#so after a long line of trouble shooting and research | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rizlowwritessortof · 3 years ago

Text

Sunshine

This fic was written for @deanwanddamons Three’s a Crowd 3K Followers Challenge. My quote - “I mean, accidents just don’t happen accidentally” will be in bold. My trope - Opposites Attract (Rich girl/Blue collar Dean). And my Third Wheel - Parents (in this case a very snobbish disapproving mother). Sian, I hope I did your Sian Special justice! 😁

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2952

Warnings: Nothing but the usual smut

The awesome dividers are from the amazing @talesmaniac89

“Dean, you look like a stalker.”

Dean geared back in his chair, shooting his brother a disparaging look. “Just appreciating the scenery, Sammy. Unlike you who can’t tear their eyes away from that fascinating research.” His eyes wandered back to the girl in line at the window for coffee, the breeze stirring her hair and the skirt of her sun dress. “How can you not notice her? She’s a beauty, and she looks like a classy chick.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, classy chicks always go for guys like us.”

Dean smirked, looking at Sam with challenge in his eyes. “So you don’t think she’d be interested in me?”

“No way. Looks like a little rich girl, and I bet that’s her mom with her, in the Jackie O suit, all that’s missing is the pillbox hat. She’d shoot you down before you even got close to her daughter.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll see about that.” Dean rose to his feet, turning after a step to look back and shake his head. “By the way, nice fashion assessment, Samantha.”

“Shut up,” Sam fired back, bitch face aimed at Dean’s back as his brother’s bow-legged stride carried him closer to his target.

You waited patiently at the counter for your coffee order and your mother’s cup of tea to be finished. It was a gorgeous spring day, the sun warm on your shoulders, and you watched, trying not to roll your eyes as your mother pulled a tissue from her purse and disdainfully brushed at some invisible thing on her chair. She hadn’t wanted to stop at an outdoor coffee spot, but you loved to sit outside and enjoy coffee here. She’d live. Your mother needed to loosen up.

You shook your head, watching her gingerly perch herself on her chair, and you couldn’t help smiling. Not that you didn’t love her, but you were glad you had moved far enough away that you didn’t have to be under her scrutiny every day. The barista came to the window with your order, and you payed them, leaving a generous tip. You turned, coffee in one hand and your mother’s tea in the other, and collided with a tall man, gasping as both drinks hit the pavement, splashing all over the previously pristine white of your dress and the denim he was wearing.

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” You stood there, mouth open, eyes slowly scanning upwards as he spoke.

Your gaze made its way over his solid chest and broad shoulders, finally reaching his face. Your brain nudged you to close your mouth, and you did, finally nodding and forcing words out. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” My God, he was a stunning man – perfect hair, sexy lips, long-lashed eyes that were a stunning shade of green.

“I’m really sorry. Tripped over my own feet. Let me buy you some more coffee.” He grabbed a handful of napkins from the counter, bending to dab a little at your skirt, handing them to you as you reached for them. “I’ll pay for your cleaning bill. Sure you’re okay?”

You managed to smile up at him, and his eyes lit up. “I’m good, I promise. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You returned to the counter together, reordering your drinks, and Dean paid, offering to bring them to your table. Your mother watched, her expression tight and disapproving, as you approached. “Mom, this is Dean. We had a little collision and he gallantly offered to buy our drinks.”

Dean placed your mother’s tea in front of her, nodding towards her as he spoke. “Ma’am. Nice to meet you. Sorry for the trouble. I’ll pay for the cleaning bill.”

You sat down, thanking him as he set your coffee on the table. “Thank you, it’s really not necessary. It was an accident.”

“No, I insist. I can – meet you back here in the morning? I don’t have any cash on me today, but I’ll still be around tomorrow, if that works?”

You deliberately ignored your mother’s glare as you answered. “All right, I can meet you here, around 9? I come here for coffee most days, anyway.” You smiled up at him and he returned the favor, nodding in agreement.

“9 it is! See you then.” With another nod to your mother, he turned to walk away, and you happily watched, finally turning back to your mother’s reproachful stare.

“Mom. Please stop. He feels bad about what happened and he’s trying to be nice.”

She cleared her throat and picked up her tea, taking a sip before speaking. “He seems rather disreputable.”

You rolled your eyes in response. “Mother, anyone not in you and Daddy’s club seems ‘disreputable’ to you. I think he seems very nice.”

“I am concerned about you, living in the middle of this city, being influenced by all the – eccentric types who live in this neighborhood. You should have gone back to school like we wanted, gotten your masters degree instead of this job of yours. You should be dating a suitable boy by now, thinking about your future. Instead, you’re wasting your time exploring and absorbing all sorts of God knows what kind of ideas, and by the time you realize we were right all along, it may be too late. We would like you to come home.”

“That’s not going to happen, Mother. You and Daddy need to accept that and accept that I’m living my life the way I want to, not the way you have tried to dictate. And don’t threaten me about my trust fund, I don’t want to hear it. Just drink your tea and let’s try to enjoy our day.”

Sam looked up as Dean approached their table with a grin. “Guess who’s meeting little rich girl here tomorrow morning?”

His younger brother shook his head with a wry smile. “Yeah. Very smooth, Dean.” He stood, grabbing his laptop to head towards the parking lot, and Dean swatted him on the shoulder as he walked beside him.

“Takes planning. I mean, accidents just don’t happen accidentally, Sammy.”

Dean arrived a little early the next morning, settling in with his Americano and his phone. He wanted to be there when you showed up, watch you walk into the seating area, take in your presence, enjoy it all before he approached you. Hopefully you’d show up without your mom. She was definitely not a fan.

When you came around the corner, he almost choked on his coffee. You were wearing a flowered halter dress, your toes tipped in red to match, your eyes shining as you said something to – unfortunately – your mother. You walked directly to the counter, and he debated, then headed your way.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said quietly, bending close to your ear, and you turned to him with a smile.

“Dean! Good morning! Looks like you beat us here. We just couldn’t get going this morning.”

You put a hand on Dean’s arm as you talked, not mentioning the fact that the reason you were almost late was that your mother had argued with you for over an hour about coming at all. You had finally put your foot down and told her you were going, but she insisted that if you were meeting this ‘shady character,’ then she was going to be there.

Your drinks were ready, so you paid the barista and handed your mother’s tea to her with a pointed stare. “Please just go sit, Mother, I’ll be there in a minute.” Obviously displeased, she took the cup from your hand and went to the same table you had occupied the day before, disapproval clear even though not a word was spoken. “Sorry about that. She has very antiquated ideas about – well, about everything. Including letting her daughter lead her own life. You’d think I was 16 years old.”

Dean laughed softly. “I get it. She’s just trying to protect you. Gotta admit, though, I was hoping you’d show up without her today.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some folded bills. “Here. For the cleaning. Like I promised.”

“Dean, really, you don’t…” You stopped as he shook his head and pushed the money back towards you. “All right, if it makes you feel better. But it’s really not necessary.”

“I think it is. Anyway – it was really nice meeting you. Maybe someday I’ll come this way again and find you here.”

“Maybe…” You looked up through your lashes at him. “Or maybe you can meet me, say – in one hour? The bookstore on the corner. In the basement. I’ll put my mother in the reading lounge with a cup of tea and then I’ll meet you down there. If you want.”

A slow smile curved his lips, his eyes warm. “Oh, I’ll be there, sunshine.”

About 45 minutes later, Dean entered the book store, wandering until he found a sign reading ‘Vintage Books’ pointing the way to the stairs. The basement was huge, filled with bookshelves, tables and bins full of used books, grouped by genre. Dean smirked to himself, thinking how much Sammy would love this place.

There was no one down there, so Dean walked around, picking up a book here and there, killing time. He had made his way to the far corner of the room, engrossed in reading the back of a book, when you walked up beside him. “Figures I’d find you in this section,” you teased, and he grinned, glancing at the sign – ‘Erotica.’

“Huh. Thought this was the ‘Historical’ section,” he responded with a grin, and you laughed softly.

“Right. Of course you did.” He replaced the book on the shelf and turned towards you, his eyes moving over your features, waiting. The room suddenly seemed airless, and you moved a step closer, stretching up to kiss his lips, soft and tentative. When you stopped, looking up at him, his tongue darted out over his bottom lip before he put his hands on your upper arms and pulled you close, his lips sealing over yours in a searing kiss that sent your pulse racing, heat flushing through your body. When your tongues began to mingle, you raised your arms to clasp around his neck, his large hands guiding you, moving you until your back was against the bookcase as his body pressed close. He was a solid mass of muscle, working man’s muscle, smooth and taut and powerful, and being pinned by him like that sent an electric zing right to your clit, making you moan.

He finally lifted his head, both of you panting for air. You looked into his lust-darkened eyes for a moment before putting your hand on his chest and pushing lightly. He took a step back and watched as you reached behind your neck and untied your halter dress, bringing the ties forward and letting the floral fabric fall to your waist, baring your breasts. Dean’s jaw clenched as his eyes devoured you, and then he looked into your eyes, waiting for your slight smile to tell him it was okay to continue.

He ran calloused fingers over your soft curves, staring almost reverently, before cupping them in his hands. You gripped the shelf behind you as he strummed his fingers over your nipples, watching them stiffen into hard little nubs. Your head hit the bookshelf behind you with a thump as he took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue teasing, flicking, lapping at you until you felt dizzy. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensified as he began to suck gently, and you blushed at the sounds forcing their way from between your lips.

He finally pulled back, blowing over the spit-slick bud, making it tighten even more. “Fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, then moved to the other side, and you whined, your fingers gripping his hair.

“Dean, ohmygod,” you whispered, and you could feel his lips curve into a smile as he continued to tease at your nipple, his hands gripping your waist. He nibbled at the peak, and the almost-painful throb in your pussy was more than you could take. “Please… Dean, please. I need…”

He pulled off your breast with a soft pop, raising up to his full height. “What do you need, sweetheart? I’m more than happy to help.” His beautiful green eyes were almost black with want, but he was going to make you ask before he went any further.

“Need you… inside me. Fuck me, Dean, please,” you begged, and he clenched his teeth, pulling in a hissing breath as your hand found the aching bulge in his jeans. “Please.”

He nodded, and the expression on his face made you clench around nothing, almost desperate now for him. He pulled a condom from his pocket, tearing it open with his teeth and then fumbling with his button and zipper, sighing in relief as his cock was finally freed from its confines. He shoved his clothes down far enough to free himself, rolling the condom on as you watched, wide-eyed and wanting.

Dean pulled at the skirt of your sun dress, lifting it out of his way as his fingers stroked up your inner thigh. You moved your legs apart, reveling in his surprised moan at finding no underwear barring his way. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, his large hand kneading at your pussy, your hips pushing into his touch.

“Took them off before I came down,” you whispered, then gasped as he slipped two fingers inside you, his thumb swirling around your swollen clit. He found your sweet spot in no time, and had you trembling and on the edge so fast your head was spinning. He pulled his fingers free, leaving you panting and clutching at the bookshelves until your knuckles were white. “Please. Dean, please!”

He leaned in to kiss you, stealing what little breath you had left, his hands moving around to the back of your thighs to lift you, letting you wrap your legs around his hips. “Hold on, baby,” he ground out, waiting until you were clinging to his neck before moving a hand down between you, angling his cock to your entrance and pushing in slowly.

There was a silent, quivering space of time as he held you, waiting for your trembling body to adjust, the sensation almost overwhelming. When he felt you begin to relax against him, he gripped you tight and pulled back slightly, then drove up into you, groaning, “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so damn good.”

He continued to move slowly, and you clutched his shoulders, leaning in to breathe, “Fuck me, Dean,” into his ear. The moan that you got in response made your cunt squeeze around him, and with a soft growl he began driving into you, your body braced against the bookcase behind you, your legs clamped around his hips. He was punching breathless cries from you with every thrust, and you could only hope that no one else had come downstairs, because the blissful tension in your body was building to the point of oblivion. “Dean… aaahhh… I can’t…”

“Come for me, sweetheart, just let go. Squeeze that pretty cunt around my cock, come on…” His rhythm was faltering, his voice desperate. He buried himself deep inside you, holding himself there as he shoved his hand between you to rub rough fingers over your clit, and you bit your lips to smother the scream trying to escape from your throat as you came. Dean began to move again, his head buried in your shoulder, pistoning into you hard and fast as he worked you through your orgasm and reached his, bucking against you as his balls drew up tight and he exploded.

The throbbing of his cock inside you sent another wave of heat through you, and you clung to Dean with all your strength, your body shaking. He raised his head, looking into your eyes for a moment before kissing you, slow and deep, until you quieted. Then he took a step back, his hands on your waist as he lifted you slightly, pulling himself free and sending a shudder through you.

He set you on your feet, supporting you until he was sure you were steady, a soft smile on his face. He moved away for a moment, grabbing a tissue from a nearby desk and disposing of the condom, putting himself back together before coming back, a wistful look in his eyes. “I wish we had more time.”

You smiled back, your eyes closing for a moment as he bent to place a gentle kiss to each nipple before pulling your dress back up and tying the knot behind your neck. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He put a hand to your face, that same tender look on his face. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. Glad I – um – ran into you.”

You laughed quietly. “Me, too. Maybe sometime you’ll be back this way when my mother isn’t here. Maybe we could run into each other again.”

Dean grinned. “That’d be nice.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Put your number in. Next time I make it this way I’ll give you a call.”

You did as he asked, then stepped close and stretched up for a kiss. “Maybe we’ll go for coffee.”

“Maybe we’ll do a lot of things.” He kissed you again, cupping your breast and squeezing gently.

After the long, lingering kiss, you stepped back reluctantly. “I’d better go. She’ll be getting impatient.” You reach for his hand. “Take care of yourself, Dean.”

“You, too, sweetheart.” He watched you as you left, then looked at his phone, smiling as he saw your number and the name next to it – ‘Sunshine.’

Tags for my lovelies: @saenalife @deanscarlett @jensensgotyoudean @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @geeklibrarian @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mrswhozeewhatsis @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sleep-silent-angel @darcia22 @winchesterprincessbride @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @deanslittleangel2y5 @melanie451 @spectaculacular-sammy @bookchic20 @jodyri @selma-jean-blog @savingapplepie-eatingthings @kittenofdoomage @masked-maiden42 @lean-mean-deanwinchester @ericuhlorain @undecided-garden @ceeceewinchester @typicalweirdbookworm @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @youtoldalie @tanithlowisabamf-blog @deandoesthingstome @jxackles @nerdwholikesword @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @kreweofimp @gabavaldman @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @darkx143 @disassociativedogma @ioanashalala @jencharlan @deansthirstblog @dorky-and-i-know-it @mischief-maker1 @winchestersandwordprocessors @percussiongirl2017 @bringmesomepie56 @akshi8278 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @torn-and-frayed @sandlee44 @wingedcatninja @evansrogerskitten @emoryhemsworth @peaceinourtime82 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @sarcasmqueen74 @maliburenee @mrsjenniferwinchester

#sunshine #deanwanddamons3Kfollowerschallenge #dean fic #dean x reader #dean smut #dean fluff #fluffy smut

99 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years ago

Text

Stress Relief Part Four

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Chapters will have explicit content further down the line.

Notes: The first few chapters aren’t explicit, so I’ll add the necessary labels when they’re needed. Chapters are also going to be shorter just in general. I’ve been sitting on this one for a w h i l e.

Not beta-read

Warnings: Me pretending to know anything about art crime, art forgery, or the FBI, or Ptolemaic art. Don’t get me wrong, I did some research but uhhh. Ya know.

Summary: You knew that Pike was pissed with you. You could see it as your fellow agents had begun handcuffing suspects, before you ducked into the back of the van to look around.

You got a tip—a good tip. It was a good tip that led to a raid, but that raid was...Just a little less than standard.

You did manage to snag one of Denise Moquin’s associates.

Denise Moquin is one of the top associates in Les Gens Sans Noms—the daughter of the kingpin in the 70s. When her father died, there had been a brief power vacuum before she had installed herself as the head of the gang. How Denise Moquin and Luce Guilin operate are two completely different animals. You now have no doubt in your mind that Gaulin couldn’t have been involved in the heist.

Gaulin has had no trouble roughing up guards, assaulting people in the past in the pursuit of his crimes. When you go after Moquin, when you storm the warehouse, you can hear her men ordering, “Tirez à leurs pieds!”—Fire at their feet! It’s consistent with the action at the airport. Pike issued an order to keep back, you heard it—vaguely, you heard it—but you charged ahead anyway. You heard Pike calling after you, too, but it didn’t stopped you from running into the line of fire and shooting out the back tires of their van.

You knew that Pike was pissed with you. You could see it as your fellow agents had begun handcuffing suspects, before you ducked into the back of the van to look around.

“I told you to hold—”

“Did you?” You muttered, “Kinda hard to hear over—you know, the gunfire and stuff.”

You looked around, tugging your gloves down around your wrist to ensure they were on securely before you reached down, popping the lid on a crate. You peered inside, spotting a few guns.

“That’s odd, because everyone else heard me.” His irritation was only growing sharper. You didn’t bother glancing back at Pike. You knew from his tone that he didn’t believe you; you knew that you were in a tight spot.

“Weird how that happens,” You commented, reaching into your pocket and tugging out your infrared flashlight. You heard Pike huff impatiently behind you, but you clicked on the flashlight nonetheless, shining it through the crate before shining it along the floor of the van. There were a few splatters along the floor, but nothing that looked substantial.

“This isn’t something that you can take lightly,” Pike began to lecture, even as you shone the light over the side of the van and froze, “That sort of recklessness can get you……Get you killed...What is that?”

You climbed into the back of the van, crouching down and leaning in, narrowing your eyes.

“If I had to guess? A few specks of lapis lazuli. A primary component in Egyptian blue,” You turn to look at Marcus, “Highly transferable, and present on the relief that’s gone missing. We need to get forensics in here.”

“...Alright,” Marcus nodded, stepping back to let you down before he added, “Hey.”

You turned back to look at him, brows raised.

“We’re not done,” He warned, face set sternly. You felt your stomach twist with worry and annoyance, but you nodded, turning away. You’d take a fucking slap on the wrist as long as it meant a solid lead.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @writefightandflightclub ; @elen-aranel

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike imagine #Stress Relief

50 notes · View notes

tarydarrington · 4 years ago

Text

Essek doesn’t remember much of their introduction, this time around. He had arrived at Caleb’s home in the early afternoon for their scheduled research. They had exchanged pleasantries. Caleb had pulled him into a hug, as he always does these days, and the two of them had made their way to the tower. There might have been more - conversation, witty barbs thrown around between friends, and the like - but all of it had left his mind the moment he saw the corner.

Caleb had seen the questioning look on his face, and a flush had tinted his face as he informed Essek that he has a date, tonight. Then they had settled in with their books, as though everything were perfectly normal and there was not a fist around Essek’s heart.

His eyes scan over the same sentence for a tenth time. It shouldn’t bother him. Caleb is free to seek out partnership wherever he wishes. Certainly, there are many better-suited than… well, there are people who would suit him well. People who are not so shy of touch, who have no tangled past to trip them up, who are lucky enough to see him every day.

It’s only that Essek had let himself start to believe that maybe...

It doesn’t matter. He swallows it down.

Caleb has a date. That is perfectly acceptable. There is absolutely no logical reason why Caleb should not have a date. He is uniquely brilliant and talented, impossibly kind-hearted, utterly endearing, more handsome than anyone Essek has ever-- stop. He is an impressive man, is the point, and certainly no one could be around him for long without noticing.

It looks… Something aches in Essek’s chest. He had never courted during his time in Rosohna, but from time to time, he had born witness to the habits of others. Always, their meetings had seemed extravagant, grand, gaudy - as though the whole of the city might stumble in and judge them unworthy. This little corner of the library is a far cry from any of that.

Two cushioned armchairs have been pressed close to a little, round table. A deep red tablecloth rests atop it, and a set of amber-colored candles wait unlit in the center. Their varying heights remind him of his towers, and the hollow pang in his chest at the thought has him retreating back to his book.

He doesn’t make it more than two lines before his thoughts begin to drift again. It looks so… intimate. Everything Caleb has set out, save the decorations, had already lived in this room. Essek has curled up in those armchairs on many a night, as he waited for Caleb to finish his sleep. He has piled books on that table, caught up with Caleb in the rush of research.

And it’s all so close. So neatly tucked into that little alcove, cozy enough that two people could whisper and still be heard. He knows because he and Caleb have sat propped against the bookshelves there, tossing ideas back and forth. That area is where he keeps their own books: the ones he and Essek have filled together, the ones full of research notes and new spell ideas. Perhaps he’s planning on pulling one out to impress… whoever it is.

Essek feels a bit sick. Man? Woman? Neither? Both? Are they a fellow professor, or a merchant, or an adventurer? Something else entirely? He wishes Jester were here to pry for him. He wishes he didn’t want to know.

Whoever they are, he thinks as he steals a glance back at the alcove, they had better treat him properly. They had better give him everything.

From the corner of his eye, Essek sees Caleb’s eyes flick up to watch him. He looks away hastily, but the way his face softens tells him Caleb has seen him looking.

“What do you think of all that?” he asks with a nod toward the corner.

What does he think?

If Caleb had been trying to design this evening for him, he couldn’t have done better. A small, foolish part of Essek can’t help but wonder if he had been trying to design it for him - but he digs one sharp tooth into the inside of his lip to chase the thought away.

“It is… “ It shouldn’t hurt like this. He has no right to let it hurt like this. “I cannot imagine anything more lovely,” he says truthfully. “I certainly hope your… companion agrees.”

A small smile pulls at Caleb’s lips, and Essek’s heart aches with the hint of fondness in it, as though he’s imagining impressing his mysterious partner this way. “Ja, well, I am hoping my companion will be willing to join me for it,” he says, and his gaze drops back down to his book.

Essek quirks an eyebrow in question, but Caleb doesn’t look back. He’s gone to the trouble of setting all this up, and he still hasn’t so much as asked? But Caleb doesn’t offer any further insight on the topic, and it is most certainly not Essek’s place to ask; so, with what he hopes is not an audible sigh, he tucks back into his book.

Mercifully, the topic is interesting. For the last several months, he and Caleb have been exchanging notes on a more wide-reaching version of Programmed Illusion, and Essek has always been at his best when playing with new magic. The two of them settle into their usual rhythm, the thought of the corner table only nagging at the back of his mind from time to time, and while away the hours together.

It's already half past nine when Essek realizes just how caught up he's become. With a sigh, Essek replaces his book on the table and rises.

“I apologize. I lost track of time.” But Caleb couldn’t have, could he? “I should let you go.”

Caleb's eyes flick up from his reading, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "There is no hurry, friend," he says.

He stands, as well, as Essek begins to float toward the tower's central cylinder. Truly, he doesn't look rushed in the least. But for once, Essek would very much like to be out of his home quickly, with as little time as possible spent in eyeshot of that perfect, little corner.

“You have someone to meet, do you not?” he prompts. He’s lucky to have had so much practice keeping his face calmly polite.

Caleb smiles, a taut and fragile thing. “Well, no,” he says, “not exactly. Just something to ask.” He clears his throat. With a strange, new nervousness about him, he clasps both hands in front of him and straightens his spine. “So,” he says, inclining his head towards Essek. “Essek Thelyss. Would you care to join me for dinner, tonight?”

Months later, with a smile equal parts smug and fond, Caleb will use Seeming to recreate the way Essek’s face contorts itself before he schools it back under control.

“I--” he attempts. The shade his face must be. “That would, ah…” He is an idiot. An idiot who can’t even find his words, an idiot for whom Caleb-- for whom all this has been planned, and-- “I would be…”

Caleb’s smile softens, and he holds one hand out between them. Essek numbly, slowly, carefully reaches out to take it.

As soon as their hands touch, the lights in the library gutter out, and the candles on the table wink to life. Above, a web of amber stars and constellations spiders its way across the ceiling. The sky above Rosohna. Just where everything would be from his towers, on this day, at this time. That fist around his heart is back, but for an entirely different reason. He had been wrong. There had been a way to make it more perfect, after all.

Essek doesn’t realize he’s staring until Caleb leans in close and murmurs with an audible grin, “I may have figured out that spell a bit earlier than anticipated.”

His only answer is a breath of incredulous laughter and a look that he’s sure is entirely too moon-eyed to be dignified. Under the circumstances, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch. In any case, Caleb seems to appreciate it; the smile on his face is worth just about any amount of indignity, as is the rush as he twines their hands tighter together and leads Essek towards the alcove.

Perhaps there are a dozen or a hundred or a thousand people better suited - or perhaps there are not, he thinks as he settles in between the books they’ve filled together. Perhaps, he thinks fleetingly as a shooting star above catches his eye, he will have to spend some time studying the sky above Blumenthal. He’ll certainly have to finish that spell.

#have something incredibly self indulgent #the very end of this is probably the most outright fluffy thing i've ever posted #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #mine #mine:fic #essek #caleb #critical role

1K notes · View notes

crazy4myself · 3 years ago

Text

No Harm List | Pt. 12

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: mafia au, fluff, violence

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is one of the most powerful crime lord’s heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: violence, alcohol, mention of drugs, borderline smut

Wordcount: 10.3k+

Beta reader: @punkisnotdead2318

A/N: So I thought I posted this last week but it didnt work! so lets try this again! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Masterlist

------

J-Hope was on the seventh floor of the Lumi hotel along the main street of Alcor’s garden district. He watched through the sight on his gun as bright-colored convertibles inched by for the parade. The streets were packed, lined with masses of people cheering and begging for shiny, free plastic to be tossed their way.

“Three minutes until showtime.” Suga’s voice buzzed in the earpiece.

“Got it,” J-Hope said as he adjusted the long-range gun on his shoulder, waiting for the red convertible, containing his target, to inch a little closer. He was a large pot-bellied man with a winning smile and immaculately styled hair. Yet, despite his handsome, aging face, even from a distance, J-Hope could see how his blue eyes gleamed with greed.

J-Hope had thoroughly built his notorious reputation as one of the best sharpshooters in Alcor, possibly the entire nation of Kros, over the years and was often hired out to do work outside of BTS for other organizations and politicians.

He’s selective about what missions he accepts. He learned his lesson after he lost his sister, and since then, he built his trade with care. Taking the time to understand his clients and their motives. J-Hope learned the hard way what it cost to be a mindless soldier behind a gun and what happens when the family members of his more dangerous victims seek revenge. He has sworn never again to make the mistake of pulling the trigger under unquestioned orders. He would not let one of his loved ones face the consequences of his actions. Even the transactions of his payments are more secure than they were before to ensure theirs no trail for anyone to follow back to his trigger. He requires the payment to be made in advance through the Bulletproof casino. The hefty sum is loitered through the business to prevent any evidence from being traced back to him or his family.

After some intensive research, J-Hope couldn’t deny that he was excited about the mission RM gave him. It was ideal. He was making a scene but causing no loss of life.

Tate Hyde was a local asshole politician, worried about his re-election since an opposing smear campaign against him had gained traction in Alcor. After dubbing him “tater tot,” his approval rates and ego have both deflated, so he hired out J-Hope to make a ‘public attempt on his life’ during a parade celebrating the opening of the new school.

‘Tater tot’ thinks being attacked during one of his few selfless acts will stir up some good press.

Luckily, J-Hope’s pay wasn’t dependent upon the outcome of the public's reaction or re-election.

“One minute,” Suga’s voice crackled in his ear.

J-hope asked “Did you take down the cameras?”

While a scene like this is staged, it’s for nothing if it doesn’t seem real. And lucky for BTS, stirring up some trouble in the Garden District would take some heat off of BTS, or at least spread the cops thin, turning their focus on protecting local politicians and, as a result, getting less of them to look into the shooting at the Bulletproof.

The Black Tips also managed a few of the construction projects in the area. Any increased investigation on active gangs in the area might be bad for their business, and right now, BTS was taking any swing they could at the Black Tips.

Namjoon was willing to play the game and tear them down brick by brick.

“Rolling on loop now,” Suga confirmed.

J-hope still has to get himself out of the area without being caught, so Suga came for backup. He’ll be taking down any surveillance that could pick up his identity and help him navigate his way out of the building.

J-Hope aimed and let out a warning shot first, making sure to lodge it in the trunk of the convertible so it wouldn’t hit any witnesses. Piss poor aim was another way to protect his identity J-Hope thought smugly to himself.

The politician dove for his wife, covering her body with his own.

“Fuck” J-Hope cursed under his breath, his chance of a clean shot diminishing as he now had to account for his bullet going through the man and hitting something vital on his wife. The car stopped moving, and the crowd was already in a frenzy with guards running up to assess the situation.

“Take the shot, Hope they’re already heading for your building.” Suga’s voice ordered in his ear.

Aiming for the man’s shoulder, J-Hope fired before turning from the window quickly before a cop could identify the source. If the wife gets hit, it’s the bastard’s fault for moving closer to her.

“Stay calm,” Suga reminded as J-Hope broke down the gun quickly, making a mental note to clean it later as he tucked it in the compact case before sliding on the backpack.

He stepped out of his hotel room and into the hall, looking just as concerned as the other pedestrians in the area before carefully making his way to the main exit. Sticking to a crowd was the safest way to stay inconspicuous.

Then his phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered brightly, expecting it to be Suga online, providing him with a bit of extra coverage.

“Hi, Mr.Jung, we just wanted to let you know that Y/N has about 30min left in her procedure if you want to make your way over,” a cheery voice greeted.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked, confused

“Y/N’s wisdom teeth removal. Everything’s fine; we would just like for the guardian that escorts her home to be here when she wakes up for a quick debriefing on further care.” The nurse responded in a sing-song voice, “It says here you consented to be responsible for her? We have her signature.”

Fuck.

“Hope?” Suga questioned softly from the Bluetooth piece in his other ear. “The cops are in the building. Take the stairs.” He ordered

J Hope turned away from the elevators and headed for the stairs as he continued to speak with the nurse on the line, “Yeah, I actually can’t be there. Is there any way you can send her home, and I can come by later for the instructions?” He asked hesitantly

“Sir, she is under anesthesia. She shouldn’t drive for the next 24 hours. I doubt she’ll be able to walk out of the building.” The woman’s voice turned harsh.

“Hope” Suga’s voice was a warning in his ear as he tracked the receiver’s line.

Hoseok looked over his shoulder to see the cops coming off the second set of elevators, and he picked up his pace as he made his way to the stairs.

“Please remain calm; we need everyone to return to their rooms.” An officer announced.

Hoseok made a break for the stairwell.

“Hey!” A voice shouted at him.

“I’llsendsomeonetogogetherbye!” J-Hope hung up his phone as he started to race down the stairwell. “Suga, we have a problem,” he panted as he heard the door fly open behind him and a set of footsteps storming after him.

“You have a few problems...” His partner growled in his ear.

“Can you link Jimin in the call?”

“You really want to find Y/N a babysitter right now?” He asked incredulously.

“I don’t want her to wake up alone!” He defended as he jumped the railing and landed on the third flight of stairs, ripping the door open and running down the hall, pulling the first fire alarm he saw.

“A fire alarm, really?” Suga sighed as he dialed Jimin.

J-Hope listened to the dial tone while surveying the hall as people began flooding out of their rooms. Then, turning into the first room left open and unattended, he slammed the door shut behind him and went straight for the window, praying for a fire escape.

There was not a fire escape.

“Hello,” Jimin’s voice greeted him in his ear.

“Do you think I can make a three-story drop without breaking my legs?” J-Hope asked in lue of greeting.

Jimin didn’t miss a beat, “Depends. Does the building have high ceilings? Is it a tall three stories or, like, a shitty motel three stories?”

“Uh, definitely tall,” J-Hope said as he leaned out the window before spotting the fire escape further down the building. Eyeing the decorative ledge on the side of the hotel, he stepped up on the windowsill, testing the integrity. “Got it. Can you pick up Y/N from the dentist?” He asked distractedly.

The younger man stated his confusion with a hum.

“I kinda forgot about her wisdom teeth surgery, and I’m kinda caught up.” J-Hope grabbed at the divot in the building’s bricks as he leaned on his leg out the window, his heart stuttering in his chest.

“I’m sorry, dude, I’m in the lab right now, and I can’t leave for at least three hours,” There was a faint sizzling noise in the background, and Jimin cursed as he scrambled to his work table, “make that four hours.” He added.

“Damn, alright. Suga called Jin.”

“Jin has a meeting this afternoon. He can’t. And V went into deep cover.” Suga replied, ending the call with Jimin.

“Call JK,” he asked, his voice now wavering as he scaled his way across the building, nails cracking with how they harshly gripped the grout and stone.

How did JK and V make this look so easy when they do shit like this?

Suga muttered his disapproval and something along the lines of ‘Might as well let Y/N’ choke on her blood,’ but did as his partner requested. J-Hope was near the fire escape trying to center himself as he reached his right foot out for its edge.

Jungkook picked up on the third ring.

“Yo, I need a favor-” J-Hope's sentences cut off with a yelp of fright as the ledge beneath his left foot crumbled.

---

Jungkook fidgeted as he followed the nurse into the post operations room. He had just woken up after pulling an all-nighter with a task force to sabotage two of the Black Tips construction sites when he got the call from Hoseok tasking him with picking you up and watching over you for the rest of the evening. Since the kiss over a week ago, he has barely seen you, working day and night with RM to recover from the shooting and the warehouse raid. He was so caught up in the gang's affairs that he forgot that you were even getting your wisdom teeth removed.

You and Jungkook have only seen each other in passing at the bakery once in over a week, where the two of you had an uncomfortably short and awkward conversation and made the mutual agreement not to let the others find out about the kiss. Mainly for Jungkook’s safety because he was pretty sure Hoseok would use him for target practice if he found out. Jimin was sworn to secrecy and Taehyung...

Well, that was another conversation Jungkook was due to have but dreaded approaching.

He still felt queasy at the thought of having to talk out his feelings with his brother. But V had insisted he was fine and was quick to volunteer himself to go under deep cover to keep a better eye on the Black Tips from the 6th ward. As a result, no one in the inner circle has seen him in four days. Only Jin, who got daily reports from his cousin, had a clue where he was each day.

And while Jungkook would always worry for his brother's safety, he was relieved to have V out of the picture, especially while he was still trying to figure his own feelings out.

If he was honest with himself, Jungkook let his work keep him away this week. He didn’t even know what to say to you or how he was supposed to feel after the kiss.

Saints, that kiss was amazing.

He knew one thing: he liked you, a lot and he loved spending time with you, but he had no clue how the kiss impacted your relationship. He didn’t know if he could have a relationship beyond what the two of you already had. Or if he was capable of giving you the affection and support you deserved.

Jungkook has had partners and flings in the past, but none of them went very deep. They were mostly other members of BTS whom he trained and had a short fling with until they got settled in their assignment and realized they wanted someone more emotionally available to call a partner. Once the thrill of dating a gang member wore off, he had a hard time keeping the attention of any female in his life.

And that was on a good day. Now, Jungkook was navigating the beginnings of a gang war, and you were trying to finish medical school. How could either of you even try for a relationship? Especially when your dreams and ambitions conflicted so much. Jungkook shot people and sold drugs. Your job was to help people recover from the damage he inflicted. Any thoughts of being with you triggered a moral dilemma he often worked himself to mind-numbing exhaustion to avoid thinking about.

You were still fighting the effects of the anesthesia when the nurse-led Jungkook into the room. Slouching in a wheelchair with your head drooping a little too far to the right, your cheeks were so puffed up from the swelling and cotton that it was past the point of adorable and more comical.

You were also drooling.

“Y/N, your friend is here to take you home.” The nurse cooed at you as if she were talking to a child. You sat upright immediately, grimacing as you attempted a smile but your eyes squinting to show your excitement all the same.

Jungkook stood awkwardly in the doorway with a small bag of your items from the nurse in one hand and a can of soup in the other, not knowing what to do with himself. Jungkook was clueless about what to expect when Hoseok called him. He just knew he ate soft foods after he got his cavity filled once and figured you might want soup if you were hungry.

You let out a muffled “Hoobiii” as you tried to stand.

“Shh, not yet.” The nurse said, pushing you gently to sit down. You were still squinting, and that's when JK remembered that your glasses were in the small bag of your things along with your cell phone, wallet, and earrings.

“She had some trouble waking from the anesthesia, but she seems fully responsive now. It’s normally about an hour or so before the effects wear off, but you’re welcome to take her home after your briefing.” The nurse explained with a sweet smile as she wiped the drool from your chin carefully. Jungkook just nodded blankly, still concerned by the swelling in your cheeks.

He’s never seen anyone after wisdom teeth removal. He remembers a few stories from RM caring for Suga, mainly because RM was a terrible caretaker, and Suga got dry socket.

“I can’t feel my face,” you informed him as he got closer.

The nurse was quick to give him a run down. Pain pills and antibiotics twice a day, no talking for at least today, soft food, no staws (you were quick to tell the nurse that straws kill turtles), try to be elevated when you sleep, the list goes on and on. Jungkooks thumbs couldn’t type the notes down on his phone fast enough. She handed him a pamphlet and assured him Google had plenty of answers, and if not, he could call at any time. And then they were getting ready to wheel you into the hall.

Jungkook quickly fumbled for your glasses, slipping the frames on your face. You blinked at the adjustment before looking up at him and promptly turning distraught.

To his utter terror, you started crying.

“Y-you’re not Hobi. Where's Hobi?” You demanded, finally able to see his face clearly.

“Y/N, it’s okay. Hobi asked me to pick you up! It’s fine. We’re going to have so much fun!” Jungkook leaned to your level, trying to console you. The nurse sighed at the inconvenience.

“I never have fun with you,” you accused with a pout trying to roll your wheelchair away from him. The drool spilling from your mouth was now tinted a slight pink as you started to irritate the stitches.

Jungkook looked up pleadingly at the nurse who shrugged, “be more fun” she suggested with a smirk as if she was enjoying your meltdown. Jungkook sighed and tried to barter.

“C’mon princess, don’t you wanna go home? We can eat soup.”

“Ion wan your soop!” You nearly wailed.

“We can get popsicles”

You froze instantly, and Jungkook wanted to laugh, even in your post-drugged state, your sweet tooth was the leading factor in your decision making. Unbelievable.

“You should actually minimize the sugar,” the nurse said blandly.

You were crying again.

Jungkook glared at the nurse accusingly. “You can have sugar princess. Come on let’s go home.” He cooed at you, brushing your hair away from your face.

The nurse steered the chair to the front and waited with you while Jungkook pulled the car around. He supported most of your weight as he transferred you from one seat to the other and buckled you, which triggered a fierce burning from the injury in his arm. You were still shivering from the anesthesia wearing off, so he leaned to his backseat, cluttered with textbooks and takeout wrappers, and grabbed his spare hoodie he always kept for you and laid it across your lap. By the time he buckled himself into the driver’s seat you were nuzzling into the jacket, and he found it adorable even if the gray fabric was noticeably absorbing your spit.

Jungkook put on some music as he began planning his next steps. First, he needed to go to the pharmacy to pick up your meds. Then, he should probably secure some soft food for you to eat. He had a feeling you would need more than a can of soup for the next three days.

He also promised you a popsicle, and after referring to the pamphlet and seeing sugar wasn’t banned, the nurse was just a terrible person; he intended to get you that fucking popsicle.

Then, he supposed he would take you home? Which was on the second floor of a building without an elevator. And you couldn’t even hold yourself up to get from the wheelchair to the car. Jungkook knew he could probably carry you up the stairs, but that could require you to sit still, which you were not doing one bit in his car.

He was also terrified that his left arm wouldn't be able to support you fully, he was still healing from the bullet that grazed him last week. Not to mention the other fears of being alone with you and not knowing a damn thing about how to care for a sick person. He was so clueless, he was categorizing you as sick because he didn’t know what the hell to call a post-dental surgery person. Jungkook supposed he could go to the Den, they did have spare bedrooms there, and Namjoon and Jin would be there tonight to help make sure you didn’t die.

During his mental debate, you started singing along to the music, the cotton protruding slightly past your lips, it was endearing for all of half a chorus until he saw the pink tinge to your mouth again and remembered you were not supposed to be talking right now.

He quickly changed the song and challenged you to a humming game, hoping that somehow any use of your vocal cords didn’t damage your battered mouth.

Everything was fine again when he pulled up to the pharmacy. You were humming and lightly running your fingertips over your lips as they slowly gained the sensation back, a mesmerized look in your eyes. So he deemed it safe to leave you in the car while he ran in to grab your meds, hopefully, some soft food, and some extra gauze for your mouth.

What he wasn’t anticipating was for you to pull your hand away from your mouth after poking at it a little too hard, biting down on the cotton as you winced and squeezing some of the absorbed blood out of it.

You were horrified when you saw the blood on your fingertips, flicking your tongue along your lip to confirm that you were in fact bleeding.

And then you were crying, a horrible inconsolable cry as you registered the dull ache in your mouth, and the fact that you were bleeding and going to die soon. You felt like you were choking on your own tongue as you pulled bits of bright red cotton from between your lips without a clue of how it got there.

Jungkook was horrified when he returned to the car taking in the blubbering mess you were in. Then, running to your side of the car, he knelt down to your level, desperate to console you.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re fine, it’s okay,” he tried to sooth you. You blinked down to him as your lashes wet and clumped with tears.

“Koo- Kookie, I’m bleeding blood.” You offered as an explanation while trying to pull more cotton from your mouth; you were a mess of blood, spit, and tears.

After some time, he convinced you to calm down and worked some of the cotton back into your mouth, praying that it wouldn’t lead to some kind of infection from touching it. And telling himself, he’ll change it out as soon as he gets to the Den.

He sent Jimin a text to bring you a popsicle after his work and another message to Jin and Namjoon to give them a heads up before making his way home.

You must have tired yourself out from the crying because you fell asleep in the short commute from the pharmacy and didn’t seem to be budging when Jungkook pulled into the garage. Sticking your personal things into the grocery bag from the pharmacy, he unbuckled you and squatted down to work his arms under your knees, and pulled you out of the car. Careful not to bump your head against the low roof.

You were dead weight in his arms, and instantly the wound on his bicep burned at the strain but he clenched his teeth, focusing on breathing and not hitting your head on anything as he made his way to the door. Jungkook managed to use your legs to help him open the door, and then he was laying you down on the couch in the living room, where you remained snoozing and unphased.

Jungkook felt the stinging in his arm and knew he would have to change both of your dressings soon, but first, he wanted to read through the directions on the pamphlet one more time to make sure he didn’t miss any steps.

----

“How is she?” Jin asked softly as he made his way into the living room.

The elder was still dressed in slacks and a button-up, his tie loosened around his neck, and Jungkook knew he came to check in between meetings.

“Okay, I think, we just got in, but I need to change her dressing,” Jungkook answered as he washed his hands.

Jin eyed the pill cutter on the counter and the pill sorter next to it. Jungkook must have been getting all your medication together in advance, so he didn’t miss anything.

“You’ll do fine. Once the wounds clot give her some teabags to pack in her cheeks, it helps with the swelling,” Jin encouraged, noticing the Youtube video tutorial playing softly on his phone, explaining the process of how to change the gauze.

Jungkook nodded moving, to the couch to wake you.

“Can you stay for a minute? I made her cry earlier.” Jungkook asked hesitantly.

Jin nodded, following the younger’s lead as he made his way in the living room and tapped you softly to wake you.

“Ella, you gotta wake up,” Jungkook sang in a sing-song voice.

You cracked your eyes open, disoriented, and Jin had to stifle a laugh at the sight of your chipmunk cheeks as you sat up.

“Can you take some medicine for me?” Jungkook asked, moving to cup the pills in your hand.

“If it’s for you, you should take it, Kook.” You mumbled back.

“You know what I mean, silly,” he insisted as he guided the medication to your mouth. You eyed him suspiciously like you didn’t know what he meant, but you didn’t resist as he pressed the bottle of water against your lips.

“Hey, that's my boss!” You informed as you noticed Jin.

“Y/N, good morning. I heard you got your wisdom removed. How does it feel to be less wise?” Jin teased. You blinked owlishly up at him as you connected his words. Less wise? Shit, you really did get your wisdom removed.

Your eyes watered as the emotion bubbled up your throat, and you let out a quiet sniffle. Jungkook swore under his breath as he raced for you.

“I told you to be careful, she's really sensitive.” You were full-on crying now, hiccuping your ragged breaths. “Ella what’s wrong?” He asked, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“I-I wanna be a doctor, but who wants a wise-less doctor. I have no wisdom to help them!” You sobbed in despair.

Jungkook glared at Jin, who could only smile sheepishly at your outburst. It seems the anesthesia was still taking its toll. The nurse had warned the side effects would make you emotional.

---

Watching over you was easier than Jungkook thought; once he got all your prescriptions sorted into one of those plastic pill sorters he picked up from the pharmacy, you mainly just slept.

You rode a pain pill haze most of the afternoon, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The room you were in was dim but not too dark or silent. You were tucked under a pile of blankets and a pillow that smelled like the best detergent.

You remember being woken up by Jungkook a few times, all soft bunny smiles and whispers as he tried to keep you calm and help you sit up so you could take your medicine, then trying to change the dressing in your mouth as gently as possible. He flinched as the tender movements still made your eyes water, but you nodded at him encouragingly as you gripped the edge of your shirt to ground yourself. Finally, he offered you food, but you drifted off before you could ever get around to eating it.

At one point, you woke up to a sweet, burning smell and looked over to see a kitchen next to you and Jungkook cursing as he moved a pot from the stove to the sink. You tried to smile at the moment, but it made your mouth ache, so you tucked yourself into your pillow and tried to sleep the pain away.

It was hours later when you woke fully to the squeaking sound of someone washing windows. You were prepared to ask Kook to clean more quietly, but when you sat up from the couch, you were met with the sight of Jin and Namjoon sitting at the breakfast bar.

It took a moment for you to get your bearings, and you realized you were on the first floor of the Den, not your home. By the look of the books on the table, you figured Jungkook brought you in here to watch you while he did homework.

You felt like a mess with dried tears making your swollen cheeks feel stiff. You don’t even know if you can do your skincare in this state. The thought of breaking out and having a fat AND pimply face made emotions bubble up and bring tears to your eyes. You tried to blink them away. Was it normal to be so emotional after a surgery?

Jungkook’s face lit up as he noticed you rise. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” he said with a smile. “I need to change your dressing soon,” he clarified, getting up to go wash his hands.

He was gentle as he removed the blood-soaked cotton out of your mouth before moving to work the clean gauze in.

His brows furrowed in concentration, and for a moment, you were mesmerized by him. The way his dark hair framed his features, you didn’t realize how long it had gotten over the months. You wondered if you could tie it back with a hair tie if you tried.

He had a small scar under his eye. You once asked him how he got it, expecting some cool story of his rising years in BTS, and remembered how he grinned as he explained Taehyung literally threw a video game controller at his face in a more intense session of Mario Kart.

Your eyes traveled down his face, taking note of the small mole just under his full bottom lip. His lips were..

“Ow!” Jungkook yelped, jerking his hand away as you bit down. Namjoon and Jin turned to the commotion as Jungkook demanded, “Why did you bite me?”

“Because you’re an idiot,” you sneered—your displeasure written on your face despite the swelling in your cheeks.

Jungkook looked at you shocked, “What’d I do?” he demanded, offended.

“You kissed me, then ran off and played mobster for a week.”

Jungkook blanched at your accusation, “Y/N,” he warned, looking pointedly at their two spectators.

But it was too late; the fog in your mind had cleared, and your emotional dam had cracked as the last effects of your pain pill had worn off. Your eyes teared up; all the sadness, confusion, and insecurity of the past week without him converted itself into a rage as you leaned to shove him away from you.

“When you said you wanted to take your time with me, I didn’t think you meant texting me back.”

Jin choked on his drink at the accusation, and Jungkook had the decency to look ashamed for ghosting you. He opened his mouth to apologize when Jimin burst into the doorway.

“I bought popsicles!” He announced in a sing-song voice as he entered the room. “What's wrong? Did Namjoon make you cry?” Jimin asked at the sight of your disheveled state.

Namjoon argued the accusation as you blinked up at Jimin, your eyelashes still clumped with tears.

“I want to go home.” You said in lue of a response.

Jimin’s smile faltered as he looked between you and Jungkook, who still sat on the floor. Then turning to Jin and Namjoon for a better read of the room, Jin gave a subtle nod, and with that confirmation, Jimin didn’t hesitate to stoop and grab your things off the coffee table, dropping them in the grocery bag of popsicles.

“I love a good sleepover. Can you walk, princess?” His words were bright and bubbly, dismissing his distressed brother, who sat silently on the floor.

You nodded with a sniffle, working yourself into a standing position. Jin handed Jimin all of your medications that were already sorted neatly into a pill divider by Jungkook earlier that day.

With a quick smile and a wave of farewell to the others, Jimin led you out to his car with no questions asked.

“I’ll get your medication schedule from Jungkook later; you don’t have to worry about a thing,” Jimin assured as you both buckled in.

You didn’t want to talk about it once you got home and settled on your bed, and Jimin didn’t push; he could infer what had upset you from what he observed at the bakery this past week or the lack of what he saw.

Jimin had noticed the way you walked in, beaming as bright as the sun the day after the kiss. And how it faltered slightly after Jungkook came in for a quick rendezvous in the supply closet. He watched as your smile faded completely and insecurity ate your good spirit up as the week went on, silent on his end.

Jimin wasn't one to medal in his friend's business. That’s a lie. He’s a no-good busy body. But in this case, in particular, Jimin was careful not to push; he was aware of the delicacy of the situation and how much stress Jungkook was under at the moment. But the way he had completely ghosted you this past week made him want to grab his friend by the ear and drag him to your house to apologize. If Jimin had any clue the choices for picking you up from your wisdom teeth removal were between himself and his shit head of a friend, Jimin would have left the lab to burn without a second thought. Research be damned.

-----

Four short days later, you found yourself returning to a sense of normalcy as you unlocked the entrance to Sugar Daddy. You were granted a soft open, thank heavens, and only had to come in at 6 am, but even after nearly 5 days of nothing, but sleep you found yourself yawning as you battled with the key.

“Jimin,” you called as you entered the dark shop, surprised to see the front cabinets were empty, and the air smelled of baking bread instead of the sweets that were usually in the oven by now.

He must have been running behind schedule.

You hope he didn’t stay up too late after checking in on you yesterday evening. Then, your worry shifted to guilt at the thought that you might have interrupted his evening routine. He had sacrificed so much of his personal time to come and check on you and keep you company between shifts.

“Jimin?” You called, making your way to the kitchen, relieved to see the ovens were at least running. A quick scan of the kitchen showed no sign of your co-worker, but the counters were messy for Jimin’s work, and for a second, you wondered if you misread the schedule.

That's when you noticed the door open in the back.

It was a solid metal door labeled maintenance. You had no clue what was behind it but never bothered to ask because it was never open.

You made your way towards it cautiously, one voice in your head reminding you, you were in a bakery and would be fine, and the other taunting you that you were in a gangster bakery and to always be prepared for surprises.

Your heart pounded its way up to your throat as you approached the cracked door, careful to make your footsteps quiet as possible.

“Ella,”

You gasped in shock as Jimin appeared in your line of vision, cracking the door open a little wider to see you.

“Jimin, you scared the shit out of me,” you breathed one hand on your chest. His mouth quirked into a small smile that seemed to say, ‘my bad.’ “What are you wearing?” You questioned the thick gloves and safety goggles on his head.

Jimin grimaced.

“It’s personal protection equipment,” he started to explain.

“Yes, I know what PPE,” you said with a roll of our eyes. You had worn the equipment plenty of times in your chemistry labs in college, “Why are you dressed like your about to go to the lab?” you questioned.

Jimin grinned sheepishly, “Because you’re in my lab?” he offered as an explanation.

Jimin thought your eyes might bulge out of their sockets as you pushed past him and took in the intensive research lab behind the metal door.

It makes sense given the dimensions of the building. You guess the kitchen didn’t quite fit it, but you were still shocked and showed a little bit of fear of working amid explosives all this time.

Everything was starting to make sense; this is what the gangster bakery was hiding. You thought back to the chemistry books you saw in Jin’s office, and the odd hours Jimin always seemed to be working.

“How do you even know how to do all this?” You asked, a little in awe as you took in the different devices that lined the walls, and the bubbling beakers along the counters.

Jimin smiled ruefully, “I’ve always had a natural talent for it. Some people work well with numbers or orders. For me, it’s chemicals that connect the world and make it the way it is,” he explained bashfully.

“Yeah, but do you Google how to make bombs and just go for it, or did someone teach you?” You asked.

Jimin tilted his head as if contemplating his answer before he turned back the beakers, turning down the flames and scribbling down a few notes.

“It’s a bit of a long story. We should probably talk in the kitchen,” Jimin offered in response as he finished whatever it was he was doing and made his way back to the bakery.

It was quiet as you both set to work unloading the baked goods out of the ovens and putting them on the cooling rack. Jimin grabbed a tray of cookies ready to be iced and handed you a piping bag with a smile.

“Just glaze them. They don't need to be pretty,”

You rolled your eyes before snatching the bag from him and starting to carefully trace the perimeter of the oval-shaped sugar cookies, laying down a base coat for Jimin to later design.

“I was kind of a protege back in the day,” he offered, finally breaking the silence. “Ya know, the small-town country kid who was good at math and science. I got accepted in some big STEM boarding school in East Alcor; I was surrounded by students who wanted to cure cancer or end climate change. Some really inspired me, but most were my rivals. The program was competitive, we were constantly pinned against each other for performance reviews. They would do a big review, lots of tests, and a research presentation at the end of the year. I was 16, and working on a thesis. If you didn’t do well you got cut and sent home. I didn’t want to disappoint my family like that. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being enough, so I became too much.” He said with a shrug.

He stayed quiet, and for a moment the two of you just focused on icing the cookies as you gave him space to gather his thoughts and decide whether or not to tell you more.

You glanced up and met his gaze. Then, saw the invitation to ask, “How did you end up in BTS?”

You waited for his face to fall, for the deep sadness that brought him here to surface as it did for Taehyung or Hoseok any time you asked about their pasts.

But Jimin smiled a crooked little smile that was better classified as a smirk as he started talking. “I wanted to set myself apart from the others, and as I said, chemistry came naturally to me. I knew that I could make something big. Have some kind of breakthrough if I had enough time, so I broke into the labs at night to work on my own research for my second year. The goal was to create a more isolated explosive that you could control or manipulate for small-scale construction projects or even disaster relief.” He explained.

You swallowed nervously, able to predict where this was going.

“It’s kinda handy if you think about it. Especially in Alcor, where construction and development happen so quickly, it would be an easy way to clear roads or old districts with mostly vacant buildings.” he continued, and you admired how his eyes lit up in excitement. It was work he was passionate about, proud to talk about. Somehow calling him an arsonist like most of the inner circle referred to him as seemed like an oversimplification of all he was capable of. He was a chemist and a visionary.

“So, what happened?” You prompted, wanting to keep him on track. As much as you would love to discuss his passions, the bakery did open in less than an hour.

This time Jimin’s face did fall, “I made a miscalculation, and it blew up in my face. Literally. I almost lost my arm from the impact of the explosion,” he paused for a second, worming his arm out of his shirt to show a band of wicked scarring along his left shoulder and down his arm.

You gaped at the brutal injury. By the look of the scarring, the burn wasn’t treated or healed properly. It hadn’t occurred to you until now that Jimin wore exclusively long sleeve shirts. Only rolling up his sleeves to a portion of his forearm where the thinner scars could be dismissed, especially compared to the stark tattoo on his inner forearm.

“And the school lost half an entire wing of the building. So naturally, I was sent to juvie.”

“So you joined a gang in a juvenile detention center?” You asked in disbelief.

At the accusation, Jimin laughed. “Technically, yes, it’s pretty brutal in there. But not BTS. Namjoon got word of some mad scientist sent to juvie and thought it sounded like a waste of potential. So he sent Taehyung there, who posed as a prisoner, my roommate actually, and he offered me a way out. I could take the tattoo, and they would get me out, and I would have a lab to work on all my passion projects as long as I did some jobs for them. The bakery came to be a few years later, and I just really liked the pace of life here.” He said with a shrug.

You imagined Jimin and Taehyung together. The two always seemed thick as thieves—a friendship born of pure mischief. But friendship, aside you could see the ambition clear as day in Jimin’s eyes.

You couldn't keep the disbelief off your face, “You never wanted to go back to school, continue your research?” You asked incredulously.

Jimin frowned, setting down his icing bag with a sigh, “I ruined myself when I broke into that lab after hours. I put students sleeping in the dorms at risk. I violated a million different school policies. I was a few months out from turning 18 and being truly convicted for the crimes I committed. Even so, juvie ruined me. I would never get accepted into a college or a research program, my work as a scientist wouldn’t be respected because of the boundaries I pushed when I was young. But even if I would have been pardoned, breaking out of jail and escaping like that is unforgivable. There was a warrant out for my arrest for nearly a year before they tossed it up and filed me as a missing person. I ruined my future myself, but Namjoon and the others breaking me out was the final seal in my coffin. It took away my chance of living any kind of quiet life.”

You frowned, disturbed by Jimin’s words. Hoseok once described taking the BTS tattoo as both a target and a shield. RM had given Jimin safety but also made him entirely dependent upon him to receive it.

You shivered as you realized the parallels in your situations.

If you were caught treating and practicing on gang members in your home, you could lose your chance of ever becoming a licensed doctor. It was a detail you didn’t dwell on very often, but you could only hope you could make it through this encounter with BTS, provide your services and pass through the gang unscathed.

And once you graduated and were an actual doctor, then what?

You were quite the rest of the morning as you finished opening the bakery. Your thoughts cycling in the same nerve-wracking spiral of “what ifs?”

-----

You were left to close the bakery alone.

Which you didn’t mind at all. While the tasks were mundane, they kept you busy enough to keep you from dwelling too hard on negative thoughts. But, more importantly, it kept you from dwelling on Jeon Jungkook and the absolute fool you made of yourself by biting him like a feral animal instead of talking out your feelings like a normal person.

You came to peace with the fact that while fun, a romantic relationship with Jeon Jungkook was mostly a bad idea. He would distract you from school, and you were collateral on his end. Nothing but a big fat target to be used against him, and you decided after being trailed down an ally so many months ago that the damsel in distress was not your vibe.

You tried to logic away from your genuine feelings behind the kiss. You were both stressed and recovering from a life-threatening situation. That kiss was a comfort and a distraction for both of you, and it was the distraction you needed at the moment. The physical touch and spark of desire were what kept you from totally falling apart when you went home that evening. The memory of his touch was a break of light that soothed away the nightmares of the shooting the day before.

You were prepared for Jungkook to say he wasn’t interested and tell him the feeling was mutual.

You were working on closing the shop and losing the don’t-think-of-Jeon-Jungkook game when the doorbell rattled, and a group of men entered the bakery. You were five minutes from closing, and while this wasn’t out of the ordinary, you weren’t thrilled with your quiet evening being interrupted by a group of rowdy customers. Especially when you already packed up most of the pastries in the back.

Taking a second look at the men, you felt weary and wondered if they were members of BTS coming in for a late meeting Jimin forgot to tell you about. They were all tall and broad-shouldered, most sported several tattoos, and they had a look that made you feel uneasy. Not only did they intimidate you, but their expressions looked like they wanted to intimidate you.

But your panic quickly softened as you locked eyes with a familiar face.

“Marcus!” You greeted with delight.

Your usual, Marcus was a quiet guy who often came to the bakery to people watch throughout the day. The two of you have had a handful of conversations over the months, all surface-level banter. Still, you always enjoyed his presence. Aside from that one time he and V got into a weird pissing contest, Marcus had never made you uncomfortable or feel unsafe.

The fact that he might have brought his friends here for a late-night snack put you almost at ease.

“You're in luck, most of the pastries are put up, but I think we have a few lemon bars in the back.” You offered, knowing they were his favorite.

“I’m not here for lemon bars,” he answered with a sneer,

Your smile faltered as two men made their way towards you, passing the counter and heading for the kitchen.

“Hey, you can't go back there!” You cried as one man called back with a gruff, ‘all clear.’

The depth of your situation sunk in as Marcus pushed open the door, and a handsome Korean man in a well-tailored suit made his way into the bakery and locked the door behind him.

“Miss L/N, I was hoping for the chance to speak with you,” he said with a smirk.

What little emergency response training you got for your job kicked in through your panic.

‘Don’t fight back, just comply,’ you told yourself fiercely.

“Look sir, yesterday was bank day, so there isn’t much money in the till; I’ll give you everything we have,” you started to barter as you reached the register.

Your hand scrambled beneath the counter, feeling for the emergency button that would alert Yoongi or an Army about the break-in.

“I’m not here for your money. I’m here to talk to you.” The man said with a nice, calm smile.

“You came packing pretty heavy if all you want is a conversation.” You stalled as you pressed the panic button one last time before forcing yourself to keep your hands by your side so that you wouldn’t give yourself away.

One of the bodybuilders from the kitchen stalked towards you behind the counter, grabbing your arm and leading you out from behind the wall of safety.

“This will go a lot smoother if you don’t resist.” The man chided.

You begrudgingly complied, realizing it would be safest if you played along for now. Help was on its way and you were outnumbered by dangerous and potentially armed men. You just needed to buy some time.

You soon found yourself manhandled into one of the cafe chairs while the man in the suit stood over you, arms crossed. The position required you to tilt your head and look up at him to see his face, and he looked smug at the submissive position. Nevertheless, he held himself with the kind of confidence that told you he was used to getting his way and getting people to listen to him.

“It’s on record that you’ve gotten close with the inner circle of the gang BTS” he started, though the tone sounded more like an accusation than an observation.

You stayed silent, making an effort to keep your expression cool, maybe even bored, not wanting to give away your feelings on the situation.

He sighed after a moment before continuing, “I’ll get to the point Y/N, BTS is dangerous. More dangerous than you think. In fact, you probably have no idea what games they’re playing or what risk you’re putting yourself at by owing them money.”

You tried to keep your face impassive at the bit of knowledge he had about you.

“I don’t even know what their plans are. But I’m not going to ask you to stay away from them. I need you to stay close to them, find out what their plans are, and give me that information.” It wasn’t a request as much as a demand.

Up to this point, you had sat uncomfortably in the chair, your palms down flat on your thighs, scared that any sudden movements would lead to you being seriously injured, but the tide in the conversation turned as you realized he needed you in his corner to further whatever weird motive he was working towards. You took a moment to cross your legs, making yourself get comfortable, hoping he couldn’t see the way your hands trembled as you interlock your fingers and perched them atop your knee.

You thought back to the time you asked V what a spy entailed being, and he told you he often let himself get caught in the act because he had a talent for making interrogations against him work for him. The rule was never to give them your power, always hold yourself with a bit of confidence and control and never let them see you scramble for answers. It unnerves them, and as long as you complied and didn’t give a reason for the interrogation to get too violent, you could walk out with your own information.

Of course, there was the inevitable beating at the end, and you were hoping to skip that part.

You let your eyes travel over the man's body in a once-over, allowing your expression to look unimpressed, “I don’t even know who you are. Why would I help you?” You asked, keeping your tone light.

The man smiled, “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that BTS is nothing but a bunch of no good criminals, and they tarnish and corrupt this city more and more every day. They think they have some kind of power over it.” He finished with a hiss, his distaste obvious.

“BTS doesn’t trust me as much as you think they do, your sources are wrong, and I’m not risking my neck for some white knight attempt to take down the gang that runs half the west side.” You deflected.

“They don’t run half-”

“Shut it.” The man in the suit hissed at the balding henchmen to the left of you.

You looked over to him, interested by the apparent bias, the bit of pride in the balding man’s eyes. You hit a tender spot with that comment, and you could only think of one group of people who would care that much about an exaggeration of BTS’s power. He was with the BlackTips. You don’t know how or why the Korean man in front of you was affiliated with him, you doubted he was the leader of the stereotypical Irish gang, but somehow he influenced the group of men in this room.

“Enough lies. I know how close you are to BTS, and I know you’re the only person they trust enough to help me take them down. So help me, Y/N. Help me rid this city of the horrors of this gang, and I will pay off your debt to BTS, and I will make your dreams come true.” He promised.

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped you, “You sound like a cliche villain right now trying to lure me to the dark side. Make my dreams come true,” you mocked, “You know nothing about me or my dreams.”

His eyes darkened, and one of the henchmen inched their way a little closer to you. You felt a bead of sweat drip down your back; for a moment, you forgot the danger of the situation you were in, but in that slight movement by the balding man, your reality came crashing in. Where the fuck was Yoongi in the others? You could feel your time slipping.

“I know that you want to be a doctor. And you would do anything to become one, even doing something as reckless as borrow money from a gang leader and risk your license before you even get it. I can pay your debt and ensure your spot in the program. I can have you starting your residency this summer, even.” He offered with a smile.

“That’s impossible. I don’t even have my masters yet,” you corrected.

“Is it? You’ve never heard of a grad student with the right connections start their residency at the university hospital a year early?” He prompted, leaning back against a table to seem casual and give you space. He was trying to win you over.

He was right, it wasn’t unheard of, but it was a position of privilege possible for third-generation doctors or ones with a lot of money.

“I’m on the board of directors for Alcor University Hospital. I could make this happen for you,” he promised with a smile.

And for a second, to your shame, you paused and considered. All your hard work, paying off. Your chance of becoming a doctor expedited so you can start your training nearly two years early, getting that much closer to getting your licensing.

The man in the suit’s eyes gleamed as he saw your hesitation, your ambition.

You let yourself fantasize for one more moment before making a promise to yourself that if you were going to do it, you would do it your way. You wanted your title to be earned by you and you alone. All your hard work would be for nothing if someone let you cheat the rest of the way through.

You tilted your head in mock consideration, sucking your teeth and making that ‘tisk’ sound that used to set your dad off growing up. Of course, it hurt your still healing mouth, but by the way the man’s eyes flared as you cooed, “Not interested.” You knew it had the desired effect.

The man in the suit composed himself and smirked as he pushed off the table, “I have to respect your loyalty to them, but it is a pity-” he said with a shake of his head.

“It’s not loyalty to BTS,” you corrected, “Maybe I’m just not interested in working for a guy who brings big scary men along to intimidate me into taking the world’s shittiest job offer.”

This is where you immediately question your decisions. Before, he was tolerant to you because he needed you, but you just clearly rejected his offer. So now he had no reason to play nice.

You were seriously pushing your luck.

“We’ll see, until next time Y/N, boys... you know what to do.” He ordered as he made his way out.

You didn’t know how to process the need to roll your eyes at this man’s seemingly rehearsed cheesy supervillain one-liners and the fear that spiked through you at what his henchmen ‘knew what to do.’ It resulted in a confused flutter of your lashes before one man picked up a chair and threw it at the glass display, shattering it.

You cried out in shock as he picked up another chair to repeat the task.

Frantic to stop him, you grabbed for his arm. Effortlessly, he shook you off, and you lost your footing, falling to the ground. Pain erupted through your head-turning your vision white as your jaw slammed into your own shoulder at the impact.

When your vision cleared, you could see the three men and Marcus working on wrecking the bakery—tearing apart the display cases and wall that held baskets for the bread. You flinched back as the thousand-dollar espresso machine crashed to the ground littering espresso beans all over the floor.

You had to get out of there, suddenly terrified they would use the ovens to burn the place down.

You got up, quickly making a break for the kitchen where the back exit was.

“Hey, someone grab her!” You heard Marcus shout as you made it through the swinging doors. You turned, adrenaline aiding you as you pulled the bakers rack by the doors in front of them, hoping the slight obstacle would slow them down and keep them from following you out into the alleyway.

You raced for the exit, pushing on the door, your momentum reverberating back up your arms as it did not budge. You shoved again, a sob of panic escaping you as you realized you already locked up the back earlier when closing. And your keys were behind the counter with your phone.

You were trapped, and if BTS wasn’t here by now, then no one was coming to save you.

An idea came to you as the baking rack fell to the ground as the intruders shoved against the kitchen doors. But it still managed to block the doors from opening fully. So you got a few more moments of safety as they fumbled to push through your shitty barricade.

You raced across the kitchen to the maintenance door, moving to punch the code in. You couldn’t believe it was just this morning when you found Jimin in his lab, and he gave you this very code.

With a shout of victory, you turned and saw two of the men squeeze their way into the kitchen, dragging the baker’s rack with them.

“Nowhere to run,” the balding man sneered right as you submitted the pin.

There was a momentary delay before the lock processed the code and unlocked the door for you. In that time, the balding man charged forward. You had enough time to crack the door open enough for your body to slip in and grab the first device on the table.

You sent up a prayer begging that the canister in your hand wasn’t an explosive as you pulled the trigger and tossed it into the kitchen, slamming the lab door shut behind you and bracing yourself for the boom.

You heard the man shout in shock and a faint but familiar hissing sound on the other side of the door. Soon Marcus and the others were crying out in surprise as you listened to the pressurized canister release gas into the kitchen.

You glanced at the counter beside you, seeing a row of the canisters twin to the one you launched in the kitchen, lining the countertop in a neat line. Next to it was the beaker Jimin was working with this morning. A cure to the effect of the smoke, he had explained. While you can build up a tolerance to the gas, he realized after your encounter with the smoke that some civilians and witnesses may need an immediate cure to cooperate and keep their memories for interrogations.

You grabbed one of the viles, tipping back what you hoped was a safe dose in your mouth, and grabbed a rag tying it around your face for good measure. You had one option, hide behind this door and wait it out.

‘It’ being the intruders getting bored of waiting for you and running off or for someone in BTS to come to your rescue.

Or you could fight your way out.

The risk of them using the ovens to burn down the bakery wasn’t one you were willing to take now that the chances were in your favor.

And while you couldn’t take two men, much less four, in a fight on your own. When they’re dizzy and have their vision impaired from the gas, you knew you could take them if Jimin’s cure worked. You knew the layout of this kitchen like the back of your hand; you knew you could navigate your way around it and weaponize what was in it.

And you like your chances.

----

A/N: This bitch really said I have the power of God and anime on my side.

Update

PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT MY WORK!!!!

TAG LIST:

To join tag list plz check my navigation for No Harm (Tag)List

@curryshesus @mel-gonzalez07 @atomickokorox @pfannkuchen07 @frederikkeborup @taestannie @sweetlikesugarvenomohyeah-blog @SeptembersJoon @norathewitch @krystle1990 @novaprime-59 @imluckybitches @alexismiszczak @eltrain80 @gguksfilter @sheesaww @maboiisuga @krystle1990 @prettyguardiansailormin @btsxdoll @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @the-random-stray-cat @chillllllli @channiespup @milady-mira @krystle1990 @cavenita @tutnotmytea @rjsmochii @dearbambideer @ayoongiverse @jaxx-7 @blacknwhitegraveyard @eltrain80 @gguksfilter @vanilla-smash @maboiisuga @pjmochii @kkimoka @angelic-lawyer @kimmieloveswho @ackwardd @everrrlasting

229 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 3 years ago

Note

Why are conservatives at the point of global warming denial and spreading Sandy Hook conspiracy theories?

Er, "at the point of?" They've been denying climate change for literal decades, ever since it entered the public consciousness as an organised concept. (They have now largely switched to "your personal actions are responsible for climate change, and not those blameless mega-corporations," but yes.) And the Sandy Hook conspiracy theories, reprehensible as they are, are largely the work of one person/entity, aka Alex Jones/Infowars. He has been spreading them for ten years, ever since the shooting in 2012, and now is finally on the point of getting the bejesus sued out of him by the bereaved families. And frankly, I hope they run him into the ground, take everything he has, and then back the truck up and do it again. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

What this means, in other words, is that neither of these positions are particularly new, and in the case of Sandy Hook, are largely spread by one person. However, this reflects the paranoid conspiracy thinking that has become a hallmark of modern "conservatism," from claiming that 9/11 was an inside job to, of course, the Big Lie about the 2020 election. In this mindset, you can never have lost fairly or on the merits of your ideas; it must be because nefarious opposing forces colluded to cheat you. It's the "do your own research!" mindset taken to extremes, where nothing is true, everything has been covered up, and everyone is out to get you at all times. Which, to be honest, sounds like a truly exhausting way to live, but for some people, there is literally nothing except their sense of grievance and dispossession.

As for school shootings, the mainstream Republican line now isn't to outright deny that they happened, but to just tweet "thoughts and prayers" and do literally nothing else. To them, there is no amount of mass shootings that will convince them to give up their guns, as they believe that they need them for "protection!" from Democrats, black people, Muslims, etc. They don't care if a troubled teenager with a history of making threatening statements can walk into a store and legally buy an AR-15 on his eighteenth birthday, as long as that kid is white. When violence inevitably happens, they fall over themselves blaming literally everything else (as with the "there were too many doors!" nonsense after Uvalde). Even though in that situation, their other favorite solution, "a good guy with a gun," was in fact worse than useless to the point of active criminal liability. If literally 400 armed cops stood outside the school for 40 minutes and did nothing while kids were killed, because they were all too cowardly to risk their lives against a single military-grade assault rifle, why the fuck does anyone need to have one? Good question. Ask the Republicans.

Anyway, as I have written about in many other asks, the ultimate answer to this, and most of the other insanity of the modern GOP, is completely unhinged reactionary racism stemming from the election of Obama and the subsequent white-grievance-fueled rise of Trump. This is also why the people, including Biden at one point, who thought the Republicans would "come to their senses" and automatically return to more moderate positions after Trump was gone were so wrong. Instead, the Republican have raced to adopt even more extreme policies even faster, fueled by more grievance at Trump being "cheated," and also because they have been fully radicalized, which is a major and permanent shift in mental state. There's no such thing as just "snapping out" of it, which is why people who study the psychology of cults have written about Trump and his whole movement fit that exact mold. It is much easier to radicalize someone than it is to de-radicalize them, and assuming that they will just automatically return to their prior state of mind is, at the best, deeply naïve.

Likewise, the Republican base has now been so inoculated to such a high starting level of extremism that any politician hoping to appeal to that crowd has to be as crazy as possible-- whether or not they personally believe it, which is even more dangerous and irresponsible, as they deliberately cultivate and exploit the worst parts of America for selfish money and power. Likewise, you can see signs that the movement is starting to ditch Trump more and more, as he is an active liability who appears to be in line for multiple criminal prosecutions and was always an unhinged sociopathic idiot who the GOP hitched their wagon to because he was useful. Now, however, we are seeing a slow but steady shift to Ron DeSantis, governor of Florida, who appears to be Trumpism's heir apparent. Which is even more terrifying, because while Trump was obviously moronic, incoherent, and borderline illiterate, DeSantis is a well-educated, well-dressed, well-spoken fascist who is "respectable" enough to win back the votes of "moderate" Republicans who had no problem with Trump's repellent political policies but were offended by his personal vulgarity. Everyone is talking about a Trump rerun in 2024 (though please god, let him be either in prison or dead by then), but in my view, we should be much more vigilant about DeSantis. Because the media will go wild hyping him up as a "real challenger" to Biden, he will get endless unearned airtime and positioning as a serious figure.

This is especially the case since there is a framework for a billionaire/corporate tax in the Democrats' new budget bill. The oligarchs will fight tooth and nail for DeSantis, even though he is such a true-believer nutjob that he went after goddamn WALT DISNEY WORLD, aka the biggest employer in the state and 75% of the reason that anyone apart from Republican retirees ever goes to Florida. That is because big business always thinks that it can "make a deal" with fascists, and they don't particularly care if that's what happens to everyone else, as long as they get their tax breaks. Of course, they don't want to be SEEN doing this, which is why they will publicly pledge to stop all political donations to election deniers, then quietly pick them up again after a suitable amount of time has passed and they think nobody is looking.

Basically, as the tide of public momentum continues to turn against Trump, I see the establishment GOP deciding to throw him under the bus, blame him and him alone for January 6, and insist that the problem was with him and not the entire structure, personnel, and philosophy of the entire modern Republican Party. Then they can move on to some more "mainstream" white-Harvard-alum fascist a la the DeSantis/Hawley/Cruz crowd, who will be just as bad or worse, but much more able to appear "normal," put coherent sentences together, and act "respectable." I don't know how that will end, but the way things are right now, I sure don't feel particularly hopeful.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #cw gun violence

23 notes · View notes

whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

Text

stranded in memory

It’s not clear how Lex has managed to pull it off, but he did; he got into Supergirl’s head, and he did it quite literally so as to achieve it quite figuratively, and now Kara Danvers might be lost forever.

It’s after the second attack—the second time Supergirl storms into the DEO to demand, where are you keeping them?—when they first notice the ugly scar at the base of her neck.

Red and angry, poorly healed despite living on Kryptonian skin.

No one manages to get close enough to examine it though, what with Supergirl tearing through metal walls and burning down entire facilities to conduct her frenzied search.

But whatever it is, the mechanism embedded in her skull has somehow made it so that Supergirl can look Alex Danvers right in the eye and strike her down with heat vision for masquerading as her sister.

The resulting burns forcibly put Alex on bed rest despite extensive, swear-riddled protest.

“It appears that Kara’s retained all her memories, but none of ties to reality that would allow her to recognize you,” Brainy concludes to the comfort of absolutely no one.

“Well, is she even Kara anymore then? Shouldn’t we approach this like we would any other threat?” asks one lone agent, subjecting himself to Alex’s absolute unmitigated fury in the process.

Lena keeps her distance at first. She’s seen the damage:

her penthouse somehow upended,

countless conference rooms and offices at L-Corp torn apart,

the entirety of National City scrambling for cover as Supergirl makes reckless use of all her superpowers.

And she knows that Supergirl must be looking for her too. Lex wouldn’t have done any of it, without the guarantee that Lena would end up coerced into direct involvement. It wouldn’t be worth it otherwise.

And so, she locks herself away in an underground, lead-lined panic room, built for such an occasion.

Because... well, if it’s true that Supergirl almost killed her own sister, how could Lena ever hope to survive the encounter? She wasn’t even on good terms with the Supergirl that would remember her in the first place.

But then, things grow darker and even more dire. No one’s died yet, by some unbelievable stroke of luck, but there have been many close calls. So many that the city has started losing faith in their own Girl of Steel.

And Supergirl has been winding down, slowly but surely, her physical condition unable to keep pace with her inner drive. It won’t be long before some branch of the government or another successfully shoots her down, but there’s only one that will never go for the kill shot.

So, Lena finally resurfaces and joins forces with what’s left of the DEO, and gets to work on a kryptonite-powered snare. It almost works.

Supergirl flies right into the trap, immediately twined by thick cords of sickly bright green wrapping around her body. She starts thrashing against her bonds, growling out warnings in a dead language whenever anyone tries to get close.

"Okay, this isn’t working, guys,” Dreamer says, after her third attempt and subsequent failure to grab hold of the wrists tied behind Supergirl’s back. “She’s still too strong.”

But at the sound of Dreamer’s voice, the red disappears from Supergirl’s eyes. She sits up, startled, and calls out, “Nia?”

They’re all overwhelmed with relief then—Supergirl, and maybe even Kara, included—because at last, Lex’s device seems to have worn off.

But when Supergirl turns around to greet Dreamer, finally face to smiling face, a darkness sweeps back over her features. “You,” she says, her tone strangled with bitterness. “Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Nia?”

Dreamer frowns, utterly baffled. “Kara, what are you talking about? It’s me... Nia.” But she takes a step too close, and Supergirl headbutts her into the ground.

A brawl ensues, and Supergirl manages to throw everyone off her and escape by way of ungainly, lumbering flight, still bundled in kryptonite laced restraints against all impossibility.

They find the mangled contraption some miles away in pieces.

Nia’s head is very bruised and somewhat concussed, but she thankfully emerges from the medical bay relatively unscathed.

Ultimately, Lena’s the one who figures it out, by repeatedly asking for the play-by-play of the failed capture and then reviewing the body cam footage for further research. There’s no way to know for sure, of course, but time is definitely running out, with Supergirl now facing an entire fleet of military aircraft armed with kryptonite. So, Lena takes her findings and rushes onto the scene.

Supergirl is making her last stand, forced into a final corner with her back against the wall, eyes still blazing with heat vision. Until she hears a familiar voice crackling in her ear, the DEO comms whirring back to life.

“Kara?” calls the voice, and Supergirl becomes a statue, breath stuttering, almost unwilling to believe her own ears. “Kara, can you hear me...?”

“Lena...” Supergirl says her name like a prayer, a slight tremor starting up in her legs and traveling all over. “You’re okay? Oh god, you’re okay...”

Everyone starts yelling then—Alex and Brainy and Nia, nameless stiff-lipped military men trying to secure a clear shot at the fallen hero—but Lena heeds none of it as she walks onto the battlefield. Supergirl whips her head around, regarding her approach with suspicion.

“It’s still me,” Lena says through the earpiece. “Right now, I’m just in the lexo-suit for my own safety.”

“I... I can’t see your face...”

“I know, Kara. I know.”

Lena, now firmly in the way of anyone who plans on taking aim at Supergirl, stops just a few short steps away from her. “Okay, I need you to trust me now, Kara.”

And Kara, the Girl of Steel now fallen to dust, starts to cry. “Something’s wrong, Lena,” she says. “Something is so terribly wrong with me, and I don’t know what to do...”

“I know, and it’s going to be okay,” Lena says, her own emotions sealed away behind purpose. “But right now, I just need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Kara?”

Kara nods right away, one hand roughly swiping at her eyes.

“Close your eyes.”

Kara draws back, shoulders stiffening, a bright red gathering in her gaze.

“Kara, it’s still me,” Lena tells her gently. “I can come to you, but you just need to close your eyes first.”

“Why?” Kara demands.

“Do you trust me?”

Kara’s eyes run all over the sleek design of the lexo-suit, swallowing hard when her x-ray vision can’t breach the surface. “It’s you?”

“It’s me, I promise.”

Kara shuts her eyes, disappearing the threat of heat vision along with the darkened blue of her sunken gaze. Warnings come flooding through Lena’s earpiece from well-meaning almost friends, but she gets out of the suit anyway. The tell-tale hydraulic hiss of the lexo-suit opening brings a low rumble to Kara’s chest, but her eyes still remain shut tight.

“All right, Kara. I’m right here, okay?” Lena says, and Kara struggles to keep her eyes closed at the sound of her voice, now unfettered by technology or static. “No, you’re okay, Kara. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m right here.”

Lena repeats the sentiment a few times as she approaches Kara in a careful stride. The closer she gets, the harder Kara breathes, teeth gritted and grinding in frustration.

“Hey, I’m here,” Lena says once within reach, and Kara’s hand shoots out, catching Lena around the wrist. It’s a painful grasp, but Lena grimaces her way through it. “It’s me. You can tell... right?”

“... Yes,” comes the trembling, grateful answer.

“Your mind’s playing tricks on you,” Lena explains to her, still soft, still gentle. “Lex did something to your brain, and... you’re just having some trouble trusting what you see right now. But we’re going to fix it, okay?”

“Okay.” Kara squeezes her eyes shut even harder, and finally lets her hand slip off Lena’s tender, bruised wrist.

As Lena starts unwinding the scarf from her neck, she lets her eyes roam all over Kara’s face; she’s never been quite this close before. It looks a little different at the moment, somewhat worse for the wear. Deep creases in her strong brow, lips worried and worn, ash and blood of innocent bystanders smudged across one cheek, and her eyes... fluttering, but firmly shut.

All it would take is one blink, Lena realizes. One look, and she could very well lose her life in Kara’s arms.

Kara’s breath hiccoughs when she feels soft cotton wrapping around her head, smelling of Lena’s sweat and perfume, and covering her eyes. And all at once, she’s surrounded by the people she loves.

Alex embracing her and tugging her to safety, whispering words of regret and forgiveness into her hair.

Brainy and Nia patting at her shoulders, squeezing her hands, as they offer all sorts of affirmations.

But Kara reaches out, blindly and yet somehow all too aware, and manages to snag the hem of Lena’s shirt. She gently, desperately tugs Lena closer. “You’ll stay with me?”

A warm hand carefully undoes Kara’s grip on the shirt, inviting it instead in a tangled grasp, both firm and comforting.

“Always,” Lena says.

(next part here)

#yes i've started appropriating plot points from CM for my own intents and purposes #haHA! AHAhaAHAH!!!!#my words.

869 notes · View notes

opalesense · 4 years ago

Text

the last appointment

zhongli & gn!reader

3.4k words • ~25 min. read

summary: as a studious and credible fortune teller in liyue, you discover something about your last client of the week that completely derails your outlook on life.

warnings: liyue arc spoilers, little bit of existential dread, slight mention of family member’s death

notes: might make more parts to this idk? just kinda wanted to dip my toes into genshin writing for the first time!!

LIFE IN LIYUE HARBOUR seemed to be repetitive and mundane. For the past few years, you would wake up, open your fortune telling shop, analyze the futures of your clients using your geomancy, possibly take a stroll around Liyue when you needed to run errands, and then call it a day. You performed the same routine constantly, sometimes travelling beyond the harbor to collect crystals and magical supplies for your shop, but rarely did anything truly change in your routine. If something was off in the slightest, it was never too exciting to note.

As anyone would have suspected, you were tired of your state of limbo in life. Other vision holders seemed to be going on adventures, travelling with companions and exploring the vast mountains and valleys of Teyvat. Other vision holders seemed to be fighting against evil, helping citizens, and saving the world from imminent dangers. You could even recall a recent event where the Qixing had evacuated the harbor to defeat a terrifying sea monster. The Jade Chamber had been sacrificed for the safety of the people of Liyue, and yet here you were, playing with a bunch of rocks for a living. Despite being able to grasp the glowing Geo vision that held your coat together, you could not grasp why you felt doomed to tend to this shop for the rest of your days.

You didn’t know where or how to “start” your life. The small, inherited establishment from your late aunt was located in the small alley of Chihu Rock, practically out of sight from most of the foot traffic in the harbor. Not many people came to visit, though your name was still decently known. In fact, most of your appointments were simply previous clients from your aunt, regulars that relied on her readings for years and believed you were the next best thing after she passed. Especially considering you were the first vision holder in your family, it made your credibility even stronger.

You still remember how you got your vision. The morning after your aunt had passed, the elemental gift somehow made its way into your hand as if the timing was meant to be perfect. You didn’t celebrate such a special and momentous occasion with pride or joy. Your face stiff with tears, you instead reflected on why you received your vision at that moment in the first place. With the shop doors closed upstairs, you gripped your vision and did what you felt needed to be done. With your family’s legacy and tradition on the line, adventuring like other vision wielders was not a priority at the time.

But after years alone of research, a social life consisting only of interacting with customers, and a constant state of grieving the experiences you could’ve had in your youth, you were now in your late twenties and closing the shop for the day. Your last appointment was either extremely late or not showing up at all and you were tired of working today, just like every other day. Regret gripped you tightly as you wondered how you managed to get yourself in such a boring, slow burning loop.

That is until the shop door opened, eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden noise, shattering the previous thought. You accidentally dropped the basket of cor lapis you were refilling and immediately knelt down to pick up the precious pieces that thankfully hadn’t cracked on the way down.

“Hello, [Y/N],” the tall figure practically glided through the doorway, “My deepest apologies for being late.”

He closed the door behind him, “...and for startling you, it seems.”

You sighed, checking for any scratches on the gems and sighed again with relief based on the good results. You grinned to hide the fact you had just been in deep thought. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Zhongli. It’s kind of you to stop by at the very least, even if you’re late.”

Mr. Zhongli was one of your aunt’s longtime clients. Since you were a child, your aunt had always described Mr. Zhongli as a complex yet thoughtful man that had always shown kindness to your family for many years. When Mr. Zhongli learned of your aunt’s death and began to receive readings from you instead, you quickly realized what your aunt meant by calling him complex. Mr. Zhongli was truly a tough nut to crack in every single reading, his sessions taking longer than most other cases. That is why Mr. Zhongli would always offer to take the last spot of the day at the end of every week as to not trouble any of your other clients.

As you took a few of the best cor lapis from the basket, you could see Mr. Zhongli’s acts of kindness and thoughtfulness unfold in front of you. He seemed to carry what was now clearly a gift basket at closer inspection.

“This gift is for you,” Mr. Zhongli took a few steps forward to set the basket on a countertop. “I brought you your favorites. Slow cooked bamboo shoot soup, qingxin, glaze lilies, and all the crystals I could find… needless to say, let this be a token of my appreciation for your patience and hard work from our last few sessions. I know I am not the easiest to read, but you truly have a talent.”

You were speechless at the gesture as your eyes sunk into the intricate detail of the handwoven basket and decorated items inside. No one had ever done something so kind for you in so long. It was astonishing enough that he remembered your favorite soup that you mentioned only once a few months ago, let alone your favorite flowers and crystals as well. “Thank you so much, Mr. Zhongli! I’m at a loss for words – this is so thoughtful of you!”

“I even brought you that Rex Incognito series you had mentioned, although, I am not sure why you would need to read the series when I am fully capable of educating you on the history of Rex Lapis myself,” he flaunted, taking his seat on the cushioned chair in front of the reading table.

“Now, Mr. Zhongli...” you picked out some prithiva topaz from another basket, following the usual protocol you had with such a personalized, frequent client like him. The required materials for his readings were imprinted into your memory like carvings in stone. “You know I don’t want to burden you with my curiosity. And with such an intriguing topic like Rex Lapis... once I start asking questions I’m afraid I will not stop.”

“I have all the time in the world,” he got comfortable in his seat as you sat yourself across from him, “I truly think it would benefit you to discuss the history of Rex Lapis with a learned scholar such as myself. We can even have some tea as we discuss.”

You chuckled at his eagerness. He seemed more forward than usual. “You are too kind, Mr. Zhongli. Perhaps I’ll take that offer someday, but at least let me put those books to good use first. Maybe I won’t need to bombard you with questions if I’m already well briefed on the subject.”

He sighed happily. “You make a good point. And you will enjoy them, I’m sure.”

You settled into your seat as you arranged the crystals between the two of you. “The usual for tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

Your hands meticulously placed the last crystal in its spot on the surface. You closed your eyes and hovered your hands above the rocks, clearing your mind to make way for the usual reading: a reflection on the past, any significant events of the present to focus on, and some insight into the future. You held this hand gesture for awhile, letting the energy from the rocks lift into the air and envelop your gloved palms. When you felt there was enough energy to work with, you opened your eyes to reveal the manifestation of his thoughts in front of you, able to take its physical form using the powers from your glowing vision.

No one had ever taught your this skill, not even your aunt. If you had to bloat your own ego, one could say you invented this Geo fortune telling process yourself. The process indeed came to you naturally, a true display of pure talent.

You slowly lifted your hands to allow the visual manifestation to settle on the table among the gems so Mr. Zhongli could watch his reading unfold in front of him as well.

“Let us analyze the past first,” he spoke, already knowing the routine without you needing to ask him where to start. You slowly waved your hands as if you were digging a hole in sand on a beach, the manifestation displaying ambiguous patterns that wouldn’t make sense to any commoner’s eyes but could be interpreted easily by yours.

Two pairs of focused eyes fixated on the picture as you spoke your mind out loud. “You have recently given up something extremely important to you, it seems. I see you handing over something… small, physically, yet unbelievably significant and personal. I can’t tell what it is exactly, only that it glows like the sun with its energy. But you have handed this important object over to a very... evil... figure?” you cocked your eyebrow, confused. “You seem to be brooding over the fact that its aura is dark with malicious intentions.” You hesitated, “Well, that can’t be right, can it?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, that is indeed what happened recently. But it had to be done.”

“Didn’t we talk about a similar situation in a previous reading? If I remember correctly, I thought I had advised you to not give up whatever that object was.”

“I am aware of the consequences that will follow. Especially with your future guidance, I’m sure the events following this one questionable decision will unfold in a better way soon enough.”

“I will always be here to help you, Mr. Zhongli. But please be careful in the future with these decisions. The importance of this object seems to be off the charts.”

He nodded. “It is as you say. Please, have faith in me now. I cannot change what happened in the past, after all.”

You hovered over this image of the sacrifice. You couldn’t make out what this object was, no matter how close you tried to inspect it. It had the likings of a chess piece, but surely this wasn’t simply a chess piece, was it?

“Let us move on, if that is alright with you,” his low voice cut the silence.

You wiped the image from your mind and waved your hands again, as if you were slowly putting the sand back into the hole you dug before. If the last image wasn’t enough bad news, this new one that formed was even more painful to witness.

“You have been grieving your losses very recently,” you said gently. “Your mind is currently weighed down by your past. I see you looking out at the sea in deep thought. There are flashes of…”

You stopped as you inspected the graphic images that suddenly appeared beyond your hands. You gasped at the terrifying horrors.

“What is it?” the low voice tried to search for understanding of what you were seeing. Even though the image was clearly laid out in front of him, it was still too ambiguous to tell when he lacked your years of experience.

“There are flashes of war,” your breath stifled as you watched his thoughts splayed out in images of lifeless bodies and destruction. “Very graphic details of war and death. Mr. Zhongli, I believe this image of suffering has been weighing over your mind like an anchor in the sea.”

He paused to process your comparison. “That is... a very good way to put it.”

“Though, I believe that despite the sorrow that emanates in this image, you are in a state of relief and tranquility. It seems you are grieving, but you are simultaneously at peace,” you hesitated again, “Yet I wonder what these graphic images of war are meant to represent. Surely we are not in an actual war, are we? Perhaps you are at war with your past, wanting to move on but haunted by your memories?”

Mr. Zhongli unfortunately knew the images you were seeing were, in fact, real events he had experienced in his life time and the truth was that lately he had been reminiscing on these events. Mortal life is kind to humans for them to be blissfully unaware and carefree of these harsh realities, he internally commented.

He still put your analysis into thought, though.

“I am haunted, indeed. I have been attempting to come to terms with my troubled past, just as you advised me only a few weeks ago. I have tried to follow your guidance, and although they resurface what I have been trying to repress, I believe I am coming to peace with what happened.”

You grinned. “That is very good to hear, Mr. Zhongli. I believe you are currently making good progress when it comes to moving on. Just remember that it is okay to remember your sorrow. Let your emotions pass through you instead of repressing them or rushing to move on. It is okay to take your time and let the thoughts bubble inside of you for awhile.”

He closed his eyes as you continued, letting your advice seep in. You continued. “Imagine the stillness of the sea. Many creatures and lost remnants take their place in the depths of the waters, but on the surface we see constantly moving yet serene waves wash over what is hidden below. Your memories are there to stay, Mr. Zhongli. But your present self, the surface of the water, can peacefully coexist with whatever is hiding deep within. Let these thoughts weigh you down momentarily, but rest assured, you will find balance and acceptance in due time.”

His eyes fluttered open as he reflected over your words. You always seemed to know what to say. “Your words have truly resonated with me, [Y/N]. And you are absolutely correct. I have been fighting these memories to avoid the pain, but it had not dawned on me that sorrow is... what I am meant to feel, not push away. I suppose your advice has put my mind at a bit more ease, and I suppose I am focusing too much on when I will be able to move on rather than allowing my thoughts to coexist for a moment.”

“Now you’re getting it,” you grinned with the relief that washed over his face.

“Shall we move on?” he offered.

You got to work on the last segment of the reading. If manifesting the other images didn’t take long enough, reading one’s future always took the longest. Interpreting an event that hasn’t happened yet always made you a bit nervous with your words. You never wanted to let a client down with an inaccurate reading.

On the contrary, this reading, despite taking quite awhile to appear on the surface on the table, was very clear.

“That is undoubtedly an image of me,” your eyes glazed over the facial features of the person in the manifestation. “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Zhongli, I must have accidentally let my thoughts seep into yours–“

“Do not fret, I believe this is accurate,” he interrupted. “Keep going.”

Your perplexed expression remained as you continued the reading. “I am admittedly stumped. There is nothing left in this image. I suppose it is simply me standing in what looks like some ruins. I am holding a staff, or some kind of long object.” You paused to think out loud. “Why am I in your reading? What could this possibly mean?”

Mr. Zhongli chuckled as you thought out loud. “Perhaps this is a good time to tell you why you are in my thoughts.”

“I’d love to hear it, I have never appeared in someone’s reading in my last decade and a half of experience. This is quite unique.”

He folded his hands in his lap, “For some reason, I have had this strange vision of training you. I’m not sure why, since you don’t seem like the fighting type, but there is some voice inside me that is telling me you are destined for something great and i need to take some part in it. What do you think, now that you see this vision as well?”

Your eyebrows rose in shock. “Training me? I guess this does relate to something I have been pondering as of late. I do not want to lay out my troubles on you though, my job is to interpret your life, not mine.”

“Our lives have clearly intertwined in this vision,” he insisted, “Please do not hold back for my sake. I have the time.”

You thought for a moment. How could you form the words without seeming too selfish? How could you maintain professionalism by talking about your personal problems?

“I am not the fighting type, Mr. Zhongli. Though, lately I have been quite depressed about the fact that I am not doing as much with my vision as other vision holders are. My life is uninteresting. The truth is that I am a simple fortune teller that plays with rocks. I hope you can understand why I am failing to interpret this reading,” you apologized. “It’s because this doesn’t seem characteristic of me at all. And with all due respect, after giving you readings for years, I would have never guessed you were versed in combat to train me!”

He chuckled. “I respectfully disagree. To tell you the truth, your talents surpass the abilities of many other vision holders. Not everyone can read thoughts or tell the future. Now that I mention it, I know of one talented astrologist in Mondstadt, but think about that. You are one in hundreds of thousands in Teyvat,” he reassured. “You did not receive your vision for no reason and I truly believe you are destined for something big. I regret not being able to realize this before.”

“How are you so sure of this? I would love to believe you, but I’m afraid I am not destined for much, really. Again, I am simply a fortune teller. What could I possibly do for Liyue other than read some rocks?”

He sighed and connected his palms with yours, interrupting the reading and wiping the manifestation off the table. The hovering crystals dropped onto the surface, making you gasp at the sudden sound.

“I am not who you think I am,” his amber eyes finally met yours for the first time this evening, which sent a chill down your spine. “Promise me you will not fret, for what I am about to show you may shock you.”

“What do you mean? What are you doing, Mr. Zhongli?” you slightly panicked as he firmly grasped your hands.

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in golden light that emitted from the seat across from you. Scattered, distorted images of a mystical dragon, a devastating war, and seven seats in Celestia flashed across your eyes as you stared at the beams of light. Death seemed to swallow you, but not take you. The baskets of crystals around the room shook with the surge of energy. The world seemed to destroy itself then remake itself over and over again within fleeting moments. These thousands of years of memories made your body tremble. It all happened within fleeting moments, and after a few seconds of your senses being overwhelmed, you finally pulled yourself together and connected the dots.

His expanded knowledge of Liyue’s history. The sudden gift of your vision immediately after your aunt passed. Grieving his losses and having flooded thoughts of war and death. Offering combat training. Remembering your favorites the same way he would remember Liyue’s customs and traditions. His glowing amber eyes alone.

Mr. Zhongli was the God of Contracts and overseer of Liyue. Rex Lapis, a being that lived for millennia, sat in the seat across from you. He had been posing as a mere mortal for years, taking readings as if he were any normal customer. The realization shook you to your core as you sat there bewildered, grateful, and horrified at the same time.

He let go of your hands after seeing that the information successfully processed in your mind. He saw something in you that was yet to be awakened, where the sky was the limit under your own expectations. This daydream of his was no simple vision – it was a calling. Internally, whether you agreed to it or not, he vowed that he would not leave your life until your true destiny was fulfilled.

He would see this vow fulfilled by offering you a contract that would change the course of your life forever.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #rex lapis #mine #boom #genshin impact x reader

288 notes · View notes

whispersatdawn · 4 years ago

Photo

on the rebound | jeong jaehyun social media!au | part 8

↳ In an attempt to finally move on from his ex-girlfriend, basketball star Jeong Jaehyun reaches out to Y/N, who he knows has a crush on him.

prev | next || masterlist

a/n: i wasn’t gonna include a written part, but here we are

word count: ~3k

This... feels strange, you thought mindlessly to yourself, as your gaze fixed on the boy seated next to you. He was busy on his phone taking photos of the fading sunset that he barely noticed you staring, which you were quite thankful for because it allowed you to take a look at him just a little longer.

There was no denying that Jaehyun was attractive. To be honest, his beautiful features slightly intimidated you. When his perfectly shaped brows raised in surprise. Or when his dreamy dark brown eyes looked like he was trying to figure someone out. You especially liked it when Jaehyun smiled or laughed. You were confident Jaehyun’s dimples were the culprits of stealing many people’s hearts; those cheek indentations were truly fatal. However, for you, it was simply the occasional, cute nose scrunch. Unlike the dimples, the latter came and went quickly, but it still had an impact all the same.

Despite having been on few casual dates with Jaehyun in the past week, it was difficult to wrap your head around the time spent together, especially since the past two years consisted of you pining over him, after missing the opportunity to act on your feelings and confess to him.

Two Years Ago (First year of college)

"We should rent an apartment and be roommates next semester!”

Your eyes widened at Sujin’s suggestion. “All four of us?” you asked, swiftly spinning your finger once to point at yourself as well as the group seated around you. It was a clear day, so after class, you had a picnic with your friends at the university quad. “My parents helped me pay for campus room and board this year. I don’t know if my part-time job at the fitness center can afford rent.”

After meeting Sujin at the freshman orientation and running into Ten and Johnny in line at a food stand during the school organizations event, you had never had more fun nor felt more comfortable with anyone than you did with them. You remembered studying for hours often with Sujin since you both were biology majors and shared some courses. There was also the time when you attended the university dance team’s fall show and watched Ten’s first solo performance. Of course, though you almost always refrained from physical altercation, you could never forget the day you confronted Johnny’s ex-girlfriend at a party after she cheated on him and showed no remorse, which resulted in hair-pulling as well as Sujin and Ten dragging you out before further troubles. With what you all had gotten through together, there was no doubt that you considered the three to be your closest friends.

“Aren’t you going to apply for the research position with Dr. Kim? I’m sure it pays more,” Sujin said before taking a bite out of her sandwich.

“That’s the plan, but she hasn’t opened applications yet, so I just have to wait,” you sighed, laying down Johnny’s lap. “I think it’ll be fun to live together though!”

“I’ve actually been thinking about living off campus, too,” Ten said, grinning, “so you’d all be saving me from looking for roommates. I’m in.”

“Johnny?” you asked in a sing-song voice, looking up at the handsome male, waiting for his response. You opened your mouth as Johnny fed you a grape and then he leaned back, probably considering the idea.

“Hm... if I say yes, can I bring people over to spend the night?”

You grimaced at him before sitting back up right away while Johnny let out a laugh due to your reaction. “No thanks for the image,” you deadpanned, “though I guess it’d be cruel to deprive you of sex. We’ll all need to obviously talk more about housing and details later...”

“Y/N, behind you! He’s here.”

You instantly froze after Sujin’s announcement. “He’s here?” you mouthed, heart rate picking up, and Sujin confirmed with an eager nod. Pushing the conversation with your friends to the side, your ears were now focused on the sounds behind you. Multiple shoes against pavement. A ball dribbling. Familiar as well as unfamiliar voices chattering. When you tried to discreetly turn around, you found some members of the basketball team on the open court. You immediately spotted Jeong Jaehyun, casually wearing a black hoodie and maroon basketball shorts, playfully shoving a teammate after a teasing remark.

“Oh my god, how did he get even hotter after Spring Break?!” you muttered before turning back to your friends.

Johnny scoffed jokingly. “Hey, hey, keep it in your pants.”

“Also, aren’t you forgetting something?” Ten asked you, nudging his head back to the basketball court.

Oh. Right.

The actual reason you coincidentally (not) picked this day for a picnic at the same time Jaehyun and his friends played basketball.

You and Jaehyun took a Calculus class together the previous semester, and in a room with a little more than 100 seats, you ended up sitting next to Jaehyun. The two of you barely exchanged much words other than when one of you had questions about assignments, but you could not help but be drawn to him anyway. And although he did not have to talk to you outside of class, you always appreciated his greetings whenever you ran into each other at parties or after his basketball games. You thought your feelings were just a temporary infatuation, but your crush only seemed to grow after months, so you made a vow. After Spring Break, you would ask Jaehyun out.

However, now that you saw Jaehyun standing a few feet across from you, you felt like you were going to throw up. You wanted to back out. Abort. “Oh, look at the time!” you laughed nervously, pointing at your wrist that was definitely not wearing a watch. “I forgot I have to study for an exam tomorrow.”

You started to stand up, but Ten yanked you back down to the ground right away, causing you to land on your butt. “Nuh-uh. Don’t think so. Hey, Yuta!”

You shot a look at Ten, sending a quick telepathic message along the lines of Are you fucking serious? before turning back to everyone on the court. Almost all of the guys faced the direction of your group after hearing Yuta’s name called. You found Yuta who waved once he spotted you and your friends. I guess I’m doing this, you thought to yourself, breathing deeply and then mustering the biggest smile you could in that moment.

“Good luck, babe,” Sujin cheered as soon as you stood up and started to walk towards Yuta. The group had already dispersed to different parts of the court, ready to start a game.

“Is there a reason why you texted me if I would be out at the quad today?” Yuta asked as you ran into his arms for a quick hug.

You pulled away and then playfully punched his arm. “Maybe there’s just something about you playing basketball that makes me swoon,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

Yuta rolled his eyes, punching your arm back lightly. “Please. I can assure you that from middle to high school, when your parents worked, you had to wait after my practices so my dad could take us home. You’ve definitely used the word miserable to describe it.”

“Okay, but it’s obvious that my presence at your practices have made you into who you are today, right? This university has to thank me for their best shooting guard.”

Yuta grinned. “Alright, just tell me what you want.”

You hummed, rocking back and forth on your feet as you glanced around for the one who has been on your mind. “I actually wanted to talk to Jaehyun.”

“Jeong Jaehyun?”

You nodded your head. Yuta leaned closer, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to assess you. After a second, your friend straightened back up and called for his teammate. “Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun stopped his conversation with another player and turned his attention to you and Yuta, slightly confused, but he walked over to you both. “What’s up?” Jaehyun questioned, catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Y/N wanted to talk to you, so I’ll leave you two to it,” Yuta explained, ruffling your hair as a goodbye before he left you alone with Jaehyun.

You let out a nervous laugh, fixing your hair. It was now or never. With the close distance between you two, you got a whiff of Jaehyun’s cologne—wood, also kind of spicy. “Hey, Y/N. Sucks we don’t have a class together this semester.”

“Yeah, sucks. How was your break?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “I went to Cabo.”

You paused. “Oh.” The wealthy be different. “Cabo. Must’ve been a hell of a time. I thought Haeun’s pool party was something. Not even close.”

"Yeah, Cabo was a great time. So... what did you need to tell me?”

“What?”

“Um, you said you wanted to talk?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, feeling shy after remembering why you were there in the first place. Your eyes shifted to your shoes, unable to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you. Nervousness as well as excitement rushed through you, and your body felt like it was tingling. It kind of scared you what his reaction would be, but it was what it was. The worse he could say was no. “About that. I—”

“Jaehyun!”

Suddenly, a feminine voice called out his name. You whipped your head around to find a girl with a black long bob and bangs waving excitedly to Jaehyun and then running straight into his open arms. You took a minute to process what was happening. Your first thought was that she was very pretty. Her makeup suited her, especially the burgundy red lip tint. Her body also fitted well in her white tank top and black skinny jeans.

“Hey, babe. What’re you doing here? I thought you were working on your journalism project,” Jaehyun said, happiness evident through the way his face lit up, smiling in a way you had never seen Jaehyun smile before. Arms still around the girl, Jaehyun leaned down to give her a peck on the lips. You quickly averted your eyes, feeling as if you were intruding on the intimate moment.

“Yeah, but I missed you, so I decided to take a break and hang out with you,” the girl answered in the sweetest tone as she pulled away from Jaehyun. She then looked over at you as if she noticed you for the first time. “Who’s this?”

“This is—”

“I was just leaving,” you interrupted.

Jaehyun brows furrowed. “Wait, I thought—”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said a little too quickly, waving your hand dismissively. “It was nothing important. I had a question, but the answer just popped into my head, haha. I, uh, actually have a thing, so I’m gonna go now. Yeah. Thanks, Jaehyun. And nice meeting you—”

“Hyejin.”

“Hyejin. Nice meeting you, Hyejin. Okay, bye!”

You spun around, and your feet picked up pace as you walked away from the basketball court, out the quad, towards the direction of the dorm. Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, likely a call from one of your friends, but you could not help but feel slightly embarrassed after the incident. The last thing you wanted to do was talk about it.

Babe. Definitely way worse than being rejected.

End of Flashback

When you snapped out of your thoughts, you realized that Jaehyun was now staring back at you, with those captivating eyes that sought for answers. “Y/N?” he called out softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, slightly flustered that you zoned out while looking at him. “Y-Yeah?” Shit, you cursed to yourself after you choked on the reply, and you cleared your throat before answering more clearly. “Yeah?”

Jaehyun leaned back and chuckled. “I just wanted to let you know I really appreciate you coming to the basketball games again. It’s nice seeing your face in the crowd.”

You smiled. “Of course. None of my roomies except Ten really enjoy watching basketball, but he’s been busy and it’s been fun attending with Mark and Lucas. Also, don’t tell Yuta but I think I gradually started to like basketball because of him. Watching him for so many years, I can’t help but get into it when I see him find so much delight in the sport. He’s insane on the court.”

When you caught Jaehyun’s pout, you let out a laugh. He wanted his ego fed for sure. “I mean, obviously, he’s nothing compared to you, Captain. Come on now.”

“Obviously,” Jaehyun replied, giving you a smug look. Then for some reason, in a few seconds, you caught his expression when his smirk fell. “You know, my ex,” Jaehyun started, absentmindedly grasping at the sand under his hand and letting them fall through his fingers, “she never really attended my games.”

As the sun was about to fully disappear, you heard the sound of thunder rumble in the sky. Looking up, you noticed that dark clouds started to roll in. Was it supposed to rain today, you wondered. “Hyejin?” you asked, returning your attention to Jaehyun. He nodded. Since he brought her up, you might as well have asked your questions and got them over with now. “If it’s okay, can I ask what happened between you two?”

Silence settled between you and Jaehyun when he did not answer right away, which made you feel bad because you did not want to open those wounds again. Another wave of thunder roared. You two would have to return back home soon. You were about to try and change the topic, but Jaehyun spoke first. “She said that the way I loved her bored her. I don’t know. Something about how I always agreed with her and that I never confronted other guys when I felt jealous. Or when I didn’t argue with her, it felt like I didn’t care at all.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You did not know what else to say. Breakups were hard. Before you realized, your hand reached over to Jaehyun’s, and you placed yours over his, squeezing it softly. “It’s not place to say... but she didn’t deserve you.”

Jaehyun turned his hand over so that his palm held yours, squeezing back. His lips stretched into a small smile. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You then felt a droplet of water tap on your leg. Then the top of your head. Then your cheek. Suddenly, the pitter patter of the rain became louder as it hit the sand and water. You and Jaehyun looked at each, mouth opened in awe at such misfortune, before the both of you bursted into a fit of laughter. “Wait, did you not check the weather before planning this?!” you exclaimed to Jaehyun with a huge grin on your face as you jumped up, barely covering yourself with your hands above your head.

“Listen,” Jaehyun explained as he also stood up, grabbing the jacket that he brought with him. “did you not check the weather?”

You were not sure if the rush your body felt was due to the unforeseen weather or the way Jaehyun stared at you like he was waiting for you to make a move. With your adrenaline and curiosity, you stepped closer to him. “Are you seriously trying to blame this on your date right now, Jeong Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun leaned closer to your face. You sucked in a breath, aware of the lack of space between you two. Jaehyun took his jacket and covered the top of your head to protect as best as he could from the rain. You grabbed the outerwear, but Jaehyun’s grasp was also still on the jacket. Despite the rain drenching Jaehyun from head to toe, a smile remained on his face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This was my bad. How can I make it up to you?” Jaehyun asked as his eyes fell onto your lips before looking up to read your eyes. His lips pressed together, and his next question almost turned you into a puddle. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” It was all Jaehyun needed to hear to release his hold on the jacket and moved his hands to cup your face. Jaehyun’s lips brushed against yours. Soft. His lips were soft. You smelled the familiar scent of his cologne, and it made you even dizzier as you continued to kiss Jaehyun, letting the blossoming warmth consume you. You could not help but smile into the kiss, and when his tongue pressed between your lips, you started to part your lips for him until a loud crack of thunder struck in the sky, prompting you both to pull away from each other.

“As much as I’d like to keep going, I think I should get you home before you catch a cold,” Jaehyun said with a chuckle.

Like a gentleman, Jaehyun walked you all the way to your front door. Though you offered Jaehyun shelter from the rain inside your apartment, he declined, assuring you that his fraternity house was not too far from your place. “Really sorry we couldn’t get that fancy dinner,” Jaehyun apologized. “I knew you were looking forward to that the most.”

You shook your head, reassuring him with a smile. “No worries. I had such an amazing time, Jae.”

He leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Next time. Now get inside and change into some dry clothes. I’ll text you later.”

“Drive safe,” you told him, and he nodded. As soon as Jaehyun walked away from you, you grabbed your key and unlocked the door to your apartment, calling out to your roommates. “I’m home!”

Sujin was the first one to greet you in the living room. Her eyes widened when she spotted you in your wet clothes, droplets of water dripping from your hair to the tiled floor. “Geez, Y/N! I thought you two were just going to watch the sunset, not get into the water fully clothed.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and passed by Sujin to get to your room. After you closed the door, you ran to your bed and plopped on the mattress, not even bothering to change out of your clothes right away. You unlocked your phone and opened Instagram to view the most recent photos of you and Jaehyun from today, recalling the event that occurred hours ago. Today really happened. Jaehyun kissed me.

taglist: @fluffyjaes @hwangful @seeking-faces @urlocalnctstan @justineasian @127-jaehyun @dearjaehyxn @taesty-jams @jeneyesmile @taeiluv127 @mango-bear @marklexleaf @generantionct @tyxsaturn @247byun @yourchasingsunsetslove @ajhdr @jaeficrecs @bitchenderyy @thorscrown @leaurcitee @erisxczenie @minavenue @phoenixes-and-wizards @renjunf00ls @notminniie @sanisms @sunflowerhae @smileyyuta @ohmy-fandoms @artfulbarnes @anotherfullsun @moons00 @nctlovesme @unmanageable-day @raywishii @thejungjaehyun @venusprada @doyobun @nshitae @andrea-chanel @llamabouquet

#nct social au #nct social media au #jaehyun social media au #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct #jaehyun au #jaehyun angst #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x reader #nct aus #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun fluff #nct fluff #on the rebound

279 notes · View notes

spritewrites · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing! I was wondering if I could ask for prompt 30 with lee!Essek

oh, anon, if you only knew how much you absolutely can.

this got away from me so far it’s not even funny. like i can’t even see it on the horizon. expand at your own risks, this boi is beefy

30. “I’m not ticklish, who do you think I am?”

“Caleb?”

“Scheiße—” Caleb jumps.

Oh. Essek.

It wasn’t that he… forgot the man was there, that task would be nearly impossible. It’s only that Essek hasn’t spoken in a few hours, and Caleb had been wondering… well. Maybe he isn’t enjoying the book; recommendations for people you don’t know very well can be tricky. Maybe he simply has to go home. Maybe he got a Message from the Bright Queen, announcing that all of the Nein were to be executed immediately.

All were possibilities.

That is why he is surprised to see Frumpkin’s tiny owl form perched on the drow’s shoulder, investigating a studded ear with nimble precision. The shoulder in question is hitched up quite high, seemingly trying to protect the thin skin but only succeeding in giving the owl further access to the pointed tip.

There’s some kind of quivering tension playing around Essek’s lips. Caleb consciously stops himself from staring. It wouldn’t do to offend his research partner.

“He is—ah, he is nibbling me, Caleb,” Essek hisses. His ear flicks, and Caleb watches his fingers twitch, tracing half-beginnings to a number of spells that he seems to reconsider mid-cast before squeezing his hand into a fist.

Oh, dear.

“Frumpkin,” he says sharply, and snaps his familiar back to his own shoulder. Frumpkin immediately chirps and nuzzles the side of his own rounded ear, and Caleb huffs fondly and gives him a little scritch on his head. “Be a good cat. I apologize, he should know better than to attack anyone ticklish. I believe Fjord taught him that lesson rather well.”

He’d hoped the quip would smooth things over well enough to continue their study. Instead, Essek… bristles. “I’m not—I’m not ticklish, who do you think I am?”

Fuck.

“I do not mean to offend,” Caleb says quickly. Frumpkin gives a skeptical quirk of his head, clearly indicating his thoughts on the matter. Well. We can’t all go around rubbing up against attractive wizards, now can we? “I only thought… well, no matter. I am sorry that he bothered you.”

He shoots the drow a look that he hopes comes across as generally respectful and amiable—he is their liaison, after all, and they’ve worked far too hard to jeopardize such a relationship—but Essek’s eyes aren’t on him. They’re off, just slightly, trained on the spot where Frumpkin’s feathers are brushing the crook of Caleb’s neck. “It’s quite alright. You are… not, I suppose?”

Caleb swallows the “No, Nott is the goblin” that wells up in his throat. “Hm? Not what?”

“Not…” Essek gestures vaguely in the direction of his own recently victimized ear. “Not ticklish.”

After several months of dealing with tieflings, the way he stumbles over the word is not lost on Caleb. A flush begins to rise in his cheeks, and he can only hope his scruff hides the full effect of it. “Ah. Ich verstehe. Ja, but not…” He casts a sideways look at Frumpkin, who blinks. Bastard. “Well, a long time with fluffy animals on one’s shoulder builds up a certain tolerance in the area, I suppose.”

Essek also blinks, unreadable. His face is perhaps a bit more violet than it had previously been, but it may also be a trick of the light.

And Caleb could certainly blame that for making him bold, or something pent up inside from sitting across from Essek for two hours and forty-seven minutes without talking, or something else, but...

“It is funny,” Caleb continues before he can talk himself out of it, “that you say that you are immune. You seemed quite ticklish a moment ago.”

Essek goes still. Scheiße, if Caleb could just maintain enough composure around this man to talk about magic and research like a normal person, and not ask personal questions, they might manage to get out of Xhorhas alive.

“You are…” Oh, Essek’s speaking. “You are not wrong, Caleb Widogast. I suppose it has been… a while. I was under the impression that I had grown out of such things.” He clears his throat, and his ear flicks again. Must be involuntary. “It appears I was mistaken.”

Oh.

Well, that wasn’t what Caleb was expecting at all.

“I see.” He manages a small smile. “I will be sure to keep that information away from the others.”

Essek looks alarmed. “Would they… I mean…”

Oh, dear, the Shadowhand might be in greater trouble that even he realizes. Caleb’s smile pulls harder at his dimples at the thought, but he stifles it. “They can be a bit mean, if they know too much. Not to worry, I will keep them at bay for you if anything were ever to… come up.”

The anxiety in Essek’s gaze fades, but his ears are still fixed in Caleb’s direction. It’s rather difficult not to feel like an insect under a glass, with the way his dark blue eyes seem to see far deeper than they should be capable. “They subject you to this as well?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” Caleb had not anticipated how difficult this would be to say out loud. “When they can.”

Essek tilts his head. “But not your neck, you say?”

“My, ah. My ribs tend to be a bit more… productive. If that’s the sort of thing you’re after.” The flush is back. Fuck.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Essek looks… curious, almost. Studious. The way he looks when they’re researching, but he’s eyeing the fabric underneath Caleb’s book holsters instead.

Caleb fights the urge to squirm.

“Well,” says Essek, catching Caleb off guard with the breeziness of his tone. “We have work to do, yes? Frumpkin seems to agree with me.”

Indeed, Frumpkin is hopping off Caleb’s shoulder to peck at a bit of blank parchment. Honestly, Caleb wouldn’t put it past him to be doing it on purpose. Probably for the best, either way.

“Yes, yes of course. Apologies, if I overstepped—”

Essek waves him off. “Nonsense. After all,” he grins, “I find it useful to learn the weaknesses of my friends along with my enemies.”

Hm. “It goes both ways, Herr Thelyss.”

He seems to consider this for a moment, glancing between the owl on the table and the blushing wizard sitting across from him. For a moment, Caleb swears he sees something in the smooth lines of his face—something darker, perhaps, or just deeper—but then it’s gone, and the drow is smirking again.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it does.”

#critickle role #head empty only shadowgast #ask meme #these are closed!!!#anon #this is over 1k i'm so sorry #these are supposed to be drabbles #finn the nott pun is for you #credit to chock for giving me the guts and inspiration to FINISH something #hope you all enjoy #also props to you if you catch the foreshadowing and themes at the end. we love writing huh

52 notes · View notes

beyondspaceandstars · 4 years ago

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 16

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“You’re coming to me about soulmate bonds?” Bruce Banner asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Once again, you and Bucky nodded in sync, standing awkwardly in the middle of his lab.

Bruce let out a sigh as he turned back to whatever he had been working on. He hadn’t totally dismissed you two yet, thankfully, so you were just forced to stand there, waiting.

When Bucky had told you this was who would potentially help you, you were a bit hesitant. You had only encountered Bruce briefly in your time at the compound. In fact, you hadn’t really gotten to know anyone outside of Bucky and Steve. So, coming to an Avenger, let alone a literal nationally recognized genius, for help with such a thing...made you nervous, to say the least. You’d have to confess your troubles to a third party once more.

But Bucky assured you over and over again that Bruce could be trusted. He didn’t know the scale of his research on the topic but he felt he was a trustworthy person for this. Eventually, you agreed. After your first shift back at work - a new addition back to your routine as you worked to regain some stability - Bucky took you over to the compound. You had thought he had gotten an appointment or at least gave Bruce some kind of rundown on the proposal but, apparently, no.

“What makes you think I can answer any questions on that?” Bruce grumbled as he furiously wrote notes on his current project. You and Bucky shared a look.

“I heard you did some research on it,” Bucky explained.

Bruce huffed. “So?”

“So,” Bucky sighed, “we think we… we have a problem with ours.”

This vague statement was enough for Bruce to perk up a bit. His writing had stopped. He was looking forward now, away from the project. “A problem?” Bruce asked, slightly glancing over his shoulder.

You shifted your weight as you stood a bit uncomfortable with the admission out in the open. Bucky, though, was the definition of cool, calm, and collected. You were just a little bit jealous of him.

Bucky nodded. “To put it simply, my girl has nightmares.”

Bruce seemed very interested now. He finally turned back around, facing you two fully once again. He looked intrigued but not really excited. You wondered greatly what his research really encompassed.

“Nightmares?” Bruce was beginning to sound like some sad echo. But you and Bucky just went with it, nodding your head in confirmation. Bruce continued, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of nightmares. They’re dreams we have — soulmate dreams.”

You sighed, greatly out of annoyance. You’d been hearing the same thing day after day after day for years. “I know,” you finally said. “I am well aware of that but it just isn’t how ours work. I’ve only ever seen the…bad things Bucky has encountered. And for a while, after we met, they stopped.”

“As you would hope.”

You nodded. “But then that…thing happened. And it’s all started over again except somehow stronger. I’m seeing it all through Bucky’s eyes. Through his feelings. Through his — his everything. I’m back there twice over and many times after.”

Bruce shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to do. Bucky was very tense beside you, hands balled into tight fists waiting as anxiously as you for Bruce to just say something about it. But he didn’t, not yet, as he raced over to his desk. From one of the drawers, a very particularly locked one, Bruce pulled out a file. He flicked it open and began reading, his finger roaming over the pages wildly, hunting for whatever it was he needed. You and Bucky just watched the situation unfold, practically holding your breaths.

Eventually, Bruce walked back over, a very specific page opened in the filed documents. You couldn’t make out what it was about from your sneaky glance so you waited for the genius to begin. He looked between you and Bucky, jaw slacked in amazement and concerned.

“Before I get into this, I want you both to promise me this knowledge doesn’t leave this lab unless it is on my account, okay?” He spoke strongly and seriously. You two nodded. Once he was pleased, Bruce looked back at the file and began, “Gosh, I can’t believe I forgot about this… You were right, Bucky, I have researched soulmate bonds. I didn’t do it for long, God knows it’s a hot topic, but part of my research involved what I nicknamed toxic bonds.” He looked pointedly at you two. “It just started out as a little theory stemming from the old stories about soulmates ‘moving on.’ It’s really a bit more than just not liking someone. This theory revolves around stories of soulmates, in these cases, receiving unflattering or uninteresting dreams from their partnered mates. I was basing these off the accounts of long ago as there are no known partners that fit this mold. At least, until now.” Bruce motioned between you two. You didn’t like where this was all going. “I believe what you two share is a toxic bond, a sort of glitch in Fate. Except, where you two fall flat in this is the fact the nightmares have come back. All dreams change after meeting your soulmate, right?” No one said anything. Bruce continued, “Yes, they technically should. Something has in fact fallen off with you two. I can’t say what but it doesn’t add it and could be significant to this research. With permission, I would like to run some tests on each of you.”

You stiffened. “T-Tests?” While you should be kind of relieved there’s some answer - or idea - for what you’re experiencing, you were suddenly hung up on the prospect of being an experiment. Bucky’s hand reached out to grasp yours, trying to offer some comfort. The thought of being strapped to a chair flashed through your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky shoot Bruce a harsh look.

“Nothing harmful, I promise,” Bruce insisted. “I would just like to take a peek into your brains, into the bond.”

“That’s possible?” Bucky asked. You were glad he at least had the strength to speak.

“It’s attached to the brain function in various ways,” Bruce explained. “A look into your brainwaves can tell me a lot. Or nothing, if that's the case, too.”

You knew you were doing an absolutely horrible job at hiding your worries but, thankfully, neither man was bringing much attention to it. They just looked at you, waiting for an answer. You were quite impressed by how Bucky was just going along with this. But, at the same time, there was a reason he came here instead of seeking a true outsider. If this was okay with Bucky, it was going to have to be okay with you. At least this time, you weren’t being thrown in a chair alone.

“Okay,” you nodded. “Let’s see what we can find out.”

***

You didn’t know which was more daunting: the actual test itself or waiting for the results.

The test was more like a true test of patience. You basically just had to sit there as Bruce wrote notes and saw things you never could make out from the weird squiggly lines on the monitor. All while he’s doing that, you’re trying not to just break down from being in a lab again. Thankfully, Bucky offered more comfort the best he could. He let you squeeze his non-metal hand, never flinching once no matter how much your nails dig into him. He even tried striking up conversations with you, trying to distract you. He tells you about the new romance movie he thinks you two should go see. You try to stay engaged, feeling a bit bad you couldn’t focus well on it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

When the roles were reversed, Bucky didn’t ask for any help from you. You still tried to offer something by taking his hand in yours. But he just didn’t need distractions, perhaps a bit too familiar with being subjected to testing. This had to be on the easier side, you figured.

Once you both were finished, Bruce instructed you to take a seat and wait. He had some things to double-check. The longer you sat, the more you were worried it was bad news - but you didn’t even really know what bad news would actually entail. What was he looking for? How much of the bond could actually be seen? You hadn’t heard of this ever. If you did, you probably would’ve looked into it a long time ago just to clarify if you were fucked in the head or not.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked, gently. You fiddled with your fingers, unsure.

“It wasn’t so bad,” you said. “Just not sure what he’s going to find.” Bucky agreed and you two fell back into your silence as you waited.

Minutes later, Bruce finally re-entered the room. You two must’ve been wearing hopeful looks because he motioned for you to calm down. Bruce wasn’t matching your excitement. Something twisted in your stomach.

“I’ve reviewed your tests,” he said, holding up a folder labeled with your names. You two nodded. Bruce motioned towards you first and said, “Your test came back perfectly normal. Everything is fine with your part of the bond which quite surprised me but I checked and rechecked. The issues aren’t with you-,”

Bucky sighed, cutting Bruce off as he mentally pieced it together. “They’re with me.”

You felt your body tense as Bucky looked defeated beside you. He wasn't meeting either of your gazes despite you trying to reach for his hand again. He shrugged it off, you quickly turned to Bruce.

“What’s the problem?” You just about demanded. Bruce didn’t look very phased by your outburst. He pulled up a seat in front of you two looking like he had to mentally prepare himself for this.

“There’s an unnatural disturbance in Bucky’s side of the bond,” Bruce explained as he flipped open the folder. You didn’t even try to understand the printed results. Bucky was fully disconnected at this point. “I can’t say for sure what caused it, but if I had to guess when he underwent what...Hydra did, it affected lines in the transmission process. They probably thought they were severing the lines but they were really just scrambling them, hence the nightmares. They’re the dominant memories the bond reads in transmission. Bucky’s missions and recent healing process didn’t help anything. All in all, to put it simply, any intense moments Bucky experiences will be projected back to you due to a disconnect in the function of the bond.”

“So, I really was the cause of all this?” Bucky finally spoke up. His voice was hoarse, almost weak. You knew he thought his hair hid the look of distress written on his face but you could feel it. Boy, could you feel it.

You immediately began shaking your head and reaching for him again. He didn’t move under your touch but at least he was allowing it. “This isn’t your fault, I promise.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to protest further but Bruce stopped him, “You couldn’t do anything to prevent this.” He looked back at you. “Either of you. These were the actions of some deranged individuals and they are the only ones responsible. I’m just sorry you two have to pay the price.”

“I-Is there anything we can do to fix it?”

Bruce closed the folder, looking more uncomfortable - if that was even possible. “I’m afraid not. It’s hard enough to damage soulmate bonds, essentially impossible to bandage.”

Upon hearing that, Bucky abruptly stood up. You jumped at the sudden action, suddenly convinced he was going to walk away. Forever. But instead, he made his way over to the window, his back towards you two, lost in whatever self-deprecating thoughts were flooding his brain. You’d address that later but were currently focused on pressing Bruce.

“There’s really nothing at all?” You were sounding desperate at this point but Bruce didn’t seem to mind, giving you the most sympathetic look.

“My best advice would be that Bucky finish his healing treatment and then get him out of this...profession.”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you two now. “What, like retirement?”

Bruce shrugged. “Whatever you want to call it. Essentially, the less he fights, the less traumatizing situations he’s put in, the fewer nightmares you’ll have.” He glanced back at the folder. “In theory, you could be rid of them all. Get back to having actual dreams. It’s an optimistic take but you’ve already proven it’s possible to some degree.”

You looked over your shoulder, your worried eyes meeting Bucky’s intense ones. He wasn’t exactly protesting but you saw the hesitancy. You turned back to Bruce.

“Thank you for all your help,” you said.

He nodded. “I’m glad I could be of some assistance. If you ever want to look even further into it, I think I know someone else that could help.”

“I think we’ve learned enough for a while.”

“Of course,” Bruce agreed and then stood from his chair. “I’ll let you two go. Probably got a few things to discuss. Call me if you need anything.” With that, he exited the lab, leaving just you and your soulmate to move forward. Somehow.

Bucky had turned back to the window. You shifted in your seat, unsure of what to say now.

Thankfully, Bucky was the first to speak. “Do you want to get some dinner?”

80 notes · View notes