#the criminal minds board is still on my wall though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pacifymebby · 1 year ago

Text

t r o u b l e // chapter eight

A peaky blinders modern AU balletcore story

Chapter List

Sylvie

"Go find your sister eh Fen," said Tommy letting go of me after a moments quiet. Merciful because he must have been able to tell I wasn't going to be able to hold his gaze for much longer. "Gonna talk about this properly eh, like adults."

I hated that; when people said "like adults," because they only ever said it to let you know that they didn't really think of you as an adult. And i knew that was certainly the case here. That tommy would only ever view me and Sunny as the twin girls he'd sent away to boarding school not long after our mother had died. Those two tiny children who had been sweet and naïve and too young to understand anything of the world the rest of oue family lived in.

But we'd long since stopped being those girls and though we might still have been more innocent than the rest of our family, we weren't too young to understand how things worked. We didn't need to talk about things "like adults."

Still, I had done as he'd said, ignoring Isaiah who had tried to catch me when I left the dining room. The fact that he'd been waiting for me left my cheeks burning with humiliation and only spurred my stubborn determination on more.

"Fen lass cmon as if you actually believe I'd need 'forcing' to talk to you... Thats insane..." he tried to walk in step with me, following me all the way to the bedroom I was sharing with Sonya before I turned back to him and stopped him in his tracks.

"I don't need a fucking babysitter Isaiah."

He just smirked, one of those laughing grins splitting crooked on his face so that even in my moment of anger, I couldn't help the way my skin prickled with goosebumps, my eyes unable to do anything but stare.

And he knew, he'd always been able to tell my childish little crush and he'd never exactly been merciful there. Always teasing me. Only merciful enough never to mention it or lead me on. Never merciful enough not to use it, as he was almost certainly using it now, to try and manipulate my temper.

"Come on Syl you're not really pissed at me are you?" he asked, still smiling through my silence. All I could do was fix him with my dark sullen eyes, hope they weren't wavering. Hope he couldn't read my mind. "What?" he asked standing close to me, trapping me between his body and the wall, looking down at me with those teasing warm eyes, "You're really gonna sulk with me and for talkin to you 'bout strawberries?"

He had a way of turning on the charm at the drop of a hat. He could go from gritty, hardened criminal, to soft and flirting without really having to try at all and every time I fell for it. Every time he managed to corner me like this, weak at the knees, looking up at him trying desperately to keep the blush off my cheeks.

"Whatever," I said shrugging him off, slipping inside the bedroom and closing the door in his face. If he was going to do as Tommy had clearly instructed him, follow me around everywhere all the time, I was drawing a firm line here. He wasn't going to sit on the edge of the bed twiddling his thumbs and watching over us while we fucking slept.

When I closed the door behind me Sonya jumped, flinching out of her splits stretch on the floor. She was only in a tshirt and her underwear, a pair of bed socks on her feet a poor substitute for her warm up booties. It was funny the things John had chosen to prioritse for us when packing our things that morning he'd come to pick us up. When I'd been looking for pyjamas the night before I'd found a few tshirts, a ballet leotard and a pair of white tights, but no jeans, no skirt. Just a pair of trackies and that was all so I couldn't imagine that he'd packed any better for Sunny.

"Sorry Sylvie," she said as she pushed herself up off the floor carefully coming out of her splits, shaking each leg one at a time, "I think these are your socks, John kinda just shoved stuff into the one bag for us?" she said pulling a face, "theyre your pants too sorry..." she said wincing as she lifted the hem of her tshirt to show me.

I wasn't sure why we were so surprised in hindsight. Our brothers had always kind of viewed us as a collective, the two of us one and the same.

"Naturally," I smirked kicking the bag with my foot to open it a little more and investigate. And Sunny was right of course. He really had just shoved random items from the flat into our bag, packing a mixture of our things presuming that that would be fine. And I supposed it was going to have to be.

I sat on the edge of my bed then watching her as she spowly bent backwards stretching her arms out behind her. She was really trying to go through her whole warm up on the bedroom floor, without a bar or anything.

"Sorry to cut your practice short but Tommy wants to talk to us..."

"Oh?"

"Like 'adults'..." I said with inverted commas, screwing my face up and rolling my eyes much to my sisters amusement as she reached for a pair of pyjama shorts which she'd abandoned at the end of her bed.

"Oh goodie," she smirked, "a real treat I'm sure..."

And when we left together and Isaiah joined us, following two steps behind like a shadow, Sonya looked at me with questioning eyes and all I could do was shrug.

He followed us, hands in the pockets of his jeans, casually, and every time I glanced back at him over my shoulder he shot me a small smile or shrugged with an apologetic smirk that told me he wasn't really sorry at all.

I had been expecting him to stop outside Tommys study the same way he'd stopped and waited outside the dining room that morning. Id expected him to understand that this was none of his business, that this was Shelby business and that although he might have been a peaky boy, and an honorary member of the extended family, he would be intruding if he crossed that threshold with us.

But if he understood that he didn't seem to care, following us inside the office, shutting the door behind us and crossing the polished hardwood floor to stand leaning up in the frame of a cieling to floor length window which jutted out and overlooked the long driveway and the gardens which stretched to the horizon.

He wasn't alone however and though I didn't recognise the lad Isaiah nodded to, the two of them uttering quiet laconic greetings, I recognised the cap on his head and knew he must be peaky too.

Sunny followed Isaiah with her eyes across the room just as I had done but instead of confusion on her face I saw only a frown when she saw the other lad who was, I had thought, a stranger to both of us.

"You really are letting any old gypsy boy wear a peaky cap these days aren't you brother..." she said, her expression one of disinterest and disapproval.

"For as long as you intend to use your Aunt Pollys name Fen, I suggest you speak a little kinder of your people..."

"Please Tommy, you've spent your whole life trying to shake of your undesirable roots..." she narrowed her eyes at him, her temper unexpected after the lost teary look she'd left this very room with the night before.

The lad in question, the one with dark hair and a tranquil expression, thoughtful eyes which kept his mind unknown, watched the conversation silently. His eyes fixed on Sonya, only once glancing back at Tommy. All the while his smirk was unshakeable, as if he found her cruel words amusing and trivial. Perhaps like me, he knew she was only acting out to spite our brother. Then again perhaps not, only I knew Sunny so well as to know when she was doing that.

"Thought there was a war on Tommy, whyre you letting random gypsies run around the grounds... He isn't a Lee and he isn't one of Uncle Charlies..."

"No," said Tommy finally, cutting her off as he poured a glass of whiskey for himself and raised the bottle as if to offer it to us, his gesture almost offensive because he'd never let us drink before and he knew we wouldn't drink whiskey with him. "Bonnie here, he ain't a Lee and he ain't a strong, he ain't even with Johnny Dogs..." there was a glint of something like boredom or sarcasm in our brothers voice and I knew that it would be enough to shake Sonya and force her straight laced temper back into heel.

"Then what is he?" I reflected his bored tone back at him, "and why the fucks he here when we're supposed to be discussing Shelby business?"

So called "Bonnie" smirked at that, one of those arrogant, impressed smirks of approval I'd seen worn by the likes of John and Isaiah so many times before. One I knew my sister despised.

"Well," he said, his voice alot softer than I'd been expecting, his small smile flickering when he pushed himself away from the window frame, his eyes locking with Sunnys despite the fact he was talking to me, "youre gonna be doin a lot of talkin about me," he said, "an I'm dead nosy me," he said flashing her a grin, Isaiah letting out a stifled laugh beside him. Both my sister and I struggling with our tempers, Sunnys cheeks beginning to blossom pink despite her sullen eyes.

"Sit down girls," said Tommy, "you wanted to talk like adults didn't you Fen," he said to me, nodding to the sofa which ran along the wall framed by bookcases, though I imagined a library like that to be wasted on Tommy, "so sit down eh? Lets talk..."

"They should wait outside," I said arms folded across my chest, "they're not Shelby..."

"Well neither are you these days lass, to be fair..." said Tommy, he wasn't smiling, his lips set in a straight line as he leant back in his chair and drummed his fingers slow and rhythmically on the arm.

"Fuck sake," mumbled Sonya beside me rolling her eyes to the cieling as she walked prim and pissed off to sit down where he had instructed us. I however remained stood.

"Even so," I said, "I want them to wait outside,"

"Fine," shrugged Tommy, his smirk flickering as he shot the two lads a look and gestured vaguely to the door, "dont go far eh lads," he said dismissing them. Bonnie couldn't keep his amusement to himself, his hands in the pockets of his blue adidas jacket, a dimple popping as he laughed. Isaiah just shot me a look, the kind youd shoot a friend or someone you knew very well. I didn't smile back because he wasn't either of those things to me anymore.

The door closed behind them with a little echo and for a moment we all sat there in silence.

Sonya opened her mouth to speak at the same time as I did but it was Tommy who cut us both off.

"Before either of you start complaining again eh let me just remind you that we're in the middle of a fuckin war, your cousins in the hospital, your brothers upstairs fucked up... And I'm the head of this fuckin family yeah? That means I call the fuckin shots... I make the decisions and you obey."

I couldn't keep the smirk off my lips. He scared me, was scaring me then, my body crawling with a familiar discomfort, but it was just the same as getting in trouble at school, finding yourself sitting in a chair in the headmasters office getting your ear chewed off about "rules are rules for a reason." There was something about that kind of awkward telling off which had always made me smile.

"Something funny Fen?" he asked me, his own lips still set in that unreadable, seemingly calm thin line.

"No Tommy," I said quieter than before, my voice a little dull as I looked back at him.

"Good," he said, "cause I don't really find this funny either... What about you eh Fen?" he asked Sonya but she was looking at her hands in her lap, his fingertips brushing over her fingertips in an agitated pattern. She didn't even shake her head and I felt sorry for her because I recognised her fear and I understood it.

If Tommy knew what we thought he knew then we were both in far too deep.

"Right then," he said brightening his tone then, "good, you wanted to talk then lets talk, who's going first? Fen?"

"Since when have you trusted the Golds and why is one of them cuttin about our house acting like he owns the place?" asked Sonya, she was trying to sound disinterested. I wondered if Tommy was buying it.

"Bonnies a good lad Fen, you'll like him when you get to know him..."

"Who says I'll..."

"I've asked Bonnie to look after you lass..." he started, cut off my spiteful laugh.

"If you're holding us hostage here why have you got your little foot soldiers following us around like fuckin spies?" I asked cutting my sister off who had opened her mouth to protest in the same second as me. Tommy smirked at my phrasing but he didn't rise to it.

"To protect you Fen, not spy..."

"If you ask him something he has to tell you the truth," said Sonya not realising her mistake until Tommy had turned his gaze back to hers, seeing in tunnel vision then.

"Funny," he said, a hint of malice flickering in his tone which neither of us missed, our skin bristling so that when I looked down at her arms, her hairs stood on end mirroring mine. "I always thought that was how it worked between us brothers and sisters too but..." he trailed off, his eyes willing hers to meet them though no sooner had she looked up did she feel that burn of them, the spite shocking her. Her gaze returning to her lap full of shame.

"But if I were to ask you Fen, who Freddie Sabini is to you, would you tell me the truth?"

She couldn't look up then, her hands holding onto eachother in her lap. My skin crawling, my heart aching for her because she looked distraught, so silently distraught.

"T..." I started, about to try and defend her when he raised his hand and silenced me with a lazy gesture. I froze then, watching him, watching her, waiting for a response.

"Well?" he asked again, "would you?"

For a second she was quiet, her cheeks glistening with two little tear trails. Her lashes catching the light where her sorrow collected in thick droplets which slid quietly from her long black lashes to the humiliation blossoming on her face.

"Tommy..." I tried again but this time it was Sunny who cut me off. She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes glowing with something like sorrow curdled with resentment.

"He loves me..." she snapped determined and trembling, trying to stifle a sob, only succeeding to hold herself together for the most fleeting of moments. The sob catching up to her and rattling from her throat moments later when Tommy dropped his balanced act.

"He's fucking using you lass! How could you be so fuckin stupid? He's fucking using you to get to us... To the family!"

"No he isn't!" her cheeks were red and so were the rims of her eyes as her tears flowed freely, her body shaking with her anguish as she tried to raise her voice to match his.

"If he isn't why the fucks he with you eh? What other reason could a fuckin Sabini cunt have for gettin so fuckin close to you!" snapped Tommy, his own expression pale, his rage tight in his jaw, his knuckles pale too when he let his hand ball into a fist on the table in front of him.

I couldn't take my eyes off him, I couldn't believe the cruelty in his words, in his unrelenting temper. The spite there when he asked a question with such an obvious answer.

"Because he fucking loves me!" she cried standing up quickly snatching her hand away from mine when I tried to reach out for her. Her sharp retraction shocked me, left me a little uncertain sitting there on my own without her when she fled the room in a flurry of uncontrollable tears.

"See!" he turned to me without pausing for breath, without even waiting for the door to swing shut, "you see what I mean now eh Fen? You say you don't need a fuckin babysitter but neither of you understand how naive you really are? You don't understand the threats? Don't even know how to recognise them when they're starring you in the face? How can you expect me to let you carry on runnin round on your own eh when when I do leave you to it you run straight into the arms of the fuckin enemy... I'm not doin this shit to hurt you Fen, I'm doing it cause I love you... Cause I don't want to see you fuckin murdered by some sleezy fuckin traitor of a boyfriend..." he said his stream of defense/attack wounding me as I thought of poor Sunny. No doubt Isaiah would be trailing her now, just following orders. It was the last thing she would want, the last thing she needed too.

"The truth of the matter is that even when youre staying here at home, you're not safe... Sabinis men know where we live, they'll be watching the house and waiting for me and your brothers to leave and when we do, cause we will have to, when we do they'll make their move yeah... And I need to know that when they make that move, whatever that move is, you and your sister won't be on your own, you'll have someone with you who is quick and strong, who can protect you... I need to know I'll find you alive when I come home yeah?"

"You're a fuckin cold bastard Tommy," I said glancing over my shoulder at the closed office door, "fuckin cruel and cold and you can say whatever you like to justify all this shit... All the shit you've done... But it won't make it go away, won't change a thing..." I said braving holding his gaze, his stern eyes which were dark with a quiet rage.

He hadn't been expecting me to argue back. He'd probably been hoping I'd runaway in tears like Sonya, feeling small and stupid like a little girl. But I wasn't a little girl anymore and I refused to back down or be bullied.

"You keep saying you love us Tommy but at the end of the day this is the first we've seen of you in years, you keep callin us our childhood nickname and telling us you're doing all this cause you care about us, but if you really think about it all you've done so far is drag us away from our home and break your baby sisters fuckin heart... You've lost her the job she's spent her life dreamin of and now you're taking the lad she loves from her too... "

"She isn't gonna lose that job," he said calmly, "And as for Freddie Sabini, he's a fuckin wop Sylvie, he doesnt love her, he's using her... Cmon lass youre not stupid you know it just as well as I do..."

"I know Sunny, Tommy. I know my sister and I know that lads who care about their babys sisters as much as you profess to now, don't usually send them to boarding school half a country away, or forget about them, or sabotage their careers, or..."

"Enough!" he shouted then, raising his voice to a volume and tone that chilled me, silenced me immediately, made me feel younger and smaller than I really was, "thats enough about that fucking job alright I don't want to hear you say another word about that fuckin ballet..."

"I..."

"Enough Sylvia..." he said again his eyes locking with mine, "I told you she isn't going to lose that job, I told you I would sort all that out... I'm talking now alright... Me, your brother, I'm fuckin talking alright..." he said quieter then, much quieter, his tone changing too so that when he took my cheek across the table and brushed his thumb over my pale skin he sounded so much more gentle than he had all morning.

"I'm talkin now so listen to what I have to say now Fen... I love you right, I might not be the most affectionate big brother eh but that don't change a thing. You're the last gift our mum graced this earth with and I love the bones of you both. Might not see you so often but that don't change a thing. Now, when I say I want you to be safe that ain't a lie, I'm not lying when I say I need to know you're safe... I love you, and Arthur and John, Ada and Finn they love you too. We're a fucked up little family but we love one another eh? You love your brothers and sisters too eh Fen?"

I nodded my head, quiet then, humbled by his speech, moved despite my determination not to let him get to me.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "I know you do, you're a canny lass an so's our Fen, youre good girls, you love your brothers and sisters, you love your cousin Michael and your Aunt Pol too don't you?"

Again I nodded, biting my lip, remembering how my Aunt had held my face in her hands that morning abd read me like a book. Remembering how comforting, how good it had felt to feel known. To feel held.

"Good, now, they love you too, your Aunt Pol loves you very fuckin much, and if anythin were to happen to you, if I let anything happen to you and your sister, your Aunt Pol would have me fuckin balls, she'd hang me from the rafters herself eh?" he said sparking a little smile from me, I couldn't help the quiet laugh which escaped me because I knew he was telling the truth.

"See," he said, "you know thats true, she'd fuckin hang me... If I didn't do it myself first eh... I'm not tryin to punish you lass, I asked Isaiah to keep an eye on you cause I know you used to be close... I picked Bonnie Gold out for your sister cause I trust him, cause he's canny too, cause I know there ain't a single Italian who could outsmart the lad... And cause I know she's not like you eh, needs someone who ain't gonna scare her..."

"He's a fuckin stranger.."

"Aye but he won't be very long," smirked Tommy, his eyes so much warmer now than they had been. "I know you hate me now Fen... Know you think I all but abandoned you down south and left you to fend for yourself but the truth is I've missed my baby sisters every day since they went away, Ive only ever been trying to do the best thing for you... Cause you never had a mum an dad that could..."

And by the time he'd finished I didn't know what to say to him, I just knew I couldn't argue with him anymore. Knew there would be no reasoning with him, no way of reaching a compromise. Tommy wanted to keep us safe and as far as here was concerned this was the safest place for us.

The only thing that really left me unsettled was the fact that he'd lost his temper with Sonya, he'd brought up her secret and thrown it in her face. He'd said nothing to me of mine. I couldn't understand that. In truth it scared me. Made me wonder why he was holding onto a secret like that, what exactly it was he was waiting for before he inevitably used it against me.

For now it had to be enough, everything he'd said to me. For now it had to be enough to know that despite having not seen him for years, i knew my big brother. I knew that everything he'd just said about the family, about loving us both and trying to do the best for us in the absence of our dearly missed mother, was all true. For now that had to be enough to hold onto.

Next Chapter

#Trouble #peaky blinders imagines #bonnie gold x reader #peaky blinders x oc #Peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders modern au

10 notes · View notes

artemiseamoon · 2 years ago

Text

Preview: Don’t go alone

Platonic! Steve Murphy & ofc , mentions of both Javier & Connie ft & a hurt CI oc

Words: 1,570

Part of whumpril 2023 | the prompts | my Whumpril masterlist

Warnings: whump canon stuff, hurt, injuries, surviving danger, a dead guy, a sex worker, a person gets badly beat up when interrogated (off screen, not described), see the prompts for more.

About: After getting a tip, Avery goes out on her own to check it out. By the end, she's bruised and bleeding, with one bad guy under her belt. After reuniting with Steve, she gets a call from her main CI who desperately needs her help.

Whumpril 2023 days: 8, 9, and 10 | Prompts: Nausea, comfort food, pinned down, bruises, “who did this to you?”, shiver, breathless, “I’m scared” | Other prompts used: (injury) “can you walk?” “lean on me” “I’m staying with you.”

Prompts used from this list

Below is a preview | read in full on A03

Avery splashed her face with water then looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes fixed on the fracture right in the middle where someone must have used their fist, there’s likely still blood in the cracks. Not that she could see it, she could only see the nasty cut over her left eye, the new line of blood coming to the surface, and the blood in the sink mixing with water from her left hand.

Shit got dicey real fast. With a deep sting of regret, she turned the water off, checked her ammo, then limped out of the room, using the wall as support.

“Murphy's gonna fucking kill me - “

And if Javier was still here, even worse. But Javiers not here anymore, he fucked up big time and was sent home a week ago. It's been seven lonely days without her favorite person. Seven days with her bed empty and his scent fading from the sheets. She'd feel his breath on her skin, against her hair - that deeply comforting sound of his voice. She'd smile at the way he was the only person she didn't mind calling her Red, the nickname she got her whole life because of her hair. She liked it when he said it.

It feels like part of her has been ripped away, a feeling Steve shares even though they don’t talk about it. The both of them walking around like half versions of themselves, for Steve, even less with Connie back home too. He never really came back from that, part of him was always back in the US with her. At work he stepped up, kept it together, but Avery knew her friend was struggling.

Like Steve, Avery threw herself even harder into work, and the biggest mission of all; to take out the devil. With all the shit going on, and how demanding their job is it makes it easier to stay busy and push other emotions deep down. Until night comes, until she’s alone, until her eyes catch things in her apartment she connects to Javier. The hardest part wasn't saying goodbye, it was not knowing if that was the last time, she'd ever see him. Something about that moment at the airport felt final, like their bond also stays here, not strong enough to make it past the finish line and a post-work reunion.

Needing a moment, Avery pressed her back to the wall, and stared at the one across from her, then up at the ceiling; peeling paint on discolored walls, water stains on the ceiling, spiderwebs in the corners. The smell of cigarettes stuck to the walls, though it’s clear no one has lived here in years, not officially anyway.

The rundown apartment was a piece of shit, with mismatched furniture about, torn curtains on the window, rust on the bathroom sink, the dead criminal in the middle of the hallway floor. The tip was good, she got one of them, an important one, one more asshole to cross off the board.

The other three were on their way out when she snuck up, thankfully, those odds were shit and she would have been fucked, 4 to 1, it doesn't matter how well-trained she is, or how fast on the trigger. The asshole on the floor, high on coke, mind as well as been two men anyway, it took a lot to kill him.

She could feel her arms ache, where he had her pinned down, bruises are surely not far behind. No longer breathless but still struggling to breathe normally, she took another moment and then pushed on down the hall. She could hear the leaky kitchen sink and the busy streets down below, and further in the distance a dog barking.

Using the back of her hand, she wiped her eye, trying to keep blood out of it as she figured out the next steps. The other guys may be on the way back, there was no way to know.

“Shit, I need to call Steve - “

Above was a preview | keep reading here on A03

More Narcos | More Boyd

No tags

@artemiseamoon-updates

A03: artemiseamoon

Just some more Avery, a style aesthetic board I made for her last year, I’ve been holding on to her for a while. As I thought up this idea, and imaged my oc visually, I kept thinking “hmm I think I want a redhead” and now she’s finally being used. :) one thing tho, I imaged Avery with brown eyes not blue. I know the look is more modern, but ignore that detail. I almost put her in a different fic, hence the modern clothes. But this is pretty much Avery, just imagine brown eyes.

#Steve Murphy #Steve Murphy & ofc #Connie Murphy #Javier Peña #whumpril 2023 #whumpril days 8 9 and 10

11 notes · View notes

solis-solaire · 15 days ago

Audio

“WELL I’M KEEPING THE CRAVAT”

“OBVIOUSLY, how tf would you prosecute without one?”

I AM DYING.

--AA1 spoilers, AA5 spoilers, minor AAI case 2 spoilers ahead--

Well now this audio has me wondering why Edgeworth kept wearing the cravat after the whole DL-6 getting solved thing. Because it’s been accepted that he began wearing it in the first place due to von Karma’s influence, instead of wearing a bowtie like his father did.

Even after his first trial he lost the over-the-top suit that reflects Manfred’s (although he still kept it on the wall in his office. Maybe he’s trying to remember it whenever he works to remind him to never act that way again?). You’d think after that whole mess that Miles would want to distance himself as much as he could from Manfred’s teachings, and from the way he handles himself in court in the AJ Trilogy I’d say he managed that.

However you’d think that he would’ve started with the easiest things to change, which would be what he wears to court. The cravat is really the only physical part of his appearance (that I’ve noticed) in the first game that was reminiscent of von Karma, so why keep it past AA1? I would think it would be torturous to consciously wear the same things as the person who ruined your life and showed no remorse when he was caught, who just before that tried to send YOU to jail for a murder you didn’t commit.

Maybe it’s similar to keeping his first suit framed in his office, to remind him of what not to be. But I feel like wearing the thing is a little close to home, you know? It’s not like he can see the cravat when he’s wearing it. Maybe because he can feel the neckwear no matter what. Like the von Karma teachings will wring his neck if he ever returns to them.

Or maybe it’s more like Franziska. When I was playing the trilogy I initially thought that maybe she hadn’t heard the full story about Miles’ trial in Japanifornia, only that THAT FOOLISH PHOENIX WRIGHT had bested both her little brother and her father first try in court, and wanted to avenge the von Karma name.

But she was still referencing the von Karma name as something to be proud of during AAI, which takes place 2-3 years after AA1. It could be a variety of things, like she could be in denial, or she could be using it as a coping mechanism in order to feel like nothing’s really changed in her life when in reality she’s dealing with the loss of a parent. Or it could also simply be posturing in front of others in order to not show weakness to anyone in her workplace.

However, my own conclusion is that she decided that her father is no longer worthy of the von Karma name. The day he decided to shoot Gregory Edgeworth was the day he forsook the name of von Karma, therefore she is simply refusing to acknowledge he was ever a part of her family. I began thinking this because of what she said in AAI: “I thought I’d never see the day that a disciple of the von Karma household would become a criminal!” (In reference to Miles getting falsely accused of a murder). Like she just doesn’t acknowledge her father at all by saying that statement. She only seems to consider herself and Miles as part of that name, which is really cute honestly.

So, my point is that Miles is on board with Franziska’s own decisions with reclaiming the very teachings that misled him for 15 years. He investigates the crime scene exhaustively even though as a prosecutor he probably wouldn’t need to. He never gives up as prosecutor, even if he may not agree personally with his own arguments (I say this in reference to AA5. I personally feel like if he was given the choice, he wouldn’t be so hard on Athena since she was in a very similar boat to himself so many years ago. However, he needs to do his job and looked to approach the matter similarly to how Apollo did: needing to present every possibility of guilt in order to prove her innocent without a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind, which is likely what he found a prosecutor’s job to really be).

Him continuing to wear the cravat long after Manfred’s sentencing (and probably execution) could be another example of this. To show to everyone that he is NOT turning his back on his teachings or his life for 15 long years, but instead reclaiming that part of his life as his own, to be proud of what he’s gone through and how much he’s grown. That despite how rough it was for him, he was still in control of who he wanted to be.

Or maybe I’m overthinking things and the artists just didn’t consider that when making his sprites for future games/didn’t want to make new sprites for AA2 and AA3

Request: Edgeworth Meets Edgeworth

Anonymous asked prozdvoices:

Prozd, could you please voice an arguing between rookie Edgeworth and investigations series Edgeworth (in a dream or crazy situation, dunno)? It would be kinda of a chalenge but it would be cool to show how he changed.

Consider it a magic dream sequence. I always found rookie Edgeworth’s outfit REALLY GOOFY.

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #franziska von karma #manfred von karma #aa1 spoilers #aa5 spoilers #aai spoilers #solaire’s essays

267 notes · View notes

andypantsx3 · 3 years ago

Text

unconventional | 5 | midoriya x reader

summary: HeroExpo is incredible, and that’s not even counting the really cute hero fanboy you just met. Well, you think he might be cute under that Deku cosplay. It’s hard to tell because it’s really, really good. Like, too good.

length: est ~20,000 words | 6 chapters

tags: romance, pro hero au, misunderstandings, conventions/fandom culture

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

HeroExpo @heroexpo_official Deku meet and greet now features several more of your favorite pros! If you missed Uravity, Shouto, Dynamight, Ingenium, or Creati, come see them in Hall B, Room 143!

dox 🔥(STORE OPEN!)🔥 @doxxerelle replying to @heroexpo_official there is a criminal lack of hanta sero in this line up. my lawyers will be in touch.

xinju @greenhopp i would LOVE to know what they threatened dynamight with to get him to do this after the last time.

zennie | commissions open! @jennie_xz_art Special last day promotion! Buy any two UA Class 21XX keychains and get the third free! Running low on Deku so get him while you can!! #HeroX

green bean protection squad @bunnnniboi replying to @heroexpo_official /sweating/ its happening omg ITS HAPPENING IM GONNA TOUCH DEKU RED ALERT RED ALERT

Everything was a blur after that.

You heard yourself offer some kind of choked excuse—though what you said would be forever unknown to you—and you turned to flee into the train station, not waiting for his response. You all but threw yourself through the turnstiles, running for the platform where your train was just coming into the station. You wound your way through the crowds of commuters on autopilot, your brain swimming.

Your Izuku was not only not your Izuku, he was Izuku Midoriya, number one hero Deku. And it should have been fucking obvious from the start.

Everything finally felt like it was snapping into focus—how he’d clearly been familiar with the industry, how his diagrams were structured like he’d worked with support before, why his costume was so eerily accurate—and you could have fucking kicked yourself. He’d even said it, hadn’t he? When those girls came up to ask for his picture, when they’d asked, “Are you Deku?” which you had so stupidly interpreted as “Are you meant to be dressed as Deku?” instead.

And he’d said yes, right the fuck in front of you, and you’d missed it.

Your mind worked itself in increasingly more panicked circles. You didn’t remember getting onto the train, or sitting down, but by the time you’d recovered yourself enough to take stock of things, you were crammed into a corner seat at the end of one train car. You also discovered you were already four stops past your own, and you slumped down further in your seat, drawing your coat up around your face.

You couldn’t have uprooted yourself if you tried, so you rode the train to the end of the line, mind still working over the events of the evening. Your stomach churned and your heart wouldn’t stop racing, and still you sat huddled in a miserable little pile of regret.

Finally the conductor poked his head in to ask you to get off, and you mechanically made your way to the other end of the platform to board a train back towards home.

You barely registered yourself getting off at your stop, didn’t remember making your way across campus. You barely remembered swiping your card at the dorm entrance, plodding slowly down the hall, and shouldering your door open.

You threw yourself into bed without shedding your clothes, drawing your comforter up over your head like you could hide beneath it forever. It did nothing to shield you from the memories that were bombarding your brain’s feeble walls like an invading army.

Izuku—no, Deku—must have thought you were so fucking stupid. Of course he was too nice to say so, but there’s no way he hadn’t thought it. Asking him to lunch as a thanks for a save from a candy wrapper, like he hadn’t saved Japan—hadn’t saved the entire world—like fifteen quadrillion times. Making him accompany you to all of those panels, telling him UA Class 21XX was your favorite, absolutely drowning him in ideas for upgrades to his own suit.

And worst of all, making eyes at him, thinking you even had a chance with him for a single second, making him get you a sweatshirt replica of his own suit—no wonder he was so stammery and so awkward about it. He must have been so lost as to how to dislodge you, how to scrape off the mouthy little barnacle that had clung to him the entire convention. It must have looked to him like you’d been using him for access to things—his time, his merch, audiences with fellow pros.

You groaned, stuffing your head under your pillow.

There was no way it didn’t look like that from his perspective. And he’d still been nice enough to invite you to bring your work to his meet and greet, even after everything. He really was the most beloved hero for a reason.

You drew your blankets up around you even tighter, resolving yourself to make it up to him. You could never, ever see him again. You wouldn’t even blink in the direction of his meet and greet tomorrow. You’d just go in, finish your final volunteer shift, scarf down one last, glorious meal from Lunch Rush, and hit whatever panels were at the opposite end of the building from the Deku meet and greet. And then you would go home all by yourself and never, ever think about this again.

The thought made you feel marginally better, enough to shed your coat and dump it off the side of your bed, so you could curl up for some actual sleep. Though not enough to actually wash your face, change, get dinner, or settle down as neatly as you would have liked.

You still lay awake into the small hours of the night, picturing a head of wild curls, laughing green eyes, and a boyish smile that could melt straight through a girl’s heart.

It was only when your roommate stumbled in, banging off furniture and swearing quietly, that your mind was thankfully pulled away from those torturous thoughts. You listened to the rustle of her clothes as she changed in the dark, inhaling her familiar weekend scent of bar smoke and sharp vodka—and then you finally, finally slipped into sleep.

In the morning, things looked better.

You still couldn’t think about Izuku—Deku, that was—without feeling like you were prodding a raw nerve, but having a clear resolution to stick to helped somewhat. You managed to get the Deku sweatshirt off of you without crying once, ears burning when you’d realized you’d spent the whole night cuddled up in it like some lovesick little fool.

You stuffed yourself into the shower and got changed for your shift, ducking into the dining hall for a quick bowl of cereal and a coffee. Then you made your way to the convention center, all but bolting for the staff room lest you spot any Deku cosplayers—or worse.

As the con wound down, you helped load supplies back into boxes, rolling up line barriers and carting chairs and tables down into the storage rooms. You cleaned up a couple of messes, packaged up some audio equipment, and ran some merch back and forth from storage for the vendors that needed it. You didn’t even complain when you were asked to take over for another volunteer—a girl who looked so deeply relieved she might cry—and you were crammed back into the All Might costume and stampeded by ten thousand tiny children.

The work kept you busy, and you were glad for a distraction, even the horde of tiny monsters who dogged your every move. Maybe even especially them, as all of their inane questions in their tiny, shrill little voices kept your mind off of things. It was hard to think about Deku when someone was shrieking variations of “why is your hair like that,” “how come your arms are so big,” and “have you ever Delaware smashed an octopus” right into your ear.

Besides, it was for the best. Izuku—Deku—was probably now breathing a sigh of happy relief, free to enjoy the rest of the con with his friends or scribble things away in his notebook without interruption. Personal time was precious, you knew, to pro heroes like him, and it was the least you could do to let him have his. You just wished you had put the pieces together sooner so you could have known to leave him alone much earlier than you had.

And you might have continued thinking that way, too, if you hadn’t chosen to pass through the staff halls to get back to the break room. You’d thought you’d be safer that way, even if it meant struggling to shove the huge All Might suit through the narrow corridors, panting and sweating.

And that’s when a side door opened, and a pert, professional female voice filtered through. “—thinking of extending it by a half hour, just because there’s so many people lined up already. Would you mind?”

A woman entered the hallway directly in front of you, laid out in a clean black suit with fitted trousers, a long, dark ponytail swinging behind her. She was wielding a clipboard with a thick sheaf of papers, and her heels sounded businesslike on the cement flooring.

You scrambled to a halt so you wouldn’t bang into her, catching a hand on the wall for balance.

And then, just behind her, a broad-shouldered figure ducked through the door, garbed a familiar dark green suit. He was possessed of inky green curls and sturdy biceps that you could feel the memory of in your hands. “Oh, um, not at all. Kacchan might get antsy, though...”

You froze, heart rabbiting in your chest. You sucked in a sharp breath.

Then both of them seemed to sense someone else in the hallway, and turned. The woman’s dark eyes cut over you with a calculating efficiency that might have unnerved you under other circumstances. But your attention was entirely swept up by a pair of keen green eyes, which went a little wider as they met yours.

“Y/N,” Izuku said, stopping in his tracks. His voice was soft, and the familiarity of it made you flinch. His face did something strange, almost concerned, and he took a step towards you.

Your heart did a series of wild flips in your chest, before attempting to shoot up through your throat. You shifted uncomfortably in the All Might suit, suddenly feeling it was one thousand degrees in the cold dark of the hallway.

“Um, hi,” you managed, mind racing a million miles a second.

Silence hung thick in the hallway air.

Shit, this was awkward. And you had been doing so well! Izuku had been free of you for all of twelve hours now, this was not the time for you to have ruined it. And he looked honestly quite concerned to see you here. What was the best way to extricate yourself from this situation?

“Um, nice to see you. I, uhh, have to get this suit back before the organizers come looking for me,” you said, shifting a little impatiently, like you were late.

Izuku’s brows knitted together sweetly, and those green eyes swept over you carefully. “Oh! Right. You must have been working—that’s why you didn’t get my message! Are you, um, coming to the meet and greet?” he asked. He smiled, but raised a hand to his hair, ruffling it in that anxious way he had.

Your eyes followed the movement, stomach twisting to see it.

He was feeling anxious.

Fuck.

He’d been fine just twelve seconds ago when he’d stepped into the hall with that woman, who was presumably his manager. They’d been chatting like it was nothing. And then he’d seen you, and instantly become nervous.

Christ, what had you done to this poor dude?

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure I will have time,” you said, wondering if you should just shove past him and make a break for it. You eyed the space between Izuku and his manager speculatively, and you were just calculating the physics of funneling the All Might suit between them when something on Izuku’s face caught your attention.

That boyish smile slipped, dimming slightly, sinking at the edges. “O-oh,” he said. “Would, um, another time work better? I can ask everyone if they’d stay…”

He looked...if not upset, then somewhere on his way to it, like the thought of arranging a meeting was less pleasing to him. Desperate to put him at ease, you shook your head, hefting All Might’s fat mascot head in your arms. “No, please don’t worry about it!” you said. “I don’t need it. Or a meeting in the future or anything, but thanks for offering. I appreciate it.”

Izuku’s expression froze.

You shoved down a hot, twisting curl of sadness and shame. It would have been nice to see more of Izuku, to have even a few more seconds of time with him. To have a chance to talk shop with some of your favorite pros, even if it didn’t result in working together, like Izuku had so politely offered.

You would figure out another way, keep working towards something like that, and maybe one day get your foot in someone else’s door on the merit of your work, and not by having clung to a hero tightly enough and long enough to badger him into accepting you.

Izuku’s comfort was worth it.

In this, at least, you could pat yourself on the back for a job well done.

Only, as you gazed at his face, you noticed...he didn’t exactly look happy.

That boyish smile faded completely, replaced by a little frown curling the corners of his mouth, and his eyebrows were drawn together like they did when he was considering a particularly complex problem. And the look in his eyes…you didn’t know how to read it, but there was none of his usual light and levity, wiped away to make room for an emotion you couldn’t name.

Izuku took a step towards you, sending all your neurons scattering and tripping over themselves.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his manager put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly. “Izuku, I hate to take you away from your friend, but the meet and greet starts in thirty seconds. We should have been there a few minutes ago.”

Izuku glanced back, then up at you again, looking torn.

Quickly, you leapt on this excuse, gesturing with All Might’s giant head again. “You go on ahead, and have fun!” you told him, pasting on a smile. “I have to finish up my shift anyway, and get out of this thing before it suffocates me. It was good to see you, Izuku, and, um, nice to meet your manager.”

His manager sent you a quick, terse kind of smile. “A pleasure as well. Izuku?”

Izuku lingered for a long moment, still watching you like you were some mystifying species of hallway slug heretofore undiscovered. Finally he stepped away, although reluctantly, his expression tightening even further. “I’ll, um, text you later,” he said, which was very nice of him to offer.

You nodded, willing to do anything to get him out of this hallway and away from you so you could think clearly again. His expression was unsettling you, twisting up your insides in a way you didn’t understand. It was like you had genuinely confused him, genuinely upset him...genuinely hurt him…?

You needed to go, now.

Mercifully, Izuku’s manager dragged him away, hustling him towards a door at the other end of the hall that led to the exhibition hall rooms. You watched them go, your gut churning, then quickly darted for the staff room.

You barely registered the organizers’ thanks as you returned the All Might suit and finished up the end of your shift. Your mind was stuck on Izuku as if it had been superglued to him, running over the scene again and again. There was something so off about it, something so heartwrenching, really, about the way his smile had slowly slipped, the way his expression had shuttered.

It really did seem like you’d hurt him, somehow. Although you couldn’t imagine how. Hadn’t you done what he’d wanted? You’d politely declined, and excused him from having to see you in the future, either. You’d covered all the bases.

Again in your memory, that sunshine smile slipped.

Unless...that wasn’t what he wanted.

If it bothered him that you’d cut him off, did that mean he didn’t want to cut you off? Did that mean he had really, truly meant to offer you the opportunity that he had, and not just because you had pressured him?

Slowly, a thought began to unfurl within you, like the petals of a flower in bloom.

What if—and this was crazy—but what if he hadn’t actually minded your company? Your mind ran back over your every interaction with him.

Come to think of it, you didn’t really think that he had been faking the enthusiasm with which he’d discussed your support work. You didn’t really think he was the type either—he was polite, but not an outright liar. He’d definitely gotten excited over that, had leaned over eagerly, scribbling notes down in that blue notebook of his, looking up at you with those keen eyes all but glittering. He’d asked questions of you, he’d prompted further conversation, and he had turned that notebook towards you, gesturing for you to contribute as well.

And...hadn’t he been the one to ask you to attend more panels with him? Hadn’t he invited you to dinner? Hadn’t he been the one to give you his phone number? And...oh sweet fucking hell, hadn’t he been the one who’d almost walked into a bench while you’d been eating a frigging Deku popsicle?

Your face burned, the memory taking on a new bent.

No wonder he’d been staring off into the distance like he was hoping a villain would show up and blow the entire block to pieces. Except, hadn’t he also kept glancing back at you, his normally watchful gaze suddenly cranked up to an intensity you had never experienced before? Hadn’t he gotten all handsomely flushed and fumbling, prompting you to wonder what you might do to get him all flushed like that again?

The memories fit together, finally, like the pieces of a truly insane puzzle. And yet the end result was clear.

Oh you had been an idiot.

You had been an idiot.

You took off running.

#midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #bnha x reader #bnha

470 notes · View notes

intrepidacious · 2 years ago

Text

time after time [5]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 10.9k

chapter warnings: nothing except the usual ones; another panic attack near the end; the riveting resolution of the coffee side quest? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: after my week of technical difficulties (got shadowbanned, had a breakdown, bon appétit), this chapter finally made it to tumblr as well. thank you so much to everyone who reached out, it's meant more than you know!! <3 this one starts out fairly harmless and then i threw some punches again and for that i apologise

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

five: carousel

The first mission they took you on was nothing short of a disaster.

It should have been simple, was simple, a quick extraction to get a microchip from this decimated group of criminals operating out of an abandoned toy store that Nat had discovered through one of her contacts. You were only supposed to tag along to get a feeling for being out in the field, an additional pair of eyes just in case things went south.

Did they ever.

Not only was the chip accidentally destroyed, your ensuing panic got you stuck for a good twenty minutes until the world started spinning again. Steve fell down a full flight of stairs when you reappeared out of thin air next to him the moment it did.

Needless to say, you went into hiding as soon as you got back to the Compound.

She gave you about an hour before the hatch in the floor boards opened, even though for you, it was much longer. She didn’t know that, though. You sat very still, your breath finally silent again. Maybe she didn’t know you were in here.

"I know you’re up here, Y/N."

You pulled the cape off your head with a sigh. Natasha grimaced.

"Don’t do that, I’m not talking to a floating head," she said with a shudder. "You know how weird that is?"

You huffed and let her pull the fabric into her lap, watching your own limbs reappear, your arms hugged around your knees. She sat down next to you, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. You watched a spider scatter away from you.

"How did you even find me?" you asked quietly after she made no further attempts to speak to you.

"My sister had a similar hiding spot when we were little." You could hear the smile in her voice as she said it. "And you kicked up quite a bit of dust."

She didn’t elaborate on either of those things and you didn’t ask, even though you wanted to. Anything that could get your mind off what happened.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," you said dryly. "That’s why I’m sitting in the supply closet."

"That’s exactly what I told Steve." Your face fell again, but hers didn’t. "He’s alright. Or he will be, once he forgives me for laughing at him for five minutes."

That didn’t make you feel any better. "I fucked up today," you said softly, your voice still rough.

"You didn’t do anything wrong."

"I did, though. I literally froze as soon as things went wrong, and the chip—"

"Is expendable," Natasha interrupted calmly.

You shook your head. "I only mess everything up for you guys. I’m not a real agent, and my powers just make things worse, and I should just—"

"Do you realize that this thing you were given can be a gift?" You cringed and started turning away, but Natasha reached out for you, a gentle hand on your arm. "I mean it. You think every time you’re unable to use your powers is your personal failure, but you don’t see how every time you are able to use them is precious."

There was a delicate hue to her green eyes, a weariness that was visible even in the dim light of the closet. For the first time, you had the feeling she let you see something she usually wouldn’t.

"Our lives … they’re hard," she went on. "Unpredictable. We live on borrowed time. And you get to have more of it. That’s …" You waited for the words you’d heard before. Invaluable. Instrumental. Priceless. "Beautiful."

You swallowed hard. "Is that why you took me on? For the team?"

Nat looked at you for so long you were almost sure she wasn’t going to answer your question. Then, she said, "I took you on because you needed a reason to get up in the morning."

You stared at her, your nails digging into the palm of your hand until it hurt more than the ache in your chest. Natasha kept looking at you as she continued.

"I lost a lot of people over the years, you know. But never like this. Never this many at once. Something like that …" She trailed off, her eyes wet. "The entire planet was grieving and struggling and blaming us, because at that point hardly anyone understood any of it apart from the fact that the Avengers were involved. And then one day, out of nowhere, a letter materialized on our doorstep, and the security cameras didn’t show a thing." Her grip on your arm tightened, as if she needed to steady herself. "Do you remember what you wrote?"

I’m sorry for your loss.

You’d struggled to put it down for days, because how else could you apologize for something you might have been able to prevent had you only been there instead of hiding? In the end, you’d only added your name and the address of that diner in Brooklyn where you picked up a few shifts after their waitress had been blipped.

You’d gotten a call less than twenty-four hours later.

"You were the first person to say that," Nat continued, because she could see the memories flit across your face as easily as others watched a movie. "And yet, when you got here, you looked as guilty as if you’d personally murdered every single one of the Vanished."

"Well, if I’d been with you—"

"Stop it." For the first time, her voice was sharp. Your mouth fell closed. "We’re all trying to do better, right?"

You could only nod.

"That’s all anybody here is ever going to ask of you. And sometimes 'better' is just getting one hell of a kick in during a mission. Don’t think I didn’t see that."

You smiled ever so slightly. "I have a pretty good teacher."

"Yeah, you do." She shoved your shoulder lightly. "You can’t do more than show up and do your best, honey."

"My best looks like a dead possum next to yours."

"Then stop looking at me." Natasha got up to her feet slowly, patting you on the knee when she did. "Unless it’s for a post mission wind down because I have a movie queued up and I know where Steve hid the cookies."

"Can I have my cape back?"

"Nope." She folded it up with the green side out, letting it hang loosely over her arm. "You’re supposed to use it to hide from your enemies, not your friends."

You didn’t attempt to argue further, warmth rising to your cheeks.

"Nat?" She turned again, halfway down the hatch, caught by the emotion in your voice. "Thank you."

Her smile told you that, as always, she understood.

*****

There simply isn’t a world in which you can do this even one more time. It’s too much.

"You need to sort out your priorities," Sam says, zero sympathy in his voice. Bucky has the audacity to look amused.

"I’m serious," you say, looking between the two of them. "My day is bad enough already. I don’t care where we order, but it’s not going to be Italian unless you want me to puke on your cat."

Over the past couple of weeks, you’ve eaten your way through the entirety of your pizza place’s menu. If you have to smell the rank cheese Sam likes to order one more time, you can’t be held responsible for your actions.

"How about sushi?" Bucky says, and you almost start protesting out of habit before you realize that for once, he’s not arguing your side. You turn to Sam with an expectant grin.

"Fine," he grunts, shaking Alpine off his trouser leg as gently as he can while his nose twitches. "I guess Russian Doll has the right to choose his last meal."

Bucky frowns at him, but you gasp in delight. "Are you finally joining us in dark humor land, Sammy?"

He flips you off wordlessly as he leaves the room and you chuckle to yourself, pulling up the sushi menu on your phone. Alpine starts nibbling on the bandage around your foot that’s stretched out on the couch and you wiggle your toes a bit. It seems to entertain her.

"What," you ask when the staring becomes unbearable.

"Nothing."

When you lift your gaze to meet Bucky’s, his jaw is clenched again, his eyes fixed on you with a distant expression in them. You tilt your head, and he lowers his.

"So what’s the plan?"

You send your part of the order to FRIDAY and put your phone to the side. "I have to get back to Strange to figure out how to stop this loop from happening again."

You’ve almost felt sorry to see your series of library heists break, even though you have no reason to feel his way. This is progress. Strange’s offer to help has been genuine enough so far, even though you hate paying him in answers.

Now that he’s not deliberately keeping you out anymore, getting to the astral plane has been a lot easier, at least, even though emptying your mind enough to cross over without a prior emotional breakdown has still proven somewhat difficult. Weirdly, it’s easiest on the couch.

Bucky nods shortly. "And what do I do?"

"Whatever you want."

He scoffs. "Right."

It makes your insides twist. "Bucky, as much as I hope that today is the last time we’re doing this, I can’t guarantee it. So you should just, I don’t know, enjoy yourself." You cringe even as you say it.

"I wanna come see Strange."

You blink, watching him clench and unclench his fists slowly, deliberating. The golden parts of his arm gleam in the sunlight. "Why?"

His voice, when he speaks, sounds haunted. "I can’t just sit around and do nothing."

Something in his voice sticks with you as you lie down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You’re not even sure if what he’s asking is possible.

"No, it’s not," Strange says bluntly. "Not as long as you’re in the loop."

"Why not?"

"Stop asking questions and focus."

With a roll of your eyes, you raise up your arms again. So far, you’ve spent most of your so-called lessons trying to make sense of the cryptic texts Strange makes you read and then summarize like you’re in fifth grade. If you’re not doing that, you’re talking him through the events of your July 4th, or explaining your powers to the best of your abilities, going through the motions and habits you’ve taught yourself over the years. It all feels like you’re revealing something very personal for someone else to judge.

You don’t care much for any of it.

"Again."

"Is this supposed to teach me something new?" you ask, turning your thumb and first two fingers upwards again while your other hand balls into a fist by your side.Threads of sunlight glittering like spun gold. You take a breath and shake your head.

"Do you feel anything?"

Annoyance. You bite your tongue and reach out, carefully, like you would to a scared animal, searching for that old familiar feeling.

It takes a while.

Dim, at first, but clearly there, vibrating deep in your veins, hesitantly stumbling towards your hands like it was suprised, too, to be called upon again. Softly glowing embers slowly filling the void you’ve grown so hopelessly accustomed to.

You open your eyes to find the tiniest green spark dancing across your fingertips and almost laugh in relief.

"Interesting," Strange says.

You flick your fingers softly, once, twice, letting the spec of power grow until it’s the size of a pinhead, cradling it softly with your other hand as if to protect it from a gust of wind. Slowly, bit by bit, it settles back into your skin, and you feel it tingling all the way up to your ears.

Strange contemplates you for a long moment. "When did you get that cut?" he finally asks.

At this point, you should be used to his unfazedness. "Yesterday," you say, the 'obviously' clinging to every syllable. Riff was putting up a better fight than usual; or maybe you’re getting sloppy again.

Strange moves his right hand in that circular motion you’ve seen him do before, and the air in front of you cracks. It’s weird to see your own slightly translucent reflection suspended in the middle of your room. The gash on your cheek has barely had the chance to scab. You subconsciously reach for your necklace again.

"Look at the wound, and hold your hands like this."

You try and mimic Strange’s gesture. "I feel ridiculous." Like a mime. Or a really bad stage magician.

"Good," he says. "Now focus your powers, and follow my lead."

You watch Strange move his shaky hands out of the corner of your eye while trying to concentrate on that little spec of power you’ve felt earlier. Slowly, itchingly, the wound starts knitting itself together, as if it’s been healing for days. The skin smoothes over as if nothing had ever happened.

A rush of excitement goes through you at the sight, and there’s a stutter. With a flash of pain, the cut tears up again and you flinch, your hands falling.

"Fuck."

"I told you to focus."

"Well, if only saying it made it happen," you snap, then try again. This time, you let go of your power more carefully, almost coaxing it down. The gash doesn’t heal completely, but at least it looks better than what you started with. Strange watches you closely, brow furrowed deeply in thought.

"Let’s try something different," he says, and with another flick of his wrist, the mirror vanishes again. "Sit down."

You bristle at the command, but obey. A sidelong glance confirms that your sleeping body’s cut on the cheek has somewhat improved as well. There seems to be something connecting the two of you after all.

"When is this here, anyway?" you ask.

Once again, he doesn’t give you an answer. With another quick movement he grabs something through a small portal and throws it at you without any regard to your reflexes. You grab it off the bed incredulously.

"That’s … a meditation CD."

"Congratulations," Strange says. "You can read."

"You’re not serious."

"Deadly." He unfastens his cloak, which flies over to drape itself over the reading chair like a blanket, and then joins you on the floor, crossing his legs as well. It’s bizarrely casual. "If you don’t learn to focus," he continues, "there’s no moving forward from this point."

You huff, holding the CD out for him to take back. He doesn’t. "I’ve tried meditation," you say impatiently. "It doesn’t work for me. My mind—it doesn��t work for me."

"Your mind what?"

"It’s too loud."

You put the CD on the ground with a little too much force, moving to twist your rings around again, but they’re still absent. Your nails dig into your skin, instead.

"Did you know I don’t really forget stuff? Did I tell you that?" You laugh humorlessly, because what else can you do. "Fun side effect of the traveling back and forth through time. I always know where I’ve been and what I’ve done, and what everyone else has done while I was there. All that information is in my head, all the time, and I can’t get rid of it."

"All the more reason to have it quiet down every once in a while," Strange says calmly.

You want to strangle him.

"Believe me, I’d love nothing more, but I can’t. It’s not like I’m a computer and you can do the whole 'Hello, this is IT, have you tried turning it off and on again?' It doesn’t work like that."

"You do know a lot about how things don’t work."

"Welcome to my world," you mutter, flexing your fingers and crossing your arms before you draw blood.

Strange sighs. "Your mind isn’t a hard drive. No matter what your powers entail, your brain is still human. And it needs to rest every once in a while."

For some reason, in the middle of this whole crazy situation, that thought settles. Maybe it’s because it’s possibly the first genuinely kind sentiment he’s shown you so far. Maybe you’re just tired of pushing.

"How?" It’s more a croak than a question.

"Just stay like that and breathe." You look at him incredulously and he raises an eyebrow. "What? No one said you have to think nothing. It’s fine if you just sit there with your thoughts."

There’s a short pause. "That sounds terrifying," you admit quietly.

Strange considers you for a long moment, as if he’s contemplating what to say, until he finally admits, "I know."

***

You blink awake slowly this time, as if gradually awakening from a deep sleep. The TV is on again, quietly chattering in the background, and a weight on your legs tells you that Alpine has found a new spot again.

A glance at your phone shows that surprisingly little time has passed. When you sit up, the white cat on top of you complaining loudly, you can see Sam leaning against the kitchen counter, laptop closed, talking to Sarah on the phone.

The fact that you’re not alone quite yet is weirdly comforting.

In a moment of sleepy contentment, you reach out to scratch Alpine under the chin like you’ve seen Bucky do countless times. Curiously, she lets you without immediately extending her claws. At least for a moment.

"You’re awake."

Immediately, Alpine loses interest in you and jumps onto the backrest of the couch to nestle her head into Bucky’s palm. You roll your eyes.

"Keen observation, sarge."

He slowly peels his gloves off, not quite looking at you. "What did he say?"

Right. There was that.

"Nothing, to be honest," you say, folding up the throw blanket Sam must have put over you while you were sleeping. "Apart from the fact that he really can’t actually do as much as one would think."

"Can’t, or doesn’t want to?"

You shrug. "Same difference."

Despite everything, somehow you feel inclined to believe that there really isn’t a way to get Bucky to the astral plane, though. After all, things haven’t been normal ever since this loop began; and since you’re the only one who can lift it, maybe that also means you’re the only one who can do things like that.

You can only hope that at some point, something—anything—you do is going to stick.

Bucky studies your face, but doesn’t tell you whatever is still clearly gnawing at him. You don’t know why for a moment, you thought he would.

It reminds you of something you haven’t asked in a while.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

His mouth opens, but he doesn’t speak immediately. "Like what?"

"It’s just …" You struggle with the words, as if your mind is still half-asleep. "In some of the loops, it was kind of …" You trail off when you notice he’s holding something in his other hand. "Did you go get coffee again?"

Bucky clears his throat. "Yeah. I thought since you didn’t get one earlier, ya know …"

You’ve stopped getting caffeinated drinks for yourself in the mornings to make it easier to get to that voidlike state you need to be in to enter the astral plane. It’s been making you rather irritable; though, truth be told, that might also be due to Strange’s charming personality.

"That’s nice," you say, reaching for the paper cup with your name on it, taking a sniff before tasting it carefully. It’s perfect. "I should change my habits," you say lightly, "if Lucy knows my order even if I don’t pick it up myself."

"Who’s Lucy?" Bucky says, sitting down on the couch next to you.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "The pretty one on register? Stars and stripes on her cheeks?" He hums noncommittantly and you decide it’s not worth the effort. "What did you get?" you ask with a nod to the second cup.

"Just … coffee."

You squint to read the sticker, but he puts his fingers over it in a motion so smooth it almost hides its defensiveness. There’s the slightest hint of a grin on his face as you scowl, trying to catch his sleeve to get him to twist the writing back in your direction. Your thumb grazes cool metal and you still. Bucky does, too.

"Did she actually give you her number?"

Your laugh comes out through your nose, somehow, as if it’s not much more than a breath. The expression on Bucky’s face doesn’t quite fit his widening grin, or the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks, but you couldn’t say why.

"So?" he says. Alpine stares at you accusingly, settling in his lap once more.

"Nothing!" It comes out quickly. "I’m not surprised. I mean, she thinks you’re hot."

His eyebrow quirks. "Does she, now?"

You take a gulp of coffee so large it makes your eyes water. "Her shift’s probably over by now. You should call her."

"Why," Bucky says wryly.

"To take her out." Should you be weirded out by the fact that this is happening as soon as Bucky entered the store without you? You tug at the ring on your pinkie.

"Why do you want me to take her out if I’m gonna die later?" Bucky asks.

"Well, it might take your edge off for one."

"And why does my edge concern you?"

"Have you met yourself?" You shrug, your ears drumming. "Besides, it might be fun."

He doesn’t look at you as he takes a sip from his own coffee, as if still determined not to let you see his reaction. "You have a strange definition of fun."

Alpine yawns as if to agree. You stand up abruptly, suddenly nauseated from drinking too fast.

"I’m just gonna …"

Again, you don’t finish your sentence, and Bucky doesn’t stop you from grabbing your takeout containers and taking them with you to your room, where you stare at the toilet for a good minute, waiting for the queasiness to pass. Your meet your own gaze in the mirror.

The cut on your face looks better than it did a few hours ago.

You walk back into your bedroom and take a critical look at your bookcase.The Wind in the Willows is back in its place where it belongs. What isn’t there is the CD Strange finally managed to force upon you.

The rules of this multiverse crap are going to give you another migraine on top of your current one.

You sit down on the floor next to your window to eat, but your cheek keeps itching until you notice yourself tapping your chopsticks against the plastic container so hard soy sauce is splashing everywhere. With a displeased twitch of your mouth, you reach for your phone.

It rings for a very long time and you realize it’s already past midnight in Seoul when finally, there’s a voice on the other end.

"This better be good, agent Y/L/N."

Her voice is quiet, tired, and you press the phone to your ear even harder. "Can I ask you a hypothetical question?"

Doctor Helen Cho sighs deeply on the other end of the line, and you can almost picture her leaning back in her ergonomic office chair. "Alright."

You toy with the edges of the building scab on your cheek. "Is it possible for someone to go through physical changes and … not go through them at the same time?"

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. "Are you asking me if Schrödinger’s cat is real or not?"

A living being that simultaneously is and isn’t dead? That’s a paradox you have an answer for.

The problem, as always, is you.

"Sort of. I don’t know." You bite your lip.

"You realize quantum mechanics is not exactly my specialty, right?" Even while she says that, you can hear the clicking of her keyboard. "You are talking about a body, I presume. A human one?"

"Mhm."

"And the changes?"

You think of the cut and the writing and Bucky’s blood on your sheets. And your changed clothes. "They’re only to the body itself. Everything around stays the same. Pretty much like Schrödinger’s cat, I guess. Nothing about the box changes." Ever.

There’s another pause before Helen speaks again.

"Look, as far as I know—and with all these new and upcoming aliens and superheroes and so on that have been appearing over the past couple of years that’s less and less, mind you—but as far as I know, humans can only be in one state at one particular time. There’s ways to accelerate healing processes or even meddle with the body in other ways, but it’s still an either–or scenario."

"So, it’s impossible?" you ask, biting your cheek.

"It’s improbable, based on what I understand." Time has definitely started to bleed into itself, then. Great. "But like I said, that’s not really my area of expertise," she continues. "Speaking of, though, I got an e-mail from your new captain earlier."

"You did?" you ask, surprised. Sam hasn’t said anything to you, not today or any other iteration of it.

"You can tell him I’m hearing the same things he has," Helen says. "My lab wasn’t approached, but I have a colleague at a partner institution who left for Madripoor a couple of weeks ago."

You’ve barely thought about ULTIMATUM and their experiments since you laid everything out for Sam and Bucky earlier this morning. Another wave of guilt flashes through you.

"I’ll tell him," you say tonelessly. "Thanks, Helen."

"In this hypothetical of yours," Helen says before you can hang up. "Who’s the observing party?"

You watch the green symbols circle around your wrist, once, twice, three times. "I’m not sure yet."

You stare at them for a while longer after the call disconnects.

"There’s nothing to observe when the flow of time is reduced to a single day," Strange says when you relay the question to him the next day, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"So there would be, usually?" you ask, eyes narrowing as you try to channel the flow of your powers into the palm of your hand, like he’s told you.

"It’s not a perfect comparison," he answers. "The cat is only dead or not because time passes. Time is only our way of perceiving space dimensionally."

"Time and relative dimension in space," you hum with a light smile. Your palm starts tingling. "But if it’s not that, either, then … I still feel like there has to be something I’m missing here."

Every single review of the mission fills in another piece of the puzzle, the map of the lab you draw on the whiteboard growing more and more detailed each day, but still, it’s never enough. You miss the way Steve would draw out detailed building plans and escape routes before any mission, such ease to the stroke of his pen; your own talent for drawing is borderline abysmal by comparison.

The green shimmer around your hand dissipates again. Strange groans, fingers massaging his temple like he, too, is getting a headache from this stupid realm. His cloak wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"What you’re missing," he says through gritted teeth, "is the point of this exercise."

"Enlighten me," you snap back.

You watch him take a deep breath before he answers. "Do you, or do you not realize that this isn’t all about you?"

You huff. "If you say something like this is the universe imparting a message upon me, I got that point. The message is that I suck at what I’m doing."

"If that’s the message, then how come you’re not the one who’s really getting knocked around every single day?"

The anger and remorse that wash over you make your power flare up like a bolt of electricity, your fingertips and the dark of your eyes flashing an eery shade of green. You can feel the little hairs in the back of your neck stand up. Strange only looks at you, his expression unexpectedly somber.

"At least he doesn’t remember," you say tonelessly.

Strange smiles, but there’s no joy in it. "Indeed," he says.

The rush ebbs off, bit by bit, and you blink to get rid of the last of the strange double vision you sometimes get when time stutters again.

"You keep telling a man he will die today because you think that’s best for him," Strange goes on. "Better than him getting to choose his own path. Have you ever paid attention to how he spends his last precious hours once he knows?"

Of course you have. Sitting around in the Tower, going over mission plans again and again. Getting coffee. Lurking in doorways, leaning against walls, thinking, talking, looking.

It’s all time spent with you, and Sam, and Alpine.

It’s weird that you shouldn’t have realized this fact when in the beginning, you kept wondering about the time he came back to the Tower. Because before you’ve started telling him, Bucky always left.

Maybe that’s what you’re missing.

"Careful," Strange says, noticing your change in expression.

"You know me, doc," you answer, letting the power crackle again ever so slightly. It’s a thrill, getting to feel it again. "Careful’s basically my middle name."

***

"Doesn’t matter," Bucky says when you ask him what he’d be up to if you hadn’t told him about the loop.

"Oh no, leave me out of this. That’s his thing," Sam says when you ask him about the whole thing, and he so clearly knows what it is and yet refuses to tell you.

"None of your business," Bucky says when you press the matter, his jaw clenched tightly, and you hate to do this, but you don’t exactly have limitless options here. Besides, it’s the first new idea you’ve had in a while, which means there’s an almost moral obligation for you to go through with it. And still.

This feels wrong, you think when Sam comes to knock at your door and you throw on your gym clothes, pulling the sweatband over your wrist tightly.

This feels wrong, you think when you climb into the ring as if nothing had ever happened, as if this was just a normal day. Your side is still a little sore, but you’re able to play it off as a scratch with ease. How would he know to call you out on it?

This feels wrong, you think when you close your eyes as you lie on the mat and wait. You promised.

"You look like shit."

Your head turns like muscle memory. "Hey."

"Hi." Bucky’s eyebrow raises at your silence, but you’re not sure if the words aren’t just going to come bursting out of you. You have a tell. "You alright?"

Your grin tastes just a little bitter. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Right." He doesn’t quite believe you, of course, but it’s fine. You can do this.

You turn your gaze back to the ceiling and try to recall the very first July 4th, the version of you that you were. She resists you slipping her back on, but you take another deep breath, just like you’ve been practicing. A chuckle slips free.

"Fuck you, Barnes."

Your heart is still beating fast in your chest, but he must chalk it off to the training, because you can hear him huff. "There she is."

You close your eyes with a petulant sigh, just in case he can see your conscience written all over them. Again, you remind yourself that you tried asking him, that you tried everything else, that this is the only option you can think of right now.

"You’re horrible." It’s more like talking to yourself out loud, but of course Bucky doesn’t know that. And the sad truth is, he’s used to your temper.

"Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one."

You give an affirmative hum, waiting until you hear the door close behind him. Then, you rush to the showers, wasting no time to get ready and dressed again.

Bucky walks out the door of the Tower at precisely 09:43, a fact you know thanks to the time stamps on the security footage from the lobby you had FRIDAY pull up early on in the loop. This leaves you with a pretty small window of time to clean up, add another line to the tally on your thigh, and get back to your room to grab your stuff without making what you’re doing to obvious to either him or Sam. You have FRIDAY call up the elevator with barely a minute to spare, going down to the second floor and quickly heading towards the stairs. Behind you, the elevator dings once.

You basically sprint downstairs, readjusting your backpack. You almost barrel into the fire door, peering through the window into the lobby after another glance at your watch. Only a few seconds later, you can see Bucky walk across the entrance hall, the usual resting scowl on his face as he looks around once and then ducks out the side door.

You tug the cap you found at the back of your closet deeper into your face and start after him.

This feels wrong, and it’s a terrible idea, you can’t help but think as you watch him head down Lex, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. His strides are long, but unhurried, and even though you know he’s the furthest thing from vulnerable, the fact that you’re seeing him unguarded like this doesn’t sit right with you. Nevertheless, you continue.

You expect him to head for the subway, but instead, he turns left after the Chrysler Building, going east. With a slightly confused frown, you briefly join a group of clearly lost tourists to cross the street and follow him back up Third Avenue. At least there’s just enough people around to make it easy enough for you to hide in a crowd, you suppose.

You’re going to follow him, and find out what he’s up to, and then you’re going to see if and how it all connects to this stupid loop.

Easy as that.

It’s about an hour and a half later when you seriously start cursing Bucky’s name. Inexplicably, he’s still just walking around the streets of Manhattan like a fucking peasant. Your clothes are sticking to your body in ways you don’t care to describe, and you’re sick of having to pretend to be interested in shitty Independance Day memorabilia and battered paperbacks on sale while trying to avoid eye contact with the people trying to sell them to you.

You’re also pretty sure you’re walking around in circles.

Letting your head fall into your neck, you blink up into the bright sunlight from underneath the shade of your cap. As always, there is not a single cloud in sight, a perfect Friday in July. It’s making your eyes burn.

You glance back at Bucky, who has continued walking after taking a look at his phone, and sigh. All of this would be so much easier with your powers.

"What on earth are you up to," you mumble to yourself as you watch him take another left.

You count to ten before rounding the corner as well—and then you yelp when you almost slam into Bucky’s chest.

"What are you doing?" He doesn’t sound annoyed at all; more entertained. You take a step back, assessing, but his face doesn’t betray him whatsoever.

"Going on a walk," you try cautiously.

"Yeah, right." He tilts his head, features despicably neutral. "Why are you following me?"

"I’m not?" He stares at you, and you groan. "Fine. I just wanted to see where you’re going?"

"Why?" There’s an edge to his voice that you can’t quite make sense of, but your thoughts tumble right over it, scrambling for an excuse and coming up empty. The glint in his eye is distracting.

"Because …" Because you don’t know what else to do at this point. "I don’t know, I was just curious."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "That’s a lot of dedication when you could’ve just asked."

You look at him doubtfully. "So you’d have told me?" you say, already knowing the answer.

"No." He puts his hands back into his pockets and turns around, leaving you standing there staring at his back.

"Well, there you go then," you shout and start to follow along again. You take the stupid hat off with a sigh and stuff it into the backpack, wiping sweat off your forehead. "How long did you know I was there?"

Bucky shrugs. "About when I got outside."

"Seriously." He stares at you over his shoulder. "Seriously?!"

"You came down the stairs," he says, shaking his head. "And in a Yankees cap."

"So?"

"Don’t tell me you suddenly like baseball."

"I might like baseball," you mumble. "It’s a very fine … ball sport."

He snorts. "Sure ya do. I’ll remind you next time the game’s on."

"Circling back," you quickly change the subject, "why the fuck did you make me chase you halfway across Midtown if you knew I was there anyway?"

"It was funny." The shit-eating grin spreading on his face surprises you so much you stumble over your own feet. His arm extends to stop your fall if necessary, as if on instinct. "You know," he continues, "I thought you’d lost me on Times Square. Almost asked one of those guys in costume to help you out."

You slap his hand away. "You’re the worst, Barnes."

"And you’re a shit spy, time powers or not." The smile changes, but stays. Somehow, you’re glad.

Your fingers twitch inside your own pockets, your thumbs tracing along your rings. "So," you say, suppressing the nervous chuckle. "Where are we actually going?"

"Don’t know yet." Bucky turns his head to look out for cars before he continues walking. It takes you a second to match his pace again.

"What do you mean, you don’t know."

"Well, I had to cancel my plans because I got an amateur stalker on my heels."

"Wow." You squint at him and the blinding sunshine behind his head. "And you’re calling me stubborn."

"To your face? I would never."

Oh, you hate this.

"So we’re actually just walking around town for the hell of it." And you’ve done all of this for nothing.

"Yup."

The realization that you wasted yet another day by thinking you could be sneaky around Bucky almost takes you down a spiral, and you don’t even notice he’s still talking to you until he ducks his head to catch your eye. "Huh?"

"I said I’ll buy you a coffee. Think you might need it." He pauses. "That is, if you wanna."

"I could always go for coffee," you say, and it’s true. First, though, you should tell him. Rip the band-aid off and get it over with. "Listen, I—"

But then he looks at you, his eyes impossibly blue in the sunshine, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t have to deal with that damn preciousness in them, because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and so he just looks at you like he has a thousand times before, the normalcy of it like a breath of fresh air after his eyes have dragged you under again and again.

How come you’re not the one who’s really getting knocked around every single day?

Maybe it’d really be a kindness to spare him the news, just once. It’s still so early.

"What?" Bucky asks when the silence stretches.

You think of the ever unchanging Tower and the neverending pizza delivery and the fact that you hate this. You hate lying to him. You do it anyway.

Just once.

"I thought of something, but it doesn’t matter now," you say. "We have time."

***

"Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?"

You pretend not to hear him, shuffling the straws around in their container until they look a bit more orderly. Even though you’re not working, even though this isn’t even your store, it’s hard to shake the need to feel useful. Particularly if you’re trying to ignore Bucky’s gaze burning into your neck.

You’re saved by your name being called out because your coffee is ready. For some reason, you half-expect him to swoop in front of you and take the drinks himself, but of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

With a shake of your head, you rid yourself of the ridiculous thought and hand Bucky his coffee without looking at him.

"You know," you say, stepping out of the crowded Starbucks into the sunshine. "I have a blanket somewhere in here." You point at your backpack. "We could try to fight for a spot in the park."

There’s a pause, and then Bucky sighs. "What else do you have in there, anyway?"

"Spy stuff."

You don’t expect him to find that funny, but he snorts slightly. Then, like a habit he can’t break, his gaze falls on your hands again.

"I’m just tired," you say wearily before he presses the matter.

"You should try the floor," Bucky says. "If you can’t sleep."

It helps, sometimes. "I’ll keep that in mind."

You take a sip of your coffee and scrunch your nose when you realize it isn’t what you ordered for yourself; it’s what you ordered for him. In your haste to change the topic earlier, you must have switched the cups.

"Sorry," you say, "this is actually—"

But you stop talking, because he’s already taking a tentative nip of yor drink, and then he licks his lips. And they curl slightly upwards.

He blinks a few times, as if he’s as surprised as you are, and tries again, less hesitantly this time. Then he looks at the writing on the cup. "Wait," he says, frowning, "I think you’ve got mine."

Your mouth closes, then opens again. "How do you know?" you finally say. "They both have my name on them."

"Yeah, but you always get the same thing," Bucky says, as if him knowing your order couldn’t possibly be news to you.

"It’s fine," you say when he tries to hand you your cup back. "Maybe I should try something different sometimes."

Bryant Park is already bustling with people, and it’s just about noon. The little green tables are all occupied by chess players and chatting families, the carousel horses manned with happily shrieking children.

Still, you find a place to spread out your blanket near the edge of the lawn, almost within talking distance of the Public Library’s security guard, who is currently on his first smoke break. You demonstratively sit down with your back to him. If ever a man took his job too seriously.

"Aren’t you hot in that?" you ask doubtfully when Bucky uncomfortably sits down opposite you, the collar of his leather jacket pushing up.

"'Course I am," he answers, not elaborating.

You let your eye roam through the park. "Terrible news," you say dryly. "Not a single person is looking at you, Sergeant Cool."

Bucky shakes his head, not looking at you.

"No one cares," you say, more sincerely this time. "Even if they did, they’re not gonna say anything. And they’ll have forgotten about you tomorrow."

He huffs again. "And you’re wonderin’ why I call you stubborn."

"I thought you didn’t do that to my face?"

He pulls his gloves off, throwing them on the blanket between you with his eyebrow raised. "Happy?"

In the bright sun, his left hand is gleaming, the inlets reflecting the light in a way that makes it dance across the cotton like swirls of pure gold. You smile and lean back, closing your eyes.

You don’t come to this park often, even though it’s not far from the Tower at all and it’s easier than returning to Central Park with all the memories it holds and that have turned more bitter than sweet after everything. It’s the same as with the library, you suppose. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re missing something until you find yourself in the middle of it.

It might have been a Saturday, you think, the last time you were here. What a concept; Saturday. You sit with the thought for a while, and then you let it drift away, just like you’ve been practicing.

It’s such an unexpected feeling, to get to experience this moment of quiet reprieve when lately, most of your time in this loop has been spent studying, or training, or fighting. You already know you’re getting another talking-to if you don’t return to the astral plane at all today; but it’s just the one day. Surely, you can be allowed one day.

Your brain craves it more than anything.

When you open your eyes again, Bucky is contemplating your backpack with a frown so oddly different than the one you’ve gotten used to in previous loops. He seems so … It takes you a while to come up with the right word, because somehow, it makes you think of Alpine, and that doesn’t make any sense at all. Comfortable. He seems comfortable.

His shoulders are relaxed, his jaw unclenched, and even though he’s still wearing the jacket, his eyes aren’t flitting around to assess everyone within sight. His head tilts slightly.

"Are you trying to see through it?" you say, and the dryness tastes wrong on your tongue.

Bucky nudges the backpack with his foot. "Just wonderin’ what you thought you were gonna be up to."

"I like to come prepared."

"Since when?"

Well, ever since resetting has kind of stopped being an option whatsoever. "This isn’t gonna turn into one of your 'constant vigilance' talks, is it, Moody?" you say lightly.

He looks at you again, and you’re not really sure if that’s better or worse. "You’re deflecting, doll."

"Well, what do I know!" you say. It’s worse, definitely worse, but you don’t know why. "You might have been off on a covert mission or visiting a secret girlfriend or buying a beehive to put on the roof or—"

He unzips the backpack. "So you brought a blanket, a baseball cap, binoculars and a banana?"

You try to bite your tongue, but it’s impossible. "I was kind of set on the bee scenario."

Bucky laughs.

Genuinely laughs. His nose scrunches up, his eyes creasing and his head thrown back a little, shaking with a quiet and almost childish glee as you blink at the unusual sight. It’s over almost as suddenly as it began, but … still. A warmth spreads from your chest to your cheeks as you watch him, your own smile almost hesitant by comparison.

Joy looks good on him.

It leaves a twinkle in his eye even as the laughter subsides, like specs of sunlight.

"What?" he says, his mouth still twitching.

"You seem happy." And it’s astonishing.

Bucky shakes his head slightly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s blushing. "No need to sound so shocked about it."

"You sure?" you ask, your voice cracking only a little. "I feel like I need to call an ambulance."

"Shut up."

"Or Area 51. I think you might’ve been swapped with an alien doppelganger." You sit up properly. "Tell me something only the real Bucky would know. Oh, wait. He wouldn’t have told me, either."

"You are the most dramatic person I know, you know that?"

"You’re one to talk, Sergeant I Need Nobody’s Help, I Will Jump Out Of A Plane Without A Parachute."

"So many rank drops today."

"Now who’s deflecting?"

"I take calculated risks."

Except he doesn’t even know his calculator is broken.

Bucky stares at you. "What’s that even supposed to mean?"

You didn’t mean to say it out loud. Not today. Your fingers twitch automatically to take it back, but of course, nothing happens. Nothing apart from his attention being brought back to your black rings.

"What did you do?"

The concern in his voice is quiet, but it’s there nevertheless, and it makes your heart ache, long desperately for it to go away, to be replaced by the joy that was there mere seconds ago. You want to make this day stop, make the world stop so you can continue living in that ease of just sitting here and laughing together without thinking about anything else.

And then you realize what’s really happening, and the world chokes, like something falling into place.

For a moment, you can’t breathe as you look at him, whole and confused and missing parts he can’t even remember leaving with you, and you feel as though your heart might stop because the only thought running through your head is Please, not now. Not now. Not now. Every single beat is an echoing no inside your mind.

You are so fucked up, you think, but you can’t find it in you to stop looking at his face, nearly flinching as you shove the feeling all the way down, down, down, until you can feel it like a brick in your stomach. It’s nauseating, like the vertigo you get at the very top of a roller coaster just before the car drops into freefall.

"Y/N?"

"I don’t know," you say tonelessly. He must have noticed your face change, he must have. So why doesn’t the frown deepen?

"Liar." Your heart is still pounding so loud he must hear it, even over the racket of children screaming in delight and cars blowing their horns in the distance.

Concern, you think again. Exact same thing that you see mirrored on Bucky’s face right now. You're concerned for your friend.

Roommate, really.

Colleague.

Guy you sometimes work with, professionally.

Exactly. That’s it. That has to be it.

You’re in deep enough shit already.

He’s still waiting for you to say something and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, the buzzing in your head getting louder, and the only thing you can think to say is, once again, "I’m sorry."

Before Bucky can answer, his phone rings, and there’s the flicker of annoyance you’ve been waiting for.

"Hold that thought," he says. "Sam?"

Your heart sinks as Bucky presses his phone to his ear, reality catching up with you again. You try to rearrange your features into a neutrally curious expression when he glances back at you, but you’re probably failing horribly.

"No, I’m good, I didn’t end up going.Yeah. Alright."

You clear your throat as he hangs up. "So. Sam’s about to give his big speech then?"

Bucky looks bemused. "I’d hope not. That was hours ago."

"What?"

Confused, you look at your watch. Then you look at Bucky’s watch. Then you look at your phone.

Even though you can’t have been sitting here for more than thirty minutes, every clock you look at tells you it’s past 4 p.m. Confused, you twist your rings around your fingers, one by one, but they’re as pitch black as ever, and yet somehow …

"Should we go?" you ask, your voice just a little pitchy.

Bucky gazes at you for a very long moment, and then gets up to his feet and holds out his hand to pull you up. He still hasn’t put his gloves back on.

You take it.

"You’re really off today," he remarks and you hum noncommittantly as you fold the blanket back up and unceremoniously stuff it into the backpack. He shoulders it himself before you can grab it. "You’re just gonna complain again," he says, even though the Tower isn’t that far.

You don’t say anything, though, just trudging behind him without a glance back.

Probably because of the time of day, 42nd street is packed. You watch Bucky pass through the crowd with his head downcast and his hands back in his pockets. If it’s been a struggle not to get separated from him earlier this morning, it’s near impossible now.

He looks over his shoulder when, for the third time, several people have pushed between the two of you, and you shrug helplessly as you try to catch up to him. Again, you can’t help but think this would be so much easier with your powers working the way they’re supposed to; just stopping everyone else for a second while you move past them.

"Sorry," you mumble when you reach him waiting for you at a crossing. All of a sudden, you feel how tired you’ve been for a while.

"Wanna just go home?" Bucky asks.

"That’d be nice," you say, cringing at the thought of having to change immediately once you get back. Sam is probably already impatient.

Bucky’s mouth twitches. "Don’t make this a thing."

And then he takes your hand again and links his fingers with yours as if he’s done it a thousand times before. The light changes to green, but you don’t move, and Bucky softly tugs to get your attention. His hand is solid and warm in yours, and it does nothing to ease the feelings of unease and contentment that mingle in your stomach with his touch.

Neither does the fact that as soon as the crowd disperses and you slowly, reluctantly let go of his hand, he steps out into the street with his head half-turned to you and—well.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and it’s like the air is getting knocked out of your lungs.

After that, the days start to blur.

***

"Why would it have anything to do with the mission?" Strange asks, and you can’t decide whether he sounds condescending or genuinely confused.

"Because it’s never happened before then, maybe?" you say, throwing up your arms. "I don’t know!"

"The loop is tied to you, not the other way around. If Sergeant Barnes has only ever died during the mission before today, the only other variable in that equation is you."

His cloak curls at the seams in a way that’s almost apologetic. What a stupid thing to say about a piece of magical fabric, you think.

"Great," you huff, sitting down on the ground and crossing your arms in order to not shake violently. "So first time’s skipping and now if I spend time with him, he’s just gonna die earlier?"

There’s a pause as Strange frowns. "Show me your wrist."

You press your lips together tightly and hold out the arm with the swirling green symbols. Strange examines it with a particularly grim expression.

"Just say it," you mutter when it becomes unbearable.

"Time is a precious thread in the fabric of the universe," he says, dropping your hand. His silver eyes are very serious. "You don’t get an endless supply of it."

"I literally do," you reply, flourishing your wrist demonstratively. "That’s the whole problem."

"No." Strange shakes his head. "Your reality is going to collapse if time can’t move on from where it’s stuck. Not today, not tomorrow, but it will happen."

You stare at him with wide eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means, no more distractions. Things are detereorating more quickly than I’d hoped." He sighs, and there’s something about his demeanor that lets real fear course through your bones for the first time in a while.

"Okay," you say, swallowing it down. "Let’s do some overtime, then."

"I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Look at her."

You glance at your sleeping body, stirring in her sleep.

"You asked when this is," Strange continues. "That’s the thing with this version of the astral plane. It’s unstable. It only exists between dreaming and waking, and so our time here is very limited. You are then, and now. Past and present and future all folded into each other and wrapped into one. The nature of time doesn’t like this."

"So, what?" You laugh humorlessly. "I go through an endless day, and then reality crumbles anyway?"

"Do you understand now why it’s so important that you get a grip on your powers?"

Because you’re the one who created the loop, and therefore the only person who can untangle it again.

"So no pressure then," you say tonelessly.

"All of the pressure, I’m afraid," Strange says grimly. "There’s really no time to waste anymore."

***

"When we live such fragile lives, it’s the best way we survive. I go around a time or two, just to waste my time with you."

Your head has started pounding to the beat of the song and Sam’s fist at your door, but you keep staring at the ceiling, unmoving. It all just starts over.

Even this godawful song.

"Tell me all that you’ve thrown away. Find out games you don’t wanna play."

You must admit, the universe has a certain sense of cruel humor. Not that that’s any news. It doesn’t fucking matter what you do any of these days, because the outcome stays the exact same, and there’s a moment each and every time where Bucky knows that, too. Only by then, it’s too late.

"Geez, I hate you."

You’re so tired.

"I know, Buck."

Fade to black. Back in with a blast and the sun in your face, FRIDAY blasting The—

"I’m coming in," Sam finally shouts from the other side of the door. "You better not be naked!"

You hear him enter, but you still don’t move. You’re busy replaying that look on Bucky’s face in your mind of the exact moment it goes wrong. It looks so pale, his mouth twitching downwards, a bit like with his coffee, but much more devastating.

Black out. Rewind. His eyes are on you, not even on the white jacket shooting him.

Black out. Rewind. The fingers on his metal hand grasp so tightly around your wrist you feel something move underneath your skin.

"What is going on with—Y/N!" You feel Sam rushing to your bedside in three long strides.

Right. You’re still covered in blood.

You can’t look away from his eyes until the last second. Black out. Rewind.

"FRIDAY, turn this shit off. Call an ambulance."

"Calling 911."

The sudden silence slams you back into the present with a start. "Cancel call," you say loudly, your voice only slightly shaking. "I’m fine, Sam."

"You don’t look fine!" He helps you sit up, looking you up and down, a sense of urgency still vibrating in his every movement, but of course, you’re not bleeding. "You look like you just shot a man and then rolled over."

"You’re not wrong," is all you get out before you start crying.

Black out. Rewind. God, you’re pathetic.

You shrink back from his arms, cradling your wrist to your chest. It’s starting to swell.

And yet, the green symbols swirl.

You’re not sure why you’re reacting like this now, after … you’re not sure. It’s not like this is your first time. Does that make you an even worse person? Probably.

Sam is talking to you, you recognize his voice, but you can’t focus on the words. You’re desperate to find something to focus your attention on, like you’ve been trying, training, grasping to do, but you’ve got nothing. Just numbness, a gaping nothingness, and the scars to prove you’re not just stuck in a nightmare but this is in fact your reality, and you are the only thing that remains while everything else resets in an endless cycle of hell, over and over and over again.

Nothing stays.

And you can’t help but feel like you’re running out of time, anyway.

This is ridiculous, you know that. You know you’re worrying Sam out of his mind, that you just need to focus, damnit, take a breath, stop crying, anything. Your incompetence to do any of these simple tasks is like another slap to the face.

Time passes, and doesn’t pass; it doesn’t matter at all whether you’re there for a minute or six hours, it’s all the same to you.

Through the fog of it all, Bucky’s voice is like your lighthouse.

And you despise yourself for it, even as you reach out for him.

"Hey," he says quietly, his hands rubbing circles into your back until he slowly, carefully pulls you out of your head back to earth. "It’s alright. Everything’s okay."

He says it over and over and over again until you nod slowly. It’s a pretty lie, after all.

"What happened to your wrist?"

You know what you have to do, but that concerned undertone makes it so hard. You’re still not used to it, but you want to be. Fuck, you want … No.

It doesn’t matter.

"I need to tell you something," you whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. "One more time. And then … Then that’s it."

You have to do this. Have to close yourself off emotionally. Distance yourself from Bucky in order to stay rational about this situation and find your way out. Treat this like you’re not involved at all; like this is just another puzzle for you to solve, and nothing else.

It’s the only way.

You’re going to fix this mess you’ve created, if it’s the last thing you do.

*****

"If we die here tonight, I’m blaming you," you told Steve through chattering teeth, and he laughed at you. If you hadn’t still felt bad about his bruises—no matter that they’d already healed completely again—you might have kicked him in the shin.

You’d reached the point of wanting to kick Captain America on a concerningly regular basis.

This time, though, you felt completely within your rights, because you’d been training hard all week, and thanks to New York being just about the most disgustingly freezing place on the planet if they asked you, you really didn’t see the point of driving into the city to a random ice rink. Particularly not on an evening in early January when it was already dark outside.

"You’ll be warmed up in no time," Steve said and waved at Nat, who was already waiting for the two of you, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up so the red roots of her hair stayed hidden.

"Couldn’t we have done this at the lake?" you asked, looking around wearily. The crowd was substantial.

"Sure," Nat said and put an arm around you. "Do you have about fifty friends we can invite so we can properly train your powers around other people?"

You grimaced. "There are children everywhere."

"Oh, yeah. Some of them went home early, but most opted to stay when I told them Steve would drop by."

You groaned. Of course they were Natasha’s Blip orphans; they had the same mischievous shimmer in their tired eyes. "Thanks for that, Nat."

"You’re so welcome," she answered, patting your shoulder. You narrowed your eyes when her coat shifted to the side.

"Is that my hoodie?" you said.

She looked down as if she hadn’t noticed what she was wearing at all. "Yeah, I think so."

"I was looking for that everywhere earlier!"

Natasha merely shrugged. "It’s your own fault for leaving your stuff in the dryer for anyone to take."

"Don’t pay attention to it, she does it to all of us," Steve said, putting an arm around her.

"That is not true."

"It is. You’re like a clothes hoarding dragon."

"Did you just call me a dragon?"

You didn’t listen to the rest of their bickering, because your eyes had started to water, and not because of the cold. It’d been a long time since you’ve felt this warmth inside, this feeling of belonging, of, well … family. It made your powers pulsate through your veins soothingly.

Still, the worry came back when they gave you a helmet and knee pads to wear.

"I’m a travesty on skates, but it’s not this bad," you told Natasha again when you shakily followed her to the rink entrance.

"We’re here to train, not to have fun," she said, taking your hands. Of course, she moved like a dancer even on the ice. "Well, both," she amended when you looked unconvinced. "Oh, don’t look at me like that, it was Steve’s idea."

"Then why is he sitting over there doing nothing?"

"He’s got the day off." She pulled you to the side of the rink. "Here’s what we’re gonna do," she said, pointing to the far end. "I’m going to close my eyes and you’re going to guide me straight through the middle to the other side."

You stared at her. "You’re insane."

Natasha ignored you. "One straight line, you tell me when to dodge someone. We’ll go slow."

"I don’t know how many times I can jump."

"It’s not exactly a life or death situation, Y/N. I can survive a few bruises and so can the kids."

"I’d rather not injure a child if you don’t mind," you say, trying not to sound hysterical.

"And I’m confident that you won’t. Do you trust me on this?"

You met Nat’s calm gaze and took a breath, even though the knot in your stomach tightened. "Fine."

"Such a vote of confidence," she snorted. "Just watch what they’re doing, and keep it in mind. Think of it like a dance recital. It’s all just a sequence of steps in a specific order."

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. Natasha closed her eyes. "Ready?" you asked.

She smiled. "I love this song."

You could barely hear the music over the thrum of adrenaline, but you supposed that was her way of saying yes. This’ll be the day that I die.

You pushed forward.

chapter six

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #time after time

176 notes · View notes

imagineaworlds · 4 years ago

Text

Bunny and Baby -- Poly!BAU Team

(Edited version for a broader audience. You can check out the full version on @hotch-and-bunny)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, degradation, mild choking, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.

Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan, switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 7645

Criminal Minds Discord Server

We had been returning from a case in Louisiana, everyone sitting comfortably in their own seats on the jet. Hotch and I were beside each other— I was pressed between him and the window— Morgan was across from us, Emily and Elle were across the aisle and a row back, and Spencer was laying on the couch. Rossi hadn’t come with us because he had a family emergency. Emily and Elle were the only ones talking while the rest of us were quietly working on our own things; but Spencer was just half asleep on the couch, trying to catch up on some rest. He told us before we boarded that he had another headache that kept him up all night, and we all scolded him for not coming to one of us and seeking help because we always knew what to do to help him. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, though. While I didn’t entirely believe him, we all decided to let him rest during the flight.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of turbulence that made me grab onto Hotch’s arm that things got… interesting. The thing was, when it came to Aaron Hotchner, the slightest touch could set him off, and he would get mean because he saw even the simplest of shoulder bumps as a bratty act that needed to be punished. I always had to be careful around him because of that. But I forgot. The plane jumped in the air, my stomach dropped, and before I knew it, I was squeezing his bicep to ground myself as some kind of reminder that I wasn’t going to die or something.

When the turbulence passed, I tore my hand away from Hotch, keeping in mind that I had to keep my hands to myself, but it was too late. He was staring at me. I swallowed hard and tried to go back to my book that Spencer had recommended, which was his attempt to win his favor with me after he pissed me off one day and I wanted to punish him. He was lucky that I wasn’t as mean as Hotch and Emily. Unfortunately for me, however, that meant I was completely fucked because Hotch was still sitting there, staring at me, likely asking himself how I could dare to touch him without permission, even when it was for something as innocent as it had been. I finally dared to look up at him. He was frowning.

“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.

Hotch, without saying anything, looked back down at the iPad that was sitting on the table in front of him as he was going through emails, scoping out new cases to take on; but what he did after that was somewhat unexpected. His hand closest to me drifted between my thighs. I adjusted in my seat, trying to fix my posture to be “smooth” so that no one else would notice. No one looked up. Hotch continued with his plan, forcing his hand between my thighs, spreading my legs open to give him access to what was beneath my skirt. I should have known that wearing a skirt on the jet was only going to get me in trouble, but with the case having just ended, and with Spencer’s headaches, my attire had been the last thing on my mind. To Hotch, however, it seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.

When I nodded, Hotch pressed his index and middle fingers against my panties, finding the sensitive nub that was my clit, hiding behind my labia and the clitoral hood. He was too far. I needed him to press harder to actually feel his fingers, to actually get me to the edge rather than just get needy for him— but my desperation for him and what was about to come was undeniable when he slid his fingers down to hover over my core, discovering a wet spot that was slowly forming. Hotch snickered to himself. I knew that he was probably thinking to himself something along the lines of how he had only just touched me and I was already wet, proving to him that I was always thinking about having one of them— if not all of them— fuck me.

Hotch moved back up to my clit, and he pressed hard enough that I could feel him, but not enough to actually give me everything I wanted. Slowly, he started rubbing circles over my panties. A quiet sigh left my lips as I leaned back in my seat, moved my hips forward to give him better access, and I screwed my eyes shut. There was no doubt that if Morgan happened to look up, he would know exactly what was happening.

As Hotch’s fingers started moving faster, I rolled my hips eagerly to make his pace in an attempt to speed up my orgasm, but he pulled away somewhat and slowed down until I stopped moving and waited politely for him to make another move. He went back to what he was doing suddenly. I tensed and tried my very best to hold still this time while also biting my lip to keep myself from moaning. But I was so close again. So, so close. I just wanted to cum for him.

“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Ask Mistress first.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him, but he was still reading his emails, so I looked over at Emily. She was still casually talking to Elle without a single clue as to what a mess I was while sitting next to Hotch. I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t beg like that randomly when they were all doing their own things. So, Hotch shrugged because he didn’t care one way or the other. If I wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to let me cum, and for him, that was fun and it didn’t matter. But to me, it mattered. His fingers kept rolling over my clit again and again, and it was getting unbearable, it was getting torturous. So, I dared to give in.

I let out an audible moan while leaning forward to grab onto the table to hold my orgasm back, and I croaked, “Mistress—” Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at me. There I was, clearly falling apart as Hotch’s arm was suspiciously moving in the direction that led just between my thighs. Emily was staring at me. “Mistress, please, may I cum?”

Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.

“No,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.

I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”

“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.

“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”

“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.

Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Fuck—” I moved my hips around again with Hotch’s fingers as my orgasm suddenly washed through me, a shiver running down my spine as my toes curled in my shoes, my thighs shook against the leather seat, and my walls clenched around nothing. “Shit.” Hotch slowed his movements as I came down from my high. My eyes quickly scanned the interior of the jet, catching how they were all scowling at me, unpleased with how I had cum without any of their permission. My heart sank in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“First, Spence starts touching himself without permission,” Elle began as she stood from her seat and started approaching the couch. I sat up a bit in my seat so that I could look over my shoulder to see Spencer sitting up somewhat now, an erection straining his pants, a small wet spot on the front from his pre-cum. “Then, you cum without our permission.” She ran her fingers through Spencer’s hair, then once she was far enough in, she curled her grip, roughly pulling at his curls to make him sit up all the way. “And the two of you still had the audacity to say that you’re sorry. I don’t think they’re actually sorry; do you, Morgan?”

“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.

“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.

“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.

Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”

But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”

“Don’t lie, bunny.”

“I’m not, Ma’am.”

She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”

Hotch slid out of his seat and moved to the back of the jet where Emily was still sitting so that there was enough room for Morgan to stand at the same time as I did, knowing that it was better than him grabbing onto my hair, too. When we were both in the aisle, my back close to Elle’s, Morgan caught me off guard by pinching my chin roughly in between his thumb and his other four fingers. I pouted my eyes at him. I was trying to silently beg for mercy, but, of course, it didn’t work.

In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”

“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”

“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.

Morgan rolled his eyes because he already knew what he was doing and he hated that Hotch thought he needed to be babysat while Domming me, even though he didn’t. Morgan and I had done plenty of scenes together. As the only switch in our relationship, it was easy for me to go visit one of them when I needed to be Dommed, whereas I would go to Spencer if I needed to Dom. Each of them were unique Doms, though, and I would seek them out separately, depending on what I needed. I mean, I lived with Hotch, but he could be cruel, and sometimes, I didn’t need that. Out of all of us, Morgan was the kindest. His punishments were never harsh, and playing with him was always easy, compared to with Emily or Elle, who were on the same wavelength, both masters at torturing me with edges, ruins, forced orgasms. When I needed something light, I went to Morgan. When I needed to be completely out of control, not a single thought in my head, I went to Emily or Elle— usually both at the same time. With Hotch, he was everything that Morgan, Emily, and Elle were, but he was also the one who gave me the harshest punishments. Nipple clamps that he tugged on, floggers, plugs, being tied up and left there for an hour while he was gone, cockwarming me until he came and I didn’t. But Morgan was the one that had dictated my punishment. For cumming, he got to decide what they were going to do with me, which gave me a little bit of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

I did so without hesitation, and he spun me around so that he could cuff my hands together. I had a good view of Spencer and Elle now. He was on his knees in front of her, the two of them watching each other carefully— probably because she was trying to decide if he was lying about his headaches or not, and he was trying to gauge how bad his punishment would be. But she was just playing with his hair. We all loved to do that. I mean, Spencer loved it, too, which was why he did it, and it was the easiest way to ease him in and out of sub space. When I would Dom him, our sessions were usually the same. I’d go to his house to find him kneeling by the door, waiting patiently for me while wearing his cute little collar that we all picked out for him, and then he’d cook dinner for me. Sometimes, if he had been bratty, I’d sit in the living room, using him to balance platters in his hands that held my wine glass, any snacks I had, and sometimes even a book or two. If he ever dropped them, I’d punish him. If not, I’d reward him. For rewards, we’d go to his bedroom where I’d worship his cock, but never getting him close enough to the edge to actually make it 100% pleasant. I liked watching him squirm. Even when he had his best days, he knew that I wasn’t going to immediately let him cum because my favorite part about being his Dom was controlling his orgasms. As for punishments, that usually came with tying him up, flogging him sometimes, ruining his poor, little orgasms to make him whimper pathetically, and overstimulating him. I fucking loved the sounds he made during sex. Usually, I could pry them out of him with just a simple praise, but they were always so sweet when I had him tied to his bed, a plug in his ass, and I was riding every single drop out of him, never stopping even after he came inside of me.

His hair, though… One rough tug at his hair and he was immediately our bunny. For aftercare, his favorite thing was cuddling while we played with his curls. Brushing his hair, curling his strands around our fingers, gently massaging his scalp, all of those things prevented him from sub dropping, and it reassured him that he was safe with us, that we loved him, that he was going to be okay. I loved his hair. In fact, I was obsessed with it. Watching as Elle played with it and he nuzzled against her with a hypnotized, submissive smile on his face, I felt myself lighten up, too.

“Come here, bunny,” Morgan beckoned Spencer over to us. After Elle released him, he crawled around her and stopped just in front of me. “Take their skirt off.” Spencer did as he was told, reaching up for my waistband, quickly pulling my skirt down to my ankles. I helped him by stepping out of them. “Not their panties,” he warned when Spencer moved for those, too. Spencer dropped his hands to his lap. “Can you see how wet Sir made them? The mess they made from breaking the rules?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be like them.”

“Spence, where’s your collar?” Elle asked, already digging through his bag that she retrieved from one of the overhead bins. I heard another one open behind me and Morgan, probably something that Hotch or Emily were looking for. “Nevermind.” She found Spencer’s collar and leash in his go-bag and brought it over to us. “Presentation.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer looked up somewhat so that Elle could see where she was positioning the collar over his Adam’s apple, and then he looked down and moved his long hair out of the way so that she could clasp it together.

“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.

The rule with me and Spencer was that we weren’t allowed to wear our collars in public because the whole point of kink was that all parties were consenting adults at all times. If someone wasn’t consenting to the scene, it had to stop immediately. The thing with wearing an obvious O-collar out and about was that the general public couldn’t consent to viewing it. Yes, it looked like a choker if you were oblivious, but it still wasn’t fair. And we didn’t like to draw attention to ourselves, anyhow. So, Spencer and I could never wear our collars in public, but we always had to bring them in our go-bags in case a situation like this arose where we were at the hotel and needed to submit, or, yes, even on the jet. This had only happened once before, though, to be fair.

When Morgan finished clasping my collar around my neck, he pushed me to my knees, my face even with Spencer’s. His breath was hot on my nose, our lips so close I could nearly taste him, but Elle tugged on his leash, pulling him back, and Morgan tugged on mine, pulling me back. We both whimpered at the feeling. “You don’t get to touch each other,” Morgan hissed. “In fact, Y/N, you don’t get to touch anyone at all.” My eyes widened and I looked up at Elle, almost as if I could read the look on her face to see how the rest of them were feeling behind me.

She was smirking. “Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making your punishment no-touch, like Y/N. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”

“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.

“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”

“It’s useless to keep apologizing; isn’t it?” Around Morgan, I could talk to him like that, which was a little more casual than most scenes called for, but with the others, I could never say anything like that. Morgan understood, though. He nodded and kissed me again. “Give me a toy, at least. Edge me, ruin me— Anything.”

“No.” He stood back up.

Elle had Spencer’s pants on the ground now, and Emily had moved to the couch to peel his shirt off. As Morgan approached them, Hotch moved closer, too. I watched as the four of them dedicated their entire attention to Spencer, kissing his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe, running their thumbs over his sensitive nipples, and Elle worked her hand down under his briefs. I rolled my hips around for friction against my soaked panties when I heard Spencer let out a breathless moan just before Hotch kissed him to shut him up.

“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.

“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”

He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”

He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”

“You touched without permission, though, bunny,” she said to him. He shook his head, knowing that was her answer without saying what she actually meant. “I know that listening to Y/N beg was overwhelming for you…”

She dragged her nails down his chest, making his chest tense up. I saw the way his little stomach sucked in, and I whimpered again. I wanted that to be me touching him. I loved the little tummy he had now since we had helped him get over his addiction since Mexico. He was so healthy now, which meant eating well, something we regulated, and it gave him a cute, healthy, tummy that showed when he was wearing his belts with a button down shirt. I loved praising that part of him. Sometimes, it was obvious how self-conscious it could make him, but when we let him know how much we loved it and how proud we were of his progress since Mexico, he would love it, too.

Spencer bucked up when Elle pulled her hand out of his underwear, leaving him hanging on the edge. Hotch grabbed Spencer’s hips and pushed him back down onto the couch with a huff, probably still angry about me, but now it was worse since Spencer was acting up. I saw Spencer’s cock twitch helplessly behind the constraints of his clothes. He was trying to reach for someone’s hand again, but Morgan collected his wrists together and took Elle’s handcuffs, using them to restrain Spencer the same way I was restrained.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”

“My bag, Hotch,” Emily muttered, focusing on getting Spencer out of his underwear now. He let out a sigh of relief when his cock bounced freely against his stomach. Hotch scrambled to Emily’s go-bag at the back of the plane and started digging in it for something. “The red one—”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”

He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.

“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”

He struggled against his Doms’ holds as Hotch knelt down to begin the tedious process of sliding the tight metal cock ring over Spencer’s length. Spencer cursed at the feelings. I had no doubts that the ring was cold to the touch— which was an unbearable feeling for him— and it was probably so tight on him… When it reached his base, it kept all of the blood right where it needed to be to ensure he stayed hard. And then Hotch grabbed the string version of the cock ring, which was entirely adjustable, so he slid it over Spencer’s balls and tightened it. Spencer cried out.

“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”

Emily came over to torture me. She pulled at my leash, choking me, tugging my head back somewhat. “Keep your eyes on Spence.”

My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch.

Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt.

“Fuck!”

Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster.

“Mistress, I’m close. Please.”

“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.

“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”

Morgan and Emily worked together to get Spencer on his knees on the floor, and they pressed his chest against the couch. Emily tugged at his leash to keep him distracted when he looked over at me with a painful, silent plea for help— help which I couldn’t give. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he waited for the next step.

“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”

Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”

Morgan sat on the couch, his thigh just beside Spencer’s head so that we couldn’t make eye contact from where I was anymore. I started crawling towards all of them, letting Morgan pick up my leash when I was close enough so that he could tug me forward. He spread his legs so that I was sitting between his knees. “Suck,” he commanded, beginning to take his pants off.

I took the moment with nothing to do as an opportunity to finally turn my head to look at Spencer who still had his cheek pressed against the couch. I leaned down and kissed him. He perked up and started kissing me back. Just as it got more intense, the two of us fighting for dominance in our kiss, I felt him suddenly back down when Elle slid her fingers into his tight hole, causing him to moan against my lips. Our hands were still trapped behind our backs, so I couldn’t hold him steady to encourage him to keep kissing me, I couldn’t tangle my hands in his hair, and I couldn’t even reach to hold his hands as they struggled in his cuffs.

“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.

“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”

“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”

Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.

Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.

“He’s ready,” Elle said. Spencer whimpered when there was a loss of contact between them after she pulled out of him and stepped away, giving Emily room to kneel behind him and line up her cock with his ass. “Are you going to be good for us, bunny? No cumming?”

Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Suddenly, he was pushed forward when Emily roughly thrust into him. I pulled my mouth off Morgan long enough for me to catch my breath and moan as Hotch continued fucking me softly to torture me, and I looked over to see Emily showing no remorse with Spencer. Poor thing. Elle had stretched him, and Emily took a second to let him adjust, but now he was ruined. Absolutely destroyed. He was going to be wobbling on our way off the jet when we would land, I just knew it.

“I didn’t say you could stop, slut,” Morgan growled, grabbing me by the hair this time to make sure that I wouldn’t move away from him this time. I groaned as I took all of him in my mouth again. Just as he willed it, I bobbed my head up and down, my jaw slack, my tongue flat, my throat open to stop the gagging because he was using me as a hole and nothing else, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “So greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”

“I thought you understood that we didn’t train brats, baby,” Elle said, backing Hotch up. She teased her cleaned and re-lubed fingers at my ass now while Hotch realigned with my pussy. “You and bunny don’t get to cum.”

I moaned around Derek’s length as Elle and Hotch both thrusted into me simultaneously. He gave me every single inch he had to offer, making sure I felt just how big he was, the way he could reach deep places inside of me that made my knees weak every time. As for Elle, her approach had been a bit slower so that she could be safe. When her fingers were moving in me, she only put them in about half way before gently pulling them out and pushing them back in, this time all the way to the bottom knuckle, and then she curled her fingers. Morgan held me steady as I moaned around him again. The three of them working together to fill each of my holes was… I mean, they had all filled me further before, but this just felt so different… so good…

“Mmm—” Morgan bucked his hips up so that he could fuck my face harder. “I’m gonna cum.” He panted as his fingers gripped my hair harder. He let out a grunt as his whole body tensed, his orgasm finally hitting him like a train. As his cum spilled into my mouth, I used his hesitancy as a chance to finally move my tongue around, stimulating his shaft, making him twitch and squirm a bit more, and I hummed happily around him to make it even worse. They were torturing me, the least I could do was slyly return the favor. “Shit, baby!” He pulled me off before I could continue overstimulating. “Fuck.” His thumb caressed my cheek lovingly for a second. “Go on. Swallow.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take anything more. I was so full, I felt like I was going to explode. He furrowed his brows. “Swallow, slut.” I kept shaking my head, and I tried to escape Elle and Hotch so that I could find somewhere to spit, but they held my hips still while Morgan grabbed my face. “Swallow.”

I searched his eyes for a moment, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to release me until I did as he asked. Even if the jet landed and we were supposed to be getting off, probably to head back to mine and Hotch’s place to finish all of this, Morgan was going to sit there with me until I swallowed. I had no choice. While keeping my gaze even with his, I slowly swallowed the load he gave me. When I was done, I opened my mouth to prove my success, and he finally let go of me while grinning.

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Morgan and I looked away from each other to investigate what was happening, and it was just as our attention was brought to him that we saw Spencer slump as he gave up. Emily was still fucking him, don’t get me worng, but his poor, red, needy cock was leaking, begging for the cock rings to be taken off so that he could ejaculate— and he just couldn’t take the denial anymore. He couldn’t take being on the brink constantly. Holding his posture for her so that he could fuck his ass, keeping his head turned so that we could hear his pathetic noises, all of that meant nothing to him now. They had finally broken him.

“It hurts,” he complained.

“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.

“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“The two of you and not being able to hold it today,” Elle scolded, moving her fingers faster inside of my ass. “It’s like we need to teach you guys how to behave again and work on your stamina.”

Spencer and I quickly exchanged a worried glance. We hadn’t done stamina in so long. This was close, sure, but actual stamina training with Elle was the worst— especially if Hotch were there. They liked to tie me and Spencer up so that couldn’t move a single muscle, and then they’d press a vibrator against my clit while Spencer got the fleshlight. For hours, we would have to lay there, edging again and again as Hotch and Elle turned on my vibrator and started fucking the fleshlight over Spencer’s cock, and then they’d stop when we were close enough. It was torture. They purposefully gave us hard edges. The longer we went, the more rewards we earned for the week, but if we came, they ruined our orgasms before painfully continuing, and all of it was for the sake of increasing our stamina during sex and teaching us how to hold back our orgasms until we had permission. It worked after a while. Spencer was a lot worse at it than I was, but we finally got the hang of it, and the two of us were pretty good about holding out until we had proper permission; but there was just something about the atmosphere of being on the jet compared to being at someone’s house or in a hotel room that had our brains melted down to nothing. I had orgasmed once without permission, and there were multiple occasions while Hotch and Elle were fucking me from behind that I felt myself getting there again— and if they weren’t so good about pulling away on time to edge me, I would have cum again without permission, regardless of the punishment. But Spencer… He was trying so hard to be their good boy. He had touched himself without permission, which he knew wasn’t allowed, so he had accepted that he wasn’t allowed to cum, but those cock rings were straining against him, practically milking him considering the way he was leaking so helplessly; and it was just too much for him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.

“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.

Spencer shook his head urgently. “No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.

Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.

“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, and my legs were still shaking. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.

“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”

Hotch fell in love with the idea, immediately shooing Morgan off the couch so that he could throw me onto it. I yelped as I landed on the cushions. My right thigh was just next to Spencer’s face— so close that I could feel his pants against my skin— and Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were standing just in front of me, licking their hips with lust and hunger in their eyes. Hotch was still running his grip up and down his length at the sight of me.

“Look at the mess we made, bunny.” Morgan reached over and pulled at Spencer’s hair, pulling him upright so that his back was pressed flush against Emily’s chest as she used the new angle to fuck him harder and deeper. Spencer’s engorged penis twitched at the sight of me. My panties were soaked with a mixture of my wetness and cum. “Don’t they look so stupid?”

Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”

I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too.

“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to breed you?”

I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

He stopped fucking with me and he instead went back to stroking his cock. “I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”

Elle grabbed his face and turned him so that they were suddenly kissing, and he pushed his hand past her pants and panties so that he could press a finger directly against her clit. They moaned together.

“I’m going to cum,” Spencer warned. Morgan was holding his leash taut, forcing Spencer to keep his back against Emily’s chest while she moaned into his neck and left a hundred different hickies. “Please. Please, Mistress.”

“No.”

“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.

“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”

“Fuck—” What Emily said did the opposite of what she had intended. Instead of deterring him from cumming, the threat of being locked up in a cock cage enticed Spencer, tipping him over the edge that he needed so badly. “I’m cumming!”

Just as his dick started twitching, Elle jumped into action, quickly grabbing my hips and turning me so that Spencer was lined up between my legs, and she pushed my panties to the side. Emily fucked harshly into Spencer as he started cumming. The force of her action jolted Spencer forward, putting his tip directly at my entrance. We both moaned at the feeling. I needed him, and it seemed he needed me, because when he felt how wet I was, his weak, repressed load slowly poured into me. He had tried to hold back. I could tell with how sad his orgasm was and how he was whimpering that he didn’t want to cum. He wanted to be good for them. But Emily fucking him, Morgan trying to choke him with the collar, the cock rings squeezing his penis and swollen balls, and my torture that he was witnessing was all too stimulating to every single one of his senses. He had to cum the same way I had to cum earlier when they denied my orgasm.

Emily stopped fucking him to make sure that the orgasm was shorter and to ensure that he didn’t go any further into me than necessary. They wanted his cum to be inside of me, but that was it. They didn’t want either of us to enjoy it.

Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”

He came much harder than Spencer had because he wanted to give me everything, to fulfill the breeding kink we had. All I felt was the stretch and the warmth of his semen, though, because he refused to thrust to help ride out his high since it would have inevitably pleased me, too, and that wasn’t the point. He wanted me to be full and to get nothing out of it.

When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?” he questioned.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Which was?”

“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.”

“Good girl. Go clean yourself up in the bathroom then come back for water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”

“Even then. You did good.”

Emily got the cuffs off Spencer, and he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”

“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”

Elle grabbed the lotion from Spencer’s bag that he used for aftercare, and she started massaging it between his cheeks as Hotch continued to hold him. “You, too,” she told me while still tending to Spence. I went to sit down, but Emily beat me to it, taking the only spot left beside Hotch, and she patted her hands on her lap. I laid over her the same way Spencer was on Hotch. Our faces were close again.

“May we?” Spencer begged.

“Yes,” Morgan answered.

Just as Elle started using her other hand to massage some lotion onto my ass, Spencer and I started kissing. He tasted so good. It was comforting rather than erotic, and I felt myself slowly easing out of sub space in a way that didn’t let me drop. I hoped that he was okay, too.

I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”

He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

497 notes · View notes

vt-scribbles · 2 years ago

Text

GTJuly Days 1-2: Fluffy + Different Era

Red and Hema [from The Harvester] in an experimental Detroit Become Human sort of AU. Hema steals a bed for Red.

Rating: G

Setting: Futuristic Modern-High Fantasy

Themes: Giant/Tiny, Shifters, Androids

Length: 3k words

"You STOLE IT?!"

The bright city lights mottled the clouds above with dull colors of neon lights and tacky advertisement boards as big as apartment buildings. Night life had no respect for rest, especially not in Agium's most populated city. Hover-carriages bolted to and fro. Their shining, robotic load-bearing beasts clicked down the streets with unnervingly even pace. Their artificial whinnies earned the annoyed stares of passer-by, who would spit and mutter something about 'flesh and blood being more reliable.' But, then some young up-start would likely spit back from the back of the carriage that 'at least my folpies don't make a mess I have to clean up after, old-timer!'

Peace was something no part of the city knew, so late at night. The constant hum of electronics and loud advertisements filled the air, all blurring into a senseless sound that could almost be comforting to someone, if they were numbingly used to it. Most were, but. Some could find no rest during the night.

Elves who wandered the streets- some, paired with their android companions -could find no rest and would instead look for entertainment, distractions, a little 'fun.' Or, sometimes they were simply looking to get out of the city for the night, to spend some time out in the novel little 'inns' that still dotted the outside of the city walls. Out there, with no androids or ads or absolutely insufferable commercialism to thicken the air, people could find some quiet. Though, many found it a bit 'primitive'. After all, who wouldn't want the company of their personal android to tell them some long, randomly-generated story before they went to bed, only to wake up to a nice, clean house in the morning? Or, better yet? Who in their right mind wouldn't want the company of Service Boards' newest model of service android, with a full range of sizes and new AI that could read the whims of their companion?

Well. There was at least ONE elf that may have wished to be without the company of her android, at the moment.

"No, SERIOUSLY, please tell me this is some new… joke system they programmed into you. You can't be serious."

Standing upon a polished metal balcony, a petite elven woman with bold, pink hair clutched at the guard rail keeping her from outright leaning off in exhasperation. The colorfully-lit room behind her fluctuated and hummed with gentle music that drifted from a small, diamond-shaped radio. A humanoid, shiny form stood off in the corner in a case, eyes closed, idle. It seemed to be an inactive android suit model.

The elven woman gestured out in front of her, to the massive companion android standing shoulder-level with her balcony. He looked at the tiny plastic bag he held between his clawed fingers, setting his jaw to the side. The faint pink light cast by his led irises faltered whenever he blinked, casting the elf in a pink glow now and then.

"… I. Then you don't want this?" he asked, holding the bag up to the balcony. It may have been miniscule to him, but to her, it was the size of a queen-size bed. She looked at it, mouth agape, and grabbed the plastic to pull it closer. She tugged the rim of the bag down, revealing a fluffy, pink surface. She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting for a moment. But, she pulled herself away, shaking her head.

"N-no! We can't keep this, I didn't give you an order to TAKE that from the department store! Aren't you supposed to be incapable of committing crime or… I don't know, shouldn't that be hard-coded into you?" she fretted, biting one of her nails as she looked away. Her thin, pink tail flicked wildly behind her. "Oh stars I'm- I might be a criminal now. If he commits a crime, am I automatically guilty for it? There's no way they didn't notice a giant android casually walking out with a whole-"

"Red, please do not panic. I never said I stole it. I said I got it. By your definitions, these are two different things," the giant android stated, nodding his head in a matter-of-fact manner. Red turned to him, still biting her nail.

"Taking it means you stole it. I didn't- I don't remember giving you access to my funds-"

"I offered my services in return for goods. Isn't that… what notseanis do, as well?"

Red hesitated. She slowly drew her nail from between her teeth and eyed the bag again.

"You're going to work it off?"

"… Of course. I thought that much was obvious. A little cleaning, some moving around billboards or signs. It shouldn't take long."

Red walked over to the bag again, daintily hooking a finger onto its edge. She slowly peered inside, eyeing the plush, pink item within. Her teeth gently pushed into her lower lip, and her hands itched to bury themselves in the soft material.

"… Why did you go through all that trouble?" she asked softly. She gazed sidelong at the giant android. He blinked and looked away. A stiff, cold breeze blew through the apartment alley, messing up his synthetic, platinum-white hair that laid in a neat swoop atop his head. The hydrolics in his neck hissed softly as he shrugged.

"You've been in pain lately. Your back has shown signs of improper care since I accidentally broke your last bed. Sleeping on a palette on the floor has not been good for your health. And, on top of that. I saw you fawning over this the last four times we have gone to any department store that sells it. Your dopamine receptors are always activated when you touch this item, so, I thought it would be appropriate to fulfill your silent wishes and purchase the item with my services."

The android gazed at Red sidelong, blinking.

"Is that… not satisfactory?" he asked nervously.

Red stared long and hard at the android. Her long ears twitched now and then… and she found her tail swaying thoughtfully behind her.

"… You're a lot more observant than I give you credit for."

"That is my job, Madame Red," he said with a polite bow. Red made a funny face, shaking her head as she lifted a hand.

"No, no. No more of that. Just… call me Red."

The android looked to the elf in surprise, but quickly stifled the expression and nodded. The eyepiece over his left eye clicked and whirred before giving a cute 'chirp.'

"New request logged: preferred name- Red."

Red chuckled and shook her head, looking to the bagged item again. She bit her nail, setting her jaw to the side.

"… Y'know what, screw it. You went through all this trouble, let's get it in here."

The android perked up, smiling faintly. He nodded and carefully leaned over the balcony, casting Red in shadow. Red slowly looked up as the android's form took up her entire view, giving her nothing else to focus on in that moment. She could see the faint seams between his body and his uniform, so well-hidden at even a mild distance. The gentle hiss and hum of machinery far more advanced than she could begin to process filled the air above her. It was hard to believe, or even understand, that such a massive piece of technology could be so light that it could walk around the city freely… much less be careful enough to gently grip the balcony with his clawed fingers.

The android narrowed his eyes a bit as he slowly slipped his arm into the room behind the balcony. He gently set the bagged item down, then slowly withdrew his arm, making sure not to scrape the door frame.

"There. Permission to shift down?"

Red stared up at the giant android for a few moments, unable to draw her eyes from his. It was… strange that she could see the individual LED nodes in his bright, pink irises from this close.

"… Ma'am?"

Red blinked in surprise, pulling herself back to reality.

"Sorry, yes?"

"Permission to shift down?"

"Granted."

The android nodded and walked further into the alley, a little ways off from the balcony. A massive cubby stood off to the side, which he stepped into with practiced ease. He turned around, put his back to the wall, and closed his eyes as he tilted his head back. The lights on his body dimmed, then flickered out. The hydrolics of his body hissed and clunked into their locked positions. He went still as a statue.

Red turned around. The humanoid form in the corner of her room perked up with a soft sigh as its stiff joints and dimmed lights warmed up. The android blinked awake, his eyes flickering to life. After doing a quick stretch and roll of his shoulders to make sure he could move smoothly, he immediately made his way over to the bag he'd placed down.

Walking over to the balcony doorway, Red leaned in the door and watched him. Her eyes seemed flighty and distracted, but the android in her room was too busy fussing over the bagged item to notice. After struggling to untie the handles, he frowned and lifted a hand. One of his clawed fingers sparked, sharpening into a blade. He made quick work of the bag's handle before changing his claw back with a satisfied nod. Soon, a massive, pink plush bean bag bed was sent spilling out onto Red's bedroom carpet. She perked up in surprise.

"Oh stars that is… a bit bigger than it looked in the stores, huh?"

"It is likely because the department store has higher ceilings, and more negative space to make large items look smaller," he recited, lifting his pointer finger. He began fluffing the bean bag, humming a soft tune to himself. It sounded strange for a moment, before Red realized he was humming along perfectly to the music playing on the radio. She watched him curiously.

The newly-purchased android- in her services for about a month now -was one of the latest models. A Household Emotional Management Assistant, or H.E.M.A. for short. She still couldn't believe the academy had outfitted her with such an expensive assistant. It wasn't like she needed it, really. It just seemed to be standard practice nowadays. She'd somewhat resented the choice at first, given she felt her professors were saying she needed protection because of her small stature. But, seeing him now, casually swaying to the cute pop song playing on the radio, fluffing a giant bean bag so carefully… it was hard to resent him for it.

"… I never did catch your name," she suddenly said from the doorway. The android perked up from his intent beanbag fluffing.

"Ah? … We do not have those. I am merely called H.E.M.A., or 'Assistant' for short. If you wish to give me a more defining name, that is up to you," he said with a nod. Red pursed her lips.

"H.E.M.A. is such a mouthful… would you mind if I called you Hema?"

The android blinked in surprise, stopping what he was doing. He stared at her for a long moment. So long, in fact, that she clicked her tongue and looked away.

"Sorry, I know it's not very creative."

"No, that's not it. It's just… we are programmed to never expect something like a name. I am unsure how to respond to this development…" he said, looking away and picking at the bean bag. Red smiled and shrugged, walking down the plush stairs that led down from the balcony to the conversation area in the middle of the room.

"Well, how about we finish fluffing this thing up so we can enjoy it?" she chimed, leaning over to join Hema in squishing the bean bag to increase its volume. Hema gazed at her quietly, a few symbols on his eyepiece twisting and dancing around on its screen. After a while, Red looked up at the android, raising a brow.

"You're twice my height. C'mon we could be done with this in like five minutes if you help me," she said with a smirk. Hema perked up and continued in his quest for the fluffiest bean bag possible.

"Right, my apologies Mada-… Red."

After a few minutes, the plump pink beanbag sat proudly in the middle of Red's room where her bed used to reside, and Red had changed into her pajamas for the evening. She circled around her new bed, running her fingers through its luxuriously soft surface. Given how cold it was outside and in the room, the surface was chilly to the touch. Yet, that didn't detract from the siren call it was drifting into Red's ears. The notseanis smiled excitedly and tried to hop up into the massive bed… and failed spectacularly, ending up on her butt. She winced with a small yelp, having landed straight on her tail base. Hema's hair fluffed up in alarm, and he quickly rounded the beanbag to kneel next to Red, scooping her up in his arms.

"Are you alright? That sounded painful."

"Tsss, oh don't worry that was nothing, just wasn't expecting it, that's all," she muttered. She looked up, meeting Hema's eyes up close again. She couldn't quite make out the nodes in his smaller form's irises… but that didn't stop her from imagining all the details she'd been able to see on the balcony. Hema tilted his head, perplexed. At his sudden silence, Red cleared her throat and casually hooked an arm around his neck.

"Y'know, while we're already here… you mind putting me up on this thing? I could use my legs, but you know. The shock of you almost stealing a bed has made them so weak."

Hema blinked in concern.

"Your legs are feeling weak?"

Red's expression dropped to a deadpan, amused look. She gestured a hand out.

"Hema."

The android blinked, then narrowed his eyes. His circuits whirred audibly for a moment before he perked up.

"OH. That was sar-casm. Got it."

Red chuckled good-naturedly and looked at the bed as Hema stood to his feet. She looked down, quickly reminded that her own assistant was twice her height. She stood at a below-average 7 feet for a faust notseanis, while Hema stood at about 13 in his domestic body. It was surreal to be picked up by someone so tall.

Hema gently placed Red down on the bed, making sure not to catch any of his claws on the fabric.

"There. Is this acceptable?"

Red leaned back and pushed down into the bean bag with both her palms. They sank in deeply, and the slight reflection of warmth from her body into the fabric was a welcome embrace after the cold of her room. She sighed deeply and sank back into the bed, closing her eyes.

"Very. This is wayyy nicer than it looked in the store."

Hema stood up with a smile and folded his arms behind him.

"Well, if that is all, I should leave you to your rest. There is much to be done in-"

"Hey, you just got back, what did we say about rushing off to do chores every night?"

"… That I'm not supposed to," he admitted, pouting a little. He glanced away. "But, what else am I to do in here? Watch you sleep? I did not take you for the sort to like that."

Red rolled her eyes and patted the bed beside her. Hema stared. She pursed her lips.

"Come on, it's stupidly cold tonight, mind helping me out?"

"… OH. You are requesting body heat?"

"Oh my stars you make it sound so clinical, c'mon." She rolled a little to the side, trying to make room best she could. "You don't have to be so professional. I'd like to think we know each other a little better than that."

Hema tapped his chin, hesitating. After a long moment, though, he faintly smiled and carefully bared his weight on the edge of the beanbag. He looked down, pushing on it to test it. When he was satisfied his weight wouldn't burst any seams, he carefully crawled on beside Red, turning onto his side. With how squishy the beanbag was, it was hard not to be sidled up against her. Though, she didn't seem to mind. Red turned her back to the android, leaning against his front. He lifted a hand in surprise, looking around. She looked over her shoulder with a sly glint in her eyes.

"You don't usually run this warm. You doin' okay?"

"I am. Simply fulfilling your request for body heat. That's all," he fibbed, glancing away. Red rolled her eyes and adjusted on her side, tucking her cheek onto her arm for a pillow. She sighed deeply, her tail curling around her leg.

Hema gazed down at her, still keeping his hands away from her form. His eyepiece still danced and glitched with information, far too much for him to process all at once.

Then, slowly, he seemed to realize something, and his form relaxed a bit.

Carefully, Hema's hand slipped to Red's side and wrapped around her middle. The nis blinked in surprise, but before she was able to ask what he was doing, she found Hema curling up around her. He gently rested his chin on her head, his eyes closing. The cooling system in his body was coursing with warmth, pleasantly radiating a comforting heat into her petite frame. Her curled tail instinctively sought out the warmth, wrapping around Hema's leg. She looked up at him, but didn't budge.

"… Now, I don't remember requesting this."

Slyly opening one eye, Hema smirked down at the nis.

"You didn't have to. All my biometric scans stated it's what you desired. I can cease, if you like-"

"No no. No. This is nice," she admitted, glancing away. Hema smiled and gently hugged Red to his front, sighing.

"Good. Then please, get some restful sleep. I predict a 95% chance of you receiving a full night's rest with your new bed."

Yawning, Red snuggled into Hema's embrace. The biting cold from her room barely reached her past the warmth radiating from Hema's form.

"Mm you stay right here and you can make that a 99%."

"… 99% it is, then," he said with a small smile. "Good night, Red. Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Hema. Don't steal any beds for me again," she said with a deep, tired sigh. Hema rolled his eyes, chuckling. He wrapped around her tighter, closing his eyes.

"No promises."

#GTJuly #GTJuly 2022 #Giant/Tiny #;;The Harvester #[sort of]#Candycanes #Hema #Red the Pink Pearl #stoat drabble #expect some silly one-offs for GTJuly

14 notes · View notes

honeydarlings · 4 years ago

Note

Can you please write a one shot about yandere!All Might in his hero form stalking the reader (knows their schedule, habits, etc.) and in his mind, he’s just protecting them? Then later on, he notices the reader isn’t back home at their usual time and finds them hurt after being mugged in an alley way. Perhaps he takes them back to his place to fix up their wounds and when they want to leave, he won’t let them since he’s overprotective.

First request !!! I hope you like it !!

I'm Doing this for You

TW || Stalking, kidnapping, manipulation, drugging, gore and violence.

7:30pm, you walked through the front door to your apartment. Right on time, as always. Whenever you got home after work you would tie your hair back just to get it out of your face as you started cooking dinner. All Might loved the way you looked with your hair back, he got to see more of you. He sat atop a building right across from your apartment window with a pair of binoculars. Everyday he watched you. He would watch you wake up, take the train to work, eat lunch, return home. Almost everywhere you went he was watching. “7:45, you always turn on the radio.” The hero mumbled to himself as you turned on the small radio sitting on your kitchen counter. He smiled, happy to know your every move. At first he was unsure about following you, worried he would be found out by you or another hero. But then he realized he was doing this for your sake, to protect you. It’s a dangerous world out there, especially for someone as delicate as you. As 8:15 rolled around so did your dinnertime, you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. “True crime.”He muttered. True crime indeed, you turned on one of your favorite true crime shows as you began to eat. Suddenly All Might’s phone buzzed, startling him a bit. “All Might we have a situation downtown, we need you here” The text read. “Damn.” All Might huffed, couldn’t it wait until after you went to bed, so he knew you were safe?. Another text came through, “It’s urgent.” He scowled and got to his feet, leaping off, leaving you all alone.

8am. He barely made it, watching you wake up was one of All Might’s favorite things. Your messy hair and groggy face. You were so damn adorable, he couldn’t help but smile. Everything you did was absolute perfection to him and he wanted nothing more than to stay by your side and keep you safe. You departed for work, walking to the train station. All Might following close behind, leaping from building to building. He made sure that you safely boarded the train before going off to do hero work. After all, even though it tore him up, he couldn’t watch you all day, he was still a hero.

By the end of the day, All Might was exhausted but he still rushed to get to your window to watch you come home. 7:30, on the dot. He sat, staring at your front door. It didn’t open. He felt a pit form in his stomach. “Maybe they’re running a little late.” He reassured himself, trying to stay calm. He waited five more minutes, still no sign of you. The panic had now settled in, All Might quickly stood and raced to find you. He followed your exact route to the train station, you weren’t there. He scrambled to the small library where you worked and peered through each window, you were nowhere to be found. He quickly made his way to the train station, checking every shop. He had never felt like this before, he had never been this panicked fighting villains or saving others. He reached the alleyway you always cut through and was met with a sickening display.

You were sprawled onto the pavement, covered in bruises and blood. Soft whimpers escaping your lips. A tall lanky figure stared down at you with a led pipe in their hand, your bag in his other. “What the hell is going on here.” All Might boomed, trying to maintain his composure. The figure looked up at All Might with fear and then took off in a sprint, dropping the led pipe but still holding your bag. “Bastard.” All Might growled, chasing after him. It didn’t take long to catch up to the criminal, seeing as All Might was much faster and could cover more ground. He grabbed the thief’s shoulder and pulled him downwards onto the pavement. He landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. All Might made sure that he was out of your sight, then picked the man up by his head, gripping it tightly. He started to squeeze. The man screamed, clutching All Might’s massive hand trying to pry it off. “You are lower than scum.” All Might snarled as his hold tightened. A crack rang out through the alley. Blood started pooling out of the man's eyes, nose and mouth as All Might continued to squeeze. Another loud crack followed by silence as the criminal's body went limp. Blood and teeth were splattered onto the ground as the man’s corpse hit the pavement. The blonde hero shook drops of blood off his hand then wiped the rest off on the corpse's jacket.

All Might returned to you, your bag in hand. “Are you alright?” He asked softly. You slowly shook your head, unable to get any words out. “Please, let me take you back to my home, I can patch you up and keep you safe.” He gently wiped your tears from your cheeks as you nodded. He smiled and picked you up bridal style. “You don’t have to tell me what happened yet, we can wait until you’re all fixed.” You nodded again, clutching his chest. Once the two of you reached his house was when you managed to speak up. “Thank you, All Might.” You said in an almost whisper. The hero’s stomach fluttered, you were so damn cute! “Of course, anything to keep you safe.”

He walked you through his massive mansion, up the stairs and into his bedroom. He set you down gently onto his large bed. The sheets against your bruised skin was like heaven, you’ve never laid on anything softer. “Wait here while I get my medical supplies and something to drink, I shouldn’t be long.” All Might said as he exited the room. You laid in silence, still trying to process everything that had happened. You were mugged, some creep attacked you with a led pipe and took your bag. Good thing All Might showed up when he did, if he was even second later you could have been killed. The thought made you shudder. You looked around his large bedroom which was surprisingly empty. Nothing except a bed, dresser and a TV mounted on the wall. You were still trying to process the fact that you were inside the number one hero’s home. Does he give treatment like this to all civilians he finds injured? Your thoughts were interrupted by All Might entering the room holding a tray with painkillers, bandages, tissues and a tall glass of water. He set the tray down and grabbed the tissues. He lightly brushed the soft paper against the semi dried blood that gushed out of your nose earlier. “Is it broken?” You asked. “No, but pretty close. You’re lucky I showed up.” He said. He sounded stern and a little bit angry. “Here, take these. I’m sure those bruises are hurting.” He said handing you three small pills and a cup of water. Without hesitation you swallowed the pills with a big sip of water. All Might continued to work in silence as he bandaged your hand, suspecting it to be sprained, and cleaning out the scrapes that covered your hands and knees. As he worked you started to feel dizzy. All Might noticed as your wrist went limp in his hand. “Feeling sleepy, y/n?” He asked. “H-how do you know my name.” Your speech was slurred as your body relaxed into his bed. He brought his hand up to your face and caressed your cheek. “Y/n, sweetheart. That’s not important right now. You should rest. I’ll finish patching you up.” Suddenly all the worry you just felt went away as you drifted off. “You’ll be safe here, y/n. Safe with me.” All Might whispered as he gently kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back in about an hour, my dear.” He stood and planted a kiss on your limp hand. He picked up your bag and fished out your keys. He sighed and shrunk down to his small form, leaving his house and catching a taxi.

The blonde hero stood outside your apartment fiddling with your keys, trying to find the one that fit into the keyhole. “Bingo.” He muttered with a smile as a silver key slid in perfectly, unlocking your door. He stepped into the darkened room and inhaled. He couldn’t believe it, he was in your house! It smelled just like you. He rushed to your bedroom excitedly. He stepped inside and grinned. The whole room just screamed “you”. Even your bedsheets reflected you. All Might grabbed a suitcase laying on the floor and began to pack things for you, inspecting every single one. He smelled every shirt and sweater. After a few minutes he closed the suitcase and was about to head to the bathroom to pack more but then he noticed something on the top shelf of your closet. It took no effort for him to grab it, seeing as he was still massive, even in his small form. A small All Might plushie, a soft shade of pink dusted his face as he held the stuffed toy. You were his fan. He toyed with it before gently placing it in the suitcase. He then made his way to the bathroom grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste placing them in a plastic bag and then inside the suitcase. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. 9:01. “Shit! They’ll be waking up soon!” He rushed out of your front door, quickly locking it behind him. Once he reached the street he changed back into his muscle form to get to you quicker.

You slowly opened your eyes. You were still in All Might’s house. Why would he keep you here for so long? Footsteps quickly approached the bedroom. You groaned and sat up, still groggy. All Might burst through the door. “Ah you’re up! How did you sleep? Feel better?” He questioned as he rushed to get by your side. “I slept well, and I’m feeling a lot better, thank you.” You smiled. “I should probably start heading home soon though. It’s really late already and I have to work tomorrow.” You swung your legs off the side of the bed and tried to stand. All Might jumped in front, knocking you back onto the bed. “I can’t let you do that, y/n.” You stared up at him, wide-eyed. A pit formed in your stomach. “What the hell do you mean?” You shouted, instantly regretting when you did. “I can’t let you leave. It’s way too dangerous for you out there. I’m the only one who can keep you safe.” You tried to stand again only causing All Might to push you back down. “Please listen to me y/n. I’m doing this to protect you!” You were too scared to move anymore. “Wh-MPH!” All Might pressed his thumb over your lips, shutting you up. “The only place that you’ll be safe is here, with me.” Tears stung the corners of your eyes. He pulled his thumb away, letting you speak. “You’re scaring me.” You whispered. All Might’s face fell. He was scaring you? “Darling, I’m so sorry. I just want to keep you safe! Isn’t that what you want? To be safe? To be with me? I planned everything out! Here, I’ll show you!” He ran out of the bedroom only to return with your suitcase in hand. “I packed all your clothes and I even brought your All Might plush!” He held up the small toy, smiling wide. You started sobbing. “I want to go home. Please just take me home.” You choked. “Darling. I don’t think you’re in the right headspace right now. You’re still a bit woozy from the sleeping pills. You can’t possibly be thinking straight right now. How about you sleep on it again and then we’ll discuss this again in the morning?” He picked your legs up and placed them back on the bed, pulling the soft sheets over top. You were frozen with fear. He kidnapped you. He drugged you. “You’re a monster.” You whispered as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “It might seem that way right now darling but, in time, you’ll see that I’m doing all this for you. We’ll speak more about this tomorrow.” He smiled and left the bedroom, locking you inside. He had you now. And he would never let you go.

(This was so fun !!! Feel free to request as much as you like while they’re open !!)

#all might x reader #yandere all might #yandere x reader #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere x darling #yandere all might x reader #yandere toshinori yagi

299 notes · View notes

aot-brainrot · 4 years ago

Text

Bunny and Baby ~ Poly!BAU Team

(Full version for a smaller audience. You can check out the edited version on @imagineaworlds)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, bladder control, degradation, mild choking, control, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.

Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan, switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 9700

Criminal Minds Discord Server

“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.

“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Ask Mistress first.”

Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.

“No,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.

I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”

“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.

“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”

“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.

Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.

“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.

“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.

Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”

But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”

“Don’t lie, bunny.”

“I’m not, Ma’am.”

She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”

In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”

“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”

“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be like them.”

“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.

My eyes widened even further. “Wait. No. Please—” I struggled against the cuffs, wiggling around on the ground as I made a desperate attempt to free myself with no such luck. I knew what was coming. I hated it. I didn’t want them to have the satisfaction of watching me struggle uncomfortably later while they laughed at me. I didn’t— “Mistress, please,” I begged as Emily sat in Hotch’s seat so that she was right beside me. “Please, anything else.”

“Color, baby girl,” she said calmly. She wasn’t as frustrated as the others, I could tell. That was the nice thing about her. As wicked as she could be, her emotions were usually opposite to Elle’s. When Elle was mad, Emily was calm. When Emily was mad, Elle was… well, she was still mad, but she made an attempt to restrain herself.

I pouted. “Green.”

“Then, open your mouth.” She held my jaw as I opened up and tilted my head back somewhat, waiting as she unscrewed the cap of the water bottle in her hands. She had one with her, but Hotch was setting two more down next to his iPad on the table. “Tap Morgan’s leg for Colors.” I felt Morgan press his shin against my back so that my fingers were near his ankles in case I needed to have them slow down or stop.

Emily started slowly pouring the water into my mouth. When I couldn’t hold anymore, she stopped, giving me a chance to swallow. And then she did it again. We kept going until the entire bottle was finished, and even then, she grabbed the next bottle, unscrewed the cap, and started pouring. It was half way through the bottle when I started to feel it. The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that told me that I was going to have to pee soon, and I whimpered, tapping Morgan’s ankle to tell them that I needed them to slow down.

Emily stopped pouring. “What is it, princess?” she asked.

“I’m already there…” I shamefully admitted.

“Full?”

I shook my head.

“Then, keep going.”

I reluctantly opened my mouth again and let Emily continue her work, getting to the end of the second bottle before she decided that I had enough. They were going to save the last bottle. Certainly, there were more in the fridge where the bar was at the back of the jet, but they would grab them as needed. For now, two was enough, later, they would give me a third, and when it got really bad, they would grab more if they had to. I didn’t want the third one, though. I already had to go, and because of it, I could feel myself actually getting wet again, a sign that I was going to be miserable for my entire punishment.

The point of making me drink was that the feeling of being full aroused me the same way it would if I were filled with Hotch or Morgan’s cocks, or Emily or Elle’s straps. It was the same build that came with needing to orgasm. They controlled my orgasms the same way they controlled… well, when I could go. They made me hold my orgasms the same way they made me hold this— and both were painful to keep back. I was fortunate, however, unlike Spencer, to know that I had never actually released without permission, in front of them, or during a scene at all. Spencer, on the other hand… The poor thing. He could never hold it when Morgan would grab his hips and slide inside of him. The pressure on his prostate and his bladder was always just too much.

Eventually, they’d let me go, but they’d wait long enough until I was squirming. I mean, they weren’t going to hurt me. Since Morgan had chosen this as my punishment, they were all going to have to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t actually in pain because this could be a dangerous punishment if not properly handled; but I trusted them. If they weren’t going to let me cum, they at least had to let me pee— which felt just as good as letting go of my orgasms.

“Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Did it turn you on to watch Mistress make princess drink?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making you drink, too. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. I whimpered when I felt how full I was while on all fours. I already hated it. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”

“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.

“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”

“No.” He stood back up.

“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.

“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”

He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”

He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”

“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”

He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring while my bladder got worse or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, and I was going to get a chance to go to the bathroom after all of this, so I’d have two releases, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.

“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”

I felt my stomach fill out a bit more. I tried sitting back on my feet to relieve the tight feeling that being upright or tilting forward caused, but Morgan caught my movement out of the corner of his eye, and he glared over at me. I knew what he was going to say before he could even open his mouth. “Daddy, I can’t.”

“I don’t care. Sit up.”

I adjusted, my panties rubbing flat against my clit, the waistband of said panties moving just under my stomach, making me feel the sweet torture of my full bladder being teased. I moaned, “Fuck…”

“Does it feel good?”

I shook my head. “Please, just let me go pee real quick. I’ll come back and sit here quietly like a good girl.”

“The next bottle, Em.”

I cried, “No!” The more I struggled against the cuffs, I felt my bladder swell, making the urge to pee worse. “Please!”

“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”

Emily came over with the last bottle of water. “We won’t make you hold it much longer,” she whispered as she unscrewed the cap. Subconsciously, I already knew what she told me because it wasn’t safe to hold it back much longer, but hearing it from her was still a relief that made me sigh gratefully. “Open.” I tilted my head up and opened my mouth. “Keep your eyes on Spence.” My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch, but I couldn’t do anything about it as Emily started making me drink. “Swallow.” I closed my mouth and slowly drank everything she had poured. “Breathe,” she cooed when she caught me panting afterwards. “You’re okay.”

I immediately felt my bladder swell again. “Mistress, I can’t take it anymore…”

“You’ve done more before.”

“Alone with Sir, yes. I’ve never been overwhelmed like this before.”

“Open again.”

I did so. When she was done pouring, I swallowed again. It was getting even worse now. “I can’t—” Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt. “Fuck!” The stimulation was enough for my body to relax just enough for long enough that I let go for a moment. I caught myself just as it happened. “No, no, no, no—” Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster. I was so embarrassed by what had just happened, even though it could have been much worse, but all of that embarrassment was clouded by the fact that it felt so good to be touched after Morgan gave me the impression that none of them were going to touch me for the rest of the flight. “Mistress, I’m close.” Because of my full bladder, the truth was, the urge to pee mixed with the urge to cum, which only quickened my edge. “Please.”

“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away, and I cried again as I felt my entirely full bladder swell my belly. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.

“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”

“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”

Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”

“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.

“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me, pressing directly towards my bladder. I screamed in pain against Spencer when I felt myself let go a bit more. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”

“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”

Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.

Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because as painful as my bladder felt, at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.

Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, and when I thought that his intentions were pleasant, he threw me for a loop by caressing my inflated stomach. He chuckled. “So full…” He massaged the sensitive part of my torso where my bladder was, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “And so greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. The need to pee was too similar to the need to cum, the two feelings were blended together now, so when he teased my stomach, I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It hurts,” he complained.

“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.

“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.

“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.

Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I felt myself leak just a bit more, my bladder warming up at the feeling. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.

“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, my legs were still shaking, and I was so bloated. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.

“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”

Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”

I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach— or maybe that was the urge to pee just getting worse. Regardless, though, my whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too.

“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to breed you?”

I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

“You wanna be fuller than you are now, huh?” His hands worked their way down to my stomach where he started massaging his thumbs in, finding my bladder without any problems. “So fucking full. It’s gotta be uncomfortable, baby, I know… But you did this to yourself.”

“Sir—” I tried moving away from him in an attempt to make him stop teasing my bladder, but I couldn’t escape. “I won’t hold it if you keep doing that.”

I didn’t want to be like Spence. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want to share his embarrassment of peeing myself like he had. The first time it happened, we were all together for Elle’s birthday. Spencer had been acting up during dinner, touching her when he wasn’t supposed to, speaking out of turn, giving me lip when I told him to be careful. We weren’t having it. When we got to Elle’s place, he complained that he had to pee before we started, but Hotch pinned him to the wall with a large hand around his throat, making Spencer’s eyes widen as he started apologizing profusely. Hotch didn’t let him go. For being a brat at dinner, the consensus was that we were going to take turns fucking him and cumming inside of him while he had to hold it. He hated it. He was already bloated from dinner, but when we fucked into him, we could see our cocks through his tummy as we were thrusting in and out of him. As I said before, it was always when Morgan finally got to fuck him that Spencer let go. It was something about the girth I was pretty sure, because out of him, Hotch, and the straps Em, Elle, and I had, Morgan was the thickest, which meant that he always stretched me and Spencer, so it was no surprise that Spencer immediately let go when it happened. He cried at the humiliation. He couldn’t believe he had done that while we were all watching— and what was worse to him was that we liked it. We liked that it degraded him.And even worse than that was that he liked it. It made him hard, and when Hotch started to jerk him off, it wasn’t long until he was begging to cum. I was the one who took mercy on him. I gave him permission before the others could argue, and Spencer immediately fell apart.

I didn’t want to be the one who felt Hotch fill me up and I couldn’t help but let go, and they would laugh at me. I could tell how embarrassed I’d be. Hotch seemed to take mercy on me the same way I had with Spencer back then. He stopped fucking with me when I was practically in tears, and he instead went back to stroking his cock.

“I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”

“No.”

“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.

“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”

Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”

When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “You can go now.”

My eyes widened for a second as I registered what he said, but once I dawned on me, I didn’t hesitate. Despite my still weak legs, I pushed myself off the couch and I ran straight for the small bathroom at the back of the jet. I held onto the counter in front of me as I finally released everything that had been building. It felt just as good as an orgasm, if I were being honest. Holding it like that, being teased and denied by my Doms like that… It was just as painful as being edged, but getting to release was just as rewarding as an orgasm.

The door opened suddenly to reveal Hotch standing there, fully clothed, his arms crossed over his chest. I tried hiding myself by clasping my hands together over my crotch. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Which was?”

“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.” I felt another wave of liquid pressing against my weak bladder, but I tried my best to hold it back since he was still standing there.

“Next time, I will make you go in front of them. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Clean yourself up then come back for water—”

“Sir—”

“Not for that,” he said with a chuckle. “Water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”

“Even then. You did good.” He closed the door again and walked off, giving me the chance to release again.

When I was finished, I stood and cleaned myself, using the washcloths under the sink to clean up between my thighs. Usually, one of them would have helped, but the jet was too small, and the bathroom was only big enough for one person. I had to do this part on my own. When I was washed and dried, however, I made my way back into the main cabin, finding Emily racing to get the cuffs off Spencer. The second he was free, he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”

“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”

“May we?” Spencer begged.

“Yes,” Morgan answered.

I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”

He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

#mine #fanfic #hotch #elle #emily #morgan #reader #spencer #sub!spencer #sub!reader

172 notes · View notes

sandwichfox · 5 years ago

Note

Can you do a Hc of how the main 6 would react with a child apprentice (like one of the spells goes wrong and the apprentice is transformed temporary to a kid?)

Asra

★ Oh no. He told you that the rosehip had gone bad, remembers explicitly saying “don’t use the rosehip, I’ll bring some from the market later”. Of course, he can’t scold you for it now, since you’re currently sitting on the floor bawling your eyes out. Also, you’re approximately six years old.

★ He’s just coming through the door, but he can already tell what happened. Your knees are scraped and the stool you were sitting on is laying next to you on the floor. It’s likely you fell over when the brew exploded, and you’re now so small, it must’ve felt like a great height. There’s red potion splattered on the walls and ceiling. How much had you used? It’s supposed to only turn a light peach color.

★ He’s by your side in a second, bags forgotten at the entrance. He closes the door quickly with a wave of his hand and kneels next to you to look at your scraped knees. You’re sniffling now, wiping at your soft cheeks with the back of your hand. “They don’t hurt too much” you hiccup “can you tell me where I am?” Your voice is so high, hilariously polite in tone. You just got scared, he realizes, finding yourself thrown off the stool and all alone in the shop all of a sudden. You’ve stopped crying altogether in favor of looking up at him with big, curious eyes.

★ “You’re in my shop. I’ll still put some salve on them, don’t get up” he searches the cupboards for the tin, his mind elsewhere, at least he knows what went wrong, though it’ll be a hassle to fix, he starts piling ingredients for the cure in his arms. “What’s this?” You ask from behind him, face press against a jar of lacewings. He scoffs and sets the ingredients on the table. You haven’t changed, then. “Lacewings, I told you not to get up” his tone is amused, he approaches with the salve just as you skip to another corner of the shop. “They don’t hurt. What about those?” He manages to get a hold of your shirt, now a dress on your tiny form, and laughs as he applies the ointment “snail eyes” and your look of disgust makes him burst out laughing.

★ Asra’s careful not to go into many details of your life, or what happened with the spilled potion. You don’t seem to remember being older and he wants to advert a possible crisis. Instead he answers your incessant questions as honestly and patiently as he can while he works on the cure, and finds that he doesn’t need to entertain you much otherwise. You look delighted when he asks for your help passing him ingredients. Then peeling the physalis enthusiastically when he asks you to. He doesn’t need them for the cure, but you had been putting off the task all week. Asra smirks to himself.

Nadia

♠ Nadia calls out your name, rushing into the room, brows furrowed with worry. She had been just about to come inside when there was a flash of bright light, a sharp bang, a startled cry, and then a clatter of falling bowls.

♠︎ “Darling?!” Her voice is tight as she approaches your writhing form, you’re slumped against the bookshelf, seeming to be tangled in a length of fabric. She quickly comes to your aid, peeling the curtain of fabric back from where she assumes your face must be. “I heard a crash and thought-… oh my” In your stead, staring right at her with unabashed wonder, is a child. You, she realizes with dawning dread, you’re the child.

♠︎ “Who are you?” You breathe, reaching out towards her face and then, seeming to remember yourself, pull back with an embarrassed look. “Are you a princess?” Nadia can’t help her smile. “Countess, actually” Your eyes go impossibly large “oh” you look around “sorry about your bookshelf.”

♠︎ Nadia knows she should have gone to Asra immediately, but aside from your current -ahem- situation, you don’t seem to be in any pain or discomfort. On the contrary, you’re unabashedly lively. And, as she’s come to find out, you’re letting yourself be spoiled, for a change. Look, she was already on her way to the shop, alright? You were the one who pointed out the bright, colorful balloons when the carriage passed by the market.

♠︎ It was worth it, Nadia thinks, when you’re back inside the carriage. She moves the big -shiny green- stuffed beetle (a beetle, what a peculiar child) out of the way so you can rest your head on her arm. You’re sleeping, all tuckered out, you don’t even move when she wipes at your round, sticky cheeks with a wet cloth. “To the shop” she tells the driver, and maybe feels a smidge guilty about wanting you to stay like this a bit longer. She won’t though, it was just a thought. Though she’ll remember your fondness for smoked, salted almonds when you’re back to normal.

Julian

♦︎ He swears he hadn’t meant to startle you. It’s just, you had been working on that spell for hours now, and he could see you growing increasingly frustrated every time it failed, sparks sputtering and fizzling before going out. He intended to make you take a break, calling to you from the other room and then poking his head in when you didn’t answer. He approached you gently, calling your name again. You didn’t even seem to hear him, tongue between your teeth and gaze severe with concentration. Julian sighed and tapped your shoulder.

♦︎ You jump, flailing just the slightest bit, but it’s enough. In a moment the sparks between your hands glow green then blue then white. He barely has time to gasp before he’s being thrown back, ears popping with sudden, suffocating pressure. And then it’s gone. Nothing more than a ringing in Julian’s ears and an upset inkwell left as evidence of the sudden explosion of raw power.

♦︎ Julian rubs at the back of his head where it hurts. Then spots the pile of clothes on the floor, the very ones you were wearing. He’s rushing to you so fast that he has to blink to clear the spots from his vision. “Are you alright?! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I-“ he’s cut off by a long, drawn out groan from you, surprisingly high-pitched. And then he realizes you’re… you’re… -huh- the wrong size.

♦︎ You look at him and shriek, startling him into a yelp, “oh! I won’t hurt you, I’m not a criminal, or… anything like that” even as a child (a child! he’s trying not to freak out) the expression on your face makes his stomach clench “I promise, you’re safe” you look sideways at him, unconvinced “I’m a doctor, actually. So, well quite the opposite of a criminal then, don’t you think? I heal people. Or, well, try to“ If anything, the already scared look on your face turns worse, mouth turning down at the corners into a terrified scowl. Oh no.

♦︎ Well, he certainly can’t fix this on his own. Especially not with you keeping a very careful distance, looking at his hands with sharp suspicion, as if you expected him to be carrying a giant secret syringe that he just hadn’t revealed yet. Besides, this has to do with magic, so he wouldn’t be able to help, even supposing you’d let him. So here he is, shifting nervously after having knocked at the shop’s door. He looks behind him to check that you’re still there, only for you to squeak and hide back behind the lamppost, not hidden at all. Julian sighs.

Muriel

♣ Muriel knows you’re at the clearing, you’ve come more and more often to practice spells (the shop was too small and you had broken one too many jars). He can hear you shifting and muttering incantations, even through the trees. He comes into the clearing just as something goes wrong, the light between your palms glows brightly and then seems to be absorbed into your own body, pulsing under your skin once before throwing you back.

♣︎ Muriel doesn’t even think, just throws himself between you and the trees before you can hit them, landing on his chest instead with a small oof. You look up to him, surprised. “Muriel! Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to happen, heh, but thank- oh!” Suddenly you shout, doubling over in pain and clutching at your own skin as you… shrink?

♣︎ He grabs you tighter, terror gripping him tightly as you writhe in his arms. “What’s wrong?” He asks, panic speeding up his heartbeat “what’s wrong? What hurts?” You stop suddenly, turning to look at him with confusion on your face. Your small face. Your round, child face. “Nothing hurts” you tell him, puzzled. Muriel drops you.

♣ Strangely, you seem to trust him immediately, uncaring of his towering height or scowling face. You’re holding his hand and skipping by his side on the way to the shop like nothing’s the matter. He tries to soften his expression when he turns down to answer a question or coax you towards a less crowded path. You reward him with a small smile, it’s the same one he knows, but it’s missing a front tooth.

♣ After a few minutes of silent walking Muriel notices you glancing up at him every few seconds, shy blush on your face, mouth open as if to ask a question, then turning forward again. “What is it?” he asks after the fifth time this happens. You start, looking down again. “You’re very tall” you mumble. Muriel’s cheeks turn pink. “Yes” he says simply. “Oh” you pause, “can I-“ you look down again “I- maybe- I bet you can see everything.” Muriel sighs and picks you up to place you on his shoulders. He can’t help the small grin at your delighted squeal.

Portia

♥︎ “Helloooo?!” Portia looks up from her chopping board at the call, halfway through slicing the strawberries for dessert. You should be coming for dinner, but she remembers you were practicing some spell or another near the fountain, you shouldn’t arrive until much later. She furrows her eyebrows and walks over to the window. A small figure comes stumbling into her garden and then promptly gets their foot snagged by a graspgourd. Portia wipes her hands on a washcloth and hurries outside.

♥︎ “Are you alright?” She asks gently. The child looks up and Oh, oh no. As soon as you see her you lower lip wobbles, but you bite down on it to keep from crying. “I woke up in the forest, I walked all over but I think I’m lost. Do you know where I am, miss?” She kneels down at your side to untangle the vine from your ankle, brushing gravel from your scraped knees “Oh, just Portia is fine, you’re actually not in the forest at all” she smiles kindly, “you’re in the palace gardens, specifically my own little patch. Would you like to come inside while we figure something out?” Her eyes twinkle with amusement at your look of wonder, seemingly forgetting all about the fall as you get up. “Gardens?! But they’re so big!” She extends her hand and you take it, following her inside her cottage.

♥︎ She’s curious about what you remember, and about how you were as a child. She’s told you countless stories about her childhood in Nevivon, but you obviously can’t do the same, considering your lack of memories. She tries not to pry too much though, it’s difficult, considering how trusting you are. It honestly worries her a bit, how easily you opened up to her, what would have happened had you found someone else instead of her? No use dwelling on it though, and she wants to think it was just her amazing personality that made you trust her so easily.

♥︎ “Are you hungry?” She asks, she notices you clutching at your rumbling stomach after finishing a particularly dramatic story, you remind her a bit of Ilya, when he was a young boy. You look up in surprise and she giggles. “Let’s see what we can find in the pantry, huh?” Should she call someone at the palace? No, what would they be able to do? Hopefully this is only temporary, but she doesn’t want to assume it will go away on its own. “Thanks, miss Portia” you say as she hands you a plate with snacks, she has given up on correcting you.

♥︎ She knows a bit of magic, but not enough to reverse something like this. Perhaps she should call Asra, that seems like the safest bet. She can’t stop looking at you. You’re sitting at her table, nibbling at a slice of cornbread and turning a jar of jam this way and that for inspection as you eat, your legs swinging happily under the table. You’re adorable. “Miss Portia?” You ask around a mouthful of bread “when is your cat coming back?” She had sent Pepi to go get Asra while she kept an eye on you. She’s trying not to think too much about the current situation, there’ll be time to freak out after you’re back to normal. Hopefully Asra will be able to do something. Portia hums. “It shouldn’t take long.”

Lucio

▲”Can’t you go any faster?” Lucio grumps. You look up from his metal arm, incredulous. “Listen, I’m the one that’s doing you a favor here. And maybe you’re not aware that I could charm it into slapping you in the face, if you keep on like that” He turns red. “Right, sorry.” he says sheepishly, then keeps quiet for maybe a few precious seconds “but it’s taking so loooong.” “Lucio-” you start, then take a deep, calming breath. “Maybe you should try fixing an alchemical arm, infused with unfamiliar magic, see if perhaps you do any better.” you mutter, “keep still.” He twitches his finger, just to spite you.

▲”Ugh!” You shriek, magic glowing brighter in your hands as you jump “you’re such a child!” The glowing red behind the plates of his arms sparks with a pop, blinding him. “Ow” Lucio protests, blinking furiously, he opens his eyes and turns to you. But… you’re not there. He swivels his head around for a second before he spots you, getting up from a pile of fabric and dusting yourself off casually, lifting the too-big strap of your gown back onto your shoulder with a dignified swipe of your much-smaller-than-before hand.

▲ Air escapes him in a -very dignified and not at all shrill- scream. You trip back over the hem of your dress when you take an alarmed step back, just as the guards burst into the room. “Send for Asra!” He shouts. They don’t even say anything, just take a look at his face and step right back out, slamming the heavy wooden door and plunging the room back into silence. “Who’s Asra?” You demand, gathering up your skirt until the fabric is bunched up in your arms. You approach Lucio cautiously, seeming to size him up “and who are you?” Lucio drops his head into his hands, of course you wouldn’t remember anything.

▲ Asra arrives maybe an hour later, interrupting your discussion. “Well?...” comes a high, inquisitive voice. “Well what?” Lucio sounds tired. Maybe this is not as urgent as the guards made it seem. “You say you’re the count, where’s your throne, then?” Lucio blinks “We’ll of course I have a throne, it’s just not he- Asra!” He doesn’t think Lucio has ever looked happy to see him until this very moment, his very gaze seems to be pleading for help. Asra looks at you, sighs “I know how to fix it, but it’ll take a while, I trust you can care for my small apprentice while I work?”

▲ “Asra” he whines “I can’t deal with this, I don’t know how to care for a child” Lucio mutters miserably, you shoot up immediately “I’m not a child!” he looks up at you and waves a vague hand in your direction “you’re like, five”. “I’m ten” you say haughtily, looking down your nose at him “and you’re old.” You add, for good measure. Lucio lets out an indignant squawk. Asra laughs and laughs.

Consider, mayhaps, leaving feedback?

3K notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense.

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him.

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself.

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room.

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well.

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist.

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that.

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face.

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not).

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia.

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks fluff

185 notes · View notes

vore-scientist · 3 years ago

Text

Like A Good Neighbor (sfw safe vore)

[M/nb vore with fearplay. safe soft oral non-sexual]

A tale of the Mystic Woods! Featuring Yonah HaEsh and Myran the Dwarf Witch and many other fun characters!

A story of bad first impressions and making new friends! Lots of GT, and a cute little adventure at a magical farmer’s market!

Warning: Careful there are references to Fa.tal! An example would be “ogres are far more likely to eat smallfolk than giants!” (implying that said actions are deadly). That is the extent of such references!

Other warning: mild harm during the immediate post-vore scene. Yonah just goes a little too far in scaring Myran.

——/——////——

“Did you hear?”

“Have you been told?”

“A new resident!”

“I haven’t checked it out myself! But Ms Zukkar told me-”

“A wizard!”

“Didn’t there used to be an old sorcerer there?”

“-new guy’s a witch!”

“So, hear about that new giant!”

“A giant wouldn’t fit in that tower! And wizards is all human!”

“A criminal, on the run they say”

“Maybe a magician? They like towers sometimes!”

“His Majesty wouldn’t hire a criminal!”

“-supposed to be evil?”

There were so many rumors being flung around that the dwarf witch Myran Gamadin decided to see for themselves and set out to investigate. Undoubtedly there was a new resident. The story was that he was a Mage, and a criminal, but also just expelled from The Academy of Wizardry. And a giant? That was strange, the old tower was much too small for a giant! Even if it was magic it was only 10ft taller than your average giant in the first place. However… they did hear about the trial of a giant recently… stuff that happened in the civilized court didn’t really concern those in the Woods.

“Why would you go to see a villain? You’re not evil!”

The World’s Largest™ Maine Coon cat trotted alongside the handsome young dwarf, looking more like an oddly fluffy pony than a cat.

“It’s important to know your neighbors! Even the evil ones!”

Siv flicked his tail up into his witch’s face.

“And he’s got to be just a young man! So young and the expectations on evil mages is so high! He will appreciate a friendly face!” Myran had done the math. If this Mage hadn’t even graduated from The Academy, he was at most 23. Unless he started his education late. But they doubted this.

“Why are we walking! You have your broom!” the cat complained.

“That’s for the tower, Siv. It’s one of those designed by assholes who think it’s clever to have the only entrance be the window at the top.”

“Hrfff,” said Siv.

“Do you think he will appreciate the house-warming gift? I didn’t really spend much time on it…”

“Fresh fish would be better.”

“Maybe if he were a cat. This is for a Mage.”

“Clippings of magical plants? Maybe for another witch. This is someone who was studying Wizardry.”

“Wizards use magical plants too!”

“Yeah, they buy them from witches!”

As the pair stepped out of the trees, they froze.

“I think he’ll like the gift,” Siv admitted as he And Myran stood in awe at the largest magical garden either of them had ever seen.

It wasn’t even finished yet! Plots of earth were freshly turned, and piles of wood, half built into beds that lay in patterns across the clearing. And massively spread apart. At least 3 meters between plots. And the finished ones. Well. They already had some amazing specimens. Even if they were just sprouting. Myran noticed the Twisted WyrmFern and harpy’s breath; delicate, but common magical plants that were being used to test out the soil. It was working great.

The garden did make Myran worry a bit.

Maybe this wasn’t a wizard at all! It could be a witch. And he could be very evil indeed. Even evil witches treated their gardens with the utmost care and attention.

But they had come this far. And the tower that looked over the garden was calling to them. Well. Not really. The green-black thorny vines screamed “STAY AWAY!” But when one had a flying broomstick, one didn’t need to heed such warnings.

Flipping their broom around like a baton, they sat side saddle and Siv hopped on the end, somehow managing to balance his prodigious fluff. They took off. And flew into the window.

“WOAAAHHH!”

It was like hitting an unexpected and large wave on a boogie board, but a magical one that flowed through the body! And Myran had never been to the ocean, so it made their brain swim.

The room, which from the outside looked normal, was anything but. The rumors of this being a giant were not just rumors.

This place was HUGE!

And yet, it was much too small.

Growing up, Myran had visited some giant villages with their family. They hadn’t been THAT much smaller then, but the houses and items in the village were definitely much larger. While giant mages certainly existed, they had their own traditions and made their own supplies.

This looked exactly like the workshop for a young wizard, with additions for the wizard being a giant. It was wild to see some of the common arcane tools at such an immense scale.

Flying over, Myran saw that the resident Mage had an ancient book under a magnifying glass, and had been translating it, with notes and commentary. Spell equations and diagrams were additionally copied in a dedicated smaller notebook.

While it was surely a fascinating read, they could tell at a glance the notes were somewhere in the middle of an involved spell, and they didn’t want to be the reason the Mage lost his place. The workbench had plenty of other diverting materials.

Siv had no interest in such things and curled up against the base of the magnifying glass. The sun hit the metal through the window, making it quite warm.

Myran put their broom down and explored the desk. There were several magical tombs! Rare ones! They flipped through and saw fresh handwritten notes tucked inside. Smart, this mage did not want to tarnish the original pages. There was also an open notebook and a few spell components laid out.

They stepped carefully back onto the notebook to get a better idea of what this wizard was up to. The notebook was written in giant, which Myran wasn’t fluent in but got the gist of. So this was indeed a giant wizard. Fascinating.

That’s what they were thinking until...

FEE FI FO FUM!

Myran nearly jumped out of their boots.

No longer fascinating. Very bad. Very dangerous! They’d heard stories that quoted these lines, classic, even amusing. However, hearing them bellowed by an actual giant nearly stopped their heart. These words were so loud and so immediately panic-inducing, especially when accompanied by thundering footsteps.

I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE-

There was a pause and maybe a stutter

DWARVEN KIND!

The trap door off center in the room burst open and a giant with a mane of black hair, a trimmed goatee, and a wizard’s hat, climbed out. He was smiling, snarling, showing off impressive fangs.

USELESS TO FLEE, USELESS TO FIGHT, FOR YOU WILL BE MY MEAL TONIGHT!

Eat them!? Oh No. Myran scrambled to their feet as the giant advanced.

Siv had gone catatonic, or nearly, and fled behind the mirror. But Myran just stood there. The next thing they knew, they were in the giant's fist… AND THEN IN ITS MOUTH! There was a brief moment where they thought the giant was going to bite them in half… but no. Worse than that, the giant fulfilled his promise to make a meal of Myran by swallowing them whole.

Never had Myran imagined themselves in this predicament. Witches, as far as they knew, were not prone to being eaten by giants! Giants ate thieves, slayers, adventurers! Though... giants were known to occasionally eat random people that happened to be rude to them as they went about their business.

Myran had not been rude! They just hadn’t had a chance to be polite! This giant had no business eating them.

Not that any of this was actually going through Myran’s mind. Oh no. Myran’s thoughts were preoccupied with panicking about their impending doom!

First, they tried to stop the giant from swallowing. But the teeth threatened to crunch their limbs if they dared to try and find purchase! So, failing that, they tried to slow their progress down his esophagus.

The problem was the walls were too damn slippery! They knew that their slow progress was merely due to the tight fit, as they couldn’t stretch out. The flesh was too tough.

Right before they started to worry about suffocating, they were deposited into a large chamber, sliding into a puddle of nasty smelling fluid. They took a regretful breath of the rancid air.

Yonah sighed as the dwarf left his throat and settled into his stomach. Small yet still filling.

He patted his stomach lightly. “A bit disappointing. Dwarves don’t taste nearly as good as most other smallfolk, but I’m not complaining.” His prey thrashed and yelled but didn’t seem to be coherent.

YEOWCH!

Something bit his hand and he waved it violently. Whatever it was released and smacked into the wall that the desk was up against, crumpled into a motionless pile. Curious and momentarily forgetting his snack, Yonah investigated.

A cat!? And still alive but unconscious. Why had a cat attacked him? Then he saw the abandoned broom next to his notebook. And his stomach twisted.

“You’re— not a thief!” Technically, he could eat anyone he wanted, he wasn’t restricted to adventurers. He was still figuring out what kind of villain he wanted to be. Such self exploration would take time, time the person he ate didn’t have.

“I’m a witch!” He heard them squeak.

“A witch? Invading the lair of a wizard? Are you stupid!” He poked at them. They didn’t like that.

“Let me out!!”

So Yonah spat them up, sooner than he would have liked to, and leaned over them with a frown and glowing eyes.

The moment the witch hit the desk, the cat woke up and was between him and the witch as it hissed.

The witch was shaking and coughing, glancing at him with wide fearful eyes.

“If you’re a witch then what the fuck were you doing in my tower?” Yonah demanded.

The witch was still in shock but recovered enough to speak. “I’m… Myran! I wanted to introduce myself!”

“A likely story! Why would anyone want to introduce themselves to me?” Yonah wasn’t really in the mood for conversation, but figured he could use the practice at evil banter.

“You’re… new to the forest” they coughed.

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m your neighbor!” they said,

Yonah narrowed his eyes, “The forest is constantly moving, no such thing as neighbors.”

“I figured I’d try to be friendly!” they continued as if he hadn’t replied. “Everyone was talking about the new mage in the tower, but no one had any definitive stories.”

Another mistake. The giant snarled.

“You are a fool then! I don’t want any friends!” He hesitated briefly as he said it, not sure of the truth, but recovered fast. “But I don’t want you spreading rumors about my mercy either…” he picked them back up. Gripping them hard and getting their right arm between his teeth. He didn’t bite their arm off, but broke the skin with a fang and pinched their hand. They yelled.

“Stop! Stop! I won’t tell! I won’t tell!”

He dropped them and they sat, crying, holding their bleeding arm and hand which was turning a plum purple.

“Good,” he hissed steam in their face, scalding the skin red as his eyes glowed bright orange. “Now get the fuck out before I eat you for real!” He flicked the broom at them. “And if you ever show your face around here again, I will.”

Finally, they listened to him. They got onto the broom along with their cat and with a burst of magic kicked into the air and fled out the window. Yonah watched until they disappeared, then sat down. His hair hadn’t been smoking before but it was now. Additionally, his eyes still glowed.

His first visitor in months wasn't an adventurer and he’d eaten them without a second thought! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Maybe this was his destiny. For years he’d trained himself to be restrained. Keep his anger in check, Keep his half giant identity a secret and become a wizard. But that had all gone to shit when he’d been discovered not as just a half giant, but as a half fire witch. Chased out of the academy but captured by the authorities of Orr.

Forced to sign a contract with King Ben to become his new pet monster! So why not be a monster!?

But he still wanted friends… his friends from the academy weren’t allowed to visit him. His tower of magic and wonder was so empty. He put his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands.

~chink~ his elbow brushed against something.

He looked down and saw a broken clay pot, the soup spilling out and a seedling now helpless and exposed on the desk.

Quickly yonah dipped his fingers into a pouch at his side and licked it, saying a spell. With a puff of smoke he stood on his desk, a mere 8ft tall, and he knelt down.

With his more appropriately sized hands he gathered the soil and with a wave of his hand and another mutter the pieces of the pot shook and flew back into their original places. The pot was… functionally repaired. The proper repair spell required materials to fuse the pieces properly. So it wouldn’t hold water, but it could hold soil.

As he scooped it back in, a piece of paper fell from the loose soil. Curious he dug it back out of the pot and cleaned it off enough to read:

“Welcome to the Mystical Woodlands new neighbor! This seedling is from my own garden. A special cultivation of Frozen Thyme.”

The moment he read it he was instantly planning where this would go in his garden. But… this gift. Did he deserve it? He’d eaten the one who brought it. He chased them away!

He couldn’t accept this gift but he couldn’t just let the seedling wither and die. It didn’t deserve that. And thus, his brain rationalized a way for him to keep the gift. So now what?

Yonah’s brain was too full of rage to do any proper work, so he decided to take it out on the garden, which was still in a state of construction. He’d already torn up old dead pieces of the overgrown mess left behind by the predecessor. Now he was digging spots for flower beds and what would hopefully be an orchard. There was even a designated spot for herbs.

The reason this was slow going was he refused to use magic. For the most part. Thankfully, being giant made digging and construction easier. Now that he had the thyme, he prioritized the herb beds. It was with a sour pride that he completed one as the sun started to go down.

A large wooden box that curved in a lovely arc close to the tower. The wood was specially imported from his The Blue Sky Mountain Giants Tribe in the Implausible Mountains, the smell of it reminding him of home. The frozen thyme seedling was given enough space to grow. He even gave it some friends that he knew would be compatible.

With his mind a little more at ease, he managed to get himself to sleep.

And awoke the next morning with an ache in his heart and a new plan in his brain.

For the first time since he arrived in this prison of a forest, he ventured beyond the boundaries of his clearing. Yonah knew he was allowed, a certain distance from his tower, to walk the forest. It had just seemed pointless. Not wanting to draw too much attention, he wore his gardening outfit: a pink plaid button up and light blue overalls. He had a straw hat that he recently wove to be a wizard hat, as well as his wizard staff. He couldn’t really leave that behind.

The trees in the forest were shorter than back home, but still very large. Thankfully he didn't have to duck so much to avoid branches. In his mind was a list of ingredients he needed to find. Foraging in the forest might seem like a fruitless endeavor, but when you have the keen nose of a giant, tracking down wildberries was a simple feat.

What a bounty! A huge patch of bramble with perfectly ripe berries. He didn’t need a giant’s amount and they would just get squashed if he tried to pick them at his normal size so once again he shrank down. He retrieved a basket from his hat and started to pick berries.

About ten minutes in, the bush began to shift! A section opened up and out ran a gnome with a garden spade. It smacked into his hand mid berry pick.

“Stop! Thief!”

SMACK SMACK!

Yonah was so startled he backed away and returned to his normal size, the basket of berries spilling over.

The gnome yelped. “Giant!” They dropped the spade. “Don’t eat me! Take berries! Don’t eat me or family!”

There was something satisfying about the gnome’s fear and Yonah grinned, “While you would make for a nice little snack,” he said, “I’m not in the mood for gnome today.”

The gnome shook and took up the spade again, pointing it at him as if that would help. From inside the bushes, Yonah heard rustling, and smelled more gnomes. This must cover their burrow.

“Put that away, or I might change my mind!” Yonah growled, showing his fangs. The gnome complied, tossing it aside.

“But you are also in luck. I am not interested in being a berry thief. I have more honor than that. If you would permit me to buy some of your berries, at a discount for me not making a meal of you and your family, I will leave you in peace”

The gnome gulped and nodded, “Am… sure we can make a deal.”

“Pick up the ones I already picked, will you?” Yonah ordered.

The gnome scrambled. “You will need more?”

Yonah nodded. The gnome whistled. And a troupe of younger gnomes carefully came out of the bramble.

“Kind giant has offered to buy some berries. Exchange for not eating us!”

The kids looked nervous and their fear didn’t spark the same kind of joy as the adults. But Yonah had a reputation to build! And he had to admit, it was still a bit fun.

He watched as the gnomes gathered berries until the basket was full and the adult gnome put it down in front of where Yonah had sat down. He picked it up and took off his hat, dropping it in and noticed the gnome’s eyes get wide. Storage space items were not uncommon, but storage hats were tools of professional mages, not common folk.

“That all?” the gnome asked.

Yonah stroked his beard thoughtfully, “Yes. I think so.” He reached into this hat. While he didn’t have a lot of money, Ben had supplied him with funds should he need them, and he had distributed the rings between his various pocket spaces. He got out a large wooden dowel upon which hung many metal rings. Small ones and large ones. With a pair of tweezers, yonah removed a few silver rings and one gold ring and put them into his palm, placing it up in front of the gnome.

Who did not take it.

“Do not insult me by refusing my payment,” Yonah insisted but the gnome did not move.

“More than we charge normally… You wanted discount: berries, a silver a pound!”

Yonah blinked. He still wasn’t good with smallfolk money. When purchasing as a giant, you purchased such large amounts it always cost at least a gold.

“Oh? Er-” he didn’t want to actually exploit these gnomes. “I'm not taking it back! Take the money Or I’ll eat you!” his voice faltered and the gnomes looked a little confused, and a little more relaxed.

“Leave us alone then, yes?” The gnome reached out a hand. Yonah nodded. The gnome finally took the money, giving each of the kids a silver ring. Any fear the kids had was gone as soon as they studied their rings and looked at Yonah with excitement. It was hard not to let the warmth in his heart at their expressions show on his own face.

“Actually!” Yonah announced as the gnomes started to back away into their burrow.

The adult stopped and looked nervous again. Yonah huffed. “I’m not going to eat you, I never was. I just have a question.”

The gnome ushered the kids away, not trusting Yonah, before turning back to the giant. “And if don’t have a good answer, you won’t eat… right?”

With a sigh Yonah shook his head, “No. I won't.”

“Then ask.”

Yonah took a breath, “I am... looking to get some ingredients. I… lashed out at someone recently and I very much regret it, and want to make some amends. I have giant ones back home but… giant sized ingredients do not taste as strong as small ones. Do you know where, or who, I might be able to look for?”

The gnome smiles, “Yes! Mystical Market. Sell our berries there. Open today, also gnome holiday.” They gave Yonah the instructions on how to find the market.

“Thank you- er…” Yonah put a hand to his chest and bowed.

“Kalle” said Kalle.

“Yonah,” said Yonah. The gnome bowed as well, “Don’t be flaunting riches, mysterious half giant. Marketeers take advantage”

Riches!? He did not have endless funds. He would have to be more careful with his spending.

“I am also looking for… Er... Shit!” he exclaimed and was glad the kids were no longer outside, “I don't know their name. Dwarf witch.”

Kalle considered, “Know them. Likes almond cookies. Sorry. Market easier find than people. That all?”

From their tone of voice, Yonah knew the gnome desperately wanted to get back to their family. It was a holiday after all. Yonah stood up and nodded, leaving without subjecting them to any more conversation.

Almond cookies? That changed things. He had only made almond cookies once! He needed a little more help. However, he did not backtrack to the tower. He knew that if he went back, he would lose motivation. Locating the market was his current task.

Unfortunately, it took some luck. According to the gnome, it was a special place that one happened to come across, just by wanting to be there. The more familiar you were with it, the better chance there was of that happening. Yonah really really wanted to be there. So he gathered his will and set off in a random direction.

After an hour of walking yonah felt a weird tingle all over his arms and legs. Like his hair was standing on end and all pointing in the same direction. Had he entered some magical field? No matter, he was fairly immune to passive magic.

Then he took another step and a jolt of magic electricity surged through his body, causing him to freeze up. Before he could collapse, he felt as if a giant hook had caught around his middle. There was no physical hook, but it still yanked him back, pulling in through the forest.

Eventually it stopped and finally Yonah fell over, breathing shallowly as his heart raced. He rolled onto his back and stared up into the trees.

“What’s the big idea!?” Someone kicked him in the side and he sat up. “You’re blocking the way!”

An elf!

Yonah frowned. “You’re so bold for someone I could crush with a finger!” To tease the elf, he poked them in the chest.

“YEOWCH!”

For the second time that day, Yonah got bitten. This time, it was the elf who sank their fangs into his finger, letting go before Yonah pulled away.

“Don’t get sassy with me! Messing with smallfolk isn’t allowed in the market, you'll be banned!”

Yonah looked around “The market?”

He had assumed it was the Mystical Market because it was in the Mystical Woodlands. But now he realized that the name was rather accurate. An entire marketplace incorporated into the forest itself. Stalls and restaurants built into the trees, with carts parked in between. The trees here were also… there was no other word for it: majestic. Larger and older and, compared to the forest he had been exploring before, more deliberate spacing. He couldn’t even see all of it. The forest stretched on for a while, and thus was obscured by the very trees that made up the shops.

There were even buildings in the branches so that ogres, trolls, and giants did not have to bend down to make transactions. He even spotted a few trolls. Amazing! Trolls (and ogres) were much more likely than giants to eat smallfolk. Giants mostly threatened unless the person in question did something really, really stupid.

And yet, there was a troll, large with brown fur and green spots, purchasing a roll of fabric from the elevated section of a gnome shop.

“Yes you idiot, the market! And my cart won't fit through any other path! Move your giant ass or I’ll get the guard to move it for you!”

His elation at having found the market was in conflict with his pride that was being so insulted by this little creature.

“Apologize for biting me, and I’ll consider it!”

The elf looked indignant. “You threatened to squash me! MAGEN!!” they yelled.

Thunderous footsteps were heard and Yonah turned as a proper, full blooded giant, made her way through the shoppers, somehow avoiding stepping on anyone. She was maybe 17, but full grown and taller than Yonah by at least ten feet. Her skin was a light greyish pink and her eyes were a dark red. She wore a lovely headpiece of woven flowers and vines to look like hair, which full giants do not have.

She knelt “This man bothering you?”

The elf nodded. Yonah threw his hands up, “Hey! I don’t mean any trouble!”

“He threatened to squash me!”

The giant glared at Yonah, who glared back.

“How largefolk deal with smalls outside of the market is their own business,” she said. “But inside the market we do not even threaten to squash, or kick, or stomp, or eat!”

“I did not intend to and I did not know I was in the market! I have never been before!” Yonah stood up so that he was not at such an extreme height disadvantage. Magen was a rather short mountain giant, only 35ft tall.

She nodded, “I can believe that.” She stood up. “I would have remembered you for sure.” She sniffed and said in implausible Giant: “You are from the blue sky tribe?”

“Yes! I am.” he answered, also in Giant. “I just moved to the forest. I was looking for the market but… I must have… hit something magic. I sort of fell into here”.

The elf took the opportunity to weave their cart around the giants’ feet, disappearing into the market.

“Ah, the seller seems to no longer push this issue. My name is Magen.” she introduced, bowing.

“Yonah HaEsh,” Yonah answered in return.

“HaEsh! I know the name. Fire man who helped save the Implausible Mountains from the Society of Wizards!”

“That’s my dad,” Yonah said, a little embarrassed.

“Mom told me the story! How exciting!”

Yonah brushed himself off and glanced around, “So... What are the rules here, then?”

Magen shrugged, “Just don’t start fights, alright? All sales are final, so don't go making a fuss if you haggled wrong or think you got cheated unless you believe your items are defective. There are ways to deal with fraudulent goods, but we cannot risk collateral damage.”

“Does that happen often?” Yonah asked, “I only mean to buy food, I can tell if that’s fresh”

“Oh, you have a giant’s nose then. Good. It does not happen often. Makes my job easier. And I usually manage to break up confrontations before they get out of hand.”

Knowing he could likely sniff out the stalls he needed, Yonah asked if Magen could show him around and help him find all the items on his list. She happily agreed. He had to walk behind her as there wasn’t room for two giants to be side by side.

As she carefully led him, she took glances back and down Yonah who was getting a little nervous. It had been a while since he encountered other giants. He was watching his feet to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone, and he was stopping constantly to look into the shops and stalls and carts.

“What is it like, being half giant?” Magen asked, who somehow managed to walk without looking at her feet very often at all. Maybe Yonah was being too careful and people here knew to stay out of the way of largefolk's feet… Still, he didn't want to take chances.

“Er… I have hair, I guess?” he said.

“I was wondering if that was natural or a wig.” Magen brushed the vines spilling from her head.

“But mostly, things were just a bit inconveniently large for me. I still managed.” Then he countered. “What’s it like being a guard in the market?”

“The shopkeepers pool money to have me stand around, mostly. Smallfolk behave when an angry giant is within earshot.” She grinned with all her fangs.

“I thought you said giants couldnt mess with smallfolk here?” Yonah inquired.

“You can’t. It’s my job to interfere,” Magen retorted. “I haven't hurt anyone… badly. I’ve only worked here for a year. But I know everyone and everyone knows me!”

They stopped at a stand selling nuts and Yonah purchased the almonds he needed. The seller seemed a bit disappointed that he bought so few.

“Shopping for someone small?” Magen asked.

“Er- yeah.” Yonah said. They both had to back between trees to let a trio of trolls go by. One was only 10 feet tall and barely came up to Yonah’s waist, but another was nearly 20 feet! They carried baskets and bags on their furry backs, and even had some tied to their tusks!

Before they continued, two elves leapt from the tree nearby and onto Yonah’s shoulders! He was about to brush them off when Magen stopped him.

“Don’t! They are just hitching rides!” At that, he spotted more elves on her head. “You need honey, yes? I know the best shop!”

He followed Magen around the market, which was much larger than he had realized. The elves had no qualms about leaping on and off him and other largefolk shoppers and eventually he ignored them. Magen even helped him avoid making a bad deal for oat flour, saying she couldn’t believe the nerve of the shopkeeper trying to take advantage of a new resident.

Before Yonah left, he wanted to properly thank Magen. “If there is anything I can do to show thanks. Perhaps er-” he looked around.

“You know, the juice stand behind that tree has new flavors I’ve wanted to try. How about you buy me a drink? You should get one too. It’s very refreshing!”

“They make them giant sized?” Yonah asked.

“Oh, they are made by ogres!” Magen replied, rounding the indicated tree.

Ogres, kin of trolls and even more dangerous due to their magical powers. Typically smaller than trolls, but that was not the way to tell them apart.

An entire family of ogres were operating a massive open storefront. Jugs hung from branches or were strapped to the trunks of trees and fruit swung in baskets. Behind the counter was an elaborate prep station operated by two large ogres. Around the entire display were platforms sticking out from the nearby trees. Smallfolk sat on stools enjoying drinks and food at an elevation that made it easy to be served by the ogres. Magen walked up to the counter, which was not at an ideal height for her but was easily manageable. She spoke to an ogre with straw colored fur, blue spots, and large horns.

“Edna! I’d like two passion fruit smoothies please! One giant sized and one…” She glanced back at Yonah. “Full Troll sized!” She stepped aside and pointed at Yonah. “He’s paying”

Edna nodded and passed on the order.

Yonah stepped forward. Bowing “Yonah HaEsh”. She bowed back, “Edna Baneclaw. That will be a gold bracelet for the giant and half for the full troll”

Yonah’s heart nearly stopped. A gold bracelet and a half !? He looked at Magen who flashed her fangs mischievously then back at Enda.

Edna smiled as well. “We don’t have enlarged passion fruit, not in high demand by largefolk.”

With another glare at Magen, Yonah fished into his hat. He didn’t have gold bracelets but he had rings. 10 silver to a gold. Rings to Rings. Bracelets to Bracelets… 10 gold rings to a silver bracelet… 10 silver bracelets to a gold ring. That’s 100 gold rings to a gold bracelet (he had really overpaid the gnomes for the berries... A holiday gift he supposed), but this was not money to spend on frivolous fruit drinks!

Too late, however. The drinks were ready, and he carefully removed golden rings from silver bracelets. 50 gold rings and 10 silver bracelets exchanged for two smoothies. They came in wooden cups with bamboo straws.

This better be fucking worth it. Yonah took a sip.

His eyes widened as the cool icy tart concoction hit his taste buds and he took a long drink. Finally, he looked at Magen and then Edna. “This is incredible!” he exclaimed. Magen grinned and sipped hers as well. “Yeah. Too bad we’re the last two to have some for at least a month!”

“What do you mean?”

“That took all the passion fruit we had,” Edna informed. “Won't get more for a while”

“Worth it! Suck it smallfolk!” Magen teased the people on the platforms, a few looked a bit annoyed, but most didn't seem to care. She didn't seem to care either.

“Well it was nice meeting you, Yonah. I hope to see you again. Oh, and by the way, you can return your mug to the ogres for a silver bracelet, even if you take it home today!”

Yonah glanced at his drink. “Oh! Thanks for letting me know. But where are you going?”

Magen sipped at her smoothie loudly before answering. “This was my break, silly, I need to go back on proper duty now, and you have all your things.” Magen held out her free hand and Yonah shook it, bidding her goodbye. It was getting late in the day now and he wanted to get to work on the almond cookies.

Wait… which way was back to the tower? How could he be so stupid wandering off like this!? His mom taught him better than that. Forest ranger rule number 1: DON’T GET LOST. ...okay, so that wasn’t really a rule. It was supposed to imply that you paid attention to where you were going so you could get back. This was not so easy in the Mystic Woods.

The moment he had walked far enough away from the market, he turned forward and then back, and it was already gone. He had nowhere to go but forward.

It was to his great surprise that only a minute later, he exited the dense trees and found himself in the clearing. The tower was on the opposite side. While he was elated to have made it back safely before dark, there was a distinct absence of any gladness to be home. This was not his home, after all. It was his prison.

Yonah HaEsh climbed up the tower and back into his prison. He took off his hat and sat down at his desk in the workshop, staring into the reflection on the large, ornate mirror that rested upon it.

To do this right, he needed help. Professional help. So he activated his mirror. Or at least… tried. He stared at his own reflection, then spoke. “Mirror Mirror on the desk,” he faltered, “Could you please connect me to Shoshana at the academy?”

The mirror snorted. “You think politeness will work after all this time? I don’t make exceptions. This is why your friends think you’ve forgotten about them! Put in the effort! Ask me properly or don't at all.”

“They’ve called me!!” Yonah insisted, but the mirror said nothing in response. Just like he would do when he got calls from his friends. Yonah growled and snorted back at the mirror, fogging it up. “Mirror Mirror, oh magical vanity, I wish to call Shoshana, at the wizard academy”

There was a whistle from the mirror. “Now that’s how you do it!” it praised. The fog cleared and for a brief moment, he saw his own face again before the reflective surface turned grey. Another moment and the face of his friend Shoshana emerged.

“Yonah!!!” she exclaimed. “You called! I cannot believe it!”

Yonah’s face turned a bit red. “I’ve… been distracted.”

Shoshana waved her hand, stopping any further excuses. “You’ve been through so much! I was worried! Since we graduated, you haven't called at all!”

/I never called before either... / Yonah thought. /It was always you.../ When Grand Master Sean reinstated him as a wizardling student, his friends would call regularly to work on homework and their theses, as he wasn’t allowed to actually attend the school in person. And while he attended the graduation…

That wasn’t a happy memory at all and he didn’t want to think about how he sat behind all the students in the amphitheater in magic chains looking more like a beast one of the adventuring tract students had wrangled for their final than a student.

“I need a recipe!” he said.

Shoshana raised her brows “That’s it!? First call in over a month, and it’s to get a recipe! You don’t want to catch up at all?!” Yonah’s eyes flickered and Shoshana backed off. “Alright, I can see you’re not in the mood. But please, we’re all missing you so much. We’d assumed you embraced the evil hermit wizard life.”

“I… haven’t meant to. But it’s surprisingly easy,” he admitted, grinning awkwardly. “I’d rather not go full hermit, of course.”

“Well, then dont go a month without calling your friends!” Shoshana chided. “Or make some new friends! The forest is full of interesting people, right?”

Yonah looked away, but his eyes were probably glowing orange now.

“This… is for that.”

“Oh!” Shoshana exclaimed, “I should have figured! Of course, I will give you whatever recipe you’d like.”

Yonah got out his ingredients to show Shoshana and explained what he wanted to bake. She nodded and made some suggestions for ingredients and spices to really make these cookies great. He did not have all the supplies she suggested, which led to some back-and-forth as Shoshana pointed out some substitutions for what Yonah bought or already had in his tower.

“Got that all down?” she asked, as she watched Yonah scribble out the final lines to the recipe.

“Yes!” Yonah exhaled in relief. “Thank you so much, Shosh!”

“Next time, we will catch up properly, but I had fun designing this recipe!” Shoshana chirped. “What a challenge. I wish you had called first, before just buying random ingredients.”

“I was already in the forest, Shosh.”

“I know, I know.” Shoshana blew Yonah a kiss and the mirror flickered back to his reflection.

It was time to bake! Which he did after shrinking down.

By the time he was done baking his jam print almond cookies, it was past midnight. He needed sleep and didn't think finding the witch at night was a particularly wise idea, especially since he was getting tired. That meant he was extra likely to be grumpy and irritable. So he placed the cookies in a special cooling rack to keep them magically fresh, then went to bed.

It was right after breakfast that Yonah HaEsh left the tower and, for the second time, entered the forest.

Once again, he had no direction, not that one could in the Mystic Woods. It wasn't even possible to have a map unless it was incredibly magical. Still, he was determined and willing to wander the forest for days if he must! But he’d do so at his full size, which would allow him to cover more ground.

That’s… That’s a witch’s hut! He hoped it was the correct one. It was more of a mound than a hut, with one side covered in rocks and moss and the other a more sheer side with windows, plus a flatter side with a door.

As he approached, a garden came into view and he heard a yelp before watching a small figure dart into the hut and close the curtains. The door opened briefly and a hand hung a sign that read “NO SOLICITORS”

That was the evil giant! Why was he here!? Why did the forest let him find the hut!? Was he here to eat them?! To finish the job!? Could they take on a giant fire witch?! Myran was a damn skilled witch, and at least 15 years the giant’s senior by their estimate, but they were quaking in their boots.

A knock sounded at their door. It didn’t sound forceful enough to be a giant. Siv was in front of them, hissing at the door. Thinking it better to be safe, they peeked out the window, then ran to open the door. Just a crack.

Red faced and holding a basket was… the giant. Only he wasn’t giant. Not exactly. He now stood at about twice Myran’s height. A little less actually. Right. Wizard. Giant wizard.

“May I come in?”

“Depends… what’s in the basket?” They narrowed their eyes. “I don’t want any nasty surprises.”

The wizard’s face got redder as he removed the cover. They opened the door and stood aside. They took the basket with their right hand… Yonah hesitated. Their arm had a massive scar from shoulder to elbow, but the hand was unbroken. The Dwarf noticed and gave him a hard look as he crouched low to get through the dwarf sized door, Siv still hissing at him in warning.

Myran put the basket on the kitchen table and motioned to the couch. “Please, sit.” Yonah did. The couch was small for him but it took his weight. “I’m going to be honest.” Myran leaned against the kitchen table and crossed their arms. “This is quite the unexpected visit.”

“Oh?” Yonah said. Of course, it made sense. He chased them out. Why would he then try to find them again?

“You bit me!” Myran reminded him harshly. “You broke my hand, and you said if you saw me again, you would eat me. Again. And kill me.”

/Ohhhh/

Yonah’s breath caught before managing to say. “I did… didn’t I?” He looked down at his feet.

Myran. sighed. “Yep. Though eating me at your current size would be an impressive feat. So... What the fuck are you doing here? Besides bringing me cookies to fatten me up.”

“I’m not-!” He looked back up to defend himself and saw their cheeky grin. “I didn’t come here to eat you…” They raised an eyebrow in sarcastic disbelief. “I want to apologize. For what I said… What I did. After I ate you. I was so angry. I still am, though mostly at myself. I shouldn't have hurt you. It wasn’t right.” He was almost crying. Dammit, he’d gone nearly a month without crying!

“And for eating me?”

“Huh?” Yonah was thoroughly confused.

“You’re sorry for what happened after you ate me, but what about eating me?”

Yonah bit his lip, “I’m… I’m not sorry about that.”

The witch raised both eyebrows now, genuinely curious as to the workings of this monster’s thoughts.

“I’m supposed to eat people! Especially those who enter my tower unannounced. It’s part of my job! And… And I like it!” He startled himself with that statement. He liked his job? He didn’t even want this job!! He was forcefully employed by the King under threat of death! Being evil had never been his plan and he didn’t want that. Did he?

The witch didn’t look completely satisfied with this answer. But they didn’t get to inquire further as Yonah’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Er- your hand…”

Myran smiled “It was rather mangled by your jaws yesterday. Luckily, I am a very good healer, and well-known in this forest. If you had killed me, you would have had a lot of angry forest residents after your head.” Myran began preparing a pot of tea as Yonah Processed that statement. “You’re a lucky giant aren’t you?”

“What?” Yonah voiced. “For not killing you and putting a target on my back?”

“Yes, exactly. And that was curious. It is rare that evil giants are merciful.”

Yonah looked away, “I’ve only been evil for a few months. I… you’re the third person I’ve eaten at all. And I dont… I haven’t yet… killed anyone.”

That surprised Myran. “I guess I do not know the frequency that giants normally encounter adventurers… but what I meant was you’re lucky that you even get to eat people. Most giants like the taste of smallfolk but they don't actually eat them. It’s rather rare.”

“You said it yourself. Evil Giants eat people,” Yonah pointed out. “Which I am one. I guess it’s… nice that I get to eat folks. But it comes with a cost… It’s only a matter of time before slayers come after me.”

“Most evil giants kill their victims, right?” Myran asked.

Yonah shrugged “I met another one once. Said it depended on his mood.”

“Fascinating… though if you keep up your more merciful streak, perhaps you are less likely to attract slayers?”

“Perhaps…” Yonah had not considered that. He just felt he wasn’t ready to kill anyone yet, but maybe there were other perks than just a clear conscience in continuing to let his snacks go.

“Cracked some sort of code then?” Myran inquired. “Getting to eat people without attracting too much attention? Not that this would stop all slayers,” they added. “I expect you would kill a slayer?”

Yonah nodded, sniffed, and wiped his nose. In that case… Guess he was lucky. Indeed, he’d gotten to taste plenty of smallfolk. Plenty of giants did. It was unique that he’d had his human dad while growing up. But all of the smallfolk in the village knew that when giants kissed their hands, the giants were getting little tastes. Sometimes giants would lick a friend playfully or freak someone out. He’d had a few elvish and human friends growing up, and they sometimes let him and the other giant kids lick them during games of Jacks and Giants. And his academy friends were quite amused by his affections. He very much missed them. It had not taken long for him to get used to living amongst human friends, not just because he got to taste them. And so quickly, that was taken away from him. Friends…

As tears welled in his eyes he couldn’t look at Myran any longer. He closed his eyes and turned his face away. Should he keep talking? Shit, how much of that had he said out loud!? The words continued to come out regardless.

“I know I said I didn’t want any friends. But I do! I need them. And I know I can’t be your friend. You came to me and I fucked it up. But I beseech you to not tell everyone else in the forest to avoid me. I already went to the mystical market and-“

“You… how did you find out that I liked almonds!”

Yonah looked up. They weren’t looking at him but reaching into the basket for another cookie. They munched on it thoughtfully, not a crumb falling into their beard. The tea was ready and Myran poured it with magic, leaving their hands free to hold more cookies. They walked over to Yonah, the tea cups floating with. He took the larger one out of mid air. It was very hot! And he drank. It was… It tasted like tea he’d had at home. His village had alway gotten various teas from the dwarves. New tears came to his eyes.

“You alright?” Myran asked, offering a handkerchief. “You’re a very emotional evil giant.”

Yonah took it and dried his eyes. “The tea is… really good.” That wasn’t the real reason but right now he couldn’t process all of his emotions.

“It’s my grandma’s blend,” Myran said. “I’ve tried to replicate it using my garden, but you just can’t replicate those tunnel grown fungi.”

They dipped one of the cookies into the tea. From their expression, it wasn’t really a mistake but likely didn’t improve the experience. Still they munched thoughtfully.

“I’ll be your friend.”

Yonah’s jaw nearly hit the floor and he almost dropped his tea. It was a few seconds before he managed to pick his jaw back up. Were they serious? They walked over to him, placing their much smaller hand over one of his. Then they smiled most disarmingly.

“Just don’t eat me again.”

Yonah smiled.

“I think I can manage that”

[FIN]

——

(You can imagine that Yonah got to hug Myran before he left, probably a little too tight but dwarves are tough!)

THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED MY STORY!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

big thanks to my amazing editors @j0hnnymouse and @vixen525

#safe vore #soft vore #gt vore #g/t vore #extreme cuddling #nonfatal vore

101 notes · View notes

whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

Text

Gilded Cage - Part 7

I can only describe this as tooth-rotting fluff. Our whumpee deserves it!

Thank you so much to everyone for going through this story with me. I’ve had so much fun.

@worstcasescenariolullaby

CW//Hospital setting, medical talk, talk of broken bones, talk of surgery, altered states of mind, mentions of death, mentions of building collapses, conspiracy

“Are you sure about this?” Sidekick’s face twisted in a mask of concern.

“I’m sure.” Villain nodded.

“The Heroes...”

“The city won’t let this happen again. Come visit me in hospital sometime, okay? I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The felt piece on the bottom of the chess pawn had long since worn away, leaving a dull screeching noise in its wake as Villain moved the piece forward on the board. In expectation, they raised their head to their opponent, before gazing back down at the board. Examining the playing field. Furrowing their brows.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Their opponent, Old Friend, spoke, their tongue filled with equal parts laughter and playful teasing. “And... there goes your rook.”

“What!” Villain’s gaze darted about the board, before grumbling and removing their fallen piece, adding it to a quickly growing pile. “You’re cheating.”

“How does one cheat at chess?”

“By being better than me. There, okay, there goes your pawn.”

“And there goes your knight.”

“Asshole. Come on, you have to have a secret. You gotta tell me.”

Old Friend smiled.

“You’re so intent on taking my pieces that you don’t worry about your own. Also, I was in the chess club back in school, so...”

“Nerd.” Villain stuck out their tongue.

“Alright, candle boy.”

“Hey! I told you-”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just really funny.”

“I could disintegrate a candle-”

“I know, I know. It’s your move, dude.”

“Fine. Is turning the board to ash a valid chess move?”

“There’s enough fire damage on the pieces as it is. Candle boy.”

“At least come up with something better than that. Like... Like blowtorch. That sounds cool.”

“Blowtorch? What are you, like, seven?”

“Eh, there’s worse villain names out there.”

“You don’t have one yet, do you?”

“Nah. I’m not that breed of cocky. They just call me the arsonist, I think.”

“That’s pretty underwhelming.”

“Meh.”

Again, Villain studied the board a moment. They sent a rook forwards, knocking over a knight on the other side.

“Your move.”

Old Friend nodded, and, for a few moments, they sat like that. Accompanied by nothing but the sounds of the city and the scraping of pieces on the board.

“Did Violet ever have a name?”

It took Villain a few moments to register the question. They moved a piece before looking up.

“What, like a villain name?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so. You could ask her.”

“Aw, man, you haven’t heard?”

Villain frowned, lips pursing together to form a thin line.

“She’s gone?”

“Bridge collapse. I was always warning her, taking roots out of the ground like that is gonna make something fall eventually. Just so happened to be right on top of her. It’s a shame, really. Gonna have to find somewhere else to get our lettuce, now.”

“Not funny.”

“I know. And... check.”

“What?”

“Checkmate.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

Villain shoved the board away from themself, sitting back and stretching their arms above their head. Old Friend swiped the remaining pieces from the board, beginning to once again set the stage for their next game.

“This time, think about the risk you might be putting your pieces in. It’s not worth it, losing a knight to take out a pawn, y’know?”

“I guess.”

“What’s got you acting so sad all of a sudden?” Old Friend looked up. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m gonna get a candle.”

“Okay. You good?”

“I just... I just need a candle.”

Villain stood, stiff legs aching with pins and needles as they moved across the small, damp-walled apartment. The kitchen, or what was little more than a countertop with a fridge and microwave, was barren, snack bowls long since left with nothing but crumbs.

They drew open the door of one of the wall-mounted cabinets, unveiling a series of shelves, stacked with white pillars of wax. Most lumpy and misshapen, the rest bent and folded in on themselves. Villain selected one, moving back to where Old Friend had just finished resetting the board. They sat in their spot, a place already well worn into the carpet.

“Do you want to play again?” Old Friend’s voice had grown quiet, concerned.

“Yeah... Just give me a second.”

“Need to let it out?”

“Yeah.”

The firebrand gripped the white-waxed candle in one hand, then the other. Feeling the film transfer from palm to palm. The flame in their stomach answered the call without hesitance. They had already felt the heat, struggling to escape into their veins.

It was slow, at first. The wax did not melt, simply molding itself, bulging and shifting as to allow Villain’s fingers to make their mark. Their eyes fixed upon the process: The control of it. The way in which the wax moved only on their call.

It helped them breathe.

“Violet...” They began, frowning again. “That’s the second bridge accident this year.”

“There’s a lot of bridges, to be fair.”

“But not a lot of collapses.”

“What are you saying?”

“It seems so much like a coincidence, but... How many have we lost, this year?”

“Violet and Argyle, uh, Aaron I think. Dana and Evelyn and-”

“And what month is it?”

“April?”

“Exactly.”

“I mean, we lose a lot, but...”

“And they’re always accidents. Car crashes. Building fires. Drownings. But they’re not accidents.”

The wax yielded with more readiness. A few droplets fell, deftly caught by Villain’s other hand.

“What do you mean, they’re not accidents? I don’t think people drown on purpose.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s not what I mean. If they were actually accidents, you would think they’d happen at random times. But-”

“It’s always when the Heroes are around. Always during battle.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t think the Heroes are doing it on purpose, though. I mean, they wouldn’t just blow up a bridge to kill one villain. The battles just get too intense, I think. I mean, how many times have you almost died in battle?”

“A lot.”

“Same here. That’s all.”

“No. No.” Villain shook their head. “I’ve almost died many times. But I haven’t died. Because I’m not stupid. And the others weren’t, either.”

“I don’t think the Heroes are killing people, Villain.”

“Then what else are they doing?”

“I don’t know, protecting the city? Whatever nonsense they say.”

“Protecting the city from us. Supposedly. But it seems like they’re a hell of a lot more focused on these big battles.”

“That’s kind of our fault, to be fair.”

“Is it? Most of our didn’t choose this life.”

“We’re still doing, I mean, crimes. Like, we’re definitely criminals.”

“Then they should be taking us to prison.”

“Isn’t that what they do?”

“When is the last time you heard of anyone going to prison?”

“I mean, uh... What about Jared?”

“You mean the one they got in a van that then mysteriously exploded?”

“Oh. Right. What about, uh, didn’t they get Kara?”

“Yeah. And then pronounced her dead at the hospital.”

“Okay. Maybe... maybe you have a point.”

Between Villain’s fingers, a single droplet of candle wax fell.

“Yeah.”

Old Friend sighed.

“Do you want to play again?”

“Mhm.”

Villain drew the heat from their palms, allowing the remnants of the candle to solidify in their hands. They placed it down, then, though droplets of white still stuck to their fingers.

“I think...” Old Friend looked down at the board, considering their first move. “I think if the Heroes ever capture you, you’ll find they’re a lot kinder than you expect.”

Villain snorted in laughter.

“If the Heroes ever capture me, there will nothing left of my body to find.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“It’s a miracle.”

“It is. The damage they sustained... I can hardly believe that there’s enough blood left in them to keep them alive.”

“Hardly any blood. Hardly any body, either.”

“Yeah.”

“A real miracle. The guys down in Radiology, they thought we got the scans mixed up. They confused them for those of the guy in the other room. The motorcycle crash one.”

“That makes sense. To think that a human did this...”

“Not a normal human. A lot stronger than a normal human.”

“But with the same morals as a normal human.”

“You’d hope so.”

“Oh. Crap, looks like they’re waking up. Let’s give a bit more propofol... They need their rest.”

Villain’s closed eyes twitched, as though dreaming. At least, they did not think they were dreaming. It was hard to say, these days...

Had it been days? Or just a couple of hours? They tried to think, to remember, but the will to do so was deeply buried under blankets and bitter-tasting medicines. They longed to sit up, to move, to open their eyes, but those thoughts came from such a small part of their mind. The rest of them was so tired...

The numbness, now, was softer. Warmer. It was not a force of overwhelming heat, laughing at them and telling them to forget their pain, to keep moving. Instead, this time, the numbness was simply warm. Pleasantly so. Urging them to rest, to sleep, to ignore the taste of iron on their tongue that refused to go away.

Sleeping and wakefulness, to them, felt to be a sliding scale. They spent much time at the former end, in blissful unconsciousness, but had yet to find themself at the latter. They struggled for it, struggled to get close, but their anxious murmurs and twitching were always responded to with soft words and hands and more warmth in their veins.

Vilain was floating for a moment. Again, the hundredth time, they struggled to part their lips, but only managed to exert effort to no end.

“Their leg... I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Are you sure they’re strong enough for this?”

“Yeah. We can’t wait any longer. The bone will heal wrong if we wait any longer.”

“Okay.”

The numbness was stronger, that time.

“Villain? Villain?”

Their eyelids twitched, again.

“They said you’d opened your eyes, earlier...”

There was more softness, in that tone. Not the pitying notes of a doctor or nerve-wracked surgeon, but the warm coaxing of a friend.

The hand on their wrist was cold.

Their fingers twitched, then their lips. They tried to utter out a syllable, but only managed a shaky breath.

“Yeah, that’s it. Thank you. Do you remember me?”

Did they? They weren’t sure what they remembered, anymore. They remembered being here. They remembered the blankets and the half-hearted attempts by the nurses to coax them into swallowing a spoonful of jello.

“It’s Doctor. Do you remember me? Do you remember Doctor?”

“Doctor?”

The word came out more like a croak. Their eyes twitched with more furor this time, until, at long last, the world flooded into sterile existence around them. They got distracted, a moment, by the pattern of white tiles above.

“There you go!” There was genuine pride in that voice. “I knew you could do it.”

“Mmm.”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” That cold hand moved from their wrist to their hand. Trying to hold it, to embrace their fingers. But Villain did not have the strength for such a thing. “I’m so sorry, Villain. I’m so sorry.”

“F- for what?”“

“I- I almost killed you! Had you stayed under my care... I’m sorry.”

Villain blinked a moment, trying to think.

“You...” Their throat felt so terribly raw. “You were right.”

“It wasn’t right to let Hero try to kill you.”

“No... Not that. You said, uh, about warmth. ‘Bout heat.”

There was a smile. Villain did not have to see it to know that it was there.

“You understood?”

“Yes. On th’stage.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did good.”

“I get it, now. I think... Heat can, uh, it can destroy buildings.” Their words were awfully drawn out, hard to understand through their lengthy slurring. “But it can also... bake cookies.”

Doctor laughed, at that.

“You’re right. You’re right.”

Villain’s fingers finally agreed to move, wrapping around Doctor’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Villain.” Another sigh. This one, warm. “Have you heard, what they’re saying about you? You lost so much blood. And your organs were all over the place. It’s a miracle that you survived.”

The grasp on Villain’s hand tightened.

“They said you only lived because you wanted to. Because you really, really wanted to survive. Is that right?”

“I... I think it is. Yeah.”

“Yeah. I’ll be back, okay? Get some rest.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was three weeks after, that they were allowed to have any more visitors. Three weeks of medicines and surgeries and treatments and x-rays. It all blurred in their mind, until the calendar held as little meaning to them as the results of their blood tests.

They weren’t healed. Certainly not. But wakefulness no longer felt like such a monumental effort.

The jello tasted like nothing as they placed it upon their tongue. Nothing but sugar and sweetener, desperately trying to mask the tastelessness of gelatin. By the time the door opened, which it did with such a force that Villain wondered if it had been struck with a battering ram, they were almost done with the cup of overly-sweet dessert.

They jumped, nearly dropping their plastic spoon as their gaze snapped upwards. For a split second, the figure in the doorway made their limbs begin to shake, a familiar pressure reviving on their neck. But, it only lasted a second.

Sidekick looked different. Their stature was the same, certainly, as well-muscled as ever, but it was no longer draped in any sort of uniform. Instead, a grey sweatshirt struggled to contain their form, marked with the logo of some sports team or another.

Villain took another bite of jello.

“Good news.” Sidekick’s smile had the same media allure that Hero once showed the cameras, sending a shiver down Villain’s spine. They strode nearer, confident steps striking the tile floor. Compared to them, Villain felt terribly small. “Come on, don’t you want to hear it?”

Another bite and the cup was empty. They placed it down on the small table next to their bed.

“Um... Yeah. Okay.” They could not muster up nearly enough energy to match that of their visitor.

“Okay, so, J- sorry, uh, you-know-who, they found the video. The real one. Without all the edits.”

“That’s... good.”

“Mhm. We have news stations willing to broadcast it, too. Put some doubt on the story, right?”

“Right.”

“You... Don’t seem as excited as I remember you being.”

“Sorry.” Villain’s gaze cast downwards. “I’m still just a little tired, and all.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. You got hurt pretty bad. Do you have any idea when you might be out of here?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll try to ask a nurse or something. When you’re strong enough, though, we’ve got this whole plan. You’re gonna be, like, our emissary. Between us and the villains, yeah?”

“Uh... why?”

“Well, I mean, the Heroes only really exist to stop you and the other villains. If we can just... convince them to stop doing villain stuff, then the public will start the see that the Heroes are, y’know, not all their cracked up to be.”

Villain struggled to suppress a smile. They couldn’t imagine trying to ask some of their former cohorts to all of a sudden go on the straight and narrow.

Still, even beneath the blankets and the medicine, they felt the smallest scrap of warmth return. A tiny ember, floating in their stomach.

The opportunity to turn their pain into something other than nightmares and tears in the hospital bed’s pillow.

“When I’m out of here... well, we’ll have to see, I guess.”

“That’s all we can really hope for. Now, uh, I kind of have to go. They’re about to notice I broke a window.”

“You w-”

“Sorry! Gotta go!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was the smell that made Villain recognize their second visitor, more than their appearance.

They looked different. Quite different. Taller, slightly, with tight cords of muscle now curling about their neck. Nothing like the tiny twig they’d once known.

It looked like they’d finally hit their growth spurt, after all. A decade late.

The scent that they carried with them was one of freshly cut wood, the rural stench of sawdust, accompanied by the damp musk of a home long forgotten.

“Holy shit, candle boy.”

Four words. Four stupid words, uttered the moment Old Friend walked through the door.

Villain burst out laughing.

Not laughter of sorrow, or of venom. True laughter. The warmth that filled their chest this time had nothing to do with flame.

“So, am I allowed to hug you, or...”

“There’s no doctors here to tell us not to.”

“Good point.”

The warmth in Villain’s chest only increased with Old Friend’s embrace. Their friend buried their head in their shoulder. The tears wet quickly through Villain’s hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I should have-”

“It’s in the past, now. I’m just so glad you’re alive.”

“Just to be clear... you’re not a good guy?”

“I don’t know what I am. But I’m still your friend.”

“That’s all I care about.”

The embrace broke off after over a minute, though it was still far too soon.

“We have an apartment. Me and Aggie and some others.” Old Friend stepped back. “We have a room all set up. Even found some of your old stuff. I know it’s gonna be a while, but... you’ve always got somewhere to go, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The End

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I can’t thank you guys enough for reading through this story and experiencing it with me. This is the end of this story, but I hope to make another one soon!

There is no next part, so there are no story paths to choose from for next time. But, I still have options to pick from. I want to hear what you think Villain’s choice will be!

A) Be a hero. Go with Sidekick, and liberate the city

B) Be a friend. Return to Old Friend. Make life good again.

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #villain whumpee #hero villain whump #gilded cage #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump

71 notes · View notes