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eijishimas · 4 years ago

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midnight snack.

18+ nsfw content, minors dni. all characters are aged up.

masterlist.

content warnings: oral sex (f!receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (use protection irl pls!), quirk use (electro stimulation), a hint of overstim, & a sprinkle of degradation. f!reader.

notes: all i could think about while writing this was “and they were roommates! ohmygod they were roommates.” also thank u bria ( @rekiri ) & sun ( @kiridarling ) for keeping me sane while writing this, ily both <3

wc: 3.0k

You rarely got hungry in the middle of the night. You usually went to bed full of food cooked by yourself or ordered takeout by your roommate, Denki. Tonight was different, however. You had been working on a project, one that was taking up far too much of your time due to your incompetent group members causing you to pick up the slack. You had been stressed beyond belief lately because of them. Maybe a small stretch would help clear your mind, you reasoned to yourself internally. While you were at it, a midnight snack wouldn’t be too bad. It would help ease your nerves, even. You stood from your desk, stretching your arms above your head and cracking the joints of your shoulders. Now exiting your room, you threw a glance across the hallway to see the light under your roommate’s door was still on. Of course he was staying up again, when did he not? Probably off playing video games with the guys again.

You yawned, bare feet pattering against the hardwood of your apartment floor on your way to the kitchen. You shivered, wearing only a cropped sweater you had thrifted and a pair of your comfiest shorts. So what if they were a little short on you, they did the job of keeping you comfy while you slept. No one besides Denki saw you in them, mostly because you wore them to bed. Opening the fridge door, you cringed at the harsh lighting hitting you square in the face. You bent over, eyes scanning the bottom shelf for something to pique your interest. Since you figured Denki was in his room, you didn’t bother to bend your knees while you were searching for your snack.

“Uh- I uh, whatcha lookin’ for?” Denki’s voice cracked slightly. What were the odds? Your head whipped up so fast from the fridge, you nearly knocked into the door of it. Your face began to overheat as you saw your roommate standing there in his pyjamas, fighting off his own blush as he looked at you. Had he seen how your shorts rode up your ass, giving the perfect view of the lace black panties you had been wearing that night? Maybe. The answer was most definitely a yes, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you. He really didn’t want to die by your hands.

“I was, well I was grabbing some water,” you fumbled for your words as Denki approached you, moving around the bar counter of your apartment to peer into the fridge himself from behind you. His hair was damp, sticking to his forehead indicating that he had just hopped out of the shower. No kidding, he had used your fruit passion shampoo along with lemon scented body wash again. You felt his hot breath on the back of your neck from how close he was to you, your tongue wetting your lips as you tried to ease your building nerves. You were never so nervous around him, he was your roommate and your best friend. The two of you had always been comfortable around each other.

You stood perfectly still, razor focused on the fruit cup on the top shelf to distract your mind that was buzzing with electricity. He smelled so good. He felt awfully warm. And he was incredibly close to you, so much so that you could hear his own inner monologue if you listened hard enough. You were so caught up in your thoughts that your mind barely registered that his hands were sitting comfortably on your waist. “Hey,” Denki spoke up, “Did you wear that for me?”

Processing his words, there was a tiny heat that began to burn low in your stomach. “I’m sorry?” you squeaked out.

“The black lacy ones. The ones that make me want to eat you out on the counter until you’re screaming. Did you wear those for me?” his voice was low, whispering deliciously into your ear. Sinful thoughts were clouding your mind, your previous intentions of getting a snack now lost to the idea of possibly choking on something else entirely tonight. “Denki—” His hands slipped beneath your shirt, stopping just below your breasts. You were starting to feel something hard poking at the cheek of your ass. Your breath hitched, thighs clenching together in an attempt to tame the growing heat between them. The two of you had been dancing around the notion of having feelings for each other for a long time.

You tried to look the other way every time he would stare at you for just a small bit longer than he should. He pretended to not notice the way you sat so very close to him, despite the entire couch being free. The way your fingertips brushed his thighs when you leaned over him to grab the remote. The way his touch lingered on your hip when he went to pass behind you while you cooked dinner together, his palms warm and jittery. Everything clicked together so perfectly for the two of you, it was beginning to become undeniable and almost comical at this point.

Tonight only made you more desperate for some type of release, since all of the previous tension between the two of you had crescendoed into Denki moulding his lips to your neck and sucking deep purple marks in a lovely pattern against your hot skin. Your legs felt weak, a strained moan escaping you. Between the cool air of the open fridge and his hands exploring your torso, it felt like heaven. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples eagerly, his name falling off your tongue as if second nature. You wanted him bad. And he wanted nothing more than to strip you of your clothes and have you right there in the kitchen.

Your legs quivered as he touched you, allowing yourself to lean back against him and succumb to his affection. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long, baby,” the confidence radiating off the blond was dripping right into his tone. It made more of that liquid heat manifest in your lower half. You were quite certain that those lacy black panties Denki had been talking about now had a wet patch from all of his ministrations. His hands kept massaging at your breasts, small whimpers leaving your lips as you whispered out how you needed more from him. You panted, craning your neck to the side to give him more access to your skin. Your hips seemed to move on their own as you wiggled your ass right up against his prominent hard on. “Fuck,” he swore, fingers dipping into your shorts and past the waistline of your underwear to feel your slick. You were soaking from his touches, thighs shaking and fingers finding purchase in blond locks as his finger pad grazed your aching clit. “More,” you whined with need, “I wanna.. I wanna touch you, please.”

Denki’s mind felt like it was melting. Was this a dream? He never wanted to wake up if that was the case. He inserted a finger into your core, heart fluttering upon hearing you moan out for him again. Your walls hugged his single digit, his dick twitching at the sensation. You were feeling unbearably sensitive for some reason that night, the way his thumb drew circles around your clit paired with his finger reaching within you made your head light. “You’re so greedy, look at you fucking yourself on my fingers. Moaning like that for me. From how much you walk around like a little slut, you had this coming,” Denki nibbled at the lobe of your ear before adding a second digit, curling his fingers and further sending you into your pleasure. “Denki,” you called out again, head tossed against his shoulder, ass rubbing right against his dick in ways that made his head spin. “You’re so wet, do you hear that? Holy fuck, I can’t wait to taste you,” Denki’s words made the coil inside the pit of your stomach snap, your first orgasm of the night finally washing over you as you clenched around his fingers. It took all of Denki’s willpower not to cum in his boxers right then and there. Falling against him for support, your hips lazily rolled against his digits to ride out your high.

“Up on the counter babe, we’re not done yet. I’m still feeling a bit hungry,” he murmured into your ear. The two of you backed away from the fridge, leaving the door open to allow some light in the darkened kitchen. You turned to face him, seeing a bit of a loopy smile on his face despite his lust blown pupils. You wasted no time in connecting your lips, tongue sliding into his mouth with ease. Your body pressed his against the cool granite of the counter, his hands drifting lower down your back to meet the flesh of your ass. He tapped your ass a couple times, his fingers pinching at the fabric of your thin shorts. “You won’t be needing these,” he chuckled deeply against your lips. His drop in octave made you shiver. Your own hands mapped out his body, feeling across his abs that he prided himself on as a pro-hero while your other went right for his cock.

Your excited fingers pulled down his gray sweatpants along with his boxers, his cock springing free from its confines. There was a lovely amount of precum beading atop his reddening head, your thumb swirling the natural lube around his tip. The action elicited a groan from the blond, grabbing a bit harder at your ass. You were gentle, teasing even, your eyes glazed over in lust as your hand pumped his dick at a slow tempo. Denki’s hips began to fuck into your hand, his chest heaving as he took this time to shed himself of his t-shirt. He felt entranced by how your fingers looked so delicate fisting his cock, breath hitching in his throat as your wrist rolled with each stroke of his dick. “Do you know how— fuck — how long I’ve waited for this?” Denki’s words are gentle, his neck craning back down to nip at your exposed skin.

“Too long?”

“Way too long.”

You giggled and he groaned, a low rumble against your soft skin that makes you shiver yet again. You smirked with amusement as you felt him pulse in your hand, yet Denki pulled away from your touch just as you were about to tip him over the line to his own orgasm. “You, you first,” he told you, golden eyes trained on yours, “I like seeing you come undone for me.”

A whimper escaped you, his grin hungry with want for you and only you. “Let’s see how good you taste,” he pressed a final kiss to your lips as he eagerly dropped to his knees. With a shy look in your eyes, you allowed your legs to spread, giving Denki a full view of your pretty pussy. He was practically salivating, eyes taking in your wet sex with a strange fire lit behind them. He was eating good tonight. With your fingers threading in his hair and tugging lightly, he took it as his signal to go. You sucked in a gasp of surprise as something cool touched your already slick entrance. Oh, you had forgotten that Denki had a fucking tongue piercing.

Instinctively, your thighs started to close around Denki’s head. He held them open with ease, the metal ball of his piercing following the tip of his tongue as he happily traced your entrance. “Denki,” you huffed, growing frustrated at his languid pace. For a man who seemed rather eager, he was going very slowly. Denki hummed in response, lips now attached to your clit and you felt your body jolt at the feeling. Fuck. Maybe you should have bit your tongue instead. Channeling electricity through his quirk, you felt a shock emitted from the tiny piece of metal in his mouth to your aching clit. “Denki!” you moaned, eyelids fluttering as you struggled to keep your gaze on him. Your hands kept pulling at his semi-damp hair, rutting your hips as best as you could into his face as your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You felt ten times hotter than you did when you first entered the kitchen, your hands expelling your own sleep shirt to the floor as Denki moaned at the sight of your exposed tits. This gave him the opportunity to push his tongue into your pussy, your toes curling at the sensation of his tongue entering your heat. He had his fun, darting his tongue in and out of you as he kept moaning to keep up the tiny vibrations. Moving his bangs away from his eyes, you could only watch as he ate you out with his skilled muscle.

His tongue reached deeper inside of you, his hands holding your thighs apart firmly as they were threatening to clamp around his head with more force. You hadn’t anticipated that Denki would be this fucking good with his mouth. Your inner walls squeezed around him, your moans picking up in volume. Your nipples were peaked, your back arched and your head thrown back as all you could do was continuously grind your hips against his face. This only edged the blond further, his nose stimulating your swollen clit as his tongue delved as far as it could into your dripping cunt. You nearly screamed his name as you were finally tipped over the edge, your chest heaving as Denki suckled at your sensitive lower lips. He drank your essence happily, your body prickling with heat as he drew back to watch in awe at how your pussy fluttered invitingly around nothing. He was drunk on the feeling of you cumming on his mouth. You two were definitely doing that again.

As you steadily regulated your breathing, Denki slowly got up from his position on the floor. Wiping away a bit of your cum from the corner of his mouth, he threw you another grin. You swallowed dryly, “Need you.”

“What was that, baby?”

“Need you, Den. I need you in.. Please.” Your eyes were begging him to give you more. You had seen how much his cock had been leaking onto the kitchen floor, practically throbbing between his legs from not having given release. With a cheeky sort of smile, Denki gave you a kiss to your cheek before settling his lips to the shell of your ear. “Whatever you say, babe.”

In an instant, you were swept off the counter, your body being caged between the closed freezer door and Denki holding you up from beneath your thighs. His cock fell heavy against your stomach, twitching in its desperation for attention. The light emitting from the open door of the fridge illuminated the right half of the electric blond’s face, his expression lustful and giddy in the harsh LED lighting. It made your heart buzz with anticipation, your body tensing as he eased the head of his cock past your folds. Your hands scrambled for his shoulders, fingernails leaving red crescents along his creamy skin. Denki’s eyes were on you, his breathing irregular as you wasted no time in pulling out and thrusting back in with confidence. His lips swallowed your moans, the wet, lewd sounds of your fucking adding more tinder to the heat now coiling in the pit of your stomach for the third time tonight. “Please,” you begged, practically trembling from overstimulation as Denki rocked you into the cool aluminum of the freezer door.

“Please what, baby?” the playfulness in his tone didn’t match the serious manner in which he kept pistoning into you, chasing his own release as your slick from previous orgasms now coated his cock and ran down his thighs. Each time he went in, he angled himself right up to meet that special spot inside you to make you see tiny specks of white dot your vision. “I- I, ah! Denki!” Fingers now grasping at his hair again, you yanked harshly as you came around his pulsing cock for the third and final time, squeezing him snugly as you desperately attempted to catch your breath. There was a tingly sensation running through your legs starting from your thighs, numbing and electric as Denki kept up his quick pace to chase his own release, groaning dirty praises into your ear that made you keen. Your legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to go deeper and finish inside of you. His hips met yours for one last time, stuttering as he pumped his sticky cum into your abused hole. You two stayed there for a moment, you letting out quiet giggles as Denki took his time in getting the air back into his lungs. He let you down steadily from the position you had been in, making sure to hold you up since the feeling was still a bit lost in your legs.

“Wow that was,” Denki paused, struggling to find the right word for the situation you two had caught yourselves in. “Satisfying,” you finished for him, to which he blushed deeply. The smile he flashed you was earnest and relieved, if he was being quite honest. “Ah, nice! Let’s get you something to eat, maybe a cheese string. But definitely water!”

“I’m actually feeling pretty full right now in terms of cheese. Thanks for that, Den.”

“Wait really?” Denki questioned as he swept his boxers along with his shirt off the kitchen floor, his concern showing through his furrowed brow, “Not even for a cheese string?”

A deadpan look crossed your face, sighing as you gave in to your dumbass of a roommate. “One cheese string.”

“Bet!”

Needless to say, post sex activities consisted of a hot shower, the second Shrek movie, and two cheese strings (per Denki’s request). Not a bad way to relieve your stress, you concluded to yourself happily as you snuggled closer to your roommate, fingers intertwined beneath the blanket as you allowed yourself to slip into a comfortable slumber against Denki’s shoulder.

all works © eijishimas 2021. do not reuse, modify, or repost.

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#bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #denki kaminari smut #kaminari smut #denki smut #denki x reader smut #kaminari x reader smut #denki kaminari x reader smut #eijishimas.oneshots

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roscgcld · 4 years ago

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RYOMEN SUKUNA || my little flower

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: ryomen sukuna

pronouns: she/her

notes: historical!sukuna x reader, slightly sexual (no smexy time involved lol - maybe another day ;)), quite fluffy towards the end

also - I’ve been reading so many sukuna hcs and imagines of him when he’s in his prime or during the historical era - so like excuse me as I politely simp for the man that is ryomen sukuna >< thank you

references: https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/literature/Ryomen-sukuna.html

Sukuna leans back into the futon with a tired sigh, two of his arms folded behind his head while the other two held you against him securely. His ruby red eyes glanced away from the ceiling to look down at the woman curled up in his embrace, sleeping peacefully against him whilst her own soft arms were wrapped around his muscular torso. He admired your peaceful features at first, but soon his eyes started to travel down your delicate neck and cleavage, your soft skin marked by dark splotches where he had marked you up for the world to see.

Just the sight of the hickeys and bite marks caused Sukuna to smirk once more, the feeling of pride traveling through him at the sight of the hickeys, both new and old, marring your skin. It was a sight he would never get bored of seeing, since it was a constant reminder to you that you were his and no one else’s.

Many would question just how did this happen - how did a simple human manage to ‘tame’ the infamous Sukuna - the King of Curses, who spreads chaos and bloodshed in his wake? How did you, a mere human woman who looked far too kind hearted and warm, ended up with such a fearsome man?

Well, how this came to be was actually a cute story.

You grew up in a small village in Hida province, where many cities treated Sukuna as their patron deity. He was what people would call quite a cold ruler - one who would not hesitate to bring terror and bloodshed down on a town that had angered him. But at the same time, he was quite the generous man as well. He protects the people of the Hida and Mino Provinces, and many towns had florish and grow under his careful guidance.

Your town was one of the may towns that worshipped the Cursed Spirit, preparing offerings on special celebrations and always paying your respects whenever you go up to the ichinomiya on the weekends with your parents. It was because of one of these special celebrations that drew Sukusa to you.

It was one of the many days where offerings were given to him by townspeople, in hopes that they will still continue to get some form of protection from the unknown. He was their patron deity, after all. Even though many times he does all the things he does for his own benefit, it was nice to know that there are some who are gullible enough to think he does it for them. But he it’s one to complain - many of the offerings are things he does not mind indulging in. The best crops from the harvest, women for his ever growing harem, beautifully crafted weapons and clothes are the few he can keep in mind

Many times, he does not care to go through the offerings himself - Uraume goes through all of them and then gives him a general overview of everything. However, as he was walking past one of the neat piles of offerings, a particular garment box caught his eye; causing him to pause before he unwraps it curiously.

Sitting inside the carefully wrapped package was a beautiful dark blue kinomo made of the finest silk, the fabric so smooth that it almost felt like water slipping through his fingers. Packed along with the kinomo was a beautifully crafted haori, a simple yet beautiful crane woven into the haori in white, the details done so carefully that when worn, the crane moves with the shifting of the fabric. The packet also came with a matching hakama made from the luxurious fabric, and a beautiful kaku obi made from navy blue, white and silver carefully weaved together into in a beautiful talent.

It was because of the level of craftsman ship that had Sukuna curious - who was the mastermind of something so beautiful?

He had went to the town where the garment was from and after some digging about, discovered about you. A daughter to a family of tailors, you were quite well known for your talents in embroidery and your mastery of the loom. Having gotten such talents, you crafted many beautiful pieces, and one of them was gifted to Sukuna himself recently.

When he first saw you, he was struck by your beauty; how you had such a warm smile no matter who you were referring to. How your movements were graceful yet swift, your needle and threat embroidering the most beautiful depections of animals and flowers without a single mistake. How your voice was so sweet and calming that he can physically feel the tension from his body starting to unwind ever so slightly. If he could, he’d love to listen to your voice forever - which was what he intended to do.

The first time you two met was actually in the dead of the night; you had stayed up later then usual, carefully embroidering a water lily onto a long fabric for a personal tapestry you wanted to hang in your room. A candle was burning by your work table, casting the engawa of your home in a soft but comforting glow; enough for you to do your work without straining too much. You were so fucsed on your work that you didn’t notice how the flames of your candle started to flicker in the glass holder; even though there was the air was still. Your eyes didn’t trail up from your tapestry even as a large figure quietly entered the hallway you were in; only pausing when you felt a huge presence looming over you.

Your bright eyes flickered upwards and met with four pairs of ruby red ones staring right back at you; all four of them shining in amusement. “You are quite oblivious, little one.” Sukuna hummed out with a soft grin, to which you just gave him a confused look as you tilted your head ever so slightly. “How did you get into my house?” You asked quietly, not even acknowledging how the man before you looked very different from what you’re used to; from the four muscular arms sprouting out from underneath the dark blue haori, the very same one that you had made for him. to the extra pair of eyes he sported on his face. Or how the top of his head was clearly brushing against the simple weed roofing of your family home.

“Is that really the first thing you’re going to ask, little one?”

From that day onwards, things definitely went a lot smoother then Sukuna could have imagined. At first the lack of reaction from you confused him, but he found it quite amusing nonetheless. Even after finding out that he was the same deity that you had heard stories of since you were in diapers, you acted no differently around him. You still talked and laughed with him like he was any other human. which for some reason made his heart feel warm and fuzzy. It makes him want to gather you up in his arms, protecting you from the horrors of the world.

The two of you will continue to meet up in the night like secret lovers; many nights he’d just lean against one of the pillars of your family home, with you perched in his lap as you work on different projects every night; talking about things that happen that day, or the funny stories that the townsfolk would share with you whenever they drop by to mend and purchase clothes, or when they dropped off freshly dyed fabrics. During a few of these nights Sukuna had suggested if you can help him mend a few of his kimonos, which you agreed to without hesitation. Some days you’d ever create new kimonos for him as well, which he would wear quite proudly.

Soon these innocent nights of talking and laughter, him watching you do your work under the moonlight, to having you gasping and crying out for him as he took you over and over again in his grand bedroom; watching quite gleefully as he corrupted your innocence, ruining you for any other man. Ever since the first night you two shared in his bed, he knew that there was no turning back - there was no one else for him but you.

And there was no way he was going to let some puny human even try to get in between the both of you.

With that he whisked you away from the somewhat mundane and boring life in your town, making you his entire world. He showered you with the finest gifts and opened the more human side of him to you; one that he thought he had lost the moment he had decided to go down the path he did. But you pulled these emotions out from him with ease, making him realise that he can chase all the power he want till the end of time and that will never satisfy him completely.

All he needed was you, and everything feels right in the world.

“I’ve lost you again, haven’t I?”

Sukuna’s eyes snapped towards the direction of your sleepy voice, watching how you gave him the most beautiful yet sleepy smile as you carefully shifted your body so it was pressed against his. He marveled how your naked bodies clicked together seamlessly, even with the clear size difference between the two of you. “You will always have my attention, flower.”

The sound of the simple nickname cause a small smile tug against the corner of your lips, remembering how that nickname came about. You have always love studying flowers, since you enjoyed embroidering different sorts of flora and fauna onto different tapestries that now adorned the walls of the home you two share. You had once told him about your love of flowers, and because of that, you had came home one day to the courtyard in your shared home turned into your private garden; with flowers from all across the country planted at every nook and cranny.

When you had asked Sukuna about it, he just shrugs and gave you an indulge smile - as if asking were you really shocked by his gift to you. When he realised just how deep your love for nature was, he had started to call you ‘his flower’, and the name has stuck since then. “What a sweet talker.”

A chuckle rumbled deep within his chest as one of his hands found purchase along your back, starting to massage what he was sure were your sore muscles; watching in satisfaction as you melted more into his chest. “Only for you.” He admitted quietly, to which you just gave him a loving smile as you rest your cheek against his chest once more; a soft finger started to trace along the tattoos on his skin. This action caused him to relax further into the futon, sighing softly in content. “Sukuna? Can we take a bath?”

“I’m lazy.” Sukuna stated with a soft groan as he glanced down at you once more, only to be met by the soft pout that you just know gets him to give in. This caused him to scowl as he cupped your face in one of his hands, gently squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he pushes himself up into a seated position. “You little minx.” He growls playfully whilst you just gave him a teasing smile, straddling his lap with your legs on either side of his whilst one of your hands wrapped around his wrist; causing him to loosen his grip on you whilst letting out a loud sigh. “How annoying.”

His arms suddenly wrapped around you before he got up from the comfort of the warm futon, causing you to giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Let’s go, flower.” He sighs dramatically before he walked you both to the bathroom, causing you to perk up before you lean over to press a loving kiss against his cheek; ignoring his soft eyeroll at your act of affection. As if he didn’t enjoy it whenever you do so. “I love you.”

“Of course you do.” He teases before he started to walk you two towards the bathroom, one of his hands skimming down to the small of your pack where a beautiful black tattoo rested against your soft skin; a tattoo that looks similar to the black lines that adorned his own skin. “You’re mine, after all.” He stated simply, causing you to roll your eyes at him playfully as he carefully sat you down on the wooden steps leading to the opening of the ofuro; watching as Sukuna started to prepare the bath for the both of you. “Wouldn’t it kill for you to just be a little nicer to me?”

Your teasing tone clearly didn’t win any points with him, who narrowed his eyes at you and before you know it you were suddenly pinned down against the wooden steps. A soft giggle left your lips at the narrowed eyes that stared back at you, causing Sukuna to scowl softly at your reaction. “Now you’re just asking for it, flower.” He growled before diving down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss; not being able to mask his smile at the sound of your soft laughter just as you wrapped your arms around him once more.

"My little flower..”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna imagines #sukuna x reader

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renaerys · 3 years ago

Note

The Greens: “I’m gonna be your first and your last” and, because the Blues need some love, “We just went over the rules.”

48. “We just went over the rules.”

A Blues ask!! My crops are watered and my skin is cleared. I have other Greens prompts, so there will be more of them coming. I hope it's okay that I chose the Blues one!

Send me a prompt and some characters! Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we're getting creative here.

List of prompts

xxx

“Wait, okay, so is eye contact allowed?”

Bubbles popped a chewing gum bubble. “That’s allowed.”

“And is it one foot or two on the floor?”

“One. Look, are you really ready? We just went over the rules, but you seem nervous.”

Boomer shook his head. “No, I’m good! For real, let’s do this. I’m good to go.”

Todd slammed a bill on the table in between them. “Super, because I got money on the line here. Let’s gooooooo!”

“Wow, five whole dollars? I’m flattered,” Boomer said.

“Why? My money’s on Bubbles.”

“Mine too,” Buttercup said.

“Y’all are about to take a collective shit and eat it when Boomer wins this,” Butch said.

Blossom winced. “Jesus, Butch.”

“No, no, he’s right.” Brick put his hands on Boomer’s shoulders and leaned his weight on them. “Boomer, flatten her ass.”

Buttercup leaned close to Blossom’s ear. “Did you hear that, Blossom? Did you hear what that uncultured fool just said about our sister’s ass?”

Blossom clenched her fists. “Oh, I heard it.”

“Okay, enough! Can we just start please?” Bubbles had not signed up for a pissing contest between their siblings. She hadn’t even invited them. This was supposed to be a friendly match for fun, until Todd found out and turned it into some betting pool among their classmates and friends, who had all gathered in Todd’s basement to watch the competition.

“All bets are in! Last call!” Mike rattled a tin full of coins and a few bills from the high rollers.

Bubbles chewed her now flavorless gum. “Ready?”

“He was born ready,” Brick said, dead-ass serious.

Butch made a man noise somewhere in between a squawk and a roar.

“I’m ready when you are,” Boomer said.

Robin, who had agreed to act as referee, leaned over the table. “Okay, take your positions, brave combatants!”

Bubbles wrapped her hand around Boomer’s and rested her elbow on the table. On Robin’s countdown, she put all her Super strength behind her arm and pushed against Boomer’s, who pushed right back.

They were evenly matched in strength, but Bubbles had expected this. She smiled and turned on the charm. “Hey, Boomer.”

Boomer blinked. Sweat had begun to form on his forehead from the exertion. “Yeah?”

Bubbles gritted her teeth against his force. Her arm shook, but her eyes smiled. “You look really hot in that jacket.”

He flushed, and Brick slammed a hand on the table. “Hey, no flirting! Ref, do something about this.”

“Back off, Mother Theresa. It was just a compliment,” Buttercup said.

“The hell it was. I see you, Bubbles.”

“Don’t you dare address her directly! You’re interfering with her concentration,” Blossom said.

“All right, all right! No one talks anymore,” Robin said.

“I’m increasing my bet,” Todd said, dropping another dollar into Mike’s tin. “Bubbles is gonna murder him.”

It was harder without talking. Boomer couldn’t use his electricity, but his stamina was a little better than Bubbles’ on a good day. She could feel herself beginning to slip. Her palm was clammy where it clasped Boomer’s, and her elbow dug into the table hard enough to dent the steel.

Boomer held her gaze. He knew she was losing steam, and it only made him stronger. Around them, their siblings and friends loomed with death and destruction in their eyes, but Bubbles couldn’t worry about them when she had to worry about Boomer. She wasn’t as punch-hungry as Buttercup or as viper-tongued as Blossom, but she had her pride, and Boomer of all people was definitely not going to beat her.

He’d been her arch nemesis, her equal and opposite counter born to destroy her, and he’d failed rather embarrassingly when one kiss blew him up. A lot had changed since then—they were dating now, and their fights had transitioned more to the verbal spat variety over kicks and punches—but the competition between them still simmered under the surface. Boomer had never grown past his ultimate weakness, either.

And yeah, it was a teensy bit underhanded, but Bubbles had come here to conquer and Boomer was in her fucking way.

She looked Boomer directly in the eye, puckered her lips, and blew the slowest, sexiest chewing gum bubble she’d ever blown in her life. Like the sweet but predictable boy he was, Boomer shuddered and squeaked an impotent oh! and Bubbles went in for the kill.

She slammed his hand down on the table. The room exploded around them.

“She cheated,” Brick insisted.

“She didn’t speak, so she didn’t break the rule,” Blossom said.

“That was the most fuck me harder, daddy bubble I have ever seen. It’s a hundred percent cheating!”

“You can’t ascribe sexual intention to gum! That’s simply absurd.”

“Yeah, Brick, wow. Get some ice for that sore ass, loser,” Buttercup said.

Butch made another man-roar-growl and fell to his knees.

While Blossom and Brick continued to scream at each other over the sexual agency or lack thereof of chewing gum, Bubbles collected her winnings from Mike, high-fived Todd for being a true ally from the get-go, and dragged Boomer out of there. “Are you okay?”

Boomer sighed. “Yeah, just a little emasculated. But it’s no big deal, I’ll get over it.”

“That’s the spirit.” She kissed his cheek, and he caught her with an arm around her waist when she tried to pull back.

“I don’t mind losing if it’s to you, you know.”

“That’s cute. But you definitely did lose.”

He groaned. “Yeah, okay, you won. I’m toast. You’ve ruined gum for me forever. What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. Just stop talking and kiss me.”

He shut up immediately.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #Boomubbles #ppg blues #ppg bubbles #ppg #september fic prompts

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flythesail · 2 years ago

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The finale and this SHOW could not have been any more perfect!?!?!! The love Owen and Beru have for Luke! The love Bail and Breha have for Leia! THE LOVE OBI-WAN HAS FOR THEM BOTH?!! They gave him the strength to lift the rocks and I'm never going to stop thinking about that!?!?

And the way everything was brought full circle with Reva??? I've said it before and I'll say it again but she was just such a good character and I love her.

THEN... OHMYGOSHJSJAKAK THE FIGHT BETWEEN ANAKIN AND OBI-WAN!!! EACH LINE WAS SO.... *screaming.* THEN HALF HIS MASK IS GONE SO HE'S HALF ANAKIN, HALF VADER. IDK BUT THERE'S A METAPHOR IN THERE SOMEWHERE. And when Obi-Wan called him Anakin hahahahahahahahaha........ Also Vader telling Obi-Wan HE killed Anakin, not Obi-Wan. I-

(Plus the imperial march making an appearance because I've been waiting for that. Also Palpatine and Qui-Gon!!!djskskakak).

THEN EVERYTHING ELSE WITH LEIA AND OBI-WAN!! WHEN SHE DIDN'T WANT HIM TO GO!! And she... Gave him.. Lola..

THE REUNION AT THE END!!! HIS LAUGH WHEN SHE TOLD HIM TO SLEEP!!! WATERED MY CROPS. CLEARED MY SKIN. ADDED 200 YEARS ONTO MY LIFE.

And then... AND THEN

HE MEETS LUKE!?!?!

AND HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY HELLO THERE!?!?!?!!

WHATDNAKSKDKAOFJAKDKKAA

#kenobi #kenobi series #obi wan kenobi #flythepost

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hopeamarsu · 3 years ago

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Of potions and myths

This is for the lovely @clydesducktape and her CDT celebration challenge. Congratulations on your milestone my darling! ❤️

I thought I was just going to write a small blurb, but it got out of hand a little, oops. I also decided to try my hand in something else entirely, namely a whole new character. I hope it’s not rubbish.

My picks: Mythical creature - Love Potion - Blind Date

Will Miller x f!reader (eventually if I can manage a chapter two of this)

Word count 2,1k

Warnings: Predatory behaviour, dangers of date rape drugs and drugging (nothing happens, don’t worry!), alcohol, magic, mythical creatures are known, strong tension. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Chapter 2

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” A deep voice rumbles behind you just as you straighten your body to get back to your drink and continue your date. Your eyes widen, flitting between your drink still on its coaster, your date who looks like he’s about to sweat through his button-up and the stranger standing to your left, one huge hand hooked around his belt buckle and the other twisted outward a little, displaying his intricate tattoos.

He looks calm on the outside, posture all relaxed as he holds your gaze for a moment before turning his eyes to your date and you can practically see them turn into ice and stone. You follow his gaze and take in your date, how the collar of his shirt looks a tad too tight and the perspiration gathering at his hairline. He’s very nervous for some reason, you think but remain silent, waiting for more information.

The blond stranger nods towards your drink, sitting all innocent at the bar top, water pooling around it. “Saw him drop something in your drink as you were turned away.” Despite his calmness, the voice is laced with venom, the ice in his eyes burning as he regards your date with disdain. With slow, deliberate movement, he picks up your drink and gives it a small whiff.

“Love potion.” Two words that turn your world upside down.

It had been a blind date, set up by your co-worker who had assured you that their friend was good and kind and cute, when you first hesitated accepting the invitation. And it had been an okay date so far, if a little lacklustre in conversation. He’d talked more about himself and his work than engaging you in conversation during your two-hour in the bar together. You’d already given up on the idea of a second date, but tried to humor yourself and him by not cutting the date short even if only to please your co-worker, trying to at least make it work.

But to hear he’d tried to lace your drink with love potion? Oh hell no.

“Give me the drink,” You order in a low voice, holding out your hand for it. The blond man agrees, passing the drink to you and you bring it to your own nose, picking up the notes under the alcohol. Once you are certain the stranger is indeed right and you know exactly what the potion was supposed to do to you, you turn your body to look at your date fully.

In a flash of a movement you tip the drink upside down and pour it down his crotch, ice and all. When he yelps and jumps up cursing, trying to salvage the light chinos, you stand up as well and push the empty glass into his chest, growling in his ear.

“You absolute fucker! Next time when you try to use a potion to make someone fall into bed with you, do it with someone who doesn’t study potions for a living. Or better yet, don’t do it at all.”

With another push at the date, you step around him, not sparing him a second glance. Your mind is screaming for you to run, hide and maybe get shitfaced at home to avoid the humiliating feeling already creeping up your spine and you rush away out the door.

The cold air hits you full force and you need to lean back towards the brick wall, trying to gather your shields and thoughts as your mind wanders into unsavoury grounds. Had it not been for the stranger looking out for you... Like called upon, the blond man steps into your eyesight, arms loose and his posture unthreatening even when he fills the air around him with restrained power.

“Are you alright?”

His deep rumble feels like balm against your bleeding wounds and you lift off the wall to fully look at him again. He is taller than you, his blond hair cropped short and his full beard trimmed close to his skin but showing how full it is nevertheless. His eyes search for signs in yours and you feel your mental shield drop a bit as you drown in his blue orbs. Your hand shakes by your side when you let out a soft sigh.

“I’ll be soon. Thank you, for what you did. I didn’t even notice.”

“He was sneaky, using the moment you checked for your phone. I’m glad I caught it, it was very fast.”

“The phone!” You exclaim and dig hastily through your pockets to find the object in question. You turn the screen to him, showing the blank email notification still up on the phone. “The bastard had this all planned. I can’t believe it.” You shake your head in disgust, another wave of cold fear running inside your veins.

“Do you wish to report him?”

“I don’t know…”

“Unauthorized use of a Class B potion is a felony,” He points out casually and you have to nod at his words. It’s true and given that you could also smell the undertone of aphrodisiac potion in the drink as well tells you the man was either playing with fire combining these two potions together or had done it before and gotten away with it and he should be brought in for his offenses.

“If only I hadn’t poured it down his pants. Now there’s only my word against his and who will believe a researcher over… whatever hell he is. I don’t even know if he is mundane or someone who practices the arts.” You feel dejected and upset at yourself. Even after all these years mingling with the supernatural you still don’t know all the clues you need to pick up upon to pinpoint someone.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all turn alright. You have me as a witness, I have a pretty good idea on what he practices,” The stranger tells you, offering you a wry look. He holds out his hand and introduces himself as Captain William Miller, part of the Delta Force and you suck in a surprised breath. Delta is known all around as the elite of the elite, almost exclusively recruiting non-mundanes and mythicals into their ranks and if he’s made Captain within them, he must be at the top of the chain.

“You’d do that for me?” You manage to ask after introducing yourself. William, Will as he asks you to call him, give you a reassuring nod and you find yourself relaxing a little more. He steps closer and suddenly you feel tendrils of something wrap softly around you, offering you reassurance and protection. You find yourself leaning into the sensation, lowering your shields even further to enjoy them snake up your arms in soothing motions.

Your eyes flip up to his and as they lock into place, you swear you see something red flicker in them for a second before the dark ocean-blue hue hides it. Almost like the opposite sides of a magnet, you are pulled closer to one another until your back is pressed against the wall again and he stands right in front of you.

The tendrils are followed by his hand ghosting up near your bare arm as he cages you into the wall, one hand up over your head. “I don’t know what it is, but… Something draws me into you,” Will murmurs as his lips nearly graze your forehead. “I feel it too,” You answer him, your eyes falling shut as the sensation on your skin turns from soothing to electrifying. Something powerful hums between your bodies, just waiting to claim its prize.

He doesn’t touch you and you don’t touch him, both of you knowing unconsciously that the second you do, all bets are off. Your body calls to him and he is clearly having a tough time not answering the song. You can see how he struggles to keep his composure, his eyes flickering to your lips and your neck and back to your eyes. One of his hands curls into a fist as he breathes your scent in, his nostrils flaring at the combination of your natural musk and the bar you’ve left behind.

You struggle against the pull too, trying to gather your shields again but it’s so hard when you want to drop them completely for him. You desperately want him to swoop down and just kiss you, erase everything and anything that is not him. It makes your head spin, the intensity of it all and you are glad of the wall offering you support and grounding you so you won’t fly away.

“Allow me to take you home and come pick you up tomorrow? We’ll go and report the creep first thing but now I need to know you are safe. I need to keep you safe,” His voice grows husky, tender and possessive and you shiver under his whispered words.

“Please,” you mumble, unable to deny his plea. With great effort Will pushes himself off you and steps away a little, your head clearing as the distance grows between both of you. It seems to have a similar effect on him as the hue in his eyes lightens. You can still feel his presence tingling in the base of your skull and you are already itching to explore your books to find more about this unexpected and intensive connection you seem to share with the handsome Captain.

He gestures towards his car and you walk side by side to it. As the engine roars into action, you can feel the air get thicker as you are once more in close proximity. You want to open the seat belt and touch him, sink your fingers into his hair and feel the beard scratch along your chin and neck. One look at his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel tells you that you are not alone in your thoughts and it makes heat flare up inside you.

By some miracle, or his ironclad will, he gets you home, following your quiet instructions to a tee. As you step to the curb, you feel the intensity simmer down again and file it away for later research. You turn to the open window after closing the door and offer your thanks for the ride and for catching the would-be predator. He has one hand still on the wheel anchoring himself in place, and just as you are about to turn around and walk to the front door, he speaks out your name.

“After you’ve filed the report, can I, uh, can I take you out for a coffee?” Will sounds almost bashful as he speaks. Is he afraid you’ll deny him now that your mind is a bit clearer? You know he felt the magnitude of whatever it was surrounding your bodies earlier too. You can clearly see the remnants of it on his body pulled so tight, the muscles tense and poised to pounce under his Henley. You chuckle softly before offering an affirmative.

“I would love that.”

“Good! Great. Wonderful.” Will coughs to hide his eagerness. “I’ll pick you up in the morning then?” Now it’s your turn to nod, before bidding him good night. You feel his eyes tracking your every move as you walk away from the car, every cell in your body rebelling against the movement of your legs. It takes all of your concentration not to rush back but to finally open the door and step inside.

The lock clicks into place and you sigh as you rest your forehead against the wood, hoping you’d invited him in. But for now, this is for the best, you remind yourself. You have some research to do. You need to get to the bottom of this connection before anything rash can happen. No matter how much you wish for it to.

Hours later you step into your bedroom and a soundless whisper calls to you from the window. You walk next to it and push the curtain to the side a little. Will’s car is still parked on the same spot where he left you and even if you can’t see his face, you see his figure in the front seat, reclining a little as he’s gotten comfortable.

He’s going to be there all night, you realize suddenly. It should feel creepy, but it only fills you with warmth. He’s going to keep you safe, just like he said.

#william miller #william ironhead miller #will miller #will miller x f!reader #tw: date rape drugs #tw: drugging #cw: alcohol #will miller fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #my w #cdt celebration challenge

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years ago

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Re: Star Wars prequel novelizations - the Revenge of the Sith book is genuinely one of the best things I have ever read and changed my life.

THANK YOU, anon, for reminding me about the Revenge of the Sith novelization. I just reread it, and my crops are watered, my skin is clear, and — I cannot overstate this — I actually remember why I love Star Wars. That love has been for too long stolen by The Fandom Menace sucking the life out of those movies to invent a new definition of suffering while digesting them slowly over a thousand years.

Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover is one of the greatest works of adventure fiction I have ever read, and it continues to inspire the way I write action sequences and character conflicts. It does so damn much to transform a movie that is, to be honest, just okay. There are a couple of big additions from the novel that make the whole Skywalker saga richer, and there are about five hundred little tweaks that deepen the lore in a way that shows that Stover loves Star Wars to the core.

First big addition: having Obi-Wan tell Padmé that he’s in love with Anakin. This is great because yay, queer representation! But within the specific context of RotS, it also sets up the super-important contrast between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Obi-Wan, Stover’s novel makes clear, is the quiet and unassuming embodiment of everything a Jedi is supposed to be: he’s selfless, loving, hard-working, and incredibly skilled with the Force. Obi-Wan falls in love with Anakin, realizes that Anakin doesn’t love him back in that way, and... lives with it. He spends time with Anakin, supports Anakin, enjoys Anakin’s company, and doesn’t act like the world will end if Anakin isn’t his.

Anakin loves Obi-Wan, in a siblinglike way, and he loves Padmé. But he’s got a nasty habit of expressing that love through possession and control, through going behind Padmé’s back to “fix” her life without her permission. Anakin falls in love with Padmé and immediately concludes that he cannot possibly live like this: they must begin a secret relationship, and he must both marry her and remain a Jedi. Later he destroys the Jedi and eventually Padmé herself because he sees himself as having no way out of that dilemma.

And all the while, Obi-Wan is there in the background. Also in love with someone with whom he cannot have a relationship, and just… dealing with it like an adult. Because millions of people are in love with people who don’t love them back, and that’s just how it is sometimes. It’s selfish to obsess over “having” their love at all costs. For Anakin, that obsession with saving Obi-Wan and Padmé eventually leads to him killing them both.

When Yoda tells Anakin that he must deal with his fear of losing Padmé through letting go, Anakin takes this to mean “let her die.” But what Yoda means is not “let her die,” but rather “love her the way Obi-Wan loves you: quietly, selflessly, and with a willingness to do what’s best for her, whether or not that means you get to have her.” And Anakin never understands that, because Anakin’s view of the world is so intensely egocentric.

Second big addition: updating the Force to explain the Dark Side. Revenge of the Sith, even more so than any other Star Wars, is all about the contrast between the Dark Side and the Light Side. Here, Stover’s contribution is brilliant; he makes the Dark Side egocentric and the Light allocentric.

Terminology! “Egocentric” in psych refers to the perspective that focuses on how the world affects you and how you affect the world. At the extreme, egocentric thinking can be believing that a baby is crying in a deliberate effort to annoy you, or that every person in a crowded cafeteria will remember what shirt you wore when you ate there a week ago. “Allocentric” refers to the perspective that the self is one of several disparate elements buffered around by the world. At the extreme, allocentric thinking can be failing to realize that others are reacting to your presence, or viewing your own life as one thing you can give to help others.

Stover doesn’t use those terms, but he does describe how Dooku “drew power into his innermost being until the Force itself existed only to serve his will” (p. 64). Later, Obi-Wan “gave himself to the living Force… the Force moved him, let him collapse as though he’d suddenly fainted, then it brought his lightsaber from his belt to his hand” (p. 285). Dooku ultimately loses his fight against Anakin because he focuses on how everyone is responding to him, and misses that Anakin and Palpatine are beginning to build an alternate alliance right under his nose. Obi-Wan ultimately wins his fight against Anakin because he allows the Force to shove him around, and sets aside his concern with both his own life and that of his best friend while fighting for the greater goal of peace.

Not only that, but Obi-Wan’s understanding of the Force moves beyond that of most Jedi. He compares “the will of the Force” to “the will of gravity,” in essence stating that simply because it is beyond human comprehension doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own rules. One can be a Jedi without needing to understand the Force in the same way one can be a pilot without needing to be a physicist. In RotS, we see that his refrain of “search your feelings” is a way of calling on a Force user to be mindful enough to accept realities that are already evident, if one can only allow oneself to have that knowledge.

Stover also uses these competing perspectives — allocentric and egocentric — to explain why the Jedi Order falls. The tight control the Order exerts over the Jedi moves them away from the will of the Force and toward the will of the Council. Its insularity creates a sense of superiority, which is the reason so many Jedi fail to see their clone troopers as threats until it’s too late. Stover tweaks the Jedi Purge scene to emphasize that the only reason Obi-Wan and Yoda survive is because of their selflessness. Obi-Wan takes the time to befriend his alien mount, repeatedly confirming her well-being, and then she shields him with her body when his troopers open fire. Yoda respects the Wookie command and puts himself in a position to assist rather than lead the resistance movement on Kashyyyk, meaning that when a fight breaks out between him and his troopers the Wookies don’t hesitate to side with him. Yoda and Obi-Wan are the only two Jedi who truly give themselves to the service of others, and thus they are the only two to survive the Purge.

...and the million little favors this book does for the movie.

During the opening battle, having Obi-Wan tell Anakin to “use the Force” to fly a narrow trench and having Anakin roll his eyes at such an obvious suggestion. It’s a callback to A New Hope, but one that drives home how much more the Force is integrated in the lives of Old Republic Jedi than it is in the lives of Imperial kids like Luke.

Fixing the minor continuity error from Episode III to Episode IV — why would Admiral Motti dismiss Vader as following outdated superstitions if there were millions of Jedi within his lifetime? — by explicitly stating that the Sith are considered a dead culture. Ergo, Vader’s “ancient religion” isn’t the Force in general; it’s specifically the Sith creed.

Making Palpatine scarier and more seductive than he is in the movie. Stover’s rhetoric about killing even the Jedi children is frighteningly rational and coherent, and he uses it to give Palpatine some stomach-churning speeches while corrupting Anakin.

Using the novel format for all it’s worth. Stover skims over the physical-comedy elevator sequence in favor of having Dooku and Palpatine discussing their plans for the war. He only tells us about Anakin’s conversation with Yoda after the fact, in scattered flashes as a panicking Anakin runs through the halls of the Jedi temple. He gives us intense focus on Anakin’s mindset while trying to land the broken halves of Invisible Hand, less on what the ship itself is doing. He cuts away from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s final battle, toward R2D2 and C3PO as they struggle to drag a dying Padmé into her ship out of a desperation to find some small way to help her.

Revealing that Palpatine spends the entire story trying to kill Obi-Wan. This gets hinted at in the movie, but Stover includes several moments throughout Palpatine’s “rescue” from Dooku when Palpatine sets Obi-Wan up to die, and mentions like eight other attempts on Obi-Wan’s life as orchestrated by Palpatine. It’s a great character addition, that Palpatine assumes he cannot get Anakin to fall unless he first eliminates Obi-Wan.

Expanding Padmé’s role in the movie (set dressing, and later refrigerator filling) by having her secretly organize and launch the Rebel Alliance right under Vader and Palpatine’s noses.

Those are just examples of how Stover clearly knows the Force, gets the Force, and strives to make the Force more internally coherent. How he sometimes translates, sometimes preserves, and always improves the pacing and tone of the film.

I haven’t even touched on the FUCKING AMAZEBALLS imagery or introspection in the book yet, but this post is getting wicked long, so I’ll go ahead and leave it here for now. Point is, all y’all should go out immediately and get a copy from your library and/or used bookstore, because Nonny is right and it’ll change your life.

#star wars #revenge of the sith #star wars episode iii #matthew stover #revenge of the sith novelization #book review #long post #nothing to do with animorphs #the force #star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith #anonymous #asks

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vanaera · 4 years ago

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𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝟎𝟑 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

Synopsis: A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Characters: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre/AU: Sci-fi, romance, angst, mystery, action, fluff (in this chapter!) (cop!JK x artist!you), based on the movie Minority Report

Wordcount: 7.8k

Warnings: Dark themes and implied smut (in future chapters); mentions of blood (PG-16 Rating)

A/N: I busted my brain cells writing the action scenes for this so please feel free to tell me what you think about this chapter!

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

Jungkook steps away from Yoongi and races out of the Murder Sector and into the Left Wing. “Captain Jeon!” Yoongi hollers behind him, but Jungkook doesn’t turn an inch towards his way. His mind is set. There’s no time for this. Jungkook runs to the main building’s hallway, eyes set on the closing elevators. He could hear Yoongi and even Jimin and Taehyung close behind. Jungkook sprints. He reaches the elevator just in time and slides himself into the sliver of space left by the closing doors.

By the time Taehyung shouts “Captain!” the doors of the metal lift have already shut close.

Jungkook raps his knuckles on the gray door in hurried beats. It takes six more knocks until it bursts open.

“Why are you here?” Y/N pointedly looks at him, forehead creased.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything and makes his way inside the studio. He scrutinizes the room. The buckets of paint are still a mess, the owl painting still unfinished. Jungkook turns around and finally looks at the girl. “What do you mean with your text? That you saw a ‘Sooah Kim?’”

Y/N closes the door shut and shakes her head. Jungkook only notices she’s wearing a black, sleeveless, turtleneck cropped top. Black, baggy cargo pants cinch at the top of her black combat boots. She has her hair tied in a low ponytail, stray strands framing her face. She looks like a different person once again.

Y/N pulls the stool and sits, clasping her hands together on the table. A black dragon tattoo spirals from her upper arm to her elbow. Jungkook has never seen it before. Nor the monochrome hornet bee tattoo peeking from the center of her abdomen, its translucent wings spread wide. From the size of the insect’s abdomen, Jungkook thinks it could be a queen. He’s seen one of them in his trip to Vietnam with Namjoon last year.

Y/N tilts her head. Jungkook’s eyes dart back towards hers. Y/N chuckles. “So, that’s why you rushed here?” she raises a brow, “to know if I indeed saw a Sooah Kim?”

Jungkook walks to the table. “This is not a time for joking, Y/N,” he grits, slamming his hands on the table.

Y/N stares blankly at him. She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. Her top rides up. The hornet shows in complete view. It is indeed a queen. “If that is your question, then, yes, I saw a Sooah Kim. Though I don’t know why you have to come here right now without any schedule—”

“I need answers, Y/N. Right now.” Jungkook’s brows meet together. “The red file we saw yesterday—a blank turned up earlier containing the same Winston file and—”

“So you believe me now?”

Silence.

Jungkook takes a step back, “When did I tell you I didn’t?”

Y/N scoffs, “You don’t have to tell me, Jungkook. I know you didn’t. And now that one of my visions matched with your current reality, you’re suddenly open to trusting me with answers you so seek.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Y/N waves a hand. “I already expected it. Actually, I’ve already seen this day coming. You with that funny face,” Y/N points at him, chuckling, “God, I’ve never seen such a conflicted face in a while.” Y/N sits back up, “Anyway, I have to give you leeway in my judgment. After all, it’s not easy for anyone in an established system to believe in something that doesn’t belong in their paradigm. So now that you want your answers,” Y/N kicks back the stool in front of her, “Sit.”

Jungkook slowly makes his way around the stool and sits. It feels oddly nostalgic to be in the same place again. Even if this time he’s sitting in Y/N’s initial position, Y/N in his—their social position remains the same. He still has the shorter end of the stick.

“Let’s start now.” Y/N bends down to retrieve a small, black canvas bag from the stack of boxes and papers on her side. She produces a white folder and pushes it to the man.

Jungkook looks at Y/N. The girl only smiles. Jungkook’s eyes drop to the stationery in front of him. He flips it open. It’s a composite sketch of a woman in her late twenties. She has a small, square face with a rounded chin, short button nose, and small but wide, mono-lidded eyes. Her ears are quite big for her petite face, her shoulders are short, and her neck, elegantly long like a swan. Her hair is parted to the left, chopped at shoulder-length, dark strands softly framing her face. For lack of any better word, she is beautiful.

“That’s Sooah Kim.” Jungkook’s eyes dart back to Y/N. The girl explains, “I tried to do a read in the future based on what we found at Somerset Road. What I only got are short clipped frames. A white lobby of a hospital, dark metal bookshelves, a tipped hourglass, a picture of this woman, and a label at its bottom that said ‘Sooah Kim.’ Y/N cups her jaw, “there’s also a frame that showed Winston’s red file.”

Jungkook’s brows bunch up together.

Y/N continues, “So I figured the two of them must be connected. I drew a composite sketch of Sooah just in case we chance upon her someday. Though I’m not sure she will look this young. The vision looked kinda grainy so it must be memories. I’ve experienced seeing these kinds of things before and most often than not, they’re remnants of the past that will separately appear in the future. Like a prophecy.” Y/N looks at Jungkook, “I can’t put this into better words, so if you’d like, do you want to see them?”

“What will I see?”

“My vision,” Y/N smiles. “I could say you coming here as soon as I finished my read is actually a good thing. For you, that is. Not for me. You disturbed me from my work.” Y/N rolls her shoulders back, “The vision won’t be as vivid as I first saw it but the memory of it is still fresh in my mind. Good for you, you could do a little peek-in.”

“But how will I do that?”

Y/N leans forward and opens her left palm, “Hold my hand.” Jungkook looks at her confused. Y/N rolls her eyes, “Just hold my hand, goddamn it.”

Jungkook clears his throat. He raises his hand and ghosts it above Y/N’s. He closes his eyes and he fills every slot between her fingers with his own.

And then, Jungkook feels it—the fall. He feels like falling in a still body of water, the sound of the splash violent like the shot of a rifle. A gush of water soon fills his lungs, vanquishing the oxygen in each fiber of his muscles. Jungkook claws at his throat but no matter how hard he pulls at his skin, no matter how hard he coughs, no water spills out. He’s drowning in frigid nothingness.

The fall seems to go on forever. Jungkook stretches out his limbs but it’s useless. There’s nothing in his way that could tether him to the above. He falls deeper into the waters until he suddenly feels a ripple beneath his head. The world tips over and his head shoots out from the surface, setting off a spray of water from the movement.

There’s something cold beside his face but there’s no longer water filling his lungs. He’s breathing fine again. The fall has stopped. Jungkook’s eyes shoot open and he gasps. He’s floating on water. It’s cold and there’s nothing but darkness in front of him.

That is until the blackness filling his eyes flickers and all he could see now is light. Bright light. Natural like the ones that pass through the windows in the early morning. The light dims and it fades into the view as a brightly-lit white hallway replaces it. There are people in white coats walking. Some are running with assistants behind their steps. It looked like a hospital but devoid of any patients. The whiteness of the hallway faints into black and soon, there are no more hallways nor people dressed in white coats. Just metal shelves lined next to each other, foreboding as they stand under a dingy light that paints everything in murky dark green. Before Jungkook’s perspective could see more of the shelves, the view changes completely, and frames flash before his eyes in quick successions.

A tipped-over hourglass, wilted flowers falling down its hollow neck instead of sand. Black blood-like liquid running down a mountain of lackluster coins. A black eagle against a golden wall, its bloody wings severed, pinned next to its body, burning. And then, Jonathan Winston’s red file flat on a wooden desk. A phantom hand turns it open and instead of Jungkook’s crime record and thick documents of paper, it contains a picture of a woman with mahogany hair, long neck, and small, wide eyes staring right into Jungkook’s eyes. Inked letters smudge the white edges of the picture black, forming the words “Sooah Kim.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. It’s exactly like the woman Y/N sketched. Before he could ponder more, he is pulled back into the waters. His lungs squeeze tight and he’s falling once again. When he gasps, he’s no longer in the murky water, but slump over a wooden table, dry and warm. Jungkook flinches back and he feels a strong tug on his left arm. He raises his head and he meets a pair of dark eyes.

“So, did you see enough?”

Jungkook’s brows raise and he realizes he’s still holding Y/N’s hand. He immediately lets go as if he was burned. His eyes roam around. Buckets of paint lay on the floor. Newspapers are messily strewn around. The huge gap of a window letting sunlight inside. So much it completely fills the room with the golden hue of the afternoon. He’s back in Y/N’s studio and it’s ironically warm.

“You look so shocked.”

Jungkook whips his head to the girl. His eyes stretch wide as he wraps his hand around his throat. It doesn’t feel sore and he doesn’t feel out of breath.

“Your throat is fine, don’t worry,” Y/N snickers. “The water and the fall, they’re all just mental projections.”

“B-but the black blood, the hallway, the shelves, and the burning eagle—”

“That is my vision.”

Jungkook looks at her. Y/N tilts her head, “Did you see Sooah Kim?”

Jungkook’s eyes glance at the sketch composite in front of him. He nods, “y-yeah.” He turns to Y/N, “But I don’t understand, how did I see your vision?”

“Simple,” Y/N leans back in her chair, “Time jump to a memory.”

Jungkook brows shoot up, “I ju-jumped in your m-memory?”

“You didn’t make the jump. I let you jump into my memory.” Y/N crosses her arms, “I want you to see my vision. I couldn’t make sense of the hourglass, the coins, the bird, and their connection with the white hallway and dark shelves. I could only connect Sooah Kim and Winston. The driver of the Jaguar has a Winston file in his car. Of course, he’s interested in it. And Sooah appears to be involved with Winston’s case. So, I guess we could say she may be a key to solve your unidentifiable suspect.” Y/N flashes him an apologetic smile, “Sorry you had to suffer the waters. They’re boundaries of the memory map I set on myself.”

Jungkook’s forehead crease. “You set a memory map on yourself?”

“Of course. My business revolves around memories, I don’t want any of my memories messing with the ones I need for a case. Nor do I want my clients invading them, especially those who have access to time-traveling technology.”

“Why? What’s with people who can time travel?”

Y/N sighs, “In case you didn’t know yet from your job, memories mark passed time. Time is made sense by people’s memories in them. So, every travel you make, you’re jumping into memories. Your organization has eyes on almost everywhere to see and have the same memories the people have.” Y/N looks into his eyes, “With your kind of technology, you can easily get into anyone’s head.”

Jungkook presses his lips together.

“I think our meeting is done for today,” Y/N stands up and smiles, “I’ll send you off.”

Jungkook climbs down the steps of Mini-Palais, Y/N following behind. He doesn’t know why she suddenly wanted to see him off but he’s not against it. In fact, he feels relieved she’s being kind to him even after he doubted her skills. Maybe it’s because of the large sum of money he’s gonna wire to her at the end of the week. But Jungkook feels it’s more than that. At least, that’s what he wants to think.

Once they make it to the street, Jungkook turns around. “I’ll contact you as soon as I get something on Sooah Kim.”

Y/N doesn’t seem to focus on him because she’s eyeing the surroundings. Jungkook clears his throat.

Y/N darts her eyes back to his, “Where’s your car? You didn’t bring it?”

“Um, yeah. Its coding is today.” Jungkook shrugs.

Y/N smirks, “So you ran all the way here from your work just because you wanna get your answers?”

“Well, I didn’t run all the way,” Jungkook chuckles, “I took a cab.” The mirth in his eyes soon dies down when his phone rings in his bomber jacket. “One second,” he says to Y/N. He swipes the call to answer it.

“Yeah, Namjoon?”

“Jungkook, yeah, hi,” Namjoon says, his voice hesitant. “I don’t think I can make it. The Bureau wants us to do overtime for the backlog of files in the archives. I know you don’t have your car with you. I’m sorry I won’t be able to drive you to the hospital.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jungkook says, “I can commute on my own. Don’t worry.”

“But—”

“Namjoon, just focus on your job and come home safely, okay?”

Namjoon sighs, “Okay.”

“Bye,” Jungkook ends the call, slipping his phone back into his breast pocket. Turning back to Y/N, he sees the curious tilt of her head so he explains, “It’s Namjoon. He’s supposed to, um, drive me to the hospital.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “Why? What happened?”

“Nothing serious. Just have to get my stitches off,” Jungkook raises his right arm.

“Oh, from the crash.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook shrugs, “It’s alright. Nothing big. Namjoon made it sound serious. He tends to over-worry.”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods. She looks down, sighing, and looks at Jungkook, “Well, if you want, I can drive you to the hospital instead.”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows.

“I have a ride,” Y/N answers, turning around in her heel, “Wait for me, I’ll get my keys.”

Y/N disappears back into the staircase, leaving Jungkook alone in the street. Well, this is something he didn’t expect from her. He smiles to himself. He looks around the neighborhood. There’s a woman carrying her groceries in a flimsy newspaper bag. At the end of the street is a mother holding the hand of her daughter, probably just fetched her from school. Drunkards start early in their alcohol indulgence at a convenience store by the corner. And a senile man standing in front of his porch is staring intently at him. Jungkook looks down at himself. He’s still wearing FJO’s ID. Jungkook zips up his jacket, tucking away his ID. When he looks back at the man, he has already shifted his attention to the drunkards. Jungkook presses his lips together. This may be just a boundary between Middle Town and Down Hill but it’s still the other side of the town.

“Hey.”

Jungkook turns around and sees Y/N walking towards him, pushing a mechanical panther by her side. Jungkook thinks it’s a 1981 Kawasaki KZ400. It looks similar to the bike Taehyung has been fantasizing from his vintage magazines. Although the engine’s rust starkly contrasts the bike’s shiny black coat, it’s still a wonder to behold. It looks so old and new at the same time.

Y/N thrusts a white helmet in his hands, “Where’s your hospital?”

“Uh, Metropolis Medical City.”

Y/N hums as she shrugs on her leather jacket. She slips on her own black helmet and swings her leg onto the bike. She kickstarts the motor, the engine immediately revving alive. Y/N looks at him and cocks her head, “What are you waiting for? Hop on.”

Jungkook slips on his helmet and hesitantly rides behind her. Once he adjusts in his seat, he secures his hands on the back handle. “I-I’m okay now.”

Y/N starts and the sudden speed throws Jungkook off balance. His hands scramble on air until he frantically loops his arms around the driver’s waist.

Y/N looks back at him, “We’re gonna go pretty fast to keep up with the cars in Middle Town. So if you don’t wanna die before we even solve your case, you have to hold onto me like this.”

Even with her helmet on, Jungkook can see her smirking. With his heart still beating loud in his ears, Jungkook grumbles a begrudging “Fine” at her back.

The trip to the hospital is supposed to take forty minutes. However, Jungkook felt only fifteen minutes have passed. Exposure to movement makes it feel like everything is going in fast motion. Jungkook is so used to the isolation of his car as he speeds through the highways of Metropolis. He doesn’t need to constantly shift lanes to keep up with the other vehicles because inside his car, his pace is fine.

And now, he’s out in the open air and the wind is continuously beating against his jacket and the adrenaline from avoiding and overtaking speeding vehicles is nipping at his nerves. The concrete overarching flyovers twist and turn above him as it bridges Middle Town to Metropolis. The metallic kingdom of Metropolis shines in silver and polished glass and metal from afar. The rest of Middle Town lay on his side. It pales to Metropolis in the mediocrity of their old buildings and cheap cracking paint.

Y/N lowers herself onto her bike, climbing up her speedometer. Consequently, Jungkook leans further into her. Everything then seems to go much faster. So fast they warp into each other, producing a convoluting mass of moving streaks of colors. It’s dizzying but it’s beautiful. For once, Jungkook thinks feeling everything goes fast is liberating.

However, things are bound to return to the way they used to be. Jungkook finds reality sinking back too fast for his liking when they pull up to the huge parking lot of Metropolis Medical Center.

Y/N turns the key off and Jungkook hops down, taking off his helmet. He hands it to Y/N, “Thank you for this.”

Y/N pushes it back to him, “No, hold onto it. I’ll drive you to your home when you’re done.”

Jungkook scratches his nape, “You don’t have to.”

“Well, I want to. After all,” Y/N smirks, “it seems like you want to ride my bike for longer.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to reply. The small smile forming on his face says it all.

“Clean it as usual and make sure to still put on a bandage on it.” The doctor points to his closed wound, “With your job, it’s likely to swell or split open again if you don’t protect it well.”

“Yes, doc, thank you” Jungkook smiles at the woman as he pulls down the sleeve of his jacket. He picks up the doctor’s prescription, thanks the woman once again, and pushes the door open. When he steps outside, he sees Y/N sitting on the metal benches across, legs crossed, their helmets by her side. Jungkook makes his way and plops down on the seat next to her.

“Everything okay?” Y/N asks, pointing to his arm.

“Yeah,” Jungkook leans his back on the wall.

“Do you want to go now?” Y/N starts to picks up her helmet but Jungkook stops her with a firm hold her hand.

“No. Let’s stay for a while. I don’t feel like coming home yet.”

“You’re acting like a petulant eight-year-old.”

“Geez—”

“It’s actually funny,” Y/N snorts, “you remind me of how I hid from my service driver in middle school.” Y/N relaxes back in her seat, “The service ended up leaving me and I had to walk my way back home. My mom scolded the hell out of me all night ‘til next morning.” Y/N looks at him, “Have you ever done that before?”

“Um, no,” Jungkook looks down at his hands, “my school is actually near my home so I just walk from home to school and vice versa.”

“Lucky bastard,” Y/N sighs as she puts her arms behind her neck, “I had to commute for long ass hours for 17 years of my life.”

Jungkook’s phone rings and he opens the notification.

Sir Andrews: I covered you for today. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Take care, son (4:37 P.M.)

A fond smile makes its way to Jungkook’s face as he types, “Okay, sir. Thank you.”

Y/N leans forward and bumps Jungkook’s shoulder, “Your girlfriend?”

“Nah. It’s Sir Andrews.”

“The Chief General of FJO?”

“Yup,” Jungkook slips his phone back into his pocket.

Y/N raises a brow, “You seem very close to him.”

“Well…yeah,” Jungkook purses his lips. His eyes wander to the passing hospital staff. He internally shakes his head. Jungkook’s eyes dart back to the girl, “Actually…he’s my benefactor. He, um, provided for me for years until I’m able to start providing for myself. So, of course, I’m close to him. He's like a father figure in my life.”

“Oh,” Y/N’s brows raise.

“Yeah, well, I’m lucky I got someone like him to finance my education. It’s not easy for a foster kid to make it out on their own without sufficient financial help.”

Silence.

Y/N’s eyes dart to her own interlocked hands, “I’m sorry…I…I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s a past memory I long got over.”

“Okay.”

Silence fills the air once again. Jungkook shifts in his seat to face the girl, “Say…Namjoon said you used to work for FJO ‘bout 10 years ago. I’m already in FJO around the same time. How come I didn’t see you around before?”

“I’m in the visual information sector. Under the Intelligence,” Y/N quirks a small smile, “We’re not exactly known to run around for everyone to see.”

“Well, you’re right in that.”

Y/N sighs, “It’s a shame it’s no longer in the current system. Forecrime was enough to cover their scope.”

“Yeah. It was kinda shocking at first because we’re used to sending in witnesses to the Intelligence and just wait for the finished composite sketch. The first time we tried the system with Forecrime, I was actually shocked. I didn’t expect the suspect’s face will be already clearly recorded as soon as the case was filed in.”

“But they work faster than our traditional papers and pencils so it’s a good upgrade,” Y/N muses.

Jungkook nods. He clears his throat. “So…have you been sketching composite drawings ever since you got in, or you got to work in other departments, too?”

“I just did composite sketches. I don’t know what else to do,” Y/N shrugs. “I graduated a bachelor’s in Forensic Science. I actually don’t want to join the police. I wanted to do fine arts. But my mother was the one financing my education so I followed what she said. Said it matches my wit and I’ll make plenty money out of it,” Y/N shakes her head, chuckling. “She doesn’t know how money works here. Look at me, I got a job from it but I’m not rich.”

“But did you like your work,” Jungkook looks at her, “even just a bit?”

“Hell yeah,” Y/N smiles. “Aside from feeling accomplished whenever my drawing helps the police catch the criminal, it feels good to be able to comfort witnesses and victims from their trauma. Whenever I interview them to gather descriptions, or let them pick distinct features they’ve seen from the catalog book, I see this gleam in their eyes. The one that that says, ‘I’m taking back the integrity and power this motherfucker took from me.’ It’s hella satisfying seeing them feel avenged in some way. And that, I helped them feel this way.”

Jungkook smiles, “Seems like you love your work. Not just a bit of it.”

“Of course,” Y/N tuts, “I wouldn’t stay so long and get over 400 criminals caught just because of my drawings.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…what made you resign?”

Y/N whips her head towards him.

Jungkook gulps. “Namjoon said you didn’t get dismissed because of the turnover of Intelligence to Forecrime. He said you…resigned.”

“Well, he isn’t wrong,” Y/N stands up, grabbing her helmet, “I did resign. As for the reason why,” Y/N looks at his eyes, “I have my own boundaries like you, captain.” She turns around and starts for the exit, “It’s getting late. I think it’s time to go home now.”

Jungkook follows behind, face conflicted.

The ride to his home felt completely different from earlier. Jungkook felt her stiff in his hold. The tension between them, undeniably thick. Jungkook feels if he says a word, he’ll set off a bomb. Y/N’s speed is faster than their trip to the hospital, reaching Jungkook’s condominium in record time. Whether it’s to go home earlier or to get away from him as soon as she can, Jungkook can’t tell. When she dropped him off, Jungkook said his thanks and bid her goodbye. Y/N didn’t say anything. She just waved goodbye and sped away.

Pushing himself off the table, Jungkook pulls up his phone.

Jungkook: I’m sorry I ticked you off. I didn’t mean to. (6:36 P.M.)

His reply came a second later.

Y/N L/N: It’s okay. You didn’t tick me off. (6:36 P.M.)

His phone rings one more time.

Y/N L/N: Good night. (6:37 P.M.)

Jungkook puts his phone down. He glances back at his computer.

“Error 401: The name you’re searching, ‘Sooah Kim,’ doesn’t exist.”

A loud thud resounds. Jungkook springs up and whips around his back.

Namjoon stands by the hall, frozen. The door pushed open wide, the doorknob recoiling from the wall.

Jungkook’s stiff shoulders immediately loosen. “God, don’t startle me like that.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon squeaks as he turns to kick the door close. Jungkook sees two huge gray briefcases by his friend’s feet.

He stands up and walks to the analyst. “What are these?”

Namjoon hangs his coat on one of the hooks behind the door. “Work from the Bureau. We still got loads of unprocessed transactions,” Namjoon goes to the table and grabs a cracker. “The chief was furious.”

Jungkook follows his friend, “Natasha Ryde?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, “We got a huge backlog from DOJ freezing our coordinating processes just to check if each one of us is clean. Now, they’re rushing us to let them see all the recent files of the Bureau. Natasha wants us to clean our shelves before DOJ can catch wind of the backlog and suspect something unnecessary again.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek. If Natasha is busy cleaning up the Bureau, that means his favor to Chief Spencer will not be processed soon. And with DOJ sniffing on the backs of the Bureau, Namjoon won’t be able to help him. He has to find an alternative fast. Jungkook tilts his head, “The DOJ is still not finished with their conspiracy theory against the Bureau?”

Namjoon shrugs off his blazer, “Yup. Well, we practically hold more information than Precrime and Forecrime combined. Of course, they’re gonna sort us out first. And it’s only ‘bout time ‘til they go for the Basement Archives.”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Why? I thought the Basement Archives just store outdated files of the previous system’s Bureau?”

“Old. Not outdated. Those are two different things. Even if some files there are deemed scraps from the past after the technology turnover, they still contain valuable information. Our computers there may look archaic but it doesn’t change the fact they’re made by the Bureau. No matter how slow they are, they still have access to the master system.” Namjoon chuckles, “But of course, you wouldn’t know that. The Basement is exclusive to the Bureau after all."

“Why are you telling me this?”

Namjoon shrugs, “Just wanna dispel the myth around it before it goes. DOJ may take it away as soon as they’re done with us.” Namjoon takes off his ID and chucks it on the cabinet by the hallway that leads to their bedrooms. Jungkook’s eyes immediately dart to the article.

“Enough about me. How are you?”

Jungkook whips his head towards his friend.

“What did the doctor say?” Namjoon points to his arm.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook assures. “It healed well. Though I still have to wear bandages to prevent it from splitting open.”

“That’s good then,” Namjoon nods in understanding. He purses his lips. He looks back at Jungkook. “I heard about what happened earlier.”

“Oh that?”

“Hoseok told me on my way out. Jungkook,” Namjoon sighs, “If you called me you needed to leave for an emergency, I would have driven you to the hospital.”

Keeping his face straight, Jungkook claps Namjoon’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t fret too much about it. I got to the hospital early and I’m fine.”

“How did you get there early?”

“Well, uh,” Jungkook darts his eyes away, “Y/N drove me.”

Namjoon’s forehead furrows, “She drove you?”

Jungkook nods, “Yeah. She met me on my way and offered me a ride.”

“Didn’t know you two are being chummy now,” Namjoon hums, “It took us a month just to get her to talk openly with us.” He tilts his head and turns around, heading to his room.

As soon as Namjoon disappears in his room, Jungkook bounds to the cabinet. He grabs the analyst’s ID and dashes to his office. Pressing the buttons of his flat digital copier on his desk, he hurriedly slides the ID into the bottom slot. The machine starts with a soft whirr and in a second, its mechanical hands start to 3D print a duplicate of the ID.

However, Jungkook’s luck is short-lived. He hears two knocks sound against his door and Namjoon’s muffled voice in the hallway, “Hey can I come in?”

Jungkook bites his lip. His copier has just finished replicating one edge of Namjoon’s ID. It’s nowhere near done and he can’t let Namjoon see this.

Namjoon calls once again, “Nevermind, I’ll be quick anyway.”

Immediately, Jungkook grabs his jacket slung on his chair and drapes it messily over his desk, haphazardly covering his keyboard and copier.

In the same second, the office’s door swings open and Namjoon stands inside, wearing sweats and a faded blue shirt. The man smiles, “Sorry, I forgot something.”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook rounds his desk and walks to the rectangular table in the center of the room. He leans his hip against it, the pressure from the edge softened by the table cloth running on its laterals. Jungkook chuckles, “I don’t know if you forgot, but this is also your office.”

“I didn’t forget,” Namjoon chuckles. He sits on his own desk on the left corner and places a water bottle by his side, “I felt like making an apology beforehand because I think my search will take a while.” He glances at Jungkook, “Even if we share this room, it feels like I’m intruding your space. With the amount of time you’ve spent in here, you practically live in this room.”

Jungkook presses his lips together.

Namjoon turns back to his desk and pulls drawer after drawer, fingers continuously searching what he intends to find. After another minute of fumbling, he pushes the last drawer close in a forceful shut, “Yep, it will definitely take a while.”

Jungkook raises a brow, “Why? What are you looking for?”

Namjoon stands up and nears the center table, uncapping the water bottle, “Keys. Bureau-issued. To open the briefcases I brought.” He tips the bottle to his lip and drinks. After a couple of gulps, he places the uncapped bottle on the table, “You mind if I go to your table?”

Panic sets off in Jungkook’s chest. His copier is just an inch away from his keyboard. Even if it has a soft mechanical whirr, it’s impossible for anyone who’ll sit in the chair not to know the copier is processing something. And with his jacket laying on it, it’s sure Namjoon will become suspicious. Jungkook tries to keep his voice stable, “I don’t mind. But can I ask why?”

“I used your copier to duplicate the key before I went to work. Seokjin called the second I was done and I had to use one of your memo pads so I pulled all your drawers ‘til I find them. I think they fell in one of the drawers.” Namjoon sends him an apologetic smile, “Sorry.”

Namjoon starts to make a move toward Jungkook’s desk. Before the analyst could move his hand away from the table, Jungkook tugs the table cloth. It sends the bottle off-balance and it topples to the edge, spilling its contents everywhere.

Namjoon whirls around and sees the wet mess. He immediately crouches down to flip up the bottle again. “Oh shucks, I’m sorry! I didn’t know I left it uncapped.”

Jungkook nears his friend, “It’s fine. I can clean it up.”

“No, I’ll clean up,” Namjoon insists. “It’s my mess. I have to clean it up.” He stands up and disappears into the hallway.

Jungkook steps back and takes a seat on his chair. Namjoon comes back with a mop in his hands. With Namjoon busy clearing the water spill, Jungkook opens his drawers and starts his search for the keys. His top drawer is devoid of anything but pens and other office supplies. His middle drawers only contain folders and papers. He feels like he has to restart his search again until his hands land in the last compartment in the bottom drawer. His eyes catch a metallic glint in the dark. He leans forward and sees the falcon insignia of the Investigation Bureau. Jungkook grins.

He sits back up in his chair just in time Namjoon returns in the office, the mop nowhere in sight.

Jungkook stands up, waving the two keys in the air, “Found them.”

“Oh god, thank you so much,” Namjoon sighs, retrieving the keys.

“Anytime,” Jungkook smiles.

“Sorry again ‘bout the water.”

“Hey, it’s just a spill,” Jungkook snorts, waving dismissively.

Namjoon sends him a timid smile. He turns around and pulls the door open.

“Hey, Namjoon. What time is your lunch tomorrow?”

Namjoon stops. “At 12. Why?”

“Gonna see if I can join you,” Jungkook grins.

Namjoon breaks into a grin as well, “That will be great then.” He closes the door behind him.

When Jungkook hears faint footsteps lead to the living room, he heads back to his desk and rips his jacket away. Two identification cards gleam under the light, unmistakably identical.

When Jungkook reaches the fifth floor, he goes to the leftmost door. He doesn’t knock. He pushes the thick wooden door and lets himself in.

“Oh, you’re here,” Matthew glances from his work. He motions to the leather chair in front of him. “Come, sit, son.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jungkook smiles.

Matthew piles his papers in a neat stack and pushes it aside. “How’s your arm?”

“Just got the stitches out yesterday,” Jungkook says.

Matthew nods, “That’s good then. You won’t have an injury hindering you anymore.” Matthew chuckles, “I missed seeing you run around the building doing god knows what. You’ve always been a busy bee.”

Jungkook smiles, “Well, I would have been like that if it weren’t for DOJ.”

“Right,” Matthew nods, his smile immediately slipping off his face. He clasps his hands together and sighs, “So, yesterday, you went off work so suddenly.”

Jungkook sits up straight. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry you have to cover for me. I just—”

Matthew holds up a hand, smiling, “You don’t have to explain yourself, son. I know you’re dealing with a lot of stuff. After all, you just survived a car accident. It must still be weighing down on you.”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook shrugs.

Matthew darts his eyes to his desk. He sighs as he turns back to the captain. “Jungkook, you mustn’t allow Yoongi to see any gap.”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Sir?”

“Everyone is talking about how you rushed out of FJO with your team and Yoongi chasing after you. They don’t know where you went and surely, a captain being chased by his subordinates and the auditor is an unforgettable spectacle. I had Jimin relay an emergency excuse about your arm and luckily, that immediately quelled your sector.” Matthew’s smile falls, “But it seems it wasn’t enough for the auditor.”

Jungkook stills in his seat.

Matthew sighs, “I heard from Hoseok that Yoongi suspects you have some source—external or internal, whatever—to the blank that dropped yesterday. And he’s suspicious of that.”

Jungkook keeps his face indifferent.

“Look,” Matthew leans forward, “I don’t mind whether you consult external help or not. Desperate measures call for all the help you need. We do whatever we have to do and I respect whatever decision you’ll make. All I ask, son, is,” Matthew looks at him in the eyes, “be careful. Your sector is hot in DOJ’s eyes and I don’t want to see you get placed in a position where I can no longer help you. I can’t see you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for. You didn’t spend 15 years climbing the hierarchy just to get prematurely dismissed from your job.”

Jungkook nods, “Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll take extra care from now on.”

“Okay,” Matthew turns back to his documents and Jungkook takes it as a signal to leave. He salutes at the Chief General and makes his way towards the door only to be halted by a call of his name.

“Jungkook, do you still take those…medications?”

The captain doesn’t reply.

Matthew sighs, “Make sure Yoongi won’t know about that.”

“Of course, sir,” Jungkook pulls the door open, “Thank you, once again.”

Stepping out of the Chief General’s office, Jungkook heads to the elevator and pushes the button for the archives. It’s time to work now.

Jungkook has searched for Sooah Kim in Precrime, Forecrime’s systems. He even checked in Freedom Security’s system. But nothing has turned up. He even looked into Jonathan Winston’s history of associations and not one Sooah Kim appeared. He tried searching through hospitals, laboratories, and research centers for an employee or associate named Sooah Kim. But still, nothing. He’s already exhausted every search engine and system of both the general public and the government and yet he’s made zero progress. Holding onto the duplicated ID of his friend, Jungkook’s only choice left is FJO’s Basement Archives.

Jungkook looks at his watch. 12:10. He pulls up his phone.

Jungkook: Namjoon, I think I’ll do a raincheck on our lunch (12:10 P.M.).

The elevators open on the third floor.

“Captain Jeon,” Sally salutes at him. Jungkook returns the salute and pushes past the heavy glass doors of the Archives. He heads to the left aisle and walks to the 5th row shelf. He ghosts his fingers over the line of files until it lands on a particular red file—the recent attempted assassination of James Kim. He opens it and slowly flips page after page.

From his peripheral, Jungkook looks at his right. The walkway is devoid of any people. There’s just metal shelves and files. The hallway it connects to, the center aisle, is devoid of people as well. Jungkook looks up. Only about 4 cameras are installed above the aisle.

Jungkook spends another minute flipping through the file before he closes it shut and inserts it back in its place. With his alibi set, Jungkook walks along the 5th row until he reaches its corner where he disappears from the vicinity of the cameras.

Jungkook turns around and starts on the center aisle. To anyone who’s looking at the surveillance cameras, it will look like Jungkook’s just viewing a file in the 5th row’s corner, which just happened to be a blind spot in surveillance. With the general security disregard on the old and faded Archives and its basement level, Jungkook takes advantage of the system’s blind spots as he threads along the aisle, guided with the knowledge of the general scopes of standard surveillance cameras.

But just when he’s about three feet away from the end of the aisle, two staff members stroll across, pushing a huge cart of files. Jungkook swerves to the nearby shelf and hides. When he glances up, a CCTV camera is staring right at him. Jungkook holds his breath.

Nothing. No alarm has been set off. No red lights are sweeping across the room. Just nothing.

Sweat runs down Jungkook’s temple.

The chatters and footsteps fade away and still, nothing.

A couple of seconds pass by in silence.

Jungkook slowly stands up. The silence remains unbroken. No one must be watching.

Jungkook looks at his watch. 12: 20. He only has 10 minutes left of leeway from his lunch.

Jungkook comes out of hiding and continues forward, making it to the end of the aisle. He arrives at a plain wall coated in navy paint. Old and faded. Just like the rest of the Archives. Jungkook spots the rectangular metallic plaque on his left. He scans Namjoon’s duplicated ID under it. A second later, a faint shadow outlines a figure of a door onto the wall. It pops open and the door slides to the right, revealing an escalator that leads downward. Jungkook steps inside and the door immediately shuts behind him.

The Basement Archives is dark, its walls painted in olive green. Several dim hanging lamps light up the room. Jungkook knows the Basement Archives is connected to the second floor of FJO’s main building, behind the hallway that bridges Precrime and Forecrime. But he didn’t expect it to be this extensive. The Basement Archives is about the same height as the main floor. Its area, a half of its upper floor. What makes it a seeming replica of the main floor though are its metal shelves. Unlike the main floor’s circular labyrinth, the Archive Basement’s shelves are aligned in straight horizontals, like a snake coiling on itself. And far ahead, Jungkook could see 2010s computers lining the room’s perimeter.

Only when Jungkook steps away from the escalator does he only see the similarities between the basement and the main floor. The metal shelves are rusting in their edges. The files and books they hold, covered in dust. Even the small indents on its metal flooring are worn thin. Some are even already busted. The Basement Archives is old and faded. Jungkook only hopes what Namjoon said is right.

Jungkook walks past the rows of shelves and heads to computers. Grabbing a seat, he sets off to work.

The monitor alights to FJO’s coat of arms. And then, it displays the FJO standard wallpaper. The keys of the keyboard instantly crunch under Jungkook’s fingers as he hits on the shortcuts for FJO’s system. The processing of the command takes a while and when it opens, the elements are scattered and labeled in unfamiliar names. Nevertheless, Jungkook manages to get inside the Surveillance system after a couple of minutes of fumbling. He deletes the footage of him hiding behind the shelves and stretches the clip of him just walking through the hallway. Satisfied, he confirms the command and watches the new CCTV footage play. Only his back is shown to the camera from his entry inside the Archives to his walk towards the Basement Archives. He looks just like any Bureau analyst entering the Basement.

With his identity secured, Jungkook goes to the general system and starts his search for Sooah Kim.

Only to arrive at—

“Error 141: The name “Sooah Kim” doesn’t exist in the system.”

Jungkook squints at the monitor. He refreshes the computer again and again. He tries to search for additional keywords: “hospital,” “research center,” “laboratory,” and “Jonathan Winston.” But he arrives at the same result:

“Error 141: The name “Sooah Kim” doesn’t exist in the system.”

Jungkook sighs frustratedly. He clicks again and again and the computer produces the same result again and again. Jungkook pushes himself off the desk. There’s got to be a way to find this Sooah Kim. If she’s related to Winston’s assassination, she must be inside the system. Jungkook glances around the room. Just then, his eyes land on a door on his far right.

The door is made of metal and it’s almost invisible in the dark save for the black and yellow hazard tape under a note that says, “Restricted. Authorized Personnel Only.”

Jungkook dashes to the door. He spots the metal plaque beside it and scans the ID.

A red light glows from the plaque’s sensor. The plaque’s small screen lights up and flashes in red: “Access denied.”

Jungkook scans it again.

Red light. “Access denied.”

Jungkook bites his cheek.

Red light. “Access denied.”

Grunting, Jungkook picks up his phone.

Jungkook: Sir, do you have any updates on last time’s work?” (12:25 P.M.)

Jungkook’s personal phone rings. Seeing the familiar set of numbers, Jungkook picks it up.

“Jungkook.”

“Chief Spencer.”

Nathan sighs, “Look, I’m afraid the authorization of your unrestricted access to the Archives may get delayed. I already applied for the authorization of access but the Bureau hasn’t responded yet. I heard from one of the lieutenants there DOJ is keeping a hard eye on the Bureau. Natasha refused my calls, too. I think she will not be accommodating anytime soon. As for the Memory Temple…the answer is obvious.”

Jungkook pinches his nose bridge. He already expected this will go against his plans but he didn’t know it will be at this dragging extent. He heaves a sigh, “I understand, sir.

“Okay. I’ll try on my end to get through the Chief.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, too. Please extend my gratefulness to Chief General Andrews as well. My wife loved the necklace.”

“I’m glad she did, sir.”

“Yeah,” Nathan says. A beat. Nathan clears his throat, “I’ll end the call now.”

“Goodbye, sir,” Jungkook replies. The line goes dead.

Jungkook leans his back against the wall and closes his eyes. His heartbeat rings in his ears. Loud. Just like when he almost had Leigh Anderson in his hands. Jungkook releases a frustrated sigh. He’s come all this way just to have nothing. Again.

His personal phone vibrates in his hands, jolting his eyes open. His eyes widen at the screen.

Y/N L/N

He immediately swipes to answer. “Y/N, hi—”

“Jungkook. A red file will drop about—now. Listen to me. Take the stairs, okay?”

Jungkook walks away from the door, forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“If you follow the crime record you won’t catch the killer.”

Jungkook shuts the computer and jogs to the escalator, “What killer?”

“Look, you don’t have much time. So listen to me. Just take the stairs.”

The call abruptly ends. Jungkook looks at his phone, bewildered. Right at the moment, his work phone vibrates with another incoming call.

Jungkook whips it out from his pocket and presses it to his ear, “Taehyung.”

“Captain Jeon, come to the Murder Sector, quick. It’s a red file.”

Jungkook halts.

“The time of the crime is in 10 minutes. Hurry.”

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Note: This story is based on Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s short story, Minority Report (2002). That being said, this series may contain spoilers for the movie so if you want to watch the movie, please do so first before reading!

A/N pt. 2: Heya Hons! Thank you for reading! This chapter is quite short compared to the first two. The next chapter will be much longer though hehe. Writing this chapter is probably the most I have ever re-written so many scenes again and again. Especially the action scenes, they gave me a headache. Nevertheless, I’m happy how they turned out! What do you think about them? Feel free to talk with me! I actually love talking with my readers!

I think the next update will come two weeks from now. So far, I’m noticing I’m able to post for this series bi-weekly. Although this week, I’ll focus on the Chapter 3 of my yoongi office au series, The Heart Holiday. I promised my hons the THH!couple is coming this June but my finals two weeks ago fucked up my schedule and now I’m quite behind my supposed posting date. Anyway, I’ll make it up to you hons! Your wait is gonna be worth it because a lot is going to happen in THH Act 3!

As usual, if you guys wanna get notified as soon as I post the next chapter, I’m gonna add you all to my taglist! Just hit me up down the comments of this series’ masterlist so I can better track you all! The search function of Tumblr is messing with me and my notifs in my inbox usually come late so it’s highly probably your asks and DMs may get lost ☹

Once again, thank you for reading My Time! :”)

Note pt.2: As you know, this is a mystery fic so it will be most appreciated if any theories pertaining to the story be kept down the comments so I can entertain them all without spoiling our future readers! Once again, thank you so much for reading this!

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genderbinaryisforlosers · 4 years ago

Note

everyone on the carte blanche for the ask meme

everyone? oh boy this is gonna get long ajfhdsf

JUNO

First impression: i, like a lot of people who get into the podcast without knowing a great deal about it, was expecting at most an ambiguously bisexual angst machine with a closely-guarded heart of gold. juno being an explicitly bisexual genderqueer angst machine is perhaps the most pleasant surprise of my life. the angst machine heart of gold characters were kind of my type at the time, so i loved him right away

Impression now: every time i think about juno’s arc from depressed mess held together by bad coping mechanisms, safety pins, and a few good strong puns into someone who can talk about his feelings, feel comfortable about being happy, and recognise when he needs to change, i want to cry about it a little bit. the depth of my love for juno steel has only grown along with him

Favourite moment: juno has a lot of great one-liners and i’m still a big fan of the “on the other hand i wasn’t wearing a watch” bit and who can forget such classics as juno finally deciding to stop moping over nureyev and move on only for him to open the door to his apartment and find nureyev sitting in the dark dramatically, but honestly nothing will ever hit me harder than his sudden, pissed-off declaration of “i can’t die yet, i still have shit to do!” in promised land. god.

Idea for a story: oh i have so many and i want to write most of them so no spoilers, but juno accidentally kidnaps a baby during a carte blanche heist and shenanigans ensue

Unpopular opinion: obviously we all know he’s dummy thicc but i feel like a lot of people forget he’s an actual genius, like the stuff he notices and how he strings it together is sometimes so obscure and he’s almost always right. oh, also juno is not skinny and i will not be taking criticism on that

Favourite relationship: this is so tough because every dynamic is so good, but i think it has to be juno and rita. those two are so good! the best best friends in the world!! i’m really a sucker for any dynamic that’s ridiculously in-sync so i loved these two as soon as juno saw rita’s notes in prince of mars and went “makes perfect sense to me” (which it probably didn’t, because rita, but he trusted that she knew what she was doing which is the important part)

Favourite headcanon: this isn’t really a headcanon but i still think about how juno is (was?) deathly afraid of heights but when he heard rex glass coming he still attempted to climb out of the window. either his aversion to working with dark matters/other people in general was so strong is overrided his fear, or his office was actually on the ground floor. not sure which of these is funnier.

NUREYEV

First impression: we’ve all seen the memes about nureyev knowing juno steel for one (1) day and deciding to Risk It All by leaving him with his name, look at this Hopeless Romantic, this utter DISASTER of a homosexual. the fact the very next time we hear from nureyev (at least directly) he’s patiently waiting in juno’s dark apartment to surprise him with a heist definitely supports this image.

Impression now: even after literally being inside peter’s head, i feel like we didn’t get a real sense of who he is until man in glass, where we find out he aggressively compartmentalises everything that causes him stress. he’s also distinctly someone who’s had his heart broken before, i think, which makes those first appearances of his very strange. but it does remind me of what juno says about diamond, and how he decided to provide the trust first and wait for the trustworthiness to grow in (only to get severely hurt), and i think that’s exactly what nureyev did. i am also... very uneasy with how suspicious he’s behaving this season because obviously i want to believe he’ll sort it all out and not betray the crew but... oof

Favourite moment: the beginning of what lies beyond pt1 where he’s affectionately bullying juno into taking care of himself? cleared my crops watered my skin etc etc etc

Idea for a story: i’d love to hear more about his past as a young thief idolising buddy and vespa (i can’t actually remember if that’s canon or fanon but anyway i wanna read it!)

Unpopular opinion: i think people often cling to an image of him that more resembles his first impressions in season 1 instead of seeing the depth that we’ve been given about his character in season 3

Favourite relationship: him and juno but honestly it’s a close call between them and his budding friendship with rita. even though she learned it by accident, his name is still a point of intimacy and it’s one less secret to keep around her which has to be a weight off his shoulders, at least a little? they seem like they could be really good friends once ultrabots is out of the way. juno steel love (and also bullying) zone activates whenever they’re together

Favourite headcanon: i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again - nureyev has never done a household chore in his goddamn life. he doesn’t know the water needs to be hot when you wash dishes.

RITA

First impression: honestly i’m not sure? i don’t remember having a big awareness of her in murderous mask but i remember loving her “note-taking” in prince of mars, i thought she sounded really fun and cute

Impression now: rita is really fun and cute, she’s also an extremely hardworking and dedicated woman who had the guts to throw in with a detective fired from the force and then invest all of her time and money into helping him help people.

Favourite moment: Rita Gets A Knife. enough said

Idea for a story: i don’t know honestly! i really struggle to write rita because her thought processes are so wild and i don’t think any story i could come up with would match mega ultrabots of cyberjustice.

Unpopular opinion: this shouldn’t be unpopular because juno steel himself shares this opinion but all future-jupeter headcanons are incomplete without rita also being a huge part of their lives

Favourite relationship: rita + franny 4ever obviously.. jk it’s juno & rita have you heard rita minute 3 they’re too adorable for this world. im still Soft over their conversation at the end of soul of the people when he said he couldn’t stay in hyperion anymore but he wouldn’t leave with the carte blanche if rita wasn’t coming because he was done leaving her behind, and she threw out all her hesitations on the spot and said call the big guy. speaking of, rita & jet are a close second. instant best friends i love them.

Favourite headcanon: i think this is basically canon now but rita being literally half the height of jet is so good

JET

First impression: “haha lorge funny man puts juno in the trash”

Impression now: jet sikuliaq is one of the dearest characters to me out of anything ever. he is a huge, menacing, polite, kind, sincere man who i would very much like to give me a hug. he’s the best aro ace in outer space and while being generally very levelheaded and straightforward, also takes every opportunity to fuck with juno because it’s very easy and very hilarious to him personally. he is everything my autistic acearo ass needed and i’m so glad to have him

Favourite moment: all of them every single one. him putting juno in the trash is of course a classic and every moment jet chooses to be funny makes my heart happy, but also every piece of genuine advice he gives. i’m a particular fan though of buddy recounting her years in the lighthouse and him saying he became concerned when she didn’t come downstairs at the usual time. “you took the door off its hinges.” “i was deeply concerned.” king of understatement

Idea for a story: again no spoilers for you but..... tools of rust time loop au

Unpopular opinion: this isn’t “unpopular” as much as it is unknown but jet is buddy’s queerplatonic partner and i will keep saying it until everyone believes it

Favourite relationship: jet and buddy,,, just everything about them. the way he suspects when she’s lying, the way she makes tea for him when she expects him to drop by. the fact he comes to check on her when she is 41 seconds late to the family meeting because it’s unlike her to be late and the last time she was late for something her brain was turning to radiation soup. but most especially the way she snaps at him to stay out of her business and he said he could not because he made her promise eight years ago to never stay out of the business of her health, no matter how many times she asked. they r literally in a qpr

Favourite headcanon: i don’t think this is true but i still think it would be funny if the ruby-7 used to be painted red but when jet got it he had it painted green because he Just Really Likes Green (as evidenced by his hovercycle). it’s very funny to me.

BUDDY

First impression: it’s been a minute since i relistened to time gone by but i’m pretty sure the first thing she ever says in the podcast is sliding up to depressed accidental whiskey thief juno and say “that’ll be ten million creds,” scaring the shit out of him, so needless to say i was in love instantly.

Impression now: my love for buddy aurinko has only grown and if it sounds like i already said that in this post it’s because i did about juno and it’s appropriate because the parallels are astounding. the heart of it all gave us such depth to buddy’s internal monologue and why she always sounds like she knows exactly what to say and what that’s like and honestly will i ever be over the heart of it all as an episode? unlikely. i think i’m gonna have a little piece of it in MY heart forever.

Favourite moment: everything she’s ever said is iconic as hell i especially like “in an impressive fit of hubris i’ve decided not to prepare my words for this vow” which made me laugh out loud but once again i must give it up for her iconic “I WANT TO LIVE” moment. honourable mentions to her taking rita out for ice cream and giving juno shooting lessons while she’s in her actual wedding gown. i love her

Idea for a story: buddy and vespa as sun/moon dieties.... that’s all

Unpopular opinion: stop drawing her with a fancy high-tech eye like the theia!! it canonically looks like garbage and it’s described in detail, please, i’m dying, also don’t minimise her scars you bastards

Favourite relationship: buddy and vespa invented romantic love and the entire carte blanche crew’s relationship to her is great but you know by now i’m a slut for buddy & jet out-of-this-world queerplatonic partners. the way she checks in on him during tools of rust to make sure he’s not relapsing and he comes to find her when she is 41 seconds late in the heart of it all to make sure she’s not having a heart problem!! it’s the trust,, the devotion,, the mortifying ordeal of being known

Favourite headcanon: she can sing. absolutely tears it up at karaoke. i’m right

VESPA

First impression: knife lesbian goes STAB. she will heal your wounds but she will be threatening to give you more the whole time

Impression now: she is extremely strong, heart-rendingly tender, and despite being in the older half of the carte blanche crew somehow has unmistakable little sister energy which makes her downright hilarious. i’m so glad she got to marry buddy and they’re official space wives now they’re so good for each other

Favourite moment: both from shadows in the ship, either “GUN!!” “KNIFE?!” (iconic) or when she clocks the dark matters drone pretending to be juno because it called her crazy and juno wouldn’t call her crazy. i’m always a sucker for “shapeshifter fails to fool mark because they Know Each Other Too Well” and it was just *chefs kiss* so good

Idea for a story: i really want to write something about when she was first staying at the lighthouse with buddy post-reunion, and getting to know jet and stuff. i think it would be cute

Unpopular opinion: i know vespa doesn’t canonically have lots of scarring but people who don’t draw her with scarring? cowards.

Favourite relationship: once again, although buddy and vespa invented romantic love, i just love the dynamic between vespa and juno so much. they’ve come so far with each other and their weird sibling dynamic gives me life. at the end of what lies beyond when juno says “we’re not gonna kill her, vespa” and instead of sounding full of Rage and Suspicion she’s like “whyyy notttt?” and he’s like “because i said so!” and that’s just good enough for her even if she’s a bit grumpy about it. i love it.

this took.. a hot minute to do! jshkfjsdgsa thank you dyl ily <3

#michaelburnnham #riley replies #be gay do crimes in space #the penumbra #juniverse

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

Text

Bred For Blood - Part 17 - The White Flag

Title: Bred For Blood

Warning: 18+ - sex/mature language & themes/gun violence/substance abuse etc. *mentions of blood/injuries/death/weapons/coma/unconsciousness in this part*

Characters: AU Axel Cluney, AU Ivar Lothbrok, AU Valter x OC

Description: A bright, young survivor meets an acid-gun slinging headhunter with a knack for melting faces and connections to a prodigal Utopia embedded in the heart of a deadly forest. Violence and passion incite a battle of fealty while betrayal nips at Zed’s heels.

Note: This one’s for Team Cluney. I really hope you guys enjoy reading! This part was very exciting for me to write for many reasons. Please reblog/like/comment if you like my work and want to give me a virtual pat on the head. I would really appreciate it, please and thank you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

The doctor stomped over the rocky terrain, muttering and snickering to himself as the sun cast blistering rays on their backs. The heat never bothered him, only tanned his skin to a deep brown shine. It was the walking that made his knees burn. He'd long since shed his white coat to cover the bulk of the man draped over Rudie's wiry-haired hump, trudging along at leisure. The unconscious hunter he'd found needed all the protection available from the vicious star reaching its highest point in the sky.

The doctor halted his gangly steed every hour to force a measure of water down the burnt man's ululating throat. He often succeeded, and the hunter swallowed without issue, but sometimes, the water came back up as white foam, trickling down the sides of his face and down his neck. The onset of heatstroke turned his skin apple-red, and the doctor sprayed him down with water and gusts of hot air produced by a tattered paper fan he carried with him to ward off flies. Rudie attracted the pests who made a chariot out of the man on the camel's back. They fled their caravan whenever the doctor stopped to check on his patient and settled back in for the ride after he threw the stained coat back over the hunter's burnt shoulders. This went on until nightfall when the dry land showed signs of mercy, and water and shale gave way to the soil.

Rudie let out a guttural complaint when they reached a crop of tall, spindly trees. The diamond-shaped leaves provided shade. The doctor tethered the bleating animal, pressing his finger to his lips for a silence that would not come. Upon unsaddling the groaning man, Rudie threw his hump and sent Axel slumping to the ground, his deadweight at odds with a lengthy fall. His head cracked on a root, and a dusting of earth dried his palette, clinging to everything pink in his mouth. The camel clopped away from the whining mass who'd hitched a ride on his back, and in his wobbling dance, mashed the smallest of Axel's fingers into the soil.

"Rudie! You bumbling old idiot! You gaffer! Shoo!"

The beast side-stepped, snorting and sputtering, indifferent to the further damage done to the man. He shook his proud head, throwing ropes of spit that webbed his lashes. The doctor punished the creature by re-wrapping Axel's hand after a stern disinfecting, withholding the proverbial oats until the animal wandered away to dine on low-hanging leaves. Rudie chuffed whenever the doctor came to retrieve supplies from the riding satchel.

"That wasn't very nice, Rude. This man is our patient! We don't trample the patients. You've no idea the level of harm you caused! He'll be lucky if we don't have to amputate, and you don't have thumbs, so you're even more useless!"

Rudie wrapped his leathery lips around a clutch of grass and ripped it free, chewing and turning away from his master and the unconscious fellow. The camel minded his business and relieved himself on a nearby rock, huffing and chomping any strand of green he sniffed.

Axel vomited throughout the night. The doctor gave up his rest to make sure the man lying comatic didn't swallow his tongue. Then came the shivering and sickly shade of purple flaking his lips. Flaps of the doctor's paper fan spread droplets over his inflamed skin, another courtesy at the behest of his sore arm. Still, Axel moaned and scratched at the earth beneath him in bloody heat and delirium.

"If you can hang on until tomorrow, son, perhaps we'll find some proper shade and build a hut. Hm? How's that sound? Shade and water. For now, just rest, and don't die on me."

When the sun came up, the doctor cleaned Axel using the rest of the clean water from his reserve and stitched the open flesh splitting his eyebrow in two.

"That'll leave a nasty scar. Not that you need any more ruggedness in your act. You're just a lost soldier, sonny. But maybe one day you'll make a brilliant assistant. Better than Rudie, I hope. He hasn't even apologized for breaking your finger. Lookit him over there, shitting all over the camp, the scoundrel. But I'm the one with the oats; therefore, I make the rules!"

"M-muh... muuuh."

"Ah, in the worst of times, we still call our mothers."

"Mmph. Muh—"

"I wonder what's on the other side of those trees," the doctor said, shading his eyes with his hand, peering to the West. "You look well-travelled, sonny. Any ideas? Hate to run into any of those yawners, not knowing when your last shot was. But I suppose I shouldn't expect any valuable input from a man who can't look me in the eye."

After patching him up, the man hauled Axel to a stand and hoisted him onto the camel's back using a tree for leverage and a series of ropes to fasten him down. Once secured to Rudie's hump, the doctor took a few minutes to catch his breath. "Dunno how many more times I can get you up there, son. You must learn how to walk soon. Or I'll build you a sleigh. But that might take some time."

Far off above the foggy treeline, a sheet of ashy cloud broke to reveal bright blue sky. The doctor liked the look of cerulean and the absence of sand, so the begrimed trio lumbering through thick bush where dew still clung to the undersides of the leaves. The doctor went ahead, collecting globules before they evaporated. Rudie answered the doctor's constant rhetoric with wild groans that muffled Axel's whimpering, and they led their procession over uncertain ground.

"I reckon there's nothing but more trees over that ridge, Mr. Soldier. Maybe some mountains we can find a crevice to hide out in. Just until you get your strength back. The only thing I worry about is those damn yawners. Rudie and I will be safe, but you... I'll scout ahead to make sure it's clear. It'll rack up daylight, but you'll thank me when you're not a bubbling pile of soldier juice. Don't worry, sonny. They didn't immunize me for no reason! I count myself among the elites, but that doesn't mean I fancy myself better than you or more deserving of life. We're all in this, you see. Brights and Uns... We're still together, despite it all. They may have tried to kill you, but look at you now! Alive and well. Isn't that a slap in the face? They send you out to war and hope you never come back. They don't even have the decency to immunize you. What a world we live in."

Rudie let out a gaseous bellow. The doctor whipped around and pointed his walking stick at the quadruped. "Don't interrupt, you vile sow. Nobody needs a camel's opinion."

"Ma... Ma."

"We'll look for your mama after we get you looking presentable. Hang on tight, we're going uphill!"

As the ridge climbed, the trees grew denser. The doctor had to guide his camel through a maze of mossy trunks. Thin, whip-like branches prodded at Axel's tender skin. What leafy arms brushed Rudie's head bent back and snapped against the hunter's raw shoulders. Axel didn't notice, lost in the chimeric slurry of recent injuries. They maneuvered over stones and wove between crumbling stumps, avoiding the deadfalls. The steepled ground sloped upward like a great brown ramp of torn earth. Through the thickness, they muttered, minding their footwork, up and up, stopping here and there so the doctor could take in a few wheezing breaths. The camel—finally wary of obstacles—blew wind and groaned, hesitant on the incline.

"Boy, there had better be some more forgiving land over this ledge. I don't think it's workable to keep climbing. We might have to turn back, depending on what I see at the top. Fingers crossed for a lake. A bath would do me good," said the doctor, fanning his underarms and thighs with the paper fan.

"What do you say, Mr. Soldier? Should we keep going? See if there's anything worthwhile over that lip?"

"Muh."

"That's what I thought. You may not be the finest soldier I've ever met, but you're persistent, and that's key. Come on, fellas. Let's pray for water, and up we go! Can't be worse than the blasted desert."

~*~

Ivar's mood reflected his recent successes in bed. When Trinity brought his meal, he thanked her, even asking about her morning and if she was sleeping all right and eating properly. Trinity laughed nervously, sensing a test, and answered with a practiced air of casualty. Did he know of the plan they'd executed to get Zed in to see him? Was his toothy smile a front? Despite her unease, she humoured the leader and left when he dug into his stew and fresh bread. Trinity also noted Zed's absence, and with the King in lively spirits, assumed everything had gone well with the plan.

Ivar inhaled his late breakfast and dressed for comfort to walk the courtyard. With a bounce in his step, he traversed the throat of the Chrysalis, emerging on the other side to a nest bereft of activity. The morning stalls had cleared out, their occupants and merchants returned to their hovels. Even the young ones—usually at play in the courtyard by now—were nowhere in sight.

Ivar passed by the last remaining group gathered around a low podium, whispering over their berry reductions and leafy salads. Like a cluster of threatened barnacles, each mouth clamped as Ivar strode past. He held his head forward, flexing his palette to clear his airways. None of them made a sound until he was far enough away. Their chattering was undiscernible as distant chirping birds. He stopped at the incline of a foothill, spinning to catch them staring at the back of his head. They snatched their eyes away and made like they weren't gawking.

That wasn't the only peculiar thing that happened to Ivar that morning. Since his prolonged absence, the people seemed to have grown used to keeping to themselves. There was no merriment in the air, only sterile drafts pouring in from the filtration system. Ivar shivered from the brisk air, stopping to consider paying Zed a visit at her apartment. A morbid urge pulled him along, and he continued his walk. Ivar waited until somebody approached him—whether it a man or child—to greet him with customary courtesy. Still, nobody shuffled forward to ask him about his day or to offer him a portion of their recent gardening.

Ivar reached the frosted glass doors to the lab and stood still, thick hands hovering next to his narrow hips. Frozen in place, Ivar bit the tip of his tongue. Something told him Zed was inside the lab, and if he wished to see her, he had to set foot beyond the parameters of his expertise. The lab always put him in a bitter mood. It was the only place in the village that wasn't for him. Though he could visit any corner of Kinderfeld he wanted, he'd never felt welcome in the laboratory. The floors and surfaces' sterility made him cower from touching anything, and the lifeless stares he received from the few staff only reminded him of the responsibilities he'd shunned in favour of hedonism. None of them ever begrudged him his appetites, but he was confident they whispered of his ineptitude behind his back.

He wondered if Zed ever talked about him or if she'd ever vocalized displeasures regarding his leadership. Her request from the day before echoed in the corners of his mind, festering and swelling each hour they were apart. There was a bitter drop of ulterior motive in Zed's visit, and he let it slide down the back of his throat when she asked him to open the gate. But they'd made love, and that was more than Ivar expected. In his heart of hearts, he'd feared Zed would demand more; to let her fly the nest in search of Axel, but she'd taken his refusal graciously and kissed him all the same. Still, a nagging suspicion remained. Something was circulating in the air, whipping about the courts and apartments, squeezing under doorways and filling the citizens with doubts.

A stranger on his own land, Ivar lowered his eyes to the ground and turned away from the lab before he recognized any more scrutinizing glances. He powered along, ignoring the guards, their dutiful nods, cutting over the knolls as fast as his muscular thighs could take him without breaking into a run. The loneliness chased him back to his palace, and even its mouth gaped in question.

Ivar noticed Sheraya nearby, spreading dark red petals, a gained cigar of smoking sage held between her fingers. He craved nicotine the moment the fumes peppered his nostrils. Tears coursed down her round cheeks, though she made no sobs, no whimpers. There was only gentle muttering under her breath and more tears. The king stood waiting for her to acknowledge him and then realized she had no intention of breaking her prayer mantra.

Shunned, Ivar turned away, retreating to his house of lush fabric and solitude where he should never have left.

~*~

Vee insisted Zed stay put while he fetched them dinner. Their setting was the top floor of the greenhouse where he'd played cards and got drunk with his brother some nights. Nobody ever bothered them up there. Zed sat in waiting, enjoying the greenery, the twisting vines and canary yellow zucchini blooms. She stretched an arm out to pluck a flower and nibble its petals. Her stomach gurgled for heavier fare, so she ate another. Vee didn't keep her waiting long after, showing up with a basket of seed-crusted bread and a bowl of sliced potatoes slathered in basil paste and cooked to a crisp. For dessert, he brought dried fruit and freshly harvested cashews.

Moonlight vaulted through the trees, defusing over the glass and casting milky shadows on the greenhouse floor. The air was moist with freshly irrigated soil. Baked in the dimness, Zed couldn't take her eyes off the man sitting in front of her. He'd brought with him the game from their youth, but neither of them suggested opening the box. They smiled as they ate, breathing in the deep aromas and savouring their food together. And in the balmy atmosphere decked in silver light, Zed swore Vee was his brother's twin. Her heart shuddered in remembrance. It was what brought them together; the shared sense of guilt and the strengthening suspicion they'd both lost someone, both failed and scorned by the people who'd invested too much faith in their competence. Zed felt at peace beside him.

The scientist was still a welcome member of the village, hence his aptitude for finding rarer delicacies like wine and ripe figs. They split the skins and scooped out the sweet innards, indulging their tongues on the fruit as if it was the richest of luxuries.

"You know what I would absolutely love to eat again?" Zed asked, sucking seeds from between her teeth.

"Popsicles," Vee answered.

"Close, but no. Chocolate ice cream. I'd kill for some chocolate ice cream right now. "

Vee shook his head. "No way. Strawberry all the way."

"A hot fudge sundae with peanuts and a big maraschino cherry."

"Peanut butter sauce."

"Oh, my God. Don't say that," Zed groaned.

"It's so good. I can't remember the last time I had ice cream. Remember when you could walk a couple blocks in the Summer and buy an ice cream cone?"

Zed smiled, but the thought pricked her memory. "The last time I got ice cream was with my Dad. I got the biggest chocolate sundae, with peanut butter cups and chocolate sprinkles. He told me there was a full day-and-a-half's worth of calories in it, but I didn't care. It was after a soccer game. I didn't like soccer, but if I went to practice every week and scored at least one goal, he'd take me out for ice cream. Two goals meant I got ice cream and five dollars."

Zed sighed, continuing, "I hate thinking about the last times. Like at one point, you did something for the very last time. The last trip for ice cream. The last time you told someone you loved them."

"If you hate thinking about last times, then why are you doing it right now?" Vee asked, eyes blank as discs.

She grimaced, reaching out to touch the toe of her shoe to his, then softening her face. "I can't help it sometimes. Don't tell me you've never thought about how it used to be. You don't have to look at everything so logically."

"I don't," Vee said. "I just rather not think about those times."

"I'm sorry. Is it?—Never mind."

"My fiancé and my kid? Yes. It's always them."

Zed set her dish aside and scooted beside Vee, pressing her back against the wooden barrier of the melon patch, mirroring his position, her mouth just as dead grim as his.

"You seem to handle it well enough. But I understand. I think everyone lost something important to them," Zed offered.

Vee sighed, turning his face to the floor, cutting off the glistening whites of his eyes from view. "Found out she was pregnant the night before I left to work for the army."

"The army?"

"Yes. I had a knack for inventing. You've seen the ammunition I designed for Axel. And it takes a special gun to fire something that lethal without complication. They wanted that kind of technology and offered me a nauseating amount of money to oversee mass production. The only smart thing I ever did was refuse to sell myself. It cost me my family, but I can say with certainty Axel is the only person besides me who's fired one of them. Could you imagine what the world would be like if those had gotten into the wrong hands?"

Zed bottled talk of acid and bloodshed with a shiver and a firm hand on Vee's wrist. "Enough of that. Please. Tell me about her—your fiancé. Let's just... Remember them fondly. I don't want to think about the bullshit out there."

"You'd rather stay inside these bubbles, ignoring a second societal collapse in the making?"

"Yes. I'd rather enjoy my time here with you, listening to nicer stories. This is all that's left. I don't want to think about where we went wrong or right. Let's just talk about what made us happy."

Vee nudged her shoulder. "Why can't we talk about what makes us happy now?"

She giggled and rested her temple on his shoulder. Vee curled his wrist around her knee, and their fingers intertwined. He leaned his head on hers like they had in his apartment before Lora caught them, this time with his heart pumping in double-time.

"What makes you happy now?" Zed asked him.

"Not talking about dead relatives."

"Okay, true. Let's not. So... What are you content with?"

"You," Vee blurted.

Zed's chest tightened. Vee let go of her hand and angled his torso toward her. "I'm sorry. It's difficult for me not to... Stick to you. If I'm honest... You look like her, Lea. I really hate how much you remind me of her. And I don't want to use you to fill the void. It's wrong, but I can't help it. Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how much I lost. And you're so understanding. You don't have all these expectations."

"Vee—"

"I don't want you to think I'm coming onto you. You don't owe me anything. All I'm saying is, I'd be happy to stick together."

"We will! I want to stick with you, too."

Vee combed his blond hair back, pinching his brows together. "Lea... I want you to tell me no, right now."

"No? What do you mean?" Zed asked.

"Tell me there's no chance in Hell we'll ever get together. If I have it planted in my mind, then that's that. But if you don't, and we continue hanging out like this, getting closer... I might... Think there's a way."

"Valter..."

"Axe knew what he was doing when he brought you here...when he introduced us. Yes, he wanted protection for you, but he also wanted you and me to hit it off. I could tell. He'd never admit it, but I know him. You're perfect for me, but I've seen how others treat you, and I refuse to do the same. I don't want to perform tricks to impress you into sleeping with me like Ivar, but I don't want to stifle my feelings like... Axel. So you need to shut me down, right now. If there's a firm barrier, my mind will reroute, avoiding any possibility—"

"Stop," Zed said. "Please, just stop."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought any of that up."

"No, it's good to speak your mind. I appreciate the honesty, even if it took months to hear."

"It would have been inappropriate if I brought it up. When we had research and pressing issues, it was easy to ignore how familiar you seemed. Now I'm at a stalemate, and you're still here, and Axel's gone. I can't pretend like I don't want to spend my time with you. But I'll stay off your heels, I swear. Just friends."

"I'm not telling you no," Zed murmured. "Maybe at some point, I wanted to fall in love, but now I know that's foolish. Love can't exist in this world anymore. Not without great suffering, and I don't want to suffer anymore. Truthfully, I don't even want to get close to you, Valter, because I'm afraid someone or something will take it away."

"Nothing will take me away."

Zed shook her head, knocking a tear loose. "Don't say that. You can't make that promise. I don't want any more broken promises."

The scientist nodded while a cloud of vapour seethed from the sprinkler heads above the raised garden beds, thickening the air and clinging to their skin. A long silence pervaded, and Zed held her breath until Vee shuffled away to retrieve Wayfare of Austea. He dropped the box before her feet and grinned widely.

"Come on then, let's play. No more doom and gloom for a while."

~*~

Ivar spent the same evening pacing in his room. He went to the private alcove he assigned to the woman on his mind. Zed was fickle, and he didn't want to dash his chances with her by smothering, but something in his stomach wouldn't settle. He'd even dismissed his guard, encouraging another visit, yet she hadn't shown. Ivar buckled under the suspicion that she was angry with him, and her absence was his punishment.

Never the man to deny himself, he made for the Hives. If Zed was alone, surely she'd welcome his company. She'd said it herself: she wasn't one to sleep with just anyone, and he was far from just anyone. He was King, and this was his realm.

Despite his self-reassurance, Ivar carried doubts that manifested on his face. He passed a few citizens, drawing eyes with his acidic mug and ignored them all the way to Zed's door.

She didn't answer the door after he knocked. He reasoned she might be asleep, though it was shy of nine o'clock—early for most but not an unusual time to sleep. Before he turned away, he twisted the handle and cracked the door open an inch, letting out the dark.

"Lea? Are you in here?"

Stagnant silence answered, and he shut the door before anyone saw him. Ivar went to the door on the left and found that one locked. He grimaced, turned from the apartments and left for the lab.

On his way through the courtyard, Ivar saw Nalani and Trinity walking arm-in-arm, engaged in private discussion. Their frantic doe-eyes widened to see him.

"Have you seen Lea?" Ivar asked.

"She should be home, I think," said Trinity.

Nalani shrugged her bare shoulders, still clutching her friend's hand. "I thought she'd be with you, Ivar."

He sneered at the women. "No curtsy? No formality? Has everyone forgotten who's in charge around here?"

The two pressed their arms together, quietly apologizing and stepping aside for Ivar. He stalked toward the lab, holding his breath while throwing open the doors and turning the corner to find the rooms gutted of materials. The refrigerator hummed, and the overhead light flickered, barren and reeking of sterilization.

Ivar examined the dustless surfaces, curious but not enough to go digging through desk drawers. He went down the hall and stopped in front of Vee's door, clearing his airways again to sharpen his ears. There were no voices. Ivar knocked and went unanswered.

He turned in time to see the first door in the hall open and Lora's head poking out. She wore the same displeasure on her face, adjusting her reading glasses while her body caught up with her neck.

"If you're looking for Vee, he's hiding away with that woman everyone is up in arms about," Lora said.

"Hiding away? With Lea?"

"Yeah, whatever her name is. They haven't been here since I caught them getting up close and personal in Vee's room."

Ivar's stomach flipped, his head buzzed. Lora took great pleasure in the snagging of his mouth. She had been fuming by herself, finding specks of dust to brush away to keep her mind off her superior who'd run away with the girl she'd grown to distrust. Lora was a woman of insecurity, easily threatened by others but quick to bite back when given a chance. After she'd found Vee shoulder-to-shoulder with Zed in his apartment, Lora waited for any opportunity to drive a wedge between her beloved head scientist and the newcomer from the desert. Now was the perfect opportunity to damage Zed.

"What do you mean?" Ivar asked.

"You know what I mean, sir. They were practically on top of each other."

Ivar had no reason to discount Lora's claim. She'd proven herself a trusted and valuable member of the village long ago and never caused a ripple of dispute. The folding of her face and iron-clad seriousness was all the King needed to believe what she told him.

"Where are they?"

"I assume—if they're smart—hiding in one of the greenhouses. I wouldn't be surprised if you caught them naked in the strawberry bushes."

Ivar scoffed and rushed away. Lora watched until he disappeared, then went back inside the incubation room and put on a pair of gloves. There was an electric cooler housing blood samples, one from each member of the village. Lora selected a sample from the bottom tray and shuffled to the sink, turning on the tap while reading the label. Popping the top off the vial, she upended the sample and drained the blood away.

Ivar did better than storming the greenhouses in search of Zed. There were slinkier things on his mind. If he caught her in the act with the scientist, only then would he justify blowing up. For now, he snuck through the grounds with his focus tuned and his breath steady.

"What's next for me? I've tried to convince him to let someone go, but he refuses. Do we just exist here now, with no way to move forward? Forever trapped in this moon unit."

"He'll come to his senses," Vee said with meagre hopefulness. "Ivar's full of himself, but he's not stupid."

"Well, let's count on those senses coming soon," Zed snorted.

"Speaking of Ivar... Do you think he's wondering where you are? You did just... You know. If that happened to me, I'd be thinking about it for a while. Wondering after you. Well, not you—'cause we never... Heh. Ah, shit. You get my meaning, right?"

"Mr. Cluney, are you flustered? I don't think I've ever heard you fumble your words before."

"I don't mean to be coarse."

"Don't worry. We'll get through this. Ivar has to see reason… We need to tell him about the ones who died."

"I'll tell him. It should be me," Vee said, stacking the playing cards back in the plastic tray lining of the frayed box.

Zed helped by gathering pieces, separating them into their individual quadrants next to the cards. She set her eyes dead on the floor after they finished packing the game away, sighing in contemplation.

"Who will go?"

Vee frowned. They shared a strained minute of silence interrupted by another burst of spray in the air. Their shirts stuck to their backs, legs aching from crossing and uncrossing. Zed handed the box to Vee.

"Maybe it should be me," she said.

"Absolutely not. You can't leave. It's too dangerous out there, and you don't have to put your life on the line. There's only two people who should go. Me or Ivar."

"You're too important to lose, Vee. That's what Axel wants. I know if he had a dying wish for me, it would be to look out for you. For us to do everything we can to survive."

"Within capability. I'm not a killer, Zed. I'm not like Axel."

Zed smirked, the merciless flames dancing in her belly again, the same ones she'd felt when she screamed at Lora. She'd harboured the noxious warmth before. It was a friend to her.

"But I am...I'm a killer."

Vee set his jaw firmly, scoffing, unable to disagree. "Listen, Rambo. Even armed to the teeth, you're still not going out there alone."

"And neither are you if you go."

"You think Ivar will leave his precious cocoon? I don't think so. He'll probably send one of his guys out to never come back."

Zed shook her head, tired of the speculation. "This is ridiculous. Anyone should be able to come and go as they please. It's tyranny to tell them they can't leave if they want to. I thought this was a place of free will? What happened to the promised land?"

"Same thing that always happens when one person is left in charge."

"On that, we agree."

They left the greenhouse with much to think about, hugged goodbye in the courtyard and separated—Zed toward the Hives and Vee following the path to his room.

The next morning Zed awoke to guards butting on all the doors, yelling for everyone to get to the courtyard. The racket came after a long night of tossing and turning. Her eyes were tight with unrest, her head throbbing, but she put on jeans and a plain white t-shirt with a single breast pocket, similar to the ones Ivar wore.

The citizens filed from the Hives, murmuring and looking around worriedly. Guards stood by to direct the traffic to the medical tent-turned-backdrop. The booth topped the steepest hill in the plaza, out of use for the past few weeks. They pooled around the base of the hill in collective confusion, looking up as Ivar took advantage of the blank vinyl behind him.

Ivar cast a proud smile over the congregation. He summoned everyone from their hiding spots without having to lift a finger and brought them into the light spilling through the checkered dome on high. He waited until he spotted Zed and Vee coming in from their separate tubes, relaxing a bare inch when they didn't arrive together. They cut their ways to the front of the throng and noticed each other right away. Ivar saw the troubled looks they exchanged and sneered.

"Is this everyone?" Ivar called to the head of his guard.

An armed man standing off to the East with a few others gave Ivar a thumbs up. The King nodded, then proceeded, his expression toward his people fresh with tenacity.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Kinderfeld. I've asked you all here to bring you some news. It has taken me a long time to come to this decision, and for my delay, I apologize. I don't take this lightly... We've lost members of our family, and my heart is broken. I've spent too long trying to think of a way to bring trade back to our village. We need supplies, yes, and medics. I understand these things because I've survived before. All of us must exist as a unit, each one pledged to the survival of our crew."

The people looked on with widening eyes. Hearts that once sang for Ivar's monologues found their tune. All of them but Azalea and the other Cluney brother. Ivar burned them with ocular venom, hoisting his smile into a morbid curve. Zed let shoulders and legs swallow her back into the crowd, but not deep enough to block her view of the head scientist glaring back at the leader.

"I forbid travel for your protection. There are dangers outside of our walls. People whose only purpose is to hunt and kill. I don't have to remind you of the horrors we've suffered or the love we've cultivated here in our home. You were all there. Some of you longer than others. They built these walls to protect us—the ones who choose love instead of hate."

Ivar clasped his hands behind his back and took splinted steps back and forth on his makeshift stage. He fashioned himself contemplative, but his eyes shone with intent.

"With that being said... We cannot wait for luck to come to us. This planet is evolving each day. Nature is reclaiming the land, and it will swallow us in its majesty. We will be lost if we don't take action."

"What do we do?" Someone called from the center of the gathering. The fiery-haired father who'd earned his keep cooking and training his son stood out as the shouter. Ivar didn't smile at him so much as he cast his grace upon the redheaded man clutching the freckled boy by the shoulders.

"I'm glad you asked, sir... We are a unity. A tribe of people who want to live in harmony, am I wrong?"

Several shook their heads, others muttered together, a dull drone of tired voices.

"Then we should vote. Does anyone care to nominate themselves or another?"

The apprehension pivoted and picked up with a few gasps. Heads swivelled in search of somebody bold enough to champion themselves for exploration. Vee continued glaring at Ivar. The king returned the glower.

"I'll go!"

Zed gasped after the words left Vee's mouth. He stepped forth, unbreaking under Ivar's challenging eyes.

"So we have one volunteer. Our beloved head of research and weapons development. A very noble gesture! Does anyone else wish to nominate themselves?" Ivar asked. He opened his arms, beseeching a reply with postured hope.

"Nobody should go alone!" Zed shouted.

"Yeah, we need a team!"

Ivar motioned for the crowd to quiet down. Once they simmered, looking on with palpable anticipation, he inhaled deeply for the next addressing.

"We're running low on men to keep our hold. The brunt of the firepower needs to remain here in case of attack," Ivar reasoned.

"I'll go alone. I don't care. We can't stand around any longer!" Vee said, his chest puffed, much to the surprise of the people who knew him.

Ivar barked a few dry laughs, disguising his pleasure to everyone but Zed and the man who'd volunteered to brave the elements. "I suppose if nobody has any objections...Vee will be the one to go. As badly as it tears me to say so... You are the perfect man for the job. Brother, I wish you all the luck."

Zed broke away from the gather and hammered her legs up the incline toward Vee and Ivar, pumping her fists until she reached them.

"Ivar, you can't do this! We can't send people out alone. At least let me go with him!"

"No!" Ivar and Vee shouted at once.

"What are you going to do to stop me? After your decree about peace and harmony, what will you do to keep me from leaving Kinderfeld?"

Ivar adopted her heated expression. "Azalea, stay out of this."

"No. I won't! Not after what happened to Axel. We have to assemble a team! Don't tell me to stay out when neither of you has seen the carnage!"

"Of course you want to go, Lea. All you care about is finding Axel. You used me and hoped I wouldn't figure out you're trying to leave. You never cared about me. You try to act like you're so innocent and respectful, but you're just like everyone else."

"Because I don't want people to die? Ivar, I understand you're trying to protect everyone, but sending men out for slaughter won't help our cause. Please," Zed whimpered. "Set aside our personal issues and try to see the bigger picture."

Ivar cooled suddenly. He patronized Zed with a frantic nod and a forced grin. "All right, Azalea. Consider our personal issues permanently set aside. You got your way. One of the guards will go with Vee. Now, go. I have heard your voice."

The guards gathered around Ivar and Vee, their conversation clipped and sheltered from the citizens by a lineup of broad-shouldered men carrying weapons of varying levels of brutality. Zed stepped away, cowering under the firm looks she received from Ivar's men. Though she bowed out of the political bubble, she stayed close by, watching Vee's sour face muttering umbrage at the King. The other citizens broke off into smaller clusters, chosen families and cliques gathering to discuss the ruling.

A hand slid over Zed's shoulder, and she whirled to find Sheraya bowing her head. "You've done what you can."

"No, I haven't!" Zed nipped. "I should go with him. I'm not afraid of the outside anymore."

"You don't have to be the hero, Azalea. You must survive."

"I have survived. I'm good at it."

"You're needed here. The young ones have to learn from the women."

"Sheraya... I can't let Vee go. I can't."

The elder took hold of Zed's clammy palm, pressing the lines with her thumb. Zed buckled as tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. "He's all I have, Sheraya."

"The only one you ever truly have is yourself. Think about that before you take your heart's path and not your brain's. Look hard into the future."

"I'm trying," Zed sobbed.

"Azalea, I mean it. Your future is important."

Sheraya left her with a warm peck on the cheek and a growing sense of bewilderment. Zed looked around at the people, the hills and the courtyard beyond, the flatland where they set up their booths and entertained each other. Envisioning life beyond the safety of their walls overcame Zed with grief. She'd won, but the conditions were too heavy for her to bear. Now her last friend prepared for expulsion.

Vee took his charge seriously. Zed saw his raw determination as they hashed out a plan. Several times, she stopped herself from storming their parley, anchoring herself to the ground with locked knees and her arms folded over her breasts.

For a long time, the conversation went on, and most of the villagers went about their morning routines, gathering to cook and gossip of the turbulent state of politics. Zed stayed close enough to catch Vee when they finally broke for action, but the men showed no signs of agreement. Ivar had to hush some more uproarious guards, leashing them down with an assuring hand on the shoulder to stop them from infecting the others with their rancour.

Zed spotted a guard sprinting from the warehouse limits. The desperate look on his face alerted her, and she stepped out of sight around the corner of the medical tent, still close enough to listen.

The man approached, panting and calling for Ivar's attention. Zed snuck a peek and saw the group retire from their conference, distracted by their comrade.

"Jackson, what's the matter?"

"It's Zee. It's him! One of the guys found some doctor dragging him through the forest."

"A doctor?" Ivar repeated. "How do you know?"

"He says so. Says his name is Simpson... Or was it Samson?"

"Samson!" Zed yelled, running from her cover toward the reporting guard. "Did you say the doctor's name is Samson?"

"Yeah, Samson," the man huffed, stunned by the woman's sudden appearance.

"Bring him in! Right now. Go get them and bring him to me!" Zed demanded.

"Now, wait a minute," Ivar said. "How do we know we can trust this guy?"

"If it's the Samson I know, we can trust him. Ivar, please. I'll vouch for him if it's who I think it is."

"Who gives a shit, he's got my brother!"

Zed vaulted after Vee, tailed by the guards and Ivar. The march heralded interest from the citizens, and soon, onlookers roved toward the warehouse. Vee turned to the guard who'd brought the news and slapped him on the shoulder. "Go tell them to let Axel and the doctor inside."

"Sir," the guard nodded, jogging ahead to the entrance where two other men stood, baffled and conflicted without orders.

"Let them in!" Zed cried out.

They waited with bursting lungs. It seemed an hour crawled by before a shadowed heap of arms appeared at the mouth of the entrance. Flanked by two guards holding him upright, they carried Axel inside, his head of matted brown hair dangling lifelessly between his shoulders, limp tattooed arms slung around their necks. Zed ran to him and propped his chin up in her hand, heart palpitating, head rushing.

"Axel! Oh my God. You're alive!"

"Now, now, miss. Don't waste too much breath speaking to him. He can't understand you."

Zed turned toward the familiar voice. Samson hobbled in next to a guard who'd taken on his load—a heavy satchel, a duffel bag and two tweed suitcases. Filth and the briny stink of body odour and piss wafted through the tunnel with them. Most recoiled from the stench.

"Doctor Samson, do you remember me? From the bloodbank."

"Ah, yes, of course, I remember you, Zed! You used to zip around on your motorbike, looking for scrap metal and something to eat."

"Yes, yes! I didn't think I'd see you again."

"The chances of us meeting were rather slim, I agree, and I have to say it's lovely to find you in this magnificent bubble here. You can see this splendid little valley from the North. We were hoping for water, but this is much better. Um, speaking of water, where might I find some? Mr. Soldier and I are rather parched. Oh, and I left my camel parked outside. Do you validate?" Samson said with a jolt of wild laughter.

Zed didn't mean to be rude, but turning away from Samson was far too easy when Axel hung before her like a damp towel on a clothesline. She wanted to hold him, to join in as support to get him a surface to lie upon, but she resisted.

Ivar butt in and directed the escort to take Axel to the laboratory, then turned to Zed, scorning the tears in her eyes.

"Looks like you got your wish, Lea. Axel's back. Your life can go back to normal," Ivar said as the rest of them rushed away with the hunter and the doctor in tow.

It was only them, facing off on the hill. Zed quelled the wildfire in her belly with a painful swallow. A debate with Ivar served no purpose, so she turned from him, solemn and absolute.

"You've given me a lot, Ivar. I thank you for that. Hopefully soon, you and I will see eye to eye again, and we can live peacefully, as you said."

She angled down the hill, hurrying toward the laboratory.

Nobody stopped her from entering the stand-in hospital room. Vee had been worrying over his brother, grimacing at his crudely wrapped hand, violet dark and lame at his side. They'd already stripped him naked and laid a blanket over his lower extremities, so the bruises spraying his ribs screamed in the whiteness. His skin was bright red and glossy, shoulders scabbed with burns. With all his muscles slackened, Axel spilled over the bed, deadweight and loose-jawed.

"What happened?" Zed asked, turning to the doctor propped up in a gurney, sipping from a jug of water.

"I can't say for sure," said Samson. "He was comatose when I found him baking in the desert. That's one lucky man, right there. Lucky he crawled his sorry ass to where he did. Otherwise, I might have missed him by a mile."

"What should we do, Samson? How do I make him come out of it?"

"Oh, we can never be sure. It could be a few days, weeks... Months. My suggestion is to regulate his body temperature, treat his wounds and burns, and hope for the best."

Zed turned back to the unconscious man. She spotted the clumps of dirt in his hair, the scrapes on his elbows and mud-caked fingernails and her panic increased.

"Somebody bring me washcloths, soap and water right now!"

"I'd be mighty careful cleaning those burns, Zed. He's got some good blisters forming. And mind his hand."

"I will, I will," Zed nodded. "Just tell me what to do."

"Can I bother someone for a snack?" Asked Samson.

The guards who'd toted them into the lab stuck around until no longer needed. Zed refused help from anyone except Vee after Trinity brought them a bucket of warmed water, and Lora provided antiseptic. They started cleaning Axel gently, beginning with the grime under his nails. Samson ate from a bowl of mixed fruits, humming in delight from the nectar sliding down his throat.

Zed moved Axel's injured arm with great care and washed away the smears of dirt marring his tattoos, applying disinfectant to the cuts. Vee worked on the opposite side of the bed, combing out the chunks in his hair. Once in awhile, Zed met Vee's eyes, and he'd nod or give her a forced grin.

Axel's unconsciousness only registered later in the night after they'd cleaned him and swapped a few words of astonishment. Zed stayed nearby, wishing his eyes open, but every hopeful breath gave way to disappointment. Lost in the blankness of his mind, Axel floated.

Even Lora surrendered to the sobering tension, making herself available to Vee only. Zed didn't concern herself with the woman. Her mind was awash with relief and worry for the friend who'd found his miraculous way back home. Nothing else mattered but the battered man lying in slumber on the hospital bed.

Samson fell asleep, and Vee left after long, touching Zed's shoulder before excusing himself. He promised to come back as soon as he'd had some rest. Zed nodded, squeezing his hand for a lingering moment, then releasing him. Sleep had no chance of overtaking her, so she stayed next to Axel, balling herself up in one of the office chairs, listening to his wheezing and sticking her fingers under his scruffy jaw to check his pulse every time he went silent.

When it was only her, Axel, and Samson sleeping in the room, she leaned over the bed and brushed her palm over Axel's scaly forehead. She avoided his singed nose, the curving laceration above his left eye and the peeling skin on the crests of his cheeks, touching his jaw and stroking his hair a few times.

"Don't worry, everything's okay now. You're back where you're safe."

The woman slumped into the chair, propping her heavy head on her elbow. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes, plates of seared skin stretching tight over his ribcage, and fought off the urge to doze alongside him.

"Mmph-uh... Muh."

Zed's eyes snapped open. "Axel? Did you speak?"

"Hmm," he thrummed.

"Can you hear me, Axel? It's me, Zed. Azalea. Do you recognize my voice?"

Axel's throat went quiet, the enfeebled notes fading back to obscurity. Zed tried to get him mumbling again, but the hunter remained still.

"It's okay. I promise, I'll make you better. You're home now, and I'm not going anywhere until you’re better, okay, Axel? Don’t worry. You’re at home with me."

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