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mercy-burning · 4 years

Text

Trouble

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader decides to cause a little trouble on vacation.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, sex (dom!Spencer, hair pulling, spanking, female masturbation, rough sex, light choking, oral sex- male receiving, crying during sex, degradation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play / if I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 6.6k

Full Requests:

+ “...this is for dom spencer/post prison spencer!! okay so you guys are all out with the team on like a team vacation type thing! you decide to wear the cutest and smallest black bikini and tease spencer the whole day. and i mean tease him!! after you guys all separate off for the night he punishes you! spanks you and fucks you until you’re a whimpering mess! maybe you even fall into sub space and his aftercare is 10/10 amazing!!” — @slutforthegubes

+ “A one-shot for reader being bratty for being clingy in front of the team, so then he punishes her by spanking, edging ect?” — @smexyreid

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: I actually had a fluff planned for today, but I’ve been feeling rather ~spicy~ lately, so I hope this is alright 😉😂

***

Normally you didn't like to get into trouble on vacations. And really, who did? Vacations were meant to be relaxing, a way to kick back, relax, and take a break from the monotony of day-to-day life. Not to mention you and the team were far over-due for one of those breaks.

So naturally, your instincts would tell you to do just that: relax. Right?

Wrong.

You couldn't help it. As of late, your sex life was getting... interesting, to say the least. And now more than ever you were always in the mood for trouble; Whether it meant purposely bending over in the office (right in front of your boyfriend, where everyone else was in the room and he couldn't do anything about it) or touching yourself without permission, also sometimes right in front of him.

Bottom line: right now you were looking for trouble. And you knew exactly where to find it.

Trouble, in this case, took the form of a skimpy black bikini you'd spotted while shopping for the trip. it was barely a bathing suit at all, held together by thin strings that you knew would fall apart with just a mere little tug. And if that wasn't enough to entice you, it had little lace detailing that you knew would drive him insane.

Your body practically burned with desire as it sat in a bag in the backseat of your rental car, Spencer's hand on your thigh burning equally as hot.

"You feel really warm," he noted, giving your leg a comforting squeeze. "Are you okay? If you're not feeling well we can stay behind..."

"No, I'm fine," you answered truthfully with a smile. "I'm just really excited to take some time off. Lord knows we need it."

"Yeah, I know... I just wish we weren't going somewhere so... water-y..."

You laughed, placing your hand on top of his and giving it the same reassuring squeeze he'd given you. "It'll be fun. Trust me, you'll have a great time."

He didn't sound so sure about that, but he didn't know the plan you had cooked up. He was going to have fun on this trip whether he thought so or not.

***

The resort was beautiful. Hell, beautiful was nowhere near the right word for it. It was everything you'd always dreamed about, just like those fancy commercials that showed people in big pools, surrounded by palm trees and workers with white polo shirts who brought you whatever you wanted.

And the hotel rooms you stayed in? They were immaculate. It may have seemed like you were exaggerating, but honestly, you felt like a princess. The bed was just about the most comfortable thing you'd ever had the pleasure of laying on, the view was incredible, sweeping over the resort with a beautiful sunrise every morning, and the complimentary robes and towels were heavenly.

You never wanted to leave.

"Remind me to give Rossi a big hug the next time I see him," you sighed as you rolled over in bed and snuggled into Spencer's side.

He laughed softly into your hair and pulled you closer. "I know it's only been a day, but I could stay here forever. In this bed, with you..."

You smiled, feeling your heart warm at his words. "Me, too... But if you think you're gonna get out of today by being charming, then you're sorely mistaken."

Yesterday, the day you all arrived, you made a plan with Spencer: that first day would be spent settling in and having dinner with the team, going out for drinks and relaxing. And then the next day (today), you were all going to spend the day outside, enjoying the sun and enjoying each others' company. He wasn't too fond of the idea spending all day outside in the heat, but you were sure that by the end of the night he would have found it very rewarding.

Because today was the day you were initiating your plan. Since you would be in public (and you knew your boyfriend wasn't a fan of being too publicly affectionate), you were going to tease him as much as you could. You knew it would kill him, not being able to touch you in front of everyone, and you also knew it would make him mad. Most likely, he would warn you to drop it, and you would feign innocence, continuing on your merry way and proceed with the plan. And if you knew him as well as you thought, chances are he would tolerate you all day, barely putting up with your antics until you were alone for the night.

And then? Then you were hoping he would punish the hell out of you. Because honestly, nothing got your blood pumping faster than when he called you names... When he spanked you, or choked you, or refused to let you come. Or even when he did the opposite and made you orgasm so many times you cried from the overstimulation.

But you knew that whatever punishment he decided this time, it was going to be absolutely delicious.

Just the thought of it made you clench your thighs together, and Spencer seemed to notice; He brought one of his hands down to rest between them, feeling the dampness that was forming through the fabric of your underwear.

"Someone's excited this morning," he mused, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his middle finger pushed the fabric aside and gently glided through your pussy.

You sucked in a breath, nuzzling into his neck and failing to hide a smile. "Well, since we're gonna be out and about all day, don't you think we should do something about that?"

Spencer laughed again, this time slipping his finger all the way inside you, causing you to gasp out.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea, princess."

***

To say you were anxious would have been an understatement.

Because of the material of your cover-up dress, no one could see what you had on underneath unless you took it off. In reality it was more like a summer dress, landing just above the knee in a pretty black floral pattern. Your hair was up in a clip for easy taking-down, and cheap dollar-store sunglasses sat firmly on the bridge of your nose.

And just the knowledge of what was hiding beneath your seemingly innocent get-up had your stomach twisted in knots. Even as Spencer swung your hand in his as the two of you made your way to the lounge area, you pictured that same hand fisting the sheets as his wrapped around your throat while he fucked you absolutely senseless.

You hadn't even realized you were squeezing his hand so tight until he wiggled his fingers and gently nudged you with his shoulder. "You've been... squirmy and tense lately, are you sure you're alright?"

Your hand loosened its grip on his, and then you brought them up to kiss the back of his hand. "I'm fine, just excited to be in the sun all day, that's all."

There was some degree of truth to your words, but he didn't have to know that.

So, to convince him you really were fine, you practically jumped once you reached the gateway to the pool and lounge area, spotting all your friends as they waved you over. Spencer laughed as you parted from him and started walking a little faster.

"Someone's eager," Rossi mused from his chair, a glass of lemonade in his hand.

As Spencer approached behind you, Luke snickered. "Not eager enough, apparently. They're late. What were you lovebirds up to, eh?"

"Alvez, if you have to ask, you probably couldn't handle the answer," Tara said with a snicker of her own.

Funny thing was, she was absolutely right. And it made your stomach twist into even bigger knots just thinking about what happened just an hour before you left the room.

Thankfully the mood was kind enough to shift, courtesy of JJ removing her sheer cover-up and taking her sunglasses off with them. "Anyone up for a light morning swim before more people show up?"

You weren't sure whether or not it was a good idea... Did you want to start your teasing so early on that by the end of the day it was going to be an even bigger struggle to keep your hands off of Spencer, silently begging him to whisk you away and have his way with you? But what if he held out and decided to cut the day off early? If that was the case, he'd most likely drag out your punishment for hours, and is that something you wanted?

Your mind swam in a current of filthy images and possible scenarios, all of which were too damn good to pass up.

So, you counted yourself in and handed Spencer your bag, to which he gladly took and then planted a kiss on your forehead.

You waited until he was settled down, sitting at the table with Rossi—who also decided to hang back—to start removing your accessories.

The first to go was the sunglasses, easy and still unsuspicious. You were going to remove the hairclip first, but then an idea came to mind, so you easily slid out of the cover-up and let it fall to the ground.

Spencer's jaw dropped open at about the same speed, though he quickly closed it to seemingly remain unbothered. The smallest of smirks played across your lips as you bent down to pick the garment up. And you took your sweet time, purposely struggling to get it between your fingers. At one point, you had it halfway up before you 'accidentally' dropped it again, mumbling a curse under your breath.

But eventually you gave up the charade, successfully grabbing the dress and holding it out to Spencer. "Would you put this in my bag for me, babe?"

"Uh huh," he muttered, his hands practically shaking when he took it from you.

To add sugar to the pot, you took a step towards him and kissed him chastely on the mouth, just before taking the clip from your hair and shaking it out like in the movies. Truthfully you weren't sure if it was as sexy as they always made it seem, but judging by your boyfriend's inability to look at you, you figured it did the trick.

You turned and made your way to the pool then, leaving him behind with a little extra spring in your step.

***

Your swim extended until lunch time at around noon, where everyone gathered at their table. There were about thirty of these tables all around the pool, each attaching a tall umbrella to keep from the sun.

Though Spencer had seemed rattled and more shocked than anything at your outfit reveal before, now he just seemed calm. Oddly calm.

As you opened a beer, you looked over at him. "You okay, baby?"

"Yep. I'm all good."

He clearly wasn't. His hand twitched under the table, and it made your stomach flutter with butterflies as you wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking about fucking you out here in front of everyone? Was he imagining and concocting ways to make sure you knew how much of an affect you had on him later? The thought of all of it excited you to the point of squirminess again.

It was safe to say that Spencer noticed. His hand reached out and brushed your knee about ten minutes into lunch, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. He was never this way in public, but now he was full-on gripping your knee under the table and slowly sliding it up and up and up...

"Excuse me? Do you guys have an extra chair we could use by chance?" A voice sounded from the other side of you, and you jumped as Spencer quickly removed his hand from you.

But then you got another idea.

"Oh, here, you can use mine," you told the voice, which belonged to a middle-aged woman in a blue one-piece and a sun hat.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble..."

You stood up and smiled at her, handing over your chair as you insisted. "It's not a problem. Really."

"Thank you," she returned with a smile. "Have a great day."

"You, too!" you called as she walked off with the chair. You turned to Spencer with a smile. "You don't mind if I sit on your lap, right?"

He didn't answer, only shifted in the chair, and that gave you all the permission you needed. So you promptly sat down between his legs, and you snuggled as close to him as you could, making sure to wiggle a little more than needed without being too obvious as your friends continued chatting. Spencer's left hand gripped your hip so tightly you thought he was going to leave bruises.

That excited you more than it probably should have.

So to test your luck, you placed your hand over the top of his and drew little patterns into the back of his hand. Your other hand worked at occasionally grabbing fries to eat.

What you didn't expect was for Spencer to ask for one. Really, you didn't think much of it, though those butterflies returned in your lower belly when he ate the fry right out of your hand, bringing his face to rest right above your shoulder. Before he pulled away, he whispered just inconspicuously enough to avoid raising any red flags.

"Watch yourself, princess..."

He hissed out the nickname so harshly it made you shudder, and your thighs clenched under the table as he leaned back again.

Just in time for someone to talk.

"Why, you two are awfully clingy today." It was Penelope, giggling through a bright pink bendy straw.

You decided to play off of that, smiling and leaning back to press yourself fully against him. "This is our first vacation together, I guess I'm just excited," you said sweetly.

Spencer lightly kissed your cheek, but his hand squeezed your bare hip again. A warning not to push it.

"You know, Will and I haven't had a vacation in a while. It's kind of a bummer he had to work, otherwise we could've taken the kids." JJ pouted playfully before taking a fry.

"We'll definitely have to plan for another one of these in the future," Penelope offered happily.

You wiggled your hips just the tiniest bit as your head dropped onto Spencer's shoulder. "I agree."

His fingers were gripping your hip with brutal force now, and to cover a yelp, you faked a cough. He eased his grip, settling on splaying his entire hand flat across it instead. Its warmth mixed with the knowledge of how big it was made you all warm inside. And, God, if you didn't want to fake being sick so you could drag him up to the hotel room right then...

But you held on, ready for phase two of your plan.

While swimming before, You decided with Luke, Penelope, Tara, Matt, and Emily that a game of water-volleyball was in your future. JJ offered to call points while the rest of you, in teams, played against each other. Despite their efforts to get Rossi and Spencer to join, they both declined, but in a way you were thankful.

Being in action might just be the thing you needed to finally push him over the edge.

So soon after lunch, you all moved over to the open water-volleyball pool. JJ, Spencer, and Rossi all sat at the edge on lounge chairs to watch while you divided into two teams, Penelope, Luke, and Emily on one side, you, Tara, and Matt on the other.

Truth be told, during the game you almost completely forgot about the other little game that you were playing with Spencer—the one only you two knew about. You were quite content and happy having fun with your friends for so long that it was a distant memory.

But at one point, Matt lifted you out of the water to hit the ball, his hands firmly gripping your waist to help you do it. And you didn't think anything of it until you realized your second, and probably your most fatal, mistake.

You'd successfully spiked the ball and scored the winning point, to which your team loudly cheered. And when Matt brought you back down into the water, you flung your arms around his neck in a hug. He lifted you out of the water again as he hugged you, and over his shoulder, you spotted Spencer.

He was furious.

No one would have been able to tell, of course, but you knew. You'd seen that look before, when you were teasing him badly enough that it warranted a pretty severe punishment.

You may have won the volleyball game, but in the process you inadvertently won another game, one that excited you far more and presented you with the grand prize of one very long night.

***

Spencer was quiet with you the rest of the day. After the game, you all decided to just lay out in the sun for a few hours. Occasionally, you would sneak a glance at your boyfriend to find him in that oddly calm state again, the one that borderline scared and excited you at the same time, and for a moment you wondered if maybe you'd gone too far, even if you hadn't intentionally meant to make him jealous.

But if something was truly wrong, he would have told you. You both knew the lines between playful and serious, and this odd calm that Spencer was exuding was most definitely playful.

He only further proved that to be true when you got up to the bar to get a margarita, and you felt a presence behind you.

His hands splayed over your hips and slid forward to your stomach, pulling you back to him. The hardness you felt pressing into the thin material of your bikini made you tremble.

"I want you to finish your drink, and then I want you to meet me in our room. Take your time, princess. I'll be waiting."

Before you could even answer, he was gone, his hand lingering on your body for a moment before he let himself fully walk away. And as you slowly sipped on your drink, chatting a bit with Penelope when she came over, your skin still burned hot from his touch.

***

You took a deep breath before stepping ino the room. Your hands were shaking with excitement and your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He was perched on the bed, freshly showered, wearing nothing but a towel hung low on his hips while he read a book. His hair was wet, towel dried and hanging in soft curls in front of his eyes.

Spencer always took your breath away, but this?

You were in deep shit.

He didn't even look up from his book. He continued flipping the page and gently nodded towards the bathroom door. "Go get a shower ready. I'll be in in a minute."

Your first instinct was to obey. But then again, trouble was what you wanted in the first place, so trouble was what you were going to deliver.

"Why?"

"Because you're covered in chlorine from the pool, and you have to shower." He still didn't look up at you. And that just wouldn't do.

"I'm sure you're right, babe, but I just don't feel like it. And you can't make me."

His eyes flitted up to meet you, just for a brief second before he sighed and shut the book. "Y/N..."

"Spencer..."

"You've been a tease all day, do you really want to make it harder for yourself?" This time he was looking up at you fully, meeting you with a bored expression that was just so fucking hot. You couldn't resist.

"I don't know," you teased, crossing your arms. "Do I?"

"Trust me, princess, you don't..."

You giggled at the nickname and started walking towards him, kicking off your flip flops and uncrossing your arms in the process. "Hmm... I think I do."

"Take another step, see what happens," he offered plainly.

Just for the hell of it, you stopped and then took one giant step forward, bringing you to the edge of the bed where he was sitting. You smiled down at him and felt your insides heat up as he brought his hand out, roughly pulling at the thin fabric of your bikini. He pulled you right on top of him, just for you to be rolled over and pinned on your stomach.

His hands pinned your hands behind your back as he pushed his body into yours, making you whimper out excitedly.

"So be it. Don't make a sound unless I tell you to. Understand?" The sternness in his voice sent another chill through you as you nodded. But then one of his hands came up and tugged on your hair, pulling your neck back. "Answer me."

"I understand," you said, though not without making it sound like you were bored.

That only seemed to make him more mad, which of course was a win for you. He tugged your hair harder, causing you to yelp out with a masochistic laugh.

"Something funny?" he inquired evenly.

"You're cute when you're mad," you offered with a shit-eating grin, wiggling your ass against him.

This time, instead of pulling your head back, he shoved it down into the mattress, his hand shifting to hook his middle finger around your cheek and into your mouth. "You're cute when you shut up and obey me... But I have a feeling you're not going to be very good for me tonight, are you princess?"

You only hummed around his finger in response, clenching your pussy around nothing as your body suddenly went wild with a wave of pleasure at his words.

"That's what I thought... Let's see how well you take your spankings, maybe then I'll go easy on you later."

He wasted no time then, yanking your swim bottoms down and running his hand over the curve of your ass.

"Let's see... One—" SMACK. "—for making a show of wearing this slutty little bikini."

To keep it interesting, you wiggled your ass for more, and he returned the favor by spanking you even harder than the last time. "Two, for giving away your chair just to sit in my lap." Very quickly after, he administered another one, following with, "Three, for teasing me at lunch in front of our friends."

"But I d—"

SMACK. "Four, for interrupting me," he said quietly. And with the way his hand was rubbing over your stinging skin, he was no doubt admiring his work so far. He even hummed, lifting his hand occasionally, leading you to think he was going to spank you again— Only for him to settle on rubbing over your ass again.

He was drawing this out. Taking his time. Seeing how antsy you would get.

Needless to say, it was working.

Your hands, which were still pinned behind your back by Spencer's other hand, started to flex, and you whimpered out in want.

"What's the matter, princess?" he cooed.

"I... I want you," is all you could think to say. Because you really did.

"Bad girls don't get what they want. Especially brats. So tell me, do you think I'm going to give you what you want?"

You were supposed to answer him, but in the name of trouble, you remained silent.

He waited for an answer that never came. And when he was tired of waiting, realizing what you were doing, Spencer spanked you again. "Five, for not answering me."

Before you could do or say anything, he landed another slap to your ass. "And six, for having Matt's hands all over you."

You couldn't help it. You laughed. "Oh, that got to you, huh? His hands were nice and big. Reminded me of y—ah!"

He spanked you again, hard. Tears stung behind your eyes and you smiled through them.

"Seven," he growled. "For being a fucking brat."

You took a few deep breaths before speaking again. "Aw, are you jealous? You really think I would—fuck!"

Another spank. "Eight. Don't you dare get it to ten." It was obvious that he was challenging you. Either that, or you were just looking for trouble so badly that you were willing to hear his words as a challenge. But regardless, you challenged him back with one simple, breathy word.

"Nine."

SMACK. "Nine. You must really be looking for trouble, huh?"

You laughed, wiggling your ass one more time. "You don't even know the half of it."

Spencer spanked you one last time, harder than all the rest of them, and you actually yelped out, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Ten. Now get in the shower, or I'll make it double."

You thought about it, but a shower actually sounded really good, and it would give you a chance to breathe before he utterly wrecked you in a little while.

"Okay," you offered, slumping against the bed loosely to show him your surrender. He gently let go of you then, rubbing over your ass a few times before pulling away from you and helping you stand.

"You want me to put something on that now or later?" he asked gently, brushing the hair from your face.

"Later," you returned with a wink and a smile.

He huffed a laugh before gently smacking your ass one more time and sending you off in the shower.

***

As excited as you were for the rest of the evening, you were tempted to take as long in the shower as you wanted, just to see what Spencer would do. But you decided to just take a shower normally, rinsing out your hair just as you always did. You quickly washed up your body, wincing a bit at the sting of your ass under the soap and warm water.

And then you started thinking about how exhilarated you felt as he punished you. Each sharp, warm smack of his hand on your skin made you feel utterly electric and wet. It was a wonder you weren't actually dripping down your leg and onto the bed at how badly you wanted him.

The thought sent your hand down to said wetness. You really shouldn't have been touching yourself, but you were practically burning for him, melting at the amount of teasing you'd done today and the anticipation that came with every move. Your hand was relentless, looking for its own trouble as you moaned out as quietly as you could. The water was still cascading down your back as you rubbed tight, fast circles on your clit, hoping to get fast relief.

And then a knock came at the door.

"I want you out here in five minutes!"

Sure enough, Spencer's voice was enough to finally push you off the edge, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. But as soon as it subsided, you turned the water off and got out to dry yourself off.

Hopefully he wouldn't ever find out what you've done. But the devious side of you really wanted to know what he'd do if he did.

With that thought flooding your brain, you quickly finished drying off and walked out into the bedroom to find Spencer waiting on the bed again. His towel was still wrapped around his waist, and it gave you an idea.

You winked and dropped your own towel, revealing yourself fully to him.

"Did I ask you to drop the towel?" he chastised.

"Nope," you replied, placing your hands on your hips.

"Then why did you do it?"

You decided to take the mocking route, drawling out an overexaggerated, "Because I'm a dirty little whore, and I need you to put your big cock inside me."

"Are you done?"

He looked bored again, and it made you want him even more. So you said, "No. Once your cock is in me, I wa—"

"Were you touching yourself in the shower?"

Holy fuck.

"No."

Spencer stood up and glided over to you until he was towering over you, clearly unbelieving of your blatant lie. "No?"

"No," you repeated, the tiniest of smirks forming on your lips.

Without warning, his hand was between your legs, and a gasp left you as he found your clit, rubbing it almost exactly the same way you'd been earlier. You couldn't help the strangled moan that left your mouth, and he smirked knowingly.

"Yep. Those are definitely the sounds I heard."

And then he removed his hand, making you whine at the loss of contact. "I'm sorry," you whispered, hoping he'd return, if only to punish you for what you did by overstimulating you.

He seemed to have another idea, though.

"You're sorry?"

"Mhm," you whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand. "I'm so sorry."

When you had hold of his hand, he took control, gripping your wrist and pushing it away, and then he grabbed your shoulder. "Then why don't you get on your knees—" he pushed on your shoulder and you obliged happily, "—and show me how sorry you are..."

Your pussy throbbed around nothing as you looked up at him, eagerly waiting for his towel to drop. But he didn't move, and it was clear that he was waiting on you to do it.

So you yanked the towel down and marveled at how hard and ready he was. Your head seemed to move of its own accord, like it was magnetically drawn to his dick, and you weren't complaining. And then your tongue flattened and licked a broad stripe underneath him, before you quickly made work of taking him completely into your mouth.

It didn't take long to start a nice rhythm bobbing up and down, occasionally looking up to see him. Again, he looked bored, and though that would have spurred you on before, now you were desperate to please. So you worked your mouth faster, slacking your jaw and taking him in deeper, using your hands to keep yourself steady by gripping the back of his thighs. You moaned and gagged around him, yet kept your pace up regardless.

"Come on, princess, you can do better than that," he teased, fisting your hair and holding you down on his cock. "Apologize like you mean it."

He released your hair then, and you pulled back to take a breath of air before spitting obscenely on his dick and quickly stroking him with your hand. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so so sorry," you whined, right before taking his balls in your mouth. You kept at that for a few moments before going to take him in your mouth again.

This time you were meaningful in every single movement, taking him in slow and deep. Each time he hit the back of your throat you held yourself there and choked around him as long as you could, tears falling from your eyes. And then you'd pull away slowly, swirling your tongue around his tip before repeating.

Eventually though, he pulled you away completely and studied you as you sat there, knelt on the floor in front of him with red eyes, and tears and spit completely coating your face. Your lips were glistening and puffy as you panted, whispering soft apologies.

"What a good girl," Spencer mused, brushing hair from your eyes and wiping tears from your cheeks. "I accept your apology. Come here."

His gentle voice all but pulled you to him as you stood on shaky knees. He hadn't even really done anything to you yet, and you were already a mess. That fact made you smile.

You wiped most of the mess from your face and nodded. "So, what's my reward?"

Spencer huffed a laugh. "For being a brat? Nothing."

"Aw, but I thought I earned your forgiveness..." You pouted playfully, and he pulled you closer by the waist.

"Yeah, well you're being cocky, so I take it back."

Before you could say anything, he kissed you, bringing both of his hands up to cradle the sides of your head. You all but melted into him and let him lead you to the bed, where you were turned around and bent over again.

He used his leg to spread yours apart, right before bringing a hand to the nape of your neck. As he grabbed a fistful of your hair and gently tugged your head back, his other hand fell between your legs and gently parted you.

"You ready, princess?"

"Uh huh," you whined back, right as he pushed forward and glided his cock through your pussy. He waited, making you anticipate that sweet moment when he'd finally enter you, and you could tell he was enjoying every second. You wiggled against him, and he yanked your hair.

"Ah-ah, be patient... Be patient..."

He continued just sliding himself through your opening until you weren't expecting it. And then he slammed into you, eliciting a loud moan from the back of your throat.

"Sh, shh," Spencer expressed, releasing your hair and sliding his hand to cover your mouth. "Everyone's going to hear you, princess, you need to keep quiet. Can you do that for me?"

"Mhm," you mumbled against his hand, letting out a strangled sigh when he placed it on your shoulder instead. He kept up a nice, hard pace pounding into you, each slap of his hips against your burning ass just the right amount of pain to be pleasant. And you were thankful for the bed underneath you, because if you didn't have it, you'd surely have buckled under the weight of your knees already.

Feeling how limp you were in his grasp, Spencer used both his hands to wrap around the front of your throat, keeping you upright as your hands pressed into the mattress.

"Tell me, princess, do you think you deserve to come so soon?"

You were so caught up in how hard and deep he was fucking you that you were pretty sure it wouldn't matter what you told him— you were going to orgasm regardless, because there was no way you could even fathom trying to hold it in. Whether or not Spencer would show you any mercy at that point was a mystery.

You were just going to have to find out.

"I—I... Ohhhh..."

You heard him laugh lowly, and it made you clench around him. "Oh, it hasn't even been five minutes, and I've already fucked you so dumb you can't even speak? Huh?"

You whined in response, letting your head fall to the side as you tried to look at him. And you barely caught a glimpse of his hair as he continued speaking. "Aw... My poor little princess... That's what you get, isn't it? When you act like a dirty little whore..."

He was recalling what you'd teased earlier, and it brought you closer to the edge more than you liked to admit.

"Uh... huh," you whined out, dangerously close to coming undone.

"Alright then, princess. Come for me, show me what you got."

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take very long for that to happen. You let out a string of whimpers and cries as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hands slightly tightening around your throat as well. Every sensation was blinding and intense, just like you knew it'd be, even if it was only your second orgasm of the night.

And you had a decent suspicion that it wasn't going to be your last.

Even after you were done, Spencer kept at it, relentlessly fucking you into the mattress until your legs were surely numb. Your knees were still sore from being on the floor before, and likewise, your ass was still burning. Not to mention the overstimulation you were experiencing as one of his hands moved down to rub at your clit.

Eventually though, he stopped, and you weren't sure why. But then he flipped you around, laying you on the edge of the bed and leaning over you, his hands brushing more of the tears from your cheeks.

"I wanna see your pretty little eyes when I come, okay? You think you can keep 'em open for me, princess?"

"Mhm," you whined out as he pushed into you again.

He settled on a slow pace that built and built until he was fucking you fast and hard and incredibly deep. His entire body leaned into yours as he snapped his hips forward over and over again, brutal in their goal to completion. You kept whining out, feeling another orgasm coming quickly as you let yourself succumb to him.

"That's it, princess, you're taking it so well. We're almost done..." He whispered comforts into your temple, moments before you reached your peak once more. You shook violently underneath him, which was all he needed to finish himself.

He pulled back and looked into your eyes, filled with tears at the overstimulation, as he snapped his hips forward once, twice, and then three times before letting go. He held himself inside of you, moaning out while looking into your eyes. The feel of his cock throbbing and spilling over inside of you was just about the most comforting thing in the world right then, accompanied by soft brushes of his fingers through your hair and even softer declarations of love.

Long after he stayed inside of you, catching his breath, Spencer pulled out and examined you, the way your body glistened perfectly with the right amount of sweat. Your chest heaved, each dip and curve and peak of your breasts slowly rising and falling as you trembled. He slid down your body, until finally his eyes caught sight of your pussy, glistening and dripping with his cum. It absolutely wrecked him in the best way possible, so much so that he couldn't help himself.

He brought his hand to your opening, gently scooping up his cum and gathering it onto the pads of his fingers. You moaned out as he did it, and he knew then exactly what he wanted.

"Open up, princess," he pried softly, bringing his fingers to your mouth. You gladly did what you were told and sighed out as he glided them over your tongue, practically spoon-feeding you his cum. He pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth slowly, feeling every vibration on your tongue from the sounds you made. And then he did it again, bringing his fingers back to your pussy to gather more of his mess.

He did this until it was pretty much all gone, and truthfully, you would have let it go on forever. The intimacy of it all, the soft and sensual way in which he explored and watched you, and the love you felt for each other all wrapped up in a shiny, red bow was the perfect end to a perfect day.

You would have fallen asleep, but Spencer was gently nudging your arm. "Hey, you," he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I think it's time to run us a bath, don't you think?"

"Sure," you agreed quietly with a smile. "And then we can sleep, right?"

"I think the team might get mad at us for ditching dinner, but I'm willing to risk that."

With a laugh, you reached over and kissed him. "Good. I love you, Spencer."

"I love you, too, princess."

TAGS NOT WORKING: @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @s1utformgg @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment, and I’ll add you!

#spencer reid x reader #mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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muffinrecord · 3 years

Note

How many of your followers are male pedophiles who only retweet the fetishized/swimsuit outfits?

Okay so like... I'm going to use this message real quick to talk about something serious. I think this anon is actually mentally unwell.

I don't use that in the way the internet typically does, which is "you are doing something I don't like, which means you have a mental illness." I don't mean this as a mean joke. I mean this sincerely and with some concern.

This anon has been at this for a long time, and even before Magia Record was actually going. I remember them bitching about Sleepless Domain on reddit before (and I think they still do!) and they always stick with the same ideas: that the only reason anyone is interested in darker magical girl content (even when written by women) is because they're male pedophiles getting off of girl's suffering. They'll write other things too, like how the genre is "proving that little girls have no value beyond suffering" or "the only way a girl is worth something is if she suffers/dies/provides something for men." But in general, this is what it revolves around.

You can always tell that who the anon is because of this. They don't change tactics. They don't ask different things. They always assume that fans are male pedophiles or that you like the series because there is something wrong with you. They don't change from this script.

I can't diagnose someone over the internet-- for one, I'm not a doctor and two it's over the internet. You can't understand someone from the little bit that they show you online.

However, a lot of what this anon does strikes me as very black-and-white thinking, they are absolutely obsessive about certain topics, and they have really odd reactions. I've gotten angry at them twice now and insulted them directly and they've... never actually responded to it. They'll respond to a small portion of the argument, but they never actually address the fact that I insulted them. I find this kind of off-putting, and I'm starting to think that there is more going on here besides a hobby of hating dark magical girl genres and their fans.

It might be because I had to get mental help, to the point of being hospitalized, but this anon is making me wonder if something is going on there too.

Because think about this logically for a second-- this anon is trying to argue that most of my followers are pedophiles and are following me because... once year-ish, I post characters practically t-posing in swimsuit image compilations, as part of costume sets? They're calling girls standing around and wearing swimsuits fetish content. This is their argument.

Maybe you think they're just being a troll, but I don't think that's the case.

There are so many other things you can bitch about for Magia Record. For example, Akari Mai has a horrendous design (which I complained about on this blog!) but this anon has never so much as mentioned her, or characters like Himika, Leila, or Kokoro. This anon never talks about Iroyachi or any other hot-button topic that is sure to get people talking. They always complain about things that don't actually matter or are easily disproven.

They follow the blog enough to know that I'm posting costume sets, but they don't follow it enough to know what makes the fandom upset? Like I said, I don't think this is a troll.

So again-- I do genuinely think that something is going on with this person mentally upstairs. I say this with no malice, because I also have problems with my brain that cause me to act and talk in ways that are off-putting.

Anyways, I'm saying all of this because I've seen people accuse anon of being a terf or an "anti" (whatever the fuck that is) or whatever, and I think the answer is just that this person is mentally unwell.

I decided I would no longer respond to this person because I don't want to get angry or insult or belittle a human who is struggling with issues and not doing this because of actual malice. However, I don't think that's working. I'm still getting messages from them once in a while. They're still getting something out of sending me stuff like this.

So....

I'm going to be turning off the anonymous function of my ask box permanently. I apologize because I know a lot of people prefer to use anon (I do too), but I feel like I'm feeding this person and their issues by keeping it up.

Anyways, I'm writing all of this publicly because they'll probably target someone else if I close myself off. Hell, I know I'm not the only one they target already. So, if this person starts to contact you, please know it's not actually about you. They're not actually doing this because you've done anything. They would do this to anyone.

And don't get mad at them or insult them like I have. It doesn't actually do anything to fix the problem, and it's possible it could make their thoughts worse. We're not responsible for why this person is acting this way, but it doesn't mean we should bully them or let them bully us.

So-- anon, I'm sorry for not realizing what was going on sooner, and I'm sorry for insulting you. I had to get help too. A few years ago, I was in a mental hospital for a week and that is one of the reasons I'm alive today. I hope you can get help for yourself, because this is an awful way to live.

#Muffin Record #Ask Muffin #Long Post #I've debated talking about this publicly #I don't like theorizing about someone's mental health #But I think it would be the wrong thing to not talk about it #I'm open to criticism on this

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princess-from-another-galaxy · 3 years

Note

Sorry, This one's gonna be a long one cause nobody I know in real life cares about kpop.you don't have to answer, it's just a rant😅. But the way my heart dropped while reading all the debunking evidence in the link you sent.

I only got into kpop like a few months ago but of course past scandals pop up and like getting into stray kids obviously you discover the woojin scandal. For some reason that case and soojin's case are just haunting (maybe I'm too emotional).

And honestly it's frightening and sickening any random person can ruin some else's career simply because they have decided they don't like this person, or were bored. And they delete their accusations online and even say they were bored which is just psychotic behaviour.

What's even worse than that is it actually works! They do manage to hurt an idols reputation forever. Like yeah others say SM might be working behind the scenes and will eventually take action, but while they silently "work behind the scenes" an idol's carefully crafted reputation gets publicly destroyed. Idk if the situation will be resolved this year but the blatantly racist remarks, cyberbullying and "jokes" will follow lucas for a long time and it's just so frustrating to watch.

Why is it so easy to screw over an idol. As if idols don't go through enough from their own companies, fans, general public(being overworked, or ignored completely, extreme dieting not allowed to date or behave like a human with a personalitysometimes)...like the least they can do is publicly protect their idols who make them money. Writing an apology letter and disappearing cannot work every single time. "If it isn't broke don't fix it" well this method is horribly broken, find a new formula. Why hire lawyers for a company and not publicly make statements about investigations and taking action whether it's true or false?? Isn't that the normal thing to do?💀💀

It's just such a 180 for an international fan because cheating and bullying, while absolutely bad are not incentives to cancel someone over.

And hate the fact that fake r*pe and SA allegations get the spotlight and get heard whole real victims are attacked, made fun of or simply ignored. These topics are serious yet are dismissed and someone lying about it just makes them into a bigger joke and harder for victims to get some justice. Really just hate how warped it all is in general, not just in the music industry.

It's also weird because now that I hear it's common for someone to come out with someone when nct plans to release something, I'm more anxious than excited for nct 127's comeback but I hope it successfully happens. And I feel like wayv will still exist because of the SM schedule you also posted (bless you for continously having links and posts and giving us hope it might publiclyand drastically change by Decemberor even next year).

It's just overall frustrating I guess? Because liking SM foreign kpop idols seems to be more of an emotional rollercoaster ride than anything (e.g💀they seem to be locked up in the dungeon , looking at you winwin and shotaro). Like SM is terrible at promoting their idols but wow it's even worse for second gen idols and foreign idols. That's why we love the SM artists not the whole company itself because music companies all over the world are just....wow to say the least.

In conclusion, I just hope lucas is okay and that when things get publicly cleared he'll still be the loud, chaotic talented guy he is. And that when he comes back he isn't bullied or attacked for still being in nct, wayv and superm. Too many antis are enjoying being on the bandwagon when it comes to nct.

Aww, anon, I want to give you a hug...

I agree with every single thing you said.

I'm glad the links and stuff I post make you feel better, I spend a lot of time on Twitter and reddit looking for stuff and checking for updates.

The thing about those antis that are saying those things about Lucas (and will keep saying them regardless of what is proven) is that they were never really fans. They were the people who claimed to be fans and then made colorist "jokes" and insulted him and when they were called out for it, deleted their tweets and just retweeted those things on priv...

From now on regardless of what happens the truth is that most of these people will keep believing that he did these things. I saw a Woojin TikTok today (it showed up on my fyp) and half the comments were questioning why he could continue his career, completely ignoring (or just bring new fans and going by what they hear from other fans) that he has been proven innocent by the Seoul police department....

I hope Lucas's is ok, and that things can go back to normal soon.

(sorry if I sound weird I just got my 2nd shot of the vaccine and it gave me a killer headache)

#kpop #nct #wayv #superm #lucas wong #xuxi #yukhei #stray kids #woojin #sm town #sm entertainment #label v

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robinrunsfiction · 3 years

Text

To The Vows You Take - Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Nine more weeks of touring across the globe, and the band finally had two weeks off. For (YN) that meant two weeks visiting with family, thoroughly washing clothes, and trying not to get too excited for what was coming up before they left for Pro Rev.

An early Monday afternoon in the middle of July was not the peak of wedding season in Vegas. When (YN) and Frank walked into the chapel, they were greeted by air conditioning and an older woman behind the counter.

“Welcome in, I'm Margaret, how can I help you today?"

"We wanna get married," (YN) smiled.

"Oh excellent. Let me get the paperwork started. How long have you been together?" She asked, making conversation.

"We've been friends since we were kids, but in a band together for about five years now," Frank replied and (YN) had to keep from laughing. She was already full of nervous laughter, and of course Frank noticed and was cracking jokes at every opportunity.

"I meant dating," Margaret smiled.

"We aren't," (YN) shook her head. "Oh, but this isn't like a green card thing, we're from New Jersey."

"Oh, ok," she nodded, clearly a bit confused, but still smiling pleasantly. "Do you need rings?'

"Yea, I guess we do," Frank nodded, looking to (YN).

"Yea, I didn't think of that."

The employee walked them over to the end of the counter with a selection of rings. Some were plain, some were gaudy, but none of them were quite right to (YN).

"See anything you like?" Frank asked.

(YN) shrugged. "Meh, you?"

"I was thinking just a simple one, like that," he said, pointing to a silver ring.

"That will be good," (YN) nodded. "I guess I'll get that one then," she pointed to a similar, but thinner, silver band.

"Are you sure?" Frank asked.

"Yea," she nodded.

Margaret took the rings out of the case and slid an official looking form across the counter for them to fill out. "Will you have any guests joining you today?" She asked.

"Nope, just us," (YN) replied, looking up from the paper.

"Alright, then I will act as your witness," she nodded.

"And Elvis is available, correct?" Frank asked.

"Ready and waiting," Margaret nodded.

"How long has he been marrying people?" Frank asked, leaning against the counter. (YN) loved that about him, how he could settle into conversation so easily and make someone feel like he's known them their whole life.

"We have had an Elvis working since 1976. For a while we also had a Dean Martin and a Frank Sinatra officiating weddings."

"Frank Sinatra!" (YN) and Frank said wistfully in unison.

"That woulda be perfect!" (YN) gushed. "Not that Elvis isn't the ultimate in classic Vegas weddings."

"It's just we're from Jersey," Frank explained.

"Yes, as you mentioned," Margaret nodded.

When the paperwork was complete and everything was paid for, the big moment had finally arrived. (YN) slipped into the bathroom under the pretense of checking her makeup, but she needed a moment to collect herself. She was excited, so excited, not just because she was getting married, but because she was marrying Frank. There really was no one else that she'd want to do this with.

With one last deep breath, she adjusted that same white halter dress, it was going to be her wedding dress regardless of when it happened, and walked in the door of the chapel, bouquet of red silk roses in hand. At the end of the aisle stood Frank, next to a very convincing Elvis impersonator, and Margaret sat in as their witness. That's when she realized that Frank was absolutely beaming. A grin spread across her face as she walked down the aisle to him. To Frank. Her soon to be husband.

When she reached the end of the aisle, she handed off the bouquet to Margaret, took Frank's hands and Elvis began the ceremony. It was all moving so fast and (YN) could barely hear what he was saying because she was too busy looking at Frank and wondering what was going through his head.

"Did you write your own vows?" She heard Elvis ask.

"Oh, umm, we didn't write 'em, we're just gonna wing it," (YN) replied.

"Well go on then little lady."

"Me first? Oh, okay," she drew another deep breath. "Frank, I'm so glad that when I was 16 I went and saw My Best Friend's Wedding, even though you wouldn’t go with me because you said it was a dumb rom-com. But I'm glad you didn't think I was crazy when I brought up this idea. I'm even more glad we stayed friends so that we could carry it out, and I thank whatever cosmic force is out there that you're in my life like every single day. There's no one else I'd rather live this whirlwind life with," she smiled sweetly, but her throat suddenly felt tight, like she was on the verge of tears. “Love you, Frank.”

Frank squeezed her hands. “(YN), I don’t think you know how much you mean to me and I hope I’ll be able to convey it one day. Any crazy idea you have, I’m all in; I’ll follow you wherever you go. Knowing that we’re gonna be together forever is a dream come true. I love you, (YN).”

(YN) was biting her lip to keep from crying. Something about the way he said he loved her felt different than when they’d casually say it to each other. ‘It’s because we’re getting married! It’s not like he’s in love with me,’ she reasoned with herself.

“(YN), do you take Frank to be your husband?” Elvis asked, again pulling her out of her head.

“I do!” She nodded eagerly.

“Frank, do you take (YN) to be your wife?”

“I do,” he smiled. His eyes were almost a little watery, and when they exchanged their rings, Frank’s hands were shaking a little. It all made her heart swell.

"It is my great honor to pronounce you kids hitched! You may kiss!”

(YN) grinned as Frank took a step toward her, his hands found her waist. She wrapped her arms around him as their lips met. It felt different from every other kiss they’d shared, not that there were many to compare it to. But there was a passion behind it that she couldn’t deny.

"I thought you said they're just friends," she heard Elvis say.

After the ceremony was over, the last of the paperwork was done and a couple of photos were taken, (YN) and Frank headed back to their hotel room. Having decided that they weren’t going to mention publicly what they’d done until they’d at least told their families, they didn’t want to risk running into anyone who may recognize them and put together what happened.

When they reached the elevator to their hotel room, the air between them was thick. When (YN) looked over at him, he was already looking at her.

“What?”

“I wanna kiss you again,” he breathed.

A smile formed on (YN)’s face, before she reached out, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him to her. He pinned her against the wall of the elevator, before kissing her hard. She let his tongue slip past her lips, deepening the kiss. Suddenly the doors of the elevator opened on their floor.They pulled themselves together before grabbing their bags and hurrying to their room.

When the door was shut behind them, they were back on each other in an instant. (YN) fumbled with the buttons on Frank’s black shirt, and he was not making it easy as he kissed down her neck. She let out a gasp when he hit a spot that made her knees weak as she shoved the fabric off his shoulders.

“I thought you said we didn’t have to consummate,” he smirked.

“I said we didn’t have to, I never said I didn’t want to,” she replied with a smirk of her own. “Unless you’re not interested.”

“Oh, I’m interested,” he answered, before his lips crashed against hers again, blindly leading her back to the bed.

#frank iero x reader #frank iero fan fic #frank iero fan fiction #frank iero imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years

Text

You Say “Mad Scientist” Like It’s A Bad Thing

Based on my own tumblr post: 3am thoughts… Has anyone written Jane Foster as a mad scientist, I mean like a villain?

Chaotic neutral Darcy and Jane featuring modern/human SHIELD Agent Bucky.

Available on AO3.

Content Warnings: Implied/Referenced Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Amnesia, Memory Suppressing Machine | The Chair (Marvel), Dark, Sort Of, Ambiguous/Open Ending...

In a world full of megalomaniacs, straight up supervillains, and fricking aliens, mad scientists were a dime a dozen. Dr Foster was one such scientist who was quickly moving from mildly irritating to SHIELD’s Most Wanted.

Dr Foster’s gimmick was portals. She first gained international attention when she claimed responsibility (via an untraceable Instagram account, @dr-mthrfckng-foster) for diverting LA’s 405 to a dirt road in rural Australia. Then came a string of impossible robberies – bank vaults and the private collections of the world's richest assholes stripped bare in seconds. Then she created a portal that caused an Indonesian typhoon to bear down on Wall Street, flooding the trading floor. And then she robbed a top secret government black site of some classified technology.

And that’s when Director Nick Fury made finding and stopping Dr Foster SHIELD’s number one priority.

Agent James Barnes had been stuck on suspension for two weeks, with two more to go, and was itching to get back into the field. He had way too much free time on his hands: he’d caught up on his sleep and everything in his Netflix queue. He’d cleaned out his refrigerator, done laundry and enough meal prep to last him until next month. He’d caught up with his family, cleaned his whole goddamn apartment twice, and now he was well and truly bored.

He was out for his fifth run of the week (and it wasn’t even Wednesday) when his work phone rang.

“Thank Christ,” he muttered before answering.

“Barnes.”

“It’s Hill. How’s the arm?”

“Fine,” Barnes grunted, rotating his metal shoulder irritably. “You got something for me?”

“Are you up for a recon mission?”

Usually he would have protested. He headed tactical units. He was an elite ‘first through the door’ kind of field agent. Not that he couldn’t be stealthy and patient - he’d been a sniper in the army for christ's sake - but going unnoticed in public was kind of a problem for him these days; he’d have to wear jackets and gloves in the middle of August to hide his prosthetic for starters.

On the other hand, his mother had been calling him every second day to feed him carb-heavy meals in exchange for help around the house, all while dropping not-so-subtle hints that he should start dating again. Requests for more grandchildren couldn’t be far behind.

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

Thirty-five minutes later Agent Barnes was back at his desk at SHIELD HQ perusing through the increasingly large file of one Dr Jane Foster.

She had been a brilliant student and had earned a PhD in Astrophysics from Culver University by the age of 25. By all accounts she should have been one of the leading researchers in her field, and if doctoral programs handed out superlatives Dr Foster’s would have been “Most Likely To Win a Nobel Prize By 30”.

Unfortunately for Dr Foster, and the rest of the world, she had been forced from that path by a sexist tenured professor who publicly denounced her theories, and the woman herself, as crazy, discredited her published work, and used his influence to ensure she was denied all of the more lucrative research grants.

When federal agents went to interview him after the 405 incident they found his office looking like a tornado had gone through it and the professor himself was nowhere to be found. A few weeks later he stumbled into a US Embassy in Russia after being found wandering in from the forests outside Vladivostok, half mad and still decrying the evils of allowing women into scientific fields.

He had been placed into witness protection and promptly admitted into a psychiatric facility under his new name, and was being monitored by several undercover agents in case Dr Foster felt like punishing him some more.

Anyone else who had a part in ruining Dr Foster’s legitimate career was also under surveillance, as was her mother in London, a terrified ex-boyfriend in Boston, and a handful of known associates, though Dr Foster hadn’t been in contact with any of them in years.

SHIELD and other federal agencies had tried the usual methods of tracking down a rogue mad scientist. They tried to find out where her base of operations was, firstly by looking for any properties in her name, but Dr Foster had been a broke student with an impressive amount of debt (until the day she decided to wipe it, and the rest of Culver’s student debt, out). So if she had property it would definitely not be in her legal name and all but impossible to trace back to her. Then they tried to look for drains on the powergrid. However she managed to generate her portals - SHIELD scientists still hadn’t figured that out - it surely had to be using huge amounts of electricity. So far they’d found six grow labs and two server rooms running illegal god-knows-what, but no Dr Foster.

Agent Barnes read the file twice, reviewed all the transcripts of the interviews with her known associates, and came to one very important conclusion: she had an accomplice.

As smart as Dr Foster was there was nothing in her academic history to suggest that she had a background in computer science that would account for the notable hacks and the untraceable nature of her activities. To add to that several interviewees had made passing remarks about her not having a cell phone for most of her academic career, and how she had zero interest in social media.

Two days later, after getting the okay for a field trip from Hill, Agent Barnes made his way to Culver University to speak to anyone who had even the vaguest recollection of Dr Foster. And that’s how he learnt about the intern.

He’d started by dropping by one of the physics labs where Dr Foster had spent most of her time, and by pure chance met a doctoral candidate who remembered her, and her intern.

“I think her name was Darlene. Glasses. Always on her phone.”

…which led him to the academic advisor who put the two of them together...

“Darcy. Darcy Lewis. She was actually a PoliSci major but left it too late and Dr Foster’s internship was the only one available. She had only been working with her for a few weeks before… before Dr Foster’s funding was revoked and she was asked to leave.”

...who pointed him to one of Darcy’s former professors…

“Average student. Good debater. Often late, and always had a coffee in her hand.”

...who gave him a few names of some former classmates who might remember her…

“Not the worst person to be stuck with on a group assignment. Pulled her weight. Obsessed with her stupid iPod.”

“I swear she lived off pop tarts and coffee. And not Starbucks either. Some stupid hipster chain.”

“Deja Brew. Serious problem. Went through one of those loyalty punch cards every week. Always complained about having to go home for the holidays and resort to big chain coffee shops.”

...which had him driving out to Darcy Lewis’ hometown, located a few hours south of Roanoke, Virginia, stopping first at the local high school to speak to the school principal…

“She’d always been good with computers but wasn’t allowed to use them at home for some reason so she spent a lot of time at the local library using theirs. We had to suspend her once. One of her classmates accused her of accepting payment from other students to hack the school’s records and alter their grades. Their grades were definitely getting altered, but we couldn’t get any concrete proof it was her.”

...who was able to find a photo of 16 year old Darcy in an old yearbook and told him what bar he could find Darcy’s mother in.

“She knows not to come to me if she’s in the shit, because I would call the cops in a heartbeat. Especially after that stunt she pulled before she went off to college…”

“What stunt was that, Ms Bennett?” Agent Barnes asked patiently, hoping he wouldn’t have to enable her alcoholism to get some useful information.

“I made some mistakes, okay,” she slurred defensively. “I was having an affair with my boss. Don’t know how Darcy knew. She told her stepfather but he didn’t believe her. Then a few weeks later we went out to dinner for my boss’s birthday... all the tv’s in the bar start showing security camera footage of us falling into offices and motel rooms. Took her all of a minute to ruin two marriages and a law firm.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied diplomatically. “Is there anyone she could turn to for help? Her father, perhaps.”

“He died when she was about twelve. They were as thick as thieves,” she recalled with a tinge of bitterness.

“Was there any place that was special to them? Someone she might go to ground?”

She shook her head. “He used to rent this old cabin near the Catskills off a buddy of his every other year. Winter or summer, Darcy loved it. But it's long gone. Forest fire, I think, the year before his accident.”

Back in his car Agent Barnes reviewed the data points.

Dr Foster had a base of operations somewhere. Had to be private, and as best SHIELD could guess it must be off the grid and Dr Foster must be generating her own power.

Dr Foster was a space nut at heart, and while an abandoned observatory might be too much to ask for, she’d probably want somewhere with minimal light pollution.

And while they could portal anywhere, neither of them spoke any other languages and had no familiarity with any international locations, so they were most likely still State-side. (Dr Foster’s mother had moved to London when Jane was twenty-three, but she’d never found the time to visit.)

Miss Lewis was familiar with the Catskills area. A base of operations there could be very isolated.

Dr Foster was most likely building and modifying her own own equipment so she had to be able to access materials. Sure, she could portal to her local hardware store, but having Darcy drive into the nearest town for supplies would attract less attention.

Miss Lewis had an addiction to coffee procured from Deja Brew, a small hipster chain with only a handful of locations along on the east coast. While she could have found another way to get her caffeine fix, people were creatures of habit.

Miss Lewis was also known for stocking up on poptarts. In one of the only images of the other side of one of Dr Foster’s portals there was what appeared to be, if one squinted, a box of limited edition pop tarts on a counter.

He plugged it all into SHIELD fancy search engines and got a few results back. The most promising was an abandoned ski chalet turned abandoned research station halfway up a mountain, an hour drive away from an up and coming tourist town, whose main street hosted a Deja Brew cafe. They also had a small mom and pop hardware store, as well as a post office, and a grocery store that had still been selling pumpkin pie pop tarts around the time Dr Foster’s portal had been caught on camera.

Agent Barnes came to with a groan. The flesh of his shoulder where it met his prosthetic felt like it was on fire, and he was pretty sure he could smell fried wiring.

The research station had come up in SHIELD’s initial search for a potential mad scientist's lair, but had been dismissed for not using any power and for not sending back any heat signature readings. Perhaps they’d found a way to fool the scanners. Or maybe they just weren’t in the day the readings were taken. Whatever the reason, Agent Barnes had a good feeling about it. He filled his tank up at the nearest gas station and got on the highway, forgoing checking in at the Triskelion on his way past in favour of driving all night. He’d call Hill when he had something solid.

** *** **

“Fuck…”

He willed his eyes open and came face to face with Darth Vader.

Barnes reeled back at the sound of the synthesized voice. “Who sent you? Who do you work for?! The Rebellion?”

“What the fuck!”

It took him until his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting to realise that Darth Vader was wearing a grey knit dress and black tights. Darth Vader laughed and ripped off his mask to reveal a smiling bespectacled brunette underneath. The accomplice. Darcy Lewis.

“Sorry, I was just messing with you, dude,” she teased, tossing the mask over her shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to do that. But seriously, who do you work for? Who knows you’re here?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he lied. “I was just camping in the woods, man. I saw the lights and decided to check it out,” he rambled in a lazy Canadian accent. “How the hell did I get here? Did you electrocute me?”

He used his not-quite fake panic to test the limits of his restraints. He’d been strapped into some sort of junkstore barber chair, with thick metal shackles locked around his wrists, ankles, and chest. His metal arm could probably make quick work of them but the damn thing was not responding. His panic became a little less fake.

“Just camping, huh?” she echoed back with a raised eyebrow, leaning forward to the point where Barnes couldn’t avoid getting a good look down her top and the 15-carat pink diamond (worth about 40mil and reported stolen in one of Dr Foster’s vault heists two months ago) hanging around her neck. “So that wasn’t you poking around town this morning?” she asked pointedly, drawing his attention to the wall of monitors he hadn’t noticed showing various street cameras around the town. “I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, dude. You got into town bright and early in a beat up looking truck with plates that didn’t exist two weeks ago and started flashing my yearbook photo around. So, who do you work for?”

He levelled his best steely-eyed agent stare at her and switched back to his native pissed-off Brooklynite accent. “I ain’t tellin you shit, sweetheart.”

“C’mon now,” she cooed, taking a seat on his lap. “Who do you work for? FBI? Interpol? SHIELD? Crawford County Library Services? Listen, I was totally going to return Eat Pray Love, but we had to skip town in a hurry and it got lost in the move. I will totally pay to replace it.”

Years of training (and regular poker games with the Black Widow) had taught him to school his features, even if that last one threw him for a loop.

“Nothing? You sure you don’t want to talk to me? Fine,” she whined. “Jane!”

It was only then that Barnes switched his focus from his captor to his surroundings and realised that there was another occupant puttering about on the other side of the large telescope that took pride of place on a hydraulic platform underneath the research station's retractable roof. The infamous Dr Foster.

“Jane!”

“What?” came the irritated reply.

“Come over here and practise your monologue. Look! You’ve got a captive audience and everything!” she announced, laughing at her own joke.

“I don’t have time, Darcy,” the disgruntled voice argued.

“Hey! I spent two days writing up that monologue, the least you can do is spend twenty-five minutes reading it out loud so I can make sure it doesn’t make you sound too much like a cartoon villain.”

“Twenty-five minutes?! Are you kidding me?” Dr Foster stormed out from behind the telescope to wave a wrench at her assistant. She looked less put together than her ID photo, appearing to be long overdue for both a shower and a nap. “I’m in the middle of something. I’ve almost figured the problem with the mobile portal generator, and… Darcy, why is there a man tied to a chair in my lab?”

“This man?” Darcy snorted, taking Barnes’s chin in her hands and wiggling it about. “This is the intruder. You remember the intruder alert, like fifteen minutes ago? Lots of flashing lights and alarms? Well, I found this guy passed out on the lawn. For most people, hitting my force field would be like getting lightly tased, but this bad boy,” she continued, tapping a fingernail against his dead metal arm, “meant you ended up getting the full 50,000 volts to your heart. Thanks for letting me practice my CPR by the way,” she added with a wink.

“It’s not a force field, Darcy. It’s a glorified invisible pet fence, upsized and modified so it reacts to the electrical impulses in the human body.”

“It keeps people out; I’m calling it a force field.”

This was definitely the weirdest interrogation he had endured by a large margin, Barnes mused as he followed their bickering like a pingpong game.

“Who is he, Darcy?” Jane sighed wearily. “What is he doing here?”

“Fiiiine. Janey, meet Agent James Barnes of SHIELD.”

“What?! SHIELD?!!”Jane screeched. “Why did you bring him here?”

“He found us, Jane. What was I supposed to do?”

“Something other than bringing him inside our secret hideout.”

“I am not killing him and burying him in the woods; I just did my nails.”

Jane scowled, turning the full force of her overtired fury on James. “Why can’t you SHIELD issue jackbooted thugs just leave me alone? Can’t you understand how important my work is? I am challenging the very foundations of modern science - of the laws of the universe! I am on the verge of a breakthrough! And if you or Nick Fury think you can stop me, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Before his mouth could betray him and ask how the hell they knew his boss Darcy spoke up.

“A little off script, but I like the energy, Jane. Very much the mad scientist vibe we’re going for. But next time, try not to make it so personal – we’ve got to hide the target of our frustrations, remember? Instead of saying “SHIELD” say “government”, instead of saying “Nick Fury” say “president”.”

“Right, right,” Jane nodded absently, tapping the side of her head with the wrench she had just been waving around like a weapon.

“Now, go back to work. I’ll handle this.”

“Okay, thanks Darce. Oh, have you seen my soldering iron around?”

“It’s in the locked cabinet because you’re not allowed to use it unsupervised, you know that. Gimme ten minutes, I’ll bring it to you.”

Jane wandered back to her side of the observatory, muttering under her breath, leaving Barnes at Darcy’s mercy.

“She’s not the criminal mastermind here, is she?” he wondered, his eyes roaming over the strange cupcake of a woman in his lap.

“Not exactly,” Darcy admitted. “I mean, it’s not like she set out to be a mad scientist. I kind of rebranded her after that little freeway incident.”

“Rebranded?”

“Yeah. She was in a bad way after New Mexico and then when the first live test of her portal engine went a little sideways I didn’t want dudebros on the internet coming after her, so I changed the narrative. Instead of ‘girl scientist makes mistake, should stick to making sandwiches’ I changed it to ‘Dr Foster, genius astrophysicist, causes chaos, totally on purpose.’”

“And all those robberies?”

“I may have encouraged that. I’m all for sticking it to the one percenters, and Jane needed to fund her experiments somehow,” she added with a shrug.

“So Jane’s the absent-minded professor and you’re the brains behind this operation, huh?”

Darcy laughed and slid out of his lap causing a distracting amount of friction. “I’m really not. So you, Coulson, and Fury should be really, really scared.”

“How do you know those names?” he had to know, cover be damned.

“You don’t know? Of course you don’t,” she huffed. “Fury and his clearance levels. I’d tell you to ask him about New Mexico sometime, but you’re not going to be able to.”

“Why not? What are you going to do to me?” Barnes fretted, unable to ignore the sinking feeling that he was in big trouble; she wouldn’t have told him anything if she intended on letting him walk out of here.

“Oh, relax. I’m not going to kill you. I’m just gonna scramble your brain a little.”

She circled his chair, flipping switches as she went, and something behind him started humming ominously.

“So, admittedly I didn’t major in hard sciences. I had an ex who did, but he also fancied himself something of a cat burglar, so when he went to jail I liberated all his college textbooks and gave myself a crash course in electrical engineering. And it helped that those HYDRA designs were really easy to follow.”

“HYDRA?” Barnes cursed.

HYDRA had been the scientific branch of the Nazi regime and believed that discovery required (human) experimentation. They were supposedly eradicated at the end of WWII but Project Paperclip saved some of HYDRA’s greatest minds, giving them immunity in exchange for their genius. If Foster or, more worryingly, Darcy had aligned themselves with some surviving HYDRA faction the results could be catastrophic.

“Yeah, I found them in that SHIELD warehouse when we recovered Jane’s stolen research.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They just call it ‘The Chair’, which is totally not creepy at all,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And this is the Halo,” she added, drawing Barnes’s attention to the whirring circle of metal that was lowering itself over his head.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, renewing his efforts to break free of his restraints. “Get that piece of scrap metal the fuck away from me!”

“Hey! Don’t mock my work. It may look like I raided a junkyard for the components - and I did - but my welding game is on point. It’s totally safe. Mostly safe. It’s just going to send focused electrical pulses to your…” she paused to consult some smudged writing on her hand, “hippocampus and prefrontal cortex.”

The Halo stopped moving and two metal plates extended, pressing against the sides of his head, holding it like a vice.

“Please… don’t do this,” he begged as she approached him with a rubber mouthguard.

“C’mon, open wide. You don’t want to end up braindead and unable to chew your food,” she jested, waving the thing in front of him. “Oh, just one question before I fry your brain,” she added just when he was about to give in. “How did you find us? I was so careful,” she whined.

Agent Barnes, terrified as he was, still managed to look smug at his small, short lived success. “Deja Brew coffee.”

“Curses!” she wailed theatrically. “Betrayed by my one true love!”

Darcy huffed and quickly returned her attention to the matter at hand.

“Thanks for that,” she said with a smile as she forced him to bite down on the mouthguard. “I’ll know better for next time. Start making my own coffee at home… but it never tastes as good,” she muttered to herself.

She stepped away from him and bent down to pick up a similarly frankensteined industrial remote with long wires snaking back to the chair and a clichéd big red button at its centre. He began struggling anew, screaming around the foul tasting rubber, begging for mercy.

She took great delight in his terrified expression and put on her best supervillain voice, “Give my regards to Nick Fury.”

Nick Fury observed his agent from behind a two way mirror as he sat behind a table in an interrogation room. Barnes had been sitting there for the past hour as still as a statue, except for his unfocused eyes which flitted about the room.

In true horror movie fashion, Agent Barnes’ screams echoed down the mountainside like an avalanche, sending animals fleeing in terror for miles around.

** *** **

Local LEO’s had found him wandering aimlessly down a stretch of highway just outside the ruins of what had previously been Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, and ten minutes after they ran his prints Agent Romanoff had been on a quinjet to collect him. She’d been directed to the nearest hospital and found him sitting up on a bed but not responding or reacting to any of the medical staff as they buzzed around him. Agent Romanoff took a cautious step forward and held her breath as his unfocused eyes settled on her.

“Hello James...”

An excruciating minute later the veil lifted and he attempted a smile.

“Hey Tasha.”

She’d brought him back to base and dragged him to SHIELD’s medical bay for more tests - not that Barnes put up much of a fight, in fact he was terrifyingly compliant. The SHIELD doctors confirmed what the New Mexico doctors suspected: the bruising and electrical burns around his temples and his memory loss were indicative of some back alley version of electroshock therapy. His memories should come back in time - how long was anybody’s guess - but for the moment Agent James Barnes had no memory of the last four weeks.

Fury picked up a tablet with depressingly little information on its screen and stepped into the room, waiting for Barnes eyes to focus on him before taking a seat.

“Agent Barnes.”

“Director.”

“I know you’re probably sick of questions by now, but I have a few more for you, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, sure…”

It rankled Fury to no end how meak and passive Barnes seemed. Heaven help him, he missed the argumentative sonofabitch.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Being called into your office.”

“What for?”

“I punched Rumlow.”

“Why?”

“He was bragging about taking advantage of a drunk woman at a club when he was last on leave. He didn’t like me calling out his shitty behaviour. He punched me, I punched him back.”

Fury sighed. He hadn't gotten a straight answer out of Barnes at the time of the incident and he couldn’t feel happy about getting one now.

“Do you remember what happened once I called you into my office?”

His brow creased and his eyes zipped back and forth like the carriage of a printer as his mind searched for the elusive memory.

“You suspended me?”

“I did,” Fury confirmed. “For a whole month. But two weeks into it I pulled you in for a special assignment.”

Barnes tensed, shrinking in on himself. The confusion about his lost time seemed to be the only thing that got under his skin, but only when someone brought it up. Once the moment passed he forgot to be concerned about it.

Fury took pity on him. “For the past two weeks I had you running down leads on the whereabouts of Dr Jane Foster.”

“The scientist with the portals? Did she do this to me?”

“It’s not exactly her MO, but then again no law enforcement agency’s ever managed to have a confrontation with her. Never had the chance. Those portals of hers let her keep at a distance. You might have been the first person to have a face to face with her, but I can’t confirm it because I don’t know where the hell you were when this happened,” he grumbled, letting a little more of his usual exasperated tone filter through. “You missed check in by two days. The last we heard from you, you were at Culver running down leads on what you said was a potential accomplice. We found your car in Tromso, Norway, a day after you were found on the side of a road in New Mexico. You don’t appear on any security footage or speed cameras in the area. There’s no activity on your work or personal credit cards. Your activity logs on our highly secure system for the last two weeks are nonexistent, as are your call logs on your work phone. Even the messages you sent Romanoff from your personal phone complaining about your assignment have since been deleted - from her phone too. She’s real pissed about it. As far as your digital footprint is concerned you disappeared from a gas station outside Roanoke, Virginia, last week - do you know how weird it is to know you were headed out towards a place called Roanoke only to up and vanish?” He sighed at Barnes’ painful silence. “Is there anything you can remember, anything at all about Dr Foster or her accomplice? Anything that will help us catch up to you without talking to everyone on campus to figure out what you discovered?”

Barnes’ brow creased in painful confusion.

“I think… I think I saw Darth Vadar.”

Director Fury blinked. “Right…” He took a deep breath to stop himself from venting his frustrations at Barnes, the sorry bastard looked like a kicked puppy as it was. Instead he got up and tapped the tablet against the metal tabletop harder than strictly necessary. “Well, I’ll just go put out a BOLO out for Darth Vadar then.”

“Okay,” Barnes murmured, and promptly zoned out again.

Agent Romanoff exited the viewing room looking uncharacteristically unsettled.

“I want a full detail on him at all times,” Fury ordered as he stormed off towards the elevators. Hill had just stepped off and was looking even more grim than usual. “Until his memories come back he’s vulnerable, and once they do he’ll be a target.”

“I’ll get a STRIKE team on it. Not Rumlow’s.”

“Get another one along with any assets currently not on assignment. Flood that campus, interrogate everybody. I wanna know who the hell Dr Foster’s accomplice is, and I wanna know yesterday. Understood?”

“I think we might have more pressing concerns, sir,” Hill reported, tapping at her tablet as it beeped erratically. “Coulson’s said there’s an issue with the Tesseract. Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from it fifteen minutes ago.”

“NASA didn't authorise Selvig to test phase,” he grunted, taking the tablet from Hill.

“He wasn't testing it, he wasn't even in the room. Spontaneous advancement.”

“Motherfucker.”

#you say mad scientist like it's a bad thing #freudensteins-fics #mad scientist jane foster #competent assistant darcy lewis #shield agent bucky barnes #torture #aftermath of torture #amnesia #winter soldier memory wipe chair #darcy lewis #jane foster #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #nick fury #maria hill

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homosociallyyours · 3 years

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Your last post about the ideal stunt girlfriend! I have some thoughts on this as well. I think first of all as you said the preference is that they just do not exist that is essentially why anything and everything they do seems to be picked apart. I am not sure what it is that someone can do then if their existence is the problem. (This is only in context of the 1D fandom because I have no idea how stunt girlfriend might be treated elsewhere). The blame for the closeting is placed entirely on the shoulders of the stunt girlfriend as if she is the one forcing a closeting whereas we do not know anything going on behind the scenes. (Just want to add that there is nothing wrong with someone choosing to be closeted in order to navigate a homophobic industry and world and to protect oneself.) I know the common story told about larry is that external people are forcing things upon them or are sabotaging them and there may well have been times where they were advised strongly (or manipulated and mistreated when they were younger by those who should have tried to help them in the industry) to stay in the closet but that does not mean that they do not have any agency at all for anything especially not in the present day. Perhaps in an ideal world they may choose to disclose their sexuality and their relationship (but even if they did not they do not owe that to anyone. Anyways the problem is heteronormativity and assuming people are straight by default). I do personally believe that both Louis and Harry want to at least be recognized as part of the LBTQA community for as long as they do not state things publicly (and also show that they are together to those that recognize it. I am a larrie so that is my belief lol) and possibly do want to come out at some point (both about their individual sexualities and their relationship) but until then they do have to perform heterosexuality for many numbers of reasons. And while they do that there is a need for a stunt girlfriend whether as PR or just for the purpose of appearing straight depending on their career needs. I know people who will speak out against attacks on Olivia might still have issues with Eleanor because one is PR and one is not (this is a simplified version of the reasons and I don't want to go into comparisons or reasonings people have for anything. At the end of the day neither attacks is justified to me.)

Okay this is already quite long and I haven't yet got to the point sorry about that. I think at the end of the day the purpose of the stunt girlfriend (when there is no PR involved) is to help maintain the closet until the closet is required. It doesn't matter who the person is tbh. If it were not Eleanor it would have been someone else so people who say things about Eleanor's personality, looks, character, mistakes she may have made do not make sense to me. None of these people know her yet they have made their own head canon version of her which is always a negative version. It would be the same no matter who was in her place. I think Louis' purpose for Eleanor specifically has to do with the story he wants to tell with his music and in interviews (a story that could possibly be most similar to his actual relationship perhaps even if not entirely the same) and I do believe Eleanor specifically helps tell it (as his longest public relationship). It allows him to mention a girlfriend that has "helped him" through tough times and give anecdotes about his "girlfriend". I think Eleanor probably does other things behind the scenes like a personal assistant as well we just do not see it. But the Eleanor we do see is the image that we are shown, the image that tells the story that Louis wants told. And that story in itself is so interesting and to me just confirms things that I believe about his actual relationship. So its more intriguing to me than something to stress over or look at negatively. I don't know Eleanor but what I know is this is her job and she will do it. It is work and I don't know why it has been villainized. I understand being frustrated by the situation and feeling like Louis (and Harry) may have not been happy through stunts in the past (potentially) but that does not translate to hating the stunt girlfriend. Disliking a situation you are in does not mean you dislike everyone who is part of it. But yeah anyways the end point is I do not see any situation in which people would be happy with a stunt girlfriend.

It doesn't matter which song she posts there will always be some criticism over it. It doesn't matter if she just posts herself with dogs or doing influencing there will be a problem. It doesn't matter whether she posts about Louis or not there will be criticism in either case. Lastly it doesn't matter if she talks with Louis' sisters or not either way there will be arguments that they are not on good terms. So I am not quite sure what it is that an ideal stunt girlfriend can do for fans. I don't see any situation where people who have already decided to have a problem just based on the concept of her being a stunt girlfriend will suddenly stop. But talking about these things might help at least some people understand the bias? I just think the best approach is that she keep doing what she feels is best according to the story that she has to tell and ignore the criticism (which can be tough I know because of the immense amount of hate you can get for it). I think if I were to find and guide someone my focus would be on guiding them on how to navigate the hate and I guess general tips based on the story that needs telling. And I think when it comes to finding someone it is probably a mix of finding someone who would look like what the ideal image of a girlfriend to a popstar should look like (which has its own problems and really we need to reevaluate standards of deciding these things) and also someone who can do the other behind the scenes work too?

Idk I have done a lot of rambling (and still probably haven't got all my thoughts down lol) but it was definitely an interesting post that led to some thoughts I felt like discussing. I hope you do not mind my sending an anon with all these thoughts. You do not have to post it if you are afraid of the reaction and can instead reply in tags?

I just want to end with agreeing with what you said about considering bearding to be like sex work. And also thankyou for your post.

hi nonny! thank you for your long and thoughtful response :) i hope you don't mind that i'm publishing it-- i think you made some good points and i appreciate that you really tried to answer the question of who to pick and what to guide them to do. image would definitely be key, as would an internet presence of some kind. i imagine celeb pairings would mean more frequent but less involved appearances while a famous/not famous pair would be able to get away with fewer public spottings but maybe more in depth/intimate scenarios.

and i really think there's just no way to please everyone, but you're right that the blame for closeting seems to fall on the shoulders of the woman who's bearding. :/// that often goes hand in hand with the narrative that they're (still) being forcibly closeted instead of looking at the very real history of ex-boybanders and performers who came out, which is relatively bleak/unsuccessful and making a decision to try to gain more credibility as solo artists.

meanwhile i share your perception that they want to be seen/read as LGBTQ+ by those of us who are part of that community. signalling is real, and it's not based on stereotypes like "oh he wore makeup! he has a limp wrist!" i mean as a queer femme from the south, when i go home i tone myself down quite a lot, but i still wear/use symbols that other queer people are more likely to notice, tell stories about myself that indirectly mention my gender and sexuality, and engage with queer history when possible in ways that straight people just. wouldn't perceive.

but of course you can do all of that and STILL want or need to be in the closet!

i really appreciate you responding to my question, even though i think you're right that there's no answer that would make the hatred these women get any less virulent. i do hope that, like you said, talking about it is at least useful in getting more people to realize that maybe it's undeserved? beards don't build the closets, they just stand there to make sure nobody walks in on the person they're working with while they're half naked, basically.

#long post #closeting #stunt mention #1d #if i get anyone trying to say HL don't signal queerness you're getting blocked #as i hopefully made it clear this is simply how i (and the anon) view the situation #other people can post their perceptions on their own blogs-- that's what they're for :)

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palbabor-writes · 4 years

Text

Moniker

Hawks Week 2020 - Prompt: Rebirth

Character: Keigo Takami - Hawks

Warnings: Angst, some adult language, the drama of growing up

Word Count: 5433

“They need you to pick a name, Keigo. You’re old enough now and the data has shown that you’re learning how to control your quirk. The advancements we’ve seen in the last few months have been outstanding. The HPSC wants you to start making a name for yourself, publicly. We’re hoping, in six or so years, you’ll be operating on a professional level.

So, look over those names and pick one. Once you do, you’ll no longer go by Keigo Takami. No, that name will be expunged from the records.”

Why? He’d wanted to ask. Why can’t he keep his name? Does it really matter? What were they going to do with him? Why was he even in this program?

There were so many questions racing through his mind. But, he just nodded and looked out the window. What good did it do to ask? They weren’t going to tell him anything. This was all just another manipulation. They always tried, so, so hard to let him feel like he had a say in his name, in his life, in anything.

In reality, he was just their little puppet, floating along on a tight string.

Notes: Part of Hawks Week 2020, Day 7 - Prompt: Rebirth.

This fic, like my Shigaraki exploration, Phantasma is part of a smaller series I’m calling Hopscotch. There’s a ton of kids in the BNHA universe that just need a freaking hug, man. But, all this trauma does give me some nice topics to write about...Not beta edited, so all mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

Moniker mon·i·ker /ˈmänəkər/ noun a name.

Keigo Takami is a ward of the Hero Public Safety Commission.

He’s been a ward for most of his life. He’s used to the routine: the daily drills, the daily training, the daily lessons, the daily lectures, the daily monotony of it all.

He’s never alone.

There’s always a few of them hovering. They, being the agents who are assigned to his daily care and maintenance. They’re like black spots, bleeding out against the clean, crisp linoleum floors. He’s shuttled around like a chess piece. As if he needs a shadow to guide him. He knows this building inside and out. He knows just where to perch if he wants to avoid the cameras and he knows the secrets of at least five or six of his handlers.

They blurt stuff out around him. People never think kids are listening. Too bad for them, cuz, he’s got enough dirt to take them straight to the top if he wanted to. Not that he wants to. Some of the handlers are nice, but Keigo has learned that sometimes nice is another way to say: manipulative.

So, he imagines that he can flex a little control over them, too. He’s got the information, he’s just not sure who to take it to. He’s never seen the head of the HPSC. They remain an enigma. The leader of this whole thing is the one piece he hasn’t slipped onto the puzzle. No, whoever they are, they’re mysterious. He only knows they exist because he’s seen their hen scratch of a signature on his progress reports and monthly, “how are you doing Keigo,” emails.

Despite the mystery, the head of the HPSC is the one constant in his life. He can’t say the same of his handlers. Most of the people who surround him shift and change. They’re like a tide.

When he was younger, his father used to take him down to the beach. Keigo was always fascinated by the pull, the drag, of that dark blue water.

Yeah, these handlers of his moved in and out like a tide. Every month it was someone else. One or two might be familiar faces, but they never told him their names. Well, not their real names at least. No, no one ever revealed those. Keigo was accustomed to the secrecy of it all. It was kinda boring.

But, most days were.

It was just him and the various adults who were tasked with his lessons or training schedules. It was a never ending circle, a rotation of sameness that made his teeth ache. There were no other kids at the base. No, lucky him, he was the only one selected to receive this special training.

When he was smaller he’d been a little more excited. He’d wander behind the dark suits, clutching his Endeavor figure to his chest, his eyes scanning every room, every person, every crevice.

You can never be too careful Kei, his father had told him, his golden eyes winking down at him. Always keep your eyes and ears open.

“It’s a special program, Keigo. Starting today, you need to say goodbye to your name. You’re going to become a very special hero, okay?”

It was a younger man who had talked with him that afternoon. He can remember looking down at his toy, the plastic heavy, sticking to his clenched arms. Keigo can recall his small voice asking the man two questions: “Can I be like him? Can I be a hero who beats the bad guys?”

At the time, they had felt so, well, important to him. They were all encompassing, vital queries that needed to know the answer to back then. He disliked them now. They were stupid questions. Besides, what self respecting adult takes the word of a six year old seriously?

He’s eleven now. He’s way past those childish dreams. And, they still hadn’t taken his name from him. Oh, they hinted at it. He’d even caught sight of one of the lists.

The lists were the long rows and rows of potential hero names for Keigo. Not that he was asked much about any of this. His opinion didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He’d only managed to see one of the lists a few years ago. His handler hadn’t been expecting him back so fast.

He wasn’t supposed to use his wings unless he was in the training facility. Little did they know, he’d been practicing. How could he not? He could feel each and every tiny thing with his feathers. It drove him insane. If he was drifting off to sleep he would feel the electricity humming through the walls. When he focused hard enough he could hear the distant conversations happening on the floors above him.

It was an endless march of noise, emotion, and sensations. He felt like he was overstimulated all the time, his skin too heavy for his bones. He wanted to scream some days: get these off me, I can’t, I-I can’t take it. But, he had to learn how to grapple with his quirk. It was part of him.

Still, sometimes he wished he was someone, anyone else.

‘Turn it off’, they said, ‘dampen the urge to reach out with your feathers’.

Yeah, right. Let them slip into his quirk, see how much they liked the all consuming sensation of it all. It was too much, too intense. Some days it’s a fight to make himself get out of his bed. Everything is just...too close, sometimes.

He’s just a kid, he wanted to tell them. Like that would grant him a reprieve. No, he already knew what answer they would give him. The HPSC had selected you for a purpose, a reason, Keigo.

They fed him such vague, well, bullshit. Yeah, he knows he shouldn’t say words like that, whatever. They shouldn’t be doing this, er, whatever it was that they were hoping to achieve with him. But, it’s not like the confirmed acknowledgement of their preposterousness would stop them. No, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open. It was the best way to survive the endless march of days and weeks. He would nod, practice, and then practice a little more in secret.

It’s his quirk after all. If he could perfect it, maybe they would loosen his leash.

His wings were still a little stunted. They could grow to longer points, but it took a lot of time and a lot of concentration. It was like his body knew exactly what he could, or could not, in this case, handle. More feathers meant more sensations. More sensations meant less sleep, less control, and, worst of all, less autonomy. There would be more tests, more training, more, more, more.

Still, he worked at it. It was a double edged sword. He both hated, and loved, the improvements he saw within himself.

Despite his impeded wing growth, Keigo could flap himself along now. He could even hover in the air for a little while, but his back would protest the strain after forty minutes or so. It hurt to hold himself up. His shoulders just weren't broad enough to maintain his weight. He’d been hoping that eating a little more would help. You know, beef him up a little.

He’d brought the subject up with one of his handlers, one of the ones he actually knew. The man had nodded, his curly blonde hair bobbing around his ears. And, with that, his food rations were extended. He was also given some other choices too. Some steak, veal, higher protein foods. He’d stubbornly stuck with chicken. He liked the taste. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Keigo took advantage of the larger portions and he gorged himself on the succulent meat.

Four weeks later, he hadn’t grown much. Maybe what, half a pound? Nah, most of that energy must have been consumed by his quirk. But, the more he ate, the easier it was to focus on it. Meh, still a win, win. At least from the HPSC’s viewpoint.

He mentioned that there are never any kids around the HPSC training facility, right?

Adults? You couldn’t swing a dead cat and not hit at least 4 or 5 of them, at any given moment. Keigo didn’t mind. He was used to adults. By nature he was quiet, observant. It was his habit to position himself in the corners of rooms. It let him see anyone and everyone who entered or left. He likes watching. But, he’s done that his whole life. Even before the HPSC picked him up he’d learned how to hone that skill.

Now, the trainers and handlers were trying to break him of that tic.

‘You need to curb that Keigo’, they’d say. ‘If you’re going to become a successful hero you can’t just sit in the shadows. We already have plenty of agents who are trained for that. No, you need to be more gregarious. Speak up, talk with people. You’ve been drilled in this skill, now show us what you’ve learned. We want you to be a hero’.

So, he myna birds what they ask. They’ll leave him alone that way. Sure, sure, he’s rewarded with gifts, with praise, with extra free time. But, it’s all so calculated. He can smell their intentions a mile away. He’s seen the books some of them read. They were books with titles like: The Psychology of the Child, The Developing Mind, Playing and Reality.

If that wasn’t obvious enough, he’d heard some of the conversations they passed as they handed off their shifts, the words lilting back and forth, like secret notes.

“Ignore his minor tactics. It’s just him responding to the attention. Only praise him when he’s behaving.” Or, “Give Keigo labeled praise. You know, build his self esteem. He’s so quiet, it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. Pack a snack for him. That way when he opens up to you, boom! Treat in hand.”

Do they not realize how much he can hear? God, adults are dumb. Smile and give them what they want, or, say what they most need to hear and they’re eating out of your hand. Meanwhile, as they’re congratulating themselves on a job well done, they had no idea what thoughts were racing behind his golden irises.

No, Keigo is motivated by other things. One motivation trumps all the others: he wants to get outta this place. Just for a day, heck, he’d take an hour. Keigo is tired of the same walkway, the same lunch hall, the same dreary views of the city.

It’s springtime in Japan and Keigo can make his feathers molt. It’s a newer skill, one he’s withholding from his handlers for the time being. Maybe if he feigns a cough, he can pretend to be sick? He’s gotten pretty good at acting now. That was another one of his classes. It was like a, how to deceive someone 101. Actually, it was prolly called something like ‘Espionage for Tots’.

It was fun. He liked the smiles and serious faces he was asked to make. They should have slapped a big: “please, Keigo, don’t use these skills to deceive us” disclaimer on the door. He liked the guy that taught it, too. He was a short, unassuming man, but he would genuinely grin at Keigo each time he walked through the door for his session. Oh, wait. Was that just an act? He’d have to ask him. Boy, he’s good if it was. He needs to shore up his own skills…

He could always pretend that an imaginary sick day was part of the lesson. Look! My poor feathers, they’re molting, how sad. Also, cough, cough, I feel ill. No, ill is a bad choice of words. Ahem, I mean, I don’t feel so good. Can I lay down? Maybe prop open my window, for the fresh air. Oh no! I accidentally swooped out. Cough, cough.

Keigo isn’t even sure what he’d do with himself if he could manage to sneak out. It’s not like he’s not noticeable. He’s sporting at least 7 feet of ruby red plumage now. Well, if he’s gonna plan an escape, he might as well do it-

“Keigo,” it’s a sharp voice, and it startles him out of his musings. It belongs to one of the head handlers. Kaori? Yeah, that’s her name. Eh, the one she’d given him at least. She’s nice enough, a little rough around the edges at times, but she’s fair. Maybe, oh, maybe he can ask her about-

“Are you listening, Keigo? We need to go. The provost was expecting us over an hour ago. Where have you been? Mai couldn’t find you so she asked me to look for you.”

“I was up there.” Keigo points, his chin lifting to follow his movement, wings fluttering against his back. Despite her tone, Kaori doesn’t seem too upset. Her heartbeat is normal. But, that didn’t mean much around here.

“Up there?” Kaori’s tone is faint and a little awed. She turns her violet gaze to his, pursing her lips into a thin line. “Since when?”

“It’s been, ah, three months and sixteen days since I first made it to that perch. They didn’t like that I went so far. Eiichi said he was going to document it though. I mean, it ain’t too far. Guess I can go for a lower spot next time. I just like that I can see more up there, it makes it-”

“No, no. It’s fine Keigo. Don’t say “ain’t,” it’s slang. I suppose it has been awhile since I’ve seen you. How old are you now? Ten?”

“Eleven,” Keigo replies, his back straightening, wings arching beside his head.

“Mmm, eleven. Gosh, you’re growing up fast,” Kaori’s reply is sharp, practiced. Keigo rolls his eyes. She wanted to spark a reaction out of him. See if he’ll puff up with joy or grow sullen with her mistake of thinking he’s younger than he is. It’s easier to assign him extra training than really deal with him. At least, that’s what some of his handlers seemed to think.

“Have you seen the news?” Kaori asks, violet eyes resting on his amber ones. “There’s a mission coming up. Endeavor’s agency is taking it on.”

Keigo feels his wings lifting again, but he quickly suppresses the motion, his shoulders hunching forward. He never, ever, wanted to seem too eager. Not when they’d primed him for such an obvious tell. It’s not like they didn’t know what heroes he admired.

Yeah, Keigo had seen the news. He was permitted two hours of television each day. Most blocks were taken up with watching the latest developments. Sometimes he would shift the channel to a cartoon, but the television time would be lessened if he watched nonsense for too long. No, the tv was for educational purposes only, not for leisure or fun. He’d heard that line enough to have it memorized.

“What about it?” Keigo asks, falling into step with Kaori. She’s taking the long way back to his next lesson. Clearly, she’s wanting to glean something from him.

“Well, I was thinking it might be beneficial for you to observe the mission.”

“What, like on CCTV or something?”

“No. In person. We would need to fit into the crowd, but this mission has been widely publicized, it’s a miracle the villain’s haven’t heard about it.”

“That, or they want the fight.”

Kaori laughs. “Very good, excellent observation. You’ve improved Keigo. Consider this a set date. I will personally escort you to the mission viewing point. At the end of the exercise, I would like to hear your opinion on the matter.”

Keigo bites his tongue.

It’s too slick again, too obvious. The mission Kaori mentioned fits the profile of a raid, not the everyday, run of the mill, villain sting. Endeavor’s agency had been squaring up with the lower level fighting rings for months now. This was just another day for him. The number two hero promised to clean up crime and he was following through with that assertion.

So, why take him to see it now? Why did it matter if Keigo saw it in person? The data and video would be uploaded the next day to the HPSC database, he could just watch it and take notes then.

Why is she doing this?

Keigo chances a glance at her face. She’s pale, stern and stoic above him. Her heels click on the tiles and her back is ramrod straight. A few feathers bristle, feeling, listening, nah, her pulse is steady too. It’s hopeless. Maybe this is the challenge? Something to test him, to try and see if he can get a read on the unreadable?

“What’s the point of me going? What good does it do? My data sheets haven’t slipped enough to call for anything like this.”

“Don’t be so critical of everything Keigo,” Kaori scolds him, her purple eyes lingering on his spreading plumage. “It’s not a test, it’s not a drill. I just...I can remember what it was like to be a teenager and be trapped doing something I didn’t want to do.”

Again, Keigo is silent after her declaration. He’s not really sure how to answer. Pragmatic, logical, even angry responses, he’s used to those. This? What is this? Some kinda misplaced empathy? He never would have placed an empathetic bone in Kaori’s body before today.

They pause at the provost’s doorway and Kaori places an arm on his shoulder, demanding his attention with her strong grip.

“Let me know by tomorrow.”

And, with that, she’s gone, pacing down the long hallway, her heels tapping a sharp tattoo against the flooring. Keigo narrows his eyes, avian pupils dilating, focusing. Sure, maybe it was just an opportunity, a chance for him to get out of the headquarters for a while, but there’s always a catch.

******

The email comes a few hours later.

Keigo is sprawled across his bed, his wings tucked safely along his shoulders as he flips through his textbook. He lifts his head from his pillow and sighs heavily at the familiar chime from his computer. It’s either more geometry problems or it’ll have something to do with what Kaori was discussing: The Endeavor mission.

His wings shift and rustle as he stands. He’s agitated, on edge. He dislikes being maneuvered into a corner. No matter what the email is over, he’ll feel obligated to say yes. Even if it’s by default.

Keigo steps up to his computer, his long fingers racing over the keypad, typing in his encrypted password. As he waits for the screen to load, his eyes fall to the battered figurine beside his monitor.

It’s the Endeavor toy. He’s kept it all these years, safe and sound, in each bedroom he’s moved to. The flames are dull and his bright blue uniform is more mottled than cobalt, but it’s still a tiny piece of his other life.

His father had given it to him. It was years ago. He hadn’t thought he was going to get anything for his birthday, but then, his father had flown in, his own plumage glimmering against the dying sunlight and presented four year old Keigo with the toy. He had clutched it to him, his eyes shining and bright.

“Dad! Ah, how did you know?”

His father had beamed at him, his eyes softening at the sight of his son’s genuine smile. Keigo didn’t smile a lot back then. Their life was too tumultuous, too chaotic. There was too much at stake. His father had gathered him up and pressed the button that activated the toy’s internal voice box. Keigo had squealed with delight and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck.

Now, Keigo traces a single finger along the top of the Endeavor’s head, running along the dimmed flames. He’s seen a decent amount of coverage on the number two hero lately. He’d even gone as far as studying his moves. Not that it mattered. His quirk would never be a match for the flame heroes skills. But, he had to admire the guy.

He was constantly overshadowed, outranked and outclassed by All Might. Still, Endeavor pushed forward. He’s the only one who really tried to overtake the number one hero. It was both impressive and, well, kinda pathetic, desperate even. All the same, Keigo kept hunting for news of the number two. Once you have a favorite, Keigo reasoned, you tend to stick with them.

Tearing his eyes away from the little figurine, Keigo clicks on the new email. He blinks a few times, even rubs his eyes. No, no way. He spreads his fingers along the computer’s trackpad, enhancing the words. Yeah, no, it’s really there.

It’s the list.

Remember? The one with all the HPSC’s approved names for him?

It’s, well, it’s even more anticlimactic than he was expecting. Damn, it’s over three pages of the most asinine, inane bullshit. Two bad words, oh no, and in one sentence. In his defense, this crap deserved a whole string of curse words.

There are names like: REDWING, Darkbird, Vulture, WINGMAN, Canary, Condor, RED Condor, Northwind, Zauriel, Red jay, WING. God, it’s just page after page of trash. Whomever they paid to create this, well, they needed a new day job. Might as well just call him: BIRDBOY or something. Sighing, Keigo clicks out of the email, his plumage lifting and lowering, feathers rustling again, perturbed. Yeah, he’s got wings. So what? That’s not all he is.

Keigo is about to pace back to his bed when another email chimes in. Groaning, he doesn’t even look at the sender before opening it. Oh.

It’s from Kaori and the head of the HPSC. They were wanting to confirm the viewing of the Endeavor mission. Both felt that it was a good use of Keigo’s time and the HPSC’s resources. They just need his answer.

Funny, Keigo thinks, tapping a quick reply, they always like to pretend that he has a say in things.

******

He’s never been a tall kid. He’s not sure if it’s his quirk or something genealogical. Quirk makes the most sense. It’s hard enough to lug his own tiny body around, he can’t even imagine trying to pull someone like Endeavor into the air.

Keigo’s seen the number two plenty of times. God, hundreds and hundreds of times, really. But, he’s not prepared for the hulk of a man that is standing before him. Enji Todoroki, that’s his real name. Most heroes don’t hide their civilian names. No, they’re all listed in the databases of the HPSC and open for public scrutiny. Keigo shifts on the balls of his feet, his toes tapping against the pavement. Apparently, that’s not going to be an option for him.

Kaori had sat, prim and proper, next to him in the long black car as they drove to the mission site. Her violet eyes were dull flints of purple as she relayed the news:

So, look over those names and pick one. Once you do, you’ll no longer go by Keigo Takami. No, that name will be expunged from the records.”

Why? He’d wanted to ask. Why can’t he keep his name? Does it really matter? What were they going to do with him? Why was he even in this program? There were so many questions racing through his mind. But, he just nodded and looked out the window.

What good did it do to ask? They weren’t going to tell him anything. This was all just another manipulation. They always tried, so, so hard to let him feel like he had a say in his name, in his life, in anything. In reality, he was just their little puppet, floating along on a tight string.

Keigo looked over the police tape to Endeavor again. Even the number two hero got to keep his name. What makes Keigo so different?

“They’ll be rushing the entrance soon,” Kaori says, her arms crossed, her pressed suit dark against the bright sunlight. “You might be able to see it a little better if you move to the other end of the street.”

Keigo looks up at her, his eyes impassive. Kaori, sensing his gaze, blinks down at him. “Don’t go far. Consider this a small reward for good behavior. I know what I told you in the car can’t have been easy to hear. Don’t make me regret giving you a little more freedom.”

For a long moment, Keigo is still.

He wants to dash off. He’s never done that. It would be nice to place a little distance between him and his handler. Plus, he’s outside. It’s a beautiful day, just puffy clouds and the fresh, clean smell of springtime. Well, and the hustle and bustle of the raid that is unfolding across the street. He looks up at Kaori and her violet eyes lift away from him. She shakes her head and a small smile creeps across her lips.

“Go on, you better hurry. Endeavor’s about to enter the building.”

It’s all the prodding he needs. Like a shot, Keigo is dashing through the crowd. A few people clamor around him, their voices distant, complaints and admonishments ringing over his golden head. He rounds the street corner and his wings lift, testing the air, trying to tug him into the skies.

Amber eyes flash as he looks for the perfect spot. Ah-ha! There’s a low, tiled roof across the street. If he can get up to the second story he should be able to see into the back of the compound Endeavor is conducting the raid on.

His back aches, muscles tired and straining, but he ignores the sting. His wings lap against the warm air and, just like that, he’s landing on the roof, his sneakers bright against the dark tile. Keigo turns back to the compound. Yes! Perfect! He can see everything. His wings settle along his shoulders, still lifted as he crouches down, the plumage vibrating, listening.

Keigo can hear some of the transmission between the heroes. Their radios are switched up and the static sound makes his nose wrinkle. It feels fuzzy, almost like he’s stepped on a live wire. Apparently, Endeavor is about to move into the exposed courtyard and Keigo sits up straighter, his wings spreading, cupping under the low wind. He’s so focused on catching sight of the number two that he doesn’t hear the warning cry.

No, he only notices the danger when it’s too late.

His feathers bristle, arching, quivering, reacting as a set of talons rips into his delicate plumage. His wings throb. It stings and he feels the anger, the rage that is coursing through the culprit that’s attacking him. Their screams make his ears ache and he rolls away, his hands instinctively covering his head, protecting himself from the sudden onslaught. His golden eyes are narrowed and searching. What the hell-

The pieces fit into place when he sees her.

It’s a hawk. She’s already taken to the skies, her dark wings wheeling her back to the roof. She lifts upward, the strong winds carrying her high, against the clouds. Then, she’s diving, her feathers bracing along her sides, propelling her at a terrifying speed.

She’s headed straight for him.

Keigo, unthinkingly, rolls out of the way, his own wings flaring open and flapping him a good ten feet or so, hopefully placing him out of range. The hawk pulls up, another scream echoing across the sky. She wheels around, her sharp beak and eyes trained on him. Keigo’s foot slips against the uneven surface of the roof and he bites his lip, his ankle twisting painfully.

“Hey! Keigo! Oh, there you are. Come on! The raid is wrapping up, we need to get back.”

Kaori’s voice shudders up his spine, his oversensitive wings making her sound like a foghorn. Wait. The raid is over? He whirls back to the compound, his eyes scanning, flashing in his agitation.

No. No, no, no.

She’s right. Endeavor and his sidekicks are already back at the front of the building, he can’t even see them clearly from here. He’s missed his chance. Damn it.

It’s not fair, he thinks, a misting of tears clouding his sight. He’d been so close. And now? Now, he’s gotta go back to that stupid building. Now, they’re going to take away his name and force him to do even more training. Who knows when he’ll get out again. It’s just, it’s not freaking fair.

Keigo wipes his arm against his eyes, pulling the moisture across his sleeve. He can’t let Kaori see him cry. He hasn’t cried in years. He’s not going to give them the satisfaction of knowing that he still...wait...what’s that?

Across the rooftop, close to where his original perch was, is a nest. It looks clumsy, like it might fall off into open space at any moment. It’s held together with a spattering of twigs and sticks, but there’s movement. Keigo lowers his arm, his wings lifting again, feeling. There’s one...no...there’s two chicks inside. They feel soft. Their heartbeats are fluttering, like a butterfly’s wing.

He looks down at Kaori. She’s standing on the street corner, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peers up at him. Keigo lifts his hand so she can see, one finger raised, silently asking her for a little more time. Kaori groans, he can hear her exhale from here, and nods, lowering her gaze, one hand propped on her jutted hip.

“Be quick about it, Keigo.”

He lets his wings bevel over his shoulders and he hops, carefully, slowly, across the tiles. As he gets closer, two pairs of yellow eyes peer at him, half hidden in the tangle of twigs. He grins and leans up, wanting to look a little…

The hawk, quick as lightning clatters in front of the nest, shielding her chicks from his curious observation. Her wings flare at his proximity, her beak open, sharp. She clicks a warning, her feathers spreading. Keigo mimics her display, his own wings fanning out and the hawk tilts her head, surprised. Her eyes blink, the dark orange shifting from agitated to quizzical. Slowly, her wings lower, draping along her back. Talons shift against the tiles and she chirps at him. It’s a different sound, less challenging. It's almost like a question.

Keigo lifts one of his hands, his fingers balled into a fist and gingerly extends his arm, his shoes sliding closer. She lifts her wings and glides a little nearer, her head still tilted in that exaggerated way. She chirps at him again and lowers her head. If he reaches out a little further he could stroke a finger down her feathers. Just a bit…

“Keigo!”

The sound of his name startles him and the hawk. She yanks from his touch and launches herself back into the skies. Keigo watches her, fascinated by the ease, the grace that she moves with. As he’s admiring her fluidity, a single feather flutters to his feet. He almost misses it. The wind starts to catch it, pulling it away, but he snatches it up, his fingers careful to not crush the barbs.

“Keigo, I’m not going to ask again...”

He uses his wings to help him down the side of the building. The verdant plumage is swelling, arching behind him. It feels different. Keigo lowers them against his back, mirroring the way the hawk had draped them, the feathers close to his skin. It helps. They don’t feel like something that he’s untethered from when he holds them like that. He’s still basking in his discovery when Kaori steps toward him, one brow arched.

“You know better than that, Keigo. Didn’t I ask you to not make me regret giving you a little more freedom? Come on, we’re overdue. What’s that in your hand?”

“Nothing,” Keigo replies, tucking the hawk’s feather into his jean pocket. She was so pretty, fierce and quick.

“You put any thought into any of the names on the lists? We were thinking your hero name should be-”

“Hawks,” Keigo replies, his wings stretching behind him, shimmering in the bright sunlight. “I wanna be called Hawks.”

Notes: bb Keigo is too cute, I couldn’t resist.

Tags: @hawksweek2020, @spicy-skull,

#hawksweek2020 #hawks week 2020 #bnha hawks #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #hopscotch #hopscotch series #bnha #boku no hero academia #hawks-centric #little hawks #bb keigo

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frogtanii · 4 years

Note

It’s me! Wind anon! I literally just woke up from a series of naps and I’m not fully awake yet but I wanted to give my reactions as soon as possible!

Let’s start with my reaction with the vans? That was pretty straightforward actually. I think that Kuroo might be the next one to get his redemption arc? Considering Bokuto favoring YN over Meiko, I think he’d definitely try and confront YN and make sure she isn’t doing anything to hurt Bokuto. In any case I think that by the time they are going back, someone will shift from Meiko’s van to YN’s van. Maybe making the excuse of “evening numbers out more” and such if they’re the not confrontational type.

Ah...next would be Bokuto... it’s heartbreaking to see some of his beliefs? His choice of a single room because he believes needs to get better faster is not the way to go. If anything, I think room divisions should have Sakusa and Bokuto rooming together. I mean, in terms of an energy standpoint, it would make sense for Atsumu and Bokuto, but Sakusa actually knows the therapist and I believe he just has more knowledge and experience than Atsumu does regarding this. However, Atsumu wouldn’t be a bad choice at all for roommates. He still has the ability to be calm and serious, so he would definitely be quick to get help if it was needed. I feel like Kenma would definitely be a single room person though. Like, he isn’t the type of person who would be able to match up to Bokuto’s energy and he doesn’t really have the knowledge that Sakusa has so I feel like of the pairings he would be the worst? YN and Bokuto would be fine in terms of whether or not she can help him but as YN is a girl and Meiko has been shown to throw around blame, the last thing Bokuto needs is to get insulted by Meiko and isolated from the others in that group.

Next on the agenda...YN and the swimsuit. She’s so pretty. And cool. I am aro/ace so I personally am reading this more like a narrative than a self insert, so I see YN as more of her own person in a sense? I would befriend YN so much. I would give her hugs. And help her against the nonsensical spew of BS Meiko and her group throw at her. YN Supremacy!!

Next, the reactions to YN. I don’t really know what to say regarding this? Like...they are appreciating our gal sure...but they’re being a bit...ick. I dunno, I’ll end it here.

And the ending :0!!! First, aaaa what happened to Bokuto? Did Meiko do something? Besides that (not to undermine it or anything—his health and safety is indeed the top priority right now) but Kenma called and asked for YN’s help publicly. The fans would be rioting. YN has a small fan base rn, (though chances are she got some more after she was noticed to be mistreated?) but Kenma has a larger fan base if I remember correctly—and Bokuto has an even larger one. Sure, I would’ve loved to see fans react to some not serious stuff like the image YN posted of her in her swimsuit, or about their reaction towards a beach episode and the view and such, but this is serious and people have already caught on to that. Bokuto has a large enough fan base that they should know that it’s likely he isn’t treated badly by Management. So the fans are now left in a position where they don’t know anything. They would be asking YN, Kenma, maybe even the other members of the house, and there will have to be an answer to appease the masses.

Okay...I think that’s it for my reaction and analysis of the chapter? Onto my reaction to the asks and such...

Wind anon didn’t expect readers appreciating her asks and looking for them? I mean, I am flustered right now so... I am very happy though. I appreciate you all.

Next reaction... E for Everyone is so cool. I don’t know what else to say. I would 10/10 be cheering them on when they go get vengeance for our gal.

Anyway! My thoughts/headcanons are what I’ll be ending with. (I have a lots to say OvO’) so, I think there should totally be competitions of sorts between YN’s team and Meiko’s team. Not just for the beach but also when they get back. YN is able to eat well now so our gal is strong! I wanna see her best Iwaizumi in arm wrestling. I want Meiko to feel scared and wary of how she acts after.

As always, much thanks for your work! Take care of yourself. We all appreciate you lots and lots fr0ggy!

wind nonnie!!!!! i always look forward to ur asks & i know others do too!! — & i hope ur naps were good <3

i agree w ur rooming ideas (&& they may be implemented, we’ll see hehe :0) you’ve gone so in depth n it makes my heart warm!!

AKRJKE my brain is so little but ur words n thots are so big!!!!! aaannddd i’d love to see yn arm wrestle iwa LMAO hehehe

#j’s asks #wind anon #and don’t feel flustered!!! ur amazing love #anons babey #℗ poker face

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angelinasway · 3 years

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Regaining Hope Chapter Seven

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing and wonderful reviews. I do need to address something though, when it comes to reviews, I honestly don't mind anyone critiquing me when comes to grammar, characterization, or even if its kind of a heavy subject and someone feels like they need to debate me on it. That is absolutely fine, for instance I knew I would get a few blocks and even someone asking about the religious views of this story. I do not mind that. I do however mind, if you think I'm a decent writer, but then proceed to belittle the content of my story. I'm going to try to say this as absolutely nicely as I can...If you don't like the content of this story, if the talk of soulmates, soulbounds, or claiming is not for you, if the romance of this story is not for you, kindly back out of this story now and please just don't leave a review. I will say that anyone who's been in the BTVS fandom long enough already knows what a Claim is pretty much a fanon canon, since its been around our fanfiction community since like 2002 at least. Wesley mentioned Angel and Buffy being soulmates in season one of ATS, so that is actually canon. I say this in the nicest way possible, because sometimes I think reviewers who don't write, do not realize how much a review about content can actually screw with our muse and inspiration and I believe there will be at least a handful of people that do write who will agree with me. That being said, this chapter took as long as it did for me to write because of a bad review, so I'm sorry for the long winded exposition everyone. I know this chapter is a bit choppy and if it wasn't for my beautiful Beta Hipkarma, I'm pretty sure it would have been illegible. This chapter deals with some pretty heavy subjects and I added a warning tag just in case. I do not expect anyone to feel the way Buffy does on this subject, and if you feel the need I will gladly talk to you through pm about it. Thank you guys so much again, and please review, unless you know its an above subject and you hate it. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Seven

The plane arrived right on time as Clark anxiously awaited Buffy’s arrival outside the terminal. He’d felt this way since he awoke this morning and he didn’t know why. It was almost like that feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something.

He’d dreamt of her last night and it was so vivid and real that when he opened his eyes, he expected her to be there. The feeling had washed over him after that, like a sudden cold draft in a stifling room. He’d also been as hard as nails and had to relieve himself twice in the shower. His dream Buffy whispering filthy words into his ear as he imagined pinning her to the shower wall and driving into her hard and fast. It only seemed to make the feeling worse though. There was a pounding, an almost driving force that told him he needed to see her and that coupled with the lust, he couldn’t seem to shake was a dangerous combination that he did not enjoy feeling at all.

It was so strange, yesterday he’d been fine, more than fine really. He’d walked into his house humming and smiling. His mom had noticed his exuberant mood in an instant and raised her eyebrows in surprise, a curious yet knowing quirk in her lips. She had immediately started bombarding him with questions about his evening and Clark had been unable to deny her even a single detail. Well, there were definitely a few things he left out, but he told her everything from meeting Buffy at the school to him having to sing at Lorne’s. This was a first for both of them, Clark making friends and being able to tell his mom all about it. She listened intently, a happy smile on her lips as if this was something she had always wanted for her son. The ability to just be treated normally by people, even if they knew what he was. The more he spoke about how great Buffy was the more his mom’s knowing smile grew. He told her he promised Buffy that he would pick her up at the airport, and his mom had agreed to let him use the truck as long as he promised to take her to work before he left. She had a full shift at the diner tomorrow, so he was pretty sure he could make it back in time to pick her up and take her home.

Later that night, after getting off the phone with Buffy so she could go patrol, Clark had spent the evening on the internet looking up several theories and ideas on the concept of soulmates. All in all, it was pretty simple stuff, a soulmate could be a romantic or platonic relationship with a mirroring of the souls. Where, both their values and ideals deemed them a perfect match. He had even gone to a few sites on the mystical aspects of soulmates that seemed to be pretty legit, and they believed that when it came to soulmates not only were the souls similar, but both souls usually challenge each other to perceive themselves and the world differently. In essence, your soulmate could help you transcend into a higher state of consciousness. All of that seemed to match very much with what he had been feeling since the moment he met her. None of that however, explained how he felt now.

Buffy had been right the other day when she said it wasn’t just the soulmates thing. He was almost positive the out-of-control lust and the uncontrollable desire to be near her had very little to do with the fact that they were soulmates and everything to do with the prophecy. Something wanted them to consummate their relationship, and he was pretty sure that something had a reason. He wondered if he was in danger of meeting the other woman and somehow changing his mind about her. He definitely couldn’t imagine ever doing that though, not when he felt what he felt, not when she had consumed his thoughts so thoroughly since the day they met.

He felt physically ill at the idea of ever having to fight Buffy as an enemy, Lorne’s words about killing her making him nauseous and dizzy. The demon said it most likely wouldn’t happen now, but God, what if it did? What if he wasn’t capable of fighting off this mystery enemy of the future. He shuddered at the thought, his anxiety level spiking in worry. He had to get himself under control.

As the passengers began to exit the terminal Clark looked on, his eyes searching for golden hair and green eyes. When he finally spotted her the tension that had been growing in his limbs immediately eased. It happened so fast he almost felt boneless by the sudden release. Her eyes met his and a similar look of relief washed over her face, but there was something else there. She was scared, which just made the tension begin to build again. Clark frowned in confusion, but didn’t deny her as she ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist tightly as she laid her head on his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “There’s something wrong,” She whispered. “I shouldn’t be feeling this–”

“I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.” Clark shuddered, so it wasn’t only him who was feeling it. “I think it’s time we learn more about this prophecy.”

He felt her nod. “I’ll call Wes once we get to the safe house.”

****<S>**<S>****

The drive there had been mostly quiet. The only real sound was Buffy’s smartphone giving directions to their destination. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching out and entwining their fingers however, and she smiled at him gratefully before closing her eyes and sighing. They finally arrived at what looked to be an unassuming house just outside of town that rested on a few acres of property. Buffy untangled their fingers and reached into her carryon bag that was between them and pulled out a large multicolored crystal.

“Here,” she said quietly. “Hold this.”

Clark, frowned but did as she asked. Watching her as she muttered the word, “Agnoscis.” The stone suddenly warming in his palm as he caught the house in front of him shimmer for a moment out of the corner of his eye.

“Latin?” He guessed.

Buffy nodded. “It means recognize. It’s so you can get through the wards.” She bit her lip, “We can also bring your mom here, in case you ever need to hide her you’ll have a place to take her that’s pretty impenetrable.”

Clark nodded gratefully, his eyes studying the sad expression on her face. He reached out and gently brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. Her whole body shivered at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips.

“Are you…are you okay,” He asked.

She shook her head, “I think it’s affecting me more than you.”

Clark was quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head. “It’s not, I think I’m just a lot better at controlling my impulses.”

Buffy chuckled humorlessly, “Maybe, that’s something you can teach me sometime.” She met his eyes and Clark lost his breath at the want he saw shining there.

God, she was beautiful like that. Her eyes almost swirling with color and heat. His temperature immediately skyrocketed, his pants becoming tight. He wanted to ask her if there was anything he could do, but didn’t dare for fear of what her answer might be. She had already told him she wasn’t ready, and if he was being honest with himself, neither was he.

He swallowed, his heart beating in his chest. “Come on,” he whispered, opening his door and stepping out. “Let’s go make that phone call.”

He walked around her side of the truck as she fumbled with her seatbelt, opening the passenger door for her and holding out his hand. She took it gratefully as she slid out of the passenger’s side, hoisting her bag over her shoulder after her feet hit the pavement. Clark reached in the truck bed and grabbed the only other bag she’d brought with her. He wondered where her weapons bag was, but remembered she’d just went through an airport and realized she probably couldn’t bring them with her.

As if she was reading his mind, she said. “Willow was here last night; I had her ward the training equipment so that we can use it without destroying it.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked up the driveway. Her hand fumbling with her keys as they made their way to the door. “I also had her fill the fridge and bring my weapons bag over.”

He didn’t say anything as he watched her slide the key in the lock and open the door. He followed her through a spacious living room that was tastefully decorated, through another door and into a modern kitchen. She slid her bag off, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. She pulled out her phone next, scrolling through her contacts and hitting send before putting it on speaker. She set the phone on the island between them and walked to the fridge, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes.

Clark wanted to go over and comfort her, but something in his gut told him that would be a very bad idea. She was putting distance between them for a reason and he completely respected that. Her sudden change however, worried him and he was beginning to think maybe she really was suffering more than him.

"Buffy?" A cultured British male voice answered after the first few rings.

"Yeah, it’s me." She said quietly.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, his tone worried.

"No, not really." She answered. "I think it’s time you told us about this prophecy."

"Buffy, I've already explained–"

“No,” She cut him off. “No Wes, you don’t get to do this. Not now. Something is wrong with me, I feel…” Her face went red, as she looked at Clark, “I feel like I’m on fire, I…” Her eyes moved to her phone and glared, a growl tearing from her throat in frustration. Her teeth clenched as she ground out. “I feel incredibly sexually frustrated, okay? Like a cat in fucking heat.” Her face went scarlet and she avoided looking directly at Clark. “Want to explain?”

There was a sudden choking sound on the other line, as a coughing fit proceeded it. “Good Lord, it’s happening already?”

The outrage in Buffy’s eyes, did something to Clark in that moment and he stepped forward his anger simmering under the surface. “What’s happening?” He demanded.

“Mr. Kent,” Wesley said in surprise, “I didn’t…I didn’t realize you were on the line as well.” Clark heard the British man sigh, “I’m sorry we were finally introduced this way, I had hoped to meet you in person. I’m sure you already know that I am Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and that I am head of the Watchers Council.” There was a pause, before he continued. “I do apologize for not telling you both sooner, but I had hoped we would have a few more days before the bond started to require a need to be fulfilled.”

“Bond…what?” Buffy’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I don’t really understand it myself,” Wesley admitted. “But it’s written that once the Immortal Slayer and, I believe the correct term is Star God meet, a…I think the term is soulbond will start to form and a compulsion to fulfill it will start to take hold. Now, both Willow and I think we’ve found a way to counteract the compulsion, but I didn’t expect it would start to take hold so quickly. I do apologize Buffy; I had planned to have Willow bring me there tomorrow so I could explain.”

“What’s a soulbond, exactly?” Clark asked, “And how is it any different than being soulmates?”

“I honestly don’t know, there are very few references to what it is exactly. I imagine that much like soulmates there must be a similarity or mirroring of souls if you will, but unlike soulmates there is a need…a compulsion for a confluence between the souls. As far as I can tell, once that happens it would act very similarly to a claim.”

Buffy gasped and looked at Clark, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Clark swallowed, “What’s a claim?”

“It’s a…a type of marriage between demons, vampires in particular.” Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “It’s barely ever used now because its unbreakable, not even magic can undo it. It’s ancient and powerful and requires total trust and consent between both parties.” She met his eyes then, an apology shining through but Clark didn’t feel like he needed one, in fact he just felt very confused.

“That doesn’t make any sense, not after what Lorne told me.” Clark said with a frown. “If this bond is as powerful as you say then…” It was his turn to look at Buffy apologetically, “Then even if I met this other person first, wouldn’t the bond take hold when I met Buffy regardless?”

“I don’t quite understand what you’re referring to.” Wesley said in confusion.

Clark looked up at Buffy and saw suspicion in her eyes. “Lorne didn’t tell you?”

“Lorne doesn’t give me the details of readings Mr. Kent; he treats all his clients very much like a therapist treats a patient.” Wesley said, adding. “The only thing he told me was that you were the one the prophecy spoke of and that you were on the right path in regards to your destiny. What exactly did he tell you?”

Clark shifted uncomfortably, feeling Buffy’s eyes on him but unable to meet hers. “He said I had two very different futures, that Buffy was my soulmate but I have another as well and in this other future this woman dies and something makes me go bad.” He finally got the courage and looked at Buffy, her eyes were wide and burning with hurt and maybe a bit of jealousy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking he had ruined everything.

Buffy shook her head and swallowed, “Did he… did he say what would happen if you met her now?”

Clark nodded, "He said I'm a one-woman man, that it wouldn't matter."

She seemed to relax a bit at his words, her eyes softening and darting back to her phone as Wesley began speaking, "Then you are very correct Mr. Kent, if you met Buffy in this other future, it should have activated the soulbond whether you had feelings for this other woman or not. A soulmate is not always a love interest after all." He paused for a moment, "There are only two things that could have stopped it. One would be that you don't meet Buffy until this mystery foe had your mind or if you did meet her, she was already claimed."

Buffy gasped, and looked at Clark guiltily, “I almost asked him to claim me.”

A potent wave of jealousy and possession swept through him at her words. If she was referring to Angel, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. Not when the very idea of her being tied like that with someone else made his blood boil.

"What?" Wesley said, shocked.

"Spike, Wes. Not Angel." She clarified. "It was...it was right after we found Alicia. I knew it could make us stronger and I... I thought it might give us an advantage against Angelus. I never had the courage to ask him though."

“And thank every deity in the universe for that!” Wesley said sharply, “I don’t think you quite understand the repercussions that could have had on not just Clark’s future but your own.” There was a long silence, the only sound was heavy breathing before a much calmer Wesley finally said, “That kind of bond Buffy…think about what you did to Angelus and multiply it by a million. I was there that day you came through the portal after Spike died. You were almost feral; your Slayer was in complete control and she wanted to kill Willow for making her immortal. There was a part of her that already thought of Spike as her mate, and she wanted blood from whoever had wronged her. If you had been claimed and Spike died…” They heard him take a shuddering breath, “You would have burnt the world and then marched into Hell without a second thought in search of him. There would have been no stopping you.”

Clark watched Buffy shiver at Wes’s words, her eyes getting lost and faraway. His possessiveness grew at her words, but a small part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what happened between the two of them and why she so rarely spoke about him. The book had only said that the vampire had killed two Slayers, and had tried to kill Buffy on numerous occasions. He had been hampered by some form of neurotechnology by the US Government and began working with her reluctantly. Somewhere along the way he had fallen for Buffy and regained his soul, sacrificing himself for the world once, where he was resurrected by a mystical amulet he was wearing when he died. The author of the book believed he’d been brought back by mistake and the amulet was meant to be worn by Angel, but there was also some speculation that Spike may have been the actual bearer of the Shanshu prophecy. The author however, was highly skeptical about this because Spike didn’t do what he did out of heroics, even with a soul he relished in the violence of his nature. The author believed that becoming mortal would feel more like a punishment than a reward for the vampire. It spoke some about his time at Wolfram and Hart, about his part in the fight against Angelus, and how he died saving Buffy a second time.

“I don’t…I don’t remember any of that.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Even what I did to Angelus, I only remember parts of it. I felt like I was outside my body looking at someone who wasn’t actually me, except I could feel what I was doing.” She shivered, and it took every bit of self-control he had not to go to her, especially when her voice cracked. “When I came to, I-I was covered in blood and…God, Wes there was nothing left but a torso and head. I…” She choked. “I even took his face.”

When a single tear tracked itself down her cheek, Clark couldn’t take it anymore and he rounded the island and pulled her into his arms, hoping she was too upset to be affected by the embrace, but not really caring if she was, not when he could feel her trembling in his arms. He understood now why she’d been so adamant the other day about her being wrong in the way she killed Angelus and about Slayers not actually being creatures of light but warriors for the light. He could never picture her being capable of such carnage even after hearing it from her own mouth. Then again, he could never picture himself killing her either or anyone else for that matter, not on purpose at least.

They heard a muffled sniffle over the line, before a choked sounding Wesley finally said, “Oh, Buffy, I never…I never knew it was that bad. We found the warehouse and the blood, so I did realize…but…not to what extent, and then you just disappeared and Willow couldn’t ever get a read on you. It was like you were blocking her somehow. Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

Clark felt her shake her head, “I was ashamed.” She answered honestly. “Lorne’s the only one who knows everything, even the stuff I can’t remember.”

“Do you remember anything that happened before you captured Angelus?” Wesley asked cautiously. “I’ve always wondered how you did it, but was always too afraid to ask after the way we…the way we found you.”

Buffy sighed against Clark’s chest, her shivering increasing. “I think I let myself be caught,” she said quietly. “The only thing I really remember is being bound magically by Amy and then Warren tearing open my shirt.” Clark stiffened at her words, his whole body going rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her grip on him tightening. “Angelus threw him out of the way, and said everyone would have a turn, but he got to have me first.” Clark’s anger flared at her words, his fist tightening behind her back, he had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden heat he felt building. “I-I don’t know how, but somehow I was able to break through the magic that was binding me. Everything’s kind of a blur after that, but I think…” She frowned, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “I think none of the spells were working on me. I think…I think I killed everyone.”

Clark found himself sighing in relief at her words. God, just the image of someone trying to do that to her made him see red. Literally, in fact. He really hoped that something like that has never happened before, because he could already tell he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tearing whomever did it to shreds. As horrendous of a way she killed Angelus, he couldn’t judge her for how she did it, not after hearing that. God, if she hadn’t been able to break the magic… He felt himself shudder.

Wesley was quiet for a long time, “I’ve always known that Willow brought you back stronger, but being able to break a binding spell with sheer force of will is extraordinary Buffy. We should have started testing this advantage years ago.”

“I try not to think about that day, Wes.” She huffed. “I don’t think the magic going wonky even occurred to me until this moment.” She was quiet for a few moments, before she finally said, "So what happens if I bond with Clark and I lose him too?"

Wesley sighed, "Well, I'm hoping since it’s your souls that are bonding and not your Slayer, that it will make quite a difference."

"You're hoping? That’s really not a guarantee, Wes." She said in annoyance, stepping out of Clark's embrace and leaning on the island. "And what’s to stop my Slayer from trying to initiate a claim? What if this soulbond thing isn't good enough for her? Lorne already said she's been looking for her mate since I was called. He said that's why I was so drawn to both Spike and Angel." She shook her head, "Well, according to this prophecy he's my mate, right? Or the closest she'll ever get to one. So, what's to stop her from doing what she's been wanting to do for years? I mean I looked up claiming in high school, Wes. As soon as I read the word, I was fascinated."

Clark stepped around the table so he could look at her. She seemed worried and deep in thought before her eyes met his and they softened immediately, a small smile forming on her lips as she studied him.

Then they heard Wesley sigh, "I honestly don't know. We've still not even translated the whole thing and we've been working on it for over a year."

Clark watched Buffy frown in confusion. "Is there a reason you haven't gotten Dawn in on this?"

"I'll give you three guesses as to why." He said sarcastically.

Buffy snorted, saying mockingly, "Aww Wes, you're not afraid of my baby sister, are you?"

There was silence on the other end of the line and then a grumbled, "I would rather face all the demons in hell than deal with Dawn on a tirade about you."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Well tough, because I want her in on this."

"But Buffy–” He started to whine.

“No Wes,” she said cutting him off. “I love both you and Willow, you know that. But, if there’s anyone in this world who will have our best interests at heart and give it to us straight, it’s her. I want her in on this.”

“Fine,” He groaned.

Then a smile broke across her lips and an evil look of mischief Clark was slowly becoming familiar with sparked in her eyes. “Plus, she already knows I spent time with Clark the other day and she knows he’s something other.”

“How on Earth did she find out about that?” Wesley said in surprise.

Clark smirked as Buffy’s smile grew. “I may have pissed Faith off by waking her and Gunn up with a cold shower. She ratted us out.”

There was silence on the other line, but she swore she could hear him shaking his head. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.” She said chuckling and then sighed. “I’m feeling a little better now, I mean as far as the compulsion stuff goes.”

“Hmm,” Wesley hummed. “Perhaps it gets worse when you’re apart. I knew that you would feel a need to be around each other, but perhaps being away from one another has an even greater affect than I imagined. How about you Mr. Kent, how do you feel?”

Clark blinked in surprise. Now that Buffy mentioned it, he was feeling less uncomfortable than he had all morning. “Better, actually. It’s still there, but not as potent.”

“Then perhaps the theory is a sound one,” Wesley said. “However, to be on the safe side I’ll have Willow drop off the pendants she’s making this evening. They should be able to subdue most of the compulsion until you both feel ready to move forward with the bond. I would also recommend spending as little time apart as possible. I believe that the pendants are powerful enough to ward off the worst of it, however if this bond is as powerful as I think it is you very well might override the magics if the compulsion becomes too powerful.” He sighed, “I suggest staying there with Buffy for the time being Mr. Kent.”

Clark shook his head “That not going to work Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I need to help out on the farm. While I was away my mom got behind on the payments and if we don’t bring in a decent crop this year my mom could lose it.” He looked at Buffy nervously. “You could stay with us though; we have a guest bedroom.”

Buffy nodded, “Yeah, yeah, that might be a good idea. I can help you with anything you need, and we can start your training in the afternoons.”

Wesley cleared his throat, getting both their attention. “I think you’re forgetting the contract, Buffy. He may very well not need to worry about that any longer.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I’ll be right back.”

Clark watched her run out of the room as Wesley said, “Are you still there Mr. Kent?”

Clark looked at the phone, “Yes.”

“Good, I thought I’d go over the numbers for you and see if they’re satisfactory.” Wesley said. “I had thought of paying you as we would a hired mercenary or demon hunter, however since your role in the future will be pivotal to keeping this world intact, I decided you deserved what we would pay any Slayer, it’s only fair after all.”

“What aren’t you telling us about this prophecy?” Clark said, Wesley’s words telling him the man knew more than was saying.

He heard the man sigh, “I would prefer not to say at this moment. I already know how Buffy will feel about it, and I believe you both have enough on your plate with the bonding. I’ll tell you both, but she’s not ready to hear it yet.”

Clark frowned, “I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

“You may be correct,” Wesley conceded, “But I know she will not be happy about this, even if it’s a good thing. I, at the very least need to prepare myself for Dawn finding out, and she may very well tell Buffy even if I ask her not too. I do not believe either of you have long to wait.”

“Alright,” Clark said, “I’m going to hold you to that though.”

“Now,” Wesley said, just as Buffy walked back in the room. “How does two hundred-thousand a year sound?

Clark blinked in surprise, the blood rushing to his head. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, could he? “I’m sorry did you…did you just say two hundred-thousand?”

“Clark are you okay?” Buffy asked, running to his side. “You look a little pale.”

He shook his head, “It’s…that’s too much.”

“No,” Buffy disagreed, shaking her head. “It really isn’t. Entering this world Clark… you’ll be putting not only your home but your mom at risk and no amount of money will ever make up for that.” She bit her lip and nodded, “Trust me on this, most demons aren’t stupid enough to mess with the good guy’s families, but the real big-bads, the uber-powerful demons, who’s only goal is destruction and world domination? Those demons won’t care, they’ll do everything in their power to try and hurt you, even if that means trying to break you.” She sighed, “It’s why I want your mom to have access to this place too. It will make me feel better knowing you can get her to safety if you needed to.”

Clark sighed, reaching out and sliding the small stack of paper out of her hand. “And what happens if I sign these and change my mind?”

Wesley spoke up, “You are not beholden to anything Mr. Kent, if you sign those and decide that helping the Watchers Council is not in your best interest, it would simply be like you quitting a job. You wouldn’t be paid anymore of course, but you would not be obligated to continue helping us either. However, with the bond beginning to form I’m not sure how you would be able to distance yourself from the Council or Buffy, but if you made that decision no one would stand in your way.”

Clark pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes quickly reading it through. It was pretty standard stuff, nothing in it that had some sort of hidden agenda. He flipped the page and read through the rest before getting to the signature line.

“Do you have a pen?” He asked, looking at Buffy.

She went to a small drawer and pulled it open, grabbing one from inside and handing it over. Clark took the pen signing his name on the dotted line. “Okay Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I signed it.”

“Very good.” Wesley said, “Now, I don’t suppose you’re up for giving him a tour of the underground facilities?”

“Of course.” Buffy said.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll call you before Willow leaves, in the meantime try and keep your wits about you.”

The line disconnected and Clark raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Underground facility?”

****<S>**<S>****

Buffy slid open the hidden panel in the wall of the master bedroom. She entered a number into the keypad and then looked up into a camera where it scanned her face, and slid her keycard into the slot.

The computer’s AI came online and a female voice said, "Good afternoon Miss Summers, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

"I need to give a new recruit security clearance."

"Name?" The computer asked, as Buffy removed her keycard and slid in the blank one Willow had left for them.

Buffy nodded at Clark and stepped away from the panel so he could stand in front of it.

"Clark Joseph Kent," he answered, stepping into the space Buffy had just vacated.

"Facial recognition." The computer said, and Buffy pointed up to the camera, indicating he needed to look into it.

Once that was done the computer said, "Four-digit pin."

Buffy looked at Clark and nodded, "Now choose four numbers you'll remember easily."

She watched as he thought about it a second before he put in his code. Once that was finished the computer said, "Thank you Mr. Kent, you now have full access to the Watcher Archives as well as all facilities. Ms. Summers would you like access into the rest of the building?"

"Yes," Buffy answered before the hidden wall shifted, sliding away and revealing the steel doors of an elevator that would take them down into the heart of the house. The doors slid open and Buffy removed the new keycard handing it to Clark as they stepped into the elevator, Buffy pressing the simple down-arrow button.

“We had these built in all the safehouses after what happened with Angelus.” Buffy said as way of explanation. “Or I should say, Wes and Willow did. I wasn’t really around for that.”

It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach its destination and the doors slid open. She could feel Clark’s eyes on her as she stepped out of the elevator and into the large steel control room. There were several monitors on the walls with keyboards on a stainless steel counter top that bolted into the walls along half the room.

“This is the control room.” Buffy said, “For safety reasons, if we’re ever in any code-red type situation, this room is always occupied in case someone manages to get past the outer wards. We can house up to thirty bodies here at a time and since most of us are a little something-other, we can at least hold off whoever’s broken in to give the rest of us a fighting chance to escape by sounding the alarm.”

She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t look at him right then. It was just occurring to her all that she admitted to Wesley and what she’d said in front of Clark. He was going to ask about Spike, she could almost feel it. Of all the things Wesley could have brought up, it had to be claiming. She felt Clark move closer, and wasn’t surprised when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder as she rambled on about where the exits were located.

“Buffy?” He whispered.

She sighed and looked down, “Yeah?”

“Why…why don’t you ever talk about him?” Clark asked.

Her shoulders slumped at his words, but she still couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

“Well then, I think you should try to uncomplicate it for me, because this thing sounds pretty permanent between us and I need to know if I’m going to be living in another man’s shadow.” He said honestly.

She spun around, her eyes meeting his in surprise. “God, no. It’s not like that at all. We were…” She sighed. “Maybe we should go into another room that’s more comfortable. This is a long story.”

Clark nodded at her and she turned, leading him through the heavy metal door to their left and down a hallway the AI illuminating the rooms as it monitored their approach. Buffy led him into a large rec room, a massive tv mounted to one wall with a standard sized couch in front. There was a card table in a corner and a pool table in another. A few pinball machines lined one wall of the room and a dartboard hung near a foosball table. She led him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit before she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She waited for him to sit down first, and sat at the other end biting her lip in thought, staring straight ahead into the black void of the blank tv screen, not sure exactly where to start. She figured the beginning was probably best, so she started there.

“When I met Spike,” she said slowly. “He was just about as evil as they come, or at least that’s what my sixteen-year-old-self thought. Though, I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Angelus yet, so I was a bit naive in that department. Anyway, his girlfriend-slash-sire had been weakened in Prague at some point and he came to Sunnydale to try and restore her and bag himself another Slayer.” She shrugged, “So, we pretty much started out as mortal enemies. We fought each other a lot that first half of the year, and he was a hell of a fighter. He almost got me on that first one, but incredibly enough my mom was the one who saved the day.” Buffy smiled in amusement. “Clocked him on the back of the head with an axe.”

Clark snorted in amusement. “Sounds like something my mom would do.”

Buffy smiled, “Yeah my mom could be pretty tough.” She shrugged, “Anyway, I ended up putting him in a wheelchair after dropping an organ on him during a spell that actually did end up restoring Drucilla. On my birthday I found out they were both still alive and Dru was reassembling an ancient demon called the Judge who couldn’t be killed by any man-made weapon. Me and Angel tried to stop it from happening, but we were both too late. That night I made the colossal decision of losing my virginity to Angel.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed, “And just like that his soul was gone. Maybe that’s why I clung on to the notion that we were somehow destined for so long. I mean, the breaking of Angel’s curse literally states that only a moment of perfect happiness could release the soul. I guess I thought that if our love was enough to drive his soul away, it must be special.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Honestly, knowing Angel it had more to do with him somehow feeling redeemed in me or it very well could have been that he hadn’t dipped his wick in over a hundred years. Whatever the cause, so began several horrible months of mental torment from a demon wearing my lover’s face.”

“And Spike?” Clark asked.

Buffy sighed, “Spike went through his own torment at the hands of Angelus and Drusilla. Spike really did love her, but her love compared to his was fleeting at best. He told me once how they would mock him for being wheelchair bound and Angelus would…well, he would fuck Dru right in front of Spike because he knew how much it hurt him. I think that’s when whatever destiny Spike had must have started. He came to me and made a truce in the hopes of getting Angelus away from Dru and also according to him, he actually liked the world and didn’t want to see it destroyed like they were planning.” She sighed again, “Anyway, that’s probably the first instance where I started to see Spike in a somewhat different light. Less of a danger and more of a nuisance if that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Clark nodded. “I guess I could see that.”

“Okay, so skip ahead a few years, when I’m in my first year of college. I’ve seen Spike once in that time when he kidnapped Willow and Xander, trying to make Willow preform a love spell to get Dru back. Apparently, our little truce didn’t sit well with her and she dumped him.” Buffy shrugged, “We had one more real fight where we were actually trying to kill each other that year, and then a few months later the Initiative planted the chip in his head and then once again he came to us for asylum.” A small smile tugged at her lips, “We fought like cats and dogs that whole year. I think our bickering is partly what drove Giles to drinking so much. Then sometime during the next year when Dawn arrived and my mom got sick, he realized he was in love with me.” Buffy sighed. “It wasn’t a healthy love though, not even a little bit. He was obsessed with me. He had a weird shrine to me and he had, the super nerd Warren make a lifelike robot of me for reasons I’m sure you can guess.”

Clark grimaced before saying, “Is that the same Warren that–”

“The one and the same.” She interrupted. “I’ve dealt with some pretty gross demons before, but as far as Warren goes, he’s probably the worst human I’ve ever had to deal with.” Buffy sighed, “Anyway, as weird as Spike’s obsession with me was, he did some things that year that really surprised me. Things that normal vampires wouldn’t do, though I still to this day haven’t decided if Spike was the unique one or if Angelus was, because I know for a fact Spike isn’t the first vampire to keep a portion of his humanity after being turned.” She shook her head getting back on topic, “Anyway, he protected my sister’s secret when Glory tortured him for information and he promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. When I came back the next year, I didn’t really acknowledge it at the time, but he was still there. Still looking out for my baby sister. It’s strange how you don’t see those things when they happen, but Spike loved Dawn like a little sister and he loved my mom too. For some reason he was drawn to us Summers women.” She sighed and looked at Clark. “I already told you when I came back, I went to a dark place.”

Clark nodded, his eyes studying her face. “You have.”

“I went to that dark place with Spike, I didn’t… when I came back, I was numb and I didn’t know it at the time, but my Slayer had gotten stronger. Part of me hated my friends, I was furious with them for bringing me back and expecting me to be happy about it.” She swallowed, “Spike became my confidant at first, he became my quiet solace. I could sit with him and just be… he didn’t…he didn’t expect me to just be okay like everyone else. I was the one who made the first move…we were under a spell at the time but that didn’t stop me from making a second move after it was broken. One night not long after our second make out session, after my Watcher decided I needed to learn to do things on my own and left, we got into an argument about the kiss and I hit him,” she frowned bitterly, rolling her eyes. “He retaliated and must have realized his chip didn’t fire. The next day, well he started a real fight with me. The first one we had since…well since our brawl before the chip.” Buffy could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory, “It was the first time I felt alive since my resurrection and one thing led to another and we…well we weren’t fighting anymore. At least not with fists. It was the first time I didn’t have to hold back and it was exhilarating.” She looked at her hands, “And the next day I told him how disgusting we were, and I was cruel and awful to him.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying that he didn’t give as good as he got, but I was always the one saying the cruel stuff first. I was awful to him Clark; I beat him once and left him for the sunrise. He was trying to help me…well, I thought I accidentally killed someone.” She pursed her lips, even the memory of Warren now days could send her into a rage. “I hadn’t, Warren once again was trying to fuck with my life, but both of us thought I did. He didn’t understand why I had to turn myself in, how much even thought of hurting someone innocent was killing me. I…I just snapped. I honestly don’t know how he managed to make it to safety on time.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Clark’s arms come around her. “He still had bruises a week later and vampires, they heal fast.” She sniffled. “Shortly after that my ex-Riley came to town and somewhat reminded me why being with a soulless vampire was a bad thing. I realized that what we were doing…we had to stop. I was using him and it wasn’t fair to either of us, so I broke things off.” Buffy shook her head, “It was hard, because I really did still want him, but I resisted. Some things happened, over the next month or two, my friends ended up finding out about us and one night, he showed up at my house. I was pretty banged up from a fight earlier that evening and he tried to…I’m not even sure he knew what he was doing…but he tried to rape me.” Buffy said quietly, she felt Clark’s arms stiffen around her, this was the judgment she’d been waiting for. “I kicked him off, and he was shocked at himself and then I said, ask me again how I could ever love you?”

She looked at Clark then, and she could see the anger swirling in his blue eyes. “That’s why Spike got his soul. He thought it was the only way he could be sure never to hurt me again. He wanted to be the man I deserved. He did it for selfish reasons of course, but the outcome of those reasons? It was worth it in the end, because he’s the reason we don’t still have a Hellmouth in Sunnydale California.”

Clark shook his head, “I don’t…how can you have feelings for someone after they…even if he didn’t, how could you have not wanted to kill him?”

Buffy shook her head. “Because love isn’t rational, because it can be beautiful or a nightmare, and unfortunately feelings can’t just be flipped on and off. I think if he hadn’t gotten his soul, I would have felt differently, and maybe I eventually would have stopped caring about him. You have to understand though…what he did, it’s never been done before. He fought against his nature and became something incredible for it. I think I would be kinda a hypocrite if I could forgive and still love Angel for what he did to me without a soul, but couldn’t forgive and still have feelings for Spike.”

“Your ability to forgive, Buffy…I think you might have me beat in that department.” Clark said.

She shook her head, “I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I don’t think I can ever truly forgive Willow for bringing me back, and you now know what I did to Angelus.” She sighed. “I really do think it depends on the transgression. Willow tore me out of Heaven, she made me immortal, denying me the peace and reward that all Slayers crave. Angelus went after people I love and he tormented and killed my sister Slayers, all of which were young girls, newly called. I know what Wes said, and part of its true, but Spike was just the catalyst, he was not necessarily the cause. It was my hate, my emotions guiding my Slayer, and it wasn’t the first time that part of me wanted to kill Willow nor was it only her that wanted to destroy Angelus for what he had done.”

“And the claim?” Clark asked.

Buffy sighed, “It was something that was swirling around my head for a while, and at first it was absolutely a hundred percent my Slayer. But by the time I started seriously considering it, that was definitely all me.”

Clark looked away, “You wanted to bind yourself to him for eternity.”

She was silent at his words; she knew what he was thinking and he was wrong. She remembered very clearly why she wanted to do it. “It…I really did want to win, Clark. I know you’re thinking I must have been head over heels in love, but… I loved Spike, I did and I still do, but not…It was the type of love you hold for your best friend, for the person who gets you more than anyone else. I’m not saying it wasn’t romantic in nature either, but it was a love that formed over time. There was no cupid moment. I knew we were compatible sexually; I knew he would never leave me, and I knew it would make us stronger. Claims, they don’t even require love to be fulfilled, just a mutual respect for one another and I knew we could make it work.”

Clark sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you then?”

“Fear,” Buffy said simply. “Fear of the unknown, fear that he would say no, and fear that he would say yes.”

She watched Clark swallow. “And you want to do the same to me?”

Buffy blushed. “I-I don’t know. Yes, I think so…” She was silent for a moment. Did she want to claim Clark? Her Slayer seemed to think so, but was that the prophecy or an actual want. She certainly didn’t want to lead him on, so she said “But I think it’s something that could happen in the heat of the moment.” She could literally feel her face heating up even more. “Just, if…if I ever bite you when we…and say ‘Mine’, don’t answer unless you’re willing to do the same.”

“I’m assuming when you say bite, you mean breaking skin.” He said raising an eyebrow.

“I do.” She admitted. “That’s basically what a claim is, it’s a symbolic ritual of sharing one’s life force, blood, saliva, semen. The mixing of your essence with another to create two halves of a whole.”

A slow amused smile broke across his lips. “That actually sounds kind of beautiful, if not a little messy.”

Buffy snorted, her own amusement growing at his analogy. “Anything else you want to know, before we continue our tour?”

His eyes slowly gave her a once over, before he shook his head. “No, I think that was more than enough for today.” He looked down, “It’s hard for me to picture you like that, being cruel I mean. Not when…not when you’ve been so nice to me. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand anything you told me about him and you, and…and if I’m being honest, I can’t help feeling…” He looked at her seriously, his mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back from the dead again, because I can’t promise I will be very nice.”

She found herself giggling at the visual. Dear God, that would be funny, especially with how quiet and reserved Clark was. Spike would drive him up the wall. “Oh, trust me neither will he, even with the soul he had the ability to drive just about anyone mad with rage.”

“Well, then it’s probably a good thing he’s not around anymore. I don’t think I’d like to be responsible for killing someone you cared about.” Clark said seriously.

Buffy rolled her eyes; he might be from another planet but he was definitely a hundred percent male. “Yes, Clark, lucky for you, you only have one of my ex’s left to contend with and he’s married.” She pushed herself away from him, grabbing his hand as she did and pulling him to his feet as she stood. “Now, come on, I’ll show you the training room.”

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