#kinda wanna churn out more graphics here but

[ilbella]

i hate that we have ugly dimensions and that stupid gradient on headers still on mobile

#bad. evil. BAD #kinda wanna churn out more graphics here but #just finished watching herc.. what a VIBE #tbd.

[vacant--body]

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: Su!c!de attempt, graphic description of bl00d, mentions of death, medical procedure talk, loss of pregnancy, PTSD, lots and lots of angst, mentions of drinking.

Female!reader, love triangle with Steve and Bucky (kinda?)

Word count: roughly 2,076

Please don't read if any of these warnings will trigger you :)

I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME

✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿

Bucky's eyes snapped open, his advanced hearing honing in on the soft wails coming from down the hall. It was you, it always you. He inhaled sharply and pushed himself out of his warm bed, his dog tags clinking against his bare chest. It gets worse when Steve isn't here; your night terrors. He's the only one that can rock you back to sleep, soothing your tear stained cheeks and calming your raging mind. Bucky isn't very good at it, but he can get the job done.

His door slid open and he walked quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake anybody else up. Tony had to semi soundproof your room. When you first came to live in the compound, your screams would keep everyone up all night. Now only Bucky and Steve could hear your cries, which often made for sleepless nights. But lately it’s been getting better, which he was thankful for. Both for your sake and his sake.

Bucky stopped in front of your door, expecting it to just slide open like it normally does. But it didn't. Confused, he waved his hand in front of the sensor but it didn't budge. "Friday?" He yawned, annoyed. What couldn't Tony just put in normal doors? They're so much simpler. "What's wrong with the door?"

"It seems that Ms. Y/L/N has locked it." Strange. You never lock it.

"Well, unlock it." He snapped back at the AI.

"I cannot. She has over-ridden my capabilities to unlock it."

"What?" Bucky asked, suddenly more awake. The hairs on his arms stood up and a gut wrenching feeling began to churn in his stomach. He could hear you on the other side, still crying. "Y/N!" Bucky yelled pounding on the door. The cries grew harder. "Y/N open the door!"

"Go away!" You screamed. "Just go!" This wasn't a night terror, you were awake. “I don’t need you, Bucky!”

"Friday, get Tony down here." Bucky yelled, pounding on the door again. "Y/N please just open the door! Let me help!"

"Don't need your help." There was the sound of the bathtub starting up. "Just go."

"Bucky,” A tired voice groaned from behind him. Sam. "It's 2:30 in the morning, why in the hell are you screaming."

"Y/N locked us out." He muttered, pressing his ear against the door. He could hear you whimpering on the other side. "Friday can't open it."

"Friday, get Tony-"

"He is on his way." She replied back. "Ms. Y/N also disabled her cameras. I can't see inside there either."

"Y/N!" Bucky tried again, his voice cracking just enough for him to notice. Hopefully not enough for Sam to notice.

"Does someone wanna tell me why I am down here in the middle of the god damn night?" Another voice said behind them.

"Just get the fucking door open." Bucky snarled. Tony took note of the worry and urgency in his voice and unlatched a panel that was next to the door. He moved some wires around and the door hissed open.

Bucky rushed in and the state of your room hit him like a truck. It was a wreak. Your mattress was halfway off of its frame, your dresser was knocked over with all the clothes torn out, and there was a smashed chair in the corner. You had also punched out your mirror, making Bucky's footsteps crunch as he walked through her room. How did he not hear this? Why didn't he wake up? But that's not what bothered Bucky. His nose instantly picked up on a coppery smell that stung the inside of his nostrils, making him instantly nauseous. He pushed into the bathroom, where somehow the cupboard was shoved in front of.

The sight before him was enough to make him cry and vomit at the same time. You were submerged in the bathtub, the water stained a bright red color. A long shard of glass from the mirror was laying on the floor, stained with your crimson blood. Two deep long cuts had been carved into your forearms. The ringing in his ears slowly subsided and he heard the sound of either Tony or Sam dry heaving behind him. He wasn't sure who it was.

"Friday, prep medical bay. Get Banners ass up. Now." He heard Tony growl.

Bucky sunk to his knees, his sweatpants become stained with the blood soaked water that had sloshed over the edge. "Y/N." He muttered. She was pale. Too pale. "Y/N!" He yelled grabbing her by the shoulders. “Open your fucking eyes and look at me!" You didn't open her eyes, the only movement was coming from your chest. You were taking quick short breaths, which Bucky figured wasn't good. "Please don't do this to me, please. I need you, fuck-" He choked back a sob.

"Buck, we have to get her down to-" Before Sam could finish his sentence, Bucky was lifting you out of the water and took off towards the med bay.

Banner was already down there, a suturing kit already laid out. "How much blood has she lost?" He asked immediately as soon as Bucky came barreling through the doorway.

"A lot." Was all he could manage. He carefully laid you down on the cot. His thoughts were going a mile a minute. You were supposed to be getting better. Sam and Banner were supposed to be helping you, the therapy was supposed to be helping. Not killing you. Why wasn’t it helping? Why were you so selfish? How could you do that to us? To me, to Steve. To this whole team?

"Well good thing most of the team is A Positive so we have some on standby for her." Banner said. Bucky wasn't sure if he was talking to him or to himself.

Banner flushed out your wounds with what looked like water, and carefully began to stitch you up. Bucky noticed the slight shaking in his wrist and he pulled your skin together.

"Where is Steve?" Bucky whispered to Tony, not taking his eyes off of Y/N and Banner. For once, you looked like you were at peace. Your features were smoothed and relaxed, nothing like your previous state.

"His teams on their way back. ETA 4 hours." Tony whispered back.

A heavy silence fell over the med bay. Bucky felt drained. He couldn't keep his thought straight in his head, and it was numbing. He just kept asking the same thing. Why? You were doing so good. You were laughing, smiling, and actually making progress to talk to people outside your comfort zone. Of course you were still having night terrors, Sam said those wouldn't go away for a long time. But other than that you were fine. You said you were fine. He couldn't understand why.

Banner was done with one side. He moved over to the other and began to repeat the process, but one of the machines she was hooked up to began beeping rapidly. His head snapped up and his brows furrowed.

"Friday do a full body scan please." He grunted.

"What? What's wrong?" Bucky pleaded, his skin tightening and his stomach doing loops.

"Blood pressure is dropping. Not good." Was all he heard over the several machines firing at once.

"There is hemorrhaging. Location: uterus." Friday said back. "Surgery is recommended."

Banner quickly finished the last of the sutures and yanked your water and blood soaked sweatpants off. There was a large amount of blood pooling in between your legs.

"Bruce what is that?" Bucky yelled rushing over to them. "What's wrong with her, did she stab herself there?" He felt like he was going to vomit.

"Bucky-" He started as he fumbled with some tubing.

"What are you doing to her?!" Bucky yelled again his voice become more and more distressed. "You're gonna kill her please help her!"

"Tony get him the hell out of here!" Banner screamed finally, the Hulks voice peaking behind his anger and frustration.

Bucky was being yanked out of the bay by Sam and Tony. He could fight back easily, fight them off so he could be with you. But his legs were so shaky he could hardly stand on his own two feet. The windows that looked into the bay dimmed and Bucky caught one last look as Banner yanked down Y/N's underwear. A sob escaped from Buckys lips as he crumpled to the ground. What was happening now? Y/N must be so scared. He was so scared.

He felt that hot tears prick at his cheeks and dribbled down into his beard hair. He was crying. Crying for the first time in who knows how long. He couldn't loose you. You were the only one who truly understood Bucky. You meant too much to him.

"Buck-" Sam started but Bucky just cut him off.

"Leave me alone." He sobbed. It felt like a metal pipe had been shoved down Buckys throat. He couldn’t breathe. "Please just go away." Tony and Sam shared a look before the disappeared down the hallway.

He sat there for what seemed like days. But it was only hours. Soon enough Steve came jogging down the hallway to where Bucky sat.

"Buck." Steve gasped, kneeling down next to him. "What happened?"

"I thought she was having a night terrors." Bucky's voice was raw and it hurt to swallow. The crying must have stopped hours ago, but he couldn't remember when it ended. "But she locked me out. Tried to...tried to..."

"Oh god." Steve whimpered, understanding what he was saying. “Is she...?" Bucky shook his head.

"She started bleeding. I think Banners still doing surgery." Steve's face was screwed tightly together as he stood back up. Bucky couldn't tell what he was feeling. He paced the hallway for a bit before he slid down against the wall across from Bucky, his eyes blankly staring at the door. He could see the trembling in his chest when he inhaled.

They sat there in silence for about another hour, when suddenly, the doors to the med bay swung open. Banners eyes fell on them. He sighed heavily and put his hands in his pockets.

"What? What is it?" Bucky pleaded getting to his feet, which caused Steve to stand up.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked, his brows closely knit together.

"Yeah. She's stable. Woke up for a few minutes but she's sleeping now. I had to give her some medicine to calm her down. And I had to..." He trailed off. "Restrain her. She's very agitated." Bruce exhaled and wrung his hands together.

"Then what happened? Why did you have to do surgery." Bucky prodded. He could tell Banner was hiding something.

"The bleeding was caused by a mixture of shock and her blood pressure tanking. I couldn't-" He cleared his throat like he was keeping back tears. "I couldn't save the fetus. She miscarried."

It felt like someone had punched Bucky in the gut. Fetus? Miscarried? She was pregnant?

"From what I could tell she was about 15 weeks along. I ran the DNA because I wasn't...I wasn't sure who the father was."

"I had a child?" Steve whimpered. Tears were falling freely down his face.

"No, Steve.” He whispered softly. “Bucky, it was yours.”

"What? No. That's impossible." Steve scoffed. "You must have your science shit mixed up. There is no way."

"No, he's right." Bucky whispered, absolute shocking talking grip of his body.

"I'm sorry. It was a boy."

"What? No. No! It's wrong. Go test it again Banner! I know it's wrong!"

"Steve-"

"You were fucking her?!" Steve screamed, turning to Bucky. "You knew I was in love with her and you were fucking her?!"

"It was once Steve! Almost 3 months ago! We were drunk and you were away on a mission and I came onto her!" Bucky bargained, staring into the flames of his best friend’s eyes.

"You fucked my girl! My girl!" Steve was irate, barely able to contain himself.

"She isn't yours Steve, you're not even together!"

"I told her that I loved her! And you went and fucked her anyway! What, do you always follow your dick!? I bet that's why she refuses to look at you!"

"No, she told me that she loved me!" Bucky screamed back, his voice echoing in the hallway as silence washed over them. Bucky took a deep breath. "She said it first. And I told her it was a mistake and should be with you." He said quietly.

Steve let out an animalistic growl, and his fist made contact with the side of Bucky's cheek and the back of his head smashed against the wall.

"I love you Bucky." Y/N's soft voice said. Your head was currently buried in Bucky's bare chest. "It's you. It's always has been." You whispered.

Bucky reached down and cupped her cheek, making you look at him. He has been waiting to hear that since they first met. He didn't believe in love at first sight but ever since he first laid eyes on you, he started to believe.

"You don't mean that, doll." He muttered back. Alcohol was still running its course through their bodies. "You're drunk."

"Drunk words are a sober mans thoughts."

"Y/N-"

"I want you Bucky. Just you. No more going back and forth between you and Steve. I can't do that anymore, Bucky. Please believe me." You pleaded, your large eyes staring into his.

"You deserve someone like Steve, not like me. You can't love me." He sighed, letting go of your face.

"I love Steve. He’s amazing and kind, but I love I have for him isn’t like how I love you.”

"No. You love the thought of me." He snapped, rising off the bed. "But you don't love me Y/N. I promise you, you don't. You shouldn't." He gathered his clothes from the floor and shimmied into them. He reached the door and stopped at the sound of your voice.

"But-" Bucky winced at the sound of your voice as it was filling with tears.

"I'm sorry." He whispered turning away, his own eyes brimming with tears. "I don't deserve you. You can't love me. I'm sorry."

part 2

#bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky fic #bucky oneshot #marvel imagine #mcu #i'm so sorry lmao #please don't hate me #steve rogers #love triangle #triggering content #bucky drabble #bucky deserves love #comfort character #bucky angst

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Body

Prompt: How do you imagine child Purple reacting the first time they see what Black actually looks like? I just finished Imposter Syndrome and You're Safe Now (I love them!!!) and tiny wholesome Purple is my new favourite person!

I also love me a pure smol 

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: some implied/referenced child abuse but nothing specific and nothing graphic, mild body horror a la canon but it’s just when the impostor’s shifting

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 1978

Black is an Impostor. The ship they've hijacked, the Skeld, comes with an...interesting member. A child, not known by the rest of the human crew, that's now just...here. And yes, children are children and Black will protect them, but they're human. Humans don't like Impostors.

...right?

“Black?”

 Black looks up from the console. Purple is in the co-pilot’s chair, fiddling with a ball they must’ve taken off the drive shaft control. They roll their eyes fondly as Purple rubs their thumbs over the grooves in the ball.

 “Yeah?”

 “You said you could shape-shift, right?”

 Black nods. They shake their head a couple of times as they shift into the human face, smiling at how Purple giggles. Apparently, they look like a dog whenever they do that.

 “Can you…” Purple fiddles with the ball. “What do you actually look like?”

 Black blinks. Purple hasn’t been shy about asking questions, that’s true, but they’ve mostly been asking about the ship.

 ‘What does this button do?’

 ‘Can I help with the wires?’

 ‘Why are there levers over here?’

 ‘How do the engines make us go?’

 That sort of thing. But not about Black.

 Black makes sure the ship’s course is correct and turns to face them. They look up, letting the ball drop to rest in their lap.

 “I look…different,” they try, “I don’t have arms and legs like you, I don’t have a face like this.”

 “So you’re…you’re like a…blob?”

 “Yeah, kind of.” Black shakes their head. “It’s not really—I don’t think there’s an animal that looks like me where you come from.”

 “I watched a documentary once,” Purple mumbles, raising the ball to their mouth, “had these weird blob things in it that liked to eat stuff.”

 “Don’t, I don’t think it’ll taste very good.” Black raises their hand to Purple’s, covering it gently. “What did they look like?”

 “They were really weird, kinda grey and twitchy.” Purple furrows their brow, shakes their head. “They were called am—amb—ambas?”

 “Amoebas?”

 “Yeah, that’s right, amoebas.”

 Black chuckles. “Well, those are very small. I’m much bigger.”

 “So you’re not an amoeba?”

 “No.”

 Purple squints up at them, raising their chubby little hand to Black’s human cheek. They pat it a couple of times.

 “Soft.”

 “Soft?”

 “Yeah. Your—your face is really soft. And pretty. I like it.” Purple’s eyes widen. “Why’s it getting warmer?”

 If this is how I die, I am completely fine with it.

 “I’m blushing,” Black mutters, valiantly ignoring the heat rushing to their face—damned human biology— “that’s it.”

 “Does it hurt?”

 “Does blushing hurt?” They shake their head. “No, I’m alright.”

 “Good. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

 “I don’t think you could if you tried,” Black says as gently as possible, “but thank you, Purple.”

 Purple nods, still running their hand over Black’s face. “But this isn’t your face, it’s your disguise.”

 Black nods. “One of them.”

 “One of them?”

 Black takes their wrist gently and pulls their hand away, letting the helmet reform. “This is another one.”

 Purple’s hand twitches in theirs. “Your voice sounds weird.”

 “Weird?”

 They start trying to tug their hand away. Black lets them go. They start rubbing the ball again. “Like the others.”

 Something cold rips the helmet off and Black smiles. “Better?”

 Purple nods but they don’t make eye contact. “Don’t like the helmets. They make it hard to breathe.”

 Hard to…breathe?

 “Always had to be quiet.”

 Quiet?

 “Are you sure the other crew isn’t coming back?”

 “Yes, Purple,” Black promises, “they’re gone now. It’s just you and me. It’s alright, baby, you’re safe now.”

 Adoration and concern chase each other in circles around Black’s chest as Purple nods to themselves, clutching the ball to their chest. After a moment, they look up and shyly hold their hand out.

 “You wanna come here, baby?” Purple nods and Black opens their arms. “Come here, then, baby, I gotcha.”

 Purple slides off the co-pilot seat and clambers into Black’s lap, still holding the ball to their chest. Black softens the coarse fabric of the suit and wraps an arm around Purple’s waist. Their head comes to rest against Black’s shoulder, their hair rustling against their chin.

 Black’s maw purrs.

 Purple mumbles happily, snuggling closer. “The rumble is back.”

 “The rumble?”

 Purple pats Black’s tummy. “This. Rumble. Means you’re happy, right?”

 “…yes, Purple, it means I’m happy.”

 “What is it? Do you purr? I saw something that says cats purr, are you a cat?” Purple squints up at them, doing a wonderful impression of a scientist examining their hypothesis. “No, if you were a cat it would be higher.”

 Their hands reach up toward Black’s neck and Black leans away, cupping their hand in theirs.

 “Ask, baby,” they remind gently, “you’ll surprise me if I don’t know what’s happening.”

 “Can I feel?”

 “What do you want to feel?”

 “Your neck. If you’re a cat you purr from your neck.”

 “I thought you just said it comes from my tummy.”

 Purple sticks their lip out, thinking. “So you’re not a cat.”

 “No, I’m not a cat.”

 Their fingers curl around Black’s, bringing their hand close and clutching it under their chin like a comfort teddy. Black twists their wrist slightly to stroke their cheek with the pad of their thumb.

 “So what is it?”

 Black sighs. “It’s my maw.”

 “What’s a maw?”

 “It’s like a mouth.”

 “You have a mouth in your tummy?”

 “…this isn’t my real shape, remember,” Black says quietly, “it’s…it’s part of the disguise that doesn’t work completely.”

 “Why not?”

 Black thinks for a moment. How to explain…

 “If you put a mask on,” they decide finally, “or when you put clothes on, your body is still underneath, right?”

 Purple nods. They raise their hand to pat their own tummy. Black covers their hand gently.

 “Looking like this is like I’m wearing something on top of my body. There are going to be parts that aren’t completely hidden.”

 “So your maw is just covered up?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can you breathe?”

 Black blinks in surprise. “Can I…breathe?”

 Purple nods, suddenly scrambling at the suit over their tummy. “I don’t—if your mouth is covered it’s hard to breathe, can you—“

 “Whoa, whoa, baby,” Black soothes, catching their hands and holding them still, “easy, I can breathe, slow down, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

 “But your mouth is covered!”

 “Shh, shh, take a deep breath, baby, breathe with me.” Black takes a loud, slow breath through their human mouth. “See? I’m breathing, let’s take some breaths.”

 They place Purple’s hands on their tummy so they can feel it expand and contract. The poor thing’s hands are trembling as they take shaky breaths.

 “There you go, baby, just like that.” Black takes another slow breath. “See? I can breathe, it’s okay.”

 “B-but—“ Purple looks up at them and Black lets out a sound of dismay at the tears on their cheeks— “you—it’s covered.”

 “Do you want me to show you that it’s okay? Okay,” Black soothes as Purple nods frantically, “okay, baby, take one more deep breath for me and I’ll show you.”

 Purple takes a breath as Black moves their hands a little further away from the maw. They relax and let the suit slip enough to fall open.

 Purple gasps as the maw opens, rows and rows of teeth and a long tongue that lolls slightly out. Black rumbles contentedly, shifting Purple’s weight in their lap as the maw purrs.

 “Whoa!”

 “That’s it, baby, see? I can breathe, it’s not a problem.” They rub their thumb across Purple’s cheek. “It’s right there, it’s okay.”

 “You have so many teeth,” Purple mumbles, “can I—is it okay?”

 Well, it’s the first time Black’s had someone willingly put their hand in their maw.

 “Be careful, baby, they’re sharp.”

 “You look like a shark! So many!”

 “A shark?”

 “It’s a big fish. Lives in the water, eats a lot of things.” Purple’s hand carefully traces one of Black’s teeth, the maw still purring. “But they don’t purr.”

 Black chuckles. “No, I would guess not.”

 “Is this what you really look like? You have a m-maw?”

 “Maw, that’s right.”

 “A maw and no arms or legs?”

 “…sort of.”

 “Will you show me the rest of it?” Purple stares up at them. “Please?”

 “You don’t have to beg, baby,” Black says, because how can anyone say no to that face, “I’ll show you. I just don’t want to scare you.”

 “Scare me?”

 “I don’t look like a human, baby,” they say softly, “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

 Purple is quiet for a moment. Then they twist their hands through Black’s and clutch tight.

 “Humans are the scary ones,” they say in a voice that sounds far too old for them, “you’re not.”

 Well.

 “Okay, then,” Black says, carefully lifting them up and settling them back on the co-pilot’s seat, “just stay there for a moment, baby.”

 “Okay.”

 Black steps back and rolls their shoulders. Okay. Okay. They’re gonna do this. They’re gonna willingly show their body to a human. They’re gonna show their body to a human and trust them. Fuck, they’re gonna show their body to a human.

 Something burns in their gut. It’s so old that for a moment they don’t recognize it. It reaches into the tips of their fingers and clenches, locking the fake limbs with a vice grip and it tingles. For a moment, the suit feels heavy.

 Then they grit their teeth and shift.

 Their maw unfurls, still rumbling, as their arms come out properly, churning there on the floor of the bridge. They rear their head up and stretch, letting Purple see them. All of them.

 Purple’s mouth drops open. The ball falls to the floor with a clang.

 “You’re an octopus?”

 Black tilts their head. Purple slides off the chair and takes a step closer. Black draws away, wary of one of their arms accidentally snagging the poor thing or the maw getting too excited, only for Purple to walk all the way up to them and reach out.

 “Can I?”

 A…they…they want to touch Black like this?

 They relax slightly, still swirling about on the floor, as Purple reaches out and carefully runs their hand over one of the arms.

 “You feel cold,” Purple mumbles, “are you cold? Here—“

 And Purple wraps their arms around Black’s middle, not caring about the gaping maw rumbling against their body.

 Oh.

 Oh.

 Purple is so warm.

 Almost unconsciously, Black’s arms start to swirl towards them, making a little nest of arms to cradle Purple to them. They keep a path out in case Purple decides to pull away, but for the most part, it seems Purple is more than happy to curl up, right here, in their arms.

 “You’re not scary,” Purple mumbles, “I like you.”

 The maw purrs, nibbling gently at the borrowed fatigue shirt. Purple giggles. Black rumbles and slowly starts to reform their suit. They keep the human head and nuzzle Purple’s head as they hug them back.

 “Why’d you go back?”

 “There’s no need to look so disappointed,” they laugh, “I just can’t talk to you when I’m like that. Don’t have the right muscles to speak your language.”

 “Oh.” Purple gives them a squeeze anyway. “I like your body. I think it’s cool.”

 Black lets out a rush of breath, warming the top of their head. “I’m…glad.”

 “You looked like an octopus!”

 “What’s an octopus?”

 As Purple begins to explain this creature that—wow, maybe they were wrong, that does sound familiar—they saw in a book once, Black lets their mouth and maw curl up into a smile.

 The ball lies forgotten on the floor of the bridge as Black lets one of their arms out for Purple to clutch under their chin. It becomes their favorite thing to hang onto when the Skeld gets cold.

#among us #fic #dragonbabbles

[re1d]

different lifetime | spencer reid

→ summary: “only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.” - george elio → warnings: maeve’s death, graphic descriptions of murder, mentions of depression and drug use, basically major angst but a fluff ending → word count: 4.4k (ouchie mama she’s a slow burn) → a/n: based on no.74 from the prompt list ; “let go.” “i can’t.” // cassandra stop making spencer cry in her stories challenge : FAILED // also this is my first time using time skips n i kinda dont like it :[[ i hope u guys enjoy it tho !!

Books are ripped from his shelves, and Spencer can’t see straight. Papers fly around him as he relishes in the feeling of the pages cutting into the skin of his fingers. Blood forms and begins to drip, but he can’t bring himself to clean it up. His mom would’ve chastized him in that moment for damaging the worlds with his reckless touch. However, his whole world had just been destroyed as well. Pictures of Maeve traipse through his brain at an agonizingly slow pace; they mock him and wait for him to snap. And, he feels as though it’s finally time to do so.

Spencer screeches into the silence of his apartment, undoubtedly waking up his neighbors and possibly even alerting the police. He tears through his hair with bloodcrusted hands and debates on wrenching it out from the roots. Sitting on the floor in a puddle of sorrow and anguish, Spencer sobs. It’s the first time in his life that he’s been so consumed with grief and guilt that he can’t even muster the strength to stand. He merely clutches The Narritive of John Smith to his chest and continues to fall apart.

As tears run down his cheeks, he denies everything that happened in the last few hours. Maeve is still going to meet him after work next Wednesday.You didn’t cover him with your FBI jacket after she was shot. The blood that poured from the gunshot wound in her head was fake. It was a joke—a painful, stupid, not-at-all funny joke. Tomorrow, he would enter the office, ride the elevator up, and make casual conversation with all of his work friends. Thoughts race through his mind, and he finds himself laughing. Laughing. A voice in the back of his head tells him that he’s in shock, that he’s not well. Another voice tells him that he’ll never be well.

He doesn’t know who to believe.

A rhythmic knock on his door sounds, and Spencer pretends not to hear it. He knows it’s you. Part of him is screaming to let you in, telling him to accept the comfort you’ve come to give him. But, he decides he isn’t ready. Not yet. So, you decide to wait. For Spencer, you’d wait until time itself no longer existed. 

Night approaches faster than you think. The sun is a paintbrush as it dips into the horizon and paints one of the most beautiful sunsets you’ve ever seen. It’s merely a passing thought, but you hope Spencer wills himself to see the pleasant combination of warm oranges and deep reds that are smoothed across the dusk sky. Glancing down at your watch, you read the tiny numbers with tired eyes—8:02PM—and, that’s when you realize you’ve been sitting for so long that your butt has gone numb. You register the pins and needles beginning to poke at your backside, but you make no move to stand or to leave. All you do is lean back, your head thumping gently against Spencer’s door while closing your eyes.

Spencer has no knowledge of the countless baskets of goodies from Garcia or the small notes that JJ has left behind after her short visits come to a close. He doesn’t even know that you’re still outside of his apartment. He knows nothing but the monotonous whir of his air conditioning and the smell of Thai food coming from his living room. Spencer tries to focus on anything but Maeve, but his mind is scattered, fragmented. He grows frustrated at the fact that his thoughts are moving too fast to collect. Blood. Bodies. Sweat. Tears. The feeling of your hands on his shoulders. Normally, Spencer is excellent at compartmentalizing trauma, but not this time. Not when his first true love had been so unfairly stolen from him.

Rage simmers inside of him as the clock strikes twelve. He clenches his fists, resisting the overwhelming urge to scream once more. Instead, he palms for the book nearest to him. With his original, hard cover, full-Russian version of War and Peace in his hand, he swings his arm as hard as he can at his door. Specks of dust fall from the frame at the impact, and a chip is now visible in both the book and the wood. Spencer hears a small yelp from the other side, and finally, something other than grief overtakes him. Confusion and anxiety course through him as he forces himself to stand, grabbing a kitchen knife before launching his door open.

You topple over, crushing his toes under the full weight of your upper body. Profanities are exchanged as your stare flicks nervously between his face and the butcher knife in his grasp.

“[Y/N]?! What are you still doing here?!” He means to sound angry, but the rasp in his voice does the emotion no justice. The weakness in his words is easily detected, and you find yourself studying his features from the ground. You’re profiling him, but you can’t help it. His shoulders are hunched, his five o’clock shadow has turned to six, and his eyes dart cautiously around your face. It’s as if he’s making sure you don’t see the torture his own mind is subjecting his body to.

“Well,” you begin, tone gentle, “I came to see you, but you didn’t open the door. So, I thought that I would wait you out, you know? Just to make sure that if you needed someone to talk to, that I would be there—ready to listen.” 

Spencer’s expression is blank, his eyes having stopped their search a long time ago. “How would you have stayed? You have work, [Y/N]. Work that we both know doesn’t stop for time to mourn.” There’s bitter vitriol in his words; he can’t bring himself to care about how they effect you for the time being. But, you don’t mind. It’s only natural. Finally pushing yourself up from the floor, you stare through him and have to fight the need to place a hand on his shoulder, to try to connect with him. The two of you are still separated by the threshold of his door, but it feels as though the Grand Canyon itself is in between.

“Spencer, I can’t even begin to fathom what you’re going through, but—.”

“No,” his retort is clipped, “you can’t. Goodbye, [Y/N].” The door is slammed once again, leaving you stunned to to silence. Sure, you had expected Spencer to be different, but nothing like that. Torrents of rain pound against the roof of his building as dread flows steadily through you at the thought of having to step into it. Nonetheless, you collect your things and head into the office hoping to distract yourself until you’re really supposed to be in for work. The time is 12:54AM, and as you attempt to hail a taxi in the storm, a chill travels down your spine. It’s hard to tell what caused it—the thought of leaving Spencer alone or the copious amounts of coffee you will inevitably be consuming later today.

────

Eight o’clock rolls around quicker than you hope. From the corner of your eye, you spot Penelope and JJ walking in together, their normally bright faces marred with concern. Eventually, the clicking of their heels comes to a halt in front of your desk. JJ takes a seat on top of the files you’re working, moving your recently emptied mug out of the way with a tight smile. Garcia’s crosses her arms with a hmph as she stares down at you. Neither of the women are hostile—it’s moreso agressive curiosity.

“So, [Y/N] ...” JJ’s voice trails off a bit, “You saw Spence?” The nature of the question is pure. Worry is evident in her words, but as you try to answer, nothing comes from your mouth.

Garcia cups your face in her hands, squeezing your cheeks to the point of discomfort. “[Y/N]. All we wanna know is that he’s okay?” She declares, “If you perhaps could comfirm if he has gotten my muffin basket, that would also be nice—but, Boy Wonder’s safety is always first!” The chipper mask she uses to hide the pain is crumbling away, and it’s easy to see.

“Honestly, guys ... He doesn’t look good. Spencer—he, uh, his apartment is a mess, like, books everywhere, three day old Thai food in the living room. I’m worried about him—and, Garcia, he hasn’t touched anything outside his door. It’s kinda like he’s trying to fight reality.” Your explanation is obviously hard for the two women to listen to. JJ’s face is turned down, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth. Penelope’s colorful appearance seems to dim as words continue to fall from your mouth. She gapes, evidently trying to come up with something to say, but her phone chimes.

“Jeez,” Penelope drags in a sharp intake of air, “this is a bad one. Hotch wants us in the conference room ASAP.”

Sitting around the round table, you take in the information about the case. Two people, a man and a woman, bore holes in the insides of their thighs, exsanguinated. But, there is no other chatter, no normal banter, no tossing around ideas. Only silence, and you feel as though you’re falling. Once you stand, your knees wobble and your hands shoot out to grab JJ’s shoulders. Her presence itself is an ocean of calm as she works to steady you.

“[Y/N] ... maybe you should stay with Garcia on this one? I’m sure she could use the company.” Although not forceful, JJ’s words are more of a command than anything, but you make the executive decision to dismiss them with a shake of your head. As you walk up the stairs leading to the jet, your stomach churns with the intensity of a thousand tigers. 

The absolute quietude on the plane is staggering, and until Garcia’s digitalized face appears on the screen, no one dares to say a word. She briefs everyone that another body has been discovered, and Hotch moves directly onto assignments. “[Y/N] and Morgan, go to the ME and see if the blood results have come back, yet. Blake and Dave, head to the newest crime scene. JJ and I will start working with the local PD.”

As you stare out at the clouds, you wish so desperately to be one of them. Oh, to be a big ball of water and ice crystals and not have a care in the world. The sun reflects off of the white, and when you turn away from the window, you can just barely see Morgan’s form sitting in the leather seat across from you. A pensive frown is present on his lips, his eyes tracing your body, looking for something to tip him off as to what you’re feeling.

Eventually, he finds that he can’t pick you apart. It seems as though each layer he tears through, another is waiting to conceal the truth. “Alright, kid,” he starts, a light air of humor in his voice, “I’ll bite. What’re you thinkin’ about so hard over here?” To be completely honest, you’re positive that he already knows the answer.

“Spence.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Morgan crosses his arms in front of his chest. It’s a tic; he does it when he’s upset. You watch him as he racks his brain for something to change the subject to, but the sigh he omits is a signal that he’s going to try to talk to you about him. Alarm bells shriek in your head, and the sound is deafening. You force yourself to resist the urge to cover your ears, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything.

“So, kid. Even though you’re pretty good at hiding it, you need to tell me what you’re really thinking, okay? I know you saw Reid, but that’s not what I wanna know about. Something else is buggin’ you—I can tell.” He’s beating you up with each word. A punch to the gut, a kick to the face, an elbow to the side—it’s relentless. He knows something is wrong, but you can’t tell him that you’ve been in love Spencer since the third month working at the BAU. It’ll ruin you—not your reputation or your future—it’ll ruin you. Your mind, your body, your heart. Even though you ache to tell just one person, your mouth won’t let you. But, your heart seems to win the fight.

“Derek, I—,” you pause, your voice giving out, “I’m in love with him. I’ve been in love with him. And now, I don’t know what to do.” Your colleague searches for words, but he can’t bring himself to say anything. He merely stares, his mouth a thin line. Discomfort settles in the space between the two of you, its thickness is probably felt by the rest of the team on the plane. You catch JJ’s glances at the both of you, but they go unacknowledged.

────

Spencer goes through the third stage of grief alone. Bargaining. The stage where he’s in grave need to talk to someone, he is only himself. His hands shake as he pours a cup of coffee, attempting to use the caffeine to stay awake. As the sun rises, a thought in the back of his mind sounds. It tells him that he’s been wearing the same clothes for the past four days. His sweat, blood, and tears have collected on the fabric, and even still, he doesn’t care.

The only thing he’s aware of is the fact that if he wouldn’t have tried to meet Maeve, she would still be alive. He curses Blake and his innate curiosity, and he curses the fact that his first words to her were, “I don’t love you. Sorry.” He curses the feeling of your jacket over his shoulders and the immense okayness that it brought to him, even while staring at Maeve’s body splayed in front of him.

Looking around at each book on the floor of his apartment, they somehow remind him of her. Some made him want to remember her happily, others made him want to vomit up his heart and cut it into a thousand pieces. If he had only said the right thing, maybe she would still be alive. Maybe they would’ve held each other tight and moved on. Maybe they would’ve gone out for three or four years, and then maybe she would’ve gotten pregnant. Maybe there would’ve been a miniature version of him with Maeve’s smile and his eyes. Maybe he would’ve been happy.

Spencer spits up bile into his kitchen sink. Happy? He’s not even sure he knows the meaning of the word anymore. Grabbing the handle of his coffee pot, he pours and pours until the scalding hot liquid burns through his mismatched socks. Wordlessly, tears brim in his eyes. Reaching down, he plucks off the soaked fabric and merely stands at the counter, staring down into the seemingly endless mug.

His phone chirps and effectively pulls him from his trance. Although there’s plenty of time to walk over and answer it, Spencer just reads Morgan’s caller ID and lets it ring. It goes to voicemail and immediately Morgan’s words fill the empty air.

“Hey, Reid, it's Derek. Listen, I got a work question for you. The unsub's exsanguinating victims and removing their eyelids antemortem. Does that mean anything to you? Hit me back.”

Ideas are weaving in and out of the genius’ head. Trudging over to his couch, he presses the call button and waits for Morgan to pick up. It takes less than two rings before the line clicks and he’s in the presence of someone else for a change. Spencer sits in silence, not speaking until spoken to. He feels like a kid, but truthfully, he doesn’t have enough energy to say more than he needs to.

“Hey kid, you’ve got me and [Y/N].”

“Hi, Spencer.”

The sound of your voice is a drive taken at the dead of night where all you can hear is nature. It’s a thousand waves of calm. Instead of giving you both an answer, Spencer revels in the small greeting. Maybe if things were different, he would’ve fallen in love with you first.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. He debates on slamming the phone back into the receiver, but decides against it. “Have the cornea or pupils been harmed in any way?” Morgan says no. “If he's taking care not to damage the eyes, then line of sight is probably what's important to him.”

“So this guy wants them to see what he’s doing.” Morgan pauses and the whole line goes quiet. Spencer yearns to hear your voice just once more before he hangs up. And, by the grace of a seemingly wrathful God, he does. But, it’s not exactly a question he’s prepared to answer.

“Hey, Spencer ...” You trail off. It appears as though you’re thinking through your next words, but you settle on a simple inquiry. “How are you?” 

“I gotta go,” Spencer replies.

The line goes dead.

────

The case ends up being solved with the help of your Boy Wonder. However, as you board the plane alongside him, it’s obvious that he doesn’t feel very wondrous. Plopping down into the seat across from him—similar to what Derek had done—you shoot him a tender grin. JJ’s shoulder rests above your head, and Morgan stands, taking up the whole aisle.

“So,” JJ begins, “I counted—what—five baskets?”

“Seven, but I think Ms. Cavanaugh next door may have taken a couple.” Her laughter mixes with yours in a melody that brightens the atmosphere in the jet. Morgan snickers in the background, but all Spencer is focused on is your smile. A pang of warmth spreads through him for the first time in a long time, even though a frown is turning his lips down. JJ and Morgan eventually migrate to their respective spots—JJ on the couch ans Morgan with his head against the wall and his earbuds plugged into his ears.

You pick up on the scowl on his features and pat the table to attract his attention. He meets your gentle gaze with hesitant eyes. “Why the long face, Doc?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but he can’t even force out a laugh. Spencer succumbs to the monster that guilt presents itself as, cupping his cheeks and pulling down on his face. He tries to rid himself of the grime, the dirt, he feels on his body, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever go away.

“I dunno,” he slurs through exhaustion, “I was just thinking about how I acted when you came over, and I-I guess ... I just wanted to apolog—.”

“Spencer.” The severity in your tone shakes him to the core. His eyes widen as his mouth comes to a close. “Don’t apologize to me. You’re grieving, it’s only natural that you’d be angry. It was forgotten after it happened, okay? I promise you—we’re good.” There’s something you want to add, and Spencer can practically feel the words itching to come out. “And, Spence? If you need anything—anything at all—please, just ask. Please.”

His mind wanders back to his messy apartment, and he ponders the thought of asking you to help him clean. His mouth moves on autopilot, speaking before he even knew what to say. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I could use some help with something.”

“Of course. Name it, Spencer.”

When the wheels hit the ground, you and Spencer sit and wait for everyone else to clear out of the jet. Morgan and JJ squeeze his shoulder on the way out, and Blake shoots him a motherly smile. The sorrow in her eyes is blatant, but it travels to the back of your mind as soon as she passes. Standing up, you gesture in front of you, allowing Spencer an exit before you head down the stairs. He offers you a ghost of a grin, and it makes your heart bound in your chest. You didn’t remember signing up to run a marathon after this case.

The short stroll to Spencer’s Volvo in spent in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It is full of shy glances and small smiles, and you can practically feel yourself falling for him all over again. Climbing into his car, you turn on the radio to a classical station. Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major plays at a low volume, causing you to close your eyes and lean back against the headrest. The old car hums to life, igniting a sense of nostalgia deep in your soul. The drive to his apartment passes by in what feels like seconds, and he takes the keys and moves to open your door.

Giggling, you step out of his antique. The gravel crunches against the bottoms of your boots as you walk next to him up to his door. “So, this is the elusive Dr. Spencer Reid’s humble abode?” There’s a lighthearted teasing in your voice, “It’s cute. I like it. What d’you need me to do?” He cocks an eyebrow, looking around at the books scattered across his floor and he wonders how someone could find beauty in this. And then, he realizes that he’s standing next to you—Penelope Garcia’s closest confidant—and another question replaces it. Was there anything you couldn’t find beauty in?

“Well .... we should probably start with the books, and then, we can move on to the Thai food.” A grimace appears on his face and you laugh at the way it scrunches, “And, after that, we can talk.” The statement is more of a question, but it still makes you unbelievably jittery. 

With a nod, you bend down to pick up story after story, every so often becoming enchanted by the bindings that surrounded the little worlds. Spencer crouches and pulls out a vinyl, placing it on the record player and lowering the needle. Once more, Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major fills the air, the static of the record scratching every once in a while. “I noticed that you liked it in the car,” he murmurs, “I’m more of a Waltz in A Minor type of guy, but Nocturne in E Flat Major Op. 9 No. 2 is always a good pick.”

“I just love Chopin, to be honest,” you say, picking up the copy of War and Peace sitting at the threshold of his door, “his pieces are all good, really. They’re all great creating pieces, you know? Like, I could just sit, listen to them, and make up stories in my head for days.”

You’re making up one right now. It’s a sunny day, as opposed to the inky blackness outside his apartment window, and you and Spencer are walking down an ambiguous dirt path. Woods surround you as well as sounds of nature, birds sing and branches snap under your feet. There is no air of danger, and all you can feel is the warm pressure of Spencer’s hand in yours. A cool breeze kisses your cheeks, forcing you to stop and take it in. Spencer comes to a halt, his gaze shifting to you. Smiling, you both move towards each other like plants to the sun. Captivation, charm, magnetism. It’s inevitable, like the meteor that destroyed the first inhabitants of earth so long ago. You move closer and closer to one another; it feels as though you’re floating, you’re gravitating towards him—.

“You know, if you’re that fascinated by East of Eden, you could borrow it,” Spencer’s weak teasing breaks you from your reverie, and you realize you’ve been staring at the front cover for over five minutes.

“Ah, uh, no thanks. Reading Of Mice and Men in high school was enough John Steinbeck for me. Personally, I think he drones on and on about things for too long,” you grin while shelving the book. He hums an acknowledgement and picks up a paper container full of week old pad thai, the smell forcing his head in the other direction.

Soon enough, there are only four, thick novels left, and you two are standing side by side at the bookshelf. You gawk at the number of collections and volumes that reside on the freshly dusted wooden panels, eyes wide. Spencer has one hard cover in his hands. It’s in pristine condition, the white of the jacket glaring at you with a vindictiveness that only the dead can muster. Maeve’s memory is held in between his palms, and it becomes hard to watch him struggle with the thought of having to put it away.

“Spencer ...” Your voice is feathery as it rides on the heavy air, “Let go.”

The words are broken as they fall from his mouth. Tears drip gently onto the glossy cover, and it seems as though The Narritive of John Smith is crying along with him. “I can’t.” A sharp pain pierces your entire being. Seeing him so vulnerable, so fractured, is agonizing. He cries over the story, repeating the tale of his whirlwind romance over and over again in his head. Reaching out, you urge his hands towards the only remaining space on the shelf. The book slips in effortlessly, and Spencer collapses to his knees in front of it. His hands are limp by his sides and his head hangs low between his rounded shoulders.

You lower yourself to meet his figure on the ground. He doesn’t move, his spirit completely dulled. As you ghost your hands over his back, he leans into your touch. After depriving himself of physical contact for so long, he wallows in the feeling of your fingers rubbing soft patterns into his skin. Spencer allows himself to sink into your embrace, inhaling the sweet combination of vanilla and jasmine.

For some time, Spencer cries into your chest. He apologizes through his sobs for the darkening spot on your work shirt, but you quiet him each time with a shake of your head. The atmosphere in his apartment lightens to the point of comfort as you do nothing but hold him. It’s poetic, really—something that you’d listen to a Chopin piece to.

“In a different lifetime,” Spencer’s hoarse whisper is barely audible over the quiet buzz of his air conditioning, “I would’ve fallen in love with you first.”

You contemplate his statement, mulling it over in your mind with a giddy optimism not quite suitable for the situation. He can tell you’re thinking over his words, but he doesn’t comment on the length of time you spend with them. A significant amount of time passes before you offer him a small nod that he feels when your chin collides with the top of his head. Smoothing a hand down his curls that are already slicked with grease, you open your mouth to speak.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you murmur, hugging him closer, “I’ll be waiting. Always.”

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[visual-explorxtion]

Vinylic Taste [Carlos Oliveira x Reader] - One Shot

Summary: You’re trapped and alone in the midst of an outbreak, struggling to survive. In the depths of your despair, Carlos came to the rescue. Through your ups and downs, Carlos soon became your best partner and vice versa. But...you soon realise Carlos isn’t who he appears to be.

A/N: Are you reading this at night time? Good...Wanted to write a Carlos fic but also wanna try and write something different from my usual stuff. But also got super distracted by other ideas and this fic got pushed waaaay further back and kinda took a different turn from my original plan and 11 pages in, I panicked. Still in first person POV.

TW: Graphic depiction of Violence, Blood, Gore, Angst, a bit of horror (idek), prob not as graphic as you think but it’s still graphic, uhh language and bit of a Mind Break.

Words: 6.0k

How did things turn out this way? Blood seeped its way across the vinyl floor, forming a pool around my feet as I sat helplessly with my body shivering in fear. Chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked wide open, my blurry gaze fixated onto a man but I could only make an outline of them. Him; on his knees, lays a lifeless corpse in between them, all drenched in venous blood as the deep red colour streams down every rigid and curves of his face. The air is thick combined with the stench of iron and gunpowder. He stares at his hands, covered in liquid but not his own. He laughs- echoes through my soul and pulsated the room- never have I ever heard of something so harrowing and sinister coming from a human. If he even had any sanity left in him. Neck twists abnormally towards my direction, head tilts eerily as if it's only supported by a thin piece of string. A soft gasp left my mouth, throat scorched with fear and lips quivering. My limbs lay still no matter how much I tell myself to run. My sense of self is being sucked into his dark, endless gaze. The light behind his eyes had vanished, all that's left is a soulless carcass I no longer recognise.

"Carlos...What happened to you?"

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

The thunderous rain came washing down my face, lowering my field of vision. The moisture trickles down from thick strands of hair and onto the rubble concrete in a light rhythmic pitter-patter. In the span of 24 hours, everything turned from just an average day in this town to be engulfed and corrupted by a fiery shitshow. Humans eating humans, without a hint of remorse. They have no emotions, no pain tolerance. Their sole purpose is to feed on anything that has a heartbeat. It creeps me out. Like somebody playing a joke too far to the point of no return. That's what I'd initially thought. In my struggle to keep myself alive in this godforsaken town, each bullet is scarce but every item you gather is expendable. As the gun recoils, a leftover shell would flicker out with each bullet piercing the head of the undead. A steady hand, steady trigger finger and steady breathing. One by one, I shot them down. The feeling of ambivalence surrounds my mind with every shot I take. This isn't right, they are...were...humans, flesh and blood.

The ringing in my ears grew louder with each squeezing action I take. The heat of adrenaline coursing through under my skin, my peripheral vision gradually disappears until I'm left with the image of head to head. Before I could react, my back was already on the ground. The backside of my head slams against the solid sidewalk with a loud crack, the noise echoed inside for a nanosecond. My self-defence mechanism kicks in- forearm struggle against the zombie's throat, it's jaw hinges wide open with blood oozing out as it frantically pushes it's deadweight onto me. Its skin texture is abnormal, like every part of them is set in stone. Why didn't rigor mortis happen? My fingers tremble, trying to grasp for the handle of my gun that's just out of reach. Muscles burn and ache as my defence is crumbling to its limit, teeth-gritting with every last strength that I have. I refuse to die like this. Not like them.

As my forearm grew tired- inching closer and closer to my face- I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to look Death in its soulless gaze and let it consume me slowly in the space of darkness. The next moment, I felt liquid splatter across my face but the pain never set in. My eyes flew open and watched as the corpse lay limping on my arm and the rest drop dead around my vicinity. I grunt as I discard the corpse aside, inspecting it one more time for any sign of movement. Face frozen in place as blood runs dry from the temple. The sight of this made my stomach churn.

"Hey, are you alright? Can you stand?"

A muscular figure towers over me, fully equipped in tactical gear. One hand armed with an assault rifle and the other extended out towards my direction. His hand is all worn out, even though the gloves I can see his fingers covered in blisters and scratches. They have seen better days.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

I choked out as I accept his assistance. His grip heaved my weight without breaking a sweat but may have overestimated his strength a little. His aid offset my balance and my body crash-landed in his embrace. Even with me standing on my own two feet, he's still almost a foot taller than I am. Our eyes met for a brief moment but I immediately jumped out of his arms as heat flushed up my cheeks and I regain my composure. He chuckles.

"My name is Carlos, I'm with the UBCS and we're here to get you out of here."

The organisation doesn't ring any bells in mind, nevertheless, receiving help from a rescue team is better than trudging through this damned hell alone. I would be lucky if I could even make it out alive. But, this strange rescue encounter sends comfort to my mind and slowly easing off my anxiety, or maybe it's because I'm no longer alone with Carlos's presence next to mine. Either way, I shouldn't let my guard down even with the help I'm getting.

The rest of his team is gathered in the subway station, we've arrived just in time for the last train to bound. Every one of them is tattered and covered in rags, exhausted and in pain. I can't imagine what kind of hell they've fought through, compared to myself, it's nothing but a just a minor scratch. Carlos caught up with his crew while I took a seat as all my energy is drained from my soul. The cool metal sensation seeped through my jeans and triggered goosebumps and hair along my arm, I couldn't care less about the shock as exhaustion washes over my limbs. I've been beaten down mentally and physically enough for me to not realise the train was already in motion. The view from out the window is nothing but a fast pace blur of darkness. All that just happened felt so unreal- the gush of blood, the viscous touch of muscle fibres, so red yet so cold. Getting pinned to the ground by this...thing. Its strength is vicious and animalistic with a face that doesn't resemble a human anymore. And at that moment my mind went blank. What if, at that very second, nobody came to save me? What if, I just gave up? What if, I let its teeth sink into my neck? What if...I just died there and then?

"How are you holding up?"

Carlos appeared before me, interrupting all the trepidatious thoughts. A slow realisation sets in as my hands tremble in my lap. Immediately, I curl my fingers into fists to cover up the jitter from him. "Still holding" I swallowed and smile politely, hoping the lump in my throat won't betray me right now. He returned the smile and positioned himself in the seat next to mine. "You were brave out there. Fighting by yourself...not many people have the balls to do that."

I let out a quiet snort. "No, you saved my ass. I wasn't brave. I was just lucky. If it wasn't for you I would've..." A pause, "I would've become one of them by now." Tears tingled behind my eyes as I blinked several times to keep them at bay. Carlos catches my hands tenderly, unravelling my fingers one by one, releasing all the tension I took a grasp of and crimson liquid came dribbling out the crescent-shaped wound. The fear in my head numbs all my pain; unaware of the shallow cuts, the maroon shade stained the dents of my fingertips. He took out some bandages from one of his pouches and carefully bind them to stop the bleeding. "There. That should do the trick." he grins as I admire his patchwork. "Thank you." I returned the kindness and we sat in comfortable silence. Upon closer inspection, Carlos does look kinda cute. The corner of his eyes crinkles and smile line deepens whenever he laughs, not to mention, his voluminous mane is the centre of attention. It kind of reminds me of an Old English Sheepdog and that image alone made me giggle.

"Carlos, we have a situation." we turn our attention to another team member, dressed in the same gear as Carlos- except his appearance was more well-kept, clean-shaven. Carlos turns, face sombre, knowing the news that comes next won't be any good. "What's the status?"

"Charlie's comms are down. The situation currently unknown."

"And Bravo team's position?"

"They're en route to Charlie, but they've already lost half their men"

He ponders for a moment. "Alright, change of plan. We'll meet up with Bravo and rescue Charlie. Once we get there, see if you can call for extraction out of this city."

His colleague nodded and went off to relay the message to the rest of the squad. Carlos turns back and kneels down, looking at me in the eyes, he softly spoke. "Hey. We're gonna have to take a detour, but I promise you, I'll keep you safe." He paused, reading my reaction. "Are you okay with that?"

My gaze wanders around his nervous expression, but I simply smiled. "Yeah, it's better than being alone out there right now. And besides, I don't doubt your abilities to keep me safe." His face went blank for a few seconds to unexpectedly bursts into laughter as though my answer caught him by surprise. "Okay. We'll be getting off next stop. In the meantime, stock up on some supplies cuz we don't know what's out there. Talk to one of the guys and they can get what you need." Carlos winked before leaving me to psych myself up for what's coming ahead. Knowing the chaos that's happening out there, it's going to be a dirty fight.

Our clattering footsteps relay around the walls of the subway as the lights flicker in a retrospective beat. The place is bare and quiet. Too quiet, even. Not even a single croak or heavy breathing could be perceived. It is deadly silent. Why is it empty? With the city running amok, you'd expect people to be escaping this hell hole; or worst-case scenario, laying dead in this underground. But, nothing. Not a single body insight. That's what worries me. I could say the same for the rest of Carlos's team. Which means, whatever is waiting for us out there is greater than what we could imagine.

My knees are getting weaker by the minute, shuffling closer to Carlos as I grasp my gun tight. Fingers nervously fiddling with the indents of the grip; sucking in a cool breath of air and pulling my shoulders back, we press on.

The layout of the underground is intricate and labyrinthine- reaching an intersection every few minutes, but we haven't let our guard down. Turning the last corner, we finally arrived at the main plaza; still remaining empty but the place was already thrashed. Carlos signalled for everyone to spread out and search the area, while I linger next to him. My heartbeat is racing quick as ever since I stepped off the train with the rapid pulse stuck in the back of my throat. He gently touches my arm, worry flash before his eyes but I shook my head. 'I'm fine' I mouthed. He looked at me for a few seconds, unconvinced, but decided not to force it any further. This place is eerily bleak, what was once lively is now filled with desolation. Somehow there's a slight dread and sadness inside me. The noise of metal clanking took my attention away from my surroundings.

"Damn it. The exits blocked." He gave it another shot but the gate shows no sign of budging. A short, heavy breath escapes his nose. I examined his troubled look and spoke out, "I'll go look for a way to open the gate."

He was stunned. "No. I can't let you do this. It too dangerous-"

"Please, I insist. You've helped me enough so let me do this. Even if I am in trouble, you'll come to save me, right?"

Carlos's expression is tense; I can almost see his thoughts rotating, like clockwork, inside his mind. Considering and reconsidering my offer. At last, my words overthrows him. "Okay, but take this." He hands me a palm-size radio, all tattered and taped. "Anything you see, you radio in. And I mean that. If you see one of those things, do not hesitate to shoot. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I respond, sloppily saluting as I backed away to complete my new objective, continue to traverse down to the backside of the plaza. By the repetition of office doors, this justifies that I'm going in the right direction, but which one? The fluorescent lights blinked abruptly before returning to normal. Seems like the building is getting more unstable, with time quickly ticking away, I should hurry. And by some miraculous luck, I stumbled upon a door that catches my attention. 'Employees Only', this must be it. The door isn't locked but it took a great amount of energy to push a gap open, just enough for me to squeeze through.

Stacks of documents and brick computers blockade the door and next to it; a dead corpse that was once the employee of this place. He must have been dead for 2 hours- top, by the looks of it. The blood forms into a pool around the body and adheres to the sole of my boots. He took the quick way out. A blow to the head with his own pistol, laying dormant in his hand, now motionless in white. Crimson red liquid and shards depicted the blank wall, chunks frozen in place.

"I'm so sorry..."

Choking back my grief, I resume my search and in front of me is my mission objective. Monochromatic screens all tracking specific places of the building. Right on the bigger screen, displays Carlos and his men searching the perimeter. I radio in, "Carlos, come in. I'm in the control room. Hang on, I'll get the gate open."

"Good job. Hurry back and we'll get out-"

The building fades into darkness, heightening my sense of fear in this unfamiliarity. I draw out my gun and tightening my hold like it's my lifeline. My chest stiffens with each shallow breath I took, the effect of the blackout is developing claustrophobia within me. I heaved and the lack of oxygen in my brain cause me to hallucinate all my nightmares, but the image of Carlos flashed vividly in my mind. I took a deep breath and count to three. One...Two...Three... The emergency lights came on before my eyes and my anxiety reverts back to a sense of tranquillity. Talk about timing.

"Carlos? Carlos! Are you okay?" Please tell me he's okay.

No reply.

"Carlos? Are you there? I can't see you." I bit my lip, searching relentlessly on the screen for a trace of him. Just any sign at all.

"Yeah, we're okay. We've taken cover but it's pitch black out here, but...we could only see so much with our flashlight. See if you can get the power back on from your end"

Frantically, I pressed every button presented on the switchboard, nothing seems to be doing the trick. "Negative. I don't think I can do anything from here." All of a sudden, the floor began to rumble. And gradually it became stronger that shook the whole room, files and objects tumble to the ground until it subsides back down again, just like a tank passing by. "What was that?" I said in dismay.

"I don't know..." Coming from the other side of the line, a low growl and heavy footsteps. "But, whatever the fuck that is...It's definitely in here with us now."

In search of the monitor, I glue my eyes to the blurry image shown; even if everything doesn't seem out of the ordinary, my gut feeling is telling me otherwise. Still as a statue, they listened in closely to every motion IT makes. The sound is too quiet to be perceived. Out of the corner of the screen, something whoosh by. Its movements are too fast for me to catch but it's inching closer and closer to the lifeforms. With one swift swipe, it took a man down, and then the next. The claw marks on the wall...it stretches 10 feet wide from point to point, even looking through the screen, the blood is so vividly deep in hue. It crawls in close, but the team is still desperately searching.

It strikes! "Get down!" My voice is shaking down to its core.

They duck, but some did not make it. Their limbs severed; corpse dangling in half on the claw of the monstrous being, still clinging and screaming for their lives and then cease all at once. I shrieked out in horror. The size of that thing knocked the air out of my lungs. This being couldn't possibly be a human?! The zombie creation stood ten times its original size. The exposed skeleton is partially bound by its flesh- all swelled up and tainted, its tail bone morphed to a whip carrying a single-edge blade. Claws digging into the shallow pool of blood as the liquid cascade down the cracks of the marble flooring. The remaining squad open fire, bullets fly and ricochet off the wall. In the brief moment of spark, they lost sight of the target again.

"Shit, where is it?" I can hear the frustration in Carlos's tone.

Their flashlight drifts around the room as the tension sets in. You fear what you can't see, even more so if all you could see is darkness. The beast growls and encircles them, but the squad can't pinpoint where the sound is coming from. Intensity fills your gut as you watch the monitor closely, decoding its every move. After a beat, it leaps.

"Carlos, your 4 o'clock!"

He whips around at the speed of sound as he squeezes the trigger. The blast took impact greater than his expectation, every shot penetrated into its fleshy fibres while it screeched with a chalkboard sound. It struggles to keep a hold of itself up on the pillars as it collapses and tumbles to the ground. Without missing a beat, the team executes the behemoth until it turns into a bloody pulp, killing it with brute force. They inspected the pulverized mess further before they could ease off their defences. As if by command, the power's back on. My stomach turns into a knot. This is strange, but I pay no mind to it.

"Carlos, you alright?" I asked.

"Yeah...that was too close. That thing was too quick... We could've been killed here if it wasn't for you. You were our eyes when we couldn't see so...thank you." I could almost hear him blush at the other end of the line.

"Don't sweat it. Alright, I'm gonna get the gate open." I pulled the lever and watch the gate rise and retracted back through the screen.

"Got it. Now get your ass back he-" THUMP! Something's outside the door, trying to crank it open.

THUMP!

"Carlos? Carlos, someone's trying to get in here." my voice shivers.

"What? What do you mean someo-"

BANG! The door flew open. As an instinct, I drew my gun and aimed it towards them. A team of four heavily armed soldiers dressed in black armoury kicked in, almost like a SWAT team, weapons aimed ready. Without a second thought, I opened two shots on their thighs and calves to buy myself some time. They did not flinch, nor did it cause any pain to them. The unit moved in closer and closer towards my position by the time I made the first punch. My right hook collided with one of the soldier's throat and swiftly transitioned my elbow to another one in between the ribs. But all of that did not matter, my attacks took little effect as they soon surround me, putting me in a lock hold position, hands bound behind my back and dragging me away from the room. I can feel my heartbeat pulsating in my throat while I struggle to break free. Who the fuck are these people? What do they want with me? I don't want this. I'm scared.

"CARLOS!"

His name was the last thing that left my lips before the hooded squad inject my system with some form of liquid. My eyelids grew heavy, I fought back to keep myself awake but alas, the shroud of darkness consumes my mind, taking my soul to a distant world. The next time I wake up, the doors to the pandora's box had already open and it's already too late for me to stop it.

The snickering and one-sided conversation waver into my ear. I can't shift my body, still situated in darkness along with the effect of the drug. The icy metal clasp my limbs tight cemented on either side of my body and unable to produce any strength. The noises stopped and I froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Ah...you're awake. Good, good." The man sneered and carry on muttering in an absence. "You know, I was surprised by your...actions. You all exceeded my expectations. With this data you provided, we could improve on the flaws with our last experiment." He chuckled. "For now, my child, sleep. When you wake up, you'll be born anew again." His words became a slur in my brain, lowering into a hushed tone. Phrases repeat and distorting, just like an echo in an ice cave, cold and enchanting before my conscious slips away once more.

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

"WHAT HAPPENED? HEY, COME IN. HEY!" The statics over on the other line holds its place. "FUCK!" Carlos's voice howls, the thunderous boom stunned the remaining of his teammates. His fists clenched in a fit of rage as he smashes the radio onto the bloodied floor. The radio explodes with shards flying across the hall, some splinters still clinging onto his hand.

"Carlos...umph..." Tyrell struggles, limping its way towards him as he compresses his wound. "The mutated monster...the lights and the locked gate...I don't think it's that simple." he sighs, pushing his glasses back up with his forefinger. "There's only one company that would create such a big experiment. Carlos, listen...you need to stop them."

Carlos shifts to look at him. "T, we still have to meet up with Bravo and we've already lost half of our men. There's no prediction of what's roaming out there."

Tyrell shakes his head, a stern look in his eyes. "No...You've seen what they are capable of, there's no saying what Umbrella might do to next. Go rescue them, I'll handle the rest." He waves him away, still clenched in pain but casually shrugs it off. Carlos conflicted for a short period but ultimately chose to listen to Tyrell. Tyrell gave him a quick pat on his shoulder before Carlos turns away.

[Umbrella's research facility]

The eerie sound of silence fills the whole facility. A silence that stayed constant in your ears, just like the tv sign-off tone. The uneasy feeling never left Carlos's mind as soon as he traverses through the isolated building, gun in position. Walls dressed in white, the distinctive chill in the air and corridors that lead to nowhere. Carlos grew impatient by the minute.

There, at the end of the hallway, lays a door just barely visible for the naked eye. 'Security Room, EMPLOYEES ONLY'. He breaches in; a vast space all clustered with fallen chairs and paperwork, the multiple screens project different rooms within the facility, some looked like its the cafeteria and another resembles a cool storage room with weird pieces of machinery scattered around the place. Yet they are all empty, except one. At the top left-hand corner of the display box, it presents various aqua chambers containing partially mutated humans and failed experiments. And in the centre of that screen, he saw his companion positioned upright on a surgical bed, unconscious and all tied up. But getting there might be difficult without putting up a fight as four heavily armed mercs all gathered outside of the laboratory. Carlos unclips his assault rifle and peeks, the ammunition is barely enough to fight four soldiers; hell, not even four zombies. At this point, every shot counts.

The build-up of sweat in his palm loosened his grip. He examines his hand; trembling and numb with uncertainty, what lies between him and his enemies is just one simple electronic door. Beyond that, someone important is there waiting for him, alive and afraid. Or perhaps they...no. That couldn't possibly be the case. He clutches the handle once more, on the count of three breaths, he bursts in. It only took a split second for bullets to fly across the room, landing hits in the enemies' calves and forearms. Carlos moves in closer before they could react, instantly killing a soldier with one shot under the jaw as blood and plasma spew out onto the ceiling. They return fire, only to hit their ex-partner's lifeless corpse. Carlos thrusts the body towards the two henchmen and staggers them to the ground, he flips; locking the remaining guy pressed up the wall with his entire body, they struggle but was immediately executed with a blow to the head. Blood splattered on Carlos's right shoulder but that didn't faze him. The sound of his assault rifle clicks empty as he saw the two crawling back up. "Tch." His tongue snapped as the gun launched across the room at a high velocity, knocking one in the face and stumbling backwards. Like a chain of effect, they’ve sprawled out on the floor once again. Stepping his right foot on their torso, his gaze shows pity as he ponders over them before pulling out his pistol from the holster.

"Hope you got friends on the other side."

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! The aftermath of those four shots lingers in the room. A mixture of gunpowder and blood made Carlos's stomach twist up in a knot, but he got more important things to worry about. The life of his partner was the only thing that occupied his mind. The final door slides open; revealing a skinny, middle-aged looking man in a fresh set of lab coat, stood in front of a worktable and unaware of his presence. Inside, those hydro chambers stood twice his height with flesh substance floating inside the liquid. Some are just a blob of meat and others have fully transformed into somewhat human-shaped, but all are deformed. Upon closer inspection, one mutated monster's eye pop open. Carlos flinched. He examined around and was shocked to find that they are alive, all of them. What kind of sick joke is this? Is this what I've been fighting? He wondered.

"Admiring my creations, I see. Do you like it?" The man asked.

"Is this what's been running the city into a shitshow? What the fuck is this pharmaceutical company hiding?" He looks around. "Where are they?"

"Ah, yes! My precious little plaything. You're just in time to witness the beginning of my newest creation." The man chuckles, he pressed a button and the sound of machinery begins to whir. The glass cell shifts closer into the room, unveiling you in a comatose state, pretty as a picture. "They are sedated, for now. But soon, they will become humanity’s greatest invention and you will be the first one to witness it. Isn't that something?"

The blood inside him boils; the rage within could not be contained, white-hot magma erupting and coating every strain in his system. He pulled the trigger; the shots punctured through both of the man's legs as he knelt on the floor, screaming in agony. Carlos rushed to your side, unclasping any restrictions and carefully let you lean against the wall.

"Heh...what will you achieve by saving them...? The city's gone rogue...everybody's dead...and yet you couldn't save half your men. So...why bother saving them...the end is nigh!" His manic amusement shakes the whole room to the ground. But, the laughter was cut short and soon, it has been replaced by the clinking of a bullet shell against the hard deck and empty clickings. Gun drops as he struts towards the pathetic slob, straggling in the crimson liquid that's supposed to keep him alive. Well, not anymore. Carlos straddles on top of his weakened body, gaze bore into his soul. He wondered. How could someone like him still be alive? As the world burns and he gets to live? The ability to heal given to this monster and yet, he chose destruction. He must be purged.

The sound of his leather gloves creek as it made the first impact. The feeling of bone to bone seems odd to Carlos but...it excites him. With each hit, the pain pushes him even further, numbing and bruising. It felt right. He pants, the blood spews and paints him in a new shade of violence. The man weakly chuckles.

"The man who fights monsters have become a monster himself. Isn't that irony...?" He coughs, blood spilling out on the edge of his lips.

"Killing humans...how does that feel? Still want to play the hero and save them? With the world on fire and all those lives in your hands...you will only taint them. Lemme tell you a story...do you know what kind of flower blooms the brightest even in the harshest weathers?" Carlos looks at him quizzically.

"Snowdrops. They are the first ones to bloom long before spring comes around...the pure and innocent. At the beginning of time, Snow searched for a colour to borrow... The element admired flowers and their vibrant colours. One day, Snow asked and pleaded for one of the colours from the flowers, but the blossoms denied Snow's request; they felt Snow was too cold and undesirable. The snowdrop, however, felt sorry for Snow and offered it its own colour. It accepted the gift and the element itself became as white as an angel's feathers... To show its gratitude, Snow allowed snowdrops to bloom at the end of each winter with their own protection against the blizzard weather. From then on, Snow and snowdrops exist side-by-side as friends."

He heaves. "Like I said...irony... Their friendship is only a fabrication out of pity. Just like you!" The deathly cackle roams as he chokes on his own spit and blood.

Ears buzzed with white silence, his visions hazed with a red lens filter and heart palpate at an abnormal speed. Carlos felt every ridge of the handle on his knife and takes out his weapon, unhurried. The shiny metal pressed upon the wilting man's oesophagus- with only a little strength, it opened up. Blood spatter across Carlo's face, unflinching. His eyes darkened, tunnel vision focused on the crevice of the wound; there's friction on the thin layer of skin as the sharp edge glides slowly from one end of the neck to another. Carlos finishing him off with a fling of his blade, scattering red all over the wall. Both of his hands grip the handle tight; rising it high above his head, he paused for a moment to look at him one last time, then strikes down into the man's right chest in the speed of light. Pulverising his cardiac organ. He retrieves the knife and repeats over and over again with the red fluid gushes out with each stab until there is nothing left. A monster bathed in his enemy's blood. The man croaks in agony and over a few seconds, it stops. And so does Carlos.

The white noise has been replaced by his own rapid breathing. Thoughts are empty, his gaze quivers yet, he does not fear anything. He felt it...warmth. How did he not notice it? Is this how warm humans feel? He never realised this, this kind of feeling, it's something so different from killing a zombie. He looks down at his own two hands...so red. A smile crept along his face with the feeling of content. In a spark, he burst into a peal of harrowing laughter, vibrating the whole room.

"Carlos...What happened to you?"

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

In my moments of wake, I find myself bestowing my gaze upon a beast gazing back at me with a musing look in his eyes. They're so dark and dire, almost like someone gouged out a part of him and replaced it with something so sinister. He snaps, now truly looking at me through the eyes of the actual Carlos, as if nothing happened.

"You're awake! Good, I was starting to get worried about you. We should probably leave and catch up with Tyrell. They should've called for the extraction by now." Placing his tarnished knife back into the holster, he made his way towards me. My fear of him vanished, he's just like the Carlos I met a few hours ago. Warm and caring. "Let's go." He said, both his arms shifts under my back and behind my knees, picking my weight up with ease. "Get some rest...I wake you up when went get to the rendezvous point." His voice is hushed and the sound of his heartbeat soothes out all my stress. By the time we left the room, I was already drifting between dreamworld and reality.

The sound of his footstep was kept at a constant pace, his movement rocked me side to side, gently without missing a beat. But the further he tread, the temperature in the air got colder and yet I could not feel the wind brushing against me.

"Stay here. I'm gonna fix something real quick." Carlos's body heat left my side and was replaced by the icy touch of a piece of furniture. The mechanical hum occupied my eardrums and everything sound muffled once again. Eyes weakly opened and the sight wasn't what I was expecting. What greets me was four walls made of glass entrapping my body as he stood and watched.

"Carlos...what are you doing? Let me out. Come on...this isn't funny, Carlos. Let me out of here!" I begged.

He shook his head, resting a hand on the glass in front of me, looking at me longingly. "I can't." His words were breathless.

"Why?"

"I made you a promise. And this is the only way for me to protect you...You would be safer here, nothing can hurt you." His thumb grazes something small in his palm. I looked up and saw a room that was surrounded by pieces of machinery and nitrogen tanks, placed accordingly in rows of four. Then, it hit me.

"Don't do this..." I cried. But, it was too late. His thumb clicked on the small device in his hand and soon, a strain of gas misted out from the tubings and masking the entirety of the glass cell, leaving me dazed and numbed as I crawl back to the shivering nothingness.

"I'm sorry...I promise I'll come back for you." His empty words circulated in my ears and through the air as he walked away, leaving me in the darkest den of Umbrella. Cold, afraid and alone; frozen in time without anybody knowing.

And there I was, still as a landscape; living on top on a snowy mountain at the beginning of Spring, as pale as Death herself. Bidding my farewell to him until next Winter comes; when a blanket of snow tops the upside of the greeneries and then, we shall meet again.

#i'm gonna take a break before writing again cuz you know...self care #i do like writing something different #maybe i should do that stage play...hm... #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira x reader #re fanfiction #re fanfic #resident evil #resident evil 3 remake #re3 remake #⭐️.doc

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Now that the initial shock has worn off--mostly--I feel like I can ramble about the Supergirl comic news in a more coherent fashion.

Under a cut because there’s a good chance it’ll be long. XD 

So yeah! Tom King, writing Supergirl. Wild!

As I mentioned in my previous post, I’ve been jokingly entertaining the notion that King’s teased ‘Super’ project would actually be a Supergirl thing, but I always assumed that if it was, in fact, a Supergirl thing, it would be in the vein of Mister Miracle or Strange Adventures--a prestige, out-of-continuity take, possibly featuring an older Kara, from pre-crisis continuity. Maybe interrogating the whole, ‘her most famous story features her death’ thing. 

I never expected mainline, in-continuity, teenage Kara from him. 

As I said, wild!

Wild, because King is like. A HUGE name in comics, and his wheelhouse is primarily Sad Dads. He’s also known for making really controversial, polarizing decisions WRT characterization of fan-favorite characters. (See: Wally in HiC, Batman in Batman, etc.) 

So, like. I get that immediate ‘What?! Oh no!’

...But also...

He’s written Superman: Up in the Sky, which, barring one particular issue, is an extremely good Superman story.

(The whole premise of Up in the Sky is that Superman leaves earth to rescue an orphan girl who’s been kidnapped by aliens. The issue that’s a bit ‘yikes’ features Clark trying to reach Lois from deep space, and he can’t, so he’s imagining that something terrible has happened to her. That, I feel, is a perfectly fine, in-character reaction, and an idea worth exploring. HOWEVER, in execution, it ends up being Lois dying in several different, awful ways on-panel, which...yeah. Kinda Yikes! I can’t remember if it was terribly graphic but, still. I don’t think it needed to be seen, you know?)

So aside from that misstep? A really good Superman story.

(On the topic of King and Lois, I frequently cite his story in Action Comics 1000 as an example of a writer just being like, ‘screw it, Lois is alive 4 billion years in the future, and still with Clark.’ So I give him props for that.) 

Back to Up in the Sky--King’s referenced that in describing Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, so. That’s mostly a positive!

The ‘Tom King’ thing also starts to make more sense once you look at like, the money/sales side of things. I’ve already seen a bunch of tweets from people who are like, ‘I’ve never read a Supergirl comic before but I’m gonna get this because you’re writing it!’

Yeah. I see you, DC. I see you. XD

We’ll probably never know the behind the scenes stuff, but I gotta wonder if this wasn’t so much DC choosing King as King wanting to do this, and DC letting him.

Another valid criticism/concern I’ve seen mentioned: Another dude writing Supergirl!

Which...yeah! Kinda crummy! Would be nice to see a woman write Supergirl for more than, you know. Three issues.

(Side note, though: personally I do not ascribe to the ‘only men can write men, women write women’ thing. That’s kind of a separate topic, but I mention it here because I don’t automatically assume that a book will be better/worse based on the gender of the person writing/drawing/etc.)

(For instance! Bennett just churned out one of the worst Supergirl comics I’ve ever read so...it’s equality! Anyone can write an awful Supergirl story!)

Speaking of Bennett...

The solicit text...kinda sounds like Future State 2.0, which...

Is not promising.

It’s really weird, IMO, that DC is like...letting such similar premises happen back-to-back? 

A lot of DC books are incorporating stuff from Future State but this isn’t so much, ‘teasing out plot threads’ as like. Just doing it over again. XD

I mean. Worst thing that can happen is we get another ‘dead in the backyard with the dog.’

(I’m intensely curious about the DC editorial situation, like. Which pitch came first? Was the Future State Superwoman book always going to happen, what with FS being built from the ruins of 5G or whatever? Did King come up with his stuff at the same time FS was being developed? The world may never know...)

Given that this is King’s next big thing...kinda hoping we get some press coverage and interviews. I wanna get a better sense of like...where he’s coming from. 

Also, it means absolutely nothing re: the book, but I appreciate that King used a gif from the show to respond to some well-wishes on twitter. Specifically, the ‘thumbs up’ gif from one of the season blooper reels. Good choice, sir. 

Okay, enough about King. Let’s talk about the ONE SUREFIRE THING ON THIS BOOK.

BILQUIS. EVELY.

Wait, I take that back. TWO SUREFIRE THINGS:

BILQUIS EVELY, AND MAT LOPES!!!!!

Gosh this book is gonna be so pretty.

Like, just look at this:

Now I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking: that looks stunning. BUT WAIT!

BOOM. LOOKIT THOSE COLORRRSSSSS! 

Guh, it looks so GOOOOOOD. And it’s just the cover.

(I'm ignoring the sword because I need more info before jumping to conclusions, but as some sharp-eyed folks have noticed, that *might* be a red sun which*might* mean a de-powered Kara, in which case the sword could be used in self-defense. Also, give me a Super wielding a sword over a gun any dang day.)

Evely drew an AMAZING Silver Age Kara back in Sugar & Spike and had a pretty stellar run on Wonder Woman.

Fun fact I just learned from a few interviews she shared recently! Supergirl is the character that got her into superhero comics, and when Giffen was writing Sugar & Spike, he asked if there were any characters she wanted to draw specifically. She said Supergirl, so Giffen made sure she showed up in one of the issues. :D

Also from those interviews: She’s excited about the book, and enjoys working with King. It was harder to figure out the art talk in said interviews (I was using Google translate) but I think...she was saying that there’s some specific influences that folks will pick up on when the book comes out? 

Also, when asked to tease anything about the book she just said Mat Lopes colors and stars.

WOOOOO, pretty space backgrounds, yay!

It cannot be overstated, how pretty this book is going to be. 

Evely’s a little similar to Sauvage in that they both have like...an almost fairytale quality? To some of their work?

(Evely just did a Batman: Black and White story that was quite literally a fairytale.)

But Evely, I think, has a little more range, particularly in the area of expression/acting.  

And Lopes knows how to make her work shine. 

Who knows about the writing though. XD On the one hand, the bar for bad Supergirl comics is so incredibly low, but also.

...Future State.

*shudders*

TL;DR: I refuse to let myself get excited for the story side of this because you could make an IHOP-size omelet, with all the egg on my face from my Future State hopes, but if nothing else: EVELY. DRAWING. SUPER. GIRL. *wild muppet flailing* 

#DC comics #DC comics news #SG post #stranger rambles #long post #ish #Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow

[medeafive]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Nick Fury, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Sharon Carter (Marvel) Additional Tags: Vampires, I only write AUs now don't ask, Vampire Hunters, Going for dark and gritty here, Set in Prague because I love it, Suicide mentions, Late 90s Summary:

She's good. Really good. She's done this longer than almost anyone else and no one tracks vampires down better than her. That's the only thing that matters. Hunt and kill. He has white eyes and a black cloak. He's either an impostor or, judging by the color of his eyes, the most dangerous vampire she's ever met. And he's not going to leave her alone.

He's in and out. She got him to the place, his place, not much different than one of her apartments, but he hasn't opened his eyes since. She pulled all the curtains already, before the sun even comes up, and now she's sitting at the bedside, staring at the gray skin of his face dissolving.

No, she has to. She takes the knife and cuts her finger, holding it over his mouth. He twitches when the first drop of blood hits his lips. The second drop and his tongue darts out, licking it up. She presses out more. "James? You hear me?"

He groans, licking up more. "Blood."

She lowers her finger so he can lick it, then puts it into his mouth. His tongue darts over the cut again and again. "I can give you more," she whispers. "Just say it."

He nods weakly, sucking on her finger. She breathes in and takes the blade to her palm. Stings. He laps it up eagerly. His skin still looks awful, red blisters, open wounds, gray colour.

He's careful not to suck too much but she can tell he's hungry. They sit there until the sun goes up, until the cut in her palm starts closing. His head drops back, eyes closed. She should tell the others where she is, before they get worried. She texts Clint that she's fine but she won't be back soon.

He really looks bad. She's worried. She grabs a water bottle, finds she's thirsty herself and drinks before nudging his head up to do the same. Spills a lot but they work it out. "Better?" she asks quietly. "Do you want more blood?"

He groans, head dropping back, swallowing. "Don't wanna- don't wanna hurt you."

"I'm fine," she assures him. "I've got enough blood."

His nostrils flare. She takes the knife again, cutting her other palm. He laps it up greedily, tongue sliding over the wound again and again. His skin is not getting any better. Damn, she should stop worrying. When he's done, she gives him more water. He closes his eyes, head resting on the pillow, slurring his words. "I'll sleep. Don't- don't worry."

He's out so quick. She goes to the bathroom, drinks more water. No food in the apartment. She drops the blinds on the window where the sun is indirectly streaming in. She's hungry but also sick with worry. He's totally asleep, not even breathing. The skin comes off in big chunks. She dials.

"Hey?" Bruce asks. "Natasha?"

She sighs, walking over to the kitchen and closing the door behind her. "Hey. It's me."

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah." She rubs her eyes. "Me, yeah. But he- he got hit with a UV light and his skin is literally falling off and I don't know what to do."

"Is he dying?" Bruce asks.

She groans. "I don't know. Do you- do you have any idea what I could do? To help him?"

"I don't know anything about vampire medicine," Bruce replies hesitantly. "Do you have- could you do a blood transfusion? With vampire blood?"

She has some left, but that's hidden in her room in the tower. "No. I gave him some of my blood. And water."

"Be really fucking careful with that," Bruce advises. "Your health comes first. Are you at his place?"

"Yes," she replies, not thinking about the implications of whether it's really his place.

"Check whether he has any specific chemicals around," Bruce orders. "He'd probably know. Formaldehyde has been a theory of mine."

She digs around. There are some syringes in the fridge. Checks the label. "Yeah. Formaldehyde solution."

"You could try injecting him that," Bruce suggests. "Maybe ask him first. Is he awake?"

"Not really," she mutters, closing the fridge. "Okay, I'll try. Thank you, really."

"No problem, Natasha," Bruce replies.

She hangs up and walks over into the bedroom. His eyes open. "Oh. Found it."

She sits down on the bedside again, careful with the syringe. "Does this help?"

"Yeah," he rasps. "But I'll be fine anyway."

She snorts, staring at the skin peeling off. "You don't look fine."

"If you could-" He closes his eyes. "That would be great. Neck."

He turns his neck carefully, where the skin looks less bad. She breathes in, leaning over him. Puts her hand on first, to warm him up. He hisses slightly when the needle punctures his skin.

She caresses his hair. Her stomach's still churning. He closes his eyes. "Mhm. I'll sleep again. Don't worry, really."

He's fast asleep almost immediately. She pulls all the blinds, flooding the room in darkness, and returns to the kitchen, putting the empty syringe back. She's really hungry but she can't go out like this. Fighting suit. Vampire blood on it. She locks herself in the bathroom, dousing the suit down, then climbs under the shower herself. Tired. She's tired. Low battery. Stays under the shower really long.

She slips into the dark bedroom, trying to find a stash of clothes of some kind. Doesn't have night vision, though. She bumps into something that drops to the ground noisefully. Fuck. The bedsheets rustle. "Mhm. Hey."

"Hey," she replies. "I'm looking for clothes."

"Left," he says. "Lower. Yeah, in there."

She pulls out something that feels like a shirt and something that feels like tactical pants. "Got it. I'll head out to get something to eat. Are you going to be okay here?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Thanks. Don't worry."

"You keep saying that, it's not really reassuring," she remarks, making her way through the darkness back to the door. "Should I get you anything? Not food but… anything?"

"No, don't think so," he states. "Maybe water, but not really."

"You still got almost a dozen bottles," she agrees. "Okay. Sleep, I'll be back soon."

The shirt is too big, which was not really a problem but looked kinda weird, and she rolled the pant legs up and tied them around the waist with her garotte. The woman in the bakery looked very suspicious of her but when she ordered with a nice fangless smile, it was okay. Kids these days. She wonders whether she looks young still.

She eats two rohlíky before she's even back, and it feels great. The bedroom is still dark. She opens the door, indirect light streaming in. He's asleep. She grabs another rohlík and sits down on the bedside. His eyelids flutter. "Mhm. Oh. You're really back."

"Where else would I be?" she asks, chewing. The skin is still coming off in gray flaps the size of her thumb, which is not very appetizing, but she's hungry. "You don't look better."

"It's better," he insists, pulling one of the skin flaps off, the new skin beneath still rosy and thin but intact. "Just have to shed the dead skin first."

"Urgh." She shudders. "I could swear I was hungry just a few seconds ago."

"Sorry." He sits up slightly. "I should let you eat. Uh, one thing though."

"I'll go over into the kitchen," she says. "Yeah?"

"When you came over, before you went out," he starts. "Did you not think I would wake up or did you just not care that I can see in the dark?"

She shrugs. "Didn't care."

"Okay." He leans back again. "Feel free to go eat. I'll… I'll deal with this."

"Thanks for reminding me," she chastises, getting to her feet. "Just what I wanted to hear before my meal."

She eats two koláčes, too, and drinks an entire bottle of juice. The cuts in her palms have formed scabs. She hears him go to the bathroom at one point but doesn't pay attention to that. The sun goes down again. He's back in bed when she returns, most of the gray gone from his skin, though it's still open at some points, crusting with dark blood. "You're really tired, aren't you."

"Yeah." He shakes his head. "You know, you really don't have to stay. I'll be fine."

"Come on," she replies, pulling the blinds up. "Like I'd be super busy otherwise."

"I should probably sleep some more," he states.

"Yeah." She walks back to the bed, sitting down. "You look better, though."

"You were really worried, weren't you?" he asks.

She snorts. "Yeah. Of course. You idiot."

"Prime chance to get rid of me," he remarks. "And you missed it."

"Didn't just miss it," she specifies. "Hit it on the head with a hammer. Smashed its skull in. Tore its heart out."

He grins, fangs peeking out. "You got him, right? The second one."

"Put a silver bullet in his skull," she says. "That usually works."

"Yeah," he agrees, head dropping back on the pillow. "Usually."

The skin is still coming off in places. She doesn't want to tear on it, though. His eyes are red and swollen. She strokes over his hair, which is remarkably soft. "You really had me worried there," she mutters. "Don't die on me. I've already lost too many."

"Won't," he whispers, pressing against her hand. "Promise."

She leans over and kisses him softly, lips cold at first but warming up quickly. Strokes his face. His fingers come to tangle in her hair, she feels the claws. She bites his lip carefully, making him groan. She swings a leg over, his hands come to her hips, she presses her entire body against him to turn the cold block of stone into a living, breathing human. It becomes hot very quickly. She likes how his body responds to her touch, how he comes alive, it arouses her. She kisses him heatedly.

He pulls her in, strong, against him, arms wrapping around her. She feels the cold metal parts. That and the fangs. Everything else is human. She rocks against him, open-mouthed kisses, he groans again, rumbling in his throat, breathing her in constantly. His fingers dig into her back, release before the claws come into play. She pushes up slightly, catching her breath, looking down at his face. "You're not going back to Schmidt," she whispers, caressing his cheek. "You can't go back to him."

He groans, pressing her hips down against him. "I don't wanna go back. Ever."

"Come with me," she purrs, pressing little kisses to his jaw. "Join us. We'll figure it out together."

"Figure what out?" he asks. "They'll only try to kill me."

"They won't," she replies. "I promise. Please. We could get rid of Schmidt."

"He's too strong," he says. "They are too many. We'll all get killed."

She sits up. "I'd rather die than watch you go back to him."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I can't ask that of you."

"You don't have to," she replies. "I'm a hunter. I already signed up for hunting vampires until I die."

He snorts. "Right. Great."

"They're better than you think," she says. "And if there's a chance we can get Schmidt… Everyone in their right mind would take it."

He closes his eyes. "I'm too tired for this."

"Sure, sleep," she agrees, moving off of him. "I should maybe go home, before they really start worrying. That is, if you don't need anything."

"I'm good, really," he replies. "Go home. I can take care of myself."

She pecks his lips again. "Get well soon. I'll see you."

"We're going for a run," Pepper announces. "Do you want to join us?"

She's no good at running. "Yeah. Sure. Just a second, I'll change."

Running in the evening has to be well-planned in order not to go over sundown so most people run in the morning, especially in summer when the sun comes up around four or five a.m. Still not many people, though. You can do without a lot of things when they're risky.

Sharon and Pepper look way more professional when she comes down onto the street, stretching and talking. "Oh hey," Sharon says, ponytail whipping around. "There you are. Is by the river fine?"

"Sure." She shakes her hair out, tying it together, ignoring the nervousness.

"I have to say, I quite like Prague," Sharon remarks, running off. "Everything I've seen so far."

"It's pretty run-down, though," Pepper objects. "Not like Munich, I imagine."

"I mean, it would be even nicer if they renovated some houses and the plaster wasn't peeling off everywhere," Sharon acknowledges. "But still, it has flair. History. Just the powder tower, I really like that sort of thing."

"Then it's good that you're here," Pepper concludes. "So, Nat. Bruce said you had to play nurse."

She hates running and talking. "Oh. Yeah."

"The UV lights are getting more and more common," Pepper remarks. "Especially in the wealthier neighborhoods. Maybe that will turn the tide in the long run."

"He looked burnt," Natasha breathes.

"Oh yeah," Sharon agrees solemnly. "Those UV beams are really effective. You have some in your suit, Pepper, right?"

"Yes," Pepper confirms. "Though they are a little too slow for a fight. There are many around the tower, though."

"Traps," Natasha remarks.

"I mean, I'm sure it's not great for him," Sharon relents. "Do you have a name for him, by the way?"

"Winter Soldier," Pepper supplies. "But nobody actually calls him that."

"James," Natasha feels compelled to whisper.

"James," Pepper repeats. "And I understand if you take his side on the UV lights but we just have to keep us safe."

"I'm not taking his side!" Natasha protests.

"Yes, you are," Sharon says in the most friendly annihilating tone. "And that's okay. As long as it's not endangering us."

Natasha groans, slowing to a walk. "Could we- just slow down a bit?"

They drop in line with her, hardly increased breathing. Oh, this is worse. "You clearly have a special relationship," Sharon points out. "Unheard of. And that's very useful, potentially."

She really doesn't like this. "But your safety is still more important," Pepper stresses. "All of our safety. Don't take this the wrong way, but in the end, he's… still a vampire."

Natasha comes to an abrupt halt. "You know what, I'm going back. Not feeling well."

They exchange a knowing look, which is the worst. "Are you sure?" Pepper asks.

"Yes," Natasha returns, turning on her heel. "Don't mind me. Enjoy your run."

She doesn't react to the first knock. The second knock either. "Are you okay?" Clint's voice asks.

She groans loudly, staring at the ceiling. "Can I come in?" Clint asks.

"Just a second," she calls, blinking as if that would help. "Okay. Come in."

The door opens. Clint leans in. "So."

She groans again, sitting up, rubbing through her hair. It's a mess. It's all a mess. "You think you're making a mistake," Clint observes.

As if it were that easy. "Maybe. I don't know. Just- I think I care too much. I shouldn't. I really shouldn't."

"Yeah, well," Clint remarks. "Can't exactly turn that off."

She scoffs, pulling the sleeves over her palms, hugging her knees into her chest. He walks in, pulling the door closed. "You cut yourself, didn't you."

"He was dying," she hisses. "Well, maybe he wasn't, but he pretty much looked like it."

"And now you're defensive about it," Clint points out.

She groans again. If only he were wrong. "What about it?"

"Look, this job is merciless," he says. "And this world is merciless. So when it gives you something nice for a change, no matter how twisted… maybe you should just take it. Carefully, but take it."

"I had nice things," she remarks. "They all died."

He snorts. "Let me tell you, life is too short to let nice things pass you by. Too short not to get attached. Learned that the hard way."

"I'm sorry about Bobbi," she states.

"Don't be," he says. "I fucked that one up. Thoroughly. Not getting another chance. So don't fuck yours up, too. You don't want to end like me."

"Great advice," she remarks sarcastically. "Was there anything you wanted, other than moping?"

"We're having a strategy meeting," Clint explains. "I mean, if you wanna. It's just the fate of the city. If you'd rather mope."

She groans for the last time, swinging her legs off the bed. "Coming, coming. Gimme a second."

"Oh, yeah," Clint remarks. "You should take a second to fix your hair, too."

"Wilson and Stark spotted a hunting party around the Rieger park," Fury states, pointing on the map. "Here. Three vampires, all male. There must be a hiding place somewhere."

"Yeah," Tony interrupts, drawing a circle around. "Somewhere in this area."

"We should run recon," Pepper remarks, twisting her earlobe in concentration. "Before we engage. If we engage."

"Obviously," Fury states. "Three trained killer vampires is a big deal. We're not moving in before we've shined a light up their asses from all directions."

"The television tower is here," Clint points out. "Here's the School of Economics. Train station."

"It's really close," Sam remarks, rubbing his neck. "It bothers me we didn't spot them earlier."

"Maybe they moved," Sharon suggests. "Hunting parties do that every once in a while, to draw less attention."

"Romanoff," Fury demands. "Are you up for it?"

She doesn't feel up for it. "Yeah. Sure."

"Take Carter with you," Fury orders. "And either Barton or Wilson. You'll stake out there every night until you know their habits in and out. Don't engage. Hide your scents-"

A door slams closed somewhere above.

Everyone tenses up. There's steps, almost silent. They're hardly armed, though. The steps come closer. The black cloak sweeps down the stairs, slowly, carefully.

His skin looks better, though still crusted and red in places. He stops after the stairs. Nobody moves. His eyes hitch on her briefly, then move on around.

"Hello," he says. "I'm afraid I need your help."

#buckynat #natasha romanoff #black widow #bucky barnes #winter soldier #vampire au #fanfic #my writing #chapter 7 #I'll post the whole thing to tumblr with a master post and all as soon as... I manage to

[theperksofbeingbarbie]

Trainspotter

Summary: Ben is basically in love with the girl who rides the same train as him but is too afraid to talk to her. Klaus on the other hand.... 

WARNINGS: Language; Mention of sex?; Mention of blood?; It’s super tame, my dudes. 

Word Count: 2,318 

Paring: Ben Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

A/N: Pure fluff. Fluffy fluff. The fluffiest. AU where Ben is alive and goes on to be a graphic designer. I hope you like it! The world needs more Ben!!!!!

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

This was ridiculous. There was no reason that he should be attached to the random pretty girl who happened to ride the same train as him. It was stupid! He barely knew anything about her! The things he did know about her would probably place him in the category of ‘stalker’. She ate an apple as she scrolled through her phone. She would usually finish her apple by the third stop, wrapping it up in a napkin before pulling out her book. She would then read until one stop before her own, always managing to look up at the perfect time. He once noticed that she had the same book for five days when her usual turn around time was two to three days. That was the same day he realized he was being fucking creepy. 

But here Ben was, completely and obnoxiously attached to the pretty girl who would ride the same train as him in the morning. It had been two weeks since he had seen her last and he missed her. He missed seeing what book she was reading that day. Missed the way she would bob her head when the group of teenagers would play their music too loud. Missed the way her polite smile seemed to just get a little brighter when it was directed toward him, though he was sure that part was all in his head. 

“Why do you have to work all the way across town?” 

Ben sighed as he looked over at his brother, rolling his eyes. “Because it’s the only job I could get and we’re too poor to live on the same side of town?” 

Klaus just groaned in response, resting his head back against the window as the train slowed down for another stop. Klaus would rather die than go to work with Ben, but their apartment building was being inspected and Ben deemed Klaus ‘a danger to society and our lease.’ So, he was forced to schlep across the city to sit in the cafe under Ben’s boring office while he doodled logos or whatever he did. Hopefully there was at least someone cute to flirt with there. Klaus sat back up to watch people file into the train car, feeling his brother shift awkwardly when a pretty girl climbed on, sitting just down the car from them. He watched Ben make adjustments to his outfit, muttering something under his breath. “Who is that?” 

Ben jumped when he heard Klaus beside him, stammering as he glanced back over. Oh good, she was still going to start her day with an apple. How did that become such a comforting constant in his life? “I don’t know,” he admitted, looking back over at Klaus. Oh god, oh god, oh god, what was he supposed to do?! He made his peace with never seeing the girl again, what was he going to do now?! Ben started to feel his stomach churn and wasn’t sure if that was a normal stomach ache or the beast that lay beneath his skin threatening to get out. Oh, that would be a great impression to leave on a pretty girl. ‘Hey, I’m Ben, I’ve been kinda stalking you for... I don’t even know how long. Oh, please ignore the blood from our fellow passengers. That was just my interdimensional tentacle monster. Sorry, what’s your name?’ 

Ben was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize Klaus had already stood and made his way over to the girl. His eyes went wide when Klaus actually started to talk to her, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quell the anxiety that was filling him. ‘This is fine. This is perfectly fine. Klaus is just... OH FUCK ME HE’S POINTING.’ Ben smiled awkwardly, waving a bit. His heart all but stopped when she smiled and laughed at whatever Klaus had said, praying to any god he could think of that she wasn’t more interested in Klaus. 

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

All you wanted was simplicity. Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently. Nothing in your life could be simple. You had to have an annoying roommate that managed to get you thrown out of your flat for propositioning your landlord in exchange for a month’s of free rent. It wasn’t even like you were struggling! She just wanted to go to a music festival and knew you would kill her for spending her half of the rent.  

This was worse. 

Luckily you were only on your other friend’s sofa for two weeks, but it still sucked. You just wanted to go back to your little routines: eating an apple as you looked over the news on your phone, reading part of your book on your way to work, smiling at the cute guy who always rode in the same train car as you. Sure, you could do the first two when your friend drove you to work, but there was no cute guy to smile at when you would look up and you honestly enjoyed those little moments with the stranger. 

But peace was finally restored. 

You sighed as the doors opened, gently moving past another regular to find a seat, glancing over to see the cute guy with someone else. The sight of him made you smile as you grabbed your apple and your phone. Your usual routine was interrupted by cute guy’s friend. 

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you. I’m Klaus,” he introduced with a smile, holding his hand out for you to shake. 

“[Y/N],” you replied, albeit a little confused, shuffling the things in your hands before putting your phone in your lap so the apple could replace it, shaking his hand with your now free one. 

“[Y/N],” he repeated, leaning on the pole that was closest to him. “That is such a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman.” 

Oh, great. Just how every woman in New York wants to start their day. You forced a smile, picking your phone back up, hoping Klaus would take the hint. 

“You know, I think my brother over there has a crush on you. His name is Ben.”

That got your attention real quick. You looked back up to follow Klaus’ finger, smiling a bit when your eyes landed on the stranger you had a crush on yourself. 

“He’s adopted, but don’t tell him. He has no idea that we’re not actually twins. Ugh, you should have seen him when it was hinted he wasn’t actually related to our black sister,” Klaus whispered dramatically, holding his hand up to cover his mouth from the other. You laughed at his joke, shaking your head a bit as you looked back up at Klaus. “How about I take you over and introduce you? Give him a train buddy when I’m not here?” 

You chewed on your lip for a moment before nodding, gathering your things so you could follow Klaus to meet the cute guy officially.

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

Three weeks. 

It had been three weeks since Klaus had finally introduced the strangers who had been pining for each other without knowing each other. 

“I can’t believe it took you this long to ask her out!” Klaus complained, standing in the door of the bathroom, constantly opening it back up every time Ben would shut it. “I set you up for a little action in a bathroom at the very next stop and you just... talked for three weeks?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t want to have sex next to a half dead crack addict in a bathroom in Red Hook five minutes after meeting someone,” Ben replied with probably his fifteenth eye roll in five minutes. A new record.  

“Don’t knock it until you try it!” 

Ben just stared at Klaus in disgust, trying and failing to close the bathroom door yet again. 

“Alli-cat called and said the reservation is all set. Just casually name drop and you’re in.” Klaus smiled, pushing Ben to face him, helping him fix his tie. “You look good, I promise.” He clapped both of Ben’s cheeks when he was done. “You’re good. Get out of here. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

Sixteen eye rolls. Ben grabbed his suit jacket and left, sending a text that he was on his way to the restaurant. 

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

Okay, this was fine. It was fine. You were just going on a date with the cute boy from the train who happened to be the sweetest guy you had ever met. Oh god, this was really happening. After casually imagining what dates with him would be like, it was really happening. You took a deep breath, smoothing out your skirt for what was probably the hundredth time as you waited for Ben. You would attempt to make yourself look cool and casual every time a cab pulled up, absolutely falling apart when someone else would climb out. You started to pace again when yet another car opened to reveal anyone else but Ben. 

“[Y/N].” 

You turned when you heard your name, smiling when you finally saw the man you were waiting for. “Ben, hi.” You leaned in for a hug, noting that he smelled amazing. 

“You look great,” the pair said in unison, laughing at themselves. 

“Thank you,” you replied, looking down at the dress you were wearing. “I wasn’t sure how fancy to go. After you said Allison Hargreeves had to get us in, I was worried I should’ve went full red carpet.” 

Ben laughed, shaking his head as he did a once over. “No, no, you look perfect. Absolutely stunning.” 

You blushed under his gaze, running your hand up your opposite arm. “Thank you. You look quite handsome too.” Your smile got brighter when you noticed a bit of a blush appear on his cheeks as well, melting at how cute your date was. 

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

Ben took a deep breath once he was back out in the fresh air, looking over at [Y/N] with a smile. “That was nice.” And he meant every word. He thought the conversation was nice. He seemed to make her laugh, and not just friendly laughing like people did with Luther. It seemed genuine. 

“It was! I had a lot of fun, Ben!” 

Ben nodded in agreement, looking down the street. “I’m still fucking starving,” he admitted, scrunching his nose up. He looked over when he heard her laughing, chuckling a bit as well. 

“I thought it was just me,” she agreed, leaning into him, covering her mouth as she continued to laugh. 

“The food was so small! I’m going to have to harass my sister for suggesting that place.” Ben scratched the back of his neck. “Do you wanna go somewhere else? Second dinner?” 

“Please.” 

Ben’s eyes went wide when he felt her hand slip into his own, looking down at their now interlaced fingers before looking back up. This was really happening! The cute girl from the train was actually, really, honestly into him! “C’mon, I know the perfect spot.”  

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

When you imagined your dream date, you didn’t imagine being in one of your fanciest outfits, eating a greasy taco from a shady truck in the middle of Harlem, but you wouldn’t have traded it for anything. This was so much better than the fancy restaurant Ben had taken you to. 

“Okay, so I remember Klaus’ thing was talking to the dead, right?” Ben nodded as he took another bite. “Spaceboy is... Luther?” Another nod. “And his thing is strength?” Ben hummed, holding a napkin to his mouth to avoid any fallout, eyes crinkling when he heard you laugh a bit at him. “And then Allison is the Rumor. She was probably my favorite growing up. Who was the knife one?” 

“Diego. The Kraken. He can also hold his breath indefinitely.” 

“Diego! Yes! And The Boy spatial jumps. What’s his real name?” 

“Five.” Ben laughed when you gave him a look of confusion. “I mean it! He refused to take a name from mom. Said a robot couldn’t really love us so why would he let her name him?” He waved off your sad look, reaching over to grab a few more napkins. 

“I know you’re the Horror, but you never really did interviews,” you commented, taking another bite of your taco. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you added quickly when you noticed him deflate a bit. 

Ben cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Might as well warn you ahead of time. Uh...” He set his taco back down, staring as it slowly unfolded on the plate. “So I am a... Portal that I can open and there’s these... Tentacles. I have a weird... Bond with them? If that makes sense? I can control them but they don’t belong to me.” 

You listened to him explain his power and how it worked, taking a sip of your drink as you contemplated that. “It’s rude they called you the Horror when you could be Bentacles.” You looked back up to see him staring at you in disbelief. “Bentacles is so much cuter. The Horror doesn’t fit you at all,” you continued, shrugging casually, placing your cup back down. You jumped when you suddenly felt his lips on your own, kissing him back as soon as you realized what was happening. “So calling you Bentacles gets you going or...?” 

Ben blushed, ducking his head in embarassment as he settled back in his seat. “I just- I never thought this would go this well, you know? I thought you would be freaked out about...” He motioned to his midsection. 

“I’ve seen enough anime to know that tentacles can be an asset.” You tried to keep your face straight as long as possible, laughing loudly when you saw all five stages of grief pass over Ben’s face. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t-” You were cut off by his lips returning to yours again. 

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy #umbrella academy imagines #umbrella academy imagine #tua #tua imagines #tua imagine #ua #ua imagines #ua imagine #ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #reader x ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x you #you x ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves imagines #the horror #tua horror #tua ben #ben tua #00.06

[bards-witcher]

Some good old ohmtoonz, with jealous toonz ;))))))))))))))))

I hope you like it

Gets a teensy bit explicit but nothing too graphic, mostly just cute stuff :D

.

[Luke POV]

He couldn’t help but clench around the glass in his hand, watching with gritted teeth and fury in his eyes as he was forced to watch some fucker who thought he was hot shit flirt with Ohm. What made it worse was that Ohm was playing into his advances, all to antagonize him, especially after they’d gotten into a fight earlier.

It was a caused by a culmination of spending very little time together outside of work, although they enjoyed their time together, it wasn’t the same as when they could go out and spend time doing whatever they wanted to do on their own terms, not what they had to do.

Couple that with the fact that he’d been shirking some of his duties around the house and Ohm had been quick to snap at him, as the younger man also had his own plans to keep to and his own job to work for.

Whilst he was never the first to volunteer to do chores around the house, he’d always made sure to at least have some part, and particularly when he saw Ohm overwork himself for the hundredth time, he’d take over the responsibilities to give Ohm time to breathe.

However, admittedly he hadn’t been as diligent in his duties as he should have been, all so he could churn out video after video, no matter how much it drained him, all so he could buy the ring now burning a hole in his pocket.

He’s not surprised that Ohm snapped, having to not only to do his job but to look after the both of them and their pets as well, truth be told he’s surprised Ohm hadn’t snapped sooner. He’d seen all the signs begin to show just how stressed the younger man was, but he was persistent in his own endeavors that he didn’t truly see how bad things got.

Whilst not one of the worst fights they’d ever had, not by far, Ohm still deemed to give him the silent treatment, not even sparing him a glance when he called his name, and that was what probably hurt the most, and Ohm knew it.

In fact, the only reason he and Ohm were out now was to act as moral support for Jon as he finally plucked up the courage to ask Evan out on a date, who apparently needed a couple of drinks and a pep talk before actually going through with it.

However, Jons’ fretting did little to help his own worries, barely noting how Jon removed the glass still in his hand so he could clench his hand into a fist before he broke the glass, as he watched the scene in front of him unfold.

He knew Ohm would never try anything with the other man, his actions were purely to taunt him, as shown by the side glances that Ohm gave him every now and then, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

The final straw was when he saw the slimy fucker pressing even closer to Ohm and snake an arm around his waist, but even so he saw Ohm try to put a little distance between them, discomfort clear on his face, although apparently didn’t the guy didn’t get the memo.

He didn’t waste a second longer before sliding out of the booth and striding over towards Ohm, ignoring Jons’ shouts of caution after him before he was standing behind the guy still trying to get his hands onto Ohm, roughly grabbing and pulling him off of Ohm.

“The fuck’s your problem” The other man practically shouted at him, the look of rage on the man’s face was almost laughable, not even holding a candle to the rage on his own face, one that made the other man pale noticeably.

“Get your hands off my boyfriend”

“Is that why you left him here to be snatched up by someone else?”

He wasted no time before clenching his fists into the other guys’ shirt, pulling him forward until their faces were only inches apart, his demeanor exerting nothing but calm fury. Ohm was quick to try and put himself between the two of them, only sparing him a passing glance as Ohms’ pleas fell on deaf ears.

“I’mma give you 5 seconds to leave through that door otherwise I’m gonna break your jaw, got it?”

The other man nodded profusely, fear clear on his face, and with a cold smile he released the man who quickly backed away a couple of steps as he regained his composure. He paid no mind to him, instead turning to Ohm and immediately all of his anger melted away at the look of adoration and worry now coloring the younger man’s face.

He was just about to pull Ohm closer and kiss the man as he’d been dying to do all day, only the slimeball in human form decided to tempt fate a little more as he grabbed onto Ohms’ arm, tugging at it slightly so that Ohm would face him, and he practically bristles at the touch.

However, Ohm extends his other hand back to grab a hold of his wrist, the touch allowing him to cool down slightly but doesn’t stop him from approaching the other man once again.

“Ryan, you can’t really be with this mad fucker. Come with me, I’ll treat you right.” He swears he could almost growl at the comment, but just before he could step forward, to finally punch this guys face in, Ohm tugs out of his grip and stands between them, leaning back slightly so that they’re slightly closer together.

“I’m sorry, but I’m crazy in love with the mad fucker behind me, so I recommend if you don’t want to go to A&E that you leave now” Even without looking he could feel the guilt coming off of Ohm in waves, a part of him both loving and hating how considerate his boyfriend is to others, even when they don’t deserve it.

The guys’ face turned stoic, he simply gave a nod at the statement before throwing an accusatory glare at him as he turned to leave the bar.

He made sure to stare after the man, to make sure that he actually left, and it was only when he felt warm arms wrapping around him and Ohms’ warm breath against his neck that finally got him to relax and release the breath he’d been holding. His own arms were quick to wrap around the smaller man and pull him closer against him, pressing a quick kiss against his temple.

“I’m so sorry Luke, I shouldn’t of-“

“You have nothin’ to apologize for Ohm, I shouldn’t have been a complete ass the last few days and made you feel like you had to do this”

“I just wanted to show off a little bit, but it just got out of hand so fast and-“ He felt the hands that had moved up his back to hold the back of shoulders clench tightly, and Ohm seemingly buried himself even further into his neck.

“Shhh, ’s okay Ry, I got you”

He leaned back slightly as Ohm pulled away enough to look up at him, and once again he’s lost in the eyes that show nothing but love and care towards him.

“Were you really going to break his jaw?”

“Oh, I would ‘a broken his whole face if you hadn’t got between us, the thought of him touchin’ you like that makes my skin crawl”

Not even a second later Ohm was kissing him, and his brain rejoiced for a second before gaining some sort of composure so that he could reciprocate, the low din of the bar quickly falling quiet around them as their lips moved leisurely against each other.

Too soon they’re pulling away, but the blinding smile Ohm gives him is enough to make up for the abrupt ending of their first kiss in a couple of days.

“Not gonna lie that’s kinda hot”

He gives a brief smile to Ohm, leaning down to press a brief kiss to his lips before gradually moving down to his neck and then up to his ear, his breath enough to send a slight shiver down Ohms’ spine.

“Jus’ don’t go makin’ a habit out of it, I don’t play nice with others” He practically growled into Ohms’ ear, the smaller man seemingly helpless but to keen slightly and pull them even closer against each other. “D’you wanna get outta here so I can –“

“Do all the chores you’ve been neglecting? Sounds good to me” The seemingly innocent smile Ohm shot his way was enough to have him groaning as he leaned down to rest his forehead against Ohm’s shoulder, Ohm simply carding a hand through his hair which was enough to send a small shiver down his spine and in turn got a small laugh from Ohm.

“To be fair though I did have a reason for not doin’ them”

“Which is?”

“ ’s a surprise”

Before he could do anything else, Ohm used the hand still in his hair to pull his head back so that they were now face to face, an incredulous look on the younger man’s face.

“Care to share?” He laughed a little as he used the arms still wrapped around Ohms’ waist to hug him closer, pressing a quick kiss to his temple before leaning back a little to look at him again.

“If I tell you then it won’t be a surprise anymore”

He watched as Ohm seemed to examine him for a minute, and it wasn’t long until he saw a glint of mischief in the other’s eyes, and before he knew it a knee was pressing lightly into his crotch, which had just so happened to have been getting more interested in Ohms’ body close to his, and rubbing against it slightly.

“Well I think given everything I deserve to know, wouldn’t you agree?” Before he could reply, Ohm pressed his thigh a little harder against his dick, causing a slight moan to leave him which was quickly quietened by Ohms’ lips pressing against his own.

However, he was unable to hold back his cuss as Ohm pulled away from him completely except for his arms now looped around his neck, fingers gently carding through the short hairs at the top of his neck.

“You can either tell me now and we can go home where you can show me just how possessive you can be, or we stay here the rest of the night and I can see how many people you can threaten before you get kicked out”

He can’t help but fall more in love with the small teasing smile Ohm gives him as he waits for the answer he already knows he’s gotten, he quickly leans in to steal a short kiss from the smaller man before reaching into his coat pocket to pull out the box that would hopefully signify the beginning of his life with the man in front of him.

“I had hoped to do this somewhere other than a dingy ass bar, but you’re far too demanding for your own good. Ry…” He pulled away slightly to put a bit of space between them so he could show the other man the ring he’d gotten him, nothing too fancy, just a simple black banded ring with the inscription ‘Toonzy’ on the inside. “…D’you wanna marry me?”

There were several moments of complete silence, and he swears he could go into cardiac arrest at how fast his heart is beating, simply watching as Ohm stared at the ring presented in front of him, not giving any indication as to how he was feeling.

“Ry? Kinda making me nervous here, d’you-“ Before he could say anything else Ohm was suddenly on him, lips pressed fervently against his own and he could do little else but smile into the kiss as he wrapped his arms back around Ohm.

Breathless they pulled away from one another, but it wasn’t long before they dove in for another kiss, smiles never leaving their faces.

“I’m taking that as a yes?” Ohm simply rolled his eyes before leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Don’t make me take it back”

“I’d like to see you try, bitch” the both of them chuckled a little as he quickly pulled the ring out of the box, and with one last look at Ohm slipped it onto his ring finger, the smaller man taking a moment to admire it before pulling him in for another kiss, neither of them willing to be away from the other for long.

“Although, you could have been more romantic about it” Ohm chastised, giggling as he did so already knowing his reaction.

Sure enough, all he can do is raise his eyebrows and throw an incredulous glare at Ohm who simply giggles more, a warmth growing in his chest when he realizes he gets to hear that sound for the rest of life.

“Well you got no one to blame but yourself Ry, now can we please get outta here so I can show some love to my fiancée” He doesn’t care that he’s whining, too happy to care, especially when it’s accompanied by Ohms’ giggles, the younger man seemingly thinking for a moment before kissing him ever so gently.

“I like the sound of that, fiancée, but we’re here for Jon remember, so keep it in your pants a little longer” Ohm simply slapped his cheek lightly in jest, the smaller man laughing as he groaned out his frustration before shooting him a bright smile and grabbing a hold of his wrist, dragging him back to the table where there was a rather smug looking Jon.

He kept close to Ohm for the rest of the night, hands never leaving one another as they celebrated not only the new relationship between Jon and Evan but also the beginning of their own life together, one that he couldn’t wait to start with the man he loved beside him.

#ohmtoonz #ohmwrecker #cartoonz #I hope you like it #hope you approve senpai <3

[currebunz]

Wearing nothing but a smile Ch 4

AO3 link

After a few days of planning, it was ultimately decided to have the meeting in the local park. At first, Hado had wanted to go to your home. An enthusiastic Togata jumped on board of the idea as well. Thankfully, Amajiki had voted against it with you, making it a tie. The four of you planned to meet on the weekend in the afternoon, allocating plenty of time to draw ideas. When you informed your parents of your outing, they were absolutely delighted. "You already made friends, I'm so proud" your mother praised you shamelessly. Your father nodded in agreement, handing you hero catalogs. "These are just lying around, take them for reference" he explained. By the time you left, you had a large bag of hero magazines and a box of homemade sweets. To add insult to injury, both parents pressured you into "dressing nicely".

You paced outside the park nervously, fingers playing with the loose bandages on your arms. Maybe you could come up with an excuse to not show? The stress of the situation made your stomach churn, go or leave? Could you even face them after that? You mind ran a mile a minute, distracting you from the airy Hado approaching. "Oh! There you are!" she waved to catch your attention. Hado's simple dress and heels made you feel relaxed, at least you weren't alone. "Did you get lost? The park is right there silly" she giggled taking your hand and dragging you in. You had to admit, Hado had some muscle to her lithe body...

As expected, Togata and Amajiki were already sitting under a tree conversing casually. As you and Hado approached, Togata looked up with a charming grin. "Fashionably late ladies?" he teased. Amajiki waved shyly, scooting closer to Togata so you could sit next to him. You sat across from Togata, Hado sat next to you across from Amajiki. Your little square of awkward glances and bright smiles held a suffocating silence. "So, what'cha got? Huh? Huh?" Hado broke the silence. She bounced in her seat excitedly looking over your large bag. "My dad gave me some old hero catalogs to use as reference" you explained as you pulled out the stack of magazines. "Woah! What does your dad do?" Togata took a share of the stack, handing Amajiki a portion as well. "He's an artist, he mostly does graphic design for Hero merchandise" you explained. "How interesting!" Hado bubbled with joy. She glanced in your bag and grabbed the container. "Oh, this smells yummy" she shook the container gently, listening to the sound from inside. "Hado, that's rude..." Amajiki weakly protested. "It's fine, my mom made some snacks for us" you shrugged off the situation with ease.

Without further permission, Hado opened the container and placed it in the center of the square. "Let's begin eating! Oh, and thinking!" she added quickly. Togata and Amajiki began scanning over the catalogs while Hado discussed color schemes with you. "Something that goes well with your hair color would be great, but also complimenting your complexion" she muttered aloud. "Can I request warm colors?" you offered. She tilted her head, looking you over. "Some dark and cool colors too, you're more of the mature type" she agreed. "Mature?" you repeated. "Yeah! I can see you being a mature hero, kind of like a big sister type or a dominatrix!" Hado explained. She began explaining the mature traits of Midnight and Ryukyu, two well known female heroes. As Hado began going into great "detail", the two boys became restless.

"And so! Something like-" Hado was cut off by Amajiki tearing a page. "My bad" he apologized folding the page back into the magazine. "I think we should avoid an 18+ costume" Togata suggested. For once, you were thankful for him. "I know, I know, I'm just spitballing here" Hado defended herself. Togata presented a page he had been staring at for a while. "How about this? It's kinda pretty" he smiled. The image advertised a former hero, 'Marionette'. The costume was designed in a gothic and elegant style. "That is a bit too much, I don't think I'd be able to maneuver in that" you explained. Togata looked it over again, processing your words. "Hmm, it might be easier if we knew more about you" he suddenly grinned. Amajiki knew that grin too well, another plan.

"That's a good idea! Let's hear it" Hado exclaimed. "Keep the questions appropriate Hado" Amajiki set up a precaution before Hado could speak. "Okay, okay" she laughed. "First thing first! Your quirk is?" Togata leaned forward expectantly. You shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, now that you thought of it, your quirk name was embarrassing. "Well, my quirk is called 'Gula Armatus', which literally means 'Arms of Gluttony'" you explained. All three of them blinked in confusion and awe. "M-my parents originally moved from Spain! The name was decided over there so it's a bit grandiose" you added quickly. "That sounds really cool! What can you do?!" Togata shouted. "Is that why you wear bandages? Can I see? Can I?" Hado leaned closer to you, her fingers tracing the bandages on your arms.

"Guys, I don't think it's fair to pry that much" Amajiki's outburst came as a surprise. Hado paused, sitting back with a frown. Togata also settled down. "I'll admit, I don't like my quirk that much so I'd rather not show it off" you explained. Amajiki nodded in understanding. "Remember, we're focusing on the costume" he scolded. "Wow, that is very shocking to hear from you Amajiki" Hado's blunt remark made Amajiki shudder. "Haha, well he's normally this way when he can get it out!" Togata laughed. "Guys...." Amajiki held his stomach, no doubt experiencing cramps from being put on the spot. "Before Amajiki passes out, let's continue" you shifted the attention off Amajiki. "Right, well you would want something without sleeves then..." Togata trailed off in thought. "Something stylish but easy to move in!" Hado clapped her hands together as she came up with an idea. She excitedly shifted through the magazines in search of a reference. "Here! Here!" Hado pointed to the page she held open.

There was a female hero in tactical wear. "We can change the color for now so you don't look so lethal" Hado explained. "I think you'd look in great in it!" Togata was in favor of the outfit as well. "It's up to her" Amajiki reminded the two. You looked over the outfit, it wasn't unappealing. "My midriff would be exposed, but I think I can deal with it" you nodded. The crop top would take some getting used to, but it met your standard of mobility. "Then it's settled, any suggestions for color?" Togata asked. You shrugged, still foreign to the making of a costume. "As I said, it should match with her looks" Hado pouted, annoyed that she had to repeat herself. "Sorry! Come to think of it, your arms are a different color than your skin" Togata turned to you with a curious look. "That is true" you didn't like the little glint in his eyes. "In that case, we'll need to see them" he continued.

And here you thought you would get away with it. Amajiki appeared exhausted, no longer coming to your aid. "You don't have to use your quirk, but just show us your arms" Hado joined in. Through her calm demeanor, you could see the child-like curiosity. "Fine, but don't scream" you warned. You slowly unwrapped your bandages, your fingers visibly shook as you removed coverage of your left arm. Togata, Hado, and even Amajiki had eyes glued onto your left arm. As splotches of garnet appeared, you heard a few gasps. "It's not an injury..." you threw that out to calm them. You finished unveiling your arm, displaying your monster-like arm. You drew your claws back into a tight fist on reflex, fighting the urge to bandage it back up. The silence was slowly killing you. "Say something already..." you muttered, shifting nervously.

"It's such a pretty color" Hado smiled. Her hands hovered over your arm. "Can I touch?" she asked this time. You nodded, watching her trace the top of your arm. "Don't touch that" you warned as she drew closer to the carmine color of your underarm. "Why?" she pulled her hands back slowly. "Well, I can destroy objects by 'eating' them so I am able to taste there" your voice became quiet as you began to recall your first encounter with Togata. Your cheeks burned red, you hoped he wouldn't be able to do the math with that one. "Ah ha! Now I get the gluttony part" Togata reached forward and placed his hand on top of your fist. "W-wait!" you felt him pull your hand open carefully. Your palm rested in him, causing shock to flow over you. It was a fear of yours that you would harm someone with your quirk, hence the bandages.

As time passed, you realized nothing was happening. you tilted your head in confusion. Togata, on the other hand, appeared over the moon. "Your hand is kinda cold but really soft," he said aloud. Hado was smiling knowingly, she leaned over to you. "What's Togata taste like?" she asked. You cleared your throat in surprise, choking on air. "L-like skin?" you managed to choke out. From the corner of your eye, you could see Amajiki in deep thought. Suddenly, he jolted upright. He stared at you, then to your hand joined with Togata, and then back to you. In a matter of seconds, his face exploded with redness. "Tamaki? Are you okay?" Togata glanced back at him worriedly. "I-I'm fine!" he squeaked out. He definitely caught on, you only hoped he wouldn't tell Togata. "Ah ha! You wanna hold her hand too! Don'tcha?!" Hado teased.

Somehow, it led to you holding hands with Hado and Amajiki as well. You felt your eyes sting with tears afterward. "Are you okay?" Togata's eyebrows furrowed in worry. His smile was replaced with a small frown. "Y-yeah...it's just that it's been a long time since I felt another person's hand" you explained as you wiped your eyes. Hado shared a glance with the others. Togata was the first to speak up. "Well, if you ever want to hold hands, you don't even need to ask" he shot you another charming smile. "How shameless!" you heard Hado giggle. Amajiki wore a small smile, not surprised by Togata's words. "I-I'll keep that in mind" you began to bandage your arm back up.

"Oh yeah, why not go with a black and dark red color?" Hado offered. She reminded you all about the costume. "That sounds good, let's write this down" Togata began making some quick notes for you. "Make sure to add the clipping for reference" Amajiki reminded him. Hado had already begun tearing out the page carefully. You watched in awe, they diligently put together a folder for you. "Make sure you submit that to Ectoplasm, it may take a while for your costume to arrive through" Hado hummed happily. You took the folder graciously. "I will" it felt heavy in your hands despite being mostly paper.

"It's getting late, we should call it a day" Amajiki announced, displaying the time on his phone. "Aww, just when things were getting good" Hado whined. Although, she appeared happy as ever. "Let's trade numbers, we can talk later" Togata suggested. Hado whipped her phone out in an instant before Amajiki could put his away. She began trading numbers with him, leaving you and Togata to do so. "Um, so how..." you hadn't exchanged numbers with anyone before. "Like this" Togata took your hand and opened your phone to the option to exchange numbers. "Then you shake it like this" he gently rocked your hand in his. The small beep told you that the deal was made. You watched a message bubble appear with a smiling emoji. "That 's me!" Togata laughed. You edited the name to match his, then repeated the action with Hado and Amajiki.

Now it was time to say goodbye. Hado waved goodbye excitedly, leaving with a skip in her step. You headed in the other direction, waving back awkwardly. "See you guys..." you tried to smile, managing a sheepish grin. Togata and Tamaki waved back, heading home together. "That was a lot" Amajiki sighed, he felt more spent than in hero training. "That was fun, we should all get together again," Togata said as he stared ahead. Amajiki watched his friend carefully, he really hadn't caught on. "Good job with getting closer to ____, you didn't fuzz up this time" Amajiki praised him. Togata glanced at his friend, a small blush on his cheeks. "Well, I gotta admit..."

"I really liked holding her hand"

#mirio x reader #bnha mirio #mha mirio #mirio togata #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfic #reader-insert

[softjeon]

Through the Veil | Pt. 4

• Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook • Genre: Angst / Fluff | demon!AU (→  Gifset Trailer) • Words: 11.3k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue​ ↳ (AO3) • Disclaimer: mentioning of alcohol and violence / death / graphic content

↳ Jungkook is pretty sure that he is a normal human being, but he is also sure that this book, he got from his grandma, is a cookbook. So when it turns out that the words he's reciting are not to cook some tasty meal but to summon something from the depth of the underworld - then maybe there are a few more suprises for him in stock. « previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter »

He nosed against his jaw, eyes closed, breathing him in. Jungkook smelled...strange. His scent was sweet, intoxicating, giving away that he hadn’t been tainted yet, still fresh and pure and ready to consume - but there was something else. Under his own humanly, natural scent - a little spicy tinge that smelled like hidden passion and excitement and a heart that could barely hold its compassion - there was something that made the fairy’s gut churning, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on. So he did what he had to to get a better insight.

He licked a stripe up Jungkook’s neck, right where the blood was pulsing under his skin. Jungkook shuddered with the way the other licked up his neck, biting on his lip in a nervous habit and scared that he might do more. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, a sizzling and something that felt like a pull. His hand soared up to hold on tightly to the other’s shirt, as if otherwise he would lose his footing but also to keep him from coming closer. Jungkook was scared, his chest heaving heavily with every breath he took and his mind was spinning, but he tried his best to be good and stay still. Yoongi had said his friend would help them. Yoongi - the moment he had thought of him, everything stilled for a moment and Jungkook relaxed against the other’s hold only when he withdrew again, his eyes snapped open and the young boy gazed up at the fairy with big, hopeful eyes. The fairies tongue was long and rough, quite cat like but way more capable. He immediately jerked back, looking at Jungkook with wide eyes. “Eww!” He blinked, staring at the boy as if he wanted to screen him.

“That can’t be!” It was more a murmur to himself than Jungkook but before the younger even had a chance to ask the fairy leaned in again, licking the same spot, differently this time, more insistent, nipping at the skin gently, but nonetheless as if he wanted to taste the blood underneath. Jungkook had shuddered with every lick against his skin, eyes closed tightly, only opening them again when the other took a few steps away. He had gotten goosebumps from it and Jungkook felt more nervous than ever. The fairy hesitated, licking his lips, withdrawing slowly. He let go of Jungkook, contemplating. “You...You’re a boy, right?” He answered his own question immediately “Of course you are, sorry, your soul is and so no matter what your body is expressing you definitely are. Hm. That’s...funny. Let me discuss that with Yoongi first before I come to any conclusions, okay? Just...who did you say you grew up with? Your grandma, right? And you think she was human? Just like your parents?” 

The young boy nodded to answer the fairy-demons asks and his thoughts ran wild with all the possibilities of what the other could hint at. “Y-yes, my grandma... and of course she was human – at least I think so,” Jungkook said, the thought of his parents made his heart ache badly and he averted his gaze, “I fear I don’t know much about my parents, though.” He took in a sharp breath, his hold on the chair tightening until his knuckles turned white. There were too many questions in his head and all of them made no sense, making him feel dizzy. He reached out for his glass with a shaking hand to take a sip, as he wiped over his skin where the fairy had licked him with the other.

“I’m sorry if I pushed too far. I wasn’t trying to be nosy, just...contemplating something. You don’t have to answer any further, just forget I asked about your parents, okay?” He rubbed Jungkook’s arm in a friendly gesture, trying to chase away the sadness that had crept into Jungkook’s eyes. “Do you want me to tell you stuff about Yoongi? Like stuff he’s embarrassed about? I’m sure that’ll cheer you up,” He giggled, trying to think of something that would actually draw Jungkook in enough to make him forget his loss but not make Yoongi hate him if he ever finds out that he told Jungkook personal stuff about him. But in his opinion Yoongi was way to secluded anyways and having someone close who knew him a little better might not be so wrong after all.

„It’s fine,“ Jungkook tried to smile, “But I love taking embarrassing stuff about Yoongi any day. He seems so… perfect all the time. He teases me a lot, so it would be nice to know something.” He shifted a little on his seat, the aching feeling had vanished as quick as it came. “But tell me first what’s wrong with me?” Jungkook pointed at his neck, “You seemed like you tasted something there? Something that you didn’t like? Am I…tainted?”

“Yoongi?! Perfect? I think you need your eyes checked! Besides, what you are seeing right now is not his real form. You know that, right? That this is just how he looks if he tries to be human? I mean his face his kinda the same just...the horns and the eyes - scratch that, he always misses the eyes. But yeah, he looks a bit different from how he looks now. And I don’t know if teasing him about what I tell you might be healthy for you. Or me, for that matter. So you might wanna keep it to yourself for a little while longer,” He winked at him, making a face  - but got back to serious the moment he sensed that Jungkook was still caught up in what might be ‘wrong’ with him, “No, sweetie, no, you aren’t. Quite the opposite, really. You are actually very pure. You radiate light. But what’s good for one spezies isn’t necessarily good for another. Just like silver is a nice way of decorating yourself in the human world while it’s the same as acid to others. You see? Even if you might be a little toxic to me that doesn’t mean you are anything but perfect.”

A blush creeped up his cheeks and Jungkook giggled cutely, “You think I’m perfect? Can you please tell that Lucy...eh I mean Yoongi?” Jungkook contemplated what the other said before he spoke up again, “So I have magic in me? Pure magic? Is that even a thing?” Jungkook smiled at the thought of radiating light. He had always wanted to be a good person and kind of do exactly that but more in a metaphorical way. In a weird way, he was proud of it. “Believe me he…,” The fairy broke off when Yoongi stuck his head into the kitchen chewing on something that looked uncomfortably close to a tailfin. And not an ordinary one. There was a delicate shimmer to it, a pastel hue that looked incredibly like…

“Ah, I see. You’ve found the dried mermaid I got for you,” The other happily commented, not really caring about the morality of his statement, “I know how much you like them and even though it was a bit difficult to get one right here, when I saw the merchant get a fresh deliver at the black magic market I knew I had to get some for you. Is it good?” Yoongi’s smile spoke more than he would have managed to say with a mouth that full while he happily chewed on the fleshy bits, ripping on it and shaking it like a cat would do with its prey. Suddenly his expression changed when he noticed how close the fairy was sitting to Jungkook and how the boy looked up at him.

“What ‘r you two doing’ there?” He mumbled, mouth still full but swallowing it down carefully, savouring every last bit, “Did you find something out already?”

“Mer- mermaids exist, too?” Jungkook looked at Yoongi in awe when it turned into a frown when he saw the way Yoongi was happily eating parts of that beautiful creature. To answer his question, Jungkook pointed at the fairy and then happily said: “He licked me!” He quickly explained further what the other had told him about him being pure, radiating light and tasting weird to him. “But I still don’t understand how that supposed to help us to understand how I was able to speak such a deep bond,” Jungkook turned his head to the fairy again, his eyes big and questioning. Yoongi’s frown deepened the longer Jungkook talked. The boy was so busy explaining that he didn’t realize how the fairy besides him got more and more uncomfortable. In the end he looked pretty flustered. Yoongi growled something that might have been something like ‘fucking pervert’ but Jungkook wasn’t quite sure.

“Hm, maybe we should talk in private a little. Your...friend here can have a look around in the pantry, maybe he finds something he might enjoy,” The fairy turned towards Jungkook, “You can also just walk around in the house if you want but please don’t go outside without Yoongi or else you might hurt the both of you. Oh, and please don’t mess with the herbs or the decoctions I’m working on. And don’t touch anything that looks like it could harm you. Probably - don’t touch anything you aren’t absolutely sure it won’t harm you, deal? I want to see you safe and healthy when I come back, understood?” He gave Jungkook a smile but it was obvious nonetheless that the prospect of talking to Yoongi in private made him a little uncomfortable.

Jungkook nodded and looked over to Yoongi as if to reassure himself that it was fine to be left alone right now. When both left the kitchen, Jungkook sat there alone and just letting his gaze wander around curiously. He knew he had a habit to run into trouble, so he tried to keep his hands to himself. Even when Jungkook stood up to wander around a little, he put his hands on his back. When he stood by a window, all he could see was the desert. There was nothing interesting but sand and more sand and it only stretched to the horizon in every window he chose to look out of. Walking in to what seemed to be the fairies living room, Jungkook could hear faint noises coming from somewhere close. He could decipher Yoongi’s voice and because there was nothing else to do his curiosity got the better of him, so he hid next to the door quick and eavesdropped their conversation.

“I know that this is how you work but please keep your dirty tongue out of his face. Or anywhere else near his body, thank you very much. I like how he smells and that he’s so innocent it hurts sometimes to look at him. But he’s mine and after what he did, with binding us together and treating it like nothing more than an unlucky mistake I think I have the right to claim him as my price. He took my freedom. So I’m going to take something important from him too. That said even though he’s quite tempting – I know it, I have to live with him every day after all – please keep your hands off him. I don’t want to be forced to put you in your place in case I think you might taint my little delicacy there.” The fairy shook his head, “Retract your claws, Yoongi. I wouldn’t dare to mess with you, not with something as dangerous and personal as that. But...be careful, okay? Don’t underestimate him. I’m sure you noticed the magic inside of him? That constants buzzing you get when you’re close, like...something familiar you can’t quite decipher. I think I know why it feels like that and why you didn’t figure it out yet. It makes no sense. Absolutely no sense at all. And still...it was what he tasted like. And it would explain a lot, starting with how he managed to bind you so easily and ending with his character, the selflessness, the purity, the compassion. He’s got angel blood in him.”

Yoongi blinked and then opened his mouth dumbfoundedly but the fairy was quicker, hold up his hands in defense. “I know, I know, it only physically manifests in Women, they are the carriers until another female child will grow to be fully angel and still – his entire being is filled with what angels taste like. The light, the gentle glow, the power of believing in something good. I think he barely has a quarter or one eighth of it, which would mean his grandma was a halfbreed or got it from her own grandma like that. But still, it is there. And it could be dangerous for you. Or for you two trying to separate the bond. Not to mention what the complications could be if too many catch wind of you walking around besides a little angel, treating him entirely different like one would talk to his master. It’s a wonder he hasn’t figured it out yet. I really wish for your own sake that he won’t realize it before you can rip that bond apart.”

Jungkook stumbled back a few steps, his eyes widened in shock as he tried to somehow put together what the fairy and Yoongi just said. Angels? His grandma? His price? Delicacy? Jungkook took in a sharp breath as he realized that Yoongi would still kill him. The second he would be free of him, that would be it for him. Suddenly Jungkook couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in on him, no air to breathe and his heart pounding out of his chest. It felt like he was suffocating, couldn’t think and his vision got blurry. He stumbled forward, feeling light-headed as he looked around. He needed to get out. Needed air. His steps were getting steadier, quicker until he was running, opening the front door in a haste as he ran out into the desert. A sudden scream escaped his lungs as he felt a piercing pain in his body. The bond was pulling him back, making him fall onto his knees. His hands balling into fists, his body shaking with fear, anxiety and the pain. “Yoongi,” He whimpered quietly, the only name that was on his mind right now.

Yoongi realized something was wrong before he had even felt the pain. The sudden rush of anxiety and fear confused him and he started to pace to get rid of the tension, wondering why on earth he might feel like he did - until it hit him. Jungkook. Something must be wrong with Jungkook. “Are you sure it was okay to let him wander your house? There’s nothing dangerous he could run into…,” The sudden pull deep inside of his chest, somewhere right behind his heart, was knocking the breath from his lungs and kept him from speaking another word. Then he gasped in pain, writhing on the floor, not even sure how he got there.

“Jungkook!” He groaned, half miserable, half furious, “You stupid fucking child! Get back in or I’m gonna drag you!” His threats would have sounded more serious if the pain wasn’t laced through every syllable and his body still curled up on the floor. The dark fairy reacted even more quickly than Yoongi, freezing for a second of shock and then coming for Jungkook right away, picking the younger up like he weighed nothing and simply placing him right besides Yoongi without a word. Then he turned and before he was out the door he told them, “I guess you two have to rewrite the rules a little. Meet me if you’re finished, you’re gonna find me in the herbs room, I think I’m gonna finish that project I’m working on. Might even come in handy for you two morons.” Then he quickly closed the door before someone could throw something at him.

Jungkook crawled away from Yoongi the second he was in the house again. He had tried to fight off the fairy, begging him to just let him be but there was nothing he could do against his strength anyway. He was too weak from the pain and it felt too good to be back next to Yoongi. Jungkook hated it though, pulling his knees up, averting his gaze to not look at Yoongi. He tried to keep his breathing under control but his lungs hurt so much, the pain in his body was only slowly ebbing away and every cell of his body was screaming for Yoongi’s closeness – but the young boy didn’t want to give in. Who knew what he would do to him? Take his innocence? Bite him? Eat him? Suck the soul out of his body? He choked on a dry sob, only glancing at Yoongi before he turned away from him again. “Oh shut it! Don’t be so overdramatic,” Yoongi groaned, finally coming back to his senses now that Jungkook was in the same room with him again. ”It’s your own fault for headlessly running away. Why’d you do that anyway? Seen one of his pets around? They don’t bite, you just gotta keep out of their way and you’ll be safe. With most creatures it’s a ‘don’t harm me ad I won’t harm you’ kinda deal. So stop getting yourself in trouble, cause I don’t like it. And it gets me in trouble too,” He lectured Jungkookie, unaffected by the youngers fragile state.

“I never wanted this, why don’t you see that?” Jungkook said, his voice shaking with anxiety, “I never wanted to take your freedom. I am sorry. I….I really am. Please don’t hurt me.” There were tears glistening in his eyes and he put his hand over his mouth to keep himself together. “Please…,” Jungkook closed his eyes, pressing the palm of his hands against them, trying not to cry. He wanted to be strong. Just like Yoongi was. He didn’t want him to see how much it affected him, that the other could just take his life – just like that and didn’t care at all, when Jungkook was the weak one. He cared about Yoongi. About his freedom. “What am I exactly, Yoongi?” He slowly looked up at him, “What exactly is this bond? Angels? Ma- master? Am I bad for you?” Wrapping his arms a little closer around his own body, he tried to keep himself safe and warm, “You will kill me right? The second we’re separated?”

Yoongi felt hot and cold while Jungkook’s emotions mingled with his own. The younger had heard them - he must have listened because they hadn’t been that easy to hear. That little shit had actually managed to eavesdrop without them noticing! Yoongi was stunned silent for a moment, not really sure what to tell him. He could be honest and scare Jungkook away - or he could do it like his friend and be all nice and cuddly, telling Jungkook what he wanted to hear. He needed Jungkook to be on his side. If he wasn’t it could end uncomfortable for him. Especially when Jungkook was a boy with the power of an angel and the knowledge of a non-believer. So he decided to go for the latter, inching closer to Jungkook.

“Jungkook...Kookie, look at me,” He waited until the boy dared to stop hiding his face, eyes red and bottom lip trembling, “I’m sorry I talked about you like that.” It felt strange pretending to care, the words awkward and absurd on his tongue, but the longer he talked the easier he managed to pull it off, telling those lies so smoothly and on the spot that he was a little proud of himself. “I was just...scared I guess? I mean it’s also my life we’re talking about here. And even though you didn’t mean to you interrupted it pretty harshly. Still, I know you’re suffering too. I’m not the only one. So I shouldn’t have talked like that and especially not behind your back. Please, I didn’t mean to scare you. the situation is scary enough as it is already. I’m not gonna hurt you.” At least not for as long as he would feel the effects of or would be hindered by the magical defense system again, was what he thought to himself while speaking. “But I can’t promise you that it will be easy to fix this. You gotta be strong. Can you do that for me Kookie? Can you be strong for me?” He gave him an encouraging smile. Jungkook had listened to every word carefully. He wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. It didn’t sound right coming from Yoongi. Jungkook had to think quickly. There was only two ways this could go. Either he would die or he would somehow make sure Yoongi wouldn’t kill him in the end and let him live. Yoongi had tried to kill him before and it led Jungkook to believe that he would do it again. The words weren’t right. Yoongi didn’t care. Not yet.

Jungkook jumped up and into Yoongi’s arms holding on close. He nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped tightly around the other. “I want to trust you,” Jungkook said, his voice sounding weak but as soft as honey, “You’re my demon, right?” There was only one way to make sure Yoongi would let Jungkook be and that was to make him like him. He had no other plan and Jungkook was somehow sure it could work…maybe…somehow. 

The sudden attack had gotten Yoongi unprepared and so he wrapped his arms around Jungkook on instinct. The younger was so close to him that he could smell his delicious scent again, drawing him in and making him want Jungkook in a way that was more than just sexual desire. It was pure need. He nosed along Jungkook’s jaw, the urge to cover up what the fairy had done there so strong that he almost licked him too. But he wasn’t a fairy. Licking wouldn’t do that much for him. He wanted to bite, to rip, to dig in deeply, to consume Jungkook completely.

Jungkook placed himself more into Yoongi’s lap, holding on tighter and letting the bond between them soothe both. If it was true that Jungkook had some kind of magic in himself, he was sure he could find a way to protect himself, without hurting Yoongi or anyone else. Yoongi shuddered when the younger was talking to him so sweetly, seeking his warmth and comfort. And Yoongi let him. Felt like he would let him have everything he wanted as long as if it would make Jungkook stay close to him and soothe their bond. “Yeah, I’m...yours,” He whispered as an answer, barely audible, breathing the words against Jungkook’s neck. “Okay,” Jungkook mumbled back quietly. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like this but Jungkook just closed his eyes and stayed in Yoongi’s embrace. When he did pull off, he still kept close, his hands on Yoongi’s neck, drawing little pattern into his skin mindlessly as he gazed back into his dark eyes. “What did…,” Jungkook spoke softly, only for Yoongi to hear, “Oh my god I am so rude. I didn’t even ask for his name and just let him lick me? But what did he mean with ‘rewriting’ our rules? And...I overheard you saying that….that this what we have is dangerous? For us?” His breathing still came in sharp pants and he felt so anxious with every question he had on his mind.

Yoongi was torn between enjoying Jungkook’s closeness that felt so good to his roughed up heart (the bond - it was just the bond, nothing else) and trying to keep himself together to be guarded and secure in this game they were playing. “Ah, don’t worry about his name, we - we aren’t exactly fond of being called - just don’t worry about it,” Yoongi wasn’t that good which talking about deeply personal stuff so he didn’t exactly want to tell Jungkook the power that held their name over that. How much damage you could do if you knew their true name and called them by it. Of course you needed a great portion of magic for that too. But considering how naturally magic was laced to Jungkooks very being - and an angel’s magic at that - it was reasonable to be wary of that. He actually didn’t want to think about what it could mean for him that Jungkook knew now. His name. It had sounded different on Jungkook’s tongue. Softer, more rounded. Whole. It had made him shiver internally while his face had hardened on the outside. It was a scary thing, to know someone could get around your outer defenses so easily to strike you right at the very core…

Yoongi suppressed another shiver when Jungkook’s fingers drew a certain pattern on his back. His instincts screamed at him to check if Jungkook was secretly drawing angel’s sigils on his skin, binding him further, enslaving his soul in some perfidious way - but his rationality kept him still. He tried to breathe through the anxiety, relax into Jungkook's embrace. It was churning, experiencing caresses like that. He didn’t know what to feel. So he just stared at Jungkook, at those big doe-like eyes that were so open and vulnerable and yet Jungkook didn’t try to shield himself away but let Yoongi see him, let him in like this. His hand reached out for Jungkook’s face almost on its own accord, tracing the soft features of his angelic face. “Don’t worry. It’s not dangerous for you. I’ll keep you safe. You’ll always be safe when you’re with me,” Safe from anything but him, of course. He didn’t want to tell him that the fairy had talked about other demons, ones that might take offense if they saw Yoongi walking around with another magical being that was obviously not from the dark side of the game (the way they were acting no one would know that they were bound in a master/servant spell through some magical accident which meant they could easily take it as Yoongi having switched sides). Demons didn’t take treason lightly. In fact they always liked to make an example to keep others from becoming traitors. And they liked to do it the bloody, horrible, traumatizing way that gave demons their bad reputation. That and their tendency to be recklessly, ruthlessly evil every once in a while.

Their intimate moment was interrupted when the fairy peaked inside, happily talking right from the start, “Hey, you two! I hope everything’s fine it was awfully silent so I thought..oh!” He smirked at the scene before him, Yoongi and his human in a tight embrace, looking deeply into each other’s eyes like the embodiment of love. “Did I interrupt you two? I’m so sorry, it wasn’t my intention to keep you from...whatever you two are doing at the moment,” He chuckled when Yoongi glared daggers at him again and Jungkook hastily got off the other’s lap, obviously flustered. “You know what you are doing there is actually good for your bond. And will make it loosen up a little,” The fairy quickly added and Jungkook's cheeks flushed red, feeling like the other just had seen something between them that looked way more intimate than they were. Maybe. At least Jungkook thought so. It was only the bond making them act so strange.

“What do you mean?“ He got up on his feet, “Do we need to...like...cuddle to make it loosen?“ Jungkook suddenly got excited and jumped up, “Do you think...we can make it more lose so...so I can go to work alone without any of us hurting?“ The prospect of being somewhere on his own again was giving him some hope for himself as well as Yoongi, “Can you help us?“

“Well, yes - and no. I can’t really help you in a way that I can do anything to make it lose. I tried. I read up on stuff I reached out but I found nothing on how to lose it apart from the release spell which must be in your book which you won’t be able to read because…,” He sighed as he saw Jungkook’s confused gaze, “Ok, look, here is what I think. That book was from your grandma right? It’s an angel’s book. Some heavenly stuff that should never ever get into the hands of an impure being. So normally, not even humans are supposed to read it. It goes blank in that case. But you, my dear, were more than human. So despite the books own protection you could open it and read something out of it and summon Yoongi and bind him to it. We don’t know what the other spells in there are. It could have been better or worse if you had opened another page. Maybe you would have just invited good spirits. Or maybe you would have officially declared war against hell, who knows. Anyway, now that you have a demon that close to you the book views you as impure - don’t worry, Yoongi didn’t do anything with your soul and he can’t do it while the bond is intact unless you willingly let him…,” He ignored the way Yoongi actually growled at him hoping that his friend would understand that he liked Jungkook and that he thought the younger was scared enough already. If he felt like Yoongi had a way to get into his very soul he might be scared out of his mind. “Still, as the two of you are bound so tightly together your energies mix a little. Just a temporary thing- but enough to fool the book. That’s why it’s blank now, even to you. And that’s why we can’t read the release spell. You could imagine that spell like a lock. You need the exact key, something that was made for it. If the lock is weak you can break it with other tools even if it’s messy and will ruin the lock. But if the lock is some high-quality, high-end shit that’s anchored into the building then breaking the lock might fuck up the building too. Excuse my metaphors but I guess considering you don’t seem to have any knowledge of spells or magical work it might be easier for you to understand it like this even if it’s oversimplified that way,” He waited for the information to sink in before he continued, “So we either need to get someone pure and of the ‘light side’ to help us read the book, someone we trust enough that they wouldn’t give us false information - or we could try to find someone who might know what spell exactly you used, one of the great practitioners. But there are very few and most of them are unpredictable and...yeah, I’m not sure which of the two would be the better choice. Until then I can’t really help you, but you can help yourself. The bond is there for you to keep your deal. It makes sure that none of you tries to run off and ditch your responsibilities. The more you are fighting it, the more it is activated and the tighter it pulls you together because...well, it tries to keep you on a tight leash so you won’t have any opportunities to work against what the spell was for. Which in reverse means - you have to accept it. And there’s no pretending with a magical thing. Only if you really, truly accept it, that you both are here, that you are bound to each other and that working against the spell isn’t a good idea at the moment, only then will it let loose a little. In short: the more you fight it the tighter it will pull you and the more pain you will feel if you breach its borders. But if you commit yourself to it and don’t try to destroy it or foul it in any way or form - then you should both be able to live your life normally, like going hunting for Yoongi and going to work or grocery shopping or whatever humans do nowadays for Jungkook.”  

Jungkook felt exhausted. There was so much information, that he had to process so he reached out for a chair to sit down. Biting his lip anxiously he pulled his knees in, his eyes going back and forth with every thought until he spoke up again. “Okay. I will try my best. Are there any things to help us with accepting the bond? I’d say for me it would be easier to do so, but Lucy….I mean Yoongi…I feel like it’s harder for him,” Jungkook looked over to his demon a faint smile on his lips, when he turned to the fairy again, “He really feels betrayed by me, though I never meant to take his freedom.” Playing with the hem of his shirt, Jungkook averted his gaze. He still felt guilty for making Yoongi feel so miserable. He wasn’t happy with him but Jungkook would try to make it as comfortable as he could until they would figure out a way, just like he had tried before – but if Yoongi would accept the bond he would gain some freedom back as well. “Please help us,” Jungkook reached out for the fairies wrist, his eyes big and pleading.

The fairies eyes flickered over to Yoongi when the boy touched him and he was torn between pulling his hand back as to not agitate Yoongi further and letting Jungkook hold his hand to help soothe the younger, “I’m afraid I can’t do anything. He has to do it by himself, he either...”

“Stop speaking about me as if I wasn’t there!” Yoongi’s tongue was clicking in disgust, his words sharp and clipped, “And stop filling him up with so much stuff, don’t you see how much it affects him?” Yoongi got up and because Jungkook still held the fairies hand he could feel the subtle flinch even though nothing else betrayed the motion, not even his face, “I’m just trying to help here, Yoongi. It’s not..”

“Godfuckingdamnit!” The demon brushed off the glasses on the table easily, making them fall and shatter into a million pieces. He kept on cursing, yelling in his desperation, language no longer human but demonic snarls that only the fairy understood. He didn’t try to calm Yoongi down, didn’t try to talk to him just let him let out his anger and frustration and probably fear. He knew how scared Yoongi was of being caged in and being confined and what Jungkook had done to him was exactly that just worse because he couldn't even see his shackles or work against them - not without hurting himself in the process. The fairy subtly inched a little closer to Jungkook, shielding him from any shards or splinters that accidentally might come his way, trying to keep him as calm as possible with a gentle smile, that was a little bit too sad to be of help.

Jungkook watched the chaos happening in front of him, his heart beating fast and hard against his chest. He flinched with every glass breaking and every inhuman sound that came from the other. Suddenly the heat in the room seemed even more unbearable and Jungkook gasped to get some air into his lungs. He hid behind the other, feeling how the fairy pushed him back a little more, even though he wanted to reach out for Yoongi. Shivering in fear, he felt the kitchen counter pressed against his back as he was closed in. Jungkook let out a small scream when a glass shattered right next to him. He had never seen Yoongi like this, except for the day he had summoned him. “Yoongi, please,” Jungkook wanted to reach out, but the fairy grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand back again, making him feel so useless and helpless. The angrier Yoongi got, the hotter Jungkook felt and it felt like he was suffocating and it wasn’t from the heat of the desert. He felt faint and his legs wobbled as hot sweat came over him. There were hot flashes across his entire body and Jungkook tried his best to calm himself, afraid that he might pass out. He searched for Yoongi’s eyes, begging him silently to stop when there was a sudden flicker of light and the fairy put out his arms even more, pressing Jungkook against the counter harder, making it even more difficult for him to get air into his lungs.

The air around Yoongi was flickering, like the heat haze in the desert sometime made the air glimmer. Just this time it was all because of Yoongi. The horns were the first to peak through his human illusion, not fully there, parts still hidden behind his magic but bits and pieces of them breaking through in a hazy sheen. The claws came next, slashing the table like paper and leaving deep gashes behind in the dark, wooden surface.

The fairy could feel Jungkook shake in his protective embrace. “Yoongi!“ His voice sounded different than when he was talking to Jungkook, more powerful, intent. His words tinged with something else, “Stop it. You‘re slipping! Come back to your senses! Please. You don‘t want to scare Jungkookie, right? He can feel it, remember? All of it. Just - let us talk it out, I‘m sure we can find an arrangement where...“

“No,“ Yoongi turned and the flickering ended like someone had cut the power on a light. Just like that he was back to ‚normal‘. Only that his voice had lost its spite, his stance the anger. He looked deflated even though he was as upright as before. “I accept it,” It sounded hopeless although his mouth was turned up into a smile. A tight-lipped one that didn‘t reach his eyes. For a moment the fairy just looked at him sadly. “I‘m sorry I can‘t help. I really are. But don‘t give up, okay? I‘ll keep on looking, keep on searching. As I said you just need an angel or a fairy of light, maybe I can ask a friend of mine or…,” He broke off when Yoongi stepped closer but the demon simply placed his hand onto his shoulder, as a silent thank you. “‘M sorry about the mess. I‘ll clean up your kitchen. Alone,“ It was as close to asking for some alone time as it would get with Yoongi being his normal self so the fairy didn‘t try to argue and just nodded, taking Jungkook with him.

“We could find ourselves something nice to eat. I figured you haven‘t had the time to check my storage yet as you were busy trying to overhear our talking?“ He didn‘t sound mad at all, just amused, “I could get you some fried pixie wings, all nice and crispy. What do you think?“ Jungkook had not time to comprehend what just happened, feeling himself getting dragged out of the room. He looked over his shoulder and at Yoongi, before getting pulled ahead. “I…I…do you maybe have some banana milk?” Jungkook asked quietly, trying to ignore the words ‘pixie wings’ his mind circulating around what he just saw. Yoongi had horns and claws and even though Jungkook couldn’t think it was possible his eyes had been even darker. He felt himself getting pushed down to sit on some cushion on the floor, his mouth still hanging open, his eyes empty and staring off into the distance. The thoughts were running wild and he could feel a headache settling in. 

The fairy laughed at his request shaking his head a little, “I’m sorry, sweety, I don’t have that. But I have something that is quite similar to that, the milky juice of a fruit you probably don’t know but its sweet and substantial and yeah, I guess it’s exactly what you need. I could heat it up a little if you want then it’s warm and filling and I’m sure you’ll feel better in no time.” He lowered his voice a little when he urged Jungkook to look at him, “Don’t make the mistake to worry your pretty little head now. Yoongi won’t hurt you. He can’t. Not really. The bond won’t let him. And he’ll be fine even if it might not look like it. He’s had worse. He’s just not...good with expressing his feelings in front of others I guess. You will do him a favour if you pretend that nothing has happened. He’s gonna feel safest if you just go back to normal. You think you can do that?” Jungkook only nodded. He would try if that would help him of course, but he couldn’t shake the feeling off so easily, so he was glad when the fairy excused himself to get him said juice and Jungkook was alone for a bit.

Looking around, his gaze fell onto his bag and he pulled it closer, getting out another t-shirt he had packed in case. Now it came in handy, because he felt like he was sitting in a pool of his own sweat. Jungkook went for the bathroom, washing his face and letting cold water run over his wrists to calm him down further, before he put over the new shirt. When he saw the drink the fairy got him, Jungkook thanked him with a smile. It tasted sweet, milky and just like the calming drink he needed. He sat down on the couch, leaning over the backrest as he sipped the heavenly drink from the straw, mindlessly looking out of the window watching the sunset at the horizon. When he finished the drink, Jungkook couldn’t help but let his eyes fall shut. He was tired. Exhausted. And all he wanted was some rest.  

“Poor child,” The fairies words where soft and quiet, not intended for Jungkook to hear. He had watched Jungkook intently, wondering how someone so vulnerable had been able to pull of such strong magic. It must have taken its toll on Jungkooks body in one way or another. After all he was about 78% human. He picked the boy up with ease, carefully sliding a hand beneath his shoulders and another under his legs. He weighted about nothing to him but still, that delicate body held a whole fascinating being. He knew that Jungkook wasn’t frail for a human, he actually looked pretty muscular and strong but to him - or to Yoongi - it sometimes felt like they were made of glass. Even pixies could be stronger, tiny maybe but mighty. He placed him down on the bed softly, treating him with the care he deserved. He could just hope that Jungkook would be still alive next time he saw him. And unharmed. He wouldn’t mess with Yoongi for real so if the other found a way to break the spell, leaving Jungkook at the demon’s mercy then he wouldn’t save him. Not even despite the fact that if Yoongi would hurt Jungkook he would hurt himself too. Not because of some magical bonding thing - but because Yoongi had started to care for the human. he could see it. He knew him long enough. But caring and admitting to yourself that you cared where two different things, so maybe Yoongi would realize it too late.

Jungkook felt something soft against his cheek but he was too tired to open his eyes and just snuggled against it, pulling his knees up. But even in his sleep his mind didn’t let him rest but instead it felt like he was running. Breathless. Shaking in fear. Looking around for one person. Yoongi. He pursed his lips in his sleep, mumbling something, wrapping his arms around his body more. Jungkook felt so cold and he called out for the other. Over and over again.

Yoongi tried to ignored the feeling at first, thinking the pull in his mind was coming from over exerting himself in his emotional outburst. But even if he realized what exactly it was - that Jungkook was calling for him he tried to prolong the span of time it would take him to feel pain from it. He continued to brush off splitters, finished to clean away the mess he had made and even tried to mend the table back into a neat surface (magically) but his concentration wasn’t working and the pull started to get more and more intense so he sighed and just gave up. Like he knew he should have done right away. But it scared him to feel manipulated. Especially by someone like Jungkook, someone who couldn’t even begin to fathom what he was capable of.

He found the room Jungkook was in effortlessly, simply following where his mind wanted him to go. He found him curled up on a bed, covers all bunched up around him as if he had been restlessly moving. The sight made his heart skip a beat - and he hated it. He was not supposed to feel like that. He was a demon. The close proximity to Jungkook must be what was making him soft - but he wouldn’t let him worm his way into his heart. He would sleep next to him, yeah - but he would use it to feed, would send Jungkook dreams again, using the others exhaustion to get to him more easily. He was no puppet Jungkook could play with. He would change their places and make Jungkook the toy!

The second Jungkook could feel Yoongi’s presence he relaxed and he instinctively shifted closer, reaching out for the other. He blinked his eyes open for a second, when Yoongi was laying down beside him, looking at him all sleepy. “Are you okay?” Jungkook murmured, letting the demon pull him in without a word of protest, because being worried about his well-being was his first concern, “’m you hurt?” He didn’t even heard Yoongi’s answer, when he leaned onto the others chest, feeling safer than ever – though he knew it was a twisted one. For now, he was safe. Hearing Jungkook’s soft voice asking him if he was okay, as if the other actually cared about him - him! - made his heart contract painfully. He shivered with anger but masked it as the cold, inching closer to Jungkook and pulling the boy into his embrace. Like lovers. His mouth turned into a frown in distaste but Jungkook had already snuggled into his embrace comfortably, a sleepy sigh the only thing he could hear of him before the younger fell back into slumber. Just where he needed him to be. Unsuspecting and relaxed, oblivious to what Yoongi was gonna do to him. He was pretty sure the fairy would disapprove of his methods but he didn’t care, he wasn’t some happy fluttering creature, he was a demon. From hell. It was time that he behaved like one.

Jungkook smiled when he finally saw Yoongi appearing in his dream and turned to flash him a big bunny like smile, though it vanished quick when he saw the stern look on his dream – demon’s face. “Why do you look so frowny?” Jungkook asked, waving Yoongi over to him, “Are you mad at me, too?” Yoongi quickly turned his expression into one of gentle admiration. “Me? No. I would never be anything but fond of you, my angel,” He chuckled at his own wording, now that he knew that it was more true than he could have ever imagined. “Come to bed with me, will you? It feels so good to have you close. Let me care for you, please,” He took Jungkook hands and led him to a bed that he had placed in the middle, building a cozy room around, adding details while he watched Jungkook lie down, creating everything with the aim to make it help Jungkook feel comfortable and at home. The more relaxed he was, the easier it would be to seduce him. 

„My sweet little angel…,“ He gently brushed his fingers through the others hair, calming him, soothing him, waiting until Jungkook sighed contently, lying back completely relaxed on the mattress. Slowly, very slowly did he let his hand wander down his neck, caressing the delicate skin, feeling the pulse under his fingers, calm and relaxed. Jungkook was so endearingly oblivious. The arm he had put around Jungkook's waist easily slipped under the younger‘s shirt, brushing his skin, nothing too demanding, just skin on skin, letting Jungkook get used to it. He leaned in to whisper into Jungkook‘s ear sweetly, not leaning back even when he had finished, “You‘re beautiful, you know that?“ His lips were so close to Jungkook's neck that it was easy to brush them over his skin, just barely there, fleeting, as if on accident. He rubbed soothing little circles into the bare skin on Jungkook's side, searching for the younger‘s eyes before giving him a reassuring smile. The kisses against Jungkook’s neck felt good and so soft it let a moan slip from him. “Yoongi,” Jungkook reached out for him, holding him close to his own body as the other kissed up his jaw, until he could look at him. Jungkook smiled faintly, “Can we just lay down next to each other tonight? I am so exhau-“ The younger one got interrupted by another kiss, the words cutting off. He tried to speak again, but Yoongi’s kisses got more heated, holding him tight to his body giving him no chance to talk.

It was nice kissing him. But Yoongi made sure that he didn't get lost in it. That was Jungkook’s part. However the human was too exhausted apparently, trying to cheat Yoongi out of his midnight meal. He wasn’t having it. If the soft way couldn’t trick Jungkook into a bit of sinning  that Yoongi could lap up, then he would try the more direct approach. The hand under his shirt wandered upwards, over Jungkook’s torso and brushing his dusky pink nipples. It was a shame that the shirt Jungkook was wearing was keeping Yoongi from seeing it. So he made the cloth vanish and hoped that Jungkook was too out of it to notice that he was messing with the physical laws (normally it didn’t matter and humans didn’t really mind if there was magical stuff in dreams. They were dreams after all. But after Jungkook had noticed something being off one or two nights ago Yoongi didn’t want to take any risks. But luckily Jungkook had closed his eyes the moment Yoongi had started to touch him with purpose). The shiver that ran through the younger’s body was gorgeous to watch. Especially now that he could see his bare skin and had the possibility to kiss all over the soft expanse. He didn’t do it yet because keeping Jungkook’s mouth occupied was a more pressing matter right now. At least until Jungkook would be too aroused to complain any more.

„You‘re quite sensitive, aren’t you,” He commented, not leaving Jungkook time to answer at all, “Mind if I exploit that a little?“ He went back to Jungkook’s mouth and his nipples simultaneously, rubbing his finger against one of the small, hardened nubs, while his free hand played with the other. Jungkook was restless. One side of him wanted Yoongi to touch him further, but the bigger part of him just couldn’t relax. He got shut by another kiss and he kissed back but tried to speak nonetheless.

“Yoongi, please,” Jungkook turned his head away, which only made him attack his neck, so he pushed against his chest, “Please.” He tried to cover himself a little more, wriggling from underneath Yoongi, but he was locked in underneath the other.

He wasn’t quite sure what Jungkook was begging for exactly and despite not knowing if Jungkook was still comfortable with this he continued, shushing him a little. “Just relax, sweety. I promise you’ll like what I’m gonna do to you. Just lie back and enjoy it.” The younger opened his mouth again but Yoongi just took it as an invitation to deepen the kiss and lick into his mouth properly. He parted Jungkook's thighs with his own, and because he didn’t think that it was enough to get Jungkook hard quickly enough he also trailed his hand down the others chest, teasingly scraping his nails over the flawless skin, making sure to not leave out any of Jungkook’s weak spots that he had mapped out already. He could feel the younger squirm below him and rolled his hips deliberate against Jungkook’s crotch.

Jungkook felt like a puppet in Yoongi’s arms and it didn’t felt right. He didn’t want this. Not tonight. Jungkook just needed his closeness, his warmth. Not this. His body was betraying him in every way, as if it couldn’t decipher from what his heart really wanted and every other part just reacting on the pleasure that Yoongi send through him.

When Yoongi’s hands were still lingering around his chest, he grabbed the wrists of the demon, his heart beating fast. “No!” Jungkook spoke up again, only louder this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a thought lingering around that Yoongi could still hurt him, use him for something he needed but Jungkook never intended to give to him. Even if it was just in a dream. “Yoongi,” He said breathlessly, “Please stop! I don’t want to…please.” He gulped heavily and averted his gaze, being scared about how the other would react. 

Yoongi stopped midways with what he was doing and looked at Jungkook dumbfoundedly. He could feel the anger starting to well up inside of him. He had done everything he thought that the other might like, he had created a full goddamn room for the human to feel comfortable -  he only wanted to feed on his energy! Why would he made it so difficult for him? There was no use in continuing if Jungkook didn’t want this because his energy only tasted sweet and enjoyable if he was actually into it. Not stopping would only hurt Jungkook. But maybe...maybe that’s what he wanted. He hadn’t wanted to be bound either. So why the hell should he care about some random humans feelings? No, Jungkook wasn’t even that. Not even human. Just some deranged version of one, with enough angel blood in his veins to summon him but not enough magic to be of use for anything. A pain in the ass was all that he was. Whiny little child. He needed to be taught a lesson. That he couldn’t just get away with this. That him playing around with magic had consequences. He would make Jungkook feel what it meant to try and confine him. Even if it was just in a dream, it was at least something that would help to make him feel less powerless. He gripped Jungkook’s wrist, forcing the youngers arms up above his head and looking at him coldly, friendly mask all slipped away, “I don’t care for what you want. The world doesn’t revolve around you alone!”

Jungkook’s whole body froze, when he saw into Yoongi’s eyes and saw nothing but darkness. Before there had been spots all over, little silver stars glistening in the other’s eyes but now they were empty. The tight hold on his wrists hurt and Jungkook whined helplessly. “I…I’m sorry,” He choked on his fear. If Yoongi didn’t care then…

“N..no,” Jungkook stuttered quietly, his whole-body shivering but he couldn’t control it, even if he had tried. He had wanted to pull his wrists away, but the demon was way stronger. “Yoongi,” Jungkook spoke up again, trying to meet his gaze bravely, “Please, Yoongi, I’m scared. You scare me!” Yoongi just growled as an answer, ignoring Jungkook’s pleas. He would take it out on Jungkook, he would take it all out, the uncertainty and desperation and fear and everything, everything that made it so difficult to breathe! He secured Jungkook's wrists in one hand so that he could use the other, gripping his chin roughly and turning the boys head towards him. He wanted Jungkook to face him, wanted to look into his eyes and have him knowing that this was all his fault, that Yoongi would have never hurt him like this if he had just left him alone. Everything was Jungkook’s fault!

He leaned in and Jungkook made a small sound in the back of his throat that sounded so scared that it made Yoongi freeze. Jungkook was scared. Of course he was. He better should be, because Yoongi would...he would...

The demon turned his head a little to look into Jungkook’s eyes again and almost gasp at what he saw. He had wanted to make Jungkook feel what he was feeling. And he already had. There was fear, insecurity, desperation - and it hurt to see Jungkook like that. It didn’t make anything better. It just caused two people to be miserable instead of one. He tried to move a little because suddenly he was just really, really uncomfortable, but because he hadn’t let Jungkook go yet he could feel the younger shake. There were tears in his eyes and Yoongi didn’t get it. He didn’t get how he could have been stupid enough to think that hurting this literal angel would change anything. It might have been an easy solution to blame everything on Jungkook and then just let loose but if he was honest, deep down he knew that Jungkook would set him free immediately if only he could. He had proved that he cared for Yoongi no matter who or what he was more than once. And Yoongi had thanked him with almost wrecking him.

Nervously he wetted his lips, completely blank as to what to do next. Well, letting Jungkook go probably would be a good start after all. “Jungkook..Kookie, I…,” How did you say ‘sorry for almost trying to rip a tear into your soul?

“I’ve come back to my senses now,” He finished lamely, “Please don’t be scared. I wasn’t.. I would never. Just please don’t...don’t hate me, I guess?” If Jungkook would get all vengeful now it would be close enough to the sin of wrath for Yoongi to feed off that too. But right now he didn’t care for that at all. All he wanted was for Jungkook to snuggle into his arms like before, to no longer look at him as if he felt as messed up as Yoongi was feeling inside. Jungkook’s chest was heaving quickly, but he stayed still watching every move Yoongi did. When he got up from him, Jungkook reacted quick and got off from the bed, stumbling onto his feet and looking at the demon from afar. He wiped over his eyes, taking in a deep, sharp breath. “You scared me,” Jungkook murmured quietly, his voice still sounding too shaken from fear, “Not just once but twice today. How am I supposed to trust you? Trust our bond? I…I don’t… please I want to wake up. Wake me up, please! I don’t want to be here! Yoongi!”

He couldn’t wake Jungkook up like this. There was no way the younger would feel ok if he woke up like this. Yoongi felt a bitter taste in his mouth when he watched Jungkook standing a bit away from the bed, shoulders hunched, everything on him looking so lost and small. “I’m not...like you, Kookie. I’m not as calm or controlled or...I am...what I am. But that’s actually no excuse. At all. Just.. you know this is a dream right? And you don’t need to wake up from it to feel better. It’s your dream. You can change it in any way you like. And you never need to be scared in here. You’re safe with me. No matter what it looks like, you’ll never get hurt here. You’re safe,” It was easy to lie to him. But this time it didn’t feel good to do it and he also didn’t do it for himself but for Jungkook. If he made him feel like he had control of this then maybe he wouldn’t feel as awful as Yoongi did. Because he didn’t want Jungkook to feel like he did. Not anymore. And not ever again.

“I know that, I know you’re different and I accept that… but nonetheless it scared me,” Jungkook spoke a little too fast, raking his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to be here,” He said, closing his eyes as he leaned his head onto the wall, “This isn't my dream…this was never my dream.” Jungkook opened his eyes and looked at Yoongi, only sadness and tiredness left in his eyes, “Please just help me… for once, please. I want to go home!” Yoongi could see how it ate away on him, knowing that he was stuck and at Yoongi’s mercy even if he had changed his manner. He didn’t want to torture Jungkook any longer. So he just gave in. “Okay,” He got off the bed and reached out for Jungkook, the flinch expected but it still gave him a surprisingly painful little stab right in the heart, “I need to have contact for it to work so let me hold your hand please. Just for a second. You won’t have the time to count to three before you’re gonna open your eyes and be back in your bed where you fell asleep. Just...trust me again, okay?”

Jungkook nodded quickly and held out his hand for Yoongi to take. He took a deep breath and suddenly jerked up, eyes wide in panic a gasp fell from his lips, when he sat up straight in bed with Yoongi lying next to him. He quickly turned and got on his knees, his eyes wandering up to see if the other was awake and if he had noticed. Jungkook poked Yoongi’s side carefully, cocking his head to the side, while the other blinked his eyes open. His beautiful, dark eyes with stars placed all over in them. It was his demon.

“Y-yoongi?” Jungkook’s voice was quiet but enough for the other to hear. Yoongi wondered what Jungkook would do now. If he would ask him to leave the bed or get the fairy because he didn’t trusted him enough to be alone with him any longer or if Jungkook would just yell at him for messing with his dreams. So he stayed silent, just blinking up at him, a little sleepy from just getting back from dreamland.

Jungkook knew that dreams were just dreams in the end, but still his heart felt heavy with anxiety and he needed Yoongi to calm him. Also of what he remembered that the fairy told them, Jungkook really wanted to trust the other, make the bond work so Yoongi would get some of his freedom back. “Do- do you,” Jungkook stuttered, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous habit, “I know it sounds stupid but I just had a weird dream and I’m still a bit out of it…and the whole day just made me so anxious. I don’t know what to think…but please answer this honestly, okay?” He shifted a little closer and motioned for Yoongi to sit up. “And I want you to look me in the eyes when you answer,” Jungkook took a deep breath, before he asked the other bravely, “Do you want to hurt me? In the end I mean…when it’s all over? I just need to know…if you want to hurt me or not. Don’t tell me lies. I don’t care! Just tell me the truth.”

Yoongi didn’t have to feign surprise at that. It had sounded as if Jungkook had known that the dream was a magical construct but apparently he still hadn’t connected Yoongi with it. All the better. He could have easily slipped out of this situation and telling Jungkook some beautiful lies, persuade him to just let it be and then go on with his plan - but he felt like the younger deserved some honesty. After what he had just endured he was still talking openly to him. Always open and honest and caring, no matter the risk he brought to himself. So he did as Jungkook had asked and sat up, facing him, “Why do you ask? We don’t know what happens. So many things can change till then. So why do you want to know? What would you do if I did say that I wanted to hurt you? You would still have to stay close to me, right? What difference would it make?”

“Just tell me the truth,” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, “I ask because…I don’t know. Maybe I can accept my fate then. I know you don’t like me.” He chuckled lowly, wrapping his arms around himself loosely, “It would help me accept our bond. I don’t want to fear you…you know you are way stronger than me and you could overpower me any second and the moment our bond breaks.” Jungkook fell quiet for a moment as he looked around the room, sorting out his thoughts. “You don’t know, right?” Jungkook said and a faint smile appeared on his lips, “You don’t know if you want to hurt me or not, am I right? You were sure once…I can feel that.”

It was strange, to hear Jungkook speak out his thoughts like this. The funny thing however was that it sounded wrong. Completely, utterly wrong. Yes, he had wanted to devour Jungkook’s soul at first. But he hadn’t known him. And now he did. And he had grown attached. It wasn’t as if...Yoongi swallowed hard. And then he let go of his pretense completely. He liked him. However annoying or naiv or painfully selfless Jungkook could be sometimes - he still liked him. And therefore he wouldn’t hurt him. Not now. And not later.

“You’re wrong. And you’re right. I do like you. That’s what has bothered me a while. I didn’t hate you. Not really. It was the situation. But as long as you promise to set me free - as long as you swear on your own soul that you will let me go the second you are able to and that you won’t try to use the binding spell’s power against my will in any kind or form - then I guess we can make peace with each other,” He nodded courtly as if to assure himself that he was doing the right thing. He felt incredibly vulnerable like this. If you lied it was always distant, just a game, not real. Not like this. Talking about your feelings, especially fears left you in a position where you needed to trust the other person not to abuse that knowledge. It felt horrifying. But also… good. Like something intimate. He searched for Jungkook’s eyes before he summed it up, “So to answer your question: No, I won’t hurt you. Not on purpose. Neither with nor without that bond.”

Jungkook couldn’t believe his words, staring at the other with big unbelieving eyes but then a smile appeared on his lips. “I will, I told you I will,” Jungkook said hastily, as if the moment he would take too long Yoongi would take everything back. It felt like a weight lifted off Jungkook’s shoulders and his smile grew bigger and bigger. He flung himself into Yoongi’s arms again, thanking him quietly and hiding his face so the other couldn’t see the tears. The past week had been so full of anxiety for Jungkook that he hadn’t realize how it felt like to relax completely. And because the fairy had said it would help the bond as well to connect like this, Jungkook stayed like this until he fell asleep in the other’s embrace with his head on Yoongi’s shoulders. He felt safe. Completely safe.

A/N: And another new chapter! Here we go again! Leave us a comment or an ask on how you liked it! There’s still a lot more to come...so keep an eye out on the weekly updates! Thank you for reading! ❤ ❤ ❤ 

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[listentotheshityousay]

The first time Michael proposes marriage to Jeremy is when they’re seven years old.

“We should get married,” Michael says, absolutely serious.

Jeremy gives the idea some serious thought. Which is difficult, since he doesn’t quite understand how marriage works in the first place. “What happens when we get married?”

“We get to be together forever.” Michael throws his hands in a wide circle to illustrate a seven-year-old’s version of forever. “We’ll be a family, so that means we can live together, too. And, uhhh, we can have a dog!”

Jeremy’s eyes go wide. “A dog?”

“Maybe two dogs,” Michael says magnanimously. “And a cat.”

Which is how Jeremy ends up running downstairs to ask his mom if he can marry Michael and get two dogs and a cat, and then comes back to his room radiating disappointment. “Mom says we can’t get married cuz we’re both boys.”

“What?” Michael pouts. “That sucks.”

Jeremy nods. “She said there’s a different thing for us, and it’s kinda like getting married but not really. And she said we’re too young to do anything like that anyway.”

“How old do we have to be?”

“I dunno. Maybe like, fifteen? Fifteen is pretty old,” Jeremy muses.

Michael groans and smushes his face against a beanbag chair. “Ugh, fine. We’ll get married later.”

“We can’t get married,” Jeremy reminds him.

Michael scowls. “We’ll get kinda-but-not-really married, then.”

“Whatever.” Jeremy’s too crushed by the disappointment of no dogs (or cats) in his immediate future to be invested in this topic anymore. “Hey, you still wanna play that game my dad bought me yesterday?”

-

The second time Michael proposes, they’re thirteen years old.

“Dammit, Jeremiah Heere, marry me,” Michael whines.

“Nope,” Jeremy says.

By now, they know a lot more about how marriage works, that same-sex marriage isn’t legal in New Jersey, and that marriage is for people who date each other, not for best friends. Jeremy’s pretty aware that he’s never going to marry Michael Mell.

“Jeremy, just marry my goddamn Sim, oh my god.”

At least that doesn’t matter in The Sims.

Jeremy sniffs. “Build me a better house first, and then I’ll think about it.”

“Goddamn you,” Michael grumbles, but he starts building that house anyway.

-

The third time is when they’re sixteen and Michael’s half-delirious with the flu.

“Here,” Jeremy says, seating himself cautiously on the edge of Michael’s bed, holding a steaming mug of tea. He helps Michael struggle upright, and then surrenders the mug to Michael’s grabby hands.

“Fuck yeah,” Michael sighs, his voice hoarse in a way that makes Jeremy want to shiver. “God, I could marry you.”

Jeremy laughs, the inside of his stomach tying itself into knots. His fingers burn from where they brushed against Michael’s as he passed over the mug. “Go to sleep, dumbass.”

“Seriously,” Michael croaks as Jeremy bullies him back under the covers, “marry me.”

Same-sex marriage has been legal in New Jersey for just about a year, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jeremy’s acutely aware that he’s never going to marry Michael Mell, and he’s made his peace with that, but it still hurts.

“Go to sleep,” Jeremy repeats, because if he tries to say anything else he’ll burst into pieces, tears spilling over, words ripping out of him. I want to, ask me, ask me for real, ask me and I’ll say yes. Let me say yes.

-

The fourth time, they’re eighteen. It’s their last week of high school and they’re laying on Jeremy’s bed together, ankles entwined, Michael tracing a line of dark bruises down Jeremy’s throat with a fingertip. Jeremy doesn’t bother to hide his shiver at Michael’s touch.

“I’m gonna ask you to marry me,” Michael says. In response to Jeremy’s startled look, he adds, “Not right now. I know it’s kinda early for that, and we still have college, and maybe we won’t last that long,” he scrunches his nose at that, like it’s a distasteful, illogical thought, “but one day, I’m gonna ask you.”

After all this time, it still surprises Jeremy, the idea that he can have Michael after all. That he just might get to marry this boy and keep him for the rest of his life. It’s been a while since he learned the taste of Michael’s tongue and the warmth of his mouth on Jeremy’s skin, the way Michael’s voice sounds when he whispers I love you into the crook of Jeremy’s neck, but it still feels unreal sometimes. Like this could all be taken away and Jeremy will wake up to a cold, empty bed.

So he doesn’t say ask me right now. They’re still young and he’s still learning to trust in this new future that he’s allowed to have. He doesn’t say yes, I’ll say yes.

Instead he presses their foreheads together and lets himself learn to believe in this. “I’ll be holding you to that.”

-

They’re twenty-three and drunkenly walking home to the little apartment they live in together when the fifth time happens.

Michael slurs, “Hey, Jer. Babe. We should get married.”

It’s a topic that they haven’t really discussed in a long time. They were too busy with college to ever think about it, and after college they were too busy getting jobs and finding a new apartment and paying rent. Their lives have settled into a comfortable routine now, the two of them creating a home and life together, intertwined at the roots, and in retrospect, it’s not an entirely ridiculous idea.

But even the most sensible of ideas are pointless when the person spouting them isn’t anywhere near sober.

“You’re drunk,” Jeremy says primly. He only had a beer, so he’s feeling a light buzz but otherwise quite clear-headed. Michael’s draped an arm over him so that he can lean half his body weight against Jeremy as they walk, so Jeremy isn’t inclined to take any of Michael’s declarations seriously at the moment.

“Yeah,” Michael says, because he’s quick to agree with things like that. “But I still wanna marry you.”

Jeremy huffs. “Okay, first of all: this is the kind of thing you gotta think through for a while instead of saying this on the spur of the moment. Secondly, we’re kinda young for that—not too young, but kinda young. Third, you’re drunk.”

“But Jer,” Michael whines, “don’t you wanna marry me?”

I do, Jeremy almost says, but he bites the words back. No point in arguing this with a drunk Michael. “If you really wanna do this,” he says instead, “ask me when you’re sober.”

Michael grumbles all the way back home, because he’s an annoyingly stubborn drunk, and it really speaks volumes about how doomed Jeremy is that he wants to marry him anyway.

-

The next morning, Michael doesn’t say anything about last night.

Jeremy ignores the twinge of hurt deep in his chest and doesn’t say anything. It’s not like he’s brave enough to be the one to ask first, after all.

-

Three weeks after that drunken, forgotten conversation, Michael comes home from work and drops a CD on Jeremy’s lap.

“I need you to give me some feedback on this,” Michael says. There are dark circles under his eyes and a stiffness to his shoulders that give away how tired he is under his smile. He’s been working a lot of overtime lately, especially since he was promoted just under a month ago. “Gameplay should be somewhere around ten to fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll do it now.” Jeremy heads over to Michael’s work desktop set beside the couch, because it’s better equipped for testing a game out than Jeremy’s laptop, and the screen is bigger.

Michael presses a quick kiss to Jeremy’s cheek. “Yeah, I’m gonna get changed. Lemme know if there’s any bugs.”

The game itself isn’t much of a challenge. It’s a pretty straightforward point-and-click adventure game, with little room for error and not a lot of plot, which is an anomaly from the usual plot-heavy stuff Michael’s company likes to churn out. The graphics are a lot simpler, too. Probably because they’re still testing things out, Jeremy figures. At least there don’t seem to be any bugs or anything he’d consider a red flag at this stage.

He clicks his way through a bedroom, then a classroom, and then a college campus, and by the time he’s eventually reached a tiny apartment that looks familiar and a red sprite has approached his blue one, he’s thinking it can’t be, can it?

“Jeremy Heere,” the little red sprite says, and suddenly it has a voice, it has Michael’s voice. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh my god,” Jeremy says, and turns to see Michael standing behind him, dressed in a button-up shirt and his dress pants that he only wore twice for job interviews, his grin sheepish as he rocks back and forth on his feet.

“So I thought about it,” Michael says in a conversational tone, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his pants, a corner of his mouth quirked up in a fond smile. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, actually. And I thought about it every day for the past three weeks while I bribed six different people into helping me make the most technologically complicated proposal of all time, and I haven’t considered the alternative even once.”

He pulls out a small black box from his pocket and Jeremy’s heart relocates to his throat as Michael goes down on one knee.

“Jeremy Heere,” Michael says, smiling up at him like he’s never even once thought of a future without Jeremy, like he’s never even considered Jeremy saying no. “I’ve wanted to marry you since we were seven years old and we can adopt as many dogs and cats as you like, and maybe some real kids too, if you want that kind of thing. Everything you want, anything I can do for you, I want to give it to you. Starting with myself. So, what do you want?”

Jeremy’s voice trembles when he says, “Ask me again.”

Michael blinks, then breaks out into a smile as bright as the sun. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Jeremy says, choking on his words, his tears, this happiness that bursts out of him, unstoppable. “Yes, yes, yes—”

He falls of his chair and onto his knees, scrambling to kiss Michael as hard as he can, and there’s a ring sliding onto Jeremy’s finger, forever promised in the way Michael smiles against Jeremy’s mouth. Their future together unfolding from this very moment. 

And for the first time, Jeremy doesn’t doubt that future at all.

#be more chill #bmc #boyf riends #meremy #ficlet #mine #long text post #aka five times jeremy didn't say yes to michael's proposal and the one time he did #BIRD THIS IS FOR YOU #THIS IS RETALIATION FOR MAKING RICH SAD #I HOPE YOU REPENT YOUR SINS #MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE I GUESS

[novantinuum]

Jen’s mega list of plans:

Written and posted here purely to keep me accountable, and also bc it’s easier to archive posts than find anything in my thousands of documents on my phone. These are all fan projects, basically.

Gravity Falls

-Draw kiki-kit’s precious flame Mabel, (from the graphic novel), and perhaps a flame Pines Family to go with it. Love her design. It seriously just... is precious <3

-Draw graphic novel like “covers” for @the-ill-doctor and I’s RPs to commemorate our 1 yr anniversary of starting the first RP

-While speaking of RP, push past editing road blocks on The Time We Lost, the Time We Mended so we can finally post TateGate™ (pardon the unintelligible inside joke)

-I genuinely want to continue working on the AU comic I’d churned out a few pages for, and test my ability there more. The graphic novel has inspired me.

-I really want to make a print of that nice piece with three eras of Stan and all the Stan related objects floating over them for myself and hang it on my wall. Simple task, but I know I’ll forget so here I am posting a note to myself. JEN YOU KNUCKLEHEAD, get it done :O

-Just, generally? I want to get more comfortable sketching quick and fast. In traditional. I want to fill up a sketchbook with dynamic poses and expressions and random bullshit and get comfortable getting messy with my art.

-AMVs. Once my brother helps me rip the boxset, I have a special commission to make for @eregyrn-falls , and then after that I had a great, emotional idea for the song Unity by Shinedown.

Trollhunters

-I had a fic I started that I REALLY want to get back into, Death and All That Follows. I just have so many crazy projects rumbling through my head that this is easier said than done XD

-There’s a bunch of dynamic Jim and Toby pieces I have half finished that I’ll prob come back to one day if I’m bored...

-My cosplay prop amulet. Need to get glue and get it all together, plus resin/glow in the dark stuff for the crystal, and maybe paint for some touch up pizzaz.

-Not to mention, if I’m going to cosplay Jim? I need to actually order shoes, a wig, and the jacket. I have a stretch goal for colored contact lenses, but eh if I don’t get there that’s fine.

-I can never draw enough troll Jim, to be perfectly honest.

-I promised @inktheblot that I’d draw Toby in the trollhunter armor at some point and I still aim to do that. I actually kinda have an AU for it too?? So I could prob just make a bunch of sketches for that...

-I also promised myself once that I’d make big two or three inch amulet pins. Mostly one just for myself. But if I had the money to do a small bulk batch, excellent.

-Also mostly just for myself, unless I threw it on like... redbubble or something, I wanted to make a custom Trollhunters shirt with the amulet and some crystals and a quote and shit. Because I’m salty that the only Trollhunters shirts that officially exist are for small children.

AU crossover nonsense

-Write more of A Tale of Two Trollhunters. Probably a given, but I’m behind where I wanted to be. Also, I have a bunch of half sketched out future scene ideas I want to post as one shot snippets bc we all know I’ll never actually get there going chronologically ;D;

-Design troll forms for my changeling Dipper and Mabel

-While we’re at it, make designs for Alex and Gina Pines, my OC Dip and Mab parents who feature in the future stuff for this story.

Other

-Just, in general... develop my OCs more. Make MORE OCs. Challenge myself to just MAKE characters.

-Speaking of that, I kiiiinda wanna make a GF dating sim persona I kiiiinda really do, is it too late for that? XD

So. Anyways. As you might tell from all this insanity, I have a whole hell of a lot I would. Conceptually like to do? I really really love making fandom content y’all, it’s what keeps me going honestly. It’s my one creative outlet in between the stress of trying to pursue a degree in biochemistry, of all the hellishly complicated things I could’ve decided to find fascinating. And there’s genuinely some points where I’m like? What the hell Jen. What the fresh hell, why on earth do you have to give yourself so many project ideas to tackle? Why did you decide to draw AND write AND edit, why can’t you just pick ONE? And I’ve no idea dudes not a s i n g l e fuck. My attention bounces so fast from one idea to the next that sometimes I genuinely marvel how on earth I’ve gotten anything done in the past two years, but eh no matter. Anyways, now I’m just rambling so?

Future Jen. Step your game the fuck up my man. Get some cool fan content done! Stop disappointing your far-too-cool mutuals and followers with a lack of fan content and make something you can be proud of! Be cool, dude.

Be cool.

#dont take this too seriously it’s just me making notes to myself #jen rambles

[avengerofyourheart]

In the Arms of Justice Pt 17 (Cop!Bucky Drabble Series)

Characters: reader x Detective Barnes, Natasha, Rumlow, Scott.

Summary: Reader is a witness to a crime, tying her to the investigation as well as the police involved. She never would have guessed how that one night would continue to change her life years later.

Warnings: Some anxiety, also blood, murder, weapon and death mentions (none of it graphic), violence against women, gritty police drama tv show kind of feel.

Word Count: 1429

Tags at the bottom. TAG LIST IS CLOSED, I’M SO SORRY. 

A/N: Alright, you guys. If you thought things were crazy in the last part…whew. Prepare yourself. I’m ready for the screaming. ;) I’m so happy that you are all still excited about this series!! Thanks for sticking with me!

<<<Part 16   Part 17   Part 18>>> 

In the Arms of Justice Masterlist

Full Masterlist

______________________________________________________

Previously:

“I’ve had a few days to check up on you, Ms. Y/N (Y/L/N).” You shuddered to hear your name tumble from his mouth. “God bless the internet. You’re quite the altruist…doing good deeds and helping people. That’s what you want to do, right? To help people?” he asked you, gesturing in your direction with the tip of the knife, causing you to flinch.

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Cause you’re gonna help me out. You’re gonna walk out of here with me. Willingly. Or I kill everyone in this whole damn place.”

_________________

Terrified as you had felt since stepping into the office, your blood ran even colder now upon hearing this threat. Time slowed to a crawl. It felt like hours had passed when in reality, only minutes.

“What?” you gawked in fear. “You want me to…come with you?”

“That’s right. You wanna save your friends? Come quietly and I’ll spare them,” he spoke matter-of-factly.

Heart hammering in your chest, you placed your hands on the back of the office chair, steadying yourself. Mind finally beginning to function in survival mode, you considered your options. Screaming for help would have people rushing in, but he was probably faster. He could strike you down and then take even more lives in a desperate attempt at escape. On the other hand, refusing to come with him would prolong the ordeal and agitate him, possibly leading to a similarly bloody scenario.

He was right. Coming quietly was the only way. Better to sacrifice the one for the lives of many, you thought. Your stomach churned with fear, feeling the blood drain from your face even further. You didn’t want to die. A pair of warm, piercing blue eyes flashed in your mind followed by the memory of a kind smile and soft lips brushing your own. Could it only be this morning that you woke up in his arms?

Thoughts of Bucky gave you a tiny bit of comfort. You were grateful for the time you’d had together and the knowledge that he would stop at nothing to catch Rumlow. Especially after…

You swallowed thickly, gathering your resolve before replying. “Okay.”

He raised his eyebrows in gleeful surprise. “Smart girl. I knew I could count on you,” he said, flashing that sickening grin of approval.

“Where….where are we going?” you dared to ask, but not expecting a truthful answer.

He chastised you almost playfully with a grin. “Ah ah ah…no spoilers. First of all, you come over here. It seems we don’t have much time, thanks to you,” he gestured forward with the knife before pocketing it, maintaining a subtle grip upon the handle.

On shaky legs, you slowly made your way around the desk toward him. Beckoning with his free hand, he lightly gripped your arm once you were finally in reach. You nearly gagged at the feeling of those calloused fingers upon your skin once again.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You try anything…offer a hint to anyone on the way out and things’ll get messy,” he spoke in a low growl, murderous anger barely contained.

With a shaky intake of breath, you nodded.

“Alright then. You walk us out of here, say whatever you must to convince them why we’re leaving, and you get us to the elevator. I’ll be close behind you and I’ll be watching,” he threatened, yanking on your arm hard enough to force you to face him.

You yelped in surprise, his grip tight on your upper arm. “I won’t say anything. I…I promise,” you tried to assure him.

“That’s a good girl,” he said as he released you, then nodding for you to open the door.

Hand on the door knob, you rolled your shoulders back and held your head high. Acting confident is the best way to sell a lie, even though you thought you might be sick at any moment. Flipping the knob to unlock, you opened the door and stepped into the hallway, feeling his dark presence following close behind. You took a few steps before Natasha saw you and started to approach.

“Y/N, is everything alright? I heard from…”

You cut her off sharply. “It’s fine, Natasha. Mr. Kopecky and I are on good terms now. He actually has some documents of his aunt and uncle’s that we can use. He left them in his car, but got turned around in the building so I offered to escort him down. We’ll return shortly,” you nodded at her, with a hopefully convincing smile.

“But your phone, there was a…”

“Don’t worry about that,” you rambled on, placing a hand on her arm. “I’ll take care of it when I get back. Thank you, though. I won’t be long,” you met her eyes briefly, seeing her puzzled expression.

You walked on swiftly before she could respond, occasionally nodding at co-workers and other staff as you passed through the long hallway with your evil shadow in tow. Just as you turned the corner toward the elevators, you nearly collided with a man in a suit, a kind grin upon his face.

“Y/N! We’ve missed you the past few days. I hope whatever kept you away has been resolved,” he offered with a smile that crinkled his eyes.

“Mr. Lang, I, um…yes. I hope so, too,” you forced a smile, hating to brush past him in your hurry but you were so close. “You’ll hear about it soon enough. I’m on an errand right now, though. Excuse me.”

Finally reaching the elevators, you paused to see Rumlow step forward and press the down button. Within seconds a ding was heard and you stepped inside, watching the doors close and you finally exhaled. Once again, he chose your destination which in this case was the parking garage. You found yourself collapsing against the railing, feeling tears pool in your eyes. All those people…your co-workers, turned friends…Natasha, Scott, so many others…you’d never see them again. No proper goodbyes allowed.

“Hey, don’t get soft on me now,” he spoke in a gruff voice, pulling on your elbow roughly to make you stand. “You’re not quite done yet.”

You tried to pull yourself together again, brushing a knuckle under each eye to prevent the tears from falling. He stood close behind you, his breath disgustingly warm upon your neck. The elevator ride took a few minutes with people stepping on and then off from different floors. By the time you reached the lowest level of parking, you were alone with him again.

Another ding was heard and the doors opened, revealing the cement-covered parking garage. You took a step or two forward when suddenly there was rush of movement and the shouting of voices as dozens of people in uniform swarmed before you. In response, Rumlow grabbed you from behind with a strong arm around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides. You felt the sharp point of the knife piercing into your back, making you gasp.

The elevator doors had closed behind you, so Rumlow was trapped. He used the slightly recessed doors to hide himself, then also using you as basically a human shield. Ahead, you could now see police officers in bullet-proof vests with guns raised, NYPD boldly displayed in white across their chests. And there, front and center, was your Detective Barnes.

“Brock Rumlow, you’re surrounded. Drop your weapon and let the girl go,” he demanded with authority, his hard eyes trained on the man. His gaze softened slightly as he met your eyes. A sob of fear and also relief burst from your throat upon seeing him.

Behind you, Rumlow cursed and fidgeted, trying to find a way out. “I’ll kill her! You let us get into a car and drive away or I gut her like a fish.”

You flinched at his words, but careful of movement, aware of the precarious placement of his knife.

“I can’t let you do that, Rumlow. Let her go and we’ll talk,” the detective said in a calmer voice. He was in negotiation mode now.

Rumlow held you even tighter, making it difficult for you to breathe. “I didn’t do those things! I haven’t done anything wrong,” he tried to lie to save his own skin.

“Well, if that’s true then let her go. Innocent people don’t need hostages.”

Your captor swore under his breath, now seeing that he wasn’t going to win. There was a moment of silence. A stalemate. Bucky held your gaze and you saw the debate running through his mind. If he aimed for Rumlow, he would likely hit you, too, but there was no way he could let him go, either. He needed a distraction. You had to catch Rumlow off guard, gain the element of surprise.

That was when you knew what had to happen. Staring into the brilliant azure stare of the detective, you offered a little smile, followed by the smallest of nods. His eyebrows raised, a flicker of fear upon his face. You inhaled the best you could and then made sure he was watching as you mouthed the following words.

Three…

Two…

One…

“NO!”

________

Part 18>>>

________________________________________________

Heh. Whoops. Sorry for leaving you hanging, out on that cliff. Kinda. :) But hey, we finally get to see Detective Barnes again! Part 18 will be up next Tuesday, May 23, which, oddly enough, is my birthday. :D I’ll be keeping up the Tuesday and Friday schedule until finished. Number of parts is still unknown, but at least 20 parts. Let me know your thoughts!! I know you have them. Come and scream at me all you want. I love you guys!!

Permanent tag list and AoJ tag list are both closed, I’m sorry!!

Permanent Tag List:

@ek823 @you-didnt-see-that-cuming  @yellowtheremarvelfan  @sarcastic15overlord @mirkwood—princess  @stovehairington  @msshadowboxer  @reniescarlett  @wellfuckbuck  @coffeeismylife28  @lilasiannerd  @bunchofandoms   @sarahpanda65 @ria132love @canumoveyourseatup-no  @whatshernamemaria  @crazyliraz  @filthylolita  @tempestinatea-cup  @pixierox101   @jcb2k16 @jaderz-mega-yikes   @gatorgal94 @prettylatxna @abovethesmokestacks @missmotherhen  @snakesgoethe  @feelmyroarrrr  @buckysmetallicstump @dontstopwiththelyin @mytasterpeculiar  @writingruna @imaginingbucky @bovaria  @thisisthelilith @buckyywiththegoodhair @rogersxbarnesx @hellomissmabel  @bionic-buckyb @buckysberrie @marvel-lucy @marvelingatthewonder @you-and-bucky @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @hymnofthevalkyries @kinqshley @beccaanne814-blog @marvel-ash @sebbytrash @serzhantkris  @officialcaptain-marvel  @themcuhasruinedme @mizzzpink @vaisabu  @winterboobaer  @idontknow-canyou  @mylittlefandomfanfictions  @bemystucky  @hotmessofafangirl  @priettierthanyou  @avengermama  @melanie451 @mrs–healy  @black-eyed-bucky  @supersoldier-wifey  @gold-liess  @thebabewiththepwr  @indominusregina  @lostinspace33  @lillian-paige  @brittanymcsharry  @dustycelt @tragicalchemist  @palaiasaurus64  @mycapt-ohcapt  @chrisevans-imagines @ryverpenrad  @timeladylaurel @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @maybe-mikala  @bellenuit45  @mrshopkirk  @ilovebeingjoyful  @soulful-ofevans @finhabastos  @queen-merc @theawesomeclairfury  @4theluvofall  @seeyainanotherlifebrotha  @jaybird6232 @johnmurphys-sass  @anxuanpham  @anitavalija  @katbird787  @tori-medusa-belongs-to-bucky  @readingtoescape  @lbouvet  @cojootromuelle  @smginger1131 @maririn @justreadingfics @srgtjamesbarnes107

AoJ Tag List (CLOSED):

@yesiamdeliciouslycaffeinated  @learisa  @jessevans  @langinator   @izzy-obwan  @clinicalkayla  @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes  @supernatural-girl97  @pineapplebooboo  @littlenerdgirl16  @say-my-name-assbut  @shifutheshihtzu @karlitay  @in-wondrlnd  @marvelfanuniverse   @tequilavet

***Broken URLs will be removed after this post, I’m sorry! Blame Tumblr.***

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #reader x bucky #bucky au #reader x bucky barnes #reader x james #officer bucky #detective barnes #cop!bucky #tw anxiety #tw death #tw violence #tw murder #tw blood #avengers au #bucky fic #police officer bucky

[liifegambler]

HOW DO YOU RUN YOUR BLOG?

Speed: WELL. slow-ish? i don’t roleplay at all on weekdays since i work full-time and am on a computer as it is for like 8 hours soooo by the time i’m home, the LAST thing i want to do is sit on my slow ass old macbook and try to write, ya feel? i’m just burNT out. so, i only actually get properly online on the weekends (not a lot tbh cause i have other stuff i like doing, but i try to AT LEAST get on in the evenings to churn some writing out). that being said, i do pride myself on being pretty consistent with replies/communication and all that -- i certainly do my best despite my lack of any real free time. SO, i’m not lightning quick but you’ll get replies (IC or OOC) in a pretty timely fashion, i think!  Replies: 10000% queued always. it’s legit the only way i can get  things done -- getting like a bunch of replies back and all that just got waaay too overwhelming for me since i’m never actively sitting on the dash anymore  to go like back and forth with folks?? so, spreading my replies out in the queue allows me to usually spread out the time in which i get things tossed back wHICH makes me a much more calm human. it helps keep my drafts across the several blogs i juggle at 9/10 manageable numbers so that i can actually churn out all my replies on ALL my blogs every weekend and have them stuffed in ol’ queue! just makes my life easier tbh! Starters: i will almost never do starter calls (or memes) because i either get no interest, little to no replies once i post them, or tbh i just straight up i just suCK at writing starters xD i will however TOTALLY write you a starter if you want one! you just gotta let me know -- i prefer plotted ones so that the thread has a little direction, and it helps gimme an idea of what to write to start! Inbox:  my inboxes are all across the board pretty bare tbh xD like i mentioned, i almost never post memes b/c on the off chance i do get a lot of interest, i’m afraid of being too overwhelmed and i like to make sure i have time for all my replies! that being said!! i will post the odd starter call or reblog a meme if i’m liKE really hungry for some interactions (aka i don’t have anything to write atm and/or just wanna drum up some new things)! Wishlist item: heCK good question tbh -- i really haven’t given this tons of thought yet??? i follow a lot of different kinds of blogs so i’m honestly up for just about anything?? come @ me! Honest note: i don’t really know what i’m meant to put here?? i will say that super mega extra tiny text and like icons that are so edited you can’t even tell what they are ?? kinDA?? make me cry?? i’m old and goin blind b/c i’m a graphic designer who spends like 9 hours a day staring at computer screens lmao i juST !! it won’t like turn me away from someone cause honestly, everyone should just do whatever they wanna do on their blog (and for text, i have a thing that makes all the text on my screen a certain point size anyway) -- that’s just the one “honest” thing i could think of?? idk i think legibility is super important regardless of the aesthetic??? but yEAH everyone is entitled to like what they like! that’s just moi ~

tagged by : @lionwept <333 tagging : whoever’s reading this, TAG YOU’RE IT !! 

#|| i actually like this ??? #|| it's good info and solid psa about my activity and how i roll on all my blogs! #☥ ––– YOU SWEAR? EVERY DAMN DAY ( ooc. ) #☥ ––– LOOSEN THE KNOT AND LET ME GO ( psa. )

[deafeningdespair]

Manic Depressive Disorder.

DISCLAIMER, this article contains profanity and graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

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

~ Help me, it's like the walls are caving in. Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can't - it isn't in my blood. Laying on the bathroom floor, feeling nothing. I'm overwhelmed and insecure, give me something I could take to ease my mind slowly. "Just have a drink and you'll feel better." "Just take her home and you'll feel better." Keep telling me that it gets better. Does it ever? Help me, it's like the walls are caving in. Sometimes I feel like giving up - no medicine is strong enough. Someone help me, I'm crawling in my skin. Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can't - it isn't in my blood. I'm looking through my phone again, feeling anxious. Afraid to be alone again, I hate this. I'm trying to find a way to chill, can't breathe, oh. Is there somebody who could help me? It's like the walls are caving in. Sometimes I feel like giving up - no medicine is strong enough. Someone help me. I'm crawling in my skin. Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can't - it isn't in my blood. I need somebody now, someone to help me out. I need somebody now. Help me, it's like the walls are caving in. Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can't - it isn't in my blood.

- Shawn Mendes, In My Blood.

*

Okay, y'all, here goes.

Lately, I've been feeling down, kinda lost. I've felt like my heart is quite literally breaking inside of my fucking chest and those stupid little shards are getting lost in my blood stream, slowly making their way through my veins. It's painful and nauseating. They're slicing me open from the inside and eventually, I'll just be lying on the bathroom floor, bleeding out, and the worst part of it all is that I can't even cry out in pain or call for help because there's these massive hands gripping my throat. They're choking me, shaking me, bruising me as the voices in my head scream at me that I'm too weak to fight off the hands or the pain or even the fear. The voices tell me that I deserve what I'm getting and that I'll be getting this exact treatment for the rest of my life.... which, by the way, will only be a few more seconds - because, well, don't forget about the shards tearing me apart from the inside.

It feels like I am dying.

But I'm not.

I suffer from M A N I C depression - which is just a fancy way of saying that I am B I P O L A R ..... only, there's more to it than that, right? Well, yeah, there's more to it than that.

A major misconception about bipolar disorder is that one can go from feeling happy to mad or sad, and so on and so forth..... but that's not true. That's a mood swing, and I don't have mood swings. I have manic depression, remember?

Sometimes, I have highs, and let me tell you something - when I have those highs, I fucking /have/ those highs. I'm on top the world! I feel so free and H A P P Y. I could cry these big, whopping alligator tears full of joy and excitement. Whenever I have these epic highs, it's like I'm a goddamn princess with this flashy gold tiara that's lined with the most beautiful and precious diamonds and rubies, and there's thousands of people throwing white roses and orange tulips at my feet while they bow down to me and.... well, I'm sure you get the picture.

^ THAT is the "mania" part.

Mania (noun) | ma·nia \ ˈmā-nē-ə , -nyə \ - - excitement manifested by mental and physical hyperactivity, disorganization of behavior, and elevation of mood • excessive or unreasonable enthusiasm. (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

Think on that for a second.

Now, when I have my lows, I'm nothing short of a natural disaster. Miley Cyrus says it perfectly, I come in like a wrecking ball. I'm destructive with no regard to anything or /anyone/ else. I'm like a hurricane - no, a tsunami. I crash in unexpectedly and drown everyone, I leave debris scattered about recklessly, and do you have any idea what the best but worst part about that is? It's the fact that I don't even care. I couldn't give two whole shits about the people standing in my path that I'm destroying, and that just makes it all worse. As much as I want to care about them and save them, I physically and mentally C A N N O T.

^ THAT is the "depression" part (in case you have no idea what depression is, see below).

Depression (noun) | de·pres·sion \ di-ˈpre-shən , dē- \ - - a state of feeling sad : dejection • anger, anxiety, and depression : a mood disorder marked especially by sadness, inactivity, difficulty in thinking and concentration, a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection and hopelessness, and sometimes suicidal tendencies. (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

If you're feeling frisky and you wanna do some reading on what bipolar disorder is, I'll help you out. Click this guy > here < and it'll tell you all you need to know.

But if you'd rather hear the short version, keep on reading my mess.

Basically, I can go weeks feeling the mania. I can be nothing but happy for days on end, for months even. I'm that happy, peppy, silly (and let's face it, obnoxious) Alex you all know and love.... but then, suddenly, almost like literally flipping a switch, I'm broken. I'm surrounded in darkness and it's eating me up. I don't know how long it will last, and there's really no way to pull me back to the light, just like there was no reason for my demons to even surface in the first place.

When I get in these moods, I like to joke about it because it's the only way I know how to cope. When you ask what's wrong, I simply say with a weak giggle, "I'm just emotional today." but we all know that it's more than that.

So, what I'm getting at here is this - please stop making me feel like I'm this stupid little girl that just thinks she's sad for a minute. Don't tell me to smile or get over it - I'm fucking TRYING and it's not working. Don't ask me a million questions because truthfully, I can't even remember what my name is half the time. Don't even tell me that it's going to be okay because I know that's just what people say when they've run out of nice things to say, and I also know that things w i l l n o t be o k a y. I'll feel better eventually, I'll have a high again - but you know what they say? What goes up, must come down.

What can you do to help? Just accept me for who I am, love me through my chaos, and hold my hand when I ask.

I'll leave you all with this final quote...

"Depression is a painfully slow, crashing death. Mania is the other extreme, a wild roller coaster run off its tracks, an eight ball of coke cut with speed. It's fun and it's frightening as hell. Some patients - bipolar type I - experience both extremes; other - bipolar type II - suffer depression almost exclusively. But the "mixed state," the mercurial churning of both high and low, is the most dangerous, the most deadly. Suicide too often results from the impulsive nature and physical speed of psychotic mania coupled with depression's paranoid self-loathing."

David Lovelace, Scattershot: My Bipolar Family *