjoon told you a couple nights ago. It must be the drugs doing their job, because you weren’t feeling the panic and anxiety that was suffocating you earlier. You felt a little more clarity about where you were and what was happening to you, even though you were no less scared. 

As you tried to back up against the wall, your right wrist tugged on the chain, preventing you from moving any further. The man didn’t care, though, as he continued to close in on you, eventually settling for sitting on the end of your bed. He was way too close to you for you to feel comfortable at all. You pulled your knees to your chest with all the strength you had left in you, even though you couldn’t hug them like you wanted too, you tried to make yourself as small as possible. 

“Miss Y/L/N, do you know where you are?” The man asked, his voice low and placating. You didn’t trust him, something felt off about him. You squint your eyes at him slightly, shaking your head. He takes a deep breath, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re at a testing facility for natural borns,” he begins with a smile, one that you can see right through, “we brought you here because your family sold your rights to your DNA. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, but it will help you cope in the long run. I know it’s a lot to handle, and so we have therapists on staff to work with you-”

“I don’t believe you.” Your voice is so rough you hardly recognize it. You give one of your chains a quick tug to prove your point. You don’t miss the way his eyes flash with anger, only momentarily, before he steels his features, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Ah, yes,” he sighed, rubbing his chin with his hand, “the restraints were for our safety. We didn’t know how you would react once you were awake, but I promise we aren’t always like this, in fact, it’s actually pretty nice here once we get you set up in your own room.” The smile he wore was disgustingly fake, it was unnerving. Everything about him was unnerving. He must be a designer baby, one that borderlines the uncanny valley. He starts to reach his hand out to touch you, a creepy smile on his face that makes you want to scream, instead you shake your head quickly, making it known you don’t want him to touch you. He doesn’t care, though, instead his hand continues it’s path until it’s resting awkwardly on your ankle. It’s almost like he wasn’t human, but was trying to mimic the action of comfort that humans normally do. 

“Why am I here?” You ask quickly, your voice squeaky as you pull your foot from his grasp, eyes wide as you stare at him. 

“I told you, Miss Y/L/N,” he sighs again, like he was annoyed by your questioning, and pulls his hand back to his lap, “your family sold-”

“Why. Am I here.” You gritted your teeth, willing the tears threatening to break the dam, away.

“Miss Y/L/N,” his voice was suddenly more stern than before, turning in his seat to face you head on, “it’s better if you don’t ask questions. Things will be easier here for you if you accept it.” His words scared you more than he himself did, accept it? That’s what it came down to, right? You’re stuck here. You had no idea if you’d ever escape like the twins did, had no idea if the others even cared to get you back. 

You shook your head back and forth, dislodging some of you unshed tears, biting at your lips hard enough to draw blood. If you were stuck here, you at least needed one question answered. “Where is Jungkook?”

The man scoffed at your question, making your tears fall harder, “That boy? They left him in the forest. He’s no use for us here. Now, I have some things to go over with you.”

You sniffled hard, trying to stop the tears from flowing, as your focus wavered, not really listening to anything else he had to say. At least Jungkook wasn’t here, at least he had a chance of escaping. You could only hope that the others found him and he was able to get back to them. You didn’t know them very long, they would forget you soon enough. That was what you were going to hold on to if you had to be here. At least it wasn’t him. 

“Are you listening?” The man asked, more aggressive than before. Your head snapped up, tears still falling, as you looked him in the eye again. He lets out another sigh, standing up from the bed, “You’re going to be administered medication three times a day. You already had your first dose this morning when you were brought in, and someone will be by shortly to give you your second. It’s very important that you eat the food they give you with it, otherwise your body won't be healthy enough for testing. You’re very valuable to us here, so if you don’t take care of your body, someone else will, and I’m sure you don’t want that.” He gives you one last fake smile before turning and heading for the door. You watch him with a furrowed brow, tears flowing like a river down your face. He turns around, hand on the doorknob, “And YN, dear? Welcome to Big Hit.”

You’re not sure how long you were left alone in that insanity inducing white room before someone came back, you were too lost in your own thoughts, unable to self-soothe, due to your hands being chained to the bed. You sat as close to the wall as you could get, knees pulled to your chest as you sobbed into your knees. By the time you heard the door creak open, you were nearly out of tears, devoid of any emotion, other than hopelessness, maybe.

“YN?” A woman’s voice called out. It sounded sweet, but you knew better. You didn’t lift your head, didn’t acknowledge her at all. She huffed a little when you didn’t respond, walking into the room and closing and locking the door after her.

“YN, dear,” she said again, wheeling over a metal cart to your bedside, “you need to eat something.” She set a tray of something down on the small desk in the room, but you didn’t bother to look at it. You could smell it from here, and it didn’t smell appetizing.

When the woman realized you weren’t going to speak, she came over and sat on the edge of your bed, as far away from you as possible, as if she was afraid of you. Like I could do anything, you scoffed, mentally. 

“YN, I know you’re upset,” she sighed, “but if you don’t eat, dear, they’re going to force feed you, or worse, run a tube through your nose.” You perked up at this knowledge, head tilting to the side slightly, but still not looking at her. “I’ve seen them do it plenty of times to patients. You need to be healthy, darling.” She sounded kind, older, wiser than you. But you didn’t care. Why would you care if you were healthy? For all you knew, you could die in here. Then what was the point of eating at all? Maybe it would be better if you starved yourself to death instead of whatever horrors they were going to put you through.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” You surprised both the nurse and yourself when you spoke, your mouth betraying your brain. Your voice was even scratchier than before, and you sighed at the sound. 

“Didn’t Dongin tell you, darling?” Dongin, that must have been the white lab coated man from earlier. Did he tell you? You honestly couldn’t remember. You spaced out halfway through what he was saying, thoughts only on Jungkook. You decide that no, he didn’t, and you tell the nurse as much. “YN, you’re here for donations. I would’ve thought your father told you that long ago?” She sounded puzzled, like she didn’t really even know what was going on here. 

You looked up at her for the first time since she walked in, shocking her with the dead look in your eyes. You decided to play her to your advantage, maybe she really didn’t know what was going on.

“Tell me what?” You asked,as innocently as you could muster. 

The woman furrowed her brows at your, reaching out a hand to place on your leg. You flinch away from her, making her pull back instantly. Maybe she was kinder than the rest. No, you can’t let yourself believe that. “Darling, you were born here. The company was taking back what was theirs in the first place. Not that I agree with that, or anything, but you know how these big pharmaceutical companies work. All about their money.” She rambled on, her tone almost disbelieving that you didn’t already know the things she was telling you, but you didn’t feel like you had any answers to your questions. You only had more questions. Taking back what’s theirs? 

“What do you mean, ‘what was theirs’?” You straighten your legs out a bit, knees popping and cracking as you do. You bring your hands as far into your lap as you can without straining them against the cuffs. 

The nurse was looking even more confused than you felt, pinching her brows together tightly and pursing her lips. “I - I don’t think I should be telling-”

“Soomin!” A man, the yellow haired one from earlier, bursts through the door, cutting the woman off and making her jump at least a foot in the air in shock. Turning around quickly, Soomin stands and bows to the man before scurrying out of the room, bowing one last time for good measure, before she’s gone. The young man runs his hand through his hair, huffing a breath of air as he closes the door behind him. 

“YN-” he rushes over, dropping to his knees in front of you, frightening you into backing up as much as you could again, on the defense, “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. At least not on purpose.” He was talking so quickly you could barely keep up, “My name is Yeonjun, and I work with Namjoon and Yoongi for an organization that helps natural borns. I’m the one who helped Jimin and Tae escape yesterday, and I think the company is starting to catch onto me.” He takes a deep breath, looking over his shoulder quickly and then back at you, “I need you to listen to me, okay?” 

You nod, slowly, still not exactly following the frantic man.

“That nurse is going to come in here in about fifteen minutes to administer hormones to you,” you furrow your brow at this new information. Yeonjun must sense your confusion, because he quickly explains, “They’re trying to harvest your eggs, YN. They’re trying to use your DNA for new experimental designer babies,” he shakes his head, a look of disgust written on his face, “it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you take the hormones, and you eat. I know, I know you don’t want to, and I’m not going to lie to you, it’s going to hurt.” You wince at his words, and he softens his gaze, pursing his lips, “I’m sorry YN, but the only way I’m going to be able to get you out of here, is if you play along. They have to believe that you’re complacent before they’ll move you to a less secure area of the building. I don’t know how long it’ll take for them to move you, so I need you to play along to speed up the process, but I will do my best to deter them from… experimenting on you, for now.”

Yeonjun looks uncomfortable as both his hands grip the side of the mattress. “E-experiment?” You aren’t sure you want to know what he meant by it, but you’re sure you’ll regret it if you don’t. 

He sighs, looking sideways for a second, not wanting to look you in the eye. “It takes a long time to successfully create an embryo in a lab…” he trails off, still looking anywhere but your face, “it’s relatively… quick, in a human body.” He coughs, clearing his throat as he looks back up at your mortified face. 

The weight of where you are and what is going to happen to you here, suddenly hits you. It’s like a giant wave, crashing on top of you, pulling you under water, trapping you on the ocean floor. Your throat felt like it was closing again.

“YN, look at me,” Yeonjun begged, and you obeyed, trusting this man before you, “I’m going to do everything I possibly can to keep that from happening, but you have to comply with them, or it’s going to make it harder for me to do that. Okay? Do you understand?” You were breathing heavily, eyes blinking rapidly, but you nodded your head at him, gulping as you did.

“B-but, why? I- I don’t understand what t-the nurse said,” you stuttered, still desperately trying to suck in a decent breath of air, “what did s-she mean?”

Yeonjun looks conflicted, but answers your questions anyways, “I don’t have the entire story, but what I do know is that your dad used to work here. I guess he still kind of does, in a way? But from what I have heard, him and your mom struggled to have a baby…” he trailed off, like he really doesn’t want to answer your question. He’s staring at you with furrowed brows, like he’s trying to get a read on you, trying to determine if you’re mentally aware enough to hear this information. 

“The company agreed to… help, on one condition. You were still their property, and when you turned eighteen, you were to come back to the company. You were one of their experiments, YN.”

Your mouth drops open slightly at his words. You weren’t sure what you felt, sadness… anger? Were you not a natural born? Did you go through all that torment in school, in life, all for nothing? You were actually one of these God forsaken designer babies, forced to live a life of secrecy, and for what? To be bullied into a crippling depression? Your mind was reeling with this new information, you had no idea what you were supposed to do with this. 

“So I belong to them?” You blink your eyes tightly a few times, trying to hold back tears, unable to rub at your eyes like you want. You pull slightly at your chains, letting out a broken sob. “I-I’m one of them?” 

Yeonjun sighs, shaking his head and looking up at your watery eyes. “I’m sorry, YN, I wish I had more information about what exactly you are, and I wish I could have told you this under better circumstances. The goal was for Namjoon and Yoongi to bring you to the safe house so they wouldn’t be able to take you, but obviously that didn’t work out.” There was remorse in his words, but no anger. He understood it wasn’t their fault, or yours. It was this horrible company's fault. They were the only ones to blame. 

“I have to go, YN, I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he stood up. He placed a hand gently over your head, stroking your hair back once before turning to leave. “Please, listen to them. For now. I’m going to help you, I promise.” 

You look into his eyes one last time before he nods once, leaving the room, locking it behind him. No longer do you have the distraction of conversation to sate your mind. Now you’re free to spiral into the dark depths your brain created for you. 

Your parents have been lying to you for your entire life. Were they really even your parents? Could you trust them? Your father did seem conflicted when he was here earlier, almost like he didn’t want to leave you here. What Yeonjun said circled back in your mind. They were only supposed to have you until you turned eighteen. But you were twenty three now. Had they been the ones keeping you from Big Hit? 

You thought back to that fateful morning only a few days ago, when your father met with Hyunwoo. Was he telling him to leave you alone, would he have protected you, did you screw yourself over by leaving with Namjoon and the others? 

The others. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to them. Were they okay? You hoped so. You could only hope that they were able to get out of that forest, and finally able to reunite with one another. You hoped that Seokjin and Jungkook wouldn’t blame themselves for you being taken, though knowing what little you do know of them, they probably would. Your heart ached for them. You’ve come to care about them so much in the past few days, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said a part of you didn’t hope they would come for you. 

You heard Yeonjun on the phone earlier, though the memory was a bit fuzzy. He did tell them to come here, and even though you wished they would help get you out of here, a larger part of you hoped that they would stay away. They had a chance to be away from this place, once and for all. All of them, together. You didn’t want to stand in the way of that. 

Lost in your thoughts, you startled violently when the door to the small room opened again. It was the nice nurse from earlier, Soomin? When she shut the door behind her, she tsked at your pitiful sight. Still curled into the smallest form your restraints would allow, dried tear tracks staining your face. 

Taking a wash cloth from her little cart, she walks over to you, holding it up as a way of asking for permission. You remember Yeonjun’s words from earlier, and nod your head in acceptance. 

Soomin sighs, wiping the tears from your face, “You’ll be able to take a shower and get cleaned up once we get some food in your and you take your meds, okay?” You nod as she continues to clean your face. 

When she’s done, she brings the small plate of food over to you, setting it on the bed in front of you. Carefully, she feeds you the oatmeal and fruit, and while you would normally protest, not wanting to eat, fearful that you’ll just throw it right back up, you’re mindful of what Yeojun said. You need to be complacent. What could happen if you weren’t, was so much worse than having a nice older woman spoon feed you breakfast foods. 

After you finished off the fruit, Soomin went back to her cart, putting on gloves and setting up what looked like syringes and tiny glass bottles, holding some kind of liquid. You wince as she picks up one of the needles, bringing it to the tiny bottle, and pulling the liquid out.

“Lie back for me, YN,” she says sweetly, walking back over to the bed. You look at her hesitantly, fear in your eyes. You’ve never liked needles, always been afraid of them. “It will only hurt a little, okay, dear?”

You shut your eyes tightly and nod, just wanting to get this over with. Laying back on the brick like pillow they provided you with, you try to relax into the similarly firm mattress. When Soomin lifts your shirt gently, you jump, definitely not expecting her to touch you there. “W-wait!” you shout, louder than you mean to. “W-wait, p-please! Where are you putting that?!” You whimper, not wanting her to touch you further.

Soomin backed away for a moment, looking at you like you were a disobedient child. “Darling, it’s just a shot. It’s going to go in your lower stomach, I have a few of them.”

You shake your head, eyes filling with tears as you try and sit up, “No, please, don’t” you beg, wrists pulling at your restraints harder now.

“YN, dear, please calm down,” she shushes you, walking closer and placing a hand on your stomach, holding you down slightly, “it will be quick, okay?”

You let out a sob as she brings up the cotton pad to clean your skin for the injection. She does it on both sides of your belly, before cleaning on a small patch on your outer thigh, as well. You let her, though your body is trembling in fear as she does it. Your brain is instantly transported back to the searing pain you felt earlier when you were in your coma state. Is that what you were about to feel again? Before you could think too deeply about it, you feel her gloved hand on you again, causing you to jolt.

“Deep breath,” she says, before you feel a sharp pain in your stomach, making you jerk up and cry harder. Soomin pushes on your stomach with her free hand, holding you still. The searing pain from before flushes through your veins, not as intense as before, but hot, like the blood in your veins is boiling.

Your entire body is shaking with sobs by the time she finishes, not bothering to clean up the small drops of blood pooling at the entrance wounds. Maybe she isn’t as kind as you originally thought. 

You feel violated. You weren’t able to stop it, to defend yourself. Even though it was only a shot, only some hormones, you felt completely stripped of your rights. That experience really solidified to you that you are nothing more than property to them, a doll, to do with what they please, and that thought breaks you when you remember Yeonjun’s words again today. You have to comply. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours for your next round, dear,” Soomin says as she finishes up with your leg and leaves you. You lay flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with no emotion in your eyes, but oceans of tears falling from them. You let your eyelids slip shut after a few minutes, but you’re never able to fully fall asleep. 

To be continued...

A/N: thanks for making it all the way to the end, I’m so excited to write the next couple of chapters, ahhhh!! xx

taglist:  @mrsstilinski96 @sammiilynn10192  @minifruity  @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible @kooksremedy @irishhbamb​ @sugashaye​ @lovelyseomin​ @strawberrygatorade @kookiebbyxx​ @itneverends15713 

ok i updated tags, but some still wouldn’t let me tag!! tumblr has been doing me dirty these last couple of weeks, so please REBLOG to people can see this

[sunsetsover]

Just hopping on the anons last week who said they'd done reading around BPD and Ben etc after reading your posts to say... when Whitney told Ben he makes everything about himself in this week's eps I immediately thought of you! Like lemme explain lmao I remember last year you wrote about how lots of fans said Ben was making everything about him when him and Callum had that argument about the warehouse job in Sept.? And you wrote about how you viewed it and how looking at Ben through a lense of mh goes a different interpretation etc. Idk Whitney saying that just made me recall your thoughts on the fandom saying the same thing lmao.

(although tbh I didn't think Whitney was v fair saying that anyway bc how was he meant to know Callum had witnessed a stabbing etc?? He wasn't making it about himself he was simply worrying about the info he had access to???)

no joke i literally thought the exact same thing after i watched it yesterday. not the post (tho i do remember what you're talking about!) but i was like 'oh ben's behaviour is VERY bpd' like probably the most obvious example we've had since 2019 maybe and then i was like man.... how many people are going to have Bad Takes abt ben's behaviour and how he's 'selfish' and then i was thinking abt what whit said and it reminded me of something i heard once and i've tried to find it but i can't and i'm gutted bc it made so much sense but it was abt how bpd are often viewed as selfish or making everything abt us but we do that bc we literally feel like everything IS because of us/our fault. it's literally a Symptom. like when you're hypersensitive and terrified of everyone abandoning you EVERYTHING feels personal.

like someone's in a bad mood? clearly i have done something to put them in a bad mood. someone doesn't reply? clearly they hate me. you smile at someone in public and they don't smile back? clearly they can sense something is Wrong with me and didn't want to engage. either that or they think i'm hideously ugly. that's the default assumption, that it's somehow something to do with me. not that they're going thru their own shit or that they're busy or tired. and then when we're talking abt someone you're close too, the fear of abandonment comes into play where you either start to push them away bc you're convinced they're gonna leave anyway or frantically do things or change things to help convince them to stay, and both of these can go very extreme. and ofc it's not logical but we can't help it. i'm always saying this to people in my life: i know how i'm feeling/what i'm doing isn't logical and it doesn't make sense, but i literally can't help it. it's like the sensible you is locked in the back of your brain forced to witness all of your own bs but they're literally powerless to do anything about it.

which is also why i can understand under the hysteria of your own fear of abandonment and hypersensitivity why ben could convince himself callum was gonna leave him for whitney. like ofc i get why ppl would find that unrealistic and offensive, but i can't NOT see him as bpd, and when you have bpd that fear of abandonment is so so incredibly pervasive that you start thinking things like that and convince yourself that they're real. like you genuinely believe them. and someone of sound mind is like 'that doesn't make any sense, he's gay' but like.... that almost is irrelevant to a certain degree. your own belief that you're so unlovable and that everyone is going to leave you holds SO much weight in your mind, more than even reality itself.

like you could almost compare it to hallucination. reality and logic dictates that it's impossible for there to be a man crawling on the ceiling, but if you can see it and hear it and feel it then ofc you're going to believe it's real. reality and logic become irrelevant bc you KNOW it's there, even though it isn't, u know? it's the same kind of thing: reality says ofc callum isn't gonna propose to whitney when he's married and literally gay, but that all-consuming fear of abandonment is so much louder when it says 'he's lying, he's sneaking around w his ex, he's not talking to you about anything, he's got a ring, ofc he's gonna propose to her, she didn't ask him to quit his job or force him into a position where he had to lie for months, ofc he was gonna leave, he just married you out of pity, this is all your fault, you don't deserve happiness or love bc you're a bad person lmao what did you even expect?' etc u know

if i'm being completely honest if i were in ben's shoes i could EASILY see myself being convinced my gay partner is gonna leave me for their ex of the opposite sex. like worryingly easily. and tbh between that and what was going on with kheerat, i actually think he coped surprisingly well. like i genuinely thought that yesterday that if i was in his situation i probably would have reacted much worse and been in much worse a state than he was. and i'm not just saying that, i think his growth since 2019 is obvious in how tame his reaction to it all was tbh.

i realize probably no one will bother but if anyone really is interested and wants to understand more then u should watch this video. i've timestamped it at the first point bc if nothing else u should listen to that bc it helps explain what i've said in a much better way esp the example abt clearing out the garage but the whole video is really good and i would love for some ppl to watch it. like i know it's half hour and that's a long time and also the interviewer is obnoxious and p insensitive but the doctor herself is really good and explains everything i've been trying to explain in a MUCH better way than i ever could and i think it will really help you understand what it's like to be someone bpd and what it actually means for day to day life

like i realize i've completely gone off on one w this and im sorry but i have opinions and i just want people to understand you know?? not necessarily for ben as a character but for all the ppl out there w bpd bc !!!! no one gives a fuck abt us they just misunderstand us and then do literally nothing to try and understand us when we try to explain ourselves so to have ppl actually engaging in this dialogue w me makes me very excited and i try to explain as much as i can while i have the opportunity u know lmao so i very much appreciate you and getting messages like this thank you 💞💞💞

[littleeyesofpallas]

Shaman King - Name Games

I didn’t really intend to expand this accidental series of Bleach posts outside one series, but I was looking back at Shaman King, what with the new anime having been announced, and to be honest there’s not a lot to pick at in this particular regard --a lot of the names are pretty straight forward, or just not Japanese, and the O.S. are all similarly named, predominantly in English or with pretty straight forward Japanese epithets.

Like, for example Amidamaru’s name is just written as Amida[阿弥陀] as in the Japanese name for the Buddha, Amitabha, and -maru[丸] super common super generic suffix for boys’ names.  All his attack names are accordingly Buddha themed.  There’s no real obscure or obtuse kind of references or anything that isn’t really self explanatory.  It does tie into Yoh’s general attitude and personal philosophies being zen influenced, which I guess takes a bit of a leap if you’re not familiar, but again it’s pretty obvious.

Then his Over Soul names are all things like:

阿弥陀丸 = “Amidamaru”

スピリット・オブ・ソード = “SUPIRITTO OBU SOODO” = “Spirit of Sword” 

...白鵠 = “...Byakko ” = 白:“White,” 鵠:”Swan”

Really straight forward.  English readers really weren’t missing much.  Or at least if they were reading Mankin Triad’s scanlations. (I’ll be honest, I never read all the Viz prints front to back.)

But you know what are some fun kanji readings that TOTALLY get missed in English?  The actual names of the main character.  And granted, a lot of characters in the series aren’t Japanese so they don’t all get fun clever names, but the Asakura family is like one big running joke...

So, in-world, the family itself starts in Japan in the 900s with an orphan child named  Asaha(麻葉) Douji(童子) whose names read as “Hemp”+”Leaf” and “Child(implicitly a boy)” but also an archaic reading meaning “Scholar" or depending on context “Sorcerer.“

For a little context, despite Japan having rather notorious modern marijuana policing, hemp was actually a widespread and integral crop in Japan for hundreds of years so it’s not an uncommon component of names in the first place.  It’s also the basis of a very common pattern in traditional Japanese fabric printing (and you’d probably seen it before in period settings in anime, manga, J-dramas, or film) it’s called Asanoha(麻の葉) and you’ll notice is the exact same kanji as the name Asaha.

The boy, Asaha, grows up to be a powerful onmyoji and changes his name to  Asakura(麻倉) Hao(葉王) meaning “Hemp“+”Storehouse/Warehouse/Treasury“ and “Leaf“+”King.”  Considering the name “leaf” clearly refers back to the family name’s, “hemp” I really hate to admit it, but Hao’s name is basically “Weed Lord” of the family “Weed Stash.“  If it wasn’t clear this is also why Takei draws a lot of cannabis leaves in association with Yoh(葉) whose name is just written with the same kanji as Hao’s for “Leaf” but with an alternate reading.

Yoh’s super chill and laid back personality and his ever present headphones for relaxing to are all part of this theme in his name.  This theme is also why he’s a fan of Soul Bob (aka totally-not-just-Bob-Marley) and why Soul Bob posters are everywhere in the background of Shaman King.  The Asakura family crest, adapted from the Onmyodo five-path star, also resembles a leaf not unintentionally --I don’t remember if they openly refer to that fact in-world or not.

But as we follow the rest of the family tree from there we get the ancestor Yohken(葉賢) from 500 years ago, Yoh’s grandparents Yohmei(葉明) and Kino(木乃), his mother Keiko(茎子) and father Mikihisa(幹久), and eventually his son Hana(花).  Also the branch family’s Yohkyo(葉虚), and his kids Ruka(路菓) and Yohane(葉羽).  And you’ll probably already notice a lot of those names use the same Yoh/Ha(葉) that is the basis of both Yoh and Hao’s names.

So the rest of the family’s names go...

Yohken(葉賢) = “Leaf”+”Wisdom” which, at face value, is just naming him as a wise shaman.  But it’s also basically a cheeky euphemism for “stoner logic.” 

Yohmei(葉明) = “Leaf”+”Insight” synonymous with Yohken’s reading.

Kino(木乃) = “Tree”+”From/<posessive indicator>,” so “Hemp Tree” basically

Keiko(茎子) = “Stalk/Stem”+”Child” but keeping in mind that -ko(子) is just a super common suffix for girls’ names, so it’s not like she’s being called explicitly child-like or anything, her name is basically just “Stem Girl”

Mikihisa(幹久) = “Stem”+”Longtime” but I’ll come back to him...

Hana(花) = “Flower” but also a phonetic play on ha(葉) + na(ナ) from his parents’ names

Yohkyo(葉虚) = “Leaf”+”Void/Empty” (haha that’s the same “Hollow” used for Hollows in Bleach)  As the head of the disgraced branch family of the Asakura house, his name reflects that he’s not part of the family, despite the family surname, by basically just calling him “No Leaf.”  Technically it could also read “Fruitless Leaf” which kinda sticks to the plant imagery better, but makes a little less sense when he has kids...

Ruka(路菓) = “Way/Path/Road” + “Fruit” I assume this is meant as “Way of Fruit” like a metaphor for the fact that she’s been tasked with leading the branch family to success, and not “Road Fruit” as in fruit you’d find on the road, or by the side of the road.  Although that does kind of fit in its own way.

Yohane(葉羽) = “Leaf“ + “Feather“ which I think is a play on the fact that when traced back to Jodai era(700s CE) etymology both words shared a common root word, reflecting the fact that he’s got the same ancestor as the core family, but has developed differently but in parallel.

So I said I’d come back to Yoh’s dad, Mikihisa, because as an outsider who married into the Asakura family he has an original family name other than Asakura.  His full name is Miki(真木) Mikihisa(幹久) which read as “Truth“+”Tree” and “Trunk/Stem“+”Long Time“ which has some nuance to it.  Obviously “Long Time Trunk” and “Tree (of) Truth“ evoke the image of an old and venerable tree with a thick and many ringed trunk.  That image plays into Miki’s role as a Shugenja --there is a whole lot going on with the history of the religion, more than I can reasonably summarize, but the thing to know here is that the popular image of Shugenja in media leans into them being ascetic monks, living in the wilderness, generally forest mountains, with an association with Tengu.(Tengu are frequently dressed in Shugendo attire.)

So, the forest man is named after a big tree, pretty straight forward...  The clever bit here is how once he takes the Asakura name his name can be read to match his wife’s, as the (幹) in Mikihisa and (茎) in Keiko can both read as “Stem.”

Unrelated to anything, but it’s always super weird to me that English translators insist on calling him “Mickey” (they did the same with Kaoru Miki in Revolutionary Girl Utena....)

And while I’m talking about outsiders, I’ll bring in Anna as well.  Her given name is actually just written in katakana as An’na(アンナ) so, unlike Mikihisa, her name in English is untouched.  But her family name Kyoyama (恐山) is written “Fear/Dread/Awe“+”Mountain“ which is both a description of her character as an imposing figure in Yoh’s teen life, but also a reference to Mt.Osore(恐山) where she first meets Yoh, which is both home to a famous Buddhist temple and a mythological location of the gate to the underworld.  It is of course written with the same kanji as her family name but pronounced differently, as you can see.

The American, Alumi(アルミ) Numbirch(ニウムバーチ) is obviously named after Aluminum, as all the Patch are named after metals.  I’m not really sure why the “-birch” part is in there?  It might be an obtuse play on the fact that the Japanese White Birch is also called the Siberian Silver Birch, and her dad is Silva?  It feels like a bit of a stretch, but I can’t think of another way “birch” would be relevant to her name.  But otherwise she’s not really related to the family theme.

And not at all related to the Asakura’s, but beautiful androgynous British boy detective, Lyserg Diethel is named after the hallucinogenic compound Lysergic acid diethylamide. (aka LSD/Acid)   The drug themes is part of why his spirit is named Morphine.  She is a nature spirit of (of course) a poppy flower.  The other reason she’s named Morphine is because Sherlock Holmes --from whom Lyserg gets his inverness cape aesthetic-- infamously used recreational morphine (and cocaine) to alleviate himself of the lethargy of being without a case to solve.

[kelieah]

my neighborhood (peter parker x vigilante!reader) [1]

request: @annamckayla : HELLO! Omg i love ur writing so much ahhhh! I was hoping I could request for a peter x reader, where they are both heroes (or reader is bad idm up to you) and they are fighting ppl / each other but they are super flirty! AHH OK ILY BYEEE ;)))))))))

warnings: sarcasm, insulting, flirting, fighting. reader is a vigilante, goes to midtown high and is semi close friends with peter. kinda like a hate love relationship. alsooo reader’s powers is speed and eletricity so basically the flash idkdkdk sorry

edited: i’m working on a new series based off of this request! masterlist for it is here

a/n: my first request! so happy hehe ilyt!! also im so sorry if this doesnt make sense, im not great with super powers lol

pov: first, y/n

masterlist

-

I have to admit. He’s cute, but he’s so irritating. Is it the fact that he’s so undeniably cute? Yes. No, yes but Peter is such a know it all, or at least I think so.

For some reason, it didn’t stop me from hanging out with him and his friends for the past couple of months. After picking up some school lunch, I grab a seat in front of Peter and Ned.

“Hey Y/n,” Ned smiles. “Hi Ned! Hi Peter,” I greet back, looking over at Peter. He didn’t seem to notice, his eyes too focused on Liz. 

“Why do you even hang out with them Y/n, they’re losers,” I hear MJ pipe up. Ned, Peter and I all turn our heads to her.

“True-” I stifle a laugh.

“Then why are you sitting here with us?” Peter retorts.

“Because she’s cool, and doesn’t drool over seniors like, someone,” I cough, smirking at him. He rolls his eyes and glares at me.

“She’s not wrong,” Ned murmurs.

“Dude!” Peter huffs, making me giggle. He smiles slightly and slumps on the palm of his hand, looking away.

“Pete, could you come over after school? I need help with chem, and I know you need help with English,” I poke him with a fork causing him to swat me away.

“Yeah whatever, I think that’s just an excuse to get me to come over,” he teases.

“Shut up!” I groan. Ned and MJ share a suspicious glance. “What?” I ask cluelessly.

“Nothing,” they both say quietly.

After a long dreadful day of school, Peter and I met up at the front of the school, by the gates.

“Hey Penis Parker,” I smirk, holding onto my backpack straps.

He lets out a long sigh, “Not you too, Y/n. C’mon,” he huffs.

“I’m just messing with you Pete,” I bump into him, beginning to walk ahead.

He follows, catching up easily, “Right. Anyways, have you heard about the new vigilante in town?”

I tense at the subject, “Uhm yeah, that speedy girl?”

“Yup. What do you think about her?”

“Uh, I don’t know. All I know is that she’s probably better than Spider-Man.”

He looks at me offended, “Who’s to say? Spider-Man is like, super-human, he has a bunch of powers-”

“Don’t get your panties all in a twist, I’m just saying,” I laugh, “Sheesh didn’t think you were such a big fan of Spider-Man.”

“U-uh why wouldn’t I be, he’s s-super cool.” “Said every teenager ever, I like this new girl. She’s kind of refreshing y’know?”

“Meh,” Peter shrugs, and I scoff shoving him aside.

We eventually head to my apartment and study together. I messed around while Peter tried to help me with homework, but he ended up getting distracted anyways.

I let out a long groan, “Shut up! You’ve been talking about chemistry for the past 30 minutes and I didn’t understand one thing that came out of your mouth.”

Peter’s mouth drops. He throws one of my pillows at me, “You asked me to come over!”

“I know, because I’m lonely.”

“Sure.”

“You’re right, I just needed you to do my homework.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too,” I flash him a cheeky smile, causing him to roll his eyes. I glance over at the clock, “Hey uh, I think you should head out soon. My dad’s coming back from work soon and you know how he is with boys.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t miss me too much,” he gets up, gathering his things.

“Reverse card!” “See you,” he chuckles and walks off.

“Bye Penis Parker!” I yell, making sure he left. As soon as he closed the front door, I rush into my closet to get out my suit.

After putting it on and tidying up room, I head out my window and jump out to the fire escape.

I decide to scan the city, running and jumping from building to building. It seemed quiet so I sat down on the ledge of some random building.

I hear a quiet thud next to me. I glance over at the figure, who I made out to be Spider-Man. “Ah, well if it isn’t the infamous Spider-Man.”

“Thought I’d check out who the new girl in town is,” he chuckles. His voice seemed higher than I expected it to be, it almost sounds familiar. Weird. Could it be? No way, that’s impossible.

“You care about me? I’m touched,” I place a hand on my heart. I hear him stifle a laugh and shake his head.

He went quiet for a second and stood up from his crouching position, “There’s something going on by 5th street in some warehouse,” he says.

“Guess we should head over-”

“We? I don’t know about that new girl, this is my neighborhood,” he jumps off the ledge, swinging from building to building.

The fuck, who does this guy think he is!?

I rush downstairs and speed off to 5th street, managing to get there before he did. “Yes, we,” I cross my arms looking up at Spider-Man who arrived shortly after me.

He scoffs, “So you’re fast. Hopefully you can catch up, sweetheart,” he swings up to the roof of a warehouse.

I quickly follow, managing to find a way inside and on to the rooftop. I run over to where Spider-Man is crouched down behind a large air vent. I poke my head out to see a poor lady tied to a chair, with a bunch of men surronding her.

“Some kind of intense hostage situation,” he whispers.

“You’re an intense hostage situation,” I murmur.

“What? Shut up!” he whispers. “Oh my god, I think that’s the mayor.”

He jumps up from the vent, placing his hands on his hips. “Hey uh, guys I don’t think you should be treating a lady- especially our mayor like that,” he says, changing the pitch of his voice. I scrunch up my nose at his awkwardness.

“What the fuck, who called him-!” I hear a rough voice yell out, followed by a series of gunshots and screaming.

Spider-Man yelps and manages to fling some guns aside, causing two men to gang up on him, “Hey, new girl a little help!” he yells out. There another two men next to the mayor, with large guns in their hands.

“On it!” I call back, rushing over to the two men circling them. “Hi there,” I grin, place my hands on their guns surging a large amount of eletricity to them, knocking them out.

I help the mayor out, making sure she wasn’t injured or anything. “Karen, call the police and give them our location,” I hear Spider-Man mumble quickly, grunting as he knocks out the two men he was dealing with.

The mayor who was still in complete shock began to ramble, “T-thank you Spider-Man. T-thank you?” she looks over at me.

“Uhm, Velocity?” I rub my arm as Spider-Man watches in amusement.

“Thank you both really-” she sniffs. Suddenly, the roof top door slams open and a bunch of big bulky men come out with these weird looking weapons.

“Heads up, Spidey!” I yell, as one of the men shoot their weird looking gun that emitted some type of green energy.

I grab the Mayor and speed down to the front of the building, where a bunch of police cars pulled up.

Shocked from the momentum, she falls to her knees. “I’m so sorry, but I had to get you out of there. Stay safe!” I rush back to the rooftop.

I notice Spider-Man struggling to get this one guy off of him, “Pretty boy, to your right!” I yell. I run over to one of the weapons and toss it to him.

He quickly webs it and slings it against the guy, knocking him out, “Pretty boy?” he scoffs.

“Yeah, that’s what you sound like!” I grunt, punching a guy who was coming to my left with a surge of electricity.

“So you’d be an annoying girl?” he smirks, also fighting off someone who rushed towards him.

“I’d be honored,” I scoff. “Holy shit!” I let out a yelp as I felt myself being lifted in the air by one of the weapons.

I hear a quick thwip and suddenly I was back on my feet, with Spider-Man’s arm around my waist, “My hero-” I gasp dramatically.

“Cute,” he rolls his eyes. He pushes me towards another guy who was trying to get their weird gun to work.

I frown instantly, and circle around him grabbing the gun before he could do anything. I fling it against him, and press my hand harshly on the gun, causing eletricity to rush all over him.

He knocks out, and I turn around, seeing Spider-Man fling against the air vent. I inhale sharply and rush towards the guy, knocking him off his feet causing him to let go of the weapon.

I kick it away, the guy gets back up and attempts to punch at me. I easily dodge his attacks and punch him with eletricity.

“Oh my god, I did it- I mean we did it! We-” I look over at Spidey who was slump on the ground. “Shit,” I speed over to his side, propping his head up onto my lap. “Pretty boy, you still there?”

I notice his mask was slightly cut open, blood seeping out from the side of his head. I knew that he had the mask on for a reason, but he could be dying. It’s not like I would out him to anyone. I understand why he would keep his identity a secret, it’s what I do as well.

I inhale deeply, pulling off his mask. I let out a gasp, “Peter!?” 

part two

taglist

@rcmxnoff​ @annamckayla​ @elsie512​ @bubblesbts

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Hybrid.”

An ending to the prodigum saga, but PLEASE READ ,the ending is going to start us on the most interesting arc yet! 

SERIOUSLY READ THIS ONE.

VERY IMPORTANT

Also, I have a discord server now if you missed it.  https://discord.gg/mpBp5k

Dr Krill dropped his hands standing over where the prodigum lay sprawled on the floor twitching and writhing like the maggot it was. Ktill was very much done. He had been panicking and searching for the commander and Sunny for more than a week. More than a week of worrying and assuming that the worst might have happened. Luckily for everyone involved he had actually been close by when Sunny sent out her distress signal.

He had managed to follow them as far as the correct system with Conn’s mind reading abilities.

But now he was done, he may not have intended it, but he had been captaining a human ship for a week. He tried not to think about how he had partially taken over form the lieutenant, but that was all in the past now.

He could be done with commanding and field work. Krill hated field work, he hated action, and he most certainly hated how much the commander dragged him into this mess.

He turned around watching as the rest of the room was subdued.

“Get a GA cleanup team out her I have a feeling this cleanup is going to be bigger than we intended.” The little doctor announced.” Cannon raised his brightly colored head and went to work as krill had commanded hauling prone bodies from the floor and passing them off to the marines who escorted them over to the far wall.

The massive prodigum stirred, but Krill was having none of that and pressed his button again.

The large ugly mound twitched and writhed.

Overhead he heard cheering, and turned to see the commander’s hands sticking through the bars of his cage, “Straight savage dr. Great work! Now can you get me down? Can you get us down.” 

Krill turned his head surprised to find other humans peering out from their cages with expressions of great relief. They looked sickly,emaciated, and certainly undernourished. With that in mind, he gave the go ahead to one of the others to start lowering the cages. The captain came first while the others followed.

Dr. Katie turned to her other two patients while krill walked over to the captain’s cage. He glowered at him.

“You gonna get me out of here or what?” “Or what.” Krill snarled, crossing his arms, “Do you know I have been keeping a tally of all the times you have been captured kidnapped or otherwise used against your will.”

The commander went to open his mouth but Krill shushed him, “There was that time in a rundi prison, there was that fiasco with general cosma, there was that time in the Turma Prison, there was that time with the starborn, there was that tie with the Kong, there was that time you were almost court martialed, quarantined on the Gromm homeworld. Honestly commander, I am sick-of-your-shit!”

The man still looked bemused, “Got out of all of those, didn’t I.”

“And one of these days you might not.” Krill snarled as the door was open and the commander stepped out. He looked fine all things be told though his cheeks were slightly sunken and there were signs of some serious dehydration. Off to the side of the room, Dr. Katie was busy working on the other patients.

“Get me some water and IVs for the two over there. Get tem a little something to eat too but not too much I dont want any sort of re-feeding issue.” He turned back to look at the commander staring him in the eye while he continued to give orders, “Someone bring me my medical bag.”

Maverick made her way from the other side of the room to hand him his kit and he thanked her, waving her off to go do other things as he had the commander sit down. Looking him over he appeared fine though he had a healing head wound and some greenish yellow bruising on his face.

Other than being a little hungry he didn’t have any complaints to make.

THe conditions of the cage were not particularly sanitary, so kirill was pretty worried about that. The reddish contact rash on his legs and upper back proved that his body tended to agree with krill. He was honestly very glad he didn’t have any sort of sense of smell.

“Lift up your shirt.” 

The man seemed a bit confused but did as told. 

Krill reached into his bag and came out with a medium sized silver device with a trigger and spring attached to a long metal cylinder. He opened up the cartridge at the back and loaded his pre made cylinder. The captain watched him with some interest, “This some kind of tetanus shot or something?”

“No.” Krill said bringing the device up and pressing it against the man’s side just over the rib-cage.

“Than what-”

He depressed the trigger.

The man flinched violently yelped and staggered backwards as a sharp snap filled the room.

“Mother fuck! What the hell!” The human turned to look at Krill who was already waiting with a bandage.

“Krill what the hell.” He growled through gritted teeth leaning over and holding his side, “That hurt like a son of a bitch, what even was that?”

“It is a tracking device.” krill announced with no shame what so ever.

“You just lowjacked me!”

Commander Vir looked incredulous for someone who knew krill well enough to totally be able to guess that this was going to happen.

“Of course I did! Every other day you are getting kidnapped by someone new, and now.” He smiled to himself, “I have just fitted you with the universe’s best tracking module. It is impossible to get rid of, unless someone wants to remove your rib cage that is.” 

“You seriously just lowjacked me!”

“Why does this surprise you?”

“You just saughtered a tracking device to my rib-cage!”

“I am known to be over dramatic, and over excessive, your point is.”

The door at the far end of the room slid open, and Sunny and Ramirez came running into the room.

The commander was about to greet them when they pulled to a stop both panting, wide eyed and wild.

“Sir, sir you have to come see this. I... it’s urgent.”

Looking a little confused, both the commander and the Vrul followed, unwilling to let the human alone just yet.

Commander Vir motioned Cannon and a few others to follow with a finger, and the group of them moved out into the hall.

“We had a team doing a search of the premises.” Ramriez began 

“And we found something.” Sunny finished

“Well don’t leave me suspended in curiosity. What did you find!” 

“Just down here, sir.”

They turned the corner just then and stepped down onto a set of stairs leading down into the darkness. The stairs were wide but strangely short, probably for the use of the prodigum. Everything around was oddly dark though he could hear the sound of pulsing and throbbing generators. 

They stepped down another group of stairs to where a crew member was waiting for them. His face was pallid and drawn, his eyes wide with the realization of what he had just seen.

Krill was worried.

He didn’t like it when humans looked like that.

It generally meant that something was wrong.

The doors before them opened as the Commander stepped up, and they stepped inside.

What they found was an absolutely massive warehouse. At first--because it was the prodigum-- he assumed they were going to find racks and racks of bodies decomposing for the prodigum to feed upon, but what they found…. Well it was much much worse.

This warehouse was at least a human football field in size, and down it’s length there were ten rows of massive glass tubes one after the other. Wires dangled from equipment and piping protruded from the ceiling. Blue green fluid glowed in each tank which bubbled and churned.

Lights blinked from control panels.

A group of aliens were being held against one wall on their knees hands up inside their protective gear.

“Mo-ther-fuck!’ The Commander said quietly

Krill dropped his medical bag to the floor.

Together they ventured forward coming up to the closest glass tube where the thing squirmed and curled inside.

“What the hell is that?”

Krill had no idea, and he was a doctor. At first he might have assumed that this was one of the prodigum’s offspring with all its floppy folds and its too long arms, but the more he looked the more he saw and the more he didn’t like. It had hair where the prodigum usually had tentacles, and fingers where it had had spikes.

When it whirled and turned Krill stepped back in horror as one distinctly human eye rolled back and forth in a lumpy socket.

The commander had a hand over his mouth, “the horror in his eyes was unparalleled by anything krill had ever seen.

“What the hell!”

They  turned together on the spot staring down the row of glass tubes.

Just next to them, the pulsing embryos twitched and churned.

At the doorway someone gasped. Another turned from the room hands over their mouths.

Commander Vir turned his head in a slow circle eyes coming to rest on the far wall where a tarp had been thrown hastily over another line either of tubes or something else.

He slowly approached and krill went with him.

Sunny was at their backs.

Ramirez was looking away 

They could hear sounds now, tortured gurgling noises. The Commander’s face was screwed up in disgust as he reached out a hand and tugged on the tarp.

It fell away with a flourish.

Maverick cursed violently.

Ramirez turned all the way away hands covering his mouth

Sunny froze in her spot.

Krill was speechless 

And inside the commander’s head he was sure he had seen an error 404 before his entire body rebelled.

The thing began to squall and cry, its tortured gasping filling the air with gurgels, similar to human but warped by the prodigum breathing tubes on the side of its flabby neck. They opened and closed with a sort of wet squelching as the thing screamed. A pile of flesh, just folds and folds with the occasional hair sprouting from unknown locations.

It was monstrous

Hideous 

An absolute abomination.

And the only thing that kept it alive was the machine strapped to it.

Kril watched the Commander’s face go red, and then green and then white. He looked as if he was going to throw up as the thing screamed even louder.

When it was too much for any of them the commander reached through the bars with a shaking hand and ripped the machine’s plug from the wall.

What the commander did was a mercy. 

He would later feel guilty about what he did, but what he couldn’t have known is the pain that poor wretched monster had been in, how its mind could not think only consumed by pain it could not stop and thirst it could not quench.

It died gasping and gurgling.

But at least now it was at peace.

The commander staggered away from the wall gasping. His eyes welled with tears as he stared at his hands. But no one questioned his actions. 

“What the hell> ‘Someone whispered 

“Hybrids.” Krill muttered 

They are making 

Hybrids.