#henchmen deserve happiness too okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qqueenofhades · 3 years

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So like. What if there were a fic of Ivan and Fedyor falling in love? Just saying. Someone could write that...(and could that someone be you?!)

Fedyor Kaminsky is brought to the Little Palace when he is nine years old. Before that, he has lived his whole life in the place he was born: a small village about twenty miles southeast of Kribirsk. It is just close enough for him to be constantly aware of the Shadow Fold, looming like a thunderstorm on a hot summer day, and to know, also, the honor that it is when the examiners arrive, he receives a sharp prick in the arm, some sort of strange result takes place, and he is formally declared to be Grisha. His parents know it too, and are eager to tell him of it. They are not well off, and Fedyor is the sixth of seven children. The payment for their patriotic service will be welcome, and while his mother hugs him tightly and tells him to make the Saints proud, he feels, somehow, that they are not that grieved to see the back of him. He is the only child from his village that has been picked, and they all assemble to see him off. Just think. One of their own, in the Second Army.

Fedyor cries himself to sleep his first night in the dormitories, as most of the children do. But he wakes fully rested, hungry for breakfast, and eager to throw himself into his new life. He has a sunny temperament, a personable nature, that serves him well here, and any talented Grisha can climb high in the ranks, almost as high as the Black General himself. Back home, what did he have to look forward to, aside from the taunts and punches of his brothers, who always saw him as more like one of their sisters than one of them? He is learning things here. Religion and medicine and geography and history. And, of course, the arcane art of the Small Science, the one thing that binds these young people from all across Ravka. Their power, their responsibility, and their upcoming effort in the endless wars.

His first few years pass rather well, all things considered. When he is thirteen, it is officially declared that he will be taken onto the Order of Corporalniks, and – somewhat to everyone’s surprise, including his – he is best suited not as a Healer, but a Heartrender. It turns out that unassuming, smiling, friendly Fedyor, who knows everyone’s name and is always given an indulgent second portion of dessert from the doting canteen ladies, packs quite a punch.

It’s here where he first puts Ivan Sakharov on his back, and his whole life changes.

Fedyor and Ivan have known of each other, ever since they arrived in the same class of recruits. Ivan is a tough, taciturn northern boy from Chernast, skinny and scowling and always displeased about something, no matter what. Fedyor once saw him brood through the whole Winter Fete, and he has taken it as a professional challenge to get Ivan to smile. Once Fedyor plays a practical joke on him, to the awe of the entire dormitory, who would not dare to even imagine such things themselves. Ivan scowls at him like the Black Heretic himself, and stomps off to have his important life problems somewhere else. But now they’re both thirteen, Ivan is shooting up like a weed and channeling all that pent-up resentment into some really effective Heartrending, and Fedyor is regretting all his previous liberties. As they face each other and bow, thus to commence the duel on Botkin’s word, he thinks, Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.

Then he remembers that he’s the same Order, he has the same red kefta awaiting him when he finishes his trials, that he has as much right to be here as some tight-arse bastard from the frozen northern wastes, and that is why, thirty seconds after the duel has begun, Ivan is flat on his back and looking astonished. Everyone is applauding, and Fedyor feels somewhat confused. He strides over to his fallen adversary and offers him a hand. “Good job.”

Ivan glares at him, exquisitely sensitive to the possibility that he’s being mocked. “You’ll regret this, Kaminsky,” he says, low-voiced. “Mark my words.”

After that, for several months, Fedyor lives in terror of going anywhere in the Little Palace alone, lest Ivan suddenly leap out from behind a shrubbery and murder him. He and Ivan spar in their classes, in practice, in trying to outdo each other in Baghra’s ridiculous lessons, throwing all their effort into the sort of stupid, pointless rivalry that can only be maintained by teenage boys with too much pride and too little sense. They start to look for each other wherever they go, waste no opportunity to glare heatedly, and they are sixteen years old when Fedyor notices to his extreme vexation that during all this time spent staring at him until he has memorized his face, Ivan has gotten a little… handsome.

(What? No? Ivan? Horrifying.)

Fedyor himself isn’t exactly cursed in the face department, once a persistent bout of acne clears up. With his wavy hair, dark eyes, and easy smile, he provokes his fair share of sighs and pining among the female Corporalniks, but he is oddly uninterested in reciprocating their advances. Then he and Ivan get paired together on some training exercise that goes horribly wrong, they are trapped in the woods for hours until someone comes to find them, and with nothing else to do, they are forced to actually talk. Ivan has that northern chip on his shoulder that they all seem to, and probably started fighting Fjerdans when he was two years old, but what he says next takes Fedyor completely aback. “You’re… not that bad,” he says grudgingly. “You’re the only one who’s brave enough to actually talk to me, not just tiptoe like a mouse.”

“Well.” Fedyor throws a stick of wood at him. “Have you considered being less of a total grouch all the time?”

Ivan scoffs, lunges at him, and they end up wrestling in the leaf mold, an exercise that both of them enjoy a bit too much and take extreme care that the other not notice. By the time the search party from the Little Palace comes to retrieve them, they have forgotten all about being lost. In fact, as they were lying on the ground together, tangled up and panting and staring at the stars, Fedyor had the strangest thought that it was the best night of his life, and he doesn’t have a clue what he should make of that.

After that, an even stranger thing happens: they become friends. Well, sort of. Ivan maintains his default posture of appearing to hate everything and everyone, but Fedyor is the only person he tolerates, or allows to yank his chain in any way. And in turn, though Ivan Sakharov is the last person who would seem to need any kind of protection, the favor is returned. Once, when a city boy from Os Alta starts going on about how savage northerners are, staring pointedly at Ivan the whole time, Fedyor launches him halfway across the room. He gets in trouble, but it’s worth it. And they do undoubtedly work better together, Fedyor fighting right-handed and Ivan fighting left. They cover each other’s weak sides, learn to anticipate each other’s moves, and…

It’s a deeply inconvenient fact of life that when you are a Heartrender, and are exquisitely sensitive to pulse rates, you notice when yours starts going consistently haywire around certain people. Especially when, the year they turn eighteen, they are assigned to room together. The Little Palace is spacious, but not enough for every Grisha to have his or her own room, and since they’re no longer children, they’re not expected to share with the entire class. So Fedyor and Ivan end up in a garret room of their very own, and it is here, to his extreme consternation, that the next phase of Fedyor’s torment re: Ivan begins.

It is difficult to share a small room with Ivan and not want to look at him, and unless he is much mistaken, Ivan always seems to be concentrating a little too hard on his books whenever Fedyor is changing clothes. Fedyor is self-aware enough by this point to know that he prefers men, but he has absolutely no idea as to Ivan. Do they do this sort of thing in Chernast, or does it distract from arm-wrestling bears and shooting drüskelle? Ivan is so constantly unwilling to admit any kind of weakness or effeminacy that Fedyor figures gloomily he’s just doomed to suffer in silence. Naturally.

Except then both of them start rejecting any other romantic overtures, and they even go to the Summer Fete dance together, and Fedyor is taken aback when Zoya Nazyalensky asks bluntly the next day, “So, you and Ivan? Really?”

“What?” Fedyor is aware that Zoya and Ivan cordially hate each other, though she and Fedyor have always gotten on. “We’re not – Zoya, it’s not like that!”

He pauses.

“At least,” he adds guiltily. “It’s not like that as far as we’ve said?”

Zoya gives him a look silently agreeing that for the sake of their friendship, they will never mention Fedyor’s terrible taste in men again, though that doesn’t mean she has to like it. As for her, she’s pining after Kirigan, as almost all Grisha do at some point. Fedyor did so himself – the Black General is gorgeous, all right, shoot him – but he cares about nothing except finding the mythical Sun Summoner and engaging in a busy schedule of brooding even more intense than Ivan’s. Ivan, for that matter, seems to have struck it off with him, as Kirigan always values talent, and Fedyor has to fight down an unbecoming surge of jealousy. It’s not like they’re something. Not really.

(Though not for lack of wanting.)

After that, an even stranger thing happens, which is that people start assuming that Fedyor and Ivan are, in fact, a couple. Fedyor gets asked how his boyfriend is doing (sometimes sardonically, sometimes in a tone that turns genuinely surprised when he hastens to correct them) and he minds it less and less. Of course, for his part, Ivan is utterly oblivious. They’re sitting in a sunny hallway one day, Ivan tolerantly letting Fedyor play with his hair (though he keeps it military-short and it’s not like there’s that much of it) when Genya Safin walks by, glances at them archly, and says, “You know, Ivan, you’re much nicer now that you’re going out with him.”

Ivan turns such a deep shade of purple that Fedyor’s afraid he’s going to blow a gasket. “What?!” he splutters. “We are not – we are not – we are not going out! Never! I don’t – what are you talking – I don’t even like him!”

Fedyor’s lip quivers, despite himself. “Come on,” he says, failing to make it entirely lighthearted, wounded deeper than he wants to admit. “You don’t mean that, right?”

Ivan turns to him, flustered. “No,” he says convulsively. “Don’t look sad. Don’t look at me like that. Shh. Of course I like you.”

Fedyor brightens.

Genya gives them an obnoxiously knowing look and walks away.

By now, they’re twenty-one, old enough to be properly deployed as soldiers to the front, and Fedyor can’t help but thinking about where Ivan is, what he’s doing, if he’s all right, whenever they’re apart. He doesn’t like it, it feels wrong and unnatural, they always did better side by side anyway. Finally, they both get back to the Little Palace after a grueling campaign of many months away, Ivan against the Fjerdans and Fedyor against the Shu Han. They see each other, and it’s like lightning, rooting them to the ground. They’re dusty, dirty, banged up, bruised and bloody, but they know as a simple truth, beyond any doubt or questioning, that Fedyor will be coming to Ivan’s room tonight, and that Ivan will sit up and wait for him.

And that, therefore, is what happens. Fedyor can barely concentrate on washing up and fetching supper because he is so fixated on the knowledge of what’s coming later. He goes through the motions, barely hears his friends, barely tastes what he’s eating. He scarcely manages to wait until it’s dark. Then he gets up, slips through the corridors – they no longer bunk together, but he knows the way – and reaches the door. Fights a final attack of nerves, about how long he’s been waiting and how it might go wrong – then knocks.

“It’s open,” Ivan calls from inside, his voice dark with wanting. Of course it is.

Fedyor steps inside, and looks at him. After all this time, it feels like he should make a speech, have something more grand to say, or perhaps even an I-told-you-so. He doesn’t get around to any of that. He can’t stand it. Instead he shucks his kefta in a quick, practiced movement. Runs across the room, and climbs, claws, into Ivan’s arms.

Their kiss is rough and wet and wild, mouths open, teeth dragging, tongues scraping, trying to get as close as they possibly can, and then closer. Ivan’s hands, deft and eager, rough with calluses, spread across Fedyor’s arms and shoulders, the neat muscled column of his torso. “You should have let me do that,” he scolds between kisses, evidently referring to the business of undressing Fedyor. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“You’ve been waiting long enough – ?!” Fedyor Kaminsky really does love this man, but Saints help him, he is dense. “You could have said something!”

Ivan looks at him with pure wickedness in his eyes. “I thought I just did.”

Fedyor groans, grabs Ivan’s head to kiss him again, and they roll down onto the covers together, tearing at the remaining clothes in their way. It’s raw and agonized and real, this coming together, this needing, this consummation and completion, and afterward, as Fedyor lies gasping on Ivan’s chest and Ivan sleepily strokes his hair with a tenderness that seems totally inconceivable to anyone who has met him at literally any other moment, Fedyor knows, in some way, he will never truly leave this room again. That he’s here. Home.

(Later, Fedyor finds out that Ivan actually asked his boss for help with his romantic quandary, and Kirigan’s advice was evidently so terrible that Ivan decided to just give up and go for it with Fedyor rather than trying that again. Even if Aleksander Kirigan is the Black General, the Shadow Summoner, the most powerful Grisha in the world, Ivan does not intend to let him forget it. They are all fortunate that Aleksander thinks it’s funny.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #henchmen deserve happiness too okay #<<is my tag for them #oops now i ship it #mearcatsreturns #ask

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weeinterpreter · 3 years

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Okay, Blue here- forgive me because I know this isn’t angst or anything, but because I am a comedy lover- this AU where Artemis joins a league of Evil Villains... perhaps a bit of a light-hearted spin on it and some shenanigans? Idk I just feel like the villains are Not Ready to handle the likes of Artemis Fowl. (Your writing is absolutely spectacular, btw- the FEELS. How dare you break my heart like that... even if I love it so.)

Hi Blue! Thank you so much for your message and the lovely praise. It really means a lot to me. 😊

Now to your request: Butler alive AND I get to write happy, funny, goofy League of Evil Villains?! Hell yeah! I love comedy! Let’s get this party started!

The conference room was filled with the most dangerous criminals in the world, happily chatting away with each other. This was the last place Butler wanted to be in. But Artemis had received a personal invitation from the President of the Evil Association of Evil Villains, and the boy had been adamant on going, making Butler's life – as usual – extremely stressful. He stared across the room at Jon Spiro's bodyguard, who sneered right back.

Before the two men could exchange hostilities, though, another man entered the room, and the conversations died away. Butler turned to him as he stopped at the one empty seat at the round table. He looked more like a retired teacher than a criminal with his grey hair and bushy beard, but Butler had been in the business long enough to know better.

The President, the evilest of the evil villains, beamed at his fellow evil villains.

"Most respected Evildoers," he said, rolling the words like a true Irishman. "Thank you all for coming to the monthly roundtable of the Evil Association of Evil Villains. The first part of the agenda today is to welcome our newest and youngest member. I won't say too much as some of you have already made his acquaintance, but I am quite pleased that he is a fellow countryman of mine. It's the Irish businessman, Artemis Fowl II."

The members knocked on the table as Artemis gave everyone a cordial nod.

"A kind reminder, everybody,"–the President gave every single person a stern look– "associates aren't allowed to kill, maim, bludgeon, poison or otherwise threaten other associates or their henchmen. Okay, let's continue with the monthly high score of Evilness. Last month has been truly quite successful, and I am pleased about your commitment. You have achieved a new record of the most almost committed crimes of the last 20 years. I think that deserves some applause!"

The criminals around the table whooped, giving each other high-fives.

"You all did amazing, but I am sure you want to know who got to the top in July, huh?"

Cheers throughout the room. Butler had to fight hard not to roll his eyes at how everybody sat up straighter, eager to hear who would be the Evildoer of the Month.

"In a very respectable third place is Opal Koboi, with her attempt at making Castle Rock, a dead volcano, erupt once more. She almost caused fear and consternation among the people of Edinburgh. Very well done!"

Opal Koboi blushed, waving her hands at her fellow villains as she received applause, while her henchmen Mervall and Descant Brill shifted in their seats, hastily reaching for the water glasses, and gulped down the water. Butler frowned, studying the other henchmen. He caught Arno Blunt giving the pixie brothers a discreet thumbs-up.

"Next, Jon Spiro, with his truly devious invention of a 5G Brainwashing Chip. I realise there were some start up difficulties. Instead of brainwashing the victims, you gave them a really good internet connection."

The room let out a collective gasp. Jon Spiro shook his head in shame, lifting his hands in an apology. Ark Sool patted him on the shoulder, whispering some encouraging words.

"But the thought counts. You were really close, Jon, keep up the good work!"

Meanwhile, Butler watched Arno Blunt wipe away a drop of sweat that had run down his forehead before clapping with the rest of the room, hooting and chanting for his employer.

"Which brings us to our winner for July, which is our youngest, but surely most promising, member. Artemis, you almost poisoned the entire country of Ireland! Well done!"

The criminals around the table murmured among themselves, while Artemis made a face.

"I was convinced it would work, too. I don't know why it didn't."

Butler clasped his hands behind his back, trying hard to look innocent and not to gloat. His attempt at exchanging the poison-filled capsules with some harmless vitamin pills hadn't been easy. It had almost cost him two fingers, but thanks to Madame Ko's additional seminar "Your Principal is a Villain? 101 Ways to Thwart Their Plans" he had succeeded.

He caught the eyes of a goblin, who picked his nose in a way that Butler could only describe as congratulating.

The President lifted his hands. "You all did very well this month. Until next month. Be bad, do evil and have fun!"

The villains clapped loudly, while the henchmen, including Butler, let out a collective sigh.

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agustdakasuga · 4 years

Text

A Place Called Home | Chapter 18

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU?, Soulmate AU, romance, fluff, humour

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: vet!reader, Arcticfox!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Goldenretriever!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Calicocat!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Rabbit!Jungkook

Summary: Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

Jungkook has a nightmare and then, he overhears some troubling news about your situation. He tells the others and the plan is to run away but can Jungkook really find it in his heart to go with them?

Chapter warning(s): Angry cursing, Jimin has an anxiety attack, Jungkook is guilty, mentions of violence. Please read at your own discretion

“Just tell me where your hybrids are, Doctor Echo.”

“I don’t have any!”

“(y/n)!” Jungkook gasped as he sat up. He panted, hand clutching onto his chest, feeling his heart pound. Cold sweat covered his forehead as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” Taehyung stirred awake. Jungkook ignored him and walked out of the room. Looking at the clock, he realised that it was only 4 in the morning. He cursed and went downstairs to the kitchen to get a cup of water. As he sat by the kitchen counter, he thought about his nightmare.

Why would he dream about you? You were fighting someone but it was obvious you stood no chance against them.

“Don’t hurt her.” He whimpered. The man restrained you and dragged you out of the house. Jungkook could only watch helplessly.

“Now, we’ll just wait for your hybrids to come get you.” The man smirked.

Jungkook shook his head, gulping down the remaining cold water. It was still cold outside but the ice water woke him up. The dull ache in his heart was still there from the night he heard you gave them up.

“What did you say?” He heard whispering from outside.

It was Kilo. Softly, Jungkook crept to the front door, using his rabbit ears to listen. They were always better than his human ones.

“Wait, slow down, Delta.” Kilo seemed to be panicking as well. Jungkook frowned slightly. He was starting to get impatient waiting for Kilo to spit out whatever he was worried about. But no doubt, Jungkook knew it had something to do with you.

“She was taken?... They came and grabbed her? But our lead was that they would only strike next week!” Kilo paced up and down.

“Did she send a distress signal?... Her phone must have dropped when she tried to fight them. I can’t tell the hybrids this, they’ll definitely try and track her down.” Kilo sighed.

“I know... They’re keeping her captive just to bait the hybrids into showing up. I’ll keep them here. You go find her.” Kilo hung up.

Jungkook immediately pulled away from the door, hearing Kilo come back in. He ran upstairs and dove under the covers, making sure not to make a sound in case Kilo suspects that someone was eavesdropping. Jungkook was conflicted. Should he just pretend that he didn’t hear anything or tell one of the older hybrids?

You were in danger and he knew these humans wouldn’t track you down in time. As he stared at his purple dog tag necklace, he thought about you.

“Breakfast.” Kilo announced. Jimin and Taehyung got up from bed, heading down to one of the shared bathrooms to wash up. Jungkook sat up when he was alone.

“Jungkook, breakfast?” Jimin poked his head into the room. Jungkook looked at him. He didn’t reply but just brush pass the calico cat.

"Kilo, we need to talk. Alone.” Jungkook saw Yoongi grab their agent caretaker and bring him out the front door. Jungkook just stared at the front door where they disappeared. Was Kilo going to tell Yoongi what happened? He sat on the couch, subtly looking up as he waited for the door to open.

Everyone else was secretly observing Jungkook. Something about him was weird. He wasn’t displaying his obvious anger like he usually does.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard this often but you’re so damn useless, Kilo.” Yoongi cursed as he re entered the house, slamming the door closed. He turned to see Jungkook’s stare on him.

“What?” He sneered at Jungkook. The others waited for Jungkook to fight back but he just bit his lip.

“Nothing.” He shook his head.

“Whatever.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and proceeded to head to the kitchen. The others couldn’t even hide their shock. What happened with Jungkook? Just yesterday, he was ready to rip Namjoon’s head off in a fight. Today, he was quiet, kept his head down and was docile.

Jungkook didn’t know what to do. If he told them, would they even believe him after the way he has been acting since they arrived here? He didn’t know. But he knew that even if he was angry with you, you deserved to be rescued.

Just not by him.

“W-Wait!” Jungkook blurted.

“What?” Yoongi asked again. For the first time in a while, Jungkook felt so small as the other 6 hybrids stared at him. He gulped.

“Spit it out.” Namjoon scoffed.

“I-I heard Kilo on the phone last night with agent Delta.” Jungkook confessed. Yoongi stopped. He wondered if Jungkook possibly knew the reason why Kilo was acting weird when he asked about you earlier. Yoongi looked towards the front door, grabbing Jungkook’s forearm and pulling him deeper into the kitchen.

“What did you hear?”

“It’s about your owner.” Jungkook said. Right, Jungkook had also started to deny being your adopted hybrid. He didn’t acknowledge you as his owner anymore.

“Kilo was saying something to another agent, I think it was Delta. (y/n) was kidnapped from her home the other night and he was saying something about a lead, that they were supposed to strike next week, not now. They found her distress signal at the house. They think she was kidnapped as bait to lure you guys out to rescue her.” Jungkook breathed.

“F*ck.” Yoongi banged his fist on the counter.

“(y/n)...” Taehyung whimpered. He and Jimin put their arms around each other as comfort. Jungkook just looked away.

“We’re leaving.” Namjoon declared.

“Namjoon is right. We can’t wait for these people to rescue her. We have to do it ourselves. If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll get. Touch our mate and you cross the line.” Jin frowned.

“Let’s talk later.” Yoongi grabbed his mug of coffee and left the kitchen. If Kilo suddenly saw them talking together, it would be too suspicious.

CLANG!

You were jolted awake when you heard loud metal sounds. Blinking, you adjusted your vision to the slightly dim, cold and wet basement area. Wincing, you felt your bruised jaw from where the man punched you. You pushed yourself to stand up but felt a weight on your ankle.

You looked down at the thick metal chain around your ankle. Just what have you landed yourself in?

There were noises coming from the other cages beside you. You guessed that they were all fighting hybrids that belonged to the ring as well, all kept as prisoners just like you.

“Look who’s finally awake.” A voice said. You turned your head to see a man you didn’t recognise, standing there.

“Boss will be happy to hear that you’re awake.” He smiled at you and left.

“Boss Im.” You came face to face with the boss again. You weren’t going to speak to anyone.

“You were asleep for 3 days.” Boss Im raised his eyebrows. You glared at him, crossing your arms. Boss Im just laughed and nodded over to you. You took a step back as the henchmen came into your cell with you. Soon, you felt punches and kicks rain down on you. As you curled into a ball, you covered your face with your hands.

“Tell me where your precious hybrids are.” Boss Im spoke over the grunts and winces of pain you were releasing.

You didn’t fight back or give in. You wanted to stall their attention for as long as possible so they won’t go out and conduct a manhunt to find your boys, and if you could gather some information or evidence about the ring, it would help.

“I... don’t have... hybrids.” You forced out.

“Why are you being stubborn? Look where you are, look at the situation you’re in. Do you really want this to continue?” Boss Im chuckled.

“This is... nothing!” You coughed out blood.

“Tsk! I don’t know why you’re fighting so hard to protect these animals. You’re a fool, you know that? Do you think this will protect them? They’re animals, they belong to fighting rings. You cannot save all hybrids, Doctor Echo. This is the way life is. Humans will always be above those mutts. Just hand them over and you’ll be a free woman.” Boss Im said.

“I’d rather you kill me.” Yo cursed at him, grunting as someone landed a kick to your ribs.

“Killing you is too easy. Until you’re ready to talk, you better get comfortable, I can tell you’re going to be here for a while.” Boss Im called his men back.

“Get ready, it’ll only get worse than this.” One of the men smirked at you before following his boss out. You groaned as you uncurled yourself. Laying on the cement floor, you coughed and stared at the ceiling.

Your chest hurt as you inhaled and exhaled. You touched your ribs, feeling for any broken ones. Thankfully, you didn’t feel any breaks. They were probably just bruised.

“E-Excuse me?” A voice broke your thoughts. Tiredly, you just turned your head to see a small, skinny girl standing by the door of your cell. You just faced the other way, not really bothered by her presence. She slowly entered your cell and placed something on the ground.

“Here’s your lunch.” She whispered and scurried away. You got up and slowly approached the tray of food that was placed on the ground.

You grabbed the plastic spoon and dug into a soupy rice with some kimchi on top. It was bland with no seasoning or flavour at all but you still ate it after not having food in your stomach for 3 days.

“Ugh.” You dropped the spoon onto the tray. When you were done, you laid on the old mattress.

“As long as the boys are safe.” You touched Yoongi’s scars on your shoulder. Those scars seemed to be the only reminiscent thing of the boys you had on your body now.

You hoped that the organisation got your signal and was working to find you. But at the same time, you hoped the boys didn’t hear about your kidnapping or else they would set out to try and track you down. All these worries and the beating from earlier cause your head to pound and slowly, you drifted off again.

The boys were all gathered in the bedroom that the older hybrids shared. They locked the door, hoping Kilo wouldn’t notice them secretly meeting.

“We’re leaving, tonight.” Namjoon said.

“Those that don’t want to go, you can stay here. I really don’t care. My priority is to find my mate and get her out.” Yoongi crossed his arms. He loved his brothers, really, but he wasn’t going to get into a fight with them by forcing them to go save you. That wasn’t the point of holding this discussion. He looked over at the obviously conflicted rabbit.

“What’s the plan, hyung?” Taehyung asked.

“Tonight, we’ll escape out the back. Around 1 am. We run into the forest and head back home. Maybe we can find some clues there.” Namjoon explained and everyone nodded.

“You don’t have to decide now. If you’re not out by 1 am, that’s your reply.” Yoongi said dismissively.

“Are we really going to see (y/n) again, Tae?” Jimin tugged on the tiger’s sleeve when they left the elders’ room. Taehyung nodded, finally crackling into a small smile.

“I’m going to take a nap. Come on, Chim.” Taehyung pulled Jimin with him to the maknaes’ room. Jimin watched his best friend fall asleep quickly, knowing that all of them haven’t been sleeping well and Taehyung constantly woke up in the middle of the night.

Jimin reached up to touch his uneven ear. He shivered as he remembered how his old master punished him by clipping the end of his ear and laughing at him.

Hearing that a fighting ring kidnapped you, he was afraid of what they would do to you. Fighting rings aren’t for humans, they’re for hybrids. He has never seen a human in the ring before.

“Chim... Breathe...” Taehyung said sleepily, grasping Jimin’s wrist.

“H-Huh? W-What?” Jimin didn’t even realise that he wasn’t breathing properly. Taehyung’s eyes still remained closed as he tried to pull the calico out of his anxiety attack.

“Breathe... You’re okay.” Taehyung assured.

“I’ve got you.” Taehyung mimicked the exact words you would tell Jimin, wrapping an arm around his waist to hug him.

“I’m sorry.” Jimin apologised softly. Taehyung shook his head to deny Jimin’s need for an apology and just proceeded to stroke the back of the smaller boy’s head. As Taehyung slowly fell back asleep, his soft and even breathing was what managed to calm Jimin down. He slipped out of Taehyung’s grip and left the room.

“H-Hyung?” Jimin knocked.

“What?” Yoongi opened the door.

“Can I talk to you?” Jimin asked. Yoongi sighed and scratched the back of his neck but nodded, stepping aside for Jimin to enter the room. Jin and Namjoon weren’t inside, probably somewhere else in the house.

“Is it really okay for me to go with you tonight?” Jimin asked, sitting on Namjoon’s bed. Yoongi sat on his own bed, opposite where Jimin sat.

“I have no idea what you’re asking me now.” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, leaning back on his hands.

“I want to help save (y/n) but... I’m afraid my anxiety will only hold you back. I don’t know if I should go with you all tonight because I don’t want to be a burden.” Jimin looked down at his lap. Yoongi didn’t say anything and just stared at the way Jimin’s ears folded down in sadness.

“Jimin. I’m just going to be honest with you here.” Yoongi started. Jimin looked up at him and nodded.

“Yeah, it probably will hold us back if you suddenly have an anxiety attack. But you’re going with us with the mindset to save (y/n), isn’t that all that matters? You could be crippled and if you still want to go, nothing or no one should stop you from doing it.” Yoongi said.

“So it’s okay if I go?”

“My opinion shouldn’t matter to you. If you really wanna save her, then go.” Yoongi shrugged.

“Thank you, hyung.” Jimin stood up and was about to leave when Yoongi grabbed his wrist to stop him. He was surprised but turned around to face the panther.

“No one thinks you’re a burden, okay? I know (y/n) wouldn’t be happy if you thought of yourself as one too.” Yoongi told him. Jimin nodded his head as he saw tears starting to pool in Yoongi’s eyes.

“Better get some rest.” Yoongi let him go and Jimin left the room.

When night fell, the hybrids watched from their positions in the kitchen and living room as Kilo locked the doors and windows. This was done every night to ensure that they don’t run away to try and reunite with you. Kilo bid them a lazy goodnight and went out the front door, which was his post for the night, until he came in to sleep on the couch.

“Hyung, are you going?” Jungkook asked when it was just him and his brother in the living room.

“I miss her.” Hoseok admitted with a nod.

“But she abandoned us, just like before. What if she does it again?” Jungkook’s voice quivered. Hoseok sighed, knowing his brother was still traumatised and angry over what happened.

“Even if she does, she’s my mate. My heart knows that she’s probably the only way I’ll smile again.” Hoseok said. It wass after you left that he realised that you were his mate. He hasn’t had a chance to confess to you but rescuing you will grant him that chance.

��What if... I don’t go?” Jungkook asked cautiously.

“Then that’s your decision to make, Kookie. This isn’t a permanent goodbye, we’ll still meet and see each other.” Hoseok gave a small smile.

“Okay.” Jungkook wasn’t going to hold his brother back. He walked to his room and laid on his bed.

When it came close to 1 am, Hoseok went to Jungkook’s room. He had his backpack slung over his shoulder. Jungkook sat on his bed, facing his brother with tears in his eyes.

“So you’ve made your decision?” Hoseok asked softly.

“Please don’t hate me.” Jungkook whispered as he hugged his brother.

“Oh, Kook. I’ll never hate you, the other as well. You’re old enough and I should respect your decision. I’m sure (y/n) would understand too. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be a better brother and protect you.” Hoseok stroked his head.

“No. You’re the best older brother. It was me, all me.” Jungkook denied. Hoseok looked at the clock, it was getting close to 2 am. Hoseok tried his best to force a smile to be strong for his little brother. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Jungkook’s forehead.

“I’m sorry, I can’t save her.” Jungkook covered his face as he cried. Hoseok pulled his hands away, making the younger look at him. Hoseok shook his head, not wanting his brother to feel bad for making his decision.

“Bye, Kook.” He ruffled his hair.

“Bye, hyung. Please stay safe. I’ll see you when all this is over.” Jungkook sniffled, wiping his tears. Hoseok nodded and left the room with the heaviest heart.

“Hyung...” Hoseok could hear Jungkook break down in his room. He let go of the doorknob and headed downstairs. Of course, he wanted to be with Jungkook. They have never separated since they’ve met. But you were his true mate, his instinct was to put you above everything else, just like Yoongi does. It hurt but he would just have to live with it for now.

Taehyung had already managed to break the lock that secured the back door. When the others saw the golden retriever coming down alone, with a sullen look on his face, and they knew what was Jungkook’s decision.

“Once we get out, let’s try and see where we are. Then find a way to get back to our old house.” Yoongi instructed and everyone nodded.

“I’m coming, kitten.” Yoongi kissed his necklace. They all looked at each other and stepped out the door, letting the cold winter air of the night greet them. Jimin held Jin’s hand.

“I’ll see you, Kookie.” Hoseok took a deep breath and they all ran out, jumping over the fence and taking off into the forest.

Jungkook sobbed softly into his blanket. The house had never felt colder. He was really all alone.

As much as he wanted to go save you, his heart wouldn’t let him. There was still an undeniable betrayal and pain that he felt. He had allowed himself to be vulnerable and trusting too many times and it always led to heartbreak.

Standing by the window, he watched as the 6 dark figures took off, disappearing into the dark forest one by one.

He looked down at his clenched fist, opening it up to see his purple dog tag sitting in his palm.

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

scorched | s.r. + b.b.

summary: “You utterly destroyed me, you know that? I loved you more than I needed to breathe and you just walked away. I lost everything and you walked away.”

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, violence, a post-endgame rant wrapped up as a fic pairing: steve x fem!reader, bucky x fem!reader word count: 7.3k

a/n: inspired by praying by kesha. written for @coffee-with-bucky and her 2k challenge! congrats lyn :) my prompt was “i failed you. i failed everyone.”and i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t inspired by @heli0s-writes and her series “as it was”. check her out! she’s one of my favourite writers on this site!

“She’s not at the compound,” Sam says, not at all surprised to see him and almost resentful, defensive. His phone is still in hand, screen alit from the text Steve sent him a few minutes ago. Everything he left behind is still here by the lake.

Almost everything.

It’s a ghost town.

“But she doesn’t want to see you anyway.”

“Sam—”

“Five hours for you was five, very long years for us,” he continues, but his tone softens when he catches sight of Steve’s face. Absolutely crushed, eyebrows weighed down, shoulders hunched forward, defeated. “She’s different, now. She’s not the woman you left.”

The mere mention of you makes Steve’s heart, already choked with dread, crack.

“And you shouldn’t go, man. It wouldn’t be good for her after all this time.”

Before, maybe Sam would’ve thought of Steve first, but there’s a distance, a yawning gap standing between them now. Sam was here for the bitter consequences of his departure—Steve wasn’t, and he knows they must’ve been shattering, terrifying, because by the way Sam is so cold about it, he doesn’t want to remember it.

“I made a mistake, Sam. I can’t let her go on thinking I don’t regret what I did.” He looks out at the lake where he passed the shield and mantle and responsibilities on to the man before him before he left, and the sun hits the lake so clearly that his breath nearly catches. You loved swimming, propelling circles around him in the blue-green pool at the compound, splashing it into his eyes. Laughing and laughing and laughing because you’re so limber on land but here you’re definitely a fish out of water.

Funny, funny, funny.

“She won’t care.”

“She has to.”

“Look, man. I’m trying to save you some pain.” Sam puts a hand out, hovering before his chest as if he stopped himself, as if he doesn’t even want to touch Steve, and the blond swallows the painful little knot in his throat. “It’s too late, and I know you want to think better late than never, but she’s changed. Things have changed.”

“That won’t stop me from trying,” Steve murmurs, walking around Sam to where a car is parked. His car. The damned car he drove to Tony’s funeral. He’s sure the keys are still in the cupholder beside your old coffee cup. He wonders who drove you home.

Sam? Bucky?

Who held a body with a heart that was tearing apart while he was chasing some fruitless daydream?

“Dude, the woman you knew is gone,” Sam calls, but Steve doesn’t listen. “You need to leave.”

“No, Sam. We made a promise to wait for each other.”

Okay, clause one: we wait for each other no matter what. Clause two: no matter what happens, we promise to work everything out. Clause three: this love is forever. Sign here.

I can’t believe you’re making me sign a fake contract for something we know won’t change, doll.

It’s a real contract because I wrote it, and it’s just for fun, anyway. I would never love anyone else besides you.

“That doesn’t matter. She’s fucking Barnes anyway.”

That stops him in his tracks. Blood freezing over in his body, he turns to look at Sam in his leather jacket and washed jeans, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes are impassive, severe, and dark with blunt honesty.

“Look, they’re happy. So can you just… leave? Go back to the forties. Settle down anywhere but here, because she is happy and so is he. Do you know how long it took for them to even think about trying to move past you?”

“Wait—” The word comes out ripped, hoarse, and he feels the blood drain from his legs as he takes a step back—

“You should just go.”

For a moment, Steve’s eyes, wide and impossibly guilty, shine with tears. At the thought of you with some other man—somehow the possibility never crossed his mind. In his mind, you are the girl who shelters underneath his arm when it thunders, who tucks her face into his chest when the movie is too scary, who peppers his faces with kisses and makes him lemonade after a good training session, who puts flower crowns on his head when they spend a weekend outside the city and makes apple pies so fulfilling he could cry, who would never love another man because you are so wholly, helplessly, in love with him.

And he left you anyway.

So he nods, because he deserves this.

He deserves this, and he leaves.

The wind is warm against his cheeks as he tries to think how he ended up here in Puerto Vallarta, although he does know. Sam dropped him off here with a mission that’ll hopefully lead to another, and you can build a new life for yourself, Steve. One without her in it. If you need something, you know you can call me.

An arms deal. He got a tipoff from one of his CIs that it’s happening tonight by the docks, because he needs his own resources now. There is no Ross, no Tony, no Natasha, no one on his side.

His body yearns for a fight, and he gets it when he hears a soft voice down the docks, speaking in British English, just barely over the lap of the ocean. Crouching behind a metal freight container, he tries to distinguish the voices. At least three bodies, all armed, and his target. One of the biggest arms dealers in Britain down here to make a deal.

Steve, darting out from his cover and to the fire escape by the warehouse, catches a glimpse of the silhouettes of the men waiting. Their shadows are long against the concrete of the dock. The metal clangs underneath his boots as he slowly climbs the steps.

“Where is this woman?” the first man asks roughly, impatience laced through his tone as Steve pulls himself onto the roof. Feet pattering over the metal roof of the warehouse, he keeps himself crouched as the warm, golden sunlight filters through the oily heat. He’s sweating through the kevlar suit he’s got strapped on, and droplets beads around his forehead as he adjusts the shield gauntlets along his wrists.

“She said seven, sir.”

“Tardiness,” the man tsks. “We should’ve known better than to deal with the likes of her. What did I say?”

“That you shouldn’t trust an American, sir.”

“Precisely.” Leaning over the roof, Steve spots the man in question speaking, his suit glowing from the lamplight he stands beneath and he grips the edge of the roof, frowning. The buyer and the seller in one foul swoop. A car door slams and he blinks, tearing his eyes away from his count of at least twelve men, three standing around crates and the other around the man complaining.

A woman steps out of the car, pocketing her phone as she walks towards the illuminated circle, and he frowns, narrowing his eyes. Her face is covered by hair that sways with her every step, but her figure is outlined by the fit of her pantsuit. Even through the clothes, he can see the curve of muscle, the purpose in her step.

A dangerous woman.

“Sorry for the hold up,” she calls out, her voice smooth, rich with confidence. Steve frowns as she stops just outside the circle of light, her silhouette illuminated by warm, rusty orange and cloaked in shadow. “You wouldn’t believe the legalities surrounding contraband in America,” she continues teasingly. “Let me see.”

The man jerks his head to one of his henchman by the crates who cracks it open revealing sleek black rifles, laser sights, silver canisters with a bar along the sides: EMPs, grenades of all kinds. “Is it to your satisfaction?”

“It is. I’m docked in bay four. My men will meet yours there,” she says and head honcho nods. It’s a sign for the three men to pick up one crate each and begin their slow trail up the docks. The crates are massive things, hard black metal that softly rattles with every sway and Steve’s ears prick as the woman steps closer, her heels sharp against concrete.

“I assume this concludes our business, ma’am. It has been a profitable few months. I hope you find your new treasures… helpful in your endeavors.”

“Oh, I’d love to keep communications open. You’ve been a wonderful seller, and as you know, I pay handsomely for quality goods.” Despite his previous irritation, the boss seems to straighten, smiling almost as the men around look at each other. Money. It all comes down to money.

“Of course. My London warehouse, as you know, is open to you should you find yourself across the sea.”

“Perfect. Pleasure doing business with you.” It is then that she steps into the light, and Steve’s eyes narrow at the glint of metal on her ears and in her hair as she reaches forward to shake the man’s hand.

And twist it behind his back, using him as a body shield between her and his henchmen. Her other hand goes to her head, pulling out the pin and digging it gently into the man’s throbbing vein at his neck. It sits comfortably in her palm, almost as if it is molded for her and Steve’s muscles tense, blood rushing to his fingertips.

“Shoot her, now.”

“Watch it, Fitz,” hisses the woman, voice low. She digs the tip of the pin deeper. In the washed lamplight, Steve can see the curve of the blade, the hoop her finger slots into. A throwing knife. “I want you out of this situation alive.”

The knife trails down his body to his thigh and she wraps her fingers tighter around the handle.

Schluck.

The man’s scream rings in Steve’s ears as she tosses the man aside, diving to a stack of wooden crates. Wood and stone splinters beneath the force of bullets following at her heels but she simply unclasps one of her earrings, presses a button and throws it over the crates.

There’s a moment of silence as the men stare at the device at their feet before there is an explosion of smoke. He watches as the woman vaults over the crates and sprints into the cloud and Steve leaps off the roof, pumping his arms to activate his shield gauntlets.

The first man he comes into contact with lets out a startled scream as Steve punches his lights out and his blood is singing. Smoke burns at his eyes and thickens in his lungs as he whirls around, spotting a shadow of a man and he runs toward him, sweeping out a leg to take him down before slamming his knuckles into his nose until he’s knocked out cold and there’s a painful grunt behind him, the resounding collapse of a body that has no intention of getting up again.

Bullets whiz past his face, slamming into concrete and flesh as something rushes past him and he grabs the charging man, swinging his whole body weight into his arms and bringing them both crashing into the ground. The smell of sweat leaks into his mouth as he shoves the curve of his shield into the henchman’s stomach. Once. Twice. Thrice.

The man is rolled over, eyes scrunched tight, when Steve gets off of him.

Eyes straining through the smoke, he watches as a shadow charges at two figures, latching onto the first man and striking the geezer behind him with a power kick to the chest with both legs. The second man stumbles back just as the shadow swings her legs back and brings the first man down to the ground.

Natasha.

That was something he’d seen Natasha practice a hundred times over.

The thought makes his blood run cold and he pauses for a moment, the smoke beginning to thin out as she rolls over the first man and takes down the second with two punches to the gut and a knee to the nose.

Natasha.

This can’t be real. No. Natasha is dead.

Unless they brought her back.

No, Sam would’ve told him, wouldn’t he?

He’s not sure anymore.

His throat cinches shut at the thought of the redhead, of the woman who’d been by his side for years, who encouraged him to fall in love with you. Maybe it’s Natasha’s ghost haunting him, taunting him with some lookalike spy, reminding him of his mistake, and he feels himself paralyzed. The memories, the smile of hers before they went back in time— He’d felt so exhausted at the responsibility of it all, the five years of his failure weighing down between his shoulders. It all rushes back to him: your wobbling lips, brave face on his brave girl, fingers digging into his suit, ordering him to come home safe, Natasha’s coy little smile.

See you in a minute.

Strong legs wrap around his abdomen and he lets out a grunt, yanked out of his dazed state as he wrenches the attacker off his back. The woman falls with smack but her fingers dig into his wrists. Her legs wrap around his arm, dragging him down with her.

Steve pitches forward, tumbling forward as she slams his hand into the concrete. His skull collides with the ground and he squeezes his eyes tight, pain blooming from the back of his head. A sharp knee digs into his other elbow and he sucks in a deep breath, eyes fluttering open to a blurry face.

“No.” The word comes out choked and he blinks against the streetlight, eyebrows furrowing together and the weight vanishes off of him. “It can’t be.” Sitting up, he feels his head swim in a dull ache, world tilting as the woman takes a step away from him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The words ring in his ears, cold, wretched, and he jerks his head up to see your face drained of blood, lips parted, eyes wide. Your shoulders are shaking, chest heaving for air and it rattles in your lungs. Steve can hear your heart pounding, your throat swallowing nothing but wet air.

“Y/N—” He soaks in your figure, the muscle, the confidence, the sharp lines where everything had been soft. You don’t even look too different—you just feel different. He used to sink into your arms thinking of golden sunlight and soft pillows. Now, when he looks at you, he thinks of serrated edges, ironwire bones. You’ve lost your heels in the fight, but you look taller than he’s ever seen you. “You’re… it’s you.”

“Steve.” For a moment, your voice is choked up and your expression softens as you scan his face, but then you tear your eyes away. Your hair is chopped shorter for practicality, just barely past your shoulders. It suits you. Suits the girl he loves, the girl he doesn’t know anymore. “Steve.”

“Are you hurt?” He reaches for you but you shrink back like he’s burned you. This isn’t who you are. You’ve never been a fighter, yet here you stand, pantsuit a bit scuffed but otherwise untouched, and his stomach twists into a Gordian knot. This is what Sam was warning him about. The snake in the garden come to life. “What are you doing here? You could’ve gotten hurt, doll—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t have that right anymore,” you spit, voice pure poison. He pushes himself to his feet just as something makes you pause and your eyebrows knit together, raising your left wrist where a watch is strapped on. His head is spinning from his skull cracking against concrete and the new revelation that the girl he knows is a stranger again. He wobbles for a moment, arms out to the side as he tries to regain his bearings but you don’t so much as give him another second of your attention. “Docks are secure, Fury. Fitz is ready for pickup. I’ll send London co-ordinates when I get back to base.”

Steve glances at the bleeding man still panicking about the knife sticking out of his leg, and you go over to him, hauling him to his feet. The man shivers, whimpers when he puts weight on his injured leg but you give no hint that you care. As if on cue, a helicopter swerves through the air, rotors sending powerful gales of air down to the ground as it lowers itself to the ground and you look at Steve with a cold disinterest, hand a fist around Fitz’s collar.

“Believe it or not, I’m not just Captain America’s pretty little girlfriend anymore.”

“I just want to talk—”

“There’s nothing I want to say to you.” Turning around, you lug Fitz into the helicopter with a strength Steve doesn’t recognize and you climb onto the chopper with a grace he knows didn’t exist before he left you.

Don’t go. Please don’t go. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I’m going back to the compound,” you say over the loud gusts of wind whipping at the ground. “You’ll find Bucky there, if that’s who you’re really here for because if I wasn’t enough for you then, then I certainly won’t be enough for you now.” Pulling back into the helicopter, you yank the door shut with a slam, and Steve watches as it rises, a steady ascension to a place where he can’t follow.

His stomach twists, his whole body wracked with a shaking agony as his heart pushes itself up your throat. Falling to his knees, he keens over and throws up, acid splashing between his hands. He vomits out his heart, every inch of warmth you’ve ever given him so freely, every smile he’s taken for granted, the taste of your smile after you’ve made those apple pies.

He’s left hollowed out, colder than death.

He wants to cry, but even his mind tells him you don’t deserve to cry for the woman you chased away, so he laughs. Laughs until they turn into tears, and even then they don’t feel real. His body is unwilling to yield to the possibility of defeat, and yet here he is.

It was a one in a million chance for us both to survive that Snap, Steve. And Thanos destroyed the stones. If we can’t find a way to bring them back… maybe the only thing we can do now is move on.

Some people move on. But not us... Not us

Take your ring and give it to the girl you really love because it isn’t me.

Steve’s shock. There was less of a protest, only your determination to stop your lip from trembling, the tears already falling from glassy eyes. Grief bit him in the stomach, but yearning tugged his heart toward the platform.

If all you could think about in the ten years we were together was Peggy, I don’t see why I should stop you.

Y/N, you know I love you.

Not enough.

The compound is different. Different plot of land, different inhabitants, different facilities. He pulls up in the lot where the Avengers sign is carved into the stone and he walks the grounds, grounds he used to know but this is different soil.

Another man’s grounds.

“Steve,” Sam says, cautious on the track. He’s wearing a tee-shirt and shorts, skin glistening with sweat and a water bottle in hand. He’s got a comm link in his ear and it glows blue for a moment before muting itself. There are a few recruits running a few laps and Steve eyes them wearily before approaching Sam. His beard was shaved two days ago, his hair chopped clean even though it makes him more noticeable now. He hopes no one says anything about the old Captain America pathetically dragging himself back to a place he tried to run from. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you came in.”

“Yeah. I… I just wanted to see Bucky.” Your name bites at his tongue and it takes all his strength not to confess what happened down in Mexico before Sam glances behind him to a building he doesn’t recognize. It’s connected to the main facility by a long tunnel but there are doors to the track as well, and they open just as Steve fixes his gaze on it.

Two figures stumble out of the building, a piercing shriek splitting the air with glee as one of them runs away from the other. Even from the distance, Steve can see the metal glint of Bucky’s arm, your favourite swimsuit strapped to your body. Bucky’s holding onto something as he chases after you and you barrel through the grass, towel cloaking your shoulders.

“They’re happy, man,” Sam murmurs lowly as they get onto the track and you’re still running but you’re no match for a super soldier. Bucky scoops you up, tossing aside his water gun and wrapping you in a huge hug from behind. “Even if Barnes wants to see you, do you think she does?”

“I already saw her in Mexico,” he utters softly. You’re laughing so loudly it makes Steve’s chest explode with light. You thrash in Bucky’s arms and he pretends to nip at your skin, growl into your ear as you tug at the towel around your neck. You’re… you. Just as he left you. Nothing like Mexico. “Why is she in the field, now? She’s not a soldier.”

“That’s for her to explain, not me. I don’t get to try to describe the hell you put her through, Steve.” Bucky puts you down and your feet in those strappy tan sandals sink into the grass as you spin around. You plant a kiss gently on Bucky’s lips, using the corner of your towel to wipe away drips from his hair before stealing another kiss. Steve’s mouth tingles, burning uncomfortably and he looks away. That used to be him, leaving the pool, smelling like chlorine and sweat and then popsicles to cool down because nothing screamed summer like fruit popsicles and swimming.

“Steve?” A tentative voice calls and Steve’s eyes refocus to the source on reflex. You’re staring at him, eyes narrowed into knife points and you hold Bucky’s arm to your chest, your fingers entwined with his as his old friend walks towards him. “Steve— you’re back? What are you… what are you doing here?”

“Guess the past isn’t where I belong,” he says with a forced smile that digs into his cheeks and Bucky lets go of your hand to hug him but his lips are parted, his eyes wide. He doesn’t believe this is real and when Steve meets your eyes over Bucky’s shoulder, your gaze is burning. Bucky’s arms squeeze around Steve tighter, tight enough that even he can’t breathe. He’s shattered in his arms, Bucky is, and Steve can only hold him.

“Let’s go inside,” Sam says, ever the mediator. Steve looks at him but his eyes are on you, and Bucky’s pulling back and then his eyes are on you, too. All eyes on you and your worried lip between your teeth. You’re tanned, toned, and your hair is shining underneath the summer sun as Bucky steps away from Steve as well. As if the euphoria of having his best friend is gone—it is. He chose a daydream over his family. “You guys need to get dry.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, eyes darkening as they linger on Steve’s face. Soaking him in, thinking a thousand miles a minute, trying to sort through whatever storm lingers in his head. His eyebrows hood his gaze as he lowers his head and Steve can see him slip away as you take Bucky’s hand, cup his face, and turn him away.

“Popsicles, yeah? Gotta get the last ones before Wanda steals ‘em away,” you whisper and Bucky’s nose brushes against your head before they begin to walk away. Bucky’s shoulders are hunched over and you’ve got an arm around his waist, and there is something sacred in the way his head brushes against yours, the way his arm drapes around your shoulders. The way his fingers play with the fluffy towel around you, bringing the corner of it to your wet cheek. The way you step in tandem.

Something tender, something hallowed, something not his.

You’d been sharp and scorched in Mexico. In Bucky’s presence, you are nothing but dewy grass and a gentle fire, and he sees the tension ease in your shoulders despite a knot lingering in your back.

Once you’d been soft like cotton clouds like it was your nature, eager to stay away from the fight. You were just the receptionist at Stark Towers and Steve had fallen first, so eager to protect you because you were kind, gentle, funny and you didn’t care about who he was. Just that he was Steve and you were you.

I can’t let anything happen to you. You can’t protect yourself against these guys, Y/N. They’re… they’re monsters.

And he left you to them anyway, in a world still struggling to find itself repopulated and alive—

I failed you. I failed everyone.

The realization devastates him. No matter how hard he tried to fix the world, he destroyed his life anyway.

“Come on, man. If you wanna talk, we should do it in private,” Sam says. Steve follows him numbly into a building he doesn’t know anymore.

You’re sitting with your legs bent and angled in towards Bucky, playing with a butterfly knife that flows too easily between your nimble fingers. Sam sits on the leather seat and Steve leans back into the sofa as you bite softly into your red popsicle. Strawberry. Your favourite.

Bucky’s sucking down a blue one but his face is placid, eyes burning into the glass table between them as Sam sits down with a cup of coffee he had offered to make for Steve. The blade flips over your index finger, and then back around again. Your hair is stringy and wet, tied away from your face as you set down the knife and turn to Bucky, eyes searching. You brush his hair away from his face even though it’s cropped shorter now and smile even though he doesn’t focus on you.

He doesn’t miss Bucky’s hand around the curve of your thigh, holding you to him as if you’ll slip away otherwise. He fights the nasty remark pounding against his teeth—that’s his girl his best friend’s got his hand on—but he knows it isn’t his place anymore. Steve watches you lick sweet strawberry melt from your lips, trail your fingers along Bucky’s head delicately and pull his temple towards you for a quick peck.

It’s almost as if Bucky wakes up at your touch, and he turns to you. He searches too, scans your gaze and Steve feels like he’s intruding on a moment so he looks into his lap.

“So?” Sam prompts, tearing everyone out of whatever bubble they’ve encased themselves in and pulling them back into harsh reality. “Who wants to go first?”

There’s silence where Bucky puts down his popsicle stick on the bowl brought out, blue melt sliding down the wood slowly as you bite down on the last of your own treat.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice is quiet, accepting already.

“I have so many things to say and I don’t even know how to say any of it, but I know to apologize,” the blond says after a moment of hesitation. His breath keeps catching in your throat and you lean forward to drop off your own stick by Bucky’s, almost a statement to his own words. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Sam asks for clarity, but Steve entertains the notion that maybe even his friend wants to draw it out of him.

“I didn’t know what I had until I lost it.” Steve makes a point to meet three pairs of eyes except you refuse to look at him, instead staring into Bucky’s lap like he doesn’t even exist, like you don’t exist either. “I should’ve stayed. Should’ve thought it through and realized that... everything I had back then is everything I had here.”

“Is that all?” Bucky stares at him with something like pity, something like jealousy, and Steve knows it has all to do with the woman in his arms. Ten years of conflict to push lovers together compared to five years of overcoming heartache because of one man. Steve would be jealous—had been jealous of Steve of 2012. 2012 Steve had a whole decade of love waiting for him and he has none. “Are you here to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“If you think you can come here and have everything that was yours just given to you on a silver platter, then you’re wrong,” you speak up for the first time and it sucks all the warmth out of the room. Bucky turns to you, hand raising from your thigh to brush a wet strand of hair away from your cheek and you clench your jaw, lips pressed together. “We built our lives without you in it.”

“Y/N.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees but you seem to shrink away from him, eyes tortuously meeting his.

“You leaving me was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me,” you whisper with a rage unbridled, unchained, just barely containing itself from exploding. “It made me realize how much stronger I am then you have ever given me credit for.”

“You weren’t that girl when I met you.” Soft girl with sunshine smiles and gauzy white dresses—lemonade pitchers, tulip gardens—you weren’t that girl, Steve’s mind protests but when you unwind from the couch, stretch every languid muscle in your body, he wonders if he ever saw you as anything more than someone he had to protect.

“I believed you when you said I couldn’t fight.” You stand, gazing openly at him and he swallows at the hopelessness residing in your gaze, still there after five years. “That I wasn’t enough like you to even try to help. All I ever was to you was some pretty little thing who was scared to fight back and maybe I was because you sheltered me for ten fucking years.” Your voice twists with pain, overflowing with a frustration of lost time and pure, pure sadness. “You leaving me made me stand on my own two feet again.”

Bucky reaches forward to take your hand when they all see it tremble but you simply roll it into a fist and step away.

“You put me through hell, Steve. I had to learn how to fight for myself because you weren’t there. Because you left me for some fucking daydream.” For a moment, he thinks you soften because your eyebrows fall and you close your eyes. The muscle in your jaw ticks, your nose twitches, and when you open your eyes again, they are glassy with tears. “You utterly destroyed me, you know that? I loved you more than I needed to breathe and you just walked away. I lost everything and you walked away.”

Tony. Natasha. Boss. Best friend. Colleague. Sister.

“How could you do that?” you whimper, blinking as tears scorch down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily with the heel of your hand. “How could you just look at me, look at Sam, look at Bucky, and think that there is nothing worth staying for?” You throw out your hand helplessly, waiting for an answer that won’t come and Steve chews on the inside of his cheek, throat swelling shut.

“It felt like minutes,” Bucky says at last, and the darkness in the room, the stifled feeling in Steve’s chest eases only a tad because Bucky is not nearly as thunderous as you are. You twist to look at him, arms crossed over your chest and Sam reaches to touch your arm, fingers wrapped around your bicep. You spare him a glance before looking at Bucky. “We died, we came back five years later, and it only felt like minutes.”

“Bucky—”

“You chose to leave what felt like minutes after I died, after Sam died, and when Y/N told me what happened… Steve…” A shuddering convulses down his throat and Bucky looks down into his lap. You unfold your arms and immediately go to sink into the couch, wrapping an arm around Bucky. Your eyes pin him down, red-rimmed with unshed tears, accusing: you did this to an already broken man.

“I’m so sorry, Buck.” The apology sounds plastic in his mouth with how many times he’s said it, thought it. “I’m so sorry.” He says it again anyways, and he directs it at the two other bodies in the room. You gauge his expression, watch him like he’ll vanish in a flash of smoke.

“I was happy for you if leaving meant I never had to see you again. I know you deserve a happy ending, Steve. You deserve rest more than anyone I know,” he says, “but you need to know what you want before you decide to risk it all. You can’t come crawling back for second chances because there are none. You don’t come back and have everything stay the same. There’s a price every time you give something up.” He looks up, eyes like clear water. There’s nothing angry in his old friend’s gaze, just drained. “If you’re here to stay, you better be sure that this is what you want in the end.” And then Bucky is up, rubbing at his face like he’s tired rather than an inch from crying. Steve watches him go—they all do—silently, and then you look at Sam who gets up to follow.

There’s a moment when you meet eyes with Steve and he can feel the love you swaddled him in for ten years, through the Snap, through the Accords. No matter where he was, you were there.

Then that love disappears.

“I want you to hurt like you made me hurt,” you begin softly, hands folded in your lap, t-shirt hanging off your frame, stuffed into your shorts. “Like you still make me hurt. I want you to wake up crying, I want you to rub your face raw, I want you to stay awake all night just wondering why this has happened. I want nothing more than you begging on your knees for something you can’t stop no matter how hard you try because somehow you just aren’t enough.”

He closes his eyes, lets your words devour him whole.

“Bucky was there,” you continue quietly. “He was there for me in a way you never were. He drove me home after you left. Told me that the best was yet to come. That I just couldn’t see it yet, and I didn’t believe him. For the longest time, I didn’t believe a single word he said.”

“Until you did.”

“Until one day, I looked at him and told him I know. That I know, one day, things will change,” you agree and something melts in your voice when you speak of Bucky. Kindred souls, the same heartache lurking still in chests just beginning to warm from love again. “Maybe it hurt less that day so I decided that I have to accept that this was my life now or maybe I was just so sick of crying that I told myself that this isn’t who I’m going to be. I don’t know. I just woke up one day, and he asked if I wanted to go swimming. First summer after everyone came back, and I wanted to say no, but I just had to say yes because it was swimming, and it was Bucky, and he was barely holding it together but here he was… taping and gluing me like I was some abstract project.” You chuckle, a wet sound, before glancing down at your knees. There is something you’re not telling him, and he knows it’s something secret to you and Bucky alone, so he doesn’t push it. Doesn’t ask—his chest already feels like it’s cracked open. “Some of the pieces won’t ever fit again.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, “did he train you?”

“Yeah.” Explains a Black Widow move. You sound proud, but not of yourself, of your own feats and talent, but of him. “He encouraged it. Said it was only right I knew how to fight.” Steve’s stomach turns and he looks down to swallow. Bile is burning in his throat. The threads of his heart are tearing.

“I know it’s all I’ve been saying, but I’m sorry. I… I just tried to protect you in every way I could.”

“I know.” Your words are soft against his battered ears, and he looks up at you sitting there, ramrod straight but a certain gentleness that reminds him of the past. “I know you loved me in the way you could.” Clutching, grasping, desperate not to lose another woman he loves. “When you saw Peggy, did you just decide that that was easier?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just felt like I was missing something. Something…”

“... you couldn’t find here?”

“Just something.”

You ruminate on that, eyes fixed on the popsicle sticks and Steve rubs his hands together, head bowed. The silence is terse but not hostile, and you pick up the butterfly knife on the cushion. You don’t flick it open, just run your thumb over the edge and Steve thinks you might cut him stem to stern before you place it down on the glass table.

“I used to stay up all night wondering where I went wrong,” you say it frankly. It’s not meant to hurt him anymore. You seem tired of being angry, but it’s still there, just there underneath your skin. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t eat unless Bucky made me. I would’ve rather starved than live in a world where you didn’t love me, but he said if he had to go on, then so did I. He never asked for anything in return, and I was just so fucking angry at myself that I listened to him just to spite myself. I cried all the time. I didn’t move from my bed for months. Yet, one little part of me,” you murmur, gaze rising to meet his, “always just wanted you to be happy. I wanted so desperately for you to make the right choice because then maybe this would’ve been worth it for you.”

It’s big. Your words hang on imaginary strings around his head, whistling in the faint air conditioned wind, and he clenches his jaw, unable to tear his eyes away from you. Although you’re barely holding yourself together before him, you’re deathly beautiful.

“I’m so glad that you’re so loved,” Steve intones quietly. “I’m so thankful that Bucky loves you.” He doesn’t need eyes to feel it. It’s a quiet thing, unshaking yet fragile as flowers and light as dandelion wisps.

“I didn’t think he did.” You lean back into the couch, tuck your feet underneath yourself and cross your arms over your chest. “It took me a long time to accept that he does, and now he won’t believe that I do, too.”

The confession sinks its teeth into Steve’s throat and threatens to tear his flesh.

“I tell him and I can tell he doesn’t believe me sometimes. No matter how much I want him to, it’s the one thing he can’t believe because…”

You were my girl, Steve thinks.

“He doesn’t believe he’s worth staying for. Worth choosing. You did that to him, you know? Did that to me.”

“I know.”

You stare at him and he looks at you, curled up on the couch. Your face is drying, but that torn expression still sits on your face as you run a hand over your middle, fingers folding as you close your eyes and duck your head.

His eyes trace the gesture, eyebrows knitting together, and then he looks at you because he knows. Because it had been their dream once, and when the fight is over, baby. The world still needs you, Captain America.

He had said, half joking, When will they ever stop needing me?

When you grow old and grey, and another Captain America is ready to take your place.

“Bucky’s?” he asks, body numbing. You nod, raising your eyes to his. “Does he know?”

“No. I only found out a few days after Mexico.” Three weeks ago. “I want to make it past a few more weeks, just to make sure.” You tuck your knees to your chest, arms folded over your abdomen and Steve tries to imagine it swollen with life. No longer lean with muscle but bountiful with a miracle. Blue eyes, blonde hair— no. Not anymore. “Just wanted time.”

Time. It’s all he’s ever wanted, and now…

“I know.”

Now he has none at all.

Your eyes meet his, fluttering and haunted, and he simply meets your gaze. There’s a quiet understanding in that moment as you bring your hands up to hug yourself, and he swallows, leaning back into the couch. His hands rest on his thighs, and your back sinks into the back cushion of your loveseat as he thinks of what to say.

Perhaps there is nothing to say.

Instead, his right hand goes to his pocket where a ring is still pinched tightly in between the creases. The diamond is sharp against his flesh, and he tugs it out carefully before setting it on the glass table between them. You stare at the thing, watch it glint. It’s mocking you, but Steve doesn’t want it and he doesn’t know what else to do.

“It’s always been yours,” he says, pushing it to your side of the table. The diamond scrapes against glass but doesn’t leave a mark. “It’s never been anyone else’s but yours.” The ring clatters against the gass. You’d worn that damned thing for years on end. First it was the Accords, then Wakanda, then the Snap, and he should’ve married you when he had the chance—he should’ve done so much more than what he did.

“Do you love me?” you ask quietly, eyes unmoving from the winking gemstone. The golden band is glowing in the pale lights of the compound as he nods.

“Yes.”

You reach forward to grab it, extend a leg to shove it into the pocket of your shorts, and then you’re sitting there, feet on solid ground again. You gauge him, study him, eyebrows down, lips curved into a soft frown.

“Okay.”

You stand and pick up the knife before grabbing the bowl as well. You clear your throat and look over Steve’s head, at the walls with photographs and paintings and a dartboard by the doorway, and then you look at Steve again.

Your futile attempt at a smile makes Steve smile, just barely, before you walk past him and head for the open kitchen. You set the bowl down in the sink before heading for the hallway, and Steve can hear your step, your off-rhythm breathing.

“Do you love me?” he asks, turning to look at you, and a sigh whispers past his lips as you pause. Your hand is in your pocket as you turn around, playing with the knife or the ring, he doesn’t know.

“You can’t ask me that, Steve.” Your voice is steel, your eyes unforgiving, and that soft girl is swallowed up by the scorched woman, burned by his absence. You haven’t forgiven him. You never will. “Look, I’m going to go find Bucky. We have… we’re going berrypicking in the afternoon, so…”

“Yeah, no, go. Don’t let me keep you.”

“See you tomorrow, Rogers.”

There’s an utter sense of finality to it. A chapter closing permanently and you’re already on the next page.

“See you.”

The door slides shut and you’re gone.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Canary, Part 7

First

Marinette sighed as docks came into view.

She didn’t like that it was at the docks. Everyone with half a brain knew what happened at the docks.

She’d come prepared, of course. She had hidden a bulletproof vest under her hoodie, there was a pack of fake blood in her pocket… but her head was uncovered. There was no way to protect herself from that kind of attack without being suspicious and she hated it.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat, pulled her hood up, and speedwalked the rest of the way to her ‘job interview’.

There were a bunch of crates around. Not a surprise, it was still the docks, but the labels of ‘acid flowers’, ‘fake weapons’, and ‘red lipstick’ just kind of drove in the fact that this was an interview to be a Joker goon and she was so fucked.

She sidled up to the weird line that had formed.

There were eight other people there already. A group interview, she thought sarcastically.

The first three in line were obviously Joker fanatics, with deathly pale skin and bright smiles. The other five of them seemed to be regular goons that had run out of options.

She glanced at the time. Eleven pm exactly, just when they were supposed to meet. She was probably the last one.

“Well, this is a shitty way to spend Juneteenth,” said the kid next to her.

She snickered a little before she realized. A kid? Shit.

“Hey, how old are you?” She asked quietly.

They shrunk back a little more. “Fourteen.”

“Great. Good that you know the legal age to start working, that’s good. What’s your actual age, though? I’m not going to tell.”

“... twelve.”

“Okay. Alright. You need to leave.”

“You just want the spot,” they said, glaring at her.

“Shut up. I don’t even want to be here. You need to go because things are about to get really messed up --.”

She saw something out of the corner of her eyes. Too late.

Joker emerged from a pile of boxes and slowly walked down the line. She straightened a little under his gaze. It took everything in her to not glare at him.

“Now, as you all know, there is only one spot open --.”

“Yes sir,” said one of the Joker fanatics eagerly.

Joker’s gaze snapped to him and in one swift motion his gun was out. Marinette closed her eyes so none of the blood would get in them.

He blew a bit of smoke from the barrel, that smile still in place, and then turned back to everyone else. “Sorry. I do hate suckups.”

Marinette thought that Harley would disagree. She didn’t say it aloud -- Joker didn’t like smartasses, either.

“Okay, with only one spot left… I want to make sure that I get the best person for the job.”

He set the gun down on the ground and rested his foot on it.

“Any questions?”

Marinette hesitantly raised her hand.

His eyes narrowed at her. “Yes?”

“That gun only holds six bullets -- well, five now that you’ve shot him -- and there’s eight of us left… can we improvise with our own weapons?”

Joker looked at her for a long time before his smile split wider. “No. You can still kill someone with an unloaded gun.”

Marinette thought she was going to be sick.

Joker slowly backed away from the gun and then pushed himself up onto the nearest crate.

There was a beat where the seven of them looked at each other.

And then there was a mad grab for the gun.

Marinette grabbed the back of the kid’s shirt and dragged them over to hide behind a crate.

She ignored the first gunshot as she peeled off her hoodie and then started tearing at the straps of her vest.

“Take this, duck your head, and run. Zigzag. If you get shot, go limp and pop the fake blood in your pocket. How are you with --” Another shot. “riddles?”

“Uh…?”

“Nevermind. Go to Scarecrow for a job. Tell him that…” Another shot made her temporarily forget the old pseud she had used for him. “... Carrie! Tell him that Carrie sent you.”

The kid’s brown eyes were bright with terror. Scarecrow would love them.

One more shot was fired in the time it took the kid to put on the bulletproof vest and hoodie.

She pushed them towards the exit and waited to see them start running before jumping onto the crate.

Not that bad but tw: murder

There were two people left -- a normal woman and a fanatic. They rolled around in the blood, trying to get the upperhand enough to shoot without risking wasting a bullet. Joker smiled brightly as he watched the two of them, clapping and laughing like this was a comedy or something.

Marinette looked down at the two of them, considering, and then jumped down. The blood on the ground splashed onto them. The normal one yelped and looked away on instinct. The lady got a new piercing, which is terrible news for her but great news for them.

The fanatic pushed the body off of himself and slowly advanced on her. She stood stock still, eyes locked on the gun.

It slowly raised to her face.

She tore her gaze from it and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Make it quick, will you?”

The man grinned and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. Empty.

She smirked.

His eyes widened in realization and her hand came up to steal the gun from his hands. She twirled it around her knuckles and then socked him in the jaw as hard as she could.

The man’s head jerked back and he was out like a light, falling back in the blood with a splash.

She glanced over at Joker. “Do I really have to kill him? That’ll take forever by hand… or by… gun-hand.”

Joker chuckled and nodded.

Marinette’s nose scrunched as she looked down at the man. He was stirring slowly, because getting knocked unconscious hardly ever lasted even a minute.

She jumped on top of the fanatic and started whaling on him, using the gun as makeshift brass knuckles. It kind of hurt, guns were definitely not made for that, but she doubted it hurt her as much as it hurt him if the blood and gore splattering over them like the mist of a demented fountain were anything to go by. The man tried to push back against her but she just moved up to pin his arms under his knees and continued working at pounding his face in.

He went slack. She didn’t believe him. It hadn’t been long enough. She did use it as an opportunity to switch the hand the gun was on, though. A few more punches in he brought himself back to try and plead with her.

Couldn’t have that. She started aiming at his mouth, trying to get him to just shut up and die already. Disgust built in her throat like the blood he was trying desperately to cough up, trying to get a breath of fresh air in. She smashed his nose and the gasps became more panicked, the breaths gurgled. She gave him one more hit to the temple.

His head lolled. She drew back a little, silent except for her ragged pants. Her chest heaved. His didn’t move.

Tw over

Joker’s clapping picked up.

She slowly lifted her head to look at him. He looked delighted.

She wiped at the blood around her mouth to try and speak. All it did was smear.

“Done, Joker, sir,” she said softly.

“Yes. Well done,” he said. “Now, clean up the bodies for me and I’ll take you back to the warehouse for your first assignment.”

She sighed a little and started dragging the bodies to the water.

Marinette was cold and wet from a quick dip in the harbor (no one in Gotham is all that phased by people walking around with blood on them, but she’d felt all sticky, so...). The fact that she was about to be a Joker goon, and meet up with other Joker goons did not help.

She stepped into the warehouse. Twelve pairs of eyes turned on her.

“Nathalie? Nathalie!”

A person ran over, skidding to a stop only a foot away with a bright smile.

“Emma,” she breathed.

Emma, somehow, brightened up even more at being recognized. As if Marinette would, somehow, not recognize her.

She watched the woman bounce on the balls of her feet for a moment before realizing what she wanted.

“You… there’s a lot to catch up on… you can hug me,” Marinette said softly.

Emma gathered her into a hug so tight she thought she could pop and Marinette could only stand there in shock.

Emma squeezed a little more and then pulled back, smiling brightly. “I can’t believe… I thought you were dead!”

And then Emma’s face darkened. She pulled back and slapped Marinette, which she totally deserved but ow.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, YOU ASSHOLE! I SAT BY YOUR GRAVE! I FUCKING MOURNED YOU!”

Marinette gave a weak smile. “... tada?”

She got slapped again. Also very deserved. Also very ow.

And then arms opened and she leaned in to nonverbally accept another hug from Emma.

“You’d better have a good reason for fake dying,” she said.

Marinette glanced over at Joker, who was watching the two of them with a thoughtful expression. It was nice to pretend he was finally realizing the beauty of meaningfully connecting with other people. He was probably just making a mental note of their bond so he could exploit it later.

“I do. For now… what are we doing?”

“Blowing up orphanages in the shape of a smiley face,” said Joker brightly. “No more orphans means no more Robins.”

Christ --.

Everyone relaxed when Joker left, even the four-ish fanatics seemed relieved. Never meet your idols, she supposed.

She sat herself down on a crate marked ‘explosives’ -- a bad idea but whatever -- and everyone sat down like a bunch of kids listening to their teacher tell a story. The mental image made her smile.

She noticed that a good half of the people there were younger than her. Her smile lessened a little.

They all gave her their names. She told them that, despite what Emma said, she now went by Marinette and would prefer if they called her that instead.

This sated everyone enough to leave Emma and her alone. Or, at least, they left the room. They were probably listening in on the other side. Henchmen are the biggest gossips.

“So… what’re the chances, huh?”

Emma sighed. “Well, at least I know it’s still you. You still stall like a dumbass.”

Marinette giggled a little. It was more nervous than happy, though.

She didn’t want to lie, Emma didn’t deserve that. She’d just… leave some critical information out. Definitely not lying. Don’t look up what lying by omission is, just trust her on this.

“I got out,” she said. “Remember how I died?”

“Of course. Riddler killed you.”

“He tried. He saw me stealing the stupid weapons that he wanted and he told me a stupid riddle and I found a way around it. He tried again, and I found a way out of dying again. After that… he offered me a way out of being a henchman.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Marinette looked at the ceiling to prevent them from falling.

“It was a way out. He was offering a job, food, water, a house -- a house, Emma! I couldn’t just say no.”

Emma’s face softened instantly. She’d been a henchman far longer than Marinette had been, after all. Any goon would give anything to get out. Even their friends, if they had to.

“Why’d you die?”

“It felt like the right time. Symbolic, I guess, to ‘kill’ the old me when moving onto a ‘new life’.” Then, Marinette gave a weak smile. “Also, I figured it was about time to let Nathalie Sancoeur rest. She’d been dead for at least two years at that point.”

Emma gave a wet laugh. “Nathalie was a real person? That explains why your ID said forty-something when you were, like, sixteen max.”

“I managed to get alcohol with it a few times, too,” Marinette half-joked.

Emma frowned. “You should have told me. I thought we were…”

Friends. Family, even. But...

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me,” she said. It was probably the most honest she’d been in years.

“I couldn’t be disappointed in you. Not for that,” Emma said. Then, she smiled a little. “What was it like?”

“Better.”

The words ‘not good’ hung in the air without her needing to say them.

Emma smiled sadly.

“How’d you end up back here?”

Marinette’s lips twisted into a grimace. “I don’t think there’s a way to get out of the hole. Not really. Best you can do is hold onto a branch and enjoy the view for as long as you can while you wait for it to break.”

Emma nodded her understanding. She’d been a henchman for longer than Marinette had, after all.

“... so, how did you end up here? Even that old job we had with Penguin was better than this,” said Marinette.

“Fail to get out of the hole enough and eventually you stop trying.”

~~~

TheBetterCanary: beat the shit out of a joker stan today so i think my life is going pretty good

SpoilerAlert: 👨‍🦯👨‍🦯

Daylightwing: As You Should.

Oracle: Oh dear, seems like I’ve gone blind now, too.

Batman7: As long as no one died...

DeadHood: Not as good as beating the shit out of the real thing but still pretty good.

BlackBat: :D

TheOneTrueRobin: Good for her.

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje @mystery-5-5 @flyhighdreamer

#canary #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug

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eldritch-elrics · 3 years

Text

svsss: journey through the mausoleum (plus, zhuzhi-lang is a himbo)

got to chapter 65 last night!

as usually i have a lot to say i guess jkdhgsds i think putting stuff under cuts makes people scroll past these posts more? but also i don’t really want to be too annoying with my Many Reactions so cuts are a good way to go

tldr: loved the mausoleum arc, big fan of tlj, communication is good, and i have a new favorite scene in the book

binghe is extra as FUCK for bringing in all those rhino pythons

so i maintain that tianlang-jun should have been foreshadowed more/is introduced too late in the story, but other than that i think he’s a really fun villain and i’m a fan

for one - he’s the only one who’s able to hurt binghe :0 harm the protagonist...

which creates some Very Good Tension

count number one of zhuzhi-lang being a himbo: trying to sacrifice himself for tlj while being threatened

“is zzl really a himbo” you ask. well, yes. is he dumb? very much so. is he nice? absolutely. is he hot? well, i have no idea. i forget if he’s described as attractive or not. but, i think he can be if he wants. does being a little bit evil negate his himbo-ness? idk! i’m sticking with my assessment

i think i have a bit of a soft spot for evil henchmen

zzl also protects sqq from the corpses <3 good for him

it’s always fun to me when the system is like “wooo yay you fixed the storyline! cut the filler!” because 1. love seeing sqq lay waste to pidw and 2. the implications?? once more i am wondering WHY is the system so interested in making pidw a better story. (and the fact that it’s still calling his adventures in this world a story.) are sqq’s adventures being written down and serialized in the real world? are we as readers supposed to believe that scum villain, as a text, is a direct result of sqq’s “editing” of pidw?

uh, back to the plot

binghe wasted spiritual energy trying to preserve the mushroom/plant body :( come on man...

i really like the whole stretch of plot when binghe’s unconscious. it’s just so tense!! really well-done in my opinion - this is the first time in a while we’ve got a sense that lbh is in danger, and sqq is also running low on energy and stuff, so they’re both in bad places and the stakes are high

PLUS the hurt-comfort of it all. sqq trying not to hurt lbh’s body :(

the whole part in the coffin!! excellent. and the convo with meng mo... sqq calling himself lbh’s shizun finally...

cuddles <3

dying at lbh’s fuckin. boner. and the system’s REACTION it’s so EXCITED i am just. holds my head in my hands. i can’t deal with this novel

the confrontation with qiu haitang and the old palace master was very cool and intense. though i have to say i’m not really a fan of either “angry unreasonable woman” or “bitter disabled person” as tropes/archtypes (especially how sqq was reacting to the palace master’s condition). and poor qiu haitang! i have no idea if there’s any way to set her mind at ease other than revealing the whole transmigration thing. i do hope she’ll turn up again and get a better ending?

so the plague city sqq callout party is once again not directly lbh’s fault! the old palace master is the one to blame!

SO ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS IN THE BIT I READ LAST NIGHT. is. sqq realizing that he could utilize lbh’s plot armor to his advantage. but then deciding that he doesn’t want to take that risk. doesn’t want to use lbh’s body as a prop!!!

character development :D

he’s really starting to see lbh as a person as opposed to a character! and being less selfish/survival-oriented...

man. sqq, almost beaten, lying on the ground holding binghe in his arms........ :(((

so is the implication that lbh injured/took revenge on the old palace master because the palace master was being creepy to him about his mom? it’s a bit vague but that’s my theory. weirdo old man...

speaking of people lbh killed. maybe it will be revealed that gongyi xiao is actually alive too :( i’m still salty about that

SO MUCH DEMON BLOOD. poor sqq

so i don’t think i got how sqq was able to free himself from zzl’s blood manipulation? was it because binghe woke up and subdued it?

binghe waking up was a lil deus-ex-machina-y lol i would have liked to see some sort of trigger for it (even a cheesy one). like i get why he’s ok and no longer hurt (protagonist powers!) but like, gimme a reason for the shift to happen at that precise moment...

but AAAAAA FINALLY THEY ARE TALKING

lbh realizes how much sqq went through to save him :( and he’s so happy he didn’t get abandoned!!!! aaaaaa my poor boy

i like crybaby lbh much more than i like cold/cruel lbh lol

i do agree with sqq’s assessment though - lbh keeps doing the thing where he cries and apologizes but doesn’t actually change. he’s slowly getting better about it but that’s some development i’d like to see

so tlj.... DOESN’T want lbh’s body? i stg his motivations change every 5 minutes. that’s one other thing i don’t really like about him. is the “trying to steal lbh’s body” thing just gonna go nowhere? f...

ALSO SQQ GETTING OUTRAGED ABOUT TLJ CALLING HIMSELF MORE HANDSOME THAN BINGHE

binghe dumbass moments <3 gave him the sword...

..........zhuzhi-lang vore.......

zzl, while healing sqq’s plant arm: don’t worry i don’t want to fuck you unlike LUO BINGHE.

sqq: OKAY??? THANKS

i really hope there exists shipfic of sqq and zzl. like i don’t ship them at all but they just get into so many Situations that i cannot help but think about it. like it would make a funny crack premise

you know what? sqq deserves his own harem. it could consist of lbh, lqg, sqh, zzl.....

SQQ CANNOT CATCH A BREAK. TLJ IS A FAN OF RESENTMENT OF CHUNSHAN

modern au tlj is the dad who is way way way too supportive and thinks sqq would just be a wonderful husband for his son~~

interested in tlj’s intention to unite the human and demon worlds. like on the surface it sounds like a good idea right? peace and harmony and reconciling differences and stuff. but tlj’s plan is certainly not well-thought-out, and i’m sure his intentions also skew towards a sort of “merge them so they’re both easier to rule over” thing - which i don’t think is confirmed or anything, it’s just my suspicion

both tlj and lbh have a sort of entitlement thing going on - “i’m powerful so i can do whatever i like / take for myself something i love (whether that be humans or sqq).” which is then backed up by the power the system allows them as final boss and protagonist respectfully

speaking of lbh taking whatever he wants: stop kissing sqq without asking him aaaaa!!!! we know you love him and it’s sweet but please bro

him going all that way to reunite with sqq though <3

and then zzl comes in and i just.

this scene is simply the best

the slapstick of it!!!! i wanna see it animated so bad holy shit

the scene was good when it was just “sqq hides lbh under the bedcovers and he’s having none of it” but then it just kept escalating...

sqq and zzl’s convo is so suggestive too...

zzl himbo moments again?

AND THEN TLJ WALKS IN

“no need to explain, i understand everything” OK BRO.

LIU QINGGE IS HERE <3

tlj fanboying over him a little lmao

tlj, upon realizing that lbh had been in the bed with zzl and sqq: oh, you guys were having a threesome?

i cannot deal with this. i’m gonna do some sketches from this scene it’s so funny

#my post #svsss #finn reads scum villain #svsss spoilers

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Augustus' burner phone is the key to locating Nero but the team discovers that it's more than just Nero that's behind all of this. Will the former 141 soldiers find out what Nero is up to? Will Alex rescue Samantha?

Table of Contents

Hello! Ray's Back in his game!

Chapter 16 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

My Damsel in Distress

"Alex"

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

On a plane off to somewhere

General Shepherd.

The name sent Alex's blood boiling from rage. He couldn't believe that a high ranking official would actually betray them and could still run away from it.

It's no secret that he wanted 141 out of the Nero scene. But why? He knew full well that Samantha doesn't have access over the address but he still took her? And he also knew that this little team won't walk away without her safe. Alex wondered what's running inside the snow-caterpillar-stache's little brain. He couldn't even say his name now.

He clenched his fists, feeling the thick leather gloves he wore for battle. It was a devastating day for him. They just bonded for a few moments here and there and now she’s already taken away from him. He couldn’t keep count how many times it happened. It was frustrating.

“So, which safehouse are you bringing us today?” Alex joked with his former CO. Jack looked serious as always, he never gets these kinds of humor.

“Same one in Brazil. It’s the most forgotten and spacious. No one’s going to come looking for us in South America.” Jack replied, looking worriedly at Alex.

“I know when you’re preoccupied Alex. What happened afterward?” Jack turned to him and Alex knew he had to open up. He deserved the truth anyway.

“I uh… I fell for her, Jack. I know I told you that I won’t but it just hit me.”

“Like a fucking brick…” Jack interrupted and chuckled.

“All I can say is that you’ve done a better job than I did when I fell in love. I could still see your determination towards your work. Or maybe because she’s still involved in all of this.” he added, causing Alex to relax his tensed shoulders.

“It’s good to have you back, old man.” Alex shook his hand and smiled. With all the problems around him, it was good to have someone close to him to talk to. He was glad Nero didn't kill him back in the Gulag.

“Yeah. Me too, and it looks like you’ve got yourselves a determined bunch. Especially that guy.” he noted, pointing to Soap who was sitting with France. Alex remembered how the two of them met at the Gulag and in that short span of time Jack was able to read the whole guy’s personality.

“Soap? Yeah, he’s an achiever. Heard he’s top of every obstacle course back at the base.” Alex mused, looking at the two. They were sitting together quietly but Alex felt jealous. He could've been doing that with Samantha right now. Now that she's ready to hear the truth about them.

"Yeah. He's got some fight in him. I'm sure we'll defeat Nero even with this little band right here. And I'll do my best to be of assistance to you." he patted Alex's shoulder and went back to check on Nikolai.

Safehouse 110197, Brazil

Alex remembered that this place was compromised, but then again that was the CIA mole's henchmen that found them here and they're no longer affiliated with Nero. Or he picked this place because no one would think of going back here after being compromised. The Reverse Psychology card. Either way, Alex didn't mind.

As the team slowly scattered around the house and prepared everything, Alex took note of some changes since his last visit. More beds were added and supplies got restocked. Even the bullet cache looked reloaded.

The team loaded off everything they salvaged, or stole, from the 141 and set it all up. Ghost prioritized the tech stuff while the women fixed the bedrooms. Alex offered help but was denied by Gary saying "Your face still hurts so don't over exert yourself, we can do this on our own."

So Alex plopped by the central couch as Ghost untangle the wires, putting them on their respective slots.

"You holding up okay?" The masked man asked as soon as Alex released a deep sigh.

"I'm worried about Samantha." he replied, resting his hands on the back of his head.

"She doesn't have the address, what does Shepherd want from her?" Alex added, his tone raised like a kid complaining.

"I have no idea. But I do have something else. Information on the surprise attack at the 141." Ghost said, as Jack and Price moved toward them and discussed the contents of Augustus' phone.

"That bastard gave away our location." Price cursed.

"So his plan to disband us would be successful." Alex added and Ghost nodded.

"Why get Samantha though? He knows we'll be coming for him." Ghost added and the rest of them speculated their theories.

"Augustus failed to get her so Shepherd did it for him? For what?" Jack noted, reviewing their whole mission for reference.

"Something bigger, I presume." Price spat and everyone fell silent. The rest of the team except for Gary and Maxine gathered for a short briefing. Everyone gave away their take as to why, some of them made sense while some reasons don't add up. And thinking about it was only making them more frustrated.

Everyone looked serious until they inhaled the fresh aroma of dinner from the kitchen. Alex turned and saw Gary and Maxine, smiling while serving up the team's dinner. He could sense something him and Samantha once shared in this place and it looked like the Safe house did it's charm once again.

"Now that's bloody good cookin'" Price announced and everyone laughed. He wasn't the kind of person to say those kinds of things, but he did, and it was all they needed to ease the tension of not knowing what's next.

They never gathered like this before, together, happy and noisy. The two oldies sat on the opposite edges of the round table while Soap, France, Gary and Maxine sat beside each other on the left. Simon and Alex sat on the other side, an empty chair resided beside them.

"Don't worry lad, we'll rescue her." Price muttered and Jack nodded. Alex smiled as they started to eat some food.

"Hold on a minute!" Soap exclaimed causing everyone to halt.

"Thank you Lord for thy blessings which we are about to receive. Amen." he muttered while everyone looked at him.

"Amen!" they all said in unison and wolfed down Gary and Maxine's delicious meal.

"This tastes so good! Just like Mom used to make!" Francine chewed happily. Maxine stared at her supposed to be sister and smiled.

"It does?" she breathed.

"Mmhmm.. I was always jealous that you two were so close together in the kitchen, everything I touch turns to a culinary mess." she frowned and made everyone else laugh. Soap stared at her in amazement.

"You and me both, France." Jack agreed. The gang bonded throughout dinner and enjoyed the company. Alex volunteered on the dishes and France offered to help.

"You think she's going to be fine?" Maxine asked as she checked the contents of the fridge, looking at Alex who looked very focused on the dishes he's cleaning.

"She's been kidnapped a lot of times now. I think she's used to it." Alex attempted to joke, but the tone of his voice was far from kidding.

"Aye, That lassie's a tough one. Don't worry Alex. We'll get her, Shepherd's bound to make a mistake anytime soon." Soap commented from behind him while leaning on the kitchen island.

"I told you I can handle assisting Alex on my own!" France giggled as she wiped the plates dry.

"Aye! I know! Can't a man just enjoy some time with his girlfriend?" he raised his hand mocking surrender. France turned back and crossed her arms.

"Ahem. Girl space Friend. There's a space in between." she scolded and MacTavish just chuckled.

"Whatever you say, Babe." he joked once again as he stepped out of the kitchen.

"Ugh. That guy's so full of himself." France groaned. Alex and Maxine exchanged glances and laughed, causing the female soldier to worry.

"What?" she asked.

"You two look cute together." Maxine chuckled, closed the fridge and walked away.

"We're not together!" France yelled, making sure Maxine would hear it wherever she went.

"We will be soon!" Soap exclaimed from outside, followed by collective laughter from the group of men with him.

Alex groaned and looked at his watch. It's already 3:36 am and he couldn't sleep. He slowly got up and looked around. On the huge bed, Jack and Price slept peacefully as evidenced by the loud snoring. Beside him on the floor was Soap, Roach and an empty spot where Ghost was supposed to sleep. The girls occupied the guest room.

Alex slowly got up and carefully assisted his metal leg, trying not to make noise as he waltzed to the balcony where he suspected Ghost to be.

And he was right, Ghost sat by the railings on the terrace, not a single expression of fear etched on his face. A face Alex saw for the first time.

"Can't sleep?" the former CIA asked. Ghost slowly turned his head and nodded.

"I'm just contemplating…" he muttered, the tone of his voice sound defeated.

"We caught ourselves in a crazy situation, huh?" Alex chuckled trying to make the best of the situation. Ghost didn't seem to like the vote of happiness as he clicked his tongue and sighed.

"I'm into France… but it looked like she's happier with John." he spat. From what Alex heard from Roach, Ghost was not the kind of person to open up. And this was all too surprising for him.

"I… uh…" Alex stammered.

"Look, I'm also sorry… You don't have to reply… I was about to vent to Gary about this but he seemed too preoccupied with Maxine and I didn't want to bother him."

"Look, it's okay. Ghost."

"It's Simon, Simon Riley."

"It's okay Simon. That's life. You win some, you lose some." he consoled. He tried to make it as positive as possible but he was also down in the dumps, like him.

"Thanks for the honesty. I just realized how devastated you must be. I never got to hear your story until Gary told me. It must've been tough losing her over and over again." Gary talked without looking at him.

"It's like I've been cursed to lose her and save her all over again." Alex complained.

"Like Link." Simon announced like it's a great metaphor which Alex didn't get.

"Link?"

"Like from the video game. Where this knight was always out to save her damsel in distress. It's got many different variations but it's always the same name. Generations have passed and Link was always destined to save Zelda." he said in amusement.

"My damsel in distress…" Alex noted and looked up at the stars, wishing that wherever Samantha may be, he hoped she's safe and also thinking of him.

Next Chapter : Delayed Flight

Notification Squad my beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

#horRAYfic #whateverittakes #reloaded #alex echo 3 1 #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #i miss yall

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scribbledghost · 3 years

Note

Can we get some Whiskey angst (but maybe with a happy ending!) with number 15?

We do stan Scrib's Whiskey (canon Whiskey who?)

Note: of course! And yes. Canon Whiskey who?? Don’t know him.

15. Anguished declaration of love

It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be so fucking simple.

All you and your long-time partner, Agent Whiskey, had to do was download some hideout blueprints from a kingpin’s personal computer while he was preoccupied with another agent’s distraction across town. A quick, low-to-no-risk mission, a heist that the two of you had done a thousand times before. But along the way, someone had tipped off the big boss that a couple of suspicious figures had been seen walking into his building. It hadn’t been long after the transmission from Ginger that your stealth mission had been compromised that the henchmen had come in with guns blazing. You’d only had time to get halfway through the lavish building before they’d caught up to you.

You had thought you’d gotten the upper hand at first. Sure, you were both easily outnumbered by around 5-to-1, but that was nothing for the two of you, especially when you were in the same room together. You and Whiskey fought like a well-oiled machine, riffing off of each other and combining your skills with practiced ease. A regular ballroom blitz, elevated in status due to the fact that the two of you were actually in a ballroom.

And then everything had gone completely belly-up in the most fantastic way possible.

You were both down to the last henchman, quickly dispatching them with practiced ease. And just as the two of you had let your guard down, another gunshot rang out through the spacious room.

And Agent Whiskey fell.

You blindly turned and shot, hitting the culprit square in the throat as they fell. You’d apparently missed one of the henchmen in the chaos, and that mistake had cost you dearly.

You fell to your knees next to your partner, noticing that he was still coherent and breathing, much to your relief. But the wound in his side was blooming with an angry red, telling you that he didn’t have much time to get to the medic before he succumbed to his injuries.

“Hey, hey, stay with me, Whiskey, the medics are on their way, okay?” you said in a rush, taking your jacket off to press it over his wound. His hand came up to cover yours, covered in blood and trembling as he held it there.

“Darlin’,” Whiskey rasped to you, “please, there’s... there’s somethin’ you gotta know before I-“

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, so save it,” you snapped, pressing down on the injury as Whiskey groaned in response.

“Dammit, would you let me speak?” He demanded, his voice rough. You paused, noting how the color was rapidly draining from his face. You silently begged the medics to get there faster. As you nodded, he spoke up again.

“Listen, I-“ Whiskey started before devolving into a coughing fit, “you’re the best damn partner I’ve ever had, darlin’. And... and I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t think about us bein’ more than that. I’d be lyin’ if I said I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to wake up next to you in the mornin’ or make you dinner after work.”

You knew where this was heading. Your head started to shake slightly, as if telling him to stop. As if telling him that him saying all of this felt too much like a goodbye. Whiskey took another ragged breath before continuing, and your vision began to blur with fresh tears as he confirmed what you’d feared.

“I can’t go without tellin’ you how I feel, baby. I spent so long dancin’ around it cause I was scared, and now... now I ain’t gotta choice. I love you. I love you so damn much it hurts.”

“Whiskey-“ you started, but he shook his head to stop you.

“Please,” he mumbled, “please. Call me Jack. If anyone in this damn place deserves to call me by my real name, it’s you, sugar.”

“Jack,” you said, savoring the taste of his name, “I... I love you, too. And I’m not just saying that. I didn’t want to overstep, so I... I didn’t say anything. But I do. I love you, Jack.”

Jack sighed, smiling softly at you.

“Well, then it looks like I can die happy now, huh?”

You shook your head as the medic team burst through the doors, and you knew that they’d be able to get him up and going in no time.

“I don’t think so, cowboy,” you said, “ain’t no way you’re gonna take off without me gettin to spend some time with you after all this.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, grinning up at you, “I suppose you’re right, sugar. Now how about you c’mere and give your man a kiss before they whisk me away?”

You smiled at him. Delirious as he likely was, it was an offer you simply couldn’t refuse, and you knew you’d tease him for it endlessly later in the med bay back at HQ.

#ghost scribbles #agent whiskey #1k follower celebration

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fizzingwizard · 3 years

Text

OK gang here we go, episode 33!

It was better than last week, which was better than the week before, so... make of that what you will.

Pic of the week!

A look of steely Dan determination.

More below!

Like I said, this episode is an improvement on the last one, by virtue of plot stuff actually happening, a few big happenings, and references to the other kids that suggest they haven’t been completely forgotten about (only mostly). Don’t get excited though - it still leaves much to be desired. I cry endlessly for the animation budget. But let’s get into it...

Taichi and friends are still in pursuit of SkullKnightmon and Hikari. We found our for sure last week that the creature in the little crystal is, indeed, Millenniumon, or rather a fragment of him, and his fragments fell all around the Digital World at the end of the great war or whatever it’s called and they’re the source of the miasma and they absorb energy from the human world etc etc...

So we find this big ass crystal which seems to be the central one, I guess? because it’s the biggest? and several creepy looking acolytes (dun dun DUN it’s VADEMON my FAVORITE DIGIMON) surrounding it and chanting...

Vademon: Find the horcux, kill Harry Potter, find the horcrux, kill Harry Potter,

In other news, there’s a lot of doom and gloom happening with Jou, who, bereft of his underwear, is forced to censor himself with his partners head. Gomamon you don’t deserve this

Jou: I need to get away from these Nanimon before I go prematurely bald too!!

Mimi, meanwhile, is Boxing Champion of the World.

Koushirou is the only one working. He’s on his way to pick up Jou, so I guess that means Yamato will get Mimi? That’ll be fun lol. We saw Yamato for half a second but it was the same frame of him riding Garurumon we’ve seen five times already so why bother capping it.

Koushirou is also keeping an eye on the satellite situation but doesn’t know what to do about it yet. Kabuterimon asks if he shouldn’t take a break about now and Koushirou says “I’m okay, besides, this is the only thing I’m good for” T___T you know this would be heart-breaking if I really believed the writers have ACTUAL PLANS to make good on Koushirou-related character development.... >:[

no this honestly pisses me off so much but I STILL do believe we will get SOMETHING for him and the others and probably not too far in the future... I think... I hope ugh

Back to Team A, they see lots of Digimon coming at them. Taichi’s like “it’s an attack!” but Sora, whose Fight Mode unlike Taichi’s has an actual Off switch, is about to figure out that they are in fact not interested in the kids at all and are running away from something.

Taichi: I can’t believe they didn’t want to kill us. Doesn’t everything in this world want to kill us?

The Digimon are fleeing from a suspicious crater with a familiar stone in the center. SkullKnightmon raises his own crystal fragment into the air and stuff happens.

By stuff I mean black lightning and purple-blue light which is meant to signify Evil which is mega DUMB because blue and purple are the most awesome color combo EVER I mean it throw some turquoise in there too and I will buy it whatever it is a necklace a shawl a codpiece

There are eight crystals that rise from the ground surrounding the central crystal and share energy with it. I thought the number eight might be significant you know for obvious reasons but it doesn’t appear to matter in this episode.

Evil crystals or not, Taichi’s on his way to save Hikari once and for all!

Hikari: Thanks, but no thanks, oniichan.

Taichi: H-Hikari! You don’t understand! You’re too young to go off with a strange man!

Hikari: But oniichan I love him

Taichi: Who do you think I am, Tevye!? You’re not marrying him and that’s final!

Hikari: waaah why don’t you understand me!!

ok back to the story...

Hikari abandons her brother for his muscular studly lover SkullKnightmon.

... >_>

Using Hikari’s powers, SkullKnightmon evolves to Gundamon DarkKnightmon. Meanwhile there’s lots of chanting and stuff about this being SkullKnightmon’s purpose or some such. I still kinda hope we get a redemption arc for SkullKnightmon or that he has something more to do with the story...

Agumon stops Taichi from wigging out and they go to save Hikari together, but before they can they are beset from all angles by henchmen.

Sora: Hey, you take care of Tweedle Dee and I’ll get Tweedle Dum!

Birdramon: *gets punched in the head* I hope you brought enough aspirin...

Then these guys appear. I’ve forgotten their names but evil as they look they literally just stand there till they get blown up and then more appear... I guess that’s a kind of talent

Takeru: Leave the small fry to me!

Pegasusmon: Takeru when I said I wanted a Happy Meal this isn’t what I meant

Hikari begins to be absorbed into a dark pocket dimension of DarkKnightmon’s or something like that. It seems like a very chill experience.

Taichi: I’ll save you! Take my hand!

Hikari: O... nii... chan... Fuck you...

ok so here’s my problem here.

This is meant to be all emotional and stuff right?? Hikari’s been blowing off her brother for an unknown reason (we all figured out what it was but look the main characters don’t know and that’s what counts) and he’s finally managed to catch up with her. His hand is inches away from catching hers and pulling her to safety. She’s got creepy glowing eyes. She mouths “o..nii...chan...” with a creepy smile before being pulled into darkness.

I know it’s for kids so it’s not going to be too scary or anything but there ‘just like... no build up here. The storytelling style is too mathematical. “We go from Plot Point A to Plot Boint B via Battles 1 2 and 3...” There’s nothing happening in between to make us feel Taichi’s desperation, or even to know what Hikari’s feeling in this moment. Is she really okay with this? Is she having second thoughts? It doesn’t make any sense for her not to be scared. I fully expected her to go through with it, but she can be scared and still go through with it... come on...

It’s like that scene from Utena except sapped of any and all emotional impact.

I don’t really remember how Greymon got up there in the first place since he can’t fly but at least we get a scene of him and Taichi plummeting to the earth after failing to save Hikari. The kind of thing that would be dramatic if there were any kind of animation budget at all.

The one thing the show is sure to do is show us Taichi’s expressions, which I guess is something... It’s just so rushed and the accompanying dialogue leaves something to be desired.

Greymon: Don’t give up, Taichi... Taichi... um. what are you doing...

Taichi: stop hitting yourself stop hitting yourself stop hitting yourself stop hitting yourself

Anyway, Taichi is Big Mad. I thought (hoped, to be honest) that we might get a glimpse of him going wild with dark energy like in the Devimon episode again... Or at least a hint that that was a possibility in the heat of the moment before Agumon snapped him out of it. But nope.

He takes a moment to be upset and then says “There’s no time to worry about what to do” and goes to save Hikari... from inside DarkKnightmon somehow :P

This does not go well.

Meanwhile Hikari is surprisingly okay for someone who was just eaten alive by sentient VantaBlack. She discovers a peculiar light inside... DarkKnightmon’s intestine??? Is that where we are now??? lmao

She recognizes the light as the voice that has been calling her and tries to head towards it, but is blocked by some purple jello.

There’s a kind of cool thing that happens here... We just had a scene where Taichi desperately tries to grab his sister’s hand and yank her out of the clutches of evil, but fails, mostly because she doesn’t do anything to help him since she is weirdly okay with the situation. Now we get a mirror of that moment with Hikari bursting out of the jello with her arm outstretched to grab what is clearly Tailmon’s paw.

Only Tailmon does take Hikari’s hand.

It was really cool to see the brother and sister paralleling each other this much. It shows the ways they’re both courageous and determined and caring.

Meanwhile Taichi finally whips out WarGreymon. Honestly, I feel like this should have been WarGreymon’s intro episode. This would have been a good time for a new evolution, rather than in a fight with a nobody that I’ve already forgotten. Idk. WarGreymon uses Brave Tornado to knock DarkKnightmon’s lances away and burrow into his armor. So, yeah, Hikari’s in his intestines, lmao.

Hikari is being chased by a two-headed monster who is in for the migraine of its (their?) life when the tornado crashes into it.

Hikari: Big brother! You look so cool!

Taichi: Promise me that no matter how many men come into your life, I’ll always be number one.

Hikari: okay that is creepy

WarGreymon explodes DarkKnightmon from the inside out x’D and Taichi gets a redo of his hand-reaching scene. First he berates Hikari for running off on her own and then smiles.

Hikari says she always believed he’d rescue her. Aww.

Sweet sibling love.

Then there’s this really hilarious sound which turns out to be the Vademon hivemind giving a collective cry of distress x’D it’s lmfao amazing. Then they start chanting “Next time next time next time” just in case you thought Millennium was defeated and we can go home now.

Taichi: Sora, do you know where I can buy a leash for this kid? I can’t keep chasing her like this. Aren’t kids today supposed to be glued to their phones and never go outside?

Patamon’s Girlfriend Radar piques at the bundle in Hikari’s arms.

And it is indeed Tailmon, and she’s been waiting for Hikari all this time.

Tailmon: I am Tailmon, a Holy Digimon.

Patamon: oh my god you can’t just call yourself holy ugh you’re so self-centered

D’awww.

They’re both sooooo cute. I’m annoyed they didn’t get a cool ending card like Takeru and Patamon did last week though. But still, this is a sweet moment.

So, there’s not a lot to complain about in this episode, comparatively speaking. I wish we had more dialogue and understood the value of a dramatic pause etc. Also wish Sora and Takeru had more to do than fight the henchmen. Like, if you can just erase an entire part of an episode and it still works fine, you clearly didn’t need that part so why waste time on it.

But at least we do get reactions from Taichi, and at least we got plot development. The Taichi/Hikari parallels were cool. And even though I had other hopes for how this arc would turn out, I’m glad it’s over because maybe we can finally do some other stuff now. Maybe. I want to get back to Koushirou SOOO bad but more than anything I am still gobsmacked by how long it’s been since Yamato’s had anything to do but ride on Garurumon. That is WEIRD. He’s YAMATO.

Next week...

... Looks like it’ll be a light-hearted undersea episode. I’m cool with that. The preview clips had a “Sebastian’s Calypso” vibe that I dig. It’s still about Taichi’s group but I think that’s to do more actual face time with Tailmon and Hikari. I hope we see the others as well and if not maybe the week after. I will be happy if this episode has some personality to it.

#fizz watches digimon 2020 #digimon adventure 2020 #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure reboot #digi spoilers #digimon

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zerot0all · 4 years

Text

Gold Throne | M

Stray Kids- Mafia!Bang Chan

M- vulgarity, violence & smut

word count- 3.4K

.CHAPTER FIVE.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, unable to understand the idea of his father's henchmen finding him but also, finding you with physical marks etched on your skin hurt him even more. His blood was boiling , his skin itching with pure raw hatred towards whoever dared touch you. His hands clenched into tight fists, taking deep breaths , in hopes to calm down before he walked into your place. Chris wasn’t sure how to handle his emotions, his past was a clear example of that but now, living his new life- he wanted to be different.

And wanting to kill someone wasn’t on his agenda.

“Oh, it’s you.” You quietly stated. Opening the door to a very tall, broad and pissed off Chris. Cocking his brow, he wasn’t too amused in your words, he felt like a bother. Like as if you knew he was about to annoy the living hell out of you because he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Chris was a mess. His mind went one way, while his heart played around with his emotions. It was confusing to say the least but he wanted to make some things clear to you.

“Yeah it’s me. I told you I was coming over , we need to talk.” His tone was low and deep, sensing the impending argument , you rolled your eyes.

“About what? I told you , I’m fine.” You replied in a snarky tone, knowing full well of your attitude and the reason behind it. You didn’t want to talk about it , because talking about it would bring upon questions ... questions you weren’t ready to answer just yet.

Chris stood back, eyes furrowed as his nose flared.

“You’re fine? Y/n, you have bruises and a busted lip! What the fuck do you mean, you’re fine?”

His voice was a little louder but the intensity behind it was clear, he was not happy. Not one bit.

You stood in your kitchen, a few feet away from Chris , who was still by the front door. Your place was small, but the more the atmosphere thickened with anger , the less room you had to think.

“Yes, I’m fine. It was a work related accident , nothing more.” You huffed, once again , rolling your eyes trying your best not to get worked up. But you heard him. He took a deep breath, you could hear him crack a few knuckles as he stepped forward- he was frustrated but you weren’t sure why.

Why does it bother him so much?

“Work related? Angel, where the fuck do you work , you do understand that all these secrets are going to bite you in the ass one day. You need to talk to me , tell me-”

“I don’t have to tell you shit.” You hissed back. Your voice grew louder the closer he became. But this was new. Chris overstepping his boundaries, asking you questions that he should never ask.

“You’ve mentioned it before , we’re friends right? You’re not my man, and you sure as hell are not my daddy to be demanding anything from me. I do whatever the hell I want to do. No one , and I mean , no one deserves any explanation from me. I don’t owe anyone anything, not when I was little , not as I was growing up and most definitely not now.”

At this point, your finger was pointing directly at him. Eyeing him with the deadliest of glares your could ever do. Your chest rose with deep breaths, meaning to take a calming step back but you couldn’t. You were too wound up, too proud to back down now. And even as you watched him menacingly, Chris had no signs of backing down.

“I don’t need your pity , I don’t need your sympathy. Thank you very much , but I’m fine.” You finished, finally lowering your finger. Your body buzzed with anger, over having someone question you about certain aspects of your private life , it was unacceptable.

“But you can pick up anyone from the streets and help them?” He spat back. Narrowing his eyes at you with full intent to throw your very own argument back at you.

“I just want to help.” Chris said through gritted teeth, taking deep breaths, he seemed like he was trying his best to calm down.

“Why? Because I helped you-”

“No, because that’s what friends do. It’s normal, we help each other out. I obviously couldn’t do shit before , but you helped me. I hated it because I’m not used to getting handouts but you made it okay. And now, seeing you like this ... all I want to do is hurt someone.”

He said slowly, his eyes finding an empty space in the air to completely lose himself in. You could see the wheels in his head spinning with images and ideas, you could tell it was torture for him to see you in such state. But even knowing where the conversation was going , you needed to direct it another way. If possible. Getting too deep with Chris wasn’t in your plans , but watching him turn into such a protective man in your life ... it was hard to ignore your growing feelings for him.

“Okay. Okay. I get it. You don’t have to lecture me , I’m not a little girl.” You spat back, a side grin coming to life on your face. The sudden twinkle in his eyes made you realize that there was such a thing as trust between the two of you. Not sure for how long or when it even started but as your eyes connected with his, it was too obvious.

You liked this man way more than you could ever explain. It was foolish. Down right pathetic but yet, here you were. Only seconds away of confessing everything he doesn’t know about you. The late nights when he texts you for a midnight run to Taco Bell but you ignore it because you’re ‘busy working’. Or the sudden invites to the shop when he’s not cluttered with cars to fix, but you’re out ... ‘working’. It was a tough job and for years , it’s always been you. You had no one around that cared enough to stay or even ask how your day was going. So , what were you to do now?

“You sure do act like a little brat though.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes knowing the conversation was now another. The tone in his voice gave it away, he was teasing you now. Chris ... a tease? This was new.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.” You shot back, in a taunting manner , hoping such teasing would flow easily. Sending him a wink, you then turned to get the wine bottle when you heard him say something under his breath. At first , it just sounded like mumbling but after a few seconds it hit you. Grabbing two glasses, you look towards him. He was back in your living room, looking around awkwardly.

“What did you just say?” You ask as you begin to pour wine into your glass then his. Chris smirked, his eyes watching you slowly from head to toe. Something had come over him. Something different and you were most definitely working off of his vibe.

“I said, Yes, I actually do love when you’re a brat.” He replied. Chris stood up straight , chest broad and shoulders back as if he was challenging you. His eyes not once wavering but the tiny glimpse of a good time rang like fire alarms in your head. No, you shouldn’t continue this. It’s too much. What if he’s not about it. What if he’s just playing around ?

What if he’s not?

“Chris, don’t tell me ... are you a brat tamer?” Your voice was low, sensual and seductive. Making your way over to him, you could see him contemplating his next words. His eyes shook back and forth, from the glasses in your hand, back to your eyes. It may seem, you were the hunter and he was being hunted. Even after slightly snickering , something in his gaze turned primal.

“I have a history in that .. so yeah, you could say I’m somewhat of a brat tamer. Why? Do you want to be tamed?”

Shots fired. That’s what he did. He hit the nail on the head and you couldn’t help but freeze with his bluntness. Your eyes grew wide as he stepped forward, only a few inches away from your shocked frame , as he grabbed his glass. Quickly drinking it all in one gulp. You were speechless.

“Why so quiet angel, you asked and I answered. Now, it’s your turn to answer my question.” His voice grew thicker , dropping a few octaves to make it seem throaty and all you could do was swallow the lump that was caught in your throat. Sudden hot flashes passed through your whole body making you shudder with a silent craving. Something in the way he was now looking at you made your stomach cramp up, what the hell was this feeling ? You couldn’t function and even as he got closer, it didn’t click. Chris knew what he did and he was going to try his best to make something out of this.. whatever it was.

Now, chest to chest, Chris leaned down. Bringing his mouth to your ear, you could hear him breath ever so softly before he spoke.

“Do you want to be tamed, angel?”

The raw feeling growing all over your body was boldly becoming more and more evident. You wanted this man more than ever. Fighting it wouldn’t be right but even as he stood so close, you weren’t ready to fight him off anyways. You wanted it ... so bad.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of the nonexistent argument that still swam through his veins or maybe , it was the endearing mannerisms that he had towards you - whatever the final verdict may be, you made the move. You wanted to.

“Yes,” you breathed , gradually turning to meet his lips on a slow heated kiss.

Time had stopped. Suddenly.

The moment washed over your body as you carefully placed your glass down on the nearby table. Wanting and hoping the moment lasted forever. But as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and deepened the kiss it made time speed up and sluggishly turn dark. Your eyes closed letting his taste and scent consume your every aspect of life. Every detail about yourself was now blurring and lazily turning into his wants and needs. From fighting lips and tongues, went to Chris lightly dropping small pecks on your cheeks , kissing your bruises which have healed slowly after the week ‘accident’. He cupped your face, coming to a pause as you let your eyes open steadily. He watched, examining the pain painted on your skin. Your busted lip was a severe scar now, but a week ago it was a bloody mess. And your bruised eye, was now an unpleasant color of deep green with dark purple.

You were still healing but even as he looked at you and your flaws, he was gentle. You didn’t want this to stop. You wanted more.

“Am I hideous to look at?” The question slipped out , you blamed your self esteem and wanting to be appreciated even with a bruised conscience. But sometimes it’s hard too. Especially in this world. Chris furrowed his brows, his eyes taking in your sad features as he leaned back to your lips. Gently placing another kiss, carefully moving up to your nose.

Placing another kiss.

Then making his way to both your eyes, he tried his best to be gentle, like a feather , and placed another kiss.

“Never have I seen such beauty.” He whispered , you weren’t aware of the way it made you feel. What did you expect ? It was kind and sweet the way he treated you , and once again, all of this was new to you. Everything having to do with him was suddenly a new chapter that you wished had no end. And just as the seconds went by, burning a hole into your existence, you wanted him even more.

So on your tiptoes, you went back to his mouth. Taking his thick bottom lip , sucking on it slowly. You could still taste the wine on him, it was intoxicating how much more addictive an action could be. But hearing him groan at your move, set your body ablaze. Going to wrap your arms around him again, you let him casually push you up against the nearest wall, letting his hands roam your body.

Through humming and gasping for air, the tension kept growing. Chris was a mess, between wanting to be gentle with you and wanting to completely wreck you. His hands would stay on your face, his mouth not once leaving yours , needing to taste you. Breath you in. It was as if Chris wanted to give you air and at the same time take it all. But every other moment, his hands would drop down to your throat, then your breast. Softly kneading them , making you squirm and moan. With every whine that escaped your lips, a smile appeared on his mouth.

“I’m scared to hurt you,” Chris said mid kiss, coming again to a halt. It was hurting him to hold back, you could already feel his bulge growing inside his jeans , wanting to be released but he contained himself. He took deep breaths, needing to find the strength to take it easy on you but you didn’t want that.

“You won’t, trust me.” You replied simply. Giving Chris the green light to grip your thighs and haul you up. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his torso. Going back to kiss him was a heated mess. A mixture of saliva with your sudden soft sighs , seemed to make him harder than ever. Pulling your tank top off was your work, but Chris letting his hand slyly enter your shorts to find you wet, was his work. He hummed into your mouth, letting his thumb rub against your clit. A desperate notion fell upon you, silently begging him for more, as your hands began to pull on his buttoned shirt. He knew you wanted more. So he delivered. Carefully letting you get rid of his shirt , along the way your clothes ended on the ground too. Leaving you bare for him. The wall seemed almost enough to cool your argent body the longer this went on.

“I have to be inside you. Please. Please let me fuck you, angel.”

It sounded more like Chris was now begging for your permission, another thing you were not used to. Something about this made you feel powerful. Like you were on top of the world and no one could bring you down. His groans of desperation kept growing the longer you kept him away from what he desired. It was a game , really. A silly erotic game. That for some odd reason was twisted enough to make you crave him more. The passion between the two of you was real and even though your domineering character came to life, you also wanted to please him in every way.

Giving him a quick and airy ‘yes’, Chris went to work. Skillfully he managed to still hold you up as he sent a hand down to his jeans. Unbuckling and dropping them quickly. You could smell his scent. The musky manly aroma that made you groan into his neck. It didn’t take long for his length to skim your mound, Chris teased you for a bit, needing your essence to coat the tip right before he aligned it with your soaking core. But before Chris made a move to push into you, he froze. Taking a deep breath, he held you closer; tighter. Sensing his tense actions, you worried.

“Hold on.” He finally breathed, maneuvering you off the wall and over to the couch. He laid down, letting you sit pretty on top of him as he watched you proudly.

“I want you to ride me, angel.” He said casually, his large hands gripping your hips, setting you up for the ride of your life. So you sat up higher on your knees, he aligned his cock once again, then he removed his hands off and away from you. Smoothly, he brought his hands up and above his head, holding on to the arm cushion of the couch. He was giving you all the power and you took it.

Lazily sinking down, letting his manhood open you up so deliciously. Every sigh that escaped your mouth was complimented by a deep hum from Chris. His eyes attached to the sight before him. He watched as your pussy took his length whole, suddenly disappearing as it bottomed out. His eyes scrunched closed, brows furrowed while his chest and abdomen constricted with each heavy breath he took. Letting the moment swim by as you got used to his size, he was most definitely bigger and thicker than you’ve ever had and at first , it was hard not to scream. But you toughed it out. Raising your hips a tiny bit, and slowly grinding down. You needed the sting and pain to finally mix with the pleasure, so you went on.

Starting off slow and steady, letting the moment heat up. His chest rose , while your lips trembled. After a few back and forth , you got used to it , finally finding a rhythm that worked perfectly fine for you.

“Damn,” Chris would cuss under his breath, his eyes were mesmerized with the way you rode him and the way you bit on your bottom lip. You would praise him in faint whispers, in hopes that he wouldn’t hear you. It was bizarre honestly, you were on a high the faster your tempo sped up. You began to bounce on his dick, your hands on his chest trying to hold on as you inadvertently praised him some more. And even though you thought that was all in your head, he heard you. Heard you loud and clear. He felt daring now, sending his hands back to your hips to keep you in place so he can thrust up into you.

“C-Chris,” you choked out, surprised by the sudden shift but the biggest change was when he hugged you tightly, and flipped each other. You landed on your back smoothly, legs wide open as he held onto your knees for support. He took one last look at your fucked out frame and went back to pumping into you. His stroke game was strong, deep long strokes were his favorite, making your eyes roll and your toes curl the deeper he went. At one point, you had to hold on to your breast with the impact he made fucking you into the couch. You could see, the veins on his arms, neck and right down to the V.. reaching out, you caressed everything you could touch. Meanwhile, still a whimpering mess as your moans begin to turn into screams of pleasure the closer you both get to the end. His rhythm became out of control, without a warning, he leaned down to find your lips as your legs went over his shoulders- opening you up some more to his pounding.

But every noise you made was quickly swallowed by his kiss. Taking your screams, shouts of profanity as you came undone beneath him. Your legs shook, buckling harshly around his neck as he went on to find his climax.

Immediately, he stood up, pulled out and came all over your stomach unannounced. Panting loudly as he milked his cock thoroughly, letting every drop of his seed coat your skin. It was a mess but you still giggled. Glancing up to look at him, naked and in all his glory.

The sudden question came to mind: what does this mean to the friendship? The business plan? What about the secrets?

You pondered said things for a while just as Chris carried you into bed, making himself comfortable behind you. He cuddled nicely, it felt good as a warm feeling soon took over your soul. This was a new step in whatever friendship you both had, but maybe this was a good thing.

“I haven’t been with someone in so long , I forgot how amazing it felt.”

He murmured into your hair, you could sense his drowsiness taking over as his breathing calms. His arms brought you in a little tighter as the seconds ticked by, making you feel all giddy. It’s been so long that you too haven’t felt like this , the moment itself was perfect.

Maybe ... a little too perfect.

But like always, before your final thought of drifting off to sleep , a bad feeling seemed to vibrate in your chest.

The night was dark... darker than ever. The wind is loud, a chatter within leaves as sudden whispers catch your attention.

By your window.

You hear them.

Goodnight...

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Chapter Six IS OUT NOW...

#admin ms #stray kids smut #stray kids bang chan #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids series #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids one shots #skz one shots

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

Fake dating AU for the idiot Heartrender Husbands! I beg of you!

As ever, I am preposterously easy to enable, and since they will eventually make an appearance in A Phantom in Enchanting Light, I decided to write their backstory for that verse. Also, “fake dating but it’s only fake because they’re both idiots” is an Aesthetic. I love them.

Moscow, 2010

The guy is most definitely late. Fedyor got here early – probably too early, since they’re supposed to meet at eleven and he arrived by quarter past ten – but it’s now 11:08 and still no sign of him. Fedyor has claimed a corner table in the coffee shop just off Red Square with its splendid old tsarist-era décor, surrounded by the murmur of conversation and clicking laptop keys as his fellow Muscovites get on with their daily lives. The rule is fifteen minutes, yes? If Ivan Sakharov doesn’t show up in another seven, Fedyor is free to bail. But it’s been so long, and Nadia, the mutual friend responsible for this set-up, has begged Fedyor to give him a chance. And since it is understandably difficult to date as a gay man in Russia, Fedyor’s patience must be tested longer than usual. He sips his flat white and glances at the door again. Still no Ivan.

Fedyor opens his phone and checks the photo that Nadia sent him, trying to decide if this man is attractive enough to compensate for his tardiness. It’s hard to tell. It is 11:14, and he is absolutely about to pack up and leave by no later than 11:25, when a tall, grim-faced man in a red windbreaker strides in. He stops short, glances around, spots Fedyor, and powers over with such single-minded determination that Fedyor fears he’s about to be arrested. “Hello,” he says curtly. “I am Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. I believe you are waiting for me?”

“Ah – ? I am Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, yes,” he manages, offering a hand, which Ivan crushes in a Terminator grip. “It’s – nice to meet you?”

Ivan snorts, pulls out the other chair, and drapes his jacket over it, then orders a small plain coffee (black like his soul, evidently). Then he returns, sits down, and claps his hands as if he is calling a misbehaving class to attention. “Where are you from?” he barks. “How long have you lived in Moscow?!”

Fedyor continues to gape. He’s genuinely not sure if this is Ivan attempting to get to know him on speed-run, or if he’s being interrogated by a FSB agent who can’t even act for two seconds like he’s not. It’s ominously possible. Dmitry Medvedev is the president and there are hopes that there might be a social liberalization, but the Orthodox patriarchs and the far right have been increasingly agitating against Russia’s embattled LGBTQ community, and things could just as easily get worse. Is this a setup or a setup? Nadia would never knowingly put him in a dangerous situation, of course, but maybe she was likewise fooled. You’d think that if this was a sting, they could have found a guy who was actually capable of pretending to be on a date, but maybe that’s the point? What the hell is going on here?

Fedyor opens his mouth, then shuts it. As a matter of fact, he is originally from Nizhny Novgorod, but moved to Moscow for university and has lived here for seven years, but if Ivan is with the FSB, he probably already knows that. Is this a trick? Is Ivan trying to match him to some police intelligence file or see if he’s a liar? Fedyor is seriously about to get up and walk out (or maybe sprint out) when Ivan, perhaps realizing that he’s blowing this to a heretofore unprecedented degree, says, “Sorry. I am from Krasnoyarsk. I enjoy rugby.”

Of course he likes rugby if he’s from Krasnoyarsk. This is a disaster. “Uh, what side?”

“Krasny Yar,” says Ivan, in the tone of a man about to stand up and belt out the fight song. “I also enjoy football. Yenisey Krasnoyarsk. Though I have begun supporting Lokomotiv since I came to Moscow. That was five years ago.”

So, he’s definitely a hooligan. Fedyor does his best to keep smiling. In the flesh, Ivan is definitely not unattractive. His hair is crisp and brown, there are glints of hazel in his eyes, and he has that hard, chiseled handsomeness that Fedyor always ends up getting suckered into. Except for the fact that he is lively, extroverted, and outgoing, likes clubbing and mingling and making friends, and this man does not appear to have ever heard of a single one of those things. What was Nadia thinking? It’s not like her to whiff this badly. Or did she have to be so circumspect in asking Ivan if he would like to meet Fedyor that, even if he’s not an undercover cop, he is in fact clueless about the true nature of this social engagement? Thinks it’s guys being pals?

“Did you have somewhere you were coming from earlier?” Fedyor asks, after another excruciating silence. “Is that why you were – ?”

“My apologies. The bus was late. I am normally very punctual.” Ivan scowls ferociously, as if the bus ever dares to do such a thing again, he will personally murder it. “What hobbies do you enjoy, Fedyor Mikhailovich?”

“I think you can call me Fedyor, yes?” They are clearly nowhere near “Fedya” and “Vanya” just yet, but “Fedyor Mikhailovich” always makes Fedyor look around warily for his grumpiest professor at MSU. He tries to think of subtle conversational gambits to find out what Ivan knows, without being obvious. Oh God, he really should just cut his losses, but something – perhaps the pathetic conviction that even a terrible date is better than no date at all – keeps him in his seat. Presuming that he does get out of here alive, he will call up Nadia straightaway and ask her many, many questions, mostly consisting of Why??! “Well,” Fedyor says at last. “I like having fun?”

“I also enjoy fun,” Ivan says, stone-faced. “I am very funny.”

Russian humor is normally extremely deadpan, to the point that Fedyor does wonder if Ivan is in fact a diabolical troll genius, but somehow he doesn’t think so. The rest of the conversation proceeds in this fashion, but by the end of an hour, Fedyor still has no idea if he has just been on a date or a trip to the gulag. Ivan gets up, administers another bone-crushing handshake, thanks him for his time, and marches out. Fedyor can practically hear the Red Army Choir thundering some patriotic anthem in his wake.

When he gets home that afternoon, Fedyor is resolved to write off the whole thing, except it was weirdly kind of not as bad as he first thought, maybe, somehow. If nothing else, he’s fascinated by this, like watching a slow-motion train crash. He takes out his phone with the intention of calling Nadia, only to see a text message from an unfamiliar number. When he opens it, it reads, Hello. Your company was agreeable today. Thank you. Perhaps we could meet again next week. Please reply yes or no. The message uses the formal styles of address, and some of the spellings are slightly old-fashioned. He has also signed it – Иван Сахаров – in case there might be some confusion with another Ivan the Terrible at Dating of Fedyor’s recent acquaintance. It is a bit like getting a text from the undertaker.

Fedyor stares at it, insanely tempted to burst out laughing, and finally, just because now he’s too curious to refuse, texts back his gracious acceptance. Still chuckling, he makes dinner, and then, as his phone pings with Ivan’s response, wonders in horror what on earth he is getting himself into.

This is how things continue for the next six weeks. Ivan and Fedyor meet up for the second time, stroll sedately around one of Moscow’s many city parks together, then part ways, and this time it’s Fedyor’s turn to ask if he would like to do it again. He isn’t sure exactly why, except that Ivan is unexpectedly easy to spend time with, and he nods in stoic approval of whatever Fedyor says. Of course, they follow the usual rules of dating which are especially important in Russia: don’t talk about politics, don’t talk about religion, don’t talk about America, don’t talk about Ukraine, don’t talk about Chechnya. From what Fedyor can glean, Ivan’s views tend to the doctrinaire, but he is surprisingly undogmatic, and willing to at least act as if he has an open mind. If he was an FSB agent, it feels like he would have busted Fedyor by now, but maybe he is waiting for him to do something unmistakably gay. That’s not it. Right?

Nadia calls, wanting to know how it’s going, and Fedyor grills her for forty minutes over whether Ivan is a law enforcement plant, a lonely guy looking for a friend, the world’s most method practical joker, or just extremely stupid. Nadia insists that he is actually very nice once you get to know him (HA, thinks Fedyor) and has no particular affection for either the ruling classes or the oligarchs. He can certainly be an acquired taste, but he is not evil.

Forced to accept it, still chickening out of asking Ivan whether he knows they’re dating, wondering if they are dating, if Ivan knows that Fedyor knows they’re dating, if Fedyor only thinks he knows that they are dating while they are not actually dating, or if Ivan thinks he knows that they’re dating while they’re… whatever the fresh-fried fuck is truly happening here, Fedyor trudges off for what has become his almost-weekly rendezvous with Ivan the-Maybe-Not-Quite-So-Terrible. They manage to have a few conversations verging on meaningful, and Fedyor has found himself telling Ivan about his family and Nizhny Novgorod and other such things. Fedyor likes to talk and Ivan likes to listen, though he breaks in now and again with a bone-dry quip. He’s still never what you would call loquacious, or easily forthcoming, but Fedyor likes that. Ivan is tough, complex, enigmatic, guarded, occasionally willing to let down his walls but only if the other person is worth it, and Fedyor finds, to his surprise, that he wants to be worth it. If this is a long-con mind game, he almost doesn’t care. (Almost.)

The problem, however, is that they’ve been seeing each other regularly for a month and a half and they haven’t gotten any closer than walking through a park, outdoors, in full view of their fellow comrades. Even the first time Fedyor takes the plunge and invites Ivan to his apartment, they sit three feet apart on the couch, watching a badly-Russian-subtitled version of Die Hard and providing critical commentary. Fedyor’s English is a lot more fluent than Ivan’s, and his middle-class family, while not exactly wealthy, is definitely better off than Ivan’s hardscrabble clan of miners and loggers in Siberia. That upbringing certainly does explain, to some degree, why Ivan is the way he is, and Fedyor wonders anxiously if Ivan views him as an insufferably posh city boy. Ivan barely finished high school and went straight to working in a Krasnoyarsk aluminum factory. He definitely did not faff around Moscow State University and attend global development seminars in Paris.

Nonetheless, despite their obvious differences, they do get along, and Fedyor is unable to deny the fact that he would, if it’s all right with everyone, like it to be more than that. Of course, finding out if Ivan knows, etc. etc., has been the paramount challenge, and there is no way to find out other than to go for it. Fedyor is 75% sure that they’ve been going steady for two months, but if it’s actually the other 25%, this is going to get awkward in a hurry. Is this essentially a fake relationship, or is it only fake because they’re both idiots?

After having duly commended his soul to God, Fedyor invites Ivan over on Saturday night. He rents a tiny flat by himself since he’s been burned on rooming with strangers, but Ivan is used to it by now, and it doesn’t feel too small with the two of them. Fedyor strains his limited culinary skills to cook supper, probably making his babushka cluck her tongue and sigh in a judgmental fashion back in Nizhny Novgorod, and they sit down and eat in silence for five minutes. Then Fedyor says, “Vanya?”

The consistent use of the diminutive has started sometime in the last few weeks, neither of them remember quite when. Ivan doesn’t correct him. “Yes?”

Fedyor clears his throat. “Do you…” He winces. “Do you… like me?”

“Yes?” Ivan says again, looking confused. “I would not have spent so much time with you if I did not, don’t you think? We are friends.”

“Yes, I know that we’re friends, but…” Fedyor looks at the ceiling. It doesn’t help, so he looks back at Ivan. “Are we… special friends?”

Ivan continues to look blank. “Are we?”

Fedyor resists the urge to tug at his collar, thinking that it’s a damn good thing that he didn’t go with his other idea of just leaning across the table and passionately kissing him. With absolutely no change of tone or expression, Ivan says, “Please explain. Special friends how?”

“Friends who want to…” Fedyor takes a deep breath. “Be… more than friends?”

“How?” Ivan orders again, ruthlessly. “Be clear, Fedya.”

“Are we maybe… boyfriends?” Fedyor’s voice squeaks on the word. “As in… we have feelings for each other that aren’t just… friendly? Like… feelings which are… romantic?”

Ivan continues to stare at him like a statue for several more seconds, and Fedyor contemplates the feasibility of tunneling directly through the floor of his apartment and running all the way to Latvia. Then at last, Ivan throws his head back and – startling Fedyor deeply – breaks into real, genuine, belly laughter, the kind that he has never heard from Ivan before. “Oh my,” he chortles, slapping the table. “Your face. You were sweating bullets.”

“WAIT, WHAT!?!” Fedyor pushes his chair back and stands up with a clatter, incandescently outraged. “Are you – were you messing with me?!!”

“Maybe a little,” Ivan says, wiping his eyes. “You know, all this time, I have not been sure if you are shy or a terrible prude. Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“God’s Mother in Heaven – ” Fedyor feels another prick of disloyalty to his babushka for swearing on the Bogomater, but some people deserve it. All inhibitions forgotten, he charges at Ivan like a runaway train, as Ivan springs out of his own chair in readiness, and starts pounding on his chest in transports of fury. “You are the worst! You are the worst person ever! For two months, what have we been doing?! I have been afraid this whole time that maybe you don’t know what’s really going on, and now – ?! You are the worst!”

Ivan catches Fedyor’s flailing arms, holds them away from him, and picks him up bodily, swinging him around and pushing him against the wall. “Maybe I am just a dumb country boy from Siberia,” he remarks, “but even I am not that stupid, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I hate you,” Fedyor pants, their faces and their mouths an inch away from each other. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Mmm?” Ivan cocks an eyebrow. Then he plants both hands on either side of Fedyor’s head, leans in, and deeply, savagely captures Fedyor’s mouth with his own.

Every remaining vestige of barely rational thought in Fedyor’s head evaporates in screaming shock. He still wants to shove Ivan away, knee him in the balls, or break a chair over his head, but if he did that, he would have to stop kissing him, and he can’t do that either. He moans, Ivan’s tongue takes the opportunity to slip into his mouth, their hands clutch and claw and their legs melt out from under them, they turn away or break contact only to gulp a breath before diving back in again, and the next time Fedyor is aware of anything, they have collapsed on his kitchen floor in a wrung-out, entangled, gasping heap. Ivan says in his ear, “Do you still want me to leave, Fedya?”

“No,” Fedyor manages. “Because now, I am really going to make you suffer.”

Ivan’s smile is dark and full of promise. He pulls back, gets to his feet, and holds out a hand. “Then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

(Ivan doesn’t leave Fedyor’s apartment that night. He doesn’t leave it the next night either. At the end of the week, Fedyor calls up Nadia and informs her that he hates her so much, and when they do next see each other, he’ll shake her by both shoulders and then thank her for introducing him to the no-good, truly awful, very bad love of his life.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #henchmen deserve happiness too okay #a phantom in enchanting light #mearcatsreturns #ask #fivan ff

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victorie552onepiecespeedrun · 3 years

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Reading One Piece pt 202: This Arc Is Named After A Boat

Chapter 449

Thoughts:

- Nice color page, Nami is very gothic

- Ok, I was gone for pretty much two months, who the heck is Gecko Moria? With that name I expect him to be fully reptilian

- Oh, that pseudo-zombie guy wants to see sunlight one more time ;_;

- Franky went ;_; too but like 10 times harder, Zoro and Sanji are making fun of us

- Luffy is all “eh, we’ll be fighting that Moria guy anyway, may as well help you”

(You know, Luffy can be pretty practical when he wants to, this here is what makes him different from other shounen protagonists. Goku feels kinda similar to that thought I can’t pinpoint the similarities exactly)

- old man is happy someone volunteered to kick Moria’s ass. You go, old man

- back in the mansion with Scaredy Cat Trio

- they found Hogback’s laboratory

- Hogback’s laughing maniacally at his newest invention (I bet his laught is weird), show us what it is already

- I think it’s Frankenstein

- For some reason Cindry’s spaghetti soup is more important than an artificially alive giant on the table. You are reading One Piece

- To be fair, if I went from being a famous actress with the world at my feet to serving dinner to a mad scientist in the mansion full of zombies in the middle of nowhere, I would be cranky about little things too, **** them plates

- Chopper wonders how Dr. Hogback cured his patients from death. I don’t really care but I don’t think that zombie business is about helping anyone, our reindeer should prepare himself to be disappointed in humanity

- !

- The guy with sword from before noticed our trio!

- “Yohohoho! Good day! If you’re already looked inside, you may as well enter!”

“yo…hohoho?” “Brook?”

- huh. This is weird. Do that guy and Brook know each other? Is he that Moria guy?

- Our trio was discovered but Hogback isn’t even mad, he’s waiting for some midnight attack. This is tiring

- In the graveyard with zombies. At least here zombies are funny

- Oh look, Absalom The Usually Invisible Guy is their leader

- Lol, they call him “Pervy Leader”. These zombies are alright

- Perona’s ghosts!

- And we see Perona herself! From the back, mind you, but we do!

- “If you’re not cute… you don’t deserve to work for me!”

…

On one hand, GO QUEEN! On the other hand, I hate to break it to you Perona but everyone here is just really ugly. You’ll have to learn to live without henchmen

- Wait, that’s Moria?? Why is he so big

- Rain

- What is Luffy seeing in the distance?

- …It’s a ship

…A ship bigger than the mansion

Istg, this is giving me headache

- Oh, not-zombie guy is still here

- “Thriller Bark…has one village in it’s middle. And is the largest pirate ship in the world!” Well, that explains it. It’s pretty cool actually

- The clock just rung midnight. Absalom (who is half lion) and Perona (who is your typical teenage girl) will attack Straw Hats now

- “You are going to see… a nightmare!”

Okay, shall we go then?”

“Into the Ghost Mansion!”

rOP 201 rOP 203

#one piece speed read #if Moria is that sleeping giant black glob over there #then who was that guy with a sword #we still didn't get his face #damn I practically left that blog for 2 months #that manga really DOES try to kill me #well tough luck I'm here and kicking #this post is quequed #you have been warned #spoiler #spoilers #have a nice day #rOP 202

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scandalsavagefanfic · 4 years

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DC Kink Meme Prompts List

Since the kink meme is getting a lot of attention and growing daily, I thought I’d post a convenient place where I can keep track of the prompts that I’d like to see filled again. I figure you’re all here because we share similar interests and this way, if you’re a writer with looking for a prompt, you don’t have to scroll through the almost 400 prompts that are currently posted.

So here we go. Beware, this is a kink meme. These are nsfw and some may be triggering.

JayDick Watersports - Filled HERE

sub!Jason & Dom!Dick are in a consensual D/s relationship that has a heavy Master/slave dynamic (whether 24/7 or primarily during sex is up to you!). They're on a stakeout one night, and it's really cold, and, aw, fuck, Dick needs to piss, but he doesn't want his dick to freeze. Good thing he's got his bitch there with him, right? Dick pissing in Jay's ass preferred just to show the level of not caring about Jay's comfort [it's still cold!], but totally not gonna complain about piss drinking, either, if Dick's feeling a little more charitable. Is Jay surprised because it's the first time Dick has done this? Is this a normal, expected duty that he performs regularly? That's up to you!

Tim/Jason A/B/O - Filled

In an A/B/O world where omegas are in charge and alphas are treated like animals, or kept as pets, CEO Tim decides to treat himself to a new toy and buys Jason. Feel free to go as wild as you like with the kinks, I'm pretty unsquickable

Tim/Jason Stalker!Tim - Filled on the Meme by anon and HERE (by me)

Older Tim, younger Jason, where Tim's stalking gets a little obsessive once Jason takes over as Robin, and he starts stalking Jason out of costume as well as at night. A little judicious hacking later and he's able to keep an eye on Jason's internet activity too. Once he finds Jason looking at gay porn he knows he's got an in. And he starts blackmailing Jason, online at first, but escalating every time he gets Jason to go a little further, until he gets him to submit in person.

Slade/Dick/Jason - Filled amazingly HERE

Dick's been with Slade for a while, and now that he's stopped fighting and given into his training, Slade thinks he deserves a reward. Every good boy deserves a puppy, and Batman's new Robin looks like he could fit the role perfectly.

Jason Todd - Object Insertion - Filled on the meme (art)

Honestly, that's all I've got for you. I just want someone making Jason take things up his ass that have no business being there. Consensual or not are both fine! Any ship, though definitely a strong preference for Roy, Slade, Tim, Kyle, Dick, Roman or Ra's. Preferably not underage, but I'm not entirely opposed.

Ra's/Jason - Filled HERE

Ra's test drives an undunked Jason. The boy must be useful for something, after all, and he looks so pretty in chains. ABO welcome.

Prompt- Pegging (Jason) - Filled HERE

Jason gets pegged by one (or more ;)) of the lovely ladies of the DC universe. And enjoys it thoroughly Pairing is dealer's choice. <3

Bruce/Jason

Bruce takes in Jason off the streets, but more for use as a personal whore than to be Robin. Bonuses for Bruce still adopting Jason and getting off on fucking his son. EXTRA bonus points for Alfred's unfazed acceptance/support of it and perhaps even his participation.

Jason Todd Intercrural Sex - Filled on meme

This man deserves more thigh fucking and so do we! All ships welcome!

No Title - Bruce/Jason, Dick finds out Bruce has been sexually abusing Jason

One of the other prompts made me realize that while there are a lot of fics where Jason discovers Bruce has been abusing Dick, there are none the other way around and suddenly I have a craving. So I would like for Dick to find out (maybe right after Jason returns, Dick catches them and overhears Bruce say something to indicate it used to happen regularly) that Bruce had been sexually abusing Jason since the moment he found him and try to save him. And like, because of his background as a child prostitute, Jason kind of thinks it's normal or that it's the only way he could earn love? Maybe Bruce implies that Jason is useless otherwise and he'd end up back on the streets if he's not useful. Maybe Bruce is even happy to point out that the reason he never even considered touching the others is because they were too good for it, pure and wholesome, while Jason was ruined goods.

Dick/Jason fuck-or-die bottom!Jay

I would absolutely kill to see a fic where Dick is forced to fuck Jason (for whatever reason but preferably not due to sex pollen/aphrodisiacs/drugs - I would prefer if they were both in their right minds please) Preferably they wouldn't be in a relationship or have secret feelings for each other and this would be mutual noncon/rape with a focus on how horrified they are that they're having to do this to each other. I would really, really like if it was bottom!Jason for this, but that there is acknowledgement that Dick is being raped here too!

Skeezy Ric Grayson

One specific fic I read has completely coloured my perception of Ric, and now I'm just desperate to see him being a total creep. Perving on his siblings and former friends. Would love to see him not take no for an answer, especially with someone who doesn't want to fight back because "it's still Dick in there somewhere, I can't hurt him" or something like that. Preference for Wally (HiC who?) or Jason, but Tim, Roy, Babs or Donna would be okay, too! A/B/O with Alpha!Ric would be a bonus but isn't necessary.

Cassie/Rose bondage spanking and D/s, semi-dubious consent

Cassie has had enough of Rose mouthing off and causing trouble, so she ties her up with her lasso and lectures her. Rose mockingly asks her if she’s going to spank her for being a bad girl, and much to her surprise, Cassie does. They both enjoy it much more than expected

Nyssa/Talia

Nyssa/Talia, set post-Death and the Maidens, Talia restrained while Nyssa gets her off, begging to be allowed to reciprocate. Bonus points for twisty fucked up Nyssa POV with all kinds of big global megalomaniacal justifications for what she's doing and how important it is to the greater good. (Reposted from old DC kinkmeme)

Jason Todd/Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Koriand’r

Kori loves watching her subs play with each other and rewards them well for good behavior

JayTim hatesex

Jason and Tim having incestuous-sibling-rivalry-hate-sex against the memorial

Any Bats/???, Alfred has to clean up

Poor Alfred often gets stuck cleaning up the mess when any of the family bring partners over. The crackier the circumstances the better!

Slade/Jason identity porn

Slade and Jason fuck while in costume as and pretending to be Batman and Nightwing respectively

Kyle Rayner/any

Kyle winds up working as a stripper somehow. Some other heroes find out and pay him a visit

Batfam/Jason; non con or resigned-to-his-fate cumdumpster!Jason

Could also be Earth-3 Owlfam/Jason. A/B/O welcome but it doesn't have to be. Would appreciate any one or combination of the following: dehumanization/objectification, humiliation, public sex, breeding kink, restraints, fucking machines, cum enemas, lots of cum in general, size kink... I just want something unapologetically filthy. I'm pretty much good with everything but scat.

Dick/Tim non/dub-con, universe hopping

Dark Dick from a dark universe ends up in the main universe, where he is delighted to find a brand new Timmy to play with, who unconditionally trusts his brother and doesn't know he's been replaced. Cue Dick slowly luring him in so he can have his fun. Tim doesn't realize until it's too late, or doesn't realize at all and has no idea how his beloved older brother could do this to him. Main universe has fully platonic, familial relationships within in the batfam. Feel free to imply/state anything you like about the dark universe. Grooming/slowly warming Tim up to more and more touches, crying, overstimulation, bondage, or any combination thereof are all bonuses

Young Justice S3 Dick/Jason omegaverse

Alpha!Dick Grayson is stuck on a mission and somehow has to help the mysterious Red-Hooded omega through his heat. But they have to stay quiet in order to not wake the pup Damian sleeping right next to them. Preferably there's an identity reveal in there where Dick finds out the omega is Jason Todd under the mask.

Addict!Roy Harper Noncon

Noncon (or possibly dubcon, if the manipulation is clear enough to readers) with Snowbirds Don't Fly era!Roy Harper as the victim. Could be an OC, another Titan, a Leaguer, a canon villain... Dealer's choice! Looking for something that really focuses on how he's being taken advantage of, rather than just "can't technically consent because he's high, but is totally into it."

Woder Woman/Batman, Rough Sex

Bruce loves it when Diana is rough with him

Bane/Bruce, violent noncon

Something set during Knightfall, where Bane decides to take “breaking the Bat” even further by raping Bruce and possibly also his precious little Robin

Jay/Tim bdsm AU, sub Jay

What it says on the tin. Was thinking maybe also an arranged marriage of sub Jason to dom Tim Drake, to cement a business union but also because subs aren’t full citizens.

Robin!Jason/Bruce Somnophilia

Bruce drugs his new little Robin and slips into his room. He takes his time with him, enjoying Jason before carefully opening and fucking him. Would be great if Jason wakes up towards the end but can't do anything but take it- maybe because of the drugs, maybe because of the way Bruce is holding him down, or even because he likes it.

Sidekicks/Villains noncon glory wall

Any sidekicks you want—Speedy, the Robins and Batgirls, Kid Flash and Impulse, the Wonder girls, etc.—being displayed in a glory wall, leaving their holes open for fucking. Interested villains can pay to fuck any hole they desire, and they enjoy wrecking the sidekicks and filling them with come

Robin!Jason/Villains & Henchmen?

Robin Jason gets captured and tied up by the villain of the week, who decides to take advantage of the situation. Robin is blindfolded and groped/fucked by the villain and maybe some henchmen while waiting for Batman to rescue him. Batman finding a bound and blind Jay too tempting to resist is a bonus.

Dickjay daddy kink

Older! Dick and bottom! Jason. Jason came back years later and Dick is around 40.

OmegaJason/Batfam first heat, lactation

It's Jason's first heat and the alphas of the pack know that his milk is on its way soon. All it needs is a little encouragement. A few knots and some nipple play should do it. His milk tastes perfect as it starts to flow.

Jason/Dick, Jason/RomanSionis, Hooker!Jason & Officer Grayson

So this is based off a discussion from AGES ago in the jayroman discord server that I still think about to this day XD A no capes au in which Jason never gets picked up by Bruce and ends up a crime alley prostitute who somehow along the way caught the eye of Black Mask and winds up working for him. And Black Mask has basically the whole city in his pocket, including the police force, which is why it’s so annoying when this little upstart, Officer Dick Grayson, starts to try to challenge his hold on the city, the little goody two-shoes denying any and all bribes and refusing to back down in the face of threats. And it should be easy to squash one annoying little bug, but somehow all attempts have failed and he can’t openly go after him without risking his reputation as a clean, law-abiding businessman, a reputation that’s slowly starting to unravel thanks to the dogged efforts of Officer Grayson, because the little shit is annoyingly not as stupid as his attempts to go after Roman would make him seem and despite all of Roman’s power and having basically the entire police force and the various other government officials Roman has in his pocket against him, he has made far too much headway in his endeavors So Roman gives Jason the job of seducing Dick, because if bribery and threats don’t work, video evidence of an officer fucking an underage hooker makes excellent blackmail material, and should be enough to take him down for good if he ever steps a toe out of line again Except no matter how Jason tries to seduce him, Dick is just too decent a guy to take advantage (Ex: Jason: *shows up wearing even more revealing clothes than the night before.* Dick: “You must be cold, here, take my jacket.” etc.) And before he knows it, Jason finds himself growing weirdly fond of the infuriating idiot with his stupid puns and painful sincerity

Roman Sionis/Jason Todd, AOB noncon impregnation gang rape

Intersex AOB verse. Roman wants to punish and claim the upstart omega, so he plugs Jason’s cunt and lets his men anally rape Jason until the omega begs Roman to breed his pussy

TimKon, a/b/o, alpha!Tim, bottom Conner

Humans have a/b/o. Kryptonians do not. Alpha!Tim thinks that he shouldn't bother Kon about Tim's rut. Kon thinks otherwise. Whether Kon can keep up with Tim (superpowers got to be good for something, right?) or is overwhelmed is up to anon :) I am absolutely unsquickable so whatever extra kinks are fine with me. Just please top!Tim only. Please, my crops are dying.

past romanjay now mobJay, gangbang

After getting tired with his new toy, Roman decided to just give his subordinates a chance to have fun with it. But mostly he just want to see the red hood to get more humiliated after destroying his empire.

Damian Wayne/Jason Todd, bestiality

It's time for Damian to introduce his new acquired pet to the pack, Titus and Ace.

Tim gags and spanks Damian

Red Robin has to take Robin out on patrol because Batman is away, Damian is reckless and keeps disobeying orders so Tim punishes him while having him gagged for being mouthy. can progress to something more sexual but doesn't have to be. Damian secretly enjoying it is a bonus.

Deathstroke/All the Robins

Slade really has a thing for fighting and chasing after Batbrats…

Rose/Jason mommy kink edging and pegging

Jason wants to be a good boy for mommy, Rose rewards his good behavior

Jason Todd/Kyle Rayner hatesex - Filled

I’d love some rough, angry, violent hatesex between these two. Bonus points for snarky asshole bottom!jason and kyle using his ring to make restraints/other kinky constructs ;)

Flashpoint!Father Todd/Incubus!Dick

Incubus!Dick seduces Father Todd. Jason holds out longer than most but Dick prides himself on being irresistible. He’s never failed before and he doesn’t plan to start now. But maybe, instead of his usual dine-and-ditch MO, Dick think’s he might like to savor this meal for long. Jason falls so beautifully. (bottom Jason please) Catholic aesthetics, blasphemy as kink, church sex (altar, confessional, pews, etc)

Flashpoint Thomas Wayne/Father Todd

Thomas Wayne as Batman bends Father Todd over the altar. In uniform. (At least for Thomas. It would be super hot if he strips Father Todd out of his robes first. Maybe everything except his rosary?)

Jason/Tim rape

Tim ties down Jason and rides(rapes) him. Pls let Tim use Jason as nothing but a mere meat dildo.

Titans/Dick, Titans/Jason, Titans/Tim consensual gangbang - Filled

The not-so-secret tradition of team bonding by fucking the current Bat on the Teen Titans is well-adhered to, especially given the enthusiastic consent of all participants Feel free to include any or all: garden sex, pool sex, power use, DP, riding, pegging, toy use, CBT, nipple play, cockwarming, CFNM/CMNM, and consensual somno All other kinks welcome excluding scat, watersports, emeto, ageplay, vore, and anything else bloody

Thomas Elliot/Bruce Wayne (Rape/Non-con)

Bruce doesn't realise how obsessed Thomas really is with him. Leads to Hush raping Bruce. Can be when Bruce knows who Hush is or when he still doesn't know.

Evil!Dick and Jason, noncon or dubcon

Jason comes back to his safehouse and is surprised to find Dick already there. After the initial surprise, Jason is quick to find out that there's something... off, about this Dick. He's not acting like his usual self. It turns out this isn't the usual Dick that Jason is familiar with, instead, he is a darker version of him (drugged? Talon from Earth-3 that somehow ends up in the main universe? other possibilities? all welcome options!), and this Dark!Dick is obsessed with Jason and wants to fuck him... and he doesn't take no for an answer. So there's a setup for a non-con or dub-con(in case Jason also has a crush on main Dick) for you. Restraints (gags, ropes, tapes etc.) are also welcome but doesn't have to be present.

Kon-El/Lex Luthor Daddy Kink DubCon

Lex genetically programmed Kon to need his daddy to fill him up when he created him. Lex made Kon to check all his boxes (ie Superman, something he made, a gifted teenager). Kon can’t actually consent because of programming, and he doesn’t want it until he’s getting it. Can be simple daddy kink or full of abdl. Bonus points for trans!Kon

Guy Gardner/Bunch of Aliens possible Dubcon/Noncon

Macho, hotheaded, shit-talking Guy is the embodiment of hyper-masculinity, and that arrogance of his gets him into a lot more than just a bar fight. All of Guy's enemies seem to be of the huge, muscular variety, so let's see the most stocky lantern get put in his place. Does he secretly love it? Does he outright hate it? Maybe all that shit-talking was just a ploy to finally get someone to "punish" him right. The choice is up to you. Maybe it's a bunch of random aliens Guy's ticked off in a bar. Maybe all that showboating's pissed off Kilowog or Arkillo. Maybe Lobo's still put out after being tricked one too many times by Guy. Perhaps, Atrocitus's still kinda harboring a grudge for Guy kicking him out of the Red Lanterns. Then there's always the way too touchy Dementor with his Vuldarian kin. I'm all for any other kinks or situations, I just would prefer no bathroom stuff. Go absolutely wild.

Black Mask/anyone, bathroom control, omorashi - Filled on meme

I'm a simple person with simple needs: Roman controlling whether or not someone's allowed to piss. can be consensual or noncon torture, the victim can end up pissing themselves or make it to the bathroom safely. just as long as Roman's in total control of the situation, and smug about it. bonus points: tears, begging, banter, degradation, embarrassment, additional torture, anything else along those lines. watersports only, please, no scat!

Roy Clones/Dick gangbang omegaverse

YJ season 3 episode 4 has excellent gangbang material just so you know Add omegaverse to it and its perfect Noncon/dubcon is accepted also

Titans/Jason Gangbang

Prefer comics based more than the show but either is fine. Dick and his friends welcome the new Robin the Titans way, by breaking in that hole. New kid is always the team toy, and it's even more fun now that it's Nightwing's bratty kid brother. Consensual or non con, dealer's choice. Double (or triple) penetration, dirty talk, and powers used for sex are favorite kinks but I'm good with pretty much anything.

Willis Todd/Jason Todd, Mob/Jason; Incest and forced underage prostitution

Willis pimps out his kid for cash and drugs. Catherine either pretends she doesn't know or knows and helps/doesn't care. And like any good salesman, he makes sure to test out his product to make sure it's up to snuff.

Make it cruel and awful and hopeless. Dehumanizing and degrading. Jason is just a hole to sell and use. belting in sensitive areas, beatings, violent sex, cum play, blood play... I just want something dark and nasty.

____________________________________________________

Woo! Ok. I’ll try to keep this up the best I can. I’ll link/mark when prompts are filled so that you guys can check it out if you want (all filled prompts can be reached by the link in the title, but some have ao3 links that I put on the “Filled” note).

I’ll also reblog this with any new prompts that come up or if I find I’ve forgotten one.

#DC Kink Meme #long post #too many things to tag #content and trigger warnings apply to some of the prompts #enter at your own risk #mostly Jason Todd centric #but others that I liked too

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