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evansbby · 11 months

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𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bestfriend!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: HEAVY SOMNO, dark!Ari, smutt, daddy!kink, non-con, 18+ only, minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your best friend, Ari, wants to fuck you. And he doesn’t care if you’re awake or asleep...

𝐀/𝐍: SUPER DARK. Please, if you don’t like, don’t read! The whole thing is basically somno, and this is a dark fic! Please beware of that. Apart from that, enjoy! Also, this is completely unedited lol please be kind.

“Ow! Ari! I told you; my boyfriend won’t like it if you do that!”

“What? This?”

Ari plants his lips against the nape of your bare neck, giving the sensitive skin a hearty suck. His fingers dance down your body, digging into your ribs and making you giggle and squirm on top of him.

“Stop! It hurts!”

“Oh yeah? Why are you laughing, then?” He tickles you harder, holding you tightly in his arms lest you try to escape. You’re too busy laughing your head off to notice his lips press against your skin once more, his tongue lathering at the hickey he’s just given you. And then he sucks again, so hard that your laughter is cut short and you gasp, feeling like your sensitive skin is going to break as he continues to suction it.

“Nooo, Ari, please! Steve won’t like that! He’ll get the wrong idea!”

Ari draws back and smirks, “Please. We’ve been best friends longer than you’ve been going out with Steve. And best friends are allowed to cuddle every now and then, I’m sure your tool of a boyfriend will understand that.”

“Hey! Don’t call him a tool!” You smack Ari on the chest but all he does is grab both your wrists with one hand, his other one snaking down to tickle you some more. You scream and laugh, trying to break free but he’s way too strong as he pins you down on the sofa, climbing on top of you and continuing to attack your ribs with his fingers.

Ari had been your best friend for years – ever since high school, to be exact. He was big and protective and strong and confident, making you feel safe whenever you were around him. He was also goofy and fun and kind, but he usually reserved those personality traits for when the two of you were alone. Everyone else knew him as Ari Levinson, the football star with huge prospects – the NFL’s newest recruit, in fact – and a man with a dangerous streak in him.

But you knew him as just Ari, the boy you’d grown up with. The one who you’d watched funny movies with till the two of you peed your pants laughing, the one who’d always helped you study for all your tests. The one who you’d shared so many of your firsts with. Your first time on a plane had been with Ari when the two of you had jetted off to Bali (a graduation present from his parents). Your first-time smoking weed had also been with Ari (he’d laughed and assured you that the police were not going to lock you up for smoking a joint).

Even your first kiss had been with Ari. (“Don’t worry, I’m just going to show you how to do it.” Ari had assured you, “No strings attached, baby. I don’t wanna jeopardise our friendship, it’s the most important thing in the world to me.”) And show you he had, and you still remember his soft lips on yours, like a warm pillow working against your mouth. His breathless whispers against you, coaxing you to use your tongue, and his big hands holding you close to him, almost like he never wanted to let you go.

You’d kissed many guys since then, but Ari didn’t know about all of them. He seemed to grow upset and irritated any time you mentioned going on a date with anyone, let alone kissing and making out and all that other stuff. All of which you’d done with Steve, your current boyfriend. In fact, Steve had taken your virginity this past summer – but Ari didn’t have to know that. It had taken him weeks to accept that Steve was your boyfriend, you knew it would take him another year to process that you’d given your virginity to Steve too.

But Ari was just protective, you always reasoned to yourself. And there was nothing wrong with that. In fact, you liked how secure he made you feel and how he was always there for you. How he always dropped everything for you, even with the bazillions of girls who were after him. (Ari, with his rugged good looks, was always popular with the ladies. But being an NFL star boosted his popularity even more – he had supermodels regularly going in and out of his house. You could confirm, you’d run into one or two a few times).

“Hello? You still there?” Ari bounces you in his lap to get your attention. “It’s no fun torturing you when you don’t give me a reaction.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He nudges your nose with his and shoots you his winning smile, the one that makes his blue eyes sparkle. “I’m the one who does the thinking, remember? You just look pretty.”

You blink, “Steve says he likes it when I space out. He wants me to write all my thoughts down so he can turn them into poetry.”

Ari rolls his eyes, “He sounds like a douche.”

You smack his hard chest once more. “He’s not. If you just agreed to meet him once, you’d like him just as much as I do.”

“I doubt it.”

You bat his chest again.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’d like him! Now can we stop talking about Steve when it’s you and me time?” Ari huffs, giving you a squeeze. “I finally got you all to myself for the weekend and all you want to do is talk about Steve.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, Ari. What do you want to do?”

The two of you end up putting on a movie and cuddling on the couch. It’s raining cats and dogs outside, but the steady pitter-patter of the water droplets against the window creates an oddly calming atmosphere. Inside, you feel toasty warm in Ari’s embrace, the big brunette holding you tightly against his chest as he spoons you and all you can hear is the movie mixed in with the crackling of the fireplace and your best friend’s steady breathing against your neck.

“I always get sleepy when we cuddle.” You yawn, giggling when his lips find your neck again. Cuddling with Ari was always fun – the two of you had been doing it for years. Ari had told you that all best friends cuddle like this, where the two of you are so close that you can feel every part of him. Even his hard crotch as it nestles against your ass, and every few seconds he shuffles or grabs your hips and moves you up and down. But he probably doesn’t realise what he’s doing, or that you can feel him getting… excited. He probably doesn’t mean to get excited anyways.

You sometimes get excited while cuddling with Ari too. Excited down there. But you’re too shy and embarrassed to ever tell him. You’re meant to just be best friends with him, for Godsakes! Nothing more!

“Ari?”

“Mm, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your neck, where his tongue is currently licking over a spot that he’s been sucking for a while now.

“I know you said that all best friends give each other hickeys while cuddling, but I don’t think Steve would like it if he saw these.”

Ari groans, not letting up at all as he continues to suck at the one spot on your neck. In fact, you feel his teeth graze against your sensitive skin and you gasp when he bites down. Not too hard, but enough to make the mark even more prominent. God, you’d need a lot of makeup to cover that up – you knew without even looking at it.

“There you go again, talking about Steve when it’s meant to be us time. Now shh, I’m trying to relax and watch the movie. You should try and do the same.”

You do try, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you watch the movie play out on the television. The pitter-patter of the rain outside makes you feel even sleepier, so much so that you barely even register it when you feel Ari’s hands slip under your tank top. He did that sometimes, claiming that his hands got cold very easily and he needed the warmth of your bare skin to heat them back up – which was totally understandable. His palms always felt warm against you, however, but you knew that Ari knew best.

“Is this the new bra I got you?”

You yelp when you feel his hands cup your breasts over the material of your bra, giving them a few squeezes that have you involuntarily pressing your thighs together.

“Ari!”

His hands don’t move, instead he squeezes your breasts harder, and your face grows hot as your nipples stiffen, poking through the lace material and straight against his palm.

“Well? Is it?”

“Yes, it is.” You answer, stifling a yawn and deciding you’re too tired to fight him off you. He was just feeling extra touchy – he as like that sometimes. It was purely platonic and didn’t mean a thing. And it’s not like he was feeling you up, he was probably just trying to detect the material of the bra. It was one of the few (about twelve) lingerie sets from Victoria’s Secret that Ari had had delivered to your apartment a few days ago. He was always surprising you with gifts, it was actually very sweet of him.

“Good. I like it when you wear things I bought for you.”

“Mmhmm.” You’re feeling drowsier and drowsier, and it’s so comfy being in Ari’s strong arms as they hold you in place against his chest. Cuddling with Ari really was the best, and it just made you so sleepy…

“Go to sleep, baby.” Ari croons in your ear, giving you another tight squeeze. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Ari watches you drift off in his arms, his boner unbearably hard as he digs it into your ass. Fuck, you had the world’s cutest little bubble butt, and the way it was currently nestled against his dick was making him so fucking horny, it was unreal.

In fact, he was so riled up that everything you did tonight was making him horny. From the way you pranced around your apartment in those tight grey legging that made your ass pop, bending down to pick up God knows what and giving him an eyeful of your backside, making his palms itch to give it a slap or two. He’d gotten away with it in the past, various times while the two of you play-wrestled. And he’d just blame it on the innocent “rough-housing” as he’d smack your ass quickly in succession, loving how you’d squeal and dig your face into his chest in embarrassment. (Or pleasure, because Ari knew you secretly liked it).

And now here you were, cute little you practically unconscious in his arms. Wearing the pretty pink lace bra that he’d bought for you and cuddling up close to his chest. Unknowingly, you rub your butt against his crotch, making him groan in frustration. Goddamit, did you have to be so fucking hot? In your sexy leggings and your tight tank top that just about left nothing to the imagination. Not to mention how cute and innocent you were, and so much smaller than him, so much weaker than him…

“Fuck, baby, you’d run for the hills if you knew the thoughts I was thinking.” Ari tells you, giving your breasts another squeeze.

“What?” You mumble, but it seems like you’re halfway in dreamland. Which is exactly what Ari wants, because fuck it. He’s done waiting around for you, picturing you when he jacks off. He’s been doing that for years now, because he cums the hardest when he pictures you. All sweet and innocent, getting fucked by him in various positions. Crying because his cock is so big as it violates you, tears you open and claims you as he fucks you deep and hard, till you can feel him up in your womb. Till you’re screaming his name, telling him that he’s your daddy, telling him you’ll do anything for him.

Ari still remembers the first time you’d made him cum. You hadn’t been aware of it, but the way you’d bounced up and down on his lap, excited about some silly thing or the other, he couldn’t really remember. But what he does remember is busting a nut hard, your breasts pushed up prettily against his chest and your butt rubbing against his boner, practically milking his cock as he came in his pants. He’d had a taste of heaven that night, and that was years ago. He’d been sneaking more tastes ever since.

“But never the real thing,” Ari sighs to himself, his thumbs hooking under the waistband of your leggings. “I still haven’t been inside that tight snatch of yours, sweetheart. Isn’t that sad?”

You mumble something incoherent, clearly still half asleep. And Ari’s too horny to care, trying his luck by snapping the waistband of your leggings against your skin, licking his lips when you don’t stir.

“No panties, huh?” He teases you, slipping a hand down your leggings to cup your butt cheek and give it a hefty squeeze. “It’s like you’re begging me to fuck you, sweetheart. I wonder what Steve would think?”

God, Ari hates Steve. Hates him with a blind fury. He hates that the idiot blonde has weaselled his way into your life. Ari turned his back for one second (he was in the NFL, so football took up 90% of his time) and Steve just scooped you up before Ari could talk you out of it. He’s never officially met Steve, but he’s seen him. Seen him holding hands with you. Kissing you. Taking you out on dates. And Ari hates him for it.

Most of all, Ari hates that you let Steve fuck you.

“Oh, you think I don’t know that you’ve been a naughty girl?” Ari coos, chucking your chin and smirking when you pout in your sleep. He strokes your face with one hand, the other one still firmly cupping your bare ass from under your leggings. “My little baby girl, giving herself to another man. Let me tell you, baby, I was furious when I found out. I almost went over to Steve’s apartment and killed him with my bare hands.”

“But you’d hate me if I did that.” Ari sighs, pinching your cheek lightly. He licks his lips, lifting your tank top up till it rests above your chest, before pushing the cups of your bra down to your ribs. Your breasts spill out attractively, and Ari feels a thrill go straight down to his crotch. “I should’ve been the only one who ever got to see you naked. I mean, remember all those showers we took together?”

Ari had persuaded you on multiple occasions to shower with him in order to conserve water. Oh yes, he’d managed to convince you that he was all about saving the environment, and water conservation was number one on his list. And you hadn’t seemed to mind, giggling and washing his hair for him, not noticing how his eyes remained glued to your hot, soapy body, how his fingers itched to grab your hips, bend you over and fuck the living daylights out of you…

“But you just had to let Steve fuck you, didn’t you? Before I even got the chance.” He can’t help but dip his head down, latching his mouth on your bare nipple. God, he’d touched and fondled you over the years, but nothing like this. He tries to keep his excitement at bay but he can’t help but suckle the stiff peak of your nipple, growing hornier than ever as he keeps from suctioning your whole breast into his mouth, his one hand fondling your body while the other slips down to undo his fly and take his dick out.

“Mm, Ari… Is that you?” You murmur, sounding surprisingly eloquent for someone who’s meant to be asleep. But you’re indeed still asleep, softly snoring while Ari continues to have his way with you. He releases your nipple with a pop, gently turning you over so that you’re lying on your stomach, your cheek pressed against the arm rest of the couch.

“Now sweetheart, I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a real man. And I’ll make sure you remember it, even if you do think it’s all just a dream.”

He wastes not in slipping your leggings down to your knees, hungry eyes drinking in your cute, bare ass. He gives it a little smack, hands itching to hit you harder but he knows you’d wake up. And then how would he explain himself? Well, he could probably think of something (“I was just giving you a full-body massage, sweetheart. Your muscles seemed tense.”) You’d definitely believe it, since you were gullible enough to believe all the flimsy lies he’d been telling you for the past few years.

Ari presses a soft kiss to your butt, simultaneously grabbing a handful of your cheek and giving it a lewd jiggle. God, you were so sexy, lying down so nice for him as he violated your body. Well, it wasn’t a violation because he owned you. He’d owned you since the day he met you, and no sorry ass loser by the name of Steve Rogers was going to take you away from him. Steve may have gotten to pop your cherry, but Ari was going to make sure that that never happened again. The only dick you’d remember the feel of would be Ari’s, and that was a promise he was making to himself and to you. (If you were conscious right now, that is).

“You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Ari breathes, one hand on your hip and the other on his cock as he drags the tip of it up and down your ass. Tracing it over your butt cheek and smearing his precum all over the skin before he grabs and spreads your ass, pressing his dick between your crack and rubbing it up and down. “God, fuck, baby, I can’t believe you’re finally letting me do this.”

He spits, his saliva dripping down your ass crack and gathering in your puckered hole, making him grin. He’d fuck you there one day too – but you’d need to be awake and aware for that. There was no way he was stuffing his big dick inside your virgin ass while you were asleep.

“Ari? Feel kinda wet…” You mumble, trying to turn over but he presses his hand in the small of your back to keep you in place.

“You’re just dreaming, baby.” He tells you, stroking your hair to lull you back to sleep. “It’s raining outside, and so you’re dreaming of rain. That’s why you feel wet, sweetie.”

“Ohhhh, makes sense…” You answer, and Ari can’t believe his luck that you’re still asleep. Or not fully conscious… Same difference.

He spreads your ass cheeks wider, placing a pillow under your hips to prop you up. And then his eyes drink in your glistening pussy. And now he understands why you were mumbling about being feeling wet…

“Naughty little baby pussy, getting all wet just because daddy’s playing with your ass.” Ari scolds, talking to your pussy and not you. He itches to spread your wet folds with his fingers and give you a hard slap right on your bundle of nerves. But he knows the jolt from something like that might wake you up.

You’ve soaked the couch cushion underneath you, and that’s hen Ari knows you’re ready. Well, you’ll never truly be ready for his dick. Ari knows he’s bigger than average – enough girls have told him so. But none of those girls are you. He’s not in love with them like he is with you, all those supermodels and actresses are just placeholders until he settles down with you. Makes you his wife and fucks you good every single day.

“I can’t believe you’re asleep for our first time.” Ari whispers, gliding the tip of his dick up and down your slick folds. “I mean, I think it’s kind of hot, but that’s not the point. You weren’t asleep when you let Steve fuck you, were you?”

A spark of anger courses through his veins just then, and he can’t help but reprimand you by smacking your ass hard. And all you do is whimper in your sleep, his naughty little girl.

“I bet he didn’t even make you cum.” Ari breathes, mounting you and angling your hips upwards. “Not like how I will. And you know why? Because I’m your daddy and I know your body better than anyone.”

Ari still remembers the first time he made you call him daddy. It was during a game of truth or dare, and he’d dared you to call him daddy for the rest of the night. And fuck, you had done it. And his dick had grew harder and harder through the course of the night, as you addressed him as daddy all cutely, pouting those pretty lips of yours and blinking up at him innocently. Fuck, you had no idea how much of an effect you had on him. Even when he was fucking all those models, he’d imagine they were you. He chose the ones that looked like you, and sometimes he’d even call them by your name. They were too fucked out to notice, and it’s not like Ari cared about their feelings.

No, Ari only cared about you.

It feels like heaven as he slowly eases his dick inside you. You’re so wet and warm, your walls hugging his huge dick as if he’s being encased in warm velvet. God, this is everything he’d ever dreamed of, and he doesn’t even care that he isn’t the first one to fuck you. He supposes he could forgive you for that, because you’re his baby and he loves you.

“Nnngh, Ari…” You moan in your sleep before your body goes stiff with alertness, “Wh-What’re you doing?”

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep. It’s just a dream.” Ari manages to coax you, despite the fact that your little snatch is squeezing his dick so good and he’s not even halfway inside of you but it’s such a goddamn tight fit and he knows that if you were awake right now you’d be crying from discomfort.

“Just a dream?” You murmur, before your body jolts and you let out another moan, “Mmm, Ari, so full…”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna tear you in half.” Ari promises you, resisting the urge to drive his big dick all the way inside you from the get-go. No, you’re his baby, his princess, his best friend, and the love of his life. He has to be gentle with you – at first, at least. He doesn’t want to split you open and make you bleed. Well, he does, but there’s plenty of time to do that in the future.

He pushes his dick further into you, pinning your body in place as you squirm from the sheer size of him.

“I’m already fucking you better than that asshole boyfriend of yours ever did, huh?”

“Mmhm, yess….”

“Damn straight. I bet his cock ain’t as big as mine, huh?”

“Oh, Ari… Nooo.”

It’s a marvel that you’re asleep yet answering his questions, but he figures you think it’s all just a dirty little dream you’re having. He begins to rock his hips harder, still having trouble stuffing his whole length inside your tight pussy. Not to mention, your walls are hugging him like a vice, and he resists the urge to bust a nut every time he looks down to where you both meet.

“Call me daddy, sweetie. Like how you did that night we played truth or dare.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, just like that. God, I love how well you take instructions even when you’re asleep. You’re so perfect for me, sweetheart. I need to move you into my house soon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being an NFL player’s girlfriend? Getting fucked by me every single night till you can’t walk straight ever again. That’s just half of what I plan to do to you.”

Finally, finally, Ari bottoms out inside you, his heavy balls slapping against your pussy as he shudders with relief. You’re moaning sleepily underneath him but all he can focus on is the delicious squeeze of your walls against his thick dick, and how well you’ve taken him.

“Good girl.” Ari praises you, giving your ass another hard squeeze. “Taking your best friend’s dick so well, aren’t you? Or should I say, your daddy’s dick?”

“Daddy…” You mumble as if on cue.

“Damn right.”

Ari fucks you hard. Well, as hard as he can while still ensuring you remain asleep. He keeps a steady pace, unable to bite back his own moans of pleasure at the fact that he’s finally fucking you. And you look so pretty, your soft body underneath him, tensing and clenching around him like it’s your job to take his daddy dick in your little fuckhole.

He grabs a handful of your hair, tugging your head to the side and spitting down on your cheek. Loving how your nose scrunches up all cutely before he reaches out to smear his saliva all over your face, making you look as slutty as possible. Slutty just for him, because after tonight, no other man would ever have you like this. Or have you at all, for that matter.

“Tell me you love my daddy dick.” He repositions himself till he’s lying over you, his body pinning yours down and his chest against your back, his hips pistoning in and out of you at a steady pace. He licks the shell of your ear lewdly before nibbling on your earlobe, “Tell me you love it when daddy fucks you with his big daddy dick.”

“L-Luh your dick!”

“My what?” He slaps your ass, doing it hard even though he knows he’s pushing his luck.

“Love daddy’s dick.” You murmur dutifully, and Ari can’t believe you actually said it. A part of him wonders if it’s all an act and if you’re awake, but one look at your unconscious face, albeit sweaty and breathing hard, confirms you’re still out of it.

“Fuck, baby. Daddy can’t hold on much longer, your baby pussy is just too sweet.” Ari tells you, feeling his thrusts get faster and faster as he chases his release. But before he can even think of what’s happening next, he feels you clench around him hard.

“Nngh! Daddy!” You whimper and your body quivers and tries to toss and turn except he holds you in place, watching in awe as you cum. You squeeze his dick so tight he forgets to breathe momentarily, just watching your sweet cream squirt out of you as if you’re being paid to squirt all over him. He forgets about his own pleasure for a second, hand sneaking down and fingers finding your clit. You jolt in his arms, whimpering and moaning underneath him as he rubs your button, pinching it cruelly before slapping it. Alternating between circling and rubbing, and does he imagine it or are you humping up against his hand as he does it?

You let out the cutest squeak in the world before you cum once more, and it’s enough to tip Ari over the edge too. He grips you so hard, he knows it’ll leave bruises on your skin. But he doesn’t care, his dick explodes as he releases his heavy load inside you, not caring that he isn’t wearing a condom. Not caring that you’re not on the pill (he knows, because he makes it his business to know everything about you). The idea of getting you pregnant doesn’t deter him at all, despite the fact that he’s at the start of his NFL career. That doesn’t matter, being a football player’s pregnant wife is a look that would suit you well.

And the idea of you pregnant with his baby gets Ari hard all over again.

“Look what you’ve done, sweetie.” Ari tsk-tsks, “You’ve got daddy hard again.” He strokes your hair back, wiping the sweat off your face as you breathe hard underneath him, miraculously still asleep. “But don’t worry, I’ll give you a chance to catch your breath before I fuck you again.”

He lays on top of you, breathing hard with his dick still lodged inside you, stroking your hair and cuddling you close. And that’s when your eyes flutter open.

“Ari? What’s going on? Why do I feel so…so…”

“Shhh, baby, it’s just a dream.”

“It is?”

He sits up, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one before taking a long drag, looking down at your spent body that he’s just used and feeling extremely proud of himself. “Of course. Go back to sleep, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

“Mmm,” The claws of sleep already have you closing your eyes again, and you snuggle up closer to him, a look of serenity on your face as if you haven’t just been fucked and filled with his cum. Cigarette between his lips, Ari offers you his thumb, smirking when you immediately encase it between your lips, sucking on it like it’s a lollypop.

“Love you, Ari. Thank you for always taking care of me.”

FUCKEFNVD THE END! NFDKSLN IDEK! FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED PLS TELL ME WHAT OYU THINK AND REBLOG AND ALL THAT GOOD STUFF THANK U BYEEE

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #steve rogers #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader

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wintertime-in-june · 1 month

Text

Kissing Booth

Inspired by a piece of art by izumicrazyworld on Instagram.

It was a Saturday, a sunny, yet breezy Saturday afternoon. The fair had been going on since ten that morning and the crowds of people milling about the marques were unrelenting.

The fair had been set up in an effort to raise money for the public service of defence. It encompassed stalls from the police, selling books and cakes; a tombola from the air force; pin the tail on the whale from the marines and more.

The private military stall ran by KorTac sat at the edge of the room, despite its sub prime location the line was long, wrapping all the way around the hall.

...Well, one side of the booth's line was long.

König stood there, trying his very best to look approachable but failing miserably as the young recruit beside him kissed women after women after the occasional man.

Who's idea was this anyway? A kissing booth for goodness sake! How infantile... he told himself as he fiddled with his fingers...

Yet still... he couldn't help but wonder why no-one wanted to kiss him.

He thought he would be supervising, just sitting back and wasting his day, so you can believe the shock he had when the Lieutenant said his shift was over and the Colonel's was just beginning.

You stood with your friend on the other side of the room, just finishing up a lovely cupcake you had gotten from the Police's stand, strawberry frosted.

You watched, as you often did, the scenes before you, taking in each and every person as they went about their day.

He was easy to miss, despite his towering height, but your eyes locked on him nonetheless. It was as if he was trying to blend into the background, to compensate for his immense size. Dressed in all black, with a mask to obscure his face and trying to make himself look as small as possible... to no avail.

That's when you saw it, a long line leading to his booth, but not to him, no, to the soldier beside him.

The mask didn't help... and the fact that the booth's sign was as tall as him, covering his face... also didn't help. But still, how could no-one want to kiss him!

Your friend looked over, noticing the look in your eyes, like a person who had just found a lost kitten, wondering if they should keep it or not.

"Go on," she said with a smile, giving your shoulder a nudge.

You snapped out of your trance, there was no point denying where you were staring, it was that obvious.

"I can't, I couldn't, really! A kissing booth, I mean... I would never!" You protested, feeling your heart beat quicken.

"He is so your type." She retorts with a sly smirk.

You didn't know whether to be insulted or not... she wasn't exactly wrong.

"Oh, alright then..." You say with a little sigh, you knew you wanted to and it was for charity after all. Smiling a little to your friend, you couldn't help the excitement that bubbled inside you, a kiss was a kiss.

As you walked, a woman on a mission, towards the booth, you tried to regulate your breathing. How were you going to do this? How long do you hold the kiss? How do you even kiss? Over or under the mask?

Before you knew it you were there, standing below this towering figure, looking up and up and up and up until you saw, crystal blue eyes staring back at you, it was for lack of better words, intense.

You gave a small smile putting the money on the worktop in front of you.

"Hi, please... um, please can you." You decide to stop speaking at that point, your sentence being a disaster from start to finish.

He slid the coins from the surface into the basket below, looking down at you.

He bent down slightly, then realised it would not be enough, he bent his knees, going lower and lower until, he was just above eye level.

He may have looked stoic and unfeeling on the outside, an overall fear inducing demeanour, meanwhile his heart was going a mile a minute.

You're gorgeous, so beautiful, a girl like you doesn't have to pay for kisses! Was all that ran through his mind as he got on your level. Let alone from a beast like him.

Your perfume was sweet, fruity, perfect. Your face was so, so close.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly, was he going to lift his mask up or...

You decided to show some initiative, you had paid for a kiss, you were getting a kiss. You lifted your hands up slowly, gently holding his mask and lifting it up yourself.

You only had a second to look before the natural motion of things took hold. There was a scar, a cut upwards on the left side of his upper lip. He was clean shaven... that was nice.

You smiled lightly as you leaned forward and your lips met his. Surprisingly plush, slightly chapped.

It wasn't a quick kiss but it didn't go too far.

It was sweet. It was lovely. It was undeniably, the best kiss you had ever had.

It only had wholesome intent behind it, just perfection.

The two of you parted slowly, the person beside König having gone through three other people in the time it took the two of you to have one kiss.

Your strawberry frosting breath fanning his face as you parted slowly. His eyes filled with longing.

He remained on your level, not standing up even as you let go of his mask.

He was completely awestruck.

He will never forget this.

#WinterTime #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #könig x y/n #könig x reader #könig x you #loser konig #konig fluff #könig fluff #könig fanfiction #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #konig cod #könig cod #cod konig #könig call of duty #konig call of duty

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loveindefinitely · 5 months

Text

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

05 — THESE THINGS EAT AT YOUR BONES

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You were seventeen when you enlisted.

Obviously, you had to lie about your age – just a year off, not a drastic difference. The recruiters wouldn’t care enough to double check, anyways. Anyone willing to join their forces was good enough in their books.

You’d been desperate, desperate for a sense of community, for a home, for something to occupy your time with.

Things hadn’t been easy after your mother had passed.

She’d raised you on her own; having taken you from your father before you could realise what a father was. Said he was a bad man, didn’t deserve an angel like yourself. Sometimes, you wished that you’d known him, or at least had a father figure to look up to.

That was rare, however. Your mother had done a great job in raising you – making sure you had morals and looked out for others. Always had a roof over your head, food made with love in your tummy.

It was only three months prior to your enlistment that she passed.

While you were at school, she was shot and killed in your childhood home. The day you walked through that front door, backpack a hefty weight on your shoulders, and saw her wide-eyed corpse on the living room carpet, was the day that a piece of you died.

That night, with the cool fabric of the paramedic’s shock blanket around your frame, you looked up what happens after you die with shaky, blood-stained hands. A question you hadn’t had to consider. Not until then.

The police wrote down your stilted words in their government-issued notepads, attempts of sympathy on their faces.

All you could focus on was the tap tap tap of your foot against the carpet, the chewed up flesh of your inner cheek, and the burning of your eyes.

You had, thankfully, managed a choked up explanation of what you’d seen.

“I came home. From school. She was just. There. On the carpet. Her eyes were open,” you managed to whisper, eyes remaining in your lap.

“How did you feel when you saw her?” The officer asked.

You had half the mind to ask him that very same question. You didn’t, of course.

“I felt that she deserved a better death than this. Sir.”

The time after that passed in quick, blurry memories. A hand on your shoulder here, a trauma nurse there, all the while your mind could only supply you with the image of the one person you had. Gone.

“Here.”

You’d looked up with bloodshot eyes and chapped lips. The man looked to be in his late forties, with greying hair and saggy features. In his hands was a steaming cup of tea – extended towards you. With trembling fingers, you took it from the man.

“Thank you,” you’d murmured, before blowing across the liquid with a soft breath. It rippled with the flowing air, tea leaves simmering on the bottom. If you looked hard enough, you could make out a tree.

“Is it alright if I join you?” He asked, gesturing to the chair in front of you. You nodded, and he moved to get comfortable in his seat, eyes remaining on you. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

That was, funnily enough, the first time you’d heard those words said to you.

“I’m Herschel Shepherd,” the man supplied, with a small, comforting smile. He extended a weathered hand to you, and after a moment, you accepted it with a light shake. “I think I might know who’s responsible for your mother’s death.”

You swallowed. “What? Are you,” you worked your heavy tongue, “Are you in the FBI?”

He loosed a hearty chuckle at that, before shaking his head. “No, kid. I’m a bit higher up than that.”

You didn’t have it in you to push. Not then, not with the smell of blood a consistent rot in your nose. You just nodded, accepting that explanation, squeezing your hands together for comfort.

“There’s been some rumours,” Shepherd leaned his elbows against his knees, lowering himself to meet you at eye level. “Of a secret organisation, searching and killing those affiliated with the army. Especially those who served, and then ran.”

Your brows furrowed, mouth opening and closing around nothing. “What does this have to do. With anything – my mum, she wasn’t –”

“She was, kid,” Shepherd interrupted with a raised hand. “She was a renowned Lieutenant. Served for ten years.”

Tap tap tap, your foot goes.

“She would’ve told me,” you managed out, throat choking up and nostrils flaring. “She wouldn’t have hid that from me. I’d know. You’re lying.”

“She didn’t tell you to keep you safe,” he urged, resting his hand on your bouncing knee in comfort. “But… This is more than just her. This is an attack on our country, on you, kid. I’m investigating this group, their ideals, their plans. You can help.”

You shook your head adamantly. “No. This has nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you,” Shepherd immediately retorted, and you felt your chest caving in, your shoulders deflating. “It’s up to you. I hope to see you in my regiment, kid.”

Then, he’d stood, and dropped a card onto your lap. Without another word, he left.

It was later that night, when you found yourself near passing out, that you’d read his business card. It had his name, his title – Lieutenant General – and a regiment. You weren’t sure how any of it worked, if you could do this, if you were made for something like the army. That night, you’d studied and watched and learned everything you could about his regiment.

Three months later, you’d stood before him, gun in hand.

He just smiled, knowingly, and clapped a hand on your shoulder. He leaned down and whispered, “Together, we’ll avenge her.”

And you did, under his wing. You set things right.

Your ears ring, the bumps of the vehicle doing nothing to snap you out of your daze. It’s like your insides have turned inside out, every molecule of liquid evaporated with a single name.

“He’s a good man,” you manage to say, breaking the stunned silence of the 141. You don’t dare to look up, to see their expressions, their apprehension. “He saved me. Multiple times. He wouldn’t hurt anyone without a reason, he wouldn’t.”

Even as you say the words, try and plead, you find yourself losing faith. It’s a devastating thing, one that has you wanting to wretch your near-empty stomach.

“We did some digging,” Price murmurs, sounding sorrowful and almost guilty. “We found the truth.”

The entire time that Price retells the intel he and ‘Laswell’ found, you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into your pit of despair. Like you’re clawing with your nails to get out, yet all you’re finding is unrelenting stone, breaking the keratin with every scratch.

By the time that all the information has been told, your body feels as though it’s frozen.

It isn’t until you feel a thumb wipe against your cheek that you realise you’re crying. Finally, finally, you look up, and meet Soap’s mirthful eyes. His thumb is rough where it wipes away your tears, gathering the salty liquid against the ridges of his fingertips.

Could it get worse than this? Worse than being told that the only other man in your life – the only other person you’d trusted – was a bad man? Working with Graves? How hadn’t you known? Why hadn’t Graves told you –

Why. Why. Why?

“He was the closest thing I had to a father,” you manage, feeling almost manic with it. “He – he and Graves, they’re all I have, I can’t, you can’t–”

You barely manage to open the small window before you’re hurling your empty guts, nothing coming out but air and some bile burning the back of your throat. Your throat, eyes, your entire body aches.

Two large hands rub at your back, and you can hear words being said, but you can’t understand them, can’t hear anything but a low buzz in the back of your mind. Your breath comes out in loud, sharp pants, and you can’t help but sniffle as tears roll down your cheeks and drip from your chin.

Your entire life has just been flipped on its head, and you can’t handle it. You are a Colonel, you’re supposed to be impenetrable, but this, this is everything you ever had. Gone with a few words, a single mission.

“It’s okay, lass, fuck,” you can finally make out Soap saying, recognising one of the hands as his. It’s an, admittedly, comforting weight, one that you find yourself leaning back into. “Steamin’ Jesus.”

“Kyle, do you have water?” Price calls out to the front, and soon, a hand directs your head to enter the van once more, an opened water bottle being pressed to your lips. Price holds it, his hand stroking the back of your neck in support. “Have a drink, darlin’,” he encourages, tilting your head back as you swallow the ice-cold water. “There we go,”he murmurs, his touch unrelenting.

“You good, love?” Gaz calls from the front, brows furrowed where he’s half-watching in the rearview mirror.

All you can give him is a small, weak nod, but he seems to accept it.

Your mind is spinning at a mile per minute, shuddering when Price pulls the bottle away and Soap continues to rub your back in calming circles. This is, you think, the one time you’ll allow yourself to be comforted by them. This was already crossing too many of the boundaries you’d put up in your head, a clear violation of the separation you’d planned out.

Ghost, true to his name, remains still where he sits in front of you, calculating as he stares you down.

“What are the chances,” he begins, focus remaining on you even if everyone else’s is suddenly on him, “That General’s personal pet is also Graves’ girl who had a change of heart?”

“Si–” Soap begins, before Ghost cuts him off.

“How do we know she’s not a fuckin’ spy,” he spits out, glaring at you with everything he has, “And we’ve been too fuckin’ stupid to figure it out!”

You’re not in control of your body, at this point. Your emotions are.

With one breath, you pull out the blade hooked to your hollister, grip it in a fist, and grab the scruff of Ghost’s uniform and pull him close. Grabbing his hand, you slide the knife into it, grabbing his wrist, pulling it forward so the knife is pressed against your neck.

“Kill me,” you breathe, chest heaving, eyes burning with rage, “Kill me if you think I’m a spy. Slice the knife through my fucking throat, Lieutenant, do it.”

His irises are blown black, the white of his eyes stark against the grease paint smeared over his visible skin. You can feel his heavy breaths through his mask, brushing against your snarled lips. You pull him even closer, your fist unrelenting against the fabric of his uniform.

There’s an uproar around you, Soap yelling something to you both, Price trying to tug you away by his grip on your upper arm, Gaz trying to both focus on not crashing and whatever the hell is happening behind him.

You’re strong, however. Trained and built for hand-to-hand battle, and you don’t move an inch. Not when you’re so determined, so stubborn.

“Kill. Me.” You hiss, the words quiet enough to only be heard by the man holding a knife to your throat. You lean in closer, and you can feel a small trickle of blood fall down your bared neck, but it’s a thrilling type of pain.

“You’re a crazy bastard,” he spits back, but he notably eases the knife away from your skin. You just lean into it further, more blood being let. “If you keep tryna call bluffs like this, you’ll be sent home in a casket.”

“What home, Lieutenant?” You ask, almost desperate for his answer, a demand. You narrow your gaze, refusing to break eye contact. “If you can find where the fuck I belong, I’ll be happy to die within its walls.”

The two of you standoff, your eyes doing all the speaking, before Ghost allows the blade to fall from his grip, hitting the floor of the van with a clunk. “You win, Sweetheart,” he taunts, the words being breathed against your own mouth, mere millimetres apart. “Congratulations.”

You finally allow yourself to be pulled back, Soap shooting you a shell-shocked look, his jaw clenching as he looks between you both. Price finally eases his grip around your arm, barking, “Don’t pull that shit! One wrong move and –”

“My whole life has been one wrong move,” you grit out, falling back into your seat with shallow breaths. You drag your hand down your face, before resting against the sticky heat of your blood, pooling at the dip of your neck. “What’s one more?”

There’s no response. You don’t hope for one, don’t expect one, but it still leaves you unsteady. Unsure. Even when everyone just sits in an odd sort of limbo for a few minutes, you struggle to come down from that high, that overwhelming need for control.

“Here.”

When you look up, it’s to see Soap, a medkit in his lap. Price is sitting on the other side next to Ghost, talking quietly to him, stern expressions displayed on them both. They seem lost in conversation – a serious one, considering your current situation.

“What’re you doing?” You find yourself asking, watching as he rips open an alcoholic wipe and takes it out, your leg bouncing. He gives you a friendly smile, this side of hopeful.

“Patchin’ ye up, Sweetheart. Goes both ways,” he explains, and your eyes go glassy once more. “Can aye fix ye up?”

You don’t trust your words, so you simply nod, tilting your head back. You find yourself rocked by the rhythm of Gaz’s driving, finding solace in the comfort of semi-safety. Although not as safe as you would’ve been at Graves’ base, there was a sense of… protectiveness that came with being with the 141.

Wincing, you grit your teeth as Soap cleans up the blood from your throat, his gentle ministrations so at odds with his bumbling, charismatic character. He’s precise, careful to not hurt you too much, delicate movements made by harsh hands.

“You sure do like playin’ with fire, lass,” he murmurs, swiping the last bits of drying blood from the hollow of your throat, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips. “Can respect that.”

“I’m sorry for… that,” you sigh, watching as he deposits the used wipe into a hazard bag. Good practice, you think, prioritising avoiding any bloodborne diseases. You’re silently impressed. “Didn’t mean to lose my shit. Just. A lot.”

“I know,” he returns, earnest, opening a bottle of sanitary cream and swiping some onto his finger, bringing it to soothe over your small wound.

“I don’t know who to trust.”

Those words aren’t exactly good ones to say, not to a borderline enemy with his hands on your neck. But it feels like an otherworldly force makes you say them, makes you expose yourself even further to this man. Maybe a taunt, maybe a small punishment for saving his life.

He pauses, but quickly covers up his hesitation with returned fervour. “I don’t envy ya, hen. It’s an absolute shitshow. But…” he grabs some medical tape, cutting it to length to put over your wound. Apparently it’s worse than you’d thought. “Ye heard what happened. Shepherd, Graves, they’re not worthy of ya.”

That gives you pause. Worthy. What made someone worthy? What kind of clarifications?

Did he think he was worthy? Ghost? Price? Gaz?

“You think I’m better than the General?” You raise a brow, attempting to goad him, spark that flame of banter that always seemed to haunt the Scot.

“I know ye are. Seen it with my own eyes.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“We’re nearly back at the safehouse,” Gaz calls from the front, tapping his hands against the steering wheel to a silent rhythm. Price grunts out a reply, and Ghost remains silent, watching. Always watching.

Finishing up his quick first aid job, Soap tilts your head back down with a grip on your chin, his thumb stroking along your bottom lip. “There we go, Sweetheart. Good as new,” he whispers, the corner of his lips tilting into a kind grin.

“How’s the arm?” You find yourself asking, looking to the bandaged ligament. “Feeling alright?”

“Definitely better than if aye’d let it get infected,” he hums, looking down to his arm. “Once this blows over, nurses on base will sort it out.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but you realise that his thigh is pressed against yours, and your leg has stopped bouncing. No more tap tap tap. Just… the feel of fabric against your own, heated by the flesh underneath. The comforting touch of another human, not sexual, not for any reason but to simply… exist.

Ten minutes pass of comfortable silence between you both, before the vehicle comes to a stop, Gaz turning off the engine with a turn of his keys, unbuckling his seat belt and hopping out of the car.

“Out we get,” Price says to you all, gentler than he’d been before. The doors burst open, Gaz flinging the keys back to his Captain, urging the four of you to hop out and head in.

You’re the last to get out, Gaz extending a calloused hand for you to take, ever the gentleman. Accepting it, you jump down, looking to the awaiting men. The Los Vaqueros are rushing inside, talking amongst themselves, relief thick in their words, hands being slapped against each other’s backs.

Price is looking at you as he says, “I think we have a call to make.”

As it turns out, the call is to the last person on Earth you want to talk to right now. In the middle of the same table you’d stood beside Rudy at, mere hours ago, is a computer.

One with General Shepherd’s face on it.

Price had given you the mercy in deciding whether you’d show yourself or not. You still hadn’t made the choice, instead standing off to the side, Gaz and Soap at either side of you. Alejandro stands at the right of the table, and Ghost has his arms folded over his chest at the left.

“You hid this,” Price grips the table, livid, “Why.”

Not a question, not really, more of a command than anything. An order from a Captain.

Shepherd’s response has your blood running cold, reality finally cementing inside of yourself. You claw at your palms when he responds, drily, “We all keep secrets, Captain.”

And, oh, what a slap in the face that is.

“Why the hell wasn’t I informed?” Price snaps, his shoulders rising and falling with each barely restrained breath. He seems to fill out his uniform more than he had before, in the dim light of the room.

The boarded up window allows for a small sliver of sunset to cast against all of you, a small joy in the darkness of the safehouse. And the situation at hand.

“Consider yourself well informed now, John,” Shepherd’s tone lowers, more grating, forceful.

“Oh, that's really fuckin' helpful, General. Thank you. But you're a day late and a missile short. There's three of them – we only found two.”

“Then point yourself in that direction, and fix it,” Shepherd booms, and you can’t help the instinctual flinch of your body. You’d grown up being frightened of his raised voice, the threat that came along with it. Even in the safety of this house, you can’t help your response.

Price scoffs a laugh with no humour, his mouth falling into a grim, dangerous line. “And who fixes you, eh?”

You can hear, more than see, Shepherd’s returning snarl. “I don’t need fixing. I’m a patriot protecting my country.”

Gaz and Soap share a look above your head, but you don’t care, not now. Not when Price stands up, slamming his hand against the table, not when Alejandro curses under his breath.

Not when all you can think about is the empty promises Shepherd made.

“You’re protecting your own ass,” Price cusses, turning back to glare at the man on the screen.

“I do what needs to be done, and no one holds me down with a roll of red tape. I know what's best for the cause.”

Price chuckles, eyes a fire of fury, leaning down once more to the laptop. “You’ve lost your mind, General.”

“And you've forgotten what you're fighting for, John. To do good, you gotta do some bad. When we shit, we bury it, that's how it works,” Shepherd replies, hard and strong in his belief.

You’re at the verge of losing it.

“Yeah,” Price begins, before pointing his finger to the camera, “But we don’t bury each other with it, do we?”

“You need to turn off that side o' your head and face down the real enemy,” Shepherd warns, and it’s the final straw.

“Isn’t that what you told me, Herschel? That the organisation was the real enemy?” You quip, and for a minute, you wonder if he’s ended the call.

That is, until, a choked off voice filters in, “Kid?”

Rushing forward, you turn the laptop to face you, and your entire system seems to revolt as you see the man you once cared for like a father.

“Tell me that you didn’t betray them,” you hiss, leaning in closer, your entire face filling the screen. “Tell me that you didn’t ruin lives – tell me you didn’t make a deal with my Commander behind my back. Tell me, Herschel.”

“You wouldn’t understand –” he begins, but that’s all you needed to know.

Stepping away, you give him a final, cold smile. “Was it worth it?”

“What –” he starts once more, before you grab the handle of your gun, pulling it up to rest as a comforting weight in your hand.

“Was it worth ruining my life? Was it worth ruining this mission?”

“You’re just a kid.”

“I am a Colonel!” You shout, emotions bubbling over as you slam the gun onto the table, eyes blazing. “And when I find you, you’re going to wish you never fucked me over. What was your favourite method? Flaying? Dismemberment?”

“You’ve always been too soft and easy to manipulate,” Shepherd snaps back, voice booming through the speakers.

Your voice is as dangerous as you’ve ever heard it.

“Immolation? That was your favourite, wasn’t it?”

His eyes widen on the screen, seeming to understand, to seemingly take you seriously. Too late. Too fucking late.

“Let’s see if it’s still your favourite when it’s your turn to be the victim,” you slowly say, annunciating every word with clear speech. “Thank you for your teachings, General.”

With that, you slam the laptop screen shut, and prepare to face the fire.

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee

author's note. im so hyped for all of the future plot points. and romance. ohmygod. yes, ghost does eventually come around. yes, he's the longest slow burn. yes, he's the most intense enemies to lovers. wbk. i also got covid so i have a lot of time to rot in bed and suffer while writing!! ALSOOO there is so much fire symbolism... ;)

your comments mean soso much to me, every time iread one i squeal and feel all excited!! thank u for ur support commenters, i DO read all of them. more than once. <3

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alfredsolos · 1 year

Text

Most people forget or ignore Duke Thomas, when they talk about the batfamily. And even the ones who include him say that he is the 'normal' one. Some people argue with that, and say that Duke is like the rest of the batkids with the example of him jumping out of a moving car and into a bridge.

Duke is way more than that. So, I complied a list of facts and feats of Duke Thomas. This will most likely be multiple parts.

Duke swear a lot.

Has a record of getting kicked out of schools.

Knew Leslie Thompkins way before he met the batfamily. She is also the one who found him foster homes.

His parents are jokerized, that's why he is put to foster homes. He also takes care of them in the mental hospital.

He doesn't trust the police.

He is very sarcastic. Especially to the cops.

He jumped out of a moving police car and through a bridge. The reason why he was arrested is because he had wore red shoes. In those times, vigilantism was very illegal and appearently red was the symbol of Robin.

One time, Bruce got amnesia. And Duke, to make him remember, pulled him and himself onto a railway and did not move even when he saw a train coming. Thankfully, Bruce snapped out and pulled them of the rails.

His mom used to call him Babybird.

Some villains nicknamed him as Babybat.

He understands Joker in a way Bruce never did.

He doesn't see himself apart of the Batfamily.

His powers are: He can technically see peoples weak parts through how much power they concentrate to them. He can see glimpses of future, rewind the present time like a video. He has increased healing, super fast reflexes. He can see particles in substences. He can literally see light. He also has a bit of telepathic powers. He can speak and be seen on different frequencies, so he can be invisible or speak in a tone that no one would understand. Invisibility.

To add to it, he did not have shadow powers from birth. A supervillain, kind of mutated his genes so that he could control the darkness.

His mother had powers.

First time he went out as Signal, people hated him.

He was The Signal, way before discovering his powers. He discovered his powers when his father tried to recruit him to his endeavours.

His father is a supervillain named Gnomon, and he has the same powers as Duke. Gnomon also had a picture of child Duke on his desk.

Bruce gifted him his own base of operation, called The Hatch.

Bruce called him a gift to the city.

He is good with Damian.

This is the end of Part 1. I'll continue in Part 2.

#dc comics #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #duke thomas #the signal

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petertingle-yipyip · 1 year

Text

Question…? - Miguel O’hara

//the miguel brainrot brought this piece to life tbr. it’s kinda just for shits and giggles but there might be more. depends on how this one does//

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Reader

Word Count: 3,868

Summary: The latest recruit to the Spider Society hits a bit too close to home for its head honcho. But with great power comes great persistence to get answers.

You landed on the roof of your building and pulled your mask up, wiping a hand down your slightly sweaty face. You looked at the bright display of the neon billboard across the alley and saw the breaking news story of your latest bust of the local Midnight Sons crime syndicate. You smirked slightly as you watched the reporter talk to the police who had to reluctantly admit that you, Arachne, had caught them. He tried to dance around it but the fact that your webs were covering the background made it obvious.

Just as you were about to head inside, you felt a tingle shoot down your spine. An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome sensation crawled across your skin so you quickly replaced your mask and spun around, web shooters ready. Instead of being greeted by a foe, you were greeted with a large and seemingly unstable orange circle that vaguely resembled a doorway.

Before you could say anything, you had to drop to your stomach as a motorbike came barreling through. You rolled to your back and flicked a quick burst from either wrist to latch a web to both tires. You kicked yourself back and pulled the bike with you, forcing its rider to disengage and land on the opposite side of the roof.

“Not bad.” She said, though her back was still to you as you stood slowly. “I knew you were quick, but I didn’t think you’d be that quick.”

“Right… And you are?” You asked carefully. You didn’t feel she was a threat, but something about the way she triggered that sixth sense made you tense. “I mean, you came at me full speed on a motorcycle so you owe me that.”

“Jessica Drew.” She turned to face you and the first thing you noticed was her belly. “And I’m just like you.”

“I’m not pregnant!” You decided quickly, a hand covering your stomach.

She laughed and shook her head. After a second, you hesitantly laughed with her. “I meant the Spider Woman thing.”

“Ah…” You nodded before slowly lifting your mask again. “That’s what I felt?”

“Mhmm..”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Yes and no.” She moved towards her bike, which you hurried over to beside her. “If you’re interested, there’s someone I think you should meet.”

You followed her through the orange and ended up in a massive complex. There were dozens upon dozens of variations of… you.

A cat version. A monkey version. A dinosaur. A plushie. A cyborg. An avatar. A video game. Other girls, other guys. Any type of Spider variation you could imagine, it was there.

As you were taking it all in, you were hit with the sharpest pain you’d ever had in your life. It took over your entire body, felt as if you were being yanked apart and haphazardly put back together. Your insides felt rearranged and your head spun violently while everything seemed to be ignited. But the pain only lasted for a second.

Jessica told you it was your body glitching from being outside your own universe, which she also explained was granted the official title of Earth-3505. She slipped a blue band around your wrist and you felt every ounce of tension in your body disappear. She explained the device on her wrist, how it kept her from glitching while allowing for travel to any dimension.

You had to admit. All the tech and different universes blew every single theory and experiment you had ever known out of the water.

You were talking with Jessica through the long walk down a rather dark and drafty hall that led to a wide open work area. She called to the man on the platform, which began to lower at an agonizingly slow pace. Awkwardly, you rocked on your heels and fiddled with your web shooters, checking the cartridges and scratching away the dried remnants from your earlier endeavors. You tugged the neck of your suit and dusted imaginary dirt off before running fingers through your hair and giving it a small shake in an effort to look a bit more presentable.

When you heard the gears click into place you looked back and found yourself in utter shock, despite him not even facing you yet.

And as someone who would fight the Bloodstones, a werewolf, and the literal avatar of a god of the moon, it took a lot to render you speechless.

The man on the platform was massive. The width of his chest and shoulders alone was at least the size of a twin mattress. His height towered over yours and you could tell even from the distance he was at. His upper body narrowed ridiculously into his waist, though his legs were proportionately built as well. And covering that Hercules-esque physique was a fitted red and blue suit, just like everyone else you had seen in that building.

So why hadn’t he given you the same tingle Jessica did?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when an elbow came roughly into your ribs.

“What?” You asked quickly, an innocent obliviousness in your voice.

“Introduce yourself.” Jessica hissed.

“Right.” You nodded and took a hesitant step forward. “I’m Y/N, from Earth 35-something.”

“3505.” She whispered.

“Yeah, sorry. Anyways, I’m like you and her and everyone else here… Back home I’m called Arachne, like the.. The myth. I’m sorry, are you not gonna face me?”

“¿Mande?” He said sharply and the sound of his voice drove your pulse to jump.

“If you’re gonna have your back to me the whole time, why am I even here?” You pushed, though your resolve was slowly shattering as you watched him turn around.

The room may have been dimly lit but you could see what looked like a red tint to his eyes.

“Why are you here?” He asked tightly as he hopped off the platform and stalked closer to you. You swallowed hard and flattened your two middle fingers against your palm to feel the trigger for your webs. “Why are-“

His sentence cut off abruptly when he got a few feet away from you.

“Miguel?” Jessica asked from beside you. You had forgotten she was there but you felt a bit more relaxed to know you weren’t alone in that room. “What is it?”

“What did you say your name was?” He asked. His words were intended to be more gentle, more intimate maybe, but they still had enough of an edge to keep your fingers where they were.

“Y/N… And you’re..?”

His face fell at your uncertainty, though you doubted Jessica noticed. He recovered rather quickly, as if your words reminded him of something painful. Something he already knew.

“Miguel O’hara.” He stood a bit taller, if that was even possible.

“It’s nice to meet you… You built all of this?” You asked lamely in hopes to fill the silence that you felt would suffocate you if you ignored.

“Yeah.. It’s a way to preserve the multiverse. Everyone here was hand picked to serve a bigger cause, to protect each other’s universe and canons.”

“I assume that’ll get explained if I get in?” You turned to Jessica who nodded with a small, amused smile.

“¿Perdóname, si entras?” His head cocked as the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that you felt was sarcastic. “No.”

“What?” You and Jessica asked at the same time.

“No.” He enunciated, hands at his waist and leaning forward.

“Why not?” You asked angrily, stepping forward with no regard to the size difference. “I can take anyone here!”

“Miguel, she’s really good.” Jessica tried earnestly. “I think you should give her a shot.”

“No.”

“C’mon.” She pressed.

“No.”

“What are you afraid of?” You challenged suddenly and the glare he shot your way made you hesitate.

“Afraid?” He laughed. “Afraid.. I’m not afraid.”

“Then what?”

“She looks just like her.” Miguel said, more to Jessica than you.

“Who?” She asked softly.

Miguel shot her a different look than the one he gave you. This one has more longing, more pain. You looked like someone he used to know. Likely someone he lost.

“Lyla.” Jessica said softly, waiting a moment for a hologram woman in a fur coat to appear at her shoulder. “Show Y/N around a little more, please.”

“Who- Oh.” The hologram spoke before disappearing and reappearing in front of you. She leaned in and lifted her heart shaped glasses before blinking away and reappearing up at Miguel’s side. A quick back and forth of hushed comments brought her back to you as she ushered you out of the room.

Lyla spoke quickly to you, bouncing around within your field of vision. She pointed out different Spider People, different villains. She showed you the machine that sent people home and the training center. While you were wandering the vast exercise area, you met two boys playfully roughhousing who seemed to create the golden retriever with black cat meets boys will be boys dynamic.

“Ooh! Who’s the new girl?” One of them ran up to you with a palpable excitement.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You smiled and the other one leaned in close.

“Look at that.” He said with a small smirk, seemingly changing color with each sentence. “Got little fangs and all. That’s mad.”

“Whaaaat? Let me see!” The first one pushed the taller one aside and replaced him, though he leaned in significantly closer.

“I’m guessing these aren’t normal for Spiderman.” You laughed and gently pushed him back. “What’re your names?”

“Hobie, Hobie Brown.” He offered you a short salute.

“Pavitr Prabhakar.” He gave an extravagant bow. “How long have you been a spider person?”

You blew out a sigh and tried to calculate the numbers. “A few years? It happened my senior year of high school, and then the two years there... And then.. All I know is its been a while. You guys?”

“Couple months.” Pavitr answered with a small hop. “It’s been so easy.”

“Three years.” Hobie answered simply. “And yeah, it’s not bad. Your universe a mess, then?”

“I think mine is a weird one based on what you guys have said.” You answered awkwardly. “Werewolves, swamp things, Egyptian gods, monster hunters.”

“Sounds like a fantasy book.” Hobie scoffed.

“That’s the Midnight Sons for you.” You shrugged. “There’s normal stuff too, like other vigilantes. Daredevil and Black Cat and the Widow.”

“Were they bitten by a spider too?” Pavitr added with wide eyes.

“Who, Widow? Not that I know of.”

“How’d you get the little-“ Hobie made a vague fang gesture. “You a vampire, too?”

“Well, no.” You rubbed a hand over your mouth, suddenly embarrassed of your teeth.

“You’ve got everything else. Figured you had the little blood suckers and allat.”

“There’s rumors of one guy but I haven’t met him.. Actually, the spider that bit me was a mix between the same thing that created my world’s Goblin and just the radioactive spider. It was supposed to be able to cure something but…” You shrugged.

“Do they do anything?” Pavitr asked, still looking at your mouth intently. He slowly reached a finger forward so you leaned away and gently pushed his hand to the side.

“Uh..” Your brows furrowed. “Idunno.” You mumbled as you shrugged.

“You’ve never tried to bite anyone?” He laughed and Hobie facepalmed gently. “I totally would’ve.”

“I’ll try it when I get home.” You laughed slightly. You glanced around and noticed the AI woman - Lyla - was nowhere to be seen. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Go for it.” Hobie nodded and Pavitr’s head bounced up and down like a bobble head.

“The little AI, Lyla… Does she see everything?” You asked quietly.

“You trynna do somtin’ you shouldn’t, aye?” Hobie quirked a brow.

“I wanna try to talk to Miguel but I get the feeling that she’ll keep me away.”

“Why?” Pavitr whispered loudly,

“Cause he sent me away, said I looked too much like someone.”

“Oy, Pav.” Hobie nudged the smaller boy before leaning down and plotting quietly. They went back and forth for a few moments before looking back at you. “Make it quick, yeah?”

“I owe you.” You grinned.

Pavitr and Hobie shared a small fist bump before Pavitr reached his fist towards you. You chuckled slightly and returned the gesture before the two ran off. It was only a few moments before sprinklers went off in the room. Lyla popped in and out of view, speaking rapidly and tapping small screens in front of her. She appeared in front of you, disheveled glasses and jacket hanging from her shoulders.

“Do. Not. Move.” She said firmly and you held hands up in surrender. She pointed two fingers at her eyes before pointing to you, gesturing up and down your body before disappearing again.

You leaned around slightly to ensure her digital frame was nowhere to be seen before you booked it out of the room. Your wet feet slipped on the sleek tiles so you opted to swing across the complex and back to Miguel’s workspace.

You wiped a damp hand across your face as you entered the hall again before you pulled yourself to the ceiling and crawled down the long corridor. Jessica left in a huff, muttering that he was unreasonable and that she wasn’t done. You watched her freeze and turn around, squinting her eyes in suspicion. You stayed still above her in hopes that she wouldn’t find you but with the water subtly dripping from your suit and hair, you thought you were caught. With a small smirk, she turned back and left.

You blew out a small sigh and continued down your path until you reentered Miguel’s wide open room. His back was towards the entrance as he vigorously typed and swiped various projections away. He was muttering to himself, broken Spanglish as he worked in that increasingly frazzled state. His head cocked over his shoulder as you clung to the space above the door.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked tightly, unable to face you fully. “And why are you wet?”

“I just…” You spoke, realizing you had no idea how to start. “May like some explanations.”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” He spoke simply, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Okay, but… What if I just ask some general questions that have simple answers? Is that okay? I mean, can I ask you a question? Well a couple, but you know what I mean.”

“Can you please stop, just for a second?“ He sighed and pressed his palms against the table. You pursed your lips slightly and drummed your fingers against the wall while you waited for him to say something. “You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?”

“I don’t usually have to beg like this.” You confessed. You shifted your feet and leaned your shoulders against the wall behind you, allowing your hands to aim webs at the edge of his platform. You pulled yourself over and stood in front of him. “Miguel, please…”

“Ay, dios mío. You sound just like her, too.” He spoke to himself, though the desperation in his voice was hard to miss.

“Listen, if you don’t want me here because whoever I remind you of, that’s not good enough of a reason.” You insisted. Your words finally got him to turn and face you, which really drove home just how big he was. You gave a nervous chuckle and crossed your arms in an attempt of defiance. “I can prove myself against anyone here. I know I can do this!”

“It’s not about whether you’re-“ He began before he leaned down closer. You pulled back and teetered the edge of the platform. “What was that?”

“You got a little close.” You defended with a shrug.

“Not that, cariño.” He shook his head. “Open your mouth.”

“Okay!” You said loudly, trying to push him by his chest. “That’s not how you- Ugh! Whatthehellare-“

Your words became an incomprehensible jumble of syllables when his hand came to your face, fingers pressing gently on your cheeks to keep your lips apart. His pointer finger was free to manipulate your upper lip, exposing one side of your mouth. With a satisfied smirk, he let you go.

“Thought so..” He offered a lazy smirk. “Lemme see your hands.”

“Is this like.. part of the initiation process or something?” You tried to joke as you held up one hand. He took it by your wrist and gave your palm a gentle prod, just missing the trigger for your web shooter. “What are you looking for?”

“You always talk this much?” He mumbled with a small eye roll as he let go of your hand.

“It’s just a question.” You muttered and poured slightly.

He sat back on the edge of a table behind him, allowing for a more even eye line. But even at the new lowered height, he was definitely taller than you.

“How can anyone focus around you?” He said with a shake of his head.

“I can put the mask on, if it helps.” You offered awkwardly, reaching for the side pouch you usually tucked it away in.

Miguel looked back at you and laughed. A seemingly genuine sound that, up until that moment, you weren’t entirely sure was possible.

You took the opportunity to move away from the edge of the platform and stand more in front of him. Your hands rested lazily behind you and you simply looked at him for a minute.

The obvious physical stature was still as intimidating as ever but there was something in his expression. Something haunted, something guilty. However, when his eyes met yours, there was a softness there. A certain longing.

How does anyone focus around you? You thought as you took in his features for a little longer.

“You always stare like that when you’re not talking?” His brows raised with a slight smile as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Not usually.” You answered with a shrug of one shoulder in an attempt to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks. “I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for with my hand, but you didn’t send me away again so maybe that was a good thing… Maybe I can…”

“Go ahead and ask your questions.” He nodded, adding a tired sigh at the end as if to say he was giving in. You thought he was curious as to what you wanted to know.

“What’s the big deal about my teeth?”

“Your teeth..” He chuckled slightly. “Most of the spiders around here don’t have fangs, cariño.”

“Right but why do you care?”

“Cause I have them too.”

“What do yours do?”

“Paralysis. Yours?”

“Dunno.” You confessed. “I’ve never bit anyone. Can I see?”

“No.”

“C’mon!”

“No.”

“Fine.”

You flicked a web at his chest and yanked him to lean forward, earning a small Spanish exclamation from him. You kept hold of the web with one hand and put the other on his shoulder as you leaned in slightly. His eyes darted between yours in slight shock before he broke into a small smile, enough for you to see a moderately more pronounced version of the same teeth in your mouth.

“Woah.” You said quietly as your eyes drifted to where your webs met his suit. “Wait..”

“What is it?” He asked lowly and the tone sent a shiver down your spine.

“Your suit. It’s all tech?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s so cool.” You breathed with a smile, which faded as you squinted and noticed a falter in the colors. “It’s like a projection, which means if I…” You gave another slight tug on your web and watched the distortion of the colors where your palm was pressed against him. You laughed slightly before looking back at Miguel.

The web suddenly snapped and you stumbled backwards. You looked down and saw the excess still wrapped around your wrist. The tensile strength was much stronger than that so it shouldn’t have betrayed you so suddenly. It had never failed before. Turning your head back to Miguel, you saw the projections from the pads of his fingers.

“You were looking for claws?” Your brows raised as your head jerked towards his hand. “You could’ve asked.”

He simply shrugged.

“Let me ask you something…” He said calmly as he leaned back to his originally sitting position. “Why do you wanna be here so bad?”

“Good girl.” You gestured to yourself. “Sad boy.” You gestured to him and he shook his head with a scoff. You offered a small smile before wandering in a small circle, your back now to Miguel. “We all have this one thing going on.. And it’s always one thing after another, situations and circumstances and miscommunications. Losing people and losing fights, it’s all part of the job but… Honestly, I don’t know why. Maybe I just like the idea of not being alone, of not being the only one.”

You turned back to face him and saw he hadn’t looked away.

“It’d be nice to not be the only one with fangs, either.” You smiled, flashing your pointed teeth.

“You never told me why you’re wet.” He commented after a brief moment of silence.

“Oh.” You laughed nervously. “Funny story.”

You heard the muttered complaints come down the hall at the same time the tingle of another spider person hit your skin. Your eyes went wide when Lyla popped up in front of you, glaring at you with tightly crossed arms. You offered an innocent smile with hands up in surrender.

“Y/N!” Pavitr yelled with a wide grin as he entered the room, Hobie sulking behind him. The boy turned and began patting his friend’s shoulder excitedly. “It worked!”

“What worked?” Miguel turned to you.

“Those two-“ Lyla said angrily as she appeared in front of Miguel and pointed at the two spidermen. “-set of a fire alarm in the training center.”

“And that was your idea?” He looked to you again.

“Nah, mate.” Hobie answered casually. “Was all me.”

“You?” He shouted and then wiped a hand down his face. “I don’t- I can’t deal with you right now. Both of you, go help mop up and dry the training center. Just- Get out of my sight.”

Hobie offered you a salute before sauntering out, Pavitr quick on his heels. You smiled to yourself before you hopped off the platform, shooting a quick web to help control your descent.

“Where are you going?” Miguel called after you, causing your stride to pause. You spun to face him with a playful smile.

“To help clean up.. They did it so I could talk to you, after all.” You shrugged.

“Come back here when you’re done.” He tossed a device your way, the same device the other spiders had around their wrists.

“Gonna miss me already?” You teased as you fit it to your wrist, replacing the temporary band you were given.

“Always, cariño.”

You realized you hadn’t found out anything in regards to who you looked like from Miguel’s past, but with the confirmation that you’d come back, you figured you’d find out in time.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman fanfic #spiderman 2099 #2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 fic #across the spiderverse #smatsv #across the spiderverse fic #spiderverse fic #spiderverse x reader

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howdoesagrapewrites · 1 year

Text

𝙃𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨

Cw: sexual, lovesick!Miguel O'Hara x afab!genderfluid!reader, once again the reader is based off of me, degradation, biting, oral sex, dubcon, penetrative sex, dry humping, switch!reader, it's the mention of sexual activity rather than happening in the story, reader is not the wife shown in the movie

Miguel O'Hara knew everything about you. When you came to HQ, he was mindful that you merely were a variant of the person he once loved, that you were different, he even tried to find things he disliked about this "new" you. Spider-people work with variants all the time, and they don't make a big deal out of that, but you seemed eerily similar. He heard you crack the same jokes you did with him, tell the same anecdotes, have the same friends, the same taste in extremely specific things, you lived in the same house, and wore the same outfits. Your life was exactly the same, it was just that he wasn't on it, and that somehow you were spiderman.

He acts annoyed like he didn't recruit you, like he didn't want to look at your face everyday, like he didn't crave to have you back in his arms. Like he didn't get hard seeing the curve of your ass in your spidersuit.

Wanting your affection made him feel miserable, but lusting over you made him feel pathetic, disgusting. He knows you'd like that, though.

Because Miguel O'Hara knew everything about you, and you were a freak. He was your first time, so you took some time to warm up and tell him about your fantasies, but they were some fantasies and he couldn't decide which one he liked better. So he knew you'd get turned on at his current situation, you liked the devotion, and you had a thing for when he was being downright nasty, a pervert, you liked when he couldn't restrain himself and stole your used panties, when he jerked off next to your sleeping body, when his cock overpowered his strict nature and turned him into a desperate slut for you.

And he knew it was like this with your variant too, he wasn't exactly proud, but he policed your internet searches, and he found all those oh so dirty smut fanfics. He jerked himself off to every single one, you were imagining someone did that to you, and he was fantasizing with being the one who did it, he didn't even care for the name that was before the "x reader", those were fictional, none of them could fuck you like he knows how.

He knew you had a thing for biting and teeth, his teeth drove you crazy, all it took was a flash of them, and you responded with an uncomfortable shift in your seat and pleading eyes. But you also loved to bite him, he loved your teeth as much as you loved his, you were ecstatic with joy when he asked you bite him harder. No, you're not gonna hurt him, he reassured, and you sank your teeth into him like he was a piece of meat. Also that time when you discovered the effect your teeth could have in a blowjob, you experimentally grazed your teeth on his cock, and he couldn't even pretend he didn't like it, not with the sinful whine, and the buck of his hips into your mouth.

He also knew you liked degradation, you liked when one of you would humiliate themselves to prove his affections, you liked seeing him all worked up, feral, towering over you and doubling you in size, yet still obediently waiting for you to give him the signal, like a fucking pavlov dog. And you also liked to be treated like a slut, even moreso in your masculine days, he loved seeing you confidently bouncing on his cock like the manwhore you were, and in your harder days, you also always gave him permission to turn off the lights, press his teeth in your nape and fuck the dysphoria right out of you.

He knew you were satisfied knowing you were his everything, sometimes you couldn't even believe "why of all people" you where the one to have him wrapped around your finger. Miguel's outmost devotion and love was admirable, he showed you the mercy, love and patience that no one else had ever seen coming from him.

And he loved when you used that power to do as you pleased with him, he gave himself to you entirely, and you never once made him slightly regret it.

You would sometimes slip into his office, or follow him to the bathroom in a public place, and you would dry hump him until he came on the blue denim of his jeans, then you would get up and do something else (nine out of ten times it was running a bath or preparing something for him) just leaving him a complete mess, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, hot body shivering in the cold air, pants stained and uncomfortably tight, but he couldn't look more blissful as he watched you bouncing hips walking away from him.

"you'll be the death of me" he said so many times, without ever suspecting that it would be the other way around, it was him who killed you, it was his fault you died, had he been more careful and protect you from his enemies, you'd be peacefully sleeping next to him. But instead, he's being a creep and watching a security camera of you eating a bowl of cereal at 2 am because of your insomnia, messy hair, fuzzy pajama pants, no shirt and huge dark circles, and he finds you so irresistible just like that. He looked for you in other universes, canon be damned, he destroyed so much, doomed so many billions of people, several variants of spider-people, he didn't care, he was looking for you, but it was never you. He loved all your variants, but they weren't what he was looking for. Until now, this one, this one was different, sure, they wore the mask, but aside from that, it was you down to a T.

The camera he had set up for snooping around your phone lit up, you were probably going to use some fiction to aid you to sleep. The search bar casted a white ray of light to the eyes of his otherwise completely obscured face. "Yandere stalker x reader"

Ay, corazón, if you only knew. If. You. Only. Knew.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #Miguel O'Hara smut #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x you #Miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #atsv smut #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse smut

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apas-95 · 5 months

Note

The last post you re logged about arrestability and the Palestine Action network is something I've been thinking about a lot, and I feel really stuck on. It feels like any movement in the imperial core that wants to take actual direct action is going to find itself targeted by feds, but the ways that you can protect against that severely preclude it's ability to grow and find new recruits. Like, activism in the labor sphere can do more direct things because it doesn't have to be illegal, but I cant imagine that that will stay the case once a political labor party that's actually shutting things down. How does one make a mass movement that takes direct action but is able to prevent itself from getting shut down? I don't know, do you have any thoughts on this?

It's been done a hundred times before in the face of the same pressures, so the first order of business should be studying and learning from the experiences of successful labour movements.

Putting that aside, the key things are, in whatever words, militancy and deniability. By militancy, I mean the organisational understanding that you are in direct conflict with the bourgeois state (at a higher or lower intensity) and that your immediate priority should be making yourself immune to attack, followed only afterwards by taking offensive action. Militancy, then, means the recognition that the ultimate aim of the movement is the complete material domination and destruction of institutions that currently field armies and police networks. From the very first step, from the organisational nucleus, it needs to be understood that you are engaging in a pitched battle from within the enemies camp - which leads to the second key item, deniability.

Deniability, here, largely means compartmentalisation. Essentially every successful revolutionary movement has had a separation between the aboveground, legal struggle, and the underground, illegal struggle. To a certain degree, this is a genuinely covert or clandestine effort - undisclosed armed groups known only to a select few in the parent organisation, attributed funding through the laundering of the parent organisation. It is both essential that any armed cell is dependent entirely on the wide, integrated mass workers movement and that this cell is not actually widely known; hence, the parent organisation. If the cell were undisclosed but not integrated to a mass political organisation, it would not have revolutionary character, and be indistinguishable in practice from a common organised crime or terrorist group. It's ability to carry out correct actions would be incidental, and not self-correcting. If the cell had mass character but was not undisclosed, it would present a target to the bourgeois state and be destroyed. The strategy of asymmetric warfare is to strike at the enemy's undefended targets and to refuse to provide any defended targets for the enemy - this applies organisationally, too.

What needs to be stated, here, is that, given the connection to the mass movement, everything needs to be done only when the situation is correct. The size of a workers organisation necessary to support and supply even a single armed cell with laundered funding, safehouses, and information is extremely large, and will not be possible until a significant level of organisational base has been built and developed. Even once it is possible to support an armed cell, the political situation will very likely only warrant fairly low-intensity actions, like industrial sabotage. Again, though, the principal task of the militant - and the irregular fighter, the guerrilla in particular - is the preservation of one's own forces, over and above the destruction of the enemy. In real practice, there is no overabundance of caution, only hesitation - and the way to consistently and repeatedly carry out simple acts of industrial sabotage is by having three people work with the support of thirty-thousand. There can and must be a continuum of support, of different levels of action, between simply 'protest-organiser who pays dues to the aboveground labour organisation', to 'union salt who is a source of information on a worksite', to 'directly involved in organising and carrying out illegal acts'. The key metric for correct connection between the underground and aboveground sides of the movement is: if the actions of the underground were revealed, the mass base of the aboveground should be in support of it. The purpose of underground organising is not to go ahead of the people and start shooting cops (until the struggle has escalated to that intensity, and people are demanding that type of protection), it is to avoid providing a target for the bourgeois state.

At the higher levels of struggle, the existence of the underground becomes an open secret, which, with proper growth, coincides with the underground reaching a size and strength that it can begin to take up the mantle of the mass movement itself, and effectively transform itself into the parent organisation of the aboveground legal struggle. Until then, the model is that of a large political party leading a mass movement in every type of legal and semi-legal action under the sun (in strikes, civil unrest, and parliamentary campaigns), fiercely supporting those who do break the law (through legal and bail support, public campaigns, and protection), while the types of illegal actions the movement needs are carried out covertly.

TL;DR: Build a mass movement, or all you'll get are ecoterrorists and activists in prison.

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melancholyhigh · 1 year

Text

WORK HOURS.

ft. re2!rookie!leon x lieutenant!reader

synopsis. you were supposed to help leon out on his first time on the job. instead, you’re helping him out in a different way.

content. smut. 1.2k words. car sex, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, dry humping, sub leon, marking, they’re both so desperate for each other, creampie, pet names, praise kink, virginity loss.

note. man, fuck tumblr. i accidentally posted the unfinished draft n didn't realise :( anyways, i hope you guys like it <3

check out my other works. comments & reblogs are appreciated !!

it was leon’s first week on the job, and you were assigned to show him around since he wasn’t well acquainted with raccoon city. boss thought it would be a great idea to take him on patrol to get him adjusted to the area.

you were excited that a new recruit was joining. it didn’t happen too often, and you knew it was difficult being a rookie — you were in the same position when you had originally joined the RPD. so when you meet him, you plan on being a great lieutenant and helping him where necessary.

your first impression of leon was that he was sweet and a bit naive. he was also rather gorgeous. God certainly had favourites. you couldn’t help but stare at him, and he noticed. a pink blush blooming on his cheeks when he caught you gazing at him. the flushed look made him even more captivating as you secretly wished that the blush on his face would be for different reasons.

you felt guilty for having such thoughts about him. you are his boss, for Christ’s sake. you have to assist him with his duties, not get in his pants.

but how could you not think about him like that? the way he got flustered when your hands brushed up against his or the shy glances he took of you throughout the day as you showed him the workings of the place.

this constant build-up of teasing had been why the fine line between being work professional and fucking the shit out of him had been blurred. leaving you in the predicament you are in right now.

the glass windows are foggy as you and leon sloppily make out in the reclined passenger seat of the police car. you’re hovering over him, legs on either side of his thighs. your pants are off and somewhere near the driver’s seat. you’re too preoccupied with the soft whines that leave leon’s parted lips as you place opened-mouth kisses down the column of his throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh.

this isn’t what you had planned for the night. you and leon should've been patrolling the streets, searching for criminals, not dry-humping in a car in some shitty parking lot.

but, fuck, the whimpers that he makes when he eagerly grips your hips with his big, soft hands and guides your clothed pussy against the bulge of his uniform pants have you overlooking your responsibilities for the rest of the night.

“feel so good,” he groans quietly into your ear as you continue sucking marks on his neck. you pull back to admire your work. his lips, swollen from your passionate kissing, the buttons of his cotton shirt undone, exposing the expanse of his chest littered with reddish-purple marks. you want the sight seared into your brain.

he peers up through his eyelashes, eyes all glossy, and his face flushed with that same fucking blush you adore. he’s bucking his hips up to yours, pants stained with your arousal, leaking through your underwear and his arms circle your waist.

“shit, i wanna feel you inside of me, honey,” you say breathlessly and leon nearly comes in his pants at the thought of feeling your cunt squeezing him tight.

you’re leaning against the dashboard, clumsily unbuckling his belt before half haphazardly throwing it to the side. unzipping leon’s pants, you pull his cock out of his boxers. it’s flushed and red, especially at the tip, which leaked with precum. everything about him was pretty.

you grasp his shaft, slowly stroking him. his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck. your warm hands moving up and down his rigid cock provided enough friction for him to make a mess all over your palms. you realised he was holding out for you, smiling you kissed the top of his head.

“you’re such a good boy, leon,” you said softly.

at your words, you felt his hips jerk up into your hands. moans escaped his lips as he bit into your neck trying to contain them.

he whimpers your name, panting into the crook of your neck.

“need you so bad,” he sobs, tears swimming in his beautiful blue eyes. his cock pulsing and neglected when you pull your hands away from him.

“fuck, okay, sweetheart,” you muttered. leon leans back into the reclined seat, his hands on your hips. his chest moving up and down with every breath he takes.

you push your damp panties to the side, exposing your dripping cunt, you grind onto leon’s cock, groaning when the bulbous head of his cock nicks your sensitive clit. leon gasps at the feeling of your warm, bare pussy up against him. he wouldn’t last that long inside of you.

his cock finally enters your cunt. barely the tip is in, and you both groan in unison. your nails dig into his shoulders for support as you continue to sink down into him.

you feel each vein and ridge of his cock when he bottomed out in you. you moaned loudly. you were filled to the brim with him.

leon’s chest heaves as he feels your warm, gummy walls swallow his cock. he wanted so badly to fuck into you, but he wanted to be good.

“you’re amazing, sweetheart.” you huff out. “‘m gonna start moving, ‘kay?”

he acknowledges your words by squeezing your hips, unable to trust his voice.

you start bouncing on his cock, and all he manages are choked whines and whimpers that leave his pink, lips. he starts bucking his hips up to you, and you’re moaning when he reaches the spots you thought were imaginable.

the obscene squelching sounds of your drenched cunt being pounded into by leon fills the car alongside his and your desperate moans. it’s insane how wet he makes you.

“you hear that, baby? that’s how good you’re making me feel,” you say with a shaky voice.

your words make his tummy tense. he holds you closer, his hips stuttering before he gets into a rhythm again. he’s close to coming.

“‘m close,” he whimpers, and your pussy tightens around him at the sound of his broken voice.

his bangs are sticking to his forehead from the sweat that accumulated. he looks even more beautiful fucked out like this.

“come with me, baby,” you breathed. you brought one of your hands to your clit, rubbing tight circles.

nearing your orgasm, you press your lips to his, pushing your tongue into his mouth. the intimate moment has both of you coming.

leon’s legs are shaking as he comes inside your pussy. he moans into your mouth, feeling your cunt spasming around his cock when you climax. his hips came to a halt, and you feel his sticky cum ooze out of your sensitive pussy.

you’re both breathless, and he’s still holding onto you like his life depends on it.

“you did so well, leon,” you mumble, moving the bangs from his forehead, giving him a kiss. leon heart skips a beat. you treat him so good.

#leon's so babygirl in re2 #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy #re2 #re2 x reader #leon x reader #leon smut #re2 smut #leon x you #leon kennedy x you #re2 x you #smut #re4 x reader #re4 #re4 smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #✩‧₊˚ fics

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andi-kook · 21 days

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DEAD KIDS ✦ Chapter 2

SUMMARY: A group of university students kidnaps their rich batchmate for ransom. However, things take a darker turn when the new recruit grows a dangerous obsession with the captive and all hell breaks loose.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Slow burn Yandere, Crime AU

WARNINGS: Not suitable for audiences below 18. Please do not engage with the story if you are underage. WATCH OUT FOR: dark and morally corrupt characters, foul language, mention of Catholicism, slut shaming and objectification of women, mention of inappropriate relationship between professor/student, mentions and depiction of “rape” and “rape fantasy” throughout the story, masturbation, threats, MC has an NSFW blog with hard kinks and fantasies, non consensual touching. Overall, this is a disturbing chapter – based on my standards – so if you are not comfortable with these topics, do not proceed. Inspired by the film, Dead Kids (2019).

TAGLIST: @hopeworldsupremacy @aliajomarie011 @ackercute @tatumrileyslover @ane102 @jjk174 @dontcallmeelle @merrygo1427 @taekritimin123 @r1r111 @gguksfilter @coralmusicblaze

If I didn’t tag you – either your blog doesn’t exist according to Tumblr or because you did not show your age in your blog. Thank you!

ANDI: I send my love to the beautiful souls who sent me asks about Dead Kids as well as these equally beautiful souls – @.taekritimin123 @.hellbornsworld @.tinytangerineangel @.namjesusdaughter – for commenting on Chapter 1. I cannot express just how much I appreciate your words. I would have tagged you directly, but I wasn’t sure if you would want that. But I wanted to show my appreciation.

WORD COUNT: 3K

“Why did you really want to take her?” Jungkook asks Namjoon as they sit and eat the ramen he cooked around the living area. Beside him, Yoongi and Hoseok are fast asleep, the latter clutching onto the former’s arm like it’s his plushie while the former has his head thrown against the headrest.

Namjoon, who is seated on the other makeshift sofa, gulps down the soup from his ramen before letting out a satisfied sigh and wipes his mouth with the back of his mouth. “How many times do we have to say that we kidnapped Y/N for ransom?”

“I’m not stupid, Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “We’re already tied to this shit until the ransom drop. The least you can do is be upfront on why you did this in the first place. I’m not taking a bullet for you or anyone.”

The buzz-cut haired man leans his back against the sofa, which unlike his premium one, is built from scratch by Jungkook using old wood and cases of beers around the warehouse. He gazes at Jungkook for a while, studying him while swimming in his own thoughts. The tattooed man wonders if Namjoon is contemplating telling him the truth. He wonders if the two sleeping men beside him also knew the truth.

They claim to have been friends since the fourth grade, but does time really make you know a person inside out?

“My father didn’t used to be the way he is now – corrupt. Growing up, I looked up to him because of how honest and upstanding he was as a cop. I knew he did some off-the-books shit, but he still had a moral compass, still had lines he didn’t cross. But then he met Y/N’s father, Kim Seokjin, when I was ten. Suddenly, everything changed,” Namjoon narrates, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head and rubs his palms on his baggy jeans. “He went from being a great husband and father to my mother and I to a complete asshole. We didn’t have religion but after meeting Kim Seokjin, we were suddenly Catholics, attending church with his family every Sunday. I was baptized and Kim Seokjin became my godfather. But the worst part was seeing him erase all the lines he drew and swore never to cross when he began to use his position as a detective and then eventually sergeant to now the chief of the entire police force in Seoul to protect Kim Seokjin and his criminal empire.”

Jungkook inhales deeply. “So, kidnapping Y/N is you taking on revenge against Kim Seokjin for corrupting your father? It is personal. It’s never about the money?”

“Of course, the money is important and integral to the plan. But yes, you are correct – I want to avenge my father from Kim Seokjin by hitting him where I know it will hurt the most: his only daughter, Y/N.”

“You promised that we are not going to hurt her,” Jungkook counters immediately.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “If you do that – what makes you different than Kim Seokjin?”

“Why are you so protective of her?” Namjoon asks pointedly. “What? Just because she gave you a boner, you’re suddenly fucking in love with her? Don’t think I didn’t notice. We all did. Yoongi is right – drop the morally upright act, Jeon. You’re just as demented as we are. The moment you agreed to this plan, you’re just as fucked up.”

The sudden call out makes Jungkook turn crimson and Namjoon smirks, placing his leg over the other. “Don’t worry – unlike you, I don’t judge people. To each our own. If shit like that turns you on, then that’s on you. Why don’t you take the opportunity to act on it?”

His eyes widen, shocked and disgusted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jungkook knows exactly what Namjoon is talking about, but he is completely aghast at the insinuation.

The de facto leader only widens his smirk, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lighter from the front pocket of his large, oversized coat. “You know what I’m talking about, Jeon. A pretty naked girl tied to a chair in your warehouse – it’s perfectly normal to feel aroused by such sight. We won’t judge you if you just get it over and done with.”

“You’re more than fucked up,” Jungkook hisses, face flushed and veins popping out on his neck. “I’m not going to fucking touch her.”

Namjoon lights the cigarette in between his lips. Then, he inhales, and smoke leaves his lips as he replies, “Why not? Y/N is a dirty slut who fucks her married professor with kids her age after church and dinner every Sunday night and more – I bet you all my cut that she’s not going to resist you because she’s probably into fucking someone having their own way with her. No, in fact, I can tell you she’s going to enjoy it.”

Jungkook feels hot. Images of your naked trembling body and whimpering pleas filling his mind and ears.

“She has a blog, you know? A secret blog where she writes these fantasies and kinks she has. Posts her nudes on there too. Do you wanna know what is one fantasy she keeps on writing about?”

“No, I really don’t,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth.

“It’s a rape fantasy, Jungkook. What a fucking dirty slut she is, right? I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

He stands up in a jolt, hitting his knee on the makeshift table he made from old tires and steel roof and stammering some excuse that he needs to go the bathroom or air – he can’t remember. Jungkook finds himself in his room, back pressed against the door. His shirt sticks to his skin because of the sweat, and he takes it off, leaving it discarded on the floor. Namjoon’s words mixed with the flashing images of your perky nipples, smooth skin, sound of your whimpers, pleas, your smell – it makes him hard. Harder than he’s ever been.

Before he knows it, Jungkook is unbuttoning his jeans, pulling it down along with his boxers, his erection springing free. He spits on his palm before he begins stroking his length, shuddering at the touch, making his mouth dry. He presses the back of his head against the door, eyes closed as he imagines you on your knees – like you were with the professor – those lips around his shaft, head bobbing as you suck him dry. He imagines hearing your moans, imagines his dick hitting the back of your throat as you go deeper and beg him to fuck your mouth like a whore. Jungkook’s stroking himself faster. He imagines hearing you gag as he fucks your mouth, not stopping even when you’re clearly suffocating. Then, he cums, toes curling and a guttural groan escaping his lips.

As he comes back from his high, Jungkook stares at the white sticky substance covering his hand and cock. He just jerked off to you, a girl they kidnapped, and he knows it won’t be the last time.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi hisses at him the moment he comes back from his room, showered and changed into more comfortable clothes.

Jungkook deliberately ignores the stare of Namjoon and flops on the seat beside Hoseok who is eating the remaining ramen. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“I’m going to punch this kid, I swear to God,” Yoongi grumbles, rolling his eyes. “We’re making the ransom call, you dumb fuck. Or rather, you are.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “What? Why me?”

“Every one of us here has already encountered Y/N’s father at least once. The man remembers everyone he encounters. You’re the only exception,” Namjoon explains as he hands you a black phone. “It’s a burner phone, untraceable. I took it from my dad. And this is what you’re going to say – make sure you sound intimidating at least. Put it on speaker too.”

Namjoon places his phone on the makeshift table and Jungkook clicks his tongue. “The deal was you only use my warehouse. So far, you got me doing far more than that.”

“Do you want 25 million or not?” Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cos if you do, you better start calling Kim Seokjin.”

I’m going to punch you soon, Jungkook tells himself before he unlocks the phone and goes to the contact list where Kim Seokjin’s name is the only one listed. He takes a deep breath, going over the script on Namjoon’s phone before clicking on the contact and putting the call on speaker. The ringing sound echoes throughout the warehouse. The tension is palpable again, like it was back in the car earlier that night.

After a few more rings, Kim Seokjin’s voice fills the warehouse. It’s light but a hint of roughness and irritation is noticeable right away.

“Who is this?”

Jungkook licks his lips as he read the script in front of him. “We have your daughter. If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 million won and bring it to 2020 this Friday night. Otherwise, the next time you’ll see her is on the news, dead.”

Hoseok covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing while Yoongi stares hard at the phone. Namjoon, on the other hand, is relaxed on his seat, smoking.

“You sound young, boy,” Seokjin remarks. “You are not the first person to call me in the middle of the night asking for ransom. Do you really have any idea what you’re doing?”

Namjoon motions for him to repeat what he just said.

“If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 mill—,”

“Don’t you think I would be able to find my daughter faster than you could ever imagine? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

That triggers Jungkook. He’s been hearing that question – that discrimination his entire life and he’s sick of it. He’s fucking sick of it.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Either you give us 100 million in exchange for your whore of a daughter or I will personally make you watch as we do everything we want with her, make you watch as she begs you to make it stop, make you listen as she takes her last breath before I fucking slit her throat so deep her head nearly decapitates. You have until Friday night – and you better make sure the police don’t get involved. Don’t fucking ask me who the fuck you are again.”

He ends the call, gripping the phone tightly.

“What the fuck was that? Why the hell didn’t you stick to the script?! Are you trying to get us all a one way ticket to prison?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Did you not hear what he’s saying? He caught on that we are fucking amateurs. I saved our asses – you should be fucking grateful,” Jungkook snaps, clenching his jaw. “If you didn’t want me to do the call, maybe the three of you should have done it yourselves. Fucking useless bastards.”

“Hey! What did you say?” Hoseok stands, pushing Jungkook by placing his hands on his chest. “Who are you calling useless, huh?”

“Who do you think?” He scoffs.

“Let’s fucking kill this son of a bitch, Hobi.”

“Gladly.”

“Enough,” Namjoon says sternly. “No one is going to kill anyone. Not amongst ourselves. What Jungkook did is right, Yoongi. Jungkook saved our asses. And you,” He turns to the long-haired man, glaring at him. “Mind your fucking tone and language with us. We’re not fucking useless. Remember that we recruited you. Not the other way around. If anyone should be grateful to someone, it’s you. We’re the reason you’ll get out of this shit hole.”

Nobody says a word.

“It’s getting late. Let’s gather here tomorrow after our classes. Just go about your usual days until the drop. Don’t be suspicious,” The de facto leader reminds. “Jungkook, keep an eye out, okay? Don’t forget to check in on our little friend from time to time. Make sure she’s still breathing.” He smirks as he pats his shoulder on his way out.

Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit. Once Jungkook hears Namjoon driving off his – rather his aunt’s – property, he resigns to the sofa behind him. He buries his face into his hands. Five days. You’ll be stuck with him at the warehouse for five fucking days. Granted, he has classes to attend to, so he won’t be at home all day, but he’s sure you won’t leave his mind wherever he goes.

The phone in his hand buzzes and he stares at the new notification on the screen – a text message from an unknown number. Jungkook unlocks the phone, goes to the messaging app, and clicks on the new text.

avirgins1ut on tumblr if you wanna read some things tonight

“Fuck you, Namjoon,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. However, when he goes to his room, grabs his shitty phone and opens his data – he installs the app despite knowing it will consume almost all the remaining gigabytes he has left.

Jungkook lies down on his bed and creates his profile. He doesn’t bother customizing it, going straight to your blog which is all black and hot pink. Instantly, he’s drawn to your profile picture – a simple mirror shot of you hiding your bare chest with your arms, head tilt slightly to the side and a black panty covering your cunt. He swallows the lump in his throat as he scrolls down, reading your pinned post:

“Hey. You can call me Angel. I’m 23 years old. This blog is filled with all my fantasies and kinks, sometimes my nudes. Feel free to send me yours too.

My kinks: cnc, free use, somnophilia, spit, slapping, marking, choking, daddy, and more.

My favorite fantasies: rape play, kidnapped, kept as sex slave, knife/gun play, forced gangbang, and more – why don’t you help me unlock those? DMs and asks open for all your threats and nudes.

Update: already got myself a master/daddy. Asks and messages are off.”

As he scrolls further down your blog, Jungkook doesn’t even realize he already has his hand wrapped around his dick as he masturbates to your the latest fantasy you wrote albeit months ago.

I can’t stop masturbating to this dark fantasy of mine – being raped by someone so brutally after they kidnap me. How they would keep me chained to the bed, always naked so they can easily rape me whenever and however they want. They would mock me whenever I would tell them to stop (“You shouldn’t have worn those skirts if you didn’t want to be raped. But you did. So, this isn’t rape. You were clearly asking for this like some depraved filthy bitch in heat. You’re fucking loving this, don’t you? Isn’t this what you want?”) and choke me as they pound into my wet and clenching pussy relentlessly. They would slap and spit on my face, abusing my cunt for hours until I’m full of theirs and their friends’ cum whom they called to let them have a taste of their new toy.

They would rape me day in and out until my body gets so used to it that I start asking for it – crying and begging to be fucked. “Shh, angel, daddy’s going to fuck you, okay? Don’t cry.” Slowly, I would forget all my autonomy and identity, wholly submitting myself to them because I was never my own in the first place – I was always theirs.

“Fuck, Y/N!” His entire body shakes as he cums again. Jungkook can’t stop – he wants to read more, see more as you posted a picture of your cum covered cunt at the end of the post and he imagines it’s his. But he gets a notification that he is out of data and Jungkook slams his phone on his bed, frustrated beyond bounds. He is still hard. He still wants to see more of you, read more of your fantasies.

Namjoon’s words echo in his mind. I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

And before he knows it – he is standing across from your limp body. You’re still unconscious – sack over your head, tied and bound on the metal chair. Jungkook walks towards you, gently touching your shoulders to see if you would react but you don’t. He bites his lower lip as his eyes fall on your naked chest. He reaches down to trace its curves before ultimately cupping one breast in hand, fondling, squeezing, twisting the nipple and pinching it. No response.

He begins to stroke himself as he continues to fondle your breasts. This is wrong, but why does it feel so good?

“F-Fucking slut, you’re asking for this,” Jungkook hisses through his teeth. He’s not going to last any longer – not when those perky nipples are so inviting and moments later, he cums all over tits. He’s panting, an exhilarating feeling he hasn’t felt before rising within him as he stares at your cum covered chest. He swallows, breathing heavily. Should he stop now or keep going? He doesn’t have data anymore, but he does have the real thing right in front of him. But you twitch and he jumps in surprise. Suddenly, the realization of his actions washes upon him. He feels a coil in his stomach. What has he done? He scrambles out of the room and dash straight to the bathroom where he extensively washes his hand and splashes cold water on his face. Then, he throws himself on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling as he pants. Namjoon is right – he’s just as fucked up as they are.

CHAPTER 3 is coming soon.

TAGLIST: Wanna be part of Dead Kids’ taglist? Fill out this form and don’t forget to read the short note in order for me to tag you.

ANDI: I do not condone the behaviors exhibited in this story. The characters of Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok do not reflect who they are in real life. Fanfiction is just fanfiction. I have no schedule in writing – I write whenever I can. Please try to refrain from sending asks about updates (or at least be kind and polite about it) and let me know your feedbacks instead as they help a lot in motivation and inspiration! 🦉

#yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere bts #bts x reader #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts au #dark jungkook #dark bts #andi.writes 💭

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qyxzun · 2 months

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𝟏 ┆𝕬𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝕯𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘 almost caused an impossible amount of property damage. Numerous had minor injuries, while some were severely wounded, but overall, no deaths occurred. News reporters were at the scene, interviewing policemen, detectives, victims, and the public to inform others through television. Countless ambulances were parked nearby to help the wounded. People were divided, with numerous supporting your actions for saving them while others blamed you for the damages. Yet what made your head spin from confusion was how no one was talking about the other Spider-Man, Miguel. You knew he was there and that you weren’t imagining anything else. His ignored presence made it seem like the public never saw him, almost like a ninja undercover but a spider-man! The event covered each newspaper and channel and even started to gain more attention on online platforms. The raging public against you was making up crazy allegations in hopes you could be sued, making petitions in hopes of finding out your identity. Thankfully, it was just a small amount of them, mostly the politicians who wanted to give credit to the police. They’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side anyway, like those detectives who always tried to find any evidence on you but unfortunately found nothing.

It had been almost a full two months, and they still hadn’t gotten over it. Brooklyn Visions Academy has been closed since the incident to let students and faculty recover and rebuild the school. You, on the other hand, enjoyed the free vacation. There was no need to worry about exams or studies with the extra months off. The green creature caused a lot of damage, and the fire could’ve burned down the entire school. It was by chance that you got to save the victims, and you were thankful that Miguel showed up to help you, even if it was for a different cause.

It had been a full blast since the Spider-Man of Earth 928 invited you to join his spider-society. You learned a lot about it, as a rookie, when you started following him with the multiversal gizmo, the name of the watch. He founded it as an elite crew and began by recruiting other spider-people from other dimensions to assist him in removing anomalies, or people or things that were not intended to be in another universe.

You were shocked to see how many spider-variants he recruited before you. You believed it was already around twenty. But ever since you joined, the number of spider-men started to grow larger and larger. You met so many new friends, learning new techniques from them as well as forming new friendships. It was something you enjoyed; all of them—except for Miguel, were so much identical to you, even by personality. It created such beautiful diversity in his society, and you never felt more at home.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone anymore, knowing you weren’t the only one, the only one to carry the great power and responsibility as a spider-variant.

Miguel became your inspiration. He was strong, yet he remained the very sarcastic and aloof person he was. He was a man of few words, but you wanted to learn more from him and become stronger like him. His efforts to recruit more spider-variants from various universes piqued your interest, and you wanted to help him. He occasionally allowed you to assist his multiversal policing mission as a co-leader. The multiversal gizmo he gave you would occasionally beep, as it was his only means of communicating with you from another dimension. To keep it short, you were getting the hang of this spider society and often went on missions with other spider-men.

A few of them were your age, and you grew to like them. One of them was Gwen Stacy. You found her cool for having an eyebrow piercing and for playing drums while in a band. She had pretty blonde hair with a hint of pink, but a portion of it was buzzed off, which she joked about because it happened when a spider-man from another dimension accidentally forced her to cut it. She always mentioned that Spider-Man was sweet, friendly, selfless, and such to you. Gwen was likeable and friendly as well, but at times.. seemed more tense when she talked about her problems with her dad and her best friend, Peter. She would frequently make light of it while you were concerned for her.

“But hey.. stuff happens right? Canon events and all that stuff…” Gwen would say, with an aloof yet recognizable anxious tone.

Canon events. It was the only thing you hated about the rules of the multiverse. You never had it stored in your mind, as it caused your head to hurt, your spider-senses to go haywire, and, overall, it hurt you on the inside. Every spider-man had to go through it. Even you. Every time the words canon event were spoken out of someone’s mouth, your stomach would drop slowly as you remembered your canon event.

You were in the rain, fighting your nemesis, who claimed to be the Venom of your universe. He was an extremely difficult opponent ever to beat and you often came back home limping with blood stains dripping off your shirt while you tried to hide it from your parents. You could feel their worried expressions often behind you, resulting in you feeling guilty. You just wanted to pour out your problems to a person who could understand you. You already knew friends and family weren’t the answer. In this line of work as a hero, you always act alone. Always by yourself. Aside from your worries, you could’ve sworn.. every time you could manage to escape your nemesis, it was like you were on your last days on Earth.

After hours of fighting under a monsoon in a large, dark alleyway, you could remember vividly that the rain was pouring down on both of you while you were breathing heavily, exhausted, and injured. Your wrists started to bleed out of your spider suit while you continued to shoot webs the entire time you were fighting Venom. He was tossing you around, gripping your head and smashing it through walls. You often spat out so much blood through your mask that you could remember drinking a litre full of it. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, while your heart beat faster than a runner in a race. You clenched your fists as you felt the adrenaline in you, preventing you from giving up.

And in a fit of rage, you lost it. You remembered grabbing Venom’s forearm, gripping it so hard that you heard the host inside the creature’s bones shatter into pieces. You were silent during the entire fight; it wasn’t like any spider-variant. Usually, they’d make a sarcastic or humorous remark, but you weren’t playing around. You wanted him gone.

Venom’s limbs were tied individually to each wall of the alleyway’s buildings, as well as a tight noose formed by your webs on his neck supported by a billboard on top. He was weak for the first time in front of you. You couldn’t even take his presence anymore. You wanted him dead and gone, dismembered to the point where no one could ever find his body. You first pulled on all the webs to tighten their grip on him. They were thin enough to cut like a knife through his skin. His blood dropped down alongside the rain. After, you cut off all of them except for the one on his neck, leaving him to choke while you watched him suffer—the same criminal who killed one of your friends.

You remember him muttering your name, making you perplexed, but you were still heartless. You carelessly pulled his leg down as the venom’s skin started to melt. The gross substance ran down, staining you in the process before your eyes went wide. You quickly realized and as quick as you could, you cut the noose before his body collapsed onto yours.

“No.. no.. no… Peter, no,” you whimpered, cupping his beat-up face with your bloody glove. You quickly took off your spider mask. Tears built up in your eyes while you sniffled, and the blood from your nose dried. You caressed his cheek, moving any hair from his face in hopes of making him feel better. In his injured state, he slowly rested a hand on your soft-gloved fingers. When he saw your face, he couldn’t be more shocked. He winced as he tried to smile at you reassuringly, blood dripping from his mouth while his left bruised-up eye pulsed.

“I'm so sorry, Y/N… I.. I didn’t know you were spider-woman...” Peter blubbered, gripping your hand tighter. His hand slowly moved from your fingers to your face, cupping it as well while he wiped your fresh tears away before they could fall from your cheeks. “You’re so beautiful...” He admired you, smiling. He coughed out more blood, choking on the irony substance. He wanted to close his eyes but he hated the thought of leaving you. He tried to pull your face closer but most of his fingers were bent and broken. His consciousness drifted closer to leaving him. At least he could die in the arms of the one he truly loved.

“Parker, shut the hell up I’m getting you help, okay?! Don’t die on me!” You fussed, crying more as you wiped away the rain that poured down on his face. You brought his injured body into your arms. "No, no, no, please, Peter,” your sobs were muffled on his neck, your chest heaving as well. Your hand went to his wrist to quickly check his pulse, noticing it was already gone.

That night, a part of you died, knowing that your best friend, Peter Parker, was your nemesis and best friend all along. It was one of your canon events.

In the early hours of Earth 926-Z’s New York, you were dozing off in one of your dorm’s couches with a blanket over your chest. You were too drowsy to pay attention to your gizmo which beeped again. The gadget vibrated on your wrist before its screen automatically flipped open as it activated the portal’s access. Some of your objects started to float before the familiar colourful hexagons were summoned as they started to circle. You put a hand over your eyes, groaning when the brightness annoyed you. You tried to get more sleep until you heard footsteps. When your spider-senses buzzed, you peeked through your fingers with your exhausted eyes.

“Heeey Y/N, just thought I’d drop by,” the familiar voice said. It was Jessica Drew, one of the spider-women of the spider-society. She looked down at you, who slept on one of your dorm’s couches, tired. She chuckled at how drowsy you were; it was understandable since you were out fighting and catching anomalies with Hobie last night.

“Told ya not to get overboard,” Another familiar voice said. Your tired eyes looked up and saw the mini Lyla, Miguel’s sassy but highly intelligent AI. She flashed a smirk with her small virtual body in the air next to Jessica’s head by a few inches. She adjusted her pink, heart-shaped glasses and glitched to get closer to your eyes. She tried to lift your eyelids open with her tiny hands. Jessica took small steps around the living room, seeing how messy but organized the room was.

You grumbled and tried to shoo her hologram away. “Ughhh.. what do you want…” you groaned, turning over the couch as Lyla glitched back next to Jessica. With a flick from her fingertips, the spider-woman shot her web and pulled you up effortlessly, making you sit up on the couch.

“Y’know the girl I recruited— and your friend, Gwen?” Jessica asked, looking down on you while you hummed in agreement shortly.

“Anyway, Miguel and I assigned her for a mission in Earth 1610B to catch another anomaly—well, technically just a villain from that dimension,” Jessica explained but paused, looking back to Lyla. With a clap of her tiny hands, your room went dark as she presented an orange virtual screen that was twice as big as the coffee table. It flickered, presented someone, and then began to play as Lyla carried on.

“This guy calls himself the Spot, and he recently just caused some havoc in Earth 1610B’s Brooklyn,” the small AI said as the video continued. The villain was faceless, with a black spot in the center of his face and numerous spots all over his body. Almost like a human...faceless cow? The screen was then flipped sideways, creating a three-dimensional hologram of the strange entity. You rubbed your chin, and even though you were really tired, you couldn’t help but become curious.

The hologram flashed brighter with a slight change of colour as it became bigger. The figure collapsed from the screen as all three of you watched how the scenery changed into the broken collider from Earth 1610B that Miguel told you about. The Spot’s holographic figure flickered out of nowhere again before you heard him speak.

“Look at me— you did this to me!!” The Spot yelled, his voice becoming more and more distorted as he began to charge into the spider-man and the officer beside him. You watched as the two of them were in a fighting stance until the Spot summoned a hole by accident, getting himself kicked by, well, himself. He made a slight oof sound, knowing it would’ve hurt a lot. He took a pretty big tumble as he slid in front of the two with his jaw on the floor before another hole was created, pulling him into the black abyss. The hologram then ended, going back to being a screen.

You rubbed your eye after you finished watching, bewildered but still drained. You looked back at Jessica and Lyla; the frizzy, curly-haired woman had a serious expression on her face, watching with an austere look on the Spot. It made you slightly tense like a kid seeing their mother angry. She looked back at you before her face softened as she sighed. You cleared your throat before speaking.

"So, uh, what does this have to do with me?” You asked, scratching your head out of curiosity.

"Well, Gwen knows her way 'round that world since she got pulled into that dimension before,” Jessica explained while she started to walk around your living room, viewing the decorations with an aloof stare.

"I know 'bout her lil' friend.. Miles, right? 'm pretty sure she told you 'bout him before.” she continued, looking back at you to see what you had to say. You just nodded while you watched her slowly move around the room, running her hand gently on the surface of your tables.

“The girl’s good at combat like any other spider-variant in the spider-society. I mean, I could’ve sent her hours ago, but, y'know, Miguel.” Jessica spoke before her eyes wandered back to you. “It honestly ain’t a surprise that he doubts her but this Spot dude is starting to concern Miguel. I’ve faith in Gwen, but Miguel still insisted on bringing another spider; he recommended you.” Your eyebrows rose as the pregnant lady turned back to you She cleared her throat, and she became more serious.

“So— an order from Miguel; you accompany Gwen to Earth 1610B and the two of you make sure the operation is a success.” She rummaged through her spider-suit’s pocket and tossed you something very small. You easily caught it and saw a tiny mechanical spider, its legs tucked into its body, with a funky logo on the iron skin, You assumed Lyla fabricated it. Jessica continued to speak. “Aaaand put that device near the Spot. Just put it somewhere he can’t find it,” she explained.

You looked down on the very tiny machine. “What does it do?” You asked. “It can track the person's whereabouts through the multiverse and scan their data; pretty cool, huh?” Lyla smiled, floating around in the air. You looked back at Jess, who had a serious look, but you could tell she wanted you to join. You sighed.

“Fineeee, I’ll do it,” you responded before standing up from the couch, opening your closet nearby to get your spider-suit. Lyla easily opened up another portal, causing a ruckus as some of your furniture started to fly around again. Jessica was about to step into the large floating and orange hexagons before she looked back at you, giving you a thumbs up and fully entering the portal. It closed on you as well as Lyla, who disappeared out of thin air.

You travelled through space and time, bending the laws of physics as you travelled through the multiverse with speed faster than light. It was all blurry with only space and stars passing through you as well as the hexagons that led the way. It all started to clear when the matter itself tore apart, creating a hole. You blinked once before you finally saw yourself on Earth 928. You were spawned in the middle of the lobby as you easily used your webs to maneuver around and reach the cafeteria, where you'd meet Gwen. The familiar ginormous building would make a normal person pass out of confusion but it had what every spider-variant liked; a big space to swing freely, overpasses to walk on even when upside down, training programs, and even a therapy section for the spider-people who recently got their canon event.

You landed on the floor and looked around the large space, you spotted her sitting down next to a plant with her favourite pink cardigan and her watch flipped open. You snuck behind her while she looked down on the gizmo, scaring her in the process. She suddenly yelped.

“Jesus Christ—Y/N, that scared me.” Gwen sighed, while you laughed.

“My bad— your spider-senses didn’t go off?” you asked before she shook her head. Her expression then changed into a bright one.

“Can’t believe I’ll go back again!” Gwen smiled and giggled while you gave her a smug look. She slightly blushed before coughing. “T-To catch the Spot, duh,” she responded and looked away. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you giggled. Your eyes wandered back to her flipped watch before they grew wide. “You serious? You got the two of you as your wallpaper too?” You teased before Gwen quickly flipped it closed, looking around frantically. It was the picture she showed you a long time ago when Gwen and her friend took a picture together while she ended up in the wrong dimension.

“Huh? Me? don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, playing dumb before she quickly opened up another portal using the gizmo. The bright orange hexagons grew bigger and rotated very slowly. The blonde-haired girl looked back at you excitedly. "C'mon, let’s go!” She smiled before stepping in, not giving you a chance to speak.

"Geez, I guess she really misses him,” you shrugged before jumping in as well.

The afro-haired teen had his headphones on, trying to relax after a small argument with his parents. Now, he’s grounded but who do they think he was? He was spider-man for God’s sake. He can’t be grounded. Miles was lying down on his bed with his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed and his head occasionally but slowly moved to the rhythm of his music, it was his comfort after all.

Yet he didn’t seem to notice some of his things started to float mid-air. They circled around his room before black bubbles and colourful light started to form just above him. The portal opened as it revealed you and Gwen. She had an excited look after seeing her friend near after two years. You, on the other hand, were just looking down, wondering when he’ll notice the two of you.

”Miles! Miles!” Gwen called out, trying to get his attention. In confusion, Miles slowly opened his eyes to the familiar voice. He thought he was seeing things until he did see Gwen. He quickly took off his headphones and sat up. “Gwen! H-How—” He stuttered, perplexed to see her after such a long time. She then dropped down next to him on his bed, her legs crossed.

“How’d you get here— oof-!” Miles tried to speak again until the blonde-haired girl quickly hugged him. He hugged her back as well, still bewildered. He then noticed you dropped down the portal as well. It closed before you landed on his floor easily, not making so much noise.

You took off your mask, revealing your face to him. You flashed him a small smile. Even though you knew why Miguel was infuriated when the name Miles would leave someone’s mouth, mostly Gwen, he was still another spider-man that you had respect for since he was Gwen’s friend. His mouth slightly gaped when he saw you.

“My bad, my bad, didn’t mean to appear all of a sudden,” you said before Gwen pulled away from the hug and introduced the two of you. “Y/N, Miles, Miles, Y/N,” She quickly said while you just nodded, His expression slightly softened as he just nervously smiled at you.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet you,” you smiled.

“Nice to meet you too?” Miles nervously responded. Before it could get awkward between you three, you looked behind you, noticing his open bedroom window. You looked back at Gwen. “You can stay here, Gwen; I’ll handle things while you catch up with your friend,” you suggested while she stood up from the bed, puzzled.

“Wait— you sure? You know we can do that later.” Gwen said, referring to the mission, while you nodded your head, reassuring her by patting her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s alright,” you grinned, looking back at Miles and then at her. “Don’t want to miss this opportunity, no?” You teased, your hand slowly retracting from her shoulder while she slightly blushed. You turned back to his window, jumping off his bedroom window. You shot a web from your fingertips and quickly swung yourself away. Gwen watched while Miles looked out the window, his gaze finding you as he admired how quick and talented you were at moving swiftly through the air.

“Dang, she’s good,” Miles pointed out while Gwen nodded, looking back at Miles as the two of them smiled. They were happy to see each other again after so long.

Meanwhile, you continued to swing away until you were out of sight of any civilians as you climbed up a high building. You were standing by the edge of the building’s roof, walking around as you looked over to your watch to see where this Spot could be. You sighed and took off your mask, slightly frustrated to not find anything before Lyla’s hologram appeared out of sight.

"Heeeey, Y/N, how’s the mission?” She asked with a grin, spinning on her virtual chair, which was the same size as hers. You grumbled.

“I can’t find the Spot’s location,” you admitted, sighing from how annoyed you were. “Got any idea where he could be?” You asked the AI before she hummed, thinking about it with her tiny finger tapping on her chin. Her hologram flickered before she summoned a 3D model of the entire map of Earth 1610’s Brooklyn with all of its avenues, streets and even shop names. She zoomed into the new hologram, revealing a building made out of bricks under a few overpasses. A few other shops surrounded it, as well as a small highway. Some of its windows were oddly broken and covered with a partially dirty cloth as a barrier.

The small AI manipulated the three-dimensional screen easily, zooming into the broken glass as the screen changed again. Inside the building was a messy room, with wires, confusing machines, and more technical equipment around the shelves and floor. The room was completely unorganized and clearly dimly lit.

“Looks like he worked for Alchemax before,” Lyla pointed out, taking a look at the equipment. "Even one of them has a logo," she observed as she leaned down to inspect the equipment components.

“Is this the Spot’s place?” You asked, then returned your gaze to the floating AI. She nodded her head in response.

“Scanned the area earlier when I zoomed in and saw his driver’s license on the table. It’s expired, but got his information,” she explained, her tone playful as if she found it all too easy. She then displayed a screen of an image of the Spot’s driver's license it had his name, age, address and more information. With two of your fingers, you zoomed out of that screen as you looked back at the hologram of the building, which you concluded to be his apartment. “Plus— the area’s full of dark matter,”

“I’ll get going,” you responded once you had your information, sliding your mask back onto your face before the hologram flickered to a close.

“Bu-byeeee~” Lyla grinned before her figure also disappeared. You flipped the watch back to a close before you swiftly jumped down the building and shot a web mid-air, propelling yourself to the Spot’s location.

You jumped from the tall skyscraper while shooting webs into the air to propel you into the sky without attracting any attention. The cool air hit your masked face until you descended, turning gracefully but quickly onto the roof of the building. You walked to the edge and stuck to the wall to get inside through the broken glass.

You slipped in easily as you observed the area. It was an apartment room. Though it was dimly lit, you noticed papers scattered on the table, some of them close to falling down. You lifted your mask up to your head to get a clear view of your surroundings, some of your bangs escaping to the sides of your face and forehead. With your gloved hands, you picked up the papers, skimming through them.

Reports, hypotheses, notes, and more... one thing they all had in common was a connection to multiverse matter or the concept of bringing back different entities from other universes. They weren’t all from Johnathon, aka Spot necessarily, most of them were reported by different scientists, especially from the well-known Olivia who was the head of the whole collider project back then, which caused a misbalance in the entire multiverse. You threw the papers back onto the table's surface before looking around again. You noticed some mechanics in the corner, concealed by a metallic closet. You leaned down and picked one up, noting that it also had the Alchemax logo until you noticed a small post it attached to the back. You ripped it off the mechanic, reading it.

“This isn’t the villain of the week—maybe five months, but still…” you mumbled, pulling your mask back on before you rummaged through your pockets, taking out the small spider Jessica gave you earlier. It automatically opened and summoned out its miniature legs after you tossed it against the wall. It then dug its legs into the brick and camouflaged really well.

“Gotta alert Gwen about this..” you mumbled. You quickly flicked a web out of your fingertips as it shot through the window. You flew out once again, swinging away faster and faster. You were again back in the metropolitan area, gliding through the air while your eyes wandered around trying to find Gwen. You assumed she was still at Miles’ apartment.

You swung down when you saw his apartment complex, noticing on the building’s rooftop there was loud music and lots of parked cars outside next to the road. You guessed that his family had a house party; the familiar smell of Puerto Rican food may sound good, but you knew you had to find Gwen quickly. When you landed back on the wall, you peeked through Miles’ bedroom window only to find no one inside, only Gwen left her cardigan on his bed.

“Fuck— where is that girl?” You sighed, shooting out another web atop the building beside his apartment. You gracefully landed on its rooftop before you flipped your watch open, trying to contact her. Unfortunately, it showed a hologram that said contact is on; do not disturb.

You grew more frustrated before turning the hologram to a close. You sighed and paced around on the rooftop. You wondered where she could be. Confused, you opened your gizmo back up again, speaking through Lyla.

“Hey Lyla- sorry to interrupt, got any idea where Gwen is? If so just send the coordinates, I can handle it,” you spoke as the AI’s hologram flickered again. She tried to find her location via watch but then she sighed.

“Sorry Y/N, she’s on do not disturb apparently,” the brunette replied before you grunted. “Can you turn it off?” You asked until she shook her head no. “Nah, I can’t get deactivate anything during a mission, just the policy aaand, you know, Mig’s rules,” She explained while you got more frustrated.

“How is that even a thing— what the hell..” you groaned. “Can you ask Miguel to let this be an exception?” you questioned Lyla again. “Miguel’s not in right now, busy with another mission,” she responded.

“Knew you’d say that.. always the busy guy.. whatever, thanks Lyla,” you sighed before she disappeared once more, leaving you alone once more on the rooftop. You were so frustrated by Gwen’s absence; where the hell could she be? If not with Miles then where was she? Your thoughts came to a halt when your spider-senses made you turn around. You noticed someone dressed as spider-man with a black and red coloured suit. You raised an eyebrow as you walked over to them discreetly.

They noticed you as their spider-suit’s goggles slightly widened. “Woah- you got fast spider-senses,” the recognizable voice said, staring at you.

“Wait— Miles?” You asked before he nervously chuckled and took off his mask in front of you, his Afro popping out as he looked more buff with the black spider-suit on. It matched him a lot. “What’re you doing here?” You curiously asked, also taking off your mask to see him clearly.

“Me and Gwen was swingin’ around the city and just wanted to let you join,” he responded, looking down at you since he was taller. “We didn’t get a proper chance to talk right? Just wanted to make ya feel included..” he continued, noticing how he was getting nervous when he noticed you didn’t respond.

“Sorry— kinda busy..” you mumbled, looking back down to your watch to see if Gwen finally put that stupid do not disturb function off. She unfortunately didn’t. You were always the chatty type but now wasn’t the time now that you were dealing with a soon-to-be anomaly who knows how to travel through other dimensions. Miles’ eyes softened, he just really wanted to be accepted as another spider-man or as a friend.. but you had other priorities. He was disappointed but hid it well enough, not wanting to worry you. He was silent until he had an idea in mind.

“With what? I mean I can help ya. I know Brooklyn like the back of my hand,” Miles stayed optimistic, wanting to be of assistance. You already knew about Brooklyn's map thanks to Lyla, but you could see that despite not knowing anything about you, he merely wanted to help. You could see yourself in him, as you would always strive to help Miguel in any way you could, even though he was the epitome of independence. Miles also wanted to prove his usefulness in this society Gwen just recently talked about while the two of them were swinging through the city… so he could see her more often... but oh how difficult would it be for him? He spotted the gadget on your wrist and then pointed to it.

“Yeah- uh.. pretty crazy phenomenon right? Travelling to a different universe without your atoms glitching like crazy..” you responded, showing him your wrist as he came closer.

“How’d you get this?” He asked, his hands slowly inching closer to yours to hold the watch with his fingers. You almost flinched and he noticed. Ever since your canon event, you could never rest easy with physical touch.

“You good Y/N?” He inquired, a little worried as his fingers almost retracted. You shook your head.

“Sorry, sorry— my bad, but I’m okay don’t worry bout it,” you reassured as you moved your wrist closer to him, letting him hold your hand to inspect the watch. “As for how I got it.. from where we’re from, we earn them,” you answered truthfully. His hand moved from your forearm to your hand, gently holding it up. You also couldn’t help but notice how his thumb slowly caressed your knuckles, was he trying to be nice or was it just out of habit? You definitely had no clue.

“Who gave it to you?” Miles replied, still holding your hand delicately. He seemed so interested in its design and advanced technology on the orange screen. It resembled to nothing from his dimension nor has he seen anything like it. So small yet intriguing.

“My mentor, Miguel O’hara,” you answered. “He’s like the leader of the entire spider-society Gwen and I are in. It’s pretty cool if you ask me,” you rambled, sharing more than enough.

“Gwen never told me about it..” He muttered, carefully tapping a few buttons to see its functions. You couldn’t see his expression since his head was down, still looking at the screen, before he faced you with a small smile. “What’s it gonna take for the Miguel O’hara to meet Miles Morales?” The tall black teen joked but genuinely asked. You on the other hand didn’t know what to say. There was an explanation for why he couldn’t join but you didn’t want to cause any trouble between the two of them. You gulped down the built-up saliva in your mouth out of nervousness.

“I mean.. if you tryna join… how about we try to catch some criminals on the way while we try to find Gwen? I’m not like- fully certain but maybe after I can put in a good word?” You suggested to try and change the topic as you put your forearm down once he was done inspecting the gizmo. Miles’ smile grew, he wasn’t opposed to the idea and wanted to get to know you better. “Sure, why not? Watch me put ‘em in place,” He replied with a confident smirk before you chuckled.

Your watch then beeped. Your back faced him as you turned around to check what news it had for you. The spider that camouflaged into the wall was recording the Spot’s messy apartment and analyzing his figure. You turned it into a mini hologram, watching in full effect what was happening in that room.

The Spot was walking around in his room, moving box from box to a specific area with mechanics and more collider parts you recognized.

“Oh shit..” you cursed under your breath when you saw how close he was to building the mini-collider.

“Everything okay?” Miles asked, about to peek over your shoulder before you quickly moved away. He slowly retracted, noticing how you flinched as if you were uncomfortable, but you weren’t focused on him anymore.

“Gotta go for now Miles, we can fight those criminals later alright? Sorry ‘bout the trouble,” you apologized quickly as you then put your mask back on. You approached the ledge of the rooftop and were about to jump off the building to swing to the Spot’s location immediately. A frustrated and concerned look was on Miles’ face. The young spider-man just wanted to help yet you continued to push him away. With an annoyed expression, he watched you leave so quickly with your webs. You were so quick, agile and so elegant in the air that he could tell you were much more experienced than him despite being the same age.

Once he was far enough for you to notice, he shot webs and swung himself in your direction almost immediately. It started to get dark as his black spider-suit blended in well with the atmosphere. The black lenses on his mask narrowed as he was more focused on catching up on you. Miles wasn’t dumb enough to believe that Gwen didn’t come back just to visit him, there was at least something else you and her had to worry about.

He saw you shooting out multiple webs under a metro railway from your fingertips as you pulled yourself up with the almost transparent strong strings. Like a flash of light, he saw you dash through in between a train’s cabins. Miles almost thought you got run over until he swung over the railway, you weren’t there like you disappeared. “Damn this girl’s fast…” Miles grumbled, trying to retrace his steps while looking around to try and find you. His stomach dropped at the thought of you finding out he was following you so he turned invisible quite easily just to make sure.

Even when invisible, it seemed like you didn’t let your guard down at all as he still couldn’t find you. He kept asking himself where you could possibly be or why you were here in the first place. There was something wrong but he had no clue of what it could be. He tried to retrace your steps by finding your webbing but they all disintegrated too fast. They’d all fall on the ground and slowly disintegrate since you were in the wrong universe. Frustrated, he almost thought of turning back and going back home until he noticed someone swing through the air as well. He saw the familiar spider-suit, it was Gwen.

Her mask concealed her face as she landed near a pillar supporting the overpass close to the Spot’s apartment. A few meters away, Miles landed on top of a street lamp, discreetly looking at the situation beforehand. There were corps surrounding the apartment with lights flashing to the holes in the walls.

“Shoot..” Gwen mumbled under her breath, in worry she was too late. She rapidly shot a web into the police officer's car, causing it to reverse before swinging inside the building with ease. Miles, on the other hand, quickly followed.

Inside the apartment was a whole mess, messier than before like a tornado merely broke down the building. Gwen stepped inside, looking around to find out what happened with a concerned look behind her mask. She then proceeded to scan the area using the multiversal gizmo while Miles hid behind the air ducts, making sure he wasn’t under the orange light that could point him out.

She looked around, noticing the Spot’s personal belongings like a portrait with Olivia, the spiders he brought from different dimensions, and such. When the scanning was finally complete, the spider-woman then started to replay the entire scenario. The orange light orbs turned back in her direction as they flickered a display of holograms in front of her to show what just happened. “Oh no no no..” She mumbled under her breath as she watched the scene play out visually while Miles carefully eavesdropped.

“Just need to get somewhere with a full-sized giant collider..” The Spot talked to himself as he continued to assemble his small micro-collider. It started to power up, creating dark energy from its sources. “Alriiiight, this’ll work, it’ll be good!” The faceless human optimistically said as he prepared to put his index finger into the dark matter the mini-collider was forming. He whistled as he was about to put it in until he stopped. “Or- I don’t know, might vaporize me and this entire building, which would not be good” He carelessly shrugged.

“Oh shoot..” Gwen muttered while Miles continued to watch as well, witnessing how far his villain of the week was going just to defeat him. They saw how he was getting so close to inserting his finger through the dark hole until multiple webs were wrapped around him, quickly taking him down.

You swung through the mess as you appeared just in time before the Spot could ruin himself with the dark energy. With a quick tug of your webs, you pulled him up from the floor and threw him at the other side of the room with only your hand. The Spot was launched back, breaking multiple walls in the process before he groaned in pain and looked up at you. “Wait— huh? Spider-man? But a woman?” he asked, perplexed as he thought you were his original nemesis. You had your back turned, paying attention to the collider more than him.

“Fuck this is dangerous..” Your eyes narrowed at the sight of the dark matter almost consuming the entire mini-collider, making it impossible to turn it off or break. You were about to inspect it until a sudden punch to the stomach made you nearly spit out saliva out of your mask. It just came out of nowhere through the black hole in front of you. You grunted when you realized it was all Spot’s doing.

“Yeah— sorry, can’t turn it off now huh?” the Spot laughed before it teleported so quickly behind you. His arm then made its way to your neck before he lifted you off the ground, making you choke. “Let go of me weirdo!” you yelled and rapidly kicked him off of you, causing him to almost lose balance. He growled under his breath, sick and tired of being tossed around like a weakling.

Creating a portal, he aggressively punched you through it before you stepped back once it hit your stomach again. He teleported back in front of you when you knelt down and held your stomach in pain. You tried crawling away until he grabbed your neck and shoved you down the floor repeatedly. “I’m tired of being treated like a fucking joke.” He spat as his voice turned deep, distorted and twisted. You winced, trying to push him off with your hands until he gripped your wrists as well. He saw how you had a weird watch on your wrist until his attention turned to the small gadget.

“Ohhh.. what’s that? Pretty interesting..” He sarcastically pointed out before he punched its screen. “Oops,”

“N-No!” You screamed when you saw its screen broken. The gadget started to malfunction, making distorted sounds as well.

“N-nnggh.!” You yelped when he choked you while lifting you up again. He threw you to the wall as you landed on top of the table full of collider parts that pierced through your skin. The Spot then turned back to the mini collider, shoving his hand into the dark energy. It started to absorb him as it generated more spots on his body. You tried to shoot webs to pull him back from the dark power until he was completely absorbed, pulling you into the void as well.

“Shoot..!” Gwen widened his eyes in fear as Miles continued to watch your hologram get sucked in by the dark matter. Once you were pulled in, the replay was complete.

“Oh shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!” The spider-woman panicked, realizing how bad the situation was. You were in another universe, with no gizmo to help you call for backup nor any help. It was only a matter of time until you would suffer from glitching.

‘Y/N..’ Miles thought of your name, concerned and puzzled of why Gwen was panicking like crazy. She was shaking her head, trying to deny that wasn’t what happened until she took off her mask, breathing heavily out of panic.

With a problem like this, she definitely didn’t know how to solve it..

You blinked in and out of consciousness before you tried to get up only to collapse back to the floor when your back ached. You looked behind you and saw what you were crashed into, a truck. You looked up as you saw it was raining steadily. That was weird, you don’t remember it already raining when you just collapsed for a minute.

Once you managed to sit up, you realized this place wasn’t familiar at all. You shot a web as you landed on top of a building where you could see everything. But in the end, you didn’t understand.. why was the billboard Japanese.? Or why were there so many Japanese commercials on the skyscraper screens?

“Where am I?”

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

———

author’s note: this is so goddamn tiring to make Jesus Christ 💀💀 reblogs r very helpful since they keep me motivated to keep going alrr hope y’all enjoyed the first chapter. Second one will probably be a bit rocky idk.

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

Rook Book

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!metro!reader

Summary: When you return to the Mid-Wilshire station for a Metro inspection, you don't expect to run into your former TO, Tim Bradford.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, incorrect police procedures

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Boot, let’s go!” Tim urges. “You can talk to your friends later.”

“Good morning to you, too, Officer Bradford,” Lucy replies. “How’d you-“

“Shop.”

“I just-“

“Shop.”

Lucy sighs before walking away from Tim. She’s used to his grumpiness by now, but she can tell by his attitude that there will be a few Tim Tests today. The war bags are already in the trunk, so Lucy isn’t sure what the rush is.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s been a while,” Wade says as he shakes your hand.

“Too long,” you reply with a smile. “When my captain mentioned this, I knew I had to take the assignment.”

“So, what does Metro want with a station review? Isn’t that usually IA’s thing?”

“Typically, yes. I think my role here is best described as a scout. Cap wants some new blood and we’ve got a couple of Metro openings. We need the best, and for some reason, I get to choose them.”

“You’ve already chosen one, I’m sure.”

Wade smiles as you furrow your brows. He shakes his head and reaches for something on his desk.

“Who?” you ask.

“If you don’t know, I’m not telling you.”

Someone knocks on the door, and you turn around as Smitty steps inside.

“I thought you quit,” he says when he sees you.

“I think I know who I won’t be choosing,” you tell Wade.

He tosses you a set of keys and waves. You leave his office and glance around. The station hasn’t changed much since the last time you were there, but you’re sure the people have. As you walk through the bullpen, you see someone you recognize.

“Bradford?” you call.

Tim freezes at the sound of your voice. He hasn’t seen you in years, yet hearing his last name come out of your mouth takes him back to when he was a rookie. Walking several steps ahead of him, Lucy stops and turns at the call of Bradford’s name. She’s expecting to be held up for a minute or two, but when she sees Tim turn slowly toward you, she knows that it’s more than that.

“Hey,” Tim says.

When he sees your smile, he relaxes and steps toward you. You don’t miss his initial reaction, though, and it makes your smile grow.

“I did not think you’d still be here,” you begin. “Maybe I should’ve done a better job.”

Tim nods, and Lucy rushes to his side. She smiles and extends her hand toward you before she speaks.

“Hi, I’m Lucy, uh, Officer Chen. How do you know Officer Bradford?” she asks.

“Nice to meet you,” you reply before telling her your name. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m Tim’s rookie.”

“You’re a TO?” you ask incredulously as you turn to look at Tim. “Seriously?”

“Lucy,” Tim begins, “this is my TO.”

Lucy’s jaw drops and you chuckle. Wade calls your name, and you look over your shoulder at him. After he beckons you to return to his office, you turn back to Tim.

“I’ll see you around,” you say.

“Why?” he inquires.

“Metro’s recruiting.”

Tim watches you go and doesn’t move until you’re out of his sight. His shoulders are tense, but there’s a small smile on his face that Lucy hasn’t seen before.

“You never mentioned her!” Lucy exclaims.

“Because she was my TO, not yours,” Tim argues.

“She doesn’t seem that much older than you.”

“I’m not that much older than you.”

Lucy raises her brows but remains silent this time.

“Our ages don’t matter. Aren’t you supposed to be in the shop?” Tim argues.

“Aren’t you?”

Tim tilts his head to the side, and Lucy decides this isn’t a battle worth fighting. She’ll ask about you later, anyway. After Lucy walks away, Tim glances towards Wade’s office once more. He remembers every moment he spent with you, and the memories are making it hard to focus.

“You drive,” Tim tells Lucy as he enters the garage area.

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever unserious?”

Lucy nods and takes the keys from him. As she climbs into the driver’s seat, she realizes why he doesn’t want to drive. He can’t, for some reason.

“You had a crush on your TO,” she accuses quietly.

“Do you want me to quiz you on everything in the rook book?” Tim replies. “Because if you keep this up, that’s what you have to look forward to.”

“You don’t have one.”

“No, because I actually know everything in it. Now, you can pick. Be quiet and drive or I start asking questions about cavity search procedures.”

“I will be quiet and drive,” Lucy decides. “For now.”

Tim takes a deep breath as he remembers the rook book you kept with you when he was a boot. Every memory he has of you is good, and now he’s concerned that Lucy is right. Not that he did have a crush on you, he knows he did, but that he still does.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford,” Wade calls over the radio. “I need you and Chen to return to the station.”

“Copy that,” Tim responds.

“What do you think that’s about?” Lucy asks.

“The Metro inspection.”

“I didn’t know about a Metro inspection.”

“I can tell you’re about to burst, so you can ask one question before we get back to the station,” Tim offers.

“Ooh! Wait, just one? How am I supposed to choose? Because I want to know about what kind of TO she was, but I also need to ask if she knows that you liked her.”

“Choose one.”

Lucy taps her fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before smiling. “Did she test you like you test me?”

“Are you asking if she had a version of Tim Tests?”

“Yes.”

Tim nods as he answers, “Yeah. She gave me tests. It’s one of the reasons I started doing Tim Tests. Practical knowledge and experience are important, but she’s the one who taught me that.”

“That’s so cute! You based your teaching style on your teacher crush.”

“Chen,” Tim warns.

“Okay, okay. Then did she quiz you on the rook book, too?”

Lucy knows she is pressing her luck with asking another question. Tim doesn’t answer, and as she nears the station, expects he’ll make her do pushups later.

“Yeah, she did. Always had a copy of the rook book with her. Sometimes, she’d read it while I drove around and would only talk to me to ask me questions.”

Lucy smiles to herself, now completely convinced that Tim had a crush on you. The way he talks about you and remembers you, though, makes her think those feelings may still be alive. Once the shop is parked at the station, Lucy decides to get to the bottom of Tim’s relationship with you, and if there isn’t one, she needs to make something happen.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford, thanks for coming back so quickly,” Wade says. “Head into my office. Chen, I’ve got an assignment for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy replies.

“There’s a Metro inspection happening today, and I need you to take the Metro officer around, show her everything she needs to see, make introductions, whatever she asks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucy tries to hide her smile because she suspects that you are the Metro officer she’s about to spend a bunch of time with. Maybe you’ll be more open than Tim. When you approach her with a smile, Lucy knows that her investigation of your relationships will be more fun than your inspection of the station.

“Officer Chen, sorry to pull you from patrol, but Sergeant Grey said you were one of the best,” you greet.

“No problem,” Lucy says. “And you can call me Lucy if you want.”

“Okay, Lucy, I would love a tour of Mid-Wilshire station. It’s been a long time since I was here, so walk me through like it’s my first time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lucy turns and leads you toward the front desk, to start the tour as she would with a visitor.

“Lucy?” you ask. “What’s Tim like as a TO?”

“He’s great. I mean, he’s grumpy and has a ton of Tim Tests, but I like riding with him.”

“Tim Tests,” you murmur under your breath. “Cute.”

Lucy smiles at your reaction before she begins the tour. You don’t mention Tim again for a while, and Lucy thinks that you are too focused on your inspection to think about him. As you near the bullpen at the end of the tour, Tim is exiting Wade’s office.

“You abducted my boot for a personalized tour?” Tim asks you.

“Lucy mentioned Tim Tests,” you say, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me copied my rook book move, too.”

Tim rubs his thumb across his jaw before answering, “I didn’t.”

“He told me that you used to carry a rook book around and would ask him questions,” Lucy interjects. “I’m really glad he didn’t take that idea.”

You look at Tim with a smile as you ask, “That’s all you told her?”

Lucy looks back and forth between you and Tim, but neither of you seems to remember she’s there.

“The rook book wasn’t a rook book,” Tim says after a moment. “It was just a book that she put the cover on. Those days that she didn’t want to talk to me, she’d just read through our shift and ask me random questions to make it look like she was doing her job.”

“Yeah. Because I’m the one who had trouble doing my job,” you reply with a laugh.

Tim shakes his head, and Lucy suddenly feels the urge to interrupt before he says something out of line.

“How’s the inspection going?” he asks instead.

“How’d your meeting go?” you counter. “Because the inspection is just a cover and we both know it.”

“Cover for what?” Lucy asks.

“She’s recruiting for Metro,” Tim explains. “Looking for the best talent in our station to move to a new team.”

“We’ve got three openings,” you remind him. “Just think about it, okay?”

Tim looks toward Lucy, but you give him a knowing nod. Lucy feels lost like a kid listening to her parents talk about something she hasn’t experienced yet.

“Thanks for the tour, Officer Chen,” you say. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

You say bye to Tim before walking past him. His fingers flex at his side as you pass, close enough to touch. Tim closes his eyes for a moment before turning to Lucy.

“Let’s go. Patrol isn’t over yet,” he says.

“Are you sure you don’t want to grab a book first?” she responds. “I know, shop. I’m going.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After the day of your inspection, Lucy doesn’t hear your name again. Tim returns to his high-stress tests, driving, and random procedural questions. You clearly made an impact on Tim just by being near him, and as Lucy’s rookie exam gets closer, she wonders if Tim pushed you away.

“Can I ask a question?” Lucy asks.

“Depends. Is it about the exam? Because that’s all you should be concerned about,” Tim says.

“No. Well, sort of. Did your TO help you study?”

“Are we talking about my experience as a rookie or about my TO?”

“Your TO,” Lucy answers softly.

“Fine. Ask away.”

“Why hasn’t she been back?”

“She has a job. Metro is busy, so she doesn’t have a lot of time to make personal visits.”

“Did she offer you one of the positions?”

“She did.”

“And you didn’t take it? Why not?”

“Because you’re still a rookie. I have to get you through this.”

“You could’ve handed me off, that happens all the time. Did you say no because of her?”

“I didn’t say no, Chen. I said not yet.”

“Metro positions don’t open every day! You can’t throw away your career to drive me around for a few more months!”

“Lucy!” Tim yells. “Drop it.”

Lucy sits back and presses her lips together to stay quiet. Tim’s cell phone rings, and he glances at it before raising it to his ear.

“Hello?” Tim answers.

Lucy looks over in shock. Tim has never answered a personal call in the time they’ve been riding together. Whoever is on the other end speaks for a moment, and Tim listens intently.

“Got it… Yep, see you then.”

Tim ends the call and drops his phone to continue driving.

“Who was that?” Lucy asks.

Tim looks over but doesn’t answer. He says, “Read your rook book,” and keeps driving.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Bradford,” you call as he and Lucy enter the station.

Tim leaves Lucy and walks to you. He stops beside Wade’s office and waits for you to begin. You told him on the phone to come straight to the station when his shift ended and he’s ready to know why. Nolan and Jackson enter behind Lucy and silence as they watch Tim talk to you.

“Who is that?” Nolan whispers.

“Tim’s TO,” Lucy answers.

“My captain wanted to call you, but I thought it would be better to tell you in person,” you begin. “You passed the Metro test, and your spot is waiting for you.”

Tim smiles, glad he has his back to the rookies. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything I haven’t done before.”

“Which is?”

“See potential in you.”

Tim nods and thanks you again. You look over his shoulder and the rookies look away quickly, but they’re less than stealthy and it is obvious they’re trying to listen in.

“Has Lucy been asking about me?” you ask.

“Nonstop. Don’t look so happy about it, though.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Mostly if I had a crush on you.”

“We both know you did,” you say.

Tim doesn’t argue, and your smile grows.

“I know you told her about my tests and the rookie book, but what else does she know?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s interesting. Because I don’t know any more than that and I’ve known you a whole lot longer.” You glance down at your Metro uniform before adding, “Oh, and my captain also said that Metro officers are allowed to have interpersonal relationships as long as they don’t interfere with work.”

Tim looks up quickly with wide eyes. You stifle a laugh, and he rolls his eyes.

“So… are you ready to admit you had a crush on me?” you ask.

“Something like that.”

You wave at Lucy and step away from Tim. He reaches an arm out to stop you, but you only wink at him before you continue walking.

“Are you going to do something this time?” Wade asks as he exits his office.

“We’ll see,” Tim answers. “Lucy has to pass the rookie exam first.”

“It looks like she just got herself a tutor.”

Tim turns and finds you and Lucy talking excitedly. You smile at him, and Tim feels like a boot again.

“This is gonna be fun,” Wade and Lucy say simultaneously.

Neither you nor Tim hear them, too busy looking at one another.

> part 2: Rook Book to Remember Me By

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #hanna writes✯#tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader

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