#past abduction

[shi0n]

this time around there are many people wearing matching nezushionish outfits.. WISH THAT WAS ME...

[iamanartichoke]

I was told there was going to be an alien invasion today ... it's almost noon, no aliens and I still have to work ... this is bullshit.

[mossydice]

new blood • proper wee reference for pepper !! work clothes/makeup + casual chilling out look ᓚᘏᗢ

[skyler10fic]

Lightning Strikes Twice: Ch. 1

Summary: Melinda May and Phil Coulson are sent on a mission to recover a missing child in a supernatural storm. But the child they come back to Shield HQ with is not the one they were sent to find.

Read on Ao3 / See Author's note for warnings

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

Shield agent Melinda May shivered in the spring night air. What a night to be on duty.

She was alone, sitting in the driver’s seat of her Shield-issued black SUV as her husband, Agent Phil Coulson, sweet-talked the local authorities. They had to get into that sports complex. Tonight.

A thunderstorm swirled overhead, but this was no natural April shower. These clouds hid a scout ship of the mighty Kree warriors. Of course, the local police didn’t know that. They only knew that the night’s baseball games were canceled due to weather, and they were instructed to redirect teams, parents, and other spectators to return next week.

Phil frowned as he trudged back to the SUV and got in.

“Any luck?” Melinda asked, already knowing the answer.

Phil sighed. “Your turn.”

“Good. I like my way.” Melinda smirked and pulled out a remote control. With the press of a button, the sounds of gunfire and the lighting of a small explosion played from a cheap special effects kit on the far side of the main building of the sports complex. Out of view of the police officers, it looked and sounded real enough, at least with the rain and the echo off the cinderblock building.

As predicted, the officers ran from their spot to the disturbance. With no more Phil Coulsons around trying to talk their way in, there was no reason for them to be at the entrance anyway. All the sane people had gone home with their young athletes, grateful for a night off instead of huddling under the bleachers in the pounding storm.

That left Melinda and Phil with a clear entrance.

“Buckle up,” Melinda warned as she floored it through the now-clear sports complex entrance and across the parking lot. Phil set off another round of special effects commotion at the building just to cover the sound of the SUV’s engine.

The dirt path to baseball diamond C wasn’t exactly meant to be a road, but it was wide enough, and with the SUV’s capabilities, it got them right to the scene of the incident.

They got out and approached the dugout cautiously. Director Fury had warned them this was no ordinary missing child case. It had been mass hysteria at this site only a few hours earlier.

—---------------------------

The storm had come without warning, zapping down blue and green lightning as if targeting the young players on the field. Parents shouted for their children and children cried for their parents, and the rain pounded down, muffling the chaos. A father in the Special Forces caught a photo of the lightning as his wife called for their little girl. His stomach turned as he realized what the blur was at the edge of the camera. She was only three; it wasn’t her fault. But it was just like her. Of course, she’d gone toward danger instead of running away. Another lightning flash and his daughter disappeared.

“CAROL!” he shouted as he and his wife ran toward the spot in the outfield, but it was dark, empty. Not even a hair left of her. Another flash of lightning, this time directly onto the dugout. They turned back in shock at the loud crack of the wood slat roof splintering. They thought they saw a girl inside, the same size, impossibly far for her to have run, but it was just the afterimage. The lightning flashes were playing tricks on their eyes. They turned back to each other and screamed for Carol until their lungs gave out.

Their seven-year-old son stood frozen, drenched in his white-and-mud Little League baseball uniform. He saw what they wouldn’t admit. His sister had clearly vanished. It was no runaway little girl, lost in the storm, as they would tell the police. She had called out to him as she was hit and had faded away into thin air in the blindingly bright light. He stumbled as he ran toward her, losing coordination as he slipped in the mud. She was gone.

Eventually, the Special Forces officer side of the father kicked back in and he brought the film canister to his superiors at the military base while his wife and son waited for hours into the night at the city police station. The stoic military men developed the film, and as they waited, they heard his story of the supernatural storm, still brewing over the sports complex. Though later he would deny it if anyone had asked, the desperate father asked his officers if the storm could be a foreign enemy’s technology. It was too targeted to be simple, ordinary weather.

The commanding officers exchanged silent glances, thanked the father for the intel, and offered him coffee. They then hustled back to an office with a confidential line and had phoned Shield with the developed images in hand. This lightning wasn’t natural, but it also wasn’t of human origin. Only Shield could provide answers beyond that.

—-----------------

Director Fury then dispatched Phil and Melinda, and here they were, creeping around a dark, stormy park full of baseball fields and tricking police officers into abandoning their posts.

Phil signaled to Melinda to watch his back as he poked his head into the dugout. The smallest of whimpers came from within.

“Carol?” Phil whispered into the darkness. “Is that your name?”

The coast was clear around them, so Melinda glanced past him to the source of the rustle in the darkness.

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “We just want to help you find your parents. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

The shadow whimpered again, and Melinda gave up on watching for danger that wasn’t coming. She knelt down and made sure her flashlight was pointed at the ground.

“You’re safe now,” Melinda assured. She held out a hand and heard a shaky breath. “Can you be brave and come out here?”

The little girl that emerged was not blonde pig-tailed Carol Danvers at all. This little girl took Melinda’s breath away. Part Chinese, Melinda was sure of it, with Caucasian features too, though it was hard to tell in the flashlight’s dim glow. Something inside her knew, as she locked eyes with the girl, that this child could well have been hers and Phil’s. If they had been able…

Phil put on his best dad smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The little girl shook her head. She couldn’t have been more than three at the most.

“I’m Phil,” he introduced. “And this is my wife, Melinda. We want to help you get home.”

The little girl lurched forward and grabbed Melinda’s outstretched hand. She was a little unsteady on her feet, so Melinda picked her up without thinking. The little girl clung to her and started crying. She snuggled into Melinda’s shoulder and wept, making Melinda hold her tighter.

Phil furrowed his brow and pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Fury, this is Coulson.”

“Go, Coulson,” came the reply in Fury’s exhausted voice.

“Were there any other reports of missing children?”

“No, just the one you’re assigned to.” The unstated question made Phil and Melinda exchange a look of dread.

“We didn’t find a blonde girl. This one has dark hair, East Asian features? About the same age.” Phil paused. “Sir, she needs help.”

“Hmm.” Fury was silent for a while. “No reports that fit that description. Bring her in.”

Melinda brushed the little girl’s hair back, wet from the rain, and asked, “Do you know if there are any other kids out here? Maybe another girl like you?”

She raised her head and shook it “no.” And then she spoke, in a raspy whisper that broke Melinda’s heart, “Just me. I’m alone.”

They returned to their search for the child they were assigned to find, but even when they had found the master switch to turn on the lights for every field (revealing nothing), tried every door (all locked), searched every nook and cranny (empty), and called over and over for the child’s name, Carol Danvers, they had to agree with the assessment that there was no one else here. Except the police officers running toward them from the far side of the sports complex, shouting something that was probably “there they are!” and “come back here!” but they were slightly too far away to be heard clearly.

It was time to go.

The girl clung tightly to Melinda as they returned to the SUV. Melinda climbed in the back to gently strap her into the car seat meant for another child—the girl who was still missing. Instead of leaving this little one in the back seat alone, Melinda buckled in next to her to comfort her. The little girl fell asleep, exhausted by whatever ordeal she had been through in this storm. Her tiny lips parted, and her precious eyelashes lay so delicately on her still-babyish cheeks. By the time they made it back to Shield, Melinda May had fallen in love with someone else’s child.

But whose?

When they were back at Shield HQ, the little girl awoke and tried to answer their questions. She didn’t remember her own name or her parents’ names, or her address, or what town she was from. She just “forgotted.”

In the morning, the pediatrician contracted with Shield confirmed it was likely caused by the traumatic experience. Whether the memories came back would be anyone’s guess. More visually alarming, Melinda had discovered deep large bruises on the girl’s ankles, forearms, and back when changing her out of her soaking wet clothes and giving her a bath at the faux hotel room at HQ used for overnight guests. She didn’t say anything that night, settling the girl into a big bed the preschooler described as “the very comfy comfiest!” Phil returned from the office floors of the building with a plush tiger toy from the supplies they used to comfort children affected by trauma and tragedy. This certainly counted. The girl cuddled the tiger close throughout the night (and every night after) and grasped it tight through every nightmare that woke them all up with her crying and screaming until Phil and Melinda could sooth her back to sleep.

The next morning, the doctor dismissed the bruises as minor childhood injuries from running away from home in the storm, an understandable conclusion given that the girl was using everything in sight as a jungle gym, but as a skilled martial artist and agent, Melinda knew bruises intimately. These were old and intentionally inflicted.

“Who has been hurting you?” Melinda asked quietly when the doctor left the exam room and promised to send in a nurse with the evaluation paperwork and test orders to complete at the lab.

However, right now, the little girl couldn’t focus on answering any questions when there were puppies on her new, soft pink shirt to make up stories about. That morning, she hadn’t recognized the ubiquitously preschool-famous cartoon dalmatians, or know that they were called puppy dogs, which was odd, though the doctor said that was explainable by the amnesia. But otherwise, his evaluation said she seemed healthy, if a bit undernourished, and assuming the labs all came back clear, she was well enough to go home, wherever that would be now.

They searched every database and missing child alert. There were no parents that fit the half-remembered description the little girl gave. Of course, the girl also wondered why no one was blue, why cars didn’t fly here, if they could go to space soon, and a dozen other typical three-year-old questions. After two nights in the faux hotel room and three straight days at Shield HQ, as the little girl napped on a cot and Phil and Melinda and their teammates traded duties looking after her while searching for any surviving family or any matching DNA at all in international intelligence community databases, it was clear this child had nowhere to go. She really was alone in the world.

Fury brought the girl, Phil, and Melinda into a conference room. He addressed the girl first.

“I understand you don’t remember your name, but Coulson and May here have been calling you Skye, is that right?”

“Mhmm!”

“Do you like that name?”

“Yes! They says it’s because I was a gift from the sky.” She looked for approval from Melinda and Phil.

“And where did you live before you met us, Skye?”

“Up there!” She pointed to the sky out the window. “In a big city ship with the big angry blue men. But then I was sneaky sneaking on the ship and I had to hide! And then I came here and it was wet. And then I met you!”

Melinda’s heart skipped a beat. “You came from the Kree ship? Fury, are the Kree blue?”

Skye frowned and her eyes pled with the adults. “Don’t make me go back! Don’t make me! No! Nooo! I don’t wanna go back!” She kicked her little feet and shook her head. When she didn’t receive an answer, only shock from the adults, she curled in on herself, hiding her face in her knees, repeating how much she didn’t want to leave.

“We thought they were just warriors up there. To have children on that ship…” Phil trailed off and paled. If the Kree ship had not vanished when it did in the storm, Shield was about to blast it out of the sky. “The doctor said she was human! How…?”

“Whether this child is actually Kree or simply a lost human child like any other, she needs a home. A safe one. One where she won’t be hit by big men…?” At Fury’s words, Skye stopped muttering and lifted her head. “Or yelled at?” She inhaled deeply and met Fury’s eyes. “And she would get lots of hugs? And everything she needed?”

“Really?” Skye’s eyes sparkled, breaking Melinda’s heart again. “When I’m a big kid, can I go to the bus?”

“The bus?” Phil asked.

“On the scwream.” She pointed toward the hallway in the direction of the room with a TV she’d been watching the last few days. “The big kids go on the magic bus and the lady with the hair and the lizward ….”

“School,” Melinda exhaled. “Yes, you can go to school.”

“Schooool!” Skye squealed. “Even though I’m not blue!”

“No one’s blue here,” Fury corrected for the hundredth time.

“No blues,” Skye sighed in happiness. She looked directly into Melinda’s eyes with her own puppy dog hope. “Can I stay here forever?”

Melinda swallowed back tears and opened her arms. “Yeah. Yeah, kid. You can stay forever.”

Skye squealed and launched herself out of her chair and to Melinda. Phil and Fury filled out the Shield Protocol 0-84: Humanoid Dependent custody paperwork right there on the table. In Melinda’s lap, as the grown-up conversation grew boringly legal, Skye got hold of a pen and the blank back side of one of the forms and immediately started drawing their little stick figure family, along with odd symbols that might have just been scribbles, if she weren’t so intentional about them.

“Look!” Skye insisted. “Look! Look! Look!” When she was satisfied she had everyone’s attention, she pointed to the figures.

“You can be the mommy,” she said to Melinda. “You can be the daddy,” she said to Phil. “And I’m me!” She beamed in excitement. “And Director Fury can be the teacher.” She still had a babyish aw on her Rs, and it made them all melt, even battle-hardened, man-in-charge Diwectah Fuwy, which Phil would be teasing him about for months to come.

Raising a potentially alien daughter who didn’t remember her birth parents or much of anything before, with vague and likely violent early childhood trauma, would be a challenge that required some specialized professional help only Shield could provide, but this day was the first day of an otherwise blissfully happy life together. From that moment on, they were a family.

[asvidema]

i am enjoying kcd2 a normal amount for sure. got lots to say about it already

[foxsoulart]

Ghost F!Leo helps Leo with Krang, gets pulled back with him.(or FLeo gets abducted by his past alternate timeline self, fun times.)

Bonus

First sketches

[trashmyash]

Took an edible last night cause my tooth pain was so bad and heavily misjudged how much I could handle, the first sign was when I forgot how you wear a shirt and then this is a good summary

I also ate all of my raisin cookies and they never tasted better, it was like they were kissed by an angel that's also the hottest lesbian on earth, anyway

[pangur-and-grim]

I love that you can just grab kittens. old cat have achy joints and a sense of dignity that you have to play into, so you gotta be deliberate and respectful in hoisting them, but if a kitten is whirlwinding past you, you can just reach out and snatch them. and they'll be like 'mamma mia, I never did nothing :p' and writhe around and lick your fingers. highly abductable animal

[geeckos]

Girlfrinas

[irrepressible-miracle]

Maybe Miquella's curse isn't eternal nascency, maybe his curse is that he'd be slower than everyone else, that he wouldn't have enough time

[your-eternal-reward]

in a fair and just world we would get a spore 2 and it would make tribe and civ stage actually fun to play and also it would be the best game in the world

[plasticcrotches]

You know, I tell my friends to text me when they get home and they never do. My friends never tell me to text them when I get home but I always do. But I always get a response from NO ONE.

[literary-potato]

Excellent tags from @elysiumnightmares

I guess I don't really care if the Fallout series on Amazon presents a different take on the canon, but I do care if they fuck up the themes about capitalism and nationalism, and I care about this

[goat-boy-sounds]

I need to finish my barry berkman "where the red fern grows" themed fanfic. hm.

[sinner-as-saint]

here forever

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Dating a superhero was no joke. And as noble as Bucky’s job was, it was just as dangerous and unpredictable. Which is why ever since you and Bucky started dating, he’d been training you in his free time. Teaching you how to defend yourself if ever he wasn’t around to protect you, or if ever his enemies came after you. Although you weren’t perfect at combat yet, you were almost certain you could get out of a tricky situation if you ever found yourself in one. But you were soon proven wrong. And your only option was to hope and pray that Bucky finds you in time. 

Themes: smut, fluff, mentions of kidnapping and death, boyfriend!bucky to the rescue, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mean!dom!bucky, aftercare, biker!bucky (except i made him wear a helmet because safety), mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

a/n: short, quick lil fic because I know we’re all hungry

It had been two hours since these strange men had so easily abducted you off the streets. 

It was a regular day, you were leaving yoga class and were on your way to pick up a smoothie. A treat you always got yourself after each workout class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except Bucky’s incessant messages asking about your location. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to let your guard down, not even on busy streets – one of the first lessons Bucky taught you just weeks after your first date with him. But you couldn’t help looking down and frowning at your phone. Your bag, purse and phone in your hands. Always have your hands free when walking alone, even on busy streets – the second thing he taught you. 

Always be ready. Always be ready. Always be fucking ready. 

But you had messed up that morning. Bucky’s messages were starting to worry you. He had been away since last night, and as usual, never gave you too many details about his job. But all you knew was that before he left, he’d asked you to try and not go out if you could. Your apartment was safe. He had eyes all over that building. Cameras, security guards, it was the safest place you could be. 

‘Where are you? Why aren’t you home?’

Seconds later: 

‘I told you not to go out. It’s not safe right now. Call me.’ 

Then some missed calls which you couldn’t answer because you were in class at the time. Then messages one after the other: 

‘Go straight home.’ 

‘Is your class over?’ 

‘Go home and wait for me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.’ 

‘Baby I’m so serious right now, go home.’ 

And you were midway through typing an answer to reply to him. To tell him not to worry. To tell him that yes your class was over, and everything was okay and you would call him as soon as you got home. 

But you never got the chance to reply to his messages. 

It all happened too fast. One moment you were looking down, all your focus on your phone and boyfriend, and the next, you were being grabbed and shoved into a dark truck. You barely even got a scream out before the doors were shut and a tape sealed your mouth, ropes snaking around your wrists and ankles. 

And just like that, in less than a full minute, you were taken. 

And here you were now. 

In the back of that same truck which had been driving for about two hours, maybe more. Getting further and further away from the city you lived in, and into more and more unknown areas. 

Fuck! You had messed up. 

You should’ve checked your phone while you were still inside the building. You shouldn’t have been texting on the streets. You shouldn’t have let your guard down. Bucky had been saying for weeks that he suspected people had eyes on him, and consequently you because you two spent a lot of time together. 

He was right of course. He always was. You should’ve listened. You should’ve stayed at home, at least until he got back later today. 

A tear slid down your face, like it had been for the past hours. You silently cried, thinking about all the potential circumstances you could end up finding yourself in. You couldn’t even tell who were the men who kidnapped you because they all wore masks and hadn’t said a single word in the past hours. 

They were armed. And the truck seemed bulletproof. And they kept driving. Nothing said about wanting a ransom, nothing about why they had taken you, or whether they were using you as bait to get Bucky’s attention. Surely they were. 

And a few minutes later, when you heard the familiar roar of a familiar bike, you knew they had his full attention. 

Bucky was here. 

But they hadn’t noticed yet. And you didn’t want them to. So you tried to get all their attention on you by wiggling in the backseat, acting like you were trying to get more comfortable. The two armed men right in front of you just glanced at you and your tied limbs and let you be. 

You noticed the guy in the passenger seat didn’t even bother looking at you. The driver looked into the rearview mirror but quickly looked away and ahead. 

They still hadn’t heard the faint, steady roar of Bucky’s bike. 

Perfect. 

By the time Bucky would get close enough to attack, he would catch them by surprise. And it would be too late for them to react and defend themselves. 

So you kept moving, grunting in annoyance extra loudly just to mask the sound of Bucky’s bike as it got closer and closer– 

A loud gunshot exploded near you. For a moment nothing made sense. 

Then you realised the truck was no longer steady, it was tilted on one side. Bucky had shot one or more of the tires. You sighed in relief, while the men in the vehicle panicked. Muffled voices spoke all at once, one of them telling the driver to drive faster. 

Another, one of the men who was armed in front of you, lowered the window and popped his head and gun out, trying to find whoever was around but it was too late. 

You turned your head and managed to catch a glimpse of him through the rear windshield. Amongst the smoke and dirt flying, there he was. Mounted on his mean bike like a fierce general riding his beast into battle. Except this general wasn’t backed by soldiers. He was alone. 

But army or not, he was still Bucky Barnes. All black bike, black helmet, full biker gear, metal arm catching the sunlight. Guns strapped to his body. He looked like Death. 

A sob shook your body as you ducked and hid under the seats as much as you could as Bucky rain down bullets like hellfire upon the vehicle. He knew it was bulletproof, but you were certain he was doing it just to get the men to use their weapons and waste their bullets on him as fast as possible. 

The loud noises made it seem like your brain was vibrating, your heart was racing, and your ears were hurting with how loud the guns and shouts were. But Bucky was here, and all would be well now. 

A few seconds later, the truck began zig-zagging. You assumed it must be because the driver got shot. More shouts and bullets later, the truck came to a sudden stop. Like it collided with something that was strong enough to stop it even at that speed. 

But there was nothing on the empty streets you had been on. Nothing except… Bucky. 

An eerie silence followed. Then footsteps. The men in the truck had all been shot you realised upon smelling the scent of blood and gunpowder. 

You couldn’t get yourself up, not with your limbs still tied but you tried your best. And you were barely up when you heard the sound of metal literally tearing apart. You managed to peek from the back seat and Bucky had torn off one of the doors. The entire door off the side of the truck. 

You couldn’t call for him, but you kicked the back of one of the seats hard enough to get his attention. 

The moment his ocean blue eyes met your teary ones, you couldn’t help but start crying. Hot, burning tears streaming down your face as Bucky almost tore apart the entire truck to get to you. The moment he grabbed you and pulled you out into the open air, it was only his arm around you keeping you up. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered over and over again, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He repeated continuously as he carefully peeled the tape off your lips and cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intently to look for injuries while he wiped your tears away. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking more panicked and worried than ever. “Baby, answer me. Did they hurt you? Inject you with anything? Touch you?�� 

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than to just be able to take a deep breath, now safe in his arms. Only when you went to wrap your shaky arms around him, he stopped you. Keeping you at arms’ length and away from him. 

That worried, soft look in his eyes turned cold. Even under the afternoon sun, you shivered under his gaze. 

“What the fuck did I tell you before I left, huh?” He snarled. “I told you to stay inside, don’t leave the building. Didn’t I say that?” 

You sniffled, nodding. “I just went to my weekly class, and–,” 

He cut you off, hissing, “And look what happened!” He was almost screaming in your face, “You’re so lucky I got here in time. You’re so fucking lucky I have a tracker in that bag of yours. Otherwise it would’ve taken me days to get to you! Days!” 

You trembled, knowing he was right. Bucky dealt with dangerous people. He knew why he asked you to be cautious. 

Bucky leaned closer to you, looking down at you with no warmth. “These aren’t the villains you read about in your silly, little fucking books.” His voice sounded menacing, freezing. “These are actual, dangerous people. They wouldn’t have waited for you to charm your way out. They would’ve killed you!” He yelled. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. “I was replying to your texts and–,” 

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him. “That when I tell you it’s not safe out there, you stay put. You stay inside and wait for me.” He growled. “You could’ve been killed today! And who would have had to live with that, huh? Who would’ve had to live with the disappointment that he couldn’t keep you safe? That he brought you into this shitty life and couldn’t even keep you alive?” He bellowed. “Who would’ve had to look your family in the eyes and tell them he lost you? Me! That’s who!” 

More tears, and a whimper escaped your lips. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had never seen this side of him. He let go of your face like it burned to touch you. 

He looked around, at the torn apart truck. At the bodies. The bullets on the ground. He grimaced but didn’t say anything. He reached into the truck and grabbed your things. Your bag and all that you had on you when you were taken. Your phone wasn’t here though, they must’ve thrown it out onto the streets while they took you. 

Bucky said, “We need to get out of here. Come.” 

He didn’t turn around to see if you were following, he knew you would. Once he got on his bike, he handed you his jacket and helmet. You put both on without questioning where you were going. 

Once sat behind him, your arms hesitantly around his torso, he turned to the side and said, “City’s not safe right now. We’ll spend the night at a motel nearby.” 

And that was all he said for the next few hours. 

– 

By the time you two made it to the motel – which was much, much more decent and clean than you had imagined – the sun was already setting. The place was quiet. A few voices conversing here and there, ACs humming as ACs do, cars coming in and out frequently given there was a gas station nearby, and a burger joint on the other side of the street. 

Bucky got you two a room for the night, and didn’t say a word to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the room. 

It was a decent room. Bed, bedside tables, TV, sofas. The usual. 

You didn’t notice Bucky had packed a bag as well. You hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He placed his much bigger bag on the bed and pulled out a few things. Some belonging to you, you noticed. Toothbrush, soaps, clean clothes. 

He handed a bunch of things to you and said, “Go shower.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke. Guess he was still angry at you. 

You didn’t argue. You just took the things and rushed to the bathroom, locking yourself in there for a good half an hour. 

When you stepped out of the shower, feeling clean finally, you noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room. And the weather outside had changed. You could hear the faint thunder approaching. Surely by tonight there would be a storm. 

But where had Bucky gone? 

You put your clothes away in your bag, and with no phone you had no choice but to turn the TV on. You got in bed, a few minutes into watching some random documentary when Bucky walked in with food. 

You gave him a look, wondering if he would talk to you now. But all he said as he placed the bags filled with food on the bed was, “It’s none of your fancy green smoothies and healthy wraps, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m going to shower.” 

Then he disappeared. 

You were still upset, but then hunger took over and you pawed at the bags like a raccoon. You found milkshakes, fries, and burgers. And you ate while you wondered how long Bucky would keep being angry at you. 

You were halfway through your second burger when Bucky walked out of the shower. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, dark hair pushed back, droplets of water still dripping down his chest and abs. 

You swallowed your food before you choked, then looked away, acting as if the documentary on the TV was much more interesting to look at compared to your half naked boyfriend. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and you noticed he was carrying a first-aid kit in his hands. 

You shook your head. 

“Nothing? No scratches, nothing?” He asked again. 

You shrugged, “Just a small cut. It’ll heal. Nothing serious.” 

He walked over to your side of the bed, and said, “Show me.” 

You didn’t want to argue so you placed your food aside, lifted your shirt and showed him the minuscule cut on your ribs. “It’s not–,” 

But he cut you off by placing the kit down and looking for some cotton and disinfectant. 

It burned as he cleaned in and put a little bandaid over it. It hurt even more when he didn’t kiss it after like he usually does whenever he tends to your cuts and wounds. 

You didn’t say a word though. And soon, you both finished your food in silence with only the TV and the approaching storm as noise in the background. 

The thunder got louder and louder as you both got into bed. That weird silent treatment continued, and by now you were annoyed as well. You’d admit, it was your fault for being so careless when he’d told you to be cautious. But didn’t he see that you needed him now? 

Couldn’t he see you wanted to be held? And kissed? And comforted? 

You frowned in the dark. The lights from outside came through the blinds and lit the room up a little bit. As did the lightning. You were the only one tossing and turning you noticed, Bucky was asleep it seemed. 

But the thunder, the new bed, the fear and stress from earlier, it was all keeping you from falling asleep. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but you liked being held while you fell asleep. But Bucky wasn’t even talking to you, and wrapping your own arms around yourself wasn’t working. 

Another hour went by. Now the heavy rain finally came, along with a proper thunder storm. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You turned to face Bucky and he had his eyes shut, facing you. Not a single item of clothing on his body, except for a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. You sighed, frowning a little in annoyance still but you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, seeking his warmth and embrace. 

First you pressed into him, to see if he would stir or wake up. He didn’t. So you got bolder and took his metal arm and placed it around you, waiting again. He didn’t move. So you went to wrap your arms around him, and once you did, you heard his sleepy voice saying, “Oh, what’s this? Now you need me?” 

You froze, trying to see if you could pretend you were asleep already. He didn’t buy it. 

“I know you’re awake.” 

You sighed. “It’s the thunder.” You said, nuzzling his warm neck. 

“And you need daddy to protect you now, little bunny?” He mocked. “But when I try to tell you what to do to keep you safe you never listen.” 

You noticed he kept his arm around you, pulling you more into him even as he chided you. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It won’t happen again.” 

He hummed. “It better not.” 

You were quiet for a second or two, then said, “You were so mean to me earlier.” 

“I have to be.” He said sternly. “You never listen. You don’t take your training seriously, you think you’re ready to fight your way out, baby, but you’re not. All I asked you to do was not to leave that apartment until I got there. But you couldn’t help but be a brat, could you?” 

You squirmed in shame. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.” 

“Well,” He said, sounding sassy as he pulled you closer, “I am pissed. Deal with it.” 

You had had enough. You slipped out of his arms, “Stay here and brood then,” You tried to get out of bed, “I’ll sleep on one of the sofas–” 

Bucky didn’t let you. A loud thunder boomed right above as he pulled you back into bed and climbed on top of you. “Stop being fucking difficult.” He hissed. 

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours. Beard scratching your face, his long hair tickling the sides of your face. 

His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Bucky pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. “Brat.” Glaring down at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again. 

Your brain felt like it was floating. His kiss was hot. And messy. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Needy little brat. Can’t ever do as you’re told, can you? You almost got fucking killed today, but you don’t care about that. Do you? Huh?” 

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function. 

“Why are you quiet? No bratty words for daddy?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Go on, tell me to stop. Tell me to let you go.” He taunted, knowing full well you would never do that. 

All you did was whimper as he touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around. 

“You’re gonna listen from now on.” He stated. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll lock you in that apartment if I have to. But from now on, if I tell you it’s not safe out there, you do not leave that house. You hear me, princess?” 

Silence. Which earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. “Fine,” You said, “Yes, I hear you. I’ll be good.” You whined. 

“Of course you will,” He said, his metal hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. “‘Cause I’ll have you over my knee and spank that little butt raw if you don’t.” 

You whimpered and squirmed because of how badly you needed him inside you. “I will. I’ll be so good,” You begged, “Buck, please.” 

Bucky wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you moaning out loud, not caring that the walls might be thin. 

The storm got louder somehow, thunder rumbling and lightning lighting up the room every now and then. The rain got heavier, silencing the rest of the world as Bucky fucked you. His body weight pressing down onto you in a way that made you never want to be anywhere else. 

It didn’t matter that you were in a small motel room, so far away from home. It didn’t matter that danger could still be lurking around. Nothing mattered, not when he held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right. 

He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “Look how you behave the moment you have some cock in you. Is that all my baby wanted? Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is this why you’ve been pouting for the past few hours?” He chuckled, spreading your thighs even more, “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He cooed, fucking into you deeper somehow. “I’ve been so mean by telling you just where you messed up and how bad things could’ve gotten if I didn’t reach you in time. I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” He mocked you, scoffing, “Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock, baby? Because daddy’s so mean to you, is he?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. 

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough to make you behave from now on, baby?” 

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. His stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body grew, familiar, tight and hot.

The storm, the streetlights, and every little bit of light allowed you to see how Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “I killed for you today.” He whispered, “I saved you, and this is what I get? Attitude? A bratty girl? Not even a thank you,” He scoffed, “Not even a ‘thank you for saving me daddy’, nothing.” The cold cruelty in his voice only made you clench around him harder. 

His hand squeezed your throat again, making you moan even louder. “Dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on?” 

“Yes,” You whined, not recognising your voice because of how desperate you sounded. Then again, only he could make you sound this way. You whimpered, unable to say anything else because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. 

Fuck, you needed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly. 

“Yeah?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re gonna be my good girl and listen to me?” 

You nodded, tears streaming down your face again. The exhaustion from earlier, the day you had survived. It was all too much. “Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad. Your thoughts were a mess. 

“Good girl.” 

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier. 

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for daddy.” 

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

—

You vaguely remember his cleaning the two of you. He let you rest for a minute, but then it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. So he flipped you around, straddled you and began massaging your worn out body. 

He rubbed his rough hands all over your back, down your hips, and thighs. It was quiet for a while. Just the rain, the thunder, and the sound of Bucky breathing. 

Then you heard his gentle voice. “I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered, like he was saying it to himself, “Not you, baby.” 

Your heart throbbed and pinched.  

He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your spine, all while massaging your body. “I don’t like being mean to you.” He kissed his way up again, nuzzling your ear and whispering, “Earlier today,” He spoke softly, “When I watched the tracker show me how fast you were getting further and further away, thinking about how they must’ve grabbed you. How easily, how quickly they took you, I–,” His voice cracked. 

You couldn’t help the tears anymore, “I’m sorry.” You tried to turn over and face him but he gently pushed you back down on the bed. 

“Shh,” He shut you up. “Just let me take care of you.” His hands touched you everywhere. Soft touches soothing the spots he’d grabbed harshly earlier. “You scared me, baby.” He kissed around the cut on your side. “For a moment I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You sniffled, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “I’ll train harder, I’ll be better. I won’t let my guard down, ever.” 

He leaned in and kissed your lips gently. “You’re perfect.” He stated. “We’ll work on training you better. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. Always.” 

You gave him a teary smile and sheepishly said, “Thank you for saving me.” 

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling your neck again, kissing your skin like he couldn’t get enough. “I would burn this entire world down if anyone tries to take you from me again.” 

You laid your head back down on the pillow, laughing softly. Thinking he was joking. 

He wasn’t.

[acid-ixx]

that's my type! (again &. again drabble)

ft. yandere john constantine x gn! neglected reader w/ the batfamily

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

absolute shitpost, but i keep thinking in my series, again &. again, the awkward tension of having to reject all your suitors right in front of your family.

they don't explicitly force you to tell anyone off – suddenly, bruce believed in the means of gentle parenting after your abduction – but you can tell with their expectant eyes and damian's harsh glares or cass' fighting stance against the small crowd, that if you don't play with their whims, there might be more than broken bones and sore bodies after, compared to simply rejecting them as nicely as you could.

it's kind of like a peace treaty, a silent agreement between your side and theirs to ensure no harm befalls anyone you're close to, if you think about it.

you're still too considerate for your own good, after all.

"... sorry, haha... i'm not interested in dating any one of you right now," your voice is faint like the ghastly whispers of the hallways you're once subjected to, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, eyes downcast in fear of watching their reactions churn out.

if you don't take kindly to the past rejection of your family, then what of them?

imagine the silence that ensues first, then the short celebration after from your family's side. steph shoots your love interests a harsh glance, shooing them away in her high-pitched mockery paired with a mean grin and a tongue sticking out at the heartbreak plastered all over their faces.

there's a brief, "hn," on damian's side. despite the short reply and his still-crossed arms, you can tell it's a tone of satisfaction with just how his lips quirks up at the corner of his mouth.

you look away when your eyes meet his.

at first, you braced for the blinding shame that overcomes your being, these were people precious to you after all. yet the more you think about yourself even further, the more the cup spills with overwhelming anger instead.

anger at just how you allowed your sardonic, dictatorial family the belief that they could just control who you should and shouldn't spend your years of romantic pursuits with.

it's your dating life, not theirs! and you're a full-fledged adult, mind them!

no! this shouldn't be their moment, you shouldn't lose your dignity and reputation, seen as someone in the public eye allowing the very same people who estranged them the delusion of control over your emotional autonomy to romantic feelings.

you don't allow the time to stretch even further, touching your precious amber necklace when you're sure nobody's looking. it's gifted by someone special, and you hope your beloved on the other side, in another dimension, could hear your distressed signals.

there's an unsound churn, a melodic beat akin to the thrum of a heart that plays mechanically at the pattern your fingers run on the shiny crystal. a warm, intangible glow encases your body like a hug, he'll be here for you soon.

then before the celebration ensues, before dick could explode with absolute joy, praising his baby bird about how he's so proud that they're prioritizing themself or any other patronizing bullshit he wants to splurge, or before bruce can come over to you to give you a pat on the head, possibly even an awkward sidehug, and one of his rare smiles; you breath heavily, then with all your heart, retort with:

"— in fact," your voice booms with a sudden assertiveness that shocks even you, commanding everyone's attention on your furrowed brows and tired glare at the nuisance they're causing. once their eyes are looking expectedly on you, you continue with no hesitation.

"...i'm- well... i'm actually into older men...

— hell, i'm dating one right now..."

a magic circle appears right behind you, encasing your form in a sheer, yellow glow. goosebumps erode from across your body, both from giddy anticipation and the dramatic entry of wind that kisses your skin cooly.

after a momentary beat, alongside watching your wide-eyed crowd, john fucking constantine steps out of the space, his arms already wrapped dangerously close to your hips to be considered not intimate. you turn your back, head meeting his chest, and bring your arms to envelop his shoulders.

he smells of booze and pride.

"miss me already, darlin'?" john laughs and sweetly kisses your sweaty forehead, you giggle at the ticklish sensation of his shaved beard hovering above your head and the faint scent of cigarettes hitting your nostrils.

"oh, more than you could ever know, babe."

his lips find their way to your mouth in a quick peck, as your nose nuzzles with his. there were no other sounds surrounding you other than your shy laughter when his hands explored further below your hips.

after a moment of love-filled gazes, he turns his head to the crowd and offers them a bemused smile, the expressions of those watching makes your shameless pda all the more worthwhile.

alfred's jaw drops to the floor, the tray on his hands cluttering on soft, velvety capets, poor him. even your father couldn't even believe, in all his years of living, that this man had the balls of steel stealing the heart of his precious child.

he doesn't even have the contingency plan for- for this...!

cue the absolute shitshow that plays in everyone else's mind, as you try to convince your boyfriend to get you both out of the place because sloppily making out with you and fondling with the sensitive parts of your body in front of your suitors and family isn't the best course of action if he wants to lose all his limbs.

jason already got his guns out, damian his sword, and duke wouldn't waste a beat triggering his metahuman powers— you know your man, constantine, is a capable lover and fighter with years of experience, but against a crowd of metahuman love interests and a literal house full of trained combatants, you don't want him to sore his body out protecting you before the real fun begins in your shared bed.

all that trouble, when he's capable of teleporting you both away into a safer area, a different dimension where it's just you two. and, you know...

his hand playing with the fat of your ass is already enough to cause a heart attack for all of them, anyways.

a/n: woah, my writing style fluctuates a lot. as i've stated, the more i become invested with the dc fandom, the more i want to branch out with other characters too. i also want more creative plots ngl. this is inspired by my own fic, just a taste. please leave comments below, it's my main motivation bec i'm an attention whore (slash jay) and my works have been flopping lately LMAO. i hope you guys become as feral as i am for this british man.